Wolf and Cub

By DJ Clawson

Chapter 2 – An Affair in Paris

"Congratulations," said the commissioner of Paris' police force – a shot man with a horrible moustache who had always blown Zenigata off as some kind of over-persistent lunatic. Now he was smiling warmly, something Zenigata wasn't familiar with at all. "I hear you finally got your man, inspector. Rather unfortunate circumstances surrounding it, though." He looked through the glass to Lupin's secured room in ICU. There were two guards at the door and one by the window, and Lupin had a wrist cuffed to the railing of his bed, but it was probably all for naught. "What's the latest?"

"Fifty-fifty." He didn't feel like chatting casually about his success with the commissioner. He felt exhausted, like he needed a bed as much as the patient. Maybe being covered in blood did that to him. "Someone got him a with a knife. Grazed his heart." In a lesser man, it probably would have topped ticking. "Cut all kinds of things. He's on the surgical schedule for tomorrow."

"And the perpetrator?" The commissioner folded his arms in thought. "Must have been a member of his gang. Partnerships in crime almost always go sour. And then he – or she – made off with the jewels. What do you think?" But Zenigata had gone somewhere else mentally. "Inspector?"

"Huh? Uh, sorry. I mean, yeah, it was probably someone he knew." He tried to go back into 'detective' mode. "Has the press got wind of this?"

"Not yet. I thought you would like to be present at the conference where it's announced. You'll need to change your clothes first, I imagine."

"I don't want it announced. Not yet."

"What? Zenigata –"

"Listen," he said very methodically, "somewhere out there is an attempted murderer with a sack of jewels. He doesn't know if Lupin is dead or alive right now, and I need that advantage. I'm going to find this guy."

There was a pause. "... I suppose we could hold off for a day or two. Lupin's certainly not going anywhere." He glanced sideways again. "How many officers do you need?"

"I'm not sure yet. But I need access to the best lab you have, and someone who can crack a hotel key card." He held up a white card with 'Acacias Saint Germain' written on it sideways. "I found this on his person." Along with a fake fun that fired a boxing glove, several condoms, and a ton of hair pins – but that didn't need to be said at this juncture.

"Of course, Inspector. Right away," he said. "But might I recommend a change of attire?"

One of the men lent him a blazer, navy blue and hideous, but he didn't want to waste time going back to his hotel to get one of his own. He knew enough about being a detective to know that the first 72 hours after a murder – or, in this case, attempted murder – were absolutely crucial, and every minute could be another mile the killer was putting between himself and Zenigata.

The Acacias Saint Germain Hotel was one of the best in town, which didn't come to any great surprise. He had seen his share of swanky hotels before – though almost never as a patron. This time he didn't have to go through the desk to ask if Lupin was here, and try to bargain for their assistance, and that was a relief. The computer at the station said it was to room 412, which was more than he usually got from a receptionist protective of a well-paying guest. He had a few officers with him, and more outside.

He didn't even bother knocking. He slid the key right in, and opened it when the light turned green, storming in with his cold drawn and ready. "Hands up! Everyone!"

Goemon Ishikawa was on the balcony, facing away from him, his sword in his lap. He was clearly meditating or something, or had been until Zenigata entered.

"If you're looking for Lupin, you're out of luck." It was Jigen's voice. Zenigata spun around, and saw Jigen laid out across a very expensive looking couch, half-napping in a cloud of smoke.

"Shut up! I know where Lupin is! Now – which one of you did it?" He waved his gun around very intently. "Where's Fujiko?"

"Is this about that vase in Hong Kong? Because that thing is long gone, man."

Goemon came out of nowhere, moving at an impossible speed with his sword. The guns of the supporting officers fell to the ground in shreds – as did most of their clothes. Jigen still showed almost no visible concern, but that hardly made him any less of a lethal man.

"Where's Fujiko?" he repeated. "Did she do it?"

"Do what?" Goemon said.

"Don't play around with me!"

"Hey buddy," Jigen said, sitting up at last, "we're not playing around. Now are you off your gourd or what? Tell us what this is about."

Zenigata sighed, and lowered his gun. "Someone stabbed Lupin during a heist at French National and made off with the loot. You can't honestly expect me to believe that you know nothing about it."

Daisuke Jigen was pale. Hell, he was beyond pale. For him to lose the color in his face basically meant he was chalk white. "Wha – is he all right?"

"They don't know yet. He's in the hospital – under guard, so don't try anything."

Then the gunmen did something Zenigata had never seen him do voluntarily – he took off his hat. His expression was still shocked. "Jesus Christ." Goemon was doing his samurai best to transcend emotion, but he was barely holding up a brave front.

"Now – where is Fujiko?"

"She's – she's in her room. Hold on, let me get her," Jigen said, and practically staggered into the back. The officers tried to follow, but Zenigata waved them off. Jigen reappeared with Fujiko, who's expression was similarly emotional.

"I swear – I don't know anything about a diamond heist!" she said. "I mean, we were planning one for next weekend, but that was going to be the four of us, and it was at a gallery!" Today, Fujiko was no smooth-talker. "Inspector, tell me he's going to be okay."

"I don't know that." Her unfamiliar manner had thrown him off. "But I need to you where you all were earlier today."

"Here," Goemon said in the kind of voice that made it impossible to doubt him. "We've all been laying low."

"Yeah. I'll even vouch for Fujiko on this one. She was here," Jigen said, then noticed the look she gave him. "What? You betray us all the time!"

"But I would never hurt Lupin!"

"You've certainly put us in harm's way," Goemon commented.

"That's completely different than stabbing him and you know it!" she said, practically in tears.

"Then I need to know what Lupin's been up to," Zenigata said. "Where he's been, who's he's seen, what was on his schedule today."

"Nothin' special," Jigen said. "We were busy planning this heist that I guess is a bust now, but it's a lot of sitting and waiting – you must know that. Lupin said he needed some air last night so we went to a bar – the two of us. Lupin got falling down drunk and I practically had to carry the guy back here. When we woke up, he was gone."

"It was a little unusual," Goemon said, "but certainly not exceptional for Lupin."

"So he didn't say anything at all about a heist?" The inspector couldn't quite believe it. "Did he just not want to cut you in or something?"

"Lupin only does solo heists when we're not available, as far as we know. And he certainly doesn't work with anyone else. I mean, he's had other partners, but that was years ago and he doesn't always speak highly of them."

"What do you know about his – other partners?" This must have been from before Zenigata was on the Lupin case.

"Lupin prefers not to discuss people he finds distasteful," Goemon said. "Or people who have passed on. He does not dwell on the past."

"Huh..." Why did the victim have to be so well-adjusted?

"Look, man, if you want to arrest us now for all the usual stuff, you can try," Jigen said, "but we won't be all that helpful if we're behind bars – "

" – and we wish to help you," Goemon said.

"For Lupin," Fujiko chimed in.

If this was an elaborate sham, he couldn't see the reason. Lupin could have just gotten away instead of faking injury – and according to the doctors, he wasn't faking it. He had a feeling that he knew everyone in the room well enough to know they weren't affected by the news, so they weren't lying – not about everything, anyway. That was three suspects, down the drain.

And now he had nothing to go on – nothing at all.