Chapter Five
"Otacon, it's four in the morning."
Mei Ling slowly pushed herself from out of the bedcovers up her headrest. It was dark; even if she had opened her eyes she wouldn't have been able to see.
"I know, Mei. Just turn on the news. Please."
Mei reached across her bed for the lamp. She was tired, but Otacon sounded desperate, and she was sure he had a good reason for this. After feeling for a while around the top surface of her bedside, she slid her small, but perfectly formed, hand up the light's ceramic and found the switch.
"What's this all about, Hal?" she enquired while rummaging in the bedside drawer for the remote control. "Did you get any further with...?"
She stopped her sentence dead. Her television screen, already set to the news channel as Otacon had often asked her to do ("in case the Patriots ever made a slip up" had been how he justified it), revealed the burning rubble of a building. Still-flaming corpses were being slowly dragged out from underneath twisted steel girders by soot-faced firemen; and onlookers watched in horror as hopeful rescuers ripped charred limbs out of the wreckage. It made for a very gruesome scene. Mei Ling put her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Otacon..." she managed to horse.
"Please, Mei. Trust me. Just listen to the commentary..."
Mei Ling stroked the sound up to the tenth notch. The reporter, half way through his speech, continued:
"...The three hundred and seventy two of the medical staff are all missing, and none of the just under one thousand patients have been found alive. It is thought that nobody survived the explosion."
"Okay, Hal. Why are you making me watch this?"
"Don't you see?" Otacon hated doing this to Mei. It was late, and she was going through a very rough time. But he vitally needed her help. "The Patriots must have taken Olga's child to a hospital. A week later, all the staff...all the witnesses are obliterated. The evidence destroyed. This must have been the place where the kid was."
Mei Ling sighed in horror again as a mother was shown screaming in French for her child, tears pouring down her face like water from a tap as a reporter attempted to interview her.
"You...you don't think it might just be a coincidence?"
"I don't run Philanthropy on false hope, Mei. I'm sure of this. All I'm saying for now is that it could have something to do with that e-mail you got," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask how far he'd gotten with tracing it. False hope, Otacon thought, was not what he needed to give her right now.
"What do you want me to do?" Mei conceded. "You've got all the contacts."
"I need to talk to Snake. His codec is being blocked by some kind of electrical interference and his mobile's turned off."
"Don't you guys kinda...live together?" Mei replied, now beginning to awaken properly. She rubbed her eyes and sat further up in bed. The television had now moved on to American Football team news.
"I haven't seem him since last night. We...had an argument." Shame burned within him again. Why can't I shake this feeling, he thought. "I don't know why he came back while you rang, but he up and left again."
There was a short pause. "What can I do?" she finally enquired again.
"I need some sort of anti-dampening field for codec transmissions. Do you have one?"
"You can download it from my website. Still got the password?"
"SHADOWMOSES, right?"
Mei yawned an answer.
"Thanks Mei," Otacon said. "I know you're going through a tough time. I really appreciate this. Don't worry about anything. We might have been on the ropes for a while, but we're not down and out yet."
She sighed, imagining his patronisingly fake optimistic smile, and switched off the television with her control. "Be careful. It is said one should keep his broken arm inside his sleeve."
Otacon smiled. "Is that another Chinese proverb, Mei?"
"No. Just common sense." She too smiled, before they both said their goodbyes and hung up. She had thought for a long time about what her feelings would be if she ever met her father, and at that moment remembered another proverb: to know the road ahead, ask those coming back. Turning on the nanomachines in her neck with a push to her soft skin, as one might do to a pacemaker, Mei tuned her codec into the frequency 140.85. Two people she used to know answered to this frequency, but she only wanted one. As expected, there was no response. Unbowed, She turned off the lights and slipped back under her bedcovers. It had been a long shot.
"Otacon, it's four in the morning."
Mei Ling slowly pushed herself from out of the bedcovers up her headrest. It was dark; even if she had opened her eyes she wouldn't have been able to see.
"I know, Mei. Just turn on the news. Please."
Mei reached across her bed for the lamp. She was tired, but Otacon sounded desperate, and she was sure he had a good reason for this. After feeling for a while around the top surface of her bedside, she slid her small, but perfectly formed, hand up the light's ceramic and found the switch.
"What's this all about, Hal?" she enquired while rummaging in the bedside drawer for the remote control. "Did you get any further with...?"
She stopped her sentence dead. Her television screen, already set to the news channel as Otacon had often asked her to do ("in case the Patriots ever made a slip up" had been how he justified it), revealed the burning rubble of a building. Still-flaming corpses were being slowly dragged out from underneath twisted steel girders by soot-faced firemen; and onlookers watched in horror as hopeful rescuers ripped charred limbs out of the wreckage. It made for a very gruesome scene. Mei Ling put her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Otacon..." she managed to horse.
"Please, Mei. Trust me. Just listen to the commentary..."
Mei Ling stroked the sound up to the tenth notch. The reporter, half way through his speech, continued:
"...The three hundred and seventy two of the medical staff are all missing, and none of the just under one thousand patients have been found alive. It is thought that nobody survived the explosion."
"Okay, Hal. Why are you making me watch this?"
"Don't you see?" Otacon hated doing this to Mei. It was late, and she was going through a very rough time. But he vitally needed her help. "The Patriots must have taken Olga's child to a hospital. A week later, all the staff...all the witnesses are obliterated. The evidence destroyed. This must have been the place where the kid was."
Mei Ling sighed in horror again as a mother was shown screaming in French for her child, tears pouring down her face like water from a tap as a reporter attempted to interview her.
"You...you don't think it might just be a coincidence?"
"I don't run Philanthropy on false hope, Mei. I'm sure of this. All I'm saying for now is that it could have something to do with that e-mail you got," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask how far he'd gotten with tracing it. False hope, Otacon thought, was not what he needed to give her right now.
"What do you want me to do?" Mei conceded. "You've got all the contacts."
"I need to talk to Snake. His codec is being blocked by some kind of electrical interference and his mobile's turned off."
"Don't you guys kinda...live together?" Mei replied, now beginning to awaken properly. She rubbed her eyes and sat further up in bed. The television had now moved on to American Football team news.
"I haven't seem him since last night. We...had an argument." Shame burned within him again. Why can't I shake this feeling, he thought. "I don't know why he came back while you rang, but he up and left again."
There was a short pause. "What can I do?" she finally enquired again.
"I need some sort of anti-dampening field for codec transmissions. Do you have one?"
"You can download it from my website. Still got the password?"
"SHADOWMOSES, right?"
Mei yawned an answer.
"Thanks Mei," Otacon said. "I know you're going through a tough time. I really appreciate this. Don't worry about anything. We might have been on the ropes for a while, but we're not down and out yet."
She sighed, imagining his patronisingly fake optimistic smile, and switched off the television with her control. "Be careful. It is said one should keep his broken arm inside his sleeve."
Otacon smiled. "Is that another Chinese proverb, Mei?"
"No. Just common sense." She too smiled, before they both said their goodbyes and hung up. She had thought for a long time about what her feelings would be if she ever met her father, and at that moment remembered another proverb: to know the road ahead, ask those coming back. Turning on the nanomachines in her neck with a push to her soft skin, as one might do to a pacemaker, Mei tuned her codec into the frequency 140.85. Two people she used to know answered to this frequency, but she only wanted one. As expected, there was no response. Unbowed, She turned off the lights and slipped back under her bedcovers. It had been a long shot.
