The address in the classifieds led them to a coffee shop called "Kitty's Cup". Immediately after finding the ad, Aya and Yohji did a brief canvass of the shop and its surrounding neighborhood, hoping they would get lucky and find some clue that would lead them to where Schuldich was keeping Hank's daughter. Unfortunately, "Kitty's Cup" was located in a trendy, busy business district near downtown, which meant there weren't any likely hiding places within a several mile radius of the restaurant. They had known it was unlikely, but, all the same, they had hoped the desire for revenge might have driven Schuldich into being sloppy. Unfortunately, the German's lust for revenge and crazed anger hadn't caused him to miss a step, and, in this, as in all other things, Schuldich was proving to be a smart, shrewd, formidable foe. They had quickly concluded that Schuldich, clever as always, had chosen a truly neutral meeting location, and, although they had no proof, Aya and Yohji both suspected it was miles away from where he had hidden his prize. The crazy German might have been holding Keiko on the city's outskirts, or, even, in another town.
When they failed to turn up any leads regarding Keiko's whereabouts during their investigation, Aya and Yohji decided they had no choice but to proceed with their alternate plan. Aya would trade himself for the girl's release. Yohji hated the plan. He had been dead-set against it from the beginning, but he was enough of a realist to know they had run out of options. They didn't have any information or any credible leads, and they didn't even have a starting point for their search for Schuldich's location. They were on the run from Kritiker, and, other than a few loyal underworld contacts and Aya's extremely limited hacking abilities, they didn't have access to any of the resources they normally used in their work.
Once it became obvious that they had run head-first into a dead end, Aya had quickly accepted the fact that they didn't have any other choice in the matter. He desperately wanted to get Keiko back, and he already felt as if the girl had been missing for an eternity. But, even more than wanting to retrieve Hank's daughter, Aya's desire to end this whole ordeal drove him to the inevitable conclusion he would have to turn himself over to Schuldich. He was tired of this little game, tired of running from Kritiker, tired of all the waiting and this plan, as undesirable as it was, offered the attraction of bringing everything to a screeching halt --- even if it wasn't on terms of his choosing. Once he had come to that conclusion, Aya had been strangely at peace with his decision, almost as if he had acquiesced in whatever fate had in store for him.
Yohji hadn't been able to accept Aya's decision quite so easily. It had led to more than one fight, during which he would loudly voice his opinion that Aya was only running off on another self-destructive, fatalistic jaunt into hell. Of course, he hadn't been able to get Aya to listen --- doing that was like drawing blood from a stone. He still thought Aya was rushing into the beast's jaws, anxious to throw his life away, and that bothered him. But, for all his thinking about it, he hadn't been able to come up with any better alternatives, and he did agree with Aya on one point: they were running out of time. Even though they might not officially be Weiss at the moment, Yohji still thought of Aya as the leader of their little party, and Yohji had promised himself he would see this thing through to the end, no matter what happened. He felt it was the least he could do for Aya, who, despite his fatalistic tendencies, was still his friend. So, in the end, Yohji had given in and agreed to go along with the plan.
When they were ready, they placed a responding ad in the classified section of the paper in which they had located Schuldich's message:
Found: Red Abyssinian kitten. 126 S. Nekko St. Jan. 24 for details. Ask for Keiko.
****************************************************
On the day of the meeting, Aya arrived at "Kitty's Cup" at 10 A.M., shortly after the shop opened for the day. He stood in the doorway, briefly scanning the interior with uneasy, hate-filled eyes --- the eyes of a hunter out on the prowl. There weren't many people there --- mostly stragglers who didn't have to be at work until later in the day, and a few college-age looking kids who sat at tables near the door, sipping coffee and reading textbooks.
There was no sign of Schuldich. Aya frowned as he relaxed slightly and noticed the coffee shop's décor. There were cats everywhere --- cats playing with yarn, cats jumping on and off shelves, cats sitting, and cats chasing butterflies were stenciled on the walls, dotting the shop's interior. The table tops were decoupaged with pictures of cats taken from magazines and books, and there were more cat designs stenciled onto the ivory-colored, canvas upholstery covering the chairs and booths. A display behind the counter heralded cat-themed products --- coffee cups, plates, bowls, and t-shirts --- for sale. The employees wore t-shirts with a stylized picture of a black cat, which looked like a child's drawing, on the front and "Kitty's Cup" emblazoned across the back in bold, pink letters, and all of the menu items had cutesy, cat-themed names.
Aya sighed in irritation, shaking his head and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. He had been sick of Weiss' cat-oriented theme after about his first day on the team, and he had always thought the whole cat thing was trite, ridiculous, and a little embarrassing. Who the hell named assassins after cats, anyhow? It was almost like destining Weiss to be laughed at by all the other assassin groups, as if they were the "nerdy" kids in school, with nothing more to look forward to than a lifetime of being beaten up in the hall and "pantsed" in gym class. How could Kritiker expect anyone to take them seriously when they were named after cats --- not ferocious, stalking, man-eating jungle cats, even, which, although still not the best situation, might have been livable. No --- they had to be codenamed after cuddly, spoiled, lap-sitting housecats. It was just embarrassing. Privately, Aya had always thought Persia was on drugs; it was the only way to explain the whole, ridiculous cat thing. Now that he really thought about it, though, "Persia" was codenamed after a housecat, too and, quite possibly, one of the most ridiculous-looking animals of all time. So, maybe that meant whoever really headed up Kritiker was the one who was on drugs --- or insane. All things considered, insanity was a possibility he couldn't rule out. At any rate, the moment he saw the coffee shop's interior, he knew this was Schuldich's idea of a joke. He sighed again. If it meant an end to all this cat crap, "retirement" from Weiss might just be a welcome relief.
Aya stopped at the counter to pick up a newspaper and order black coffee and scrambled eggs. He refused to call the items by their "cutesy" menu names. As he paid for his order, he pointed toward a booth in a dark corner at the back of the store, indicating that the waitress could deliver the items there. With one last, furtive glance around the restaurant, Aya tucked his paper under his arm and slipped into the previously-indicated booth.
It was a pretty lucky break, this booth being open. He had seen it on his previous canvass of the shop, and had hoped he'd be lucky enough to find it vacant today. Strategically speaking, the booth was perfectly placed --- at the back of the shop, in a dark corner, one bench backed against the restaurant's rear wall. From this seat, Aya was able to see the whole restaurant, except for the restrooms, which were down a short hall, behind him and a little to the right, and the kitchen, which was behind the front counter. Despite those minor drawbacks, the booth offered him a view of the entire seating area and the front door, a fact he considered more important than being able to see the restrooms and kitchen. No other seat in the shop offered this much of an unobstructed view. Unless Schuldich was already present and hiding in either the restrooms or the kitchen, he would be certain to see the German as soon as he entered the coffee shop. And, even if the crazy Schwarz was in the restroom --- his most likely hiding place, if he had already entered the shop --- the booth's rear wall offered protection for Aya's back, making it virtually impossible for Schuldich to sneak up behind him.
Aya slid into the booth and rattled his paper open in front of his face to camouflage his surveillance of the door. He didn't know how long he might have to wait, and, despite his dread over this meeting, he rather hoped Schuldich wouldn't drag the waiting game out for too long. He thought Schuldich might show soon. The German was the one member of Schwarz who was almost as high-strung as he was, and, if he was ready for this whole little drama to draw to a close, he was willing to bet Schuldich felt the same way --- even more so, considering the German was out for revenge, this time pure and simple, without the complicated, convoluted motives and machinations they were used to seeing from Schwarz.
Almost as soon as he had settled in, Yohji's voice came over the communicator in his ear. It sounded small and tinny. "Aya? Everything OK?"
"Yeah," he replied. He adjusted the comm.'s volume control until Yohji's voice sounded more normal. "No sign of Schuldich. Where are you?"
"Bus stop. Across the street. Don't worry. Got your back."
Aya couldn't help but smile at the succinct words, and short, to-the-point sentences. Yohji's normal, charismatic personality and the warm, jovial voice that seemed to always hold the hint of a private joke within it were hidden behind the snapped, short words and icy, matter-of-fact tone now that the tall blonde had entered "mission mode". Yohji was on the hunt now, and the blonde's normal mannerisms wouldn't return until they had run their prey to ground. Aya wasn't as gregarious or talkative as Yohji, but he knew it was the same for him. His own voice and manner of speaking changed once a mission had started. For him, the change was almost imperceptible, but it was there, for those who knew him well enough.
Aya didn't like the idea of it, but he had to admit knowing Yohji was nearby reassured him and made him feel better --- more relaxed, calmer, as if it might be possible to work their way out of this whole mess with their lives. He didn't know exactly how or when it had happened, and it still surprised him. It wasn't something he had wanted, but, somewhere along the way, he had come to rely on the tall blonde. The older man's presence reassured him like nothing else could, and he found himself needing Yohji's friendship and support. It had snuck up on him, like a thief in the night, or like an assassin --- this unsought, unasked for, and unwanted feeling of camaraderie, friendship, and mutual respect. Aya hated it. He hated himself for needing and wanting it. It made him weak; it made him do things he wouldn't normally do, things he didn't want to do.
With Ken and Omi, he could maintain his icy, aloof demeanor. He could manage to keep them from getting too close, and he could tell himself he didn't care what happened to them. In his heart, he knew that wasn't true, but he could still lie to himself about it in an effort to protect himself from the kind of pain he'd felt when his sister was injured and his parents killed. He still felt it --- pain and anguish as fresh and raw as the day he had watched Takatori run her down --- whenever he sat at her bedside and looked at her sleeping face. He wished, with his entire soul, for nothing more than to hear her voice or see her smile. He didn't ever want that kind of pain again; he just couldn't go through that again. His heart and soul couldn't take it; he wasn't strong enough to survive it. That was why he had to keep the rest of Weiss at a safe distance, why he desperately struggled to convince himself he didn't care about them. He just couldn't stand to lose anyone else.
But, with Yohji, he couldn't pretend. Somehow, the blonde idiot had wormed his way in, and, without intending to, he found himself telling Yohji things he wouldn't have ever shared with anyone else. He allowed the blonde to keep him company, even when he really wanted to be alone. He let Yohji pull him out of his self-imposed solitude with a joke or a reassuring word of friendship. He let the older man talk him away from the edge of insanity whenever he slipped into a particularly self-destructive mood. Worst of all, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself, he had been relieved when Yohji had, without even a second thought, left Weiss behind that night several weeks ago to follow him into the jaws of hell. Had it not been for Yohji, he would be dead now. He remembered the disconnected feeling of floating, injured and sick, through the blackness, and he remembered how much he had wanted to remain there. Yohji's voice had penetrated that black shroud. He had come back because of the fear he had heard in the older man's voice. It was as simple as that. And, that thought terrified Aya, probably more than anything else in his life ever had.
" Aya? You sure you're OK?"
Yohji's voice cut through his ear. Aya realized he'd been so lost in thought he hadn't heard a word Yohji had said.
"S sorry," he muttered into the comm. "Repeat?"
He heard a tense, irritated sigh, followed by, "What's going on? You all right?" Despite being in "mission mode", Yohji wasn't able to hide the concern in his voice.
"Yeah," Aya replied.
Yohji sighed again, and continued, "I said: How's it look?"
"Not too crowded," Aya said, taking stock of the shop's interior once more. "Two exits: front door back door, near restrooms. I've got a good view of most of the interior, including the front door." He paused for a moment and added, unable to keep the disdain out of his voice, "There are cats all over the damn place --- painted on the walls, employees' uniforms, dishes everything. It's irritating."
Yohji chuckled softly. "That Schuldich is one sick fuck," he said. After a brief pause, he continued, "Focus."
"Yeah," Aya replied.
"If you're not comfortable, get out," Yohji continued.
"I will," Aya reassured him.
"I mean it," Yohji insisted. "There has to be another way." He paused, as if expecting Aya to either argue with him or agree, and, when the redhead did neither, he muttered, irritably, "I don't like this."
"I know," Aya answered.
"If I see him, I'll call," Yohji said, before severing their connection.
*************************************************************
Two hours into his vigil, Aya had drunk three cups of coffee, pushed the food on his plate around until it had turned into unrecognizable mush, and waved the waitress away at least twenty times. But, there hadn't been any sign of Schuldich. Just as he was about to tell Yohji this whole thing looked like a bust, the comm. in his ear screeched to life.
"Germans have landed," Yohji snapped. There was a miniscule pause, about as long as a heartbeat, before the blonde said, "I've got a bad feeling. Get out of there."
Aya frowned and considered doing as Yohji said. The blonde's hunches were unerringly accurate. He knew Yohji hadn't quite been on board with this plan from the beginning, and, normally, he would have just blown off the warning as a case of overprotective nerves. But, there was something in the older man's voice --- a touch of nervousness, maybe, or fear that shouldn't have been there. And, that sound, that little, slight tremor, made him give a split-second thought to darting out the back door and going after Keiko in a different way. A split-second was all the time Aya had, though. Just as he was about to slide from his seat and head for the back exit, the bell on the shop's front door rang, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Aya looked up to see Schuldich grinning maliciously at him, and his stomach did an involuntary flip-flop at the evil, predatory look on the German's face.
"Too late," Aya said into the comm. "He's here."
Before he severed their connection, he heard Yohji mutter, "Shit. If you're not out in ten, I'm coming in."
***************************************************************
Yohji turned off his comm. with a savage click and looked at his watch, starting the mental clock that would, ever so slowly, tick off their improvised timeline. Time always seemed to drag during a mission, making seconds seem like hours. But, this time, Yohji knew it would be a million times worse. This time, ten minutes would feel like ten thousand years, as if time had simply stopped, trapping Aya in that stupid-assed cat-themed coffee shop with one of the craziest fuckers to ever walk the earth.
Yohji kicked at a stone, sending it flying out into the street with a vengeance, and cursed under his breath. He didn't like this --- on so many levels. He hadn't been crazy about Aya's plan from the get-go, but, now, his danger sense was screaming at him. He could feel the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and that told him something about this whole thing was wrong --- horribly wrong. Yohji shook his head and muttered yet another string of curses under his breath. He knew his instincts were right, and ignoring them like this went against his basic nature. But, they had come too far to back out now; they had already passed the point of no return.
When Schuldich had reached the coffee shop's front door, he had paused and looked across the street at the bus bench where Yohji had been perched all morning. The German shouldn't have known he was there. As far as anyone in the underground community in which both Weiss and Schwarz operated was concerned, Aya had gone rogue alone after his attempted, forced "retirement". Kritiker certainly didn't want all of Weiss' enemies to know the team was two men down, and they didn't want anyone to know they had trouble controlling their operatives. So, the organization had hidden Yohji's departure from the rest of the world. Even so, Schuldich had looked directly at him. He had felt the German looking right into his eyes, as if the man bored right into his very soul, and, before entering the restaurant, Schuldich had waved at Yohji and given him a smug, confident, little smirk.
That was what really made Yohji's skin crawl --- that smug, self-satisfied smirk on the German's face. Somehow, the smirk was worse than the fact Schuldich knew he was there. The German was a telepath, after all, and Yohji hadn't ever been as good at putting up mental shields against his attacks as Aya was, which meant Schuldich could easily have picked his mind out of the jumbled thoughts of the crowd milling about on the sidewalk. But, that smile --- it was as if Schuldich had expected him to be there, as if his presence, somehow, made the German's game complete. It was that tiny facial expression that made Yohji want to throw the mission plan to the wind and run in there to drag Aya from the coffee shop, but he forced himself to keep his seat. He cursed softly even as he told himself that he had to wait. He reminded himself this was just a simple meeting to arrange the exchange --- in and out, nothing more. He had to have faith in Aya's ability to take care of himself. Still, it didn't mean he had to like this stupid, hare-brained plan.
*****************************************************************
Schuldich entered without stopping to order anything, which earned him a disapproving look from the waitress behind the counter. Glittering, angry, brown-gold eyes fixated on Aya the moment Schuldich stepped through the door. The German ignored everything and everyone else in the restaurant, almost like the two of them were the only ones who existed in this particular universe, as he crossed the floor to slide smoothly into the booth, facing Aya.
Aya was shocked at the German's physical appearance. Schuldich was normally smug, self-confident, and self-possessed to the point of being irritating. The man sitting across the table from him now seemed like a shadow of the Schwarz assassin Aya knew. Schuldich was wearing a pair of loose, baggy khaki pants, and a blue, long-sleeved linen shirt, which was open at the neck and hung to his mid-thighs. Despite the cold weather, Schuldich only wore a light jacket, and the clothes were wrinkled and dirty. It looked as if the German had been wearing them for quite some time. Schuldich's hair, normally well-kept and held off his face by a wide, elastic band, was tangled, matted, and dirty. It looked as if it hadn't been washed in weeks, and it hung messily in his face, partially hiding his eyes. His skin was paler than Aya's, and his face was haggard and drawn. There were heavy, dark circles under his eyes, which told Aya Schuldich probably hadn't slept in several days. The swordsman could see dirt smudges on his face and hands, and Schuldich smelled as if he hadn't bothered to bathe in some time.
The German fumbled in his jacket pocket for a couple of seconds, until he managed to fish out a package of cigarettes and a lighter. He pulled out one of the sticks and lit it, cupping his hands around the end of the cigarette as he did so. With that task accomplished, he leaned casually back in his seat. He rested one arm along the top of the bench's back, and used his other hand to remove the cigarette from his mouth. Schuldich tilted his head toward the ceiling and let out a long stream of smoke on a soft, sighing breath. He took three more drags from his cigarette, following the same pattern of actions, before he finally turned his attention to the redhead sitting across from him.
Schuldich glared at Aya, boring into him with predatory eyes that, although tired, glittered with the most intense rage the Weiss assassin had ever seen. Aya had slammed his mental shields in place the moment Schuldich had walked into the shop, but he could still feel the telepath's angry, hateful, rage-filled thoughts slowly boring their way into his mind, like a ravenous beast, throwing itself against the walls again and again, seeking with nose and claws and teeth for just one small crack, just one tiny break. It seemed the desire for revenge, while dulling Schuldich's sanity and control, had also increased the strength of his telepathic powers.
Aya knew he wouldn't be able to hold out against Schuldich's probing, not if the telepath's powers continued to surge at this level. He decided to let his guard down a bit, in hopes of preserving some of his energy. Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Aya felt a surge of rage and hatred, tinged with anguish, sorrow, and the most profound sense of loss he had ever experienced. The thoughts and feelings flooded his mind, forcing him back in his seat. Aya put a hand to his head as he involuntarily backed away from Schuldich, one hand raised out in front of his body in a token defensive gesture. He wanted to distance himself from the thoughts and emotions he felt, but he couldn't. They were inside his head. Schuldich was inside his head, and he had let the crazy bastard in. Aya knew there was no escape.
Within a few seconds, the thoughts withdrew, like the tide ebbing out from the beach into the ocean, only to be replaced with a cold, dark void. The rage and hatred left nothing behind in their place, and Aya felt the coldness from that void begin to seep into his body and soul. The small exchange, which had lasted only a few seconds, left him dizzy and exhausted, and Aya recalled the almost-undetectable undertone of fear in Yohji's voice when the blonde had told him to leave without meeting Schuldich. Now, he was wishing he'd taken Yohji's advice.
"Now, you know a little of what I feel, Precious," Schuldich whispered in his silky-smooth voice, which held only the slightest hint of a German accent.
Schuldich smiled at him, a crazy, predatory smile that seemed to curl from the cigarette held loosely in his lips outward, toward the edge of his mouth, but never came near his eyes. His eyes remained the same the entire time --- cold, angry, desiring vengeance, and completely fixated on Aya. He leaned forward, across the table. Without waiting for an invitation, he picked up the fork lying across Aya's plate and began picking at the redhead's untouched eggs. He pushed the cold food around on Aya's plate and took one small bite after another, chewing around his cigarette, and smiling at the disdain and irritation plainly written on the swordsman's face.
Aya struggled to keep his emotions under control. Schwarz were Weiss' sworn enemies --- their opposites in almost every respect --- and, consequently, he had been forced into the German's presence more times than he cared to remember during his association with Weiss. Being near Schuldich had never been what one could consider a pleasant experience, but this predatory, malice-filled, enraged, grief-crazed creature was nothing like the cold, calculating assassin he knew Schuldich to be. It made Aya's skin crawl.
Suddenly, he forgot why he had met with Schuldich this way forgot all about learning where the German was holding Keiko forgot all about the need to get the little girl back safely. Everything was lost in the instinctive, burning desire for flight in the thought that screamed through his mind --- escape --- and in the need, so basic and strong that it made his heart thump rapidly against his ribs, to jump up from this booth and flee the red-haired assassin's malevolent presence. Schuldich smiled at his fear, and Aya shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind, fully aware his telepathic companion was having no trouble reading or deciphering them. In his heightened mental state, brought on by the feelings of loss, hatred, and revenge he had shoved at Aya earlier, Shuldich must have seen the younger man's emotions as easily as one sees a flashlight shining in a darkened room.
After a brief struggle, Aya managed to regain his composure, and, in an icy tone, asked, "Where's the little girl?"
Schuldich continued to pick at Aya's eggs, and after a couple of seconds, he shrugged and replied, "Safe."
Aya hissed in irritation. "Safe is not a place," he snapped. His hand shot forward to grab Schuldich's wrist in an iron grip, forcing the German to drop the fork, and he continued, "I want her back. Tell me where she is."
"You want you want you want," Schuldich chanted in a slightly crazed, sing-song voice, never meeting Aya's gaze. Instead, his eyes, which had dilated to the point where they were almost all pupil, ringed only by a sliver of hard, glittering golden-brown, remained fixated on the white hand grabbing him and the long, thin fingers gripping his wrist with an amazing and unexpected strength. He finally looked up, and the crazy, dilated eyes bored into Aya's with a malice and hatred the redhead had seldom seen, as he asked, "What about what I want?"
Aya's danger sense kicked into high gear at the sight of Schuldich's eyes. They told him the German, who had always seemed to teeter on the razor's edge of sanity, had finally fallen into the abyss. Too late, he realized there would be no talking to this man, and he tried to pull his hand away from Schuldich's wrist. Madness and a thirst for revenge had done nothing to slow Schuldich's reflexes. With a movement so swift it was almost imperceptible, he twisted the wrist Aya held, breaking the redhead's hold on him and pinning Aya's arm to the table, while, in almost the same, fluid motion, he used his free hand to jerk a syringe from his jacket. He savagely plunged the needle into Aya's arm, quickly dispensing its contents, and then released the redhead's wrist. He sat back and sneered smugly at Aya as he watched the slightly disoriented redhead attempt to stagger to his feet.
Schuldich wasn't worried about his prey escaping. The drug he'd used took effect quickly, and, even if Aya managed to maintain enough control over his body to exit the booth, he knew the kitty wouldn't ever make it to the door. He stubbed out his mostly-smoked cigarette in the half-eaten plate of eggs and casually lit a second one as he waited for the drug to completely take effect.
Aya felt his body rapidly shutting down. He wanted to bolt from the table and out the door. He thought about Yohji, sitting out there, waiting, on the bus bench just across the street. It might as well have been a million miles away. His mind screamed at him to run, but he couldn't control his legs enough to stand, let alone crossing the length of the entire coffee shop to make it to the door and help. He stared at Schuldich, hating the smug smirk he saw plastered on the German's face, even as his vision went out of focus, and then gray. His hearing seemed to tunnel down, until it sounded like everything came from a great distance away, or like he was under water, with sounds just barely filtering down to him. Finally, he gave in and allowed the encroaching blackness to swallow him.
Schuldich smiled contentedly as he watched Aya slowly give up his battle with the drug. As the redhead succumbed, he leaned forward and grabbed Aya's hair, pulling the younger man's face toward him in a rough gesture. "Now, it's time for what I want," he whispered, before shoving Aya back into his seat, against the back of the booth.
Schuldich casually finished smoking his second cigarette. Once he was done, he snubbed it out in the plate of cold eggs, next to the first one. He tossed the empty syringe there, too. Standing, he moved to Aya's side of the booth, where the redhead had hung his coat on a hook at the end of the bench, and fumbled through Aya's pockets. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and tossed it onto the table, figuring the least the Weiss kitty could do was leave a generous tip. He pulled a picture out of his pocket, flipped it over, wrote an address on the back, and then placed it next to the plate of eggs. Almost as an afterthought, he retrieved the syringe, and, after cleaning discarded eggs off of it, placed it carefully across the top of the photograph. Satisfied at last with the tableau he had created, Schuldich quickly checked his watch before pulling Aya out of the booth. Tossing the unconscious redhead over his shoulder, the German casually strolled out of the restaurant's back door, as if nothing unusual had happened. The entire exchange had taken a little over five minutes.
*********************************************************
Yohji fidgeted on the cold bus stop bench, squirming around and jiggling his legs, until the other people waiting for the bus finally moved slightly away from him. Normally, he might have felt slightly bad about disturbing perfect strangers that way, not to mention making himself so noticeable during a stake-out. But, now, he couldn't spare a feeling for either of those things. He didn't give a rat's ass about the people standing around him; for all he was concerned, they might as well not have been there at all. And, it didn't matter if he was noticeable or not, since Schuldich had already seen him. It wasn't like his presence here was a secret to anyone.
"I don't like this. I don't like this. I don't like this." Yohji chanted the mantra under his breath, over and over, as he squirmed around on the bench and nervously checked his watch every few seconds.
He had been waiting out here for an eternity, which, in reality, had been about eight minutes so far. He had hoped Aya would emerge from the coffee shop fairly quickly, but, as the time ticked down toward the ten minute deadline with still no sign of the redhead, Yohji was starting to have the uneasy feeling something had gone wrong. He checked his watch again, and fought the urge to dash across the street and into the restaurant. He could trust Aya. Aya could take care of himself. He had to believe that. Besides, if nothing had gone wrong and he needlessly raced to his teammate's rescue, Aya would be furious, not to mention it could cost them the one chance they had of locating Hank's daughter, which was an unacceptable outcome to all parties concerned. Instead, Yohji swallowed his fears, choked down his instincts, and forced himself to remain firmly seated on the bus stop bench, eyes glued to the coffee shop doorway directly across the street.
After checking his watch for what had to be the hundredth time within the past two minutes, Yohji realized that, finally, Aya's ten minutes had elapsed. Cursing under his breath, the tall blonde sprinted across the street, weaving through moving traffic and ignoring the honks, curses, and creative hand gestures he received from drivers who were forced to screech to a stop to avoid hitting him. Winded from his mad dash, he grabbed for the coffee house door and flung it open so hard that the bell jangled loudly, drawing attention from the patrons and the few employees working behind the counter. Yohji ignored them as he stood in the doorway, panting and scanning the room for any sign of Aya. He didn't see his teammate anywhere. Yohji moved into the shop, praying he was wrong, that Aya was just in the restroom or something. The bell on the door clanged loudly once again, as it slammed shut behind him.
Without hesitation, he crossed the seating area, unaware of the dozen pairs of eyes that still followed his movements, and quickly arrived at the booth in the back of the shop. He knew Aya had been sitting there. The redhead's coat --- the same olive-green one he had stolen from Hank all those months ago --- still hung on the hook at the end of the booth. There was a half-eaten plate of eggs on the table, along with a barely-touched cup of coffee. Two cigarette butts had been snubbed out, unceremoniously, in the middle of the left-over food. Yohji frowned. The cigarettes had to be Schuldich's. Aya might smoke occasionally, but the redhead, a dyed-in-the-wool neat freak, wouldn't ever snub his butts out in a plate of food.
As he slid into the booth, facing the doorway, Yohji noticed the syringe. He picked it up with trembling hands, and held it up to the light. He could still see the remnants of something in there. He thought it might be poison, but dismissed that notion almost as quickly as it occurred. Schuldich wouldn't have gone to the trouble of taking a dead body with him, and he was bent on revenge, which meant a quick death would be too easy for Aya. Yohji set the syringe aside, and his eyes fell on what had been underneath it. He picked up the photograph and studied it closely. It was a picture of Keiko. Yohji turned the photograph over and saw an address, which he instantly recognized as belonging to one of Kritiker's safe houses, written in Schuldich's slanting, slightly-messy handwriting. The syringe and photograph left little doubt in Yohji's mind as to what had happened. He was certain Schuldich had made his exchange today, and, satisfied with taking Aya captive, had returned the little girl.
"You know, if you want to sit here, I can have someone clear the table for you."
Yohji looked up in response to the voice that broke into his thoughts, and found himself staring into the calm, black eyes of one of the waitresses. She was young, probably in college, with long, straight, thick, jet-black hair held loosely in a ponytail at the nape of her neck and deep, dark, blue-black eyes that seemed to invite one to drown in their depths. Her full lips, which were painted red, drew into a smile, revealing perfect, white teeth. Like all the other employees here, she wore the "Kitty's Cup" t-shirt, jeans, and white, canvas tennis shoes. Both t-shirt and jeans were so tight they seemed almost painted onto her slender, perfectly shaped figure. Yohji stared for a moment at the way the child-like cat drawing stretched across her young, firm breasts, and, despite his concern for Aya, he couldn't help but think, 'What a lucky, lucky kitty.'
Feeling like a complete heel for having such lascivious thoughts while Aya's life was probably in danger, Yohji shook his head, forcing his mind to come back from wherever it had wandered off to. Although, he figured Aya probably wouldn't be too mad at him, all things considered. She was really, really pretty and, he was Yohji Kudou, after all.
"Um," Yohji said slowly, still trying to tear his eyes from the waitress' chest, "Did you see where the two men who were sitting here went?"
She frowned and shook her head, as she replied, "No. I didn't even see them leave. They were just there a minute ago. Must have gone out the back you know, through the emergency exit?"
"Doesn't it have an alarm?" Yohji asked.
The waitress shook her head. "It's broken," she replied. "So? You gonna order or what?"
For a moment, Yohji was torn. One part of him wanted to run out the back door, after Aya, but another part of him --- mostly his over-active libido, which constantly lurked in a dark corner of his mind --- dawdled over exactly what he would like to order from this particular waitress. 'This is not the time,' he sternly told himself, forcing his mind to let go of thoughts of this girl in his bed, covered with whipped cream or whatever else he could think of to lick off her.
"Um, no. No, thanks," he mumbled as he rose and gathered the photograph and Aya's coat.
He was halfway to the back door when his over-sexed mind asserted itself again, forcing him to turn for one last look at the waitress. He was pleased to see she was staring after him, a look that was a mixture between disappointment and longing plainly written across her face. He paused for a moment, and, silently cursing himself for being such a prick and thinking of bedding this girl when Aya's life was at stake, he quickly returned to her side. He pulled a small scrap of paper, which turned out to be one of his Koneko business cards, from his pocket and hastily scribbled the phone number of his latest throw-away cell, which he'd purchased a few days ago, on its back. He gave the waitress a gentle, almost shy smile and shoved it into her hand.
"Um," he muttered, still feeling slightly ashamed, "In a few days, you know, when everything's settled down, you can reach me at that number if you want."
He gave her his best Kudou, lady-killer smile, and, when she gave him a smile of acceptance in return, he felt his heart jump. "Be sure to bring whipped cream," he whispered in her ear. He briefly allowed his lips to linger on the soft skin of her neck, just below her earlobe, and brushed her dangling earring lightly with his tongue. As he darted through the rear door, he heard her giggling in response to his parting comment, and he couldn't contain the expectant grin that crossed his face.
The restaurant's rear door deposited him directly into the alley behind the store. Yohji stood in the middle of it, looking from one end to the other, but he didn't see any sign of Schuldich or Aya. He knew it was pointless, but he searched the alley, anyhow, in the vain hope that, maybe, Schuldich had decided to leave Aya behind, hidden behind a stack of garbage or a pile of trash cans. As expected, he didn't find anything. The wind was cold. It whipped down the alley and cut right through him. Yohji turned up his coat collar against it as he walked slowly toward the street, silently cursing. It wasn't the wind that cut through him and made his blood feel like ice. It was dread and the horrible feeling that he was now completely, irrevocably, alone.
As he emerged onto the street in front of the shop, he felt incredibly guilty about hitting on the waitress while Schuldich was probably making off with Aya. Yohji finally shrugged, thinking to himself, 'But, she was really hot, and I haven't had a date in I don't know how long. Aya wouldn't have expected me to pass that up Aya would have known better than to expect me to pass that up. When he gets back, we'll laugh about it. I bet he'll think it's pretty damn funny.'
He pulled his coat collar closer to his face as he took the throw-away cell from his pocket and punched in the numbers that would ring another such phone he'd left with Hank. 'I just hope we get the chance to laugh about it,' he thought as he listened to the scratchy, tinny rings and waited for Hank to pick up the connection.
After about three rings, Hank's breathless voice came over the phone, "Ran?"
Yohji sighed and replied, "No. It's it's Yohji. I've got a couple of errands to run, and then I'm coming back."
Hank paused, as if digesting the information Yohji had just given him, and then replied, "What other errands? It was supposed to be there and back, nothing else." Yohji heard a short gasp of breath before Hank's voice resumed, decidedly softer and more hesitant, as if he were unsure and afraid of the answer he'd get to his next question, "You didn't find her?"
Yohji shook his head, even though he knew the other man couldn't see him, as he replied, "No, we found her. I'm going to need some help getting her back, though. Don't worry. I'll explain it all when I get back, OK?"
There was another long pause, before Hank reluctantly agreed, "OK. Is Ran coming back alone, then?"
"Aya's gone," Yohji responded, quickly severing the connection before Hank could ask anything else.
