Episode 2 #3
“We’ve received your report on the disaster in South Korea,” the director in the center spoke.
A woman. Yekta. Anton and Sevastyan had dug deep into her history.
Out of all of the top ranks in the Merchari, she was also the only one Sevastyan had nearly brought down several years before.
She’d escaped the trap set for her via cunning and government connections.
There were powerful people who owed her significant favors.
The vaults of the Yadro held the secrets that fueled her power, no doubt.
“Oversight has been dispatched,” the third director joined. That would be Bai Hui. Born in Beijing, he spoke Russian with a thick accent. “Explain why you did not eliminate the evidence.”
Sevastyan answered serenely. He’d prepared his reasons the very moment he’d decided to spare Gang Junseo’s life, and it was an argument he could stand behind without flinching.
“Merchari policy is to stay invisible. Gang Junseo’s case had already entered local and international media before the date of sale.
The fallout from him not returning would have been greater than his returning.
One is a human interest piece, the other would have been a market destabilization.
The elimination of Bak Gyeong should be considered.
He’s become a liability. Should we cut off the sick branch, the incident will become nothing more than an isolated matter. The rest of the tree remains safe.”
“Bak Gyeong has been a significant asset on the local balance sheet,” Ruel noted.
Sevastyan held his ground. “All investments reach the end of their profitability.”
Bai Hui spoke again. “Your report suggests a surgical ejection of Bak Gyeong. What did you have in mind and how far would the incision need to be taken?”
Sevastyan inclined his head towards Bai Hui.
“A suicide would place the entire incident into the category of a single, unfortunate scandal around a single individual. The matter could be closed and Gang Junseo’s allies would have their justice.
There would be no need for them to pursue further investigation or action. ”
Yekta spoke. “Elaborate on Gang Junseo. The records show you tracked him to Chicago and confirmed his presence in Richard Reevesworth and Damian Sathers’s residence. What is their relationship?”
“Gang Junseo is romantically involved with one or both men. As shown in my report, Richard Reevesworth was prepared to spend significant relationship and financial capital to force the South Korean government to find and turn Gang Junseo over. ”
Yekta pressed Sevastyan. “Are you aware that Gang Junseo gave an extensive oral interview and polygraph test to both US and South Korean authorities yesterday, January fourth, US time, concerning his abduction? We’ve received a preliminary report on the content.”
Sevastyan answered Yekta without hesitation.
“I was made aware and have read what has been obtained. The summary appears to be limited to the time between December twenty-fourth and December twenty-seventh. He implicates no one other than Bak Gyeong. There is still good evidence to believe the incident can be isolated as long as all links are cauterized. If the Yadro can obtain a full transcript, that will go far toward creating a threat assessment.”
Ruel returned to the conversation. “Your role in driving him away from the burning house was mentioned.”
“As expected.”
“Are you not afraid of your cover being blown?”
“Gang Junseo perceived me as helpful to his cause at the time, even if he is uncertain as to what or who I am. It gives us room to manipulate the situation as necessary.”
“Creating such a lever on the spur of the moment shows remarkable foresight,” Bai Hui mused. “Prescient of you.”
“Not prescient,” Sevastyan demurred. “I’m deeply aware of the power structures in that area and the global connections to the region.
In a situation that appeared black and white, my actions merely bought our allies in South Korea time to negotiate Richard Reevesworth back from the line he’d taken and introduced a shade of gray for future use. ”
There was a long silence. Sevastyan let his words stand as they were. Let them grapple with what he’d provided them.
Ruel spoke. “Considering this shade of gray is tied to your person and your knowledge of the situation, we abide by our tentative decision to post you to Chicago or whatever location Gang Junseo may move to next. We expect regular reports. This situation is your highest priority.”
“Understood,” Sevastyan inclined his head. “Do I have authority to proceed with the clean-up in Seoul?”
“We are working directly with the management in Seoul. Consider your authority limited to following Gang Junseo.”
“If that is all, I have a plane on standby for Berlin. There is one matter of importance I have to close before my return to the States.”
Yekta nodded. She would know what delivery Sevastyan was making, and it was in her own interest that he complete it. “Before you go, we have one concern.”
Sevastyan waited.
“Your property, here, was acquired from Bak Gyeong, wasn’t he? The idol catamite, before he was ruined?”
“He was.”
“Dispose of him, or leave him behind,” she ordered.
A fissure of cold ran up Sevastyan’s spine. “No.” There was no possible future that included willingly leaving Rei in their hands.
Yekta lifted her chin. “You dare?”
Sevastyan widened his stance. “Your demand is tantamount to stealing. My tithe is more than paid.”
Yekta’s voice took on a harsh edge. “Sevastyan Antonovich, your property is a liability. Your loyalty to the Merchari could be in question.”
Ruel joined her. “We can compensate you the value of one pleasure slave.”
Sevastyan let a nasty smile cross his features.
If he had to, all three directors would be dead before the invisible guards tucked in the corners of the room could finish him.
“You can give me the price of a new slave, yes, but not the years of my life spent training this one to my exacting requirements.”
Ruel raised his hand to stop Yekta from speaking. “But would he stand by if we ordered you to eliminate Gang Junseo or recapture him for sale?”
Sevastyan clicked his fingers, pointing to the ground in front of his feet. Rei broke posture and spun on his hands, folding himself into a kneeling form facing Sevastyan. He kept his hands on his thighs, his feet tucked under his ass. Even with death looming over him, Rei’s obedience was perfect.
“Rei is my tool,” Sevastyan said. He drew a gun from the holster under his arm and held it up, his eyes lifting in acknowledgement for the snipers who had to be above.
He flipped the gun around and ejected the clip, then popped the bullets out one by one into his palm, the metal casings clicking against each other.
He sent a mocking smile at the three directors and reloaded the clip without looking.
Let them see what he was, one of their most perfect operators.
His track record was flawless. He slammed the clip back into the gun.
What he was doing was pure arrogance. Somewhere in the Yadro, more men were running to surround the chamber, weapons in hand, because he’d drawn a gun. He looked down, holding the weapon in hand, ready for use.
Rei’s eyes were still lowered. Sevastyan studied him.
It had always been like this. They were not merely two, but three: Rei, Sevastyan, and death, in an endless dance.
Rei’s hands were still loose on his thighs.
He had fine, strong, slender fingers. His penmanship was always exact, no matter the language he was writing.
When he danced, as he often did, the motions extended beyond his arms to the tips of his digits, expressive to the end.
His existence was beauty. Even if Rei himself could not see it.
Sevastyan curled his fingers under Rei’s chin, lifted him by his jaw, tilting his face upward.
Rei’s eyes closed, avoiding Sevastyan’s face as he rose to an upright kneel, following the pressure.
Sevastyan turned them ninety degrees, so that the untouched left side of Rei’s face was toward the directors, giving them a profile view.
Sevastyan’s finger stroked down Rei’s cheek, ordering Rei to meet his eyes.
Rei opened his eyes. They were calm. Quiet. Pools of open, unmitigated, unqualified trust. For all the wrong reasons.
I would never hurt you. Words that could not be spoken. Words that would damn them both. Words he could not say because he had hurt Rei. Had broken him in ways no one else ever would.
There could never be atonement. Only damnation. Even if this beautiful man refused to damn him.
Sevastyan tapped Rei’s lips with the end of the gun. “Open.”
Rei parted his pink, chapped lips. Sevastyan slid the barrel of the gun between Rei’s teeth and over his tongue.
Rei relaxed his jaw, taking the width of the barrel all the way down.
Sevastyan steadied him, holding his jaw in place.
Rei’s eyes stayed fixed on Sevastyan, never wavering, even as tears gathered on the edges of his lashes, brought there by the force of the pressure in his throat.
Sevastyan twisted the gun in slow circle, making a performance of spreading Rei’s saliva over the barrel.
Sanity was a myth. Sevastyan and Rei had burned it between them. Now they were at the bottom of the same pit, but only Sevastyan held the choice.
Sevastyan turned the gun left and right, making a bulge in Rei’s cheek, forcing him to open his jaw wider so the muzzle of the gun could draw lines inside his cheeks. Drool pooled on Rei’s lower lip and spilled over Sevastyan’s fingers still holding the underside of his chin.
“Beautiful,” Sevastyan murmured in Korean.
He thumbed off the safety and slid the gun down Rei’s throat. Rei’s eyes widened a fraction, and then his body went loose.
Hate me.
Sevastyan spoke in Russian for the entire space to hear. “Swallow.”