He went to his bathroom, where he'd again set up his portable kitchen.
His bed was wide enough to easily accomodate two or three people, so Jacqueline arranged herself on it, laying against a pile of blankets and pillows with a thick duve around her. The bigscreen laptop was on her lap. She tried to calm herself, breathing slowly, 'Didn't he say no? Didn't he? C'mon, girl.'
Tset came over and handed her a mug full of hot chocolate. He himself had one and some packaged noodles - it all steamed hot.
"Chocolate and noodles?"
He held up a reassuring hand, "I can handle it."
She giggled, and the movie was starting. He sat down next to her and slurped his food, cross-legged.
The movie was very good, Jacqueline particularly liked the protagonist, but she still dozed - again, so much drama had drained her and so soon after coming back from the brink.
She woke with a start once and saw Tset had also fallen asleep. His silvery rims had slipped down his nose and exposed his eyelid to her.
She wondered so greatly what his eyes looked like, but in trying to figure out what to do, she fell asleep again, but not before she found she'd, at some point, come to rest on his arm. She sighed, too far gone to Nod to feel guilt.
When Tset woke he found himself on his back. The room was dark and there was a diminuitive weight on his arm.
He saw Jacqueline clearly, she was nestled in the crook of his elbow - her small angelic face calm and unlined, almost content in its slumber. She still smelled of jasmine and one of her hands was clutched at his shirt.
"Aw." He whispered, and moved out from under her gently.
She only muttered when he put her back down. He tried to get up but one of her toes was also gripping his belt loop.
"Aw." He said again, somewhat sarcastically.
Once he extricated himself, he stood and padded quietly across the room and took down a mat from his shelf. He laid it out on the floor and went to sleep.
Quiet birdsong from the room's automated wakeup call brought Jacqueline easily from her rest. She remembered whisps of pleasant dreams after her eyes opened and she relished them, almost saddened to see them go were they not so beautiful.
She rolled to the edge of the broad mattress and looked to where her Dargent lay - partially on a mat and partially on the rough stone floor.
She watched his back, turned towards her in the premorn gloom, expand and shrink as he breathed quietly and easily.
She giggled quietly, 'I think I'm in love.'
She thought no more words for several minutes, until just before she fell asleep again, 'He's a perfect gentleman, what do you expect?'
Tset's door eased open, silently.
Hiroshi, crouched, glared inside - she didn't care who he was, he wouldn't last any longer, or at least, he would regret forever his choice in her daughter. This would be her final gift.
She crept in, the low morning light illuminating a pile on the ground and one on the mattress.
She paused, confused. The pile on the ground was still, while the much smaller one on the mattress scratched and turned over. That was Jacqueline. Alone.
She listened for breath - two people. Nearby. The larger closer to her.
The second, the larger, Dargent, on the floor, dead asleep almost at her feet.
She saw a pantleg sticking from underneath Jacqueline's coverlet, and a small and perfect foot jutting from that.
Dargent was also obviously fully clothed - his wide leather belt, jeans, and still-tucked shirt. He was even wearing his ludicrous glasses. 'Like a sign of office.'
She quivered closer, coming near him, knife loosening from its sheath, 'But still, they must have, regardless of the apparent image - he's smart, he probably saw me coming a mile away and fixed it this way...'
She stopped and frowned at her own logic, 'You're just an old cur bitch, Hiroshi - there are good people in this world, and maybe he is one of them.'
But she had to find the bastard Kimono - somehow, she thought that would tell her.
She searched immediately but did not see it. As she glided by the bathroom door, she saw the red reflection in the mirror.
She pushed the door open another half of a crack, and peered in - the Kimono was neatly hung by hangers on the towel rack, unwrinkled, undamaged, unstrained.
'No evidence. Can you stop disgracing yourself?'
She allowed herself a mental sigh and skirted silently back to the front door to Dargent's spacious flat.
A chill ran down her spine, stopping her very cold in the doorway.
She turned and looked, and Dargent had raised his head to look at her.
He put one finger to his lips, 'Shh.'
A thumb said, 'She's,'
His folded hands lain on the side of his face told Hiroshi, 'Sleeping.'
Then he lay back down, and Hiroshi realized her heart had stopped - she was truly afraid of this stranger.
As if hearing her thoughts, a white grin of teeth and a thumbs up chased her, fleeing, from the room.
But she was gladdened. This man, despite still lingering doubt of his intentions, 'You know Yoto is a liar. You know it. Stop pretending,' was a guardian to her daughter.
Jacqueline woke again. This time to sunlight streaming in her window, and real summery twitters from the jays outside in Yoto-Oro's trees.
She sat up and stretched, yawning. She scratched an itch on her wrist and looked dopily about the room.
Dargent had left.
She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and made another scan.
She threw away the coverlet and leapt through the open bathroom door, wrenching the sink on full.
She was scrubbing her face when she noticed that the Kimono was also missing.
"What's he up to?"
Sixteen floors above and northerly across the complex to where Jacqueline wondered what Tset was up to, Tset was hurling enraged insults at the Daimyo, "What are you trying to do to this girl? Destroy her? What's your problem? Huh? Limpy? ANSWER ME!" The shout was deafening.
Yoto-Oro looked abashed, though he knew he was guilty; Dargent had come in five minutes previous, dressed to kill and angrily demanding to see him.
Two minutes after that he'd brutalized the rest of Yoto's bodyguard and forced his appointment.
And three minutes after that, he was still yelling.
Yoto would call more guards, but that would be useless - his top men had been in the room, and still were, except the one who'd gone through the window.
He was pallid and began to speak, "I-" Dargent wasn't there for answers, despite stated intentions, and cut him off, a finger in his face and his voice somehow more angry, "No! Fuck you! You runt! If I hear your voice again, I'm gonna cut out your god damned tongue! You fucked up midget! Igor!"
The resounding silence drew out, Yoto awaiting further punishment and Tset cooling down.
He threw the Kimono and covered Yoto's face, "Anyway, there's your lingerie. And sorry about all the shouting, but I quit and I've been sitting on a lot of steam watching you and your other maggots prostitute yourselves. Have fucking fun, and remember, you're dishornorable."
Yoto pulled the Kimono down and moved his jaw, Dargent's sharp reversal and change, and the horrible insults he'd lain to cap, had totally stopped him.
In fact, Dargent had been gone fifteen minutes before Yoto-Oro reacted, and by then Tset had already made his exit. Most of this time taken up consoling and explaining things to Jacqueline.
"No! Who will I play chess with?" Jacqueline was still in his PJs, watching Tset pack up his few belongings - which included his pistols and wallet, plus an attache case.
"I'm sorry, girl, but I gotta go."
"But... no! Please..." She started to tear up and damned herself for it.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. If I stay, I'm dead. If you heard a third of what I told the midget you'd be awestruck."
"Okay." But it was useless, she put her head down and soft tears rolled down her cheeks. She
quieted herself.
She resisted Dargent's curled finger underneath her chin as it brought her head up, "Look, lady, I'm sorry. I was here on a different job entirely, and I finished it, now I have to go home."
"But you're my only friend." 'And I'm pathetic!'
"I hear you. If you're ever in Europe, look me up. And if I ever come back this way, I'll see what I can do to say hi, okay?"
She nodded. The pause was poignant.
"Let it out. You're on something." He spoke softly as he ever had, but she averted her eyes, "C'mon. It'll feel better if it's not just me leaving, if you say g'bye."
She sniffed, "I just, I wanted you around longer. You... changed things for me, showed me stuff I've only ever read about. You've told me stories about your adventures and TV and movies and jokes. You've explained to me the finer points of whisky and coke on ice. You're..." Her breath hitched, "A-a real person."
"And your mom?" Tset's eyebrow was riding high again.
"Well, she's real. But, you know."
"Yeah I do, I hear you. And I kinda wish I could stay or take the both of you with me, but get me, Jacqueline, I'm not a safe nice happy person. I kill people. A lot of people. If I told you how many you wouldn't believe me."
This stumped the little girl, "But... how can you be a murderer but still have so much life in you?"
Tset's entire scheme, everything, almost came out - his identity, and his propensity to ruin those he thought to be evil in the world.
'Like in The Pit, but grand-mal.'
He wanted Jacqueline to trust him. He found he valued her for her simple purity.
He sighed instead, "It's complicated." He also thought about the possibilty of spy-devices secreted in the room, "But look, if things ever cool off for me, I'll come for you here."
The chances of Tset living to the ripe age of twenty-seven were a million to one, but he thought it might make Jacqueline feel better.
She looked up, doubt in her face.
"What? Doubt me?"
"No!" She cried, "No, never! I'll... wait for you."
'But don't hold your breath, darlin'.' "Good. And while I'm gone, just stick to your guns and what you know. That's all you've got, in the end for most, and for you, right now. Keep safe."
He rose and she looked up at him, three words she daren't speak coming to her childish lips and being banished, instead, "Okay." She showed him her smile.
He sent his in return, "Let's shake on it."
And they did - a dainty hand in his lambskin glove.
"Stay safe, shit might get rough for you knowing me when Yoto finds out what I was up to. I'll come back as soon as I can."
Though his last thought on the way out his door was, 'Sorry.' And he didn't look back.
In two days, Yoto-Oro's hackers finally broke through the time-lock placed on Tset's issued computer and he was able to read the final words of Dargent,
Yoto,
Either my time-lock ended or you broke in. Either way, hope I'm gone.
Give my love to anyone trying to kill you,
Dargent
P.S. I downloaded the contents of your central database onto an armored and lead-lined portable solid-state drive. So even though you've got the top-secret laptop you gave me, I still managed to slip by your morons with all your most important info. Let's put it this way - I have your janitor's social security number and the high school your favorite bartender attended.
P.P.S. Smith says hi. And so does Stone.
The second Yoto finished the message, he got an emergency phone call from Hammertime, "Sir. There's something you need to see. Please come downstairs to the medical center."
"What is it?"
"I..."
"FINE!" Yoto was enraged. He slouched from his chair and hurried angrily from the room.
When Yoto arrived, his top surgeons were standing at an operating table. On it was one of his men, pale and dead with a neat hole in his jacket.
Came forward, "We found him in the guest quarters on the fifth floor, behind one of the maglock doors."
Laying on a tray at the bedside were a pair of bloody forceps and a blue piece of steel.
Hammertime lifted it in the forceps and held it to Yoto, dropping into the offered hand. The bullet was a handmade, odd-caliber with an American Eagle carved into its head.
Pelican's customary method of warning. Yoto was being watched.
It was his turn to scream.
Interlude: Chapter Nine
Method of Payment
"Nice place," Tset exhaled his cigarette smoke.
He was in Stone's lavish bunker hideout, enjoying the hearth and enjoying the whisky.
"Tset... I don't. I just don't." Stone lay his Swarovski decanter on the table.
Tset waved it over and Stone poured, "Dude, no problem. You earned a little extra legwork from me 'cause I hated Yoto-Oro so damn much."
"How did you get all this?" Stone was referring to the black attache with the ten terabyte drive encased in it, and the stack of CDs lifted from Toe Jam.
"Ancient Chinese secret, home boy. Just be happy you now know when the last time the little bastard had a colonoscopy and everything else."
"And... what do you want as payment?"
Tset drained his whisky and thought, "Dunno. You're hard up for cash, aren't you?"
Stone didn't want to admit it, "Ah."
"Don't bullshit me."
"Alright... we just can't pay you commensurately. I'm sorry."
"Whatever, I've worked for a hundred grand before. Nothing new. I have cash enough. Instead, why don't we make a pact?"
"A pact of what sort?" Stone eyed the smiling Tset with suspicion.
"You hear any of my names out on the street or anywhere else, you let me know."
Stone glowered, "What?"
"Just, back me up. Is that a no go?"
"No, it's just... simple. Nothing else?"
"I'm not fucking with you, Stone."
Stone sighed, "And you want us to shelter you, in case of need?"
Tset laughed, "Pff. If I needed shelter beyond what I need now, I'd never make it into Brussels, anyway. But, to finish, friends?"
The black glove came forward.
Stone shook it against his better judgment. "Friends. Allies."
"More formal. 'Kay, must be on my way."
"Way? Where?"
Tset slammed back another whisky, "Got more work to do, 'nother contract I took on the way here, man. No rest for the restless. Drive safe."
Tset was gone as quickly as he'd shown up. Stone only thought to have him searched later, and by then it was too late - Tset could have made off with a second attache drive for all Stone knew.
"Shit. He's a dangerous man."
Smith sighed from the corner of the room, "But he's good. I think he is. He brought me flowers to apologize. Bit of a nut."
Stone chuckled, "Holy Christ in Heaven."
Prelude
For three or more years after this it was only his contracts that took him, and soon even he began to lose sight of his purpose; it simply became a way of violent life he seemed accustomed to. His hatred fueled him more, and his true adversaries, never showing themselves, blurred together with the lesser so all Tset attacked were the purely black hearted. Though those true did hunt for him, and guided their pawns about the board of Greater Europe. Each sliding into place to strike.
Being the paragon of light, Dargent's reputation began to wear very thin, and it became nearly impossible to actively maintain a dual identity, and so Dargent disappeared, and with him gone, Tset, the wickedly cruel blackguard, was left alone to strike his enemies as they grew around him.
They strove even harder to find him and kill him, lure him - Dargent had been easy to follow, his actions, if not his methods, predictable, but Tset was not.
In form, decision and direction, Tset was a hurricane of seemingly crossed purposes and ideas - no plot anywhere could be expected to exist long for he would knock out a key
player, whether or not he seemingly meant to.
Burning the candle at both ends, Tset had to contend with the lesser evils - crooked police, gangs, mob bosses, criminals and murderers, while his real threat loomed far darker, pulling strings.
And another, watching and waiting.
A Nymph?
Tset sat at his usual booth table in The Dank, a glass of long-flat beer in one gloved hand, his head down on his chest, chin resting on his deeply-colored silk tie.
He had been catching some sleep, but someone had been watching him.
Through his thick sunglasses he saw her dancing. He was rapt; the curves and beauty of the creature stunned him. She was no Liz, but she was definitely not one of the other classless who filled up the rest of the dance floor. He discreetly watched her dance until she left, alone, as she'd come. Her dark hair was fine, Tset thought something poetic about it before he could catch himself.
The next night, after another job, he was there again, and so was she.
Tuesday, the third night, she wasn’t. He had to find out who she was, so he waited.
Two nights later, and that was how Tset now measured time – in rises and phases of the moon – she was there again. He watched her closely. When she drifted away as she normally did, he stood and followed.
He stayed hidden, as he was, his essence making him closer to shadow, and watched her climb into a sporty sedan and drive off.
He mounted his bike and followed her. She wore a perfume he would catch wisps of where the wind was low – and The City was his, tracking her was easy.
He followed her all the way to a little dive in an upopulated industrial area of The City, somewhat near Tristram's, where she got out of her car and went inside. He stood by the window and watched her. She had an argument with a thug he learned was named Charles. She left again. He caught a whiff of the perfume as she walked past him on her way to her car.
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