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"The Roacherian Effect"  A novel by John C. Delavan

Chapter Nine

 

By evening word had spread throughout the Japanese underworld in Tokyo that Arnburg and Peterson wanted to complete the transaction with Choi's people. As word filtered down through channels it came to the attention of those who could connect with Choi himself. One such person was an enterprising young street hustler, an Amerasian who'd been cast into the streets at the age of eight when his mother died. His father had disappeared before he was born.

Now, at eighteen, Masaaki made a living selling drugs, selling his body, stealing and selling information either to the police or to whoever was paying the most at the moment, and sometimes both. He was bright, energetic and knew the streets of Tokyo intimately. He'd lived his life in fear of nearly everyone and everything and knew he had to "do unto others before they did unto him" to survive.

When he overheard a young streetwalker talking to a friend about Arnburg and Peterson wanting to complete their contract with someone named Choi, he knew just who to go to. He slipped out of the shabby little teahouse and made his way to the upper-class hotel district of Tokyo where he'd heard about a Korean named Choi who was willing to pay for information about the two men. Masaaki didn't know where the Americans were but it mattered not. He knew where the girl could be found and would direct Choi to her...for a price. Choi could find out from her where to find the Americans. What he did with her then wasn't Masaaki's concern.

It wasn't long before the young man contacted Choi and collected more money than he'd seen in any one year of his life. Two hours later he was found by a dock worker floating face down in an oil-slicked, garbage-choked corner of the harbor with his throat cut. Choi had his money back and a lead on the information he wanted. Within another hour he had the girl.

* *

Choi stepped back from the girl on the table and fastened his pants. His heart was pounding, fueled by an almost overwhelming feeling of power surging through him. As his ecstasy from inflicting unbelievable torture during the rape faded and the light from the bare bulb overhead danced across her lifeless features he thought, "She told me nothing. Perhaps she didn't know. No matter -- she satisfied one need if not the other."

A look of hatred spread across his flat features. He was determined to find the two Americans and make them pay for his humiliation at the hands of Pak. "How much greater my satisfaction will be when I make the two Americans die the same way." Turning, he calmly walked away.

* *

A young police officer walking his beat was interrupted by an excited old man who grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "This way, officer, this way! There's a body, a body!"

Allowing himself to be led along by the old man the officer was taken into the back room of a little-used warehouse. A dangling bulb cast a garish light on the horribly mutilated body of a young girl tied to a table. The officer recoiled at the sight, staggered outside and vomited.

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