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Coldfire by Dean R. Koontz

Holly was simultaneously pleased and dismayed: pleased to have met this

woman, who so quickly seemed to be a favorite aunt of long acquaintance

dismayed because she had met her and been accepted by her under false

pretenses.

All the way back to her rental car, Holly fiercely berated herself under

her breath. She was at no loss for ugly words and clever damning

phrases.

Twelve years in newsrooms, in the company of reporters, had acquainted

her with enough obscene language to insure her the trophy in a cursing

contest with even the most foul-mouthed victim of Tourette’s syndrome.

The Yellow Pages listed only one Tae Kwon Do school in Newport beach. It

was in a shopping center off Newport Boulevard, between a custom

window-covering store and a bakery.

The place was called Dojo, the Japanese word for a martial-arts practice

ball, which was like naming a restaurant “Restaurant” or a dress shop

“Dress Shop.” Holly was surprised by the generic name, because Asian

businessmen often brought a poetic sensibility to the titling of their

enterprises. Three people were standing on the sidewalk in front of

Dojo’s big window, eating eclairs and awash in the delicious aromas

wafting from the adjacent bakery, watching a class of six students go

through their routines with a squat but exceptionally limber Korean

instructor in black pajamas.

When the teacher threw a pupil to the mat inside, the plate-glass window

vibrated.

Entering, Holly passed out of the chocolate-, cinnamon-, sugar-, yeast

scented air into an acidic environment of stale incense laced with a

vague perspiration odor. Because of a story she’d written about a

Portland teenager who won a medal in a national competition, she knew

Tae Kwon Do was an aggressive Korean form of karate, using fierce

punches, lightning-quick jabs, chops, blocks, choke holds, and

devastatingly powerful, leaping kicks. The teacher was pulling his

blows, but there were still a lot of grunts, wheezes, guttural

exclamations, and jarring thuds as students slammed to the mat.

In the far right corner of the room, a brunette sat on a stool behind a

counter, doing paperwork. Every aspect and detail of her dress and

grooming were advertisements for her sexuality. Her tight red T-shirt

emphasized her ample chest and outlined nipples as large as cherries.

With a touseled mane of chestnut hair given luster by artfully applied

blond highlights, eyes subtly but exotically shadowed, mouth too lushly

painted with deep-coral lipstick, a just-right tan, disablingly long

fingernails painted to match the lipstick, and enough silvery costume

jewelry to stock a display case, she would have been the perfect

advertisement if women had been a product for sale in every local

market.

“Does this thudding and grunting go on all day?” Holly asked.

“Most of the day, yeah.”

“Doesn’t it get to you?”

“Oh, yeah,” the brunette said with a lascivious wink, “I know what ya

mean. They’re like a bunch of bulls ramming at each other. I’m not had

an hour every day till I’m so horny I can’t stand it.”

That was not what Holly had meant. She was suggesting that the noise

was headache-inducing, not arousing. But she winked back, girl-to-girl

and said, “The boss in?”

“Eddie? He’s doing a couple hundred flights of stairs,” the woman said

cryptically. “What’d you want?”

Holly explained that she was a reporter, working on a story that had

connection with Dojo.

The receptionist, if that’s what she was, brightened at this news

instead of glowering, as was often the case. Eddie, she said, was

always looking to get publicity for the business. She rose from her

stool and stepped to a door behind the counter, revealing that she was

wearing high-heeled sandals and tight white shorts. that clung to her

butt as snugly as a coat of paint.

Holly was beginning to feel like a boy.

As the brunette had indicated, Eddie was delighted to hear that Dojo

would be mentioned in a newspaper piece, even if tangentially, but

wanted her to interview him while he continued to do stairs. He was not

Asian, which perhaps explained the unimaginative generic name of the

business. Tall, blond, shaggy-haired; blue-eyed, he was dressed only in

muscles and a pair of black spandex cyclist’s shorts. He was on a

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