The impressive black Lincoln stretch limousine slowly came to a halt in front of the red carpet leading up to the Khushrenada mansion. Duo brushed a speck of dust from his suit. He didn’t care much for the impression he would make - he never cared much for anyone else’s opinion of him, unless it was the opinion of people who mattered to him. He pinned a flower on the lapel of his jacket, knowing that he looked absolutely stunning. His formfitting Armani tuxedo was black with velvet lapels and was combined with a dark red cummerbund and a black, silk shirt. The fabric of his tuxedo had been sprinkled modestly with a mist of silvery glitters, a detail that would catch everyone’s attention for sure. His long braid, shiny and glistening from the amount of expensive hair care products used, was tied off with a piece of the same fabric and color as his cummerbund.The tabloids were going to have a field day with the arrival of Duo Maxwell; he was finally going to be spotted at an event for the high society instead of drinking or partying in a shady night club.
He had been photographed a thousand times over, and featured in gossipy articles sneering at him for drinking himself almost into a delirium. God, but did I have lots to flee from, Duo thought to himself. After Solo’s death, he had fled archaeology and history, and had run right into bars, clubs and parties, as long as he could forget. The Romefeller Foundation Charity Ball was the most important society event tied to his field of interest. The majority of the guest list had been comprised of the most well-known key figures from national and international archaeology circles, together with top experts and professionals, professors and doctors, all known and recommended in their own line of work. To top it off, the Foundation had invited celebrities to get the money really rolling for charity purposes. Duo recognized most of the names and pursed his lips. Almost every one of them had visited the Maxwell Manor at least once, the famous and magnificent collection was an attraction to anyone interested in archaeology. Well, with Quatre Raberba Winner’s commission under his belt, it was time to announce that he was back in business - and no one, absolutely no one, fucked Duo Maxwell over, and certainly not for any dusty ol’ artifact.
The door of the car was opened for him and Duo got out. His eyes - still a little sensitive from the incident with the tear gas, but the swelling was down - were protected by a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses as dozens of flash lights went off. A woman from national television almost broke the heel of her shoe in her hurry to get to him and to be the first one to ask him why he was here at the Romefeller Foundation Charity Ball - wasn’t this the first time ever that he attended?
Duo showed the woman a brilliant smile, glad that the sunglasses hid his eyes. Khushrenada hadn’t cut back on media attention; it was more or less expected he would invite the press to get as much publicity as possible, all in the name of charity. Duo refrained from snorting and started to walk over the carpet, taking his time as he talked to several journalists and posed for some pictures, knowing that the large part of the attention went to his distinctive braid.
Showing off his brilliant smile and vaguely answering any question that got too personal, he made his way over to the entrance. Two bodyguard-like butlers were waiting at the large doors for him to hand over his invitation. Hillary had been right; the invitation had come the next morning. The first thing that Duo had done however, was to call Quatre and tell him everything what had happened at the office.
The CEO had been appalled. He had already received the news about a ‘disturbance’, but had no idea about the tear gas, let alone Duo being knocked out. It took Duo quite some time to explain that everything had gone according to plan - until the Chinese young man had popped up out of nowhere.
“I have no idea who he is, yet,” Duo told Quatre, glad that he wasn’t talking to him face-to-face. The CEO sounded quite irate, despite his secret help. He had expected Duo to have the first part of the Never-Ending Circle, not other, mysterious people rummaging through his building. “I don’t know if he’s responsible for the tear gas, and his babble about the Never-Ending Circle belonging to his clan certainly came as a surprise to me.”
“A clan, you say? Well, I’ll certainly have Trowa look through our personnel files and maybe we can come up with a name.” Quatre was even moreso baffled by the switched safe. “I really don’t know what happened to it.”
Duo had grinned on the phone, noticing how Trowa was upgraded from “Mister Barton” to “my associate” to “Trowa”. While they were talking, Duo uploaded the scanned picture from the newspaper and e-mailed it to Quatre’s secure, personal e-mail address. If the CEO could help him identify the mysterious Chinese, the better.
“Do you know who could’ve replaced the safe?” Duo regretted that he hadn’t taken a picture of it; now he only had a general description to work with. Quatre didn’t have the answer to the question.
“Lucrezia Noin is the secretary of that particular branch. I’ll talk to her about it, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
The conversation had been brief and Duo hadn’t heard from Quatre since; as he’d been busying himself with the preparations for the charity ball, he expected the CEO to be busy covering up all leads and inquiries about the ‘disturbance’. Of course Quatre couldn’t risk being discovered at encouraging Duo to break into his own offices just to get a hold on the contents of a safe… a safe that had been replaced, and had been the target of that strange Chinese warrior.
Duo left it to Hilde and Howard to work on the case as he’d instructed them to. Hillary had been pleased by Duo’s plan to attend the ball, and had worked hard to get him to look at his very best for the event. Duo had teased him by dressing up in his ‘party gear’ on purpose - tight leather jeans, mesh shirts, torn shirts, shirts with prints on them that made the loyal butler almost faint - and after being exposed to a few more horrible shirts, Hillary had ordered Duo to get into the Armani tuxedo he just had tailor-made. At first, Duo had frowned, the black fabric and cut reminding him painfully of the suit he’d worn at Solo’s funeral.
After an excruciating discussion, Duo had finally conceded. He’d put on the suit and rolled his eyes as he forced his feet into polished shoes, almost blinded by the shiny coating. His eyes had been treated with camomile and special eye drops. Hillary had made sure he followed doctor’s orders and stressed the need to be careful with his vision. Albeit grumbling, Duo knew his butler knew best and took his prescribed hours of rest, even though it bothered him.
After showing his personal invitation, one of the bodyguard-butlers reached for the brass handle of the door and opened it for him. Duo, naturally impatient, was getting fed up with the ooh-ing and aah-ing of the press and photographers, and hopped inside.
It felt like travelling back in time. Most visitors of this mansion experienced the same feeling, as the perfectly replicated Victorian interior left nothing to the imagination. Everything was carefully decorated with amazing attention to detail; from tapestry to the carved panelling, the chandeliers and the paintings on the wall. The dress code for the event had been Victorian too, but Duo hadn’t completely honored it. He wasn’t fancying wigs or the pompous frills that came with the Victorian dressing style; the silver decoration on his tuxedo was more than festive enough decoration to him. Duo entered the large ball room, following the music. Most men were wearing modern tuxedos, ridiculously overpriced, and with a flower pinned to their lapel. He spotted quickly a few males who had complied with the dress code; their dandy outfits were very fitting for the era, rich in detail and probably uncomfortable to wear. The women however, especially the female celebrities, had gone to great lengths. The dresses were eccentric in color and style, and not a dime had been spared to outclass the other. With one small glance, Duo had already counted up to five million pounds worth of jewellery, worn by several ladies in their hair, or around their necks, wrists or fingers.
“What pompous shit,” Duo muttered under his breath, while stuffing his Ray Ban into a small pocket.
“Champagne, sir?” The waiter next to him materialized out of nowhere, holding up a brass tray with the champagne flutes. He was dressed in a simple uniform, wearing a powdered wig; he was probably sweating like a pig, but he did a good job of not showing any discomfort.
“Thank you,” Duo answered a little snottily and took a flute from the tray. He half expected heralds prancing around to announce the name of every guest arriving, but nobody looked up when he mingled himself with the crowd.
The ball room was huge and stunning, with the same attention for details like the rest of the mansion. Duo wandered around, sipping his champagne, admiring the decorations and the architecture. The ceiling was supported by marble arches at least twenty feet high. It was absolutely breathtaking and Hilde hadn’t exaggerated when she had described it to him, pulling the information from articles on Khushrenada. In a prior interview the man had admitted he owned this mansion - an estate like this, in the middle of the city, was worth a fortune. It wasn’t as large as Maxwell Manor, but still... Duo knew from experience how much it took to keep up with such an estate, and not only the financial part.
Keeping an eye on the crowd, Duo was subconsciously searching for the Chinese warrior. He wasn’t really sure if he’d show up. Amusedly, he nodded here and there and waved a few times. There were so many people, it was easy to play hide and seek. Khushrenada himself wouldn’t make an entry until midnight; at that hour, he would announce the total of the money raised for charity. Until then, the orchestra would entertain the masses, playing a waltz – Tchaikovsky, his classical trained mind provided - and people were either on the large dance floor, at the overloaded buffets, or simply holding conversations with each other, networking their way around.
Duo recognized a lot of people; he noticed the familiar faces of those who’d been at the mansion before, who’d been close to the family or to his father. Maxwell Manor had been an open house to anyone; it had all fallen apart after the deaths in the family. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he knew the main reason why people were so hesitant in approaching him. He wasn’t anything like Maxwell Sr., and he had chosen to close himself off from visitors and friends after Solo’s death. Solo dying and Heero leaving him had been too hard for him to take - the tough Duo Maxwell, the kick-ass, bad-ass Duo Maxwell, had been bawling like a baby in the year when his whole world had crashed down on him.
He ignored the curious stares as much as possible; he heard the whispered rumors, he saw the looks people were throwing at him. No doubt they were puzzled about why he was here at this year’s well-organized charity ball instead of some kind of rave. It was no secret that Duo preferred clubs or bars over high socienty events like this.
Sipping of his excellent – and obviously expensive - champagne, Duo played innocent and returned friendly greetings to people, mentally attaching their names to their faces. He decided not to approach any of them yet; even though he could always use more information on Khushrenada, he wasn’t here to ruffle any feathers…yet. Very little was known about Khushrenada; Hilde had tracked down a few interviews and a photo shoot, and from Winner Sr.’s notes - he was gushing over the man’s diligence and his tight grip on the strict excavation schedule - Duo didn’t have much to work with personality wise. Khushrenada was known in the archaeological crowd for his less-than-traditional methods, but what about the man in person? If he was ever going to find out where the staff of the Never-Ending Circle was, Duo probably had to tie Khushrenada down and torture the answers out of him. If only he could find the Chinese warrior and confront him…
“When did you accept the invitation?”
His body immediately stiffened. A cold, clammy hand seemed to wrap itself around his throat. Duo pursed his lips, temporarily lost for words when he heard the voice. That voice. He should’ve known, of course, but he had hoped to avoid him…after all, the mansion was large enough…Duo turned around, slowly.
“Since yesterday, actually,” he said, turning up the snotty tone in his voice as his eyes raked over his ex-boyfriend and…settled on the hand he was holding with…a woman.
“Duo, allow me to introduce you to Relena Darlian Peacecraft…Relena, this is Duo Maxwell, curator of the internationally renowned and famous Maxwell collection and estate.”
“It’s an honor,” the woman said, her voice pretty and soothingly. She extended her hand, wrapped in a perfect white, satin glove, a small golden band with sapphires adorning her ring finger. Duo took her hand gently and pressed a gallant kiss to it - no need to act as a brute in presence of his ex.
“I’ve read about the extent of your collection, Mister Maxwell,” Relena said, smiling at him. “Your work is a valuable asset to the world’s archaeological past. It’s good to know that there are still people caring so much for history, wanting to teach our children about how our ancestors lived and worked. We could all use your example to learn and to appreciate the wonders of the modern days.”
“I take it Treize Khushrenada cares for the world’s archaeological past as well.” Duo returned the smile, nodding pleasantly at her and estimating her tiara and the rest of the jewellery she was wearing at almost half a million. Now he knew the reason why Heero was with her. He made for a good bodyguard.
She laughed softly, as if he’d told her a good joke. “Mister Khushrenada values history, but mostly its exterior,” she said. “This,” she made a wide gesture with her hand, “is all decoration to bring history to life. Not many value the real meaning behind it, or are risking their lives to bring history alive again. Considering that, my condolences still, Mister Maxwell.”
His voice turned cold. “Thank you,” he said curtly, turning his attention to Heero. He looked as handsome as ever in his suit, almost a mirror image of Duo’s - black and with an Italian cut, the lapels velvet and smooth, the flower firmly pinned to it. What was he doing at the hand of Relena Darlian Peacecraft?
The daughter of the vice minister of Foreign Affairs barely needed any introduction. She matched perfectly with Heero’s suit, her dress not completely Victorian, but exclusive and more than beautiful, the rich fabric stressing her strongest features. Her long hair was braided and carefully positioned around her head to form a crown, topped off with an exclusive tiara heavy with emeralds, the green stones sparkling in the light of the many chandeliers. He couldn’t place the sea green sash she was wearing, a silver seven-pointed star with another emerald holding it in place on her hip. The Darlian Peacecraft family was widely known and admired for their skills in politics and diplomacy, and their roots went back to very ancient royalty, even though Duo wasn’t exactly aware from what monarchy. This family held many positions in national and international government, advocating pacifism and global disarmament. Not everyone was happy with this rather influential family; sadly, Relena’s father, the very first minister of Foreign Affairs who had achieved many peace treaties, had been assassinated a few years ago.
She had to be here because of the charity she endorsed, but why was she holding Heero’s hand? Good friends or more? The Queen of the World - as many people had named her - was unmarried, and a beautiful young woman to boot. Was Heero her lover? After all that he had been through with Duo? He had to forcefully suppress his jealousy, conveniently ignoring the raw fact that if Heero had been Relena’s lover, he wouldn’t have shown it as openly as he was doing now. Press and photographers were swarming all over the place, and any possible love interests of the Queen of the World would make headlines…and he knew Heero to not be open about anything in a public place.
“So nice to see you again,” Duo said to Heero, unable to keep the cold tone out of his voice. He reminded himself to stay calm - he had a commission to think of, not to rehash unsolved issues between him and his ex-boyfriend.
“I didn’t expect you here,” Heero murmured. “You’re looking good. Very good.”
“Thank you,” Duo said, and left it at that. A painful silence fell. Relena looked a little quizzically from one to the other, before trying to strike up a polite conversation again.
“That’s right - Heero told me everything about you and him working together. You’ve been on such wonderful expeditions together, uncovering so many artifacts!”
“Ma’am, it’s not all butterflies and roses,” Duo retorted, “but more like stinking in your clothes because there aren’t showers available. You’re basically just trying to survive. We were often in the middle of jungles or deep into the mountains - dangerous environments without any comfort or luxury, and despite the few good discoveries we made, there were a lot of missions lost or unfruitful because of set-backs or simple bad luck.”
Relena tilted her head a little, the warm smile still gracing her lips, her silver earrings - also adorned with emeralds - dangling with every movement. The way she was holding Heero’s hand and her envelope purse with the other, she was the epitome of the perfect princess, or rather the Queen of the ball.
“I think it’s rather fascinating, Mister Maxwell. Have you ever considered writing a book, chronicling your travels?”
“I lost interest after my brother died,” Duo replied brusquely. Relena could be genuinely interested, but he didn’t care. This was exactly the reason why he didn’t attend events like this; it all felt like a huge charade to him. It was a façade; this decoration, these clothes - he preferred action, to be outside and discover the world by himself, instead of holed up with Queens and professors who had no idea how real life worked. This fake world was why he had kept his distance, away from everyone, and visiting nameless clubs and bars, drinking to forget, even if he could only forget for a moment. The Queen of the World was talking to him and she very well could’ve recited her shopping list. He had never cared for it - Solo neither, Heero neither. They had been a trinity: Solo did the planning and made all the preparations; Heero was in charge of anything computers, electronical and practical matters; and he, Duo, was the expert on guns and adventures in itself. It had been a mistake to get back into the business again, thinking he could do it on his own…everything and everyone reminded him of Solo and his useless death. He should’ve stayed home at the manor and continued living like a hermit. He could spend his time as the curator of the collection, amidst archaic uniforms and dusty artifacts, and leave the exploring and adventuring to someone else. And probably go mad from loneliness or something.
“My apologies,” the young woman muttered, her eyes seeking out Heero’s, a little helpless.
He made a soothing motion towards her and said: “Solo Maxwell’s death was a great tragedy to us all.”
“So great that you couldn’t even make it to show up on his funeral,” Duo spat, and he turned around to leave before he would get himself into a fight.
He vaguely noticed Heero reaching for him, trying to stop him, but he brushed him off - he wasn’t interested in creating a scene, and he had a commission to finish. Retrieving the Never-Ending Circle was the first and last commission he would do on his own. He had felt sorry for Quatre, and allowed compassion for his obligations towards his family and father to rule his own decisions.
Feeling rather miserable, Duo made his way through the crowd, swaying from left to right as not to bump into anyone. Why the hell did Heero have to be here, and why did he have to cause such a flood of emotions? You’ve dealt with this before. It’s over between you and him. You cried over it, and now you’re only wallowing in self-pity again. Do you really think your brother would want you to see crying again? Get your act together, Maxwell. This is the right moment, the perfect opportunity to get back into business. You’re not the kind of person to sit behind a desk and sift tediously through paperwork every day. You can prove you can do this on your own - maybe it’s painful in the beginning, but your victory will be all the sweeter when you pull it off on your own. You know you can do this. No matter how much you want Heero by your side, this commission is the perfect opportunity to show that you’re back in business, and that’s final!
Duo grimaced and wondered why his own conscious was so stubborn and repetetive, but he grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray and almost downed it in one big gulp before he realized what he was doing.
“Keep your head clear, Maxwell,” he mentally chastised himself and put the flute away. He had always been so good at keeping up his mask - why did it always break so easily when Heero was around?
Because he had confided in him, because he had trusted him…because I thought we were going to be together forever. Duo heaved a deep sigh before collecting his bearings and he turned around again, facing the people caught up in their activities - dancing, eating, drinking, talking… He had come to this charity ball for a reason and he’d better make use of the moment. It was his own fault anyway - he should’ve known Heero would be here. And with the Queen of the World, no less. Duo checked his watch. It was getting close to midnight, and people were getting excited, the buzz of Khushrenada’s arrival growing stronger with every passing second. Just another fifteen minutes and the man would appear, his own greatest guest.
At the exact hour of midnight, it was typically Khushrenada to use the special moment out of fairy tales, it would be announced how much money had been raised for charity. Every eye would be focused on Treize Khushrenada and his cronies, and not on Duo Maxwell. He wouldn’t be missed…not at all. A large balcony overshadowed the ball room. The grand stairs leading towards it, was exactly the spot where Khushrenada would make his appearance; the man knew dramatics.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Moving towards the back of the ball room, Duo used the large shadows casted by the marble pillars to disappear from sight. The closer it was getting to midnight, the more excited the guests became, and people were moving forward to gather around the balcony, awaiting their host’s arrival.
The lights were dimmed and the live orchestra stopped playing, only to assume a tension-increasing drumroll. Duo snorted, but used the brief moment when the lights were dimmed, to exit the ball room, slipping past the guards without getting noticed. He didn’t have his headset, his guns or his trusty backup of either Hilde or Howard this time; Duo had gone to the ball to gather information on Khushrenada and to find the Chinese warrior if he was really lucky. Finding the Never-Ending Circle in this mansion would be a bonus.
Duo had hidden blades upon his body to defend himself just in case; this was a recon mission, not a ‘get into a fight’ mission. Snooping around, not fighting. He firmly put every thought of Heero out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. He mentally checked the layout of the estate he had memorized. Personal quarters and offices were located at the first floor, roughly above the ball room. The staircases were at the end of both the north and the south wing; his best chance was to find the small, hidden staircase - for discreet use by personnel only - to get to the first floor. Duo passed the many doors in the hallway, using the dim lights to his advantage; he assumed Khushrenada had a closed video circuit system set up and he didn’t want to be caught on tape. He was going to need all his proficiency in stealth.
At the end of the hallway he could choose between going left or right; the small corridor to the left went to the garage and other quarters that weren’t of any interest to him. The corridor to the right connected the large wings of the mansion with each other, and would lead him to the staircase and the rooms on the first floor. Confident, Duo went to the right and found the stairs, carpeted thinly and showing signs of intense use. He was glad he wasn’t wearing his steel-toed boots; they would’ve made an awful noise on the worn and creaky wood. He went upstairs, stealthily, concentrated on his environment and any noises. Hilde had found out that Khushrenada used this estate as his personal residence when he was in the country, receiving guests, but when he was out in the field, he stayed at the most luxurious hotels. It had boggled Duo’s mind why Khushrenada was working in the first place - the man obviously had more than enough money to lead a comfortable, easy life. He might just be someone fascinated by archaeology and simply playing around in the field, just like Winner Sr.. What was his interest for the Never-Ending Circle exactly, and, if the Chinese guy worked for him, what was the connection between them?
A picture wasn’t enough evidence to tie the Chinese to Khushrenada – they were photographed together, but that was really all there was to it. It didn’t have to necessarily mean they knew each other. It was a complete mystery to Duo why Khushrenada had been working for a man like Winner Sr.. His theory was that Khushrenada had only took the position as to obtain the artifact for himself. What does he want with the instrument of a God of Death?
Another small corridor, connecting the servant quarters to a second kitchen. He could hear people bustling about: something clattered on the floor, it sounded like someone dropping the lid of a pan, followed by a string of curses. Dinnerware and glasses, and the scent of delicious food - reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything yet, his stomach growling as to get the point across - Duo had wondered why the previous owners or the architects of this mansion had decided to build a kitchen on the first floor when there was already one on the ground floor. Maybe it was for personnel only; but Duo wasn’t here to ponder about architecture. The doors to the kitchen were closed, just like every door of the servant quarters. No one was in sight, he could just hear them talk and move behind the doors, obviously busy. They were working instead of waltzing under a chandelier in a fancy decorated ball room.
He had memorized the location of Khushrenada’s private quarters. Even though he wouldn’t be missed at the ball, he couldn’t spend all his time snooping around here. If he got caught, he couldn’t hide behind the excuse that he had been looking for the bar either. Duo had a rapid tongue and a smooth talk, but he doubted he could talk his way out of this if someone were to find him way up here. As he moved along, he had to go around corners, go up another staircase and walk down another long corridor, before he found the quarters belonging to Khushrenada. Despite being on another floor, Duo could hear a thunderous applause. Apparently, the man had made his grand entrance - good, as long as everyone was occupied with the charity and Khushrenada, no one would think of going after Duo Maxwell.
Of course his office was locked. It didn’t pose much of a problem to Duo, who used one of his blades to slip it between the door and its post, lifting the lock easily. He had at least expected some nifty, ingenious or electronical alarm; apparently Khushrenada didn’t think he needed proper security for his own office. It was suspicious, and Duo moved very carefully, checking for laser traps, cameras, anything out of place. Turning on his flash light that was no thicker than a common fountain pen, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the luxurious and lavishly decorations and furniture. Campbell Grant could learn something from the master; this was by far outshining his office at the W.E.I. branch. Every piece of furniture was an exclusive, hand-made product and it smelled like it had been recently unwrapped out of plastic, straight from the maker. Either that, or Khushrenada wasn’t here often enough to give his office a personal touch. The huge desk in the middle immediately caught Duo’s attention; he noticed a laptop still running, the screen faintly glowing. Next to it was a stack of papers, neatly bundled together. Two pens - Parkers, of course, engraved with Khushrenada’s name - lied in the exact center between the laptop and the stack of papers.
Duo hopped behind the desk, eyes darting around to see if there was something of use to him. If he could only find a clue, one little bit of information on the Never-Ending Circle, on the Chinese warrior, a connection…his hand went to the stack of papers, but there was nothing in it that he could use. Letters of people inquiring for commissions, appraisals, money, a little bit of attention. Nothing on the artifact, and nothing in Chinese. With a sigh, he turned his attention towards the laptop. The cursor from the word processing program was blinking. Khushrenada was either sloppy or had left in a hurry; Duo leaned forward to read the text the man had typed, briefly wondering why the prodigy child of the Romefeller Foundation didn’t have a secretary to write his letters.
The sound of a gun being cocked to his head didn’t really surprise him. Duo didn’t even look up. There was only one person in the world capable of being this stealthy and walk up to him without a sound, and holding a gun to his head to boot.
“Christ, Heero, you’ve got to stop pointing guns at people,” Duo said, annoyed. “Especially if they’re your ex-boyfriend.”
“An ex-boyfriend with a very sneaky attitude,” Heero said, not moving the gun away. “What are you doing here? This is Khushrenada’s office.”
“Thank you for pointing that out to me,” Duo answered. “I really didn’t know. To answer your question: I’m just snooping around. And you? Are you his bodyguard, or are you looking for something as well?”
“I’m not looking for something,” Heero said, “you already got the commission.”
“Don’t tell me you envy me as a competitive professional,” Duo answered airily.
“I’m not envying you, Duo. Just answer the question.”
“I already told you, I’m just snooping around.”
“That’s not an answer, Duo. You know what I mean. Khushrenada doesn’t appreciate people snooping around. I thought you had more class than that.”
“What do you know?” Duo snorted. “You have no right to say you thought you knew something about me. You lost that right about two years ago.”
“Quit it, Duo,” Heero said, annoyance audible, but he withdrew his gun.
“Look pal, you fucked up and fucked up big time. Duo Maxwell doesn’t like to be screwed over,” he said, cheeks heated with anger. “You work for Khushrenada, right? You…”
“He hired me for the same reason Winner hired you.”
The same reason? Duo was dumbfounded for a moment. Khushrenada wouldn’t hire him to restore his father’s name. It’s only about the artifact and what it does.
“So…I guess it’s a race between us then, eh?” Duo said, a grin returning full force. “I never thought of that.” It wasn’t very uncommon to commission multiple people for one and the same artifact; Duo, when together with his brother and Heero, had raced other teams for a discovery.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Heero said, his voice heavy with the warning. “This is too much for one person alone, Duo.”
“Do tell me,” Duo answered.
“What were you planning to do with Winner’s data?”
“What else but heating my fireplace with it?”
“Quit it. You had Winner’s data. What were you planning to do with it?”
“I had it, yeah, and you know very well what I was planning to do with it if I still had it. Now that you’re here and followed me into this room to put a fucking gun to my head has showed me that you know exactly what I was planning to do.”
“Duo,” Heero said softly.
Duo couldn’t resist for long anyway. He lowered his eyes, unable to glare back. This was Heero, not an enemy. As much as he told it himself, Heero was not the enemy. His voice took on the same, soft tone.
“Why are you after the artifact, Heero?”
“The same reason as you are - I was commissioned.”
“But why? Khushrenada was commissioned by Winner Sr., and now he commissions you? To complete the Never-Ending Circle? Why are you working for Khushrenada? For the money?”
Heero cringed. “It’s not like that, Duo. I made mistakes…”
“Why don’t you go back to your perfect little doll?”
“Relena Darlian Peacecraft isn’t a damsel in distress…”
“I thought she was, as tigthly as she was holding your hand.”
“You’re pushing too hard,” Heero gritted his teeth. “There’s no need for all of this…”
“Fuck off, Heero Yuy,” Duo hissed. “I don’t need you. I needed you once, but you didn’t pull through - worse, you chose the worse time of my whole life to abandon me! And…”
“A lover’s quarrel? How…sweet,” a rich, dark voice spoke out loud in the office. Both Duo and Heero snapped their heads to the right as Treize Khushrenada, accompanied by his usual entourage, entered the large room. “Gentlemen, you made enough noise to be heard on the other side of the ocean.”
“Good evening to you too,” Duo answered. “You have a nice ball.”
“My pleasure,” the man answered. “I was hoping you’d come this year.”
Duo narrowed his eyes, counting silently how many men were in the room by now. Zechs Merquise, silent as ever, was standing next to Khushrenada. His position was unclear to Duo, but he knew Merquise had been Khushrenada’s friend and ally for as long as they knew each other; and the gun holster on his hip was more than obvious. The others, nameless goons dressed in a ridiculous uniform that couldn’t be tracked down to any historical era, were standing up straight like a personal army, ready to draw a gun and fire when necessary. There was no sign of the Chinese warrior.
“It’s good to see you, Duo Maxwell. The archaeological world is so boring without your dazzling presence. You don’t know how much I rejoiced when I heard that you took up your…active participation in expeditions and commissions again. How good of you.”
“Wouldn’t you know,” Duo said. “What’s the kind of game you’re playing here, Khushrenada?” He turned the laptop around, showing the half-finished letter in the word processing program. “A letter offering your services as chief supervisor of an archaeological dig in Vilcabamba, Peru? I especially like your references to the Winner excavation and your excellent expertise in fieldwork. What’s the problem, man? Can’t find something you want, or don’t want to spend any money on it yourself?”
“Mister Maxwell, do I look like the type who needs to cut back on spending?” Khushrenada snorted disdainfully. “I have enough funds at my hands, liquid funds, not old money rotting away in some dusty collection. My offer for the samurai uniforms still stands, by the way.”
“Despite the dust?” Duo inquired.
“Despite the dust.” The man had the guts to smile. “After all, I have the best tailors and craftsmen who exactly know how to preserve that kind of fabric.”
“You should’ve asked them to preserve the kind of fabric you’re wearing as well,” Duo said dryly, his eyes raking over Khushrenada’s extravagant costume.
“Armani looks very good on you, Mister Maxwell. Don’t make me want to ruin it.”
Duo remained silent, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He stood straight up, his eyes blazing fiercely and his mouth a tight line - he wasn’t afraid, though the situation was starting to get ugly. Never show them your fear or worries. Always act like you have the upper hand. His eyes darted back to Khushrenada. Merquise could be a little trigger-happy, and the other goons looked about ready to draw and fire even without the command of their boss.
He obviously had to get out of here. No one in the room was on his side - he didn’t consider Heero - and he didn’t have his usual backup or support. His speed and accurate aim with knives wouldn’t help him much when facing ten people with guns. Heero had been silent, strangely so - he almost seemed meek in the presence of Khushrenada. Duo felt his blood starting to boil, but strangely enough his anger wasn’t entirely focused on Heero. He was not his enemy, Khushrenada and his mysterious Chinese friend was; and he had to stay calm and composed.
“What’s your deal with the Never-Ending Circle?” he bluntly asked. Khushrenada showed a mock-hurt expression.
“You talk as if I’m planning to do evil, bad things with it,” he said. “I’m just a collector, like you…and I’ve always fancied the rarest and strangest of artifacts.”
“Let me get this straight. You simply worked for Winner because he financed and organized the expedition, right? It saved you a lot of trouble, with someone else doing all the research for you. All you had to do was to supervise some work and collect the artifact at the right moment, taking all the credit for it. You abused the man’s naivety to make yourself look better.”
“Winner was a good man, but stupid,” Khushranada agreed, staring at his nails as if they fascinated him. “He was blindly pumping money into his unrealistic dream of restoring his name and credibility by trying to find a nearly impossible to find object.”
“Nearly impossible, but not impossible. With his help, you did find the staff.”
“Which you stole from the Winner vault.”
“I retrieved it by request, and it was stolen from me. You have fooled the father, but you can’t fool the son. He wants his father’s name restored…”
“How noble and utterly pointless.”
“…as he believed Winner Sr.. was murdered for his discovery.”
Silence fell. Even Khushrenada was speechless, and it took him a precious minute before he turned his lips into a cruel smile, immediately followed by boisterous laughter.
“Murdered? He should’ve called the police instead of commissioning you to find the rest of the artifact, Mister Maxwell. I’m sure an autopsy will rule out any unnatural cause of death, if all this suspicion about murder is true. There wasn’t much lost with him.”
“His son believes he was murdered for the artifact, Khushrenada. What happened? Afraid that a stupid, bumbling semi-archaeologist would succeed where you couldn’t, despite all your money and your fame? You didn’t want him to run off with the honor and credit of finding one of the world’s most mysterious and mythical artifacts, believed to give its wielder the power over life and death?”
He shook his head. “You are off by a long shot, Mister Maxwell. Winner wasn’t a friend of mine, he was my employer. He was the founder of the expedition and hired me as supervisor to retrieve the artifact. We were grateful for his extensive research, as we didn’t know exactly where to look for it. We were extremely lucky to find the first part and with his death, the expedition was ended, called off, finished. Do you really think I would murder the hand that fed me, especially when Winner was working and researching on finding the second half? I’m merely…expanding my horizon, following my own way as I continue to look for the Never-Ending Circle. I’ll readily admit that the artifact is fascinating. It’s not a crime admitting that you want a certain object.”
“So you don’t shun any method of retrieving it, using Winner and his facilities shamelessly until his death, and then you go on to find someone else to rope into your plans.”
“I would call it ‘collaboration’,” the man answered, tone flat. “Such hostility, Mister Maxwell. You should’ve enjoyed some more champagne and maybe a little bit of dancing this evening, instead of snooping around.”
Duo shrugged. “What else do you expect when one’s attacked by katanas and tear gas? Applause?”
“Katanas and tear gas,” Khushrenada repeated, his voice still flat.
“Oh, so you mean that the Chinese guy isn’t working for you? This is a total surprise to you?”
“Don’t tell me our famous adventurer can’t handle a little setback,” Khushrenada suddenly sneered. “Everything goes in our business, Mister Maxwell, especially when it involves such a priceless artifact as the Never-Ending Circle. Don’t take it so personally.”
“Well, if everything really goes in our business, you shouldn’t be so upset over finding me snooping around here.”
“Touché,” Merquise said, the first thing Duo heard from him since he entered the room. He couldn’t help but grin. Khushrenada’s lack of response told him he didn’t mind the critique from the other man. Interesting.
“Touché, and between a rock and a hard place,” Khushrenada said, pursing his lips. Duo didn’t like the look on his face; as if he was scheming to kill him. Too many witnesses, and was Khushrenada really capable of murder? He wasn’t so sure of it. Quatre believed his father was murdered, and Duo had never stopped to think that Khushrenada might be the murderer - why would the man indeed kill him, as he was financing the expedition? However, he was starting to feel uncomfortable. Merquise’s expression was neutral, but his hand was close to the gun holster on his hip. The goons looked like they all needed a brain transplant, and Heero… Heero’s face was painfully neutral too.
Hilde, Howard and Hillary knew where he was. The Maxwell name was still a very important one, and his death would raise questions, no matter what. It was a creepy staring contest, with Merquise, Khushrenada and Heero staring at him, and Duo staring back. Were they gauging the consequences of his death? Were they contemplating killing him, right here, right now? Was Khushrenada really prepared to go all the way, and more importantly, was Heero going to allow him? Duo wanted to talk to Heero in private, without accusations, without…feeling guilty about how he treated him. It was easy to fling anger and accusations around without hearing the other side of the story…
“I suggest you go home right now, Mister Maxwell,” Khushrenada broke the silence, “and do not bother coming back, ever. You’re a serious mood killer.”
“I do the best I can,” Duo said, clenching his hands into fists as two of the largest goons approached him. He wasn’t about to go down without a fight, but these two outweighed him, not too mention they were twice his size. He could reach for his knives fast enough to give these guys a nasty surprise. A spark excitement ran through him when he saw Heero moving slightly, fingers at his guns - that was enough movement for Duo to know that Heero had his back, just like the old days.
However, the burly goons didn’t approach him for a fight. They took him brusquely by the arms, forcing him to walk, escorting him right out of the office. With a disappointed look on his face, Duo had no choice but to walk with them, both men poking him to keep moving. Grimacing, he was led all the way down, his companions not leaving his side for a second. This was a different way then he had come; he got dizzy from all the corridors, hallways, corners and stairs. Finally, one of the goons opened a large door and yanked at his arm to push him outside, all but throwing him out.
“Well yeah, fuck you too!” Duo snarled, staggering, flailing with his arms to keep his balance. The door closed behind him before he could add more expletives, and he huffed indignantly. Annoyed, he yanked the crumpled flower from his jacket, and threw it on the ground.
“Stupid fuckers!” He looked up and snorted. It was typically Khushrenada to have his goons thrown out any unwanted guests through the personnel entrance. He was going to have to walk all the way around the estate to get back to the large driveway with the red carpet. Heaving a sigh, he started walking. There was nothing else he could do right now and the night was cool and breezy - an excellent opportunity for him to clear his mind.
He arrived at the main entrance, still littered with the press, taking pictures of guests leaving. It was far past midnight and Duo wanted to go to bed. He wanted to think about everything but the Never-Ending Circle and Khushrenada.
“Your limousine will be right up, sir,” the head valet nodded at him, and Duo made sure to tip him well when the black Lincoln stretch drove up.
“How was your evening, sir?” The chauffeur said. Duo mumbled a non-committal reply, dropping on the backseat and stretching his legs. He wished for Howard, or even Hilde, to drive the car, but Hillary had insisted on this limo and chauffeur to make a good entrance. It was fine. He was going to be home real soon anyway.
Duo closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. He shifted on the backseat, almost dozing off in the tranquility of the car. It started to dawn him that the limousine was driving faster than usual - were they on a highway? They didn’t need to take any highway back to Maxwell Manor.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m sorry Mister Maxwell, but there’s this…idiot tailgating me,” the chauffeur answered. “I try to enlarge the distance between us, but he keeps coming back…”
Duo shifted around again, squinting his eyes at the bright lights shining into the rear window of the limo. Whoever was behind him, he was way too close…as the lights approached too fast and too bright, Duo subconsciously braced himself for the hit, cursing out loud when glass splintered all over him.
“What the hell!”
“I’m calling the police!” The chauffeur’s hand went to the car kit, thick fingers pressing the buttons. Duo had barely time to brace himself for another hit, and sparks flew around when metal hit metal at very high speed. The chauffeur yelped in fear, losing concentration for a moment and the vehicle veered to the right, almost driving off of the road.
“Fuck! Pay attention to the road! I’ll call the police!” Duo’s hand went inside his jacket, plucking out his cell phone. Thank whoever who made them this small, he thought bitterly as he tried to dial, his fingers cut from the glass. He stared through the open window, trying to make out the characteristics of the car hitting him. It was a van, black as the night itself, no license plate…and the limo was rammed from the left, the impact to great and unexpected that Duo lost his cell phone. He cursed loudly, grabbing wildly around to find his phone, only to cut himself more on the glass. The sound of roaring engines was deafening - there were two cars trying to get him off the road. He knew this road very well - in another few miles, it would meet up with a very rapidly flowing, very deep river. Duo could put one and one together just like anyone else. They were trying to drive him into the river.
Shit! Duo climbed forward, really wishing that Howard had been behind the wheel instead of the scared man. “Get yourself into the passenger’s seat! I’ll drive!” he bellowed. The chauffeur made panicked noises, and gripped the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.
“I…I…!”
“Go! Just fucking move!” Duo started to tug at the man, forcing him to move. He couldn’t blame the chauffeur; the car was hit again, metal slamming into metal, the sounds were horrible. It was scary, Duo was scared himself, but adrenaline had taken over. He knew how to drive - he wasn’t going to die in a car crash like this. He pushed and kicked, working the driver out of his seat. “Come on! We don’t have time for this!”
He slid onto the driver’s seat just as the car was bumped from the rear again, and Duo was thrown forward, hitting his head on the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
Hissing in pain, he finally settled himself behind the wheel as the chauffeur climbed into the passenger’s seat, bewilderedly. He wasn’t of much help, he was panicked and in shock - and if Duo didn’t do something fast, they would be pushed off of the road and plunge into an ice cold and deep river…fuck! Could this be Khushrenada’s work? Had he decided to want him dead after all, ruling over life and death even without his precious artifact?
Asshole...! He yanked at the wheel, gritting his teeth. They had him in a classical pincher movement; one car behind him, one car next to him, and a nasty curve with a river coming up pretty fast. Khushrenada wasn’t going to get his way!
“Buckle up!” Duo yelled, doing the same as he pushed his foot onto the gas pedal. The limousine bucked, not picking up on real speed - Duo groaned. How was he supposed to escape his pursuers with a sluggish car like this? Pursing his lips, he kept his eyes on the road, stealing a glance at the chauffeur who frantically buckled up, silently mouthing prayers.
“Relax,” Duo yelled at him, hearing the irony in his own, slightly panicked voice. “Keep your body relaxed!”
“We’re…” The man stuttered.
“Can you swim?” Duo yelled.
“Wh-what?”
“Can you swim?!” Even so, they wouldn’t survive going down the deep end of the river. If the crash of the car in the water didn’t kill them, they would surely die of hypothermia.
“I have a wife.. and kids!” The man blurted out. “We.. we’re…”
“We’re going to crash, but we’re not going to die,” Duo said, mentally slapping himself for his bad choice of words. The man stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and huddled into himself. The remaining window on his right shattered into a million pieces.
“What…?”
Gunshots. He heard it too! Duo steered more to the right, cursing mentally. Chasing and shooting - if this was Khushrenada’s doing, then he was thorough…and he was going to pay for this, the pompous moron. Duo solemnly swore to find the Never-Ending Circle and use the scythe on him - that was, if he managed to get out of here alive.
The screeching of metal on metal didn’t stop, and they were hit from behind again. Duo groaned as the safety belt cut in his skin. Every window was shattered now, glass spilling on every seat. He frantically pumped with his foot on the gas pedal; why wasn’t this a Mercedes, for crying out loud? Just another mile and his pursuers had every chance to drive him off the road!
“Hold on,” he said. He didn’t check up on the chauffeur if he had heard him, as he was too busy with the car and a final, mental prayer; this was a stretch limo, and with a little bit of luck, he could make use of it and get out of here alive… with a sudden tug on the steering wheel to the left, he forced the front of the limo against the car driving next to him. Hot sparks flew around, scorcing his skin whenever they touched him, the screeching sound was horrendous. Hold on. He took a huge gulp of breath before he slammed the brakes.
The van behind them totalled the back end of the stretch limousine, ripping off metal when the engine ploughed into the other car. Metal, fabric and wood from the interior of the limo crumpled like a piece of paper, glass flying around, the accompanying horrible sounds indescribable, and Duo didn’t realize how hard he was screaming himself until his voice gave out of him. The limo got into a spin, and despite his earlier advice to the chauffeur to keep his body relaxed, every muscle and every fiber of his body tensed up, preparing for another hit, preparing for another slam, preparing for…death, perhaps.
Finally, there was nothing more but silence.
The deployed airbag had saved his face from smacking right into the steering wheel. The force from the impact had yanked and twisted him around in his seat wildly and violently and Duo groaned, his muscles protesting and aching. His mind was racing. What happened to the other car and the van? There was still danger… he wasn’t safe yet. He quickly looked to the right, noticing the chauffeur. He was leaning into his airbag, unconscious. His arms dangled limply, body tightly strapped in, saved by his safety belt. A little blood was visible - he’d been cut by the glass flying all around, but at least he was breathing and not fatally wounded. Duo fumbled for one of his knives while his other hand undid his own belt.
Carefully, Duo managed to open the door, hissing once again when he stepped right into glass. He wasn’t wearing his usual combat boots - this would end up as a hole in his shoe, but he couldn’t care less. Duo walked to the car to the left, but the open doors were tell-tale signs. There was no one in it. He trembled, his body running on adrenaline, but the shock of the crash was getting to him. The knife in his hand wavered. He wasn’t able to defend himself, not like this. Groaning, he turned around and made his way over to the van.
It was abandoned. The airbag had deployed as well, and there was blood on the fabric. The driver had been cut loose; Duo touched the safety belt, neatly cut in two. There was nothing in the van at first sight; rental cars perhaps, with false names and fake ID for the paperwork. He punched the car seat. Damn it!
“Oh my God! Are you all right?” An elderly woman stood next to him, horror and shock written all over her face. “You young people and your darn thirst for speed! We saw it happen! I told Burt that you youngsters were driving way too fast!”
“Ma’am…” Duo started, but shivered violently the next second. The cool air had become freezing cold, and to make matters worse, it started to rain lightly. He managed to slip the knife back into its original position before the woman could notice it.
“We better not keep standing in the middle of the road,” an elderly man friendly said. Another car was approaching, its bright lights almost blinding Duo. “We have to warn the police and make sure that all traffic is properly handled.”
It was a busy road, even in the hours after midnight, and Duo was grateful that people were willing to help him. The driver of the second car, a young guy who had gone to the movies with his girlfriend, whipped out his cell phone to make the calls. Meekly, he stepped to the side, with the elderly couple talking about how they returned from visiting their grandchildren and how reckless and irresponsible today’s youth was… he allowed the words to wash over him. He was cold and tired, and desperately longed for a bath…and for Heero to be with him. In the middle of the night, after this horrible event, he wanted to be held and comforted as the adrenaline was wearing off, and realization was hitting him. They had tried to kill him. Cars and guns, to get him off the road, to make him plunge into the river and drown… he could hear the vast torrents of the river in the distance, and when he was given a blanket by the first cop to arrive on the scene, he gratefully latched onto its warmth.