“Excuse me, General,” said Ballard. “There’s something I’ve got to check on.”
MacArthur started to speak. Ballard was already gone, stepping past where men in the hallway had stretched out the soldier who had died from having some sort of multi-pointed throwing weapon embedded between his eyes.
Ballard rushed down the stairs, but when he got to the jeep there was no sign of the woman.
Kujack wore a contrite expression. “Sorry, Ballard, she’d already powdered when you took off.”
A young corporal came hurrying over to them.
“Uh, Sarge.”
“Yeah, what is it, Santella?”
“Uh, the boys say a Jap woman was involved, that one you were talking to.”
Ballard’s mental stopwatch ticked.
Less than four minutes had lapsed. She could not have gotten far.
“Did you see her, son?”
Santella nodded, pointed.
“She took off that way. There was that bunch of civilians across the street, and when the shooting started they all amscrayed like the war was on again and I guess she took off with them. No one knew—”
“Thanks, Corporal,” Ballard cut in. “Good work.”
He turned and strode off across the street, in the direction
Santella had pointed.
Kujack started to call after his back, “Hey, Ballard!
Where the hell are you—”
He gave up when he realized Ballard had already disappeared into the shadows across the street and was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Run! her mind screamed when she saw the big American loping after her.
He moved with an athletic, panther-like grace that indicated the type of man she had known him to be from the first, when he sighted and shot down the ninja outside the hotel.
This was a man of violence with the smell of death about him, not accustomed to being taken by surprise.
Everything had gone wrong. She should have come here yesterday instead of waiting until the last minute. Her warning had come too late and she had almost fallen into the Americans’ custody, which might still happen. She should have fled with the rest of the crowd of onlookers.
She had never been in a situation such as this before, and she was surprised that she retained clarity of thought despite icy stomach cramps of fear.
She crouched down behind the remains of a building that had stood across and down from the hotel.
Something made her stay behind to witness what transpired after she fled from the American sentries: the scramble in front of the hotel, the fleeing civilian onlookers, and then the American she had spoken with reappeared and was now no more than a couple hundred meters away, coming for her through the night like a stalking beast. If she remained here, he would find her. She had already lingered for too long.
Keiko tried to move lightly, an impossibility with all of the loose rubble and mortar, and with her second step she made enough noise for him to hear her. She started to run as fast as she could.
In the empty street all she could hear was her own breathing and the accelerating footfalls of the American running after her, gaining on her.
She rounded a corner where the last standing wall of a destroyed building offered some cover. She crossed a street and went into an alley, then to her right again when the alley became a narrow walkway between buildings rising above like the walls of a canyon.
Casting a look over her shoulder to see if he was behind her, she ran into him with such force that she bounced backwards, off her feet and onto the ground with the wind knocked out of her.
He said, “I want you to come quietly. There are some questions you’ve got to answer.”
She had failed. She could not run from him. Nor could she be taken back to answer their questions. She had failed. Now she lunged toward him, the dagger lancing upward, intending to catch him low in the stomach as her uncle had taught her.
He deflected the dagger with a straight arm that cuffed the lunge aside. His left hand tightened around her wrist and twisted sharply.
She could not stem a sharp cry. The dagger dropped from her fingers. She tried to pull away from him to kick him. He spun her around, came up behind her, and yanked her against him violently, one of her arms bent behind her. His right arm looped under her throat to hold her securely to him, his breath hot and dangerous in her ear.
“I can carry you back and have you handcuffed or you can walk back with me and it will be a lot better for you. Decide.” She ceased struggling.
“I will go with you. Please, it will not be necessary to harm me.”
Abiko replaced the telephone receiver and looked thoughtfully across the small office at Okada.
“The Eastern Army Division at Kawaguchi has been put on alert. That makes the fourth such alert reported in the past hour.”
“Baron Tamura is beginning his action, whatever it will be. It is a pity, Abiko, that General Nagano eluded the surveillance you had placed upon him.”
Major Abiko’s feminine features were cast in thought.
“For a commander in the army, General Nagano walks a dangerous line. After you asked him to join our side in this, when you met with him in the public bath house, why did he not go to Baron Tamura and tell the Baron about it?”
“General Nagano will not confide in the Baron that he met with me,” Okada said confidently. “To do so would only sow the seeds of distrust between the Baron, General Nagano, and Colonel Hayashi. The Baron, I think, truly trusts only Colonel Hayashi. They share a passion for flying. I can tell you where General Nagano is. He is with the Baron and that air force colonel, Hayashi. This can only mean that they intend to strike tonight. This is why those Air Force and Army units go on alert.”
“I hope you did not err in judgment in approaching Nagano. If he did tell the Baron, they will move against us.”
Okada’s dark eyes flashed pure steel from behind his spectacles.
“They would not dare move against us. Not tonight. That would only serve to call attention to themselves if anything should go wrong, and there is far more at stake for them than you and I and our schemes, Major Abiko.”
“Why have we heard nothing from Yokohama, then? When will Baron Tamura strike? General Kurita expects you to give him a signal tonight on when to commit his troops.”
General Kurita had insisted his own troops remain poised until word from Okada that some strike by the Baron’s forces had been launched against MacArthur, so as to exploit the confusion which would result.
“The night has only begun,” said Okada. “The call will come that something has happened at the New Grand Hotel in Yokohama, I would wager you on it.”
The telephone on his desk sounded. He permitted himself a tight smile and reached for the receiver. He spoke briefly and replaced the receiver, then stood, reaching for his cap.
“There has been trouble at the New Grand Hotel. They were not specific.” He strode toward the door. “I as ranking officer of the Kempeitai, have been ordered to leave at once for Yokohama in order to,” Okada permitted himself another tight little smile, “assist in the investigation.”
“The ninja have failed,” said Baron Tamura.
The telephone call had come less than a minute ago. He had delivered the news to Nagano and Hayashi and a pregnant silence followed as each man grappled with his own thoughts.
“Perhaps it was not meant to be,” said Nagano at last. “We have always thought the Japanese spirit could conquer any odds of superior machinery. Perhaps … perhaps that is not so.”
“The army and air force units loyal to our cause remain on alert,” Hayashi pointed out.
Baron Tamura shook his head. “We must continue to hold these troops in reserve.”
“The signing of the treaty is but a day away,” said Nagano. The general’s narrow face was a mask of defeat. “Our army is being stripped of resources by the day.”
“We will wait,” the Baron reiterated dispassiona
tely. “It is true we have little time and our chances for success diminish, but without some grand, dramatic gesture to the world, we will fail. This only means we must fully utilize what resources remain. We must have the hearts and minds of every man yet remaining in Japan’s armed forces, not just a handful of zealots.”
“What do you propose, Baron?”
“I propose that we adjourn for the evening. Call the units off alert.”
He escorted them from the office and down to their waiting cars. Nagano’s car was in the lead and they reached it first.
Nagano bowed. “I will stand by, ready, Baron-san.”
“I know you will, General.”
Nagano was driven off. The Baron and Hayashi watched his car disappear through the stone archway of the main gate.
“Do you sense, Colonel Hayashi, as I do, that something is amiss with General Nagano?”
“I do sense what you say, Baron-san. But it is difficult for me to believe that Kentaro Nagano is a traitor to our cause. I have known him since we were children. He is my brother-in-law.” The air force colonel’s round face wore a frown.
“He is not a traitor, but something is not right. Something troubles him deeply,” said Baron Tamura.
“Do you suggest that he is in any way responsible for what happened at the New Grand Hotel tonight?”
“Your brother-in-law was not responsible, Colonel Hayashi, but I suggest we implement our final contingency plan without benefit of General Nagano’s participation. Can I count on you not to confide in your brother-in-law?”
“I will not confide in him, but why do you trust me when you do not trust General Nagano?”
“I will trust the general when the time is right. As for you, Colonel Hayashi,” the Baron lifted his eyes to the night sky and said, “We are brothers of the sky, and I can sense that you are not troubled by that which lies before us.”
“What is it you wish of me, Baron-san?”
“For now, return to your home and tomorrow, to your duties. I will contact you tomorrow. Be prepared to implement the contingency plan you and I alone have discussed.”
“As you wish, Baron-san.”
When Hayashi’s car disappeared through the archway, Baron Tamura went to find the chief of his security force.
“I have come to inquire about Keiko. Is there any word of her whereabouts?” Kozono bowed.
“None, Baron-san, I regret to say.”
“You will notify me at once when she has been located, no matter the hour.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Marquis Kido.”
“I fear I bear bad news.”
“Then do not hesitate.”
“There has been an attempt on General MacArthur’s life in Yokohama. The general was not harmed and the assailants were killed by the general’s personal bodyguard.”
“Were there other casualties?”
“No, Your Majesty, only the would-be assassins, but I fear their identity is the most troubling news of all.”
“Who were they? Members of my military?”
“I honestly wish they had been, Majesty.”
“Marquis Kido—”
“Ninja, Majesty. Three ninja assassins entered General MacArthur’s suite of rooms.”
“I see. Is there more?”
“At this moment, no. I thought you should know. I am sorry to have awakened you.”
“I could not sleep, Marquis Kido. And now you inform me that ninja stalk the land. The peace we have suffered so to acquire grows more fragile with each passing second. When will it end, Marquis Kido? I cannot imagine what awaits us next.”
When they got back to the hotel entrance, Ballard turned the woman over to Kujack with orders to place her in a room for interrogation. He briefly returned to MacArthur’s suite to explain where he had been and make sure the situation there was under control. Finding this to be so, he went back to the ground floor, to the office at the end of a corridor off the lobby where Kujack waited for him with men standing guard at the office door.
“She’s in there.” Kujack threw a thumb over his shoulder. He handed Ballard the purse the woman had been carrying. “We went through this. No more daggers. No I.D., either.”
“Has she said anything?”
“Buttoned up.”
A small desk sat against one wall of the office, flanked on either side by typing tables, one with a typewriter, the other with an adding machine. The walls were lined with file cabinets. There was one chair, an armless swivel, and the woman sat upon it with her hands clasped in her lap, staring at the door, staring at Ballard as he stepped in.
He leaned against the door and put his hands in his pockets. He studied her and she studied him, the hum of the crowded hotel muted in the background.
“You will interrogate me?” she asked.
“I will interrogate you.”
Her chin lifted slightly, a subtle show of defiance. “With no one else present?”
He saw no reason to allow her to dictate the line of questioning. He glanced at her clothes. She had consciously dressed down. From a time in the past he recognized fine fabric when he saw it.
He said, “You’re better dressed than most of the women I’ve seen on the street in Japan.”
She blinked. “You are an observer of women’s fashion?” She asked with a trace of irony.
“You speak English with only a trace of an accent. You’ve spent time in America.”
The irony moved from her voice to her eyes. “A detective, too. An impressive array of talents.”
He became aware of the first flicker of something happening then, something subtle beneath the surface. He liked the way this woman handled herself. The bravado was a thin veneer, but he could tell she was genuinely tough in spirit and body without losing any of her attractiveness as a woman.
He said, “My name is Sergeant Ballard. How about telling me your name.”
“The general. Is he all right?”
“He’s all right. Let’s talk about you. How did you know ninja assassins were coming here tonight? Things will go a lot easier for you if you cooperate.”
“What will happen to me?”
“I don’t know. All I can do is pass on the word that you’ll cooperate.”
“I have already done that, have I not, by coming here to warn you? Is not that enough? I alerted you to save General MacArthur’s life. Why can you not allow me to leave?”
“You know why. Why can’t you cooperate?”
“There is nothing I can tell you.”
She sat erect, as if her backbone were a length of steel. Her lower lip trembled.
He studied her for a long time, then he said, “We’ll see.” He turned and went out.
The only reminder of what had happened in Room 315 was the dark stain on the carpet near a window. No amount of scrubbing could remove it.
The suite had been cleared except for MacArthur, Ballard and his men, a ranking Japanese civilian police detective, and a Major Hiroshi Okada, dispatched from the nearly demobilized war ministry in Tokyo.
MacArthur was not pacing the floor for a change. He sat in an armchair, facing the two Japanese who sat stiffly upon a couch opposite him.
“What happened will be kept entirely off the record, of course,” he told them, “and I want to make especially sure the newspapers don’t get ahold of this.”
“Whatever you think is best,” Okada deferred. His English was heavily stilted but adequate. He translated for the police detective, who spoke no English. Okada said to MacArthur, “This is highly irregular.”
MacArthur grunted around his pipe stem.
“As is being attacked by assassins outfitted like cloak-and-dagger artists from the Seventeenth Century.”
“A group of lunatics,” Okada assured them, flashing a gold tooth, “but I can assure the general that the Kempeitai will launch a full investigation.”
“I repeat, I intend to keep what happened here tonight unknown to the rest of the world.”<
br />
“You do not wish an investigation?”
“There will be time enough for that after things have settled. You would not be able to initiate an effective investigation without word getting out, and that’s what I want to avoid.”
Okada bowed stiffly. “You are right, General-san.”
“Your government has assured me and my men of our full safety while we’re in your country. I do not wish to cause those who made that promise to me to lose face, nor do I intend to provide propaganda to those who would inflame the fanatical elements that remain in your country. I would not care to estimate the negative propaganda value of three dead assassins wearing the costume of ninja. Inform your superiors, Major Okada, that the matter is to be closed pending further notification.”
After the Japanese were shown out, Hanklin said, “That rattler, Okada, is about as sincere as a medicine show pitchman.”
“Pardon a practical question,” said Mischkie. “I made plenty of racket taking care of one of those ninja. Everyone on this floor heard the fireworks. What should I I…”
“An officer drank too much saki and celebrated. He has been reprimanded.” MacArthur started his pipe going. He commenced pacing in even, thoughtful strides. “A soldier died tonight protecting me. Ninja! Incredible! And yet, perhaps not. It was the spirit of ninjutsu that led the Japs to strike at Pearl Harbor so treacherously.” He swung to face Ballard. “What about the woman, Sergeant? You’ve questioned her?”
“We’ve got an unusual situation here, sir, in more ways than one.”
“You wouldn’t be getting ideas about that little lady now, would you, Sarge?” Hanklin grinned. “Heard she is a looker. I thought romancing the gals was me and Mischkie’s job.” Ballard ignored that.
“This was no ordinary assassination attempt.”
“Not with those ninja punks involved, it wasn’t,” Mischkie nodded agreement. “You think that little Jap kitten knows who sent them?”
“She knew they were coming here. Right now, that’s all we’ve got.”
Blood Red Sun Page 16
