The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3)

by Charles S. Jackson

  “Fuck, me – it’s not that bloody simple, mate…” Thorne ventured desperately, is rage and despair struggling valiantly to regroup and mount a counter-attack.

  “No, it is…” Langdale shook his head, cutting him off again. “It is that fuckin’ simple. You fucked up… again… and now this last axe has fallen, you’ve made up some bullshit excuse in your mind as to how none of it’s your fault. Fuck you, pal… fuck you…!” He spat angrily, pointing a finger back toward the bedroom door. “That woman is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you just destroyed her! And why was that? All of it just so you could make yourself feel better about your own arrogance and stupidity!

  “I saw Evan die…!” He hissed, wide-eyes and enraged once more. “I sat there, doing nothin’ by your order, and watched as those fucken cunts chopped off his head…!” The force of those words beat Thorne backward, and there was horror in his eyes now as he fell back into a sitting position on the bed. “The decisions you make cost lives… our lives. This isn’t some fuckin’ game, where you get to swan about like the rich, immature arsehole that you are, pissin’ and moanin’ like some spoilt bloody five-year-old every time you get told to do somethin’ you don’t bloody like! People die when you fuck up – good men, like Evan – and all the money fuckin’ world ain’t gonna bring ‘em back!

  “You think this world don’t matter, just ‘cause we’re tryin’ to put it back the way it was? These are all still peoples’ lives you’re messing around with! Trumbull’s has been checked into a bloody camp hospital with bloody shell-shock… maybe – just maybe – because he was responsible for dropping a bomb that killed half a million innocent civilians – and you’d know that, if you’d made any effort to call even once! Eileen’s probably gonna be lucky if she comes outta this with only PTSD, especially now that you’ve done such a top job of makin’ her feel better! My best fuckin’ mate is dead because ‘o you…” he said finally, pausing to take a breath and at the same time give a moment’s silence in memory of his friend.

  Still angry, but feeling mentally and emotionally spent, Langdale waved a hand in Thorne’s direction in an utterly dismissive gesture as he released a long sigh of frustration and almost stumbled toward the exit. He paused at the door, fingers on the handle, and turned back just for a moment.

  “Best thing you can do right now is stay the fuck away from her.” He stated bluntly, eyes and tone equally lifeless. “I tried to stay outta this one as long as I could, only ‘cause Eileen made me promise, but you ever try anythin’ like this again and I will fuckin’ hurt you in ways you cannot begin to imagine. Don’t even think about testing me on that,” he added quickly, making sure he cut off any chance of argument. “All you got left now is Briony, and I reckon you need to work real bloody hard not to fuck that up, ‘cause your track record has been shit so far! Nobody else now…” he called back over his shoulder, grinning mirthlessly at the irony as he pushed open the bedroom door and stomped out, “but I guess that should suit you just fine anyway: only person you ever listen to is yourself!”

  Briony found him some hours later, stinking of booze and passed out on the floor near the bedroom window. Her mother had tried to keep the seedier side of working in a pub away from her for as much as she could, but there was no way to avoid experiencing the occasional hopeless drunk from time to time. Almost without thinking, she did exactly what her mother would’ve done as she sat him up, got one arm over her shoulder, and through equal-parts cajoling and remonstration, she eventually managed to get him back onto the bed, where he immediately fell straight back into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

  Concerned he might be sick enough to drown in his own vomit or something similarly horrible if left to his own devices, she proceeded to pull up an armchair and settled herself down for the long haul, reading quietly from a bible as she kept him company. Once or twice he cried out, startling her a little, and at other times he burst into soft, incoherent sobs that went on for minutes at a time, although he never woke up so far as she could tell.

  It was dusk by the time Rupert came to relieve her, hugging her tightly before sending her off to the dinner he’d brought to her room and seating himself in the chair in her stead. Too exhausted to even read, Gold almost immediately drifted off into a light sleep of his own, head propped up awkwardly and held aloft by an elbow resting precariously against the arm of the chair.

  Uncle Rupert had confirmed the worst: that as she’d feared, Eileen Donelson and Mal Langdale had left that afternoon on the same transport that had flown them in; and that knowledge somehow made everything so much worse… so final. Without any thought to the meal lying on a trolley by the door, Briony curled up into a ball on her own bed and also began to cry, the events of that terrible afternoon having dredged up any number of demons and painful memories from her own immediate past – feelings of grief and loss that she was still struggling to deal with on a daily basis over the recent, separate deaths of both her parents.

  Completely unheard by anyone within the separate bedrooms, and completely unnoticed by anyone outside, the figure dressed in a plain, white suit slipped into the suite with the use of a master key and made his way carefully across to a large steamer trunk near the wide main windows. Opening the two main doors revealed a number of drawers and shelves within, all set below a half-size rack of hangars for suits, trousers and the like.

  He proceeded to open a wide, flat drawer at the very bottom, inside which lay Thorne’s RAF dress uniform, neatly pressed and folded and wrapped in brown paper for storage. Taking care not to tear the wrapping, he folded it back and then lifted one of the lapels, revealing the inner lining beneath. With his other hand, he carefully slipped a thin, beige envelope inside before replacing the material and rewrapping it with equal care. Five minutes later he was gone, with no one any the wiser.

  20.Aftermath

  IJN Fleet Carrier Yamato

  His Majesty’s Naval Base Singapore

  It was a hot and exhaustingly-humid afternoon, and everyone was feeling the strain as the sun beat down mercilessly on the steel deck of the huge carrier as it lay at anchor at the heart of the British naval base. Even the two battleships moored alongside were dwarfed by its great bulk as it towered over the piers, docks and workshops below. Fighter and strike aircraft circled above, distant but close enough to turn in at a moment’s notice, should the need arise, and while none of the guns of the dozens of British warships present were trained directly upon these three interlopers, the fact remained that every single Allied vessel was at battle stations, their gun crews primed and ready to engage, should the whole thing turn out to be some kind of suicidal trick.

  Mutsu and Kirishima had come in with Yamato the day before, escorted by six British battleships and a brace of heavy cruisers. By order of Yamamoto himself, the crews of all three ships – those not on duty – had lined the decks and given their salute as they’d arrived, the gesture intended to honour the Allied forces present… forces whom, up until the preceding midnight, had been their mortal enemy.

  Hundreds of native labourers had worked feverishly the entire morning in concert with Japanese sailors to set up marquees and a small grandstand – one which by noon was filled with high-ranking Commonwealth civilians and military dignitaries from all three services, along with a smattering of selected American officials flown in to present their support for the formal confirmation of the ceasefire that had officially come into effect three nights before, the only ongoing hostilities the battles currently raging between Japanese and Soviet forces in northern Manchukuo. On either side of the grandstand, ranks of Japanese and Allied servicemen stood at attention, all clothed in their finest military dress and also sweltering in the oppressive humidity.

  Suffering silently in full ceremonial attire, Prince Konoye led the Japanese delegation, the ceremony taking place on an IJN warship by mutual agreement. As he stood at a dais sheltered inadequately by a small awning, just two of his Imperial General Headquarters – Yamamo
to and Oikawa – stood behind him in a gathering of Japanese military and civilian officials that also included Kido and Miyagi. That same night the surrender terms had been accepted, Umezu and Anami had committed ritual suicide in their private compartments. Official replacements were yet to be named.

  A small table had been set up between the dais and the grandstand, and there’d been solemn, reserved silence as Konoye had approached and signed the Instrument of Armistice, followed directly on the Allied side by Mountbatten, acting as proxy for The King and for Commonwealth Military Forces in general. It was directly after this that Konoye had personally requested a moment to speak to the audience in general, unfolding several typed sheets of paper and laying them atop the dais.

  “Lord Mountbatten… Military Forces… Ladies and Gentlemen…” He began in good English, his voice ringing out tinnily through the Tannoy speakers set up across the forward flight deck at regular intervals. “As hostilities come to a close, we in Japan must now reflect upon what originally turned us down this road to war.

  “Over the last hundred years, the European powers have stretched out across the word and established their vast colonies throughout Asia and the Pacific, their success driven by trade and ambition, and secured through the overwhelming supremacy of their technological and military might.

  “Although a comparative newcomer to international affairs, it was Japan who was the first of all Asian nations to build a constitutional government, and through strength of will and clarity of purpose, remained independent throughout this European expansion. The success of the Japan-Russia War – the first major victory in modern times of an Asian nation against a European power – acted as an encouragement to many living under colonial rule around the globe.

  “Japan strove to be a truly modern nation – to become the nation that we are today – however the disaster of the Great Depression, in combination with the trade restrictions placed on our country Western powers, particularly the United States – undeniably dealt the Japanese economy a terrible blow. Our nation is one of necessary expansion; one in need of colonial territories to supply food and raw materials for her seventy million people: territories needed simply to survive.

  “With such desperate need to lift the embargoes place upon us, it shames me to admit that our domestic political system failed its people, allowing militarist fanatics to take control. With sanctions tightening and our own feelings of isolation and abandonment growing at the hands of those we had considered friends during the Great War of just twenty-five years before, these men turned to more desperate measures and far more dangerous allies in search of a solution to this economic impasse.

  “As a people and as a nation, we lost sight of the reality that was now clear to many other nations of the world: that there is no solution to be found in unchecked aggression. In losing sight of this, and in taking counsel from duplicitous and untrustworthy allies, Japan was deceived – both from within and from without – and against all better judgement, our nation began its journey along the road to war.

  “Truly, we must look now to The Eight Virtues of Bushidō to show us the way: Righteousness; Courage; Compassion; Respect; Integrity; Honour; Duty and Self-Control. These are the codes that the noble Japanese has known and lived for centuries: these are the ways of the Samurai.

  “On this day of Armistice, I bow my head deeply before the souls of all who have perished, both at home and overseas, and on behalf of the nation, I express my feelings of profound grief and eternal sorrow. Too many innocent lives have been lost already on both sides because of this war, and in the bombing and destruction of Hiroshima and Kure, we have seen, in the death of hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians, the terrible future of warfare itself: a future we must all prey will never come to pass.

  “We return now to pre-war borders, with the understanding that Japanese soldiers will never again cross uninvited into other nations’ lands. With deepest sincerity, Japan now makes this pledge: that as a nation that will forever more remain under the free and democratic rule of law, we all vow to uphold this promise to never again make unjust war against another nation… that from hereon in, Japan will forever seek to defend rather than attack.”

  The applause, what little there was, was muted and restrained. In spite of the pervading feeling of relief regarding the cessation of hostilities, it was still far too soon for many to be able to give accolade to the leader of a country with which they’d ostensibly still been at war with just twelve hours before. Rather, there were solemn nods of appreciation and, here and there, silent prayers that the sentiments expressed were genuine.

  All eyes glanced upward a moment later as an entire squadron of RAF Mustangs cruised past in formation overhead, followed close behind by a similar formation of USN Corsairs invited specifically for the flypast. The third rank to pass drew more attention as the XB-42 appeared over the base for the first time, the alien howl of its jet engines joined by those of Hindsight’s KC-10A Extender and C-5M Super Galaxy as the two huge transports escorted it across the sky above to a chorus of gasps and whispers of disbelief. To the Japanese officials present, it was a stark and none-too-subtle reminder of the ongoing vulnerability of their homeland, should they ever think to renege on the agreement being signed that day.

  Last of all came a four RAAF Bushrangers, as loud and raucous as the jets that had just preceded them. They approached at full throttle in a tight, V-formation, and as they passed overhead, the leader of the second pair pulled sharply upward in a ‘Missing Man’ fly-by, climbing away almost vertically away as the others continued on their original course. Performed as a salute to the fallen, the departure upward of the lone aircraft was intended to symbolise those lost in battle, ever-remembered by those with whom they served.

  “It was a fine speech the price gave, Miyagi-san,” Kido acknowledged tiredly as the pair retired to the Privy Seal’s private rooms aboard Kongo, some hours later. “Strong sentiment and great honesty, yet at the same time, never once was there an outright apology given, although I don’t doubt that many of those gaijin will believe that they heard one. An interesting phrase: ‘unjust war’.” He added with a soft snort of derision. “None of us considered the last one to be ‘unjust’, of course, but the Allies will read into it what they will. Fine sentiment nevertheless,” he repeated with an approving nod. “Was it yours…?”

  “It would have been an honour to have written those words, My Lord,” he admitted with a half-smile and a shake of his head. “Unfortunately, I cannot take credit: it was written by a friend: Abe Kan – a member of the Diet from Yamaguchi Prefecture.”

  “Ahh, yes… I remember Abe-san…” Kido nodded with a smile as he shrugged off his ceremonial jacket and gave a sigh of relief, thankful that there appeared to be air-conditioning within the commandeered captain’s quarters. “A good man; an independent candidate, I believe… one who was opposed to the idea of war with the United States…”

  “Just so, My Lord…” Miyagi agreed, taking of his own suit jacket and loosening his tie. “He was aided by Miki Takeo – another independent member – but I believe the bulk of the piece was written by Abe.”

  “Strong families there,” Kido observed conversationally as a midshipman took his robes and carried them away. “They will do well in politics, those two, if I am not mistaken. We will need strong men in the years to come: men unafraid to do what must be done to keep Nihon safe.”

  A single shot rang out in that moment, soft but unmistakeable from somewhere within the corridors of the great ship. There was a distant cry of alarm and the sound of running feet, and as Miyagi turned in shock and surprise, Kido reached out and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “Calm yourself, Miyagi-san…” he urged, not appearing at all surprised or concerned, and the younger man found himself feeling vaguely ill at ease over that realisation. “Leave us!” He added, directing the order at the pair of junior officers standing patiently by the open hatchway, awaiting any command. With a
single bow, each man pivoted on his heels and left the room, closing the bulkhead door behind them.

  “Sit, man… sit down and rest: it is too hot to be standing any longer!”

  They took chairs opposite each other at the captain’s desk, Miyagi all-the-while staring wildly about in fear that some unknown assailant might burst in at any moment.

  “Perhaps there is an assassin on loose?” He fretted, civilian life having left him ill-prepared for the brutalities of war or the danger of physical violence.

  “My friend, that was Prince Konoye…” Kido explained softly, the smile on his lips fading into sadness at the thought.

  “My Lord, surely we should…” Miyagi began, then halted as the reality of what the man had just said sunk in. “My Lord, it cannot be!” He cried out, shaking his head. “There is so much to be done! How could he do this… now…?”

  “How could he not do this?” Kido asked quietly. “The man was forced to stand as representative of The Emperor and bow down before our enemies, while their cursed bombers fly overhead and add salt to our already festering wounds of shame! He has done what needed to be done for the Empire and has chosen an honourable path.”

  “He was needed, My Lord… we are all needed in this time of crisis!”

  “Nihon needs young men now to lead, Miyagi-san, not dinosaurs from another age. As I have already said: we need men prepared to do whatever it takes to secure the nation and keep The Emperor safe. Men like Abe and Miki… men like you…”

  “My Lord, I was only…”

  “You do yourself great disservice to deny your role in all this,” Kido cut him off with a wave of his hand, but at the same time, Miyagi couldn’t help but notice a dark edge creeping into his tone. “Do you think there could have been any hope of retaining our territories, had Tōjō still lived? He would have fought to the bitter end, destroying our nation and heritage into the bargain. Much as it pains me to admit this, you may have ultimately saved the future of our country by betraying us to the enemy…”