Risico

Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)

Chapter 9: Plans

A/N: Haha, yay! Finally with American Trains done, I've started Risico back up! :) Sorry for the wait boys and girls!

This chapter is just fillery, but it'll get much better from here on out. Hehehe.

Reviews:

Kay: I know! I love my grammy! xD

Trumpet-Geek: The character relations are all part of my master plan mwuahahaha. :3

Alphine: Badly. Very badly. :P

Inkaugneato: I thought about it, then went 'naw, I love the car too much.'

Renuki: Mhhhmmm, I love Alfie loves his Vette.

Ninja Ris: WRONG! The Swede is mine! I might share Denmark...maybe... *leers* Lol, yes more smut to come, eventually. Heheh.

S. Norge: Yes, Kiku with Yao. I'm truly devious. ;) Busy? Si, veeerrrrrrryyyyyyyyy busy. :P

Skadiyoko: Not this Dane. ;)

denise134: Lol, thanks? Sorry, but I'm keeping my grandma, thanks.

aerrow4eva: !Que lastima! It's shame corvette's don't have back seats. ;)

artfan: Well, when your Alfie, flashing your badge is the obvious thing to do to let the baddies know who you are. xD

Still bypasser: May be more of that too come. ;)

Inkaugneato: Aww, sad is what I aim for. ;)

blackcat: It's actually perfectly legal to drive an imported American car in GB. It sure is a pain in the arse to drive, but corvettes are muscle cars, so they're smaller and sleeker. They'd fit, but would probably hug the lanes pretty closely. Now an F-150 might have some serious problems. Lol.

Arthur drummed his fingers on the wheel of the Astra absently while his clear, green eyes watched the marina entrance, impatiently searching for the CIA agent. He loosed an exasperated sigh and leaned back against the supple seat, silently cursing the American for keeping him waiting.

Finally a set of low set headlights burned brightly as they passed through the gates and a sleek, graphite corvette pulled up beside the Astra.

The Brit scoffed, why was he not surprised that the flashy, cocky American had a car to match his ego?

When Alfred rolled down the vehicle's window and flashed him a sly grin, the Englishman sneered, restarting the car without looking to his new partner.

"Artie, we gotta talk."

"I don't want to hear you boast." Arthur returned.

"I mean it."

"Then let's hear it."

"Not here. Let's just get back to the flat."

The emerald-eyed man finally turned his gaze to the American.

While Alfred was still smiling, Arthur had noticed an underlying tone of urgency lacing the other agent's voice. He merely nodded, twisting to back the Astra out of the lot and pulled out to the main road.

Something was clearly bothering the American, and in turn it gnawed at Arthur. He'd most definitely heard some sort of concern in his partner's voice. His eyes flicked to glance at the review mirror, where he could see the corvette's low set and brightly burning headlights just behind him.

I'll find out soon enough, I suppose.

The drive back to Arthur's flat was nerve-racking for Alfred. He constantly found himself momentarily panicking at every turn, the natural feel of going the right way completely thrown out the proverbial door as he drove on 'wrong' side of the road.

Not to mention the small fact that he'd only been threatened by a port worker with a near literal hand cannon. It didn't sit well in his stomach as he drove behind Arthur.

The drive wasn't terribly long, but it seemed it until Arthur pulled off the road and parked the Astra. The CIA agent mirrored him, and nudged the corvette into the space behind the SIS agent's car.

He cut the engine off and exited the car, shutting the door lightly behind him and stuffed the keys in his pocket.

When he glanced up, Arthur was leaning against the Astra with his arms crossed in front of him and wearing a suspicious look.

"What's the rush about, lad?"

"Inside." Alfred motioned to the building beside them. Arthur looked as if he might argue that, but then he shook his head. He headed toward the building while Alfred pulled the two black briefcases the Agency had placed in the hatch for him. He shut it with some fumbling, then followed after Arthur's quick strides into the building.

Once safely inside their flat and Arthur had locked the door the Brit returned his questioning look to Alfred.

The taller blond sighed before sitting down on the touch, distractedly running his fingers through his hair. He stared down at the coffee table that complimented the couch.

"Well?" Arthur challenged the American's silence.

"I think there's defiantly something up with the Port."

The Brit knitted his brows and moved to sit beside Alfred. He noted, but didn't mention, that Alfred inched a bit closer to the other blond when he did sit. He doubted the American noticed it himself, for he seemed rather distractedly deep within his thoughts.

"Care to explain?" Arthur offered.

"When I tried to ask one of the port workers about Yao, he clamed up. When I tried to get him to talk, he flashed a .50 caliber at me and told me I should leave. Arthur, who the Hell does that unless they've got something to hide behind that threat?" He inquired aloud, and turned his blue gaze on the Brit beside him.

Said man's eyes were a bit wider than usual. He wondered the same thing himself, but said nothing. He slowly shook his head.

Alfred leaned his shoulder against the emerald-eyed man with a curious look on his visage.

Arthur made a soft noise in his throat and threw the American a half-hearted glare down at him, but didn't mind the slight extra weight and warmth.

"Well, it's yourcountry and your port. What'd you think we should do?" Alfred asked after a few moments of silence lapsed between them.

"I don't know, however, we need to start documenting this. I doubt our respective agencies are going to care about our hunches if we don't having anything to show them."

The taller laughed, but didn't move from the Brit's shoulder.

"How about we do that tomorrow?"

Arthur glanced to the cable box that sat beside his television. It was rather late, and the American on his shoulder was likely suffering from jetlag as well as general daily exhaustion. He supposed putting it off for the night wouldn't be too unreasonable.

"Very well." Arthur resigned and shifted off the couch, and Alfred moved aside so as not to slip forward when the Brit left him.

The American flashed a grin.

"Awesome. I'm way too tired to even write up a proper documentation anyway."

"Yes, yes, I get it. I'm going to call my boss and let her know about this before I get to bed. There are extra sheets and pillow in the hall closet over there,"

He pointed off somewhere and Alfred glanced back, not really paying that much attention.

"Just don't bother me and stay in the main room, would you? I might mistake your for a robber if you chose to go wandering around my home in the middle of night. I'd rather not have to shoot you, after all."

Nodding, Alfred kicked off his shoes and tucked them under the coffee table while Arthur wandered into his bedroom and began dialing Mrs. Ashdown's familiar number.

He didn't speak with Evie all that long. The older woman had answered after the second ring and assumed a professional tone, as always.

"Good evening, agent Kirkland."

"Yes, good evening, Evie."

A sigh on the other end of the line, and Arthur felt his lips twitch in a smirk.

"What can I do for you, Arthur? It's dreadfully late, you know."

"I apologize for that, but I thought it best to inform you now."

"Very well. Go on."

"Alfred-"

"YoumeantheAmericanagent,correct?"

"Yes, him. He thinks that the Port of London's workers might have some connection to our targets."

"Doeshehaveanyproofofthis?"

"He said one of the workers refused to talk when he was questioned and asked him to leave after showing him his gun."

"That'scertainlysuspicious,nowisn'tit?"

"I thought so, as well."

"Thank you for informing me of this. Make sure you document it and I'll be sure to have it looked in to. We can discuss this further tomorrow."

"Thank you, Evie. Sorry for the late call, and have a good night."

"Youaswell,Arthur.Becareful."

The line clicked and Arthur pulled the phone from his ear. He placed it down on the bedside nightstand and sighed. He sat on the foot of the bed, listening to the sound of Alfred shuffling around his apartment, probably looking for that aforementioned linen closet.

Eventually, the CIA agent's noise died down at Arthur laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded under his head.

It didn't take long for sleep to claim him, and the Brit rolled to his side, not even bothering to strip off any of the day's attire.

Across London, away from the Port, but still within reasonable distance of the Thames, a set of Yao's formal bodyguards gathered around the alley-side of a modern warehouse.

The tallest of them, Berwald, grunted as the glare of yellow, watery headlights flashed around the alley corner. A sleek, black Audi Cabriolet rolled into the alley, and Berwald stepped up to meet the driver rolling down the window.

A pair of brilliant blue orbs met Berwald's narrowed ceruleans.

"Wh're's Gilb'rt?" The big Swede inquired, eyes glittering with suspicion. Behind him, his two companions unhitched themselves from the alley wall, stepping up on the opposite side of the car, surrounding it.

The blond in the car matched Berwald's natural leer with a confident aloofness.

"My brother couldn't come in person. He's tying up loose ends before Yao sends him off to salvage the Detroit operation." The somber blond said in a steady voice.

Berwald nodded coolly, then glanced up at the two shorter men on the other side.

"Gr'b the st'ff." He ordered.

The man sitting in the car cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Who are they? I have not seen them before."

"Yo' h've not seen m'ny 'f us. Th't' 's the po'nt."

"This is true. Gilbert says such things often. Still…" He trailed off, glancing back at the two pulling out the clamped, silver suitcases from the trunk.

"Th'y're lik' me. D'n't w'rry yo'self w'th it. G' h'me, L'dwig." The Swede ordered, unhitching himself from the driver side door, motioning for his two companions to load the suitcases in his own dark blue suburban parked in the darkest corner of the alley.

Ludwig swallowed hard, thinking of questioning the towering Swede further, but changed his mind and shifted the car into reverse.

"Kiku gives his regards." He turned and backed out the alley, entering traffic and vanishing down the road. Berwald merely nodded before the man vanished from sight.

"T'no, N'rge, we're leaving." The tall blond announced while pulling his cellphone from his pocket and dialed their boss' number.

Both of the shorter men got into the car. The violet-eyed man called Tino sat down in the passenger seat, while his aloof companion settled in the back with the suitcases, one leg crossed over his knee and arms folded before his chest.

"Hey, Norge?" Tino glanced back at the other.

Norge simply blinked his stormy-blue eyes once, staring blankly at Tino. The Fin took that as permission to continue.

"Do you think Yao will send us to Detroit, too?"

"No."

"Oh…" Tino paused, his brows furrowing. "I think I'd like to go to America, though."

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I prefer here or home."

"Yeah. I miss Espoo. Still I'd like to visit America. I've never been across the Atlantic, you know! It would be nice if Yao let us go home for Christmas, too."

"He won't."

Tino sighed and sunk farther back into the seat. The Norwegian could be such a downer.

Berwald opened the driver side door then, and slipped into the suburban. The bright-eyed Fin perked up, dismissing his dull conversation with Norge.

"What did Yao have to say?"

"The usu'l." Berwald answered coldly as he started the vehicle and pulled out of the alley.

The violet-eyed man loosed a defeated sigh with the apparent lack of desire to converse not present in either of his companions. The tall Swede took notice though, and as they stopped for a red light, he playfully jabbed his finger in Tino's side, causing the Fin to giggle.

"Yao w'nts 's to d'liv'r the c'ses d'r'ctly t' the w'reho'se."

The Fin looked at him curiously, absently rubbing where Berwald had poked him.

"He doesn't want make sure they're what he ordered?"

"S'ems n't."

"That's odd." Norge chimed in, leaning forward between the passenger and driver's seats.

"Yeah…"

"Yao m'y b' un'asy k'ep'ng the c'ases m'v'ng too l'ng."

"True." Norge simply stated and sat back in his seat, casting his stormy gaze to the traffic outside the tinted window.

"He's uneasy because of the CIA agent at the Port?"

Berwald nodded.

"Are you?"

The Swede knitted his brows. Turning a corner, he formulated his response to the violet-eyed man beside him.

"I h've a b'd fe'l'ng abo't it."

"Mathias said it was 'no big deal.'"

"H' t'kes n'th'ng s'r'ously."

Nodding was Tino's only answer as they pulled up to the long line of warehouses. As the three exited the car and collected the suitcases, Tino couldn't help but feel a certain nervous apprehension knotting his stomach. Vaguely, he wondered about what Yao would do about the American agency currently watching them.

They'd avoided the Metropolitan with ease, and though the SIS made it difficult, they'd avoided them as well. Now they had to worry about the CIA? Tino hoped Yao knew just what he was doing as he passed a heavier case to Berwald and continued his work.

Suck-ish chapter, I just needed to introduce Tino and Norge, really, and set up the start of an actual plot conflict. Lol :P