Reiji Takatori didn't want to hear Masafumi's recital how his skills and drugs had helped his father's career, his brother's hobbies, and even his grandfather's rule of his backwood estate. Least of all, on the green of his favourite and most exclusive golf club.
In mid diatribe Masafumi found himself dangling several inches above the ground, the front of his jacket collar gradually tightening across his throat. The American thug's accented voice was smooth. "Shall I throw him out, Mr Takatori?"
"Only if he continues to act like a spoiled brat." To Masafumi, whose normal pallor was now highly flushed, "Will you?" Masafumi managed to shake his head and Crawford dropped him at his father's feet.
Masafumi staggered to his feet, rubbing his throat and scowling in a less sneering way than usual. For a minute he'd been reminded of when he was the nerdy little kid who got bullied in school, especially the sort of school their father chose for them. He almost expected the American to sneer, 'What an ugly little thing you are! And what a sniveller!'
Takatoris had little else to commend them, but they did seem to run to a brutal courage. Masafumi was the one exception. His schoolmates had found that out quickly, and delighted in rubbing it in.
His father's voice brought him back to the present. "It's my money. I can cut you off if I want. As it is, Takatori Enterprises has hit a rough patch. I have to cut down as much as possible. After all, you don't need such high expenses now."
That only made Masafumi scowl the harder. Neu was an ungrateful bitch. She'd have died in the gutter without him. Schoen was worse, taking off with Tot because they hadn't the guts to watch him experiment on reviving the corpse of their team mate. Hel had been the only really loyal one. She'd have approved.
He looked around at their surroundings. Reiji Takatori's favourite golf club wasn't the sort of place you'd go to cut down expenses. One of their twee little cocktails cost as much as a restaurant meal. For a second, he contemplated spiking the drinks in this place with one of his experiments. Enjoyable and informative at the same time. The redheaded bodyguard smirked. "Herr Takatori has to keep up appearances, most of all now."
Earlier, Reiji had insisted on talking to Masafumi at the golf club. Masafumi had thought this was simply because his father liked playing golf. Now, he wondered if it was because in a Takatori office, there were far too many ears attached to loose mouths. That had been something he'd been working on. He looked speculatively at the redheaded bodyguard. After all, he had experience now. It would take so little to turn this insolent gaijin into someone completely loyal.
His father repeated, patiently for Reiji, "Your turn."
Masafumi scowled at the club he'd taken at random from the bag and swung it viciously at the ball. He didn't see why they couldn't settle down and talk in that nice sunny bunker. He'd spent enough time in it. But his father wanted to play golf. Next time he hit the ball.
He'd already hit his father, other players, most hazards within quarter of a mile, and on one occasion the ball had ricocheted back and hit him in the stomach. This time it seemed to go in approximately the right direction. Damn fast, too.
"Playing one!" he said.
"That was the club head," said the redhead. "The ball is still there."
Masafumi threw the abbreviated club to the ground and stamped on it. "I don't know why you insist on my playing. You know I've never had any knack for games." Masafumi Takatori considered human games a complete waste of time, and most human beings. Living their little, programmed lives; they wasted their little, programmed emotions on pleasures and creeds and each other. While beneath all this was the real world. Eternal, impersonal. And Science, to control it.
"I know," said Reiji, looking like a koala who's bitten on a bad eucalyptus leaf. "If I hadn't allowed you to skip all games in order to concentrate on your science class, you might be - "
"I bet you're not cutting back Hiro's expenses!" Hirofumi, the strong, handsome, elder son, who laughed at his Science, played games with killing people, and called that reality.
"Hiro's supporting himself. He might use family assets, but that's another thing."
Hirofumi might be the favoured elder, but Masafumi knew he himself was the true Takatori. Hiro might play viciously and successfully at his games, but Masafumi had the Takatori knack for focusing on one thing and following through with it to the death. Other people's death. "The things I'm working on make Takatori Enterprises look like a child's playpen."
For a moment Reiji Takatori's face reflected his son's greed, then he shook his head. "Whatever discoveries you make, it'll be the politicians who decide what to do with them. I'm playing the adult game round here."
"I bet you've not cut back on Ouka's expenses!"
"I would if Ouka demanded a cutting edge science lab, using enough power for the city of Tokyo." Turning his shoulder to Masafumi, Reiji tee-ed up his ball. "The list of your embarrassing failures is longer, much longer." He looked at Masafumi, and his son cringed. "You're an amateur. If I need anything, I'll have it done by professionals."
Masafumi dared not even frown at his father. He managed to scowl at Crawford and Schuldig simultaneously, though they had the Takatoris on either side. Esset's promises had been for him. Hadn't they?
Reiji turned his back on him and continued with his game. With one of his very rare flashes of common sense, Masafumi decided to get out while he could.
The green and gold May morning had enticed a lot of rich men to the course. As he retreated to the parking lot, to Masafumi Takatori every one of them seemed to make it a point to obstruct him with their silly game. His drive from the lot banged even more fenders than usual.
Normally, he despised Hirofumi's taste for flashy sports cars. The anonymous white van he himself drove carried more equipment, and could be used to collect specimens. But just now, he would have given a lot to be able to floor the accelerator. He'd love to rub the hapless traffic cop's nose into the fact he couldn't do anything. As it was, even moderately fast speeds made his van lurch and squeak. Masafumi had always left car maintenance to the girls. The sooner he recruited a few more, the better.
It did occur to Masafumi to go to the one man his father feared. That was dismissed immediately. Saijou's one interest was not Science, but power over his own kind. Masafumi sneered at the thought of wasting your life on ants, then relished the fantasy of the old man saying, "Of all my descendants you are the true Takatori."
If his immortality research succeeded, he would have enough time for that power, too.
He found his van heading for one person who did cross his father. Schuichi was a Takatori, after all. Schuichi knew enough to believe the things he would tell him, and had the power to protect him.
More important, he could and would pay for Masafumi's information.
At length Masafumi found a parking spot near to the graceless, overpowering bulk of the police office building. Even walking through the crowd into the building was a fight. When he had enough power, this was how he'd live. No more hidden country houses.
He didn't expect to spend time waiting in a queue with the hoi polloi, and for once reality lived up to his expectations. Once he'd entered the building, a young woman appeared and said deferentially, "Takatori-san? Our surveillance team informed your uncle. He'd like to see you right away."
Masafumi nodded graciously and followed. His uncle had good taste, and one for the exotic. Chinese, wasn't she?
He was wondering whether Schuichi would give her to him as he followed her through an unmarked door.
He found himself frozen absolutely still.
Behind him the door swung shut with no visible hand. It would have intrigued Masafumi at any other time. Now he was struggling to breathe.
From the corner of an eye he could just make out a figure wheeling...It looked like the trolley for surgical instruments in an operating room. Masafumi's blood ran cold.
But there was no clatter of metal. As it came in plainer sight he saw a laundry cart. The man pushing it was dressed as a janitor. He swept a big armful of towels up out of it.
Then something even more unbelievable than not being able to move. Without being touched he was lifted from the ground. His body was lain on its back in the air and floated to the cart, and into it. A foot above the surface he was abandoned rather abruptly to gravity. He hit the metal surface with an audible thump.
The man in the janitor's uniform assessed him. "You better let him get a few breaths." He had a deep, pleasant voice and strange violet eyes. I'll remember you all right, Masafumi swore to himself.
"Why?" The Chinese lady's beautiful voice was completely indifferent.
"Brain damage soon, I should think."
"All the better." But the paralysing grip around him relaxed enough for him to breathe in.
As soon as he could. he began gabbling pleas, bribes and threats, all mixed together. The Chinese woman bent over him, and he saw the gleam of metal in her hand. He knew what could be done, what he had done, and fear shattered him.
Schuldig said, "He's happier this way."
Crawford saw Takatori look toward his golf club and intervened hastily. After all, Schuldig didn't deserve to be beaten. "I assure you, Mr Takatori, Jaeger did nothing."
Takatori thought about this, in his way. Crawford wondered if this was when the politician would finally start asking questions about what sort of technology Esset used. Takatori seemed to have a vague idea Schuldig used drugs and knives like his son, and tried not to think about the subject further. Takatori was more interested in assigning blame. "Then your lackeys."
Crawford was glad they weren't here to see him kow-towing to this fool. Threats to his mother and sister might keep Fujimiya obedient, but it was only sensible to keep him as much out of the loop as possible. He tried to keep Silvia away from Takatori for other, obvious, reasons. "Lin-san injected a mild sedative. Completely safe."
Takatori took a few steps toward the corner where his son was seated on the ground, happily taking to pieces a plastic toy. "He does look happier. But how can you tell?"
Schuldig tried to mute his normal manner. "I can tell. Mentally your son is a small child again."
"He wasn't a happy small child."
Schuldig assured him, "This time he is."
Takatori threw a golfing manual at him.