XVIII. Process of Elimination
Mao followed Vicious back across the street to the parking lot, lost in his own thoughts. He waited until they had taken off and cleared the buffeting currents of the surface winds to pose the question he'd been puzzling over.
"We have been going about this all wrong," he said, and Vicious looked up from the console. "We've wasted two days asking which Syndicate is behind the attack, but we should have asked why Spike is the target. Unfortunately, he asked that question of himself, and came up with the answer that you must be responsible."
Vicious keyed in the autopilot sequence to take them back to Tharsis City before turning to face the older man. "That was obvious at Julia's apartment. He thinks it because he thinks I left him behind to die. Until we identify who is responsible, he will continue to believe it."
"Then we must begin with the question of motive. Do you have one?"
"Don't be absurd," Vicious snapped, his face darkening to a scowl.
Mao raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"We solve our disagreements like men," Vicious went on, a little less angry. "He knows full well if I had a score to settle with him, I would face him myself."
"Very well, then. Who has a score to settle with him?"
Vicious turned back to the horizon. "I have asked myself that question. My theory will sound arrogant."
Mao laughed. "You may be arrogant in my presence, if only to get it out of your system before you have to speak to the Van again."
"I mean no disrespect to you or to your son, Mao," he began, "but it's widely held that Spike and I will succeed you as the public leaders of the Red Dragon. These recent attempts to breed harmony between families that have been at war for fifty years do not sit well with most of the White Tigers, any more than with me. The Van sent us out to be the face of this new agreement, and I would seek to cut down any White Tiger in my position, if the positions were reversed."
"Why?"
"If the future leadership of the clan participates in an unpopular political movement, their elimination has a strong chance of breeding opposition to that movement. It may even sway the opinions of the current leadership. And it is certainly a subtle way to undermine that current leadership." Vicious looked back at Mao, trying to gauge his reaction.
"Are you sure your own desires do not inform this opinion more than the facts?" Mao returned the scrutiny.
"I admit that a breakdown in this uneasy truce would please me," Vicious replied. "But I have carried out the duties assigned to me, and I would not attack my partner and closest friend to bring one about."
Mao sighed. "You do not need to convince me of that. However, your theory has a major flaw. I should not have to point it out to you."
"I should be the target." Vicious looked around at him through a curtain of white hair. "Correct?"
"Correct. And in my opinion, that flaw disproves it."
"Not if the offensive comes from within the Red Dragon, as you have been suggesting. Not when my desire to eliminate the White Tiger is widely known. And not when Spike is widely known to disagree with me."
Mao nodded slowly, considering it. "First, attempt to subvert him. If that succeeds, he can be ousted on those grounds. If it fails, eliminate him, and the seed of White Tiger involvement has already been planted." He spread his hands. "Assuming you are correct, how do we make the events of the past few days fit?"
***
Vicious parted ways with Mao in the lobby of the tower. They'd gone round and round the issue on the rest of the flight back, but nothing seemed to fit. He paced the hallways, keeping an eye out for Marcus so he could ask where Julia was staying. Lin found him first.
"Vicious! Thank god you're back." He looked around, making sure they were alone before going on. "I brought Shin in, and they locked him up in the chamber. Marcus is down there with him."
"Why is that a problem?" Vicious turned to follow him toward the elevators.
"I showed Shin the coroner's pictures from Julia's apartment. He said one of the men gave him Spike's comm. code a week ago and told him I was his partner. He said he was told to contact my partner if Rocket came up with anything to sell. As soon as Marcus heard about it, he shut himself in the chamber with Shin." Lin jabbed impatiently at the elevator call button. "I didn't bring him here so they could torture him. He told me everything. He feels terrible."
Vicious nodded, but looked unconvinced. "I still don't understand why Marcus interviewing him is a problem to you. I doubt he would use force if Shin is speaking freely."
"It was strange," Lin replied as they boarded the elevator. "Marcus was furious when he found out I'd let Shin see the pictures. He didn't believe Shin had seen the man before. He said he was going to get the truth out of him, and that was an hour ago."
Vicious could feel something unspooling in his mind; though it was not yet clear, he understood Lin's fear. Marcus had no reason to isolate Shin, and even less to disbelieve what he said. He had been instructed to keep an eye on Julia, and his failure to do so was reason enough for Vicious to be angry, even without the rest.
"Well, he will have to yield to me, and I have much I would like to ask Shin myself."
Mato and Lao rose from their chairs when the elevator doors opened. Both wore strained expressions, and Vicious nodded to them without a word as he crossed to the door of the interrogation chamber. He knocked twice, and stood waiting, but no reply came. After a few seconds, he sighed to himself and punched in a code on the keypad. The lock clicked, and he turned to face the other three men in the room. "Get Mao and Julia. Lin, you stay here."
"I'll go," Mato replied.
Lao looked between Lin and Vicious. "Would you prefer I leave?"
"No," Vicious said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "I think it would be best if one of you stayed."
He pushed the door open. Lin let out a yell and tried to rush past him, but he extended an arm to hold him back, taking in the scene: Shin lay on the floor, barely conscious, and Marcus stood over him, his face, hands, and clothing spattered with blood.
"Get out," Vicious said, barely audible.
"Fuck you," Marcus shot back.
"I have reconsidered," Vicious replied, louder but still icy calm. "You stay. Lin, get your brother out of here. Lao will help you take him to the infirmary."
"I'm not finished." Marcus stepped between Lin and his brother's crumpled form.
"I suspect you are rather more than finished." Vicious drew the katana and had it at his second's throat in one fluid movement. "Step aside."
Marcus obeyed, his expression revealing nothing but anger. Lin helped his brother to stand and they made their way around the table, out of the room.
"Close the door," Vicious barked.
As soon as Lin had done so, Vicious increased the pressure of the blade against Marcus' throat, backing him up against the wall.
"You have made a grievous error," he began, barely above a whisper again. "Your strategy is commendable, but you chose the wrong target."
Marcus sneered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Vicious leaned forward until bright spots of blood appeared along the edge of the blade. "What would Shin have told us that was worth killing him to keep hidden?"
A flicker of fear passed over Marcus' face, but it went as quickly as it had appeared. "Shin is nothing but a junkie. He'll say anything for the promise of a Woolong or a hit."
"You can forego the attempts to mislead me," Vicious said, and he stepped back a few paces, sword at the ready. "The more I look at your face, the more it falls together. Seven of us, besides the Van, knew about the distribution agreement before Spike got the payment. Six of us knew about the meeting at the library, and where to find Spike afterward. Four of us knew about Rocket's buy. Three of us knew Mao and I were going to pick up Spike."
"Four," Marcus interjected, looking like a cornered animal. "Julia knew."
"Julia, Mao and I have done nothing but try to keep Spike alive for the last forty-eight hours," Vicious continued, advancing on him again. "And the one person remaining – you, if you were not keeping score – is the only one among all of us with access to the financial system."
The door to the chamber burst open, and Marcus lunged forward, attempting to take advantage of the distraction. Vicious sidestepped gracefully with a flourish like a dancer, and Marcus let out a scream as he fell forward, bleeding freely from his right thigh.
"Vicious!" Mao's voice boomed off the concrete walls.
Turning partway, so that he could see his mentor and still keep an eye on his prey, Vicious snarled, "Bring him up before the Van."
"Explain yourself," Mao countered.
"I have been nothing but loyal to you, Vicious," Marcus gasped as he struggled to stand. "Loyal to your principles, even when you were not."
All eyes trained on the blond man, now covered in his own blood as well as Shin's. He looked around the room at their faces and sneered. "Don't tell me any of you believed in this charity organization we've been playing at."
Mao turned back to Vicious, his expression dark. "I'm still waiting for your explanation."
"Bring him up before the Van," Vicious repeated. "I'd rather say it once, for everyone to hear." He looked around the room, and then whirled back to Marcus, the blade at his throat again. "Where is Julia?" he demanded.
"Vicious..." she stepped through the door behind Mao, reaching out a hand. He felt as though his knees might give out at the rush of relief, and lowered the sword, though he did not dare take his attention off of his opponent.
"Lao, Mato, restrain him. I will call the Van together. Bind that cut and bring him. Vicious, come with me." Mao's clipped orders betrayed nothing of his frame of mind.
Vicious sheathed his sword and squeezed Julia's hand briefly before he followed Mao to the elevator. She stood, unmoving, while the others filed out. Marcus would not look at her as he went past.
***
Spike woke on the couch of the Alva City apartment after dark. Vicious and Mao had both seemed reticent about his desire to keep his destination a secret, and Mao assured him the apartment was his for as long as he wanted to stay. But the meal and another good rest had done much to improve his stamina, so he set about checking his injuries, muddling through a bandage change, and getting dressed. His first good look at the gunshot wound was enough to make him retch; he felt guilt and overwhelming gratitude for Julia when he saw how much work she'd had to do on him. After a few minutes' rest, the pain faded back to a dull ache, consistent and easier to ignore.
He dug through the fridge and the bag of food Vicious brought, packing bottled water and anything that wouldn't spoil in the duffel along with his comm., the Jericho, and Mao's coat. The city clock tolled midnight by the time he felt ready to set out.
He hadn't seen Old Man Bull since the second anniversary of his father's death. Half shaman, half transient, Bull seemed to have the gifts of both foresight and survival; perhaps the latter was a result of the former. His cryptic advice then - that Death treated Spike with ambivalence because he welcomed its presence - had been the impetus for Spike's return to the Syndicate just after he turned eighteen. Now, five years later, the time seemed right for a reunion.
He flew in a wide circle above the city lights, trying to get his bearings. Piloting the craft proved difficult, between the injured shoulder and the way he had to lean forward in the seat, and by the time he spotted his landing site on the bluff overlooking the west end of the city, he had to blink to keep the brightly colored spots from completely invading his vision. He cursed his way through the rough landing.
When his head stopped spinning, he clambered out of the Swordfish's cockpit and stumbled to the ground, unable to stifle a yelp on impact. The walk to Bull's camp would take an hour at full speed, and the thought of a two-hour or more trek with the bag and the injuries made him want to lie down and die next to his ship. He sat gingerly on the ground beneath her, uncapped a bottle of water, and tried to meditate, but his heartbeat would not slow and deep breathing only made him more nauseous.
Ultimately, it was Vicious' warning that the ship could be tracked that goaded him into action. He'd picked the landing site precisely because it was visible; a trail down to the tenement district of the city wound from the bluff to the valley, so a search would most likely start in that direction. He doubted anyone would think to bring a dog - virtually the only way they'd be able to find him once he disappeared into the woods.
As a final distraction, he pulled his comm. out of the bag and dialed Annie. Vicious would have a fit, he knew, but he told himself he was just helping carry out Mao's red herring strategy. She answered after a few buzzes, and he could see she had ducked into the storeroom to take the call.
"What are you doing contacting me?" she burst out, wide-eyed.
"That's no way to greet a man back from the dead," he drawled. "I wanted you to know I was all right, since I won't be home for a while."
"I don't want to know where you are," she replied, still angry. "You're going to get me in trouble."
"I didn't call to tell you where I was, or where I'm going. I just didn't want you to worry when I didn't come back with Mao."
She allowed a small smile. "You are missed, Spike. Take care of yourself."
"That sounds like you're about to hang up on me."
"I am," she said gravely. "I'll talk to you when you come home."
"Fair enough," he replied, keeping an eye on the connection timer. "One more thing, though."
She raised an eyebrow without answering.
"Tell Julia I said thank you. I said it before, but I didn't realize how much I meant it."
Annie nodded. "She knows, I am sure, but I'll tell her anyway."
"Tell her anyway. Time's up. Be well, Annie." He disconnected, set the comm. on the wing of the Swordfish, and looked up at the night sky to get his bearings before heading into the dense tree cover of the forest.
Mao followed Vicious back across the street to the parking lot, lost in his own thoughts. He waited until they had taken off and cleared the buffeting currents of the surface winds to pose the question he'd been puzzling over.
"We have been going about this all wrong," he said, and Vicious looked up from the console. "We've wasted two days asking which Syndicate is behind the attack, but we should have asked why Spike is the target. Unfortunately, he asked that question of himself, and came up with the answer that you must be responsible."
Vicious keyed in the autopilot sequence to take them back to Tharsis City before turning to face the older man. "That was obvious at Julia's apartment. He thinks it because he thinks I left him behind to die. Until we identify who is responsible, he will continue to believe it."
"Then we must begin with the question of motive. Do you have one?"
"Don't be absurd," Vicious snapped, his face darkening to a scowl.
Mao raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"We solve our disagreements like men," Vicious went on, a little less angry. "He knows full well if I had a score to settle with him, I would face him myself."
"Very well, then. Who has a score to settle with him?"
Vicious turned back to the horizon. "I have asked myself that question. My theory will sound arrogant."
Mao laughed. "You may be arrogant in my presence, if only to get it out of your system before you have to speak to the Van again."
"I mean no disrespect to you or to your son, Mao," he began, "but it's widely held that Spike and I will succeed you as the public leaders of the Red Dragon. These recent attempts to breed harmony between families that have been at war for fifty years do not sit well with most of the White Tigers, any more than with me. The Van sent us out to be the face of this new agreement, and I would seek to cut down any White Tiger in my position, if the positions were reversed."
"Why?"
"If the future leadership of the clan participates in an unpopular political movement, their elimination has a strong chance of breeding opposition to that movement. It may even sway the opinions of the current leadership. And it is certainly a subtle way to undermine that current leadership." Vicious looked back at Mao, trying to gauge his reaction.
"Are you sure your own desires do not inform this opinion more than the facts?" Mao returned the scrutiny.
"I admit that a breakdown in this uneasy truce would please me," Vicious replied. "But I have carried out the duties assigned to me, and I would not attack my partner and closest friend to bring one about."
Mao sighed. "You do not need to convince me of that. However, your theory has a major flaw. I should not have to point it out to you."
"I should be the target." Vicious looked around at him through a curtain of white hair. "Correct?"
"Correct. And in my opinion, that flaw disproves it."
"Not if the offensive comes from within the Red Dragon, as you have been suggesting. Not when my desire to eliminate the White Tiger is widely known. And not when Spike is widely known to disagree with me."
Mao nodded slowly, considering it. "First, attempt to subvert him. If that succeeds, he can be ousted on those grounds. If it fails, eliminate him, and the seed of White Tiger involvement has already been planted." He spread his hands. "Assuming you are correct, how do we make the events of the past few days fit?"
***
Vicious parted ways with Mao in the lobby of the tower. They'd gone round and round the issue on the rest of the flight back, but nothing seemed to fit. He paced the hallways, keeping an eye out for Marcus so he could ask where Julia was staying. Lin found him first.
"Vicious! Thank god you're back." He looked around, making sure they were alone before going on. "I brought Shin in, and they locked him up in the chamber. Marcus is down there with him."
"Why is that a problem?" Vicious turned to follow him toward the elevators.
"I showed Shin the coroner's pictures from Julia's apartment. He said one of the men gave him Spike's comm. code a week ago and told him I was his partner. He said he was told to contact my partner if Rocket came up with anything to sell. As soon as Marcus heard about it, he shut himself in the chamber with Shin." Lin jabbed impatiently at the elevator call button. "I didn't bring him here so they could torture him. He told me everything. He feels terrible."
Vicious nodded, but looked unconvinced. "I still don't understand why Marcus interviewing him is a problem to you. I doubt he would use force if Shin is speaking freely."
"It was strange," Lin replied as they boarded the elevator. "Marcus was furious when he found out I'd let Shin see the pictures. He didn't believe Shin had seen the man before. He said he was going to get the truth out of him, and that was an hour ago."
Vicious could feel something unspooling in his mind; though it was not yet clear, he understood Lin's fear. Marcus had no reason to isolate Shin, and even less to disbelieve what he said. He had been instructed to keep an eye on Julia, and his failure to do so was reason enough for Vicious to be angry, even without the rest.
"Well, he will have to yield to me, and I have much I would like to ask Shin myself."
Mato and Lao rose from their chairs when the elevator doors opened. Both wore strained expressions, and Vicious nodded to them without a word as he crossed to the door of the interrogation chamber. He knocked twice, and stood waiting, but no reply came. After a few seconds, he sighed to himself and punched in a code on the keypad. The lock clicked, and he turned to face the other three men in the room. "Get Mao and Julia. Lin, you stay here."
"I'll go," Mato replied.
Lao looked between Lin and Vicious. "Would you prefer I leave?"
"No," Vicious said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "I think it would be best if one of you stayed."
He pushed the door open. Lin let out a yell and tried to rush past him, but he extended an arm to hold him back, taking in the scene: Shin lay on the floor, barely conscious, and Marcus stood over him, his face, hands, and clothing spattered with blood.
"Get out," Vicious said, barely audible.
"Fuck you," Marcus shot back.
"I have reconsidered," Vicious replied, louder but still icy calm. "You stay. Lin, get your brother out of here. Lao will help you take him to the infirmary."
"I'm not finished." Marcus stepped between Lin and his brother's crumpled form.
"I suspect you are rather more than finished." Vicious drew the katana and had it at his second's throat in one fluid movement. "Step aside."
Marcus obeyed, his expression revealing nothing but anger. Lin helped his brother to stand and they made their way around the table, out of the room.
"Close the door," Vicious barked.
As soon as Lin had done so, Vicious increased the pressure of the blade against Marcus' throat, backing him up against the wall.
"You have made a grievous error," he began, barely above a whisper again. "Your strategy is commendable, but you chose the wrong target."
Marcus sneered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Vicious leaned forward until bright spots of blood appeared along the edge of the blade. "What would Shin have told us that was worth killing him to keep hidden?"
A flicker of fear passed over Marcus' face, but it went as quickly as it had appeared. "Shin is nothing but a junkie. He'll say anything for the promise of a Woolong or a hit."
"You can forego the attempts to mislead me," Vicious said, and he stepped back a few paces, sword at the ready. "The more I look at your face, the more it falls together. Seven of us, besides the Van, knew about the distribution agreement before Spike got the payment. Six of us knew about the meeting at the library, and where to find Spike afterward. Four of us knew about Rocket's buy. Three of us knew Mao and I were going to pick up Spike."
"Four," Marcus interjected, looking like a cornered animal. "Julia knew."
"Julia, Mao and I have done nothing but try to keep Spike alive for the last forty-eight hours," Vicious continued, advancing on him again. "And the one person remaining – you, if you were not keeping score – is the only one among all of us with access to the financial system."
The door to the chamber burst open, and Marcus lunged forward, attempting to take advantage of the distraction. Vicious sidestepped gracefully with a flourish like a dancer, and Marcus let out a scream as he fell forward, bleeding freely from his right thigh.
"Vicious!" Mao's voice boomed off the concrete walls.
Turning partway, so that he could see his mentor and still keep an eye on his prey, Vicious snarled, "Bring him up before the Van."
"Explain yourself," Mao countered.
"I have been nothing but loyal to you, Vicious," Marcus gasped as he struggled to stand. "Loyal to your principles, even when you were not."
All eyes trained on the blond man, now covered in his own blood as well as Shin's. He looked around the room at their faces and sneered. "Don't tell me any of you believed in this charity organization we've been playing at."
Mao turned back to Vicious, his expression dark. "I'm still waiting for your explanation."
"Bring him up before the Van," Vicious repeated. "I'd rather say it once, for everyone to hear." He looked around the room, and then whirled back to Marcus, the blade at his throat again. "Where is Julia?" he demanded.
"Vicious..." she stepped through the door behind Mao, reaching out a hand. He felt as though his knees might give out at the rush of relief, and lowered the sword, though he did not dare take his attention off of his opponent.
"Lao, Mato, restrain him. I will call the Van together. Bind that cut and bring him. Vicious, come with me." Mao's clipped orders betrayed nothing of his frame of mind.
Vicious sheathed his sword and squeezed Julia's hand briefly before he followed Mao to the elevator. She stood, unmoving, while the others filed out. Marcus would not look at her as he went past.
***
Spike woke on the couch of the Alva City apartment after dark. Vicious and Mao had both seemed reticent about his desire to keep his destination a secret, and Mao assured him the apartment was his for as long as he wanted to stay. But the meal and another good rest had done much to improve his stamina, so he set about checking his injuries, muddling through a bandage change, and getting dressed. His first good look at the gunshot wound was enough to make him retch; he felt guilt and overwhelming gratitude for Julia when he saw how much work she'd had to do on him. After a few minutes' rest, the pain faded back to a dull ache, consistent and easier to ignore.
He dug through the fridge and the bag of food Vicious brought, packing bottled water and anything that wouldn't spoil in the duffel along with his comm., the Jericho, and Mao's coat. The city clock tolled midnight by the time he felt ready to set out.
He hadn't seen Old Man Bull since the second anniversary of his father's death. Half shaman, half transient, Bull seemed to have the gifts of both foresight and survival; perhaps the latter was a result of the former. His cryptic advice then - that Death treated Spike with ambivalence because he welcomed its presence - had been the impetus for Spike's return to the Syndicate just after he turned eighteen. Now, five years later, the time seemed right for a reunion.
He flew in a wide circle above the city lights, trying to get his bearings. Piloting the craft proved difficult, between the injured shoulder and the way he had to lean forward in the seat, and by the time he spotted his landing site on the bluff overlooking the west end of the city, he had to blink to keep the brightly colored spots from completely invading his vision. He cursed his way through the rough landing.
When his head stopped spinning, he clambered out of the Swordfish's cockpit and stumbled to the ground, unable to stifle a yelp on impact. The walk to Bull's camp would take an hour at full speed, and the thought of a two-hour or more trek with the bag and the injuries made him want to lie down and die next to his ship. He sat gingerly on the ground beneath her, uncapped a bottle of water, and tried to meditate, but his heartbeat would not slow and deep breathing only made him more nauseous.
Ultimately, it was Vicious' warning that the ship could be tracked that goaded him into action. He'd picked the landing site precisely because it was visible; a trail down to the tenement district of the city wound from the bluff to the valley, so a search would most likely start in that direction. He doubted anyone would think to bring a dog - virtually the only way they'd be able to find him once he disappeared into the woods.
As a final distraction, he pulled his comm. out of the bag and dialed Annie. Vicious would have a fit, he knew, but he told himself he was just helping carry out Mao's red herring strategy. She answered after a few buzzes, and he could see she had ducked into the storeroom to take the call.
"What are you doing contacting me?" she burst out, wide-eyed.
"That's no way to greet a man back from the dead," he drawled. "I wanted you to know I was all right, since I won't be home for a while."
"I don't want to know where you are," she replied, still angry. "You're going to get me in trouble."
"I didn't call to tell you where I was, or where I'm going. I just didn't want you to worry when I didn't come back with Mao."
She allowed a small smile. "You are missed, Spike. Take care of yourself."
"That sounds like you're about to hang up on me."
"I am," she said gravely. "I'll talk to you when you come home."
"Fair enough," he replied, keeping an eye on the connection timer. "One more thing, though."
She raised an eyebrow without answering.
"Tell Julia I said thank you. I said it before, but I didn't realize how much I meant it."
Annie nodded. "She knows, I am sure, but I'll tell her anyway."
"Tell her anyway. Time's up. Be well, Annie." He disconnected, set the comm. on the wing of the Swordfish, and looked up at the night sky to get his bearings before heading into the dense tree cover of the forest.