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  “Lucky you,” said Suzy. “Enjoy yourself!!”

  Anya said her goodbyes to the management and, having called a taxi, left with Paul.

  “Which hotel?” she said to Paul.

  “No hotel,” Paul said, “we’re going to my company flat.”

  “Very cosy,” said Anya, snuggling close to Paul in the back of the taxi. “I think we’re going to enjoy this.”

  Paul smiled and the taxi sped off in the still busy Tokyo night to a flat in the outskirts of the city. It was a great night of abandoned sexual pleasure and Anya enjoyed it as much as any night for a long time. Paul was attentive, gentle and they both climaxed twice before falling asleep.

  Anya awoke to find she was alone in the bed. She rubbed her eyes and drew the covers tightly around her naked and satisfied body. The room was in half light. She looked at the side of the bed for a clock, 6.45am. “Oh, too early,” said Anya.

  At that moment Paul came into the room with two cups of tea, put one on Anya’s side of the bed and one on his side of the bed and, slipping off his towelling robe, slid into bed next to Anya. His hands caressed her shoulders, moved down to caress her belly and then slid under her buttocks.

  “That was a great evening,” said Paul, his soft European voice whispering in Anya’s ear.

  Anya turned and put her arms around his neck. Their faces were almost touching. She gently kissed his nose, his lips and rested her head on his chest. “Fabulous darling,” she said.

  Paul’s hands slowly caressed her buttocks and he gently slid his hand between her thighs, prising them slowly apart. She murmured, “Oh darling, you’re so gentle. Stroke my pussy.”

  She slid onto her back and spread her legs open. Paul’s head went first to her nipples. He licked, sucked and gently bit them as they hardened under his playful touch. His head slid down her body and with one hand under her buttocks his mouth explored her vagina, licking, biting and searching for her clitoris. It was enticing. He stopped and, kissing her stomach, he raised his head so he was looking straight into her eyes.

  At that moment Anya shuddered - she felt something hard and cold being pushed into her. Paul smiled. “Enough darling, now you are going to tell me everything you know about a friend of yours. You know who I mean. Ichi. I want every scrap of information you know about him. If I’m not satisfied, you are going to have the last and biggest explosion your body has ever known, so talk.”

  Anya was rigid. Paul’s voice had changed. It was very, very menacing. Cold, European, German! It was the voice on the phone. Anya couldn’t speak. She shook with fear.

  Paul smiled at her. It was not a pleasant smile. “Anya, there is the barrel of a Colt 45 halfway inside you. Please talk. Take your time. Otherwise I mean what I say. It will be your last and biggest explosion.”

  It took Anya an hour. She told Paul everything she knew about Ichi. Who he met, what he did. His spending and sexual habits and lots of information Anya had learnt during evenings and nights spent with Ichi; deals, illicit payments and pseudo licensing deals he had arranged between Skymar and Watanabe Trading. Eventually Paul sat up, releasing Anya’s body from the weight of his. The pistol barrel was still inside Anya.

  “Now,” said Paul, “you will stay in bed for one hour.”

  The barrel was thrust deeper into Anya.

  “I am leaving. Don’t try to leave, there is a friend of mine making sure you don’t. Don’t even think about it. He’s far more ruthless than me. You will not see me again. Thanks for the information - I will leave you $1,000 wedged in the front door. Use it one way. Get the hell out of this country within twenty-four hours. I will no longer be a threat but Ichi will be now. Within forty-eight hours he will be looking for blood. He will know who has given information about him. If you stay, it’s at your own risk. Just a piece of free advice. OK?”

  With that, he withdrew the pistol. Anya gasped as the steel was jerked from her. She shook from head to toe. Anya stared at Paul as he held the pistol up, barrel vertical and kissed the barrel. “Oh and thanks for the fuck, from both of us!”

  Within ten minutes Paul was gone.

  Anya did not move for two hours. She had been petrified. She thought non-stop during the two hours. Yes, she’d have to get out quickly now. Where to? Anywhere.

  Paul Schmidt spent the rest of that day communicating the information received from Anya to two contacts. He faxed all the information directly to Michael Shoner at the Skymar offices in London. Secondly, he made a long phone call to his paymaster in Seoul, Korea, telling him all the details and arranging his payday.

  *

  It was Thursday at 6.15pm. On the sixteenth floor of the Watanabe Trading Company the overseas division’s staff were all still working. In the large room, over forty people worked and at the head of the room, set very slightly apart, was the manager of the section, Ichiro Taduii. His phone rang. It was a call from Skymar’s Japanese manager Jumbo (Jim) Kiwakura. His voice sounded agitated.

  “Michael’s been on to me from the U.K.” said Jim to Ichi. “He sounds very worried. I need to talk to you tonight. Can we meet?”

  “Come to my office at 7.30pm,” said Ichi. “What’s the problem? Michael’s always uptight about something!”

  “No, this is serious, Ichi. We can’t meet at your office. Reception at the Imperial Hotel. I can’t say anymore now. Eight-thirty, OK?” The phone went dead.

  At 8.30 the two met. The reception area of the Imperial Hotel is large and open and many businessmen meet in groups to discuss the day’s activities or as preliminaries for more serious discussions over dinner or in clubs.

  Ichi and Jim found a corner area and ordered drinks.

  “What is this mystery about then?” said Ichi.

  Jim leant across the table. “Read this.” He handed a number of pages of fax paper to Ichi. “Michael sent this tonight by security fax. Someone’s got hold of a hell of a lot of information. Michael’s furious. This was sent to him with a note just saying ‘We will meet and conclude the deal.’ Michael thinks it must be that Patrick guy. You know Michael screwed him on his deal to buy his company? Where the hell he got this lot from, Christ knows, but if he uses it in the wrong places we’re dead ducks. Michael’s contacting Patrick and says he will do a deal to smooth this.”

  Ichi read the faxes. Lists of meetings, contacts, money spent in the Italian Corner, girls slept with by him and other Skymar members. Details of bank accounts! Jesus his whole life, or secret life, was exposed. And not only his. He went sheet white. Jim leant across. He took the papers from Ichi.

  “You’d better have another drink! Michael’s hopping mad. He is contacting Patrick and hopefully meeting to conclude a deal but it’s very worrying. You know Michael. He’s only happy when he’s double-crossing people and by the look of it this Patrick guy is serious. Anyway, Michael’s orders are, sort out the source of this and make sure it is silenced. Michael will sort out the problems at the London end and then come out here.”

  Ichi knew where the information must have come from. Jim and Ichi left the Imperial Hotel at 9.30. Ichi went straight for the source of the information – his lovely at the Italian Corner – the bitch. The taxi took him there in ten minutes.

  Of course Anya was not there. She’d phoned in sick. He demanded to see the manager. Demanded her home address and then backed off when he was told firmly and only just politely that management did not give the girls’ home addresses to customers. The manager’s two assistants backed up their position, by just looking their normal selves; big, threatening, ugly. Ichi retired to the club. There was only one source who might take him to Anya - Suzy.

  Unfortunately for Suzy she did not know where Anya was. Unfortunate, as she phoned in sick to the club the next day. She was sick - physically and also black and blue, not only on her buttocks but on her thighs and stomach. Ichi had shown no mercy. If it wasn’t for the fact that he�
��d paid another $1,000 she’d have told the club.

  Ichi was angry and in big trouble.

  LONDON

  Patrick had met with Michael following their evening meeting and informed him quietly and firmly that he would not sell his company on the cheap, trick the investors and rely on some backhander payment , which he doubted he would ever see. The deal was off. And he walked from the meeting feeling personally satisfied, but wondering if his company would survive in the long term.

  His next call was to tell his investors. He spelt out the position, his reaction, the problems, the possibilities. They thanked him courteously. His opinion was probably they couldn’t give a shit. However, he was sure he was right. He wanted no part of underhand dealings.

  Then he booked a flight to Japan. The only way forward now for the company was to go hell for leather for more business. He left on the midday flight to Tokyo via Anchorage on Friday. At about 11.00am that day there was a call to Patrick at his company’s office in Staines. It was from Jeanette, Michael’s P.A. and confidante. Her manner was cool, firm, efficient. Patrick’s wife answered the phone.

  “I need to make an appointment for Patrick to meet Michael, urgently,” said Jeanette.

  “I’m sorry, he’s not here,” answered Anne, Patrick’s wife.

  “This is important, where can he be contacted?” snapped Jeanette.

  “I don’t know. He’s gone to Japan on business. I won’t know where he’s staying until he arrives,” said Anne, matter-of-factly. Who the hell did this American woman think she was?

  “Japan!” exclaimed Jeanette. The phone went dead. Anne mused. What the devil was her husband up to now, silly bugger? She went back to her accounts work.

  Jeanette went straight from her office into Michael’s.

  “Michael. That crazy Englishman has gone to Japan now. Is he really going to spill the beans? This could blow the whole company sky high. You’ve got to get out there straight away. There’s too much at stake.”

  Michael flashed angrily at Jeanette. “He’s mad. Get me a first class seat to Japan now and tell them to have a limo at Narita. Tell Jim to book me into the Imperial. Hurry up, for God’s sake.”

  JAPAN

  Even first class to Japan was not very comfortable for Michael the next day as he flew out. At 10.15am on Sunday morning the limousine was waiting for Michael at Narita Airport for the two-and-a-half-hour drive to the Imperial in Tokyo.

  Twenty-four hours earlier Patrick had taken the train - quicker, cheaper - and booked himself into the Squire Hotel in the Shiba Area. He would start work on the customers on Monday. He was oblivious of the other fun and games taking shape around him.

  Patrick woke after a fitful night’s sleep in his hotel in Tokyo. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling. It was Sunday. The sun was already beaming in through the windows of the room. What to do today? Shower, walk, plan for tomorrow and the week ahead. Following the rejection of Michael’s under-the-table deal to purchase his company, Patrick was on a long-shot trip to try to ensure his company’s survival. He had to try to find business or a backer, fast. He knew where the majority of Skymar’s business came from in Japan; through the link-up with Ichiro Taduii’s trading company, Watanabe. Watanabe had been early partners of Michael’s in Skymar, had been involved in all manner of dodgy dealings before Skymar went public and were heavily involved in the myriad of licensing and odd capital reconstruction deals which had enabled Skymar to grow and Michael to ensure his beloved Jeanette and himself had a continuous life of Riley.

  Patrick showered, ate a good English breakfast and planned his day. Firstly he would sit down in the coffee lounge and make a list of the actions for the week. He had to make many phone calls and arrange meetings fast to try to pull something off, but his first port of call was going to be the horse’s mouth, Ichiro Taduii at the Watanabe building first thing on Monday.

  Patrick had thought it through on the plane. Sipping and enjoying two or three Black Labels always helped him focus his thoughts.

  He had decided to go to the one contact he thought most likely to inform Michael of his whereabouts in Tokyo and his business intentions. That way he might be able to provoke a quick reaction and maybe some positive outcome.

  He was hoping to play on Japanese correctness and face Ichiro with the problem that his trading company must have been party to the deception over the takeover of Patrick’s company that Skymar had planned and perpetrated all along. Patrick hoped to lever some financial compensation to allow him time to reconstruct his company’s business. Surprise and a threatening approach was going to be the plan of attack, an unannounced visit to Watanabe’s offices to demand to see Ichiro Taduii at 9.30 Monday morning. Patrick was well prepared and well rehearsed.

  SEOUL – KOREA

  Pyo Han’s company was one of the up and coming companies in Korea, one of the strata of elite, government-backed but wholly private companies who had been hand-picked to bring about the Korean economic miracle. Pyo Han was ruthlessly ambitious. A fifty-five-year-old, round faced, outwardly genial man, he had been educated in America and then in England before returning to take charge of his father’s family business.

  The Binhu company did extensive development and manufacturing for Skymar. But like many involved with Michael Shoner, there had been many fallings-out over the years, many over money and bad payment practices and the last episode, the non-payment of a large debt on the pretence of poor quality, was the final straw for Pyo Han. He would have his revenge on Shoner.

  His office on the fourth floor of the family’s industrial complex on the outskirts of Seoul was a mixture of the modern, the oriental and a touch of the bizarre. The centrepiece was a traditional low table with seating surrounding this and flags of the U.S.A. and Korea in the middle. To one side, next to a window overlooking the factory and surrounding area and down on to the courtyard where the company shrine was lovingly tended, was his desk - four phones, a fax, computer, modem and dealer’s screen giving Pyo access to his customers and currency and share information, instantly.

  Pyo picked up the phone. It was 2am. He dialled the Shilla Hotel in Seoul. “Room 3147 please,” he asked the reception clerk. The phone buzzed. After a few seconds it was answered.

  “Hello,” said the voice, sleepily, at the other end.

  “My friend,” said Pyo. “You have arrived. You have done a good job. In the reception of the hotel is a package for you. It contains a safe deposit key for you under your name. The money is there. Thank you. Also there is a return ticket via Tokyo to Frankfurt. We will meet again soon. For now thanks. Oh, and one more thing, Paul. How the hell did you get all that information? Now I can really screw Shoner, he will get what he more than deserves. Tell me when we meet next. Goodbye.”

  The phone went dead. Pyo was a happy man tonight. At long last he had gained the upper hand against his old enemy Michael Shoner and that smooth bitch Jeanette. Now to turn the screw and stitch them up once and for all! They would pay for past misdeeds.

  Pyo crossed his office and opened a heavily-panelled door to reveal an ante room containing a plush, white-carpeted floor, a large round bed, and a sunken Jacuzzi in which three young Korean girls, chattering. Their bodies were shiny from the soapy water. The tallest girl stood up to greet Pyo, her black hair and firm dark body glistening. Pyo grabbed her by the back of her hair, rabbit fashion, and holding her tight stepped straight into the Jacuzzi, fully clothed. His arm entwined her and squeezed her buttocks as he pulled her to him.

  “Tonight, my lovelies, we are really celebrating. Open some champagne. Tonight I will really test my stamina and yours.”

  His thumb was now massaging her and she could feel her nipples tightening and her furry mound moistening under the rhythmic movement . His thumb entered her and she gasped. Pyo smiled and gently released the girl and, turning to the other two, said, “Remove my clothes. We will then drink a toast. A
nd then you two can perform for me.”

  The girls began to remove Pyo’s clothes, gently, one by one. He felt hot as they removed his underclothes and his phallus was already erect and throbbing.

  Pyo was sweating. Well, he expected to be sweating in this company, and clammy, probably from the heat and moisture from the Jacuzzi. Maybe it was too much excitement-but now for some more. He looked at the younger of the two girls who had undressed him.

  “You, take me in your mouth and enjoy some real Pyo!”

  The girl was well experienced and sank to her knees, holding his phallus and flickering her tongue on the red tip. She kissed him and moistened her lips ready to take him fully into her mouth.

  At that moment Pyo cried out and his hands went to his chest. His eyes widened and he fell face down into the Jacuzzi, taking the girl with him. The girl struggled from underneath the heavy Korean and came to the surface with a frightened and puzzled look on her face.

  Pyo was still. The girls looked at each other. “For God’s sake get him out of the water!” cried the tall girl. “He’ll drown!”

  The two younger girls were stunned, frightened, amazed, shocked.

  It was too late. Pyo was dead.

  TOKYO - JAPAN

  Watanabe’s offices in Tokyo were in the Sumo Watanabe Building, a twenty-five storey glistening office block built ten years earlier in the up-and-coming area of Tokyo known as Shinjuku.The entrance foyer was large, containing a marble floor and central reception desk manned by six pretty Japanese girls. Behind them stood a bank of eight high-speed lifts. Being a trading company, the throughput of visitors, both Japanese and foreign, was significant. Most staff, senior and junior, arrived around 8.30 to 9 in the morning, having travelled, in the main, from their homes in the suburbs of Tokyo, a one- or two-hour journey by trains culminating in the crescendo of noise and human mass that is Shinjuku station every weekday morning.