Chapter Three

She had grown up with him always near her. She did not remember her parents, and she had been sent to America at such a young age, to live under the guidance of one of the elder Japanese operatives. That man had been raising him as well, and gave them educations in the Japanese ways of life, to prepare them for when they would return there. Both children were foreigners in the States---she was Japanese, he was Norwegian. He was eight years her senior; by the time she remembered much of anything about him he had been around eleven.

He had been her protector, her confidant, her best friend. When she had been ridiculed at school for being Asian, he had always stood up for her, threatening to fight anyone who would bully her. And he had taken on many such people, always sending them away in misery and shame. Fighting had always been something he excelled at. She knew that they were training him to be one of the Organization's top agents, but at that point she did not understand what that would mean. She did not understand how it would change him.

She hated saying goodbye, when the time came. She was only ten, and he eighteen, and they wanted him back in Japan for a while, to finish his training there. She had told him that she loved him, and he had given her one of his rare, soft expressions and said that he loved her too. He did not return for two years, and when he did, she had started to notice the changes in his personality, his speech, and his habits.

He had never smoked before. Now, he almost always did. And where there had been compassion, he had grown hard in his heart. He had never been a people person, and neither had she, for that matter, and perhaps that had been part of their attraction to each other. But even though he still treated her with kindness and their mentor with respect, she sensed a coldness, a bitterness around his heart that had never been there before. When she asked him about it, he was never willing to tell her.

She was not certain when her feelings had started to blossom into something as more than friendship. At such a young age, everyone believed that it was a passing fancy, a child's crush that would fade. But over the years her feelings for him had only increased, and he had seemed to return them. Their age difference did not matter to them. She was sixteen, and he twenty-four, when they finally admitted the extent of their true feelings for each other. She remembered how upset she had been over the betrayal of the one other person in America whom she had believed was her friend. She went to him for comfort, and he gave it, holding her close and gently stroking her hair. While he was always kind to her, he was rarely so affectionate, and she savored every moment of it. That had been when they had first kissed. She remembered how light and happy she felt, and how he had chased away her sorrow. She believed that he would always be there with her, no matter what else happened.

Later that year, their mentor had died of old age, though he always believed that it had been poison. And he had grown more cold and bitter.

She remembered when she first met the man who would be his partner in the Organization. He had been curt with her, and she believed him to be quite frustrating. But her love had known him before, during his time in Japan, and they seemed to get along alright. Still . . . she wondered what they could have seen over there, what could have changed him, for something there must have. And she began to hate the Organization for what it was doing to him.

Everything had gone downhill after that. After her graduation, she was sent to Japan as well, to be a scientist for the syndicate. He had continued to change, his soul becoming more twisted. Their relationship had fallen apart, and though she knew that he was struggling with so many inner demons that she could never comprehend, she had never expected the betrayal that she had gotten when her sister, a traitor to the Organization, had been killed by him. She had felt so many things then---confusion, disbelief, sorrow, hatred. . . . The man who had been her best friend, her true love, was gone. In his place was the bitter, angry, powerhungry assassin who now served the Organization and only them. She came to hate him, and his partner too, as well as everyone mixed up in the syndicate.

Ai started out of her reverie when she heard Conan calling into the phone. Frowning, she looked over at him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Conan threw the phone onto the bed in vexation. "Ayumi hung up on me when I asked her if there'd been someone else there in the park!" he cried. "There must have been, and for some reason she doesn't want to tell me!" But he could not understand what that reason would be. He could see how she would not want to speak of the horrible man who had tried to take her, but what would prevent her from speaking of her rescuer, whoever he or she might be?

Ai grabbed up the phone, redialing the number. She listened as it rang, her eyes narrowing grimly. "Either she's not answering, or she's left," she reported after over ten rings. She turned the phone off again and set it on the nightstand, then looked to Conan. "We can't let this rest. Someone has to go over there." She turned and headed for the door. "For all we know, that man might have even been stalking her. He could be at her house right now."

Conan threw back the covers, knowing she was right. He put his feet into the slippers by the bedside and stood as well. "I'll be ready in a minute," he directed, heading for his closet.

She frowned at him. "Are you sure you should go?" she retorted. "You're still sick."

"It's been a couple of weeks. The worst is over," Conan answered firmly. "We have to get to Ayumi!"

Ai nodded in agreement, heading out the door.

Ayumi was not certain where to begin looking for the blonde man, but she decided that if she went to the area where she had first seen him, maybe that would be a good start. But then she paused and simply stood on the street corner in contemplation. If she went back there, she might meet the horrible man again, the one she was trying to get away from. No, she could not do that. But maybe she could find her rescuer in the main part of town. If she just went there, and started looking all around, she might find him. After all, he surely went there sometimes.

She did not really stop to consider how long it would take or that she could end up completely bewildered and lost. She was very young, and had her mind set on one goal, and one only. No matter how long it took to accomplish it, she would make sure to get it done. And she had to find that man.

Over the next several hours she wandered all over the business districts of the city, searching desperately for him or even the one who had been with him. After all, if she found the one he had called Vodka, he could probably take her to the blonde. But as she wound her way through the crowds, trying to avoid being knocked over or stepped on, she could not seem to locate either one of them. She went into stores and restaurants, up and down streets, and into alleys, and several times she thought she had found them, only to be disappointed.

At last she stopped to rest beside a telephone pole and to get her bearings. By now night was coming on, and as she looked around at all the neon lights coming on and the increasing traffic, she realized that she did not know where she was or how to get home. Biting her lip, she swallowed down the lump of anxiety that was forming. This was just like last time, only now there were lots of people around. Even so, she felt just as alone as she had on that snowy night.

Slowly she walked forward, her steps cautious and nervous, until she had gotten out of the way of the crowd. But when she did, she almost wished she had not. Just ahead, coming out of a nearby nightclub, was the horrible man, the man who haunted her dreams and her waking thoughts as well, the man who wanted her "company." Panic-stricken, she ducked around the back of a nearby car and then around to the side, her heart racing wildly. He was coming that way . . . he would see her. She was certain he would! And if that happened . . . she did not want to think about it. The blonde had said that she would have a worse fate than death, and she did not want to know what that was.

Without quite thinking, she tried the door of the car and found that it was unlocked. Grateful, she pulled it open just enough to scramble inside and hide on the floor. Then she stayed there, perfectly still, not daring to move. Was he gone? Had he stopped in front of the car? She thought she felt eyes upon her. Oh! He must see her! She curled into a tight ball, willing herself to disappear even though she knew she would not. Any minute she expected the door to be flung open and to be grabbed. But one minute became five, and five dragged into ten, and nothing happened. And she was so exhausted from her long and fruitless walk. Before she quite realized what had happened, she had fallen asleep.

When she finally began to awaken, she realized that the floor was moving under her. At first she was confused, believing that she was still in her dream, and she simply lay there for a while longer as she slowly reentered the world of the conscious. Then she heard voices.

"I can't believe you left the car unlocked."

"Sorry, bro . . . I thought it really was locked!" A pause. "I must've not shut the door tight enough. Maybe the seat belt got caught in it. . . ."

A click. "That's no excuse."

The car began to fill with cigarette smoke. Ayumi coughed softly, sitting up and trying to wave it away. As she did, she realized that the voices sounded familiar. Her eyes widened. She had found the blonde man after all!

Abruptly the car came to a halt. "What was that?" the blonde growled, having heard the coughing. He started to turn around, and was stunned when Ayumi peeked around the other side of the seat. For a moment his expression showed utter and complete disbelief, and they simply stared at each other, neither one really knowing what to think. Both were stymied.

At last Vodka broke the silence. "What are you doing in here?" he cried in astonishment, just as bewildered as his comrade. He would have been less surprised if someone had risen up from the back holding a gun. To find such a young and innocent girl there instead . . . why, it was very nearly unbelieveable! And, he realized then, she looked familiar.

Ayumi shrank back slightly, suddenly feeling shy. But then, remembering what she had come to ask about, she resolutely turned back to the green-eyed blonde. "I'm sorry, mister," she apologized softly, "but I was trying to get away from that man! I . . . I thought he'd see me, and the car wasn't locked, so I got in and . . . I guess I must've fallen asleep," she admitted sheepishly.

"But I was looking for you anyway!" she exclaimed now, feeling slightly braver.

"You were looking for me," he repeated, still seeming stunned. Sometimes bad with faces, it had taken him a long moment to place who she was---but at this statement he realized and remembered. Yet he did not understand. If he had glanced at Vodka, he would have seen that his associate was just as confused. Neither of them could comprehend why a small child would deliberately seek out one of the most dangerous operatives of the Black Organization.

She nodded firmly. "I wanted to ask you what I should do," she said slowly. "I wanna get that horrible man caught, because he's been going around taking other kids, but I don't want to tell anyone about you when you told me not to. I don't want to get you in trouble." She looked down at the floor and then up again. Both men were continuing to regard her as if she was speaking the impossible. She shifted uncertainly. "It's just that I don't know how to talk about the awful man without talking about you, too," she went on then, her voice apologetic. "My friend was asking what happened, because he figured that something had gone wrong, and I told him about the mean man, but then he asked if someone had helped me. . . ." She looked away, tears coming to her eyes again. "I had to just hang up! I couldn't lie to him! But I couldn't break my promise to you, either, mister!"

The blonde exchanged a look with Vodka, not certain what to make of this. The girl was serious. That amazed him more than anything else. She had not wanted to betray him, so she had come looking for him instead.

"What should we do, bro?" Vodka asked uncomfortably in a low tone.

His comrade growled. "We can't keep her with us," he snapped, which Vodka already knew, of course, "but if we make her get out now, in this area, Ushio might find her." And that would not bode well for either of them. Ushio would not take kindly to having been lied to, and it could cause him to turn against the entire Black Organization, which the syndicate's leader would not be happy about. That would in turn reflect badly on both of the operatives in the Porsche. Not to mention that he just simply did not want Ushio to have the triumph of getting the girl, especially when he had gone to the trouble of keeping her away.

Now Ayumi climbed into the front, over by the green-eyed man. "I don't wanna cause any trouble," she said softly. "I just want to know what I could tell my friends that wouldn't be bad for you."

"There's not really anything you could say that wouldn't lead back to me eventually," he replied shortly. He knew that even if she resolutely refused to mention him, the police would keep questioning her and she might finally let something slip. Or during their investigation something might simply turn up that would link Ushio with him.

Vodka was not paying much attention to their conversation. "Bro, Ushio's coming this way!" he announced suddenly, seeing the balding man up ahead. Ushio had noticed the Porsche and was definitely strolling over to it. And Vodka was growing very anxious over what would transpire if the girl was found with them. Ushio would see her if she did not immediately get out of sight.

The blonde cursed. "Hide somewhere," he ordered Ayumi, and she immediately crawled onto the floor by his seat, using the long folds of his coat to stay unseen. The green eyes narrowed in annoyance at this, but he did not have any time to protest before Ushio was knocking on the window. Muttering, he opened it and glared coldly at the smirking man in front of him.

"What do you want?" he demanded angrily.

Ushio clucked his tongue. "Now, is that any way to address a business partner, Gin?" he mock-scolded. From his expression, it was apparent that he knew his visit would annoy the two Black Organization agents. That was no doubt his intention from the start.

Ayumi shuddered at the sound of the voice from her nightmares. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself against both the front of the seat and the back of Gin's legs, and prayed that he would keep her safe.

Gin felt her small form huddling against him, but he tried not to give any sign of that. "If it were up to me, you would've been eliminated a long time ago," he said darkly. "Monstrosities like you shouldn't be allowed to live."

"Like me?" Ushio repeated in mock hurt. "You're the assassin. I don't kill anyone."

Gin took a draw on his cigarette. "Just because you hire people to do it for you doesn't mean your hands aren't bloodstained," he retorted. "You've still committed murder in your heart. And in any case, what you have done other than that is worse than anything I've done." His eyes narrowed, and Vodka again saw that flash of indignation and rage. "The things you do to those kids are abominable."

"So you've said. But you've only heard rumors." Ushio leaned on the car, and Gin gave him a withering look. He hated for this snake to touch the vehicle at all, let alone hang on it as if it was his to command.

"I've seen enough to show me it's not just rumors," the blonde answered, "and if you didn't come here with a specific purpose in mind, then I'll ask you to leave so that we can go, too." He was growing impatient, moreso as he continued to feel the child's body shaking in terror. He would not be able to conceal her for an extended period of time, and he wanted it to be over right now. This was not something he wanted to deal with on a regular basis.

"Actually, I do have a specific purpose," Ushio smiled. "I keep thinking about the little girl in the park."

All three occupants in the car tensed. Gin hoped that it was not noticeable. "What about her?" he snapped.

"Well, I wonder where you might have buried her," Ushio said, his smile broadening. "I was thinking I'd like to go . . . pay my respects."

That was the last straw. Immediately Gin reached out the window, shoving him away from the car. "Drop dead," he hissed. Without waiting for a response, he rolled up the window and revved the engine, speeding around the nearest corner. He was fuming at the audacity of that beast. With Ushio, it was too easy to read between the lines. Gin knew what had really been meant by the eerie words, and he could tell that Vodka did too. Sometimes it was very hard to restrain himself from simply pulling out his gun and ridding the world of that monster. Someday he just might, if he was pushed far enough.

They were several blocks away before Ayumi dared to emerge from her hiding place. When they stopped at a semaphore, she cautiously climbed out from under Gin's coat but stayed on the floor beside him in order to remain out of sight. Swallowing the lump that had returned to her throat, she spoke. "Is he going to be mad at you?" she asked timidly.

Gin grunted. "No more than usual, as long as he doesn't suspect that I have you alive," he returned. The light turned green and he pressed the accellerator, zooming ahead. "And I'm not going to have you much longer. You're going straight to your home."

Ayumi hesitated. "I don't know how to get there from here," she finally announced, and looked down, away from the frustrated glares.

"What's your address?" Gin shot back. She told him, and he nodded in recognition. "I know where that is. I'll drop you off a couple of blocks away. Can you get home from there?" he growled, half-sarcastically. He wondered how he had gotten into this. Of all cars to hide in, why had she climbed into his? It only made things more difficult for them both. He wondered if he had made the right decision two weeks previous. And yet he could not see himself doing anything else. For some reason, he had wanted to spare this child's life. He was not even certain that he fully understood why. And he knew Vodka did not.

Ayumi smiled. "I can do that!" she replied, and looked up at him again. "Gin-sama!"

He nearly threw on the brakes again. "What did you call me?" he demanded. Vodka looked first at him, then at Ayumi in stunned shock.

Ayumi giggled and shrugged. "That awful man said your name is Gin," she answered brightly, "so I'm going to call you Gin-sama!" She leaned back against the front of the seat. "You've saved me twice now."

As the initial astonishment wore off, Vodka found that he was amused. "Bro, I think she likes you," he snickered, deciding that this was definitely the strangest experience that they had been through recently.

"Shut up," Gin grumbled.

They did not yet realize that they were being followed.