Chapter 5:
"Au revoir, Kira!"
Light mentally gasped. That's what BB called him in the Birthday Card: "A handsome devil."
Bartholomew continued, "After that, he seemed content in prison for a time, as if he knew he had been beaten by a superior person—L. He even became a model prisoner. But then sometime changed a few months back, and he became exceedingly angry, violent, and malcontent. I don't remember what it was. One week later, he escaped."
Light knew: Quillish Wammy's obituary. BB even told him.
"There was something written—in blood—on the wall of BB's cell the morning we found he had escaped, but I'm not sure what it means, or what he meant by it. Two words: 'Foie gras'."
"Foie gras?" the Chief asked. "Is that French?"
"Yes, sir," Light answered. "Foie gras is a specialty food product made of the liver of a duck or goose. Some claim its production is so cruel and horrifying that it has been banned in sixteen countries. It entails the force-feeding of birds that causes the birds' livers to become diseased and to swell up to ten times their normal size. The diseased liver is foie gras, and wealthy restaurants include it on their menus as a delicacy. It can sell for up to $700 per kilogram."
"Kilogram?" the Chief's eyes seemed to bug out of his skull.
"It could be a message," Bartholomew indicated. "To date, we don't have a clue."
The Chief of the NPA, sitting silent in his desk chair, was silent for a moment. Light stood waiting. Bartholomew checked his watch. It had only been a few hours since the subway incident. Just then, a knock came on the Chief's closed door. He said, "Come in."
A uniformed officer entered, appeared to look at Light and Bartholomew, and then said, "Chief, the suspect is dead; the survivor of the subway shooting…"
The Chief looked aghast, and asked how.
The officer then explained that some big, muscular, black man, had just been picked up for a crime and was being processed at the same station as the other suspect. Words were spoken, and suddenly the black man attacked the other, and snapped his neck.
"The black man claims racism against the other when he attacked him, Chief," the uniformed officer said. The Chief sighed. "But we did get a confession from the suspect before his death that he and the two others were paid to rob that bank."
"Paid to rob the bank?" the Chief asked. "What?" The chief grumbled under his breath. "Run a thorough interrogation with the other man, Sergeant. I want answerers!"
"Yes, sir," the uniformed officer said, and then left.
"The plot thickens," Bartholomew said, turning.
The Chief was upset. He ground his teeth. "Yagami, go back to the Kira Case," he said. "There's nothing left for you here."
Light mentally scowled. He disliked being dismissed so callously. And to suggest the Kira Case was all Light was good for was just insulting. He worked on the Kira Case because he wanted to keep on eye on the investigation, but it also limited him for advancing his own career.
"Sir," said Bartholomew, "if I may, I would like to work with Detective Yagami. Collaborate a little bit about his investigation, compare notes. Maybe it'll provide some insight into my own case with BB. And since, L is working with them, I might be able to meet him? I admire him. He's an inspiration to everyone in law enforcement to those who follow his cases."
Light had a moment of panic. No one other than those on the task force knew L was dead. However, no one other than those on the task force had seen L's face. L was still communicating with the police. So, if Light interposed a stand-in, Bartholomew might know the difference. It was a good plan, but the better option was if the Chief denied the request.
"Are you sure, Lt. Bartholomew? You may not be aware of this, but the NPA doesn't work with the Kira Task Force, directly, or even indirectly, through any channels. They are their own separate entity. Kira has instructed the NPA not to engage with them for fear of reprisal, so the officers that have joined have a certain, undesirable reputation."
"Does that include you, Detective Yagami?" Bartholomew asked.
Light gave a sideways glance. "I'm afraid so, the NPA consider the Kira Task Force a bunch of outcasts," he said. "Even hated among the ranks. Even the Chief looks down on us."
"Yagami!" the Chief chided him. "You may work on the Kira Case, but you are still a member of the NPA. Don't make me cite you for insubordination."
Light didn't apologize.
Detective Bartholomew put up a hand to prevent a scene.
Bartholomew smiled. "That's okay, I'm known to have a reputation of being a Maverick myself. I'll be happy to work with Detective Yagami. I want justice and I'm willing to do anything to get it, even if I have to travel through hell to get it. We're all cops, brothers-in-arms, neighbours in our fight against crime. I really don't care what others think or say about me. You shouldn't either. There's an old saying where I come from, 'If my reputation gets in the way of preventing me of doing what I believe it right, then I didn't my reputation in the first place'."
Light looked at Bartholomew, the man had earned his respect. The same advise could be used as being Kira. Light was doing what he believed was right with the Death Note. He nodded. "We would appreciate any assistance you can provide, Detective Bartholomew," Light said.
The Chief dismissed them.
Light and Bartholomew left the police station and walked down the steps to the sidewalk to cars were parked at the curb.
"Detective Yagami, or can I call you Light?"
"Light will be fine, but in Japan we prefer to be addressed by our surname," Light said. "It's more traditional. However, first names are acceptable when not in professional company."
"Then call me Baley," the other said. "So, where is the Kira Task Force base of operations? I would really like to see it. Your budget might be small, but I'm sure your passion isn't."
A little hesitate, Light said, "My passion is as large as the full moon, but the members of the task force wish to remain anonymous. Kira wants to end all oppression to his reign of terror. If he learns our identities, we will all be dead. So, I don't think it would be a good idea to bring a stranger to our operations. It would undermine confidence."
"Yeah, I get," Detective Baley said, sounding dejected.
Light's suddenly stood amazed as the Australian detective lead Light to a red two-door sports car that was parked on the street curb. Baley opened up the driver's side.
Bartholomew winked. "It's a Saturn Sky, Opel G7, with a turbocharged 1.0 litre three-cylinder engine producing 145 horse power with a six-speed semi-automatic gearbox," he explained. "I borrowed it from a friend, whom I'm staying with while in Japan. You can't be in a place like this and not partake in its luxuries. Now, where to?"
Light got into the passenger side, looked at awe at the obvious luxury and stylish custom interior, comfortable leather seats, and then said, "I know a good coffee shop. We can swop information there." He then gave directions.
"Does this coffee shop have any sweets? I have a bit of sweet tooth, anything with strawberry."
"All kinds," Light said.
"Good," Baley said with a smile, licking his lips. He then switched on the ignition, the car roared to life, he revved up the engine more, more for theatrics, shifted the gear shift between the seats, back and then sideway, they sped out into traffic. Light was thrown back into the seat as the car raced through traffic. Light, unprepared for it, gripped the sides of his seat.
Within seconds, Light's cell phone began to ring. He reached into his suit jacket pocket, saw the caller ID, and answered it, but he didn't want to say who it was. "Light here," he spoke. It was his father. His father said something about meeting up with him at his apartment and discussing something important about the Kira Case, some new information. "I'm a little pre-occupied at the moment. Can it wait?" His father sounded perturbed. "Very well, I'll be there soon, and I'm bringing someone who might be able to aid us with the case—a fellow detective whose eager to help." He ended the call. "It looks like you'll be able to see our base of operations after all."
"Good," Baley said, smiling, "but first, let's stop off for something sweet. I'm famished!"
After stopping off at a bakery, and Baley purchasing half a dozen strawberry tarts—he said that he couldn't get enough of strawberry deserts, they were his favourite—they parked on the street outside Light's apartment building. There was parking meter and Baley paid for two hours.
Light escorted Baley through the main lobby and to one of two elevators, they stepped in.
"My father will be waiting for us in my apartment," Light said, as the elevator doors shut, "the Kira Task Force headquarters. I'm afraid it isn't much to look at. We have a small budget, but we do a lot of work. My father was the former Chief of NPA before he joined the task force. I'm certain he'll offer his help with hunting down BB, anything we can do to help a fellow law enforcement officer bring down a violent criminal, taking him off the streets." And BB knows I'm Kira, so if I eliminate Beyond Birthday, his threats against me will be moot.
Baley smiled. "I appreciate that, Light," he said. "By the way, would you like a strawberry tart?" He was carrying the small paper bag from the bakery.
Light declined. "I'm not much for sweets," he said.
When they reached the eighth floor, the elevator doors opened, and Baley followed Light to his apartment, the fourth from the end on the floor.
Light knocked, paused, then knocked again. "Dad, it's me—Light," he called. Still no answer. Light used his key to get in. The apartment was empty, his father wasn't there—not one of the task force members were there. "Strange, my father said he would be waiting for us inside."
Light's phone dinged. He looked at it. Speak of the devil, it was from his father. He read it. "Had to step out, son; be back soon—Dad." Light thought it was strange, but it explained his father's absence. "Excuse me for a moment," Light then said, "I need to make a phone call."
"No problem," Baley said with a smile. "I'll wait here and partake in your set-up." Baiey immediately eyed the bank of computer screens on a wall, the epicentre of the Kira Task Force. "I'm curious about your operation. You're obviously a very busy person, Light."
Light nodded, then left Baley, and entered the bedroom to make a phone call.
Ryuk was back, but only Light could see him. Light would ask what Ryuk's business in the Shinigami later. With Baley here, Light couldn't speak to the Shinigami, or the other would wonder about it. But Ryuk understood when these things happened. It had not been the first non-task force member who had entered the apartment, either from the NPA or the landlord.
Light called his father, but he got a busy signal. He wanted to ask about the important information just learned about Kira, either to get a head's up to debase it, or to assure himself that it was nothing to worry about.
Ryuk suddenly walked through the wall into the bedroom, as Light was about to text his father to call him back, unable to reach him. He didn't leave a voice mail. The lanky, tall Shinigami, with a leather and goth fetish, approached him, and asked, "Hey Light, so who''s your friend?"
"Detective Baley Bartholomew from the Australian Federal Police in Japan to hunt down the vicious killer, Beyond Birthday," Light told. "The guy I told you about, he kidnapped Misa and I a few weeks back. BB was in a maximum security prison in Australia some time back, but escaped, and made his way here to Japan. He knows L is dead and wants revenge against me."
"Ah," said the Shinigami. "Okay, but whose the guy in your apartment?"
Light cocked an eyebrow. "I just told you. Didn't you hear me?"
"I heard you, Light. It's just—that's not the name I saw above his head. It's something else entirely. And, he looked right at me, even spoke to me, and tossed me an apple."
"He what?"
Light rushed out of the bedroom and into the living room. He sharply looked around. Detective Lt. Baley Bartholomew wasn't anywhere, but he did observe one strawberry tart sitting on his coffee table, and something written on one wall of his apartment in large script letters, written in strawberry tart jam (obviously with a finger) like blood: "Foie gras (Diseased Devil). Au revoir, Kira!".
Less than a minute later, there was an explosion—
KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
And the apartment windows blew out, sending glass and brink mortar out into the street.
A minute before the explosion blew out a window on the eighth floor of the apartment building, Detective Lt. Baley Bartholomew of the Australian Federal Police got into his red sports-car, shut the driver's door, and smiled wickedly. He reached to his face and pulled off a perfectly formed moulded mask, then ripped off the blonde wig. He handed the items to his beautiful female companion who had been awaiting for him in the passenger seat. She handed him a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses and he put them on. He started the car, revving it to life.
She discarded the items to the backseat as the man behind the fake disguise slicked back his dark hair. He was handsome, in a dark sort of way even with half his face partially burnt and scarred after an "accident" years prior. He had rebuilt himself, better and stronger than before.
He left that message on the wall in Light Yagami's apartment knowing only the idiot would get it, as he was the one who explained to the Chief of the NPA the meaning of "Foie gras". It was a final note to a person, cruel enough to take away a pleasure BB held so dear—L's life.
He kissed the young woman's hand, she allowed his mouth to seduce her.
"Shall we go, my dear Raven, before the fireworks start?" BB said to his associate.
Light Yagami may have murdered his mentor, but BB would have the last laugh. Jealousy drove him to do this, he was the only one who deserved to kill L. This would constitute his redemption. It was an utter disgrace! And downright embarrassing that L had been killed by some two-bit wannabe sycophant. This was Beyond Birthday's revenge.
Beyond Birthday's reign of terror was only beginning now that he was out of prison. L put him away for crimes against humanity, but he would show everyone that he was the greatest criminal genius the world will ever known. He would make his mentor proud.
The car screeched out into traffic just as the explosion happened—with the fake L's death!
To be continued...
