Chapter Fifty-Three:

Seto picked up the phone, intending to call Mokuba and tell him everything. It was Wednesday the 9th. He'd spent yesterday debating the pros and cons of informing his brother of everything that was happening after Takanawa had called him and had decided that Mokuba's safety mattered more than whatever anger would be directed at Seto.

So he dialed the familiar number and waited.

"Hi, Seto," Mokuba said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Seto decided to go ahead and go through with the expected pleasantries. "How is Marianne?"

"She's good. No more morning sickness. Her mother says none of the women in her family have it for very long."

"Uh-huh." What else was he supposed to say to that?

Mokuba chuckled, getting the message. "Anyway, you'll be proud of your little brother."

"Why is that?"

Mokuba sighed softly. "I fired my first employee. Actually, two. That's not really good to me, I just know how much you enjoy it."

Seto laughed, amused. Truth be, he didn't actually enjoy firing people, he just never shied away from it and never sugar-coated it. His reputation for quick and merciless was legendary. "Good to see I've taught you well. What happened?"

"I caught Taryn on top of the copier."

Seto frowned slightly. "Photo-coping her butt?" Stupid, but not really grounds for being fired.

"Um, sort of. Remember I said two employees? Michael was with her. Though they were photo-coping."

Seto snorted. "I see."

"Yeah. Have to admit, it was kind of funny watching them fall off the copier when I walked in. And everyone was staring at them as they walked out."

Seto laughed again. He'd almost forgotten what he'd called Mokuba for, but he stopped laughing abruptly. He really needed to just get it over with. But damn it, Mokuba was in a good place right now. Seto was a miserable person, but Mokuba never had been and now he had his new wife, a baby to look forward to, his own office to run, and his college life. Dragging his little brother into his problems was supposed to have stopped once Mokuba had moved out and gotten away from the curse that was Seto.

"Seto?"

"I'm here."

"Is something wrong?"

"Actually--" Seto broke off, sitting up straight on the couch. An idea had just occured to him, yet another against Takanawa. Could this one possibly work? Nothing had so far. He should be about up for some good luck.

"Seto?" Mokuba was beginning to sound concerned.

"Sorry, Mokuba. I think I just came up with the solution."

"Oh. What was the problem?"

Seto thought quickly. "There was a... Someone's stealing office supplies. I mean, using their I.D. to get in at night and take whole boxes of stuff, I guess to sell for their own profit. It has to be an employee because they get in through security easily and know where all the cameras are--they cover them. It would be too much trouble to search every employee walking out and too much trouble keeping a pen-by-pen inventory list." This was a stupid lie, but it oddly sounded plausible. "I think what I'll do instead is put one of those tiny spy cameras in the runner of the uppermost shelf. Or maybe more than one."

"Hey, good idea. Who's going to be looking in the runners of shelves?"

Seto nodded distractedly, despite the fact that Mokuba couldn't see it. Though his story had been a lie, the principle of that lie was his idea of how to get to Takanawa. The only real problem is that he had no idea whether Takanawa was smart enough to see through it or not. He was a Yakuza mafia man and whether or not he had standing in the family any more, he himself as a person had not changed. Despite what Seto thought of him, he had to be at least paranoid and clever if not out and out intelligent. Or else he wouldn't have lasted to whatever birthday he'd be celebrating next.

"Let me know how it goes," Mokuba was saying.

"I will." He decided to change the subject. Though he knew he really should, he just couldn't bring himself to tell Mokuba. It might be dangerous and stupid--Mokuba had a target painted on him--but he was so happy. Takanawa's threats were largely empty, because until he had his back up against a brick wall, there was really nothing he could do to Mokuba, not if he wanted to keep Seto at his beck and call. "When is Marianne due?"

"Um, August 3rd. But the doctor told her to expect the baby to come anytime between July 28th to August 11th."

"Then I'll be in England the first unless she goes into labor early."

"I'll call you if she does. Thanks for promising to be here when the baby comes, Seto. Marianne's really happy you'll be a part of it."

"She's welcome." Though of course Seto wasn't going just for Marianne. But he wasn't going to say that.

"Well, sorry to cut it short, but it's dinnertime."

"I'll talk to you later, Mokuba."

"'Bye, Seto."

They hung up and Seto considered his plan. He needed to work out every detail before he did it. This could be the very last chance he would get. It also seemed too easy, which made him worry that it was. Still, he had to try everything he could.

He got to his feet, walking through his house while he thought. A robotic dog. Easy enough; Seto could even make one by the twelfth if he was so inclined, but Takanawa would no doubt want some proof that the dog was stolen. After all, the bastard was no doubt still hoping Seto would slip up and land himself in jail. He knew nothing of the largely infallible magick involved.

Which brought him to another uncertain point. Should he just make the damn dog and fake it having been stolen? That could be easy enough. He would hack into the laboratory's mainframe, deliberately set off the alarms, and have the police rush over. They would make their report and the incident would make the papers, given the high profile merchandise that wasn't even due to hit shelves until November of next year. And Takanawa wouldn't be surprised that the alarms were tripped since Yami, drunk, had been stupid and punched his fist through the glass in the galleria way back when.

That was the other half of the question. If he didn't make a dog, considering that Takanawa might somehow know if he did, should he enlist Yami's help again?

There were pros and cons to that. Yami would be able to steal one of the robotic dogs with ease and it would be quicker and more effecient. And Seto could certainly trust him. But on the other hand, he didn't want to see him again.

Seto rubbed his forehead and glanced at the clock, realizing he'd wandered his way into the kitchen. It was nine-thirty, which surprised him. It was awfully early to go to bed, but he was getting a minor headache from thinking all of this over and over again and he really just wanted to go to bed.

So he did. He went upstairs and changed into a pair of pajamas and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up over himself and turning off the light, settling down into bed.

******

He woke up late the next morning. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was a little past ten. He'd slept for over twelve hours. He hadn't realized he'd been that tired, but he'd had a lot more than usual to think about. He must not have slept as much as he'd thought the last few weeks.

Seto got up and showered before heading downstairs for the breakfast his cook made. He felt refreshed after the long sleep, but his decision still had to be made. Make the dog himself, or have Yami steal one?

He supposed the smart thing to do would be to just follow orders. Play it safe when he had just this left, this last chance.

Damn it, though, that meant finding Yami and making another deal with him. He supposed he'd just have to pay him again. He didn't know what Yami would use the money for, but that was not his business and who couldn't use a few hundred grand?

With a sigh, Seto gathered his trench coat and left the house. Where to find Yami, though? He didn't know for certain, but surely the group didn't still live at the hotel. Yami had mentioned searching for an apartment. Perhaps the Fire Room?

Seto would rather check with the hotel first. So he had his driver head over there, but the woman at the front desk told him that the group had indeed moved out the day before.

"But I remember you're his friend," she said. She spoke quickly and with barely a pause for breath. Considering what he needed was to get in touch with him, Seto didn't correct her. Unlike the bitch at the strip club, this one was all to happy to help. "I don't know their new address, they didn't leave it since they didn't have any mail to forward--don't pay any water or electricity bills in a hotel, you know--and they didn't have any phone number to leave, but I can still help you. Yami works for my cousin, Annie. I got him the job, he and Joey seemed pretty keen to look for work, which is no surprise you know, since they need money to live off of, am I right?"

Seto had to bite his tongue to keep his mouth shut as the woman prattled on. She apparently didn't know that Yami and Joey had been strippers. He didn't bother to enlighten her, not that she would have heard him if she did. She was riffling through dozens of papers, folders, and sticky notepads on her desk.

"Yes, my cousin Annie just opened up her second store--art, you know, she's so talented. But it's not a gallery, though some of her work's displayed there. She sells art supplies, art books, and lessons. Teaches others to appreciate art the way she does. It's a pity more people don't like art anymore. Not real art anyway. Like my own son, Maxie. Of course Maxie's only fourteen, right at that age where all he's interested in is his Game Boy and hanging out with his friends."

Seto balled his fists. Would this woman never shut up? Finally she located what she was looking forward, pulling a small notepad out of the fourth drawer she tried. She'd flipped through the pages and found a sheet. Pulling off a clean one, she copied over the address and phone number and held it out.

"That's Annie's. Fine Art World, nice name, huh?"

Seto turned and walked out of the office without answering. One more minute in there and he would have sewn her mouth shut or taken one of the many pens on her desk and punctured his own ear drums. What a motormouth.

The address was Ten-Ninety Nuramara Ave. When the limo pulled up, Seto got out and studied the place for a second. It was a small niche in a line of them, with a huge picture window displaying an easel with a nice picture of a purple orchid in sharp detail on a softened, blurred background of leaves and branches. Littering the two-step shelf below the easel were paints, brushes, a palette, and three blank canvasses stacked in an angled pile. Very artsy.

Seto sighed and walked in. A little bell dinged as he walked inside. Fine Art World consisted of two large rooms vertical to the door and connected by an open archway. Each room had a large round pillar in the center that seemed less like supports than decoration. And in every direction were easels, canvasses, paints, brushes, palettes, varnishes, turpentine, clay, and every other type of art-related objects imaginable. The ceiling was mounted with a dozen large spotlights, each a different color, lighting each display with a different hue; red, amber, blue, green.

A woman was standing near a purple-lighted pedestal displaying a sculpture of a swallowtail butterfly taking flight. She was in her late thirties and no doubt the woman named Annie. Her hair was fiery and frizzy, except for two locks framing her face that were lightened to golden. She had cat-green eyes in a small, heart-shaped face. Her oufit consisted of black pedal-pusher pants, a light pink form-fitting shirt belted around her waist with a dark pink belt with an over-sized silver buckle. Around her neck was a long silver chain from which a triangular-shaped onyx pendant hung. Her striped hair was pulled back from her face by a wide pink scarf the same shade as the belt, the ends of which trailed down to her waist.

Annie spotted him at the same time he saw her and her eyes widened before she came over. A wide grin split her face and she suddenly clapped her hands.

"Oh, my! Look at you! I could so paint you."

Seto's words died in his throat and he just stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"Yes! Yes, just look at you! So statuesque, so handsome! Those fierce blue eyes, and look at your outfit, I love it! The brooding black accentuated by that wonderful white coat. And all of the straps, the buckles, so interesting!"

Seto stared at her, at a loss.

"Kaiba? What are you doing here?"

Yami had come from the second room, walking over to them with a slight frown on his face, looking at Seto with a wary expression. Annie looked at him with a wide smile. She put her arm around Yami's shoulders.

"Now, look at my newest employee! This is a man who brings style to anything. Look at this black, punk-rock outfit, the buckles and the belts and the cuffs. And this hair! Mm, I love his hair! The spikes, the colors! He's an artist's dream!"

Yami was looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Um, Ms. Benson, I--"

"I've told you already, Yami, you call me Annie. Ms. Benson makes me feel old."

"Annie, may I speak with Kaiba, please?"

She paused with a blank look on her face like she didn't understand the question, then a big smile spread across her face. "George! I need some more Greco-Russian clay mix out from the stock room!"

She went into the other room very briskly, like she had a time limit to get there, both of her arms held up in front of her like she was going to scrub up for surgery. Yami sighed and tucked his bangs behind his ear. Seto realized he was staring after Annie, so thrown off by the crazy storm that had just swept through the room.

"Kaiba?"

Seto looked down at him and managed to find his composure. He briefly considered taunting Yami about his being an 'artist's dream' but didn't for two reasons. He needed Yami in a good mood to get him to agree to help him and because Annie had just wanted to put *him* up on a stand and sculpt him.

Yet his mouth didn't seem to agree with his mind's logic. "So, better or worse than dancing?"

Yami gave him a glare. "Annie is not that bad."

"Right. Just nuts."

That brought a faint smile to Yami's face. "I suppose I shouldn't even ask why you're here."

"There wouldn't be any point in it, no."

"What do you need me to take now?"

Seto noted he didn't use the word 'steal' which was probably smart while they were there in the shop. Yami started walking over to a corner of the shop that was relatively secluded, occupied only by a three-tiered shelf displaying identical vases. Seto followed after him and gave him a run-down of his latest conversation and his newest plan.

Yami's eyebrow raised. He looked thoughtful.

"Can you do it?"

"Yes, of course. Do you think this will work?"

"I hope so. Fine, be at Kaiba Corp. Saturday at nine and we'll do it then."

He was surprised that Yami didn't protest being ordered. He just nodded, then looked over his shoulder as Annie came zipping out of the second room of the store, coming over to them. At almost that same moment the bells rang, heralding the arrival of three college-age girls wearing various helter-kelter oufits Seto supposed were supposed to be artistic. One even had a beret on her head.

"Yami, honey, see what those dears need, would you?"

Yami glanced at Seto. "I'll be there."

He turned and went to intercept the girls who were making a big thing of a sculpture that vaguely resembled a blue tumbleweed rising out of purple fire to Seto. Annie turned to him and smiled.

"Can I interest you in the fabulous French acrylic paints we just got in yesterday?"

"I can't begin to tell you how uninterested I am in acrylic French paints."

She blinked, still smiling, as if Seto's response had gone right over her head. He was beginning to wonder whether she could have used more ventilation the last time she'd made a masterpiece. She made a slight movement, shaking a lock of hair off her face and went wandering off. Seto stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and left the shop.

Now that he was out of Crazy Art World, he could get back to his plan. Despite how easy it sounded, there was a lot more he needed to do before he even had Yami steal the robo-dog on Saturday.

tbc…