Heat continued making his way through the back streets. Strike took the clip out of his Desert Eagle and replaced it with the original. After Heat made a few more turns, he decided that the coast was clear, and looked back to check on Shorty. She was quiet and balled up on the seat.
"So what do we do now, homes?" asked Heat, coming back to non-racer mode, and handing Strike the blunt.
Strike put his gun back in its holster and took the fatty. "Two things," he said in a low voice so the little one wouldn't hear. "Drop the cell phone at an undisclosed location, and dump this car at the quarry on the East side of town. But first, drop me off about a block away from a car rental place. I'll pick up another ride and meet you at the quarry. From there, we get another hotel room, and meet up with Hiro later."
Heat nodded. "That's a bet."
Once Heat stopped near the rental car place, Strike told him to keep Shorty with him, and to put the top back up.
"This should only take me about 30 minutes, getting the car," assured Strike. I'm going to be a little careful about making my way to the quarry, so take your time. There's a small building behind some lumber stacks." He handed Heat a small key. "If need be, go there to chill and I'll come to the window to let you know I'm there."
"Cool. Wanna take our suitcases and stuff to make it look more legitimate?" asked Heat.
"Yeah, pop the trunk." Strike walked to the back of the car and got their things. "See you in about 45, bro." He lit another cigarette and was on his way to Alaho Rent-A-Car*. *Inside joke*
When Strike walked in, he saw a line that almost seemed to last for eternity. There had to be a way make this quicker. There were five Rental agents behind the counter, working like they didn't even want to be there. Almost everyone standing in line was wearing suits. That gave Strike an idea…
He reached into Heat's bag and pulled out an object that resembled a cell phone. He put a piece in his ear, and started dialing away at the keypad.
Suddenly, everyone's cell phone started ringing! Confused, they all looked around, almost embarrassed, but wondering what was wrong. Since there was a policy about no cell phones inside, everyone went outside for fear of it being important business calls.
Strike chuckled to himself. Sometimes it was so good to ignore the rules and bend them for his own needs. He advanced to the front of the line. 'Suckers,' he thought.
"Heat-san, where are we going?" asked Shorty timidly from the back seat.
Heat looked at her through the rearview mirror. "We're just taking a little road trip; try to relax and enjoy the scenery."
Shorty sat back in her seat. Columbo was still knocked out. She looked out the window and saw the pretty trees pass by. It looked like they were riding down the countryside; the view was beautiful. It reminded her of the days when she was a tad younger, before her mama signed another contract with Lover Girl cosmetics and FredeRique's del Hollywood; before her papa decided to give up the DJ gig and flipped the script totally to become a Diplomat to Japan. They used to go to amusement parks, visit her Grandmamma in the country… And the last birthday party they threw for her when she turned 10… Shorty curled up on the back seat, still lightheaded, and slowly drifted back to sleep.
Heat noticed how quiet it was and looked back into the rearview mirror. Good… she was sleeping now. That would make the trip a little bit easier.
After a few more miles, he stopped at a nearby wooded area. He double checked to make sure Shorty was still snoozing, and got out of the car. Heat then pulled off his coat and walked carefully though the maze of trees. Surprisingly, he actually knew this area like the back of his hand… That was an old stomping ground where he used to meditate and he and Strike used to spar there in the old days. Very isolated and often overlooked.
Heat's walk finally found him at an especially appealing pond. This was one of the most gorgeous and serene places he'd seen in Osaka. He smiled at the memories, and pulled out Shorty's cell phone... Carefully, he placed it on the ground, and pulled a pair of gloves out of his back pocket, accompanied with a handkerchief. Putting the gloves on, he picked the phone back up and wiped it off thoroughly. After he turned the phone back on, he placed it down again, and trotted off.
'Nice diversion,' he thought, 'miles away from anything.' When he got back in the car, he drove off, carefully as not to leave any tire tracks. Now, it was off to the quarry…
Irritated, Strike stood impatiently at the counter waiting for one of the rude-ass rental agents to assist him. He'd been standing there for nearly 10 minutes. Finally, he decided to make his presence known.
"Excuse me," he said loudly.
One of the rental agents looked at him, and then turned back to her newspaper like Strike didn't exist. She was a dark-skinned older lady with short orange dreads. She was a me-e-e-e-e-an looking chick, with a face you'd only want to see in the dark. Her nametag was old and almost tattered looking, and she wore a uniform unlike the other ones. She must have been a manager or something.
"Excuse me, ma'am, can I please get some assistance over here?" asked Strike in an authoritative manner.
"One of the rental agents will be with you shortly," she responded in a nasty tone, not even bothering to look at him again.
Strike's eye jumped. He knew how to handle heifers like this. He unceremoniously reached into his pocket and pulled out fat roll of money, flashing it in her general direction.
The woman saw something big and green from the corner of her eye. Involuntarily, her head turned in its direction. She saw Strike waving the money, flashing his killer smile to sweeten the pot. DAMN was he HOT!!!!
"I'm sorry, sir," she drawled, getting up to walk to the monitor closest to him. "Have you been standing here very long?" she asked in a flirtatious manner.
"Long enough for my hair to grow out two more inches," he quipped, every word laced with sarcasm. He adjusted his hat and gently tucked his money back to where it belonged.
"Well, my apologies… what can I do to help you today? I'd bet a tall man such as yourself would be interested in renting an SUV today, right?" she cooed.
Now this bitch was all up on his nuts. He could see the faded word 'Aubrey' on her nametag.
"Nah, I need a convertible," he replied, still smiling. It was times like this where he was glad he always wore shades.
Aubrey's eyes lit up like she belonged on a Christmas tree… (On the back of one, anyway…) "Well we have all kinds on the lot today," she responded sweetly, typing away at her computer. "We have Spyders, Sebrings, and Mustangs available…"
'We just had a damn Mustang…' thought Strike. "Let me have a Sebring," he said aloud, "black if you have one, and I'll be needing it for a week."
"Certainly," replied Aubrey. "All I need to get started is your credit card and driver's license."
"No problem," said Strike, handing her the items she requested. Nothing that even remotely resembled his real name was on these things. Ah, how nice it was to have pawns working to hook him up at the credit card company and the DMV…
"Well, Mr. Antonio Hahn," she said to him as she started typing away. "It's really nice to be doing business with you."
Strike only smiled… but his eyes read something totally different.
Within 10 minutes, Aubrey was done processing his order. After Strike make his 'signatures', he invited the woman to come to the car with him. Unabashedly, Aubrey was more than happy to accompany him.
As they walked through the lot down the rows of cars, Strike was still laying the charm on extra thick… (This was a mandatory measure… just to psych himself up… he was going to be so sick later…) When they got to the car, he opened the trunk with the key that was hanging in the lock, and put in all his bags.
Aubrey stood nearby, standing girlishly and casually twisting one of her dreads around her finger.
"So," said Strike in his most luscious voice, "do you… live around here?" He got in the car, started it, and let the top down.
"Well, yeah I do, actually," she replied, giggling.
Strike's flesh crawled.
"Would you like to come by and see… me sometime?" Aubrey asked, giving him a flirty look. She grinned from ear to ear. She had a gap in her teeth bigger than the whole damn Grand Canyon.
Strike's flesh crawled some more. His tattoos started to itch. "Come on, now, slow it down a little bit... I come to Osaka every once in a while, so I was wondering if I could call you sometime to get to know you a little bit better." (He wished so hard for an Oscar at this point…) He started to adjust the mirrors and such, looking at her occasionally.
Aubrey giggled again. "Sure. I hope you don't mind that I already wrote my home and cell numbers on your contract." She put her hands in her pocket, absent-mindedly bringing to attention her gut, which was hanging over the top of her too-tight pants.
His nostrils flared and he smiled curtly. Nothing turned Strike off harder than a desperate old-maid type… He wasn't even entirely superficial when it came to looks, but this broad looked like she sent a couple of gentlemen to the 'gay' bin (and lesbians to the 'straight' bin) in her day.
"How… thoughtful of you. You must have been reading my mind," Strike retorted, getting comfortable in his seat. "Oh, and before I forget," he said fakely… he reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a counterfeit $100 bill. "Here's a little something for your… troubles."
Aubrey gasped and smiled even bigger, like the Kool-Aid man in a smiling contest. "Thank you, Mr. Hahn!" She quickly pocketed the money and looked like she was about to lean in the car to hug him.
Strike never sped away so fast in his life.
He chuckled to himself. That bill was SO counterfeit she'd get put in jail just for pulling it out… at home. That'd teach her to be rude…
Heat cruised along, observing the view and keeping his mind focused. Occasionally he would peek in the rearview to make sure the little one was still asleep.
A few miles later, he arrived at the quarry, and parked near the lumber stacks after making sure no one was around. He got out and carried Shorty's inert body to the building Strike had mentioned. After he laid her on the couch, he locked her inside, got back in the car, and drove slowly to the very edge of the dumping area.
Heat got out of the car and looked over the great spread of water far beneath his feet. A few miles away, he saw nothing but yards and yards of trees. It was about mid-afternoon and the sun was beginning to hang a little lower in the sky. He could admit that his adventures with Strike gave him access to a lot of beautiful scenes much like this one. After taking a deep breath of air, he walked to the back of the car and pushed it until it rolled off the edge of the land and landed in the water with a resounding splash. He stood there until the entire car was submerged. Smiling, he lit a cigarette and walked back to the small building.
When he got inside, he sat in chair close to the couch where Shorty was still snoozing peacefully. Heat was beginning to wonder what it was that was compelling him to be so kind and understanding of this little one. He liked kids and all, but there was something about this one… Unfortunately, he knew her story all too well… being a lonely child who seemed to have no friends… and obviously craving attention from the parents… And other things Heat was picking up from her that was starting to worry him slightly. Since he began hanging around Strike, he seemed to develop his own uncanny ability to sense such things.
He continued to watch her sleep peacefully, waiting patiently for Strike to get there. Heat was going to figure out what was going on… and hopefully sooner than later. Taking another pull from his cigarette, he sat back to relax a little.
Slowly, Shorty awoke to barely see a blurry version of Heat. Stretching slightly, she looked at him until her vision cleared. "H-h… Heat-san?" she asked groggily.
Heat only responded by looking at her. "You should keep resting," he said softly.
"Does Strike-san hate me?"
"Of course not," Heat replied. "He's a little rough around the edges… and he expects a lot from people."
"What does he expect from me?"
"For you to behave yourself, mostly."
"Like my Papa…"
Heat looked at her and cocked an eyebrow up. "What's it like in your family?"
"Well… Mama and Papa are always busy. All I do is go to school and go home… they don't talk to me much anymore… they're never around…"
"Hmm…" Heat nodded slowly. "Look… just chill out for now and go back to sleep."
"I'm not sleepy, but I'll just close my eyes for a minute…"
Heat smiled and continued smoking.
Ten minutes later, Heat heard a sharp rapping at the window. Goodness, there was gravel right outside and he hadn't even heard Strike walking up. He got Shorty's attention so she could get up.
When they walked outside, they saw Strike sitting in a sleek, sharp-ass black convertible. Heat whistled as he led Shorty to the car.
"Nice wheels, homes," grinned Heat as they got in.
"'Pretiate it," said Strike, passing a fatty to him. "Sorry it took so long… I had to deal with some bullshit at the rental place."
"Oh, no!" shrieked Shorty.
"What is it?" asked Heat and Strike simultaneously.
"Columbo… I can't find Columbo!"
The guys looked at each other. "SHIT!!"
Heat leaped out of the car and ran as fast as he could to the place where he'd dumped the Mustang. Scanning around the water, he found the rat floating to the bank far below. They couldn't afford to lose him… not yet, anyway…
Heat performed a flawless swan dive into the water, and when he came up for air he swam towards Columbo. Strike was watching the scene from above, and ran back to the car to get some rope. When he got back, he tossed the line down to Heat, and slowly began to pull him up.
Shorty ran to them and snatched Columbo from his rescuer. "Oh, no," she cried hysterically.
"Get back to the car, Shorty," said Strike. "We'll do everything we can to revive him."
Shorty obeyed him.
Heat laid the mouse flat on its back. "Um… I don't know about you, but I've never done this before, ese. As a matter of fact… uh… I don't even think I feel comfortable with this."
"I'll be damned if I do some fucking CPR on a rat. Maybe we can just squeeze the water out of it… It's only so big."
"You got a point. You squeeze it."
"Fuck that!" said Strike. "You saved it, you squeeze it."
"That's why I shouldn't have to do it! I'm fucking wet here, homes!"
"Fine, fine, damn it! We're losing time." Strike carefully picked the rodent up and squeezed its midsection as gently as he could. Heat looked on in disbelief, crossing his fingers that Strike wouldn't absolutely crush the rat in his large hands. That's when he noticed that Columbo was wearing an unusual collar. "Aw… come on…!!" the two said impatiently.
Columbo farted. Then squeaked. Then farted again.
The guys looked at each other, with their noses turned up, trying to ignore the stench. "Well, seeing as he's okay, we should be going now," said Strike. He stared blankly at Heat, as if he was almost horrified. "This little fucker just farted in my fuckin hand," he said softly. "You are so dead after this job is over."
Heat, cursing angrily in Spanish from his own problems, stood up and peeled off his wet shirt, wringing it out, and wiping his dripping bangs away from his face. Strike stood up and looked at him, turning his nose up. "Man, put your fuckin shirt back on, you ain't sexy," he quipped.
The Fireboy looked at him and flipped him off. "Fuck you, man, you wish you were as half as sexy as me," he replied jokingly.
"If I was half as quote 'sexy' as you, I'd be somebody's midget wearing a g-string, some butt-less chaps, and a leather vest."
The two laughed as they started to make their way back to the car. "Fuck you, Strike, with your 'I-wannabe-a-Pantene-Pro-V-model-when-I-grow-up', long hair havin' ass."
"Hell, I know you ain't talking witcha, 'Here-he-comes, here-comes-Speed-Racer', red-hair-dyeing, ol' muthafuckin 'my-sideburns-are-longer-than-the-rest-of-my-hair' ass mah-fuckah!"
It was all Heat could do to keep from laughing his ass off. Steam started to rise from his body; due to his insanely high body temperature, the water was beginning to disperse from his skin. "As long as I can do shit like this," said Heat, bringing the evaporation process to Strike's attention, "you can talk all you want, hermano."
"Sure thing, el niño," retorted Strike. "I'll let you have that one. Get us a nice new hotel to crash at and I'll leave you alone for the next, say… 3 hours."
When they got to the car, Shorty peeked at them to see if Columbo was okay. Strike handed the rodent to her.
"He's gonna be just fine. Now get your seatbelt on," Strike ordered. Shorty happily held Columbo in her arms and obeyed. Heat hopped into the passenger's seat. He reached in his coat pocket and immediately got on his cell phone to get a room. Strike pulled off his trench coat and hat, and put his hair back up in his trademark ponytail. As he got in the driver's side, he gave himself a minute to breathe and collect his thoughts. Shorty's cell phone had been taken care of; the old hotel was no problem because it was signed under yet another fake name. Pinky should have been on her new job, and the next meeting with Hiro-kun would take place as soon as they got rid of the little one. He had all his pawns set up carefully, and as soon as he got his info from them, he'd know how to make his next move.
Strike's lips curled into a very wicked grin. Soon, Kinoshima would learn that no good comes out of fucking with the man they called Notorious…
Please be kind… review and make me smile. ^_^