Phoenix Force 07 - Dragon's Kill

by Wilson, Gar

  Only twenty-seven years old, wealthy, brilliant, working as a physicist for the government's Department of Defense Research Office, Edward Oshimi had a golden future. He became a strong voice for cooperation between the U.S. and Japan and made frequent trips to the Orient, meeting with fellow scientists to try and achieve this cooperation.

  During one of his visits, Oshimi married Mikko Hotashi. Her father, Kakuei Hotashi, had been a lieutenant in the Japanese Imperial Navy during the war. Kakuei was descended from a family of samurai warriors and had been training as a kamikaze pilot when the emperor surrendered.

  Kakuei Hotashi held total contempt for Americans and Western culture, which he considered to be a cancer that threatened to ruin Nippon. The marriage of his daughter to an American, even one of Japanese descent, should have outraged Hotashi. However, he seemed quite pleased with Mikko's choice. The reason for this would later be a matter of concern for the United States—Oshimi was loyal to Japan, not the Japan of the present but the empire that had been defeated when it charged into the twentieth century too quickly.

  Oshimi hated America. He regarded it as the country that had imprisoned his family and killed his mother. He gave credit to Japan, not the U.S., for his father's success and his own wealth. Edward Oshimi was as militant as Kakuei.

  A year after their marriage, Mikko was killed in a car accident. Oshimi took her body back to Japan for burial. Hotashi attended the funeral, then returned home alone. That night he committed seppuku, the ancient ritual of suicide by disemboweling oneself with a knife or short sword.

  Oshimi returned to the United States and worked as a research scientist for the Defense Department's experiments with lasers in the early 1960s. He excelled in this field, but never received a promotion to a high security level because his loyalty to the U.S., as well as his emotional stability, were questionable. Oshimi considered his lack of advancement to be racial discrimination by the nation he had grown to despise.

  Oshimi continued to work on innovations on the laser until 1973 when he presented a proposal to the Pentagon. Oshimi claimed to have perfected a laser weapon that could fire a concentrated beam of light capable of piercing the armor of a T-60 Russian tank from a distance of five hundred miles.

  However, Oshimi insisted on certain conditions before he would turn over his patent to the government. The weapon would have to be manufactured as a combined effort by the United States and Japan. The Japanese defensive military forces would be altered to become stronger, according to the terms of Oshimi's demands—and half the new laser cannons would be promised to Nippon.

  American involvement in Vietnam was coming to an end, and the government was not eager to build up military strength in the Orient after finally bringing the U.S. out of the controversial conflict. Besides, other inventors were working on laser weapons, and plans for "killer satellites" were already in progress. The Pentagon rejected Oshimi's proposal.

  Enraged by this refusal, Professor Edward Oshimi resigned from his government job. Until 1976 he worked as a technical advisor for a corporation in San Diego that specialized in the development of industrial lasers. Then, Oshimi retired at the age of forty-five and moved to Hawaii.

  The FBI and the Justice Department kept Oshimi under surveillance for a short time. It seemed highly unlikely that a multimillionaire capitalist would defect to the Soviet Union or China. Far more likely was the possibility Oshimi might attempt to sell information to the Japanese government, although he had never been trusted with any state secrets unknown to America's allies.

  The Feds were more concerned that enemy agents might con the bitter professor out of his fortune than any secret-weapon pipe dreams Oshimi might conjure up. Since the Oshimi nest egg had continued to grow to almost $25,000,000, it had become large enough to attract the KGB or the Chinese SAD, either of which would be happy to acquire such a windfall for the coffers at Moscow or Peking.

  Surveillance teams were surprised to discover Oshimi had purchased a coffee plantation along the Kona Coast, one of the few privately owned plantations in the only region of the United States that grows coffee. The biggest shock was the fact Oshimi had ordered the construction of a fortress—a pagoda-style structure similar to the fabled Osaka Castle.

  This was considered highly eccentric but not out of character for Edward Oshimi. No one was surprised that he sold most of his coffee to Japan or that his

  staff consisted exclusively of Japanese and Japanese Americans. The government decided to leave Oshimi alone and allow him to play make-believe daimyo.

  Although the Feds lost interest in Oshimi, several Hawaiian police departments were concerned when they learned many of the professor's employees had criminal records. Twice investigations of Oshimi's plantation were conducted. The first was a simple head count of ex-cons on Oshimi's payroll. The second was to check out a report that the plantation was patrolled by sentries armed with machine guns. However, the weapons proved to be civilian model CAR-15 semiautomatic rifles. None of the guard force had criminal records, and Oshimi assured the cops that the former jailbirds worked in the fields and never touched a firearm.

  Money talks, and Oshimi used it to scream at the state legislation. Accusations of police harassment forced the Hawaiian police to back off from the plantation.

  The only other official information about Oshimi concerned his Cessna airplanes at the Keahole and Honolulu airports. Aircraft flew from Hawaii to Oahu and from Oahu to Japan. The flights were listed as "business," and no one had any reason to suspect otherwise—until now.

  The photographs from the U.S. files consisted of several pictures of Edward Oshimi. As a young man Oshimi had been muscular with a lean hard face and fierce eyes. The most recent photo was of a middle-aged man with a double chin, a full face and a shaven head. Only the bitterness of his mouth and the hostility in his eyes remained.

  There was also a photo of his castle. Orchards of small trees with leaves that appeared to be made of wet plastic surrounded a stone wall that circled the building. The castle was unbelievable, a fortress of stone and mortar and tile. Stacked four stories high, it had gracefully sloped roofs with curved eaves extending from each segment. Every window featured thick shutters.

  In startling contrast, a white dome sat at the summit of the castle. A long telescope extended from the center of the observatory.

  "There's our target," David McCarter declared, jabbing a finger at his copy of the castle photo.

  "We don't know that," Gary Manning warned.

  "Bullshit," Rafael Encizo snorted. "Do you think this is all coincidence?"

  "Wait a minute," Manning insisted. "I've never questioned anything we've done before, but we've always been one hundred percent certain about a target in the past. We're only about eighty percent sure this time."

  "That's the key word, Gary," Keio said. "Time. We're running out of it fast."

  "Keio's right," Yakov agreed. "The terrorists have had Aaron Palmer long enough to pump his brain dry. Oshimi Castle has to be right."

  "Let's do it," Manning muttered.

  14

  The Bell UH-1D helicopter flew through the dark night sky. It hovered over the island of Molokai, once known as The Lonely Island; the Kalaupapa Peninsula had housed the infamous leper colony where Father Damien de Veuster became a martyr. Modern-day Molokai is not lonely or depressing—it is a tourist paradise with beaches, forests, parks and picnic grounds.

  The helicopter passed over Molokai and flew over Lanai, the smallest of the six major Hawaiian islands. The chopper continued over Maui, the second most popular island.

  At last, the helicopter approached its destination—the island of Hawaii, the largest of the isles with over four thousand square miles of land. To the east of Hawaii is the tropical region of Hilo, the greatest orchid center in the world. It is the home base for the largest privately owned cattle ranch on the face of the earth and the awesome Mauna Loa, the biggest active volcano in the world.

  David McCarter piloted the
Bell UH-1D as it hovered along the Alenuihaha Channel. The Kohala Peninsula, which is the birthplace of Kamehameha, The legendary warrior-king, is located here. Some call him the George Washington of Hawaii, others cast him in the role of a selfish opportunist who betrayed his people to the Western powers. Nonetheless, Kamehameha's statue in Kohala remains one of the island's most popular attractions.

  The helicopter moved south to the Kona Coast. McCarter located the Keahole Airport and radioed for permission to land. Minutes later the Bell UH-1D touched down.

  "Nice of Admiral St. Clair to let us borrow this isn't it?" McCarter said with a grin.

  "He's got a job to do," Yakov commented as he climbed out of the Bell. "Just like us. The only difference is he acts like a jerk about it."

  "I don't think he's acting," Keio added.

  "Who cares either way?" Manning asked. "I'll still send him a thank-you card if he keeps supplying us with support."

  "And it looks like he is," Yakov stated, gesturing with his prosthetic hand.

  The steel hook pointed at a military jeep that was being driven along the runway toward Phoenix Force. Two young men, clad in blue Naval fatigues rode in the vehicle. The members of Phoenix Force nodded with approval when they noticed the sailors wore the blue berets of the SEALS.

  The jeep came to a halt and one of the SEALS stepped out of the vehicle. He was tall, lean and muscular with dark brown eyes and a small scar on his left cheek. The man wore no insignia of rank on his collar, but the .45 Colt on his right hip suggested he was a commissioned officer.

  "Lieutenant Randisi, reporting, sir," the man declared with a crisp salute.

  "Glad to have you on the mission, Lieutenant," Yakov replied, returning the salute with his metal claw.

  "Thank you, sir," Randisi said. "This is Chief Petty Officer Murphy." He introduced the driver.

  "I understand you're a qualified chopper pilot," McCarter said.

  "Yes, sir," Randisi answered. "Both Murphy and I are qualified for gunship duty."

  "How many flying hours do you have in a copter?"

  "Over eight hundred logged," the lieutenant replied. "Most of that was flying Hueys, and I'm familiar with the UH-1D."

  "Very good," the Briton nodded with satisfaction.

  Keio Ohara carried a field radio to the jeep. "This transceiver has been modified to receive a special UHF transmission identical to the setting of the radio in this chopper."

  "We're taking the jeep," Rafael explained. "You'll stay in touch with us via the radio."

  "I understood speed to be vital to this mission," Randisi remarked, wondering why they would not all travel by helicopter.

  "It is," Manning confirmed. "But stealth is just as important. It's pretty hard to sneak into a place with a big noisy helicopter."

  "We will remain in contact by radio," Yakov said. You will receive the exact location of the target site of an enemy stronghold."

  "The gunship is fully armed with UH-1C rockets and machine guns," Rafael stated.

  "In other words," McCarter added, "you'll have more than enough to destroy the target."

  "Yes, sir," Randisi said, nodding woodenly.

  "Let's synchronize watches," Manning said. "Make it 2100 hours. Less confusion that way."

  "Lieutenant Randisi," Yakov began, "when we have completed our mission, you may be contacted and given orders, depending on our needs at that time. If we don't relay a message to you by 0500 hours, you are to attack and destroy the strong-hold."

  "Including you five if you haven't gotten out of there?" Murphy asked.

  "We're expendable," Yakov answered.

  "Aren't we all," Randisi remarked with a shrug.

  RAFAEL ENCIZO DROVE THE JEEP With the other members of Phoenix Force and their equipment crammed into the vehicle. Keio Ohara examined a road map with a flashlight, while Gary Manning scanned the area through infrared Starlite binoculars.

  "According to the map," Keio said, "Route 90 South leads to Route 18, which extends through the coffee region of the Kona Coast. So we should be getting closer."

  "Finding the right plantation shouldn't be difficult," Yakov said. "How many Japanese castles are likely to be in the area?"

  "There'd better be only one," Manning remarked, lowering his Starlite. "And we're heading toward it. About eight kilometers to the east."

  Minutes later they arrived at the boundaries of the Oshimi Coffee Plantation. A steel-wire fence surrounded acres of tiny coffee trees. The castle, a large ominous shape in the distance, seemed to lurk in the plantation like a large beast. The headlights of the jeep illuminated a sign mounted on the fence: Kapu! Private Property! Keep Out!

  "What the hell does kapu mean?" McCarter wondered.

  "It's Hawaiian," Rafael answered as he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. "I guess it means the same as the other words in English."

  "Maybe we should have worn colorful shirts and flower garlands around our necks," Manning joked, strapping on his field pack full of explosives. "Then we could have claimed we were lost tourists."

  "Dressed in camouflage black and packing all these weapons," Rafael said, "we'd be convincing if we said we were looking for pakalolo . Marijuana crops are big business in Hawaii, especially here in Kona. Growers often protect their weed with armed guards and trap guns."

  "No matter what we told Oshimi's people," Yakov commented, "they'd still shoot us if they had the chance."

  Keio contacted Lieutenant Randisi on the radio while the others checked their weapons. The Japanese warrior switched off the transceiver and checked his guns. He had brought an Ingram M-10 machine pistol, better suited for close quarters than his M-16 assault rifle. He had also chosen a Colt 1911A1 instead of his AutoMag because the pistol and Ingram both fired .45-caliber ammunition. The other members of Phoenix carried the same weaponry they had used in Japan.

  They checked the fence for alarm wires. Although they did not find any, it was possible a pressure unit under the fence could trigger an alarm if they climbed or cut it. That was a risk they would have to take. There was no time to check everything. Oshimi could have heat sensors, infrared scanners, microwave sensors or a dozen other invisible security devices.

  Manning tossed a rock against the fence to see if it was electric. When no sparks appeared, Rafael and Keio attacked the fence with wire cutters. Two minutes later Phoenix Force slipped through the opening and entered Oshimi's plantation.

  They moved through the coffee bushes, keeping low, all senses alert to possible danger. A bright half-moon and a riot of stars overhead shone down on the plantation. The night was quiet—too quiet.

  Suddenly the rumble of a car grabbed their attention. Phoenix Force ducked behind some coffee bushes as a pair of headlights sliced through the shadows. Peering between leaves and branches, they saw a Toyota Land Cruiser rolling along a dirt road that bisected the field. Two men, clad in khaki bush shirts, rode in the jeep—the driver and a man with a pump shotgun.

  "Give them a sore foot," Yakov whispered to McCarter. He turned to Keio and said, "Don't kill unless you have to."

  The Land Cruiser continued along the road until McCarter convinced it to stop. The silencer attached to his Ingram rasped, and bullets ripped into the front and rear tires on the driver's side of the jeep. The vehicle weaved violently until the driver stomped on the brake.

  Keio broke cover and dashed to the crippled jeep from behind. He caught the spare tire mounted to the rear of the Toyota and used it for a brace as he swung his long body over the top of the open carriage. The shotgunner presented the most serious immediate threat. Keio took him out first with a flying roundhouse kick. The toe of his paratrooper boot caught the startled sentry full in the mouth, breaking several teeth and his jaw.

  The shotgun man's unconscious body collided with the driver, who was awkwardly trying to draw a pistol from a belt holster. Keio reached him before he could clear leather. The Japanese warrior's hands struck like axes. He shuto chopped the dr
iver's forearm to prevent him from drawing the weapon. Another blow hit the man behind the ear, and a third slammed into the side of his neck. The sentry slumped behind the wheel.

  Then white light flooded the captured jeep. An other Land Cruiser had suddenly appeared, rapidly closing the distance, its shotgun man holding his weapon to his shoulder.

  Rafael's MP-5 belched softly, and a stream of 9mm rounds burst from the silenced H&K machine pistol. The shotgunner was kicked over the side of the speeding jeep; his bullet-riddled body hit the road and rolled limply into a drainage ditch.

  Before the driver could react, Gary Manning had pounced from the bushes. He dived onto the moving jeep, crashing into the stunned sentry. The jeep zigged, zagged and nose-dived into the coffee fields.

  Manning clubbed the guard in the face with the bottom of his fist. He hit the guy again in the temple before he seized the steering wheel and applied the brake. The Land Cruiser had run over yards of shrubs and berries, crushing dozens of little trees.

  Rafael ran up to Manning, prepared to help; but no help was needed. "The driver of the jeep is dead," Manning said. "Guess I hit him too hard."

  "You can't hit a terrorist too hard," Rafael stated.

  "But we're not certain the security people for the coffee plantation are terrorists," Keio said. "They might be hirelings unaware of Oshimi's activities."

  "So bind the two you rendered unconscious," Yakov told him. "We had to kill the other two. There wasn't any choice. Terrorists, hired help or saints—they were carrying guns and now they're dead. We can't bring them back to life."

  15

  Keio Ohara used plastic riot cuffs to bind the wrists and ankles of the patrol's survivors. All the guards were Oriental. The man with the broken jaw was not in any condition to talk, so Keio only revived the other guard he had knocked out.

  Keio massaged the carotid sinus in the man's neck and pulled his head back to increase the flow of blood to the brain. Keio heard him groan. He then pried his fingernails under the nails of the man's first and second fingers, an ancient Oriental technique to revive a person who had fainted.