LCTM Chapter 12

    I snuggled deeper under the plush, white covers of our large, oak, and traditional Chinese bed. The carvings looked down ominously at me, the dragons' eyes barring deep into my soul. I flipped the channel to the news, and ignored the soft, feminine voice of the newscast, and began thinking, all the while feeling five warm, fluffy balls protest as I moved position from my side, to my back.

    Okay, let's examine the facts. Fact number one: He's out late, every night, and won't give any hint of what's he's going. Fact number two: It's not another woman, but it's definitely something. Fact number three: Whatever it is he's doing, it always involves Kin. What's the connection? How does it all tie together? My thoughts were interrupted as Biao and Coffee mewed at each other, their voices muffled by the covers. The two stood up, and crawled to the edge of the bed, peeking out to the floor, to which they promptly leaped onto. Cappacino yawned next to me, on the pillow, stood up, and stretched. Then promptly lay down again on my chest, snuggling in my warm, old soccer jersey.

    "Now a special report on the organized crime spree that has erupted in Tokyo over the past few months. Here's Keiko Yamaichi." The broadcaster reported.

    "Thanks. Over the past few months, the organized crime spree has risen at a dramatic rate. This coming, from what the police believe, to be a Mafia war between the Japanese and Chinese stems of the Asian Mafia." My ears perked up at this, and rolled over to my side to face the television; again to the protests of the cats. A picture of crime scenes and victims flashed across the screen. "Those of the suspected stems, are believed to be the Japanese Shino family, and the Chinese Liu family. Both thought to be based in the Azabu- juuban, and Rippongi districts with some activity in the Shibuya district..."

    My eyes widened at the statement. The realization slowly dawned on me after the initial shock of the statement, as the reporter droned on, speaking to witnesses. I sat up quickly, much to the loud protests of the cats. I changed out of my pajama pants, into khaki, Capri pants, leaving my jersey on. I grabbed my purse, containing my keys, address and phone book, the beeper Shang gave me, and the cellular Shang gave me. At the door, I slipped off my slippers, and replaced them with my old skating shoes, grabbed my black, long coat, and bolted out the door. I looked odd at the time, but I could have cared less. I quickly ran to the elevator. It opened, and the only people in at 8:30 PM, were old businessmen and 20-something year-olds going to the nearest club, most likely in Ginza. They all eyed me as if I was an insane, American on the loose, but maybe I maybe I was.

    "Which floor?" The man nearest the buttons asked.

    "Parking garage." I replied shakily, and he pressed the 'parking garage' button.

    When the door opened, I sprinted out, leaving the other inhabitants of the elevator in my midst, as I roamed for my car. As by reflex, I came upon my lime green VW Bug, and quickly disarmed the alarm. I climbed in, griping the wheel furiously, and ignited the engine. I sped out the parking garage, heading for somewhere away, somewhere to think somewhere to get drunk.

    "Somewhere that's anywhere, but here," I whispered.