The Mello Code

Mello carried his cup of coffee from the kitchen, his left hand holding his mobile \'phone. As he crossed into the front room, his thumb unlocked it and pressed a speed dial. Matt was still upstairs, asleep in their bed. It had taken Mello twenty minutes to hunt down his laptop, the router and his \'phones. It had taken him a further quarter of an hour to reconnect the broadband and that only because the service seemed to throwing a tantrum over having been switched off in the first place. He wandered into the front room, where his laptop was downloading e-mails and opening to his regular sites. In his hand the call connected.



"Hello, Mello, did you have a nice birthday?" Hal asked.



"Yeah." Mello grinned. "It wasn\'t bad at all. So, how did you do it?"



"Do what?" Hal was smiling, he could hear her doing it.



Mello sat down on the settee, his feet up on the coffee table. "Tell me. I didn\'t finish my Beckett dissertation and what I did do was apparently lost in the ether."



"It wasn\'t lost, Mello. Just misplaced. There are ways and means, once we had it placed again." Hal was enjoying this. "Was it a lovely surprise?"



Mello sipped his coffee, his gaze on the laptop. The early morning sun was caught in this room. It steamed through the net curtains, low enough in his winter aspect to touch him here. He had placed the settee precisely with that in mind and he basked in it now. "Yes. It was." He smiled. "I know how I\'d do it."



"Really?" She replied lightly.



"Ha!" Mello had been listening for the tone of her voice. "And now I know how you did it."



Hal laughed. "And you\'re going to tell me as well, aren\'t you?"



"You asked Roger to do it for you." He was waiting for and discerned the slight intake of breath. "Yes! You did. So you don\'t know precisely what strings he pulled. The first degree? If I was Roger I\'d tell the university that I\'m dead. That way special provision would be made for a posthumous award. If they thought I was alive, they\'d want the end of the dissertation. Am I right?"



"That\'s so morbid, Mello." Hal tutted. "But the answer is that I don\'t know. You are right. I found the dissertation and all of your module work and he arranged the actual award."



"Ask him. I\'m right." Mello leaned forward to place his coffee on the table. He picked up a chocolate bar and unwrapped it with his teeth. "But I want to know how I ended up with a doctorate. I understand that there are certain connections. Contacts in government, which would lead to contacts with vice-chancellors. I do want to look into that, with the commission, because the more I think about it, the more that concerns me in terms of the security of Wammy\'s House. These certificates have my real name on them. They are going straight in my safe."



"Are going?" Hal laughed. "Oh, bless you, you\'re still looking at them."



Mello glanced at the envelope on the settee beside him and shrugged. "Maybe."



"I\'m glad. I\'m very proud of your achievements, Mello."



Mello felt a shiver of happiness pass through him. He lowered his hand, his fingertips brushing the envelope containing his certificates. "Thank you."



Hal sat down. He could hear the creak of the chair under her. "You deserve them. You worked hard for those and I\'m astounded that the majority of them were achieved before you were fourteen. It puts my academic profile to shame."



"Thank you." Mello rushed on. "There were a few in there from college. I only did those this year."



"Yes, a few. But all the rest you did when you were very young. I understand that the GCSEs alone are ordinarily taken by sixteen year olds. You were eight when you got your first clutch of them. You were only just eleven when you took several A-Levels. I\'ve been told that children in this country wouldn\'t even attempt one before they were seventeen or eighteen. Most people being eighteen. Eleven, Mello. That\'s really amazing."



Mello was biting his lip over a huge grin. He could feel the blush spread right across his face and halfway down his chest. "Thank you."



"You are so welcome."



Mello was a bit thrown by all of this. He swopped chocolate for coffee again and sipped it. "How did you get me a doctorate without a thesis or a viva?"



"It\'s an honorary award. Even the influence of Watari couldn\'t create a full doctorate out of thin air."



"Yes." Mello was annoyed with himself. He knew that. That was a stupid question. "It\'s in law, which means that it\'s about Kira and my real name is attached to it." He coughed, reasserting a more professional self. "Isn\'t that more than a little dangerous?"



Hal shifted in her seat. "Aww, you switched. I was enjoying listening to you being all sweet and proud of yourself."



"You\'ve connected my real name to the Kira case. I\'m assuming that the security of Cambridge University isn\'t as tight as Wammy\'s House. Talk me through this, Hal."



"Kira isn\'t your only case, Mello. Your doctorate was gained with an overview of several cases plus, I admit, reference to Kira."



"What does \'with reference\' mean?"



Hal hestitated. "Near spoke to our contact at the university and provided testimony that you were instrumental in the capture of Kira."



Mello\'s swopped back to the chocolate, but it remained still between his teeth. He reasoned it out before he spoke. "Near wouldn\'t let anyone know that Kira was dead before all the treaties were in place to avoid wars and shit. Near couldn\'t give testimony to the capture of Kira if he hadn\'t negotiated all of those treaties. Near has made treaties." Mello\'s eyes narrowed. "There hasn\'t been time to see if the treaties will hold."



"Maybe Near was feeling reckless."



Mello\'s eyes widened. "No! For a start, he hates my guts and would not \'feel reckless\' on my behalf; and secondly, Near doesn\'t do reckless. Near\'s cracking under the pressure of being L."



Hal sighed. "You do jump to conclusions, Mello."



"He is." Mello grinned.



"No, he isn\'t. Mello, can we just explain it this way please? It was magic. You don\'t need to know the workings. Accept it."



"So someone in Cambridge University knows my real name and has a concrete link between that and the Kira case."



Hal sighed. "Hold your doctorate and think to yourself, \'look what God did, because I was a really good boy\'."



"Near\'s not God."



Hal grit her teeth. "Near did not arrange this. Near provided a testimony to its truth and did so under the name of L. The rest was magic."



"But Near..."



"Mello, do you like your doctorate? Does it make you happy?"



Mello considered it. "Yes."



"Then shut the fuck up and just accept it."



"I don\'t do \'accepting it\'. I grew up in Wammy\'s House and...."



"La la la." Hal sang tunelessly down the \'phone at him.



Mello growled at her. "Tell me, Hal."



Hal changed tacks. "Are you coming to our event? I put the invitation in the envelope and, before you tell me that you and Matt are busy, let me remind you that I know the pair of you and you have no social life. I will find it very hard to believe that you have a prior engagement. I\'ll put you both down as a \'yes\' then?"



"Tell me how you arranged the doctorate, Hal."



There was a clack-clicking. "Can you hear me typing, Mello? That\'s me entering you and Matt as confirmed."



"We\'re not c..." Mello had noticed an e-mail on the laptop in front of him. "One moment please, Hal." He reached down and pulled the machine onto his lap. It was from the Polish embassy in Sofia. He read it quickly. "Hal, I\'ve had an e-mail. In Polish."



"Spam?"



"A case."



"Do you need me to arrange a translator?"



Mello blinked. "I\'m fluent in Polish, bitch." He re-read it again, his mind conflicted between exhilaration and a kind of dread, born of the fact that this might be a joke or a trap. "Hal, I need to go. I need to look at this."



"Ok, Mello. Happy birthday for yesterday again. See you at our event." She paused, but he was still reading it through for for the fourth and fifth times. "Congratulations on your case." He was reading it for the sixth time. "Bye Mello."



"Bye Hal." Mello cut the connection and tried not to shake as he scrolled to see if there were any hidden attachments or links that he hadn\'t noticed. There weren\'t. There was growing concern amongst the Polish, Bulgarian, French and British governments about human trafficking. Poles and Bulgarians, generally women or young boys, being sold into the sex industries of France and Britain. The problem was much broader than that, but, at this moment in time, the ambassador could only speak on behalf of colleagues in those four countries. Mello\'s contact details had been passed on by \'Bernard Comben, our esteemed friend in the United States\'. There were more honorifics, the language fairly hyperbolic, as if the Polish ambassador thought that this e-mail might be shared with the American. Mello resolved to contact Bernard next. This was a case, a good one, but it didn\'t constitute the terms of their agreement. He would make it clear that he wanted Bernard\'s contribution to be an American case. In the meantime, Mello could communicate the same terms to the Polish ambassador, which would guarantee at least one more Polish case. Mello wondered if he could persuade the Honourable Mr Łucjusz Michalak to introduce him to the Bulgarians, French and British ambassadors.



Mello sat back, sucking on a square of chocolate. He wanted this too much. There might be something that he was missing. He read the details again for what now seemed like the hundredth time. He knew nothing about modern slavery, beyond knowing that it existed. His family had been involved in drugs and arms trafficking, not human cargo. There was nothing here in contravention of his mafia code. He would not be breaking omerta by investigating it, though Mello suspected that the mafia might be involved somewhere along the line. The sex industry was too profitable for them not to be. Michalak hadn\'t even spelt out the case. He had simply outlined the broad area of investigation. It was a fishing expedition to see if Mello was interested. He would have to contact the ambassador for more information. Mello wanted the case too much.



He stood up and ran to the bottom of the stairs, "Mail!" There was no response. Mello called up again. "Mail, get your arse out of bed, I need your brain." There wasn\'t even a stirring that Mello could discern from there. He raced upstairs and into the bedroom. A rounded bump under the quilt was the only sign that Matt was even there. Mello pulled down the top edge of it until he uncovered tossled red hair. "If you want to be my Watari, you\'ll wake up now."



Matt\'s eyes slowly opened and he cast a Medusa glare at his husband. "What now?"



"I think I have a case." Mello grinned. "I\'m going to put the kettle on right now. Caffeine is on the way, guapo." Matt grunted and snuggled down again. "It would mean a great deal to me. If I have to wait for you to wake up naturally, I\'ll only end up responding to it myself. I\'m too impatient for the details." Mello paused, looking for further signs of life. "You were the one saying that, for the look of the thing, it should be a Watari figure between a letter and the world."



"Ngh."



"But you\'re right, why should you be the one? I mean, you\'re a letter too. I\'ll go and reply to them." Mello darted back across the room and was heartened by the sudden shifting behind him. He paused at the doorway and looked back with a smile. "Morning baby. I\'m making you some tea."



Matt stared blearily at him. "Fucking tosser." He reached for his cigarettes and lit one. "Caffeine."



Mello waited in the little chapel. The flowers in the vase beside the Mother, already wilted, had lost most of their petals. He resolved to change them today. Her porcelain smile remained serene, despite the violence wrought to her son, on the cross above her head, and despite the presense of Mello on the narrow pew in front of her. He had already told her that his faith remained strong. He had already asked her help in his remoulding of his religion into something more akin to his perception of Christ, than in the rejecting and rejected Catholic Church. The irony was not lost, on Mello, in the fact that he finished his conversation with crossing himself. He didn\'t let that stop him from reciting his rosary, contemplating the mysteries with his fingertips on the little beads. He ignored the faint beeping of game music from the kitchen.



When Mello was done, he rose and crossed himself again, before wandering out into the hallway. Matt had gone back upstairs. Mello checked on the monitors in the pantry to see what he was up to, before climbing the stairs towards his husband\'s study. Their home felt slightly unreal. A deep peace descending upon him, so much so that Mello paused at the balcony and stood there, allowing the atmosphere to penetrate. Matt\'s study door was open, but Mello still knocked. He didn\'t usually, but this moment felt loaded with importance and occasion. He hoped that he wouldn\'t be disappointed.



Matt smiled at him. "There will be a meeting in Sofia on January 20th. You will be linked via web conference. It\'s a case, Mello."



Mello nodded. He kept the emotion from his voice as he replied, "Thank you, Mail." But the chocolate was quickly pushed into Mello\'s mouth, as if cocoa could salve the sudden prickling of his eyes and the stone in his throat. He turned away, heading for his own study, unsure as to why he was even on the brink of tears. He hadn\'t even asked Matt what the terms were or the details of the case, but Mello didn\'t trust himself to speak. He opened his own study door and stepped inside. The calm and order in there were always a balm after the chaos of Matt\'s study.



"Hey." Matt spoke up from his own doorway. Mello turned and his redhead had never seemed more beautiful to him. "This Mello Code? It\'s going to fucking pwn the L Code." He winked and turned back into his room. His voice trailed back. "Fucking own it!"



Mello shuddered a tiny laugh. "Yes." He smiled, biting his lip. "It will."