Saint Seiya Fan Fiction ❯ Walking the Other Way ❯ Commissioner Morpeth ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Lizzeh

Standard disclaimer: I don't own Saint Seiya, and I'm not making money out of this.

Walking the Other Way

A Saint Seiya Gift fic

DragonRuler

Chapter Five: Commissioner Morpeth

Los Angeles Police Department: 77th Street.

Morpeth dropped in the seat behind his desk, after a night of shoving crooks in the squad car, being spit and shouted at, and another teammate in the hospitaln he felt as if he could sleep for a week. Snitches everywhere, the man grunted to himself, as he took the cup of coffee his secretary brought him. His eyes were sagged, a thin blue line under them while he stared in the distance for a minute. The minute of peace before his day went on.

“Wolters,” he yelled out to his latest new recruit. “Any new reports?”

Within a few seconds a blonde head poked through the door of the commanding officer's workplace. He entered the room, papers under his arm.

“Aye, sir. The latest info on Jack's case came in, but he isn't present.”

“I know. He should be back tomorrow, make sure he gets it the moment he walks through that door. What else?”

“Some notes from our foreign undercovers, sir,” Wolters said with a frown. “One from Germany saying that Dave Carmelo was spotted in Leipzig.”

“It is Dave,” Morpeth asked roughly.

“That's what our agents think.”

“Give'm the order to keep track of the guy. If their suspicion is correct book'm.”

“One from India as well. A piece of art… forgot the painter's name… it's here somewhere… well, it turned up anyway. Black market along with some other artworks that had been lost for ages.”

“Huh? Never mind that then. Just keep an eye on the whereabouts of those works; we have more important things to do than chase art.”

“Yes, sir.”

“More?”

“Only internal, at least for this morning, sir.”

“Good, give me the internals and get back to your work then. And stop calling me `sir'. It makes me feel as if I earn loads of money doing this job.”

Wolters handed over the rest of the papers, eyeing his superior in wonder and left the office, a little bit more relaxed than before. Sipping his coffee Morpeth glanced at the pictures over the rim of his cup.

Several of them showed a man, wearing a dark green cap, in a warm jacket with the collar turned up as if shielding from the cold. On one picture he was crossing the street, a dark-haired woman next to him. On another he stood outside a store, with a bun in his hands, but none of them gave the exclusive certainty that this was Dave. Squinting he looked closer. It was possible. The commanding officer of 77th Street cursed people's ignorance concerning the jobs they got paid for. He could not afford escape or fault with Dave again.

The other pictures showed a painting that didn't ring a bell with Morpeth at all, but then again, art wasn't his thing. Dismissing both documents he threw them on the heap of on-going cases on his desk, for a second a dark look rested on the high heap of papers before he turned to his computer to continue his administrative work of the day.

*****

Weeks had passed, in which a lot of the loot had been sold to whoever was interested, and the guys had been much more at ease. Ron's connections once again proved handy, but the American was becoming a nuisance. Ikki eyed the room darkly as he hung up the phone. No one knew so far and the Leo did not intend to let them know just yet. There was no use in burdening them with it, if he could carry it.

“Morning, bro,” Shun yawned. “Did you stay up again?”

Ikki turned his dark head and smiled softly at his brother, gentle lights playing in his dark eyes. The brown-haired young man stretched a bit in the middle of the living room, the only one to know the lights in his brother's eyes. Not even their close friends saw them, simply because Ikki thought it wise not to let others grow attached to him more than was necessary.

“Yes, I couldn't sleep.”

“Your bed was free this time…”

Shun kneeled down at the table, next to Ikki and seemed to merely utter random words and thoughts. He was just sensing his brother's personality, a simple alternation of coaxing him and be a bit jaded so that the cop would not become chary about someone else worrying about him. His younger brother was the only one he had ever protected with his life, the only one who had been with him ever since they lost their parents.

The writer had never known either one of them, but Ikki had. The only story he never told was the story Shun had ceased to ask for, but the images played in front of Ikki's eyes whenever he let his guard down, making the strong man build his walls even stronger. Children ought to bury their parents, so people said. It is a fact. He had buried them, when he was six or a bit older, Shun but a little bundle of fabric lying close-by as his high cries filled the dull air.

A short shiver ran down Ikki's spine, but he recovered quickly enough. This ought not to catch him off guard. Shun shot him a sideward wary glance and frowned lightly. It wasn't hard for him to guess what was going on. These periods of refusing to sleep were numerous in the cop's life, because he did not want to dream. Maybe that was the reason for his choice of duty as well, for in the service there was little time for sleep or random thinking, Ikki had always been busy with one case or more. The brown-haired youth's fear for his brother collapsing wasn't imaginary and he knew it. If only Ikki weren't so stubborn.

“How many works do we still have?”

Looking up Shun thought about it, going through the list in his mind.

“Very little, I believe, but the latest payments make up for that. We're safe for at least a few weeks,” he answered.

“We shouldn't wait until it's all gone. I'll see what I can think of with Shiryu. Are you home today?”

“I'm always home,” Shun smiled. “You know that.”

“Could you call them to come over tonight?”

Oh, now it was clearer than ever Ikki's thoughts weren't his own. He asked Shun to call them. It wasn't in Ikki's nature to ask for anything except reasons, not even to his brother. Not that he ordered everyone around, but his way of looking at things made his requests all the more logical, in almost any given circumstance.

“I will,” Shun said in a small voice. “Do you have to go to work?”

“I'd hardly consider it work,” Ikki's mouth smiled. “But yes, I have to go. Why should I stay?”

“Because you have that… that air over you again that worries me.”

Ikki cursed inwardly and threw up all his defenses. Not to prevent his brother from coming a bit closer, but to keep the past inside, locked away in the darkness that was his memory. Within seconds his face had hardened, leaving Shun only to realize his brother was closing off again.

“There's no need or time to worry, Shun.”

As always a soft, gentle voice kept the younger man at a safe distance from the past. Rubbing his eyes Shun nodded, a frustrated feeling choking his throat preventing him from answering. Why would he insist on keeping silent and walk the road alone, he wondered. He decided he'd call Hyoga to come over earlier than the others.

“See you tonight.”

“Be careful…”

His voice trembled a bit and as Shun looked up, he saw Ikki smile warmly over his shoulder before he left the house. Don't worry, as always. But worry was all Shun did lately, for his brother, for his lover and his friends. After his breakfast the young writer sat behind his computer and reread the last addition of his sixteenth chapter. Out of a dark brown map he pulled six papers pinned together on which in a rather small handwriting the whole schedule of the story was written down. He flapped to page three and found back the point where he'd left off. Lighting a cigarette he pondered. It was of little use that he tried thinking about work, for his mind fluttered elsewhere.

“Fine then,” he sighed.

Ten minutes later the doorbell rang.

“What's going on,” Hyoga asked.

Softly Shun huffed at nothing in particular and dropped into the couch, curling his feet under him. The smoke of his cigarette slowly circled away. Hyoga poured himself some juice and looked over at the small figure in the den.

“You want some juice?”

“No, I'll be fine…”

“Right,” Hyoga said in his usual matter-of-factly voice.

“Ikki had one of those moments again.”

Hyoga silently sat, drinking his juice. His words about the situation had been spoken many a time already and in fact, Shun did not expect him to have answers. All he did was listen to the younger man's talking, with an occasional reaction. After all, there was little he or they could do.

“I wish he'd share it with me… I never knew them and it's such a pain to see'm hide it. Most of the time he's good at it too. After all the only reason you know it is because I told you but… why does he insist? They were my parents too. All I have of them are some pictures and a faint memory of my mother's scent and voice.”

Frowning Hyoga let go of his glass in Shun's hand so the other could take a sip.

“It's not that I need to know everything about the past, not at all. Just those parts that matter to me, they're part of my life… Does this make sense? Part of the puzzle that is me.”

“It makes sense, Squirrel.”

“Then why doesn't he agree? Ok, I know I stopped asking because he will not tell me anyway, but it's not because I don't talk about it anymore that it doesn't concern me either. Maybe he thinks I stopped caring, then it's my fault because I'm quite sure that if I tried again he'd tell me and…”

Hyoga's eyes widened a bit in horror as Shun's mind took him and the blonde spinning again, laying his hand on Shun's knee and squeezing it.

“You're on a downward spin again. Stop it. You know partly why he won't tell you, and I said it before. For some reason I think he will one day.”

“I know,” Shun said to all Hyoga had said. “I know…”

His voice faded, ending in a frustrated sigh.

“Repetitiveness seems to be my job,” the younger man squinted at himself.

Hyoga chuckled.

“Not really,” he smiled reassuringly. “I know you. Don't worry about it, Ikki is quite capable of standing his ground, and…” The blonde hesitated. “Should he be on the verge of collapsing some day, his sense of survival will kick in. I'm sure of that.”

“I seriously hope it will,” Shun snorted.

*****

“So the bank it is then.”

“I still can't believe I'm going along in this,” Shiryu said.

The Dragon looked solemnly shaken at their latest decision and Seiya almost felt sorry for him. Of all five of them Shiryu had always been the one with the most sense of Justice, so it must've been hard on the man to get over. For Seiya it had been a lot easier, simply because he'd always been the type to worry, decide and stop reconsidering. It was a curse in some cases.

“Of course you can,” Seiya smiled. “You're as nuts as we are.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ikki grunted. Shun grinned.

“How do we pull this off?”

“I talked to an ex-manager of the bank,” the Lion said.

“Why is he an ex-manager?”

“Fraude,” Ikki said dryly at which Shun blinked a few times. Always nice to know the people you were working with knew the business, he thought, but then listened to Ikki's explanation. “It's quite decently secured, as was to be expected, but nothing is perfect. The guy didn't mind lending some passwords in exchange for part of the loot. That is, if they still work.”

Hyoga carefully lifted an eyebrow. “And what if they don't?”

“You'll hack us out. Or rather in.”

“Sometimes I wish I wasn't an IT,” the blonde sighed exasperatedly

“You're saying we have time for that then,” Seiya asked.

“In theory we have time to spare. The bank is closed every night and once we get in we can practically spend the night.”

“In theory, you say,” Hyoga pointed out. “I trust we're not supposed to try it.” Ikki shot him a glance, which Seiya would've expressed as `duh'.

“It doesn't matter what day we pick?” Seiya rubbed his nose in wonder.

“Not really,” Shiryu shrugged. “Whichever tickles your fancy.”

“Right. How do we get in?”

“It's almost too simple,” Ikki said. “Through the backdoor.”

“You do make it sound too simple,” Shun said warily.

“Well, he hasn't mentioned the guards yet,” Shiryu noted dryly.

“I thought you didn't know of this idea yet,” Shun asked.

“I did,” the long-haired man pointed out. “Ikki and I discussed it before. I just never expected it to happen.”

“Ah,” Hyoga mumbled. “Guards. Here we go… How many?”

“Only three. One in a control room. Two on the move in the bank.” Ikki pointed at a small room on the blueprint had rolled out on the table. “Who, of course, are in communication with each other,” he added. “Suggestions?”

“Smack'm,” Seiya said, acting it out on the table. “When they're off the world, they can't warn cops.”

“They have to be in contact with the police office every half hour,” Ikki said.

“What?”

The Lion smiled. “Trust me, I know. Every half hour the guards have to type a certain word in the computer and push a certain button to send it. This way they let the cops know all's well.”

“Let me guess,” Hyoga said. “You want me to hack in?”

Ikki shook his head. “Actually, no, because I can figure out which word it currently is and I know which button to push.”

“You came up with the system,” Shun guessed, noticing the smug grin on his brother's face. Ikki just nodded.

“Not exactly a perfect system,” Seiya teased. He was lying upside down in the couch and grinned wickedly at the Lion.

“I never intended it to be perfect. No system can be.”

“We need to take out the control room first. The other two guards don't matter much then,” Shiryu tapped his finger on the table. “It's a matter of sneaking under cameras, much like the museum, but this time only one of us should do that.”

A silence fell.

“Only one?” Shun shifted uneasily in the couch.

“We can't risk going in all at once. The bank has lots more cameras than the museum and perhaps even ones we don't know about,” Ikki said calmly. He looked over the table at his brother and winked reassuringly.

“Well…” Seiya sat upright again, looking at the faces of his friends. “Who goes in?”

Ikki slowly rubbed the back of his neck, casually glancing over at Shiryu. The long-haired man leaned forward with his arms on his knees.

“Ikki and I already talked about this,” he said. “It seemed wisest I go.”

The reactions were a bit slow, due to the sudden near-decision. Shun seemed puzzled, since he'd expected Ikki to apply for the risky job. Hyoga remained stoic as ever, which usually meant he understood the reasoning of his friends. Seiya looked like a thunder cloud in a poisonous mood.

“Why you? I'm far more…”

“No, you're not,” Ikki interrupted. Before the Lion could get very blunt, Shiryu lifted his hand.

“My training has been going on longer than yours, Seiya, especially my training in calm and silent moves. Those techniques take very long to master.”

“My young Padawan,” Seiya bawled. “I think it's stupid for one of us to take all the risks.”

“If we all walk in, it is more likely one of us gets captured on film and we can forget about it. This is the only way. Maybe not the best but…”

“No, definitely not the best.” Seeing that he couldn't win this discussion, not even by volume, Seiya for the first time in his life fell silent and gave in.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I'm not running, if -if- you get caught.” He stabbed a stubborn finger at Shiryu. The Dragon looked strangely at the moping Seiya across him.

“Neither of us likes this,” Hyoga noted in a sober tone. “But whoever goes in, there'll always be one of us who believes he shouldn't go.”

“Sure. Just get on with it.” The brunette crossed his arms protectively before him.

“Now that that's cleared, when do we go in?”

Shiryu removed the blueprint from the table.

“I suggest somewhere this week,” Hyoga said. “We won't do much longer with our museum loot.”

“I'm still surprised that no one noticed the reappearance of those works,” Shun pondered.

Ikki squinted at his brother. “The museum had been closed for a while. Perhaps no one even noticed at all up until now.”

“On top of that, I think few people care for that in the current circumstances,” Shiryu said. “As sad as that may be.”

Shun didn't look convinced at all, but kept his further ponderings to himself. If anyone would notice, it wouldn't be long before they'd send someone or a team to check up on it. Should that happen, things might get problematic.

*****

“Sir?”

Morpeth looked at the door, motioning Wolters to come in.

“Look,” he said impatiently to the guy on the other side of the phone. “I have pictures here that give enough reason to investigate further. Now if you don't get your ass off that chair and mobilize some units to look for Dave, I assure you I'll pull some strings and you won't have a chair left to sit on! Got it?”

It remained silent in the room for a while as the man on the other side realized his mistake.

“Good. Uhuh. Very good. You catch on quickly. Yes. G'bye. Allright, what is it, Wolters?”

The younger cop walked closer, a slight frown on his face. “Well, sir. It's a bit strange. Remember that painting we got notice of a few weeks back. We keep getting more notices about artworks popping up in foreign countries.”

Morpeth's eyes almost popped out his face, while he stared at his recruit. His instincts kicked in almost immediately. “Got pictures?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show'm to Eliza. She's an art buff. Return to me with the stuff once you have an idea what it is about.”

“Yes, sir.”

The commissioner rubbed his eyes tiredly and got up to pour himself yet another cup of coffee. For a while he stood staring out the window, wishing he was on holiday with his wife. Barely he sat down at his desk or Wolters returned.

“Ok, kid, what's the news?”

“Well, sir, Eliza told me that some of these works have been lost since the World Wars.”

“Hunh?”

“Yes, many artworks vanished during this time and though there have been numerous search parties to recover them, only few were found back. So they gave up hope for any others.”

Morpeth sat up a bit and took the pictures from Wolters. “Sit down. This might take longer than expected. Where did these turn up?”

“The one you're looking at right now turned up in a museum in India, the two paintings there reappeared in China. I'm not too sure about the others, but there's one that even reached Turkey.”

“What the… Any idea who sold them?”

“It's probably a via via system, sir. After all museums usually don't buy on the black market, do they?”

“You'd be surprised,” his superior said. “Who reported these?”

“Most of them were reported by a Chinese guy, who works for his government, trying to recover the whereabouts of lost artworks. He works both on the spot and via the Internet. The man seems to have good connections.”

“And a record, I bet. But high society's good at hiding that.” Morpeth lit a cigarette, staring at the pictures. “The others?”

“The Indian museum immediately reported to its government.”

“But is there any idea where they come from?”

“Asian black market, that's about the closest guess we can do for now. Although, I contacted that Chinese guy -forgot his name already- and he said something about Japan and its role in the war.”

“That's a long shot,” Morpeth mumbled. But then again, anything seemed possible, seeing how long lost works reappeared out of nowhere a dozen at a time almost.

“Wolters!”

“Y… Yes, sir.”

“Do you know Shaka?”

“By reputation, sir.”

“Good enough. See if you can get hold of'm and bring'm here.”

Wolters got up, but hesitated at the door. “Umm, sir?”

“What?”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall blonde guy. Trust me, you'll know who it is once you see'm. Now off.” He took a gulp from his coffee and certainly realized something again. “And stop sir-ing me already,” he yelled after the young man.