Chapter 20: Khrushchev
Why did it always have to be dark? Was it a movie cliche or did someone at some point in time decide that shady deals were only to take place at night?
Suspicions were much less likely to be drawn over a cup of tea in a coffee shop and yet they always chose the vodka and the night clubs.
It made no sense to Izaya, just as it made no sense to him why the whole damn gang had to appear.
Limousine rolling down the street with its light shut off they approached what appeared to be an abandoned fishery hut.
Just looking at it Izaya could tell that something shady was going to take place in there, without needing to step a single foot inside.
He wanted to go home. Sleep. Just turn around and leave the rest of this hassle to someone else.
Creston knew the gist anyway and yet- Izaya sighed. It was his job. His goddamned beloved job.
Stepping out of the vehicle the soft light from the limousine's interior tainted the street in damp orange.
"No more than Kurokovitch." Creston announced and closed his eyes as he made himself more comfortable.
"You think you need to tell me?" Izaya uttered under his breath, and the car's door was shut as he approached the rundown building.
Alone.
Just as their future partner wished.
Shadows danced in the night before Izaya even got close to the entrance and he made out a couple huddled figures. Their weaponry was of an automatic kind to make sure they got whatever dared to run without fail. It was assuring in a way.
Meant that no one was alive to speak tales of betraying these people at least.
The shadows nodded to each other in what Izaya suspected to be an agreement of letting him pass, and the door graciously opened.
Stale air of hours passed with no one present, lingered inside the fishery hut. The building was nothing but a storage for fish bait, fishing rods, maps and various backpacks alike. A few cupboards decorated the sides of the walls along with a few very prideful photos depicting the biggest fish caught from various lakes. One specifically caught Izaya's attention as it showed a full size salmon in accurate scale and made up half of the opposing wall.
He would have loved to check out more of the fishery's achievements, but today's business was not of such a comfortable kind.
People, more than expected filled every corner of the small space.
Men. Well built, tall and absolutely not to be joked with.
They stood by with heavy artillery resting in their arms for immediate disposal.
It was a menacing view, meant to intimidate Izaya, but at this point there wasn't much left to truly unsettle him.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Izaya greeted and a woman standing at the single table inside the hut, with a long pipe in her mouth, turned her head towards the expected visitor. "And gentlewoman."
Only shortly her eyebrow twitched at the term and she took a slow drag from her pipe before facing Izaya as a whole.
She was undeniably gorgeous. Her Russian roots showed in her chiseled jawline and beautifully clear blue eyes. A strict ponytail tried to tame her curled brown hair and reflected the dim shine of a light bulb dangling above the desk.
"Funny way to start negotiations," she said and nodded towards two of her menacing men who quickly strode behind Izaya, securing the exit. "Why are you here alone?" She continued with the slightest hint of a Russian accent and Izaya paid the moving men no mind as it was clear where his attention was supposed to be.
This woman was who they had been negotiating with.
Khrushchev. That name was the only hint they had received so far with no hint for gender or personality. The russian roots had been the only obvious factor and the reason Izaya had been chosen as the one to negotiate.
So far they had only conversed through various people and handed over messages from one to the next. A funny way of playing chinese whispers but with lifes at stake should crucial information be lost on the way of transmission.
"It was your demand was it not?" Izaya repeated what he had heard last of Creston's men and the woman hummed.
Izaya wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. Respect? Admiration? Or just a finely crafted mask of humor for Izaya's stupidity of following her orders to the dot?
Pushing herself off the desk she approached Izaya in awfully slow motion.
Izaya found himself thinking, that had she competed in a beauty contest her body's figure and voice of velvet would have surely won her first place with ease.
"I think this is the first time I saw someone obey that command," she declared as she changed her direction and picked up a weapon instead.
Resting on the corner of the desk it was a 9mm automatic that had been prepared for her. It was a weapon not means to immobilize but kill upon hit.
With ease, and not the slightest hint of hurry she loaded the gun with the appropriate ammo. "Either you are very dumb, or much smarter than you look."
And suddenly the barrel was pointing at Izaya.
There had been no insinuation for anything to have gone bad, nor did she have any reason to kill him except for the fact that he had seen her face.
And yet Izaya was staring right at his death.
One movement.
A single tug at the trigger and his whole life would be over within a fingersnap. Just like that.
It was a situation as tense as it could get, and yet- Izaya couldn't give less of a crap.
She was bluffing.
Either that or his life was lost anyway.
Respect of various kinds seemed to swirl in Khrushchev's eyes as Izaya failed to execute even a blink of surprise.
"There are no men waiting for us outside?" the woman suddenly asked instead of pulling the trigger and Izaya confirmed with a relaxed nod.
"Not a soul."
Immediately her eyes narrowed and the safety hatch pulled back.
"What about your boss?"
Her men tensed.
The weapons in their arms were clutched and readied to shoot.
It was in this tenser than tense silence brimming with endless possibilities that Izaya somehow felt a smile creep along his lips in a moment of utter thrill.
Ah.
Sometimes, he really did love this job.
The snort the woman received was certainly not the answer she had expected and even less were the words Izaya spoke.
"I refuse to believe that bastard has a soul."
It was a pun. A joke that might as well have been made at the cost of his own life, and Khrushchev was very well aware of that fact.
A smile, natural and unexpectedly pleased drew upon her own features as she put her gun aside and her men did the same. An unspoken order was given by a simple nod of her head and three of her men acted in quick action.
Two chairs, either part of the inventory or prepared in advance, were pulled from the desk and a set of glasses placed onto the static object.
"Sit down," she ordered Izaya, and he knew this time it wouldn't be wise to resist as he slipped into his seat. "Олег. Принеси напитки," she ordered one of her men to fetch some drinks.
Izaya had already dreaded the ever needed presence of alcohol since laying eyes upon the expensive crystal glasses. But funnily enough Oleg's hand was swatted away the second he tried to pour him a shot of vodka.
"Tea for him," Khrushchev announced, and Izaya showed the slightest hint of surprise. A winning smile decorated the woman's expression and she raised her glass in an empty toast. "I heard you don't drink during negotiations. But I hope you don't mind if I do. На здоровье."
Crimson liquid, piping hot and carrying a pleasant smell, was poured into his glass within a couple seconds. Might have been poison, might have been black tea.
Izaya wasn't too sure, but declining the offer was not an option.
"I appreciate the attention to detail. На здоровье." Izaya toasted with the woman midair and tasted a sip of what appeared to be black tea after all. Richly aromatic and carrying the faintest notes of bread and caramel, Izaya noted that it was a high quality one too.
Made sense.
Who was going to serve anything but high quality beverages in such a setting?
"What a smooth tongue you got. But just let me tell you, fancy words will not make this deal," Khrushchev announced, as soon as the single shot of vodka had disappeared. Another was poured immediately and she took a deep breath.
"It's simple. You want my men, I want a piece of the cake," she declared, while moving her glass in circular motions.
Izaya knew what she was aiming at.
"The piece of the cake will come up to one million. Not more, not less."
Izaya might as well have said, fuck you and your expectations, and it would have probably resulted in the same reactions.
Guns were drawn quicker than Izaya was able to follow and a soft glare settled on Khrushchev's expression as he sipped off his tea anew.
"Is that your last offer?" she asked, and Izaya closed his eyes for a second.
His appearance was that of someone entirely calm, unbothered by the threat of death, unbothered by the words in the air and the pain a 9mm bullet would cause when entering his head only to violently leave through his brain stem.
He was calm as a chilly winter night- and funnily enough that's what he was inside as well.
When had it started?
This attitude? This nonexistent care? It wasn't that he didn't fear for his life. Hell, just having had a gun pressed to his hip inside the club had caused his head to run haywire.
But this was a negotiation. And a negotiation always had ways to change its direction. One way or another.
"You know it's a good one and I'm afraid I will end up perforated no matter what, if I promise you more than my boss is willing to give," Izaya announced with confidence made of steel.
The guns were lowered upon a quick dismissive sign of Khrushchev's hand and she shot down her second glass of vodka with one smooth motion.
"Your boss sent you here to die in his stead. How about you join my rows?" she suddenly offered. A predatory smile, made for conviction, lured Izaya in as she leant onto her palm. "I like you. You are a funny guy. We could use you," she whispered and Izaya smiled.
No way.
Someone as cautious as her?
Fat chance in hell.
"I'm afraid that's no option."
"Last word?"
"Last word."
He had seen the rifle coming when it was pointed blank at his head from the side. But what use was there backing off? This was a game of words. A war won by wit.
He knew he excelled at it more than anyone else he had ever known.
He also knew that the threats cast by this woman were nothing but empty threats as long as he gave the right answers to leave this hut alive.
And if there was anything he was good at, then it was saying what his counterpart wanted to hear the most.
Khrushchev was trying to garner his favor by inviting him to her rows. He had seen her face. Leaving alive was something that treacherous behavior was going to hinder and so he declined.
It was the one response she wanted to hear from him and the gun a mere test of courage and will.
Another of three so far.
But Izaya was no fool.
He had done his research.
To anyone else her actions and the apparently empty threats of shooting him exactly where he sat had to look pretty stale. With no blood decorating the ground and no corpse provided, to add some sense of the reality a single wrong word could bring, her acts created the misconception of empty bluffs.
But Izaya had seen them.
Pictures of the corpses that failed to negotiate with this woman.
Men, women and children alike.
There was no stopping once you got on this woman's bad side.
And that's exactly why Izaya knew what to say.
She was cautious.
Extensively so.
Considering no one even knew her gender outside of this room, not to mention her full name she had to have put lengthy efforts into securing absolutely loyal aides.
His answer was the correct one.
Izaya knew that.
And yet-
Glancing towards his tea, and the reflection of his head and the rifle pointed at its side he couldn't help but smile for a silly moment.
The bartender couldn't have been farther away from this scene and yet he found himself remembering his words. His actions.
Shizuo was looking out for him. Told him to take care of himself.
And somehow Izaya found himself imagining what Shizuo would look like were he to witness this situation right now.
And it seemed his reaction, a smile attributed to nothing in close vicinity, surprised Khrushchev enough to garner her favor.
Almost immediately the rifle was retracted and her hand extended towards Izaya.
This time he really was surprised at her actions and the woman smiled.
"I don't like rats. And it's good to know you aren't one," she declared and took a deep breath. "Ekaterina." She spoke the name of a female and it actually took Izaya a perplexed second to grasp the meaning of her revelation. "Ekaterina Khrushchev."
It was her real name.
Surprised by the amount of trust she was willing to extend, Izaya did the same, albeit knowing that his name was long known.
"Izaya Orihara," he replied in an attempt to match her favor, and nodded in confirmation of her silent order.
Her name. Her appearance. Her gender. Everything that happened inside this room was immediately understood as confidential.
Her actions had been a test of loyalty, and he passed it.
"I take it, we have a deal?" Izaya repeated as soon as their hands parted and the woman nodded while bringing her pipe to her lips.
"Tell your boss my men want their own share. That and the piece of cake and we are good."
Their own share. In other words a bit of cocaine on the side.
Considering the amount these people were going to transport in their stead and the lead they would accumulate doing so it was a laughably negligible request.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you," Izaya announced, and rose from his chair. Negotiations were over and his time inside the hut was spent.
A quick smile drew upon Ekaterina's features and she nodded.
"Next time you show up, don't come alone. I want to see the bastard without a soul."
A snort slipped from Izaya's lips and he glanced at her one last time before slipping through the door.
"I'm afraid that depends entirely on him."
to be continued~
Oh my, Izaya is getting himself into quite the dangerous situations xD
On another note- I'm sick againnnnnn- fuck my life xDDDDD What did I do that my immune system seems to think catching everything going around is an absolute necessity? xD Anyone got tips how to not get sick in the future? xDDDD I already have next weeks update done though so no worries I will see you on friday haha 3 C: