Namjoon focus
Namjoon knew that he was in desperate need for a rest; his eyes lost focus every now and then and his body felt like his limbs no longer belonged to him. But they were so close to getting this horror of a job over with that he could not think of sleeping. If Yamamoto had received the documents, they needed to act as fast as possible, so he needed to stay in shape for at least two more days. That's why he was inhaling the double espresso and the Jjajangmyeon Taehyung had ordered him to eat when he and Yoongi had arrived back at the apartment.
"We must install cameras in the apartment before sending the threat," Taehyung said while putting down another bowl and chopsticks in front of Yoongi and Jungkook. "Otherwise he might order someone to act before we can see."
Suga nodded. "I'll go after eating."
"I'll come with you," Namjoon said over a bite of food.
"No, you'll stay here and take a nap," Taehyung disagreed and looked at him with a stern face. "You'll kill yourself if you continue like that."
Namjoon was about to start an argument when Jungkook placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "If you stay here, you can watch over the camera feed the moment Yoongi has put up the hardware."
That sounded logical. He also could not do more than watch the hacker while installing the surveillance, so he was in a better position if he stayed here. "Okay," he sighed and nodded weakly. It would not harm him to take a power nap to ease his tired nerves.
"So, it's decided," Taehyung said. "And Kook, you can go home for today."
The bumper nodded without hesitation. How could he be so unbothered by everything that was going on? Did he not feel the pressure that was burdening everyone? Maybe he did not. Maybe he felt just like an employee, unconcerned by the failure of his employer because taking care of the consequences would not be his responsibility. Only this time, it would be. If not in a direct way, it would come in the form of an international escalation which would concern the whole country.
Namjoon would love to slap that into the young man's head, but then he reminded himself that no one needed to share his stress if it was avoidable. A horse with its mind at ease was much more helpful than a frightened bull.
"Another please," he asked of Taehyung and handed over his cup. He had been consuming so much caffeine that it was losing its effect.
The coffee eyes scanned him briefly before the artist stood up to get the espresso cooker. "Suit yourself," he said when he placed in on the table and sat down again, "but be aware that I will use every method needed to get you to nap after lunch." A challenging eyebrow was risen at him and Namjoon put down the can again. Taehyung was right; he should sleep instead of doping himself.
He also vividly remembered Bailong whom he had sent into the land of dreams single-handedly with Yoongi's sleeping drought, so he did not want to find out how far Taehyung would go to knock him out.
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Yoongi had been gone for almost one hour when Taehyung's phone buzzed on the kitchen table and Namjoon twitched where he had been dosing on the bed. "Who's that?" he croaked out and sat up.
"Yoongi," the artist answered and put the call on speaker.
"We have a problem," the raspy voice of the hacker spoke. "FedEx is raiding Yamamoto's apartment. They're carrying out the furniture and some packages, so we can't get in."
Taehyung froze. "Packages? What packages?" he asked, eyes glued to the phone.
"Pretty big but slim. The pictures maybe," the hacker responded, and Taehyung's eyes widened.
"Stop them," the artist demanded.
"What?" Yoongi asked confused. "How?"
"I don't care how. Stop them!" Taehyung almost shouted.
"But-"
"Don't you get it, Yoongi? It's inside of one of the pictures!" the artist revealed his thoughts. "Gosh," he growled, "How often did we use that trick and I didn't see it coming?"
"Oh," was all Suga responded with, expressing Namjoon's state of mind. And after a longer pause, "But I can't run in there and demand they stop. They'd call the police and get me dragged away."
Taehyung had gotten up and was running through the apartment like a caged tiger, hand ruffling through his blue strands and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "He needs to send them by ship or plane. He'll take plane because it's faster and safer. How long does big post between Seoul and Tokyo take?"
The coffee eyes were fixed on Namjoon like he had the answer to that question. "One... max two days," his sleep drunk brain conjured up. "With express mail, of course."
"Too little time. We need to stop it earlier," Taehyung mumbled, making a complete mess of his hair. Namjoon was almost sure that he could see the energy radiating from the artist's body.
"FedEx is Incheon. Call your airport friend," he suggested after the idea had flashed into his mind. "Suspicion of smuggled goods."
Taehyung's face lit up. "Brilliant." And he strode over to Namjoon and pulled another phone from under the pillow on which Namjoon had just been napping. For a moment the agent was startled by the weird stowing place, but then again this was Kim Taehyung, a man who walked around in silken bathrobes and could forge a hair needle from scrap. So how could he measure him with standard scales?
"Kim Siwon was his fake name, wasn't it?" Taehyung asked and Namjoon nodded.
In the next second the artist was connected to his mole at the airport. "Minho! Nice to hear from you. I have a problem... yeah... yeah. No, I won't. Listen! There will be some packages, big but slim, the size of framed pictures. I need you to hold them back. Suspicion of smuggled goods or drugs or anything it needs to stop them from leaving the country..." A longer pause followed. "Believe me when I say that the whole country's safety is based on you stopping that delivery... no... I... If you want money, you get money. Just stop them. They should be coming under the name of Kim Siwon, Yamamoto Takumi, or... how's his law firm called?" Taehyung turned towards Namjoon again.
"Uh... Furukawa and Partners," he remembered.
"Or Furukawa and Partners... Thanks... Kim Siwon... Yamamoto... Takumi... Furukawa... Yeah, exactly. I owe you. Call me when you have them." Taehyung lowered the phone. "It's like he's watching us, like he can predict every move we make."
Namjoon nodded. Taehyung and Yoongi were masters in conning, but Yamamoto had already conned them more than once. They had been chasing a shadow when they should have chased the man himself, running after nothing like a stupid cat after a laser point. For Namjoon it was nothing new, but for Taehyung this must be a totally unfamiliar feeling.
"Is your side of a hunt always that frustrating?" the artist asked dispirited.
Namjoon nodded slowly. "Yeah, pretty much."
The blue-haired sighed. "Poffee?"
"Yes, please," Namjoon replied and finally got up from the bed. The little sleep he had gotten had done miracles to his exhausted body and he was grateful that Taehyung had ordered him to stay here. "How long do you think it will take until... Minho calls?"
Taehyung weighed his head left to right before he guessed, "Two up to three hours."
"Then forget the poffee," Namjoon said and turned right around to fall back onto the soft fortress of recreation. His button-down would look awfully crinkly after this, but his body was screaming YES with every fiber, so he did not care for once.
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"Joon? Joonie, you have to wake up," a gentle deep voice woke him from his slumber and the smell of coffee tickled his senses.
"Hm?" he croaked.
"Minho called. They have the packages," Taehyung informed him and in the next second Namjoon was wide awake.
"They have it?" he asked while jumping up from the bed and taking the coffee that was handed to him by Yoongi. With hasty gulps he drowned the black liquid and then grabbed his jacket and glasses to leave.
"They have it," Taehyung confirmed with a relieved smile and took the Porsche key. "Let's bring the baby home."
Namjoon was overjoyed when they raced through the city with Taehyung's sportscar (Yoongi had generously stayed back because of the lack of seats). Two weeks had passed since Mr. Moon had called him to his office in the middle of the night, two weeks of sleepless nights, adrenaline, and disappointment. But it was finally over.
Still, some little part of him could not believe it, yet. There was that little fraction of doubt that had buried itself in his heart like a thorn, itching with every beat that brought him closer to Incheon.
"Are you sure?" he asked Taehyung who guided the flying vehicle through the traffic like he was disregarding speed limits on a daily basis.
"No," the other admitted. "But it's the next step. Maybe it's the last, maybe I was wrong and we have to find another solution... and maybe there is no solution anymore. But for now, we can only follow my intuition."
Namjoon nodded, eyes staring at the last shades of pink at the horizon. It was strangely peaceful. Since they had left the city behind, the roar of the engine had calmed down to a constant growl, streetlights were flying by and drawing shadows over their figures, and the white silhouette of Yeongjong Bridge held up the sky. Namjoon suppressed the picture of all this going down in flames.
"What if we fail?" he asked quietly.
"That's a question I never ask myself," Taehyung responded calmly. "If you accept failure as a final option, you fight with tied hands."
"I always thought to be aware of failure makes you fight harder," Namjoon wondered.
"It makes you fight desperate, but not smart," the artist clarified. "And we need smart solutions, not brute force."
"I see," Namjoon mumbled and they fell into silence once again.
Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung was parking in front of a bus station at Incheon, and they jumped out onto the sidewalk to enter the building.
"We're waiting at the east entrance," Taehyung said next to him, phone pressed against his ear. "Uhu... okay. He's coming with a cart."
Namjoon nodded briefly. Everyone was hurrying for his sake and he was grateful for it. And when he was finally sitting on the cart with Taehyung and that Minho guy talking away like nothing big was about to happen, anxiety began to rumor in his guts.
"I hope these are the packages, you were talking about," the airport security guy said, and they entered a room full of people.
To Namjoon's astonishment those people were customs officers, but then he remembered their lie and it all made sense.
"You are the people who gave the tip?" one of the men in uniform asked.
"Yes," Namjoon took over the conversation. "I'm KFC general Kim Namjoon." He pulled his badge from the inside of his jacket and held it under the asking officer's nose.
A quiet rumble went through the room.
"Those packages need to be opened and the frames need to be inspected for an envelope. Please cooperate with us," he asked of them and, to his relief, received nods. Sometimes officers could be complicated when it came to handing over their cases, but today was a lucky day.
"Well, here we go," Taehyung lilted and pulled his apartment keys from his pocket to cut the packages open with them. The men around them were staring dumbly.
"Who's that?" the same officer as before asked.
"My consultant Mr. Kim," Namjoon answered vaguely and seemed to satisfy the curiosity of the bunch.
Now, the rest started to open the other packages as well, revealing the collection of simplistic modern art in soft beige tones Namjoon knew very well. Those had been the right packages. Once Taehyung had shown them how to separate the back of the frames from the rest, they proceeded to search for the mentioned envelope. And with every empty frame Namjoon examined, his mood sank further.
"There's nothing," he eventually said towards Taehyung who was looking confused.
"I was so sure," the artist replied, face pulled into a mask of disbelief and fear. "How many pictures did we open?" he asked then.
Namjoon looked around and counted the cardboard wrappings. "Five," he answered.
"Shit!" Taehyung cursed with eyes widened in horror. "It should be six. Where's the last one?"
Namjoon's brain was trying to cope with the information when it hit him. "Gimpo," he whispered. "He sent one from Gimpo Airport."
Taehyung stared back at him. "Who the FUCK is he working with?!" the blue-haired shouted then, making all the men in the room twitch.
"Taehyung, calm down," Namjoon said and went over to the artist to grab him by the arm and pull him out of the room. "Gentlemen, as you might have understood from our conversation: the documents are not here. I apologize and would appreciate it if you could wrap up the pictures again, so that they can continue their way."
The guy who seemed to be in command nodded wordlessly, and Namjoon bowed to him and to the room once before he let the door fall closed.
Taehyung was hanging at his side like a useless toy. "Taehyung?" he asked, shaking the man a little. "Taehyung, get it together. You need to think now."
Like he had pressed a button, the artist ripped his arm out of his grip and marched back to the airport entrance. "What do you think I am doing?" he snapped at Namjoon who tried to catch up with him. Then he pulled out his phone and pressed it against his ear again.
"One painting was sent separately. Probably Gimpo. We missed it," he started the conversation with who must be Yoongi. "But that makes no sense. The D.O. I know is greedy, but he wouldn't betray his country." The Porsche lights greeted them like a dog who was happy to see its owner and Taehyung ripped open the driver's door to get in. "Yes. See you there." And he put away the phone to start the engine.
"Where are we headed?" Namjoon asked, having an idea of what would be the next step. The only way to check if that master thief whom Suga had given a new identity was Yamamoto's right hand or not was to check for his location.
"We're visiting an old friend with a new face," Taehyung confirmed his guess before he stepped onto the pedal and the 300 PS kicked in.
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