A Closed Circle
Chapter 6
London's Burning
There were times when everyone wished the world would burn. Today was his day.
She was perfectly willing to go along with his plan to toss her out into the waters of greater London to be bait for whatever Finnik, Brown, and Obara extractor that came along. Of course she was.
Because that was her. And she was interested in causing as much stress for him as possible.
He was uncomfortable with both of them being on the same private jet flight to London, but it was the only way he could keep an eye on her. A regular commercial flight would be better, but it also meant whoever was tailing her might get on and see them together. Anyone in the business would be able to get 4 from that 2+2.
He was well known, and anyone following her would know what she did.
They couldn't let that happen.
So it would be a helicopter flight from the Inazuma Building to a land site at Narita, and then a car or another helicopter to Hanada where they'd board the jet. The pilot wouldn't know their final destination until they got there. First stop would be in Seoul. Then they'd catch a flight to Europe. Then another to London.
Easy enough.
He sighed. He was tired already.
London was cold. Worse than Tokyo. His foul mood wasn't helping matters. This was the most difficult part of the job so far. From his perspective.
They left Heathrow separately. Both in cabs. She would change cabs twice. In an attempt to locate and/or throw off any tail they might have picked up. He was also changing twice, and then he would be dropped off two kilometers from his destination. He would walk the rest of the way to her flat.
That was the plan at least, but it was cold even in the confines of the car.
For all that he was ordered to stay with her, and preferred to keep an eye on her, it was better that they weren't seen together.
But it also meant a good hour, perhaps two, that he wasn't with her. She was a tough woman, he wouldn't deny it, but she was an architect. Not a fighter. Alone in the city where she was first attacked. The city where he wanted her to be attacked again.
Being bait was one thing. Caught was a whole other.
But the time apart let him think more clearly.
It was very likely that successful completion of his job would demand a second attempt at the one she failed. A class action lawsuit like the one lodged against Saito and Inazuma Inc. usually started at the urging of a single individual.
If they could discover the name and private intentions of that single person … It would save her. It would save Saito. Which might just be saving her again. She was becoming a liability to him, and he wouldn't put up with it much longer.
Depressing and unhelpful thoughts in the end.
The sleet wasn't helping.
Damn this was a depressing place. How much longer was he going to have to walk?
On the outside her building was drab. Six floors high and a regular brick exterior. An older building, but the architectural details were too generic for him to pinpoint exactly how old. The inside was made more interesting by the presence of a modernized vintage elevator. Even the old brass crank was still visible.
Her living here suddenly made more sense.
Entering, he pressed the button for the 5th floor and listened to the creak and whirl of the pulleys.
The elevator stopped in front of a nice, clean, but boring hall, and he opened the gate. There were only two doors in the hall, and he went to 502. She ushered him in before he could even knock on the door.
She had a knife in her hands.
"Why did you take so long? Shit. I'm having a fit in this place. I didn't think it would … weigh on me like this. But all I can think about is waking up on the floor knowing something was wrong." She looked at the knife and put it on a small table against the wall as she led him into what looked like a sitting room. "I wouldn't want to come back here alone. I would have rented a new place."
There was a whistle coming from kitchen that he could clearly see over a halfwall.
"Ah. I was making tea. Do you want any?"
He nodded. He had been moments from reaching out a hand to comfort her. Anxiety and fear were natural when returning to a place where you suffered. But she didn't seem as agitated as her words implied. Her actions were as smooth and efficient as ever. He watched her prepare tea and food, remembering that she had only been gone from this place for a few days. Barely a week.
To amuse himself while she did that he wandered around the place. Looking for a room to put his luggage.
The flat was cozy. Comfortable. Not a maze. Fewer walls. Wider halls. No feeling of being lost in a relatively small space.
The suite in Tokyo was beautiful. The rooms were large. So were the windows. The rooms felt huge, but going between them was an exercise in memory and patience. And a test against claustrophobia.
The center of the suite being the elevator and emergency stairs, hallways turned with sharp corners and smooth curves. Sometimes opening into forked paths and – at least twice – dead ends.
The design was teetering on the line of difficult and just plain cruel.
This London flat was open. Despite the smaller size and dreary weather, having two walls with four windows (smaller windows) added a lightness. The paler wood and softer fabrics helped the illusion.
In Tokyo there were darker woods with accents of red and gold to keep the place from being oppressive. And it managed. By being interesting. By being beautiful. By being frustrating. By being a fantasy brought to reality. But it was a close thing.
As different as the two places were, they were both still her.
"I don't know which one I like better," he told her as he took a seat in her casual sitting room or living room. "The other is so … grand. Impressive. Creative. But this one is more comfortable."
She brought a tray of tea and some sort of pastry and set it on the coffee table while taking the seat across from him. She picked up her cup and motioned him to do the same. "Part of it is that this one is temporary. And the other is … I had what felt like unlimited funds in Tokyo. I have a good bit of money saved, but I'll be in and out of this place for maybe three years.
"I need to be able to live here, but there's no reason to spend a lot of effort and money when I'll need to resell it soon." She gave what was almost a shy smile. It looked odd on her. She didn't often show embarrassment. She didn't often do anything to merit embarrassment. "Though I do have about three notebooks full of ideas and designs showing what I would do here if I had the freedom and time."
He chuckled and ate the food she had laid out. He could imagine her sitting here or looking at the dull exterior of the place and running for a notebook to fix the boredom. Keep it from infecting her imagination.
A beep sounded from somewhere deeper in the flat. She jumped up and hurried after the noise.
"Yes," he heard the muffled word. On her mobile phone.
The rest of the conversation was too quiet for him to hear. When she returned her face was set into a mask of something between anger and frustration.
He didn't ask. She – apparently – wasn't ready to tell.
Two days passed. There were no problems.
He was getting impatient.
She went back and forth between her flat, the build site, and the food market. She told him that she had a habit of ordering food in but ruled against it as an option. He was there. And rumors of a man in her flat would be sure to spread.
It was better that she was caught outside.
He preferred that she be taken in a crowed. Her attackers would be less likely to hurt her that way. At least until they got her somewhere more private.
But by then he would be there.
A call from Eames assured him that the Brit would be home in two days. Risky. And it gave Arthur some idea of how much the expat would do for her. He still had warrants out for his arrest in his home country.
Eames was certain it wouldn't be an issue.
Arthur believed him.
A second call revealed that Yusuf would arrive two days after Eames.
The chemist was waiting on a shipment of a few specialized chemicals. Particularly a stimulant that enhanced the pain receptors in the brain. And a compound for the customized sedative which would allow for pain but ensure unconsciousness.
The man was a genius.
Yusuf had also informed him that he would be bringing his youngest daughter. Competent and fearless, Yusuf told him. A good companion for her if they wanted someone to be physically closer than they could manage when watching her in secret.
Arthur was shocked. That a father would put his daughter in that sort of danger …
But Yusuf was positive that the girl could handle the work. Arthur decided to accept. Until he felt she was a danger to herself … or more importantly, the mission.
Then he'd send her home on the first flight out. 'Competent and fearless' or not.
While waiting on those three, Arthur followed her. Everywhere. Eames' arrival would be a blessing. He could use an extra set of eyes. His stress level was off the charts. Terrified that he couldn't see everything all the time. Certain she'd be taken when he couldn't see. When he couldn't help.
Despite his personal feelings for Eames, Arthur could never say the man wasn't good at his job.
Not as good as him, but certainly competent enough to help watch over her.
His palms were moist with nervousness. She was inside. Looking over something. The three times she visited the site since they arrived, she'd never left the building happy. And she never talked about what it was causing her anger.
He wanted to stay silent on the issue until Eames showed up. Someone else to absorb some of the latent rage. She was the type to hold on to, but bury, her frustrations.
At the same time, if it had something to do with the job, he trusted her to tell him about it.
But apparently he had too much faith in that.
An hour before Eames' plane touched down, his phone received a message. From Eames. On the plane's wifi. Also risky.
Staying the night w/ frnd. If clean tomorrow, wll msg.
Ah. A good thought, and something he hadn't considered. The warrants against Eames might not be a problem, but in case they caught up with him, it was better that he took a few hours to make sure his home country didn't ave any lingering issues with him. Or anyone else for that matter.
He had enough to worry about without adding people tailing Eames for unrelated reasons.
Like her.
Her face was set. Emotionless. A mask against her anger. It bothered him. He couldn't wait.
Arthur asked the question he'd been holding in for too long. Way too long. Even if that time could be measured in hours, it was still too long.
"Problems? Lack of focus can get you killed. Tell me and work through it."
"It's nothing. Not your concern." She was puttering around the flat. Making a comfortable space for Eames in her living room.
Which made Arthur smile. He was eagerly anticipating the argument about him having to stay on the couch when Arthur got a room to himself. But that wasn't the matter of the moment. He changed the smile for something more serious. Almost pressuring.
"Ah, but it is. Emotions don't just infect reality. They can poison dreams. You were with Cobb. Went further down with him than any of us.
"You are trusting me with your life. And I need to be able to trust you with mine. I want to be able to trust you with mine."
She stopped her restless movement. Abruptly sank into the couch. Shoulders slumped. Eyes weary.
"My building is being threatened. All the workers and the owners. Their families. Me. You." She couldn't look him in the face. "If I told you, they'd hurt any and all of us. And now I have."
"Threats like that are often meaningless. What's more important is they mentioned me. Did they use my name?"
"No. They only said 'the man following you'. But the sound of his voice ..."
Arthur put his head down in thought for a brief moment. "Okay, they won't know -"
She laughed. She laughed. Not so hard to seem crazy. Loud enough to sound desperate. "Wouldn't you?" Her eyes pierced him. Forced him to speak truth not comfort. She was strong that way.
"Yes." but the truth was more than that. "They won't be as good as me. Few people are. And I know these men aren't better than me."
"That's the sort of ego that will get you killed."
"They can't know you've told me. I won't act differently tomorrow. Eames will be here in the morning. I'll sweep the building every few hours tonight."
"If you do that, it will be different. They'll know I've told you something, but … you know best." That last part sounded like sarcasm.
"Then I won't go over the building, but I'll do a deeper check here. I'm not worried," he thought the lie was delivered very well. She had been followed and had been found within two days. Of course he was worried, but he could lie. When needed.
The set of her mouth told him it wasn't good enough. The set of her mouth told him she saw through his lie with no trouble.
She would.
She would.
He woke to the sound of his name. Shrieked through layers of wood, plaster, and paint. The deafness of sleep.
The cold winter air...
The hot, hot air...
He smelled the smoke before his eyes opened. Heard her frantic screaming before his mind processed what was happening.
"Arthur! Arthur! Talk to me! It's in the hall! I can't get … Shit!" The sound was punctuated by hacking coughs. "The window! Go out the window! Arthur, say something!"
He opened his mouth to reply but coughed instead.
"Arthur! Are you awake?"
"Yeah," it was weak. He tried again. "Yeah! What's going on?"
Walls or not he could almost see her disgusted expression as if she were in front of him. "Fire! Don't know how!" Again with the coughing. "Escape ladder outside your window. Go down. Meet you at the bottom."
"This is a trap!" he yelled back at her as the heat in his room grew.
"What are our other options? Burn to death! I'm going. See you outside!"
Stupid …! Their rooms were on opposite sides of the building. Hers the south, his the north. Damn! He had to beat her down and make it to the other side before she could be captured by whoever laid the trap in the first place.
Damn!
At first the window refused to open. Not likely that it saw a lot of use. But a judicious application of pressure forced the thing open, allowing sleet and freezing air entrance to where before there was only dry heat.
Impossible to ignore the flames darting under the door through the slight crack. The darkening of the wood in the orange light. He forced himself to calm. This was no worse than any number of situations he'd been in before. Granted a good majority of those were in the dreamscape, but that seemed irrelevant at the moment.
He groped around in the faintly illuminated darkness of the city night, and found the ladder with little problem. It was metal. Sturdy. Slick with the sleet.
His hands ached just touching it. It was cold. So cold.
Gritting his teeth against the distractions – both the ones inside and outside the building – Arthur made quick work of his exit. Focusing on both speed and caution.
More speed than caution.
It wasn't him they wanted.
It was her.
The solid pressure of concrete under his bare feet was disorienting at first. He looked up, finding easily the fire-lit glow of the room he had fled, and took off without a second thought for the fire. Screams from other parts of the building could be heard, and it occurred to him for the first time that no alarms had gone off in her flat.
Disabled. They had to be disabled.
He grunted his frustration. With the situation and with himself.
Mistake. Mistake.
His brain taunted him with his failures, and his responsibility.
Stupid.
Stupid.
His feet slipped as he rounded the first corner, but he corrected easily enough and continued to run. He had to get to her. Had to get to her before she was taken.
Had to get ...
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Work and all. Usual excuses. Blah blah. Sorry again. Please review! Have the next one up as soon as I can.