The Seventh Samurai

by Doug Walker

  "How can anyone hope to start a war with only twenty-four warheads?" one of the Japanese asked. "At the height of the Soviet Union they had 30,000. America had and has thousands."

  "Believe me, it's quite possible," Blades replied. "Fire a few at the U.S., fire one toward London, lob another at Moscow, take out Cairo, Paris, Beijing and North Korea, the Ukraine. You'd have a global holocaust in short order. Everybody suspecting everybody. Every country firing at their supposed enemy - and instantly.

  "But let me continue. We have reason to believe that Captain Silverman came to Japan after scuttling the ship, which was named the Glory at the time. I won't go into the details. We knew the identity of this captain and he's a well-known man, much photographed. He once captained a cruise ship. We asked Mossad to send us photographs, which we circulated through Japan. The police were watching. Three days later it turned out the Mossad had sent us the wrong photos. We were actually circulating the photo of a man wanted for child molestation in a town called Tira, wherever that is."

  "I can explain that," Eli Kotcher, the head of the Mossad shouted. "The man from Tira had a very similar name. It was a mistake, a very serious mistake, but still a mistake."

  "Mr. Kotcher," Blades said. "You've come to Tokyo to take personal charge of this case from the Japanese end. It's that serious. Yet you allow a clerical error of this nature?"

  "Mistakes happen," Kotcher shrugged.

  "There seem to be a series of mistakes," another voice from the audience said. This time it was Digger. I talked to a Mossad agent in Osaka. I won't tell you his name. But he had been sent to Japan with no knowledge of the Japanese language, or customs. He had been poorly briefed, was operating in the dark, so to speak. I found that other Mossad agents had also been sent to Japan, and on checking them out found that they were in the same predicament. Poorly briefed, no Japanese. Yet I learned that several Mossad agents who had spent years in Asia and were fluent in Japanese were not sent in. If this is a hair-down session where we speak our mind, I'd venture that someone high up in the Mossad is a traitor to Israel, and I'd say that person is Eli Kotcher."

  An electric silence filled the room. Kotcher scowled but said nothing. Finally, Blades spoke. "I share Digger's suspicions. Half of my Naval career has been in Intelligence and it's been my experience that the Mossad does not make foolish errors. If not the best, it is one of the best agencies. It is, however, insulated. The stock of politicians and parties rise and fall in Israel with volcanic spurts and explosions. But the Mossad moves along untouched. It is a sacred cow, and like all sacred cows is vulnerable to corruption, possibly enhanced by a sense of immortality. I have taken the liberty to telephone the Israeli prime minister, Mordechai Baker. With regret, he agrees that this series of errors could not have happened without help."

  "Impossible," Kotcher shouted. "In five days we will have this thing solved and the warheads will be returned. Just give me five days. I'll stake my reputation on it!"

  "Not five days, not five hours, not five minutes," Mr. Kotcher. You are under arrest. The two gentlemen seated in back of you will take you into custody," Blades said solemnly.

  Kotcher glanced behind him and saw a pair of burley Japanese. He was on his feet like a shot, racing to where Nana sat. She was the only woman in the room, and he grabbed her arm and at the same time drew a pistol from a belt holster fastened to the small of his back. He pulled Nana against the wall, brandishing the weapon.

  "I'm not a traitor to Israel," he shouted. "I am one of the greatest Israeli heroes. The world sits and waits for our young nation, our ancient culture, to go down the drain. A matter of time. I and other patriots act and act boldly to preserve our dream." His eyes darted around the room, the wild eyes of a cornered animal. He had no fear of death, but he needed time, time for the warheads to be fitted, for the missiles to be launched. He was confident and proud that it could not have been done without him - the warheads could not have been stolen and taken so easily from the country, the stalling, the buying time, the chance for Captain Silverman to do his fine job. Now these people knew, but they weren't really certain. Even if they suspected the tunnel they couldn't really know its complexities and secrets.

  "Stay where you are, or I'll kill the girl," Kotcher yelled. The two men who were supposed to take him into custody were poised to move on him. Shibata crouched forward in his chair like a smoky-eyed dragon, his revolver cradled in his two hands in his lap.

  Nana's temper flared like a prairie fire. She was outraged to think that this man would think that she would be a docile hostage. But she was distracted for a split second by the weapon in Kotcher's hand, an Austrian manufactured Glock. She had read about the lightweight plastic framed automatic, but had never seen one, her dream weapon. She viewed the heavy arm of her captor as an opportunity to take him down and gain that prize for herself. A heavy jar of brass polish, forgotten by a cleaning woman, was in the windowsill by her side. Kotcher's eyes were on the small group, his mind racing to find an opening, a way out. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

  Nana grasped the jar in her free hand and in a long, sweeping move, smashed it into Kotcher's forehead. His head cracked like a melon hit by a brick. He slumped down and as he did, Nana snatched the pistol. Then she stepped back pushing the pistol into her skirt pocket. There was blood on her hand and arm. There was blood on the floor and blood streaming from the comatose Kotcher's forehead. The people in the room slowly rose and gathered around the man. Blades told Cheddar to find a corpsman.

  Nana, at the back of the crowd, dabbing at the blood on her hand and arm with a handkerchief, found herself next to the smiling Shibata. He said in slow Japanese, so she could understand, "You have a liking for guns." Nana smiled and tried to look helpless. She did not succeed.

  After Kotcher had been removed on a well-guarded stretcher, there was lively discussion of what additional measures should be taken. Blades already suspected that some members of the Japanese Defense Force were involved. But how many and which ones? Digger and Nana related the message from the Geisha and reported that she was nowhere to be found. Cheddar added that Finance Minister Yoshimoto had not been seen since the night before despite a considerable search.

  The Japanese Intelligence chief stated that the Seikan Tunnel had been closed and his men were going over it inch by inch. Blades offered the services of the U.S. Corps of Engineers to supplement the Japanese. He was pleased that the offer was immediately accepted.

  It was difficult to tell who to trust.

  Shibata, who as the sole member of the Japanese police at the meeting, said that he would brief the Tokyo department on what was happening, then get an all-points bulletin out for the finance minister and his cousin, Kyoko Suzuki, as well as Taro Watanabe. Blades assured him that the Japanese prime minister would endorse that move and any other Shibata might come up with.

  Digger and Nana were both seeking ways to get to the Tsugaru Strait. They all believed the tunnel was the key. But a preliminary search and an exhaustive search had turned up nothing. It was a very long tunnel.

  CHAPTER 45: Final Preparations

  Closing the tunnel had played into the hands of Captain Silverman with his barge and two tugs. With the tunnel closed, those wishing to move material between Hokkaido and Honshu had resorted to any type of vessel they could find. The water was alive with activity, and one more barge and two tugs were little noticed, even though the Japanese Defense Force and the U.S. Navy were extremely active in the area.

  At dusk, Captain Silverman had the barge in position. Just after one a.m. the scuttling operation began. By three a.m. the barge with its deadly cargo rested on the bottom of the Strait within easy access of the undersea doors of the Fuurin Kazan tunnel. Before dawn the tugs were clear of the area.

  Captain Silverman and his few crewmembers sought out a designated dugout in the mountains of Hokkaido to wait out what they referred to as the Event. Similar preparations were being made in other parts of Japan and Israel. The so-c
alled good people must survive the coming holocaust. At eight a.m. on the same day, Admiral Blades ordered all craft, large and small, barred from the area of the Tsugaru Strait. He was finally on the scene and had taken bold action - twenty-four hours too late.

  Already scuba divers of the Fuurin Kazan had emerged from their underwater fastness and had begun the difficult job of getting the hatch off the barge and unloading the warheads that were on the floor of the sea. The missiles were lined up inside the large bay of the tunnel, ready to be powered free of the tunnel confines and elevated to launch position.

  ***

  During their confinement, Kyoko Suzuki and Taro Watanabe had spent hours discussing the Fuurin Kazan and the tunnel. How the rockets would be fired, how a confusion of carefully planned bogus launchings around the globe would mask the exact source of the launchings. Every nation would be led to believe they were being attacked by an enemy. Kyoko still held hope of being restored to what she considered her rightful place as Yoshimoto's mistress. She had tried to convert Watanabe to the cause. Watanabe had taken a neutral position, trying not to irritate the woman who might offer the key to escape, although the tunnel security seemed without flaw.

  Neither of them had seen Minister Yoshimoto since coming to the tunnel, and his unexpected entrance as they sat talking and drinking cold barley tea came as a double shock.

  The man was actually wearing samurai robes, complete with the two swords of the samurai, one long, one short. He carried a large bottle of sake in one hand.

  Watanabe didn't know whether to laugh or bow. But his watch told him it was daytime in the changeless tunnel light, so he spoke the daytime greeting. "Konnichi wa Yoshimoto-san."

  "You will excuse my appearance," Yoshimoto said, addressing both of them "This is a day for celebration, and my advisers thought it best for me to don these robes to appear at a formal gathering." He put the sake bottle on the low table. "The tunnel has been sealed. The Event will be soon, tomorrow probably. Naturally, the skies must be auspicious."

  Watanabe looked from one to the other in disbelief. "You consult some kind of horoscope before launching missiles?"

  "No," Kyoko said. "He means the skies must be clear of spy satellites."

  "Yes," Yoshimoto said. "Of course we know the schedules of most of these spy satellites, who doesn't? As Suzuki-san may have told you, our plan, with just a few warheads, depends partly on the major powers not knowing the source. So we launch when no satellites are present and we set off explosions in other parts of the globe where there are satellites, explosions that will have the general appearance of missile launchings."

  "But what if the powers figure out your plan? Won't they simply aim their missiles at Japan? Won't our beloved islands be destroyed ten times over?" Watanabe asked.

  "One would think so," the minister said, settling himself on the tatami floor. "But, no, not even with full knowledge that something like that might be going on, when missiles are headed for New York, London, Washington, Moscow, Cairo and so forth, and flashes indicate they might have been launched by the Americans, French, Russians, Koreans or Chinese, no one will have time for a detailed inquiry. Each will think the other is taking advantage of a situation. It will be launch and launch again until the major powers are in shambles. The military mind takes over. But peaceful Japan, with no real army, should be ignored.

  "And now the tunnel is sealed and my task is complete. I brought you a bottle of first class sake for you to share in honor of the Event."

  "You look handsome in your robes, Akira. I hope you meant that our job is complete. For haven't I been with you from the start? And could you have done it without me? I would expect to be by your side at the celebration." Kyoko waited, awkwardly, unsmiling.

  Yoshimoto seemed to sigh under his silken robes. "I owe you a great debt, Kyoko. But I must attend to these things on my own. When a new government is formed, a high place for you is assured. Now I must go." He rose and started for the door.

  Kyoko was on her feet, shouting, "Did you dare bring that bitch with you to the tunnel?"

  "I do as I please," Yoshimoto replied, haughtily, "I am the Seventh Samurai."

  "You are the Seventh Samurai because I was always behind you, taking care of details, through the years. You are a foolish old man, flattered by the attentions of a silly girl. I'll be damned if I'll sit here and see this happen!"

  Yoshimoto stopped short of the door and turned toward the outraged woman. "You have little choice, Kyoko san. Sayonara!" He was out the door and Kyoko was boiling with anger.

  She turned to Watanabe. "Open the sake, I need a drink." He opened the large bottle and filled two teacups with the rice wine. They sat silently and sipped for a full five minutes.

  "Is there no escape from the tunnel?" Watanabe finally asked. They had been over the same ground before, but given her present state of mind she might look at things in a different light.

  Kyoko finished her last drop of sake and pushed her cup toward Watanabe for a refill. Slowly, she shook her head. "There is no going, or coming. The old fool said the tunnel is sealed. That means our secret section has been sealed off from the rest of the tunnel. Huge concrete and steel doors have been lowered into place. It also means that anyone searching the regular tunnel could hunt for weeks or months and never know we are here. Even if there is a suspicion, when you are this far under the sea floor you don't smash through a stout wall."

  "But doesn't this secret tunnel rely on the regular tunnel for electricity and fresh air?" Watanabe asked.

  "Not entirely, although we have through the years. The excess use of electricity has been covered up by our government workers to the point that excess now seems normal. But we have our own generators and our own ventilating system, our own access to fresh air."

  "Then that is our way out," Watanabe said, "through the ventilating system."

  "No," the woman replied. She had suddenly appeared to grow older. "That was the fear from the beginning, that the ventilating system would be the one weak spot. Special pains were taken to make it impossible to use as an escape route. Bars, electricity, water. It would take a month for a hundred men armed with every sort of tool to make it through that system. We are surely here for the Event. What happens then, who knows? It was always a gamble, always a chance," she said wearily. "And Japan will not be totally spared. Poisonous clouds might envelop the Earth."

  "But the missiles, they are here. And you say the warheads are to be brought in and fitted from the sea bottom. So there is access to the sea."

  Kyoko's face brightened into a smile as she sipped her second cup of sake. "Yes, if you were a fish, you would do very well out there."

  "There is sea access then," Watanabe questioned.

  "Of course. That's the whole point. We can work underwater and no one sees. That was the idea from the start. An undersea force that can change the world."

  "Is there more than one entrance? Are they well guarded?"

  "There are several entrances. They call them sea locks and there is no particular security. Only our scuba divers use them. It is relatively simple to get out. But difficult, if not impossible for a diver from the outside to get in."

  "But the divers in the accident, the ones with the gaijin from the States, they found the sea locks?"

  "That was unfortunate," Kyoko said. "They not only came upon the locks, but upon a major sea door for the missiles. The men were doing a training exercise at the time. The sports divers were captured."

  "And killed."

  "One was killed, but it was accidental. His was the body found on the shore, a shore where the currents could not have carried it, I'm sorry to say. That's what started the trouble. One simple mistake. The others were captured and are here today as honored guests. They will be useful after the Event."

  Watanabe decided not to drink any more sake. He would need his wits about him. "I am a fish," he said. I can scuba dive. Can you take me to the sea lock?"

  After a long while, Kyoko repl
ied, "Perhaps. I have been denied access only to that part of the tunnel that houses the headquarters and nerve center, along with Yoshimoto's apartment. I have special access cards to most other parts and I know certain things that Yoshimoto, at this moment, would rather that I do not know. You notice that the telephones have been removed?"

  "Well, yes, but they were only good within the tunnel, weren't they?"

  "Yes, that's true," Kyoko said mysteriously. "Now let us explore our part of the tunnel. Give me a few minutes to change into slacks and tennis shoes. It will at least be a diversion."

  CHAPTER 46: Factional Japan

  Israel Prime Minister Mordechai Baker finally had U.S. President Jim Black on the line. "We had a bad apple at the top of the barrel," Baker was stating. "Eli Kotcher was like an institution around here. The bad part is this no-name organization has drawing power. Demographics. The Arabs are simply out breeding us and it won't be long until we're a minority in our own country, and we're supposedly a democracy. So the Knesset will have an Arab majority? No way. But what can we do? Then there's this third temple thing. The religious nuts, and we have an ample share, think their destiny is bound up with a piece of architecture that must be built on a certain spot. Then many here worry that all our children are slated for the military, that some will die and the best we can hope for is to muddle by under the threat of terrorism. Not an appetizing lifestyle."

  "Sure," Black replied. "The quick fix is always a hit. Solve the problem by launching a few missiles at the cost of immense human suffering and hellish consequences. Prying out the members of that group is your problem. Ours is finding the missiles and destroying them. Admiral Blades is a good man and now has complete power to act as he pleases. Canada and our North American Defense are on full alert. Likewise other nuclear powers. We've moved missile cruisers and frigates to the area of the Tsugaru Strait. It's a delicate situation. Some of our military hawks think someone might take advantage of it to launch an attack, that we would falter in our response and thus seal our own doom. I'm sure there are still those in Russia, the other republics, Korea and God knows were else who feel the same way. High stakes poker. Damned if you do, damned if you don't."