Dirty King

Chapter 3

"For Speech"
'For Thought'

Chapter Warning(s): Minor Character Death

Mihael
August 25th, 2010
5:36 AM

The insistent beeping of an alarm clock eventually woke up Mihael. He makes to stretch, but finds doing so impossible with a pair of arms clinging to him. At first, he is alarmed and stiffens, but that changes when one of the arms lazily moves to his left bicep and rubs it gently followed by a male voice tiredly telling him, “It’s too early hun, try to get in a few more minutes at least…” He relaxes in the other’s grip and settles into the warm body.
“When did you get home last night,” he murmured, feeling sleep leave his body much to his disappointment. He was one of those people who usually could not sleep again once they have opened their eyes.
“About 3 hours ago. I am dead tired. Sleep with me and make an excuse.” The blonde chuckled softly.
“You know I can’t now that I am awake. I need coffee and I need to get to work. As I recall, you need to open your coffee house at some point today.”
“Yeah, but I own the place, I am obligated to show open up shop whenever I feel like it.” The arm that was rubbing his bicep moved to cup Mihael’s face, the thumb stroking the cheek gently, sending tingles across his face.
“I don’t think your customers would appreciate seeing a ‘Closed’ sign after 9:30. You can be a real ass when you feel like it, you know?”
“I’m hardly an ass. I am just a spoiled lover who knows what I want in life and right now, I want you.” The other arm snaked its way to trace over Mihael’s abdomen, making him stifle a giggle.
“Fucking tease,” mock-chided the blonde.
“You know it, babe.”

7:15AM

Mihael pulled into his parking space in the headquarters’ garage and dismounted his bike with a light creak of leather. Black boots clicked as he walked to the doors, poise and confidence and a little extra glow radiated from the blonde. He opens the doors, the early morning activities already well under way.
“Morning Keehl, enjoy your early break yesterday?” His boss approached him with the usual expressionless face that he usually had around this time of day.
“Morning Lieutenant. I did actually, it was well worth it.”
“Well I have an assignment that may require a little of your expertise. We just got in a call in the early morning hours yesterday around 10 AM about a sniper. We believe that this sniper could be a vigilante as this victim was a drug dealer. We cannot confirm or deny the possibility that the sniper may also be working for someone else as a hit man.” Mihael’s brain was already beginning to do the mental math.
“How many shots were fired?”
“From what the witnesses say, 3 were fired. The first shot took out the dealer’s left leg, the second left a large hole in the left lung and he last blew his brains out.”
“Hollow point ammunition?”
“It seems that way. No other bullets could do that sort of damage.”
“Why wasn’t I notified of this sooner?”
“I don’t take orders from my workers. I needed to process the information as it came in. I’ve only just confirmed that this would be a case that you can take.”

The Lieutenant handed the blonde a small case file with the initial autopsy report and the notes from the phone call. He went to his desk, sat down and opened the file, ignoring his friend’s files stored away in his desk for the time being.
-Name of victim: Carlos Schmidt
-Age: 34 years
-Gender: Male
-T.O.D.: Approximately 8AM
-Cause of Death: 3 massive bullet wounds from a sniper rifle. One in the left femur, one in left scapula and underlying ribs, and he last to the back of the cranium. Type of damage suggests hollow point bullets.
-The witness who called noted that the victim fell in a forward motion, angling to the left side as his leg was taken out.
-The blood spatter pattern suggests that the impact came in from a high rise building or something similar. Brain matter and bone fragments scattered forward and slightly downward, confirming this.
-Because the bullet count is 3, we have reason to believe that the sniper is either methodical in his assassinations, or that the sniper is inexperienced.
Mihael leaned back with a light creak of leather, closing his eyes and mentally placing himself in the victim’s predicament. It was not adding up to much right now, he needed photographs of the victim. He was not sure when those were coming in. The notes did say he victim fell forward and to the left and that the blood spatter was forward and slightly downward. He began to calculate angles in relation to height and distance. He determined that the sniper may have been approximately 287 yards away in a building on the 12-16th floor. Or likely on a rooftop of a building with the same height. It is plausible that the sniper was indeed inexperienced and used 3 bullets to ensure that at least one viable kill shot. That did not add up though, more likely, this sniper knew what they were doing and was methodical in using only 3 bullets regardless. So this was a hit man, and a pretty good one. Vigilante hit man though? Not likely, could be freelance hit man, which was troublesome. He’d have to look into the background of this victim and from there if the enemy group recruited freelance hit men, and if so, how many of those, if any were ever re-hired. This meant doing some undercover work…damn it.

Mihael stood up and walked to the Lieutenants’ office and peeked inside to ensure that he was in. Seeing that he was, Mihael let himself inside, closing the door behind him.
“You know Keehl…I think I know who Matsuda got his rude antics from.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” was his smooth reply.
“Cut the bullshit, that Rookie looks up to you and though perhaps he is jus a tad obsessed with you, that does not mean you should be influencing him in the wrong way.”
“Matsuda is obsessed with me?” Mihael could not help the small grin that played on his features. Lieutenant Connors only frowned before continuing.
“You are like an idol to him. I like to think that it is because of your credentials at such a young age. Your transfer papers from England only confirms this. It’s rather hard to imagine that you were under the tutelage of one of the greatest detectives ever. He’s no geezer like myself mind you. He’s what…10 years your senior? Not a whole lot of age difference if you ask me.”
“First off, he’s not ‘one of the greatest detectives’, he is ‘the greatest detective alive today’. Yes I am proud to call myself one of his students and one point, apprentice in a matter of speaking. If it were not for him, I would not be where I am now. However, I did not come here to reminisce. I came here to tell you that I think I will need to go undercover for this case. I came up with a theory; I believe that this sniper is freelance and works alongside drug lords or any black market group. The sniper likely has a solid fee that must be paid within a time period. If the sniper works or has worked more than once for any crime connection, then chances are, there will be a name, or at least an alias. I want to find out how many groups this sniper has worked for. Perhaps I could send in a request to meet in person, if the sniper is sociable of course.”

The Lieutenant listened and looked thoughtful for a little while before slowly nodding.
“Alright, if you feel you should go undercover, then you may do so. Don’t you already have connections in the underground though?”
“Of course, I promised to keep him anonymous in exchange for the information and protection of his crew and my own protection. I will go there first to see what they know and I will go from there.”
“That is all fine and good, just be careful. If you can solve this case within 31 days, I will give you an extended paid vacation. You will have earned it.”
“I will not disappoint. I will get started right away then. See you in less than 31 days.” This was followed by some light laughter before Mihael took his leave. He stripped himself of his jacket, leaving his vest visible. He never wore cotton with his leather, it chafed and was overall very uncomfortable. He only wore cotton when he was attending very important meetings, undercover or not. He went to the garage, passing by Matsuda who was attempting to get his attention, with little success of course. He went into the garage and mounted his motorbike, turning on the engine and lifting the kickstand before motoring outdoors into familiar streets. He made a stop to his shared home and parked the speed bike into the garage and after turning off the engine, dismounted after placing the kickstand on the ground. There was another motorbike parked and this was the one he got on, turning the engine over and removing the kickstand before driving back out. This was an older model motorbike, but it was almost as fast as his preferred bike; it was suitable for missions like this. Unfortunately, he would not be home for the time he was gone and would need to wire his rent money to his landlord and call Lucas and let him know that he would not be home for a few weeks.

9:23AM

He was careful when motoring to his underground contact. He only took the back alleys and several side streets he knew had little activity. It took some time, but soon he was back in familiar territory. He parked in the back and turned off the engine and dismounted the bike, placing the bike alongside a wall. He removed his helmet and gave his head a shake before carrying it with him to the back door. He knocked in a manner that identified it as himself and waited. There was a few minutes wait before the door was opened and he was greeted by the barrel of a gun. He did not flinch and only raised his eyebrow before grabbing the barrel and directing it away from his face.
“Where’s Ross? I need to speak to him.”
“Oh, it’s only you Mello, he’s in a meeting right now. Come in and make yourself at home.” Mihael walked in with the same sort of confidence and walked to the fridge, happy to see his chocolate stash remained relatively untouched. He removed a bar and unwrapped the foil, snapping off a square with satisfaction. He parked himself onto the musty threadbare couch and flipped his left leg over the right and placed one arm over the top of the couch. He did not say much, only observed the other mafia members, some watching him, others going about their regular business.

Several minutes passed before Rod Ross appeared, looking pissed off and bloody. Mihael’s eyes grew a bit bigger, but made no move to get up.
“Shit…what the hell happened to you?” The mafia leader turned his attention to the blonde, momentarily surprised, then welcoming, despite the state he was in.
“Long time no see Mello. Just another day, another several hundred dollars unpaid.”
“Sucks to be them. Say, you got a minute to spare?”
“Sure, just give me a few seconds to clean up. Come into my office.” The mafia boss disappeared into a bathroom, closing the door behind him. Mihael got up and directed his path to a room that was in far better condition than the rest of the building. A mahogany desk and chair were in the center of the room, instantly becoming the focal point in the space. There was a black rug and crimson curtains. It was not the best looking office, but still far better by comparison. He took a seat on an older wooden chair and allowed himself to slouch a little. Rod appeared a minute later with a jacket and much cleaner looking than before. He parked himself behind the desk and leaned on his elbows.
“So what can I do you for?”

Mihael took a large bite of the soft solid and chewed on it for several moments then swallowed.
“I am going to be working undercover for a few weeks. I am looking out for any freelance snipers. You heard about what happened yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, I was sort of wondering who hired one. I know this one was hired, but I didn’t think they were freelance.”
“I am theorizing that this one is. It’s unfortunate that you don’t know either. I was kind of hoping you would. However, do you think you can keep me here until I solve this one?”
“As long as we are still under agreement, by all means.”
“You know that I have not spoken a word against you. I don’t plan to. You have immunity as long as you can provide the assistance I need.”
“Then make yourself comfy. Your room is still as you left it. If I find anything new, I will let you know.”
“Thanks, I will be working hard on my end. You don’t happen to know who hires freelances, do you?”
“All my freelances live nearby. And none of them work for anyone else but me. As for anyone else who does…I couldn‘t say. You already know the names of my freelances, so no need to ask. None were added since then.”

Mihael nodded then took his leave, taking another bite of the sweet confection as he left the office. He took the familiar hallways to his ramshackle dorm. He’d managed to fix it up a little bit, installing boards as extra support that the springs were seriously lacking in. and re-enforcing the bed frame. He knew that he’d be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight, but for now, he dug into a duffle bag stored away and pulled out his proper disguise. He removed a dark chocolate colored vest and black leather pants. There was a pair of sunglasses and a brown wig with strategically placed blonde streaks. He changed clothes and placed on the sunglasses, completing his disguise. He strode out and went to the door from where he came in.
“I’ll be out until late. The sooner I get started on this, the sooner I’ll be out of your way.” He shut the door behind him and went to the bike, getting on and turning the engine over, it purred to life and he backed out a short distance before turning around and motoring out into the streets.

10:14 AM

Mihael pulled into a run down night club. He knew the owner had a flat above the establishment and parked in the back, climbing the short flight of stairs before knocking on the door. He waited a few seconds then rapped on the door a little more insistently, hearing a muffled ‘hang on’ before knocking on the door one final time. A few seconds later and the sound of locks were heard being undone. The door opened a crack and an older man in his late 40’s peeked outside.
“How’s business, Jerry?” The door closed, followed by the sound of one last lock being undone was heard before the door opened fully, revealing said male about average height, heavy set and graying red-brown hair. He was wearing a grey-blue bathrobe and seemingly nothing more.
“Ah, Mello, long time no see. How are things?” His voice was very throaty and husky, a long-term smoker’s voice. Hell, he even stunk like cigars. Mihael kept his composure, his confident manner radiated from him.
“Things are great. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d check in with you.” The older male raised an eyebrow suspiciously, trying to read an unreadable expression.
“What’s this about?” he finally asked, breathing not even which was the norm for him.
“What are the names of your freelances, Jerry? I know you have some regulars and one-timers.” The older male took a step back and stood a little more straighter.
“Is this about what happened yesterday?”
“What else would it be about?” was the reply.
“I didn’t think that that drug dealer would be killed by a sniper. Word on the street gets around a hell of a lot faster than the media does. I did not hire anyone to take care of that dealer. In fact, I am rather pissed off because that dealer and I had a bartering system so to speak. We sell our shares and split the profits 60-40 between the both of us.” Mihael only nodded as he took the information in.
“Fair enough, you were trading drugs freely and sharing profits, hardly motive to kill him off.”
“You got that right. I can tell you though that there are rumors that pop up from time to time about this freelancer that remains anonymous. I don’t know much beyond that, as I said before, rumors and such, but I don’t doubt that there is some truth to it.”
“I had a feeling it would be something along those lines,” Mihael said, producing the same chocolate bar from his vest and snapping off a piece, “I don’t doubt that there is truth to this anonymous sniper either, but when I find this person, I’ll have something planned out for him. So I assume you’ve been trying to contact this sniper yourself then?”
“Of course, I hear this sniper is pretty damn good, but as mentioned, anonymity means damn near impossible to find.”
“Not entirely, we know that the sniper lives here in LA and on the south side.” The older man Jerry only nodded in agreement.
“If that‘s the case,” he continued, “then it’s safe to assume he lives here and maybe has lived here for some time, perhaps months, maybe years.”
“Well your mind is certainly a cut above the rest of us,” said Jerry, a hint of envy in his tone.
“It didn’t get me where I am now if it wasn’t. I guess I’ll have to keep an eye out. Would you help another con out and ask your workers to look out for any one that seems suspicious or otherwise irregular? Ask for descriptions”
“You got it. Anything for an ex-regular.” Mihael walked back down the stairs and went to the bike, mounting it and drove to his next planned destination, the coffee house.

11:06 AM

He pulled into another parking space outside the familiar building and dismounted the older model motorbike, kickstand in place and boots clicking against the asphalt in timed succession. He entered the building, seeing Lucas busy as usual, although a little more tired. Serves him right for having a long night out, though it was nice seeing him in the morning again. The memory of the morning made him smile. He took a seat nearest to the door and saw the napkin container. Removing one, he motions one of the female servers down. When one approached him, he spoke using his native German accent.
“Excuse me miss, but may I borrow your pen? I have a message for the cute owner I’d like to send.” The server looked to Lucas and back to the disguised lover in leather then smiled and nodded, removing her pen and handing it to him.
“Thank you very much. I will give it back when I am finished.” The server nodded him and disappeared to tend to the other customers. Mihael scribbled his note as quickly as he could:
“Lucas baby,
I am going to be going undercover for a few weeks. Important new caseload to take care of. I have a favor to ask. If at any point that red headed customer comes back, call me. I will wire the rent money to the landlord. I love you Lucas. See you in a while.”
Mihael waved the server back down and folded the napkin in such a way that the message could not be read. When she approached him, he handed her the note and pen with a grin.
“For his eyes only. I already left him a number. Thank you very much.” He stands up and without any more words, he takes his leave. He walks to his bike, mounts it, turns the engine over and motors off, next destination was another night club, this one he has recently been attending.

12:10 PM

The trip took longer than he would have liked due to unusually heavy lunch hour traffic, but he got to the second club nonetheless. He drove slowly until he was behind the club and parked himself out of sight of others. He walked to the heavy steel door that was slowly rusting and have a few hard bangs with a gloved hand. He waited for a few seconds; when there was no response, he repeated the heavy knocks. When no response was given, he walked to another smaller door and tested the lock, frowning when he saw that it was unlocked. This only meant that there was some other business going on, or that there was something darker at work inside. He pulled free his pistol from its confines of his leathers and slowly walked inside.
“Xavier, where are ya bud? The door was unlocked and I just let myself in.” He tensed, waiting for some kind of reply. It remained eerily quiet, prompting him to keep going, staying on edge, senses sharpened. The immediate area consisted of a medium storage space littered with boxes and other paraphernalia. To his 10:00 was a small door that would take him into a carpeted hallway before heading into a carpeted hallway with a large main office and a sub-office converted into a small storage space. Trying hard not to make a sound with leather on (not an easy feat as you can imagine), he stalks the short hallway, trying to listen for tell-tale signs of activity. He paused, ears trained and honing in on sounds that would give people away. A barely audible outtake of breath finally caught on his ears. He froze in place, mentally assessing several scenarios at once. He raises his pistol, taking in a slow breath and letting it out slowly before walking ahead and turning into the main office.

The first thing that he perceives is Xavier bound to the chair and surrounded by a few underlings and a well groomed woman wearing feathers and furs in a fashionable manner. Her hair was jet black and cut short, just below her neckline. He notes that she and the henchmen appear to be of Asian descent. A creak of leather finally gives him away, he cursed inwardly at having to wear it in the first place. This certainly gets the attention of the Asian woman who turns, confirming her nationality as Japanese, much like the rookie back at HQ. Another thing he notices is that she looks incredibly familiar then it clicks just then. She was Takada Kiyomi, the daughter of Takada Yoshimura, a Yakuza boss, one that he’d put away in his third year in LA. They’d never met face to face, that was until just now. One of the henchmen raises his pistol to Mihael’s general direction, but was met with a stoic indifference that only served to anger him further. The henchman growled before removing the safety, but was stopped by a delicate hand.
“Down Mogi, do we really need to send you back into the tank so soon?” The larger male visibly calms down before putting the safety back on and holstering his weapon. The other who had no eyebrows and a strong forehead remained stoic and just as indifferent, a more effective member of this crew and one he should keep an eye on.

The young woman approached him and cupped his cheek gently, her eyes bore into his own, he returned the sentiment, minus the gesture. They studied each other intensely for a few minutes before she removed her gaze at last and looked back to Xavier and then back to him.
“What is your business with this man?” she asked, directing Mihael’s gaze to that of the man who let a bead of sweat escape and fall slowly.
“He has something that I am looking for,” was his reply.
“Seems he owes a lot of people unspoken favors,” she continued, letting her gaze fall back on the older male and letting her gaze become cool and calculating. Mihael did not move from his spot and let the mental math fill in several other scenarios. The young woman walked to the eyebrow-less man and pulled his ear to her mouth. Mihael was an adept lip reader in a few languages, so her silence was not unprepared for.
“I want you to take care of these gentlemen as soon as I am done here. Leave no room for error. I trust that you will leave no trace.” The brow-less man only nodded silently before she re-directed her gaze back to the disguised blonde.
“I hope you will allow me the honor of dealing with him since I was here before you.” Mihael nodded in understanding, but internally, he was ready for whatever outcome this encounter would bring.
“I will be out in the hallway when you are done.” Kiyomi only nodded and motioned him to do so.

He turned heel to leave and stood in the hallway, back braced against the drywall and head tilted slightly to the right. The door was closed, and he knew they would likely whisper. Mihael almost did not want to be here anymore, but he was on a mission and Xavier has a lot of connections, one of which could lead him to this free-lance. He furrowed his brows in annoyance. Free-lances are almost always hard to trace at least for the first 10 days, but he’d manage to haul in a few so he’d only need to use his usual tricks, and if need be, play dirty. The small form of the Japanese woman came through the door, idiotic goons in tow, minus one of course.
“It was a pleasure meeting you…I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name?”
“Mischa…the name’s Mischa.” Kiyomi only nodded, her eyes checking his own one more time before taking her leave.
“My last guard is going to stay behind until the business is concluded, you may go inside if you’d like. Have yourself a good day, Mischa.” With that, she turned and walked away, the carpeted floor otherwise muffling those heels she wore. He waited until she’d left the area before withdrawing his weapon again and strode into the office.

A muffled gunshot was heard before Xavier’s body collapsed to the ground, blood likely beginning to pool where he fell. ‘Shit, there goes my resource,” he thought, glaring hard at the thick eyebrow-less male. He was given a calm look in return before the pistol was rapidly brought to his direction before being fired. Mihael dodged the gun’s barrel, but only just, wincing at the sensation that a bullet grazed his arm. He used his downward momentum to aim his gun upwards. Time seemed to almost stand still, but Mihael was focused. He took in a breath and released, pulling the trigger and sending a bullet into the neck area of the eyebrow-less man. There was a shocked sound before the other man was clutching at his throat, dropping his weapon. Mihael landed hard, grunting before getting his bearings then rushing at the dropped weapon. The eyebrow-less man only looked on helplessly as Mihael grabbed the silenced pistol and aimed it upwards again and landing a couple shots into one of the man’s knees. There was a brief pained sound, but the room was rather sound proof, thanks to Xavier’s thinking ahead of time. Mihael went around the other man and used his arms to restrain the other.
“I don’t have any business with you, but since you’ve dealt with my business partner, I am afraid I am going to have to ask a couple questions. I can tell you are Takada’s right wing man, so you’d know what she knows. What do you know of freelance snipers, specifically of the one who killed that drug dealer?” This question seems to have shocked the other man, who remained silent for a minute. After a little gun persuasion after that minute passed.
“I don’t know anything about that particular one, but if rumors serve correct, it’s someone who chooses to remain anonymous.”
“I know this already,” Mihael hissed, “any names? Aliases?” There was another brief pause before the other continued.
“Not that I am aware of, but again, rumor has it that this person’s alias starts with the letter Q.”

The letter Q? That seemed a little too farfetched and unbelievable, but rumors usually have some truth, or they are full of shit. Mihael pressed the barrel to the thick browed male and pressed the trigger to the silenced pistol before taking his leave, avoiding the rear exit and instead making a dash to the main entrance. That scenario was not one he’d been wanting to deal with, but shit happens and now he needed to get away. With little to work with so far, Mihael knew he’d have to start digging deeper. He unlocks the main doors and looks both ways, not seeing Takada or her henchmen. It would be too dangerous to head back to his bike. He’d forgotten that his hands had a little blood spatter on them, so he took off running as fast as he could towards the neighboring building which had an older muscle car parked outside. It was a risky move to jack it at this time of day and with witnesses, but he’d needed to disappear from this location for now. He tests the door first, noting that it is locked. With one well aimed elbow, he smashes the window, unlocks it and lets himself inside, much to the shock of the passers by. Removing a knife from under his pant leg, he works fast at removing the plastic to get to the wires underneath. The speed he was able to accomplish plastic removal and a quick hardwiring to start the vehicle would have left other car thieves stumped, but Mihael was in a rush and let the adrenaline do all the work. In no time, he was speeding away from the scene, gaining precious distance between himself an the Yakuza members.

Mihael knew the city’s inner workings, having put the layout into his memory. He turned into an alleyway and sped along, not satisfied until he was 100% certain he would not be followed anytime soon. That time came around 20 minutes later when he’d gotten himself back into the inner city. He parked the vehicle in another alleyway before making a phone call to Ross.
“What is it?”
“Mello here. I’ve parked myself into an alleyway near Broadway Place. Got into some shit with the Yakuza, but that’s no longer an issue. Any way to pick me up?”
“The Fucking Yakuza?! You are one brave Motherfucker Mello, but yeah, I’ll send someone. Where exactly off of Broadway Place are you?”
“Just behind M&K Screening”
“Got it. Give it a 25 minute wait, look out for the usual.”
“No problem.” Mihael hung up the phone and went back to the abandoned car and leaned against the hood, mentally counting down the minutes.

Just 2 minutes until he figured his lift would show up, a familiar dark blue station wagon parks itself into the alley. Mihael grins and enters the passenger side, meeting one of Ross’ higher ups.
“Yakuza, huh? You’d better not have them trail you back to our place or else there will be words regarding our little ‘truce’.” Mihael did not say anything, just relaying the morning’s events over in his mind. There was no way he was risking a trip out the rest of today, he’d have to bunker down in Ross’ place until tomorrow. Not fun at all, but he had no choice, he needed to get the heat off his back. That would take a while and would require him to look elsewhere for the time being. Shit.

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A/N: Chapter 3 is now here! I said I am updating irregularly so I am sticking to my word. Mello’s little dealings with the Japanese Mafia could have repercussions or advantages, but for now, he’d better watch his back.