Ban leaned back in the bucket seat, crossed his arms behind his head, and propped his feet up on the Ladybug's steering wheel. A self-satisfied smirk sat comfortably on his mouth, warmed by the glowing embers of a cigarette gripped loosely in his teeth.
Too easy. It was just too easy. Shame he had to split the fee with Himiko, but the royalties on the book should more than recompense that momentary humiliation.
Takanowa, whom Ban had been watching for the past ten minutes or so, ducked into a Mizuho Bank. Precisely as Ban had surmised he would, given Ban's vague but unmistakable warning of a half-hour before.
Takanowa had, for whatever reason, lied about not being in possession of his manuscript. Beginning with that premise, Ban had followed several interesting lines of thought, and had ended up here.
He toyed with Himiko's device, fingering the pin carefully. Ban's sense of irony was finely tuned; the smoke bomb would simulate the fire Takanowa had set in his home, and just as Takanowa had "lost" a fake manuscript in a real fire, Ban would "recover" the actual manuscript from a false fire. Of course, he had no intention of returning the book to Takanowa.
Ban dropped his feet to the floorboards and pushed open his door before strolling casually toward the bank. An old hoodie covered his face; the smoke bomb was stuffed into one of the pockets.
Obviously, Takanowa was in cahoots with one of the executives denounced in his book. Perhaps one of the criminals had discovered the author's intentions, perhaps Takanowa had decided that blackmail paid better than the publishing company – however it had happened, Ban was certain of his reasoning. Takanowa was alive and had been fairly certain of continuing in that happy state, until Ban jerked the rug out from under him at the hotel.
Ban's warning had ruffled his feathers, and Takanowa's discomfiture had deepened Ban's conviction that he had the right of the situation. The bastard might not have been expecting danger, but he hadn't been surprised, either. He definitely wasn't on the level.
Ah. There he was, the asshole. One hand hovered protectively over a pocket while the nervous writer chewed on his lower lip.
Ban smothered a grin. There were times that his experiences as a Plunderer came in handy. Today would be one of them.
One of the bank officials led Takanowa to an office; Ban sidled up to the glass-walled room with its closed blinds as they disappeared inside. He was dangerously close to his prey, but there was an art to being inconspicuous, and though Ban seldom practiced it, it was an art he had long since mastered.
Besides, the vent he wanted sat just to the left of the office door, and he needed a few seconds at least to loosen the bottom screws.
He swiped a couple of brochures to thumb through; luckily for him, it was a busy day at the bank, so no one observed him looked too closely, especially after he pushed back his hood. Holding his 'reading material' in one hand, he worked the screws behind him with his other.
A tall, lean redhead swept into the bank, moving with an aggressive, predatory stride that seemed peculiarly unfeminine. She looked like a video game heroine – or a dominatrix, depending on one's perspective – complete with leather cat suit, sleeveless trench, and tall black boots. Long sleeves with integrated gloves encased her arms, but beneath the leather Ban could see the tell-tale ripple of carefully conditioned muscle. Her legs were more attention-grabbing; he suit's bottom half consisted of very short shorts that left most of her toned, shapely thighs exposed.
All of which was very distracting. But mostly Ban was interested in the three neat stacks of rubber-banded bills that protruded from one of the trench's pockets.
With a supreme effort, Ban managed to keep his jaw from dropping. The girl's violet eyes fell on him, and she raked an electric gaze over him, threatening his careful aloofness. He repressed a shudder; there was an overt sort of judging in her stare, an unselfconscious consideration. She liked what she saw, which was flattering, but her penetrating, appraising stare made him feel strangely naked. He shook his head once at her, sighing with relief when she shrugged and turned her back on him.
There. There it was, the satisfying snap of a safety deposit box lock. And just in time; Ban had just unfastened the last screw.
Careful not to let his exultation show, Ban turned away from the door just as Takanowa emerged. The would-be author walked right past him, without acknowledging his presence, much less recognizing him.
Ban pulled the pin and deftly, lightly chucked the makeshift grenade into the air duct.
Takanowa was halfway out the door before the first howl of "Fire!" rang into the deepening twilight.
Ban ducked into the office his prey had just vacated.
Jackpot. The box was still sitting on the desk, abandoned by the terrified bank official.
Grinning in triumph, he reached for the lockbox.
And then someone cracked something really, really heavy over the top of his head, and he felt just enough of it to know that he'd been had.
"Poor Gin-chan." Natsumi rested her chin in her hands, slumped down in Paul's backseat. "He really looked bad. I hope he's okay."
"He'll be fine, Natsumi-chan." Paul's dark glasses glinted in the rearview mirror
"Yup! Ginji-san's a lot tougher than most people give him credit for," Rena agreed. She made a kissy face at the visor mirror, checking her gloss. "Besides, Madoka-san's a good person. She'll take care of him."
"I know. And it's probably just a cold." Shaking her head, as if to shake off the gloom, she attempted a smile. "Thanks for driving us, Master. We really appreciate it."
Paul turned on his blinker and left the highway. "It's not that far out of my way. I was meeting someone out that direction, anyhow."
Rena smiled archly. "A date, Master?"
He returned the smile, but didn't reply.
"You know, I don't think I know anything about you outside of work," Natsumi said suddenly. "Girlfriends? Hobbies? I don't even know where you live."
"I've just decided he's one of those perverted old guys that pays girls like Riko-chan to go out with him. Nice, orthodox restaurant owner by day. Dirty old man by night." Rena poked him in the arm. "He's just smart enough to know we'd turn him down."
Paul flushed hotly. "That – is – that's absolutely not true," he protested. "And I'm not that old!"
"Prove us wrong," Rena challenged. "Share a personal detail. It won't kill you. Promise."
"Natsumi," he pleaded.
A smile pushed through the worry on Natsumi's face. "Sorry, Master. I'm with Rena on this one. If you don't have anything to hide, then why hide anything at all?"
"Not everyone thinks it's necessary to share every facet of their life with everyone else," he pointed out reasonably.
"Right," Natsumi agreed. "The ones that end up dirty old men."
He sighed. "I'm meeting someone for drinks, alright? Now quit."
"What high school does she go to?" Rena's eyebrows went up, and a wicked grin quivered on her mouth.
"She's an American woman who teaches English at the University of Tokyo," he conceded finally. "Her maternal grandmother was Japanese. She always wanted to see her grandmother's country, so I've been showing her around."
"Aw." Rena rubbed Paul's upper arm, smiling sweetly. "See, that wasn't so hard, Master."
Natsumi tapped her boss on the shoulder. "What's her name?"
"Alexis."
"I'd like to meet her. You should bring her to the Honky Tonk."
"With those two around? Are you crazy?"
Natsumi giggled. "Gin-chan's not so bad, but you're right. Anyone with half a brain would run scared from Ban-kun."
"Did you know he put that crack in the window, Master? The one next to the door?" Rena asked.
"I figured. It's already been added onto their tab."
Ten minutes later, Paul pulled into Madoka's driveway. Rena moved to get out; he shook his head and motioned for her to stay put. He stepped out of the surprisingly nice sedan and opened the door for Natsumi, who had been sitting behind him. Then he walked around and did the same for Rena.
"That's sweet, Master. There aren't many gentlemen left in the world." She grinned. "I'm glad to know one. Thanks for the ride."
"Just for the record," he said wryly, "I am definitely not coming on to you."
She laughed. "I was kidding. You're too cool to do that kind of thing."
"That's right," Natsumi chimed in. "Master's the greatest."
"Maybe I will let you guys meet Alexis, sometime. She'd probably like you." He pulled a face. "She'd probably even like those two dopes."
"Then she sounds like a really great person."
Paul shrugged. "I like her."
"Drive safely, Master!" The girls waved as Paul pulled his door to and drove off.
They hurried up the drive and onto the veranda, where Madoka stood waiting.
"Hello, Rena-chan, Natsumi-chan. I'm glad you're here." Mozart wagged his greeting alongside his mistress, his tail thumping eagerly on the porch. "Was that Paul-san?"
"Yes – he gave us a ride. And he's picking us up."
"I wish I'd gotten the chance to ask him to stay," Madoka fretted. "Everyone else is here. Except Ban-kun, of course."
"He had plans anyway, so there's nothing to worry about," Rena assured her.
"A date?"
"Yeah, would you believe it?"
The girls giggled as they went inside.
"Gin-chan hasn't had much of a chance to sleep, so now that he's finally dozed off, we decided not to wake him for dinner," Madoka said apologetically. "After we've all eaten, we'll take him something. But for now I think it's best for him to rest."
Natsumi looked at the floor, disappointed. Rena nudged her. "You can play nurse later, Natsu-chan," she whispered. "Just enjoy the company, okay?"
Natsumi forced herself to smile and nod. He really had looked miserable, she thought unhappily. And she had wanted to be the one to make him feel better. It seemed like she wasn't going to get the opportunity, though, not with all of his old friends around.
"But they all care about him, too," she murmured to herself, following Rena and Madoka to the formal dining room.
Up ahead, though Natsumi couldn't know it, Madoka suppressed a smile. "Natsumi-chan?"
Natsumi looked up. "What is it, Madoka-chan?"
"Dinner won't be ready for a little while, yet. Why don't you go sit with him? Even if he's not awake, I'm sure he'll know that you are near."
A warm glow filled Natsumi's belly. Ginji looked so sweet when he was asleep, just like an angel that was dreaming.
Rena laughed, and she flushed. "Am I that obvious?" she asked Rena lowly, embarrassed.
"You have no idea," Rena replied, making no effort whatsoever to lower her voice. "It's a good thing, though. If you were a more subtle person, Ginji-kun would never catch on. He's really good at a lot of things, but he just can't take a hint."
"Rena-chan!" Natsumi squealed, looking at Madoka in horror. She could have guessed that Rena knew about her embarrassing crush, but Rena was a peer, and Madoka – well, she was just seventeen, but she seemed more like a grown-up, and besides, Natsumi was pretty sure that she and Shido had already – well – done that – and besides, Madoka would be sure to tell Shido anything she heard, and Shido would tell Ginji, and…!
"It's fine, isn't it, Natsumi-chan?" Madoka smiled gently, her quiet voice breaking into Natsumi's panic. "You knew my feelings for Shido a long time ago, and I have always sensed a connection between you and Ginji-kun. I am glad that there is someone I can talk to who can understand a secret affection."
Or in other words, Natsumi thought with relief, 'I don't think you're silly, and I won't tell Shido.' "Thank you, Madoka-chan."
"If you go down this hall, and take your third left, you'll come into a drawing room with a piano. There's a door next to the fireplace. That's where Ginji-kun is." She turned to Rena, though how she knew where the other girl was standing was beyond Natsumi. "Rena-chan, please be patient with us tonight. Emishi-san is… well…"
"Irritating everybody? I'll take care of it," she said confidently. "I like watching him squirm when he can't even make me crack a smile."
As Natsumi turned into the hallway, Madoka was trying very hard, but without much success, not to laugh.
Natsumi found the drawing room with no trouble. The opulent furnishings seemed vaguely intimidating, and the spit-spot shine of the darkening room belied its disuse. Though filled with grandiosities, the room felt somehow devoid of life. She stood outside the bedroom door for several minutes, nibbling nervously on the end of a finger.
A hoarse, wet cough startled her, and in her surprise, she bit down hard on the finger in her mouth. The acrid taste of blood tingled on her tongue.
She swallowed the blood in her mouth and reached for the door.
Another cough met her as she stepped into Ginji's makeshift sickroom. "Natsumi-can?"
Ginji sniffled loudly.
"Gin-chan! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."
"Wasn't asleep, so it's fine." He tried to sit up, but she hurried to the bedside and pushed him back with a light, firm hand.
"You shouldn't be moving around so much," she chided. Her hand lingered on his too-warm skin. "You need to rest. Ban-san told you to rest."
"I think… I think Ban-chan may be in trouble," he said, covering her hand in his. His hands were clammy, but the touch sent a shiver of pleasure up Natsumi's arm nonetheless. He curled his fingers around hers and removed it from his shoulder. "He won't answer his cell phone."
"Maybe it just isn't a good time for him to talk, Gin-chan," Natsumi said, hoping she sounded more composed than she felt. Ginji's hand hadn't released hers, and she could feel his pulse in his fingertips. For one, strange, exhilarating moment, it seemed like her whole body beat in time to that faint throbbing against her skin.
"Ban-san…" She had to pause and take a breath. "Ban-san can take care of himself. You should trust him."
Ginji made a move as if he would rise, but then relaxed. "I'm sure you're right, Natsumi-chan. He promised – twice – that he would call if he needed me." He smiled and closed his eyes. "And Ban-chan always keeps his promises."