Ivan wondered what the protocol was for identifying dead bodies.
He assumed there must be a way to contact the living. Maybe there was a sheet you were supposed to fill out, writing down your ex-wife's number for the coroner and mortician. He had never filled out a sheet like this.
It wasn't even snowing. It would have been better if there was snow. There were just gusts of wind that nipped at hands and noses. The sky was bleak and blue, and there were people sobbing behind Ivan in the isles.
Maybe the wake had been better. It was possible that some of Alfred's friends had gotten together, laughing to one another at the stupid shit Alfred used to do. Maybe Gilbert had been there, forcing away his insecurities through stories about Alfred in college.
Ivan hadn't gone to the wake.
Tino.
The coffin was lowered into the ground. They used a little wench to drop it, and the whole thing was almost funny. The wind, the sniffles, the wench, the men standing nearby, ready to fill in the hole.
The gravestone wasn't nearly as pompous as it should have been.
"Tino?"
Ivan smiled. "Did I stutter?"
Eduard attempted to keep his aloof look, but it faltered under Ivan's withering look. Ivan liked Eduard when he wasn't trying to be clever and insulting. It was too forced and haughty, and sometimes Ivan liked to keep insulting him until the façade broke. It wasn't one of those days.
"I—no." Eduard looked at his computer, fingers flying over the keys like spiders. He didn't type with his thumbs. "It can't be Tino," Eduard tried again, meeting Ivan's eyes evenly.
"I'm not in the mood. Vargas was screaming his name when he died. Same destruction of the face, same torture. It was him." Ivan glanced down at Eduard, watched the way the computer man straightened in his seat, a smirk attempting to etch its way into his face. "I would think you would be wanting to catch an assassin."
Eduard rolled his eyes, but he had to delete a line of whatever he was typing. "Of course I want to catch him. Washington's been in a panic."
Ivan watched the man's posture, ramrod and proper, feet pressed against the ground. Ivan neared, looking over Eduard's shoulder. It was a bunch of search engines, but Ivan caught sight of Facebook in the browser.
"Is that Facebook?" He asked, pointing on the screen.
Eduard glared at the smudge on his screen, and glanced quickly over at Ivan. "I was on before you decided to drop by." But there was something wrong with that, and Ivan sighed.
Today was not the day for this. Eduard had always been a little disobedient, a little uppity. Ivan had brought the man over from Europe to work in his campaign, to manage the message boards and hack anyone who was spreading false information. Or accurate information. It worked well.
Ivan was still cold from the burial. He had caught sight of a woman that must have been Alfred's ex-wife. She was stunningly beautiful. She had his hair color.
Friendships could be leveraged, and Ivan made it his business to have leverage. His career, actually.
Eduard admitted he had contact with Tino in the past, eyes down and teeth gritted. Poor, black-mailed, little Eduard.
Ivan smiled down at the computer man, and he wondered what it looked like. "I'm having the feeling you are emotionally compromised. Don't looking so sullen, now we are both emotionally compromised. Find him and tell me."
Eduard adjusted his glasses and looked away.
Ivan left the warehouse, stepping back into the winter air. Alfred was gone. It was a strange feeling. Ivan made sure the smile was still on his face.
Tino.
Everyone was emotionally compromised.