Raging Sun (A James Acton Thriller, #16) (James Acton Thrillers)

by J. Robert Kennedy

And Keiko had always been there, a beacon in his darkness, a beacon extinguished when she had stared at him, wide-eyed with horror, at his audacity in asking her out.

  Perhaps it’s time.

  He sucked in a deep breath and rose, straightening his shirt before walking over and lifting the ornate sword off the wall, it a gift from his father to him when he had turned nine.

  “That was how old I was when my father last saw us. He left on a mission for His Majesty, and was never heard from again. Now it is yours, and when your son turns nine, it will be his.”

  He had been in awe of the sword ever since, and of his grandfather, the brave major who in the dying days of the war had been sent on a daring mission to protect the Imperial Regalia.

  A mission he had apparently failed to fulfill, though the true extent of the shame of that failure was a family secret never shared with anyone.

  A shame, if it were to become known, that would destroy his family’s honor for generations.

  He unsheathed the sword slightly, exposing part of the gently curved blade.

  It could all be over in minutes.

  Compounding the shame of his family.

  But at least you won’t have to deal with it.

  The doorbell rang and he jumped, his heart racing as he jammed the blade back in its scabbard and returned it to the wall. He crossed the tiny floor space of his far too expensive apartment and peered through the peephole, fully expecting it to be his landlady with another chore for him to do.

  He gasped, it the last person he had expected to see.

  Keiko!

  He unlocked the door and opened it, his heart hammering, his stomach flipping, his world almost ready to spin out of control. He clamped down on his cheek with his teeth.

  “Hi, Jiro. Umm, can I come in?”

  He nodded hastily, retreating, pulling the door open for her. She stepped inside and he motioned toward the living room, saying nothing. She smiled awkwardly and removed her shoes, slipping her feet into a pair of sandals he kept for visitors then tentatively entered his humble abode.

  She turned. “I-I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

  His mouth went dry, his eyes widening.

  She’s sorry!

  But what did that mean? Did it mean she had changed her mind? Did it mean she was sorry for the giggling from the others? Did it mean she was sorry for not actually saying the words, “no thanks”?

  He said nothing.

  “You caught me off guard. That’s why I didn’t say anything when you asked.”

  “Your face said it all, I think,” he mumbled, shocked he had the courage to challenge her.

  Her face slackened, the color draining from it as she bowed deeply. “I-I’m so sorry. It wasn’t because it was you. It was because of where you asked me. Y-you’re the first boy to ever ask me out in my entire life, and, well, I guess I didn’t think it would happen at my desk, surrounded by a bunch of gossiping women.” She rose, peering up at him, her hands clasped low in front of her. “If we had been alone, I would have said—”

  The doorbell rang and they both flinched, Keiko quickly curling inward, as if protecting herself from whatever was to come. Jiro didn’t know what to say or what to do, his mind filling in various endings to the interrupted sentence. “Yes.” “No thanks.” “Are you kidding me?” “I’d rather date anyone but you!” “Why don’t you go kill yourself you fat pig!”

  The doorbell rang again, followed immediately by several hard raps.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning toward the door. He didn’t look to see who it was, his mind still reeling. He pulled open the door and nearly peed. Two men in military dress uniforms stood in the hall, their faces serious.

  “Are you Jiro Sato?”

  He nodded.

  “You are the grandson of Major Hiroshi Sato?”

  His eyebrows rose slightly, the temptation to glance back at his grandfather’s sword almost overwhelming. “Yes.”

  Both men immediately bowed, the first extending his arms, presenting a previously unnoticed wood box. “Sir, I am Major Oshiro. It is with great humility that I, on behalf of the Japanese people, present to you the personal effects of your grandfather, Major Hiroshi Sato.” Jiro took the presented box, not sure what to say, when he suddenly noticed Keiko beside him.

  “Please come in,” she said, gently tugging him toward the living area.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” The two men followed them inside.

  And Jiro still said nothing.

  “The remains of your grandfather and his platoon were recently discovered. It took several weeks to confirm their identities, however there is now no doubt as to who they are.” He held out a hand and the other soldier placed an envelope in it. “These are all the pertinent details. Your grandfather is entitled to a funeral, paid for by the government. We attempted to contact your mother, but she—umm—refused us entry.” Jiro smiled slightly, picturing it. “When you are ready, please contact us.” He handed the envelope over, Jiro taking it with two shaking hands.

  “Wh-where did you find him?”

  “Their remains were discovered on Harukaru Island.”

  Jiro sucked in a breath, glancing over at the sword. “Then he succeeded,” he whispered.

  “Succeeded in what, sir?”

  Jiro looked at the soldier, the family’s shame of decades beginning to lift. His grandfather hadn’t failed. After the war, his commander, a colonel whose name he had long forgotten, confided in his mother the nature of the mission, and how he regretted sending her husband when it had proven to be completely unnecessary. The colonel blamed himself for the failure, and for the fact the precious relics had been lost, but his family blamed their own, and a whispered confidence by his grandmother to her own mother sealed their shame, their community shunning them.

  Thankfully none knew the true nature of the mission, merely that his grandfather had failed in a mission of the utmost importance to His Majesty, and only days later the empire had fallen.

  Clearly his grandfather’s fault, at least in part, at least in the minds of those they had once called friends and neighbors.

  “If you found him then you must have found the relics?”

  The major’s eyes narrowed. “Sir?”

  “My grandfather was part of the Imperial Guard. His last mission was to take the Imperial Regalia to safety before the Americans arrived. He never returned.”

  The major exchanged a glance with his partner. “I have no information on that, sir, however I am quite certain the Imperial Regalia are secure.”

  Jiro looked at Keiko who appeared as confused as the men in front of him. He turned back to the soldier.

  “That is what you might tell the people, but my family has known different for over seventy years.”

  6

  Atsuta Shrine, Nagoya, Empire of Japan

  August 14, 1945

  “Is it ready?”

  The Shinto Shinshoku bowed, Major Hiroshi Sato returning the gesture. “Yes, Major. As per His Majesty’s orders, the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi sword has been prepared for transport.” Sato rose as three elderly men entered the room, white robes flowing over their shoulders, extending to their feet, their hair high and tight, their faces expressionless. As they approached, the two flanking the man in the center stopped, the third carrying an ornate wood box on a plush cushion coming to halt directly in front of him, bowing slightly.

  “This is it?”

  “Yes, Major.”

  The cushion was held out and he reached for its contents, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted the box, the three men quickly bowing their way out of the room the moment it cleared the cloth.

  “I must open it.”

  “It is forbidden.”

  “I have my orders.”

  This same argument had been repeated at the Ise Great Shrine when they had retrieved the Yata no Kagami mirror from their keepers.

  He opened it, they gasped, he left.

  And what had been, was again.


  And another gasp.

  The sword, seen by only a handful of mortals in a generation, sat inside the case. He had no reason to believe it was fake, nor any means to confirm whether it was genuine. He had only the honor and faith of the Shinto Shinshoku to rely upon.

  He snapped it shut and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Shinshoku. May the gods protect you in these troubled times.”

  The shock and anger on the Shinshoku’s face was momentarily out of sight as Sato stared at the floor, and it took a moment for the man to respond, bowing, though not as deeply, he clearly not pleased. Sato rose and left the room, two of his men snapping to attention then accompanying him to their transport vehicle.

  “Major!”

  He turned to see the Shinshoku rushing out after him. “Where are you taking it?”

  “I cannot tell you that. It’s classified.”

  “I-I realize that.” The old man seemed to be hesitant to ask the question he had on his mind, and Sato had no time for delays.

  “What is it, Shinshoku? We have little time.”

  “Forgive me, son, but what happens if you do not make it to your destination? If the Imperial Regalia are lost, there can never be another Emperor.”

  Sato felt his chest tighten at the words. The idea that he and his men might die on the mission had of course entered his mind on innumerable occasions, but his life was His Majesty’s to take. He gave it willingly.

  But if the Imperial Regalia were lost, would it indeed have ramifications that could echo for decades?

  He looked at the old man.

  “Pray that we do.”

  7

  Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Tokyo, Japan

  Present Day. Three days before Acton’s arrival in Moscow

  “Sir, there’s somebody here that I think you should see.”

  Arata Sasaki glanced up from his keyboard, his recently sprained wrist forcing him to type one-handed, it a skill he doubted he’d master before it healed.

  That’s the last time I play squash with Goro. He’s a lumbering fool!

  “I’m quite busy. I have a meeting with the minister in fifteen minutes.”

  His assistant, Etsuko, bowed apologetically. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I know you’ll want to hear this first.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows rising slightly. The carefully chosen words suggested some news story was about to break, and the woman was right. If it were, it was best to know ahead of time so answers could be prepared, giving the impression the government was prepared and on top of it.

  Even if it was only by minutes.

  “What is it?”

  Etsuko moved aside and an army major stepped forward, snapping to attention.

  “As you were. You have something to report?”

  The major glanced at the door and Etsuko closed it. “Sir, I am Major Oshiro. Earlier today I had the honor of participating in a repatriation notification—”

  “One of the bodies recovered on Harukaru Island?”

  Major Oshiro bowed slightly. “Yes, sir.”

  “Was there a problem?”

  Oshiro took in a breath and held it for a moment. “Not a problem with the notification itself, but—” The man seemed to struggle for the right words.

  “Out with it, Major. I’m a busy man, and if this information was so important that it couldn’t wait then I need to know it now.”

  Oshiro flushed slightly, bowing a little deeper. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Sir, it was something the grandson of Major Sato said. I informed my commanding officer of it after I executed my duties, and shortly thereafter received orders to report here to inform you personally of what was said.”

  “And that was?”

  “It was about Major Sato’s final mission. According to the grandson, the Major’s final mission was to take the Imperial Regalia to safety.”

  Sasaki’s head tilted back slightly as his eyes widened. Etsuko’s jaw dropped for a moment before it snapped shut. “I’m sure he’s mistaken.”

  “He seemed quite certain that not only was that his mission, but that his grandfather’s commanding officer, the former head of the Imperial Guard, confirmed it after the war, and also confirmed that the Imperial Regalia had been lost during the failed mission.”

  Sasaki’s chest tightened. “Rants of a fool. You are dismissed.”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  The major snapped to attention then turned for the door.

  “And Major?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You and your men are not to repeat a word of this to anyone.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stared the major in the eyes for a moment, his face emotionless. “Not—a—word.”

  The major bowed deeply. “Understood, sir.”

  Etsuko opened the door then closed it behind the rapidly retreating major. “It can’t be true, can it?”

  Sasaki pursed his lips as he reached for his phone. He glanced up at his assistant. “That goes for you too.”

  “What?”

  “Not a word to anyone.”

  Etsuko’s eyes widened. “You mean it’s true?”

  Sasaki pressed down on the receiver. “The minister told me after he was sworn in about this. The Imperial Regalia were indeed lost at the end of the war, and we’ve been trying to find them since.”

  “But His Majesty!”

  Sasaki raised a finger. “Lower your voice!” he hissed. “I see you understand why this must be kept quiet.”

  Etsuko’s head rapidly bobbed. “What are you going to do?”

  “Move up my meeting with the minister.”

  Etsuko checked her watch. “But it starts in ten minutes.”

  “It’s ten minutes we might not have to waste.”

  8

  Harukaru Island, Empire of Japan

  Russian name: Kharkar Island

  August 18, 1945

  “Here. Quickly.”

  Major Hiroshi Sato’s men set to work digging in the hard terrain as he stood atop the highest point of the tiny landmass. It was deserted save for themselves, that confirmed by a quick circling of the island in their small boat commandeered earlier in the day. It was a civilian vessel, a fishing boat, it important there be no official record of where they had headed, the specific island chosen by him in the event the command staff in Tokyo were captured and tortured into revealing the truth.

  No one knew they were there.

  No one would ever know they were there.

  Until the war was over.

  He pointed at the hole. “Make it deep. We don’t want it accidentally discovered. It looks like the seas are pretty harsh here.”

  His men dug with renewed vigor when his radioman came running from the boat, carrying the portable. “Sir, you have to hear this!”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing, the sound from the radio becoming clearer as the young corporal approached.

  “What is it?” asked Sato.

  “The war, sir, it’s over!”

  Sato sighed, his eyes closing. Not in relief, but in shame. The mighty Japanese Empire had fallen, its armies failing their emperor, their great nation’s future suddenly uncertain, except for one thing.

  The Americans were coming.

  It had been inevitable. The devastation wreaked upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki was a fate he knew couldn’t be risked on other population centers. The Americans had won not because they were better soldiers, but because their government was more brutal than anyone had imagined.

  We were too civilized in our approach.

  “What does this mean?” asked the corporal as the general surrender message repeated, it apparently originally broadcast three days ago.

  “It means all hostilities are over. We have surrendered unconditionally.”

  The men digging leaned on their shovels. “So what do we do?” asked one of them.

  “We have a mission, given to us by His Majesty. This broadcast says we have surrendered and that hostilities
are over. It says we are to hold our current positions until further orders. That includes us.” He pointed at the abandoned hole. “Our mission is to protect the Imperial Regalia from the Americans. Now the Americans are coming for certain, therefore our mission is of even more importance.”

  “Sir, look!”

  Sato spun toward where the lookout was pointing, his stomach flipping at the sight.

  A ship, steaming rapidly toward their position, several others on the horizon.

  “Americans?” asked the corporal.

  Sato removed his binoculars and stared.

  His chest tightened.

  Soviets.

  He pointed at the hole. “Hurry!”

  9

  Ebiso District, Tokyo, Japan

  Present Day. Three days before Acton’s arrival in Moscow

  “Jiro Sato, is that you? I haven’t heard from you since school! How are you?”

  Jiro smiled at the sound of his friend Haru’s voice, it still dominated by a distinctive nasally tone that he apparently hadn’t grown out of like his mother had promised. “I-I’m fine. You?”

  “Busy helping my father, you know, the same as always. The life of a fisherman is never one of leisure. But you, I hear you have a job in the big city doing big things.”

  Jiro grunted. “I see your mother has been talking to mine.”

  Haru laughed. “They do enjoy their gossip. Now you haven’t called me for the first time in seven years to say hello. Something’s wrong. Tell your old friend.”

  Jiro sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes coming to rest on his grandfather’s sword. “I had a visit today from the government. The Army, actually.”

  “Really? What about? Did they draft you to fight the Chinese?”

  Jiro smiled slightly. “No, they found Grandfather.”

  There was a pause. “Umm, not alive, I assume?”

  Jiro shook his head. “Of course not alive! They found his remains on Harukaru Island.”

  A burst of static over the earpiece signaled Haru’s shocked exhalation. “Did they say how he died?”

  “The paperwork they gave me suggests he was shot in the head, they believe in the final days of the war.”