“Hmmm.”
Chamán felt much better. Better than he had felt for all night. Was the effect of the narcotics they were feeding him up with? No, it was completely different.
“Fuck, it feels good.” George was finally relaxed after the pain of last night. ”Did they overdose me with morphine or what?” He smiled, and opened his eyes, looking at the now familiar ceiling. Only to turn and see his dick hard as an oak tree and Fanny sitting leaning back on a chair on front of him, crossing her legs, and chewing on a toothpick. “Okay, now I am afraid to ask again...”
“I've been here the whole time, eejit.” Fanny had a chuckle.”And answering to your next question, yes, I don't have much to do at all.”
“Crap.” The soldier brought his hands to cover his gun. He looked at the wall while trying to shake off his embarrassment. “That clock is still unfixed.”
He felt hands creeping on his leg. The redhead was getting on top of him again.
“Is this a hobby of yours?”
“Hey. It's cold after all...” She sat on top of his groin, positioning her but besides his erected cock. “One just want to be closer to other humans when that happens.”
George felt his pale face becoming of the color of fried tomatoes. Completely warm and almost on the verge of sweating from being flustered. He raised one of his hands to gesture a stop request.
“A bit too early for this, don't ya think?”
“What? I already took you on a dinner.” Fanny smiled, moving her hips slowly. “You want me to bring out a ring? Nay', you can't get something like that here.”
He signaled the clock. It was 5 o'clock. Or was it 6 o'clock?
“Perfect timing for a quickie. And we can drink some whiskey cream after I drink yours.” Her hands directed towards the mountain. “You should take that mask, so we can share some other fluids, yeh?”
“But it adds some charm.” Grabbing frantically his mask with both hands, he let his guard down. “Oh...no, no, wait.” The edging coming from her crotch was too much to bear. His branch started to grow back after the brief rest. She clearly noticed and let out a growl of excitement. The jacket came of first, and then she pulled her sweater over, to reveal her bra covered breasts. “Really, wait!” He jumped his hands to pull the sweater down, and that was his mistake.
Her fingers were already touching the black fabric and were about to start putting it over...
“I'm sorry to interrupt, but we are on an emergency.”
It almost made them choke. When regained their consciousness, they were able to notice how the manager was standing there. Banan looked unfazed, and George couldn't help but feeling guilty. But he didn't really have the time to explain himself.
"Fanny... make yourself begone."
"Jealous?"
"Lázár is dead."
Fanny froze on the spot. George looked at both of them, and then it dawned on him. Did she say that the leader was dead?
“How...” Fanny looked really disturbed and was quick to fix her clothes properly as she went down from the bed. “I knew he was old, but...”
“I really didn't do so much of a digging.” Banan directed his eyes towards George. “You, too, get up if you are able. This requires everyone to be reunited.”
“Hm, sure.” He would thank the heavens his erection was gone fast due to the shock news. “Is there any suspect?”
While he was getting up and grabbing a conveniently prompted walking stick that was close him, Banan handed a paper to each. A questionnaire. Fanny's face normalized, and she looked at it as it was a common thing. Whereas George didn't really understand. Where they trying to get their testimony on paper? But no – It was just something of a survey.
“I sent the elites to watch out for the crime scene and see if they can find any clue.”
***
Elizabeth rummaged thorough the old Francisco Lázár's belongings, but if there ever was anything of value, that was decades ago. All of it was just doodles and books with titles such as “100 tips to popularity” and “How to deal with premature ejaculation in your love life”. Her lips twisted and cringed at the view. Other than cheap manuals, the old fart had a hoard of old times literature, oddly enough, even poetry of liberal Spanish Republicans.
“Dude thought himself some kind of Alfonso Quijano, guiding to whatever cause he thought was real.” Bakarne commented, and looked at the corpse. “Ah, I can't believe I wasn't the one to blow his ass uphill. Such is life.”
“Don't go making those jokes if you don't want to become a suspect.” Eli checked the closet, but it was all old uniforms all dusty and humid. There was nothing of interest on the pockets, neither money or notes. “Or do, is not like I care, actually.”
“Mh. Grab me a couple of batteries.”
“Eh?”
Elizabeth turned her head around and looked at Bakarne, who was slowly taking the walkman from the blood puddle already drying in the carpet. The noise ripping some of the fabric stuck to it echoed grossly.
“Hum. A dying message? You think he could have recorded his final moments?” She closed the closet and came closer. “With some luck, it may still work.”
BLAM.
The door was shut down, but if felt like something was violently thrown at it.
“That jerk is playing kickboxer outside?” Bakarne looked towards the door before raising her voice. “Emil! Watch out that no one enters before we are done!”
“Easy to say!” On the other side, Emil was against the door, looking at all the eyes of distrust and tiredness. The growing chant of anger was starting to be heard on the office, as he tried to keep his ground. He knew he would gain nothing trying to make himself bigger, but despite of all, he tried his best. “This is direct order from the manager! So stay put until we say!”
“Shut up, half-shit.” One of the girls said. “Tell us who the fuck did it.”
“I cannot share anything until we have verified information, or you fuckers will go crazy.” He spat, his usual joyful face becoming tired. “So, wait patiently.”
“More than you guys should do your work faster! So much elite stuff, but those broads could have protected him!”
“You don't care about the leader, so why so bothered? Everyone hated him.” Another member entered the verbal fight. “All of you are happy he is fucking done for!”
“He was still our leader!!” The girl shouted and jumped at him “Have some decency and sense of unity, asshole!”
Before Emil could ever do anything to stop the rampage, it already started. The fists and kicks flew and there was no way they would relax anytime soon. Some of the Lázár fanatics became more violent, while the others defended how hypocritical it was, since no one was really happy with his administration. Still, the Lázárists were loud and clear they won't admit any murder in the place and no member should hurt others – just after they violently fought each other. Emil could only just watch the whole thing evolve fast, with everyone panting heavily and looking at everyone at the same time.
Dear lord. Please, girls, be fast.
Elizabeth popped the new batteries as Bakarne was putting the earphones on her. A small grimace of disgust feeling the dry blood on them crossed her face.
“Okay, let me know if you hear anything in Spanish and translate to me, okay?” With a click, the walkman was ready to go – and Bakarne pressed the play button.
Arde la calle al sol de poniente,
hay tribus ocultas cerca del río
esperando que caiga la noche.
Hace falta valor, hace falta valor,
ven a la escuela de calor.
“What is it?” The Nazi girl leaned to hear closely.
“Radio Futura.” Bakarne joked. They listened to the song. “Should we make sure we listen both sides if there is anything else recorded anywhere.”
So they did – listened the whole album for about an hour, making sure there was not anything recorded in by accident.
“Actually, that was good. I should listen more Spaniard music sometime soon.” Elizabeth took the earphone out and gave it to Bakarne. “But there was nothing else there.”
“Hm, guess not. There was nothing usefull here. The only thing is the 475 Wildey Magnum over there. The caliber seems to be correct with the hole size on his head. And the bullet stuck on the blinds.” She pointed the other side of the room, where a bullet was stuck in the thick plastic keeping the place shut.
“A closed room mystery, yay.”
“Nah, highly doubt it. That geezer used to keep the door unlocked all the time, so anyone could just come and open his empty brain storage and leave.” The Basque girl gestured in motion, in a simple reconstruction of the scene. “Just aim from the entrance, leave the gun, and run fast while everyone was still groggy, so they could just come and pretend to be part of the freshly awaken group.”
“Surely, you have thought of this yourself, didn't you?” Elizabeth chuckled.
“I thought we had established I hated this bastard as much as everyone does.” Bakarne snorted. “And don't call me Shirley.”
“Hm. And why would the murderer just leave the weapon in the scene? Is not that, like, the most important point for solving a crime?” Elizabeth started to march all around the corpse, trying to get more clues. “It sounds totally amateur to me.”
“Not if they are in known of how this place operates.”
The gothic Nazi princess cooked her head. The fanged terrorist gestured to her own gloved hands.
“We have the rule of not killing each other, so we never need an investigation kit to begin with. Even when we are all registered all our data, we never used our fingerprints or something similar, because they already assume us as disposable. The person behind this obviously is not a rookie or newcomer.”
“Ooooh.” Eli punctuated hitting one fisted hand in the palm of the other. “Regular members and new are never told about our equipments, either.”
“That's it. This is someone on higher ranks or a special member that requires access to such information, as us the elites, the manager, and other very few. Either that, or...”
Suspense. Bakarne had just lifted a finger and closed her eyes, as is she was channeling some special prowess of deduction. Elizabeth was too invested, she stood still, holding her breath...
“...The criminal is just very stupid.”
“Kgh!”
They both smiled, as it was not an unlikely thing. The Division didn't bother much about brains than they did about brawns.
“So, what do we do now? We report this thing to the manager?”
“Yeah, we should. And see if Emil is still in one piece out there.”
If they were to wait another second, certainly he would have perished. His body frail and stuck to the door frame, so he got a good kick from the gigantic both of Elizabeth. He didn't even resist, as his strength was all drained. They looked at him on the floor first, then all the members that were on the hall, surrounding the door. Of course, it was going to be nearly impossible to move them away. And there was no lie that would be enough to calm them, either.
“Dear members of the 17 Division... Lázár is dead.” Elizabeth announced, faking her sadness. “We need to talk to the manager.”
The raging group jumped at them and before they could reach their own weapons, a slinging ring of metal crossed between them, making them jump back to their feet. The Mosin-Nagant got stuck in the floor forcefully, breaking thorough the oddly nostalgic cream colors stones, separating the elites from the members that hold knifes and other weapons on them, demanding answers.
And before anyone else could react, the monstrous figure of Rurik emerged from the left side of the hall. Some of the members moved away to let him advance, but others looked at him with evermore anger.
“What is it up with all this the ruckus.” His strong accent cut the air. “Have you animals not heard something about discipline?” The glances darted all over the hall and no one would dare to shout just yet, but the intention was there. Cockily, Rurik grabbed his weapon from the floor effortlessly and looked at the elites. “May I get an explanation, ladies?”
“The fat old man died.” Elizabeth commented, simply shrug her shoulders, feeling Bakarne looking away as much she could. “And there are signs he was murdered, so we are trying to know who did it.”
“Hum...” Rurik looked undisturbed by the fact, and twisted his mouth to make his cigarette, already lit, do some gesture of interest. “Any theories?”
“Not yet.” With a strong hold, Elizabeth was pulled out to the back of Bakarne, looking bothered at the Russian. “And is not of your business. We are the ones that were reached to do the investigation by the manager, so stick your big nose out of the question, you Slavic gorilla.”
“There are no apes in Russia.” Karabanov commented. “And I am the new leader in charge, so it is all my business. Is my duty to take care of you all if he died.”
“And you conveniently get the previous leader taking his last breath just after you arrived. Such a coincidence, huh? Sounds like an elaborated hoax to me.”
The giant man sighed and closed his eyes, and then opened some of his uniform to grab something inside of it.
Elizabeth got close to his fellow comrade's ear to whisper.
“But we didn't say newcomers are not in knowledge of...”
“Shut up now, you fucking sausage eater.”
The Nazi chick got taken aback by the special rudeness of her peer. She was clear not on a good mood, if anything much more ill-behaved than usual. Her hand was holding something on her pocket. If they pushed each other more, they would have another disgrace to happen. Or so was being expected, especially if the foreigner dared to pull a gun. But instead, he took a yellowed paper out.
“My copy of leadership admission, signed and stamped by Lázár itself.” His hand offered to their sight and they looked at it thoroughly. It looked like the real thing, and that was such a scary notion.
“I call this bullshit.” Bakarne growled. And she pulled out her gun, only to Rurik do the same. “Wanna know if I have ammo this time?”
“Would be my pleasure.”
Elizabeth grabbed her fellow elite and tried to push her back, frantically, but she was not moving. And when things looking the most dire...
“Everyone. Dismissed. Get to your rooms.”
Second in command, the manager, finally came in with a megaphone on hand and a lot of papers in the other. She clearly looked so bothered that no one wanted to deal with it.
In fact, all of them started to turn back to their designated dorms, yet Banan had still something to make sure.
“Except you three. Come to my office.” She signaled Elizabeth, Emil and Bakarne. “And you, sir, will have to come after.” Rurik made another cigarette flick. “Make sure not to be late.”
In her back, George and Fanny looked the scene being slowly clear itself.
“And you, guys, make sure to take care of what I told you about.” Banan looked at them and put her glasses upright. “But please, avoid doing anything haram in the meanwhile.”
Both of them were left alone in the cold hall, and once they were completely in the clear, they entered the room. George's walking stick being more annoying that he wanted it to be, but he had to hang in there until his leg was totally fine.
“I will check the closets. You check the desk.”
They both rummaged thorough old Lázár's things, his belongings becoming target of judgement once again. But not matter how hard they messed up the place– the damn thing was not there.
“So, what are we trying to find again, eejit?” Fanny dug between the few books of self-improvement the late leader had on the drawers.
“A copy of special admission certificate. Banan wants to check if the old guy came to contract with more people before he died. If he did, both him and the interested person should have a copy equally.” George carelessly messed the uniforms and clothes of the old guy. “If he did it on his own, then he must kept the copies. And those will confirm who was really called and assigned and whatnot.”
“Ah, bureaucracy.” Fanny looked at him, half closing her eyes and his lips in a pouting gesture.
“Yeah. Hey, come help me. Can you look at this drawer? Cannot crouch with the damn stick.
The redhead got closer and blew him a kiss. Then bent her knees to check the drawer. It was full of underpants and socks. She looked up at his face. He made a nod. She started to put her hands to work and take them away. It was not long before she saw a couple of envelopes buried. They had Lázár's sign and stamp on them, and a date. 26th of April, 1988.
“Bingo? Let's open them.”
They looked thorough it. One of the envelopes was completely empty. The other had a copy of an special admission. But it wasn't the name of Rurik Karabanov on there.
“Okay, crap. We need to bring this immediatedly to her.”
“Mh-uhm.” Fanny looked at the papers, trying to read the terrible handwriting. “I wonder how she can even read anything that this guy wrote. I've seen docta's with better calligraphy. But also, this means our guy maybe said the truth, as well?”
“Could be the case. But still, he could have gotten a fake, and steal or destroy one of these if it belonged to another person.” George pondered. “Think of it, you can delete one copy and leave the proof someone was assigned as new leader, but not all of it... Enough for doubt, yet enough to believe them.”
“Sounds a very sloppy plan, thought.” Fanny looked at the corpse of Lázár. “But... wait, how tall do you think that guy is?”
“Hm? Like, two meter- I mean, like over 6 feet very much.” George mustered. “Why?”
“Look at this old fart.”
George looked at him. Fanny put her hands on her chin, like in deep thought.
“This guy is way less than that. Maybe, just 5 feet something. Now look where the bullet is.”
“In his head.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” Fanny rolled her eyes. Can't believe I almost suck this gobeshite meat stick, ah. “I mean, look th' direction it comes from! Is just quite straight. As if the murderer was same height, just rising the gun to rise.”
“Ah, I know what you mean. But – you think the murderer couldn't just fake the height? C'mon, the big guy could have just adjusted his height or his hand or whatever and shoot from a straight angle as well.” George spat on the floor.
“Only one more question.” The Irish lass scratched her beanie and half closed her eyes, gesturing a fake cigar on her hand. “You think that bullet burn matches a standard range?”
George looked at it. The burn meant, of course, a way closer shooting. Like, basically against the skin. Otherwise, a shoot from away only would have caused a straight bloody hole.
“Then whoever who did this, did it from basically his side. Literally gang up on him and fire.”
“Exaaactly.” Fanny dramatically opened her arms. “And that guy not only doesn't ever change his clothes, considering he still had dirt marks from his night shifts. They didn't have a mark of blood on them. Not even a tiny weeny stain. And he doesn't carry extra stuff with him, so he cannot change clothes.”
“So, he is innocent?” George mumbled. “I think we should tell that to-”
A gloved hand in black stopped him. The mischievous grin of Fanny appeared, and he felt how her green eyes practically smirked.
“Let's say he's innocent until proven otherwise. But let's keep that a secret, shall we?”
“Why?” George commented.
“Because that would be extreeeemely funny, dontcha think, boye?”
He gritted his teeth for a bit. His head was spinning.
“Well... let's just bring this papers to the manager, at the very least.”
“Aw... not wanting to do something haram with me before, pretty narco boy?”
“Give me a rest, please...”
In amusement, sitting on the desk of the dead boss – Pujay looked at them get out and close the door behind them.
Ahh... you are still a fool, Chamán... He sighed.