The Child of Seras - by MindAsylum - Anime - http://www.hellsingfanfic.net/hellsingfanfic/The_Child

The Child of Seras

Chapter XIX

“In The Know”

Integra took another sip of Ceylon tea and glared at the mountain of black and white on her desk. The bloody mess in the tube those few weeks ago had half of the Protestant Knights coming down on her; it wasn’t easy to falsify over a hundred autopsy reports overnight and they wanted to make sure she knew it. Sir Islands even had the nerve to say in a personal letter: “For all his faults, your father always knew to handle such matters with a delicate touch, and if you don’t want a mass hysteria on your hands, I would suggest following his example.”

If there was one fault Integra begrudged her father for, it was gaining the unflinching loyalty of a man who could be just as fastidious as he was smug. Islands had been on her back from the moment she took charge of Hellsing, constantly harping even to this day that she was too young and inexperienced for such important work, but Integra was no fool. His true contention was revealed every time he glanced at Alucard or even Seras, with a mixture of contempt and apprehension that at times made Integra wonder if there was more history there than Islands let on. Now that she thought about it, it had been so long since she’d last seen him face to face that he probably didn’t know about Rivers. She thought of the look on his withered, skeptical face when he found out that she hadn’t just taken on a new vampire, but a foreigner, a yankee at that, and almost smiled.

Almost.

“Sir Integra,” said Walter, “we have a call from Mr. Hawkins on line one. Shall I tell him you’re occupied?”

It wasn’t often that Integra even heard the name of the Foundation’s head, and incredibly rare that she hear from him directly. He’d assisted Hellsing in intelligence gathering on a few occasions, but apart from that his outfit communicated little with hers, and even less with others. All Integra knew about The Foundation was that its Research and Development Department was funneled more money in a month than Hellsing’s total budget could match in a year, so for what they lacked in supernatural muscle, they made up for with hunting tech so advanced that a mere three men could take on a target and still have the ammo to mop up the ghouls afterwards.

“No.”

Integra took the phone and pressed it to her ear. There was a three second pause, and just when Integra was about to check and see if he’d hung up, he spoke with the deep, smooth ease of a jazz singer.

“Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing…” he said. Something about the length of her full name clearly amused him, as he always said it as though he were reciting the name of a favorite song.

“Mr. Hawkins,” She answered, less as a greeting and more as confirmation.

“I hope you’ll forgive the late call; I always forget the time difference.” There was a barely audible sip from the other end; he was probably drinking coffee. It was nothing unusual. He seemed to treat everything like it was a leisurely affair, speaking with a lack of urgency that was almost as frustrating as Maxwell’s insufferable arrogance. Nonetheless, it was always a little refreshing to speak with him once in a while. True, his friendliness only made her more suspicious of him, but at least he didn’t feel obligated to insult her church or call her sow with every communiqué.

“Quite alright, Mr. Hawkins,” Integra replied in an all-business voice he’d have to be dead to ignore, “but what interrupts your business that you must speak with me?”

“Straight to the point as always, I see,” he said, vaguely disappointed. He took another sip, paused a moment, and continued, “Ever heard of a man named Bill Steinman?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Until three months ago, I hadn’t, either.” He admitted, swallowing a barely audible gulp of coffee, “He’s one of America’s richest and most elusive men, a shadow player in the Los Angeles white-collar scene. His revenue stream was so far off the books the FBI found him almost by mistake. After a bit of digging, they found a few of the sources: drugs, racketeering, the works. They hadn’t found the main source of his monthly truckloads of cash yet, but in less than a two weeks, they’d collected enough evidence with the rest to nail him with a life sentence.”

“And?” urged Integra, her patience thinning.

“The FBI shadowed the guy for one more week, just to see if they could pin anything else on him, and they struck gold: human trafficking. We’re talking imports and exports, to and from dozens of third world countries, and, interestingly enough, a good chunk of them right here in Land of the Free. Weird thing is, every year, about a third of Steinman’s livestock just falls of the map. Not sold into to prostitution or slavery, not used in kiddy porn or snuff films, they just disappear without so much as a fingernail to go on.”

“Are you saying his clients were—“

“Bingo,” he said coolly, “Steinman’s been running the bloodsucker’s buffet all over west coast for the last decade now. We’ve estimated he supplies around one fifth of all the vampires in L.A and Mexico City alone, not to mention the smaller-scale operations he’s got dotting the landscape.”

“I would congratulate you on your find, Mr. Hawkins, but I fail to see what this has to do with me or my organization.”

“Ah, now here’s where things get interesting,” he began, as if he’d been waiting for her interruption from the start, “We’re not sure how, but Steinman got wind that we were tailing him and decided to cut his losses. He had his assets moved outside our jurisdiction in less than forty-eight hours, which has got to be some kind of record, and would you care to guess where he’s shopping for business partners right now?”

“That doesn’t make sense, why would he flee from you only to run to us?”

“Britian is the worlds’ hotspot for FREAK activity. There isn’t a vampire or a business partner of one that doesn’t know that. Sure, you’ve got some heavy muscle to flex, but if the metro incident showed Steinman anything, it’s that you’re spread awfully thin. He must have figured he had a better chance with you so distracted with the fakes, so that if he did business with the real deal only, he’d be less likely to find himself strapped to a table loaded with electrodes. You know, I’m actually starting to pity the poor bastard.”

Integra could almost hear him grin over the phone. She’d never met him in person, but she’d a picture of him once: a wide, forty-something chocolate brown man in a grey business suit, almost tall enough to see eye to eye with Alucard. He had huge, thick hands, big enough to pick up a small child by its head, and the whitest, friendliest smile she’d ever seen. It glimmered like waxed china against his skin. Not exactly the visage of a hunter, but he was too tall and imposing to be a politician or a CEO and too polished to be bouncer or a police officer.

“So, might I assume that your wish is that I ‘take care’ of this man for you?”

Integra’s instinct to protect her country was strong, but not so much that she missed the angles. Hawkins was dangling all this in front of her nose a little too vigorously. There was something he was leaving out, something important. But for now, Integra simply wanted to know the point of all this.

“Not quite,” he said carefully, “Steinman’s too valuable to just get rid of. We need him alive, so we can find out for sure who his clients back home are. If my instincts are right, and usually they are, you and I both stand a good chance of striking a nasty blow the undead population in our respective countries, maybe even uncover a clan or two. So let’s get down to brass tacks, because I know you’re a very busy lady: we give you all the info we’ve got on him and the locations of his prospective late-night cafes, you nab him up, then turn him over to us.”

“Hold on, the British Isles are out of your jurisdiction. How do you already know the locations he’s scouting? ”

“If someone this valuable left your borders, would you let that stop you from keeping an eye on him? He’s been playing it quiet since he got here two weeks ago, only popping his head up where it needs to be. I’ve got a few of my agents tailing him; we wanted to wait until he started getting comfortable before we informed you.”

Integra’s grip on the phone tightened. He’d just told her what he’d been leaving out. “You knew he was here, and you waited this long to tell us?”

“If I hadn’t, would you have waited to move in?” he asked, in an oddly non-defensive father-knows-best tone of voice, “It’s better for both of us that I did. He’s just now getting his contacts together. In a few more days he’ll start taking clients, and those clans you’ve been trying to flush out since before the FREAK chips hit the scene will come a’ running like their mommas rang the dinner bell. You don’t kill the golden goose until it stops laying eggs.”

As much as Integra hated being kept in the dark, she had to admit Hawkins had a point. It would have been wasteful to go in so prematurely, as she likely would have done in an attempt quickly return her attention to the FREAKS. A few more would die this way as Steinman’s free samples, but at least she stood a better chance of striking a serious blow to Hellsing’s traditional enemy.

“So what are you proposing?”

“We wait until Steinman gets a few higher-class clients, then crash his next business meeting. I provide the intelligence, you provide the muscle, everybody wins.”

“You do realize that I will need to interrogate him first?”

“You can put a bonnet on his head have a tea party with him for all I care. So long as he’s in my hands at the end of the day, your end of the bargain is met. So, do we have a deal, Sir Hellsing?”

Integra paused. She couldn’t figure out any reason Hawkins would be holding out on her at this point. This was her country, her jurisdiction; she held all the cards, or so it seemed. If she sensed any double-dealing, she could always hold Steinman at the manor.

“Yes. We do.”

He chuckled in satisfaction. “Excellent. I’ll notify you the moment I see any clan heads pop up. You should prepare yourself for a scuffle. Steinman might be a pushover, but his clients won’t be.”

Integra smiled for the first time that day. “I would think that you of all people would know just how prepared we are, Mr. Hawkins. Our ‘special forces’ are ready to act on a moment’s notice.”

“Oh yes…about that…” he began, “I’d almost forgotten to ask: how’s our boy fitting in?”

Hawkins’ curiosity seeped through the phone. Integra’s eyes narrowed. “Better than what was expected.” She answered blandly, hoping it was enough.

“I’m sure he is…” he said knowingly, “You know, Steinman started getting into the catering business about a two years before the kid’s sister got herself eaten. Had a small establishment set up just fifty miles away from where they were ducked out in Northern California. There’s a good chance he might be able to tell us what clan the vamp that popped her cork came from. You ought to let him know. I’m sure it’ll give some…extra incentive.”

“Rivers will carry out this mission for the sake of his duty.” Her voice was cold and precise, a voice normally reserved when giving orders in the field or reprimanding Alucard. “I’ll not allow any personal vendettas to endanger the mission or my men’s lives.”

Hawkins’ end of the line went silent for so long that for a moment Integra had thought he’d hung up, but suddenly he spoke, as though he were reading his words off a tomb stone.

“You haven’t told him, have you?”

Integra reached for the lit cigar she’d been neglecting in the ash tray since she picked up the phone. It was almost finished already, but she salvaged a last puff and spilt a tuft of ash over Hellsing’s emblem on the combat report she’d been reading. Integra barely noticed.

“Rivers left Deep Ground eight years ago. Releasing him prematurely was your mistake, not mine. What he knows is no longer your concern, and so long as he continues to serve Hellsing adequately, it is of no concern to me, either.”

“Of course, Sir Hellsing,” Hawkins said, his amicable jazz singer voice returned in full swing, “I’ve already faxed you the intelligence reports I promised. We’ll be speaking again soon, so be ready.”

“You can be sure of that, Mr. Hawkins.”

The off button ended the talk with an oblivious chirp and Integra handed the phone back to Walter. He stood as straight and poised, waiting to hear the next step toward this new mission.

“Walter,” she sighed, unknowingly pushing the away the ashes that stained her coat of arms gray, “Cigar.”

Integra dismissed Walter and headed to her quarters for bed. The gray smear remained, seen by none, and felt by all.

The Child of Seras Review

Please make constructive reviews - NO FLAMING.

Please fill in the blanks. Fields marked with * are Required.

Private If private is checked, only the form owner can see your entry.

Your Name:

Your Review:

Your eMail Adress:

LJ URL:

FF Net URL:

matoska_2000@yahoo.com

Visitors: 00068

Page Updated Mon Sep 7, 2009 12:04am EDT