Hagane no Renkinjutsushi - Volume 2 - Chapter 4

THE ABDUCTION OF EDWARD

FWIP … SSST.

Fwip … ssst … bonk.

Strange sounds emanated from Roy’s private office in a corner of Eastern Command.

“Colonel Mustang, please contact us immediately re-garding your report on the incident earlier this week . . . ”

Krunkle … krunkle. Fwip … ssst.

“Colonel Mustang, we have received a report suggesting that you are investigating an abduction case outside your jurisdiction. We are sending a representative to investigate this matter firsthand …”

Krink … krink … krink. Fwip … ssst.

“P.S. Please explain why you have failed to make any progress in the investigation of designated radical groups. Before this situation has an adverse effect on your own career, we highly recommend … ”

Krunkle … krink … krink. Fwip … bonk.

The sounds continued until a sudden knock on the door silenced them.

“Come in.”

“Er … sir?” Havoc’s face peered around the edge of the door. “What exactly are you doing?” Havoc’s eyes scanned the white paper airplanes scattered around the room before they alighted on Roy, sitting at his desk.

“I’ve been reading my letters of encouragement from Central Command,” Roy explained. He picked up a single piece of paper from his desk and began to read: “Colonel Mustang. Words are cheap. We demand results. We await your report …”

With deft hands, Roy folded the paper into the shape of an airplane and, aiming carefully at the far wall, let it fly.

Fwip … 

Havoc watched as the paper airplane rapidly lost altitude and dropped, nose first into the floor.

Ssst … 

Havoc looked up at his superior officer, one eyebrow raised.

“Double-bond paper,” Roy said with a shrug. “It’s heavy.”

“Dead-end in your investigation, sir?” Havoc asked.

“Stone cold.” Roy slumped onto his desk.

He had been working for days on end, not giving himself a moment’s rest, and still had come no closer to finding out just who was behind the terrorist attacks. He had coordinated with divisions in other locales, but the terrorist attacks were so widespread that every investigation seemed to raise more questions than it answered. Many people on his team now felt that other radical groups had begun copycatting the original group, compounding the problem.

But something about the man he had seen in the freight depot that day had convinced Roy that this was not the case. They were dealing with somebody very powerful, and very centralized. If only he could find a connection. Some single, guiding objective. And his investigations into the kidnappings had yielded little in the way of results.

Meanwhile, Roy’s desk had piled up with complaints from citizens and vague, threatening grumblings from higher command.

Havoc picked up one of the many paper airplanes lying at his feet. He opened it.

“The military’s budget is not limitless. We must consider the cost of repairing the destruction caused by the blasts as well as the cost of personnel sent to each site. We are concerned that some divisions have not accounted for these factors when assembling their teams …”

“So,” Havoc said after a long pause. “Any insights from your experiments in paper aviation?”

“I’ve discovered a correlation between the rank of the writer and the aerodynamic qualities of the finished plane. The higher the rank, the better they fly.”

“You don’t say?”

Fallen airplanes lay scattered along the floor from the front of Roy’s desk all the way to the far wall.

“So, were I to make a paper airplane out of one of your letters, Colonel, it would go to about here?” Havoc asked, pointing to a spot in the middle of the room. He swung his finger over to point closer to Roy’s desk. “And one of mine would land about … here?”

“No,” Roy replied, shaking his head. “I’m afraid your twisted sense of humor interferes with flight adjustments. You’d end up somewhere around here.” Roy pointed off to the side of the desk, indicating a bare patch of floor near the wastebasket. He gave an audible sigh. “So, anything turn up on those radical groups I had you look into?”

“I investigated the markings you mentioned, Colonel. All of those groups used to be quite active, but at present, not a single one remains in operation. I hardly think any of them could pull off the sort of organized terrorist activity we’ve been seeing.” Havoc handed some documents to Roy. “It may be as you suspect, sir, that someone is seeding terrorist groups with money and ordering them to destroy targets without causing any casualties. However … Central is saying we need to announce that this is the work of several disparate groups. They’ve requested that we put out a search for this Gael fellow as the leader of the original group that the others have been copying …”

Central had doubtlessly had their fill of this affair. They probably wanted to stop the investigation, declare the case solved, and begin to imprison anyone with any ties to anything even remotely resembling a terrorist organization. But judging by the terrorists’ high level of organization and preparedness, Roy was convinced stopping them would not be so easy.

“They just want to put this behind them and start repairing their image with the public,” Roy said, scowling.

“And that’s a bad thing, sir?”

“Of course it is. Look, we’ve seen a string of expertly executed terrorist strikes, all with warnings given just before the fact, and all without a single casualty. There’s no way I’m buying that this is the work of copycats. Somewhere, somehow, one of them would have messed up by now. It’s all too perfect.”

“And so who is Gael?”

“Not the leader, that’s for sure. He tried to knock a container car over on us. A container car! Sure, I was wear-ing a uniform—probably makes me fair game—but Edward wasn’t. Do you really think that someone who obviously spent a lot of time and effort meticulously planning each strike so as not to cause a single casualty would throw it all away by killing us? No, there is a single mind behind all this, but it’s not Gael’s.”

Roy picked up a pen and began tapping the papers on his desk. “Radical groups aren’t known for following orders all that well. But they listen to money. Whoever planned this worked out an attack plan for each region and offered money to those who could carry it out. Along come your disenfranchised, dismantled radical groups looking for a way to regain some of their former glory, and bingo, you’ve got local cells all operating under a master plan.

“Now,” Roy continued, “you’d need a great deal of money for this. So you abduct the children of wealthy individuals to raise funds … but the payout happens in small amounts to a large number of decentralized groups, so the flow of money barely raises an eyebrow.”

“So that means your investigation of these kidnappings is really an investigation of the terrorists. If only Central Command knew how wrong they have you, sir,” Havoc put in with mock sympathy.

“But what’s their objective? And how do they run things so perfectly? Every blast comes with a thirty-minute warning. They do the job before the military can arrive, and they have escape routes laid out so we never catch a glimpse of them—until the attempted bombing at the freight depot, of course. Why go to so much trouble to ensure no casualties? And another thing: if this were some radical group trying to show up the military, why, after pulling off one successful blast, would they not let the world know who they were? These people leave no trace. They set up one blast, disappear, and go set the next. Why?”

Havoc opened his mouth, realized he hadn’t the faintest clue himself, and snapped his mouth shut again. “Sorry, sir,” he said with a shrug.

Roy flung his pen at the wall, propped his elbows up on his desk, and ran his hands furiously through his hair. “I’ve been looking into things, trying to find a reason, some objective. I found nothing. Maybe my theory is wrong. Maybe there is no master plan. It could be that whoever is organizing this just likes to cause trouble. Whoever it is,” he said with a wry smile, “I’m sure they're having a good laugh at us right about now.”

“Maybe you’re thinking about it a little too hard, sir,” Havoc said brightly. “I know! How about we, uh, talk about something else for a while? If they can laugh, why can’t we, hmm?”

Roy looked at Havoc’s ridiculous forced grin and smiled despite himself. It was unusual for Havoc to go out of his way to try to make someone feel better. Roy felt he should honor this rare occasion. After all, it might be a once-in-a-lifetime event. “You’re right. I would welcome the change in topic. So, got any interesting news?”

“Oh, that I do, that I do,” Havoc said with evident relish. “I might have myself a girlfriend!” He was grinning like a happy dog.

Roy’s smile faded.

“Well, it’s not like we’re dating or anything,” Havoc hastily added. “But it feels great, sir. You know, sort of like spring has sprung!”

So much for making someone feel better … 

Roy reached down slowly and picked a paper airplane off his desk, aimed it at Havoc, and gave it a toss.

Bonk!

The door to the office opened without warning, batting the plane out of the air midway to its target.

“Colonel!” The rounded face with glasses and short cropped black hair that appeared from behind the door belonged to Master Sergeant Fuery. “Colonel, sir! It’s your son! He’s been kidnapped!”

Roy flung himself over the papers on his desk, which threatened to scatter around the room in the gust of wind blowing through the open door. Havoc froze mid-smile. Both looked at Fuery, their jaws dropping to the floor.

“My … son?”

“UNNH …”

A trickle of light spilled into the gloom-filled room.

Edward woke on cold, hard stone. He opened his eyes and sat up, his mind not yet fully awake. He blinked. “Wow, I slept like a rock …” 

Something was wrong. “Huh? What? Where?”

Edward’s eyes shot around the gloomy room before landing on the thick iron bracelet clamped around his right leg. He remembered playing with Ancy the night before. He’d been so tired that he had fallen asleep with his clothes on. But where was his bed? For that matter, where were his coat and trunk?

He looked around the windowless stone chamber. It was large but desolate. A short distance away from the wall to which he was chained was a wooden staircase, winding up to the ceiling of the room, where the light was coming from.

Edward scoured his thoughts, trying to concoct some idea how he could have wound up here after falling asleep in his room. Nothing came to mind. Eventually, he resorted to shouting up at the small square of light at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Al! Where are you?! Is anyone there?”

Alphonse would never leave him here like this. But how to explain the chain around his leg? A slow-dawning realization crept up on him: he was caught up in something bad. “Al! Where are you? Answer me!”

Suddenly, Edward feared for his brother. If he was stuck here, where was Al? He shouted until he saw the silhouette of a person block the light at the top of the stairs.

A booted foot came down on the top step, followed by another on the step below. With each step, the wooden staircase creaked loudly. Edward stared, slowly filling with alarm. He could tell from the boots this was not Alphonse.

The man walked all the way down the steps until he stood before Edward.

Edward growled. “You brought me here?”

“I did.”

The light behind the man was bright, but Edward’s eyes had adjusted to the dark. He could make out the man standing before him clearly.

“Colt.”

Colt’s eyes narrowed in a smile behind his silver-rimmed glasses. “Sleep well?”

“I slept fine. It’s the waking up part I’m not too happy about,” Edward said, glaring at his captor. “Why do you have me chained up here?”

“You did sleep fine,” Colt said, avoiding his question. “You slept a whole day in fact. Maybe the dose was a bit strong.”

So, Edward thought, I was drugged.

“What did I ever do to you?” Edward asked, looking up at Colt from where he sat on the stone floor. Edward himself had done a lot of things in his search for the Philosopher’s Stone, some of them not so nice. But he’d never done wrong to anyone who didn’t deserve it. “If you’ve got a score to settle, tell me now. And leave Al out of this,” Edward said, fearing that his brother might be locked in another room.

“Al?” Colt said with disinterest. “Oh, the one wearing the armor? I had no business with him, so I left him.” Colt’s voice was cold. This was not the friendly, outgoing fellow Edward had met the night before.

“So you do have something to settle with me. Fine, I admit I’ve made some mistakes in the past. Which one were you?”

“Oh? You mean to tell me you’ve traveled so much at your young age you can’t remember whose toes you’ve stepped on? Sounds like there’s an interesting story in there somewhere. Not to mention your hand and your leg. They’re, what, automail?” Colt looked at Edward’s hand and leg from a short distance away. “Well crafted.” He cleared his throat. “No, my score isn’t with you, per se.”

“Huh?” Edward said, confused.

“It’s with the military, you see. They claim to protect the people, yet when the people rise, they fire on us without a moment’s hesitation. I’m sorry you have to be the sacrifice … but it’s for the greater good.” Colt's face did look genuinely sorry, but a cold light still shone in his eyes.

Edward looked into those cold, bottomless eyes and shivered. “Sounds like you’ve got quite a chip on your shoulder.”

“The chip rests on all our shoulders, boy,” Colt said. He turned to walk back up the stairs. 

“Wait!” Edward shouted. “So you have a grudge against the military, fine! What does that have to do with me?!”

“I need money, that’s all,” Colt replied without turning around.

“Money?”

“Yes. For my organization.”

For the first time, Edward realized he was wrapped up in something larger than a single crazy man’s grudge. “Wait, you’re not …”

“The terrorist bombings, yes,” Colt said, turning slowly around. “And you’re to be our first sacrifice. Picture it: the child of a high-ranking military officer, abducted. A demand for ransom follows. The military attempts a rescue. Then, due to their rash actions, there is a death. After all those bloodless abductions, a young boy dies. Yes, the people will remember this one. Your noble sacrifice will serve to raise public opinion against the military to never-before-imagined heights.”

Colt gazed on Edward like a predator watching its prey. His keen eyes shone in the dark, as if waiting for the moment to strike.

“So you’re the leader, the one organizing the terrorists,” Edward muttered.

“Terrorists?” Colts snorted. “You know the difference between terrorists and the military, boy? Let me tell you …” he laughed. “One has more guns than the other.”

One look at the grin on Colt’s face, and everything suddenly fell into place: Edward would be the last in a line of abductions planned by Colt to fund terrorist activities. The conversation last night at the inn had been nothing but a carefully laid trap. Now, Edward knew exactly what Colt and the terrorists working with him wanted. And there was one other thing: the sneer on Colt’s face matched perfectly the sneer he had seen on that silhouette in the field the day the train stopped, the image he saw in his mind’s eye the morning of the attempted bombing at the freight depot.

Whether Colt had actually been at the scene of the crime or not, he couldn’t say. But his presence certainly had been there. Even after Colt had left the room where Edward was chained, Edward couldn’t shake the cold feeling that sneering grin left in his gut. 

“Maybe this is that sixth sense the colonel was talking about,” Edward muttered. Maybe that’s what he had exper-ienced on the train and that morning at the freight depot. It was his sixth sense warning him he was going to be personally involved in this affair.

“Guess I should trust my feelings a bit more,” Edward said to himself as he brought his hands together and created an alchemical glow that neatly severed the iron link around his foot. “Now, to solve this case once and for all.”

Edward was lucky. Colt didn’t know he was an alchemist, and he had left Alphonse at the inn. That meant Edward might be able to free himself, while Alphonse would surely contact the military and send help. Edward didn’t need his sixth sense to tell him everything would be okay.

“I TOLD YOU, I don’t have a son!”

Every eye in the room fixed on Roy. He slammed the paper down on the desk. “Come on, people! This is just somebody’s idea of a bad joke! Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“But the letter clearly states, ‘To the commanding officer at Eastern Command. If you want your son back, you will arrange the payment of 20 million cens. Payment details to follow,’ ” Second Lieutenant Breda said, pointing a chubby finger at the letter beneath Roy’s hands.

“And last I checked, the commanding officers here are either the general or you, Colonel Mustang,” a thinner man said from behind Breda’s shadow. It was Falman, the base’s warrant officer.

“And, sir,” Fuery added in a hesitant voice, “it’s just like the other abduction letters. It seemed a bit hasty to write it off as some kind of practical joke.”

“It says commanding officer, but it doesn’t mention me by name,” Roy fumed. “What about the general?”

“We already checked with the general, sir,” Havoc answered. “He says his son is full grown, and both his grandchildren are at home with their parents. So that only leaves your son, Colonel …” Havoc was stone serious, but the trace of a smile played across his lips, revealing a deep amusement at the situation.

“And I told you I don’t have a son!” Roy roared. “Have I ever talked about having a child? Have any of you ever seen me with a child here on base?”

Judging from their smiles, not one of them was actually concerned about a possible kidnapping here. They were all intrigued by the possibility that their colonel might have a child he never told them about, and that made Roy furious. His subordinates all began to talk at once:

“I guess I haven’t seen you bring a child on base, Colonel, but …”

“They’re asking for a ransom, so they must have some-body …”

“I believe you, Colonel. Mostly. Almost completely, in fact.”

“Actually, seeing how you are outside the base, I started wondering …”

“Maybe he’s got a kid hidden away?”

“Wow! What if he’s got kids!”

“Wait, just how many kids do you have, Colonel? Is it more than one? It’s okay. You can tell us!”

Roy stomped with both feet on the ground. “Silence!”

There was a brief pause.

“Are you sure you don’t have a kid?” Breda asked.

“Yes! No!”

“No kid?” Fuery asked.

“None! Not a one!”

“Not even a little one?” Falman asked.

“None at all!”

“Colonel, Colonel,” Havoc said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“What?”

“Be honest.”

Roy was speechless. He raised his hand to smack Havoc on the head but then stopped in mid-swing. 

“This is the ransom request?” Hawkeye said, picking up the paper off Roy’s desk. She had come walking into the room from lunch while everyone was talking. Someone must have run to the cafeteria to tell her the exciting news.

“Lieutenant, it’s just a practical joke,” Roy explained.

“Of course it is, Colonel. How could they kidnap a child you don’t have?” Hawkeye asked, handing the paper back to Roy. “You … don’t have a child, do you?”

“Lieutenant, surely you don’t believe this.”

“It’s not a question of what I believe, Colonel. I merely asked because, if you did have a son, this would be a most serious matter indeed. Not to mention, if this were a practical joke, it’s the first we’ve seen in this case. As such, it deserves our attention.”

Hawkeye’s expression remained as impassive as ever. To all appearances, she was entirely serious.

Roy sighed. “No, Lieutenant. I do not have a son.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

For a moment, silence filled the room.

“I may have joined this conversation halfway through, but I detected some … hesitation in your answers,” Hawkeye said at last.

“No hesitation. No doubt. No child!”

Roy felt like he was under inquisition. With everyone in the room staring at him like this, he almost started to wonder if he really did have a kid.

This is ridiculous, Roy thought. Please, someone get me out of this.

Just then, one of the base guards appeared at the door. 

“Excuse me, Colonel, Alphonse Elric is here to see you. Shall I show him in?”

“THE FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST’S been kidnapped?”

No one in that office at Eastern Command could believe the news.

“The poor sod,” Roy muttered under his breath. He had a hard time believing someone could have abducted a State Alchemist—they were like walking, breathing weapons. And that it was Edward who had been taken … Roy found himself pitying the person who had to deal with him. Once again, the office filled with a cacophony of voices.

“Takes guts to kidnap him!”

“Who would want to kidnap that kid?!”

“Whoever did is sure going to regret it.”

“We should hold a service for the poor kidnapper.”

Every person in the room knew how Edward got when he was angry, and none of them wanted to be in the kidnapper’s shoes right now. Even Alphonse hadn’t been that concerned. He knew his brother could take care of himself. He was more worried about poor Ancy. She must have been taken with him. He had intended to call the moment he realized what had happened, but he lacked the proper codes to call into the base. Instead, he had hurried all the way to Eastern Command and pleaded his case to the military police out front.

“I’m not sure why the kidnapper thought my brother was your son, Colonel,” Alphonse said. He had told them everything about the inn they stayed at, the names and appearances of the people they met, the abandoned crates at the station, and the girl Ancy. 

“At first, I thought the man who was claiming to be Ancy’s uncle was responsible,” Alphonse explained. “But I wasn’t too sure about the one calling himself Mr. Colt, either. I thought he sounded nice enough when I heard he’d given Ancy that book … but then I thought ‘who gives a little girl a book about fine art?’ And it’s not like that town had the kinds of stores that would carry art books anyway. I realized he must have had the book ready in advance, that he knew who she was and what kind of family she came from. I was going to confront Mr. Colt himself about it, but he had already left. I think it’s too much of a coincidence that my brother, Ancy, her uncle, and Mr. Colt all disappeared that same morning. So maybe, I thought, they were working together. I mean, except for Ed. And Ancy.” Alphonse paused, collecting his thoughts. “I heard that Mr. Colt had been staying at that inn for a long time before Ancy and her uncle arrived, but I didn’t think to ask him any more about it.”

Everyone in the office listened quietly while Alphonse talked. Their faces were grim, and they seemed lost in thought.

“This Colt does sound suspicious,” Falman said, rubbing his chin. “All of the abducted children’s reports pointed to different kidnappers, but Colt may have been using other people to do his dirty work for him, while he observed from nearby.”

Breda folded his arms and nodded. “Ancy’s parents have informed the abductors that the money is ready. They’re waiting to hear when and where they should deliver it. Maybe the kidnapper—or kidnappers—have already moved on to their next target: Edward.”

“Yes, you might be right …” Roy said. Something about this whole thing bothered him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

“Colonel?” Fuery asked.

It was Hawkeye who answered. “It makes sense for them to abduct Edward.” She leafed through the file of reports on all the previous abductions. “All previous abductees, including the art dealer’s daughter, were children six years old or younger. I imagine that the kidnappers chose their targets because they were easy to dupe and easy to control, but Edward …”

“… is neither of those things,” Havoc finished.

“So this time, they’ve taken a target who is difficult to control at best and left, en masse, in an obvious fashion at an odd time of day. It’s totally unlike the kidnappers’ prior M.O. … It’s like they’re not even being careful. Maybe they mean for this kidnapping to be the last.”

Roy worked the details over in his mind. He grew increasingly sure that his hunch hit the mark. The terrorist blasts and the abductions were closely connected, that much was clear. And now, Edward’s abduction and the departure from the inn pointed to a shift in plans. Everything up until now had been deliberate, and careful. Now they were going all-out. They most likely had no intention of returning Edward alive.

Roy felt the disparate bits of information he had gathered taking shape. If the abductions were coming to an end, that meant so were the bombings. In other words, the terrorists had almost achieved their objective.

Roy looked up. “Second Lieutenants Havoc, Breda! I want reports on every factory we have making weapons for the military. Officer Falman, you check all the warehouses currently in use! Lieutenant Hawkeye, I want you to get me a list of every open train line!”

The office burst into activity. Alphonse stepped aside to stay out of everyone’s way. Hesitantly, he sidled over to Roy. “About my brother …”

“He’ll be fine. We should find him soon and put this case to rest. No, we will. All this ends today.”

Several minutes later, the office was full again. Everyone had reconvened, bearing their various reports. Once they had quieted down, Roy spoke. “I found the link between the terrorists and the kidnappers! First, the abductions. These raised money to fund terrorist cells and to purchase weapons and other supplies. Next, the explosions, which we assumed were random. Not so at all. They cut off supply lines from factories to military bases in order to direct the flow of weapons and ammunition … to somewhere they could seize them. And not in any small amount. They meant to get them all.”

Roy jabbed a finger at the map hanging on the wall behind him. “Now, these were the first rail lines to be destroyed. The next, here, and then here …” At each point, he drew an X on the map with a felt-tip pen. “Now, they destroyed one of our munitions factories … here, along with a temporary storage facility where we sometimes keep arms in transit, and a freight depot that redirected arms to the various bases.”

The map filled with Xs until Roy drew the one marking the most recent blast. “The terrorists destroyed almost every route for transporting weapons from factories to the bases. What’s more, with the terrorist attacks there have been additional emergency orders of weapons, all from one factory. Meanwhile, the weapons, unable to travel their customary routes, were diverted along other routes, and diverted again …”

Roy turned to the assembled officers. “Havoc and Breda, your report on the arms shipments?”

Breda looked at the hastily scrawled memo in his hand. “Looks like they’ve been loading all of those weapons onto a freight train over the past two days.”

“Quite a lot of weapons, by the sound of it,” Havoc added.

“Falman, what about the stores in our warehouses?”

“There’s been some concern that the terrorists might target our warehouses, so most of the weapons have been packed up, sir. They’re supposed to be delivered to the main base storage facility … today, sir,” said Falman, looking up at Fuery. Fuery sat by the transmitter, listening to the shipment information and relaying it to Falman.

While the others gave their reports, Hawkeye walked up to the map and began tracing the remaining routes. Only one line remained uninterrupted along its entire length, from the factory to Eastern Command.

“This is the town where Edward and Alphonse stayed,” Hawkeye said, sliding her finger along the map. “There’s another station, a town with even fewer residents, here, closer to Eastern Command. We have no military presence in the area. Also, it appears that a large, abandoned steel factory still stands near the rails. We believe this to be the terrorists’ base of operations.” Hawkeye’s slender finger stopped on a location near the rail line on the map.

Roy glared at that spot. “Today, a freight train carrying a large amount of weapons will pass through that point. I’ll bet anyone here an alchemist’s ransom that the terrorists are at that abandoned factory waiting for it.”