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"Witness Protection"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Rating: R Warnings: Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots),
some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he
has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded
to the “pure, chaste” version of Duo, he might be a bit
dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters
in here…hey, Quat’s a lawyer…how much lower could he
get? Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2) A/N: I’ll apologize in advance that Zechs is, well, deceased right from the start. I like him a lot, and there’ll be mention of him…but mostly in the form of discussing/investigating his murder. Sorry. Summary: When Zechs Merquise is found murdered,
detectives Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang are tasked with the unenviable
chore of keeping the only witness to the crime alive long enough to
testify against the leader of the Oz syndicate, Treize Khushrenada. "Witness Protection"
Merquise’s apartment was nothing short of splendid. With the finest furnishings and artwork on the walls that must’ve cost a fortune, it was easily the most elegant crime scene I’d ever investigated. “What a shame,” Wufei murmured, looking down at the body sprawled across the Persian rug in the main room. “They’ll never get the blood out of that carpet.” “Chang!” I snapped, trying not to smirk. “You’re awful.” Yeah, I know we both sounded pretty heartless. But after all the dead bodies we’d seen, what was one more? Especially when it was a man we’d tried for years to investigate. He was as slippery as his reputed boss, Khushrenada, and just as untouchable. But clearly someone had touched him this time, with what was probably a .45 caliber bullet right between the eyes. “God, he’s a mess,” Wufei sighed, kneeling and gingerly turning the head aside so he could see the exit wound. “Fuck.” The coroner was there, bagging the hands of the corpse and making notes on his clipboard. “Cause of death—,” he began. “—is obvious,” I interrupted. “Cut to the chase, doc. Give us a time,” I said shortly, wanting to move ahead with the investigation. “Around midnight.” I looked at Chang. “Security tapes.” “Yeah, I know,” he drawled, waving a hand dismissively. “As soon as I finish here, I’ll head downstairs. I’ll pull the vids for the past week, so we can see if someone cased the joint.” While Chang stayed to get more information from the coroner and the first officers on the scene, I wandered from room to room, checking for clues. I ended up in the bedroom, noting the rumpled blankets and general disarray. It looked like Merquise might have been awakened and gone to answer the door. That reinforced my first instinct; the murder wasn’t committed during a break-in—it was the sole purpose of whoever had done it. On my way back to the door, I noticed a jacket tossed across a chair in the corner, and frowned as I picked it up. It was well-worn—made of dark brown leather that had faded and cracked with age—like an old bomber jacket. Only this one had a design across the back that I remembered from my days in vice—crossed scythes with silver handles and luminous green blades, and the word “Reapers” emblazoned in black and dripping with red. Gang colors. The Reapers had been well-known on the streets until about three years earlier, when a rival gang set them up—cornered them in an abandoned warehouse and torched the place. It had made headlines and given me a serious headache, because we never came close to finding out who did it. Not that I particularly cared about a bunch of thieving, drug-dealing punks, or how they died—but I didn’t like failing at an investigation. “What the fuck would Merquise be doing with this?” I wondered aloud, glancing around the room. I ended up back at the bed, looking down at the nightstand closest to the window. There were a couple of cigarette butts in an ashtray, and I made a mental note to have the forensics guys grab them to test for DNA. Then I pulled back the satin comforter and looked at the impressions in the expensive sheets—along with pretty obvious bodily fluids—and some very long strands of chestnut hair. “He wasn’t alone.” I felt a surge of adrenaline. Merquise had apparently had a guest in his bed, which meant we’d have a suspect once we reviewed the security tapes. “Who wasn’t alone? Merquise?” I looked up to see Chang leaning in the doorway. “Yes, Merquise,” I said with a grin. “Judging from the mess in the bed, he had a hot fling before dying.” I picked up one of the long hairs. “—with a brunette.” A coarse laugh came from one of the forensics guys, who walked in just then. “So ya mean he ‘got off’ before he got ‘offed?’” I grimaced at the horrible pun and Wufei looked disdainfully at the man. “Can’t you be just a bit less crude, Murphy?” “Just responding to Yuy’s observation,” he shrugged, heading for the bed. “I take it you want all this bagged and analyzed.” “No shit,” I muttered. “And don’t forget the butts in the ashtray. I’d like to see if we can find a suspect to link some DNA to.” “Well, you find the suspect and we got the DNA,” he assured me. “Two wine glasses in the kitchen—two sets of dirty dishes in the sink. Merquise had company for sure.” He glanced up as he dropped the cigarette butts into an evidence bag. “’Course that won’t tell you when his guest left—could’ve been hours before the murder.” “Chang—how about those surveillance videos?” I asked. “I’m on it. Meet you downstairs.” Wufei left and I resumed my search, stepping aside for the crime scene photographers as they documented each piece of evidence before removing it. As they shoved the leather jacket into a plastic bag, I thought back to when I’d last seen one like it. It had been maybe three or four years earlier…on a punk who was hauled in for breaking and entering. How a jacket like this ended up at Merquise’s penthouse was something of a mystery—he was too far up the food chain to have ever been part of a common street gang. But as far as we knew, every member of the Reapers had died in the warehouse massacre. I shook my head. For all I knew, the jacket had come from a second-hand store or thrift shop. Maybe Merquise had a thing for leather… “Hey—wait a sec!” I grabbed the bag from the forensics guy. “I need to check something. Don’t worry; I won’t contaminate the evidence.” I hurried back out to where they were loading Merquise’s body onto a gurney. “Hold up there.” I pulled a rubber glove out of the box the forensics people had brought, and slipped it on before carefully working my fingers through the bloody, matted mess of Merquise’s long, platinum hair to find the tag on the collar of the robe he was wearing. It read “large,” and as I eyed the broad shoulders on the man, I didn’t doubt for a minute that even a large size barely fit. “Thanks. You can take him now.” I turned away and shifted the jacket inside the bag until I could read its very faded tag. “Medium.” I found myself grinning in triumph. The jacket didn’t belong to Zechs Merquise. That could only mean it had been left behind by his bedmate. And since it had been pouring rain the previous night, with temperatures only slightly above freezing, it was likely the wealthy criminal’s lover had left in a hurry. “You done with that, Yuy?” The crime scene crew leader had followed me out of the bedroom. “Yeah. Take it. And after the lab finishes, have it sent up to the evidence room. When we get a suspect, I want to be able to check the fit.” “Sure.” He sauntered off with the jacket and I resumed my survey of the suite, heading right back into the bedroom, which seemed to hold the most promise of offering up significant clues. As I rounded the bed, once again drawn to the nightstand that had held the ashtray, I became aware of the cool breeze drifting in a partially open window, and I pulled back the curtain. Jackpot! There was a fire escape outside, and when I leaned out the window, looking first towards the street and then up towards the roof, I realized the mystery lover must have left that way, which meant they wanted to avoid being seen. Prime suspect material. I turned back inside and went to shut the window, only to have it squeal loudly for the last couple of inches. “Hey, ya wanna keep it down?” groused one of the forensics crew. “You’d think a fancy penthouse like this would be in better shape.” “Oh, I like it just fine,” I crooned, already warming to the investigation. Not only did I know that someone had left via the fire escape; I knew why they hadn’t closed the window all the way. They’d wanted to leave quietly. And that fact pointed to several tantalizing conclusions. First and foremost, the person had known the window squeaked, suggesting they were more than a one-time visitor to the penthouse. It looked very much like Zechs Merquise had a regular lover. But if that lover had killed Merquise, why would she need to leave quietly? No—I was starting to think we might have more than a suspect—we might have a witness. And to me, that was far more valuable. Having the security videos and an eyewitness would almost guarantee a conviction of whatever suspect we finally tracked down. I was on my way towards the living room, when I paused to glance back at the position of the bed and the window…and as I turned back around, I realized that from behind the half-open door, I had a perfect view of the exact spot where Merquise had been killed. I eased up behind the door, looking through the space between the hinges, and could see the officers talking at the entrance, right where a visitor would have stood. Once I made that discovery, I was so excited it was all I could do to finish taking my notes before hurrying downstairs to meet my partner. He was in the manager’s office, leaning over a harried-looking man who was gesturing rather wildly with his hands. “I don’t know where Harris went, or why there’s nothing but static on the surveillance equipment!” I nearly groaned aloud. “Chang, is there a problem?” He looked up with a black scowl. “He’s claiming the night watchman’s gone missing and the security vids are showing nothing but static.” The chubby building superintendent looked up at me pleadingly. “Honest, Detectives, I have no idea where my night help is. I came in this morning to find the station unmanned and nothing working right.” “Was that before or after the maid called us?” “About the same time. She called me first, and I got right over here.” “You don’t live in the building?” “Like I could afford it,” he scoffed. “Naw, I live five blocks away—the low rent district. I just take care of maintenance and stuff here. And there’s the night crew for security when I’m not here.” I walked from his office into the adjoining security booth, looking over the row of blank screens and listening to the hum and crackle of fried electronics. “What are you looking for?” Chang asked from behind me. “Nothing,” I sighed. “I know what happened. Someone used a degausser.” Chang looked at the computer with a scowl. “And that is—?” “It’s a high-tech device that wipes magnetic media—completely erases it.” “So that’s the reason for the lack of video?” “It’s the reason this whole system is shot to Hell,” I told him. “Blank as the day it was formatted.” The building manager groaned. “That surveillance software cost thousands! Tens of thousands!” he lamented. “And someone knew just how to bypass it,” I noted. “Chang, have Kelly send a team to sweep this room for prints. And then let’s get out of here. We won’t get any help from this system.” “Can’t we even recover data from it?” I shook my head. “It’s a total loss, and the killer knew it. This was premeditated—big time.” Wufei’s scowl deepened. But he called Kelly over, letting him know we wanted the building security room swept for clues. Then we headed outside, pushing through the throng of reporters with the obligatory “no comment,” and making our way to our car. Once we were safely on our way, my partner looked questioningly at me. “You gave up on the super pretty quickly, Yuy. I take it you have reason to believe he wasn’t involved in the breach of security. So what did you get from the apartment?” “For starters, Merquise wasn’t alone. You saw the bed. But I also found a jacket in the bedroom that’s too small for Merquise to have worn,” I told him. “I think his lover might’ve witnessed the murder and gone out via the fire escape. Why else would someone leave without a coat on a freezing cold, raining night?” Chang shrugged. “Sounds reasonable. How sure are you?” “Well, from behind the bedroom door, which was ajar, there was a perfect view of the spot where Merquise was shot. In order to reach the chair where the coat was, the witness would have had to cross in front of the opening, risking being seen. But she could have gotten to the window without going anywhere near the killer’s line of sight.” “So you think they were in bed when the killer came to the door? Merquise got up and threw on a robe to answer it, leaving his lover in bed.” “Most likely there were words exchanged—pleading or arguing—and Merquise’s girlfriend got up and peeked through the door in time to see the murder,” I guessed. “She panicked—grabbed her clothes, and went out the window.” “Interesting theory,” my partner mused. “Do you think the murderer knew he or she was seen?” “Ah—good question.” I shook my head. “Hard to say.” “Any theory as to who might’ve wanted Zechs Merquise dead?” “Besides us and the FBI?” I joked wryly. “As a matter of fact, I’m thinking of his boss, Khushrenada.” “What?” Chang gave me a disbelieving look. “But why? Wouldn’t a rival organization be a more likely suspect? What would Khushrenada stand to gain from killing one of his top lieutenants?” “We’ll have to ask him that, if we can scrape together enough evidence for a warrant.” “As if—,” Wufei scoffed. “The fact that Khushrenada owns a technology corporation that specializes in data security is a pretty big lead,” I pointed out, referring to one of Treize’s “legitimate” enterprises. “They developed one of the smallest, most powerful degaussers on the planet just a few years ago. It was one of their cornerstone products.” “And totally circumstantial.” I shrugged. “Sometimes circumstantial is all you’ve got. And if Khushrenada was involved in any way with this murder, and even suspects someone witnessed it—he’ll be on their trail by now. We may not have much time to track down our witness, whoever she is.” “And are you quite certain it wasn’t the lover who killed Merquise?” Chang speculated. “Maybe they had a fight.” “I might’ve bought that theory before we found out someone got to the security footage,” I pointed out. “That fact alone suggests a level of proficiency beyond a scorned lover.” My partner nodded his agreement. “So, how shall we go about trying to tie this ‘degaussing’ incident to Khushrenada in a way that will sway a judge to give us a search warrant?” “First things first. We have to dig up all we can
on Merquise’s private life and try to find his girlfriend before
Khushrenada gets to her.” tbc...
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