Free Hidden Nexus by Nick Tanner Page B

many occasions he’d used pachinko as a method to steady his mind, to clear the clutter and sometimes it had helped him to make decisions. But not today! Eventually he decided that he’d had enough. He’d experienced no epiphany, no startling revelation or shining light to show him the way. He felt disappointed.
     
    He scooped up his winnings with neither joy nor sadness and walked to the back of the parlour once again to the ‘ball exchange area’ where he swapped them for some perfume. He then exited the parlour turned quickly to his right and down a dingy, dark side alley. He tapped at a window pushed the perfume bottle back through the window where it was exchanged for cold hard cash. He’d come out about even.
     
    He returned to his office and once again stared fixatedly at the bottom line of his spreadsheet. As always it repeated the same pitiful story and generated the exact same dull ache in the pit of his stomach. To accompany his analysis he took the inevitable swig out of the whiskey bottle, not even bothering to pour it into a tumbler.
     
    He noticed, for once, that it did little to alter his condition. He was becoming immune to its effects. Something stronger was called for.
     
    He slowly got to his feet, edged out from behind his desk and went to the filing cabinet next to the door. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a small, decorative wooden box, opened the lid with the anticipation of an excited puppy but was disappointed at what he saw. Nothing ever seemed to be where it should be. A flash of anger struck from his eyes as he tossed the box back into the drawer. He then walked down the corridor and banged on Rumi’s door. He also noticed that he was breathing heavily – he was out of condition. No! That was an understatement. He was seriously out of condition. It was something else he had let slide, something else that he could no longer take pride in, something else he would have to put right.
     
    ‘Yes?’ said Rumi, calling from within the room.
     
    ‘It’s me. Are you busy?’ he replied gruffly.
     
    ‘Just a second.’
     
    Rumi came to the door and let him in. She smiled delightfully and her eyes were large and alive.
     
    ‘Are you starting or finishing?’ He looked around the small and tidy room and nonchalantly picked up a small object that was on the sideboard.
     
    ‘Starting – first client at eleven-thirty.’
     
    ‘What’s this?’ He examined the object with suspicion creasing his eyes.
     
    ‘It’s just a present.’ She hoped she sounded casual and was all too aware of his tiger-like jealousy. In the same way, she hoped she’d done her best to appear thrilled at his entrance.
     
    ‘Yes, but what is it?’
     
    ‘Just an ornament from Xian – it was painted from the inside, apparently.’
     
    ‘Really?’ He replaced the ornament back where he’d taken it from. He wasn’t remotely interested, and the less said about the Chinks, the better. He knew the organisation was as concerned as the rest of the country about their menacing tentacles sliding across the water.
     
    ‘Do you need anything?’ Rumi tried this time to hide both the sound of impatience and the sound of fear in her voice. Whenever he was around her she knew that she had to be on guard at all times. To be sloppy could prove to be fatal.
     
    ‘Just a line.’ He looked at her hopefully. There were times when he could appear to be totally child-like.
     
    ‘Oh – right, sure. Just a minute.’
     
    She closed and locked the door and went over to her dressing table.
     
    ‘You having one yourself?’
     
    ‘No – maybe later.’
     
    She watched quietly as Fujiwara snorted up the white powder. She was still afraid at what might come next. He was so unpredictable and e very aspect of this man repulsed her - his drunken bad breath which stank of whiskey, the stale sweat of his armpits and the oily smell of his hair.
     
    He stood up and wiped his nose with his thumb and forefinger,