"Cunt!"
Matt flicked over his king, and relit the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Checking the time, L rubbed his toes together with satisfaction.
"Mmm, that game took 23 minutes, you're getting better you know. When we first did this I beat you in 6 moves," L praised and teased simultaneously, monotone. They'd been playing one game of chess a day for over two weeks.
"I'm just not used to this kind of game. Play one of my games, and I'd beat you easily you cocky shite."
"Hmm, we'll find out," L smirked, and slid out of the armchair he was occupying to look at his computer. Matt followed suit, and took up at his own technological station.
They were in Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, attempting to track the leader of a sex trafficking operation who was purportedly based there. The operation was taking advantage of the conflict in Turkey to kidnap kids of the ages of 8 to 11, and traffick them up into Europe to illegal brothels. It was their sixth case and their fourth country since working together – almost three months had passed.
"Our rat says that there's a truck incoming in the pm tomorrow."
"Excellent. I think we should plan to intercept and interrogate the driver, it's time to let them know that we mean business. I'm certain that the leader is Andrian Sobolev, all we need is a confession from a subordinate like him to seal the deal. Go to the police in the morning, I'll tell them to get a stealth team together."
"Sure thing boss."
"Any news from Japan?" He asked half-heartedly. At the advice of Matt, L hadn't pursued the problem himself, but rather employed several hundred people to discreetly comb every public area in Japan for any sign of a 'Death Note' hidden somewhere. They'd found some interesting hidden items, but no Death Notes. As each day went by with nothing he became less and less hopeful of any kind of result.
It looked like Kira's killings had stopped for good. A deep social chasm had opened between the people who rejoiced and the people who cursed this fact, and this dichotomy had prevented the Japanese government from either extending Rose's sentence or redeeming her, for fear of antagonising the other half of the populace. Nobody knew what to think – nobody understood what had happened, or why, and it had all ended up in an atmosphere of barely-concealed tension and anticlimax.
The worst thing was Rose's face was beginning to fade from his memory again, despite its photographic capabilities. Every time he thought of her it was a little hazier. Was that freckle above her right or her left cheekbone? What was the curvature of her jaw? No. It's gone.
"Nothing." Matt responded after checking the communication channels.
"Very well."
Three days passed. L of course had been right about Andrian Sobolev heading the trafficking operation. The captured driver gave up a statement willingly when he realised his choice was between the humane treatment at the hands of the distant detective, or the brutality of the Bulgarian police. They stayed another night in Sofia planning where to go next, and at half past four L curled up on his bed to sleep.
The wind howled. Droplets of rain cut into him like bullets, but his large hat protected his eyes. He strode the deck, cutlass swinging by his side, dripping gas lamps illuminating portions of the saturated deck. The sails were out, and the ship appeared to be steering itself, rocking nauseatingly from side to side. But he was the captain and had strong sea legs; no trifling storm could make him stumble.
Rows of people lined the edge of the boat, clutching the wooden rails in an attempt to keep their balance. Another small posse of people followed behind him. He paused by each person along the deck to pass them judgement.
"Innocent," he decreed, and the first man fell sobbing onto his knees in gratitude.
"Guilty," he judged of the second, and pushed the man over the rails into the roiling black ocean.
"Guilty. Innocent. Guilty. Guilty. Innocent. Guilty. Innocent. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty."
"Err, captain?"
"Yes?" He turned to see a young man bowing to him obsequiously, his thin clothes plastered to him by the rain.
"There's still another in the hold."
"Take me to them."
Without having to walk there they were suddenly in the dingy hold, the area at the far end behind the bars opaque with darkness. Then out of the darkness, with a blood curdling familiarity, came the sound of words.
"Lies! Why are you protecting him? It can't be to save yourself – you're in a more compromised position now than any legal detective would put you in. What's the matter? Do you have some kind of feeling of loyalty to this mysterious detective? Well it's clearly misplaced – look where you are, and precious L hasn't come to save you."
"Boy, fetch me a light!" He demanded desperately of the wretched man beside him. "You in there, show yourself!" The hissing female voice continued the words that he remembered horribly well.
"Tell me what you know about L!"
Horribly, a yet more familiar voice gasped in the darkness.
"You know why I won't tell you? Because he's a better person than I could ever be. And if I have to die to protect him then I will. It's what I deserve."
The woman hissed. "Pathetic. Is that your final answer?"
"Yes, it's my final answer. Are you going to kill me now?"
"No!" He rushed forward, somehow gliding through the metal bars, and all became illuminated as water began gurgling up through the floor. Ruth Fetter cackled and dived down into the water, swimming like an eel. Rose's face, in all its beautiful detail, stared up at him in pain. He clutched her cheeks, savouring the sight of her, but seawater was rising up all around them.
Drowning drowning drowning drowning drowning DROWNING DROWNING DROWNING-
L woke up gasping and clutching his throat, raggedly dragging in huge breaths of air. Urgh. I'm drenched in sweat. To his regret Rose's face was quickly fading from his mind already. He lay back down, one hand on his heart, and attempted to slow down his breathing. It shuddered slowly to a more reasonable pace, and when it did, he sprung out of bed and almost ran to Matt's room, switching on the light.
"Argh, what the fuck man?" Matt protested at the sudden glaring light, burying his head under the blanket, "I'm sleeping!"
"Well you're not anymore. Get up," L commanded, "and change the flights. We're going to Japan."
(gap)
The cherry tree in Kiyomi Takada's back garden sent silky petals of pink and white spiralling down to the floor. Blossom got stuck in L's ebony hair as he crouched on the steps leading down from the backdoor. The house still hadn't been sold. Obviously. Who wants to live in a house where a highly publicised murder took place – this building is veritably haunted for the rest of time. It was still owned by the Takada family , and they hadn't moved a single thing out of the house, though it had been over three months.
This is where it happened. The garden was beautiful, beginning to look untamed and all the better for it, but L could feel death in the air. Would I feel it if I didn't know what had happened here?
He sat there for who knows how long, soaking in the spring sunshine and pondering thoroughly. If I were Kiyomi Takada, where would I hide my weapon? Not on my property, that's for sure. And not so far away that I couldn't get to it very quickly if I needed. Yes, it's in this neighbourhood if it's anywhere.
He picked the lock of the back door and entered. The house was dusty and peaceful, the air undisturbed for weeks, and he trod silently through to Kiyomi's bedroom. L brushed his hand along the desk, examining and memorising the contents. Aah, there. That's what I'm after. He picked up Kiyomi's professional diary and quietly left the house.
Back at the hotel L rifled through the diary obsessively. It had an address book at the back, too, and in just under an hour he'd memorised the entire thing. Matt was playing Skyrim on his left, exploring an icy wilderness. L cross-referenced his mental picture of the diary and address book with maps of the suburban area around Kiyomi's house.
"All the public areas have been thoroughly searched," he mused aloud, stroking his lip pensively. "But what about private places?"
"Loada bollocks, that's what I think."
"I wasn't asking your opinion."
Matt grinned. "I know."
"Get me the governmental records for these people – I want everything, even medical records."
"You're highly unethical, you know that?"
"I do, please get me the records."
"Sure thing."
After a few more minutes, L began musing aloud again. Matt watched the slightly older, gangly man out of the corner of his eye, perched like a bird on his seat. In his entire time working with L, he had never seen him so absorbed and intent.
"There's only five households that Kiyomi Takada frequents in her neighbourhood. Three are good friends, with families that have two or more children. You'd be an idiot to hide something in a house with children – they're so small and unpredictable, and kids always know all the hiding places on their property. No, she wouldn't go there. The other two are what you might call 'charitable missions', the sort of visits that famous people do to look like benevolent do-gooders to the media, and to salve their own consciences. One is a disabled boy and his carer, the other is a solitary elderly lady with badly progressing cataracts – she's half blind already. These would be much better choices."
"If you say so." Matt's avatar was now investigating a cave.
"I'm going to visit them both tomorrow."
"Shouldn't we send someone else?"
"Probably," L admitted. "But in this instance I want to go myself. I owe it."
"Batshit."
"I'll have you know I have a highly attuned intuition."
"Batshit."
"I'm never wrong. Well, when it comes to detection I'm not."
"Batshit."
"If you say so." L licked chocolate off a donut. There was a strange bubbling excitement rising in the pit of his stomach. There'll be no sleep tonight.
Thanks for reading = ] have a nice evening x