PROLOGUE
FOOTMAN
Reo
T
he moon glowed as we pulled up to the party in the Jaguar.
Eighty acres of red rose gardens surrounded the towering castle.
Hordes of glamorous people left expensive cars and strolled toward the castle’s marbled steps. Women dazzled in flowing gowns and diamond jewelry. Meanwhile, power radiated off the men.
I gazed out the window. “This is too magnificent a place to kill someone in.”
Ali perused the castle. “Yet, it isn’t a bad place to kill anyone in either.”
I turned and smiled at my longtime assistant.
Ali and I were an odd pair. We met in Dubai. He worked for the wrong side. I almost killed him. He was 5’9. I towered over him at 6’2. I spent a lot of time in the gym. Ali preferred to eat cake and read books in my condo library. It was a mystery how he remained slim.
Ali opened the door. “It’s time, sir.”
I stepped out, smoothed down the front of my tux, and made sure the red string around my wrist was tucked securely under my sleeve. “I didn’t know New York City had castles.”
Ali admired it. “I’m not sure if one would still consider this New York City. This island is sixty miles up the Hudson River.”
My guards gathered around me and kept their guns close.
I looked at Ali. “What do we know?”
“A rich architect built the castle for his secret male lover in the earlier part of the 20th century.” Ali pointed to the front. “When the architect’s wife learned of this, she sent her brothers to storm the property and kick the lover out. A year later, the wife died under mysterious circumstances.”
I frowned. “I don’t care about the property. I want to know about Footman.”
“Oh! Sorry, sir. With this mission, I enjoyed the research more than usual.” Ali cleared his throat. “Our men discovered Footman in the white room. They have their eyes on him.”
“What’s in the white room?” I walked toward the castle.
He followed. “Beautiful women dancing around a massive orgy.”
“And is he participating in the orgy?”
“No, sir. Footman is stalking a dancer.”
“What type of shoes is she wearing?”
“Diamond encrusted. Her toes are painted red.”
“Highly manicured and well-kept?”
“Yes, sir. He’s been throwing money at her all night.”
“Footman has lost control. Instead of hiding, he’s out and about.” I smirked. “Does he not know the Dragon put a million dollar bounty on his head?”
“I believe he thinks the Dragon’s reach is only in Japan.”
“Then, we’ll have to educate him.” I stopped at the top of the stairs.
Two uniformed men opened the castle’s double doors.
On the inside, ivory columns and crystal chandeliers sparkled. A full orchestra played in the foyer. There were massive rooms on both sides where masked guests enjoyed themselves.
Entering, I gazed up. Nude women hung from the ceiling, twisting and tangling their limbs together. Black masks covered their faces.
We moved forward.
I leaned Ali’s way. “Who’s hosting this party?”
“Blake Meade. He only invites the world’s elite. The tickets start at twenty thousand dollars each.”
“An elite sex party requires privacy. That’s why most of the guests are masked?”
“Correct, sir.”
“Was it difficult for us to get an invite?”
“No, sir. With one mention of the Dragon, Mr. Meade granted us immediate access.”
“Good. Then, Meade knows his place.”
I worked for Kenji Soto who was the head of the Japanese Mafia—the Yakuza—an organized network drenched in ancient traditions. Many also knew him as the Dragon. Smart people had a healthy fear of him.
But then there were people like Footman—evil, dark men who incited horror. This was when Kenji had me step in. They called me, the Dragon’s Roar.
We climbed the swirling staircase and entered the second level.
The desire for blood burned in me. I pressed the side of my coat where my knives and guns remained in their holster. “Does Meade know why we want Footman?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I want to catch Footman by surprise. His last victim’s feet will be fully rotted by now. He’ll be itching for another pair.”
Footman was born Archer Lee. He was half Japanese, half American. I’d given him the nickname, Footman, due to his deadly foot fetish.
Long ago, Archer’s mother stole money from the Yakuza.
The Dragon’s father ruled at this time. He ordered his men to bring her head and heart to him. There had to be an example made.
They broke into her home and chopped her up like steak. At only six, Archer cried and watched from the corner. When they finished, the killers felt bad and left Archer his mother’s feet. The rest they took to the Dragon’s father.
No one knows how long Archer held onto those feet. But, it was long enough to build a demonic desire for them.
For the rest of Archer’s childhood, he grew up in an orphanage. Each year a child was found dead with their feet missing.
When he became an adult, he killed more. Always, he left footless bodies in the street, terrorizing Tokyo. Women feared for their lives.