The Collaboration
In a Tokyo hotel, a lavish banquet was in full swing.
Crystal glasses clinked across the glittering hall as entrepreneurs, politicians, and celebrities in their finest attire drifted from group to group in twos and threes, trading small talk. Waiters wove smoothly between the clusters of guests, ever ready with impeccable service.
Among the many beautiful faces at the banquet, one drew more eyes than most: Chris Vineyard, the celebrated actress from Country M. She didn't linger long in the crowd — once her round of socializing wound down, she slipped, unremarked, toward a quiet corner.
That corner was nearly deserted. The only occupant was a blond, sun-tanned waiter standing at the ready with a serving tray, prepared to offer drinks to any guest who wandered over.
Chris strolled up beside him and lifted a glass from his tray.
Under the cover of raising it to her lips, she asked without moving hers, "How did the investigation go?"
"Everything's confirmed. Councilman Inui — the one who's been using the Organization's muscle to bury his rivals — really is preparing to betray us. The police caught wind of his illegal dealings, and now that he's under constant surveillance, he's decided to sell out the Organization first, hoping to bargain for a lighter sentence. Tonight's the night he plans to hand over everything he's gathered on us to a police contact, using the mixed crowd at this banquet as cover." The waiter inclined his head slightly and answered in a low voice.
"You got the flash drive?" Chris pressed.
"Of course." With that, he passed the drive over as smoothly as he'd handed her the drink.
He had given her the drive, true — but not before quietly copying its contents and relaying them to his contact in Public Security.
The blond waiter was none other than Amuro Tooru, an operative of the Organization's intelligence division, code name Bourbon. He was also an undercover agent of the National Police Agency's Public Security bureau, planted inside the Black Organization — his real name, Furuya Rei.
From the moment this assignment landed, he had been preparing for exactly this: to duplicate the evidence Councilman Inui intended to hand over. Although the material wouldn't deal the Organization any real damage, learning which government figures might have ties to it was a prize in its own right.
"That's our Bourbon for you — quick on the draw," Chris said with a smile, taking a slow sip of her wine. "I'd wager the councilman has no idea what he's about to hand over was switched on him. Not that he'll ever find out."
With that, Chris left the corner and melted back into the crowd.
Bourbon watched her retreating figure for a moment — the woman who was also Vermouth, code name of the Black Organization — then let his gaze slide to Councilman Inui, standing amid the throng.
Inui was holding forth to the crowd in full voice, utterly oblivious to the currents churning around him, and apparently still savoring his dream of slipping the noose once the evidence changed hands.
Then a bullet fired from outside tore through his skull. The people around him erupted into screams, the banquet hall descending into chaos. Bourbon, confirming that the round had struck the councilman dead in the head, murmured into his hidden earpiece to Korn, the sniper on the other end: "Target eliminated. Prepare to withdraw."
Bourbon cast one last glance at the body sprawled across the banquet floor and let out a soft, regretful sigh. He was certain the man had known more than what was on that flash drive — but the timeline had been far too tight to arrange for Public Security to extract him, and doing too much would have raised the Black Organization's suspicions. For Amuro Tooru, protecting his cover came before everything else.
Before long, plainclothes officers planted in the banquet had locked down the scene. They conducted routine interviews with everyone present, and once no one showed signs of suspicion — names and contact information duly collected — they let the guests go.
Bourbon slid into his Mazda, intending to head straight for the rendezvous point Gin had just sent him.
A knock at the window.
*Knock, knock.*
He turned — and there stood Vermouth, the very woman he'd parted ways with only moments ago, pulling open the passenger door and preparing to climb in.
"What, you got Gin's sudden summon too? Any idea what he's calling us in for? I literally just finished a job." Watching her settle into the seat, Bourbon guessed she'd received the same message. He probed her casually for more information as he pulled out toward the destination, careful to keep his tone light.
"The purpose? No clue. Though I *did* hear something interesting recently — someone in Country H wants to do business with us." Vermouth rested her cheek on one hand, gazing out at the city lights streaming past the window as she spoke offhandedly.
"Country H?" Bourbon echoed.
"That's right. The Organization barely has a foothold there, and now that someone's come knocking on our door, it's the perfect opening to sink our roots into that country."
"That reliable? What if it's a sting — officials baiting the hook?" At the prospect of the Organization expanding its reach, something in Amuro's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly.
"Rum had people vet the partner thoroughly. If there were a problem, word of the deal would never have gotten out in the first place." She shot Bourbon a half-smiling look, her words laced with a faint barb. "What's this? You're Rum's own intelligence specialist, and not a whisper reached your ears?"
Bourbon laughed it off without missing a beat. "Rum doesn't exactly keep me in the loop on everything. All I've heard is that the Organization has something big brewing — and when that's the case, it's not exactly the time to go poking around asking questions, is it?"
Inside, however, his heart sank. So the Organization's reach in Europe was deeper than he'd realized. A few days ago he'd heard that a regional head there had been recalled to Japan, and he'd spent every day since buried in missions — he didn't know the man's code name, had never even laid eyes on him. More of a mystery than any mystic.
If the man didn't show up at tonight's gathering, Bourbon resolved, he would have to make more trips to the Organization's base when he had the chance — to run into him, and to dig for intel on the Organization's operations in Europe.
Vermouth studied Bourbon's unchanging expression for a moment, then turned away, bored, and went back to watching the scenery slide by. But as she recalled the message she'd received upon returning to Japan, her brow creased ever so slightly in irritation.
Bourbon was a skilled driver, and despite the traffic, the two of them pulled into the rendezvous point right on time.
Several people were already there.
Amuro swept his gaze around the scene, taking a quick inventory: Gin, Vodka, a tall blond man, and one more figure whose face and build were impossible to make out — someone leaning against a wall in the darkness.
"So it's just you and me left, then?" Amuro remarked.
"You're late. Nearly blew past the rendezvous time." There was undisguised displeasure in Gin's voice.
"Give me a break, Gin. I came *straight* from a mission site — you're lucky I made it here at all."
Vermouth chimed in as well. "Exactly. If Bourbon hadn't had a car, I'd still be fighting my way over. What's with the notice so last-minute anyway?"
Gin ignored the complaints from Bourbon and Vermouth alike, and gestured for Vodka, at his side, to explain why they'd been summoned tonight.
Catching his brother's look, Vodka snapped to attention and spoke up at once. "Ahem. The reason we called you out tonight — the Organization is about to enter a partnership with a member of the Reigenfend family in Country H. The man isn't one of the family's power players, but he's still got some influence to his name. Through this deal, the Organization gains entry into Country H. And with help from someone on the ground there, we can put down roots in the country before long."