Witness and the Crime

-1-

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         “Hey there, Zack,” said Millene, winking at him as he walked out of the packed lobby.

         Zack did as anyone would and made a detour straight to her. “Hey there, pretty,” he smiled. “How’s things?”

         “Oh, the usual,” she shrugged. “Turk business. I’ll be free at night, though. Wanna go hang out? The crew is meeting at this restaurant, it’s a great place. They wanted to invite you – I wonder if someone else’s beaten me to the punch?”

         “Not yet, no,” Zack shone his best smile. “Mmm, good food and pretty girls, can’t refuse that. Can I stick Reno in a trash can?”

         “Sure you can!” Millene grinned.

         “Count me in, then. Where is it?”

         Millene gave him a slip of paper with an address and a table number, and Zack had to fight not to show the slight bemusement he felt. She must have noticed it anyway, because she shrugged and patted his shoulder.

         “I know, it’s far and has some complicated directions. Anyway, we’ll be there at 8pm sharp. You don’t have to go if something comes up; nobody’ll be holding you for it. Okay?” She patted his shoulder again and walked out with a wave.

         Zack shook his head slowly at her retreating form, and glanced down to the slip in his hands. Under the blue letters stating the restaurant’s address, his Mako-enhanced eyesight could easily pick up the inkless writing where a normal person wouldn’t:

SERIOUS MATTER

CHAIRMAN THERE

         Zack shrugged. It was hardly a normal mission, if he was being summoned unofficially and in secret, but his Turk friends knew he didn’t like dirty work, so he didn’t think it was anything like that. And he didn’t have to go if he wasn’t interested.

         Except he was.

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         The restaurant was posh; though Zack had the sense to go in decent civvies, he wished he’d been warned to wear something nicer. His main worry had been standing out, and that’s exactly what denim pants in a high class establishment did.

         He asked a waiter for the table specified in the slip; the older man escorted him down an empty corridor and to a curtained wall, pushing the heavy fabric aside to reveal a spacious room. It was lighted by an insane amount of candles, decorated in red and gold and wooden furniture.

         His cell-phone beeped as soon as he walked past the curtains, and Zack verified that it was out of range. The last time that happened, he’d been around the Knowlespole, half-buried by a snowstorm.

         Zack made his way to the table, nodding to Millene as she stood with Rude and Tseng, and sat on the velvet chair, sparing a glance to the funny instrument that blinked on the table. His cell was soon making company to the other four, between the funny instrument and an artistically rusted metal bucket full of ice.

         “I wasn’t expecting such a romantic setting,” he commented, glancing around at the authentic wooden walls and burning fireplace.

         “Hopefully any spy will just think us gay, Captain” said Rufus, smiling. He was dressed in a black, tight fitting turtleneck and his hair was brushed over an eye. A bouquet had been unceremoniously dumped on the divan, and Zack could see they were legitimate red roses, now losing vitality at the alarming rate all living things did in Midgar. They were certainly not bought from Aeris; her flowers had more strength than to shrivel in a couple of hours.

         “So you officially came on a date,” stated Zack. It must be some really serious business indeed, but Zack couldn’t help finding the idea funny.

         Tseng pulled a wine bottle from the metal bucket, filling two crystal cups, and Millene and Rude each took a sip. After a second, they set the cups in front of Rufus and Zack, the latter almost expecting one of them to fall over dead.

         “You probably think we’re overdoing it,” said Rufus, smiling wryly. “Believe me, we’re not.”

         Zack raised an eyebrow. “You’re spooking me.”

         “And I’m not even started,” Rufus said, raising the cup to his lips and sipping softly. “You’re one of the strongest in the most powerful army, Zack, but there are insanities even Sephiroth would have never seen as he fought that war on the west. You know.”

         “Um, I don’t, sir,” Zack shrugged. “Or, I probably do, but you’re talking in such a roundabout way I don’t know what you’re talking about yet.”

         “I’m talking about doing the unacceptable,” continued Rufus, setting his cup down, “taking pleasure in the knowledge that what you’re doing is thought of as repulsive, degrading, till you get so caught up in a vortex of sadism that you spiral down into sheer madness.”

         “Um,” Zack said, smartly.

         “You may not have heard of this, since SOLDIER is lodged in separate buildings from the normal troopers,” Rufus continued. “But there has been a crime in the barracks that defies all logic, and the offender has eluded our most competent investigators…”

         Rufus paused, as Zack had started shaking a hand in the strangest gesture he had ever seen. “Do you expect me to investigate it, sir?” the dark-haired said, looking vaguely terrified at the idea. “All I know about detective work comes from Maurice, the Mouse Detective cartoons.”

         Rufus blinked, and then nodded slowly, with a fond smile. “It was my favorite cartoon. But no, you’re not going to investigate.”

         Zack let out a sigh, finally sipping some of his own wine. “Well, what is my role in this, then? Want me to go and kill the culprit when he comes up?”

         Rufus shook his head. “No, no. As I said, our investigators were unable to reach a conclusion. Some were also killed. Normally such a matter would be left in the hands of the Personnel Manager, and us, the chairmen, wouldn’t be bothered, but in this case… Tseng.”

         Tseng set a suitcase on the table, startling Zack, who’d forgotten he was there; he pulled some sheets from it, then closed it with a click and handed a clipped pair of sheets to Zack.

         It was the profile of one Lesley Tisch, holding the picture of a handsome young man with brown hair. It informed that said boy was sixteen and enlisted two months prior; he was described by his sergeant as being arrogant, lazy and using his family name to obtain advantages, but also as being friendly and popular by most of his squad mates. Other mates claimed to have been harassed and bullied by him on occasion, and one claimed sexual harassment.

         “Sounds like the typical guy who thinks he’s cool, sir,” Zack sat the profile on the table. “Hardly something that would justify the Vice-President getting personally involved.”

         Rufus sighed, lips set in a line. “Normally, Captain, even a mutilated cadaver found in a dorm would be blamed on the first petty criminal to make a nuisance of himself,” his voice was grim, for the first time. “This boy is the nephew of Reeve Tuesti, one of the most prominent members of the Urban Development Division, who will probably become Head of his division when the current one retires. But even still, this crime would have never made itself past the Personnel Manager level. Incidentally, the Manager was found dead two days after initiating investigation.”

         Zack raised both eyebrows this time, sensing something clicking in his mind.

         “The culprit is high-placed,” said Zack.

         “Good to see you learned from Maurice,” Rufus nodded. “But that’s not the only clue we have. You see, the circumstances of this crime are strange, extremely strange. According to the report, the body was found in the dorm room Tisch shared with six other squad mates. He showed apparent signs of raping and mutilation. But, as the investigation team examined the area, they found something that could not belong to anyone in the room, or in the building, or at all, left carelessly on a pile of dirty laundry in plain view of the crime scene.”

         He signaled to Millene, who opened another suitcase; she gingerly collected a strange bundle from it, wrapped in a rippling, metallic material that reflected the candlelight in strange ways. She set it almost reverentially in Rufus’ hands, and the latter carelessly unfurled it; Zack saw that the metallic wrapping was actually one of the faces of a long, thin cloth, the other face seeming eerily translucent. Zack leaned over with an inquiring glance, and Rufus offered him a tip.

         Zack could see his hand clearly through the translucent side, but couldn’t find his own reflection in the metallic one. “It looks like a fancy bed cover,” was his final opinion.

         “Hojo would hate you forever if he heard that,” Rufus smiled thinly, and then widely when Zack hastily let go of it. “This is a top-secret joint project between the Weapons Development Division, the Science Division and the Urban Development Division. In theory, it could be used to hide important machinery, soldiers in battle and, eventually, the whole city of Midgar.”

         Gathering the rippling fabric, Rufus stood up, folding the cloth in half and holding it straight in front of him. But in front of him wasn’t an oddly reflexive metallic surface; instead, there was a slightly stretched, wavy reflex of Rufus’ body and several candles, as if the young Vice-president were holding a lens.

         “Tha-that is…” Zack was standing up before he even knew it. “That’s…!”

         “A legendary object made true,” Rufus said, reverentially, while wrapping the cloth around his shoulders, and Zack could see the divan and the shriveled roses behind him, stretched and rippling along the curve of his body.

         “An Invisibility Cloak!” Zack croaked.

         “Yes, and a huge failure,” the young man huffed, pulling the cloak off (the room behind him rippled madly and dizzyingly as he did) and bundling it on the table, sitting back down again. “An insane waste of resources on an overly conspicuous invisibility device.”

         Zack leaned closer to the bundle, seeing the crazy, broken reflections created by its creases. “How does it work?”

         “Something to do with properties of light, optic fibers, etc,” Rufus shrugged. “Basically, the outside is reflective, the inside see-through, and if you fold it, one half reflects what is directly in front of the other. Except that both halves have to be parallel to each other, or the image distorts. Same if there’s any ripple in the cloth. In short, unless the fabric is covering a flat, paper-thin surface, it can be seen, and that makes it useless since people, equipment and cities are emphatically not paper-thin. Also, the reflective factor turns it into a bull’s eye in radars, and it can be detected by a basic infrared visor, while a basic infrared doesn’t work from under it. As I said, waste of time.”

         Zack sat back down, nodding. “So why was it in the crime scene?”

         “To mess with us,” said Rufus. “Tseng.”

         Tseng handed Zack another profile. For a moment Zack thought the picture was scowling at him; closer analysis revealed it to be the fault of two very expressive eyebrows set on an overly serious face.

         It was a young boy of fourteen years, recently enlisted as well, called Cloud Strife and described as Tisch’s room mate. He was blond, his face still round from baby fat. The sergeant described him as introverted and very bad in drills; the squad mates described him in variations of unfriendly, introverted or shy; the general consensus was that he was quiet and kept to himself.

         “Did he die as well?” asked Zack.

         “No,” answered Rufus. “He lived, and should remain that way no matter what.”

         Zack glanced up blankly, and Rufus sighed.

         “He’s our witness, Zack, our only witness. He saw everything. Like this,” he grabbed the fabric again, this time showing Zack the translucent side – and Zack found that he could see through it as easily as if it were cheap tulle.

         “If he saw everything, how come you still don’t know who did it?” He asked.

         “He can’t say who did it,” Rufus frowned. “And we can’t force him.”

         Zack’s face went blank again, and once again Rufus sighed, leaning back into the chair.

         “I wasn’t supposed to tell you all this right now, but I have the impression you’ll work better if you really know what’s going on. What do you know about date drugs?” he asked, suddenly.

         “Um, I think I’ve heard something about them, sir,” Zack shrugged faintly. “But mostly to not leave my glass alone in a party.”

         “There’s a date drug known as ‘Rag Doll’,” started Rufus. “It cuts off voluntary movements from a normal human being. The criminal puts a few milligrams in someone’s drink, and the victim starts feeling heavy and going limp at every sip, even though their mind is perfectly aware. The criminal offers to take them home or carry them away since they’re “drunk”, and only has to wait a few minutes before the full effect kicks in and they can have their way with a body that can’t fight back.”

         Zack knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he still was. “And the criminal used it? Normal people use it?”

         “It’s very popular,” Rufus smiled. “It makes people feel empowered. But I only told you about its effect when drunk…” Rufus leaned ahead. “If you inject the same few milligrams directly into someone’s system, it takes less than thirty seconds for them to lose all movement, and almost twice as long for the effects to pass. The amount of drug in his system, along with a prick mark on the back of his shoulder, show that Private Strife was drugged, yet the deceased was not.”

         “So, the kid was drugged and couldn’t remember anything later,” concluded Zack, but Rufus kept on shaking his head- “Then what really did happen?”

         “Rag Doll doesn’t affect one’s memory,” he said. “A person can fall asleep or faint while in its effect, but they’re perfectly lucid otherwise. But when you know the crime, you know he has good reason not to be able to tell. What can you tell so far about it, Captain?”

         Zack raised both brows, as if squeezing his brain would make the ideas leak out.

         “Hm… this kid was left drugged and under a cloaking device that couldn’t actually hide itself, through which he had a perfect view as a crazy psycho raped and killed one of his squad mates.” He winced. “That’s nasty, but I still don’t see how he wouldn’t be able to describe the killer, unless he’s nearsighted – but he wouldn’t make it in the army if he were.”

         He glanced to Rufus, who was shaking his head again, and shrugged. “I did say I wasn’t detective material.”

         Rufus sighed, as if explaining it all to him were a boring job. “I’ll just describe the full scenario our team put together, and maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

         “It was the first day of their platoon’s first extended leave, but it was raining, so after inspection the boys spent the morning playing in their room. In one of their games, they emptied the room’s laundry basket and took turns stuffing each other in it. Private Strife complained about the nature of the game, there was a small argument and Private Strife climbed his bunk with a notebook to do what his squad mates described as “sulk and write goth poetry”, though actual examination of his notebook showed he was highly skilled in drawing stick figures in nonsensical scenes. The rain stopped and they made plans to go out, except for Private Strife, who claimed to have nowhere to go, and Private Tisch, who claimed to have something important to do in the building.

         “After this, all we have is conjecture. Private Strife was convinced to climb down by someone, presumably the criminal, who injected the drug in his shoulder when he had his back turned. Then, the criminal noticed someone’s approach, and hastily hid Strife’s inert body by wrapping the boy on the experimental cloak and laying him on the laundry pile left by his mates. Since he was on a pile of mixed, crumpled clothes of different colors and textures, this cloak’s own distorting lens quality would be hardly noticed.

         “This approaching person would turn out to be Private Tisch, back from his unspecified business. He may have questioned the criminal’s presence, noticed the cloak around Strife or merely come back to stay for the day, but made it so that the criminal had to take care of him before indulging in his original victim. But, instead of quickly getting rid of the person in the way of his intended target, the criminal killed, raped and mutilated him. When he was done, he might have had to leave in a hurry, or simply forgotten about the original victim, but he left Private Strife and the cloak behind where they remained until one of the investigators saw the pile of clothes with his infrared lens, several hours later. And that’s what we were able to put together,” Rufus took another sip of wine. “Terrible, isn’t it?”

         Zack breathed in deeply, feeling a cold knot in his gut. He would have never been able to put together that kind of detailed, gruesome scenario in his mind, no matter the clues he’d been handed – hell, as a SOLDIER he’d seen all sorts of ugly, bloody battlefields, but he’d never had to think about rapists and their methods, because terrorists don’t rape people during a fight…

         And he knew what rape was, intellectually. But he’d never tried to picture—

         “…so at least you know what happened,” he said, voice a little on the weak side.

         “Hardly,” cut Rufus. “How would the criminal have access to a top-secret project? And why would he go through the trouble of taking it to the crime scene if it doesn’t actually work as it should? He can’t have possibly anticipated the boys would play with their laundry. Or that they’d all go out except for his target. And, if he took the cloak to carry Strife concealed somewhere else, why did he throw it all to the air and change his target in the last minute? To then leave his previous target and a precious clue to his identity carelessly behind? For someone who managed to leave no traces or clues otherwise, that just doesn’t add up. Also—”

         Rufus stood up again, gripping the cloak and shaking it.

         “This may have been a failure. But it is an expensive failure.” He tossed it back on the table. “After the project was terminated, we kept it in a safe, along with the rest of our interrupted projects. And only the Heads can open that safe.”

         Zack’s eyes shot open, and his back straightened like he had just been hit by lightning. “Then, then the murderer is…!”

         “Someone who sits at a meeting table with me everyday,” spat Rufus, “frequents the same restaurants I do, shares the company’s stock.” And, to Zack’s surprise, he grabbed his wine cup and threw it against the expensive, authentic wooden wall. “It makes me sick.”

         Rufus breathed in deeply, turning back to Zack. “The whole matter is now classified. Scarlet, Veld and I are the only Heads with confirmed Alibis, so we are in charge of the investigation. Tseng, Millene and Rude have confirmed Alibis as well, along with Tuesti. And most importantly, you have a confirmed alibi. That’s how we are working – with as few people as possible. And people we can trust and observe at the same time.” He started pacing. “You’ll protect our only witness. Until he remembers—”

         “But you said the drug doesn’t affect a person’s memory,” interrupted Zack. “Why can’t he remember?”

         Rufus stopped his pacing, looking to Zack with something close to pity.

         “Captain,” he started, voice soft, “that boy, barely come from his mother’s home, was forced to watch as someone tortured, raped, cut and mutilated one of his roommates. He was then left alone with the bleeding corpse for hours till it was finally found, and then a few more hours till the Investigation Team came to the scene. And he couldn’t move. He couldn’t ask for help. He couldn’t run away. He could only lie there with the knowledge that the deformed remains in front of him were supposed to be his.”

         He sat back down. “This all happened almost two months ago, actually. When the drug faded from his system, all he did was scream and shake. He was kept in induced coma for two weeks. The rest of this time he’s been under psychological treatment from a trusted professional, and has reached a reasonable state. He knows he’s witnessed a crime, but he can’t remember it. All attempts to bring it up through hypnosis ended in screaming fits. And let’s not forget that his life is being targeted. He’s not safe. And we need his testimony as soon as possible.”

         “So I just have to be his bodyguard?”

         “Yes. But also, you can’t look like a bodyguard,” Rufus delicately accepted another wine cup from Tseng, also tasted for poison. “In fact, the suggestion all our psychologists have made so far is to put the boy back into a semblance of routine, help him pick up the pieces. And that puts us in a dilemma – putting the boy back to work is an unacceptable security risk. We can’t let him live normally and keep him safe at the same time. The same way these Turks have been taste-testing our wine, everything he eats, drinks, wears, so much as touches has to be inspected. The culprit has gone far enough to brush poison on a computer keyboard and the insides of socks. Not even toilet paper is safe.”

         Zack needed a few seconds to digest that information, and he didn’t like the aftertaste. “What am I really supposed to do, then? I’m a SOLDIER, but I’m not immune to poison either. And I don’t have the means or know-how to check everything he comes in contact with.”

         “We’ve kept the kid in a hospital in Kalm, in Scarlet’s summer house at Costa del Sol and in my apartment in Junon, and these places were all targeted and eventually attacked by… terrorist factions,” Rufus said the last words as if they were a joke. “But then Tseng had the idea of bringing him back in a normal bus and keeping him in a cheap kitchenette, and not even spoiled food has made its way to him so far. The culprit is an unimaginative man, that much is obvious. He can’t see the possibility that the boy might be kept under his nose. We’ll take advantage of that.”

         Tseng handed Rufus another pair of clipped sheets, and Rufus sat it in front of Zack. “You’ll be assigned to direct intensive training for the elite troop Alpha-0, and this kid will be transferred there. You’ll also be transferred to a double room, and he’ll be rooming with you. Keep him in sight at all times, but make sure he’s not too stifled. It’s not his old routine, but it’s a routine of training he’ll hopefully relate to, and it won’t put him in immediate danger. Also, make sure you’re eating food from the same origins – if there’s anything in it, you’ll be able to act faster if you feel it in yourself. And keep Cure and Esuna materia on you at all times, even in sleep. A Turk will check your conditions periodically and update you on any development. That is,” he tapped the sheets, “if you accept this mission, of course. If not, we can use your strength elsewhere. These are your transfer papers to the Training Program, just sign them if you accept, and you’ll have new quarters and a new timetable in a couple of days.”

         Zack hesitated for a second, but then accepted the pen offered by Tseng, scribbling his name in the sheets. He wasn’t quite sure what he was getting into, but the Vice-President himself was willing to trust him, and the kid obviously needed help, and – aw, hell, he thought training elite troops might be fun, too, what was there to lose? His life, maybe, but those were already the risks of his job. Maybe he’d regret it later, but if he refused to do things for fear of regret he’d never get anything done in life.

         “Here’s hoping the kid is not an ass,” he pushed the sheets towards Rufus.