“You must be happy then. He died honorably.”
Jiro nodded. “Yes, it would appear so. But there’s more.”
“What?”
“Something I’ve never told you.”
“Really?” He could hear the shock in his childhood friend’s voice. “I thought we told each other everything?”
“We did. I didn’t find out until I was sixteen, when my father figured I was old enough to know.”
“Sixteen? That’s just before he died, isn’t it?”
Jiro’s chest tightened slightly at the memory of his father’s final days, a ghost of his former self, cancer having eaten away at him from the inside. “Yes.”
“Well, what’s this family secret?”
Jiro drew in a long, slow breath, closing his eyes. “My grandfather’s mission was to take the Imperial Regalia and protect them, under orders from the Emperor himself.”
There was silence for a moment. “That’s quite the responsibility. He must have been trusted.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But there’s more.”
“I’m listening.”
“His commanding officer visited the family shortly after the war ended and told my grandmother that her husband had not been heard from since leaving for his final destination, and that the Imperial Regalia were still with him. We were to report to him if we ever heard anything about where my grandfather ended up.”
“You mean…” Another pause. “You don’t mean…”
“I mean, if they just found my grandfather on Harukaru Island then that means he made it there. If he was shot in the head then it means he fell in combat. He would never commit ritual suicide with the Imperial Regalia under his protection.”
“You mean…”
“I mean that if he died with them in his possession, and his commanding officer had no clue where he was after the war, then the Imperial Regalia are still missing.”
“You mean…”
“I mean that if the Imperial Regalia are missing then the current emperor—”
“Isn’t legitimate!”
“Exactly!”
“That’s, I mean, wow, I mean”—there was a pause—“I’ve got nothing.”
“It took me a while to wrap my head around it too.”
His mind drifted to Keiko for a moment and how they had talked for a few minutes before he ushered her out the door so he could think, she securing a promise from him to meet for coffee later that night.
The thought warmed his tortured heart, if only for a moment.
“Why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be calling the authorities?”
“I told the men who were here.”
“What did they say?”
“They said it couldn’t be true, or something to that effect.”
Another pause. “Umm. Just to think of things from the negative perspective—”
“That’s usually my job, but go ahead.”
“—you just told the government that the Imperial Regalia that confirm the current emperor’s legitimacy to his title have been lost for seventy years, therefore implying that the current emperor is illegitimate.”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
Jiro sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. “I am now!”
“And so am I! Oh, Jiro, why did you have to call me after all these years to tell me something that could see us both killed? Wait a minute, why did you call me?”
“I need your boat.”
“Huh?”
“I need your fishing boat.”
“Why?” The word was drawn out, as if Haru was afraid to hear the answer.
“Because I want to go to the island and search for the Imperial Regalia.”
“Are you nuts! That island is held by the Russians! If they catch you there you just might be joining your grandfather in the afterlife!”
Jiro nodded. “I’m more concerned with my family’s honor. I want to retrieve the Imperial Regalia and return them so I can clear my grandfather’s good name and erase the shame that has burdened my family for generations. And I need your help to do it.”
A loud burst of air followed by a groan from his friend had Jiro wondering just how long a neglected friendship from one’s childhood could last. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better think fast. I’m leaving in the morning, with or without you.”
“You could get yourself killed.”
Jiro closed his eyes. “I’ve accomplished nothing in my life. I have a dead-end job where I’m disrespected every moment of every day, and have never kissed a girl. If I die trying to restore my family’s honor then so be it. I would die happy.”
“But your mother! You know you’re the only thing that keeps her going.”
Tears welled in Jiro’s eyes. His voice cracked. “If I die then she can finally let go and find the peace she deserves.”
His friend sniffed. “Come tonight. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
10
Harukaru Island, Empire of Japan
Russian name: Kharkar Island
August 18, 1945
“Open fire!”
Along the ridgeline loud reports erupted from the Type 38 rifles of Sato’s men, puffs of smoke revealing their position quickly swept away by the stiff wind, the cries of several Soviet troops just reaching the shore indicating at least some of their aims were true.
Yet though they had won the first round, they would lose the fight.
There’s too many.
Another volley fired, more of the enemy dropped, yet more reached the shore, rushing for cover, gunfire erupting though not yet on their position, the men below clearly unprepared for a fight, this island expected to be abandoned.
He glanced over his shoulder at the men filling in the hole, the Imperial Regalia their only concern, not their lives.
This is a delaying tactic.
He took aim and fired, his target dropping to the ground with a stomach wound that would soon take him.
Something thundered from the water and he turned to see a puff of smoke from a deck gun of one of the Soviet ships indicate the eventual end of their skirmish.
“Incoming!”
He dropped tight to the ground and covered his head just as the round slammed into the hillside not twenty paces from where they lay. And it wouldn’t be long before the gunners had a lock on their position, they no doubt already adjusting their massive weaponry.
There was only one way to keep this battle going.
And that was to eliminate the threat of the destroyer’s weapons.
“Charge!” He jumped to his feet and rushed forward, over the ridge and toward the Soviet troops below, his men on his heels, the roar of his brave comrades swelling his chest with pride. Theirs was a hopeless cause, but today they would die like men, in service to their country, to their emperor, forever remembered as the men who died protecting the most important of His empire’s possessions.
Something hit his stomach, the sound merely a thud, as if something had swatted him.
He dropped, tumbling down the embankment, two of his men turning to help. He pointed at the shore. “Go!”
They did.
He struggled to his feet, one hand pushing off the ground, the other gripping his stomach, when he collapsed again, unable to breathe. He looked at his hand and gasped, it covered in blood.
It doesn’t hurt.
He had always imagined getting shot would hurt, yet for some reason he barely felt anything. He tried to move his legs and they refused to cooperate, they like playthings attached to his waist.
I’m paralyzed!
The thought scared him, the very idea of living out his remaining days confined to some chair distinctly unappealing.
He stared at the blood oozing from his stomach.
You don’t have days.
He pushed himself up on an elbow to see his men, or what was left of them, reach the shore, hand-to-hand combat ensuing, they performing admir
ably though ultimately futilely, the last falling within minutes.
There were just too many.
But it was a glorious battle.
Footfalls behind him had him turning to see the detail that had been working on burying the relics rushing to his side. “Major, are you okay?”
“The Imperial Regalia?”
“Buried.”
“And the hole?”
“The turf has been replaced. They won’t see it unless they’re looking for it.”
“Good.” He reached out a bloody hand, grabbing the young corporal by the wrist. “You know what you must do.”
The young man nodded, a look of resignation creasing his face. “I do.” He snapped to attention, executed a quick salute with his partner then roared down the hill, automatic weapons fire from the now prepared Soviets mowing them down before they went ten paces.
Sato dropped to the ground, on his back, staring up at the clouds above, contemplating his life. It had been a good one, shorter than he had imagined, though not much so. It was war, after all.
Shorter than he had hoped for.
That might be more accurate. He fumbled at his buttons, managing to unclasp enough to reach inside and retrieve a photo of his wife he had kept close to his heart since the day he had left for training. He pulled it out and held it in front of his face, her expressionless, formal appearance conveying none of her gentle side, though he could see the hints of it in the corners of her eyes, in the tiny, almost unnoticeable suggestion of a dimple as she had suppressed her smile only moments before the camera snapped.
He clasped it to his chest and closed his eyes, picturing her and their four small children, and how they would be forced to fend for themselves now that he was gone. He just prayed they had made it to his parents’ place and would be protected from the rampaging Americans.
He wanted to weep for his country, for his family, for his men, but he resisted. The sounds of boots on the hard terrain were fast approaching, and the Soviets would be upon him at any moment.
And there was no way he would give them the satisfaction of seeing his pain.
Instead, he prayed for death, it the surest way to securing the secrets he held.
A Soviet officer leaned over him and kicked him in the hip, shouting something in Russian.
“What are you doing here?” asked another voice, the translator stepping into view.
“What are you doing here?” he gasped. “The war is over.”
A spat of angry words met his translated response. “These islands now belong to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. You weren’t supposed to be here.”
The officer unholstered his pistol and aimed it at Sato’s head.
Sato gripped the photo tighter to his chest, closing his eyes.
Goodbye my love.
The sharp burst ended his life.
And protected his secret.
For seventy years.
11
Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Tokyo, Japan
Present Day. Three days before Acton’s arrival in Moscow
“Sir, I need to speak to you.” Arata Sasaki lowered his voice slightly. “In private.”
Minister of Foreign Affairs Yamazaki glanced up at him, a hint of surprise on his face quickly wiped away, and probably unnoticed by the others in the room, Sasaki only recognizing it after years of studying the man.
“Are we done here?” asked Yamazaki of the room, rapid acceptance of the polite termination bowed out as the table rose, everyone leaving the room in silence. Yamazaki waited until the last door clicked shut before looking at his underling. “It’s unlike you to interrupt a meeting like this. I assume you have a good explanation.”
Sasaki bowed deeply. “Forgive me, sir, but I do.”
“Sit.”
“Thank you, sir.” Sasaki sat in the chair pointed to by his boss, it three places down the long conference table, the distance indicating his position in the grand scheme of things.
Peon, even if I'm the Deputy Minister.
“What is it?”
Sasaki lowered his voice. “Sir, we may finally have a lead on where they are.”
Yamazaki’s eyes narrowed, confusion and frustration written across his face. “Where what are? Out with it.”
Sasaki lowered his voice further, leaning over one of the chairs separating them. “You know. Them.”
Yamazaki’s frustration grew and he opened his mouth before his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh. Them.”
“Yes, them. Do you recall the remains that were discovered on Harukaru Island by the Russians recently?”
“Yes, yes of course.” Yamazaki’s eyebrows popped. “Please tell me the Russians don’t have them.”
Sasaki rapidly shook his head then stopped, his chest tightening. “I-I don’t think they have them. Surely we would have heard something?”
“You tell me! You’re the one that’s supposed to be briefing me!”
Sasaki bowed in his chair. “Of course, sir, I apologize. At this moment, we have no reason to believe the Russians have them.”
“And why do we think they might be on this island?”
“The grandson of one of the deceased soldiers informed the notification party that his grandfather’s last mission was to hide the Imperial Regalia, and that his commanding officer had informed the family after the war that the soldiers, and the Imperial Regalia, were missing.”
“If they are indeed on Russian territory, they must not be allowed to find them first.”
“But if we try to retrieve them, and are caught, it could lead to an international incident. Perhaps even considered an act of war.”
“Which is why you must go in undercover. Fishermen perhaps. The people must never know what we are doing, or why. Should word get out, the shame would be unbearable, the embarrassment to His Majesty and the government irreversible.”
“Agreed.”
Yamazaki looked at him then rose, Sasaki immediately bursting from his chair. “Arata, I want you to handle this personally. There is no room for failure.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t fail you, sir.”
“I know you won’t. But it is imperative that this appear to be a civilian matter.”
“I studied archaeology for a time, perhaps it would be believable that we are a team that got lost.”
“Archaeologists who can’t read a map?”
Sasaki smiled. “The GPS failed?”
Yamazaki tossed his head back and laughed. “Make sure you bring one that’s made in China.”
12
Kharkar Island, South Kuril Islands, Russian Federation
Japanese name: Harukaru Island
Present Day. Two days before Acton’s arrival in Moscow
Jiro Sato glanced around nervously, his eyes glued to the horizon, his mind split between the danger they were in and the fantastic time that had been had last night.
I’m in love.
It had only been one date, and it could barely be called that, though it had lasted almost two hours, it only ended by the fact his train was leaving for Akita and he couldn’t miss it.
Keiko was wonderful.
And after years of pining for her, their conversation last night had given him a renewed hope for his future. Yesterday he had been prepared to die, here on this island, to restore his family’s honor.
Which was complete garbage.
He had wanted to die here doing something noble, rather than plunge his grandfather’s sword through his stomach in a cowardly attempt to end his own miserable existence.
Though with Keiko in his life, that existence would be wonderful.
They were to meet again tomorrow if he made it back—in time, is what he had told her, he not wanting to scare her. He hadn’t told her what he was doing, merely that he was visiting an old friend. Though when he returned, triumphant with the lost relics, he fully intended to share his success with her before handing them over to His Majesty.
I wonder how I’ll do that.
He hadn’t planned that far ahead.
Maybe I just walk up to the gates and knock?
It was an idea. If he showed them what he had, surely they couldn’t refuse him entry.
But what then? Did he honestly think he’d get to meet the Emperor? Did he actually want to meet the Emperor? His chest tightened. Perhaps it would be best to return them anonymously so they couldn’t be traced back to him should they want their secret preserved.
The prow of the boat cut into the shore as Haru cut the engines. “Let’s be quick about this, okay?”
Jiro shook out a nod and jumped to the ground, reaching up to take the gear Haru handed down. He lugged it up the small rise topped by a communications tower of some sort, a fresh Russian flag snapping overhead.
Bastards.
He hated the Russians. He had never actually met one, but the fact they occupied Japanese territory illegally, infuriated him, not to mention their recent habit of invading their neighbors.
Exactly what he’d expect from Russians.
“Look!” Haru pointed to some overturned terrain on the north side of the hill. “That must be where they found your grandfather.”
Jiro nodded, picking his way across the uneven ground and pausing before the hastily filled in hole, it far larger than needed for one body. “A mass grave?”
Haru frowned, stepping carefully around it. “They killed them then buried them so no one would discover their treachery, then seventy years later forgot they were keeping the secret.”
Jiro’s lip curled slightly. “They’ll pay for what they did.”
Haru stared at him for a moment but said nothing. He lifted one of the metal detectors they had brought. “Should we start here?”
Jiro scanned the area. “No.” He pointed toward the shore. “That’s north. That’s where the Russians would have come from, so that’s where my grandfather would have fought them. He’d try to keep the battle as far from the Imperial Regalia as he could so they wouldn’t find them.”
“That still leaves half an island.”
“Yes, but they also wouldn’t bury it too close to the shore because the waves might erode the soil away and expose them.”
Raging Sun (A James Acton Thriller, #16) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 4
