Witness Protection Part 11
Road Trip
Chang and I arrived at the hospital right on schedule, the rental car loaded with our luggage, my surveillance equipment, and a shitload of camping gear and survival rations, in case we ended up stranded somewhere remote. Considering how far Winner's properties were off the beaten path, it was a reasonable possibility, and we needed to be prepared for anything.
Mostly we needed to get Maxwell out of that very public, very exposed hospital and someplace we could keep a better watch on him. Fast.
I think it was the urgency of my stride that made the two uniformed officers at the door straighten and look uneasy. But their nervousness made me stop in my tracks and eye them suspiciously.
I knew Taylor and Chase reasonably well, and yet in that instant I wondered if they were on Khushrenada's payroll and if Maxwell was already dead. "Is there a problem, Taylor?" I asked curtly, frowning at him.
"Just--no, detective. But no one gave orders about visitors, so when she showed up--"
"She?" I demanded, an image of Une flashing through my mind. I shoved Chase bodily out of the way and stalked into Maxwell's room, one hand on my gun.
Maxwell was up and dressed to go...or, well, more or less dressed. The tight black tee shirt and snug jeans probably wouldn't qualify as clothing by Chang's standards. And even I had to admit they didn't leave much to the imagination.
But then, considering his previous "occupation," I supposed we should be glad he'd worn that much.
He was sitting on the bed, talking to a girl with short, dark hair streaked with blue along one side, as Chang and I crossed the room.
She looked up and her expression turned to a grimace at our arrival. "Hey, Duo--looks like the cops want another piece of you."
"Who the hell is she?" I demanded of Maxwell, noting the immediate stiffening of his back and the defiant gleam that entered the indigo eyes.
"A friend," he said in a tone that dared me to object.
I did anyway. "A friend from where?"
"None of your business--"
Ignoring Maxwell's angry snarl, I fixed a daunting glare on the petite woman. "I want your name. I want to see some i.d. And I want to know how you know Maxwell and what the hell you're doing here."
Her mouth dropped open and she looked to Maxwell for support.
He stood up, facing me squarely. "You have no right--"
"I have all the right in the world!" I retorted. "And unless she produces identification and explains why she's here, I can have her arrested and taken downtown for some answers."
Chang made as if to head for the door to call in the uniforms, but the girl quickly grabbed her purse and whipped out her license. "I'm Hilde Schbeiker," she said with a lot less attitude than Maxwell. "I work at Sanc, and I'm Duo's neighbor. When Trowa and that guy Quatre came to the apartment building this morning, I asked about Duo."
My jaw dropped a bit. "They told you where he was?" I couldn't believe Winner had been so fucking stupid.
"No--just that they needed to get him some stuff," she said hastily.
"Look, Yuy," Maxwell snapped, stepping in between us. "She lives next door to me, and when Trowa showed up without me this morning, she got worried and tracked me down, okay? Tro' didn't blow my cover, and neither did Winner." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl. "Hilde won't either."
"How much have you told her, Maxwell?" I demanded.
"Nothing!" came the angry response. "For fuck's sake, Yuy. I'm not stupid."
"From where I'm standing you are," Chang interjected, crossing his arms over his chest.
The girl was looking warily at Maxwell now, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are they talking about, Duo? How much trouble are you in?"
He turned to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I'm not in trouble, Hil. I just--you know they're investigating Zechs--and since I knew him best, they need some information from me, okay?"
She looked over his shoulder at me, wincing when I scowled deeply. "They don't think you killed him, do they?"
"No--even the cops aren't that stupid," he teased, glancing back at me with a malicious gleam in his eyes.
Hilde pulled back, looking up at him with worry in her dark eyes. "Do they think the person who killed Zechs is trying to kill you, too? Is that what the car bomb was about yesterday?"
The girl didn't realize she'd hit the nail on the head.
I had to give him credit. Maxwell laughed easily, as if he hadn't a care in the world--and for all I knew, he didn't. Maybe he was stupid enough to not be scared--but then, I know I saw fear in his eyes whenever Khushrenada's name was mentioned.
"It's nothing like that, Hil," he said soothingly. "But I do need to lay low for awhile. And I don't want you to worry or anything."
"How can I not?" she asked, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck in a fond hug.
He hugged her back, and then pointed her towards the door. "Y'better go now--before Detective Death Glare and his partner--the one with the stick up his ass--decide to drag you downtown."
She chuckled a little, giving both Chang and me a sidelong look, and then obeyed, walking rather quickly out the door.
Maxwell rolled his eyes and went over to the window, looking out across the hospital grounds. "What are you two doing here, anyway?" he grumbled.
"Does the word 'sniper' mean nothing to you?" Wufei demanded scornfully, striding over and yanking the curtain closed right in front of our protected witness.
The braided man turned sharply, eyes flashing. "Fuck, detectives, y'think Khushrenada even knows I'm still alive, let alone what room and what hospital I'm in? And that he'd have someone watching just in case I walked over to the window?"
"In a word--yes." Wufei turned to face Maxwell, crossing his arms. "And you'd better start thinking the same thing if you want to stay alive."
Maxwell waved a hand dismissively, pushing past my partner and walking over to the bed. He sat down hard, with a huff of frustration. "I'll be glad to see the last of you two," he muttered. "Are you taking me to my official babysitters, or what?"
"Taking you--?" Wufei echoed, a sort of evil gleam entering the dark eyes. "Maxwell, we are your 'official babysitters,' as you so eloquently put it."
"What?" Alarmed indigo eyes darted to my face, and I swear, Maxwell went pale. "What do you mean, you are?"
"We drew the short straw," I said with a shrug. "Apparently all our pals in the department had more to live for than Chang and I did."
"No fuckin' way am I goin' anywhere with you two!" he snarled flatly.
I was starting to reach for my handcuffs when Winner came striding in. "You most certainly are!" he told his stubborn client, tossing a backpack onto the mattress beside him. "I agreed to it when it became obvious they were the best suited for the job."
"Suited for it?" Maxwell shook his head. "No, Quat. No way in Hell! I'm not going into hiding with these uptight assholes."
"You think anyone else on the force would be less uptight?" I demanded. "This isn't a game, Maxwell. It's a serious mission to keep you alive and out of sight until Khushrenada's trial."
"See what I mean?" he said to Quatre. "D'you hear him? A mission? Keeping me alive is a fucking mission?"
"Actually, it is," his lawyer said gently, but with steel in his voice. "And it's one I believe Yuy and Chang are the most capable of completing." He turned his head as Barton came walking in, carrying two stuffed duffel bags. "Trowa, could you please explain to Duo what we discussed on the way over to his apartment?"
Barton set the luggage on the bed, turning a patient look to his former lover. "The way we figure it, Duo, these two were resourceful enough to track you down at Sanc. And it's pretty obvious they're dedicated to the job. If someone else took over the case now, they'd be a totally unknown quantity."
Maxwell had his arms crossed in front of himself, hands rubbing restlessly at his biceps, and his fingers tracing over that distinguishing Grim Reaper tattoo. I made a mental note to tell him to wear something that covered it out in public, so no one could use it to identify him while we were supposed to be in hiding.
"Dammit, Tro'," he said in a lower voice. "I'll go nuts with only those two for company. You know I will!"
Barton took him by both arms, looking down into his eyes. "You'll be fine, Duo. I know it'll be boring, and you might feel a little cooped-up. But the time will pass before you know it."
Frowning, Maxwell turned an appealing look to his lawyer. "Quat--"
Was he fucking whining?
"Jesus, Maxwell! Would you quit your whining?" I snapped, fed up with his childish reluctance to accept his fate. "Y'think Chang and I are happy to be stuck with you? But we're not crying about it!"
He pulled away from the dancer, eyes narrowing. "You're getting paid for it!" he pointed out.
"And it's lucky for you we take our jobs seriously," I retorted. "Otherwise I'd have told my boss to shove it when she suggested Chang and I do this."
"She didn't suggest," Quatre said with a small smirk. "She ordered you. Now, how about cutting my client a little slack, hm? His lover was murdered right in front of him and his best friend's car was blown up--along with a man who's served my family for decades! I think, perhaps, you two detectives could moderate your attitudes a bit and try to understand how hard this has all been for Duo."
I opened my mouth to scoff, and just as quickly shut it, recalling Captain Po's parting orders for Chang and me to behave ourselves. My gaze sought out the braided man, who still had his arms crossed defiantly, and I couldn't help noticing the small white patch of the bandage at his hair line, marking how close he'd come to dying already.
"I can assure you, Mister Winner," Chang spoke up coolly, "that my partner and I are professionals. Regardless of our personal opinions of his lifestyle, we'll do what's best for your client."
Even if he doesn't particularly like it, I thought wryly.
"But!" Wufei added icily. "I'd like to remind your client we require his cooperation. Should there be an attempt on his life, he'll need to trust us, and obey us without question."
Maxwell lifted his chin in a gesture of disdain. "Don't worry about how I'll react under pressure, Chang. That's when I'm at my best."
I couldn't argue that. When I'd chased him for several city blocks, he'd never once lost his head. If Chang hadn't cut him off in the car, I had no doubt he'd eventually have evaded me.
"Fine then," I cut in curtly. "Can we get this show on the road before Khushrenada has any more time to round up willing assassins to send after us?"
Maxwell gave Winner a last pleading look and then sighed, walking up to him and shaking his hand. "Thanks, Quat, for taking me on again."
That said, Maxwell walked over to the bed and picked up his backpack. He turned to face Barton, reaching into the pocket of his too-tight jeans and pulling out a set of keys. "Here, Tro'. My bike's still at Sanc, and since you're without a car, you might as well have it."
"Aw, Duo--no--"
"Seriously, man. I can't go back for it." He shoved the keys into Barton's hand. "Just take good care of it, okay? It's a sweet ride."
"Almost as sweet a ride as you are," crooned his partner suggestively, pulling him into a lingering hug and kiss.
I tapped a foot restlessly. "Sometime today?"
"Fine!" Maxwell blurted irritably, letting go of his friend and grabbing the two bags off the bed. "Where's the fuckin' car?" he asked in a surly growl, stalking towards the door.
Barton caught him before he walked out, pulling him into another hug, and whispering something in his ear. In response, Maxwell dropped his duffel bags and threw his arms around the other man, then drew back and kissed him lingeringly, before bending to pick up his luggage and continue on his way.
Chang threw me a weary look and set out after him, and I gave Winner a curt nod before following.
But Barton was still close to the door, and caught my arm in a surprisingly strong grip, leaning in close. "Don't you let anything happen to Duo," he warned in a low growl that might have sounded seductive if it weren't for the dangerous gleam in the forest green eyes. "Keep him close. Keep him safe. Or they'll end up investigating another murder--yours."
I looked back at him steadily. "If anything happens to him, it will be over my dead body. Chang's too. As you said, we're dedicated to the job--and he's it."
I jerked my arm free and walked briskly out of the room, overtaking Maxwell and Chang where they stood waiting for the elevator.
It was a quiet ride down to the lower level of the parking garage, with Maxwell glaring stubbornly at the door, and Wufei looking anywhere but at the man we were assigned to protect. I could tell the two of them were going to be lots of fun together. Not.
When the doors opened, Chang took the lead, while Maxwell paused to set down a bag and pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "God--couldn't wait to get out of that hospital," he sighed, lighting one up. At my questioning look he added, "They don't let you smoke in a hospital."
Wufei had paused and turned around. "Well then it's good they got you used to doing without. There's no smoking in the car, either."
Maxwell looked up sharply at him. "Fuck that! I'm not riding in a car for days on end without a goddamned cigarette, Chang."
"It's a rental." Wufei gestured to the nondescript sedan he'd picked up that morning.
"It's a piece of shit!" Maxwell retorted. "And rental companies expect you to smoke in their cars. They have people to clean 'em afterwards, you ignorant ass."
I decided to step in before things got ugly. "Neither Chang nor I smoke, Maxwell. You can at least open a window a crack if you must."
The indigo eyes shot me a wary look. "Yeah, I can do that," he conceded, taking a long drag on his cigarette and politely blowing the smoke away from me.
Rather proud of the way I'd handled the situation, I picked up the bag he'd put down and headed for the car, snagging the keys out of Chang's hand as I passed. I opened up the back door and stuffed the bag in, then turned and gestured our witness to get in.
Maxwell was looking rather strangely at me as he tossed aside the remainder of his cigarette and lugged his other bag over. "Thanks," he muttered, shoving the bag on top of the first and crawling in after it, shuffling things around until he had room among his belongings as well as the stuff Chang and I had brought.
"Can't this stuff go in the trunk?" he asked rather plaintively as he maneuvered his long, slender legs between two overstuffed totes.
"Trunk's full," I told him. "Surveillance equipment, camping gear, and spare weapons."
His eyes widened. "Camping gear?"
"Just in case," I assured him, no more eager to end up roughing it to that degree than he was.
"In case what?" Maxwell asked.
"In case we end up in some crazy running gun battle with a hoard of hired assassins and get stranded out in the wilderness," my partner said snidely, walking around to the passenger side and climbing in.
I guessed I was driving.
But before I got into any vehicle with Duo Maxwell in it, I was going to inspect it for safety. I popped the hood and walked around to glance in the engine for possible explosive devices. Sure, we'd only been in the hospital for a matter of minutes--but you never knew.
Then I closed the hood, got down on the floor of the garage, and shone a flashlight into the undercarriage. Everything looked okay. When I got up and brushed myself off, I expected a snide comment from either Maxwell or Chang, but neither one seemed inclined to question my level of paranoia at that point.
In fact, I thought Maxwell looked a trifle pale when I climbed into the driver's seat. He was looking out the window, his gaze a little distant, and I wondered if he was reliving the explosion of his friend Barton's car.
When I started up the engine, all three of us jumped slightly; but by the time I maneuvered out of the parking space and headed out of the garage, things calmed down.
"Where are we going?" Maxwell asked as we pulled out into traffic.
"Upstate a ways," I said vaguely. "Winner has a hunting lodge in the mountains he's volunteered for our use."
Maxwell grimaced. "Why don't we just head for Vegas? We could get lost in Vegas, you know. Blend right in. Nobody'd notice us at all."
Chang just shook his head. "Are you kidding, Maxwell? The Vegas odds-makers are probably taking wagers on your longevity about now."
He had a point. If word was out that Khushrenada was being arrested for Merquise's murder and that the only witness had a price on his head, the bookies would make a killing on the wagers they could take in. Some people will bet on anything.
Maxwell digested the comment, and then a faint smirk settled on his lips. "Maybe I should call my bookie and see what kind of odds I can get."
"You'd better be joking," I said flatly.
"Well, duh," came the snide reply.
~*~
We hadn't been on the road half an hour when Maxwell's restlessness got the better of him. He slid forward in his seat, crossing his arms on the back of the front seat and leaning his chin on them.
"How 'bout some music?" he asked, reaching for the radio.
Chang slapped his hand away. "If we want noise, Maxwell, we're perfectly capable of turning the radio on ourselves."
"Capable, sure--what about willing?" grumbled our passenger. He glanced over at me and I studiously avoided noticing him. "Yuy--c'mon--the silence is fuckin' killing me! Aren't you two supposed to keep me alive?"
"No one ever died from silence," Wufei retorted.
"If I'm the first, it'll blow your whole case against Khushrenada," warned Maxwell.
"You won't be the first," growled my partner.
"But if I am--"
"Jesus Christ!" I blurted. "Let him have the fucking radio on if it shuts him up, Chang!"
Grinning like a maniac, Maxwell heaved himself half-over the seat and flicked on the radio, which promptly blasted out static at a very loud volume. He fiddled with the dial for several minutes, while I resisted the urge to rip the radio right out of the dashboard and fling it out the window. Along with him.
"Maxwell!" snapped my partner.
"Aw, keep your shorts on, Chang! I've almost got it." He managed to more or less tune in a scratchy station playing country music. "Aw--fuck."
"Now can we turn it off?" demanded Wufei.
"Hold up a sec!" Maxwell dove back into the rear seat and dug into his backpack, emerging with a fistful of cd's. "Here! Real music." He shuffled through them as if selecting the right one was the most important decision of his life. "Hm...Eagles, G 'n R, Tool, Slipknot, System of a Down...ah! Van Halen should do nicely." He sprawled over the seat again, shoving the disc into the player and pushing start.
As a loud tune with lots of electric guitar and percussion began, Maxwell settled his chin on his crossed arms again.
"This is intolerable, Yuy," my partner groused. "Are we to let him have his way the entire trip?"
Maxwell eyed him with a sidelong glance. "Well it is my road trip, isn't it?" His indigo eyes narrowed. "You got a problem with Van Halen? I've got other stuff. How 'bout Def Leppard?"
"I'm sure you have absolutely nothing I'd find remotely tolerable," sneered Chang.
"An' I'm pretty sure you don't find a goddamned thing tolerable," Maxwell shot back. "Uptight asshole."
"You've said that before."
"It bears repeating."
"If you two don't shut the fuck up," I snarled, "we're turning around right now!"
Maxwell burst out laughing, falling backwards onto his seat. "Ah--I can't believe you actually said that!" he blurted between chuckles. "T-turn the c-car around?" He dissolved into hysterics again, and I took the opportunity to turn the volume on the radio down just a bit.
"Chang, I want you to stop bickering with him. Seriously."
My partner crossed his arms, turning to look out the window. But I heard him mutter about "street trash" and "junkies" under his breath.
God! At the rate we were going, this promised to be the longest assignment of my life.
TBC...
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