stem glasses and a bottle of
wine. He then grabbed three rolled blunts from the bowl and took the
waitress by the hand and led her towards the stairs.
JunJie and company were preparing to go and relax in a specially
designed sports bar deep inside the home’s interior. They’d
just left the dining room when JunJie received a phone call. He
answered and listened for a few seconds as he stood in the wide
hallway before ending the call.
“I must not be worth my keep on a day like today because I
suddenly have to go to work,” JunJie quipped as he rejoined the
group and turned on the lights inside the sports bar. “I seem
to have some guests I wasn’t expecting.”
“Is everything okay?” Asa asked.
“Everything’s fine. Getting ready to close another deal
here. Son, you and Grover come with me. Everyone? Please, excuse us
and make yourselves at home. The servers will be in shortly to fix
drinks,” JunJie said. The three men walked out of the room
where JunJie led the way to his office. This day wasn’t
expected for at least another four months at the earliest, but it was
welcomed nonetheless.
Hayate and Isao Onishi, brothers from JunJie’s native homeland
of Japan, were two shipping tycoons that owned a fleet of cargo ships
and several warehouses on Seattle’s shipping front. They were
well-known and respected in the maritime business community and were
looking for an investor to help renovate their port real estate and
to expand their fleet of cargo ships, thereby earning the investor a
share in the profits, and access to the eight state-of-the-art
international cargo freighters the brothers owned.
JunJie was purportedly at the forefront of this fifteen million
dollar proposal and was slated to make several million dollars
annually off this deal. He was also planning to use the cargo ships
to increase his cocaine shipments from Venezuela to accommodate the
growing demand coming in from Asa’s crew and the Chicago Gang.
Things were lining up from JunJie's perspective, but the Onishi
brothers had different plans.
The men greeted one another and JunJie walked around to the safe
behind his desk. He was going for the contracts to close the deal, a
smile on his face as he twisted the knob. “I never thought I’d
hear from you guys so soon,” he said happily as he pulled the
safe open. “You must’ve really liked my proposal. We can
go to work on renovating the warehouses here in America once I have a
contractor in place. A new dock and a deeper channel will—”
“Mister Maruyama, I think you’re getting ahead yourself,”
Hayate, a fifty year-old short and stout grey-haired man said as he
went and stood before JunJie's desk.
“I am? Well, let’s slow down to you guys’ pace.
What is it you have to say?” JunJie said as he casually took a
seat and extended his hand, allowing Hayate to sit as he rested his
arms on the desk top.
Hayate walked around the chair slowly and eased down into the seat.
He sat upright and said, “We’ve come to tell you
personally, before we leave for our flight back to Japan, that we’ve
decided to go with an investor back home in Tokyo.”
Tokyo?” JunJie questioned as he slowly rose from his seated
position. His demeanor had changed from that of jubilation to
seething anger in mere seconds. “How many more of us are you
going to let gain a foothold over here? It’s enough going
around for us all to make money! The ones that are here already,
dammit!” JunJie wasn’t speaking of other Asians or
anybody else for that matter; to the contrary, he was speaking on the
drug business. The Onishi brothers were just as much into drug
smuggling as was JunJie, the only difference was that the Onishi
brothers pushed heroin whereas JunJie pushed cocaine.
Isao, the younger of the Onishi brothers at age forty-seven, sat in
another chair before JunJie. “The deal from back home is too
good to resist, Mister Maruyama,” he remarked calmly. “We’ve
looked at the numbers
wine. He then grabbed three rolled blunts from the bowl and took the
waitress by the hand and led her towards the stairs.
JunJie and company were preparing to go and relax in a specially
designed sports bar deep inside the home’s interior. They’d
just left the dining room when JunJie received a phone call. He
answered and listened for a few seconds as he stood in the wide
hallway before ending the call.
“I must not be worth my keep on a day like today because I
suddenly have to go to work,” JunJie quipped as he rejoined the
group and turned on the lights inside the sports bar. “I seem
to have some guests I wasn’t expecting.”
“Is everything okay?” Asa asked.
“Everything’s fine. Getting ready to close another deal
here. Son, you and Grover come with me. Everyone? Please, excuse us
and make yourselves at home. The servers will be in shortly to fix
drinks,” JunJie said. The three men walked out of the room
where JunJie led the way to his office. This day wasn’t
expected for at least another four months at the earliest, but it was
welcomed nonetheless.
Hayate and Isao Onishi, brothers from JunJie’s native homeland
of Japan, were two shipping tycoons that owned a fleet of cargo ships
and several warehouses on Seattle’s shipping front. They were
well-known and respected in the maritime business community and were
looking for an investor to help renovate their port real estate and
to expand their fleet of cargo ships, thereby earning the investor a
share in the profits, and access to the eight state-of-the-art
international cargo freighters the brothers owned.
JunJie was purportedly at the forefront of this fifteen million
dollar proposal and was slated to make several million dollars
annually off this deal. He was also planning to use the cargo ships
to increase his cocaine shipments from Venezuela to accommodate the
growing demand coming in from Asa’s crew and the Chicago Gang.
Things were lining up from JunJie's perspective, but the Onishi
brothers had different plans.
The men greeted one another and JunJie walked around to the safe
behind his desk. He was going for the contracts to close the deal, a
smile on his face as he twisted the knob. “I never thought I’d
hear from you guys so soon,” he said happily as he pulled the
safe open. “You must’ve really liked my proposal. We can
go to work on renovating the warehouses here in America once I have a
contractor in place. A new dock and a deeper channel will—”
“Mister Maruyama, I think you’re getting ahead yourself,”
Hayate, a fifty year-old short and stout grey-haired man said as he
went and stood before JunJie's desk.
“I am? Well, let’s slow down to you guys’ pace.
What is it you have to say?” JunJie said as he casually took a
seat and extended his hand, allowing Hayate to sit as he rested his
arms on the desk top.
Hayate walked around the chair slowly and eased down into the seat.
He sat upright and said, “We’ve come to tell you
personally, before we leave for our flight back to Japan, that we’ve
decided to go with an investor back home in Tokyo.”
Tokyo?” JunJie questioned as he slowly rose from his seated
position. His demeanor had changed from that of jubilation to
seething anger in mere seconds. “How many more of us are you
going to let gain a foothold over here? It’s enough going
around for us all to make money! The ones that are here already,
dammit!” JunJie wasn’t speaking of other Asians or
anybody else for that matter; to the contrary, he was speaking on the
drug business. The Onishi brothers were just as much into drug
smuggling as was JunJie, the only difference was that the Onishi
brothers pushed heroin whereas JunJie pushed cocaine.
Isao, the younger of the Onishi brothers at age forty-seven, sat in
another chair before JunJie. “The deal from back home is too
good to resist, Mister Maruyama,” he remarked calmly. “We’ve
looked at the numbers
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