‘We’re not going across,’ said Steve. ‘We’re gonna go round the edge.’ With the aid of the map, he explained the plan to his unwilling shipmate. They would work their way around the curving southern shore of the lake, staying in deep water but keeping in sight of the shore.
As weather protection, skins and furs would be draped over a wooden frame to create a dry space in which they would take turns to sleep. Steve also proposed adding a mast and sail, like the small Iron Master boats they had seen on the Hudson River. The sail would be made by sewing several talking mats together. The rectangular mats, made of woven straw, were one of the items bartered by the Japs at the trading post.
For food, Steve proposed to take a supply of dried fish, to be supplemented with whatever they managed to catch on the way. This would have to be done by trailing lines over the side because his intention was to keep moving day and night. They would take the nets as proof they were simple fisherfolk but these would only be used if their passage round the shore aroused the suspicion of other lake-dwellers.
Once they were at Benton Harbour, they would station themselves off-shore then, having carefully spied out the land with the aid of their ‘scopes, they would cast their nets then approach the mooring and try to sell the Japs some of their catch.
This, explained Steve, was where Cadillac’s special gifts came into play. If this ruse could be repeated, Cadillac could use his command of the Japanese language to eavesdrop on the crew’s conversation in the hope of picking up some indication of when the wheelboat carrying the punitive expedition was expected to arrive. By the time it appeared on the horizon, they would, with luck, have become a familiar sight and would be able to stay close by when it dropped anchor without arousing suspicion.
Once having inspected their prey, it would be a relatively easy matter to get on board – a feat Steve had already accomplished the previous year. Their first hiding place would be on top of the piles of logs stacked around the engine room. From there on in, they would have to play it by ear. ‘Okay, that’s the plan as far as it goes. Now pick holes in it.’
Cadillac stared into the fire and considered Steve’s proposals. The idea of spending just one day rocking back and forth in one of the Kojak’s frail fishing boats was awful enough; the prospect of being trapped on board for several weeks didn’t bear thinking about. But he was obliged to put on a brave face in order not to lose the initiative. Although flawed, the plan had much to recommend it for once they got aboard, everything hinged on his linguistic skills – and that would put him back in the driving seat …
It was time to redress the balance. ‘Has it occurred to you that there might already be a clan of boat-men living near Benton Harbour? If they’re already trading with the Japs, they might get a little upset if we try to horn in.’
Steve shrugged off the objection. ‘We’ll tell ’em we lost our way. Winds blew us off course.’
‘Okay, suppose they offer to show us the way back?’
‘That’s something we’ll have to work out when we get there. Come on, Caddy. The Japs may have chosen that spot precisely because there wasn’t anyone in the neighbourhood.’
‘They might have. Suppose they aren’t interested in trading with us. The Japs are pretty good fishermen themselves.’
‘There’s no harm in asking. Christo! We’ve got to take a few chances! When I said pick holes in the plan, I meant major flaws. The points you’re raising are piddleshit!’
‘I’ve only just started. But, okay, I’ll give you one major flaw. Using a sail of straw matting. The Kojaks haven’t developed sails which, if you think about it, means that none of their neighbours have either. The wheelboats that visit the trading post are propelled by steam-powered paddles. The only place a Mute could have seen boats with square-cut sails made of woven straw is Ne-Issan. If I was the captain of that Jap boat at Benton Harbour and I saw some Mutes come sailing in I’d be a bit suspicious, wouldn’t you?’
Steve’s eyes narrowed as he ran through the scenario. ‘Good point … I’m glad you thought of that.’
‘I’ve got another idea which might work better than trying to unload a pile of unwanted fish.’
‘Okay, let’s have it.’
‘Instead of sending that pigeon the Japs are waiting for, why don’t we carry the message instead?’
‘You mean from Carnegie-Hall?’
‘Yes. We take the two pigeons back alive and the remaining ribbons to establish our bonafides –’
‘And confirm that the Kojak are still holding the five travellers …’
‘And that the one who was wounded is making a recovery.’
‘I like it,’ said Steve, warming to the idea. ‘And we can give ’em a crash helmet and a couple of the spare handguns as a little taster.’
‘Good idea. But here’s the best bit.’ Cadillac paused, relishing the moment. ‘We explain to the Japs that – for some reason we’ll invent later – the clan has moved its settlement further inland and we’ve been sent as guides to lead the Iron Masters onto their quarry. Which means that our two crewmen can paddle off home and … we get a free ride on the wheel-boat –’
‘Until which time, we’re guests of the Jappos – and have the free run of Benton Harbour …’
‘And Clearwater will know in advance that we’re in position and, maybe – if we get a lucky break – when the wheelboat is due.’
Steve saw it all in glorious videocolour. Even if they rode below decks, they would not be travelling as stowaways. They would be right at the heart of the action, with Cadillac able to eavesdrop on everyone within earshot. Steve hid his annoyance at being upstaged once again, ‘Not bad,’ he admitted.
‘Not bad?’ exclaimed Cadillac, mimicking his rival. ‘It’s absolutely fucking brilliant!’
Clearwater hugged them excitedly. They both slid an arm around her waist and closed the circle by gripping each others’ wrists. Like true soul-brothers …
Chapter Ten
Despite some squalls en route which left the outrigger ankle deep in water, the trip from navref Chicago to Benton Harbour was accomplished without any major incidents. Boats from other clans had been sighted, but on each occasion, as Steve predicted, they were able to pass unchallenged.
The first half of the voyage had been made with the help of a mast and a sail hoisted on a primitive yard-arm; the remaining stretch was covered by paddle-power alone. It was a punishing exercise. For a while it felt as if their arms were being torn loose from their shoulders but their tough, young bodies were able to take the strain.
The hardest thing to cope with was the motion sickness. Steve felt queasy for the first couple of days but managed to arrive in reasonably good shape; Cadillac, on the other hand, spent most of the trip with his head hanging over the side. What little food he ate was regurgitated as soon as it reached his stomach, but even when his digestive tubes had been emptied, he continued to groan and heave in such an alarming fashion, his shipmates began to think he was trying to turn himself inside out.
Worried by the impression they might make if Cadillac – a supposed representative of a clan of hardy fisher-folk – staggered ashore pallid and weak-kneed, Steve persuaded the Kojak boatmen – Raging-Bull and Death-Wish – to beach their boat overnight south of navref Benton Harbour before presenting themselves to the Japs. The break allowed Cadillac to consume hot food and drink and gave his stomach time to digest it while he slept soundly for several hours on terra firma.
At dawn, they put to sea with the rising sun on their backs then circled round to approach the out-station from the south-west – a manoeuvre designed to give the Iron Masters the impression they had crossed Lake Mi-shiga without making landfall. The sea which had churned their stomachs during the previous four days was either mercifully calm or ominously flat depending on the degree of optimism with which each member of the intrepid quartet viewed the next crucial stage of the operation.
Raging-Bull and Death-Wish had been instructed to convey Stev
e and Cadillac to their chosen destination then return home, bearing news of their safe arrival and any additional message they were given. Neither of the boatmen knew of the plan to sink the wheelboat. This was not because of lack of trust – the two Kojaks had already taken a big risk delivering them to Benton Harbour. It was a simple safety precaution in case things went seriously wrong. The less they knew, the better it was for everybody concerned.
Izo Wantanabe, the pint-sized pipsqueak in charge of the 30-strong unit at Benton Harbour came ashore to meet them without his mask and after the usual bowing that characterized the face-to-face encounters between Mutes and Iron Masters at the trading posts, the Jap listened civilly while they relayed Carnegie-Hall’s message then presented him with the remaining lengths of coloured ribbon and the two caged pigeons. Wantanabe appeared to accept their story at face value but his unchanging expression gave no clue to what he was thinking. It was only when they unwrapped the two Tracker hand-guns, and one of the crash-helmets taken from the AMEXICO pilots at Long Point that his interest quickened. One of the guns had an empty magazine, but when Wantanabe pressed the trigger, an explosive blast of air shot from the muzzle. CHU-wii-CHU-wii-CHU-wii!!
Hawwwwww!
The Jap was taken by surprise, but fortunately he held onto the gun and covered his confusion by laughing loudly as Steve and Cadillac leapt into the air with expressions of mock terror. The watching soldiers men joined in the laughter at the exaggerated antics of the grass-monkeys, neatly avoiding a loss of face.
Taking care not to appear too knowledgeable, Cadillac explained that the second gun still contained ‘long sharp iron’ which was thrown through the air by a fierce wind demon imprisoned in a bottle concealed in the part Wantanabe held in his hand. After firing one triple volley into the water, the Jap watched his sergeant fire several more then pronounced himself satisfied. His approach to the the hi-tech crash helmet was more revealing and reminded Steve of the way Noburo Nakajima, the tough but amiable leader of the ronin had shied away from the inner workings of the radio-knife.
Wantanabe could see it was a warrior’s helmet of some kind but he also knew – as he had known when he surveyed the interior of the winged chariot – that the polished, bone-hard blue plastic shell with its soft padded lining, silvered visor, earphones, filters, mike and jack plug sockets were unknown forms from an alien world where the Dark Light held sway. Guns were one thing, but this was bad news.
Steve watched with quiet amusement as Cadillac offered the helmet for examination, turning it this way and that as Wantanabe directed. But the guy wouldn’t touch it. After he’d given it the once-over, he told Cadillac to wrap it up again then ordered his sergeant to take charge of it. The soldier produced his kubibukoro – the bag used for carrying the severed head of an enemy. Cadillac placed the wrapped helmet inside, leaving the sergeant looking as happy as someone holding a timebomb with ten seconds on the clock.
After thanking them in a rather stilted fashion, Wantanabe returned to the houseboat. Having listened in while Wantanabe gave orders concerning them, Cadillac already knew what was coming next but he nevertheless listened respectfully as the sergeant announced they would be provided with food and shelter.
The food turned out to be strips of raw fish and boiled rice; the shelter was a corner of the wooden hay-barn next door to where a small number of horses were stabled. A cluster of small shacks – accommodation units with raised floors – were under construction nearby. When Steve had passed overhead in November only the stable and the barn had been in place. This new onshore expansion was a clear sign that the Japs were settling in. Were they just building a bigger shop window – or staking a claim to the territory?
The plan had been for the Kojak boatmen to rest up for two or three days during which time Cadillac would eavesdrop on the Japs in the hope of picking up some indication of when the wheelboat was due. Rumours were plentiful but there was no hard intelligence. Cadillac did however glean a certain amount of anecdotal information. The sea-soldiers, he discovered, regarded Benton Harbour as the asshole of the world and were equally uncharitable about their boss. Despite his appearance, his faultless command of Japanese and upper-class diction Wantanabe was known as ‘The Chink’, and his Chinese wife had been dubbed ‘The Yellow Peril’.
Yumiko, by all accounts, was a pushy hard-faced bitch who was even more ambitious than Izo Wantanabe. And that, apparently, was saying something. On the few occasions that Steve caught a glimpse of her bland oval face and submissive public stance in the presence of her husband, he found it hard to fit the image to the reputation but as he knew only too well, appearances could be deceptive.
Within an hour of their arrival, Steve caught sight of Wantanabe releasing a carrier-pigeon from the bridge of the wheel-boat. The bird flew several wide circles around the out-station, rising higher and higher with each revolution then headed north-eastwards.
Steve was certain the message referred to the continued detention of five ‘travellers’ by Kojak but he wondered who it was addressed to. Despite the death of Lord Yama-Shita, his family were not only still in business, they were expanding their trading empire. The decision to establish out-stations had been taken long before his own arrival in Ne-Issan. Steve, of course, could not be expected to know that, or have any inkling of the whirlwind of retribution he and his four collegues had unleashed by destroying the Heron Pool.
But his gut feeling that the family would seek to get even had proved to be correct. The identity of the person who had taken over the reins of power was, in the present circumstances, of marginal importance. The real question was no longer ‘Did they intend to get even?’ but ‘When?’
Five days later, the news he and Cadillac had been waiting for came home to roost. Through his sergeant, Wantanabe had given them permission to keep themselves occupied with some inshore fishing provided they did not stray too far from the houseboat. His master, explained the sergeant, did not want the waves to swallow the men on whom so much depended. Which was fine by Steve. Staying close at hand was the whole point of the exercise.
Cadillac was the first to spot the incoming bird. He and Steve rapidly hauled in the fishing lines then, assisted by powerful strokes of the Kojak boatmen, they paddled silently but swiftly towards the houseboat. Steve had already observed that Wantanabe and his family occupied the forward part of the deckhouse immediately below the bridge and that on warm days, the sliding wall panels on the southward-facing port side were left open to let in the spring sun.
As they approached, they caught sight of Wantanabe entering the pigeon coop atop of the rear deckhouse. Cadillac signalled the others to bring the outrigger to a halt. Moving their paddles in and out of the water to avoid attracting attention to themselves, they drifted to and fro until Wantanabe emerged from the coop and hurried back to his quarters.
Cadillac directed them to move forward again. Using his paddle as a rudder, the Kojak boatman in the stern eased the outrigger alongside the houseboat until the left-hand float was only inches away from the hull.
To anyone watching their movements onshore, the occupants of the Mute vessel appeared to be letting it drift up to the beach while two of them gazed up in wonderment at the houseboat. As well they might, for the superb fit of the timbers and the details of its design and construction underlined the unbridgeable gulf between its makers and the primitive society whose best efforts was this four-seat ramshackle tub which had all the grace of a floating pig-trough – and smelt like one too.
It was no easy task to block out all the background noise and chatter and listen at the same time to the conversation taking place immediately above them. Cadillac heard a strangled cry of excitement followed by a muttered exchange between Wantanabe and a second person with a higher-pitched voice – probably that of his wife, Yumiko. The thump of swaggering footsteps, then Wantanabe’s voice again, this time loud and clear, summoning Kurabashi, the sergeant-at-arms.
Cadillac sat down and picked up his paddle as Kuraba
shi, a square-cut man with a face that looked as it had been hewn from weathered ship timber, came thudding along the deck and entered through the open screens without noticing the outrigger parked directly below. Cadillac stood up again. This time, as Wantanabe raised his voice and adopted a more official mode of address, he was able to hear everything. The wheel-boat captained by Ryuku Kawanishi would arrive at Bei-tanaba in ten days time, carrying a raiding party under the command of Samurai-Major Morita.
This second name sounded vaguely familiar but Cadillac was unable to place it. He carried on listening as Wantanabe told Kuribashi the numbers and types of soldiers involved. As he stood with one ear craned upwards, a small boy-child clad in a padded cotton jacket and trousers toddled to the rail and stared down at him.
The boy was quickly joined by a girl, about five or six years old. She put one hand on her brother’s shoulder to prevent him falling through and spoke to him in Japanese. ‘Look!’ she cried, pointing at Cadillac. ‘Monkey! Monkey! Poo! Smelly! Say “Go away, nasty monkey!” ’
The boy-child imitated her aggressive clenched-fist gesture.
A second later, Wantanabe and the sergeant appeared at the rail behind the children. Neither had the slightest reason to suspect that anyone in the boat below understood a word of Japanese but both stared down accusingly.
Fortunately, Cadillac and Steve had already worked out their next move. Bowing from the waist, Cadillac offered up the two plump fish he was holding. Steve rose, bowed, and did the same.
The Plainfolk had learned to treat the Iron Masters with respect but they were not required to avoid eye-contact and prostrate themselves like the Mute slave-workers in Ne-Issan. ‘Free-range’ grass-monkeys might be regarded as inferior beings but they were also allies and trading partners. Strategic and commercial considerations made it necessary to adopt a more relaxed attitude towards them. It was only when the annual batch of new recruits – known as ‘journey-men’ – stepped aboard the wheelboats and the anchors were lifted, that the smiles vanished and the whipping-canes appeared.
The Amtrak Wars: Blood River Page 26
