"The main problem was getting hold of some chloroform and morphine. That's why it took a few days."

"The black market isn't as reliable as it was a few years ago, is it?"

"Certainly not."

The voices echoed through his head and left a bitter taste in his mind. He hadn't known his brain had grown taste buds but it obviously had. He shuddered, still dizzy and dazed. He needed a few seconds to realize that his eyes were closed and that he could barely move (not that he actually planned to; his body felt like one single bruise). Sadiq groaned but all that left his mouth was a toneless whimper. What had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was turning a corner at his place. Gupta had come over to inform him about Karpusi's disappearance that had occurred three days before. The Egyptian had said that there had been some noise coming from upstairs so he had limped to the staircase to check the second floor but there hadn't been the slightest trace of anything. Now he was laying face-first on a cold concrete floor and couldn't move a muscle. It just didn't make sense.

"How is our other guest doing?" A cheerful voice inquired, coated in a heavy accent his numb mind could not define. Now a third person entered the conversation, all of them were male it seemed.

"He is asleep. He slept almost all day." The new one said with the liveliness of an answering machine.

"Conserving his energy? Smart of him. Did you tell him that he was free to request anything within your means?"

"I did so." The voice replied quietly. "He asked for nothing but alcohol." A short silence followed this statement and the Turk on the ground imagined the question-poser raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"I gave him a glass of whisky… All he did was laugh, as though I did something hilarious." The man sounded confused by the stranger's actions. If he had been in a better condition and not quite as preoccupied with his current (admittedly very helpless) situation Sadiq might have given it a thought as well but as it were he couldn't care less. He just wanted them to finally spill some useful information. Or let him go. He definitely preferred the second.

"He is a weird one; how exciting."

"Should we move him now?" Came the hesitant reply and the Turk on the ground finally settled his mind on wondering who they were talking about, he couldn't suppress the feeling that this other man had something to do with him and their plans; mostly he wondered who they were, though.

"Yes, both of them. I bet they will be delighted." Sadiq was determined to remain silent so they would not pay attention to him and keep talking, but at that moment he inhaled a cloud of dust. The fine particles stung the sensitive spot of his throat and irritated his nerves. He coughed, quietly due to his condition, but with enough force to interrupt the emotionless report given by the newcomer. At once the whole room was quiet enough to hear a feather fall to the ground. So much for spying on them…

"Good morning, Mr. Adnan. You weren't meant to wake up already but since you did… It's a pleasure to meet you." Now that his mind had cleared a little Sadiq was able to put a name to the accent that weighed down every word of his kidnapper. It was Russian.

"My name is Ivan Braginski, I fear you haven't heard of me yet but I've heard of you. I hope you will enjoy your stay with me." The man continued in that cheerful tone that sickened him to the bone. The Turk didn't move, not even opened his eyes, he refused to grant his captor an honor like acknowledgment of his existence. Unaffected by his listener's lack of reaction the Russian continued: "I am sure you have a lot of questions. I cannot answer them yet. How about you sleep a little more and let the drugs wear off?"

Probably out of stubbornness or simply to prove that he was stronger than the other man assumed Sadiq forced his mouth open and then spat with all the contempt he could muster: "Fuck… you…" Now he couldn't resist the urge to look at the stranger that held him captive for no obvious reason anymore. His eyelids were as heavy as cement when he lifted them. A tall platinum blond man stared down at him with big, strangely violet eyes. His face reminded him of a child; this man seemed to have the same innocent curiosity as any infant. Ivan gave him a placid smile and turned to the person next to him. "He is just as lively as you said. I'm so excited." He looked like he was about to clap his hands in joy. Instinctively Sadiq's eyes searched for the one he had spoken to. Next to the door stood a young brunette man but that wasn't the one. His gaze flitted to the spot next to Braginski. His insides turned to ice and he felt his entire composure blunder. He jerked upwards only to find that his hands were tied behind his back. Without his arms to support his weight he lost his balance as quickly as he had regained it and slumped to the ground with a low groan. He struggled to get into an upright position anyway while his eyes were fixed to the man next to that Ivan guy. It didn't make any sense. He was still delusional from the drugs they had given him, that was the only realistic explanation. But his mind was too awake to deny reality. Sadiq stared. Dull, amber eyes stared back.

His expression must have displayed his disbelieving confusion for now the other man raised his voice. "Good day, Sadiq." It sounded just like any day. He never had thought much of it. Now he wanted to lunge at him for daring to speak his name. Gupta crossed his arms before his chest, he suddenly looked so superior. The enormous Russian next to him didn't weaken that impression. However the Turk wasn't that easy to impress. He barked a few crude things, in both, Turkish and English, positive that his former assistant would understand the message. He could, quite frankly, suck his dick. Fucking traitor.

Ivan smiled sweetly at his outburst but naturally the Egyptian didn't move a muscle in his face. Sadiq snarled wildly like a dog that was cornered and bared his teeth in disgust, "You fucker! I trusted you, you bastard!"

"I know." Gupta merely replied. His voice was as cool and composed as always, so indifferent. The whole situation had to be some sick kind of joke. If his body had played along and not been tied up, both of them knew that, Sadiq would not have hesitated to kill his former companion. The Turk gave a bitter laugh. "So whatcha want? My money? Tryin' to take me hostage and or hand me to the police to get some extra cash? Want to take over my company?"

A hint of sadness stole into the Egyptian's eyes and Ivan's smile widened to a toothy grin. He said: "It's a bit more complicated. Be at ease and rest until I have reunited you with your pet that went astray, will you?"

The odd choice of words affected Sadiq only peripherally. He never had been a friend of metaphors. People ought to get straight to the point. "Whatever. Just answer me one question." He demanded, eyes focusing on Braginski. Meanwhile Gupta stepped behind him and he had to fight the urge to turn around and attack the bastard. Instead Sadiq released the full force of his deadliest glare, aiming at the Russian in front of him. That one tilted his head a little, like a confused puppy, and then sang: "Maybe"

"Am I going to survive this shit?"

Suddenly a hot stabbing pain exploded in his neck followed by a bit of cold pressure that started to creep through his veins. Before he could gather what was happening an overwhelming tiredness washed over him and drained out all efforts to stay awake. His eyes seemingly closed without his doing and the floor came right at him. Then his connection to reality bid him farewell and he drifted into a heavy, dreamless state of sleep.

He didn't get an answer.

The lights of the suburbs flew by the window, merging with each other and forming a single stream of bright colors that stood drastically against the black night sky. He couldn't tell where the car was going for he had stopped paying attention to the street signs. He knew that was exactly the wrong thing to do. He had to gather as much information as possible. But he simply didn't care, or rather: He was too strung-out to focus on anything.

He leaned his head against the cold glass and stared outside with bloodshot eyes. He felt better. His wounds were nursed and the drugs in his system dulled the pain until it was barely noticeable. That was a relief and he had been able to relax, at least to some extent. He glanced at the front of the car. Behind bullet-proof glass the long ponytail of his Asian companion, even in his mind that word was soaked with sarcasm, gently waved in the breeze that came from the open driver's window. Heracles had tried to start a conversation from time to time, but either his listener had been too uncooperative or he couldn't concentrate enough to keep track. His clouded gaze wandered to his hands. They were tied, resting on his thigh as if he was praying. He found himself marveling about structure of his skin. Many scars ran across his knuckles and arms, he could see it. Not once he had asked when they had appeared, he just had accepted them as proof of his life. He had never thought of himself as a violent man, but his hands proved different. That startled him. He remembered to have been advised to sleep but he had done that for the past four days. Wasn't it time to wake up already? Yet they kept his mind dulled and dazed, his body could barely move on its own and sleeping seemed like such an easy way to escape his situation for a while. As the vehicle raced through the darkness following the way of an old country road that was invisible beneath the car tires the Greek's eyelids grew heavy. His dreams had been a mess during the past days. Understandable, considering the mess he was stuck in. Memories stumbled through his sleeping mind like a wounded soldier on the uneven, muddy battlefield. He gave a low sigh that surely was swallowed by the growling of the motor. Sometimes, before his inner eye, he saw Antonio and Romano standing in their old working place, waiting for his return. A cynic, experienced part of his brain kept repeating that this was wishful thinking and that his comrades had him pegged as dead already. Then there were times he saw things that lay farther in the past. More often than not Heracles was pestered with the sight of Sadiq Adnan. That was a logical consequence as well since their meeting in Izmir had been quite the crucial confrontation with a handful of feelings and thoughts, memories and fears Heracles didn't want to deal with. His subconscious tried to make up for that. Even so… It was outrageous that that bastard didn't even have the decency to stay out of his dreams. It was no different this time. Heracles found himself standing in a white room he had never seen before. In front of him, only a few meters away, sat said Turk in a large armchair like a king. He had his cheek rested on his fist as he leant on the elbow he had placed on the armrest. His legs were crossed, he seemed perfectly at ease and not the least bit fazed to meet the Greek in such a place. He rather appeared to have been waiting for him. Heracles couldn't see his eyes but the sneer that exposed his canines was all the better to spot. An instinctive shudder ran down his spine as he scrutinized the dark figure motionlessly sitting there just a bit out of his reach. Unsure whether to charge at him or turn on his heels and run for it the southerner just stood frozen in place, waiting for something to happen. Just when that thought had manifested in his mind life came to the foreign man and he straightened up. His voice echoed dangerously around Heracles when he said, seemingly without any context: "You are scared of me."

It didn't sound like a question, it was a simple statement. Heracles considered pouncing on the slightly taller man and, if necessary, tearing up his throat with his teeth but then abandoned that thought. This was a dream, after all. He hadn't really talked to anyone lately and he wanted to know what Adnan had to say. So he refrained from speaking but took a step closer, tilting his head with an emotionless expression.

"You are scared of me." Adnan said again, even his voice was mocking him. "So scared that you can't even breathe."

Before Heracles could retort anything all oxygen left his lungs. Panic-struck the man grabbed his own throat and feverishly tried to inhale, his body shaken with cramps. Eyes wide, he watched the Turk rise from his seat, approaching him with slow steps. "If you don't breathe you'll die." Sadiq smiled, stating the obvious. Wrong, Heracles thought, this is a dream. I won't die, you sick fuck. Still he gave his best to calm himself down until his muscles were relaxed enough to let him breathe again. He gasped for air and coughed helplessly, backing away from the other man watching him.

"I didn't come to harm you, Heracles." Adnan mumbled, burying his hands in the pockets of his casual jeans. He seemed concerned, the sneer had disappeared. The Greek just snorted and rubbed his neck carefully. "I'm serious. In fact, I never wanted to harm you. Not once. Guardian angels don't do such things." The scoffing expression returned to the Turk's face. Heracles felt the color leave his face.

How could he know? Never had he ever told anyone about that terribly embarrassing (and very surreal) image he had had of Sadiq Adnan when he had been a child. There was no way –But of course. This was a dream, he now remembered. That wasn't the same Turk he had encountered in Izmir, that wasn't the man that had destroyed half of his life after he had saved it. This was just another method his confused mind had come up with to torture him with. Heracles snarled, nonetheless. "I was naïve and stupid enough to search for the good in your rotten soul, that's all." He barked. In return Sadiq spread his arms as if he wanted to embrace him, "Said the man who couldn't even muster up enough compassion to save a young boy from starving in the streets."

What the hell? The memory of the little kid that had tried to steal his money was blurred, just a shadow in his mind. He remembered feeling a little guilty when he had walked away and left the youngster to his fate. So his sick mind had chosen Sadiq Adnan, of all people, to act as his conscience now?

"Pardon me, but you're obviously mistaking for someone who gives a fuck." Heracles straightened up and began to walk away from this weird nonsense of a dream or rather nightmare. As he left the white, wall-less room he could hear the Turk call out to him from the distance: "See ya later, kid! Don't get yourself killed." and if he hadn't been on the verge of waking up Heracles might have hesitated and turned around at that comment.

The car door slammed open with a startling noise of metal plates crashing against each other. Two hands grabbed him by his shoulders and roughly pulled him out of the vehicle. He couldn't adjust to the change of perspective quickly enough and would have fallen over if those hands had not chosen to steady him now. The second he made no contact with the car anymore he heard someone hit the gas pedal and the dark Mercedes raced off into the night without delay. In front of the man stood the Chinese and eyed him with a stern expression and cold eyes. "Follow me." He commanded and then walked towards an unsuspicious door a little farther down the alley. Now Heracles took a moment to examine his surroundings. They stood in the backyard of a high building, probably a penthouse. Slowly the Greek followed in the wake of his warden, hands still tied, gaze still dull and lifeless. They wandered through a few narrow corridors and somehow ended up in an elevator. Not a word was spoken during their journey upwards that seemingly went on forever. Heracles' head began to reel. After a while a bell rang and a female voice informed them in Greek that they had reached the fifteenth floor. The lift opened and revealed a bright hall that ended in a white door that was decorated with heavy locks. The Chinaman led him to said door and swiftly pushed it open after unlocking it.

"Welcome home." The petite man muttered with a touch of dark humor and simply pushed the Greek through the entry and the door slammed shut behind him. That one's foot got caught under the carpet and he stumbled, fell to his knees and hit his elbows on the ground. He remained in that position for a moment, trying to reorganize his thoughts. Damned drugs.

"No need to grovel at my feet, a simply 'hello' would have sufficed." A dark, hoarse voice remarked smugly. Heracles' head snapped up. He needed another two seconds to focus his eyes on his new surroundings. Everything was colored in light colors, the floor, the furniture, the walls as well. He blinked several times but then he could see the speaker clearly. And what he saw drained all color from his face. He straightened up a little, unsure what to think of all this. He couldn't trust his eyes in this state, he decided. He had to be mistaken but just in case he had to ask: "Is this a dream…?" His tongue was heavy, his words slurred from not being used for some hours.

Sadiq's eyes widened for a second. He had expected any kind of reaction but this. He had braced himself for fists coming down on him, for strangling hands, teeth sinking into his flesh, for cursing and his head getting slammed against the wall several times. That was what he had expected Heracles Karpusi to do. Instead the Greek was on his knees, gazing up at him with utter confusion written all over his scraped and bruised face. The question lingered in the air around them. He couldn't decide what to do. A major part of his mind told him to go and snap the younger man's neck this instant before he could recover from his shock but that was impossible for starters because he couldn't bring himself to do it. This situation was so different from everything he had ever imagined possible. Since Heracles showed no aggression Sadiq somehow felt repelled to provoke him. He was in no condition to fight, no matter how you looked at it. Same went for the other. Then Sadiq remembered the posed question. He shifted uncomfortable in his seat, having his hands tied behind his back made it difficult to relax in an armchair. That was another reason why a fight was out of question now; he simply couldn't use his hands. After a moment of silence the Turk grumbled: "What kinda dreams do ya have, eh?"

The Grecian blinked slowly but didn't answer his counter question. "Adnan?" He mumbled after another period of heavy silence. That one rolled his eyes. "Of course, you retard." He snapped. "Is your brain really that clouded and damaged that you can't recognize your..." Sadiq paused. His what? Enemy? If he said that Heracles surely would remember that he was supposed to be a murderous psychotic bastard. Boss? He couldn't say that either for it would have the same effect. In the end he settled for: "…that you can't recognize an old acquaintance?"

That seemed to clear the daze in the younger man's mind to some extent. His eyes brightened and the same cold intelligent gleam that the Turk had come to know so well in the past entered them. The next thing Heracles did was curse. He swore in all languages he could think of. "Why you?" He finally managed to spat. Yeah, that was more like it.

Sadiq hissed: "I could ask the same, you brat. Now shut the fuck up!"

Surprisingly he really did. Heracles stared blankly at the other man and didn't budge. Maybe the drugs hadn't worn off yet after all. So Sadiq decided to find out if that lunatic knew more than him. He was sure the kid would talk, dazed as he was.

"Where are we?" That was an easy enough question for that drugged Greek to answer, wasn't it? Still he remained silent for an unnerving long moment. Then he replied quietly, his eyes fixed on something behind the Turk: "Greece."

"Splendid. Why the hell are we here?" Sadiq rushed through his mind, hurriedly collecting the most important questions.

"Don't know. I woke up in a basement… few days ago."

"This Russian fucker! He'll regret the day he crossed my path. Gupta, too!" Now it was his turn to cuss.

"Who?" The Greek asked lamely, shifting his weight as he tried to maintain a steady sitting position. He didn't seem likely to attack but Sadiq sat up, eyes wandering around attentively, anyway. Then he grudgingly muttered: "Gupta. Egyptian dude. You met him once."

That reminder of their time together sent a bolt through both of them and they glared at each other for a moment, waiting for one another to make a wrong move. When neither of them made any attempts to fling himself at the other they relaxed a little but now the hatred between them stood tall like a wall again.

"Not him" Heracles hissed. "What did you say about a Russian?"

"Yeah, Ivan Whatshisname." He shrugged. "He's the evil mastermind behind all this bullshit. Gupta works for him, that damn traitor." Paying no heed to the Greek's uncomprehending expression he continued: "He knocked me out and then brought me here. They probably did the same to your sorry ass. Now I get what that bastard meant by 'reuniting me with my pet', haha, that guy has an intact funny bone, alright. Fucking cunt! Gonna kill him."

Heracles had stopped trying to understand the Turk's seemingly senselessly arranged fragments of sentences, his head ached already. Instead he tried to free his hands. He took the tightly knotted rope between his teeth and pulled at it in an attempt to loosen it. The hard textile slipped his hold and he bit his tongue. "Fuck" He interrupted Sadiq's rant. Shoving his tongue around in his mouth Heracles asked: "Since when are you here?" He needed to regain his sense of time. The other man shrugged again, it seemed he didn't really care. "Half a day, I guess. Some brat brought me some water a few hours ago. Said my new roommate was on the way. Now I get it."

Before Heracles could retort anything witty they could hear the locks being undone outside the door. They turned their eyes to the supposed exit when a tall, dark figure entered the bright friendly colored room.

"Ah, you already had a little chit-chat. I'm happy. That shows you will get along." The man chirped in a weird child- like fashion. He passed Heracles who hadn't moved from where had hit the floor and gave him a, probably well-meant, pat on the head as if he was an obedient dog. To shatter that fantasy at once the Greek growled wildly and cursed at the Russian, jerking away from him. He hadn't needed a second to understand that this person was the one Adnan had been talking about. The tall northerner turned to look at the man sitting on the ground and a smile flickered across his face, eyes gleaming like wildfire for a split-second, then his large leather-gloved hand struck. He slapped him across the face, hard. Heracles' head flew to one side and he lost his balance, falling over and landing on his shoulder with a short groan. "Now, now, I do not approve of such a behavior from my dear guests." He informed him. The tied up men were silent in return.

"Good. Since our Grecian friend doesn't know me yet, I'd like to introduce myself. I am Ivan Braginski." He smiled happily. "You probably have a lot of questions. Now, I have put off Mr. Adnan already, I will answer a few of them so choose wisely."

Sadiq didn't hesitate to bark: "What do you want from me?"

Ivan's amethyst gaze wandered to Heracles who squatted on the floor motionlessly, eyes glued to his tied hands. Then he answered quietly: "What I want, from both of you, is not the question. It depends on what you are able to give to me." He held up one hand to stop all possible interjections and insults. "You see, I like to see myself as an investor. I am young but in a rather short amount of time I have brought most of East Europe's criminal society under my control. I also set foot in China, even though the Triad is giving me some trouble. How did I manage that, you ask?" They hadn't asked. "I am not only an ambitious business man, I also am a scientist. There is nothing as fascinating to me as the human psyche, its weaknesses, its flaws and magnificent mechanisms. After all, isn't it fascinating how we are able to throw all scruples overboard when exposed to the objects we desire the most? Sadiq, you should know what I'm talking about." A dark knowing grin flashed up on the Russian's face and the Turk flinched as if he had received a punch in the stomach. Guilt stood plain to see in his eyes before he hid it behind a mask of indifference. He turned his face away from the Greek who now was glaring daggers at him.

"So, I thought," Ivan continued his speech. "Why not combine my hobby with my job? I invited the heads of prosperous companies and societies to my house and friendlily asked them to hand over their business to me. Of course, I needed to be convincing, which I was. After two days without water your brain surely isn't as resisting anymore. There were stubborn ones, as well, and I had come up with other methods and I began to turn it into a game: 'Who will yield first?' I have studied your pasts with great thoroughness and I am very sure that you will be a challenge, both of you. Out of personal interest I have chosen to take both of you in at the same time. I want to know how you will interact after a few days of my treatment, which, by the way, I came up with especially for you." The Russian was lost in his thoughts for a while, blankly staring into a corner. When Heracles spat some blood on the floor Ivan seemed to remember his audience. "I don't want to bore you, my dear guests. Long story short: I want everything you can give to me, your money, your companies, your subordinates, your power, your lives. You are the mightiest men in the world of organized crime in the Mediterranean area and North Africa. It would give my career quite the boost if you agreed to work for me."

"As if!" The Turk snorted. Who did that guy think he was? He could hear Heracles chuckle condescendingly in the background. "No matter what you sicko have in store, I'd rather swallow acid then just throw away everything I own. Working for you! That's rich!" Sadiq let out a nasty laugh that rang with scorn. However, Ivan just kept the placid smile fixed on his face, "I knew you were proud, but pride has its limits. You have met Yao Wang. He was an outright spitfire. It only took me two weeks to tame him, though. Now he's calm as a kitten and obedient like a well-trained dog." That name didn't ring a bell to both of the captives but they weren't interested in details anyway.

"If you think you'll get away with this shit-" The Greek started but was interrupted by his captor raising his hands in an appeasing manner.

"For today I will let you get used to your new home. We will have much time to talk. Don't think you can escape and please don't try. It is always so bothersome nursing people's wounds after their failed flight attempts." The man turned for the door and put his hand on the knob. Without turning around he added: "Should one of you have more wounds or even be dead when I return tomorrow… The other will suffer on behalf of both of you. I can't allow my subjects to hurt each other. That would ruin the test results."

Sadiq looked at the Greek on the ground whose head snapped around to glare at the opposite wall. They jumped in unison when the door was closed. The next second Heracles was on his feet and began to explore the dark aisle that led out of the room into another area. A short exclamation of victory followed and one minute later he stormed back into what was probably supposed to be a living room where Sadiq was still busy gathering the information they had gotten. Heracles rubbed his wrists that now were untied; he held a knife in one hand. At the sight of it the Turk jumped to his feet and backed away from him.

"Calm down, you bastard. I have my priorities. Saving my life is more important than ending yours. It wouldn't be fun like this anyway. You look perfectly terrified."

He was sure the Greek was lying. "Then cut my ties!" He demanded, taking a step closer.

"No. What do I care about you? I just want the fuck out of here. Now move your ass." Heracles shoved the older man aside going to examine the large windows that made up the western wall of the room. Below them a dark depth yawned that only was illuminated by the few car lights that passed by on the narrow street. Seeing as the windows held no exit opportunities he turned to the door and let his hands ran over the smooth metal. Sadiq narrowed his eyes as he watched the other. In his eyes his efforts were futile. If the Russian told the truth it was impossible to get out of this cage. They didn't even have weapons. The close proximity of each other didn't help to concentrate either. Heracles' eyes swept over the room again, obviously ignoring the Turk, giving him the same acknowledgement as a plant in the corner. Sadiq couldn't help but notice all the changes about the younger male. It had been obvious before, on photos, CCTV camera shootings, even in the dim light of the Konak Place, but now they somehow stroke him even harder. He had actually grown a bit after he had left, it seemed. His back was broader and his golden skin stretched over distinct muscles that shifted delicately as he moved. His dark brown hair now reached down to his chin curling as the brushed against his jaw. The most significant changes were to be seen in his face, though. Those green-blue eyes, oceanic azure sometimes, jade green on other occasions, had lost that innocent glistening of a curious child that had never left them even when he been physically a grown-up. Heracles never had been a carefree person, how could he have been, considering his past?, but now it seemed as if there was no trace of peace in his features at all. Had his experiences reduced his available emotions to nothing but hatred and anger? If so, it was Sadiq's fault and he knew it. He didn't like the path his thoughts were taking as he stared at the Greek. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice, after all– Suddenly Heracles' head snapped around and his gaze pierced sharply into his.

"What?" The Grecian man bellowed violently. The other flinched, shaken from his thoughts. "You idiot!" He retorted, just as angry. "You heard him, there ain't a way out. Now fucking untie me!"

"The hell I will. In fact, I should knock you out, just to have a moment of silence. If you just want to sit here and give up, fine. Not my problem. But don't get yourself killed, because that's my job." His voice faltered a little at the end of his infuriated little speech and then he turned away from him, ignoring all the insults Sadiq threw at him in return.

However, in the end it was clear that he had been right. There was no way to escape. They were caught in this luxurious prison cell like animals until their captor had other plans.

Antonio heaved a loud sigh and slumped into the cheap armchair that creaked in protest. The last hours he had spent putting requests, orders, trades and what not on hold. He hadn't known how much work that was. He had always assumed, secretly of course, that Senor Karpusi did nothing but down Ouzo, sleep and enjoy female company in his bureau. Now he knew better. Romano, who probably had heard him return, now entered the room in each hand a cell phone. One of them he tossed into the Spaniard's lap. "Anything new?"

"Nothing. I've called everyone I know, everyone he knows, every hospital and every jail. It's like he disappeared into thin air." He slapped his hands over his eyes and rubbed his face. "There must be something we haven't tried yet."

"I'm telling you, he's probably lying dead in some ditch by the road." The Italian growled and limped to his side, sitting down on the armrest.

"Don't say such things." Antonio softly reprimanded his partner. Similar thoughts have started to invade his mind as well, though. They couldn't give up just like that. It was their friend they were talking about!

"He's not dead."

"Tell that to yourself, you bastard. But you know the odds." Romano had a point there. They had searched all of Izmir and its outskirts but hadn't found a single trace of the missing Greek. Still, even a dead body had to turn up somewhere. So, in fact, since they hadn't found him the chances were good that he was still alive. Antonio found himself clinging to that thought.

"Oh yeah… Adnan disappeared, too." Romano interrupted the Spanish man's mental chanting. With widened eyes he stared at the Italian who now played around with the flat mobile phone in his hands.

"What?" He had to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. That couldn't be a coincidence. The younger male leaned back, a cold gleam in his golden eyes. "I said he has disappeared as well."

No five minutes later the two men had left the hotel and dashed towards the car waiting around the corner. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Antonio demanded, uncharacteristically angry.

"I told you as soon as I knew! What's your problem?" The other hissed, trying to keep up with the Spaniard.

"That changes everything. Get in the car." That one instructed.

Romano slumped into the pillion seat and watched Antonio surround the front of the vehicle and get in as well. He let the motor howl before hitting the gas and wordlessly setting off. As he steered through the streets of Izmir, going way too fast, the Spaniard growled: "How do you know?"

"You have your contacts and I have mine, jerk. I'm not a child, I have my own methods." He got interrupted when the other turned a corner, spinning the steering wheel violently around to keep the car under control. Romano grabbed the dashboard for support. "Fucking watch it, you crazy ass!"

"That both disappeared isn't a coincidence. Think of it, Romano." His partner growled and expedited again. "What if Adnan has kidnapped Senor Karpusi and is holding him captive somewhere?"

Romano had thought of that. "Well, bummer." He rolled his eyes. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Adnan's place, of course."

There was silence for a moment. Then the Italian raged: "You fucking bastard! You know his hide-out? Why didn't you tell us? What's wrong with you? We could have ended this crap ages ago!"

"Maybe. Or Senor Karpusi would have thrown all caution overboard, stormed the place and had himself killed in a matter of seconds." came the dark reply. That made sense. Lately the Greek bastard had been as explosive as a truck full of C4. Now he could see where that got him!

Romano grumbled something unintelligible and sat back, eyes fixed to the front window.

"Fine, and why are we heading there? Adnan is gone, too, remember? He won't be home, knitting in a rocking chair by the fireplace, will he?" The Italian scoffed.

"No, but he will have some of his subordinates run the place during his absence. We'll grab us one of them and beat information out of them. That's the plan."

Antonio hit the brakes and the car stopped with screeching tires right when a stream of passengers cut their way over the crossroad. He cursed quietly and Romano wondered to what extremes the man would go if it was him missing.

Thanks to Antonio's mad driving style it only took them half an hour to leave town and find their way to the Turk's mansion that sat at the foot of a small hill. They parked a little down the road and then left the car and didn't bother to lock the doors. The house in front of them was high-tech to the core, it seemed. An electric fence bordered the estate and made it impossible to simply walk in. The same thought occurred to the Spaniard for his expression darkened even more. Antonio Carriedo was not an angry man; therefore he was outright terrifying when he was in such a mood. Terrifying enough for his Italian friend to not remark anything when he walked up to the intercom he had spotted next to the locked gate. He rang the bell, an unnerving buzzing tone. Romano grabbed the gun holstered in his waistband. What was that idiotic Spaniard doing?

"Yes?" A female voice growled after a few clacking sounds. The men's heads snapped up and one second later Romano's weapon was loaded and its safety catch released. Antonio raised one hand to stop him. Then he turned back to the machine and put one hand on the wall it was integrated in. he leaned closer so that the one on the other end of the line could hear him clearly. His voice was quiet and deadly.

"Ms Héderváry, we have to talk."

Don't even know why I'm still uploading stuff here. I doubt anyone is reading this XD