"Excuse me, sir," Breck called after the man. The buzzers went off and the stranger didn't even flinch in his stride toward the terminal.
"Hey, sir! Halt!" Breck pointed his gun at the man's center. "Custom's agent!"
Arthur, the little food sniffer didn't alert. As a matter of fact, he wagged his tail and sniffed at the former private passenger as the man finally paused. The man turned and looked apathetically at Breck.
Breck spoke with as much authority as he could, "Sir, do you have difficulty hearing?"
At first, the man didn't respond. He just pulled in a deep breath. They looked each other in the eye for a moment then the man became visibly tense. "You have something that belongs to me."
"Say again?"
"Don't tell me, you think I don't know you have her," Rousseau bore into Breck. "I can smell her on you."
Breck backed away from the man's solid green eyed stare. He turned to his partner, "Slater, put this man in a cage. He needs to be tested and searched. Obviously crazy, this one."
Rousseau pointed at Breck, which drew unwanted attention, "You have my mate, and I don't plan on playing in your jail."
"Slater, do as I say."
"You know who I'm talking about. Give her back to me."
"Alright, bloke. You go with Slater. I'll be in to give you the once or twice."
***
Nakamura Toshi had spent years infiltrating the sex rings in Kyoto. He'd become so good, he'd been loaned out to other countries. His soft spoken charm and fluency in several languages made it easy. None would ever suspect the asian man with a wad of easy flowing money. By looking at him, one would presume that he was a wealthy businessman on the prowl for some new thrill. That is how he liked it.
When an anonymous wealthy patron offered to pay for the whereabouts of a wayward child, his agency generally could find them within a few days. He'd never been sent for in this type of situation.
He made himself inconspicuous as he watched the potential client from a subordinate position. The man carried himself boldly and spoke with broad angry gestures. His assistant Kim acted as the agent in most of these games and requested that he remove his sunglasses. He refused, as predicted and sat in the offered chair.
"So, you say you were not allowed into the country because a customs agent stole your girlfriend?"
"Precisely. I would like to send a man in to find her. She's very important to me."
The man pulled out a picture from his pocket and presented it to Kim with hesitation.
"I know this isn't your usual thing, but it is. I believe she's being held for sex."
Kim glanced at the photo then handed it back.
"I'll need a good copy of that." In Japanese, she said to Nakamura, "She is a dark woman."
Nakamura reached for the photograph. "Mr. Rousseau," he said, in English, breaking the charade. "I do not usually see African women around here. There are Malay and some Samoan with dark features, but I haven't seen a demand for such a woman."
Rousseau responded, "She is very uncommon in every way. She managed to hide her position long enough to get to Australia. She is there, and this man knows where she is."
He tossed down a Polaroid of a blond man with a square face and sat back. In perfect Japanese Rousseau sighed, "She would never stay away from me so long. We are one. I need her back."
"If I were to find her, she wouldn't be the same. Most women can be volatile and afraid or aggressive when they return. Would you still need her then?"
Rousseau pulled off his sunglasses and stared at the detective with his gold speckled green eyes.
"I would have her if she killed me, because she was made for me."
***
The club was just winding down at 1:30 am. The line was gone, but the loyal customers were peaking in to see who was in that night. But then this underdressed piece of white bread came strolling up.
"Hold up, Homey," the wide chested bouncer growled. "This place is for playas, so you best be rollin'."
The man scratched his stubbled face, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, boy wonder. Why don't you just head on to some other joint."
"Just cus I'm white you gone play me, right? I got the dough to be up in this bitch, so let me in."
"Oh no, you didn't just come steppin' to me like..."
The bouncer straightened and gave a nod as the man raised his face, "Hey, Rousseau. I didn't realize it was you. You sure have changed your wardrobe. I couldn't see who it was in those sweats. And your words, man. Where have you been to make you sound..."
"Shut it, Benny. My ass is pretty chafed as it is. Here's how it's going to be. I want that bitch, Lucy in my office. I want Sheila in my office. I want Jimmy in my office. We'll have a dinner meeting about what happened. We don't turn away a paying customer. Especially not an obviously rich one," Rousseau sighed as he held up his left hand with an array of diamond rings on each finger.
"Yes, sir."
Rousseau strolled through the main room with his hood pulled over his head so that the other bouncers didn't know him. He was stopped at VIP and pulled aside, before a scene could be made. Good. He didn't hear anything blatantly negative. He pulled off his jacket and let his red hair flow over his shoulders. He'd always thought that it would be easy to blend in. There weren't many like him anymore.
The old dogs were opting for death instead of perpetual identity change. To watch your love grow old and die was hard, but the alternative was lunacy. Accident and murder claimed the most elders, but loneliness generally took a lot. He opened the hidden door and slid into his seat. He hadn't been to the compound in a long time. He should probably check in. Then he got the call.
