1 Part Three: Swann's Song
He caught the report being repeated on News24 and taped it for the hell of it. Now Yohji sat in complete and utter bafflement as he watched and rewatched the small news section.
"This is a somewhat dramatic development in the case and we hand over to our Scottish correspondent for a full report." Cut to a shot of Aya, now going by the name of Ran Frederson, pushing his way past the crowd of waving microphones and cameras quickly followed by the shot of Aya alone by the castle that Yohji had seen earlier. Obviously meant to show just how goddamn important and special the Beeb were for getting the gorgeous redhead all to themselves.
The slight breeze still managed to blow crimson strands erratically around his pale face as Aya fixed the camera with a glare. "My client left an envelope in my possession last week" his voice was still deep and husky as Yohji remembered it, even if he now spoke with a perfect RP accent, "and I was told he would return and collect it today. If not, I had instructions to open it. Inside wuh…" he cleared his throat and brushed some hair away from his eyes. "Excuse me. Inside was a letter from my client stating that he was in receipt of information, which he believed originated from a member of the security staff at the country mansion involved. Most importantly, my client stated clearly that this information would be used to stage a burglary as, and I quote 'someone very rich would be staying there on the weekend of the twenty-fifth'. I have brought this letter to the police's attention as it proves that my client's motive for breaking in was burglary and that neither he nor his accomplices knew the identity of this 'very rich' guest. Despite this, I am still being refused access to my client under the Prevention of Terrorism Act even though I feel this evidence sheds a great deal of doubt on this assassination plot."
The reporter jumped in at this point, clearly not au fait with Aya's death glare. "So you're saying that Crawford and the others simply intended to murder and rob whoever was staying at the house?"
The wattage of the Shi-ne stare of death was suddenly cranked up to complete the overall don't-be-so-fucking-stupid look that Aya was sporting. "No, I actually don't believe my client murdered anyone. At the moment all we've really seen is a lot of hysteria and hand-wringing and very little in the way of actual evidence. Until that changes I will persist in my beliefs."
That caused Yohji to crack a smile. Aya had never been that talkative when he had the favoured option of simply hacking with his katana, but the man seemed to have been hiding the ability to cut dead an opponent with little more than a barbed comment. Being sadly offscreen, Yohji was unable to be treated to a view of the reporter's face as that tongue lashing sunk in, but he could imagine it.
The shot cut again, to one of the Detective Superintendents who were leading the investigation who was speaking in a voice clearly fighting to remain calm when faced with the added frustration of a cold-blooded redhead who was insisting on rocking the boat. "While I understand the great excitement any apparent new development in this case may cause, given the shocking and distressing conditions that surround it, it is still vital we keep our feet on the ground. In the current sense of confusion, Mr Frederson's paragraphs may seem to be a dramatic revelation, but they in fact only confirm our own suspicions – that a security leak was involved in the tragic events of last night. However I find the idea that a few written words can disprove a terrorist motive disingenuous."
"And why is that?"
"These sentences of Mr Frederson's do not actually prove that the accused were unaware of the identity of who was staying at the house. Indeed it could be seen as a deliberate attempt to cover up the fact that they were aware of Fischer's identity and you also have to ask yourself just why Mr Crawford would be so anxious to leave such a letter in the hands of lawyer prior to carrying out such a heinous act. It may simply be damage limitation, an attempt to conceal not only their true motives, but also the identity of whoever their contact at the country house was. Of course, this may be nothing more than a very bloody and ruthless attempted robbery, but we have no reason to rule out a terrorist motive at this point in time and because of that we cannot allow ourselves to relax our position at this point in time. At the very least, these men have managed to murder one of the most powerful businessmen in the world and if there is someone behind them, we need to hunt them down."
Yohji watched the rest of the report conclude before hitting the pause button, a frown creasing his forehead. Something about the interview was bothering him, and he didn't think it was simply shock at finding his missing team-mate. He rewound the images until Aya's face reappeared and suddenly narrowed his eyes as he watched the man brush his hair back into place in a swift movement. There. He hit play and watched the action through again.
"…not, I had instructions to open it. Inside wuh…"
A sudden flicker of what could have been uncertainty in his unobscured eye as he glanced quickly away from the camera, breaking the glare and clearing his throat before sweeping the offending strands away. Strands of hair that hadn't been bothering him for the five or six seconds they had already been there.
"Excuse me. Inside was a letter…"
Aya had knocked off balance. Had slipped up somehow. Yohji rewound again.
"…en it. Inside wuh … Excuse me. Inside was…"
He'd given something away, or was afraid he had.
"…uctions to open it. Inside wuh … Excuse me. Inside was…"
Something in the accent, in the emphasis. Yohji listened closely.
"…ide wuh … Excuse me. Inside was…"
That was it. Aya had been about to say "inside were," not "inside is". He'd been talking about an envelope, not just the letter.
Aya had something else. Crawford had given him something else. Yohji let the tape wind on as he mused just what else could have been in that envelope before he began to wonder just why no extracts from this mysterious letter were being read out or shown on the report. The only answer was that no copy had been given to the press and as he couldn't see the cops slapping an injunction on it only to blab on about it on camera the only logical conclusion was that it was Aya who had denied them.
Why? The name of the game at this stage was publicity, especially with no evidence on the table. Why wasn't Aya anxious to get the letter into the public domain and give the media a copy? Unless there was something else he was holding back.
"…a few written words can disprove a terrorist motive disingenuous." The Detective Superintendent said for the second time.
"And why is that?"
"These sentences of Mr Fr…"
Yohji hit the pause button again. A few written words, he thought. Mr Frederson's paragraphs. Never mind what else the bastard was holding back, he hadn't even let the cops see the entire bloody letter.
Yohji tipped his glass back, knocking the dram of whiskey down his throat in one smooth shot that burned pleasantly on its way to join the others that had previously been consumed. He concentrated on the warmth in his throat and sighed. Just what he needed to get his mind off ice-cold redheads and ex-assassins who seemed to be heading back into old habits. He was letting his impulses overrule his professional judgement. His rivals stood accused of murdering one of two people who he really held a grudge against, the other one of which was currently defending them. Sure it hit at a personal level, but there wasn't really anything to justify running off to Glasgow and Aya – or Ran as he seemed to be calling himself these days. There was no evidence to support this one way or another and getting overenthusiastic would no doubt force him to leave the country. Again. And as America, Japan and pretty much the rest of Europe were off limits for similar reasons the only place left was Argentina, which he didn't really like the idea. Far too many Nazi war criminals, it would only lead to more trouble. No. He had to grow up sometime, learn a bit of restraint. Hell, Ken and Omi had no problems behaving like grown-ups, so why did he?
Yohji briefly considered ordering another drink, but getting wasted seemed a pretty lousy way of starting to act his age and instead left the pub. He wandered down Rose Street thinking maybe a bit of sushi would cure this sudden bout of introspective homesickness. Yo! Sushi was gimmicky and expensive but it was also one of the few Japanese restaurants in the city and more importantly, they sold bento boxes for take-away. Aya had always been a big fan of sushi, he would eat it in a methodical, almost ritualistic fashion, placing the thin slice of ginger on top of the nigiri rolls with perfectly controlled chopsticks and followed by an eye-watering helping of wasabi before dipping the entire piece into the dish of soy sauce. It had been so elegant to watch, especially with Ken sitting next to redhead, scarfing away and causing rice to fly everywhere. Yohji shook his head and passed the restaurant, heading instead for George Street and his car. He wasn't really all that hungry anymore.
Ken and Omi were in bed when Yohji let himself in, probably only to expected considering their current jobs. A post-it note was stuck on the fridge and another on the bowl of chilli that sat next to it. Both read the same:
Yohji,
Ken has practise tomorrow and I'm wiped so try and be quiet while you drink yourself into a stupor, ok?
We left some chilli for you if you're hungry. Ken cooked it, but it's not bad.
Omi
Yohji grinned as he popped the chilli in the microwave and made his way into the lounge. A rental tape was lying on top of the video player, 'Fever Pitch', quite clearly it had been Ken's choice this time. Still the film hadn't been that bad last time he'd seen it, so Yohji picked up the cassette and slipped it into the video player. It wouldn't fit, his news tape had obviously been replaced when Ken and Omi finished the film. Yohji pressed eject and watched the television as it flicked into life again.
"… has taken some kind of poison, believed to be cyanide, as he was only left alone for a few minutes. Police are trying to remain calm, but the possible ramifications of this suicide could be seen as very sinister, and even far-reaching as the Fischer murder case takes a further bizarre twist."
A beeping sound from the kitchen, alerted Yohji to the fact that his chilli was ready. He wandered through and brought the dish back into the lounge with him, just as the screen flicked to the same pompous bastard that had had the misfortune of interviewing Aya earlier. Yohji grinned sadistically at his drawn expression, the redhead must have made an impression. He leaned forwards and snagged the news cassette from the video recorder, rummaging for its case while he grabbed a hold of the film again.
"… while it does indeed go a long way towards solving the riddle of who may have been behind the security leaks, being as he was, head of co-ordinating security at the house in question, it also poses more disturbing questions given this latest macabre turn of events. Curiously enough, Mr Swann came forward voluntarily this afternoon having already been involved in the investigation at the Perthshire end, with the intention of helping the Edinburgh investigation into the possible security leak. Naturally there is speculation that he decided to take his life after discovering the police knew something he didn't, but its still too early to draw any firm conclusions. However I spoke with Donald Swann…"
Yohji's fingers, which had been a fraction away from pushing the video in, froze.
"…a few hours beforehand, just before he entered the station and he seemed very nervous and agitated. I believe we have those pictures now."
And Yohji's heart stopped for the second time that day.
Donald Swann stood in the early evening drizzle, a few hours earlier and a couple pf miles away from where Yohji now sat. He looked about fifteen years older than he ought to and was even paler than Aya, eyes never ceasing in their anxious darting.
"Na-naturally very shocked at what has happened, and ah-am eager to co- operate in eh-any way. I am sh-shocked and dismayed that someone muh-may have been able to break our security and will stop at nuh-nothing to find out how this occurred."
"Do you have any suspicions of the source of a possible leak?"
"Obviously I cannot comment on that at pr-present, f-further than to say I have about as much idea as you at the m-moment. I haven't really had the time to c-catch up on events down here at…" Swann suddenly looked directly into the camera. "At this end of the arena."
He cleared his throat.
"It's not as if I've been sitting around and listening to my favourite music, although I think that perhaps more people should. Excuse me," he muttered as he moved off camera.
"As you can see," the reporter stated once the clip ended. "He was obviously very concerned about something."
"Yes, and his last remarks seemed very curious," the anchorman added.
"Indeed. At the time they simply struck me as the words of a tired and distracted man, but in the wake of the tragic and bizarre events that followed, there had been much speculation as to whether it could have been some sort of coded message. But as to what it meant, you're guess is as good as mine."
But Yohji, who knelt on the floor trembling as tears of rage and grief gathered in his eyes, knew exactly what they had meant.
They meant black was white, something was very, very wrong and only he could prove it.
He caught the report being repeated on News24 and taped it for the hell of it. Now Yohji sat in complete and utter bafflement as he watched and rewatched the small news section.
"This is a somewhat dramatic development in the case and we hand over to our Scottish correspondent for a full report." Cut to a shot of Aya, now going by the name of Ran Frederson, pushing his way past the crowd of waving microphones and cameras quickly followed by the shot of Aya alone by the castle that Yohji had seen earlier. Obviously meant to show just how goddamn important and special the Beeb were for getting the gorgeous redhead all to themselves.
The slight breeze still managed to blow crimson strands erratically around his pale face as Aya fixed the camera with a glare. "My client left an envelope in my possession last week" his voice was still deep and husky as Yohji remembered it, even if he now spoke with a perfect RP accent, "and I was told he would return and collect it today. If not, I had instructions to open it. Inside wuh…" he cleared his throat and brushed some hair away from his eyes. "Excuse me. Inside was a letter from my client stating that he was in receipt of information, which he believed originated from a member of the security staff at the country mansion involved. Most importantly, my client stated clearly that this information would be used to stage a burglary as, and I quote 'someone very rich would be staying there on the weekend of the twenty-fifth'. I have brought this letter to the police's attention as it proves that my client's motive for breaking in was burglary and that neither he nor his accomplices knew the identity of this 'very rich' guest. Despite this, I am still being refused access to my client under the Prevention of Terrorism Act even though I feel this evidence sheds a great deal of doubt on this assassination plot."
The reporter jumped in at this point, clearly not au fait with Aya's death glare. "So you're saying that Crawford and the others simply intended to murder and rob whoever was staying at the house?"
The wattage of the Shi-ne stare of death was suddenly cranked up to complete the overall don't-be-so-fucking-stupid look that Aya was sporting. "No, I actually don't believe my client murdered anyone. At the moment all we've really seen is a lot of hysteria and hand-wringing and very little in the way of actual evidence. Until that changes I will persist in my beliefs."
That caused Yohji to crack a smile. Aya had never been that talkative when he had the favoured option of simply hacking with his katana, but the man seemed to have been hiding the ability to cut dead an opponent with little more than a barbed comment. Being sadly offscreen, Yohji was unable to be treated to a view of the reporter's face as that tongue lashing sunk in, but he could imagine it.
The shot cut again, to one of the Detective Superintendents who were leading the investigation who was speaking in a voice clearly fighting to remain calm when faced with the added frustration of a cold-blooded redhead who was insisting on rocking the boat. "While I understand the great excitement any apparent new development in this case may cause, given the shocking and distressing conditions that surround it, it is still vital we keep our feet on the ground. In the current sense of confusion, Mr Frederson's paragraphs may seem to be a dramatic revelation, but they in fact only confirm our own suspicions – that a security leak was involved in the tragic events of last night. However I find the idea that a few written words can disprove a terrorist motive disingenuous."
"And why is that?"
"These sentences of Mr Frederson's do not actually prove that the accused were unaware of the identity of who was staying at the house. Indeed it could be seen as a deliberate attempt to cover up the fact that they were aware of Fischer's identity and you also have to ask yourself just why Mr Crawford would be so anxious to leave such a letter in the hands of lawyer prior to carrying out such a heinous act. It may simply be damage limitation, an attempt to conceal not only their true motives, but also the identity of whoever their contact at the country house was. Of course, this may be nothing more than a very bloody and ruthless attempted robbery, but we have no reason to rule out a terrorist motive at this point in time and because of that we cannot allow ourselves to relax our position at this point in time. At the very least, these men have managed to murder one of the most powerful businessmen in the world and if there is someone behind them, we need to hunt them down."
Yohji watched the rest of the report conclude before hitting the pause button, a frown creasing his forehead. Something about the interview was bothering him, and he didn't think it was simply shock at finding his missing team-mate. He rewound the images until Aya's face reappeared and suddenly narrowed his eyes as he watched the man brush his hair back into place in a swift movement. There. He hit play and watched the action through again.
"…not, I had instructions to open it. Inside wuh…"
A sudden flicker of what could have been uncertainty in his unobscured eye as he glanced quickly away from the camera, breaking the glare and clearing his throat before sweeping the offending strands away. Strands of hair that hadn't been bothering him for the five or six seconds they had already been there.
"Excuse me. Inside was a letter…"
Aya had knocked off balance. Had slipped up somehow. Yohji rewound again.
"…en it. Inside wuh … Excuse me. Inside was…"
He'd given something away, or was afraid he had.
"…uctions to open it. Inside wuh … Excuse me. Inside was…"
Something in the accent, in the emphasis. Yohji listened closely.
"…ide wuh … Excuse me. Inside was…"
That was it. Aya had been about to say "inside were," not "inside is". He'd been talking about an envelope, not just the letter.
Aya had something else. Crawford had given him something else. Yohji let the tape wind on as he mused just what else could have been in that envelope before he began to wonder just why no extracts from this mysterious letter were being read out or shown on the report. The only answer was that no copy had been given to the press and as he couldn't see the cops slapping an injunction on it only to blab on about it on camera the only logical conclusion was that it was Aya who had denied them.
Why? The name of the game at this stage was publicity, especially with no evidence on the table. Why wasn't Aya anxious to get the letter into the public domain and give the media a copy? Unless there was something else he was holding back.
"…a few written words can disprove a terrorist motive disingenuous." The Detective Superintendent said for the second time.
"And why is that?"
"These sentences of Mr Fr…"
Yohji hit the pause button again. A few written words, he thought. Mr Frederson's paragraphs. Never mind what else the bastard was holding back, he hadn't even let the cops see the entire bloody letter.
Yohji tipped his glass back, knocking the dram of whiskey down his throat in one smooth shot that burned pleasantly on its way to join the others that had previously been consumed. He concentrated on the warmth in his throat and sighed. Just what he needed to get his mind off ice-cold redheads and ex-assassins who seemed to be heading back into old habits. He was letting his impulses overrule his professional judgement. His rivals stood accused of murdering one of two people who he really held a grudge against, the other one of which was currently defending them. Sure it hit at a personal level, but there wasn't really anything to justify running off to Glasgow and Aya – or Ran as he seemed to be calling himself these days. There was no evidence to support this one way or another and getting overenthusiastic would no doubt force him to leave the country. Again. And as America, Japan and pretty much the rest of Europe were off limits for similar reasons the only place left was Argentina, which he didn't really like the idea. Far too many Nazi war criminals, it would only lead to more trouble. No. He had to grow up sometime, learn a bit of restraint. Hell, Ken and Omi had no problems behaving like grown-ups, so why did he?
Yohji briefly considered ordering another drink, but getting wasted seemed a pretty lousy way of starting to act his age and instead left the pub. He wandered down Rose Street thinking maybe a bit of sushi would cure this sudden bout of introspective homesickness. Yo! Sushi was gimmicky and expensive but it was also one of the few Japanese restaurants in the city and more importantly, they sold bento boxes for take-away. Aya had always been a big fan of sushi, he would eat it in a methodical, almost ritualistic fashion, placing the thin slice of ginger on top of the nigiri rolls with perfectly controlled chopsticks and followed by an eye-watering helping of wasabi before dipping the entire piece into the dish of soy sauce. It had been so elegant to watch, especially with Ken sitting next to redhead, scarfing away and causing rice to fly everywhere. Yohji shook his head and passed the restaurant, heading instead for George Street and his car. He wasn't really all that hungry anymore.
Ken and Omi were in bed when Yohji let himself in, probably only to expected considering their current jobs. A post-it note was stuck on the fridge and another on the bowl of chilli that sat next to it. Both read the same:
Yohji,
Ken has practise tomorrow and I'm wiped so try and be quiet while you drink yourself into a stupor, ok?
We left some chilli for you if you're hungry. Ken cooked it, but it's not bad.
Omi
Yohji grinned as he popped the chilli in the microwave and made his way into the lounge. A rental tape was lying on top of the video player, 'Fever Pitch', quite clearly it had been Ken's choice this time. Still the film hadn't been that bad last time he'd seen it, so Yohji picked up the cassette and slipped it into the video player. It wouldn't fit, his news tape had obviously been replaced when Ken and Omi finished the film. Yohji pressed eject and watched the television as it flicked into life again.
"… has taken some kind of poison, believed to be cyanide, as he was only left alone for a few minutes. Police are trying to remain calm, but the possible ramifications of this suicide could be seen as very sinister, and even far-reaching as the Fischer murder case takes a further bizarre twist."
A beeping sound from the kitchen, alerted Yohji to the fact that his chilli was ready. He wandered through and brought the dish back into the lounge with him, just as the screen flicked to the same pompous bastard that had had the misfortune of interviewing Aya earlier. Yohji grinned sadistically at his drawn expression, the redhead must have made an impression. He leaned forwards and snagged the news cassette from the video recorder, rummaging for its case while he grabbed a hold of the film again.
"… while it does indeed go a long way towards solving the riddle of who may have been behind the security leaks, being as he was, head of co-ordinating security at the house in question, it also poses more disturbing questions given this latest macabre turn of events. Curiously enough, Mr Swann came forward voluntarily this afternoon having already been involved in the investigation at the Perthshire end, with the intention of helping the Edinburgh investigation into the possible security leak. Naturally there is speculation that he decided to take his life after discovering the police knew something he didn't, but its still too early to draw any firm conclusions. However I spoke with Donald Swann…"
Yohji's fingers, which had been a fraction away from pushing the video in, froze.
"…a few hours beforehand, just before he entered the station and he seemed very nervous and agitated. I believe we have those pictures now."
And Yohji's heart stopped for the second time that day.
Donald Swann stood in the early evening drizzle, a few hours earlier and a couple pf miles away from where Yohji now sat. He looked about fifteen years older than he ought to and was even paler than Aya, eyes never ceasing in their anxious darting.
"Na-naturally very shocked at what has happened, and ah-am eager to co- operate in eh-any way. I am sh-shocked and dismayed that someone muh-may have been able to break our security and will stop at nuh-nothing to find out how this occurred."
"Do you have any suspicions of the source of a possible leak?"
"Obviously I cannot comment on that at pr-present, f-further than to say I have about as much idea as you at the m-moment. I haven't really had the time to c-catch up on events down here at…" Swann suddenly looked directly into the camera. "At this end of the arena."
He cleared his throat.
"It's not as if I've been sitting around and listening to my favourite music, although I think that perhaps more people should. Excuse me," he muttered as he moved off camera.
"As you can see," the reporter stated once the clip ended. "He was obviously very concerned about something."
"Yes, and his last remarks seemed very curious," the anchorman added.
"Indeed. At the time they simply struck me as the words of a tired and distracted man, but in the wake of the tragic and bizarre events that followed, there had been much speculation as to whether it could have been some sort of coded message. But as to what it meant, you're guess is as good as mine."
But Yohji, who knelt on the floor trembling as tears of rage and grief gathered in his eyes, knew exactly what they had meant.
They meant black was white, something was very, very wrong and only he could prove it.