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Tokyo Terror: Beware the Red Dragon
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
windar
Teller of Tales
That's what happens when you forget to tip the housekeeping staff.
I like kidnappers who are tidy.
Don't worry, Stan will be on the case as soon as he's done playing around with the desk clerk...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Guaranteed complaint proof duct tape!
Hotel linen : "remove guest before laundring"
In stead of staying in the dark... reminds of SÄPO!
That will be a hell of a debriefing!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
... and they fell for it! Dear oh dear...
And seeing old Pecos in the restaurant? Gotta be a coincidence, right?
An excellent piece ... action packed and now we wait with stiffening groins to see what torments lie in wait for our three heroines.
Great chapter Barb!
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 16. Thursday, June 28. 13:00. The Peak Lounge, 41st floor Atrium, Park Hyatt Hotel, Shinjuku District, Tokyo
The glassed in expanse of the Peak Lounge made one feel like one was almost suspended in mid-air, surrounded by bamboo and white-jacketed wait staff, gliding noiselessly across the marble floor. Both Stan and Bill had ordered the toasted ciabatta sandwich of herbed chicken, bacon and tomato accompanied by a glass of Kirin Brau Meister draft.
“Great minds think alike,” Stan had said when Bill had ordered the same thing as him.
“And fools never differ,” Bill had replied.
Stan had been pleased at how things had gone with Tamiko while he had been waiting for Bill to get settled in his room. At first she had been quite shocked that Stan hadn’t been entirely playing during their little game of cop and thief the previous night.
“You mean you really are a cop?” she had asked.
“Retired,” he had replied, defensively. “But you never stole any dress.”
“No, of course not,” she had replied. “But that didn’t stop you from arresting, searching and punishing me, did it?”
“We were playing. You enjoyed it. A lot.”
“So did you,” Tamiko had said.
“I did.”
“Did you ever do such a thing in real life?” she had asked.
“No, of course not. Detectives don’t do strip searches; that’s correctional officers after the criminals have been found guilty and sent away. At most, we might do a quick pat down to look for weapons, and even that is often done by a uniform before we arrive. Anyway, most of the mugs I arrested, I wouldn’t want to see naked. Even the women.”
“Well, I think you were very bad to trick an innocent young girl,” Tamiko had said. Her pretend outrage had looked awfully cute. “Perhaps you should be punished.”
Stan had stared at her, trying to discern if she was being serious or teasing him. “It’s a thought,” he had replied. “What time do you get off?”
“At 21:00,” she had replied.
Tonight was the night of the conference banquet where the women would be getting their awards. He might be able to justify skipping that, since the baddies would hardly snatch the women in front of hundreds of guests. In fact, Stan was starting to wonder if there really was any plan to do them any harm, given that he had detected nothing out of the ordinary, so far.
‘Well,’ he had thought, ‘If I’m getting paid handsomely to stay in a nice hotel, eat well and have a good time with the desk clerk, so be it.’
“Maybe we can think of something fun to do after that?” he had said.
“Maybe,” Tamiko had replied, enigmatically.
Stan’s thoughts were brought back to the present by Bill. “I read your book. It was quite a story.”
“I didn’t write it,” Stan replied. “I’ve never written anything beyond an arrest report. My partner wanted to try her hand at it, but the publishers hired a pro. I thought he did a pretty good job.”
“Yeah, it was well written, but I would have liked it if it were scrawled in crayon. I mean, naked girls on crosses. Damn, Goldman, some guys get all the luck.”
“Yeah, the whole thing was mostly luck,” Stan said, modestly.
“But I don’t believe it was luck that brought you here. A vacation at a very pricy hotel in Tokyo doesn’t sound like the Stan Goldman I remember. Someone hired you, and I bet I know who and why.”
“I’m sworn to silence,” Stan recalled.
“You know that after I left the force I joined the CIA,” Bill said. Stan nodded. “We had ways to deal with that,” Bill said.
Stan wondered if Tamiko might be interested in trying out a CIA interrogator vs terrorist babe scenario. He didn’t pursue that, as the waiter arrived with their food.
“I’d bet a large sum of money that it involved those three women,” Bill said, motioning with his head as Stan took a bite out of his sandwich.
Stan turned in the indicated direction in time to see Barbara, Gun and Annika, joined by Åke taking their seat at a table several spots away from them. He swallowed his food and replied, “Brilliant deduction, Holmes! But I’ll bet an equally large sum that your presence here has to do with those same three women as well.”
“Yes, but I’m on my own dime,” Bill said. He proceeded to fill Stan in on his previous adventures in Sweden and on the murder of his beloved Min-Ji.
“I’m really sorry for your loss, Bill. I guess this Syndicate doesn’t play around.”
“No they don’t,” Bill replied. “And so that’s why I’m here-to protect the others and, I have to be honest, to get some kind of revenge.”
“I understand,” Stan said. “I won’t say I’m not in it for the money, because I do need that, but I‘ve had a setback in the romantic area also. My partner on the Bronx crux case, who interestingly enough is named Barbara Moore, like the professor there”-Stan gestured in the direction of the table where Barb and the Swedes were happily chattering away-“We’ve been together since that case, but very recently, she left. Long story, but the co-incidence of names is kind of always in the back of my mind.”
Stan took a last bite of his sandwich and downed the rest of his beer. He motioned the waiter over and signed the check. “This one’s on me, or on the Swedes, I should say. I’m going up to my room to have a bit of a rest. I didn’t get too much sleep last night and I’m still jet lagged, as I’m sure you are. Let’s hope everything goes down without any problems.”
“Yes, let’s hope,” Bill replied.
Thursday, June 27. 15:30. Room 4214 of the Park Hyatt Hotel, Shinjuku District, Tokyo
The ringing of his phone woke Stan from his nap. He glanced at the screen and saw it was Björklund. “Goldman here,” he said.
“Have you seen our three friends?” Björklund asked.
“At lunch here in the hotel less than two hours ago with that Åke Persson fellow.”
“Well, Gun was supposed to text Bertil Hansson at 7:00 our time, which is 15:00 over there. And she hasn’t. He’s texted her and gotten no response.”
“They probably went out for a walk. I’ll check on them.”
“Please let me know as soon as you know anything.”
“Will do, chief. By the way, I assume you know a Bill Johnson, formerly with my old department and later with our beloved CIA?”
“Yes, Pecos Bill Johnson. Why do you ask?”
“Is that how he’s calling himself in Sweden? Anyway, he’s here.”
“In Tokyo?”
“Yes, I just had lunch with him.”
“He told you about Min-Ji, I assume.”
“Yes. Do the women know?”
“Only Gun, and I believe she hadn’t told the others yet. There was another murder, this one here in Sweden, connected with the case as well, Marina Pavlova.”
“Wow,” Stan said, as he slipped his shoes on. “They’re dropping like flies. Let me see what I can find out.”
He quickly made for the elevator and descended to the hotel check in area. Tamiko smiled as he approached the desk. “I’m still thinking about tonight, Stan,” she said. “Check back with me later.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” he replied. “Barbara Moore, Gun Thorell and Annika Sjöberg-which room are they in?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge information about our guests. I can ring their room, if you’d like.”
Stan nodded. Tamiko let the phone ring ten times. “It seems there is no answer. I can take a message for you.”
Stan lent in close, so that no one could hear. “Look, Tamiko, this is police business. Not pretend police like last night, but the real police.”
“I thought you’re retired,” she said.
“I’m on a special assignment. I need to get into their room just to check. They may be in really serious danger. Come on, Tamiko.”
“I could get in trouble. My manager might punish me,” Tamiko said, coyly.
“Look, this isn’t a game. Their lives may be in danger. Please, Tamiko.”
Tamiko sighed, then reached for a blank card key. “You just look and then return it, OK. And don’t tell anyone,” she said as she inserted it into the machine. She wrote the number 4902 on the envelope and handed it to Stan.
“You’re a trooper, Tamiko,” he said. He texted Bill-they had exchanged numbers since they were now, in effect, partners on this case-‘Meet me at Room 4902, ASAP’ and headed for the elevators.
Thursday, June 28. 15:56. Deluxe King Bed Suite with city view, 49th floor, Park Hyatt Tokyo, Shinjuku District, Tokyo.
Stan slid the card key through the slot. He wondered if Tamiko had played a trick on him, but the light turned green. Inside, things looked a bit of a mess. There were no signs of the women, and, most suspiciously one of their phones was lying on the bedside table.
‘They wouldn’t have gone for a walk without their phones,’ he thought. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Stan approached and called out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Bill.” The Texas drawl was unmistakable. Stan let him in, quickly closing the door behind them.
“How did you get in, Goldman?” Bill asked.
“Let’s say that a friend did me a favor,”
“The girl at the desk? What’s her name, Tammy?”
“Tamiko,” Stan replied, blushing a bit. “What do you think?”
“She’s very cute.”
“I meant about the room, Johnson,” Stan said.
Bill looked around. He saw the phone. “I fear they’ve been taken, kidnapped.”
They both noticed the sheet of paper under the phone. “I wish I had some gloves,” Stan said. He knelt beside the table, took his room card key out and moved the phone carefully out of the way.
The first thing they both saw was the red dragon logo with the neatly printed text below. “That seals it,” Bill remarked. “The Syndicate.”
Stan read the note aloud: “We have Moore, Thorell and Sjöberg. Do not speak with the Tokyo Police about this or they will die.”
Stan took out his phone and dialed Björklund. He relayed the news as briefly as he could, stressing that they were not to contact the Japanese authorities or go public with this in any way. “I can assure you that I am on the case and so is Bill Johnson and we will find them and bring them out safely.”
Stan hung up and looked at Bill. “Now, how the fuck are we going to do that?” Bill said.
The glassed in expanse of the Peak Lounge made one feel like one was almost suspended in mid-air, surrounded by bamboo and white-jacketed wait staff, gliding noiselessly across the marble floor. Both Stan and Bill had ordered the toasted ciabatta sandwich of herbed chicken, bacon and tomato accompanied by a glass of Kirin Brau Meister draft.
“Great minds think alike,” Stan had said when Bill had ordered the same thing as him.
“And fools never differ,” Bill had replied.
Stan had been pleased at how things had gone with Tamiko while he had been waiting for Bill to get settled in his room. At first she had been quite shocked that Stan hadn’t been entirely playing during their little game of cop and thief the previous night.
“You mean you really are a cop?” she had asked.
“Retired,” he had replied, defensively. “But you never stole any dress.”
“No, of course not,” she had replied. “But that didn’t stop you from arresting, searching and punishing me, did it?”
“We were playing. You enjoyed it. A lot.”
“So did you,” Tamiko had said.
“I did.”
“Did you ever do such a thing in real life?” she had asked.
“No, of course not. Detectives don’t do strip searches; that’s correctional officers after the criminals have been found guilty and sent away. At most, we might do a quick pat down to look for weapons, and even that is often done by a uniform before we arrive. Anyway, most of the mugs I arrested, I wouldn’t want to see naked. Even the women.”
“Well, I think you were very bad to trick an innocent young girl,” Tamiko had said. Her pretend outrage had looked awfully cute. “Perhaps you should be punished.”
Stan had stared at her, trying to discern if she was being serious or teasing him. “It’s a thought,” he had replied. “What time do you get off?”
“At 21:00,” she had replied.
Tonight was the night of the conference banquet where the women would be getting their awards. He might be able to justify skipping that, since the baddies would hardly snatch the women in front of hundreds of guests. In fact, Stan was starting to wonder if there really was any plan to do them any harm, given that he had detected nothing out of the ordinary, so far.
‘Well,’ he had thought, ‘If I’m getting paid handsomely to stay in a nice hotel, eat well and have a good time with the desk clerk, so be it.’
“Maybe we can think of something fun to do after that?” he had said.
“Maybe,” Tamiko had replied, enigmatically.
Stan’s thoughts were brought back to the present by Bill. “I read your book. It was quite a story.”
“I didn’t write it,” Stan replied. “I’ve never written anything beyond an arrest report. My partner wanted to try her hand at it, but the publishers hired a pro. I thought he did a pretty good job.”
“Yeah, it was well written, but I would have liked it if it were scrawled in crayon. I mean, naked girls on crosses. Damn, Goldman, some guys get all the luck.”
“Yeah, the whole thing was mostly luck,” Stan said, modestly.
“But I don’t believe it was luck that brought you here. A vacation at a very pricy hotel in Tokyo doesn’t sound like the Stan Goldman I remember. Someone hired you, and I bet I know who and why.”
“I’m sworn to silence,” Stan recalled.
“You know that after I left the force I joined the CIA,” Bill said. Stan nodded. “We had ways to deal with that,” Bill said.
Stan wondered if Tamiko might be interested in trying out a CIA interrogator vs terrorist babe scenario. He didn’t pursue that, as the waiter arrived with their food.
“I’d bet a large sum of money that it involved those three women,” Bill said, motioning with his head as Stan took a bite out of his sandwich.
Stan turned in the indicated direction in time to see Barbara, Gun and Annika, joined by Åke taking their seat at a table several spots away from them. He swallowed his food and replied, “Brilliant deduction, Holmes! But I’ll bet an equally large sum that your presence here has to do with those same three women as well.”
“Yes, but I’m on my own dime,” Bill said. He proceeded to fill Stan in on his previous adventures in Sweden and on the murder of his beloved Min-Ji.
“I’m really sorry for your loss, Bill. I guess this Syndicate doesn’t play around.”
“No they don’t,” Bill replied. “And so that’s why I’m here-to protect the others and, I have to be honest, to get some kind of revenge.”
“I understand,” Stan said. “I won’t say I’m not in it for the money, because I do need that, but I‘ve had a setback in the romantic area also. My partner on the Bronx crux case, who interestingly enough is named Barbara Moore, like the professor there”-Stan gestured in the direction of the table where Barb and the Swedes were happily chattering away-“We’ve been together since that case, but very recently, she left. Long story, but the co-incidence of names is kind of always in the back of my mind.”
Stan took a last bite of his sandwich and downed the rest of his beer. He motioned the waiter over and signed the check. “This one’s on me, or on the Swedes, I should say. I’m going up to my room to have a bit of a rest. I didn’t get too much sleep last night and I’m still jet lagged, as I’m sure you are. Let’s hope everything goes down without any problems.”
“Yes, let’s hope,” Bill replied.
Thursday, June 27. 15:30. Room 4214 of the Park Hyatt Hotel, Shinjuku District, Tokyo
The ringing of his phone woke Stan from his nap. He glanced at the screen and saw it was Björklund. “Goldman here,” he said.
“Have you seen our three friends?” Björklund asked.
“At lunch here in the hotel less than two hours ago with that Åke Persson fellow.”
“Well, Gun was supposed to text Bertil Hansson at 7:00 our time, which is 15:00 over there. And she hasn’t. He’s texted her and gotten no response.”
“They probably went out for a walk. I’ll check on them.”
“Please let me know as soon as you know anything.”
“Will do, chief. By the way, I assume you know a Bill Johnson, formerly with my old department and later with our beloved CIA?”
“Yes, Pecos Bill Johnson. Why do you ask?”
“Is that how he’s calling himself in Sweden? Anyway, he’s here.”
“In Tokyo?”
“Yes, I just had lunch with him.”
“He told you about Min-Ji, I assume.”
“Yes. Do the women know?”
“Only Gun, and I believe she hadn’t told the others yet. There was another murder, this one here in Sweden, connected with the case as well, Marina Pavlova.”
“Wow,” Stan said, as he slipped his shoes on. “They’re dropping like flies. Let me see what I can find out.”
He quickly made for the elevator and descended to the hotel check in area. Tamiko smiled as he approached the desk. “I’m still thinking about tonight, Stan,” she said. “Check back with me later.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” he replied. “Barbara Moore, Gun Thorell and Annika Sjöberg-which room are they in?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge information about our guests. I can ring their room, if you’d like.”
Stan nodded. Tamiko let the phone ring ten times. “It seems there is no answer. I can take a message for you.”
Stan lent in close, so that no one could hear. “Look, Tamiko, this is police business. Not pretend police like last night, but the real police.”
“I thought you’re retired,” she said.
“I’m on a special assignment. I need to get into their room just to check. They may be in really serious danger. Come on, Tamiko.”
“I could get in trouble. My manager might punish me,” Tamiko said, coyly.
“Look, this isn’t a game. Their lives may be in danger. Please, Tamiko.”
Tamiko sighed, then reached for a blank card key. “You just look and then return it, OK. And don’t tell anyone,” she said as she inserted it into the machine. She wrote the number 4902 on the envelope and handed it to Stan.
“You’re a trooper, Tamiko,” he said. He texted Bill-they had exchanged numbers since they were now, in effect, partners on this case-‘Meet me at Room 4902, ASAP’ and headed for the elevators.
Thursday, June 28. 15:56. Deluxe King Bed Suite with city view, 49th floor, Park Hyatt Tokyo, Shinjuku District, Tokyo.
Stan slid the card key through the slot. He wondered if Tamiko had played a trick on him, but the light turned green. Inside, things looked a bit of a mess. There were no signs of the women, and, most suspiciously one of their phones was lying on the bedside table.
‘They wouldn’t have gone for a walk without their phones,’ he thought. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Stan approached and called out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Bill.” The Texas drawl was unmistakable. Stan let him in, quickly closing the door behind them.
“How did you get in, Goldman?” Bill asked.
“Let’s say that a friend did me a favor,”
“The girl at the desk? What’s her name, Tammy?”
“Tamiko,” Stan replied, blushing a bit. “What do you think?”
“She’s very cute.”
“I meant about the room, Johnson,” Stan said.
Bill looked around. He saw the phone. “I fear they’ve been taken, kidnapped.”
They both noticed the sheet of paper under the phone. “I wish I had some gloves,” Stan said. He knelt beside the table, took his room card key out and moved the phone carefully out of the way.
The first thing they both saw was the red dragon logo with the neatly printed text below. “That seals it,” Bill remarked. “The Syndicate.”
Stan read the note aloud: “We have Moore, Thorell and Sjöberg. Do not speak with the Tokyo Police about this or they will die.”
Stan took out his phone and dialed Björklund. He relayed the news as briefly as he could, stressing that they were not to contact the Japanese authorities or go public with this in any way. “I can assure you that I am on the case and so is Bill Johnson and we will find them and bring them out safely.”
Stan hung up and looked at Bill. “Now, how the fuck are we going to do that?” Bill said.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Very considerate from The Syndicate to communicate appropriately!
"Follow the laundry!?"
windar
Teller of Tales
But things seem to be progressing nicely with Tamiko. You should be worried. At least enough to answer Stan's texts...
Stop reading ahead!!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I can see these guys are going to get distracted away from the core reason they're here...
I was right ...
The threads are coming together nicely Windy ...
Sharkman
Governor
Hope not so, Mr. Goldman. At the end someone have to pay the Bill!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
No doubt! One cute face and they are lost!
Meanwhile, Gun's ego is already wrapped in bedsheets!
The Syndicate thanks you for your kind cooperation!
Chapter 17. Thursday, 28 June, 18:30. The Red Dragon Dungeon Place, Kabukicho District, Tokyo
Sato Yukio, the reigning ‘godfather’ of the local “Sumiyoshi-ka” Yakuza family that controlled the largest slice of the sex industry in Tokyo’s Kabukicho district , looked across the broad expanse of his polished black-onyx desktop with interest. He was dressed in a western business suit, and wearing a dark red tie.
The objects of his interest were the three western women he had agreed to purchase under contractual agreement from the Syndicate. They lay before his desk on the plush red carpet onto which they had just been unceremoniously dumped … in a tangle of arms, legs, torsos and heads. All were groggy and disheveled in appearance from being sedated, bound and transported from their suite in the Park Hyatt Hotel to his office deep in the bowels of his lair in the Red Dragon Dungeon Place.
He was accustomed to acquiring new additions to the sex-slavery-side of his operations through the good services of the Syndicate. Indeed, it was unhealthy to refuse doing business with them. But what intrigued him most about acquiring these three westerners, in addition to their obvious attractiveness, was that they were not the usual young, frightened Filipino, Malaysian, Taiwanese, or Korean girls abducted from, or at times even sold away by, their families. These western women, according to the information given him, were professionals … two law enforcement officers from Sweden, and an American academic whom he had been informed was deeply involved in investigating the illicit sex industry on which his personal livelihood depended. As such, they could be marketed to the depraved tastes of his elite clientele in a way ordinary girls could not.
“Separate them from one another, and get them on their feet!” he ordered. And his underlings who had been standing respectfully aside, sprang into action. It took several minutes, but Barb, Gun and Annika soon found themselves lined up side-by-side and facing the old man behind the desk.
Rubbing her wrists, chafed from having been bound, Gun was the first to speak. But not before studying Sato’s features carefully, as any good police officer is trained to do. In her judgement he was probably in his late sixties or early seventies, white-haired and gaunt, his facial skin pale and thin. He was, in some ways, grandfatherly in appearance. But that was belied by the steely-metal darkness of his eyes.
The trouble she, Annika and Barb were in was not lost on her. Gun knew full well to where they had been taken by their abductors. She had recognized the Red Dragon logo on the wall of the subterranean garage to which they had been delivered. They were clearly headed for a life in the underground sex trade, and given the Red Dragon’s dungeon theme, hardly a pleasant one. Their best hope, in her mind … their only hope … was a good offense.
“I demand to know what is going on! Why are we here?” she shouted indignantly at the msn behind the desk. “You are making a big mistake! People like us don’t simply disappear unnoticed. We’re well known to both the Japanese authorities and public … celebrities really … our presence in Tokyo has been all over the news, as you may have noticed. Two of us are law enforcement officers and one of us is an expert on the very kinds of sordid things you do here. Our sudden disappearance will surely trigger an investigation. And that investigation will undoubtedly bring unwanted attention down on you and this establishment. Think about it! It’s not too late for you to let us go. You can apologize now and say it was all a terrible mistake … a quid pro quo arrangement … you’ll be left alone …we can see to that … it’s not you but the Syndicate we are after.”
Sato’s reaction was an almost imperceptible nod of his head that triggered one of his henchmen to deliver an immediate cuff to the back of Gun’s head that sent her sprawling to the floor.
Barb and Annika both screamed.
“Silence!” roared another of their handlers, stepping menacingly between them and Gun’s fallen form.
“You bastards!” cursed Barb, attempting to sidestep him and reach Gun. But the way was blocked by his muscled bulk and she was easily driven back.
Annika and Barb, forced to stand aside, watched, hands to mouth, as Sato’s people knelt beside Gun to raise her back onto her feet. She was able to stand on her own, but looked a woozy.
“Red Dragon Slaves speak only with permission,” murmured Sato in his soft voice, once the three women were standing before his desk again. His spoken English had an Oxbridge accent. “They do exactly what they are ordered to do. Nothing is ever questioned. Failure to obey is dealt with swiftly and without compassion. Discipline here is very harsh. And yes, Ms Thorell, I do know exactly who each of you are. And, for your information, the Syndicate is an honored business partner of mine. I can also say to you, in full confidence, that the Japanese authorities will have no interest whatsoever in coming to your rescue. So kindly adjust to that fact and try to welcome your new life here. Now, that said, I ask all of you kindly to strip! Take everything off so I can see what my money has bought.”
Barb, Gun and Annika exchanged glances, acutely aware of the muscle moving in around them from three sides. When they returned their attention to Sato, he simply nodded in his nearly imperceptible fashion, although his dark piercing eyes sent an unmistakably frightening message.
Annika was the first to comply, starting by slipping off the shoulder straps of the brightly colorful, flowery summer dress she had worn for the morning paper sessions back at the Park Hyatt. And then, allowing the top part to fall to her hips, revealing her breasts as she wore no bra, she sent the garment to the floor with a slight shimmy of her hips. There it lay gathered about her ankles until she stepped free of it.
After a few moments hesitation, Barb followed Annika’s lead, unfastening and dropping the skirt part of her dark gray business suit, before continuing on to remove the jacket and shirt. Placing her hands on her hips and staring Sato defiantly in the face she purposefully left her bra and panties in place.
Gun, rubbing the back of her neck and still appearing somewhat dazed, followed along clumsily … nearly falling over as she shed her skirt and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. She, like Barb and Annika, left her underthings untouched.
“When we say ‘strip’ here at the Red Dragon, we mean everything! Completely everything!” snapped Sato, rising from his chair to lean forward over the desktop, hands planted firmly on its surface.
Again, it was Annika who responded first, dropping her white panties to the floor and stepping free of them. Barb followed, removing her black bra and kinis. Gun, however, playing her last card, remained still, hands defiantly resting on her hips.
And when Sato silently signaled his minions into action, she called upon her police academy hand-to-hand combat training … suddenly grabbing the wrist of the first one to approach her, and stepping deftly aside. Throwing out her hip she flipped her surprised assailant onto Sato’s polished black onyx desk top. His head struck the hard surface with a particularly loud disabling thud, forcing Sato to recoil backwards in shocked surprise. Her next assailant fared no better as she pivoted in time to kick him hard in the crotch, sending him groaning to the floor.
But that was the end of her spirited rebellion. For in the next few seconds she was overwhelmed by three of Sato’s thugs falling upon her all at once. And Annika and Barb, who might have come to her assistance, were too taken by surprise to spring into action before being restrained from behind.
“Get him off of my desk!” screamed Sato, his quiet ‘in-control’ demeanor transformed to one of rage.
“And she,” he continued, pointing a crooked bony firefinger at Gun, “will pay dearly for this. Take her down to the punishment room and feel free to do whatever it takes to make her wish she had never tried that stunt. And while you’re at it, force the other two bitches to watch every minute of it!”
With that he abruptly left the room.
‘Thursday, 28 June, 12:45 (20:45 in Tokyo) Office of Detective Sergeant Bertil Hansson, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden.
“Bertil, I’ve some good news and some bad news,” announced Chief Björklund, his sizable bulk nearly filling the office’s hallway door frame.
“Hmmmm. Give me the good news first then, so I can be in a reasonably good mood when I get the bad.”
“Alright . There’s been a significant break through on the Marina and Min-Ji murder cases. I’ve just learned from Interpol, and from Bulldozer Olsson, that units of the French Police Nationale have taken four Asian nationals into custody at Charles De Gaulle in Paris. Two were the ones we put out a warning about them being traveling there from Copenhagen. The other two had arrived on a flight from Geneva. All were biding time on a layover awaiting a flight to Beijing.”
“Wow! That is good news!”
“There’s more. All four, according to the report, have a red dragon with a globe in its talons tattoo behind one ear.”
“The Syndicate!”
“Yes.”
“What then is the bad news?”
“Goldman has reported in this morning. It appears Gun, Annika and Barb Moore have been abducted.”
“What the fuck! I thought we were paying Goldman to see that that wouldn’t happen?”
“Well, it has. But he’s on the case. Believe me, Bertil, he’s the right man to be on it. Let’s hope he can work some magic!”
TBC
Sato Yukio, the reigning ‘godfather’ of the local “Sumiyoshi-ka” Yakuza family that controlled the largest slice of the sex industry in Tokyo’s Kabukicho district , looked across the broad expanse of his polished black-onyx desktop with interest. He was dressed in a western business suit, and wearing a dark red tie.
The objects of his interest were the three western women he had agreed to purchase under contractual agreement from the Syndicate. They lay before his desk on the plush red carpet onto which they had just been unceremoniously dumped … in a tangle of arms, legs, torsos and heads. All were groggy and disheveled in appearance from being sedated, bound and transported from their suite in the Park Hyatt Hotel to his office deep in the bowels of his lair in the Red Dragon Dungeon Place.
He was accustomed to acquiring new additions to the sex-slavery-side of his operations through the good services of the Syndicate. Indeed, it was unhealthy to refuse doing business with them. But what intrigued him most about acquiring these three westerners, in addition to their obvious attractiveness, was that they were not the usual young, frightened Filipino, Malaysian, Taiwanese, or Korean girls abducted from, or at times even sold away by, their families. These western women, according to the information given him, were professionals … two law enforcement officers from Sweden, and an American academic whom he had been informed was deeply involved in investigating the illicit sex industry on which his personal livelihood depended. As such, they could be marketed to the depraved tastes of his elite clientele in a way ordinary girls could not.
“Separate them from one another, and get them on their feet!” he ordered. And his underlings who had been standing respectfully aside, sprang into action. It took several minutes, but Barb, Gun and Annika soon found themselves lined up side-by-side and facing the old man behind the desk.
Rubbing her wrists, chafed from having been bound, Gun was the first to speak. But not before studying Sato’s features carefully, as any good police officer is trained to do. In her judgement he was probably in his late sixties or early seventies, white-haired and gaunt, his facial skin pale and thin. He was, in some ways, grandfatherly in appearance. But that was belied by the steely-metal darkness of his eyes.
The trouble she, Annika and Barb were in was not lost on her. Gun knew full well to where they had been taken by their abductors. She had recognized the Red Dragon logo on the wall of the subterranean garage to which they had been delivered. They were clearly headed for a life in the underground sex trade, and given the Red Dragon’s dungeon theme, hardly a pleasant one. Their best hope, in her mind … their only hope … was a good offense.
“I demand to know what is going on! Why are we here?” she shouted indignantly at the msn behind the desk. “You are making a big mistake! People like us don’t simply disappear unnoticed. We’re well known to both the Japanese authorities and public … celebrities really … our presence in Tokyo has been all over the news, as you may have noticed. Two of us are law enforcement officers and one of us is an expert on the very kinds of sordid things you do here. Our sudden disappearance will surely trigger an investigation. And that investigation will undoubtedly bring unwanted attention down on you and this establishment. Think about it! It’s not too late for you to let us go. You can apologize now and say it was all a terrible mistake … a quid pro quo arrangement … you’ll be left alone …we can see to that … it’s not you but the Syndicate we are after.”
Sato’s reaction was an almost imperceptible nod of his head that triggered one of his henchmen to deliver an immediate cuff to the back of Gun’s head that sent her sprawling to the floor.
Barb and Annika both screamed.
“Silence!” roared another of their handlers, stepping menacingly between them and Gun’s fallen form.
“You bastards!” cursed Barb, attempting to sidestep him and reach Gun. But the way was blocked by his muscled bulk and she was easily driven back.
Annika and Barb, forced to stand aside, watched, hands to mouth, as Sato’s people knelt beside Gun to raise her back onto her feet. She was able to stand on her own, but looked a woozy.
“Red Dragon Slaves speak only with permission,” murmured Sato in his soft voice, once the three women were standing before his desk again. His spoken English had an Oxbridge accent. “They do exactly what they are ordered to do. Nothing is ever questioned. Failure to obey is dealt with swiftly and without compassion. Discipline here is very harsh. And yes, Ms Thorell, I do know exactly who each of you are. And, for your information, the Syndicate is an honored business partner of mine. I can also say to you, in full confidence, that the Japanese authorities will have no interest whatsoever in coming to your rescue. So kindly adjust to that fact and try to welcome your new life here. Now, that said, I ask all of you kindly to strip! Take everything off so I can see what my money has bought.”
Barb, Gun and Annika exchanged glances, acutely aware of the muscle moving in around them from three sides. When they returned their attention to Sato, he simply nodded in his nearly imperceptible fashion, although his dark piercing eyes sent an unmistakably frightening message.
Annika was the first to comply, starting by slipping off the shoulder straps of the brightly colorful, flowery summer dress she had worn for the morning paper sessions back at the Park Hyatt. And then, allowing the top part to fall to her hips, revealing her breasts as she wore no bra, she sent the garment to the floor with a slight shimmy of her hips. There it lay gathered about her ankles until she stepped free of it.
After a few moments hesitation, Barb followed Annika’s lead, unfastening and dropping the skirt part of her dark gray business suit, before continuing on to remove the jacket and shirt. Placing her hands on her hips and staring Sato defiantly in the face she purposefully left her bra and panties in place.
Gun, rubbing the back of her neck and still appearing somewhat dazed, followed along clumsily … nearly falling over as she shed her skirt and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. She, like Barb and Annika, left her underthings untouched.
“When we say ‘strip’ here at the Red Dragon, we mean everything! Completely everything!” snapped Sato, rising from his chair to lean forward over the desktop, hands planted firmly on its surface.
Again, it was Annika who responded first, dropping her white panties to the floor and stepping free of them. Barb followed, removing her black bra and kinis. Gun, however, playing her last card, remained still, hands defiantly resting on her hips.
And when Sato silently signaled his minions into action, she called upon her police academy hand-to-hand combat training … suddenly grabbing the wrist of the first one to approach her, and stepping deftly aside. Throwing out her hip she flipped her surprised assailant onto Sato’s polished black onyx desk top. His head struck the hard surface with a particularly loud disabling thud, forcing Sato to recoil backwards in shocked surprise. Her next assailant fared no better as she pivoted in time to kick him hard in the crotch, sending him groaning to the floor.
But that was the end of her spirited rebellion. For in the next few seconds she was overwhelmed by three of Sato’s thugs falling upon her all at once. And Annika and Barb, who might have come to her assistance, were too taken by surprise to spring into action before being restrained from behind.
“Get him off of my desk!” screamed Sato, his quiet ‘in-control’ demeanor transformed to one of rage.
“And she,” he continued, pointing a crooked bony firefinger at Gun, “will pay dearly for this. Take her down to the punishment room and feel free to do whatever it takes to make her wish she had never tried that stunt. And while you’re at it, force the other two bitches to watch every minute of it!”
With that he abruptly left the room.
‘Thursday, 28 June, 12:45 (20:45 in Tokyo) Office of Detective Sergeant Bertil Hansson, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden.
“Bertil, I’ve some good news and some bad news,” announced Chief Björklund, his sizable bulk nearly filling the office’s hallway door frame.
“Hmmmm. Give me the good news first then, so I can be in a reasonably good mood when I get the bad.”
“Alright . There’s been a significant break through on the Marina and Min-Ji murder cases. I’ve just learned from Interpol, and from Bulldozer Olsson, that units of the French Police Nationale have taken four Asian nationals into custody at Charles De Gaulle in Paris. Two were the ones we put out a warning about them being traveling there from Copenhagen. The other two had arrived on a flight from Geneva. All were biding time on a layover awaiting a flight to Beijing.”
“Wow! That is good news!”
“There’s more. All four, according to the report, have a red dragon with a globe in its talons tattoo behind one ear.”
“The Syndicate!”
“Yes.”
“What then is the bad news?”
“Goldman has reported in this morning. It appears Gun, Annika and Barb Moore have been abducted.”
“What the fuck! I thought we were paying Goldman to see that that wouldn’t happen?”
“Well, it has. But he’s on the case. Believe me, Bertil, he’s the right man to be on it. Let’s hope he can work some magic!”
TBC
windar
Teller of Tales
Well, umm, that's true, but I can explain. It's all Tamiko's fault!!!...
Yes, Bertil, you see, a little confidence...
Magic? is that what they're calling it now?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
They should have added Kung-Fu training too! Maybe they had been free already!
So, he is just another independent entrepreneur who is working hard for his income! Naughty Prof. Moore! Threatening the poor man's livelihood!
Well, Barb will clearly leave a trail of tell-tale Riesling corks that will ultimately lead straight to the syndicate's lair. Also, the butler did it.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Sooner or later, Goldman will blame it all to his former partner Barbara Moore for she left him!
That figures!Sooner or later, Goldman will blame it all to his former partner Barbara Moore for she left him!
Rias
Neko Girl
Suspecet they put Barbarella again to tickles machine when is naughty again...
