by Bob Mayer
THURSDAY, 9 OCTOBER 1997
1:20 A.M. LOCAL
Time to go up and take a peek, Lake thought as he pulled back on the center bar. The SDV glided up against the current, the Genzai Bakudan buffeting its way less smoothly ten feet behind the propellers.
The gauge on the instrument panel showed their ascent. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Lake could begin to feel the effect of the swell above. Still nothing but dark water ahead, the headlight piercing it for thirty feet. The engine of the SDV was struggling now against both the outgoing current and the weight of the Genzai Bakudan.
Ten feet. Lake felt the bow lurch up, then they were thrown down, nose pointing almost straight to the bottom. He pulled back hard and the next swell lifted them up, then the cables from the sled snapped taut, slamming both Nishin and he around on the inside. They were on the surface, bouncing about.
Water broke over the Plexiglas nose. Lake peered ahead. He could see a flashing light directly in front, less than a quarter mile away. A short, white line of breakers crashing on rock was directly below the light. Lake pushed the lever forward, moving the stabilizer, and they went down again. He descended to twenty feet and held at that depth where the surface effect wasn’t that strong. He edged forward, slightly more power going to the right screw.
He drove the SDV by feel, keeping the depth constant, edging farther right when the turbulence of the water against the rocky shoreline grew stronger. Soon he could feel the turbulence more to the right than in front, which told him he was moving along the north shore of the island. Lake edged in, remembering the tour he’d gone on to Al catraz during his time in the city. The U-shaped jetty for the island was built on the north shore. One part of the U was the shore, the other a wooden dock on pilings and the opening facing to the west. If he played his cards right, he should come right up to the center of the jetty and be able to tie up there.
Of course, Lake also realized, his hands tense on the controls, if he was too far out he’d miss the jetty altogether and if he was too close they’d hit the rocky shoreline. He wasn’t sure how much power was left in the batteries of the SDV, but his experience with similar vehicles in the SEALs told him there probably wasn’t that much. If they lost power, the weight of the bomb would pull both it and the SDV down to the bottom.
Lake took a glance over to the left. Nishin was lying there, his face inscrutable behind his mask. Looking at the Black Ocean agent, Lake again had to consider that if he did make it into the jetty, then what?
Captain Ohashi had his hands on the helm as the Alcatraz lighthouse, the first lighthouse built on the west coast of the United States, drew closer on the port bow. The sonar contact was breaking up in the “shadow” of the island.
Ohashi knew the harbor intimately and he knew that the only place that any kind of craft could put to shore on Alcatraz was at the jetty on the north side. He increased speed and aimed the prow off his ship just offshore the east end to round it and come in to the jetty from that direction.
The tilt-jet circled as Kuzumi stared at the computer screen, then out the window. “He is right below us,” he told Nakanga.
Nakanga didn’t ask who, remaining silent, waiting for the wishes of his Genoysha to be known.
“He is going to land on Alcatraz,” Kuzumi announced as the dot that reflected the bug inside Nishin merged with the northern side of the island. “Tell the pilot to put us down there.”
From the Coast Guard helicopter, Feliks could see that the tugboat was closing on Alcatraz. He, and the pilot, were startled when a strange aircraft swooped by them and descended toward the island.
“What the hell was that?” Feliks demanded.
“I don’t know, sir,” the pilot replied. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. I didn’t see any markings.”
Feliks glanced about the cabin. He could only fit two of his men on board. He turned his attention outward and was impressed when the wings of the plane that had just gone by began rotating and it started to settle onto Alcatraz. Just like the Osprey that Congress had killed, he thought, except with jets. He knew that there was a craft like it on the drawing board in the U.S. government’s black budget but no operational models. That left only one country on the planet with the technology to make such a craft.
“Follow them!” Feliks ordered.
Lake spotted the jetty two seconds before the front of the SDV hit it. He slammed both levers all the way into reverse, then cringed as the Plexiglas bounced off the wood piling that had suddenly appeared. The glass cracked but since the inside of the SDV was already exposed to the water it didn’t make any difference. He braced himself and waited, then felt the slam from the rear as the sled with Genzai Bakudan on board hit them from behind.
Lake hit the emergency button on the lower-right side of the control panel and two large water wings rapidly inflated on either side of the vehicle. They were on the surface in four seconds. Genzai Bakudan slowly settled to hang below the SDV.
The swell inside the protection of the jetty was not as great as that in the harbor. Lake and Nishin slithered out of the SDV and each took a nylon line in one hand as they attempted to make the jump from the bouncing SDV to the jetty wall. Both jumped on an up swell Climbing up to the top, they tied off their lines to metal cleats “Where are we?” Nishin asked, looking up at the imposing structure of the abandoned barracks building next to the jetty. A road ran from the jetty to their right, to a sally port that had a drawbridge and controlled access to the old prison proper. To the left, a large open area was bounded on the left by the sea and to the right by a steep slope leading up to the old military parade ground. On the high ground above them lay the big house of the abandoned prison and the lighthouse, whose light flashed above their heads every few seconds.
“Alcatraz,” Lake replied.
“There is no one here?” Nishin asked.
“Not at night,” Lake said.
“And now what do you have planned?”
To that question, Lake had no immediate answer. He’d had to concentrate on driving the SDV here, so he really hadn’t had a chance to consider future courses of action. At the very least, he felt, they weren’t tied off on the southern tower of the Golden Gate anymore.
“I guess I’ll try to get in contact with someone who can take care of the bomb,” he said.
“It would not be good for the Black Ocean if the existence of this bomb is made public,” Nishin said. “Could we not destroy it ourselves? Dismantle it somehow?”
“I don’t think …” Lake paused and cocked his head. Both he and Nishin turned and watched a large tilt-jet plane come to a landing in the open area fifty yards away.
A door in the side of the plane opened and two men armed with submachine guns jumped out. A third man came out, extending a long platform. Then that man went inside and came back out, pushing a man in a wheelchair.
“Ai!” Nishin cried out. “It is my Genoysha. The head of my Society. The man pushing him is Nakanga, my Sensei.” Lake had the Hush Puppy in his hand, Nishin a knife. Not exactly a good firepower ratio against the two men’s subs. The four men began moving across the open area toward them, the two guards slightly in the lead, the butts of their weapons tucked into their shoulders, muzzles pointing at Lake and Nishin.
They came “to a halt fifteen feet away, the guards on either flank, Nakanga directly behind the Genoysha’s wheelchair.
“Ronin Nishin, you have done well,” Genoysha Kuzumi called out.
Lake glanced over at Nishin, but he couldn’t tell anything from his face.
“Have you recovered Genzai Bakudan?” Kuzumi asked.
“Yes,” Nishin said.
“More company,” Lake said as a helicopter flashed overhead, searchlight illuminating the scene. Everyone paused and watched as the chopper settled down beyond the plane. The side door of the chopper opened and four men jumped out of it.
Lake recognized the figure of the lead man immediately. “My boss, Feliks, is here to
o,” he whispered to Nishin.
Nishin didn’t say anything in reply.
Feliks and his guards moved toward Lake and Nishin, circumventing the Japanese party. Lake and Nishin were at the point of a triangle, the Black Ocean Genoysha at another and Feliks at the third.
“One big happy party,” Lake called out. It was silent except for the sound of the surf pounding the island now that both the tilt-jet and helicopter had shut down their engines.
“Do you have the bomb?” Feliks asked.
“First I think introductions are in order,” Lake replied. “My name is Lake. I work for the Ranch, which works for the U.S. government.” Lake stabbed a thumb at his partner. “This is Nishin.-He works for the Black Ocean Society.” Lake pointed at the Japanese group. “Nishin tells me that over there is his Genoysha, or head, of the Black Ocean.”
“Do you have the bomb?” Feliks demanded.
Lake knew there was no use denying it since he had taken it as far as he could. “Yes, we have it.”
Feliks then turned toward the Black Ocean people. “I believe we can resolve this once again with—” He paused as a powerful searchlight raked across the jetty.
Everyone on land turned and watched as a tugboat pulled up to the outside of the jetty. A cluster of armed men poured off the boat, forming a skirmish line on the wood dock. Several figures climbed off the boat behind them, then the entire party moved forward.
Lake froze as he recognized a tall, slender figure in the rear of the new group: Peggy Harmon, her arm supporting an older woman dressed in a long black coat.
The Hush Puppy was forgotten in Lake’s hand. There was enough firepower in the immediate vicinity to make Swiss cheese of Nishin and him, but that wasn’t what preoccupied Lake’s mind at the moment. He suddenly realized this was all a setup. It had to be. It couldn’t have been coincidence that brought him to Harmon’s office and her here now. And Feliks and the Black Ocean Genoysha. Underneath that strategic analysis, though, was his profound disappointment in Harmon and even more so in himself for being so easily deceived and set up.
Lake was not the only one experiencing strong emotion. As the people had gotten off the tug, Kuzumi had also realized all these individuals coming to this location at the same time could not be coincidence. There had to be a hand behind it and he knew it wasn’t his, which was what concerned him the most.
He didn’t recognize the people from the tug, although Nakanga had whispered in his ear that the old man with them was the Oyabun of the San Francisco Yakuza.
“The young woman?” Kuzumi asked.
“I don’t know, Genoysha.”
Kuzumi squinted. He could not make out the features of the older woman on her arm. The night combined with a dark shawl obscured her face.
“I am glad you could all make it,” the old woman said, and Kuzumi felt his heart tremble. It could not be — but he knew it was.
“Nira!” he cried out from his wheelchair.
The old woman slowly walked forward until she was a few feet in front of Kuzumi’s wheelchair. She pulled back her shawl and looked hard at him. There was no doubting it now, Kuzumi knew. Fifty-six years had passed but he could still see the features of the young woman he had loved and who had fathered their son.
The others on the jetty were mute spectators to the reunion, all waiting to see how this played out and affected their own futures.
“Kuzumi! They told me you were dead,” Nira said.
Kuzumi felt a stab of pain that she did not step forward and bridge the gap between them. He held up a hand. “Nira!”
“You didn’t die in the plane crash, then,” Nira said, almost to herself. “How did you escape the Russians?”
“The Society traded for me.”
“And you didn’t try to get in contact with me?”
“They told me you were dead,” Kuzumi said. “That you had jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge.”
Nira laughed, but there was no mirth to it. “All these years,” she said, “and it was you ruling the Black Ocean. When did you become Genoysha?”
“In 1968.” Kuzumi’s hand was growing tired, extended as it was, yet still she did not close the gap. Nira’s voice grew firmer. “As you can tell I did not jump from the bridge, although your predecessor sent someone to throw me from it. Unfortunately for him, by that time I had friends who protected me and made it seem I was dead so that they would not send another.”
Kuzumi lowered his hand. He should have known he’d been deceived by Taiyo. As Genoysha he had never trusted anyone with the truth, why should he have expected the Genoysha before him to be any different? The burning question was why? What had happened so many years ago that led to this group being gathered here with the last Genzai Bakudan?
“I did not know,” Kuzumi said.
“No, you didn’t,” Nira said. “But I believe that you would have done the same since you are now Genoysha.”
“I do not understand,” Kuzumi said. “What happened?” ‘
A new voice cut in. “I had a deal with your predecessor,” Feliks called out. “You need to get on your plane and go back home,” he said to Kuzumi. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but you can go home, too.”
Nira slowly turned. “Yes, a deal. I would like to know what the deal was since I was one of the pawns to be sacrificed by that deal.”
“You people are so naive,” Feliks said. “It’s ancient history and it’s going to remain that way.”
“I want some answers,” Nira said. “That is why I arranged for all of you to come here.”
“You arranged?” Feliks said. “You—”
“The Patriots, your man”—Nira nodded toward Lake— “killed on the bridge were paid for and given their mission by me. They didn’t know that, but they didn’t have to. I knew they would draw the Ranch in. And once I had the Ranch drawn in, I knew the words “Genzai Bakudan’ would draw you in, Mr. Feliks. I know your name. I know you worked with Genoysha Taiyo to stop Genzai Bakudan from working.”
She turned to Kuzumi. “And the Black Ocean. I wanted you here, too, although I did not know you were the Genoysha, Kuzumi. Through my underworld sources I alerted the North Koreans to the location of the cave in Hungnam you told me about. I fed them information to keep them going, like dogs on a leash after you destroyed the cave. I directed them here to steal those documents. Documents my daughter has studied for many long years to find out if the 1-24 really made it here and if the midget submarine had actually launched. She only found that out last year. Since then I have been planning this reunion.”
“Your daughter?” Lake said.
Nira kept her attention on Kuzumi. “Yes, my daughter. I remarried after the war. An American. He was a good man and I needed him to keep my place in society even as I used the contacts I had made working for the Black Ocean to work my way into the Yakuza of San Francisco. / I am the Oyabun!”
“You may be Oyabun, but I’ve got a couple of platoons of men headed in this direction right now,” Feliks said. “So I think—”
“I do not care what you think,” Nira snapped. “I am in charge here.”
“Says who?” Feliks asked.
Nira turned to Kuzumi. “The frequency for the detonator for Genzai Bakudan?”
Kuzumi had those numbers imprinted in his memory. He told her.
Nira held up a hand and in it was a small metal box. Lake recognized it as a twin to the one in the submarine. She turned a dial on the front. “I had the special code transmitted and now I have the proper frequency. I control Genzai Bakudan.”
“That thing won’t go off,” Feliks said, but Lake could hear a little bit of uncertainty in his voice.
“I think you’d better call Randkin and check on that,” Lake said. “When I asked him, he said there was a good chance the bomb would work.”
Feliks looked about, then settled on Nira. “What do you want?” “The truth,” Nira said. “I knew one of you would have it.” She pointed at Kuzumi. “Obviously he is
ignorant of what happened since he was a captive in Russia at the end of the war and Taiyo told him nothing but lies. So you must know the truth.”
Feliks shook his head. “What good would that do now? It’s all worked out for the best. Let it go.”
“It is my life!” Nira shouted, startling everyone with such a powerful voice in such an old body. “My life. My son’s life.” She snapped her head around to Kuzumi. “James is dead, isn’t he? Or was that another lie fed me?”
“I am sorry to tell you that our son is indeed dead,” Kuzumi said.
Nira turned back to Feliks. She held up the remote. “Tell me what treachery was wrought at the end of the war.”
“It was not treachery,” Feliks said, stung by the word. “What was done was done in the mutual best interests of my country and yours,” he added, nodding toward Kuzumi. “Taiyo was a very smart man. You tried to make a deal with the Russians. Give them Genzai Bakudan in exchange for their alliance against us in the Pacific. The Russians laughed at you and took Hungnam by force even before they declared war.
“Then you turned to us. You had one Genzai Bakudan after you blew the one at Hungnam. You knew we had the bomb — make that bombs. Hell, we really didn’t need the atomic bomb, we were hitting you with enough conventional ordnance that there would be nothing left of the infrastructure of Japan by the end of the year.”
Feliks’s voice carried over the sound of the waves hitting the rocks and echoed off the stone walls above them.
“Your Emperor wanted peace, but the military didn’t want to surrender. He needed a way out. We had the bomb. You had the bomb. One of the agents the Black Ocean used here in the states, a Spanish man, approached me with the word about Genzai Bakudan. At first, I think Taiyo thought we would be willing to negotiate something more than the unconditional surrender the Allies were demanding if we knew you had an atomic weapon.”
Feliks laughed. “He was quickly disabused of the notion, especially since Roosevelt had just died and the war in Europe was over. So it was time for plan two. My superior who headed the Ranch at that time went to Truman and told him about Genzai Bakudan. And that it was enroute to attack some Allied target. This was right after Truman was briefed on the Manhattan Project.”
