Dead Roots (The Analyst) by Brian Geoffrey Wood Read Free Book Online Page A

either.
    Tom looked the jacket up and down. Live a little, she'd said.
    “Yeah alright. Gimme one of these.”
    The attendant disappeared into the stockroom. Tom fished his phone out of his pocket and thumbed a quick reply.
    Business account it is, he wrote back, pushing send. He hoped he had enough in his account to cover it.
     
    ********
     
    “It looks very good on you,” Keda said with a smile. Tom rubbed his eyes. The electronics store was not the best place to be on four hours of decent sleep. His senses were assaulted by myriad sources of noise and bright light.
    “Thanks. You find a decent phone?”
    “They are checking the stockroom.”
    “What is this?” Tom motioned at a fifty inch television screen to his left sitting on a small podium. On the podium were a couple of pairs of dark shaded glasses. The screen offered several looping clips of young, beautiful Asian girls singing and performing complicated dance routines.
    “3D television,” Keda said simply.
    “No, these dancers. What is this, J-pop?”
    “Korean, actually. Boy and girl bands. Commercial garbage. For advertisements.”
    “K-pop groups... why are there like, seven or eight of them in all of the groups?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Pop groups in the states only have like, four or five members. All of these have something like nine of them.”
    “I couldn't answer that for you, Tom.”
    A chubby Japanese man in a dress shirt approached Keda, smiling. He held a small white box in one hand.
    He said something in Japanese. Keda responded in kind, and added, “In English, please,” motioning at Tom.
    “New smartphone,” the man said, bowing his head gently. “How you will pay? Cash, finance?”
    “Debit card.”
    “Come this way.”
    The man led Tom and Keda to the counter. Tom leaned his weight against the white wood with some relief.
    “Where do they do the cigarettes?” Tom asked.
    The chubby man spoke up while ringing up Keda's purchase. “Mr. Saldana, definitely supply for you. Don't spend a lot.”
    “I'm sorry?” Tom bristled.
    “Goro is another Medium,” Keda said quickly. Tom raised an eyebrow.
    “Is he--?”
    “No, he is not hosting.”
    “What is he--” Tom turned to Goro. “Sorry, what are you doing working here?”
    “ Sumimasen. My English is not very good,” Goro responded apologetically. He handed Keda his purchase and placed his hands on the counter, facing Tom.
    “Sounds okay to me.”
    “I know enough to sell phones and laptops,” Goro said with a small please-forgive-me smile. “Keda explain better.”
    “Goro is what we sometimes call an Attendant, or a Stationary,” Keda said, tearing the plastic gently off of his new toy. “He is registered and operates for the Hamachi directory, but he remains in plain sight in a 'hot' area to deter any potential hauntings, and provide a quick line to more equipped Hamachi operatives should anything get out of hand.”
    “Slow down-- Hamachi?”
    “A Tokyo-based agency of Mediums,” Keda explained. “They work closely with the proper authorities, to provide them with information and willing, capable hosts. Think of it as a union.”
    “Why would you need your own organization for that? Doesn't Japan have something like the DPSD?”
    “I am not a member, Tom.”
    “Why would they, then?”
    “It's somewhat complicated...” Keda shrugged gently.
    “Save it for later, then. Goro knows this Saldana guy?”
    “Of course. Harold is one of Hamachi's top directors.”
    “What can you tell me about him?” Tom said pointedly, turning to the stocky salesman. Goro shook his head hesitantly.
    “Very expensive taste,” Goro said. “Very generous. But very devious.”
    “Devious, huh?”
    “Sometimes a great friend, but other times, snake in the grass,” Goro said, his eyebrows turning down. “Hell of a businessman. Good man, respectable man, but shark with money, and very good about, I think the word is, 'arrangements'. To owe Harold Saldana, to owe the