Crawford didn't have a formal office. He'd been hired to use a gun, not a computer. But the master bedroom in Schwartz' luxurious flat was a suite. He'd had the outer room converted the first week.
Unlike Ran, Silvia had been glad to claim her new territory, and make her mark. She'd chosen European furnishings, possibly as unChinese as she could. After all, she had no kind memories of Hong Kong slums. She'd ripped off some good fakers of Victorian antiques, and good art forgeries with them. Crawford, who'd thought minimalism and sleek machinery sensible, had found himself working in an office as efficient as his old chromed one, and a good deal more comfortable.
His sensibilities didn't stop him from littering the whole thing with papers. At the moment, he was copying an obscure hieroglyph from one column to another. He'd gone through his more important papers and recoded them. If Ouka could make sense of them now, she ought to be in Rosenkreuz – teaching.
He didn't bother to look up as Schuldig strolled in and drew up a chair. The telepath seated himself without any invitation, as usual. Not so usual was his greeting. "You know, you're going about this wrong."
Well, until lately, not so usual. Crawford had to admit he'd been short sighted grabbing Ran as a toy for Schuldig. The telepath had been little influenced by other toys. But others had not only been shorter term, but had been dumb, uneducated losers.
The only reason Schuldig would've entered a museum three months ago was to trash it.
He fixed a coldly glittering pair of spectacles on Schuldig, and the German made soothing gestures. "Okay, we're going about this wrong. I caught Ran thinking that we're ignoring a basic fallacy here. Any human functioning enough to survive will automatically defend itself against possession. It's really more basic than intellect."
Crawford had, in fact, been trying to squeeze more out of this week's budget. But he didn't have to ask Schuldig what he was talking about. The way in which Crawford was failing the Elders, and what they would do about it, was always somewhere in his mind. "Are you suggesting we try a corpse, then?"
Schuldig was briefly distracted. "He didn't think of that. Well, I didn't catch him thinking of that. No, what he was thinking we should do was choose someone with a naturally incomplete soul."
Crawford's frown didn't lessen, but he sat back and thought it over. "How do you tell if someone has...that's one thing they don't have medical equipment for. There was a biokinetic at Rosenkreuz..."
"I've met him. No, he chooses to live his life with insane simplicity, but he's not simple. Ran was thinking of Hirofumi and his dear little friends."
Crawford shook his head regretfully. "Whatever they're like, they manage to get through a day."
"It doesn't help, then?" At Crawford's headshake he drew in a breath. This was new territory and thin ice. "Then I think you better do, what you've been trying to avoid doing."
Only Rosenkreuz training kept Crawford impassive. "And do you know what that is?"
"Your shields are too good." Schuldig tried to look apologetic, not a look natural to him. "It's my neck, too, so I've been watching you. I don't rely only on telepathy."
Crawford didn't bother to screen the thought. His last resort. The only people who haven't acquired any self defense are unborn babies.
Schuldig's sharp voice sharpened further. It sawed. "The One won't like being in the body of an infant."
"Once it has a human host, it can fix a lot of the problems."
Schuldig had never thought he would sympathise with Yokoo, but now he realised how he felt. "Let me take a look over Hirofumi's lot first."
"Do." After a moment's hesitation, "Kristian, I don't like doing this either. If there's any way to avoid it, I will."
"Let's make a bargain."
Crawford was suspicious. Sensible man. "What?"
"You don't tell Ran, and I won't tell Silvia."
Crawford said almost sadly, "Silvia would accept it."
"I hope you appreciate what I do for you, Ran," said Schuldig. He was snuggled up to his teammate, one arm around his waist, the other holding a flask of rum reinforced hot chocolate. They were seated on their sleeping bags: the lightest, softest, and thickest available. Ran rather wished he wasn't glad of Schuldig's body warmth.
This Sunday was a beautiful summer morning. They were far enough on the outskirts of Tokyo to even see a few last stars and hear a few first birds. Schuldig sighed dramatically. "Here I am, roughing it in the woods, when we could walk less than a hundred yards and be welcomed into Hirofumi's luxurious country home. Just because you have these absurd scruples."
Ran turned his head to look back up into his face. "Thank you," he said simply. Schuldig kissed him. Ran wondered whether he ought to take the chocolate away before Schuldig got drunk on it, or the fumes knocked Ran out.
Then he saw Schuldig's eyes become a shallower blue. He could have sworn he'd seen the tips of his ears twitch, like a kitsune's. Schuldig had switched to telepathy. Ran knew even with Schuldig's training, this was more effort than normal speech. It hardly needed more to tell Ran their quarry was stirring.
He gave Ran a little push. More of a pat. /Good luck./ Ran was concentrating so on the work at hand he hardly heard it.
Ran had already checked out the terrain. He was both quick and quiet as he ran toward the house. He flattened to his belly to get under the vine draped branches and found the hunters just emerging. They seemed remarkably relaxed about it, laughing and exchanging bottles, and he suddenly hoped this was all just target practice. Then he saw the victims.
/Keep your eye on your target!/ More gently /That guy in the blue jacket is the drunkest. He's not liking this as much as he thought he would./
He would be Ran's last choice then. /Anyone who likes hurting his quarry?/
Reluctantly, /The tall guy with the revolver in his belt. But watch out, that bulk is muscle, not fat./
Ran appreciated Schuldig not giving them names. It would be to make this a bit easier. /He's not so deficient he can be used?/
/No. What's in there enjoys being him./
Even now, the captives couldn't quite believe they were being hunted like wild animals.
Ran's target convinced them. He swaggered forward and ran an eye over the huddle, selecting an elderly man who wouldn't provide much sport anyway. He drew his revolver and shot the old man in the belly, giving a movie twirl to his gun as he put it away. The old man was still screaming and flopping when the target turned to the rest and raised his rifle. They bolted, scattering.
Ran knew Schuldig was monitoring him, but an important part of this exercise was to track and corner his prey without help.
The big man was heading toward a look out post he'd probably used before, a small rise in the ground where a big tree had fallen. Ran had no difficulty in getting there before him.
The rotten trunk had already seated a couple more hunters by the time the big man arrived. They greeted him with the slimy veneration of men who aren't sure they won't receive a bullet in the belly themselves. "You guys pick out your beats, yet?" he asked.
Very tentatively, "Kiku-kun thought he'd go over to the east, where all that brush is. I thought I might go along part that way."
"Sure. I'll stick close to the house. The best fighters usually try to double back and get into the lodge, for a phone or gun or something. Good luck, guys!"
They took their dismissal gratefully. The big guy stood inspecting the nearest cover. Perhaps, in earlier hunts, some prey had been watching him.
Ran stood still while that dark gaze was near him. At other times he eased forward, testing each leaf and grass blade. Fortunately, they weren't yet dried by summer. He was surprised at how like some childhood games this was. He'd enjoyed those games, and was almost annoyed to find some of the pleasure now.
He was quick enough to arrive at the closest covered point, but the target was already moving off, too far away for Ran to reach him before he'd time to turn and lift a gun. Ran wasn't discouraged. It had been worth trying.
The big guy would go by the easiest route. Ran went by the quickest. He stopped just short of where he could be seen from the house.
Humans had a poor sense of smell, and after a night in the forest Ran smelled rather of woods, but there was no need to take chances. He chose the downwind side of the path to stand beside a trunk, the shaded side, with one leafy branch screening him from the path. He stood quite still. If he missed this hunter, he was close enough to the house another would probably pass.
The big guy took a long time. But then, he would have been making little hunting forays of his own, up the easier paths. There were occasional shots, some close enough so Ran thought they might have been the target's.
Ran heard him and, yes, smelled him, well before he was in sight. Alcohol did carry a long way.
He was just five feet away, when there were a few nearby shots. His quarry blundered away towards them. It was a wonder they hadn't all shot each other yet. But perhaps that was part of the thrill.
For almost a second, and that can be a long time in those circumstances, Ran dithered as whether to make his try now or follow later. What decided him was the thought he might get another of these murderers. He took one smooth stride after the hunter.
Who turned around, lifting his rifle just as smoothly.
There was some distracting, telepathic natter in his mind about using his knife. He screened it out. He could think that up by himself.
The target's right hand was a difficult throw. It didn't strike exactly, but hit somewhere near. The rifle fired early, and then Ran was too close for him to bring the long barrel around again.
His target couldn't use it as a gun. But he could as a club or quarterstaff, and he swung it at Ran with vigour.
Ran had no trouble in dodging the blow, turning what could have been a skid on the moist ground into a longer step. Coming in from one side, he punched the side of his target's neck as hard as could.
The man staggered. His rifle dropped as he clawed at the air. He fumbled for his revolver.
Ran stood back and watched alertly. The man would only live for another minute or so. No one can breathe with a smashed trachea.
The hunter couldn't scream, but otherwise it was just as painful a death as his last victim's. Ran felt a slight urge to finish him off quickly, but that would have been dangerous with bare hands. And Crawford had said with bare hands.
/Fine/ said Schuldig sulkily when it was over. Ran had retrieved his knife, and was cleaning his hands carefully on fern leaves. /You didn't kill any helpless innocent and Crawford's order is carried out. Can we go home now?/
Ran thought of those other two hunters he'd seen close up. /Sure Crawford's orders were carried out? I did use my knife. Perhaps I better make sure./
/No, Ran./ Ran took a step to the east. /I am ordering you to withdraw./ Ran briefly considered obeying orders and took another step. /If you disobey in the field, Crawford will consider it worse than just failing his field test. Is killing a human being worth what he'll do?/
Ran turned back. Trudging toward Schuldig, he began feeling adrenaline withdrawal. With far more tiredness than he'd expected, came self revulsion. It hadn't even gone as smoothly as it should. /I don't know why he turned round at the last minute./
/You breathed./
Ran remembered now, the quick breath he'd taken before his attack. Quiet enough, he'd thought, but he'd thought wrong.
Schuldig didn't normally do kp, but with the chance of Ran stirring up a posse of armed hunters, he'd packed all their stuff into the car. Ran saw him propped against it, waiting for him. He pulled his head up and his back straight. It probably made no difference to Schuldig, but it did to him.
Schuldig studied him. "Ran, I've been checking out Hirofumi, and his pals. Even his servants and thugs, who are more human. There, none fit for the One."
Earlier Ran would have thought that good news. He waited tiredly. He had an idea there was a reason why Schuldig was telling him now, and he wouldn't like it.
Schuldig, at least, didn't think it too bad. He began smiling. In the tone of someone reading out the noon temperatures, "Your target was a genuine sadist. He hurt his quarry as much as possible. But he was in this Club for the politics. Connections, and the power it gave him over other members, including our dear Hiro-kun. He had what he wanted at home. What we want too. Trust a Takatori to provide that sort of thing."
"What do we want?"
"A perfectly healthy body which lets a sadist do whatever he wants to it."
Ran concentrating on turning his mind away from what that meant. On self control. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"You have no idea."
Before joining the rest of Schwarz at breakfast, Crawford checked through any mail left at their flat overnight. The first, and most important, was always the state of the Vessel. He nodded with satisfaction at that one. Another envelope in a rather too familiar han,.was addressed to R. Fujimiya. He opened it at once. His eyebrows rose, just a little. Fortunately, no one was there to see.
A few minutes later he walked into the breakfast room and handed the open envelope to Ran. "A cheque from Hirofumi Takatori, with a thank you note."
Ran read out to Silvia, the only one not in the know, "'For Sunday morning.' Guess he had the place bugged."
"Won't do him much good." Crawford gave him that much consolation, with the ludicrously small cheque. "Weiss'll be hitting the place next week end." The other three members of Schwarz raised their orange juice to Weiss.