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Assuming that Yoshi had disappeared together with Link, finding her would be no easier

than finding the professor. But the other woman, Hiro Okamoto had no reason to hide. They would find her and see where the threads led to from there. Bikie had easily figured out the old address of the two girls’ apartment from the telephone number. The rest they would sort out on the spot.

Amsterdam. Dozens of canals divide the city up into a host of little islands, connected by hundreds of bridges of vastly different kinds. The main, and the most famous canal, is Amstel.

Amsterdam is also the city of tulips, but by no means their native land. The flower originally came from the mountains of Asia. The Greeks and the Persians loved them. And there was a

“Tulip Era” in Turkey too. It was from there that the Austrian ambassador brought back a few bulbs and presented them to a local professor of botany: they were stolen from him and brought to Amsterdam. Isaac recalled the story of the famous tulip boom that followed these events. At that time you could get a good house for the bulb of a beautiful tulip. Prices soared sky-high and everyone speculated in the bulbs – from bankers to ordinary housewives. Of course, in the end the bubble burst, dragging a whole bunch of people down to financial ruin. Also the boom of Einsteiner popularity will probably fail.

This was the world’s capital of freedom. Hordes of people once used to come here for a

weekend to have a good time. There was everything here: the red-light district, loads of clubs and bars, coffee shops. Nowadays they still came here to smoke grass and have fun, although vast crowds were a thing of the past. Isaac had been to Amsterdam three times but his most vivid memory was the King’s Day in the end of April. The streets were transformed into torrents of orange – every single last person was dressed in the national color to honor of the festival. It seemed as if all of Holland had gathered in the streets of the capital. On the canals there were so

many boats, large and small, and rafts, that you couldn’t even see the water. And so many people crowded onto the boats, you couldn’t tell where the pavement ended and the water began.

Everyone was singing, drinking and dancing. One of the best days in Isaac’s past. He smiled at his pleasant memories as the plane made its approach for landing.

They decided to save on a taxi and took an express train. Half an hour later they were

standing in the central station. Bikie was amazed by the size of the bicycle park. There were thousands of bicycles, if not tens of thousands, in a three story building. Bikes could be hired for peanuts, but the friends set off for the Old City on foot. Their apartment was conveniently located in the attic of an old house: there was no lift, but that was no problem. On the other hand, bustling, noisy Rembrandtplein was only a stone’s throw away, and they could see a canal with a drawbridge that connected with the Amstel.

“Isaac, let’s have lunch first, the escort agency probably isn’t open so early. I’m sure the girls are still asleep after their working day, or rather night.”

“Okay, let’s do lunch. That smell of pizza is making my stomach rumble. You don’t mind

a piece of Italy?”

“I’m all for it,” Bikie answered, stroking his large belly.

In an attempt to justify his presence in Amsterdam, Bikie had prepared very thoroughly.

He had studied the five most visited escort agency sites. Only two of them had Asian girls and only one had Japanese girls. He also already knew the location of the apartment where the phone number he’d found was registered.

“The phone number I dug up doesn’t match any of the agencies. It’s been changed since

then but one of the sites said the agency has been in business for twenty-five years. I think that’s the one we want.”

Isaac’s call was answered almost immediately by an extremely jolly voice.

“Decided to spend a pleasant evening?” the man’s voice asked jauntily in English with an accent.

“Yes, thank you, but I have specific requests,” said Isaac, feeling a bit awkward.

“Well, bear in mind that our prices are significantly higher than in the red light district.

And specific requests will cost even more.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that. I’m interested in oriental girls.”

“Well that can easily be arranged.”

“Not just any, but Japanese girls. That’s essential for me.”

“We don’t have Japanese girls. Only Thai and Chinese, and a Filipino girl. There’s a

young Russian with slanting eyes, very beautiful.”

“No, only Japanese girls. And you know, a bit older. Over thirty if possible.”

“Listen, this isn’t a supermarket, we don’t have that kind of choice, but you won’t regret it if you choose a Chinese girl, we do have one a bit older, if you like. A very sexy and exotic woman.”

“I want a Japanese woman,” Isaac insisted.

“Are you a Japanophile or what? Or Japanese yourself?”

“No, I’m a European. It’s just that I was here a few years ago. And I was with this girl. I want to see her again.”

“Sorry, lad, I’ve never had any Japanese girls here. If you want someone else, call us…”

– the dial tone sounded in Isaac’s ear.

“No luck,” said Isaac, turning to Bikie. “I’ll take a breather and call the other number.”

“Hello,” Isaac heard the same familiar voice say.

“Uhmm, this is me again…” Isaac hadn’t expected that the different telephone numbers

could belong to the same agency.

“You’re a persistent lad. You must have had a really wild time back then,” the agency

manager laughed.

“But it says on your site that you have a Japanese girl.”

“If you were drug-fuelled and I brought you a Chinese girl, you couldn’t tell the difference. Anyway, I don’t have any Japanese, and I never did. But I’ll look for one. Do you remember the name of your Kamasutra? They often disappear, you know. I mean, they go away.

Some guy like you gets stuck on a chick or gives her so much money, she doesn’t need to work anymore, sometimes they even get married.”

“It’s not a matter of Kamasutra. I don’t remember her name exactly. Maybe Yoshi Kato,

maybe Hiro Okamato or something like that.”

“OK. If I find her, I’ll call. What hotel are you in?”

“The Grand Hotel de l’Europe,” Isaac lied. He didn’t give the real address in case the deal broke down. It was better to play a rich customer.

With nothing in particular to do, Bikie suggested they should take a ride to the building where the girls have lived. They decided to go on the bus, in case everything worked out with the escort agency – since there was so little money.

The Japanese girls’ apartment was located in a pleasant looking district, although not in the center. Unfortunately they couldn’t find any cafes nearby that they could have used as an observation post. The building had no concierge, and the residents’ names were on the buttons of the entry phone. There was no tab for Kato or Okamoto, but they found the name Akiyama.

“Look, Akiyama. Could that be our Japanese rose?”

“Let’s check right now,” said Bikie, pressing the call button.

There was no response for a long time, but eventually a soft, mewing voice answered.

The friends didn’t know what a Japanese accent sounded like, but it could easily have been one.

“Can I speak to Yoshi Kato,” Isaac asked diffidently.

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name.” There was a brief pause and some bustling in the background. “Who’s looking for her?”

Bikie jogged Isaac with his elbow. Isaac leaned towards him and Bikie whispered that if they didn’t know that person here they wouldn’t have asked who was looking for her.

“I’m an old student of Professor Link’s. I’d like to talk to Yoshi. Are you her friend, Hiro Okamoto?”

There was rustling sound in the entry phone and a different voice answered:

“Wait.”

Bikie uttered a soundless “Yessss!” and slapped Isaac on the shoulder so hard that he

winced in pain. When they were in the lobby, Isaac twirled his finger beside his head and told Bikie what he thought of him.

“Ouch! You’re crazy? That hurts.”

“Sorry,” Bikie muttered guiltily. “I was so excited.”

The girl, and it was Hiro indeed, proved to be very nice and hospitable. She didn’t know where Yoshi had suddenly disappeared to. But she showed them a photo and also said she

suspected an elderly Englishman. So the most valuable thing the guys learned was what Link’s girlfriend looked like. Hiro asked to let her know if they find her former friend.

They left feeling a bit disappointed though. They hadn’t got anything new apart from

confirmation of their guess that Yoshi was probably with Link. And it had been pretty clear that the two were together anyway. No leads yet again.

“Let’s go have a beer at Smokey,” Bikie suggested. “Evening’s coming and I need to

relax my nerves.”

Isaac agreed. This was Amsterdam after all. And Smokey was right on Rembrandtplein.

No sooner had the friends drank a mug each, than Isaac’s phone rang. The number was

not displayed, but he recognized the voice.

“I’ve found your Japanese girl, where shall I bring her?”

“Mmm, don’t bring her to the hotel, we’ve rented an apartment.”

“We?” the caller asked in surprise. “That’ll cost extra.”

“No, no, I’m the only client,” Isaac clarified.

“OK. I’ll be there in forty minutes.”

“OK,” Isaac replied uncertainly and hung up.

“What crazy shit is this?” asked Isaac, looking at Bikie.

“I don’t know. Maybe Hiro was jerking us around.”

“It didn’t seem that way. But who can tell? Let’s meet her, it can’t do any harm.”

At the agreed time a car drove up to the building. The manager introduced himself as

Paul, gave the building a disgusted look and suggested they go upstairs. In the apartment he looked around, sent a text, and soon a woman of about forty came up.

“Here’s your Yoshi,” Paul said with a broad smile. “Give me the money.”

“Do you know Hiro Okamoto?” Bikie asked the woman, smelling a rat.

She looked at Paul inquiringly, but still shook her head.

“It’s not her,” said Bikie, annoyed.

“How do you know if it’s her or not? He’s the one who fell for the Japanese girl,” said Paul, pointing angrily at Isaac.

“But it really isn’t her,” said Isaac, trying to explain.

“I got you what you wanted, and she’s got the right name! Isn’t that right?” said Paul, starting to get angry. “What’s your name? Yoshi, right?” he asked, giving the woman a stern look.

This time she nodded.

“So let’s have the money, guys, and she’s yours. And no tricks. Don’t even think of

scamming unless you’re looking for really big trouble.”

Bikie jumped up off his chair with his fists clenched.

“Who’s trying to scam here?”

“Look, lad,” his opponent told him in an icy voice. “I’ll leave calmly right now. And then I’ll come back up and you’ll leave here for the hospital.”

Paul looked very confident and quite menacing, it obviously wasn’t his first time doing this, and Isaac was frightened by Bikie’s quick temper.

“Wait. This is a misunderstanding. We wanted a different Yoshi. Let’s settle this

peacefully.”

“Money on the table,” Paul said quietly, calling a number on his cell phone. “We’ve got a problem here,” he said to someone.

Bikie kept on crowding him.

“Don’t give me this bullshit. I’ll call the police and they’ll stick you behind bars before you can even let out a peep. And then they’ll download you dry. No one will let you rip off tourists. This town lives on them, and you’ll get such a kick in the ass, you’ll forget your name.”

Isaac was already standing shoulder to shoulder with Bikie, feeling that a fight was

inevitable.

Paul backpedaled with this rush. He lowered his voice and started making excuses.

“I looked for the one you wanted. Hassled people and found you a Japanese girl. You

guys are setting me up. I already owe the middleman.”

“Do I kick you out, or you just leave by yourself?” asked Bikie, a genuine bar bouncer

seething up inside him.

Completely deflated, Paul took the Japanese woman and cleared out.

They waited for another ten minutes, and it became clear that no one was coming back

up.

“Get out of here,” Isaac summed up.

“Agreed.”

They quickly collected up their things and went downstairs. Isaac’s phone rang again and Wolanski’s number was displayed.

“Hey, Peter! I’ll call you back; we’re a bit busy here.”

“Surprise, Isaac! I’m here in Amsterdam, in the Sofitel Hotel. Shall we meet?”

“You know, Peter, your timing is just perfect. We’ve got nowhere to go,” Isaac replied, turning in the direction of the famous hotel.

In Wolanski’s room Isaac finally recovered his wits after the unpleasant incident. He told Paul about their search and the clash with Paul, making special mention of Bikie’s heroism.

Wolanski listened avidly, once in a while throwing alarmed glances at the door.

“I swear I envy you, although you guys turned out to be real thugs! Things are humming

for you two! I couldn’t resist flying in here. This is Amsterdam and with you, my friends.

Especially since I was so close, in Copenhagen,” Peter confessed in embarrassment. “Sorry I didn’t warn you, I was afraid you would be against, you wouldn’t let me come,” he added, speaking to Isaac.

“Against?” Isaac was amazed.

“Well yes, you’re the boss, the ideologist, you decide what can be done and what can’t,”

Wolanski explained.

Bikie nodded in agreement, reaching for the joint that Peter had prepared.

“I agree with Peter. I might have fired the shot, but you’ve got steel balls the size of melons. I am always prepared to knock the arrogance out of someone, but I couldn’t have launched a global project like this, that’s for sure.”

“Who did you go to before me?” Wolanski asked.

“A lawyer. I sent some emails. Also a young guy, a sportsman. Named Abdul. Bikie went