Yes, I know I promised I'd update fast. . . . ^___^;;;;;
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CHAPTER 5: It Begins
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"Sir, Detective Maclean asked me to pass this along to you."
Berkley looked up and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "And they are?"
"The background info on all active cults currently in New York. Detective Maclean pointed out that the first part focuses those which are specifically Satanic or Anti-Christian in nature and within a 10-mile radius of the murder sites," Ted concluded.
Berkley took the proffered file, an inch thick at least and murmured, "Well, he's nothing if not thorough. So where's our esteemed Detective and his partner then?"
Ted dipped his head and said, "Detective Laytner got a call from one of his regular informant and they're on their way to see him now. His informant said he might have something useful."
"Finally. What are you doing now?"
"I'm still searching through old records for any similar M.Os. No luck as yet though," Ted apologized.
"We can't have everything can we?" Berkley sighed. He was about to wave dismissal to Ted when his phone rang. Looking at the blinking light, he realized that the call was on his special line, i.e., the mayor. "Goddammit, does the man have a bug in my office or something?"
"Do you need anything else sir?" Ted asked with a faint smile.
"Can you go assassinate the mayor for me? No? Well continue on then. You know what to do if you come up with anything."
"Yes sir."
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"Do you want anything Dee?"
"Hmm?" Dee turned from his absent contemplation of the sleeting scenery outside. "What did you say?"
Ryo sighed. "I asked if you want anything. Tea? Coffee? Sex?"
Dee blinked. "Coffee please."
They had been sitting in the little booth in a nondescript café just a few blocks from the precinct, waiting for his informant. The man, known only as Jack, had agreed to meet them there at 2.30. It was now 2.45. Jack was a regular informant of Dee, having used his services for the past two years. While Jack was your typical unsavory character, dabbling in drugs and crime, he was also a talented snitch. He was always careful to only open his mouth when he was sure he was above implication. By the police or by the people he sold information about.
And for the right price of course.
Ryo thanked the waitress with a smile and nudged Dee. "Your coffee."
"Oh, thanks." Dee barely touched the steaming brew and instead, fixed a light stare at his lover. "What?"
Ryo stared back at him for a full minute before he turned away with a sigh. "Nothing. And I'm sure if I asked you, you'd say it's nothing either."
"Well, that goes to show how well you know me right?"
"Yeah, an idiot in more ways than one."
"Hey, I resent that. I'm a handsome, sexy idiot."
Ryo snorted.
"Detectives."
The both of them jumped slightly in surprise. The man sitting before them had managed to slide in his seat without them noticing his coming and Ryo was uncomfortably aware of how remote their corner booth was.
"Jack, you're late," Dee stated, narrowing his slate grey eyes.
"And you look like shit. Your lover trying to starve you or something?" Jack retorted with a smirk.
Ryo frowned but before he could say anything, Dee beat him to it. "Mind your manners. What me and Ryo do together is nobody's business but our own. And you don't look so hot either."
It was true, Ryo noted with some surprise. Jack was a somewhat vague 'acquaintance' to him. They had only met a couple of times, Jack preferring to do his transactions with Dee only. Ryo remembered him as being a rotund sort of guy and pink-cheeked that added a certain ironic innocence to the hard glint in his eyes. He looked like a man who had vices and enjoyed them, making sure he dressed for the occasion. Now though, he was dressed in a nondescript jacket, patched at the elbows with a worn baseball cap, its color indeterminate, pulled low over his eyes. What little he could see of his face showed sunken cheeks and eyes roaming the café nervously despite his bravado attitude.
"Yeah, well," Jack muttered sullenly, "you try making a living on the streets nowadays and you get nervous too."
Dee sighed and leant back against the red leatherette. "Care to give us any tips? Leads?"
Jack played with the salt shaker on the table, his fingers trembling slightly. For a moment, Dee thought he would bolt form sheer nerves.
"Everyone's feeling a bit. . ." he hesitated, "edgy with these anti-Christ murders. They don't like it."
Ryo raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I wouldn't think they'd care one way or another," he said mildly.
At his words, Jack shot him a glare from beneath the brim of his cap. "Hey, we might be scumbags, and granted, there's a few motherfuckers out there, but no one likes to off little kids like that. That's just plain sick. Besides, it's focusing attentions on activities that are best left unnoticed by the authorities."
"You mean it's bad for business," Dee clarified. "It's that all you got? You want to convey condolences?"
"Hey man, I'm not jerking you off," Jack snapped. "Some of the. . .organisations that has business in those areas have tried to track down the shithead responsible. Teach him some lesson in manners and courtesy and all that. But even they came up with nothing. And they got better resources than the cops do when it comes to making people talk," he added unnecessarily.
"And?" Dee sighed.
"Well, I don't make good money for being an informant for nothing. A few months before this shit went down, word got out on the streets that a new drug had hit town. Some kinda shit that makes LSD look like sugar dust."
Dee and Ryo exchanged worried glances. Drugs was nothing new in New York, being one of, if not the major criminal activity for most of the gangs here. But a new batch that rates higher than LSD. . .the both of them had their fair share of apprehending suspects high on the drug and it was never pretty. The drug could turn Bugs Bunny into some demon from hell with the hallucinations and those high on it tended to disregard such things as badges and guns.
"Which gang is responsible for bringing it in?" Ryo asked.
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "No one knows. Even I don't. I've heard rumours that you can't just buy 'em of a dealer. You gotta go through a specific channel and even then, you might get brushed off. Seems like not anyone can handle the effects of the drug. Those that can, tend to disappear."
"Those that don't?"
"They disappear too. Probably dead."
"What else?" Dee asked. There was a slight strain to his voice, nothing that was evident except to those who were close to him and Ryo shot him a look.
"The funny thing is, drug dealers, they like nice, big profits so you try to do as much business as possible, right?"
Jack waited for them to nod in affirmative before continuing. "The crazy thing about this dealer is that he appears to want a certain quota, that's it."
"What do you mean, 'quota'?"
"I found out that there were 12 people who managed to get a shot at the drug and not die. All 12 of them have vanished. And the drug went off the streets."
So that means the dealer wasn't looking for profit; he had something else in mind. Almost as if the drug was a sort of initiation to a secret society. Ryo voiced his thoughts out loud and Dee nodded silently. 12 of them. 13 if you counted the dealer, assuming he's working alone.
"What's the name of the drug?" Dee asked.
"A stupid one if you ask me. . .they call it Revelation."
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". . . .we think this new drug might be a link. It fits together too perfectly with the murders to just be a coincidence," Ryo finished.
Jack had little else to offer them besides information on the drugs, but reflecting on it, Ryo decided that it was definitely better than nothing. The informant hadn't stayed on long enough for a social chat. After receiving the packet containing his pay, he had left without a backward glance. Dee had tried to get him to promise to find out more for them but the man insisted he wanted nothing more to do with the whole thing and had scampered off as fast as he could.
Returning from the meeting, they had reported directly to Rose and Ryo had just finished explaining to the Commissioner regarding the latest information. Dee had kept silent throughout the discussion, just sitting in his chair and staring pensively out the windows that framed Rose's desk.
The blond man nodded and passed a harried hand over his face. "Just what we need," he murmured. "More drug-crazed maniacs running around."
Both Ryo and Dee kept silent.
"Well Laytner? Care to share something with us?"
Dee stirred and blinked gray eyes bemusedly at his superior, as though only now recalling where he was. A frown was starting to gather on Rose's brow.
"My informant," Dee started, not bothering to reveal Jack's name as it was an accepted procedure among cops that only yourself knew about your informant. It helps keep them alive and useful. "I'm pretty sure he told us everything he knew, which is not much, but it's a useful clue anyway."
"Elaborate," Rose said flatly.
"He said that he knew nothing else about the new drug, save that only 12 people managed to get hold of it and lived. Even an idiot would realize the significance of it. Since he did not mentioned the name of any cults that he suspected might have a hand in it, it's almost a sure bet that this cult is new, or has been very good in hiding."
"So you think all the information we gathered on active cults in the area is useless then?" Rose surmised.
"Not useless," Dee corrected him. "Just. . .I think what we're looking for won't be in those files. So it's a start."
Rose snorted but looked accepting of Dee's theory. "I hope the mayor feels the same way. Anyway, good job, Detectives."
Taking the cue, the two of them rose from their chairs and offered the commissioner a brief salute. As they turned to leave though, Rose called out, halting them.
"By the way. Laytner?"
Dee half-turned, an expectant look on his face. "Yes sir?"
"You look like shit." The observation came as direct as a hammer blow and Ryo flinched, though Dee looked slightly amused by it. "While I fully expect the two of you to crack this case as soon as possible, try to not kill yourself in the process," Rose said wryly.
Dee smiled. "Thank you sir."
The door closed softly behind them and Rose leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking in protest. It galled him to admit it but Dee's appearance was. . .disturbing. While he personally wished that the dark haired man would let down his guard one day concerning Ryo, nevertheless, it unnerved him to see the man so. . .worn out. Laytner and the adjective 'tired' didn't fit together.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.
He was actually getting worried about Laytner. He must be getting old.
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They actually made it back home in time for Ryo to cook dinner and to have it with Bikky. The boy cheerfully recited to them his day, chattering on about school (it sucked) and Carol (the boy was definitely head over heels. He just doesn't realize it yet). Ryo listened, smiled, laughed at the appropriate places and tried to stop the worry from showing on his face. He well knew that Bikky's bright chatter was intended to cheer Dee, or at least, goad him into some teasing but the only response they had gotten from the man was a vague smile.
He barely touched his dinner; taking a few forkfuls and the rest he pushed aimlessly around his plate. When Ryo tried to coax him into eating some more, he just shook his head, smiled, and said he was done eating. Sighing, Ryo took up his own plate and Dee's. Dee pushed his chair back and offered to help with the dishes but Bikky jumped up then.
"It's okay," the boy quickly spoke up. "I'll do it Dee. You just go and. . .rest," making vague, shooing motions towards the living room.
Though surprised, Dee just smiled faintly and obediently went to the living room and sat himself down on the armchair facing the huge windows of the apartment. The night outside was a featureless black punched with neon glows, made barely visible by the pouring rain.
Ryo and Bikky cleared the table quickly, with little fuss. Later, as they stood side by side washing and drying the dishes, Bikky tried to ask the question he was reluctant to voice out.
"Ryo. . ." he started hesitantly. "Is Dee. . .is he okay?" the last few words coming out in a rush. After two years of acted rivalry and intolerance, it was kind of awkward for him to be in this caring role.
"I don't know," Ryo sighed, his hands stilled in the soapy water, the dishes forgotten for the moment. "His fever's gone and the migraines have stopped at least. . ."
"There's something else though," Bikky finished for him.
He smiled tiredly and flicked a soapsud on the boy's nose. "Very perceptive of you," he teased gently.
Bikky rolled his eyes and wiped away the bubbles with the dishtowel he was using. "You have to be blind to not see there's something bothering him. Does it have anything to do with the case?"
"I don't know," Ryo tried to not let out his frustrations on the dishes. "I'm not even sure if there is something wrong. Most of the time he just seems. . . ."
"Distracted?"
"Yeah. Distracted."
The rest of the dishes were cleaned and dried in silence, the only sound filling the kitchen was the running water and the clink of porcelain and glass. From the direction of the living room was also only silence, Dee apparently not feeling up to the television as usual.
As Ryo was about to leave the kitchen, Bikky stopped him with a small hand. He looked down, startled to realize that Bikky was rapidly approaching his height. The boy was nor nearly reaching his shoulders. Time had passed by so swiftly.
"What is it?" he smiled.
Bikky opened his mouth, and closed it, hesitant. As Ryo stood there, patiently waiting for him, he finally blurted it out. "You don't have to handle it yourself. I mean, I'll. . .look out for him too. . .it's the least I can do," he finished, and blushed a faint pink.
Taking his charge in his arms, he hugged the boy tightly and was given a fierce hug in return.
"Thank you," he murmured.
* * *
He had fallen asleep easily enough, the rain beating a steady tattoo against the glass, morphing the light that filtered in through the cloth blinds a hazy, ethereal silver glow that filled the room with a soft glow. Beside him, Ryo breathed deep and slow, lost in slumber of his own, his body pressed closed against his, a warmer and far more comfortable shield than the blankets.
He wasn't sure if he was dreaming.
There were. . .lights. . .images. . .figures beckoning to him.
He tried to make sense of it all but the more he chased, the farther away they ran from him until all he had left was empty black. The minute he stopped chasing though, they came back; soft, inviting whispers that tantalized his mind like a gentle succubus, luring him on with promises.
It never crossed his mind whether what they promised him was something he wanted in the first place.
As the dancing lights, sounds and images drew closer and closer, he found himself submerged in a whirling vertigo, his senses upended and his awareness slipping away like so many sands.
He dreamt.
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~to be continued~
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