The Collaboration (Part 2)
"A collaboration? Collaboration in what, exactly?"
Amuro Tooru had felt a flicker of unease when he learned the Organization was preparing to expand its sphere of influence, but he quickly smothered the ill-timed emotion and began quietly fishing for more information.
"You have no need to know that yet," Gin said. "Cointreau is the one in charge of this collaboration. He handled European affairs before, so he's familiar with all of this."
He then turned his gaze toward Bourbon and another tall man with short blond hair. "Bourbon, Ireland — the two of you will take orders from him going forward. Vermouth will assist."
With that, Gin looked toward the figure standing in the darkness. Amuro guessed that this had to be the Cointreau Gin had just mentioned, the man put in charge of the collaboration — the first time he'd ever heard that codename. That someone he'd never heard of was entrusted with so important an operation said a great deal: this Cointreau's standing in the Organization couldn't be low. It might even rival Gin's own.
As Gin gestured, the man straightened at last and stepped out of the shadows.
By the bright moonlight of that night, Amuro could just barely make out his features — long golden hair tied back, features softened to the point of seeming almost gentle at first glance. But look closer at those gold eyes, and one found their expression had barely shifted from the very beginning. Detached. Almost indifferent.
Ireland spoke first. "So you're Cointreau. I've heard of you — they say you ran the European side. But this is Japan, and now we're all supposed to take orders from you. Let's see if your skills actually live up to that."
Bourbon had intended to sit back and quietly observe this codename member who had appeared out of nowhere. With Ireland opening the exchange to test Cointreau's abilities, he held his tongue, curious to see how the man would respond.
Cointreau sighed — then drew a dagger from his sleeve in a flash of motion, closed the distance in a few strides, and pressed the blade against Ireland's throat.
"Well? Have I proven myself now?"
Ireland's face went rigid. Slowly, he lowered his eyes to the dagger resting against his neck and swallowed despite himself.
So fast — my body never even reacted!
"Y-you've... proven it..."
Hearing the answer, Cointreau didn't press him any further and swiftly sheathed the dagger.
He walked up before Ireland and Bourbon. "From here on, the Organization's collaboration with the Ragnvindrs proceeds entirely under my arrangements. So if either of you has objections, voice them now. After this, the window closes."
Ireland had recovered the moment the blade left his throat, but the icy touch of the steel still seemed to linger on his skin, and some instinct kept him from objecting.
Bourbon raised no objection either — he was now deeply wary of Cointreau's strength. He hadn't been able to follow that movement at all; in the space of a blink, the man was simply there at Ireland's throat. Someone like that, if he decided to come after Bourbon... there was no guarantee Bourbon would come out on top.
"Good. Since no one objects, we're done for today. I'll notify you of the mission details later."
"Cointreau. It's been a long time." Vermouth, judging that the discussion had wound down, stepped forward to greet him. "Since I'll be providing support from here on, I suppose we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other."
Cointreau turned to look at her. "It has been a while. Though — shouldn't I be calling you Chris now?"
Bourbon listened silently to the exchange, hoping to glean something from it.
From the way Cointreau put it... Vermouth wasn't always called Chris?
"Heh. Forgetting a lady's name isn't very gentlemanly of you."
Chris hadn't expected Cointreau to arrive in Japan at this particular time. He was a far more troublesome opponent than Gin — hardly a favorable development for what she was planning to do.
"I never claimed to be a gentleman."
Deciding that the purpose of tonight's gathering had been fulfilled and that he had no interest in further pleasantries with Vermouth, Cointreau turned to leave.
"You came to Japan suddenly — still searching for someone? Did you find them?" Seeing that he meant to go, Vermouth hesitated, then decided to ask about his purpose all the same, hoping it had nothing to do with her own objectives.
"Take a guess." Cointreau didn't turn around, answering with his back to them all.
"Searching for someone? Cointreau is looking for somebody?" Bourbon asked Vermouth, curiosity plain on his face.
"It's nothing." Vermouth declined to answer. She too thought the person Cointreau sought had never existed at all — but that was his business. Without his consent, she would never casually speak of it; her question just now had already bordered on an intrusion.
Seeing that she wasn't going to answer, Bourbon didn't press. He simply filed the detail away in his mind.
With Gin having nothing further, Ireland, Bourbon, and Vermouth departed as well. Ireland drove himself, while Vermouth, as always, had Bourbon see her home.
Vodka watched the Organization's members file away one by one until only he and his big brother remained, then gave in to curiosity. "Aniki, why would the Organization suddenly decide to work with someone else? Doesn't really fit how we usually do things, does it?"
Gin took out a cigarette, and Vodka, ever attentive, lit it for him. Gin drew a long breath and spoke. "Heh. They came to us first. God knows how, but they found out the Organization possesses technology to retard aging, and they named their price up front — an exchange of research in that field."
"Then why did the Organization agree?" Vodka was genuinely surprised. In the past, whenever something like this happened, the response was either to send a few men to deliver a warning or to drag the other party into the Organization's service. A partnership like this was a first.
"They offered a term the Organization couldn't refuse. And besides..." Gin shot Vodka a sideways glance. "What makes you think no one was ever sent?"
Vodka swallowed. "Then... the result?"
Gin exhaled a plume of smoke. "There is no result. Peripherals and codename members alike — everyone sent to investigate the Ragnvindr family went silent not long after arrival."
"Tch. A pack of useless trash." Gin's assessment dripped with contempt.
Most of the investigators had been Rum's people, nothing to do with him — but for so many to come back with nothing at all was an embarrassment all the same.
What Gin couldn't understand was why the Boss hadn't punished Rum for it. Worse, no one seemed to know what Rum had gone on to discuss with the Ragnvindr side — enough, apparently, for him to go to the Boss proposing this collaboration, and for the Boss to actually agree.
That said, the Boss clearly didn't trust Rum completely either. Rum's people weren't running this operation; it had been handed to Cointreau, with Ireland and Bourbon brought in alongside. Ireland had ties to Pisco, one of the Organization's old guard, and Bourbon answered to Rum. A system of checks and balances, most likely.
Still, Gin couldn't help but wonder — what exactly did the Ragnvindrs intend to trade with the Organization? Something that could make Rum overlook their provocation in whittling down the Organization's ranks, and even make the Boss willing to put the early research results of Silver Bullet on the table.