From The Ashes Chapter 13: 13: The Enemy of My Enemy, a sakura wars fanfic

Rating: PG-13, language

"FROM THE ASHES" – The Enemy of My Enemy

"Here's what I don't understand…"

Here we go again. It's a windy but warm late March morning and Cav is playing strategist again. I don't bother to hide the exasperated sigh. It won't deter him anyway.

"I don't get what Lupo's issue with the Russians is. I mean, why do we gotta get them outta the picture?"

There aren't many people on the street, but Cav isn't trying to be secretive at all. It's that un-subtle thing again.

"Cav. Look." I stop at the corner. "You seem to keep thinking I know something. I don't know." I lower my voice. "I don't know why Joseph killed Karpov and not the Kazuar. I don't know if Valentinov will be spared because of his cousin who used to be the boss around here. I don't know what Douglas-Stewart has to do with anything. I don't know if the boss approves of what his nephew is doing for power. I don't know if Valentinov has the balls to kill the Kazuar, and I don't know if he's good enough. And most of all, I don't know WHAT the hell happened in the factory last night."

That silences him effectively for the rest of the walk to Vermicelli's, a little restaurant uptown where we're all meeting for lunch.

Cav's a little miffed, and I have to admit, I'm feeling a little guilty for snapping at him. After all, he's got good instincts. He can tell I know something and I'm not letting on. And he's right. I lied to him. About the only part of what I just said that was true was the last bit. I have no idea what was up with the voice in the factory. The rest? Well.

We're the last two to arrive at the restaurant, but we're not late. Everyone else is early. Giuseppe stands and starts introductions. He introduces me to the man I've been working for under the table for six months. Just for the sake of pretending we've never met, I mispronounce his name. "Afternoon, Mister Furlone."

"Furlong," he corrects me.

Cav is looking at me. I can tell he's trying to figure me out, so I quickly look to our other two guests, whom Joseph Ignazio introduces, despite the fact that Lupo and Silvio need no introduction here.

I'm on my guard. I know this because I don't remember what I ordered to eat. I'm avoiding looking at Brent. I have to force myself to look at him while he's talking.

"You think me too ambitious, Mr. Ignazio," Furlong's tone is flippant. He doesn't give a shit what Giuseppe thinks. "Your nephew would disagree with you, I believe."

"My nephew has had the benefit of a full explanation."

"Then I shall grant you no less than the same, Mr. Ignazio."

"Please," the boss leans back, opening his hands amicably. "If we're going to do business, call me Giuseppe."

Brent smiles at the gesture. "I am not trying to take over the world. I leave that dubious distinction to the demons which nearly destroyed Tokyo 20 years ago. On the contrary, I propose a weapon that wou—"

"Japan is already developin' such measures to protect themselves in the eventuality of a recurrence, if ya know what I mean," Lupo interrupts Brent. His voice is thin and medium in pitch, adding verisimilitude to his wolf-like demeanour. He also likes to use big words to seem impressive, despite the fact that half the time he's not certain the meaning of the words he's using. Or misusing.

Brent waits for Lupo to finish, even though Lupo had interrupted him. Lupo continues, "Big rigs of steam-powered armour to be driven by soldiers."

"And Japan has already lost three soldiers to experiments with their so-called 'spirit armour,'" Brent adds a note of regret to his voice. "Japan may consider this to be an acceptable loss, Mister Lupo; however, what I have in mind is a bit more humane. No human life will be at risk."

"Impossible!" Cav can never keep his mouth shut. What Brent proposes is not impossible in fact. A little scary, but not impossible.

"I intend to prove otherwise, Mister Cavaradossi."

"Can you prove it now?" Silvio is ever clinical, his soft voice catching our attention.

"No," Brent answers honestly. "We lack funds, facilities, testing, and… if you will… there are certain… regulations… which stand to oppose us. We have concepts, a prototype and plans. You should have received a proposal, Mister Lupo, Giuseppe."

"Yes," the boss answers, and Lupo nods, taking his out of the black leather briefcase at the side of his chair. "And I have to admit, it is impressive. I have one question. You stipulated that the Russians must not be involved in these negotiations. Why?"

"Of course. I am grateful, incidentally, that you have complied with my request and kept Valentinov from this meeting, despite my lack of an explanation beforehand."

Giuseppe gestures magnanimously. The boss is charming, but Brent is exponentially more charismatic, the epitome of a suave and classy salesman.

"Major Valentinov and his soldiers have no known ties to the Russian army any longer, but I am being overly cautious. Russia has already spoken to the council in Japan regarding building some of their weaponry for them inside Russia. I wish to keep the current and future efforts of Douglas-Stewart private from any… lingering Russian loyalties."

Giuseppe nods sagely, buying it hook, line and sinker. Brent is lying. Russia is far too busy with the abdication of the czar and its economy in a speeding tailspin to do anything like propose to make weapons for some other country.

Cav still can't shut up. "Yeah, well, ya don't ever have to worry about one of the three Russians again."

Brent covers his alarm well. But I know what he's worried about, and I explain for him. "A tiff between him and Valentinov."

I used the word 'him' and that was enough to reassure Brent that the girl, in whom he is highly interested, is not dead. It takes him the space of half a breath to process the new information and use it to his advantage.

"Ah. I see. Well, that is one more reason to keep our dealings from the two remaining Russians, if the in-fighting causes them to behave in such an impulsive manner. Russians are primitive and hot-headed, and the complexities of the business would be beyond them, anyway. I prefer to keep my business restricted to those with the ability to command themselves logically, at the very least." Here Brent flashes a charming smile at Lupo and the boss, clearly displaying that he believes the likes of them to be superior to most other simple human creatures. Flattery will get you everywhere in the Mafia.

"Agreed," Silvio replies and Lupo nods.

Lupo takes over the conversation in favour of his gang. "Wit' the two families united, Mr. Furlong, New York is yours."

"And yours, gentlemen," Brent is certain to add. "Remember the profit involved for each investor as I detailed in my proposal. And of course, the two of you," he makes eye contact with the boss and then with Lupo, "will be on the Board of Directors for this project."

The meeting went better than we'd expected. All papers were signed on the first try. We're a go to start finding facilities. Cav was dropped off first and I'm fumbling for my key in front of my apartment door when it opens from the inside.

"Ah!"

"Hello, Patrick."

It's Brent. I exhale. "Jeezis. You scared the daylights outta me."

"I apologize. Please come in."

I narrow my eyes at him. It's my apartment, after all. "Gee, I think I will."

"I am sorry for arriving unannounced, but I wished to see what you thought of our little luncheon."

"Yeah, it was good." I toss my keys onto the hall table and wander into my living room, flopping onto a couch.

"Insightful," Brent smiles. "I am so glad I waited a half an hour to discover that."

"Christ, Brent, ya mind if I get my coat off an' take a piss before ya gimme the third degree?"

He's always been a little taken aback by my bluntness, so I try to use it as much as I can around him. He blanches. "Er… yes, how lovely. Yes, by all means, take one of those. I shall wait here."

I come back out and Brent is perched on the arm of my couch as if it was the cleanest spot he could find. There's nothing wrong or unclean about my apartment, but the couch isn't leather, and I'm sure he's used to much more opulence than I can offer. "The girl ain't dead."

"I deduced that from your use of the male pronoun. Have you witnessed any further… intriguing abnormalities… from her?"

"Nah, I ain't been around her much. Valentinov's chased her off."

Now Brent is alarmed again and sits forward. "Off? Off to where? Have you followed her?"

"Yeah, yeah, don' worry. She's at a hostel uptown. Joseph sent her there. He's on his way there now to meet with her."

He exhaled, his shoulders lowering a bit. "Excellent. Do you think she will be of assistance to you? What of your own abilities? Have they strengthened at all?"

"Shit, Brent, in a week? No. Besides, I been workin' so hard I ain't hardly had time ta practice."

"How can I help? I have been attempting to research Celtic magic, but, precious little is written of th—"

"Yeah, clever, ain't it? We write it down and next thing we know, half the world is playin' Merlin wit' little toy sticks and pointy hats and mistletoe. We jus' keep it in our heads. An' there ain't much you can do ta help. Except maybe explain what the hell was in the research and development wing at the factory last night."

"Besides the Japhkiel prototype, you mean?"

"Yeah, something moving and whispering."

"Oh, that. Hmmm… you saw it?"

"No, jus' heard somethin'."

"Ah, good. Perhaps I will introduce you at a later time. It is what I hope will be my greatest gift of assistance to you."