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

Devil.”
    “We all gotta pay the mortgage,” Tom said with a small grin. “What is it you do here, exactly? Keda called you a 'Stationary'?”
    “Shinichiro...” Goro said, turning to Keda.
    “You see all of these television screens? Monitors? Phones?” Keda said, making a wide motion at the store.
    “I sure do.”
    “Some demons and ghosts can come through these.”
    “What, like that movie?”
    “Yes. That was based on a true story.”
    “So, what, do you have a medium stationed in every electronics store in Tokyo? There are TVs in peoples' homes and life goes on well enough.”
    “This is a huge international travel hub, Tom. Can you imagine?”
    “I think I get you,” Tom answered, frowning. “If something got out and started wrecking the place in here it could cause an enormous international incident.”
    “Or, more simply, a spirit might slip out and possess a traveler, just to get out of Japan. It would make them very hard to find.”
    “Is that how Aki got to Los Angeles?”
    “No.”
    “How did it?”
    “He. And I'll explain another time. We're going to be late for our ride. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Goro.”
    “Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Bell,” Goro said with a smile, reaching his hand out. Tom took it and shook it, grunting, but offering a grin.
    “Things are looking up already.”
     
    ********
     
    The driver was another slender man, not unlike Keda. He was hidden behind a pair of sleek mirrored sunglasses and dressed in a sharp black uniform. The arrival area was a river of black suits. These were all professionals returning from business trips, not tourists. Through the wide line of windows that made up the far wall of the terminal, Tom could see that the clouds overhead were growing closer.
    “That's us,” Tom said to the driver. He smiled and lowered his sign. It was a solid black object with the letters embossed, or maybe removable.
    “They really do things different here, huh?” Tom asked Keda after he exchanged a greeting in Japanese with the driver.
    “This is Harold's doing.”
    “I keep hearing that he's a guy who likes his money. Are we riding in a limo?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will there be cigarettes in it?”
    “Most likely,” Keda said with a smirk.
    “Let's go, then.”
    The driver took them out to the loading area and Tom caught an eyeful of a long, glossy black limousine. Four and a half windows each side, chrome hubcaps, a fancy silver hood ornament. The driver preceded his passengers and opened the trunk. Keda started lifting his duffel bag into it, while Tom looked the vehicle over. The license plate simply read “HS 09”.
    “Nine, huh? Does this guy do something other than manage Mediums?” Tom said shrewdly.
    “Very observant. Official Medium work is mostly done through government subsidies and private investors. Naturally, Harold is the latter. I understand he does very well for himself in stocks.”
    “Anything in particular?”
    “I've never asked.”
    “Anything illegal?”
    “Never asked.”
    “But have you heard?” Tom said, raising an eyebrow.
    “I have, but I do not place much stock in rumor.”
    “Well. There's a saying back in the States-- there isn't a man with money who didn't step on someone's head to get it.”
    “It isn't my business.”
    The driver slid open the passenger door and Keda climbed inside, followed by Tom.
    Tom settled himself down into a leather seat opposite from Keda. There was a small high-def TV set, what looked like a small fridge, a wooden cabinet filled with glasses, and two unopened packs of cigarettes. Next to the cigarettes Tom spied a small wooden box which he imagined was filled with cigars.
    “Take them both.”
    “Don't mind if I do. How far is the hotel?” Tom asked, slipping one of the packs into his jacket. It was a brand he didn't recognize. He pulled one out. To his right he heard the driver climb in and shut the driver-side door, and the car groaned to life.
    “It should be a half hour