Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined (16 page)

Tapping at his wrist, he opened a channel to his team and quickly spoke as he scanned the hallway. 'Move up. Clear through to the stairwell.'
 

Like a pack of malevolent daemons, the men melted from the darkness, skating over the corpses beneath their feet with nary a step lain wrong. Masahiro glanced at the small cluster of images at the top of his helmet's screen, their slightly bouncing countenance showing the vital signs and placement of each member of his unit. Rolling his neck, he felt the pull of the muscles and the dull clunk as he shook loose a deep-seated knot. The tension rippled as it loosened. With a soft snort of repressed energy, Masahiro pulled the blade from its sheath and slowly but surely made his way upwards.

Konan, Minato-ku, Tokyo.

Colinson stepped from the train, the warm, salt-laced air hitting him as he glanced up and down the open platform. With quick, practised steps, he moved through the bustling crowd, ignoring the curious stares of the children and mothers as he eased his six-foot frame by them. He watched as a child stared at him, his mother dragging him down the steps by the hand as he craned his neck to stare at the passing giant.
 

Colinson smiled and poked his tongue out at the boy, making him giggle, a grin blooming on the boy's face as he was yanked further into the press of bodies. Elbows jabbed and thumped into his hips and ribs as he manoeuvred through the crowd; schoolgirls giggled and children babbled as they gazed at him or his uniform. His ears burned from their curious, twittering questions and the mindless mumblings of businessmen as it all, once again, filled his senses as the people moved around him.
 

Moving through the terminal, he paused; the scent of freshly ground coffee filled his nostrils. He stepped forwards, the scent hooking him by the nose as he almost drifted through the people around him, past the doors of the busy Starbucks shop, and to the counter before he fully realised where he was going.
 

He glanced across the road, the faces of the crowd blurring into one as he sipped at the rich blend of coffee and vanilla in his hand. The sharp bite of the liqueur shot made his taste buds sing as he stepped across the road and moved off towards her apartment.
 

His feet skimmed across the roadway. The corner of his eye twitched as a teen on a bike came shooting towards the crossing; he jumped back, cursing at the driver in fluent Japanese, the curses tripping off his tongue as naturally as if he was speaking English. As he turned the corner and moved towards her apartment, he felt a shiver creep through his spine as he spied the awning of her building and the shining glass windows that shimmered in the morning sun.

The dregs of his coffee made him wince as the bitter grounds soaked into his tongue. Dumping the spent cup into a bin, he clutched the second in his other hand as he brushed his thumb over the Kanji of her name.

The familiar sights and scents of the area made his mind hum with a sense of longing he hadn't felt in a very long time. Turning, he gazed at the shops that lined the street behind her building. The line of hole-in-the-wall bistro restaurants selling homemade cuisine that would make your mind twist with the flavours that burst forth as you bit into the indescribable food portioned out to you in the foil-lined trays. Turning away from the road, he continued down the street, his eyes set on his final destination.

He paused in front of the glass doors to the tower, his hand hovering over the button for a few seconds before he pushed down. The clipped, softly nasal tones of the desk clerk flowed from the small speaker. In near perfect Japanese, Colinson replied, eliciting a surprised reply from the clerk as he buzzed him through into the building. Smiling at the aged clerk, he half bowed and thanked the man for his compliment, drawing a wizened smile and another compliment on Colinson's inflection and accent from the man as he moved to the elevator and selected the right floor.

He stood for several moments staring at her door, the solid slab of metal and wood making him more than a little nervous. His forehead beaded with sweat, the heated droplets seeping through his hair, soaking into the band of his beret. Colinson set the still warm cup of coffee on the floor as he pulled his beret from his head and ran a hand through his now slightly damp hair. Bending down, he lifted the cup from the floor as he reset his felt cap on his head. Straightening, he rapped his knuckles on the door, listening to the echo of the hallway beyond the door.

His breath froze in his throat as she opened the door, her form silhouetted by the light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She looked at him, her eyes as wide and scared as a deer stuck in headlights. She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find the words to say. Colinson kept his gaze level as she slowly gathered her sense.
 

'Akemi, I...'
 

The sound of flesh on flesh echoed through the hall as she slapped him, her eyes blooming with an anger that was seldom ever seen in her.
 

He shook with the blow, the sting working its way through his jaw as his left eye began to water from the heat in his cheek. Again, the echoing slap of her hand rang through the hall as she struck him once more as tears welled in her eyes.
 

'No call, no letter, no sign of you ever even being alive... I waited and waited, even as the week turned into a month, the month into a year. I waited... ten God damned years. I waited, David... for you!'
 

He stared at her as the heat flowed through his face, his hand quivering slightly as the heat from the coffee flowed through his palm. He watched the tears swell and move as they rolled down across her eyelids, tracking their way down her cheeks and curling along her jaw before finally falling to dash themselves on the collar of her night robe.
 

She pulled the neck closed, hiding her small, apple-like breasts from his view, the puffed pink flannelette robe a sharp contrast to her mocha-coloured skin.
 

'Akemi... I...'
 

He stopped; the pain and hurt in her eyes was like a spear through his soul as he struggled with himself.
 

'I... I'm s...'
 

She screamed, her voice shrill as she gave voice to her pain and rage that dwelt with her. Her face glowed with anger as she stepped into the hallway, backing him to the wall, her bare feet slapping gently at the un-carpeted floor.
 

'Don't you dare say you're sorry... nothing... nothing can make this any better than you have made it… nothing. Did you just think you could turn up and say, "Hi, Akemi. How you been? I am sorry that I hadn't called, but you know how things go…" No—it just doesn't work like that!'
 

He stared at her, his eyes impassive, no sign of aggression or anger as she continued to scream at him. Her fists pounding at his chest as she railed and poured forth a decade's worth of guilt and grief. As her fists rained down, she shook and thrashed, the sash around her waist slowly beginning to slip the more she slammed her petite fists against his trimmed form.
 

'Akemi, stop.'
 

She continued to pound and beat anything she could reach, driving her hands into him as the hurt and pain flowed out of her in waves, flowing from her in a tirade of tear-laced screams.
 

The coffee fell from his grip as he grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides as bellowed at her to stop. 'Stop. Just stop.'
 

She stared up at him and he pulled her closer to him as the doors on either side of them opened, curious faces peering out at them as he held her close to him. The coffee seeped into the floor as it slowly crept towards her uncovered feet.
 

His gaze fell to the glowering image of the stick-thin form of a man as he edged out of his doorway staring at David. A stream of jabbering Japanese flowed down the hall at him as David's face turned to stone. He looked at the man as he ventured into the hall and turned to confront David, his eyes locking with Colinson's as he clutched the head of his cane. Without breaking eye contact, Colinson said nothing as he dropped his hands, tied the sash firmly around Akemi's waist, and gently pushed her towards her apartment door.
 

'Sir, please, do not interfere in matters that do not concern you; all you will do is end up getting yourself hurt. Miss Matsumoto and I have been apart a very long time. She is in no danger; believe me, if she were, I would be the first in its path. So please, sir, leave us to work this out in our own way.'
 

The man still held his stern stare as he nodded and bowed slightly, his back popping loudly as he righted himself and shuffled back into his apartment.
 

Akemi watched him as she stepped backwards away from him, the edges of her robe clasped in her hands as she pulled them tight around her.
 

She watched as he bowed low and spoke. She took in the dip of his shoulders and the tone of his voice as he spoke to the elderly man two doors down from her own. He had changed, and she could see it. The cocky, arrogant youth who had won her heart over a decade ago was no longer there.
 

She turned and left him standing there amongst the puddle of cold coffee. He watched as she left him; righting himself, he stared at the open doorway, unsure of whether or not to move after her. He dug his nails into his palms and stepped forwards. He reached the doorway, willing himself to move, but he could not bring himself to step through. He stood, mute and immobile as he waited, waiting for her—not for her forgiveness but just for her permission.

He stood for over an hour, the breeze tracking over his uniformed body as he waited, her door thumping gently against the wall as he felt the silence push down around him.
 

Akemi watched his reflection in the windows as he stood and waited. Leaning against the wall, she slowly slid to the floor, her legs pulled tight to her as she tried to curl into herself. Her head rested against the wall as she continued to watch the man in the window.
 

'David...'
 

She watched as his head rose as he stared into the hallway.
 

'Come in.'
 

David moved; his steps weighed heavily as he stepped into the hallway. His footsteps echoed round him as he moved deeper into Akemi's home. She watched as he grew and moved through the panes of the windows. Pushing herself from the floor, she pulled the dressing gown tight to her body as he rounded the corner. She nodded at the settee against the wall then stepped into her bedroom and closed the door.
 

His fingers drummed out the rhythm of his heart as he waited, a cold sweat running down the back of his neck, the cold beads soaking their way through the collar of his shirt as he sat. The dark, charcoal-grey beret sat folded in two in his grip, his fingertips tracing the tight stitching of the leather banding as he cast his eyes around the spacious apartment.
 

He stared at the pictures hanging on the wall, the two slim bands of black silk that bordered the top corners of the only picture of him in the entire room. His throat constricted as he felt his heart stop in his chest.
She really had thought I was dead.
 

He stood, his legs wavering slightly as he wandered over to the ceiling-high bookcase. The rows of books were sorted by size and author, filling the shelves so completely that not even the grains dust that clogged the tops of the pages could fit between them.
 

He traced his finger over the covers; authors from days gone rubbed shoulders with the classics, as others sat proud in their hard-card cases, aloof and alone.

His eyes tracked their way along the cases as he let his fingers dance along the spines, his mind awash with memories of them curled together alone on the sofa or by the hearth in his small cabin nestled in the middle of the Yorkshire dales. A wane smile crept over his features as he centred the image in his mind, his fingers leaving a gleaming trail of clean plastic and paper behind as he moved away from the bookcase. His near silent footsteps made the room quiver with a thirst for sound as he neared the desk, pushing her chair back into place. A soft chiming sounded as it moved, the bells striking in time with the ticking of Akemi's desk side clock.
 

Colinson closed his eyes and stood, mute and immobile in the centre of the room. He drank in the silence as he let the rhythmic click of the second hand drown his mind, its echoing clack growing in pitch and volume as he focused on that one constant noise.
 

He paused, his hand hovering over a sheet of polished glass, its crystal-clear surface staring back at him as his own eyes seared his soul. He brushed his fingers over the cold pane as he gazed at the two steel disks lain so lovingly on the claret pillow within.
 

'I found those...' She paused as he turned, pushing herself from the wall where she leant watching him. 'I searched for days for some clue, some inkling that the man I loved was even real.'
 

She smiled wistfully to herself as she slowly edged closer to Colinson, the sheer, grey leggings clinging to her so completely, he fought to keep his body in check.
 

'You were so completely gone, that I began to doubt you ever existed and to think that you had been little more than some fanciful dream of a sheltered child living in her father's shadow.'
 

His gaze travelled up her slim, petite form, trailing over the plain cream jumper draped over her. The swell of her meagre chest pressed against the loosely hanging fabric as she curled her arms around herself, pulling the over-large garment tighter to her frame.
 

'I found them caught beneath the boards of the floor; it took me an hour and a half to pry them free with my fingertips and the tweezers in my vanity case. My fingers were so bruised and raw  that they had begun to bleed by the time I pulled that last steel ball link from between those two planks and finally held the proof in my hands, the proof that you...'