The Wolf in Cute Clothing

Ayame had left university after four years' studies knowing two things: one, that she had a kick-ass talent for all things electrical and two, that a life of one hundred percent legality would never suit her. At first she thought the Midnight Bank, with its rather shaky hold on the Law, would satisfy that need, but she soon realised that this wasn't enough.

It was when she ran into an old friend from high school who was dealing – somewhat shadily – in fine arts, that she came up with the plan to make money, have fun and put her diverse skills to the test, all in one.

She had, while still at university, made the acquaintance of a guy who had shown a certain aptitude for forgery. (He had, to pick an example at random, made a small fortune by selling diplomas with the appropriate teacher's signature to those who had failed their courses.) He had also spent a brief spell in prison for the attempt to sell a forged painting. He had there learnt several must-knows about breaking and entering from his cell mate – information he gladly forwarded to Ayame. So with him and her artsy friend she had the basis of what would start out as a way to relieve her of her boredom, but would eventually grow into one of the most elaborate art theft schemes to ever grace America.

Her position at the bank was an excellent one for finding out what her customers' vaults contained. Many never even gave a thought to the silent and discreet girl who escorted them to their room and informed of any changes in the system or password combinations that had been renewed since the last visit. She was often allowed to remain in the room while her customers added or subtracted to their treasure hold, and she thus managed to write out a very good inventory of all the objets d'art within her reach.

With the help of her friend in the art business she determined what paintings or sculptures would fetch a good price, and who was likely to be interested in them after they had been liberated from their owners; with the help of her friend in the forgery business she replaced the objects she removed from her customers' vaults with perfect replicas while she sold the originals; and with the help of no one but herself she entered the bank after closing hours, opened vaults and switched valuable items with worthless forgeries, manipulated security cameras and alarms to give no sign of her ever having been there and generally did all the dirty work. She found it to be exactly the kind of kick she had been searching for since high school.

Her conscience could of course be eased by the fact that very few of the Midnight Bank's customers had achieved the objects filling their vaults by honest means, but then again this didn't really matter since she had never had much to spare for that whole conscience thing anyway.

At first, she limited herself to swiping stuff from the customers in her charge, but as the business proved to be more successful than she had expected – and as this was found to be almost too easy – she started investigating into those of her colleagues as well. The Midnight Bank was, naturally, not the most trusting of work places, but even their employees wanted days off when they were supposed to be working and Ayame soon became known as the one who was willing to jump in at short notice. Grandma's in hospital? Talk to Ayame, she can probably take your shift. A sudden date? No problem, call Ayame and she'll cover for you tonight. Just really, really tired of work? Dump it on Ayame, she seems to like it.

She was trusted with confidential information, secret passwords and other assorted stuff that would be really bad in the hands of the wrong person. Why? Because "the wrong person" – well, that couldn't possibly be little pigtailed Ayame, who was cute and innocent-looking and most importantly always ready to shoulder other people's burdens. "The wrong person", that was another type of person entirely.

Or maybe not.

She had been at it for a little over three years when she met Koga. She had seen enough of the business to know that it was often cold and brutal, and although it pained her to admit it, she was starting to think it might be time to quit. This decision was spurred on by something that had quite surprised her, used as she was to short relationships without any kind of real emotion attached.

But she liked Koga. She really, really liked him. And although she knew she'd have to ditch him sooner or later, when he got to thinking about the things about her that didn't add up – you'd think that'd happen sooner, what with the Secret Agency job and all, but Koga had proved once and for all that love is severely nearsighted – she didn't want to. She didn't want to at all, actually. If the choice stood between Koga and continuing her (ahem) career, she gradually came to realise, it would be the former who won hands down.

His offer of marriage – although unexpected – was all the excuse she needed.

That very same night she called up the three art-loving billionaires with whom deals were at that time just being negotiated, and in no uncertain terms told them what she thought of them, their hobbies and their sense of moral. (Needless to say, her honest but colourful words were not well received.) She talked to both of her closest accomplices to let them know she was out for good, and carefully hung up on them before they had time to start voicing objections. And after thus successfully ruining several people's breakfast, she set about preparing hers and Koga's.

Half an hour later the greater part of that breakfast was to be found in Koga's hair (having it poured over one's head does that).

Koga had never reflected very much over the reason for their very violent break-up. He knew her temper and fierce pride, and blamed the quarrel that morning – and their mutual inability to admit a wrong – for their falling out. Seen from Ayame's perspective, however, her rage when she found out he had not been serious in his offer made more sense. She had more or less burned her bridges, her financial situation was not all that, and she had just made herself a few enemies in the crème de la crème of the criminal world.

Put less eloquently, she was in the shit.

Since she left Koga she had been working hard to build her good reputation back up. And one opportunity to do this, one she couldn't afford to pass up, was a highly secretive and well-paying deal – to ensure The Half-breed, a painting that had been stolen some years previous from a museum in Tokyo, for a private collector. She had found that the painting was indeed within her reach, in the vault of one of her oldest customers. Without further ado she had commissioned her friend the forger to make a copy, and the next time she had the late shift she fed a loop to the cameras to make them show nothing but empty corridors all night, switched the paintings and went home with the satisfaction of a bad job well done.

And left the field open for Tsubaki and her friends.

…………………………………

"This is all very interesting," said Shippou, with a sigh of impatience that belied his words, "but I don't see what it has to do with my question."

Sesshoumaru raised his eyebrows. "You have repeatedly asked me to tell you about Ayame. I find you lacking in gratitude."

Shippou grit his teeth, but spoke calmly. "That is true," he said. "Time after time have I asked to be told what I feel is only my due as a valuable member of the agency. Time after time have I had naught but a hello-I-am-an-enigma smile in return. Believe me, this story is long awaited. However," he glowered, "as a reply to my question "Just how are you planning to trap Naraku?", the life story of Ayame is rather insufficient, don't you think?"

"Ah, but that's where you are wrong," said Sesshoumaru seriously. "Because Ayame's life story is closely tied to my clever, not to say genial, plan. I mean, really, it's brilliant."

"Does that ego of yours come with a pump or do you have to inflate it by hand?"

Derogatory remarks, especially from Shippou, always slid off Sesshoumaru like water off a duck. He continued, unfazed. "When Tsubaki and her friends broke into Webber's vault, what they didn't know was that one of the paintings they retrieved was a fake. To be exact, The Half-blood."

"Wait, that was..."

"The painting Ayame had lifted that very night, yes. But let's not focus on that for the time being. Instead, consider this: did you ever wonder why the intruders into the Midnight Bank took such great care to advertise that they had been there? If they were able to get past the alarms and into the vault, why not just close it afterwards and leave quietly? It could have been days or weeks or months before Webber returned and the theft was discovered."

"I did wonder," Shippou admitted. "Especially while Ayame was number one on my list of suspects. And then I thought about insurance scams. Webber was the one that ordered the break-in, since he knew the bank would compensate him in black money, and he wouldn't have to make any formal complaints or prosecute. He needn't even have had anything to be stolen in the first place, although the bank would probably have known if that was the case."

"Exactly." Sesshoumaru smiled, glad that he wouldn't have to explain his thought processes every step of the way (as the case would be with, for example, Royakan – who never bothered to think if he could get someone else to do it for him). "He did have lots of nice shiny stuff in his treasure chest – take it from Ayame. And after removing it from his bank, he was likely to sell some of it off, right? That way he could increase the profit he'd already made, and also get the artworks into circulation in order to "prove" that they really had been stolen. So imagine this scenario: doubt suddenly rises about the authenticity of one of his paintings. One of the collectors he approaches seems to have already bought The Half-breed, and is absolutely adamant that it's genuine. Webber is furious! If word gets around, the entire collection will be viewed with scepticism – his reputation is at stake! He demands to be allowed to see and compare the alleged Half-breed original with his own, and proposes a meeting with several experts present. If his copy turns out to be the fake he will retreat – probably to hunt down the bastard who robbed him of his rightful, sorry, wrongful property – and if it turns out to be the real thing he will gracefully allow the collector to buy it off him. You're getting that bored look again."

"Webber isn't my main priority right now."

"You may not think so, but..." Sesshoumaru grinned. "Think about it. What do we know about this Webber? He needs money, fast. Maybe he's on the run from something – that would be a reason to start selling off his accumulated treasures. He employs professionals like Tsubaki. He has a lot of power. Are you seeing connections yet?"

"You mean..." said Shippou slowly.

"I mean," sighed Sesshoumaru, "that Naraku has a serious lack of imagination while choosing his aliases. Seriously, Webber? Web-er? And with N. O. for Naraku Onigumo? Pisses me off!"

"So..." Shippou was starting to smile, "I take it Ayame has set this whole thing up for you?"

"Of course. The entire meeting is a sham. The collector who purchased The Half-breed from Ayame had been looking for a chance to squash Naraku for years, and co-operated readily. Her friend the art dealer will be one of the experts present to give it a nice genuine feeling, but the other "experts" – they're up to us to find." He winked. "When Naraku strolls into the meeting, guess who he'll find."

"He won't be happy." Shippou grinned, hugely. "Which is not more than fair since I will be happy enough for both of us. It's finally happening, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh." Sesshoumaru was grinning, too.

"So when is this meeting?"

Sesshoumaru's grin widened almost imperceptibly. "Oh, I didn't say? Tonight. And, since you are going to be playing one of the experts, I suggest you hurry off now and buy yourself some clothes proper for the occasion."

He felt a certain amount of sadistic satisfaction at Shippou's suddenly panicked expression. Then, since he was in fact a rather kind person, he handed his colleague a card with the address of a gentleman's clothing store. "I recommend you to try this place. You'll probably get a discount, as well as kind advice and help with whatever you need – since Royakan's eldest is a part-timer there."

Shippou was a disappearing blur.