All The Way Here

Winchester, England



"It is done."



The texted words were received in England, at Wammy\'s House, where Roger stared at his computer screen willing inspiration to come. All he saw was the thumbnail \'Ma\', in Old English Text, and the blank space beside, where he was supposed to be typing instructions. Roger removed his glasses and rubbed at red eyes that itched with barely shed tears. He replaced his glasses and sat there, his fingers hovering over the keys, as if he might channel the divine to enter the information not found in his records. Roger sighed heavily and typed back, "Good work. You are there?"



The response came swiftly. "The plane set off for the Phillipines and was diverted in the air. I am at the safe house."



Roger nodded. He didn\'t except anything less of his charges. He replied with an unnecessary question, just wanting to delay the moment of decision. "With them?"



"Mello and It Matters have been reclaimed from their respective mortuaries. I am with them."



"Positive identification?" Roger\'s fingers shook.



"I have visually identified It Matters and also matched dental records. Mello has been identified by dental records alone."



The words seemed so cold on the page. Roger read them and his gaze shot up towards the door, willing it to burst open and the miscreants themselves burst in, protesting some detention or confiscation of dearly held possessions. They had been children here. Mello\'s presense especially had filled the house. It seemed untenable that they were no longer in the world. Roger swallowed hard and replied. "Good work. Wait with them until the clerks arrive. They will take them off your hands and convey their bodies to their countries of origin." Roger patched through the written policy. A soft beep told him that it had been received. "This contains the instructions to be given to the individual clerks. Please ensure that they are understood."



"No."



Roger blinked. He hesitated before he typed back. "Is there a problem?"



"With respect, Roger-san, I am not prepared to hand them over to a clerk. I have the instructions. I will take it from here." The screen went blank with a sharp finality. Roger stared at it for a long time, before he closed the screen and bowed his head.





VBWN Building, Kathmandu.



Even with the full weight of Watari behind him, it had taken Mairoo sixteen hours to negotiate his arrangements. The longest delay seemed to have come in confirming that he was who he said he was. Mairoo understood that L\'s office was in chaos right now, but the lack of professionalism galled him. He stepped down the stairs, in the refridgerated basement room where the coffins lay side by side. Plain and unmarked, as specifications had dictated, nevertheless he knew which body lay where. Mairoo had ensured that by ordering different wood and overseeing them being sealed inside. He walked between them now and stood there.



There were cameras watching him, so Mairoo couldn\'t cry. He couldn\'t display any emotion not met in the expectations of a Letter. Instead the devastation welled up inside and he bowed his head. He had seen his Japan in the wake of Kira. Not as he had left it nearly a decade before, vibrant and beautiful, but the national psyche tense, broken and ill at ease with itself. Violence in the streets; fatalities; horror broadcast in 24 hour streaming news bulletin, that should have had everyone screaming for it to stop. Instead, they hollered for more. A whole country gone mad. It felt like a betrayal of all of those nights, trapped in a foreign land, yearning for home with such a ferocity that, if will alone could have got him there, he would have flown bodily through the skies to the sight of the cherry blossom trees. Mairoo stopped, gulped and gasped in air around the lump in his throat.



"Kira has been caught and defeated." Mairoo said aloud, though he didn\'t believe in ghosts and certainly didn\'t think that either corpse could hear him. "Your deaths were not in vain. They were instrumental in the successful conclusion. Not in vain." Mairoo blinked. He wanted to tell them that they were heroes, but all he could feel was the destruction and the pity. They were heroes, yet the world felt like something not worth the price of saving it. "I\'ve been to Japan. I saw." He paused. What could he say that encapsulated what he had seen? Japan would recover. It had healed from far worse in the last century than a lone mass murderer. They would forget Kira. Mairoo didn\'t want them to. He swallowed again and his voice, already a whisper, rasped, "I would not feel right you giving me back my country, if I couldn\'t give you something equal in return. Matt, I have just come off the \'phone. I spoke personally with Miguel Sanz Sesma. You are going home."



It was too much. Mairoo\'s hand rose to his mouth and he gulped out a sob. He didn\'t even know precisely which part of this mess had unhinged him. It could have been the thirty-six hours awake or the intense conversations with international officials, smashing through bureaucracies, whilst ensuring that the intrigity and secrecy of Watari was intact. But the pathos which swamped his mind was that sight of Japan and the thought of home. He felt like it wasn\'t the man, but the child who had been taken, unable to scream at the time, who was coughing out tears now. It took him a while to recover, fighting the emotion all of the way, until he had it pushed inside again.



Wiping wildly at his eyes, Mairoo bit his lip until he could speak again. "Matt, your closing instructions stated that your place of origin was Navarre, Spain. I am flying back with you tomorrow and I will be there when you are laid to rest. You\'re going home." He turned his head. "Mello, I\'m coming back for you. I have spoken with Ivo Sanader and, eventually, I have managed to negotiate your return. The delay is because I have also specified a Catholic funeral for you. I hope that was right. I\'m taking you home to Croatia."



Mairoo reached out, a hand on each coffin. They were beyond feeling, but he was bitter on their behalf. Angry for the children taken and the adults returned in boxes. He blinked away his tears and breathed steadily until he could school his features to neutrality once more, then he returned to the offices above.





Kanton, Japan



Anthony Rester glanced at his colleagues. They had both joined him to stare nervously at the screens, as soon as the large W had appeared. Rester pressed the communication button again, opening up his microphone. "Sir, Near is unavailable to respond to your call at the moment, but I can pass on a message."



The electronic tones could not quite disguises a pronounced English accent. It sounded defeated. "This is the third time that I have called. Could you please reiterate that it is his childhood residence and there is a matter of some delicacy to be resolved?"



Rester met Gevanni\'s eyes and the younger man nodded. It was Lidner who strolled forward and spoke next though. "Sir, could you give us some proof of your identity please?"



There was surprise on the other end of the network. At first a pause, then a blustering question. "How might one do that?"



Rester intervened. "Could you maybe describe Near to us?"



Gevanni and Lidner both frowned. The question had been clumsy. No-one who knew of Kira would answer such a thing. To their stunned amazement, the gentleman did. "He is about five foot tall with white hair. He has a propensity to twirl his hair whilst thinking and he plans strategy through the medium of toys."



Lidner pursed her lips. "May we have your name, please, Sir?"



"Roger Ruvie."



Rester nodded to the other two, before striding away to knock again on Near\'s door. The young man\'s sniffs could be heard through it. He hadn\'t stopped crying all day. It was a condition all the more shocking for the fact that they had rarely seen an emotion in him, in nearly two years of working together, until yesterday. Their leader seemed to have just crumpled. Rester knocked again. "Near." There was no response. Rester knocked a third time, then opened the door. The room was in darkness. Only a slight bump in the covers of the bed indicated where Near was curled under them. "Sir, are you familiar with the name Roger Ruvie?"



There was a shifting in the timbre of Near\'s grief. He made a sound akin to keening and then sobbed harder. Rester swallowed, his mouth dry, and walked into the room. He tried find the words to say, but this was not his forte. The seconds ticked away, then Near spoke hoarsely. "Tell Roger to come and get me."



Rester stared. In truth, he resented the weakness of the young genius. They were all stunned by events in the Yellow Box, but this was the reaction of a small child, not a grown man. Nevertheless, it was an order and so he nodded and returned to the operations hub. Gevanni and Lidner watched him curiously, but Rester just shook his head at them and reached his decision. He opened the microphone and spoke to the English gentleman. "Sir, Near is not well. He has asked that you come and get him."



"Oh." Roger paused. "Oh dear. That complicates things rather. Not well?"



"He is..." Rester wondered how he could say this diplomatically, when none of them were quite sure who this man was. "If he has a home to go to, then a few days there might be beneficial."



"I see." Roger replied in the tone of one who didn\'t see at all. "It is rather irregular. Might I not speak with him?"



Rester grit his teeth. "Sir, Near has said only seven words today and those words were, \'tell Roger to come and get me.\'"



"But what should I do about his peer? Can you not tell him that Mairoo is acting outside procedures and taking some matters into his own hands?"



Gevanni rolled his eyes and walked away back to his own work station. Lidner just bowed her head, leaning against the desk and staring at her shoes. Rester kept his tone neutral. "Sir, I suggest that you do whatever you deem best. I will make arrangement for you to come to..."



"No." Roger interupted. "Might I prevail upon you to bring him to me? It is rather difficult for me to leave my post to travel. I will, of course, make your arrangements for you. We are in England, where are you?"



The conversation went in with the minutee of travel details, but Rester was eventually able to finish the call. Lidner immediately spoke up. "I\'m not at all satisfied with Near\'s security while he is in this place. That man sounded like a joke!"



Rester nodded. "I agree, but until we are stood down, Near is still our leader and therefore his orders must be obeyed."





VBWN Building, Kathmandu.



The siren sounded shrill throughout the building. Mairoo leapt back in his seat. He had been dosing, with his eyes heavy, in front of his laptop. Instantly aware now, he turned to survey the camera feeds. They confirmed what his lungs were already gasping to tell him. There was fire. The small team of Watari staff members were streaming through the corridors and out onto the street outside. Only one was dashing in his direction. As soon as Shyam was seen, he had already reached the door. "Mairoo! Fire! This way please."



Mairoo frowned. "Why has the sprinkler system not been activated?"



"I do not know, Sir." Shyam was wheezing, as the smoke curled along the corridor behind him. "Come now." He beckoned, though his watering eyes took in the files and equipment around the room. "Sir, come on now."



Mairoo pointed. "Close the door. The sprinklers have to be electronically operated, I\'ll..." Another thought occurred to him. "Oh shit, the coffins." He span around to stare at the monitors again. The basement was untouched, though smoke seeped in beneath the doors. The fire seemed largely confined to the first and second floors. He noted the trolleys. He had time. "Shyam, get out. Get everyone else out..."



"Mr Wammy would..."



"Mr Wammy is dead. I\'m in charge until L countermands my orders and L isn\'t here. Go!" Mairoo closed his laptop and slung it into a bag over his shoulder. The Nepalese man was standing uncertainly just inside the door. He crumpled into a coughing fit, as Mairoo glanced at him, then fell to his knees. Mairoo glanced out of the window. Outside the streets were filling with people racing to assist. They ultimately stood around, stopping each other as individuals made half-hearted attempts to rush inside. They were already in the way of the arriving fire brigade. Mairoo pulled a scarf from his bag and wrapped it around his mouth. Only then did he rush forward to pull the struggling Shyam to his feet. "I said go!" He propelled him towards the window, then opened it. The backdraft filled their room with more smoke, but they had been seen. Secure in the knowledge that Shyam would be rescued, Mairoo glanced with burning eyes back at the screens. The route he had ascertained was still relatively clear. He could make it.



The reality was not as his mind had anticipated. The smoke stung his eyes, rendering him blind and disorientated. Even through the scarf, his mouth tasted smoke and his lungs screamed their protest at the lack of oxygen. Mairoo dropped to his hands and knees, seeking clearer air nearer to the floor, but there was little to be had. He held his breath and plunged forward with his eyes closed. He could feel the heat, but couldn\'t see the source. Smoke filled his world and he felt so much weaker than he thought he would. Fight and flight took over. It still felt more like luck than judgement, when he collided with a door and felt it cold against his flailing hand. Right now, he just wanted to get out of there. Rescuing the corpses of childhood peers receded well behind survival as his motivation. It took him three attempts to pull down the doorhandle, but he managed it and collapsed thankfully into the clear air beyond. His legs kicked out to slam shut the door behind him.



Choking and coughing, though a raw throat, Mairoo tugged until the scarf fell to his neck. The air here wasn\'t nearly as good as he had believed. It was heated and thin, the oxygen being burned away by the fire raging in the rooms around him. Instinct and adrenaline raised him, scrambling to his feet again, gasping like a forty a day smoker as he ran for the stairs. He heard the crackling and the crash of unknown things succumbing to the flames. Mairoo made it to the ground floor, but the way ahead was blocked. He felt real fear now, penetrating through the chemicals flooding his veins. He knew that to panic was to die. There had to be a route out. There simply had to be.



"Come on, Genki. Come on." Mairoo spat through parched lips. He felt like there was no moisture left in his mouth. He could taste the acrid smoke. "Fucking Hell!" He pulled his laptop from his bag and opened it, his mind racing through the commands necessary to tap into the camera feeds. He tried, but they were dead. He understood. The flames had burnt through the router. The cameras were melted. He had no information. This Mairoo deduced in the same instant as he heard the doorway above finally surrender to the intense heat behind it. He was trapped and he was going to die. "No! Fucking no!" Calm, he had to keep calm. To panic was to die. He dropped the laptop and inspected the doors to his right and left. Both were too hot. Both were leaking smoke into this small oasis. "Fuck!"



The panic was rising. Mairoo kicked at the nearest door, then spluttered, fighting for breath as smoke tore at his lungs. The oxygen was being burned away. He knew that he would suffocate before the flames reached him. His whole body was in flight or fight, but his brilliant mind was closing down. He fell to his knees, seeking out the cooler, less contaminated air near to the floor. Watering eyes caught sight of the laptop. Its monitor showing the start menu flash up and the words \'command run\' appeared letter by letter in the prompt box. A window popped up, white writing on a black background. Like a calm second thought surfacing behind the terror, Mairoo reasoned it out. The heat had affected the laptop. All this was a short-circuiting. It was not going to help him survive. He was dying.



Letters appeared in the command box. The letters became words. Mairoo gasped for air, swiping at his eyes to read them. \'C > Take the right hand door. It is unlocked. There is time. Keep to the left. You can make it, Mairoo.\' Mairoo felt the world tunnelling down upon him. Despite the heat, there were goosebumps. His hair stood up on end all along his arms and down the back of his neck. Instantly, more words flashed up. \'TAKE\' is not recognized as an internal or external command, operable program or bath file.\' There was a loud crashing above, as something big gave way. Debris started to fall and the last thing that Mairoo saw, before his laptop was crushed was the final line, \'C > GO!!\'



Mairoo staggered up and out. The door gave way at the first try and he entered a room more filled with smoke than the one he\'d left. All instinct screamed to turn back. His mind was racing first primal, then rational; calm and chaotic in equal measure. He ran. He ran into the heat and the smoke, though neither logic nor survival pointed in that direction. He ran to the left and stayed left, the floorboards solid beneath his feet, and, when he faltered, he felt an icy band grip his arm and something thumped his back. Mairoo ran, vaguely aware that there was water on his face, saturating his clothes. His mind told him that the sprinklers could not be working. The drenching of his skin told him that they were. Then he was out, wracking, staggering and falling, onto the cool ground, grasping at the clean air, as stars filled his vision. Fire officers pulled him to safety.





Winchester, England



Roger looked up as the letters, Ma, filled his screen. He answered the soft beeping that accompanied it. "Mairoo."



"Roger." Mairoo rasped. "I lost Mello and Matt\'s bodies. They were completely consumed in the fire."



"So I understand." Roger templed his fingers, pushing them against his forehead. "Was that entirely necessary, Mairoo? You had a job to do and you deviated at several points. We have lost the Nepal headquarters and a letter was nearly killed in the process. No doubt L will want a full report explaining..."



"Roger, something happened out there." Even electronically altered, the emotion was stark in Mairoo\'s tone. Roger paused, blinking in surprise. Emotion was never shown lightly by the Japanese man. "The fire was caused by an electrical fault, but there had been a full maintenance check two days before. The black box log shows that the conditions which caused it were manually entered from within the building."



Roger swallowed hard. "Someone knows that Watari is based there. Investigate it, Mairoo. I\'m sure that\'s what L would say." The warden\'s gaze flickered to the door. In the house beyond, Near was hidden in his childhood room. There was no sight of the genius behind his nervous collapse. This was information that Mairoo did not need to know. "This is quite a disaster."



"You don\'t understand, Roger. We know who did it. That was recorded in the log too. Tell me, Roger, do you believe in ghosts? Because after yesterday, I do." Mairoo was actually sobbing. "I do." He gushed out a description of the instructions on his lap that had led him to safety. He told of the sprinklers working when their circuitry had burnt out. "But there was more, Roger! As I was running out, I wasn\'t going to make it. I was going under!" There were loud sniffs, as Mairoo attempted to regain composure. "Roger, Mello grabbed my arm. I felt him. I looked up. Mello had my arm and kept me running."



Roger blinked, staring at the white screen and its Old English font letters. "Hallucination brought on by adrenaline and oxygen starvation..."



"No!" Mairoo snapped. "Because the name in the log was Matt!"



"I think you\'d better come back to Wammy\'s House, Mairoo. I\'ll ask another of the letters to fly to Nepal and continue this investigation." Roger sighed, world weary. Three of his boys were dead and now, it seemed, two were stumbling into mental health issues. "Someone needs to re-establish the network in Nepal."



Mairoo uttered an electronic, wheezing half-laugh. "You believe what you want to, Roger. But ask yourself this, when have I ever submitted a report that was anything less that cold, hard fact? Mello and Matt\'s bodies are gone, but they are not. You will have your report and you will have your evidence tonight. I\'m going back to Japan."



Roger shook his head. "There are no more cases to answer in Japan."



"You haven\'t even asked how I am." Mairoo whispered. "I\'m going home for a bit. Sayonara."



"Mairoo!" Roger started, but the screen faded to black. He considered calling him back, but determined that it would solve nothing. He mused instead on what he had been told and wondered how much of it was true.