Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection of moments... especially for the one who's part of a close-knit team. I doff my cap to Tensai Okamura, who's responsible for the memorable characters in Darker than Black.
Tips and Tantrums
- 39 -
Untraceable
Jack fit right in with the passengers. Not in the executive ballrooms or dining areas, of course, but poolside lounging required very little in the way of wardrobe. He "found" swimwear that was brief enough to distract passersby from taking a long look at his face.
The changing room afforded a welcome shower, and the hot tub relaxed stiff muscles. He laughed and chatted and made frivolous small talk, all the while watching for opportunities. A leisurely stroll, an empty chair, and light fingers served him well. Judiciously nicking a newspaper, he used it to shield the covert appropriation of three different phones.
He didn't keep them for long.
With a pleasant smile and deft taps, he checked headlines, availed himself of search engines, and made discreet calls. Keeping half an eye on the bikini-clad owner of his current acquisition—a gem-encrusted phone with a cherry blossom pattern—he placed one last call.
"Matsumoto here."
"Be at the Yokohama port in the morning. You can collect your chief." Jack smiled into the sudden silence on the other end of the line.
"Who is this?" demanded the officer.
"Someone who keeps his promises."
A quieter, more cautious tone. "November 11?"
"I'm counting on you."
- 40 -
Reservations
When Jack returned to their hiding place, his partner froze like a rabbit. "It's only me, Misaki," he said. "Which side do you want me on?"
"Who says I want you back?" But she scooted over, wordlessly yielding a place at her side. A moment later, she asked, "Why do you smell like chlorine?"
"Surveillance." He rustled the pilfered newspaper. "We didn't make headlines. The hotel fire is buried on page nine, and this issue is three days old."
"Where are we?"
"This time tomorrow, you'll be in Tokyo."
She didn't answer, and he wondered what this silence meant. The woman had subjected him to several, each nuanced by feelings she chose not to share.
Fingers bumped his chest, then trailed upward, grazing his cheek before skimming through still-damp hair. "You actually went swimming?" she asked.
"Jealous?"
"You actually had a suit?"
"Have," he corrected. "It's a recent acquisition. See for yourself."
Misaki wearily pointed out. "It's dark."
"Use your imagination." Jack caught her hand and dragged it down his abdomen.
She snatched it back, but a few moments later, she asked, "What color?"
"A fetching shade of blue."
"Cobalt? Navy? Sky?"
Jack eased his arms around her and let their noses bump. "Do you remember the color of my eyes?"
Eventually, she whispered, "Yes."
The admission was such a wistful little thing, he coaxed her body into alignment with his. He rubbed her back and sifted his fingers through her hair in a soothing seduction. "Last night, last chance."
Her only answer was a small hum.
Not resistance, but a far cry from the return of interest he coveted.
Jack tested her boundaries, letting his hands wander into less gentlemanly territory. Her breath hitched, but he was almost positive it was because she was holding back tears.
How maudlin.
And... troubling.
Not only would there be no passionate fling, Jack was left to grapple with the entirely foreign desire to place her wishes above his own. Was his behavior irrational, though? If a contractor always put his own interests first, and she was his, then her wishes were his.
Justification... or excuse?
He couldn't tell, and he didn't care. The death of me. Truly.
"Why are you trusting me, Misaki?"
Her answer puffed across his chest. "I don't have a rationale."
"I would settle for an educated guess."
"Why do you care?"
"Who said I do?" he countered.
Misaki wearily asked, "Why do you want to know?"
"The answer interests me."
"Fine. You have never given me any reason to distrust you," she said, her tone flat.
"I'm a killer."
"I'm alive."
Jack pointed out the obvious. "I'm a contractor."
"You let me hold the matches."
"I look to my own interests first."
"And you've made it clear that I'm one of them."
She really was too smart for her own good.
- 41 -
Port of Call
While ticketed passengers streamed away from the ship, Kirihara emerged blinking from the ship's belly, barely respectable in rumpled coveralls. November 11 led the way from a nondescript hatch, along a swaying gangplank, and onto a utilitarian dock. Concrete steps marched up to street level, and she climbed slowly. But before she reached the top, her mission partner caught her hand.
"I can't be seen, Misaki."
She scanned their surroundings more alertly. Surely there were cameras. "What will you do?" she asked.
"Disappear."
"Will I see you again?"
He turned the question around on her. "Does that prospect appeal to you?"
Even though Kirihara knew the answer, it scared her. November 11's shabby clothes, mussed hair, and scruffy jaw did nothing to detract from the fierce intelligence shining in clear blue eyes. Having this man's interest was thrilling.
"Captain!"
She recognized that voice. Two of her own men were wending their way through the crowds.
"Misaki." Jack backed down the stairs until only their hooked fingertips kept them joined. He repeated, "Does it appeal to you?"
"Don't die," she whispered.
He offered a jaunty salute.
Kirihara hurried to the top of the stairs, hoping to cover his escape.
"Captain Kirihara!" Kouno stumbled to an awkward standstill. "You're safe! How?"
Saitou silently removed his trenchcoat and draped it around her shoulders.
Matsumoto stared past her, but finally offered his hand. "Welcome back, Captain. The car is this way."
They flanked her, alert and protective as they ushered her to safety.
"How did you know I would be here?" she asked.
"An anonymous tip," Matsumoto said gruffly. "We're following up on our own recognizance."
Saitou cleared his throat. "We can keep this quiet."
She nodded appreciatively.
With bland humor, Matsumoto said, "As they say in England, mum's the word."
Kirihara's laugh caught in her throat.
Kouno glowered defensively, and Saitou passed along his handkerchief.
It was good to be home.
- 42 -
Cross Examination
Kirihara pulled her father's office door shut behind her and leaned against it. In many respects, the debriefing had been worse than the entire mission.
Why did November 11 choose you?
Did he at any time use his contractor abilities against civilians?
Were you able to question the fire-user before November 11 killed him?
Can you vouch for his whereabouts during the night of the explosion?
How did you reenter Japan?
Are you currently in contact with November 11?
Her testimony was next to useless. At every turn, she had to plead ignorance. Jack's mission had been executed on a need-to-know basis. If her superiors wanted details, they'd have to apply directly to MI6.
Worst had been the blatant subtext to their questions. It was as if they wanted to trap her into testifying against November 11 for some imagined crime.
She rubbed her forehead.
"Captain?" Kouno hurried forward. "I'm sorry, Captain. I tried to tell them you were in meetings, but... they insisted on waiting in your office."
"Who?"
He grimaced. "Two contractors from MI6."
- 43 -
Believe
Kirihara sat across the desk from November 11's partners. April slapped her hands against cheap veneer and leaned forward. "You were with him! What happened?"
"We were attacked. It was... difficult." Some of Kirihara's fears from that day resurfaced, knotting in her stomach. "And dry."
"Bloody hell! There's a reason we're partners!" Impotent fury twisted April's pretty features. "It should have been me!"
"He thought so, too." Kirihara took a calming breath and kept her tone strictly professional. "November 11 was of the opinion that we had walked into a trap."
The woman paused and glanced at the third member of Jack's team.
July simply nodded.
Resuming her seat, April tugged at a tendril of turquoise hair. "A set-up?"
"He called it a deathtrap. We barely survived." Kirihara lowered her voice even further. "Be careful."
April radiated dislike and distrust. "You probably slowed him down."
Kirihara couldn't defend herself without betraying Jack's confidences. "Believe what you want."
She snorted. "I'm a contractor. I always believe in what I want."
The woman stormed out, but July lingered, staring at Kirihara with sad grey eyes. She came out from behind her desk and knelt before the child. "Are you okay?"
He said, "November 11 is dead."
Her heart clenched. Had MI6 succeeded in eliminating their wayward contractor? Was that the real reason April was so angry? Kirihara had no way to confirm this boy's words, let alone comfort him.
"Oh, July." She took his hand between hers. "How do you know?"
The boy leaned forward in his seat, and his whisper tickled her ear. "Jack told me."
End Note: Although I'm no longer writing Elevenses for a contest community, I opted to keep the same format. The above drabbles are 203, 473, 318, 176, and 265 words respectively. Posted on November 11, 2016.