Chapter 4

"I'm glad K is going to be okay," Omi sighed as they exited the front doors of the hospital. They'd been visiting the American, who was scheduled to be released the next day. He shifted his backpack on his shoulder and stamped his feet to warm them - it was getting closer to winter, and the breeze had a chill edge to it.

"I'm glad that damn detective has finally decided to leave us alone," Hiroshi groaned in return, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought he'd never give up hounding you!"

"He had a right to be suspicious," Omi pointed out, quoting some of the questions the police detective had harangued him with over the last week. "How did I know he'd go for Shuuichi first? How did I know he would fire then? How did I know what apartment he'd been firing from? How did I orchestrate getting everyone under cover like that?" He shrugged. "Plus the fact that I wasn't freaking out like the rest of you - if you don't know that I've been in situations like that before, it looks like I must have been expecting it to happen."

"And of course you could hardly explain why you had experience in a firefight," Hiro concluded, grimacing. The light they'd been waiting at finally turned, and they crossed the road to the parking lot where their bikes were parked. "What I don't get is why he finally stopped harassing you - he didn't seem like he was convinced."

"Strings got pulled from higher up, most likely," Omi told him. "Kritiker is pretty diligent about things like that - Persia was the Police Commissioner, did I ever tell you that? Manx is still well connected at the various precincts."

"No, you didn't," Hiro replied in surprise. "I didn't know Kritiker had any ties to the police. It does explain a lot, though."

"I had full access to the police files," Omi said, thinking back to the days when Persia had still been alive. "It made researching some stuff a lot easier!" He scanned the parking lot, trying to remember where they'd parked. "Mou, I can never find my bike... hey!"

They rounded a van and caught sight of their bikes parked side by side in one spot; a dark figure was crouched over Hiro's, fiddling with something. He looked up at Omi's startled exclamation, and yanked at what looked like wires from the ignition. "He's hotwiring the bike!" Omi growled, and took off in a run. They still had half the parking lot to cover before they would reach the thief.

The boy - he looked to be about fifteen, with long, greasy hair and a permanent snarl - hopped up onto the seat of the bike, twisting the wires as he jumped up to kickstart the engine. Omi shouted at him, "Hey, what do you think you're..."

The boy's foot came down on the pedal and suddenly the world was a ball of fire and heat, sweeping towards them. Omi yelped and hit the ground, tugging Hiro down after him automatically, and the worst of the blast passed overhead, shattering the windows of several cars nearby. He threw his arms up over his head to protect himself from the falling glass, and hoped Hiro would have the sense to do the same.

Finally the air began to cool again, the sound of the explosion echoing in his ears as he raised his head tentatively. The bikes were a mass of twisted metal and flame, the charred body of the thief lying nearby, burned beyond recognition. Omi swallowed hard, and got up on his knees. "Oh, damn..."

"What the FUCK?" Hiro exclaimed, his voice sounding distant and tinny. At least he knew the blast hadn't damaged his ears permanently, Omi thought giddily as more sound started to come back. "What was THAT?"

"Car bomb," Omi croaked, coughing on the ash that was now drifting in the wind. "Set to go off when the motor kicked over. That should have been US, Hiro..."

They both stared at the body of the thief, feeling numb. Only an incredible coincidence had saved their lives - if not for that larcenous teen, it would have been Hiro who started the bike, with Omi right beside him. For all they knew, there'd been a bomb on Omi's bike as well.

Emergency personnel were already pouring from the hospital across the street, and in the distance they could hear the wail of sirens. "Looks like it's back to the precinct for us," Hiroshi muttered, rolling his eyes. "At least they can't claim YOU had something to do with it, this time."

Omi shook his head, pulling out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Shuuichi and Fujisaki, warn them not to start their cars or anything, until the bomb squad gets there to certify them," he said, punching in the numbers. "I just hope I'm not too la... Shuuichi?"

"Hey, Omi!" the vocalist's cheerful voice came back over the line. "What's up?"

"We just watched our bikes blow up in front of us," Omi replied grimly, and heard Shuuichi gasp. "Car bomb, set on the engine. Someone was trying to steal Hiro's bike, or we would have gone up too. Tell Yuki NOT to drive his car until the police have been there!"

"Holy shit!" Shuuichi exclaimed, sounding shaken. "These guys... they're really not kidding around, are they?"

"Someone wants Bad Luck gone or dead," Omi agreed grimly. "It's a good thing we all decided to move so our addresses wouldn't be known. I think they caught us here at the hospital because they knew that sooner or later one of us would go to visit K - they must have been watching."

"You guys come over here when the police are done with you," Shuuichi ordered. "Take the subway, or a cab. Oh, and I don't know if you heard, but Touma arranged for Fujisaki to be out of the country for the next little while - visiting relatives, or something."

"Oh, good!" Omi sighed with relief. "I'll call ahead and let you know when we're coming over, okay?"

"See you then! And be careful!" Shuuichi replied.

"That's my line," Omi said with a weary chuckle. He clicked off the cell phone just as the first of the medics and police reached them. Heading the pack was none other than Detective Kurosaki.

"Well, it seems you boys are just magnets for trouble, aren't you?" the detective drawled, flipping open his notepad. "Since neither of you appears to be injured, we'll just start with the basics, shall we?"

Omi sighed as they walked up the path to Shuuichi and Yuki's newest condo. The author and vocalist had moved around so much in the last six months, it hadn't been anything but a nuisance for them to move again after the sniper attack. Omi almost envied them - packing up and finding a new place had been a much more difficult process for Omi and Hiro.

He squeezed Hiro's hand in his, and got a warm smile in response. They were both shivering - the walk from the subway station to Yuki's flat was mostly unsheltered from the bitter wind, and their leather jackets and jeans were hardly sufficient to block it out. The sun had set while they were answering questions at the police precinct, and the night was much colder now that the warmth of the sun was gone.

Hiro rang the bell, and they waited for someone to answer it. After a moment the buzzer sounded, and Hiro reached out to pull the door open. "They've got a security camera that feeds into their TV," Hiro told Omi when he looked puzzled, pointing at the camera mounted above the door. "They know it's us."

"Oh, okay," Omi sighed with relief. "I thought Shuuichi was just being careless." It was considerably warmer in the elevator than it had been outside, and his shivers had just about abated when they reached the fourth floor.

Shuuichi was waiting for them, leaning out the door dressed in his usual shorts and double tank top, seeming uncaring of the cold. Omi glanced at the suspenders hanging from around his waist, and suppressed a wistful smile. "Hey, guys," the genki vocalist greeted them enthusiastically. "Boy am I glad you two are okay! C'mon in, I made hot tea - you must be freezing!"

"Pretty close," Omi agreed, laughing a bit with the relief of finally being 'safe' again. "And I could use a few friendly faces after dealing with that detective for two hours!"

"That guy's really got it in for you," Hiro agreed as they kicked off their shoes and came into the apartment. Yuki was sprawled out on one end of the 'L'-shaped couch, beer in hand. He nodded a curt greeting at them, and they waved back. "I swear he would have booked you if he could have thought of something to charge you with."

Omi flopped down on the opposite side of the couch from Yuki, gratefully accepting the mug of warm tea Shuuichi offered him. Hiro sat beside him, leaning against him a little to keep as much contact as possible, and Shuuichi plopped himself down practically in Yuki's lap. The taciturn author growled at him, but Omi hid a smile behind his mug as he saw that the older man made no move to shove his lover off of him. Shuuichi and Yuki hardly had a fairy-tale romance, but at least since they had come back from New York things had been going better between them.

"I have to admit to some curiosity myself," Yuki said, watching Omi as had become his habit over the last week. "How DID you know to shove Shuuichi out of the way?"

Omi thought fast, and decided that telling most of the truth was probably the best way to go. "I saw the sunlight glint off something in the building across from us. It could have been ANYTHING, really, but my body was moving before my brain thought about it. We got lucky."

"Why Shuuichi?" Yuki persisted, and Hiro frowned at him. "Hiro was closer to you, and he's your lover while Shuuichi is only your friend."

"Geez, Yuki, lay off," Hiro growled, sliding one arm around Omi's shoulders and squeezing protectively. "He's had enough of this from the police already."

"No, Hiro, it's okay," Omi replied easily. "Shuuichi is the lead singer and lyric writer - taking him out is the surest way of destroying Bad Luck. Fujisaki wasn't part of the original band anyway - if he died, Shuuichi could just go back to writing the music as well, or NG could find someone to take his place. It wouldn't be GOOD, but it probably wouldn't destroy the band. And... I hate to say it, but Hiro is the most expendable member of the band. Of course most people know that Shuuichi probably would refuse to play without Hiroshi, but..." he shrugged. "Shuuichi is still the most logical first target."

"Hiro is NOT expendable!" Shuuichi protested, incensed.

"No, Omi's right," Hiro soothed him. "After all the fuss that was made about your relationship with Yuki, you're the most well known and the most visible member of the band. You are the logical person to strike at."

"Why the bomb on your bike today, then?" Shuuichi persisted.

"Probably they had the hospital staked out, and we were just the first ones they caught," Omi replied grimly. "What doesn't make sense to ME is the way this whole thing is set up. The letters were done by an amateur - using the same magazine to make all three of the first letters, using a generic printer to print the last one, and fingerprints all over the letters."

"The police couldn't identify the fingerprints they got from the printed letter," Yuki pointed out. "Whoever it is, they have no prior record. So it hardly matters if they left fingerprints..."

Omi shook his head. "No, it still makes a difference. It means that when they DO get a suspect, if the fingerprints match the evidence won't just be circumstantial. And it's sloppy, regardless. But that's not what I was getting at - the sniper attack was done by a professional. They were in and out of the building with no clues for the police, no fingerprints, nothing. Their aim was fantastic - sniper rifles are difficult to aim, even with the target scope, because of the distance involved. Moving the rifle a millimetre to one side can throw off the aim by several inches. They were careless about letting the sun flash off something, probably the targeting scope, but still..."

"And the car bombs?" Yuki asked, eyeing him narrowly.

"Could be either, but my guess is professional. There was just enough explosive to take out the bikes and the person on them, but the cars around weren't very damaged except for the shattered windows and some scorching. Unfortunately the evidence went up with the bikes - there was nothing left to find, which again argues for a professional."

"So you're saying someone put out a contract on us?" Shuuichi exclaimed incredulously. "We've got hit men stalking us? This is like something out of a bad Yakuza movie!"

"That would be the logical conclusion, yes," Omi nodded. "If the letter writer is the person who's actually after you, and they hired a professional to perform the actual hit, that would fit the profile."

"And you learned all this from movies and your courses?" Yuki demanded suspiciously.

"And the Internet, yes," Omi agreed, forcing himself not to tense up. He hated lying to people, especially to his friends. "It's amazing what you'll come across online when you're suffering from insomnia at four in the morning." He didn't like the way Yuki was looking at him - the author was a very intelligent man, and he knew something was fishy about Omi's story. And he was just the type of endlessly persistent person who wouldn't leave it alone until he was satisfied. K had been starting to look at him the same way, but the American was safely out of the picture in the hospital, at least for the moment. He was going to have to do something to head Yuki off, though, before he started asking questions Omi couldn't answer.

The door buzzer rang before Yuki could come up with any more of those awkward questions, and the blond man punched a button on the remote lying on the table beside him. The TV flickered on, showing a grainy view of the entranceway downstairs, where a man in a delivery uniform stood holding a brown package.

"I'll get it!" Shuuichi declared, shooting up off the couch and out the front door before anyone could stop him. Yuki rolled his eyes.

"Were you expecting something?" Omi asked him, watching the deliveryman carefully. He wished the picture was better quality - the uniform LOOKED okay, but there was no way to really see if there was anything out of place.

"No," Yuki replied, frowning. "But my sister is always sending me things. Or for all I know, it might be something Shuuichi ordered without telling me about."

Omi felt Hiro fumbled for his hand, and he squeezed it reassuringly. On the screen Shuuichi appeared, practically bouncing up and down as he signed the delivery slip and snatched the package out of the man's hand. He shook it, holding it to his ear, then looked up at the camera and shrugged before disappearing back into the building.

Omi had a bad feeling about this. Of course, considering everything that had happened in the last week, it might have just been paranoia. People got packages all the time; there could be a perfectly innocent explanation for why an unexpected package was showing up NOW, of all times.

Shuuichi bounced back in through the door, still clutching the unopened package. "There's no return address," he noted curiously, making the tension in Omi's gut spike sharply. "I wonder what it is..."

The vocalist started to tear into the wrapping, and Omi was moving before he even consciously realized the conclusion he'd come to. "Shuuichi, no! Don't open it!" he cried, hitting the pink-haired boy around the waist and tackling him to the floor for the second time in a week. The package flew out of Shuuichi's hand and went spinning across the hardwood floor, fetching up against the far wall.

"Itai!" Shuuichi exclaimed, struggling beneath him. "I know I said I'd never argue with you if you ever felt like tackling me again, but was that really necessary?"

"Shuuichi, Hiro and I had our bikes blown up this afternoon, we were just in the middle of a conversation about why someone is trying to KILL you, and you were going to just tear open an unmarked package?" Omi said breathlessly, sitting up.

Shuuichi blinked up at him, and had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh. Sorry."

Yuki and Hiro were eyeing the package like they expected it to explode at any moment. "What do we do now?" Hiro asked nervously.

"We call the bomb squad," Omi replied, moving to gingerly pick up the package. It was light, but that didn't mean anything - with the advanced explosive compounds and detonators available, bombs could weigh practically nothing at all, as he well knew. "Yuki, it's your house - care to do the honours?"

Yuki nodded, and strode over to the kitchen to grab the phone there. Omi continued to examine the box as Yuki punched in the numbers for the police station. "Is there any way to tell?" Hiro asked, coming to crouch beside Omi and Shuuichi. "I mean, should we be evacuating the building or something?"

"Not just by looking," Omi said, sighing. "I wish I had my... oh! Hiro, run and grab my backpack, will you? I left it in the hall."

Hiro moved to obey, and Shuuichi gave him a funny look. "What's in your backpack that could possibly help?" he asked as Hiro returned with the bag.

Omi opened the flap and rummaged through it, his fingers searching for a familiar feel of metal and plastic. "This," he said, pulling it out triumphantly. "It's a very sensitive magnetic detector. Electricity running through wires produces a very faint magnetic charge, which this can measure. Since it's not ticking, if it IS a bomb, it must have an electronic detonator." He flipped the switch to turn the device on, and waited impatiently for it to run through its calibrating sequence. He'd designed the device to help him detect security systems and booby traps in missions, and it had proven endlessly useful.

"Uh... why do you have something like that in your backpack?" Shuuichi asked, and even Hiro was giving him an odd look.

"I designed it," Omi admitted. "I was bringing it to show my electronics professor, that's why I have it in my bag. It IS useful for other things besides finding bombs, guys - it works on all kinds of electronics. It's great for finding the break in a delicate circuit that I'm trying to fix." The scanner beeped twice at him to let him know it was ready, and he passed it slowly over the top of the package. The display showed him a graphic representation of the magnetic levels it detected, even minute changes registered as a slight bump in the graph.

There were lots of the little bumps, evenly spaced over the entire surface of the package. A slightly larger concentration was in the centre, and Omi swore under his breath. "It's a bomb, all right," he said, punching some buttons to change the scale, allowing him to get a better reading of the central device. "All these little wires are contact leads - if any of them is broken, the bomb goes off."

"Jeez," Shuuichi whispered, eyes wide. "I would've killed us all! Omi, you can tackle me any time you like!"

Omi couldn't help a slight smirk at that. "I don't know if Yuki would be too happy with you making that offer," he teased, earning himself a smack from Hiro. At least it lessened the tension somewhat.

"Now what?" Hiro asked. "So long as we don't touch it, it won't go off?"

"Not necessarily," Omi frowned, studying the display. "I don't like the looks of this centre device. It MIGHT be a timer - but the only way to find out for sure is to open it." He reached into his bag again, fishing for one of his throwing knives. Force of habit had dictated that he keep some with him at all times - after all, even though he was technically a 'civilian' now, Schwartz was only one of several groups who would love to get their hands on a defenceless Weiss member. He set the razor sharp blade against the side of the package, double checking his scanner, and started to cut.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Shuuichi exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Now that I know where the wires are, I can cut between them and look inside without disturbing them," Omi said absently, most of his attention on the package. He peeled back the layers of paper carefully, seeing the tiny wires everywhere.

"There's been a bomb threat called in to Tokyo tower," Yuki told them, returning from the kitchen. "Every bomb squad in the city is there. It will take a while for one of them to be redirected here - several hundred lives in the tower takes precedence over the few dozen in this building. They said we should evacuate the building until they get here..."

"There's no time," Omi interrupted, staring at the timer he'd uncovered with a sick fascination. The display read '120', and from the way it was counting down it didn't mean minutes. "It's set to go off in less than two minutes!"

"What do we do?" Hiro blurted out fearfully. "There's so many people in this building, and that looks like a LOT of explosive..."

"You're going to go with Yuki and Shuuichi and get the HELL away from here, as fast as you can," Omi replied, fingers already sorting through the multitude of wires radiating from the timer. "There's enough C4 in here to take out half this block, never mind the building. I'm going to try to defuse it, but I want you out of the way just in case."

Hiro started to protest, but Yuki clamped a hand on his shoulder and started dragging him towards the door. He already had Shuuichi firmly under one arm, kicking and protesting. "If he wants to try, it's his life," the older man growled at the guitarist. He glanced back at Omi. "There's a lot of innocent people involved - let him try."

Omi didn't have time to worry about them - the counter was at '90' now. He muttered to himself under his breath as he worked, trying to be careful not to jostle any of the contact wires. It would be awfully silly for him to defuse the timer only to set it off by dislodging a contact.

"All these are contact wires... ah, here's the main wires. Let's see... red, blue, green, yellow, black, and white... what the hell do they need so many wires for?" He felt sweat forming on his brow, but didn't take the time to wipe it away. In the movies it was always just a matter of knowing which colour wire to cut, but in real life it wasn't that simple. This was obviously a handmade bomb, timer and all, and that meant the bomber could use any damn colour of wire he pleased. In fact, if he was half as intelligent as he'd already shown himself to be, he probably would have set the wires so that cutting the 'right' colour would set off the bomb.

Sixty seconds... he couldn't figure out which wire did what. In fact, they all seemed to lead nowhere at all, going around in circles...

His eyes widened, and he gently lifted the timer, peering underneath. Sure enough, there was a second small electronic box there, with four tiny wires, all white. One connected to the explosive, the other three to the bottom of the timer.

"A decoy," he breathed, propping the timer up so he could work on the detonator without dislodging any wires. "Very clever... cut ANY of the wires on the timer and it goes off."

NOW he had some idea of what he was working with. He used his throwing knife to cut and strip two of the white wires, twisting the ends together hastily. When he was sure there was good contact between them, he reached out and cut the wire leading into the explosive compound, holding his breath. If he was wrong about this, he was about to be rewarded with a very abrupt death...

The timer stopped at '9', and he let out a whoop of relief, rocking back onto his heels. NOW his hands started shaking, as the adrenalin started to drain from his system. He clambered to his feet and reached for his cell phone, punching a button on the speed dial and listening to it ring as he pulled his shoes on.

The phone clicked, and a woman's voice said, "Manx."

"Manx, it's Omi," he said quickly.

"Omi!" Manx exclaimed, surprised. "The six months aren't quite up yet - are you planning to come back already?"

"I'm not sure, but that's not what I'm calling about," Omi replied, heading down the hall to the stairs. They were faster than the elevator, at least on the way down. "I don't know if you've heard, but Hiro and the rest of Bad Luck have been receiving death threats, and they're not idle threats."

"Yes, I'm aware of the sniping," she said. "I had to pull quite a few strings to get you off the suspect list."

"I figured," Omi answered with a half smile. "You may not have heard yet, Hiro's bike was bombed earlier today. We just got out of questioning an hour ago - someone was trying to steal the bike, and they set off the bomb instead of us."

"You were lucky," Manx replied seriously. "Someone is obviously very determined about this..."

"More than you know," Omi cut her off. "We just got a mail bomb at Yuki and Shuuichi's place. I defused it, but only barely - there was enough C4 in there to take out half the neighbourhood. Whoever it is, they're getting pissed off that they haven't succeeded yet, I think."

"And you're telling me this because..." she prompted him curiously.

"One, because you're going to have to pull a lot MORE strings to keep that detective from wondering about how I knew how to defuse the bomb," he answered. "And two, because I want your help tracing it. They made a mistake - they sent it through a delivery service. I'm betting they're planning on hacking the server and deleting the record, but if you get people on it quickly, you should be able to follow the paper trail. Please?"

There was a long silence as he reached the front door and went out, looking around to see where the others had gone. Finally she replied, "Very well. From your descriptions and what I've seen so far, this is a professional hit job, which technically falls under Kritiker's purview. Up until now this hasn’t been the sort of thing Kritiker gets involved in, but..." she paused, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she continued. "I must admit I'd like to ensure you are still alive to return to Kritiker, should you choose to do so."

Omi smiled as well. "Thank you, Manx," he said affectionately. "I appreciate it." He spotted the others walking down the street towards him as he shut off the cell phone, and waved to them, trotting up to them.

"We figured when the building didn't explode after a few minutes, it was safe to come back," Hiro said wryly, his teeth chattering. They had all run out without even putting their shoes on, much less their coats, and they all looked like they were freezing. In the distance sirens were screaming, rapidly approaching their location.

"Sounds like the bomb squad is finally on its way," Omi commented as they all waited just inside the door. "We got lucky - the bomb wasn't very complicated. But it was definitely the work of a professional - you can learn how to defuse something like that on the Internet, and even theoretically how to build it, but actually producing a bomb that intricate and delicate without blowing yourself up in the process is very difficult. I wouldn't try it for a million dollars!"

He hoped that oblique explanation would be enough to satisfy Yuki and Shuuichi's curiosity about how he'd managed to defuse the bomb. Shuuichi was looking at him with something akin to hero worship, at least, but Yuki looked even more suspicious than before. He sighed.

"Oh look," Hiro commented sarcastically. "It's our favourite detective, heading the pack." Sure enough Detective Kurosaki was climbing out of the lead squad car, striding towards them with a determined look on his face. The bomb squad piled out of the van behind him. Omi groaned and buried his face in his lover's shoulder. "I think, after they're done raking us over the coals, we should all go out for a nice, stiff drink," Hiroshi added under his breath just before the police reached them. "I know I for one will NEED it!"

|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Epilogue|

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