by Bob Mayer
I do not understand why the primary target of the American fleet was canceled and we were diverted here, but I believe that the Genoysha knows what is best and my wanderings and questioning must stay with me.
I also do not know why I was told not to detonate the bomb; that it would be taken care of by another. What if this other person is delayed or stopped? I am here now. I can do it. But duty must come first. I obey.
I am wet and cold and I will be dead soon. If this is found, please excuse my ramblings. I do not question my orders, but a man who is about to die should be allowed to speak to the paper freely. If you find me, you will know I did my duty as I was ordered to.
However, I know there is another detonator and I believe that this submarine, my body, and all around will cease to exist soon, if the Sun Goddess smiles upon our homeland.
I have no family so to the Society I say my farewells. I will do as I must to end my life. I do not wish to allow the cold or lack of air to kill me. It is not the brave way.
Hatari.
Black Ocean.
Nishin looked up at Hatari. He had committed hara kiri in the traditional manner, pushing the knife in, then slicing across his abdomen. To do it required tremendous strength of will. To do it alone, on the chance that the wound would not be immediately fatal and not having a person acting as second to behead you in that case, took even more courage. Nishin bowed his head toward his long-ago comrade and said a prayer to the Sun Goddess. Then he noticed that there was a folded page further in the log. He turned to it and uncreased the page. In the slant of the characters and’ the angry way the pen had been pressed into the page, Nishin could tell the mood of the man who had written it.
I could not kill myself right away. I wanted to wait, to experience the final moment when the bomb explodes. Yet it has been eight hours since I arrived here. I have been betrayed! I have tried the detonator. It does not work” I opened up the back. It is not functional! Perhaps the frequency they gave me is the wrong one. They did not trust me. Why? Why?
It is as I feared. I had heard rumors that the Genoysha was negotiating with enemies of Japan. With the Russians at least. Maybe with others. What was my purpose in bringing this weapon here if I was not to set it off? That question bothered me as I crossed the ocean and I thought of the second detonator. But I trusted in the Sun Goddess, the Society, and the Genoysha. But I am here now, at the target, with a detonator that cannot work. I have been betrayed!
If you find this, then know that I die alone and I die bravely. Braver then those who sent me here. I curse them!
Nishin read that page, then reread. He looked at the detonator and checked the screws on the back. It was obvious from the way the metal was scratched that it had been opened.
Now it was Nishin’s turn to question his mission. Why had he been sent here to stop the Koreans and then told to do nothing when the Koreans were coming again? Why had the Yakuza turned on him? Why did he have a tracking device inside of him? How did the Yakuza have so much information?
As he sat down against the cold wall of the sub, across from Hatari’s body, Nishin was no longer praying. He was thinking.
Lake came across the body of the diver hooked onto the metal pole. He looked at it for a second, noted the stab wounds, then continued.
A mile and a half to the west of the Golden Gate, the Sullivan and the stealth ship slid by each other less than eight hundred meters apart, neither aware of the other’s presence. On the bridge of the stealth, Araki was watching the small computer screen on his ever-present laptop.
“The reading is weak,” he said. “Distorted.”
The captain of the stealth had tracked homing devices before and was familiar with all the possible readings. “That is because the man you are seeking is underwater.”
“Get me there,” Araki ordered. “Prepare the swimmer delivery vehicle and my dive gear. Now!”
The captain looked at the digits on the clock above the control panels. “Sir, if we are to make—”
“Do as I order!” Araki yelled.
The captain was not happy, sailing about blindly in the fog. He could not turn his own radar on because it would cancel out the ship’s invisibility. Reluctantly, he ordered the engine room to increase thrust.
In the shadow of the north tower, Okomo and Ohashi had watched the Sullivan go by on their radar screen. There had been a slight image just after that, as if a small boat was out there but it had quickly disappeared.
Okomo checked his watch. His divers had another half hour of air. Then he was going to have to go back for them regardless of whether anyone else showed up or not. He went to the floor below the bridge to inform his passengers of that.
Just to the south of the drama being played out on and in the waters of the Golden Gate, the tilt-jet was slowing as the wings rotated from horizontal to vertical. Looking out the window, Kuzumi could see that they were very low over the ocean, perhaps thirty feet up. He could see a line of white in the darkness ahead: breakers hitting the shore. Kuzumi could tell that Nakanga was very nervous. Kuzumi had not filled him in on what was going to happen, but he knew there was very good reason why that was so. It was because Kuzumi didn’t know what was going to happen. He was playing this by ear. He just wanted to be within earshot to do something once he did find out what was happening.
CHAPTER 16
SAN FRANCISCO HARBOR
THURSDAY, 9 OCTOBER 1997
12:48 A.M. LOCAL
Lake was like a spider on the fender, arms and legs holding to the concrete, his head pointing down. He looked at the midget sub and the object it had towed in the glow of his headlamp for several moments. He knew that whoever had killed the diver caught on the pipe had to be around here. His gaze flickered over the dark terrain and saw nothing moving or hiding. In the sub, Lake thought. He crawled down, then onto the sub and up the conning tower. From the way the rust and dirt had been disturbed he could tell that the handle had been touched.
Lake considered the situation. With only one entrance, and that one being an airlock, there was no way to get in without whoever was inside knowing he was coming. That made them even, Lake thought, as he turned the handle for the outside hatch. As he cracked it, an air bubble burst out. Lake slid in, pulling the hatch shut behind him and securing it.
He looked down at the handle at his feet. If the person inside didn’t want him in, all they had to do was jam it. He grabbed it and twisted. It turned freely.-The hatch was designed to open in and the moment he loosened it enough, it fell open with an explosion of water into the sub. Lake followed, the Hush Puppy at the ready.
His feet hit the side of the compartment and slid out from under him. Despite losing his balance his hands were working on the Hush Puppy, drawing back the slide, which ejected the chamber plug making it ready to shoot.
Which Lake didn’t do as he came to a halt half against the floor and wall, the muzzle of the weapon steady on the other occupant of the submarine. Who had an old-style Japanese pistol trained in reverse parallel to Lake’s aim.
“Nishin,” Lake said, spitting out his regulator after seeing that the other man was breathing the sub’s air.
The Japanese man raised an eyebrow. “How do you know my name?”
“An agent of your government has been following you,” Lake said, his grip still steady on the gun. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the other man, but in his peripheral vision he could see there was a body next to Nishin.
“Was he following me using a bug inside my body?” Nishin asked.
“Yes.”
“Ah.” Nishin was staring at Lake. “Your name is Lake. You are the American gun dealer. Except that is your cover. You really work for an organization called the Ranch.”
“How did you know that?” Lake asked.
“I was told so by the Yakuza.”
Lake was surprised that the Yakuza would know about him and the Ranch. Of course, he imagined that Nishin wasn’t too thrilled about having a bug in him. He als
o realized that he really didn’t know why Nishin was here.
“Now that we’ve been properly introduced,” Lake said, “what now?”
He knew he could kill Nishin with a pull of the trigger. And the odds were the other man would be dead before he could pull his own trigger. Of course he also knew that Nishin could have done the same at any moment also. But
Lake had a feeling that Nishin held some of the pieces of this mystery and Lake wanted answers more than he wanted another body. Why Nishin hadn’t fired yet, he didn’t know.
“I do not know,” Nishin said. “I should kill you, I suppose. But there is information that you have that I desire. A compromise perhaps?”
Lake didn’t trust Nishin and he knew the other man didn’t trust him. But they were currently in a lose-lose situation. They were both professionals, which meant they both knew that if they had wanted to kill the other, somebody would be dead right now. Nishin lowered his weapon and Lake followed suit.
“Who is that?” Lake said, finally looking at the mummified body. He grimaced as he spotted the hand on the knife and the slashed midsection. It was fortunate it was so cold down here or else the air inside of the submarine would have been foul. The body had dehydrated and the flesh was brown and wrinkled.
“The operator of this ship,” Nishin said. “A man named Hatari.”
Lake pointed at the box next to Hatari’s body. “Is that the detonator for the bomb?”
Nishin laughed, which surprised Lake. “It is supposed to be,” Nishin said. “But it is not functional.”
“After all these years it…” Lake began, but Nishin cut him off.
“I know it should not work after all these years, but it was not functional in 1945,” he said. He picked it up and tossed it to Lake.
“How do you know that?” Lake turned it over in his hands, looking at it, then he stuck it under his weight belt.
Nishin held up a leather-bound book. “The ship’s log. Hatari tried to detonate the bomb. Nothing happened.”
Lake remembered Feliks’s boasting about deals being made and broken back then. What the hell was this all about?
Nishin must have seen the look on his face, because the Japanese man tucked his gun into his pants. “Hatari was betrayed. I am beginning to believe I might also be betrayed.” He tapped his left buttocks. “Someone put this bug into me without my knowledge. Things are most strange.”
Lake had to agree with that. “I think I have been betrayed also.” He felt like he was talking to Harmon again, letting out information and thoughts that his training said he shouldn’t but the circumstances and his gut instincts told him he should. Nishin was a killer, but so was Lake.
Nishin didn’t seem at all surprised by’ Lake’s worry. “I have been a fool. I have been told that by a Yakuza Oyabun and I am beginning to believe he is right.”
You’re not alone, Lake wanted to say. Was Feliks right? Was he just a stooge who followed orders? Was Nishin one also? Had Hatari been in the same situation in 1945? Lake slid the Hush Puppy into his holster.
“There are many people after this bomb,” Lake said. “I think we—”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” Nishin snapped. “I am not one of you. I am Japanese and that is where my allegiance lies. I am Black Ocean and that is where my allegiance lies. I might be a fool and not know what is going on, but I must be loyal. This man”—Nishin nudged Hatari’s shoulder-“was betrayed, but he was also Black Ocean and he died like a man. I will do the same if it is necessary.” Nishin’s hand strayed to the butt of his gun.
“The bomb will still be here even if you kill me,” Lake said. “What do you plan on doing with it?”
“One thing at a time. I will think of that when I am done with you,” Nishin said.
“How about if we do this together?” Lake said. “You don’t want anyone to find the bomb and I don’t want anyone to find the bomb.”
“I do not think—” Nishin began, but he paused as a metal thud reverberated through the interior of the submarine. They both looked up as if they could see through the metal skin and spot what had caused the noise. Both had instinctively drawn their guns.
“A visitor,” Lake said.
“Your people?” Nishin demanded, the gun focused right between Lake’s eyes.
“For all I know it could be your people,” Lake replied as he swung the hatch he had come in back up and wheeled it shut.
“It cannot be my people,” Nishin said. “It might be your CPI friend and his people. They are well equipped.”
“I guess we’ll find out shortly,” Lake said. He moved across the sub to Nishin’s side, ignoring the other’s gun. They both watched, waiting to see what wild card was going to be played into their standoff. From the sound, Lake guessed that someone with a submersible vehicle had come down. He figured that meant either Araki’s or Feliks’s men, the two agencies that had the technology.
He could hear the outer hatch opening. He glanced at Nishin, but the other man’s face showed no emotion. The outer hatch closed. Then Lake could see the inside wheel turning. It shot open with a gush of water and Lake blinked, keeping his gun focused on the figure that dropped in.
It was Araki dressed in a full-body black wet suit. “Lake!” he called out as he got his bearings. He had a submachine gun in his hands, which he brought to bear on Nishin.
“Hold it, Araki!” Lake yelled. “Don’t shoot!”
“He is Black Ocean!” Araki cried out. “He must die!”
Lake didn’t bother to argue further. He kicked, knocking the sub out of Araki’s hand. “Damn it, just hold on a second!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Lake saw Nishin taking aim. Lake clamped down on Nishin’s gun hand, his thumb jammed into the gap between the hammer and the chamber, preventing it from firing. “Will both of you just hold on a goddamn minute?”
Araki drew a knife. He slashed and to Lake’s astonishment the blade flew at his face. Lake felt the blade cut into his cheek and slide along as he ducked, parting flesh and sending jolts of pain to his brain. In one smooth movement, Araki reversed the blade and the blade slammed into Nishin’s left shoulder. It was out just as quickly, a spurt of blood coming from the wound.
Lake and Nishin both let go of Nishin’s gun and scrambled out of the way of Araki’s knife, a blur of steel flitting back and forth between them. Nishin feinted forward and the blade went toward him. To Lake’s astonishment, Nishin caught the blade in his hand and grabbed hold. Lake didn’t waste the effort. He slammed an open palm on the left side of Araki’s head, knocking the agent against the steel wall, out cold.
Nishin slowly opened his hand. The knife had cut through skin and tendons to the bone. Blood flowed freely. Lake grabbed a rag and wrapped it around Nishin’s hand to stop the bleeding.
“Jesus,” Lake muttered as he worked. “I don’t know why he was so damn trigger-happy.”
Nishin was holding the knife that had cut him in his undamaged hand and looking at it with a strange expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Lake asked.
“I recognize this steel,” Nishin said. “This blade.”
“What—” Lake began, but Nishin leaned forward and before Lake could stop him, he had the tip of the blade inside the collar of Araki’s wet suit.
“Now hold on,” Lake said.
Nishin ignored him, slicing neatly through the rubber down to Araki’s navel. The material peeled back to reveal an intricate tattoo on Araki’s chest. Of a sun rising over a black ocean.
“He is not CPI,” Nishin said, throwing the knife to the floor with a clang. “He is Black Ocean.”
“But…” Lake began, then shut up as he collected his thoughts.
“I do not know him,” Nishin said, answering one of the questions that flittered across Lake’s brain.
“He was the one who was tracking you,” Lake said. _ “Of course,” Nishin said. His voice was quiet, introspective as if he was talking to himself. “The Society could ha
ve put a bug in me while I was unconscious when they worked on me after my last mission.”
“Why?” Lake asked, looking down at the man who up until a minute ago he had believed worked for the Japanese government.
“I do not know,” Nishin said. “I was ordered to back off and not pursue this matter any further. He must not have expected me to be here.”
“What a shit pile was Lake’s less than elegant summation of their situation. But it was all he could think of.
“As you were saying,” Nishin said, “what do we do now?”
Lake looked at Araki, then at the hatch. “Let’s see what kind of ride we have.”
Nishin nodded. “But first…,” he said as he reversed the knife and slammed it into Araki’s chest. The body twitched once, then was still.
Lake stared at him. “Why did you do that?”
“He was going to kill both of us. There is no point to keeping an enemy alive.”
Ohashi picked his way through the fog very slowly. They could hear the blasts from the south tower foghorn slowly grow stronger. Visibility was less than twenty feet. The Yakuza on the forward deck held their weapons at the ready.
“Anything on radar?” Okomo asked.
“We have the same one contact to the west,” Ohashi replied. “The ship that passed through earlier.”
“What is it doing?”
“It’s circling, as if it was waiting.”
Okomo gripped the bottom edge of the open window that faced forward. Where was everyone? Where were the North Koreans? The Black Ocean? The Americans? The CPI? One of those four must be to the west, but where were the other three?
