Sign of the Dragon (Tatsu Yamada Book 1) by Niall Teasdale (e reader TXT) 📕

of corporate and political reputations, was Dexter Burrell, and it was his voice Tatsu heard when she tuned in to the station.

‘… is a buggy piece of shit. That’s right, this reporter has received information that ViraShield fourteen’s update authentication protocols were rushed and contain more than a few bugs. It’s far from difficult to bypass the security of those nanomachines floating around in your blood and make them do anything you want. If I were the kind of person who used ViraShield, which I’m not, I’d be thinking about having them swapped out for any other PIN product.’

A bug in ViraShield’s latest version. Big news. If true, it was bad news for ViraShield and something they would likely kill to prevent coming out. How that translated into the deaths of ViraShield employees, however, was not obvious. Unless someone had found out…

‘Worse,’ Burrell went on, ‘ViraShield knows about this bug and isn’t doing a damn thing to patch it. They know, people. Once again, the corporations are shitting on their customers and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it… Except for spreading the word. This is Dexter Burrell, signing off for now, but I have more on this tale of corporate greed, and I’ll be bringing it to you when the government dogs aren’t breathing down our necks. Goodnight.’

So, the question was, how much did Burrell really have? Also, where had he got it? Well, there was only one way to find out…

Tatsu got to her feet and headed for the door of her apartment. It was time to go hunting for a guy who liked to call himself an investigative reporter.

~~~

When he was not in the back of Scoop’s broadcast van doing on-air reporting, Burrell tended to spend his time with the Yankees. The problem was that which group of Yankees he was with tended to change on a weekly, or even daily, basis, so Tatsu was going to have to go through several of them to find out where the reporter was currently squatting.

First stop, mainly because it was closest, were the Funabashi 1 Chome Yankees. The Yankees were street gangs in the classical sense of the word: punks with attitude who staked out turf to defend from other gangs. Each was named for the area they held and the Funabashi 1 Chome gang were the ones who owned the area Tatsu’s apartment building was in. Tatsu knew exactly where they spent their time, so finding them was simple enough. Due largely to the fact that they were terrified of her, getting information from them was not too hard either.

Then again, niceties had to be observed. They held a disused hotel a few blocks from Tatsu’s apartment. The doors were always open ‘because the Funabashi 1 Chome Yankees ain’t afraid of no one,’ so Tatsu marched into the lobby and immediately got a resounding welcome.

‘Who ordered the hooker?’

‘Hey, babe. Nice ass.’

‘Look at the oppai on that!’

‘Hang on, guys, it’s a pig.’

‘Get lost, little piggie, or we’re gonna carve you a new one!’

All of it was in English, and Tatsu ignored them as she continued walking toward the back where the employee-only rooms had been when the place had had guests. Despite the shouts, no one got up from the stolen sofas they were lounging on to stop her.

Ducking behind the reception desk, she went through a door, down a corridor, and then opened a door marked ‘Manager’ without knocking. ‘Evening, Horace,’ she said, in English. ‘How are things in the useless, waste-of-space business?’

Horace Strong, the man behind the worn laminate desk, grimaced. There was a fairly attractive blonde with huge breasts sitting on the desk and Strong had probably been negotiating the removal of her T-shirt before Tatsu burst in. ‘Jeez, Tatsu, don’t you ever knock? And it’s Strongman, remember? Everyone calls me–’

‘I don’t. Horace.’

Strong actually lived up to his nickname, within reason. He was not the biggest muscleman in the zone, but he did have a lot of corded muscle and a six-pack he was very proud of. Better, he knew how to use those muscles. The man could fight, which was why he led the local gang, though the fact that he was not stupid helped. He was moderately good-looking. No film star, sure, but no one was going to kick him out of bed once he got in. His hair was a dirty shade of blonde and he had blue eyes and a solid jawline which tended to carry a not-so-subtle hint of stubble most of the time. He seemed to have an endless supply of leather slacks which hugged his thighs and pert behind, but absolutely no shirts.

He shook his head and looked up at the blonde. ‘Sorry, babe, I need to take this meeting. I’ll see you later.’

The blonde slipped off the desk without worrying too much about where her microskirt ended up. ‘Sure. Maybe.’ She ducked past Tatsu, looking bored.

‘I’m looking for Dexter Burrell,’ Tatsu said once the door was closed behind her.

‘Dex hasn’t been here for a few weeks. I heard he might be up with the Yachiyo Eight Chome crowd. Been in the north for the last week or two is what I heard.’

‘Yachiyo Eight? You’re sure?’

‘Hell, no! That’s where I heard he might be. You after him about that ViraShield thing?’

Tatsu nodded. ‘You heard the broadcast? If he’s got real information, I want it. I might even pay something to someone who could give me a definite location.’

Strong sighed. ‘If I hear anything, I’ll drop you a message. Not for money. Yankees don’t snitch.’

‘Whatever. Thanks for the vague direction.’

‘Yeah, right. If you see Branda outside, would you send her back in?’

Tatsu shook her head as she opened the door. ‘She’s long gone, Horace. Get yourself a nice brunette.’

‘Blondes are more fun.’

‘No way.