Marc Olden - Oni

Viktor Poltava is Oni, the Demon, the most accomplished assassin in the Far East. Oni, a cold-blooded killer whose cunning and cruelty is unmatched.

Reiko Gennai, The Empress, fearing that her control of Japans largest and most powerful multinational corporation is under threat, hires him to eliminate those who dare oppose her. Haunted by past secrets a massacre in a secret Japanese POW camp at the close of World War II and a 40-year-old double murder in America she will stop at nothing to retain her power.

Enter Edward Penny, former member of Americas Special Forces, who must put behind him a previous terrifying encounter, as the intrigue set in motion by

The Empress reaches out to force him into a final, deadly confrontation with a man he had hoped never to see again. Oni moves closer, striking first in France, then England and finally in America, where he schemes evilly to trap the one man who might destroy him.

Marc Olden is the author of three other bestselling thrillers with Far Eastern backgroundsGIRl, DAI-SHO and GAIJ IN also published by Corgi Books.

GIRl

Keeps the reader on the edge of the chair

Washington Post Book World

One terrific suspense thriller

Gerald A. Browne, author of 11 HARROWHOUSE

Ludlum, look out, Marc Olden is here

Walter Wager, author of TELEFON

Anybody who loved SHIBUMI and THE NJNJA shouldnt miss it

James Patterson

DAI-SHO

One of the most original and exciting thrillers I have read in a long time. DAI-SHO is fast-paced, erotic and exotic

Norman Garbo, author of SPY and TURNERS WIFE

Fast and furious... an intensely exciting story reeking of cold-blooded violence

Publishers Weekly

GAIJIN

Top-notch thriller mixing yakuza (Japanese Mafia), a doughty ex-spy, and a dashing cat burglar in a spider- web plot... Olden specializes in the rulers with an oriental flavour. Trevanian first cooked up this sub- genre with SHIBUMI, but Olden seems now to be the master chef. A delicious entertainment

Kirkus Reviews

GIRI

DAI-SHO

GAIJlN

and published by Corgi Books

ONI

Marc Olden

CORGI BOOKS

Diane Crafford, for her indispensable creative assistance

A CORGI BOOK 0552 128007

First publication in Great Britain

PRINTING HISTORY

Corgi edition published 1987

Copyright Marc Olden 1987

This book is set in 10/1ipt Plantin

Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd., 6163 Uxbridge Road, Ealing, London W5 5SA,

in Australia by Transworld Publishers (Aust.) Pty. Ltd., 1523 Helles Avenue, Moorebank, NSW 2 170,

and in New Zealand by Transworld Publishers (N.Z.) L.td., Cnr. Moselle and Waipareira Avenues, Henderson, Auckland.

Printed and hound in Great Britain by

Hazell Watson & Viney Limited,

Member of the BPCC Group, Aylesbury, Bucks

Japanese for demon or evil spirit. In Buddhist legend it appears as a hideous monster with horns, large mouth, fangs and possesses tremendous physical strength.

Also refers to anything hidden or invisible that harms or kills humans.

* * *

He who makes the first false move is certain to lose the game.

Japanese proverb.

* * *

Twelve armed men cannot control the strife created by one elegant woman.

Chinese proverb.

Viktor Poltava crawled from his hiding place before dawn. Six hours in total blackness had sharpened his night vision for his mission. He worked well in darkness.

He was on a horse farm in a green valley south of the seaside resort of Deauville. Trained to hide for long periods without moving, he had lain beneath the floorboards in a stable hay loft, hood covering his eyes, a rag in his mouth to muffle any sound while he slept. He ate food he carried in his pockets cakes made from bleached rice, dried plums and the softest part of the pine. He quenched his thirst by chewing sesame seeds.

Earlier he had listened to stable hands in the stalls below him as they tended brood mares and stallions and spoke to each other in French. It was a language he associated with Russia, where he and other foreigners had been taught terrorist tactics by the GRU, Soviet military intelligence. His closest friend among the trainees had been a French speaking African from Zaire, a happy go-lucky university student with excellent connections in Moscows black market and a taste for teenage Russian girls.

Viktor Poltava had also acquired certain disciplines in the guerrilla training camps of Cuba, North Yemen, Lebanon and Libya. But his most valuable instruction had come from Asia, from the timeless ideas of Sun Tzu, the Chinese military strategist of 2500 years ago. The writings of Sun Tzu had taught him to be single-minded in his striving for supreme excellence in warfare, to do this by combining violence with deceit.

Poltava had always faced danger with a cold-blooded self- possession, but returning to France now was risky. An Interpol murder warrant for his arrest was still outstanding. And there was the two million franc reward offered by the Molsheim family for his capture and conviction.

Eight months ago he had assassinated Count Molsheim in the Tuilleries Gardens, then murdered an informant who had attempted to betray him to the Paris police. The informant, a PLO member and former comrade, had wanted the reward and also wanted to win leniency for an imprisoned homosexual lover. Given the two reasons for the Palestinians treachery, Poltava decided to kill him twice.

He nailed a kaffiyeh, an Arab headdress, to the informants skull, using short nails to prolong the agony. Then he cuffed both hands behind the Palestinians back, connected one end of a wire to the cuffs and wrapped the other end around his testicles. Writhing in pain, the informant only tightened the wire. In minutes he had cut off his testicles.

Poltavas information on Deauville called it the northern St. Tropez, the most elegant resort of its kind in northern Europe, a playground for the continents rich and famous. From their castles and penthouses they came here to enjoy a racing season which attracted top jockeys and trainers from around the world. They also cam for the yearling sales, extravagant parties, polo matches and casino gambling. Not Poltavas sort of place at all. To him it was nothing more than a bauble for grown up children.

He had stared at a long balustraded white casino and at Deauvilles huge marina where dozens of yachts were berthed and remembered when this show of privilege would have left him enraged. That reaction belonged to Marxist days. Now he held no social feelings of any kind. No more blind obedience to words of political or moral command. He no longer lived within a circle traced for him by others.

Face hidden behind the tinted visor of a crash helmet, he had smiled at Deauvilles luxury hotels, tennis courts and mile long boardwalk, feeling neither revulsion nor attachment, feeling only indifference. Then he had kick started his motorbike and ridden out of town across a stone bridge built by Viking raiders a thousand years ago, heading for the horse farm and reminding himself that with the exception of Sun Tzu, all philosophies were nonsense.

He had come to France to kidnap a Japanese woman who had run away from her husband. For this, she and the man who had helped her were to be punished. Punished in a way that would be memorable. Her name was Hanako and she was young and beautiful. Six months ago she had fled Taiwan while on a business trip with her husband and now felt herself to be safe. Stupid woman. The sort who sees a finger pointing at the moon and looks at the finger.