Chapter 6

"Oh, my god…"

It seemed impossible that none of this had been to be seen at first, from the full frontal view. Even from behind Mikhail couldn't recall having noticed anything amiss. Of course Fei had worn long Bermuda swimming trunks in the public bath - an experience that now seemed like something out of another life. Tentatively, but drawn by an irresistible force, Mikhail reached out to touch Fei, who quivered just barely discernibly, tracing his finger along the longest scar, the ragged one… "like me…", he whispered, almost inaudibly, "you are like me…"

"Eeeeeeuw …. gross!" out of the corner of his eye Mikhail noticed the irksome antique leather jacket had returned. Some dam in him broke and he turned on the foppish man in fury. "You're gross. Fuck off or I'll kill you, fucking perverted voyeur."

"Whoa, easy there! And you staring at him is ok, yes?"

"I'll fuuuucking killllll you … with my bare hands!" Mikhail shrieked, furiously lunging at the man, who snidely sidestepped.

"Misha!" Alexej fell into his friend's arm. "Don't let that asshole provoke you", Pjotr urgently whispered into his ear, "we think he's doing it on purpose, to distract us, we overheard him talking to someone on a mobile… 'we've got him, Professor', he was saying, "they're bringing him in', and then he looked at Fei in such a strange way, real sick!"

Fei was shivering now and his pretty face had taken on a pinched hue. And Takato was right: he was beginning to move, twitching a little, eyes fluttering beneath still closed eyelids.

"Yeah…fucking…that's the thing…", the antique jacket resumed his taunting, "you were finger fucking him…you touched him there…", he leaned in, a twisted grin on his nondescript central European face, "by the way, I think your Chinese darling is just waking up…let's see just how happy he is with his situation…"

A murderous, red haze threatened to choke Mikhail, but his friends quickly shoved him aside, blocking the view on this person, whose evil leering might indeed be a cover for the nervous excitement of a plan in action, the way he was shifting glances around, not really taking notice of the young Russian, more wary, apparently, of somebody else…. Takato was looking up in panic, Fei now softly moaning. "Sensei! Do something! Please!" The white in in the Chinese' eyes could be seen, he was weakly trying to curl up on himself, baring himself even more in the process.

Kirishima was holding his walky-talky, apparently receiving an urgent and disturbing call.

Fei called out feebly in Chinese, muttering unintelligibly, shivering violently now.

"Sensei!", Takato pleaded, "please…! Please, don't let him wake up like…that."

Kirishima hung up, troubled.

"Diazepam. 10 mg, fast."

He knelt in front of the young Chinese, who was straining to push up onto his arms, eyes wide and unfocussed.

"Can you understand me? What's your name?" the Asian just stared at him, breathing hard.

"He's Liu Fei Long. Fei Long is his given name."

"Fei Long!" Kirishima addressed his patient directly. "Fei Long, we are going to get you to the university hospital now. You're going to be fine in no time at all. And we're in luck: today there's a renowned specialist on call, and he has just requested to see you. His name is Arbatov. Professor Yuri Arbatov."

Fei screamed in terror.

To be continued

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