Chapter 10: Beginning of the End

Yuuri hurried out of the airport with Yurio and Otabek on his heels, and he quickly flagged down a taxi. The cab slowed and stopped in front of the three.

"Th-the police station. Downtown," Yuuri panted, "Please hurry!"

"I've got you covered," the cabbie assured him.

The car sped through the busy streets, weaving through the traffic as the three in the back watched out the window.

"So, are you sure about this, pork cutlet bowl?" Yurio asked, "You're sure that it was Victor's voice you heard on the message?"

"I'm sure," Yuuri answered resolutely, "Here, listen."

He put the message on speakerphone, playing it back for the other two men. At the sound of it, Yurio's face paled.

"Damn it. You're right. No doubt about that. It's Victor's voice all right."

"And it's obvious," Yuuri added, "that someone abducted him, and is holding him against his will."

"It sounds like he managed to get free for a moment, so he could call you," Otabek observed.

"But the call came in five days ago," Yuuri said worriedly, "I feel so stupid. I'd stopped checking my messages because there were so many people calling to comfort me. I got overwhelmed."

"Well, you know now."

"And we're going to use this message to find this creep who took Victor!" Yurio exclaimed, "They'll be able to track the call."

"That's what I was thinking," Yuuri agreed.

The cab pulled up in front of the police department and the three men rushed out of the vehicle and inside, to the front desk.

"This is Yuuri Katsuki," Yurio told the desk clerk in Russian, "Detective Orlova is expecting him."

The desk clerk nodded.

"Her office is down that hallway, second door on the left," he directed them.

The three hurried down the hallway and found the lady detective waiting at her desk. She looked up at the three as they entered, then stood and greeted them.

"Mr. Katsuki, I've passed on the information you gave me, and I initiated a search to first, identify the owner of the number that called your cellphone, and second, to track it's location."

"Were you able to figure out who took Victor?" Yuuri asked quickly, "Do you know where the call came in from?"

The detective frowned.

"Unfortunately, the phone turned out to be a black market phone, of a kind that criminals often use to contact each other for shady dealings. Based on what you told me, I anticipated this could be the case, and it turns out I was right. There isn't a registered owner for the number."

"What about the place where the call was made?" Yurio asked, scowling, "Did you trace the call?"

"We are working on it," Orlova explained, "In these cases, we usually don't have too much trouble convincing the phone company to give us the information. While they have privacy rules for legally obtained phone numbers, these black market devices are the bane of their existence, so they usually cooperate with law enforcement to try to get the phones out of use. As soon as I provided the phone company with an official request, they attempted to locate the phone. Unfortunately, whoever has it, seems to have turned the device off or otherwise disabled it. They are working on tracking the specific location the call was made from, using information from their cellular towers. The information will be relayed to me as soon as there is any word."

"Well, at least that's something," Yuuri said sadly.

"I have taken a recording of the call and cleared up the audio."

The detective tapped at the keys on her computer for a moment, then played back the recorded message as the three young men listened.

"You say you are completely certain that this is your husband?" she asked Yuuri.

"Yeah," Yuuri answered firmly, "There's no question in my mind. That's Victor's voice. I would know."

Orlova nodded.

"The computer agrees with you. Based on analysis from samples I took from some of his interviews, there was a perfect match. The tone and stresses in his voice make him sound tired, something that could be from distress, exhaustion or both."

"Well," said Otabek, "someone's held him hostage for over a week. That would be distressing for anyone."

"I did notice that Victor said Yuuri's name, then he appeared to try to say something else before the phone was taken from him."

"We listened to that a hundred times," Yuuri said anxiously, "and we couldn't understand it."

"I thought he might have been cursing," Yurio speculated.

"I was able to clean up the audio enough to pick out the word. What he said was chameleon."

"Huh," Yurio huffed, "like the lizard thing that changes colors?"

"Yes," Orlova affirmed, "and that got me to thinking."

The detective produced a sketched picture of a man.

"This is the man who you described to our sketch artist, the one who you saw when you were trapped in your home, during the arson fire."

"That's right," Yuuri replied, shivering slightly as he studied the sketch.

"You think that the fire and Victor's disappearance are connected?" Otabek asked, "I mean, that's what we think, but we weren't sure."

"Well, nothing is completely certain yet, but when you put together the fact that Victor Nikiforov was abducted in a way meant to make it look as though he had died, and that he has been kept alive…and during the time he was kept alive, his house was burned down with you trapped in it, the whole situation is very suspicious and clearly indicates that the person who abducted Victor wants something, and he is keeping Victor alive until he has that thing."

"But, what could he want?" Yuuri asked, shaking his head in confusion, "and if he took Victor, trying to get something, then why did he fake Victor's death? Wouldn't it make more sense that if he wanted something like money, he would…I don't know, take someone Victor cared about or at least send us a ransom note?"

"What the person wants doesn't have to be a physical thing," Orlova explained, "The situation doesn't suggest that this was about money. If it was, as you said, there were more efficient ways to get it. This person took Victor and faked his death. Then, it appears that a few days later, he tried to kill you, Yuuri, by burning the house while you were inside. The final report concluded that this was a blatant act of arson, and that the fire was set in several places, as though the perpetrator was purposely trying to trap you inside. That he stood and looked you in the eyes, ignoring your cries for help suggests that he did not want or expect you to live."

"So, you think that Yuuri saw Victor's captor?" Yurio asked.

"Yes, I am convinced that the man who set the fire is also the man who abducted Victor. The important thing now is to try to identify this man. So, Yuuri, is there anything else you can tell me, either about the man you saw or the events of what we now believe was a staged accident?"

"I did remember something," Yuuri said, a touch of uncertainty in his voice, "Well, I'm not sure if it's a real memory or not, but I did recall something that may have been from the accident. I mean, it feels like a memory, but it's hazy and the voices I hear in it are garbled."

"What did you remember?"

"W-well, I thought that I heard the voice of the driver from that night," Yuuri explained, "and I felt him grabbing and dragging me out of the car. In this vision I saw, he threw me over the edge!"

"When did you first have this recollection? And how many times have you had it?" Orlova inquired.

"Ah, well…I've only seen it once in my head."

"Good, tell me about when that happened," the detective urged him.

"It was during Victor's funeral," Yuuri recounted, "I uh…I spotted a guy in the crowd who I didn't recognize, but he looked like this guy from Victor's and my wedding. It was a guy I didn't know who I saw in one of our wedding photographs. I don't know if it's related, it just…triggered that vision."

"Hmm, can you compare the driver of the limousine from the night of the accident to that person in the wedding photo?

The detective called up a picture of Kazimir onto her computer screen, then placed the sketch the police artist had drawn, next to it.

"Both have sharp, angular features," Orlova pointed out.

"One has dark hair and one light," Yuuri mused, "The driver wore big dark sunglasses. We never saw his eyes."

"Now, you said that there is a photograph of the man you saw in the crowd at the funeral?"

"Yeah, in my wedding album," Yuuri answered, "That was one of the only things that survived the fire."

"Where is the album?"

"I left it at the hotel in Moscow," Yuuri sighed, "but I have all of the pictures stored on the photographer's site!"

He removed his phone from his pocket and quickly called up the wedding photos, then searched them until he found the photo with the mysterious man in it. Detective Orlova took the phone from Yuuri and held it up next to the picture of Kazimir, then the sketch the police artist had made.

"He went to some effort to hide it, but I do see some sharp similarities. This is the same man in all three places."

"So, Kazimir, the driver, was the one who took Victor?" Yuuri exclaimed.

"Yes," Orlova confirmed, "And the word that Victor said, chameleon, makes sense, as this man can change his appearance enough that we had a hard time recognizing him. All of the clues so far, suggest that Victor knows the man who abducted him, and that this was a calculated act that was carefully planned."

"Our usual driver got sick that night, very suddenly," Yuuri recalled.

"I guess we know who's responsible for that," Yurio huffed, "the bastard."

"Yuuri, I am going to send some agents to go back to the scene of the accident. Now that we know that you were removed from the car and thrown over the edge, we need to revisit that whole area, looking this time, only at the top of the cliff. If Victor is alive and he was abducted, then he didn't go over the cliff with the car…and the perpetrator had to have had a second car stashed somewhere nearby. We've had mostly good weather since the accident, so if there are clues, we should be able to find them."

"I want to go up there with them!" Yuuri exclaimed.

"I have another job for you," the detective suggested, "I want you to try to contact as many of the people from your wedding as possible. Have them look at the man in the picture and send them the picture of the driver. See if anyone can identify this man. Tell them that he is skillful at hiding his identity, so they may have to think a little. Can you do that? It would help a lot in the investigation. Our department could do it, but I think you can do it faster."

"I'll do it!" Yuuri promised, "I'll do it right away."

"We'll help you," Yurio added, glancing at Otabek, "Between the three of us, we'll get it done even faster."

"Every moment counts," the detective said solemnly, "because from the way this looks to me, as soon as the perpetrator has what he wants from Victor Nikiforov, he will take Victor's life, and he will try to hide the body, so Victor is never found."

"We're going to figure this out first!" Yuuri said determinedly.

"Mr. Katsuki," the detective said sternly, "I am warning you now that if you find anything useful, get the information quickly to me. Under no circumstances are you to try to find Mr. Nikiforov yourself. This man is very dangerous. If you involve yourself directly, there is a high likelihood that he would kill you. He has already tried, so I am telling you now that you must let us handle it."

"Okay," Yuuri said, nodding, "but let's go, guys. We've got work to do!"

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm so sorry, Pasha," Victor said penitently as his captor helped him to his feet and brushed the flakes of ice from his legs, "I am trying so hard, but I'm not feeling so well. I feel dizzy. That's why I keep falling. I will…try again."

"No," Pasha said, sympathetically, "Anton, it's not your fault."

He looked around the rink and made a sound of disgust.

"It wouldn't be happening if we had enough food, warmer clothes and a better place to practice," he said angrily, "If we weren't poor, then we would be skating in the competitions already with Victor!"

He lowered his eyes and his voice grew angrier.

"I hate him for leaving."

"I know you do," Victor said, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "but Pasha, you know it wasn't Victor's choice to stay or go. His skating rink was repaired, so he went home."

"He promised he would keep in touch, but he never calls."

"No," Victor said more softly, "he doesn't. A good friend would call. Maybe he still will. We should keep practicing. It will pass the time."

Pasha gave him a worried look.

"I don't think you should skate anymore today, Anton. You look very pale, but your cheeks are red."

He moved closer and felt Victor's forehead and face.

"I think you have a fever, Anton!"

"I do feel pretty worn out," Victor answered.

"You should lie down. I will make you some soup and tea. We at least have that."

"That would be good," Victor sighed wearily, "I'll go and lie down."

To Victor's surprise, Pasha nodded and turned away, leaving him alone on the ice.

Everything in me wants to try to run again. I know that he will kill me soon if I stay. I have to do something. If only my head would stop hurting so I could think!

He watched Pasha disappear into the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

When I ran before, I realized that Pasha made sure that there was only one way out. I was easy to follow. And once outside, there was nowhere for me to go, no one was nearby to find me. But…what if I only make it look like I left? What if I trick him into thinking I've gone outside, then I tie the door with something, so that he can't get back inside I don't know what I would do after that, though. He destroyed his cell phone, so there's no way to call for help. We are in a run down industrial area, far from any safe place.

God, I don't know what to do!

Victor ran a hand over his face, only to find that his hand and arm were as sweaty and hot as his face. His heart skipped oddly, and his legs felt suddenly weak.

This isn't like when he was drugging me. I really am running a fever. I hurt all over. Maybe the stress and the poor conditions here are making me ill. I don't know. I feel…

He headed for the edge of the rink on quivering legs, but collapsed just short of the wall. He came down on his belly and slid for a moment, before coming to a stop. He laid still on the ice for several minutes before Pasha's fast footsteps approached, and his captor returned to the rink, looking around with furious eyes.

"Where are you?" Pasha howled, looking around with round, hateful eyes, "Victor, you LIAR! YOU SAID THAT YOU WOULDN'T LEAVE ME!"

His chest heaved and his hands clenched as he glared into the ice rink, and his gaze fell on Victor's collapsed body. For a moment, the vision of his former friend, lying facedown and unmoving made his mind freeze and he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. Visions of Victor's unconscious body laying on the ice shifted back and forth, transposing themselves with the macabre sight of Anton's strangled body lying on the dead skater's bed. Pasha's mind spun dangerously, and he fell on his knees at Victor's side, his body shaking as he grabbed at the beautiful costume.

"V-victor?" he sobbed uncertainly.

He shook his head, his body quaking visibly.

"Anton? What is happening? What do I do?"

He shook Victor roughly, bringing the skater to semiconsciousness.

"P-pasha," Victor moaned in a faltering voice, "I need help! You h-have to bring someone. P-please, Pasha. I think that I'll…Pasha, I don't want to die!"

Pasha stared in surprise at Victor, his stymied mind trying to make sense of the words. Very slowly, a look of cognizance blossomed on his face, and he lifted his sick captive into his arms.

"I didn't understand, at first," he said softly, carrying Victor back to the bedroom and laying him on the bed.

With trembling hands, he fastened the restraints, then he left for a moment and returned with a bottle of dark liquid and a cool, damp washcloth. He raised Victor's head and coaxed him into accepting a small amount of medication, then he washed Victor's sweating face tenderly.

"I do understand now," he went on, "Anton and I had to be very strong to survive on so little…but having very little, taught us to be survivors. Victor, you always had everything you needed. You didn't have to struggle to survive, so when I took everything away from you, you got lost and your strength faded. But…you know what you need now."

"Pasha…" Victor moaned deliriously, "you have to go for help. I really think I am dying. Please, Pasha…"

"Don't you worry, Victor," Pasha whispered into his ear, curling up to his captive's side, "Just stay with me a little longer. Then…I'll make sure that you are never left alone. After tonight, we will burn all of this suffering away…and then, you, Anton and I will be together forever!"