unit.
âItâs my fiancé,â Marilyn said. âHeâs yakuza.â
âWhat fiancé?â
A few blocks over was an all-night donut shop. Ransom gave Marilyn the spare helmet and waited while she arranged herself on the seat behind him. She asked if shecould put her arms around him. âSure,â he said, âbut itâs only three blocks.â A beetle of some kind was riding the tachometer. Ransom tried to brush it away, but discovered that the beetle had somehow gotten inside the tach.
Dismounting, Marilyn ran one of her stockings.
At the door of Mr. Donut she said, âIâm not going to use the word
yakuza
and donât you either. Okay?â
Ransom agreed without much conviction. After they ordered coffee, she told her story. He knew she worked in a cabaret, and figured that gangsters werenât exactly uninterested in nightclubs, so nothing she said amazed him. He just wondered how serious this was for Miles.
She said she would spare him the whole trip, but she was in a refugee camp in Thailand, Samut Prakan, just south of Bangkok, when a group of Japanese businessmen came through, posing as journalists. She had a pretty good idea of what they were, but her options were few and this was no time to be choosy. She was among several women singled out for interviews. She had a good singing voice and a repertoire of American songs, and they seemed to like the way she looked. They asked her if she would be interested in working in Japan. They would arrange the necessary papers and visas.
They came for her at night, and the hurried, secretive departure led her to suspect that no visas or papers were involved. They made the last leg of the trip from Korea in the hold of a ship and disembarked at night. The girls, about fifteen in all, were hustled into the back of a truck and dropped off at various towns and cities along the way. She had seen two of the girls since then. One was working in a Turkish bath; the other looked wasted and wouldnâteven acknowledge her. Marilyn was luckyâone of the head men liked her. She was placed in one of the best clubs in Kyoto, and her duties were aboveboard. The man put her up in a nice apartment and began to visit her with flowers. He was decent to her, but was violently jealous. A few months back he began mentioning marriage.
She lit a new cigarette and sipped at her coffee. âHe had me followed. He found out about Miles.â
âYou think he wrecked Milesâs bike?â
âHis men. He doesnât do anything himself. Heâs an oyabun.â
âYouâre sleeping with a goddamned oyabun?â
She put her fingers to her lips. âPlease, not so loud.â Then she said, âItâs better than sleeping with every man who has the price.â
Ransom didnât know what to think. âWhy are you telling me?â
âI donât want Miles to know. If he finds out heâll do something stupid. I thought maybe you could help me.â
âHow?â
âThatâs what I thought you could help me decide.â
âThereâs always seppuku.â
âWhatâs that?â
âRitual suicide. How do you talk to this guy? Your Japanese isnât too swift, is it?â
âI know you donât like me but I thought youâd want to help Miles.â
âIs this fiancé of yours apt to hurt Miles?â
âI donât know.â
âMiles almost deserves to get his head bashed but heâsgot a wife and a kid on the way. No doubt youâre worried sick about them.â
âPlease, Ransom. Iâm not even sleeping with Miles, in case you were wondering.â
âFine. Thereâs your answer. Say Miles is just a friend.â
âHe wonât believe it. Heâs convinced.â
Ransom didnât really believe it himself. âWhy donât you tell him he has the wrong guy?â
âThen he will want to know who is the right
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