Are You Afraid of the Dark?

"All right, you bastard.

You won’t get out of this one. We can start warming up the chair for you." Flint glared at him and slowly raised his left arm. A bloody butcher knife was deeply imbedded in it.

Flint said coldly, "Self-defense." The prisoner in the cell across from Flint never told anyone that he had seen Flint savagely beat his cell mate to death, then pull out a butcher knife from under his own mattress and slice the knife through the flesh of his arm.

* * *

THE CHARACTERISTIC THAT Tanner most admired about Flint was that Flint enjoyed his work so much.

Tanner remembered the first time that Flint had proven to him how useful he could be. It was during an emergency trip to Tokyo?

* * *

"TELL THE PILOT to warm up the Challenger. We’re going to Japan. There will be two of us." The news had come at a bad time, but it had to be taken care of immediately, and it was too sensitive to entrust to anyone else. Tanner had arranged for Akira Iso to meet him in Tokyo and to take a room at the Okura Hotel.

While the plane was crossing the Pacific Ocean, Tanner was planning his strategy. By the time the plane landed, he had worked out a win-win situation.

The drive from Narita airport took one hour, and Tanner was amazed by how Tokyo never seemed to change. In boom times and in depressions, the city always seemed to wear the same impassive face.

* * *

AKIRA ISO WAS waiting for him at the Fumiki Mashimo restaurant. Iso was in his fifties, with a spare figure, gray hair, and bright brown eyes. He stood up to greet Tanner.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Kingsley. Frankly, I was surprised to hear from you. I cannot imagine why you would come all this way to meet me." Tanner smiled. "I’m the bearer of good news that I thought was too important to discuss on the telephone. I think I’m going to make you a very happy man, and a very rich one." Akira Iso was looking at him curiously. "Yes?" A white-jacketed waiter had come to the table.

"Before we talk business, why don’t we order?" "As you wish, Mr. Kingsley. Are you familiar with Japanese dishes or shall I order for you?" "Thank you. I can order. Do you like sushi?" Yes.

Tanner turned to the waiter. "I’ll have hamachi-temaki, kaibashira, and ama-ebi." Akira Iso smiled. "That sounds good." He looked at the waiter. "I’ll have the same." While they were eating, Tanner said, "You work for a very fine company, Tokyo First Industrial." "Thank you." "How long have you worked there?" "Ten years." "That’s a long time." He looked Akira Iso in the eye and said, "In fact, it might be time to make a change." "Why would I want to do that, Mr. Kingsley?" "Because I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. I don’t know how much money you make, but I am willing to pay you twice as much to leave them and come to work for燢IG."

"Mr. Kingsley, that is not possible." "Why not? If it’s because of a contract, I can arrange-" Akira Iso put down his chopsticks. "Mr. Kingsley, in Japan, when we work for a company, it is like a family. And when we can no longer work, they take care of us." "But the money I’m offering you-" "No. Aisha seishin." "What?" "It means that we put loyalty above money." Akira Iso looked at him curiously.

"Why did you choose me?" "Because I’ve heard very flattering things about you." "I’m afraid you have taken a long trip for nothing, Mr. Kingsley. I would never leave Tokyo First Industrial." "It was worth a try." "There are no hard feelings?" Tanner leaned back and laughed. "Of course not. I wish all my employees were as loyal as you are." He remembered something. "By the way, I brought you and your family a little gift. An associate of mine will bring it to you. He’ll be at your hotel in an hour. His name is Harry Flint."

* * *

A NIGHT MAID found Akira Iso’s body hanging from a hook in a wardrobe chest. The official verdict was suicide.

Chapter Twenty-Four

THE MANDARIN HOTEL was a seedy, two-story building in the heart of Manhattan’s Chinatown, three blocks from Mott Street.

As Kelly and Diane got out of the taxi, Diane saw a large billboard across the street with a picture of Kelly in a beautiful evening gown, holding up a bottle of perfume. Diane looked at it in surprise.

"That’s who you are." "You’re wrong," Kelly said. "That’s what I do, Mrs. Stevens. It’s not who I am." She turned and walked into the lobby, and an exasperated Diane followed.

A Chinese clerk was seated behind a desk in the small hotel lobby, reading a copy of the China Post.

"We would like a room for the night," Diane said.

The clerk glanced up at the two elegantly dressed women and almost said aloud, Here? He rose. "Certainly." He took a closer look at their designer clothes.

"That will be a hundred dollars a night." Kelly looked at him, shocked. "A hun-?" Diane said quickly, "That will be fine." "In advance." Diane opened her purse, took out some bills, and gave them to the clerk. He handed her a key.

"Room ten, straight down the hall, on the left. Do you have luggage?

"It’s coming," Diane told him.

"If you need anything, just ask for Ling." Kelly said, "Ling?" "Yes. She’s your chambermaid." Kelly gave him a skeptical look. "Right." The two women started down the dreary, dimly lit hallway.

"You paid too much," Kelly said.

"What’s a safe roof over your head worth?" "I’m not so sure this place is such a good idea," Kelly said.

"It will have to do until we think of something better. Don’t worry. Mr.