by Joe Weber
"However," he. said with sudden intensity, "that isn't the case. The U. S. is headed for national bankruptcy and their politicians are too frightened to admit it to the people--or to themselves."
Matsukawa took a deep breath and tightly gripped the sides of the podium. "It is best for Japan. It is the only course for Japan. We must go head-to-head with the U. S!"
Matsukawa paused to sample the mood of the audience. He sensed that almost everyone agreed with him: Japan had to abolish further dependence on the United States and her wilting military.
Scanning the faces in the packed room, Matsukawa felt the heady rush of knowing that he was spearheading a dramatic change in the history of Japan. "All the indicators point to a showdown with the Americans, and we need to -do it very soon. The timing couldn't be better, especially after the savage attacks on our people at Pearl Harbor and Los Angeles. Those assaults have prompted us to take action, and the Japanese people are looking to us to restore the dignity and respect Japan once commanded."
Three and a half hours later, after everyone who wanted to make a statement had had the opportunity to do so, the majority of the cartel leaders elected to back the Prime Minister in restructuring Japan.
Genshiro Koyama stepped behind the podium and donned his simple, wire-framed spectacles. In spite of all his associates and friends, the Prime Minister was by nature a loner. This was a bold step for the man who rarely demonstrated any emotion in public.
"I know that some of you are hesitant," he began in his gravelly voice, "about the course of action that we have decided to follow, but I strongly encourage you to stand by the decision of the majority. This is an extremely important period for Japan, and I thank each and every one of you for taking the time to convene on such short notice."
His eyes glistened as his thoughts turned to the future of Japan and her people.
"It may be painful in the near future"--he paused to look around the conference room--"and we may have a fairly hostile reaction from Washington, but we can't put off the inevitable any longer."
The Prime Minister let an enthusiastic smile crease his lined face. "History will record"--he paused to allow the words to register--"when we again became our own masters."
Chapter 23.
CHANGI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SINGAPORE
"We're finally here," Steve observed when the captain smoothly stopped the jet and the engines began to spool down.
"That we are," Susan replied in a tired voice. She gathered her personal belongings and closed her thin attache case. "When do you think crew cut will get here?" she asked in a conversational tone.
"I don't know," Wickham admitted and released his seat belt. "He's got the book on us, so he's probably on his way here as we speak."
"No doubt."
Steve checked his watch. "It's almost midnight. Why don't we check into the hotel and order a late dinner from the room service menu?"
"Do you think they're still serving?"
Steve reached for the overhead storage locker. "Sure. Most of the hotels here have twenty-four-hour room service."
"That sounds good to me," she replied with an exhausted yawn. "I've been on guard the entire flight, waiting for crew cut to leap out of an overhead bin or something."
"I know."
Susan noticed how tired Steve looked. "I don't know about you, but I just want to kick off my shoes, fix a drink, and relax for a while."
"I'm with you," he said in a voice laced with fatigue, then slung his carry-on bag over his shoulder.
After they cleared customs, retrieved their luggage, and exchanged American dollars for Singapore currency, Steve hailed a taxi and they arrived at the Westin Stamford twenty minutes later.
The spotless skyscraper, the world's tallest hotel, stands out handsomely from the British colonial architecture and the Chinese shophouses. Located at the crossroads of Singapore's tourist and business districts, the Stamford is famous for its high tea on the 70th floor, where guests have a spectacular view of the lush greenery of the "Garden City" and its vast deepwater harbor.
Susan went to her room to change clothes while Steve ordered dinner for them and called an Agency analyst at Langley. He was still on the phone when Susan tapped their private code on the door. Steve stretched the phone cord to let her in, then quickly concluded his conversation while she closed the door and locked it.
"Any news?" she asked while she sat down on the couch and placed her Smith & Wesson on the table.
"Not really," he confessed uneasily, "but they're tracking a number of leads. I'll tell you about it over dinner."
"Okay," she said at the same time she saw the glass of wine on the table. "Is this for me?"
"Yes. I noticed that you ordered white wine on our flights, so I took a chance on the Chablis."
"Perfect." Susan sighed. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Susan looked at him for a long moment, prompting Steve to turn and face her.
"You're staring," he said with a curious smile.
She covered her mouth and softly laughed. "I'm sorry. I know it's very impolite."
A knock on the door interrupted his response. He cautiously opened it while Susan concealed her Smith & Wesson behind her back. Steve signed the check while the young Malaysian woman carefully removed the plates of food from the warmer.
Susan stuck her handgun under a throw pillow and stared at the tantalizing array of delicacies on the room service cart. "There's enough food here to feed a professional football team."
"You told me to use my imagination," Steve teased while he opened the door for the woman to leave, then locked it behind her. "I think the best way to do this is buffet-style, then we can sit by the balcony and look at the lights of the city."
"Sounds good."
After they rearranged the furniture to accommodate the coffee table between them, Steve proposed a toast and they started sampling the specialties of Singapore.
Susan finished a few bites and reached for her wineglass. "What's your hunch? Do you think the owner of the freighter is the person behind the attack at Pearl Harbor?"
"I don't know," he said thoughtfully, "but there's something we're missing in this whole equation."
"What do you mean?"
He placed his fork on his plate. "That's what I was going to tell you. Our people at Langley are basically stumped about this deal, but they did come up with some information."
"Oh?"
"A few years ago a U. S. Navy destroyer, the USS Ingersoll, had a minor collision with a merchant vessel while it was returning home from a deployment in the Persian Gulf."
She stopped eating and quietly placed her utensils on the plate. "The Matsumi Maru number three?"
"No," he answered and reached for his wineglass. "The Matsumi Maru number seven, which is also registered in Singapore."
Susan felt that special tingle of excitement. "Do you think they're owned by the same person?"
"They aren't now."
He stared out the window for a moment, conscious of the speculative look she was giving him. "That's the problem. Our folks at the Agency discovered that six of the original eight Matsumi Maru freighters have been sold to various companies during the past eleven months."
"Including the one that we have a question about?"
"No," Steve answered, "which doesn't come as a surprise to me. Number three was sent to a salvage yard and then sold at auction when the owner didn't pay the bill to refurbish it."
He watched her closely. "They--our analysts at Langley--tried to track down the former owner of the ship, and there's no trace of the company. It dissolved--vanished into thin air the same as the bank accounts and holding companies associated with the mansion in Hawaii."
Susan's eyes narrowed. "The same pattern."
"That's the way I see it."
"What about the other ship? The one that isn't accounted for?"
"Number five went down during a typhoon about two years ago. That's the angle I want to pursue."
/> "You want to go after the insurance company."
"Exactly. If the ship was insured."
Susan looked bewildered. "Steve, think about the liability factor. It would be crazy to operate on the high seas without some form of insurance."
He refilled their glasses. "Maritime law, or admiralty law as some refer to it, has a characteristic feature that allows a shipowner to limit liability in most cases to the actual value of the ship."
"You're kidding."
"No." He shook his head slowly. "Most shipowners carry hull insurance to cover any damages to the vessel, and to protect themselves against claims by third parties, they carry protection-and-indemnity insurance."
"Are you saying that shipowners have liability limitations?"
"To a degree. Shipping was an extremely risky business long before they had even primitive forms of insurance. The idea of liability limitations is an ancient one that protected the shipowners from losing all their assets."
Steve's words had little conviction. His mind was on Susan, and he knew it would be impossible for him to remain emotionally indifferent toward her. She made him feel relaxed and comfortable.
"If an owner was found negligent," Steve continued halfheartedly, "he could satisfy his responsibility by turning over the ship and cargo to the claimants. Obviously, the laws have been modified over the years, but the basic maritime rules are still in effect."
"Where do you suggest we begin our investigation?" "Well," he answered slowly and raised his glass, "I'd say the Port of Singapore Authority is a good place to start."
Susan smiled in her seductive way, then raised her glass to meet Steve's toast. "First thing in the morning."
CHIYODA WARD, TOKYO
Tired from the lengthy discussions with the enterprise groups, Prime Minister Genshiro Koyama felt groggy as Defense Minister Yutaka Isida and three members of the civilian-controlled National Defense Council entered his residence. They were served green tea while Koyama finished dressing and received a sketchy brief from an administrative aide.
The clear, star-studded sky was beginning to turn light when Foreign Minister Nagumo Katsumoto, looking like the model of neatness even at this early hour, was ushered into the elaborately ornamented meeting room.
A moment later, Koyama walked in and invited everyone to be seated. Yutaka Isida and the National Defense Council representatives appeared to be apprehensive and tense, while Katsumoto presented himself as calm and low-key. He had been anticipating a problem with the U. S. military since the terrorist episodes at Yokosuka Naval Base and the air bases at Misawa and Yokota.
After the initial pleasantries were concluded, Koyama asked the senior defense official to explain the latest incident in the clash with the Americans.
The rumpled-looking bureaucrat in a black business suit appeared to be weary and needed a shave. Isida nervously fingered a small stack of reports and papers while he addressed his remarks to the Prime Minister.
"We have been monitoring the movements of the U. S. carrier groups in the western Pacific," he began awkwardly, "and we have become increasingly alarmed at the implications of their operating locations."
After glancing at his Foreign Minister, who showed no outward reaction, Koyama coughed. "Where are the carriers, and what are your primary concerns?"
Uncomfortable in front of the Prime Minister, the Defense Minister hesitated a moment to shape his answer. "The Independence group is operating in the South China Sea off the northwestern coast of Borneo, and Lincoln and her escorts are in the Java Sea between the Lombok and Sunda straits."
Genshiro Koyama frowned and thought about the collision between the American ship and the Aegis destroyer Kongo. "I thought the carrier was going back to the States for repairs. That's what I saw in my morning summary."
"That's what we thought," the worried man answered anxiously and shifted in his seat, "based on their normal operating practices. But she has been positioned in the Java Sea. We think they are trying to send us a strong message."
"Where's their other carrier group?" Koyama suddenly interrupted. "The . . ."
"Kitty Hawk," the defense expert offered, then went on when the Prime Minister nodded. "Her group is in the northern area of the Strait of Malacca. Again, the implied message, as far as we're concerned, is that U. S. forces can strangle our supply lines at their leisure."
"That's exactly what the Americans want us to believe," Nagumo Katsumoto said in his quiet and restrained manner. "They are as frustrated with us as we are with them, and they're demonstrating their military strength. Many experts think the American President is like tofu--nothing in the middle--but we can't afford to underestimate him and their Joint Chiefs of Staff."
Koyama examined carefully the look on the face of the Minister of Defense. "Isida-san, what is your recommendation in regard to the carrier groups?"
"We have discussed the issue at length," Isida explained in a halting voice, "and it is our recommendation that we increase our military visibility in the South China Sea and the straits of Lombok and Malacca."
The Prime Minister let his glance shift to Katsumoto. "What is your assessment of our predicament, Katsumotosan?"
The Foreign Minister tasted his green tea before he spoke. "The situation is not unlike that of a child who is more intelligent than his or her parents. At some point, when the child is strong and not dependent on the mother and father, he or she will stop smiling and agreeing to the parents' every wish and order."
Katsumoto placed his tea on the table. "Japan is ready to step away from American influence, but we need to continue to be a friend to the United States because of China's growing military threat and the unpredictable nature of North Korea's communist regime. We can accomplish this if we keep everyone's interest in mind."
Koyama gave his friend a disgruntled look. "We have to stand up for our rights, but we've got to be careful. Our parent has an arsenal of nuclear weapons."
"They aren't going to use nuclear weapons on us," Katsumoto said calmly, "and you know that as well as I do."
Koyama reacted with angry defiance. "Tell that to the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki."
Katsumoto slowly turned to the Defense Minister and the delegation from the defense council. "If you'll excuse us for a few minutes. . . ."
After the men left the room, the Foreign Minister turned partially sideways to rest his curved back. "I agree that Japan has to become independent at some point in time, but I am firmly convinced that we can reach a reasonable solution with the United States if we're patient and don't provoke them."
"I don't agree with you," Koyama bluntly replied. "There is too much animosity and mistrust between our nations, and I don't think the deep-seated antagonism is ever going to evaporate completely."
Katsumoto pondered the statement. "Let's think about what you just said, and examine our conscience with regard to our motives and values."
Koyama gave him a disgusted look and shook his head. "You know my feelings about the matter, so let's look at reality."
"I'm asking you to hear me out," Katsumoto said. "This is a pivotal point in our history."
Koyama tossed him a suspicious look.
"There are many factors and dynamics in play," Katsumoto quietly continued, "that have worked to place Japan in this difficult position. We, as a unified country, must begin to address these issues face-to-face and be brutally honest with ourselves and the rest of the world."
He saw the look of irritation in the Prime Minister's eyes. "We can't afford to put bandages on our problems," Katsumoto went on as he returned the stare from Koyama, "then shove them under the rug and lie about everything like the Americans do. We need a fundamental change in our attitudes if Japan is going to be accepted and trusted by the global communities."
Koyama frowned. "I don't like what I'm hearing. What are you trying to say?"
Katsumoto was straining to keep his emotions from spilling over. "Face the truth and it will be much easier to deal wit
h the Americans."
"What truth?" Koyama shot back with open indignation.
Without blinking, Katsumoto glared at the Prime Minister. "We have been deceiving the world, ourselves, and our children. As a nation, the Japanese people have been programmed to believe that we are the victims of the war with the United States."
Katsumoto's perpetual smile had been replaced with a grim set to his mouth. "Because of the shock of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, our people have consistently refused to look at ourselves as the perpetrators of the war."
"I'm not going to listen to any more of this tripe," Koyama declared and rose to his feet, then looked down at the stooped man struggling to get up from his chair. "Furthermore, I strongly advise you to keep those kind of thoughts to yourself if you want to have a political future."
"Think about what I said," Katsumoto countered and abruptly turned to leave. "Facing the truth about Japan's past is the first step in winning our total independence from the United States."
Chapter 24.
SINGAPORE
When Steve walked into the hotel's executive center, Susan was having a spirited conversation with someone in her San Francisco office.
He called Langley and received an update on world affairs and the current status of the Pearl Harbor and Los Angeles cases. He scribbled a series of notes on a small hotel pad, then cupped the receiver when Susan completed her call and turned to him.
"Two minutes." He smiled and jotted a phone number on the writing pad.
She finished her coffee and nervously watched everyone who entered the business center. The encounters with the muscular Asian who was stalking them had forced Susan to be constantly on guard. She had even resorted to wearing her Smith & Wesson in a special shoulder holster under her jacket.
When he finally placed the receiver down, Steve looked at his homespun shorthand. "The Agency is still looking for the needle in the haystack, and they have focused on our ship."
"Number three Matsumi Maru?" she asked with a surprised look on her face.
"That's right. One of our people interviewed a dockworker who swears he remembers that the crane--the one lying flat on the deck in the photos--was upright the entire time number three was in Honolulu."