Chapter Four

Goemon sat cross-legged on a rock beneath a pounding waterfall in the brisk late-February weather. The pond that surrounded the falls had not completely frozen over due to the constant moving water, but the edges of it where Fujiko stood were solid. She'd never understand how that man could do that to himself.

"You are disturbing my chi."

Apparently, Goemon had noticed her. She heard his voice clearly as it glided across the semi frozen pond.

"I am admiring my surroundings," Fujiko returned, calling across the pond. "I did not know that Toyoma Prefecture had such a lovely place hidden within its heart."

Goemon grunted.

"I have a proposition for you," Fujiko called to him after a moment's silence. "If you'll hear me out."

"Considering that you have robbed me of my current means of income," Goemon returned, "you will not begrudge me if I tell you to fuck off."

"No I won't begrudge you," she admitted with a sad sigh. "But if you're curious, meet with Jigen for dinner at the Toyoma Chitetsu Hotel at six. I promise I won't be there; I have dinner plans elsewhere."

Goemon grunted again and Fujiko took it that she was dismissed. She walked in the snow the same way she'd come, following her own footsteps. A warm car waited when she made it out of the woods and down the path to the park entrance.

"I am not sure," she said as she sat down in the back seat of the car, "but I should warn you that you may be having dinner alone tonight."

"Goemon didn't have open arms and kisses for you then, I take it," Jigen guessed as he pulled out into traffic to take them back to the hotel.

"He actually told me to fuck off," Fujiko chuckled. "I don't think he's uttered those words to a woman before."

"Right now I doubt he thinks of you as a woman," Jigen chuckled. "Probably closer akin to Satan or an Oni or whatever."

"Probably," Fujiko agreed. "Either way, if he doesn't show, we're leaving tonight on the eleven-ten to Moscow."

"Zenigata's got a lead?" Jigen surmised.

"He said that his contact in Cheboksary said if he values his life," Fujiko relayed, "that he'll never utter the name Pietrov Karakiev in mother Russia ever again."

"I'd say that's a lead," Jigen agreed. "Why Moscow?"

"No idea," Fujiko admitted. "But Jesus, why can't he live somewhere warm? Like South Africa?"

"You'll get your chance to ask, if you really want to," Jigen reminded her.

Yes, Fujiko would get that chance. Coming face to face with Gustav Grehol, alias Pietrov Nietta Karakiev, would provide her with that opportunity, but she couldn't fathom saying such nonchalant words to a monster like him. 'Die you bastard' and 'fuck you, you fucking fuck' sounded so much more appropriate.

"What time is Zenigata picking you up?" Jigen asked, recapturing her attention.

"Quarter to seven, I think," she replied. "I guess the banquet hall we're going to is only a few blocks away."

"You do realize you said yes to accompanying an ICPO officer to the retirement of his commissioner," Jigen pointed out. "And that place is going to be full of cops."

"Yes," Fujiko agreed. "But last time I walked into a police station Zenigata was the only one who recognized me. The ICPO is not what it used to be."

"True," Jigen conceded, parking their rental car in the garage underneath the Chitetsu Hotel. "Another sign of things coming to an end."

"Why did we have to get old, Jigen?" Fujiko asked rhetorically.

"Old?" he repeated, getting out of the car and opening her door. "You're not even thirty one. Toots, you can't call yourself old for another decade at least."

She laughed. "That's the nicest compliment you've ever given me."

"Better than 'I'd pay to hit that'?" Jigen returned. She kissed his cheek.

"Definitely," Fujiko told him as they entered the hotel.

.o0o.

At five to six, the figure of Goemon sat down across from Jigen. The two men were seated at a small table in the corner of the restaurant, one that afforded Jigen a view of the entire restaurant and part of the lobby that kept his back against the wall.

"Wasn't expecting you," Jigen admitted.

"The Oni intrigued me when she mentioned dinner with you," the other admitted. "The idea that you would even look at her again was absurd to me and I was determined to see if it were true."

"And?" Jigen prompted.

"I am astonished," he admitted.

"I'm pretty balls-out amazed myself," Jigen told him. "Especially that you had the audacity to come."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I called Goemon an hour ago and told him to come at seven," Jigen replied. "Funny, Goemon told me that I had just called a few minutes before to tell him the same thing."

The face of Goemon smirked. "And yet you still arrived for dinner at six. You knew I'd come."

"Of course," Jigen told Lupin. "I have known you for fifteen years."

"So tell me," Lupin segued. "Why are you here? With her?"

"Jealous?" Jigen taunted. The molding around Goemon's mouth never stopped smiling. "She asked me to come."

"I gathered that," Lupin nodded. "Why did you say yes?"

"Because I wanted to," Jigen told him. "I actually wanted to help that crazy psycho woman accomplish one of her absurd plans. That's why."

Lupin chuckled. "What's she paying you?"

"Nothing."

Lupin snorted. "Sure. Just a few fucks on the side and maybe a mil or two when this is over?"

It was Jigen's turn to snort. "No, nothing. I told you that I am here because I want to be."

The molding that was Goemon's face contorted into a frown. "Now I'm starting to wonder if you're the real Jigen."

Jigen laughed. "People can change, Lupin. I certainly did. I used to be one of ATLPD's finest and now I'm a world-class thief and expert marksman. Goemon used to attempt to take your life at least once a week and he's a thief now too. And that's just a few of the things that have changed since we met you. Can you fathom the ways you've changed since you met us?"

Lupin took a long time to answer. "Well, I'd like to think my aim's improved."

Jigen laughed again. "Marginally."

A waiter approached and asked if they wanted anything to drink.

"My taste in hotels is better?" Lupin offered, after the young man went to the bar to retrieve their drinks.

"Yeah," Jigen agreed. "But I'd wager any place is better than l'Hotel Britainia by a long shot."

Taboo subject matter. Lupin had tensed at its mention.

"Your selfishness has increased, too," Jigen provided, "since you met that woman. But your taste in valuables has also improved because of her."

"She always liked pretty things," Lupin sighed. "That woman'll be the death of me someday."

"Only if you're stupid enough to show your face to her again," Jigen supplied. He received a dark look. "Yeah, Fujiko told me what she said to you, and I don't doubt she was telling the truth. She can barely stand to say your name, let alone talk about you. I guess it just proves how much she really loves you."

"Loves?" Lupin scoffed. "She told me she'd shoot me in the heart."

"If it were me," Jigen replied, "I wouldn't have warned you. I'd have shot you where you stood. And probably emptied my gun just for good measure."

It was silent for a few minutes. The waiter came over and took their orders for dinner.

"Surprised you're eating," Lupin commented. "Aren't you having dinner with Goemon after this?"

"Goemon's dinner almost always consists of sake," Jigen shrugged. "I can do a second dinner of that."

"Not going to entertain your lady tonight?" Lupin guessed. "Fujiko won't be happy to be left all evening in a hotel room."

"She's going out," Jigen answered. "With Zenigata."

Lupin choked on the sip of bourbon he took. "Zenigata?"

"Accompanying him to the commissioner's retirement dinner," Jigen went on. "We should see her walking through the lobby in about fifteen minutes."

Lupin took another sip of bourbon. "Why on earth is she doing that?"

Jigen shrugged. "I'd tell you to ask her yourself, but that could get messy. Either way, it's none of your business anymore what she does."

The bourbon glass came down onto the table with a loud thunk. "It shouldn't be any of yours, either."

Jigen smiled, sipping his whiskey. "You are jealous. I'd say it's funny, but it's actually more pathetic than anything."

The waiter returning with two new glasses of booze cut off any reply Lupin wanted to make right away. When the waiter left, a gap of silence filled the air between them. After a few minutes, Jigen checked his watch.

"Should be any minute now," he commented, looking towards the lobby. Lupin looked too and sure enough, Fujiko walked by dressed quietly in a conservative red number and a shiny black wig. Lupin kept his eyes towards the lobby long after she'd passed, though.

"Are you done torturing me yet?" he asked, not turning back to Jigen. "Or do I have to endure some more before you'll tell me what's going on?"

"I not going to tell you anything," Jigen responded. "Period. You can leave now and skip dinner if you want, or you can stay since it looks like the food's on its way out now, but I'm still not going to tell you. It's not your business anymore."

Sure enough, their entrees came to the table and accosted them with the delicious scents of filet mignon, lobster, and veal. Lupin apparently decided to stay for dinner, since he waited for the server to leave and peeled away the Goemon façade.

"I have an idea of what she's doing," Lupin grumbled as he dipped his lobster into butter. "And it's dangerous. She shouldn't be doing it. I want to know if she is, and if you're helping her."

"What do you think she's doing?" Jigen asked, cutting into his steak.

"Going after the guys that kidnapped her," Lupin answered. "It's a death-trap if she does it. Those sons of bitches were the worst of the worst fifteen years ago. Now, they're positively wretched. She'd be the little lamb walking right up to the lion and begging for slaughter."

Jigen chuckled. "Okay. And what do you plan to do about it if she's doing this? Or if I am helping her? Do tell. Because you are pretty fucking entertaining right now, I'll tell you that."

"I'd stop her, plain and simple," Lupin replied. "She'll get herself killed if she does it. And if you're helping her, well, I guess we'd have to go at it again like we used to like the old days."

Jigen laughed. "Like the old days? When you were twenty and needed to prove yourself to the world and I was thirty-two and hell bent on to stay on top of it? We're not young anymore, Lupin. If we went after each other like that again, one of us would end up dead for sure. You ready to kill me or die trying over this bullshit? Over what that woman may or may not be doing?"

"Yep," Lupin answered, grinning. "Love makes you do funny things, don't it?"

Jigen smiled resignedly. "I guess it does. You sure you want to do this in the restaurant?"

Both Jigen and Lupin had a hand under the table, undoubtedly holding guns on one another.

"Pretty empty restaurant," Lupin pointed out, shrugging. "Few witnesses. And the ones that did see me will describe Goemon to the police."

"You're pretty confident," Jigen observed.

"You're not thirty-two anymore," Lupin returned.

A shot rang out and people in the restaurant screamed. A few ran out of the restaurant while the wait staff tried to calm other patrons. Someone was already on the phone with the police.

"And you're not the man I thought you were," Jigen stated, getting up from the table. "I don't know you anymore, Lupin. I'm starting to wonder if I ever did."

Lupin remained seated, still dressed in Goemon's clothes but hunched over the table slightly clutching his middle. "I've never lied about what I am."

"Except to her," Jigen pointed out. "You never told her you were there to rescue her. Can you imagine how different her life would have been if you had? She'd have grown up with her siblings. Been loved by her family. Watched her nieces and nephews be born."

"What do you know about it?" Lupin ground out. "What makes you such a fucking expert?"

"She talks in her sleep."

Lupin hissed and Jigen walked out of the restaurant, taking the elevator up to the hotel room. The doors to the lift were closing when the first Toyoma police officers stepped into the building. Checking his watch, Jigen saw that it was about five after seven. Well shit. He was late.

He swiped his key card in the door of his hotel room and went in, flipping on the light. Goemon, the real one, sat cross-legged on his couch, waiting. Jigen sat down in the chair across from him.

"I guess I should start off by telling you that I no longer associate myself with Lupin," Jigen started.

"And what is the occasion for such a change in your associations?" Goemon asked, lifting a saucer of sake to his lips. Apparently in the five minutes Jigen had left him to wait, Goemon had helped himself to the mini-bar.

"I just shot him in the gut down stairs in the restaurant," Jigen relayed. Goemon did not spew sake out his nose, but it did look like the samurai was having trouble swallowing.

"I can only hope that this is some sort of ridiculous prank," Goemon stated when he'd regained his composure. "Surely you did not lose your sanity and decide to throw yourself into the mercy of that lecherous devil-woman and attempt to kill a long-time ally."

"It's not a joke, Goemon," Jigen assured him. He got up from his chair and went over to his suitcase and pulled out an overfilled manila folder. Walking back to the seating area, Jigen dropped the folder onto the coffee table that separated the chairs and sat back down. Goemon eyed him with disbelief.

"I'm going to tell you the story of a girl named Francoise Julienne de Lucerne of Devereaux," Jigen informed him. "And then you're going to choose to go with us to Moscow, or go back to the park and sit naked under that frigid waterfall."

.o0o.

Lupin hid behind a dumpster in the alley behind the hotel. There were cops everywhere, looking for the person who had fired a gun within the restaurant but so far they had come up empty.

Of course they had. They'd be lucky if they even found a bullet.

Jigen must have still liked him, somewhere deep down in that marksman's heart. If not, Lupin wouldn't be sitting in the alley waiting for the cops to disperse with just a clean entry and exit wound. He'd be face-down dead in his lobster at the table.

The bullet that had slipped through his stomach and out his back like a knife through warm butter was probably lodged a good six or seven meters above the ground and in some fancy molding that decorated the restaurant. The cops wouldn't find it unless they knew where to look.

In the meantime, Lupin was ducked in the alley and unable to tail Zenigata and Fujiko, nor keep up with Jigen himself, who no doubt was meeting with Goemon right then. He'd bugged the room, but there was no doubt that Jigen probably had found it by now, if he had suspected of Lupin coming in place of Goemon.

In short, he was no better off than when he'd come to the hotel, unless he counted the bullet holes he'd gained. Jigen had neither verbally confirmed nor denied whether or not Fujiko was going after The Chameleon and his associates, but he was pretty sure that's what the plan was. She'd already been to London, where Reginald Monroe had retired to and one of Lupin's own contacts had told him that none other than Zenigata had been inquiring about Gustav Grehol.

At first, Lupin had been disbelieving that Zenigata could be looking up that beast for Fujiko, but since he'd seen the two of them together…Lupin wondered what had happened the day she'd turned herself into the old ICPO officer.

Initially, he'd just attributed Fujiko's turning herself in as a clever way to solve the issue of bone marrow testing for her niece. Perfectly orchestrated, Lupin owned, but he had never expected less from Fujiko. But when Zenigata stayed in the picture…

The game she was playing was dangerous, no matter whom she had on her team.

Nigel Simmons was a criminal mastermind and renowned world terrorist. The evil inside that man was truly incomprehensible and treacherous. He had his hands in much more than simple kidnappings and ransoms and in the fifteen years Fujiko had been free from him, Nigel Simmons had created the thing that was the Chameleon.

The Chameleon was in the top five Most Wanted of every country of the United Nations, and probably a few countries that had previously paid for some of his work. The Chameleon was best at espionage, but dabbled in petty terrorism just for the money. And that little weakness for money was what had the Chameleon in Kazahkstan.

Lupin had kept track of the man for fifteen long years, making sure that the bastard never went after Fujiko again. He had no doubt that the Chameleon had figured out who Fujiko was, but hoped that since the de Lucernce's of Devereaux had left politics and had their daughter declared dead that the Chameleon would no longer have a reason to want her.

But he highly doubted that the Chameleon was as unaware of Fujiko's movements as she was of his. And if she came after him, or even hinted at it, Lupin had no doubt that Nigel Simmons would take an interest in her once more. He'd be damned before he'd ever let Fujiko in sight of the bastard again.

Painstakingly reaching into his pocket, Lupin pulled out his phone and made some flight arrangements. So far it appeared that none of them had any idea regarding the Chameleon's whereabouts, so Lupin was going to do the only thing he conceivably could to save the love of his life: go to Kazahkstan and confront the Chameleon first.

.o0o.

"And so, we're here tonight to honor one of our finest, Commissioner Daisuke Kogane. Give him a round of applause!"

Everyone clapped as the more-salt-than-pepper-haired man took the stage. Zenigata's cheers were one of the most enthusiastic. Kogane looked mostly just embarrassed to be recognized in such a way, and even waved his hand dismissively as the gathered crowd refused to quiet down.

"Enough, you fools!" he yelled into the microphone. "Don't make a spectacle of yourselves!"

Everyone laughed as the words came off less abrasive and more good natured.

"You're good people, though," Kogane relented once everyone was quieted. "Some of the best, I'd wager. I'm proud to have been your commissioner. Proud to have been there on the first day for most of you, and happy I got the chance to box your ears a few times too. You know who you are."

There were a few hoots and laughs.

"I'm actually going to miss going to work every day and seeing what ridiculousness has occurred in my absence," he lamented and then took on a contemplative face. "Scratch that. No I'm not. I'm going to be fat and saucy sitting on the golf course each morning enjoying a booze as I improve my game."

More laughs. Kogane pointed menacingly at many of them. Zenigata was one who received a look.

"I better see some of you out there with me soon," he threatened, "or I'll come back to the ICPO and drag you out by your ears. I'll need decent golfing buddies who I can humiliate on the course."

Roaring laughter. Jesus. Who knew the commissioner had such a sense of humor?

"Thirty-five years," Kogane sighed. "And twenty of them as commissioner. I'll wager that my hair went gray because of you turds! But I wouldn't change a day. I really wouldn't. So here's to me and my retirement!"

Kogane lifted a glass and the rest of the room did the same.

"May you turds be as lucky and old as me someday," Kogane toasted, "and find yourselves up here rambling on until the guy to your left signals you that you can wrap it up; the champagne is passed out and now we can toast, and then get on with the heavy drinking!"

Everyone cheered and hooted, sipping their glasses of bubbly and giving Kogane a standing ovation. The old man bowed and returned to his seat, but the crowd was still clapping. Kogane stood once more, gave another little bow, and Zenigata thought his mentor looked a little emotionally overwhelmed for a moment as he took in the faces in the room.

It was time, Zenigata knew.

The crowd finally quieted and sat down again while some cake was passed out and harder drinks than champagne made it to the tables. Zenigata stared at the slice of cake that his doctor would have told him not to eat and sighed.

"Reminiscing?" his date asked. Zenigata spared Fujiko a glance.

"I'm putting my papers in on Monday," he told her. "They'll probably be processed by the end of the week and I'll be officially retired by March fifteenth."

Fujiko smiled warmly at him. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"No," Zenigata grumbled. "Yes. I don't know."

Fujiko took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It's the end of an era."

Zenigata smiled. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Have you thought about what you would do after retiring?" Fujiko asked. Zenigata didn't think he should mention his premonition of russian roulette.

"Golf, maybe," he shrugged. "Fishing. Something relaxing I hope."

"I don't know why," Fujiko began, "but I've always pictured you on a beach, having your own boat and sailing out into the ocean every day. Maybe you could fish there."

He half smiled. "Sounds pretty nice."

"You should do it then," she told him. He chuckled.

"I would," he sighed, "but an ICPO officer's pension isn't much to look at. I'll be lucky to get 150,000 yen per month."

Fujiko shrugged. "You're worth much more than that."

He smiled, lowering his head. "Wouldn't know it by my conviction records. At any rate, we have more important things to focus on. I assume you told Jigen about our late flight tonight. Any idea if Goemon will be joining us?"

"No clue," Fujiko admitted. "But even if he doesn't, we're going. I'm not getting cold feet now."

Zenigata laughed. "You might in Russia. Their average right now is negative eight. You better bring some warm boots."

"Koichi!" Kogane yelled, coming over and clapping him on the shoulder. "You old dog! Where did you find this beautiful young lady?"

Zenigata looked at his commissioner in tense surprise. "I—er, she's an old acquaintance."

Kogane swooped over to Fujiko and bowed, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his lips. "Good evening, beautiful lady."

Zenigata's eyes threatened to pop out of his head. Surely his commissioner was not so drunk that he couldn't recognize—

"Never expected to see such an elegant woman here to see me off," Kogane told her. "Tell me, are your three idiot compatriots hiding somewhere in the room as well preparing to crash my retirement party?"

Nope. The commissioner was drunk at all. He recognized Fujiko Mine as clear as day.

"Unfortunately, no," Fujiko laughed. "Though two of them are just a few blocks away. Jigen did not see the intelligence of spending an evening with the ICPO's finest."

Kogane laughed as well. "Finest? My dear, I think the only one left in this organization that can define the word 'finest' is sitting right next to you. But you do them great honor by saying so. Tell me, what brings you to this drunken soiree? Surely you have something more important in the works than to celebrate the stepping down of an old codger like me."

"Truth be told, I do not," she answered. "I'm only here to celebrate your retirement; no hidden agendas. It's a shame to see you go, but it's best if you are truly ready for it."

"Ready for it?" Kogane repeated. "My dear, I have been ready for a good three years now. I have just been waiting for Koichi here to retire first. Alas, he has outlasted me."

Zenigata sighed and grumbled, "Not by much."

"Oh?" Kogane replied. "Did you finally give in as well?"

"Papers are going in on Monday," Zenigata repeated. "I have a feeling they'll cause a few private retirement parties in the office that I won't be invited to."

Kogane laughed and slapped Zenigata on the shoulder. "You bet they will. But fuck 'em. The new generation'll be chasing their own tails and looking like fools as soon as we're gone. Stupid bastards."

Zenigata half smiled at his commissioner. He was the only one in the ICPO who had ever truly understood him.

"Keep tabs on this one," Kogane told Fujiko, throwing a thumb at Zenigata. "He's a true, one of a kind, great man. Never met someone as stout-hearted as him. Always honorable, and always striving to do the right thing."

"I couldn't agree more," Fujiko nodded, adding to Zenigata's embarrassment. "And I do apologize, but I must borrow your good man for the rest of the weekend. He's helping me to tie up some important personal matters."

Kogane and Zenigata shared a look.

"I hope nothing too serious," Kogane said, looking suspicious.

"Unfortunately, yes," Fujiko admitted. Kogane's jaw tightened.

"Well," Kogane finally muttered. "Koichi's no fool, and if he's promised to help you, then all I can say is good luck."

With that, the former police commissioner stood from the table, gave an elegant bow, and went on to the next table. Zenigata hoped it wouldn't be the last time he saw him. He hoped that he would be able to meet his old boss on the golf course as Kogane had described.

But their forthcoming plans didn't have that future looking too promising.

"You almost finished with your drink?" Zenigata asked, eating the slice of cake because fuck the doctor, Zenigata might be dead by Monday.

Fujiko drained the last of her champagne and set the glass on the table. "I'm ready when you are."

Zenigata had a short glass of whiskey in front of him. He picked it up and spied Kogane across the room now, also holding a drink. Kogane raised his glass in a goodbye salute, and Zenigata did the same. He downed the last of his whiskey and stood from the table.

"You're not going to say goodbye?" Fujiko asked as Zenigata led her to the coat-check stand. Zenigata shook his head.

"Already said goodbye to the only man who'd care if I didn't return on Monday," he told her. "That's fine by me. Let's get back to the hotel."

.o0o.

Standing on the balcony of the hotel room, Jigen and Goemon watched as the manila folder full of documents and pictures went up in flames. They'd ordered a bottle of chilled champagne and dumped the ice out of the bucket it arrived in, and lit the folder within it.

"What's this, a homage to drunks around a lit barrel?"

Jigen and Goemon turned to see Zenigata joining them on the balcony, followed by Fujiko. She stared at the bucket of burning papers.

"Native Americans used to sit around camp fires and drink before going into battle with their enemies," Jigen offered, picking up the bottle of champagne. "Maybe we're paying homage to that."

"As good a reason as any," Zenigata shrugged. "Got any glasses?"

Jigen pointed to the tray that had come with the bucket of iced champagne. It had four elegant stemmed glasses on it.

"Everyone's packed?" Zenigata double-checked as the glasses were passed around. No one offered up a negative. "Well then. Onto Moscow we go. In fucking February."

"That's what I said," Fujiko chuckled, watching as Zenigata fooled with the stopper for the champagne. It popped off and flew over the balcony, falling to the streets below. Zenigata filled the four glasses in turn and set down the nearly empty bottle.

"Here's to the impending death of one of the world's worst men," Zenigata toasted. "A murderer, a sadist, a known terrorist, and probably a billion other crimes we don't know about. Prepare to rot in hell, you son of a bitch."

They all raised their glasses. The contents of the bucket were beginning to resemble nothing but smoldering ashes.

"Thank you," Fujiko hastily spit out. The other three looked at her in confusion.

"We haven't done anything yet," Jigen pointed out.

"Yes you have," Fujiko disagreed. "You're here. And besides, I just wanted to make sure I said it. You know, in case I don't get a chance to later."

The silence hung between them for a few moments.

"Such a morbid forecast," Goemon commented, breaking it. They all chuckled.

"Get your stuff," Zenigata chimed in. "It's time to go. We have a flight to catch."

.o0o.

Moscow, unlike Paris, was surprisingly sunny. But that didn't do much when it was negative eleven celcius on the first day of March. Shouldn't it have been warmer by now? Fujiko held her jacket closed at the neck and tried turn her back to the wind. It was colder than many colorful euphemisms she could name, but she settled for a witch's tit in a brass bra. She and Zenigata were waiting for Jigen to procure their rental car while Goemon was dealing with the hassle of trying to get his sword Zantetsuken through customs.

"Why Moscow?" Fujiko asked as they waited.

"I have an old friend who works within the Kremlin," Zenigata answered. "Considering the response I got from my contact in Cheboksary, I thought I should do the rest of my inquiries in person."

"And your contact is well connected?" Fujiko guessed, dancing back and forth on her feet to promote blood flow.

Zenigata shrugged. "Well enough. He used to be a simple ICPO like me, but he caught a lucky break when he stepped in front of a bullet of somebody important. By the time Yannis got out of the hospital, his political career had already been started for him. That was a good eight or nine years ago, so I'd say he's made a few friends in the right places by now."

Goemon finally joined them.

"The ICPO won't pay for any place decent," Zenigata told them, "so I'll be staying at a local hostel. I've gotten reservations for the three of you at the Marriott under Akane Sanada."

Fujiko gave him a look of curiosity.

"My ex-wife's name," he explained. "Any of your aliases are bound to throw up red flags everywhere, but my guess is that no one in this fucking freezing country is going to give two shits if my ex's name passes in their books."

Jigen rolled up with a car. Not anything he probably preferred to drive since a Renault was one of the most commonly driven cars in Russia, but it would be Zenigata driving most of the time. Jigen drove them to the Marriott where they parted with Zenigata.

.o0o.

Akane Sanada was booked in a two-room suite that they paid for in cash for two nights. Zenigata had told them that he would call once he'd met up with his associate Yannik, but that they likely wouldn't hear from him until late. There was plenty of room for all three of them to stay in the suite, but the truth was beyond dinner that night, none of them planned to be in the room at all.

"I'm ordering dinner from room service," Fujiko told them as soon as they got into the room. "Do you guys want anything to eat?"

"Sake," Goemon said at the same time as Jigen saying, "Whiskey."

"That's not food," Fujiko pointed out, but still ordered a bottle of each from room service. The night was high tension and full of nerves until about ten-thirty, when a knock came at the door. Fujiko answered, while Jigen stood behind the door ready to shoot through it.

"Can I help you?" Fujiko asked the man who had come to their room. He was short and pot-bellied, with a balding head and reddish face.

"My name is Josef Yannik," the man introduced himself. "I was told to come let you know that Koichi will be staying at this hotel."

He handed Fujiko a card that had the information of a hotel on it.

"He also said to tell you that he will be watching Grehol this evening and will meet up with you tomorrow at the hotel," Yannik told her. "He will not answer his phone because he will be in deep cover."

"Thank you," Fujiko said, and closed the door. Jigen didn't put down his gun, and Goemon was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, the samurai was tracking the man who had claimed to be Yannik to make sure he was who he said he was.

"You think it's on the up and up?" Fujiko asked Jigen. It didn't sound like Zenigata to change his plans without personally telling one of them.

"We'll find out," Jigen predicted. "Goemon is going to follow him and I'm going to go find this hotel that Zenigata's supposed to be staying at. You stay here. With any luck, me and Goemon will both be back in an hour."

Fujiko didn't like being left alone, but she couldn't argue with Jigen's plan. Besides, no one knew she was here. She'd be fine.

In the meantime, she turned on the television to get some news. News varied from country to country, due to the government controlling it also controlling what made it on the airwaves, so it was always good to watch and keep abreast of the local agenda. An hour should pass in no time.

.o0o.

Goemon followed as the potbellied older man boarded a train on the subway. The subway was hazardous. Goemon could follow him but lose him at a train station if he didn't stay close. And Goemon couldn't be that close. He would have to forgo watching the man who claimed to be Yannik and head back for the hotel.

Goemon did not keep a cell phone on principal, but right at that moment, he could have truly used one. He had a funny feeling about the man calling himself Yannik. And Jigen would have most likely gone to check out the hotel where Zenigata was supposed to be staying, leaving Fujiko behind alone.

Goemon took a taxi back to the hotel and snuck back in through the employee entrance; the way he had left. Using service elevators, he was back on the twelfth floor in no time. There was no need to pick the lock on the door; it was electronic and he had a key card. He entered to see Fujiko sitting on the plush couch, watching the news.

"That was fast," she commented. "I didn't expect you back for another half an hour."

"He got on the subway," Goemon told her. A look of comprehension crossed Fujiko's face. "Jigen is checking out the hotel?"

Fujiko nodded. "He said he'd be back within the hour."

Goemon nodded himself, and decided to do a once-over of the suite. Something was bugging the hell out of him. "Stay here."

Fujiko nodded, going back to watching the news. She wasn't unaware like that, but probably feigning interest until he came back and gave her the all clear. Goemon searched the entire suite, but couldn't find anything amiss. Perhaps it was just the change in plans that Zenigata had pulled that threw him off. He returned to the main room and took up a post on an ottoman in the corner of the room.

"It's late," Fujiko commented, after a minute of watching him. "I'm going to shower and go to bed."

She got up and headed to the bedroom. After a minute, he heard the shower running.

It was then that he knew there was someone else in the room with him. Whoever it was, they were a beginner, believing that the noise of the shower would hide their errant sounds. Goemon let the would-be attacker get very close before he sprang. He was off of the ottoman in an instant and somersaulting through the air to land on the other side of the room, his Zantetsuken already unsheathed.

His opponent, if he could call her that, was a teenaged slip of a girl. She had her own blades, a series of throwing knives that had trailed him across the room and lodged in the ceiling and floor. When she ran out of blades, she produced a gun with a suppressor. She wasted no time in shooting at him, and Goemon sliced the bullets in half as they approached him.

She was hardly skilled at all, Goemon noted, and his honor made him take pity on her. He reversed his blade and charged her, cutting her down with the blunt side and essentially knocking the air out of her lungs. She staggered and gasped for air, holding her middle for a moment until Goemon had grabbed her. He secured her hands and feet with some of his bindings and searched her over for weapons.

When she finally got her breath back, she began shouting at him in Russian. Goemon's Russian wasn't his best language, so he had a hard time understanding her shouts that were mingled together. Luckily, it was at that time that Jigen returned from his hotel reconnaissance.

"What the hell's all this?" he asked, taking in the detained would-be assassin and the knives embedded everywhere.

"A present, most likely, from our target," Goemon told him. As he spoke, Fujiko emerged from the bathroom to see what the spectacle was. She was more awed rather than angry when compared to Jigen. She stared at the irritated young girl, who glared unflinchingly right back. Finally, the girl spoke at a normal tone and pace.

"You!" she yelled. "You must die!"

"No thanks," was Fujiko's comeback. "Who do you work for?"

"I work for no one," the girl denied. "I am master of myself."

"Okay, master of thyself, why must I die then?" Fujiko asked.

"And why must I die too?" Goemon asked under his breath.

"Because you are evil!" the girl hissed. "Evil and a sinner!"

"Bad news, kiddo," Jigen spoke up as he lit up a cigarette. "Killing is evil and a sin too."

"My mission is virtuous," the girl contradicted. "I will see no harm for this righteous deed."

Fujiko kicked the girl in the face. The girl squawked in shock as blood began dripping down from her nose onto the carpet.

"So does that mean if you're harmed that your deed is not righteous?" Fujiko asked harshly. "You better start giving straight answers or you're going to see all kinds of harm come to you."

Goemon and Jigen shared an impressed look. It was a side of Fujiko that neither of them had seen before.

"My Saint tells me who is evil and a sinner and must depart from this world," the girl prattled. "He shows me the righteous path and when I follow it, I see my just rewards."

"So who is your so-called saint then?" Jigen asked, tired of the bullshit.

"My benefactor is Saint Lupin," the girl told them. "He guides me upon the path of goodness and light and in turn, I am rewarded with seeing my kin prosper at his will."

"So you work for a man named Lupin," Goemon summed up.

"I work for no one!" she protested.

"Doing deeds in order to see profit, whether it be money or prosper, is working," Jigen pointed out.

"Lies," the girl denied. Fujiko tsked and walked back into the bathroom. She returned with a small washcloth and bent down over the girl. She yanked her head back by her hair and as the girl opened her mouth to protest again, Fujiko stuffed it with the wash cloth.

"At least we don't have to listen to her now," she said as she stood. She shrugged at the looks she got from both of the guys. "I'm not heartless, but she's annoying and also very loud. If someone happens to hear her shouting over the television, we're going to have some problems."

"True," Jigen conceded. He flopped down on the couch.

"What news from the hotel?" Goemon asked. Jigen made an irritated face.

"No one's been in the room yet," Jigen told them. "But that guy Yannik said he was going to be watching Grehol all night."

At the mention of that name, the girl stilled her thrashing. The three of them shared a look.

"We better find Zenigata," Jigen said. "It safe to say that our target knows we're here and by the little gift he's sent us, he's not happy about it. I don't like Zenigata being out there on his own, Kremlin contact or not."

"What will we do with this one?" Goemon asked, nudging the girl with his foot. She jerked away from him.

"Give her to Interpol once we find Zenigata," Fujiko decided. The girl began thrashing again. "Once she tells them who her benefactor is, she won't be set free."

"I'm going to make some calls," Jigen told them. "I'll be down in the lobby."

"I'll get dressed," Fuijko added. "I'll pack up my things and be ready to go in twenty minutes."

Goemon took it as his duty to watch the would-be assassin. As Fujiko puttered around in the bathroom, changing clothes and gathering up her things, he sat back down on the ottoman and watched the television with one eye and their captive with the other.

The news was not very exciting and did nothing to hold his interest, but nonetheless, Goemon was distracted when the image on the screen changed to a shot of the hotel lobby. At first, Goemon thought that there was a broadcasting mix up, until the screen zoomed in on a figure in the corner of the lobby: Jigen.

As he said he would be, Jigen was on the phone. The potbellied man known as Yannik entered the screen and came over to talk to Jigen. Goemon recognized Jigen's stance at the man's approach; he was treating him like a threat. Had Jigen learned something about Yannik that didn't sit well with him? Goemon watched, transfixed, as Jigen pulled his gun just a half a second before Yannik and shot him dead. The lobby turned to chaos and the screen went black.

It was then that Goemon saw his folly in the reflection off of the blank television screen: their little captured assassin had escaped her bindings and was standing right behind him. He stood to unsheathe Zantetsuken, but as he stood, the girl fired her suppressor and put two in his back. Goemon fell to the floor unmoving.

.o0o.

Fujiko heard a thud beyond the door to the bathroom. At first, she dismissed it as the door to the hotel room closing, but as the rest of the room was silent with no footsteps or voices to be heard, she dismissed that idea. She paused in collecting her bathroom items and pulled the small caliber gun she hid in her purse before opening the door to the bathroom.

All of the lights were off, and so was the television. Fujiko waited for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She saw no one or anything amiss, but that was the problem: Goemon should have been watching their little hostage. Fujiko pushed her body flush against the wall and slowly made her way out of the bathroom.

When she was close to the door to their room, she saw a foot over by the couch. She recognized Goemon's sandaled foot and rushed to him. She got only a few steps, far enough to see Goemon face down on the floor with two red blotches staining the back of his light colored gi, before she felt a blow to the back of her head and fell into darkness herself.

.o0o.

Kazakhstan in March. It was awful. Specifically in Astana.

Lupin enjoyed the winter months just about as much as the summer ones, but the weather was not cooperating with him in this particular case. His flight had been delayed six hours and once he finaly got to Kazakhstan, due to a huge snow storm, there were no cabs to be had. Lupin finally opted to rent a car himself, though he preferred to not have to use any forms of identification when travelling. It was bad enough that he had to use one of his covers to get on the plane to Kazakhstan.

After getting his gunshot wound from Jigen treated, Lupin had dug deep with his contacts to find out where Nigel was. He was almost positive that was where Fujiko was headed, and despite having an entourage of Jigen, Goemon, and most oddly of all, Zenigata, Lupin still didn't think that Fujiko would be safe from the evil that was that man.

All of Lupin's information pointed to Kazakhstan, specifically Astana, planning his next big terrorist attack.

Nigel had been busy in the last fifteen years making a name for himself in the terrorist business. He provided weapons and munitions for all the big name terrorist groups, but Lupin knew that he was planning something big of his own. He'd been stockpiling the ingredients for homemade explosives for a couple years now. All he needed now was a target.

Lupin drove through the snow storm towards the outskirts of Astana. He planned on hiding the car and going the rest of the way on foot, but he didn't trust himself to not freeze to death in the snow storm, so he took a gamble: he'd used one of Reginald Monroe's old covers to rent the car and donned the façade of Monroe himself. Hopefully, that would get him onto Nigel's base of operations.

Pulling up to the gates of the factory that was the front of Nigel's base of operations, Lupin pulled some forged credentials out. The man at the gate was young, and probably new to the gig. That was on Lupin's side.

"Name?" the young man asked.

"Reginald Monroe," Lupin answered in rusty Russian, handing over the fake passport. The young guard glanced at it briefly before looking at a list on a clipboard.

"You're not on the list," the young man stated.

"Call it in," Lupin suggested.

The guard looked annoyed, but did as suggested. He got on his radio and called in Lupin's cover. Not surprisingly, Lupin was allowed to pass. He drove up to the factory and with one last glance in the mirror to check his disguise, he got out of the rental and headed into the factory. He was taken to the heart of the factory and told to wait.

Lupin had no idea what he was planning to do once he met Nigel. Probably try to kill him. But Lupin was not a murderer and didn't spend much time contemplating the death of his adversaries. So he decided to play it by ear.

Imagine his surprise when it was Gustav Grehol who greeted him, not Nigel Simmons.

"Welcome," Grehol greeted, entouraged by six men. Somehow, Lupin knew the jig was up before it began. "I imagine you're quite shocked to see me."

Lupin shrugged. "No, you're not who I was expecting. But it seems you were expecting me."

"Indeed we were, though not before the snowstorm cleared," Grehol admitted. The six goons that Grehol had brought with him started to make their way outwards and encircle the two of them. "No matter. We can take care of this now. I might even make it back to Moscow in time to see Nigel rip the face off of that dirty cunt Francoise, or should I say Fujiko."

Lupin was barely listening to Grehol as he looked for weaknesses in the factory area where he was. The best he could come up with was to shoot a pressurized tank that was near Grehol, but beyond that, it would probably be fistfights and shootouts.

"I wondered why she got on a plane to Moscow," Lupin said.

"No doubt, she thought she would be finding me there," Grehol told him. "That was the information I told my plant to give their inspector. Yannik will have no doubt killed the disgraced Zenigata by now and have moved on to the marksman, Jigen. Goemon, who prides himself on honor, will likely fall to the cunningness of the little assassin Lolita. And Fujiko? Well, as I said before, Nigel has some not nice things planned for her."

Lupin went ahead and pulled his mask off. It would only do to restrict his vision in the upcoming fight.

"May I ask how you knew it was me, versus the real Monroe?" Lupin asked. "I spent a lot of time on this disguise, and I'm pretty disappointed that it didn't work."

Grehol smiled, but it showed his preference for sadism. "We visited Monroe a few days ago. He and his charming little daughter have been with us since Wednesday. Though, Monroe may not be with us much longer. It turns out he can give a beating like a pro, but can't take one."

"Isn't that a shame," Lupin commented, dropping the mask. It was then that the first goon came at him. Lupin wasn't terrible at judo, but he wasn't the greatest at it either. He knew just enough to make him dangerous. So when he had the first man down with few problems, he knew he'd see more opponents quickly. And he was right.

Three came at him this time. This was a lot harder to deal with, but somehow Lupin managed. The guns came out before Lupin was done with his three goons and Lupin felt the noose tightening around him. He ducked the first shot and made his own shot and hit one of the goons laying in the wings. More shots rang out and Lupin felt the sharp, hot sting of gunshots to the shoulder and thigh. Out of time, Lupin shot the pressurized tank next to Grehol.

Well, that turned out to be a mistake.

Whatever was in that tank exploded, knocking everyone down. Lupin was dizzy as he scrambled back up and tried to make his way through the smoke and water raining down from the sprinklers to get out of the factory. A few more shots came his way but he was able to dodge somehow and made his way through the crowd of factory workers milling towards the exit and to his rental.

Bleeding pretty badly, Lupin gunned the car to life and careened towards the gates. The gates were closed, of course, and that young guard stood in his way with a machine gun but Lupin was desperate and ran the poor kid down. He didn't look in the rearview mirror to see if the kid was moving or not after being hit and thrown to the side. Truth was, he didn't want to know.

The snow was just as thick and dangerous as it had been before, but now Lupin didn't have the luxury to be driving with caution in it. He needed to get back to Astana as soon as possible, get his things, and get the hell out of Kazakhstan. And somewhere in all of that, get his bullet wounds treated. Man, he must really be slipping to get shot twice. Jigen would never let him live it down if he ever saw him again.

Lupin made it back to Astana and ditched the rental in the first parking lot he found. He grabbed his luggage out of the car and then walked, or rather limped to a nearby McDonalds and went straight to the bathrooms. There was a simplistic first aid kit in his luggage. He knew the basics of how to treat a gunshot wound at this point in his life, but he knew he'd have to see a doctor sooner rather than later.

He changed clothes and left the McDonalds and donned a new disguise, hitching a ride to the airport and getting himself a seat on the next flight to Moscow. He sat, albeit with his guard up, waiting for the flight and hoped to hell that Grehol had been killed by the blast of the pressurized tank. With his recent luck, probably not.

Over the intercom of the airport, a pleasant female's voice called out that there was a message for Reginald Monroe that could be retrieved at any of the informational kiosks. Lupin's hair stood on end. He knew who it was from, but the question was, did he go get the message? He looked around and saw several people using the kiosks, so it was likely that no one would know who was accessing the message and who was not.

He decided to risk it. He got up and headed for a kiosk. He selected the message for Reginald Monroe and had to enter a password. The clue was a hotel in France. Lupin entered l'Hotel Britiania. The message opened for him.

The infamous Julle de France will be stolen from you on March 2 at midnight.

Julle. That was the name that Fujiko had called herself when Lupin first met her.

Lupin looked at his watch. Moscow was three hours ahead of him, and it was eight-fifty-eight in the evening. Lupin's eyes widened and he got on his cell phone. He called Jigen first. No answer. He then called Fujiko, and it rang for a long time before someone answered.

"I thought you might call."

No doubt about it, it was Nigel Simmons on Fujiko's phone.

"I got your message," Lupin replied. "So I had to respond in kind."

"Very good of you," Nigel said. "It's about time you and I spoke."

"I take it that all of my men are down?" Lupin asked.

"Your men?" Nigel chuckled. "I didn't think they were your men anymore once Jigen shot you in that hotel restaurant. Was I wrong?"

"Are they dead?" Lupin asked again.

"Most of them," Nigel answered. "Jigen is proving a bit tough to kill, but Zenigata and Goemon are dead."

Lupin closed his eyes for a moment before pushing the matter to the side. "And Fujiko?"

"Ah, Fujiko," Nigel repeated. "Francoise, Julle. Whatever you want to call her. She's alive, for the time being. I have some uses for her yet."

Lupin gritted his teeth at the thought of what uses Nigel would have for Fujiko.

"What happens now?" Lupin asked.

"Now?" Nigel mused. "Now, you sit tight with your hands bound by Fujiko's life. I have some big plans coming up and I cannot have any outsiders fouling it up. I will not harm her for the time being. But if you cross my path in the near future, I will not hesitate to slaughter her."

"I have no reason to believe you," Lupin reminded him.

"No, you don't," Nigel agreed. "But you will do as I say, just in case. Won't you?"

Lupin sighed. "Yeah. I will."

"Good. We'll talk again soon," Nigel promised, then hung up. Lupin looked down at his phone. The screen background was a picture of Fujiko sleeping. He'd taken it in France. He wondered if that ill fated trip would be the last time he ever saw her.

A/N: I originally planned for this to be a three chapter story. Well then it got too long and I decided I would cut one of the chapters in half and make it a four chapter story. Well it's too long again. So it's going to be as many chapters as it ends up being. I'm not guessing anymore. No promises on when the next chapter will be out.