Author's note: Right, here's the next chapter. So so so so sorry for the delay. Writer's block is really a pain. This is definitely not one of the best chapters so far… I am ashamed of it…
Chapter 38:
Luck was not on Athrun's side.
The results churned out by the system showed that the van's plates belonged to an old rental company that had gone bust three years ago and sold its cars to whoever was willing to buy them. The records were messy and disorganised and the last that had been known of the plates, was that they had been on an old run-down Cadillac on its way to the junkyard. Thus, strictly speaking, the plates should have been disposed alongside the Cadillac, crushed and buried somewhere amongst the twisted metal.
Not on a suspicious black van parked behind an office building.
But Athrun hadn't harboured high hopes to find anything useful in the system anyway. He just figured that perhaps he would get lucky, that a clue might just fall into his lap. But Lady Luck apparently had her eyes set on someone else.
Dead-end. Time to move on.
He shut down the system and turned his attention back to printing the endless list of names from the Missing Persons Database. The printer whirled to life and the paper began to spool. Athrun checked his watch. 11:35 a.m. Less than half an hour before the afternoon news was due to come on.
Cagalli twirled her fork aimlessly through her noodles, her eyes fixed on the clock hanging on the wall across the ward. The second hand ticked on persistently. Once, twice, thrice. And then it was 12 p.m. Exactly thirty-one hours to go.
How close was Athrun to finding Lacus?
The tines of her fork got stuck in her noodles and she yanked it out, dripping strands of spaghetti across the edge of her plate. "Goddamn it," she cursed under her breath. She tossed her fork onto the tray and watched it clatter away. "What the hell's happening?"
She tried to push a hand through her blonde tresses but the bandage just got in her way. She tugged a little at the gauze and felt her head throb - a pulsing ache concentrating in the back of her head, exactly where she had received the hard blow. No doubt a concussion, she thought to herself. But it didn't serve as sufficient distraction to divert her attention away from the memory of those dark amethyst eyes.
There was something in those eyes. Something strange, or special maybe. Something familiar. Something she was missing out on. She had a nagging feeling that she knew the face behind the mask.
He had looked at her. Really looked at her. Not the kind of passing glance that you exchange with an oncoming passer-by on the street, but the kind of gaze that pauses and makes a double-take, as if to say I know you.
But did she really know him? The implications of knowing would mean that this was an inside job, and Cagalli shuddered to think that they might have passed him by unwittingly, never knowing that they were at his mercy.
Yet there was equal probability that she was thinking too much and stretching the facts too far. After all, she had been hit in the head pretty hard. The doctor had said she was lucky – if Lacus' driver had came looking for them much later, she might have bled out and never woken up. So, maybe she had imagined it all. The amethyst eyes, the strange familiarity, the fainting, everything untrue, everything an illusion.
Cagalli cursed again and reached for the remote control set beside her bed. She switched on the television, which was a flat screen mounted into the wall across her ward and found the afternoon news coming on.
The lift doors grinded open and it took only a glance for Kira to realise that something wasn't quite right. The lights overhead were switched off and the shuttered iron grill windows blocked out the sunlight entirely, leaving behind a gloomy darkness broken only by the faded, eerie glows from the cluster of computer screens. He held the lift doors open and let Sting step out into the shadows. Sting paused on the threshold. "Stellar?" He called out, "We're back."
His voice ricocheted off the stained walls, echoing through the vast, empty area. There was no reply, only a pressing silence that brought with it a weighty solemnity.
"Sheesh, where the hell is she?" Sting muttered. "And what the hell is wrong with the lights?"
Kira didn't say anything. He fumbled his way through the darkness and found the electrical panel set deep in a wall. The switch was a huge plastic toggle, large and bulky, but still functioning well and he flipped it easily with his palm. The entire floor was awashed with the bright fluorescent light. Satisfied that the switch wasn't going to trip again, Kira turned to find Sting sitting ramrod straight in front of a computer. As if sensing his gaze, Sting glanced around and pointed a finger at the screen. Kira could see the logo he was pointing at from where was standing and he recognised it.
It was the logo of the local news broadcasting agency.
"Kira," Sting said, his voice quiet and cautious, "You need to look at this."
When Murrue Ramius barged headlong into his office, Athrun had just gotten off the phone with his pal at the news agency. He had known that AC Ramius wouldn't take kindly to the turn of events. He just didn't know that she would react so quickly. Murrue didn't say a word. She just glared at him with livid eyes as she snatched up the remote control on his desk and switched on the plasma TV screen in his office. It was set on the news channel and the afternoon headline news was already underway.
Athrun stared impassively at the headlines that screamed back at him from the plasma screen – 'Police Officers KIA to save unfortunate victim'.
The news anchor was a petite blonde with bright blue eyes and hair neatly pulled back into a bun. "She's the best we've got," his guy at the news agency had told him. "She'll get it done right." And sure enough. She was speaking in a clipped tone, all serious and sincere, and she said, "We have more updates from the police with regards to the murder that occurred last week. According to the police, the victim was noted to have purple eyes and was found with an identification card on him bearing the name Kira Hibiki. Police are appealing for help in identifying the victim and urge members of the public to come forward with any relevant information. Now, on to the latest news we have from the sporting arena-"
The television screen went blank.
Not bad, Athrun thought. His guy at the news agency had got it all right. Word for word.
"You better have a good explanation for this, Detective Zala."
Athrun glanced up into Murrue's infuriated gaze, "I don't know what sort of explanation you want from me." He shrugged in her direction. "This is perfect."
"Perfect?" Murrue exploded, "Damn it! You promised to stay out of the case, Athrun!"
He shrugged again. "And I kept my promise. I don't see what the problem is. Your concern is that if information leaks out, the reputation of the police force will be at stake, that people will lose confidence in the police force. But that's not the case here." He gestured at screen with a hand. "Police officers killed in action to save an unfortunate victim," he read aloud, "that should affirm the good reputation of the police force, which you and the upper management are so concerned about. Secondly, I did stay out of the case as you requested. You saw to it that I'm no longer in charge. So I'm just a third-party, an individual exercising civic responsibility by sharing information with the media. I'm not involved in the investigation."
"Don't give me that bullshit," Murrue snarled. Her eyes were flashing dangerously but he met her furious gaze unflinchingly. "You're giving false information to the media, Athrun. Do you have any idea what the implications are?"
"Yes," Athrun's expression hardened. "Someone may very well turn up and identify this guy. That way, at least we'll have some kind of hold on him. That beats sitting around, waiting for them to strike."
"How do you know someone's going to turn up? This name may well be a pseudonym," Murrue brandished the remote control wildly in his face.
"Well, I don't know," Athrun replied coldly, "It's just a gamble we're going to have to take then, won't we?"
"You're crazy, Athrun," Murrue shook her head, "You're fucking crazy."
"You want to talk about crazy?" He snapped, "Let's talk about the detective you put in charge of Lacus' case."
Murrue slammed the remote control onto the desk. "I think I've explained myself, detective. This was a decision made by the Commissioner himself," She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. "You deliberately disobeyed my orders and this was exactly what I was afraid would happen. You're letting the case get to your head."
She shook her head, expression rueful. "You need a time-out. You're suspended off all duties as of now. I need you to surrender your badge and your gun, and I don't want to see your face in the Police Headquarters until the case is closed, Athrun."
"What the fuck is going on?" said Sting.
Kira said nothing.
"How did that asshole get his hands on your name?" Sting said again.
Kira said nothing. He was working out the consequences of the turn of events in his head. Athrun Zala had made his move, and it was a bold move. Kira was pretty sure that the Police Headquarters had no part in this. He knew how bureaucracy worked, and he knew that the police and the media had a love-hate relationship. Police officers were cautious of reporters. They were probably trained to say 'no comment' in a deadpan face whenever confronted with a slew of journalists. Yet they depended on the media for publicity, for dissemination of information. And the media was like a bloodthirsty leech that fed off the police.
A love-hate relationship.
So Kira was certain that issuing false information to the media had to be taboo to the unyielding, rigid old farts that ran the force. A scheme like that smelled of desperation and anger.
Which was probably what Athrun Zala was feeling. Thus, logically speaking, this had to be Athrun Zala's plan. And it was definitely off the records.
But Kira saw more to it. Athrun Zala wasn't just desperate. He was offering up a challenge. He was breaking the rules now. A game of cat and mouse, that was what he had said to the detective and Athrun Zala was responding to him in kind. The tables were turning. Athrun Zala was on the offensive.
But Athrun Zala wasn't the threat.
It was Rau Le Creuset.
Because he had committed a mistake by revealing his name to Lacus Clyne, who must have in turn surrendered it to Athrun Zala.
Just one mistake. And honestly, a salvageable mistake. Athrun Zala was expecting someone to turn up with something useful. The detective had manipulated the truth and turned him into the victim, so he was expecting a family member or a friend to show up, all flustered and worried. But Kira didn't have family, didn't have friends. No one was going to show up.
A salvageable mistake. Because Athrun Zala didn't have any idea what kind of a screwed-up person he was.
But then again, it was a mistake and Rau didn't like mistakes. Not even if it was just one mistake. Not even if it was a salvageable mistake.
"How the hell did he get your name?" Sting asked again.
Before Kira could reply, he was interrupted by a soft voice that said, "He's got it wrong."
Kira and Sting spun around to see Stellar standing behind them, head bowed and eyes gazing up at them through her eyelashes.
"Jesus," Sting let out a breath, "You scared the hell out of us."
Stellar didn't comment on that. She just went on to say, "He's got the name wrong. He's not looking for Kira Hibiki." She shook her head, her shoulder-length blonde tresses brushing against her shoulders. "He's looking for Kira Yamato."
Author's note: Oh bother! This chapter really isn't very good. But I hope it's at least readable. I was suffering from severe writer's block which is still lingering… Ah well, like I always say, don't forget to review, review, review. (even if it's all bad, I still hope to hear from you!)