Black Samurai by Marc Olden

Black Samurai by Marc Olden

Author:Marc Olden [Olden, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781784087388
Publisher: Head of Zeus Ltd
Published: 2012-03-15T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER TWELVE

SAT’S VILLA

GERALD IVES WAS SCARED. With that silent, surly nigger in Saigon things had gone wrong in a hurry. The telephone had jangled twenty minutes ago, Ives had picked it up and before he had even said “Hello,” the mysterious jigaboo from Tokyo had started to talk, never raising his voice, always an even tone, just like most of the gooks around here. He was black on the outside, but on the inside, it was anybody’s guess what he was. Didn’t sound or even act like no nigger Ives had known. No nigger Ives had known had ever scared him like this one.

They had met immediately after that phone call with the darky doing all the talking. All Ives could do was nod his head and sometimes drawl quietly, “Yes.”

They had met in the Waseda Hotel, the second hotel, in one of the two rooms registered to the Black Samurai, who wasted no time in scaring the shit out of the white man from Alabama. “I couldn’t tell you everything over the phone,” Sand said evenly.

“What you told me was enough,” said Ives, his eyes on the black man’s face. “You told me I might be killed soon.”

“Yes,” said Sand. “Colonel Sat is dead. I killed him a few minutes ago. From what I know about him, there won’t be too much fuss about that. Still, I’ve got to be on the move. I’m not certain but it looks like Phillip Braun is dead and if that’s true, then he might have given your name.”

Nervously, the white man quickly interrupted, “ My name? To who?”

“To the man who killed him or had him killed,” said the Black Samurai. “He told them enough about me to have Colonel Sat try to kill me.”

“Goddamn it!” yelled the white man, “I demand to know what’s going on here! It’s my life you’re talking about, you hear that, nigger?”

Nigger. Sand smiled. It had been a long time since he had been called that to his face. Oh, there were a couple of racial incidents in Japan, nothing he or his brother Samurai couldn’t handle, but “nigger” was something American, and even on his brief trips to America over the past few years, Sand hadn’t personally run into it. He’d seen the word there, read it, heard other people saying it, but not to him. It was moments like this that made him realize he had been living in another world for a long time, but that world had been a unique one, preparing him for almost anything.

It had given him strength, knowledge of many kinds along with incredible skills.

Slowly he said to the white man, “I killed a man a few minutes ago and he said less to me than you just did. I killed him and he never once called me nigger. If you ever call me that again, I won’t kill you, but I will give you enough pain to last you for perhaps the rest of your life. Do you understand me?”

Ives stiffened and remained silent.



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