A Closed Circle
Chapter 5
Downwards and Upwards
He hadn't thought of the place as her home before. Her design. Sure. Her creation. The place she was currently living. All that. But he had thought of it as more like a hotel. She had been taken from another residence in London. It made him think this was only a place she stayed briefly.
Which was odd for him. He had a series of crash houses. Small, unassuming flats in various places around the globe. Which he'd shared previously with Cobb. Cutting the cost in half. He was now dividing the cost in thirds with two other men he worked with on a fairly regular basis. He had enough information on them that ratting him out to the authorities would be unwise. And the places were big enough that if they all landed in the same place on their travels, they could all at least have somewhere to sleep.
None of them were home. None of them were like this.
He remembered that short, complicated phone conversation with her mother. 'I live in Tokyo, now' was what he thought she said. With some regretted exasperation. Something she'd told her mother more than once. Which wouldn't have been true if she'd only lived there for the two or three days since the attack. She wouldn't have said it like that.
This was her home.
He rolled the idea around as he took off his dress shoes and exchanged his suit pants for more casual khakis. They were pressed, and retained the crease even after packing, but they weren't suit pants. A dress shirt rolled at the sleeves without cufflinks. Tucked in. It was as casual as he could manage. Even for her.
And being in only his socks made him slightly uncomfortable.
"That will do." She told him when he re-entered the garden.
He would have frowned at her condescension if he didn't suspect a good deal of humor behind the words.
"So tell me," her eyes left him to look out at the scenery, "what are you hiding. What did you read in my mind."
He was quiet for long enough that she turned away from the window to look at him again. He was considering his words. Thinking of a way to tell her without scaring or upsetting her. But then, how do you tell someone their mother was extracted without worrying them?
You don't.
So he laid it out for her. Explained how a week before they went to her, they had paid a visit to her mother. The details of that extraction were unavailable, and all her own subconscious knew was that the four men who invaded her mind were bragging about success in her mother's.
From righteous anger to quiet anger.
She was unmoving. Sitting. Staring at him but not seeing him. Her skin had gone pale except for the line of her cheekbones which were flush. A hard pink.
If her anger had physical force. The force he felt pressing on him. The snow wouldn't be falling so lightly. A storm would rock her tall, distinctive building.
"Find him for me, Arthur." Their eyes made contact. He nodded. She had power. For a small time it was hard for him to look away. But then he decided to find humor in her anger. When he smiled at her, she released him.
Not knowing what he was supposed to do with a woman who was teetering somewhere between rage and grief and fear, he returned to his room. Better that he did what she ordered than sit around and make things worse.
Eames arrived late the next morning. The call to his throwaway had Arthur out of the building in minutes. The tension of her anger in the suite had him twitchy while he worked and made it hard to sleep.
Eames met him at a crowed shabu shabu place. They sat beside one another at the single boiler bar and spoke quietly as they ate.
"How is she?" Eames was filling his pot with beef and pork and small spears of corn. Healthy as always.
In contrast he was cooking Chinese celery and morning glory with mushrooms and prawns. Eames was starting to develop a slight paunch. Something he refused to let happen to him.
"She's fine. Angry. But physically fine."
"Surely you're wrong."
"Her wrists are a little raw from the restraints, but other than that, yes Eames. She's fine."
Eames was spinning his cup leisurely. Absentmindedly. It was beginning to piss him off. "You always do have to be a cheeky bastard." He said in an exaggerated drawl, pissing Arthur off further. Eames waved his cup at a leggy server for a refill. She came back with a full glass and a tea pot full of extra broth to top off his pot.
Eames winked and leered. She giggled and walked away without even a glance his direction. His pot could have used more broth too.
"What does Saito want?"
"From you? Nothing. Right now I don't want him to know you're involved."
"Then who will be cutting me a cheque? I don't work for free, dovy."
"Me."
Eames leaned out of his slouch to throw an arm over his barstool. In time to throw the server another look. But it also gave him a way to look directly at him.
"You."
"For now." He added more sesame hot sauce to his plate. "But travel expenses will have to come out of that."
"Travel." Eames was putting rice into a bowl filled with the broth, sauce, and meat. Making soup. Still no greens though. He might die young of something other than a bullet. If he ate like this all the time. Which seemed likely.
"Canada. I need you to secure her mother."
"Her mother a target?"
"She was ..." a man bumped into him and took a seat on the far side of Eames. He started pounding Asahi beer and boiling fungi and fishballs. Arthur lowered his voice. "She was already extracted. But we don't want it … or anything else to happen again."
"Still sick?"
"Yeah."
"Right pile of shit. Thank you, Arthur."
"I can't go. I'm on the job. She can't go. The risk … Point is, she trusts you, and you're capable."
"Never knew you cared." He stretched and pulled another few plates of meat from the conveyer. "Bloody … I can move her to America."
"I don't want to be able to find her."
"That, I assure you, I can manage." He flagged down the girl for another refill and Arthur saw her slip a note into his palm.
The man on the other side of Eames left.
Arthur's mouth twitched. "Yours?"
"Indeed." Eames spoke the word with such satisfaction.
"A problem?"
"Mmm, of course not."
"Moving her mother to America would be difficult. Thought that was off."
"No," he let out his usual breath of laughter. "Bloody complicated, but easy enough. But not as easy as keeping her where she is." This time he waved the girl down for his receipt. She gave a little pout at the idea of him leaving. Arthur considered putting his eyes into the boiling broth.
"You're an egotistical jackass."
"And you are a pompous bore."
"Contact me when you get it done."
As he stood to leave, Arthur heard him mumble, "Watch her back."
"That's the job."
"Mmmm."
As Eames cleared his ticket, he returned to his food. He needed sedatives. Possibly tranquilizers. Stimulants. He wasn't sure how exactly it could work, but the standard dreaming unconsciousness with functional mental activity, but with enhanced feeling in the body.
He wanted the people he took under to feel the pain in their bodies. For the mind to spread it to the peripheral nervous system and make a dream of being shot in the knee more than just a memory. He wasn't sure how possible splitting the central nervous system was. But Yusuf could do it if anyone could.
Even if he managed it they couldn't be shipped. So that meant an exchange in person. He was considering transferring the whole operation back to London. As far as the … the man who took her knew, she wasn't aware of what exactly happened.
And much as he hated the idea. And he did very, very much hate it. Holding her out as bait for a second capture might be the best way to get the right people under their control.
But he really hated the idea.
He knew she'd say yes.
Between the four of them. With all four of them. Probably the best in each of their respective fields. The four of them could get it done.
When he returned to the building, he went in the front door and requested a meeting with Saito. They hadn't established protocol for reports in their last meeting, and having once come in the front door, it was better that he not be caught in the public portions of the building without entering through a public door.
Unprepared for the visit, the personal secretary was unable to direct him into the office, but he only had to wait for an hour. It was a boring hour. He had brought nothing to amuse himself, but it was only an hour.
"It is good to see you again," Saito said as he let his previous visitor out of the office and directed him in. Arthur made sure to turn his head slightly away from the older, much shorter, gentleman.
"Yes it is."
"Why did you come?"
Without being offered, Arthur took a seat in a comfortable corner chair. "Travel expenses. London is the eventual but I'll need to take maybe two stops."
"And her."
There were things he forgot. Years would pass, and even he forgot. Even things that shouldn't be forgotten. The set of Saito's face was familiar. He'd seen it before on a helicopter. Saito was there. And another face he knew. Another architect.
With bruises and open sores.
And the offer of a gun against a traitor.
Saito was a remarkably good businessman. When you spoke to him you felt like you could trust him. That he was honest and compassionate and caring. His manner allowed you to overlook the ruthlessness.
But he was ruthless. Efficient. Selfish. Greedy.
It wasn't that he was necessarily a bad person. That wasn't his impression of the man. But Saito was successful in business. And that meant he would be willing to kill her if she became more of a liability than an asset.
Though being a good person. Deep down. Somewhere. He'd probably feel a little bad about it.
Maybe. And that's what cleared his head of questions and doubts. She wasn't safe here, so they would go to London. Where she also wouldn't be safe, but she could be useful.
"Yes. Her as well. You want her watched, and I need her for the job. I can tell you that she gave away nothing. I looked," Saito went tense and his eyes grew hard, "with her permission and her censorship of everything that occurred before that day."
It was winter outside, but the air inside had been perfectly comfortable. Now he was feeling cold. The room, the office, was quiet. A good office. A good place to work, but it also allowed him no distraction from the irritation in Saito's gaze.
"She was returned because they found nothing and hoped to change that by taking her again."
"You were not given permission to extract her."
"She gave me permission, and it is her mind."
Saito allowed his silence to give proper response to that statement. He didn't press further. He didn't want to be taken off the job. For someone else to be brought in who wouldn't consider her interests.
Her interests, at this point, trumped his own. Trumped Saito's. And there weren't many who would agree with that assessment. Eames would certainly work for her. Especially with money as incentive, but Arthur was less certain that he'd do so if Saito decided to turn that gaze in his direction. Eames had a long vision, and an eye trained on staying un-murdered for as long as possible.
Vision that didn't do anything about his diet, but still...
Fond as he claimed to be of her, Arthur doubted that fondness would overwhelm Eames' concern for Eames.
Yusuf would be needed for a better set of drugs, but he couldn't be trusted. Not fully. He had a lot in common with Saito in that way. A nice man, at heart, but … He was in business. A small business. Serving a select clientele, but with potential for growth and with high overhead in terms of payoffs to authorities who regulated shared-dreaming and saw Yusuf as a bootlegger and a drug dealer.
He was all she had. He'd gotten used to having a partner on the verge of collapse with Cobb. Gotten used to tricky jobs that would implode without a moment's notice. Adapted to seeing a job in colors other than money and overtime without pay.
Saito's glare softened into affable intimidation. "Anyone else?"
"I need drugs. That will incur a significant cost. And replacement documentation."
"She has worked with Mr. Eames. He seemed … skilled. She can contact and pay him."
"Out of her own money?"
"No. She has access to the accounts as needed."
Well. That was an impressive revelation. Impressive and useful.
"Will you go to … what was his name? Ah. Yes. Yusuf. Mr. Eames was quite outspoken of his work." The older man had a slight trace of humor in his eyes. He wondered what Eames had told Saito.
"The drugs can come from anywhere. I don't need an on-site chemist. And the compounds I need shouldn't be overly complicated." A lie, but Arthur would play as many cards close to the vest as he could. No need for Saito to have an eye on his whole hand.
"Go to Yusuf," Saito said as if he hadn't even been paying attention. Ripping the cards of his plans from him. Arthur scoffed. The man was good. "I know his operation. I like to have some knowledge of who I'm doing business with."
Arthur failed to comment on how it would actually be him doing business with Yusuf. It wasn't anything important enough to get in a fight over. And besides, the comment fit Saito's character. It wasn't surprising, and Arthur didn't want to have to reevaluate anything he knew of the man.
Saito was a person he felt he knew very well.
"Have you seen Yusuf much since then? I'm surprised you're so familiar with his work."
"Only once. Through her, but I am good at judging a man. I know his business, and I can trust him to do good work."
Arthur nodded. The meeting was running a little long. He hadn't planned on talking for more than a minute or two. "We'll leave tomorrow."
"You will leave today."
Arthur clenched his teeth and imagined the lights dimming. Saito did such a fine job. Honorable and yet frightening as hell. A useful talent. Useful also because you knew where you stood with him.
You could trust him to honor his word, but you also knew he would never sear to set aside his life or position for you. He'd pay when he said he'd pay, and jobs done in confidence were truly confidential. He … cared, for lack of a better word, to some extent. Became involved. Didn't just throw people away at the drop of a hat.
But in the end he was the boss, and it was the most important thing to him. For Saito, nothing took precedence over Saito.
He thought of her words: 'Well, it was obvious wasn't it? I would be a weak link in his business. He would have to take some sort of action.' That was the statement she made when he told her he'd been hired to kill her if he deemed necessary. Such a true, and completely casual, understanding of her place in Saito's world.
Of her own heightened mortality under the businessman's watch.
She was, after all, replaceable. Even if she was also immensely talented.
It made him uncomfortable. Saito was a very good short-term employer. But to work for him for years … it didn't seem safe. Or healthy.
As clearly evidenced by the current situation, and the terms he was hired under.
'Not that working extraction for anyone is ever completely safe,' he felt compelled to admit.
"I have," Arthur made his voice pleasant, "things to wrap up here. And Yusuf will need time to prepare."
"Then you have 8 hours. I'm sending her back to her construction site. She has a meeting tomorrow, 22 hours from now, in London. She will arrive in time for the meeting. Make sure she is ready. A private jet will be waiting for you at Hanada."
With that clear dismissal, he left the building before making his slow, cautious way back to her suite.
Author's Note: Very little Ariadne in that. It was pretty much plot, plot, plot. Next one will correct that. Sorry the update took so long!