Hideo Sato stood inside a heavily-vandalized Teleplex booth not far from The Puzzle in London’s Dods area. The transparent enclosure of the booth had been surreptitiously decorated with small advertising postcards of modified males and females promising to deliver perverted fantasies for a price that would not break the bank. Just like Tokyo, the Yakuza thought to himself, the flesh pits of Shinjuku ing alive in his mind. Half of the booth had been splashed with a liquid that had turned brown with time. Hideo didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what the liquid was. He was still too queasy from the bizarre effects of the sound gun to stomach such speculation. A chilly Union breeze wafted up below the Perspex wall of the booth.
Outside, the Japanese goon with the disfigured face, stared droopy-eyed into the foggy distance as though mentally keeping track of the official-looking black limo that had spirited their quarry away like something out of a Mafia……（内容加载失败！）
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