Starlitz logged in to a Helsinki Internet service provider and checked themetal-band's Website in Tokyo. Nothing much happening there. Sachiho was doingTV tabloid shows. Hukie had gone into production. Ako was in the studio for asolo album. Sayoko was pregnant. Again.
Starlitz tried his hotlist and found a new satellite JPEG file of developmentson the ground in Bosnia. Starlitz was becoming very interested in Bosnia. Hehadn't been there yet, but he could feel the lure increasing steadily. TheJapanese scene was basically over. Once the real-estate bubble had busted, theglitz had run out of the Tokyo street-party and now the high yen was chasing thegaijin off. But Bosnia was clearly a very coming scene for the mid-90s. NotBosnia per se (unless you were a merc, or crazy) but the surrounding safe-areaswhere the arms and narco people were setting up: Slovenia, Bulgaria, Macedonia,Albania.
Practically every entity that Starlitz found of interest was involved in theBosnian scene. UN. USA. NATO. European Union. Russian intelligence, Russia mafia(interlocking directorates there). Germans. Turks. Greeks. Ndrangheta. Camorra.Israelis. Saudis. Iranians. Moslem Brotherhood. An enormous gaggle of mercs.There was even a happening Serbian folk-metal scene where Serb chicks wentgigging for hooting audiences of war criminals. It was cool the way the Yugoslavscene kept re-complicating. It was his kind of scene.
Raf emerged from the bathroom. He'd shaved and had caught his thinning wet hairin a ponytail clip. He wore his jeans; his waistline sagged but there was musclein his hairy shoulders.
Raf unzipped one of the sports bags. He tunneled into a baggy black T-shirt.
Starlitz logged off.
Raf yawned. "Dramamine never works. Sorry."
"No problem, Raf."