The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Shadow of Pluto - 20 - Alex

He had been born in the wake of the attack on Pearl Harbor to parents of Japanese ancestry but American citizenship. They had been 'Sansei' already – the children of parents that had themselves been born and raised in the United States. But same as so many others like them, who had been living along the Pacific Coast, they were incarcerated in one of Franklin D. Roosevelt's concentration camps.

There Richard had seen the light of day for the first time, and it had very likely been a grim one in between high walls and wood barracks and miles of barbwire. Yet where others had gone to seed, his family had managed to prosper even further.

His father had sometimes laughed about the irony of how so many innocent men and women had met the same fate as him, who had indeed been a criminal for so long.

Those camps had been erected because of the sudden fear of the Americans of Japanese spies, yet Richard's father might have betrayed the USA in one moment and then Japan in the next. He had never had any loyalties except to his family.

After the end of World War II, they had resettled to Mexico first, to Peru, then Brazil. They had dealt in drugs and trafficking of people mainly, and whenever they moved, the houses became bigger, the security stricter, their affluence increased.

Then suddenly there had been a caesura. The old man, Richard's father, had died, and within one week all his sons had been murdered. All seemed to be lost and all trace of the family vanished.

Yet, Richard Seiko Asami was still alive. He had disposed of his younger brothers in one quick strike and had taken all the money, all the wisdom and connections with him to the old word. To Europe and Africa.

He had prospered from dictators and make-believe-monarchies, from the fall of the Iron Curtain and the Chinese Economic reforms. He had smuggled Plutonium into Russia and Iran; tanks and even planes from American and British Airbases into the hands of paramilitaries; chemical weapons for Muammar al-Gaddafi, Assad and into the Gaza Strip, and had delivered heads of spies and hostages to whomever had paid best.

In all of that, he had remained a shadow. He had men who worked for him, who had men that worked for them, who had ... and on and on it went.

If there was a winner's podium of the most powerful and richest criminals in the world, Richard would be on the highest step, yet no one knew who he was. Therefore, it was unlikely he'd ever be nominated at all. His son Ryuichi, who had decided to become master of his own organization and business — instead of sticking with his family —, would not be anywhere near that podium. He had his small empire, his connections, his influence — or at least he had had all of that until Chernobog had stripped him of it. But he had never been rich or powerful enough to be granted to come nigh to even the lowest step. And, currently, he was on the verge of losing even that much.

Mikhail Arbatov, as long as he remained at the head of his fickle and hard to control Bratva, would probably be allowed to stroll around the steps, behold then, dream of maybe once ascending onto the Podium. Fei Long Liu, however, stood on it. He controlled most of the Asian underworld and would continue to do so, for as long as he managed to wear that mask, which others perceived as the 'Dragon of Baishe'. Globally there were other mayor players of course, but Fei Long was their equal.

Richard, however, did not even care about such trophies and podiums. He only ever cared for what he respected and allowed to be a part of his narrow world. And in this second, in his world, he wanted Alex to step into a small motorboat.

Night had spread out in the old harbor of Dubrovnik yet everywhere around were tourists, for there were many Cafés and Bars and Restaurants nearby. Moreover, the city was beautifully illuminated, and it was the high season for people tumbling in from all over the world. No one noticed the one man standing alone at the end of the small pier. Everything in Dubrovnik was rather small ...

He watched the boat approach and already knew that this was the one for him because the man steering it wore black clothes all over and did not look anything like someone who took tourists out for a tour.

The man moored the boat only lukewarmly. Then he offered a hand in a black glove to Alex and helped him inside. A moment later the rope was detached from the mooring and the motor stared again. They sped off away from the light and noise of the late evening life ... into the darkness above the Adriatic Sea.

For a moment, Alex thought about grabbing his phone and sending a text message to his brother. But what was there to write?

He remained unmoved and just gazed off into the distance.

Many lights bopped above sea-level because there were always innumerable ships around Croatia. One of them gradually grew, and he knew that they were approaching it.

It was a silver Yacht – nearly unique between all those usually white ones; almost 40 m long with fold out balconies, built by Sanlorenzo and designed by Francesco Paszkowski.

The motorboat was tiny in comparison. It stopped at the rear of the Yacht, where the water shone because of lamps underneath the surface.

Without any hesitation, Alex climbed out behind his driver, ascended the steep steps and followed him to whatever fate.

They walked past the windows of a saloon in which three naked women lay, entwined with each other, seemingly sleeping after an exhausting day. Alex tried to keep his eyes away from them because he did not want his mind to lose any focus, yet he was sure that at least one of them could hardly be 18.

Another flight of stairs they climbed and onto the bridge, which was the official name of this place but did not fit it very well. There was one big, crème colored leather seat in front of a very sleek control panel that barely consisted of anything but a lever, a joystick and some buttons. Ahead there were five monitors showing information about the ship and relaying the pictures of some cameras. One of the screens wasn't even in use, and the screensaver had started to operate.

Alex was led over away from that area to the one behind, where there was a large gray corner-couch with a black glass table between its ankles.

Richard sat there, wearing a suit more expensive than many people's cars. He wasn't drinking. He wasn't smoking. He just beheld the man who had been led into his den with cold, golden eyes. That way, medusa must have looked at her prey. Alex found himself swallowing hard and nearly gargling his tongue as well.

He sat down quickly because his legs would not have supported him any longer.