|
"Defying Gravity"A Romance in Three PartsWritten By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language Summary: A multi part story of romance starting
with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC
mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer
vacation. "Part Two: It's Back to Work"
Chapter 15
This chapter is written in Wufei's POV. I hope you like this diversion from the front line. Work had become my refuge from the chaos of ordinary life, but living in the same building as I worked enmeshed the two. I stepped inside my office at the Preventer' Agency, to find the atmosphere indistinguishable from that of the dormitory, only smaller. I craved privacy and serenity. I considered moving into an apartment of my own. Instead, I agreed to an alternate housing solution. And, for a few weeks, I had a home with occasional privacy and serenity, but also without the loneliness or monotony living single often brings. It came complete with four roommates who were also ex-Gundam pilots, co-workers, troubled, gay males my own age. My new home life was often in turmoil, but the kind I could look forward to because I chose it knowing full well what I was getting into. My roommates were one of a kind, and I knew them well. Quatre Winner came from an aristocratic family, much as my own, with excellent comportment and an engaging personality, facilitated by true empathic ability. We partnered at work. He performed in an exemplary manner as a brilliant strategist, his conduct completely open and honest, yet he could also be surprisingly devious, belied by an innocent face. The man is not innocent of anything. He seduced Trowa Barton before the poor clown knew what hit him. "Don't you think his eyes are beautiful?" "What eyes? I have seen only one. Winner, I don't think Barton is gay." "He is. He never dates." I didn't either. My look of alarm caused my partner to snicker in a most un-masculine manner—a giggle. He was excited, enamored, and past listening to my advice. "He looks, Wufei. He looks at cute guys. I'm going to ask him out." "Be careful," I told him unnecessarily. "Make it coffee, something innocuous and simple." Winner pressed his lips into a hard line. "I was going to invite him to a hotel for hot afternoon sex." I coughed and sputtered and muttered forgettable platitudes, while he smiled smugly and marched over to Yuy and Barton's office. I had never been close to Barton; he spoke like a mercenary, when he talked at all. On the job, I never witnessed his being anything but staunchly loyal to his team mates, trustworthy, and a dutiful, hard worker, but around the dormitory the man was a lazy ass. Most importantly, though, Barton performed extremely well with his partner, providing a level head and solid presence. His partner at work was Heero Yuy, a man to be cognizant of at all times. Yuy lived with an intensity matched only by my own, but this often limited his objectivity. When his judgment has been flawed, Yuy has been subject to rash decisions. He has, however, humanized these past couple years into a vastly more approachable man than the overly focused boy I first met during the war. I ignored my partner when he returned fifteen minutes later. If he had been turned down, he didn't need me to tell him "I told you so," and if he had been accepted, then I did not want to know the details. I looked up when Winner slipped on his jacket and combed his hair, readying himself to go out. "A lead in a case?" I asked, hoping for an excuse to go out and see some action, too. "Lunch." I didn't need to check the time, but my eyes couldn't resist glancing up at the wall clock. "It's only 11:00! You just had coffee and a doughnut from the snack bar." "Who said I was eating anything?" He smiled enigmatically. "If I'm lucky, I might miss dinner, too." Someone tapped on our door softly. My partner opened the door before I could stand. There was Barton. "Ready?" he asked, eye on Winner. "For ages!" Winner said, laughing. I caught Barton's eye as they left. The man shrugged, a tiny smile snuck out, and then disappeared. He cocked his head and whispered, "Irresistible," then closed the door behind them with a nearly soundless click. I just stood there shocked. Thirty seconds later, Yuy stood at my desk, glaring at me as if I'd stolen his pet cat, which he didn't own, gun, or laptop. "Where are they going?" "I have no idea." "Well, when will they be back?" "Dinner, possibly, but I wouldn't count on it." "What? I have work to do. I need him here, now. Lunch is sufficient time to demonstrate interest." "I do not think interest is what Winner plans to demonstrate." Yuy stood, breathing, hands fisting at his sides, impatience overlapping confusion and overtaking his annoyed expression. "What can you possibly be talking about, Chang?" "I believe Winner wants Barton to know he's not as unattainable or as prim as he feigns to be on the job." "They are going to have sex... on their first date?" The man had a way with words, at times. He was a teenage male and proved it occasionally with his mind focusing on sex and other people's sexual encounters. I had noticed his rather perverse interest in the rarely seen agent with the long braid, and suspected that in Maxwell lay Yuy's Achilles' heel. I would, of course, never intimate anything of the sort, to either of them. "That is not your or my business, Yuy. Now, I have work of my own to do." On his way out, I could have sworn he said, "I'm impressed," but I may have heard incorrectly. My fourth roommate has tested the limits of us all, and, yet, he cemented us together. He was totally unaware of his impact on us, of course. He lived large, because he could. Duo Maxwell exasperated me with his incessant chatter, confounded me with his dramatic mood changes, impressed me with talents and skills he could conjure out of a tragic past, and entertained me innumerable times with his lively sense of humor. He gave others the impression of being sexually easy, but I knew for a fact that he was just the opposite. How he and Yuy could carry out a romance was beyond my imagination. He exuded charm, and he knew it. That must be a part of it, but only a part. "Have you seen Duo?" Yuy had materialized at my desk. I had expected him. That he was infatuated with Maxwell was obvious to anyone but him and Maxwell. I had to concentrate fully on not smiling, so I allowed Winner to handle the conversation; he was bubbling over with the desire to do so. "He just got in from the worst covert job ever this morning, Heero." "I know. I heard him, but then he disappeared." "Commander Une caught him dabbing at a bloody cut in the men's room, except that he was actually in the ladies'. She sent him to the infirmary and he hasn't been back since." "Infirmary?" I asked. "Did Une say how serious his injuries looked?" Yuy asked. "No. He could walk, at least." I found myself striding purposefully out the door. "I'll see." Of course, I could have placed a call, but I knew Yuy needed me to see him in person. To be honest, though, I used any excuse possible to visit the infirmary, and Miss Po. I think she was expecting me when I arrived minutes later. "He's resting and fine. Dehydrated, exhausted, under weight, bruised and battered, but intact and not concussed," she told me. "That...is a relief." "How are you? Getting enough rest yourself? You look like you could use a square meal, and not one of the cafeteria's starch-heavy ones either. It's break time for me, how about lunch at Woo Lo's? It's Kung Pao Shrimp day." "I would like that, thank you. I already have my jacket. I don't have to go back to my office, but I should notify Yuy—" "Taken care of. Agent Maxwell okay'ed a copy of his medical report to be sent to Agent Yuy. I released it just as you arrived. Let's go." Eventually I did amass my courage and ask the woman out myself, but, until then, I couldn't help myself but fall in with her plans. I liked my women strong and self-reliant, and Doctor Po was surely that. I was just unsure whether or not Sally Po thought I measured up to her standards, which was painful to admit, and difficult to determine. Resolute to prove I could ask the woman out and take defeat like a man, I made the decision to ask her on a date. Winner had procured a pair of tickets to the opera, which conflicted with tickets Barton had to the CIRQUE DU SOLEIL, and so he offered the opera tickets to me, daring me to find a female date. I took the tickets and ran. I cut into the men's room on my way to the infirmary. I knew every hair was in place and that I looked supremely confident. I could not control the crazy beating of my heart, but I could straighten out my vocal cords so that I spoke with the authority of a senior agent. "Excuse me, Doctor Po," I said. "May I have a moment of your time?" Formal was the best attack under the conditions. I decided this after practicing a Maxwell-casual "Say, I was wondering if you might me interested...?" and coming off sounding like I was intoxicated, or worse. My fall-back led me into my comfort zone and my ingrained, refined conventions. "Yes, of course. Will my office be okay?" Sally asked. "Perfectly, yes, thank you." Once inside her small office, I realized I could do nothing but surge forward with my request. I had not prepared an exit strategy. Yuy would have, possibly three; he was perfect in that respect. "If you have a problem of a ...personal nature, Agent Chang, please be absolutely certain that when speaking to me anything you say will be held in the strictest of confidence." Dear gods, woman, no! "I, ah, thank you, but this has nothing to do with...health matters." "I see. Tell me, then, what brings you here on such urgent business?" She smiled kindly and I forgot everything I had planned to say; in fact, I forgot to say a thing. I must have sat there looking like a stuffed carp for ten minutes, before she spoke to me and broke the spell. "Are those tickets to 'Madame Butterfly?' in your hands?" she asked. I woke up; hearing the excitement in her voice drove me to blurt out, "Yes, for the final winter production, performance of Puccini's 'Madame Butterfly.' Would you be interested in..." "I'd love to join you, Wufei. When is it? Our work schedules are very full and I know you have some vacation time scheduled." I wondered where she came by that information, any of it, but I was too happy and flustered to dwell on the obvious answer. I also had no idea what performance this was for. I hadn't bothered to look or ask. I'd just ripped them out of my partner's hand and squirreled off. She called me Wufei. In my flurry of mental activity, I had dropped them on her desk. She was studying them now and consulting her calendar. "After your vacation, why Wufei, these are for New Year's eve! These are as rare as the Hope diamond! However did you get these? Oh, how impolite of me to ask. Forgive me, please? It's just so unexpected and so...wonderful and thoughtful of you." "Ah." I tried to sound wonderful and thoughtful, and out came Maxwell's words. "You can go? You want to?" "Yes!" she exclaimed. "I know the perfect place for dinner beforehand, if you haven't already made plans...?" "No, I was leaving that open." Open and void. I hadn't given it a thought. "Wonderful! I'll take care of those reservations. We should start early, don't you think? We don't want to feel rushed." "Rushed? Er, no." "Good! You know, we should have reservations for the hotel nearby. It will be a late night. The concierge there is a close friend. Shall I have her take care of that for us?" I nodded dumbly. Hotel room? Night? Gods... "Now, I'll have to think about what to wear. Will you be wearing formal Chinese or a tux?" I had both, but only the Chinese jacket fit since I'd filled out. "Chinese?" "Perfect! I've got time today to shop." "B-but, you don't have to buy something new, do you?" She laughed a sweet, musical little laugh. "Oh, Wufei, for this event every woman will be wearing the latest costumes. That's what makes it the event of the year!" Then she kissed me. On the cheek. Before I could say anything to jinx the moment, I bowed, thanked her for her time, and left with all the dignity I could muster. I sped to the men's room, hoping no one was counting my visits to both the bathroom and the infirmary and think I had a medical problem, and yes, there was lipstick on my cheek. I cleaned it off, but kept the paper towel folded in my pocket. It is still in my desk drawer. After an eventful vacation together, proving that five ex-terrorist, teenagers could share a house and not wish to or actually kill one another, the five of us moved into a house. I had my own room, segregated from my roommates by the kitchen. This privacy was absolutely essential, being the only straight male in residence. The others enjoyed their sexual encounters with more noise than I found tolerable. Homosexually did not bother me, although, I had been raised to believe it was an offense worthy of death. By the end of the war I had seen far more deeds worthy of death than a person's aberrant sexuality. My open attitude may have been one reason, the least important, I must add, for partnering me with Winner, who, I assumed, had informed the commander of his orientation. So, if I didn't have to listen or be a party to their antics, I didn't care. Maxwell's name, however, should be spelled "A-N-T-I-C-S," at times. I have alternate spellings, too. Many impolite. "Maxwell!" "Hey, 'Fei!" "I do not want you cooking my lunch naked. Get dressed!" "Ah, this is breakfast. Just soaking the bread. Waiting for the shower." "When it's done at noon, it becomes lunch, but that's not the point I'm making. Can't you wait in a robe? I have put on a robe. That is not too much to ask of you, is it?" In a split second, Maxwell ripped the robe off my shoulders and arms; it was off entirely. "If you say so." He laughed like a lunatic. Barton, naturally, ambled in. "Kinky." I was embarrassed, of course. It wasn't as if we all hadn't seen each other naked before, but knowing that the two of them could become aroused by my body changed the dynamics entirely. Winner confessed to me--once, and only once, after having what amounted to too much alcohol (two sips of beer) at a celebratory party with a few other agents following the closure of a grueling case--that he thought my darker skin and lithe form were very "exotic." Leave it to Maxwell, though, to put me in this situation. When I gathered my wits to look up, there Maxwell was, making his layered bread and egg strata, wearing my robe as if it were I who had crossed the line, and Barton was checking me out! "Doctor Po's one lucky lady," Barton said, smoothly, then, as if this was an ordinary occurrence, he said, "But don't think Yuy won't figure out how you're getting more'n your share of the food." He kissed the top of Maxwell's head, and sauntered out of the room, ignoring my sputtering explanation completely. I never did get my robe back, but I didn't ask; Maxwell wore it many, many times, never appearing before me naked again. I don't think he ever had had a robe before mine, now that I think about it. Yes, I had a home life separate from work by several miles, then Zechs, Milliardo Peacecraft, entered the picture and the chaos spun out of control. I told Commander Une that Maxwell play-acting a high class male prostitute was a very bad idea, considering he was both in the early stages of accepting his homosexually and in forming a deeply loving relationship. I didn't say with whom, since inter-office relationships were frowned on. Winner and Barton were extremely circumspect about their affair. No one but the five of us knew, but now Zechs would. My concerns were duly noted and ignored. Maxwell was going undercover period end of discussion. My partner and Barton were also chosen to play supporting roles in the mission. I could not imagine how terrible one might feel, watching one's mate being fondled by a stranger, and have to accept it. They should never have been permitted to participate conjointly in the mission. That act alone revealed the depth of love and respect the two had for Maxwell, because all of us formed the key components of the team as a support structure for that trying, but dear, friend. This would be his last covert mission and he would survive, we vowed. Wisely, Yuy and I were not part of the on-site UC team, but were to remain at Preventer's Central, engineering the extraction tools and planning in coordination with Winner in situ. The job divided naturally into the drug identification/drug and art dealing business and that of the abducted boys and tracking angle. Yuy wished to remain active in Maxwell's role, concentrating his research on the tracking and extraction technology. This left me the drug trade. I had led several successful drug raids in the past, so I was the logical choice. There were two other agents on the case, Blake Edwards and Aiden Moore, with whom both Yuy and I had shared cases. They would join the others after their UC identities and credentials were established. In the mean time, they aided Yuy and myself with lining up equipment requisitions, filing paperwork, and fending off distractions. Yuy dealt with the emotional fallout of a bad situation growing worse. When he first informed me of his intention to visit Maxwell, who was in deep under cover, I was stunned by his poor judgment. His reasoning was sound, however, and he had equipment to deliver. I didn't blame him for wanting to see the layout, I simply had reservations. I did not argue him out of his decision. If Commander Une approved, I would not undermine his confidence, and so I waved him on. As it turned out, the trip was quick and served to improve Yuy's mood and concentration. The arrangements were not what he liked, but Maxwell was adapting well, so he was satisfied. We returned to work, completely certain that all was well. I received a call first thing in the morning from my distant partner, all propriety and decorum had vanished from his tone. Winner skipped his customary greeting, didn't ask about my health, or inquire as to the progress of my work. "Duo is—is not Duo! He's turned into Scythe! I hate Scythe! He has no shame! He's a slut and sleeps with that... that sleazy man, who is supposed to be happily married, Wufei! How can Duo pretend Heero doesn't even exist? Oh--" he groaned, "--and poor Trowa. He's all decked out like a...a...promiscuous twink. I can't stand it! Men pawing him in bars! He comes home smelling like cigarettes and... Damn it, Wufei! You have to come here and straighten things out before it's too late!" I was appalled. Yuy's head snapped up. He had taken over Winner's desktop in his absence, the surface covered with sorted piles of research material and parts—lots of small, delicate, costly electronic parts. I jabbed my chin at his phone, mouthing "04". Yuy punched in the three-way code and listened in to a continuation of Winner's tirade. "If you don't, I will not be responsible for the funeral preparations for anyone! I refuse! Cleaning up after another Duo OD is not part of my job description, but I do it out of consideration for my friend. Scythe, on the other hand, is a shameless bastard I don't even want to share a meal with. The way he hangs all over that...that man. It's disgraceful!" I heard a sharp crack. Yuy had broken the phone handset. "I'm taking a walk," he told me, then did. He got as far as his own office, where he took a call from Barton, followed by a call from Zechs. I found this out when he returned, pasty-faced, later that morning. "There has been a change in mission plans, and personnel." I had a sinking feeling I knew what changes were in store. Still, the reality left me stunned and furious with that damned Prince of Peacecrap, as Maxwell had once called him. "I can't possibly drop what I am doing, Yuy. I have four teams from PDEA on assignment. The instant one of them sniffs drug movement, I must be there, not out clubbing in New Germany." "Zechs' orders. We are to turn over all our duties to Edwards and Moore, and take their places." I was a knat's breath away from having a nervous breakdown. Yuy had the maturity to back off and buy me a few additional weeks of time. He put Edwards in Quatre's chair, and proceeded to instruct him for three hours without a break on every subject of every part of the operation he was responsible for, leaving out no step, number, name, or mind-bending detail. And then he left before Edwards cried. I excused myself to visit the crime lab. I wanted the results from the finger prints lifted from the gift card. What I got were excuses. Partials. Too faint. I was not in the mood to listen to incompetent imbeciles. "Where is the expert in charge down here?" I demanded to know. Vacation. "Get her here. Now. Priority One." I didn't care who hated me. I would break this case. One hour later, Dorothy Catalonia stormed into the lab, spouting my exact sentiments. I gave her a very brief picture of what was in store for her if I had to do all the lab work myself, and I did have the authority to destroy her career. Once we were on the same wavelength, we both hunkered down over the microscopes and examined the evidence. Two hours later, we had a moderately good print to examine. Another hour and we had a match in the international Who's Who database. An ID. Alric Gunter left his damning, partial finger prints on the gift card. Duke Dermail, leader of the foundation through the war years, had a brother, who had died in the war. This brother had a son, the Duke's nephew, Franz Dermail, who we believed was now in control of the Romefeller Foundation. From what we'd learned about Franz, I could believe he was the type to raise an army of terrorists and disrupt the world. Now, we knew that the Duke's brother had an illegitimate son, and Franz' step-brother was Alric Gunter—imagine that! "Thanks, Miss Catalonia. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. You have no idea how important this information is." "I might find my way to forgive you, if you make it up to me." "If it is within my powers...?" "Take me out to the dinner I missed tonight." "Now?" "Yes." My cell phone rang. "Damn." "Serious?" "I have to fly to Belgium." "Tonight?" "Immediately—a drug sting operation is about to go down. Rain check?" "I will hold you to it, Wufei Chang. Oh, and here's some reading material for you. We are working down here, counter to some of the suggestions I've heard to the contrary. Part of the drug Agent Maxwell ingested was an Ecstasy product, but only one component." I took the folder with a polite "thank you," punched in my next call to confirm my airline reservations, while picking up my already packed, emergency travel bag at the agency lockers, hailed a taxi, and replayed the last few hours in my head to see if I'd missed anything important. "The recreational drug Ecstasy is fast becoming a problem with global implications, as growth in use and trafficking expands at alarming rates, according to law enforcement authorities. The drug 3,4-methylenedioxy methamphetamine (MDMA) is a synthetic substance, ingested in pill form, which also goes under the names X, Adam, and E. It is used primarily by teen-agers and young adults at raves - transient, all-night, techno-music dance parties. MDMA gives the user a "high" by affecting the body's serotonin system, which governs mood and body temperature. Also called the "hug drug," ravers take MDMA to alter their perceptions, to dance longer and to lower their inhibitions. It causes serious complications related to dehydration, liver, heart, and kidney damage. Long term ..." The file continued for ten pages, containing nothing I didn't already know. I had never used a drug more complicated than aspirin in my life, and now I was an expert on the manufacturing, distribution, use, results, and money laundering aspects. What Maxwell had had in his system was 5 times as strong as ecstasy, and that was just one component. Dear gods. It was unfair for a nice kid like Maxwell to have to play guinea pig for some perverted drug dealer. I was landing in Belgium when I remembered to call Zechs with the results from the finger print analysis. I could not get a secure line, so I left a message with the traumatized Edwards to contact Dorothy Catalonia for the details to forward to Zechs, ASAP. After that, I could concentrate on the mission at hand. The sting went down with me taking a very minor background role. Wire taps from Zechs' team gave us possible where's and when's, enforcement agents infiltrated the docks and the local customs officers ran warehouse to warehouse searches. How many hiding places for VERY LARGE sculptures could there be? Thousands, as it turns out. Luck smiled down upon us that night, but I was prepared for that. Luck is associated with nearly all parts of Chinese life. "Fu" is one of the most popular Chinese characters used in the Chinese New Year. It is often posted upside down on the front door of a house or an apartment. Think of "Fu" as a good luck blessing. "Ji" is also popular. It means "lucky" with a propitious flavor, as in "Hope all is well." As a rule, in day-to-day life in China it is customary to regard even numbers as being more auspicious than odd numbers. Both 1 and 9 are good numbers to have. One stands for "unity" while 9 stands for "longevity" or "enough", so they combine well with other lucky numbers. As the number two (Er), usually suggests germination and harmony, at wedding celebrations, decorations are invariably setout in pairs: a pair of red candles, a pair of pillows, and couplets hung on two sides of the hall. Six, pronounced as "Liu," conveys indirectly its homophony's (sound) meaning, which is: do everything smoothly. The number eight, "Ba," in Chinese has a similar sound to "Fa," which means to make a fortune. All business men favor this number very much. Maxwell may consider himself "The God of Death," but it's Quatre whose name in Chinese rings the "death" toll. Four, is the exception to the even number rule as it sounds like "Si" (death). So when people choose car license tags, phone numbers, and room numbers, they try to avoid it. Putting a 2 in front of other unlucky sounding numbers like 4 is shunned also. The number 24 is considered unlucky homonymy (sound) wise, because it sounds the same as "easily dying" and 2424 is a very unlucky number indeed. The Chinese Number System Pronunciation for the characters uses the standard Romanization scheme in China called pinyin. Five is "wu," as in my name Chang Wufei. Sometimes two is associated with "easy", three with "lively", four with "death,", five with "me or myself", six with "continuously" (use in combination with other numbers, like "68"), eight with "get rich" and nine with "long lasting." Most the price tags end with 98 or 88. Like everything else in nature, the Chinese feel numbers have yin and yang qualities. Odd numbers (1,3,5,7,9) are considered yang while even numbers (2,4,6,8) are considered yin. Since yang quality is associated with growth and prosperity, the yang numbers are generally more desirable than the yin numbers. However, there are many exceptions to the rule. The number 999 is not a desirable number because it is too yang and the only way for it to go is down, in the sense that the follow up number is 1000 and the beginning of a new cycle - starting all over again. In the past, nine is reserved for the Emperor and ordinary people are not allowed to use the number. The doors to the imperial palace are all decorated with (9x9) 81 brass knobs to signify the majesty of the Emperor. We know from history what happened to all Emperors, they get overthrown in the end. So unless you have a good ego and a strong desire for constant renewal, do not choose 9, 99 or 999. Sometimes not so attractive numbers can become attractive when formed into a phrase. Character wise, 4 is written as though the sun is being obscured by a cloud, so pictorially, it stands for a cloudy day and bad luck. The Chinese do not like to have a house or a car with the number 4 or a combination like 14 "must die", 24 "easily dying", 44 "dying and dead" and 74 "surely dead". In the case of the number "48", 4 sounds like "death", but when placed in front of the prosperous 8 the result becomes "determined to prosper." The number "54" sounds the same as "shall live forever and will not die". Therefore, Winner and I combine to make a good partner team (54), but not Maxwell with Winner (24) or Yuy with Winner (14). You may laugh, but Commander Une considered this when planning how to pair us as partners. Any numbers that start with 1,2,3,6 and 8 or a combination thereof will always sound lucky. To achieve a feeling of health and prosperity you can choose numbers from these combinations and you cannot go wrong, especially well if you can balance the yin and yang numbers in their combinations. For example 3388 or 1618 and 1328 are all very auspicious, because they have a combination of two yin numbers and two yang numbers, so they are considered balanced and ritually correct, in harmony with each other. It is a good idea to have (3) Barton on our team and pairing Barton with Yuy (31) is very propitious. Entire concepts are build from strings of numbers: "518: I will prosper", "5189: I will prosper for a long time", "516289: I will get on a long, smooth prosperous road." Why have I taken us on this interesting but tangential journey, you ask? The purpose of this information was to establish a basis for my opinion that luck was on our side the night of the sting operation. My plane ticket was number "516289." The taxi cab ride before tip cost $33.88. My locker was number "54," the number of warehouse buildings in lockdown surrounding the one containing the target art was "6," and the building I sipped tea and used as a temporary coordinating post was the "Fu Ji" take out Chinese lunch house. All very auspicious, if you were a superstitious person who believed in Chinese symbolism. Here is a summary from my report: A joint Belgium Customs Service and Preventer's Drug Enforcement Agency (our DEA,) sting operation took place in Brussels, Belgium. Two pounds each of cocaine and heroin was recovered (four total) from a life-sized replica of "David." Nine people were arrested who were connected to the Royal Fine Art Trading Company, which was founded by Giacomo Medici, an Italian art dealer convicted in 2004 of dealing in stolen ancient artifacts. His operation was thought to be "one of the largest and most sophisticated antiquities networks in the world, responsible for illegally digging up and spiriting away thousands of top-drawer pieces and passing them on to the most elite end of the international art market." Royal - with its front entrance inside a flower shop - was the meeting place for the upper echelon of a drug-dealing enterprise. This should come as no surprise. The inter-relationship among drug distribution, violence and the ancillary connection to rogue segments of the art-for-trade industry have been documented for many years. Attempts to reach Royal by phone yesterday were unsuccessful and workers in the flower shop said they couldn't let anyone in because the boss was out. "Clearly, Royal Fine Art was a front for an illegal drug distribution enterprise," said Captain Jacques Brel, whose Brussels office conducted the probe with the Preventer's DEA. Not included in my report were these final figures: One of the suspects attempted to shoot a customs officer. His bullet missed and struck a dark corner near of the roof, killing 4 bats. Bats are considered good and lucky animals in Chinese culture. Four of the other men were aged 24. A sixth man wore a head band sporting the number "666," (Christian sign of the beast and a very lucky Chinese number). Unfortunately, he wore it upside down. Another lived at a street address 7424. The last two carried only odd amounts of change. Not that I believed in that ancient, superstitious malarkey. There was no evidence linking Royal Fine Art with Alric Gunter or the Dermail clan, yet. That was my next goal, should I be fortunate enough to evade the dress up party in New Germany. I planned to remain in Brussels awaiting the next shipment news, which I understood might be the beginning of next month, and direct my team, who were watching the Royal headquarters. In the meantime, I imagined this would put a kink in Gunter's plans: customs had impounded the hollow "David" statue.
|
