Tired of Kim Chi, rice and what he had come to call the par five dog leg, Low decided it might be time to move on. He considered the appointment of John Bolton to the UN to be a vindication of his efforts. He took the money he had earned writing PR releases for the Maytag divisions in Korea and headed for Shanghai intending to invest in the real estate boom and finally realize his life long dream, a 50s spit level in an innocuous New England suburban town. Horny as a drawf on viagra before a flock of sheep he said good bye to his life as a human shield and hitched a ride on an ox drawn cart down the silk road to his dreams.
Won Hung Lo, as he had come to call himself, arrived in Shanghai just after 10 in the morning. By ten fifteen he was speculating in time shares of ledges under overpasses. By noon he was involved in turning noodle factories into condos. At two PM he closed a deal on what was potentially the tallest building in the world, give or take a spire here or there. On paper he was richer than the Sultan of Brunei but in reality he was practically out of money. He spent most of the last of it on a bowl of rice and a small portion of sweet and sour...well meat of some sort.
Though between 12:33 and 12:43 he had briefly owned the Shanghai Hyatt, he was forced now to wander the streets looking for a place to stay. About midnight a black mercedes pulled up next to him on the road.
"Get In" a voice from inside instructed him.
"Oh thank you my good man. What a fine gentleman you are. I am here the victim of terrible circumstances. An extremely wealthy man with not a penny in my pocket"
An armed reached out from inside the car and pulled him in. The door slammed.
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