Honorable Enemies (1994)

by Joe Weber

"No," Bodeker admitted and nervously puffed on his cigarette. "It was one of them weird deals, man. Our orders used to come from somewheres up in Japan, but I ain't got no idea who owned the shit bucket."

  "We really appreciate your help," Susan said with a smile and got a whiff of the sailor's foul body odor. We know how he got his nickname.

  "Don't get me wrong, ma'am," Bodeker hurriedly explained. "I just do my job, and that's all I know about this whole thing . . . honest to God."

  "No problem," she replied casually. "You've made our job a little easier, and for that we're grateful."

  Bodeker grinned and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. "Glad to help ya out."

  The seaman returned to his girlfriend and Susan and Steve finished their beers and decided to leave. The moment they walked out of the entrance, Shigeki Okamoto followed them and shoved the barrel of a 9-millimeter Taurus in Susan's ribs while he grabbed her by the arm. "Don't do anything stupid," he said, "or I'll blow her in half. Go down the alley," Okamoto ordered and jerked Susan sideways when they entered the narrow passageway. He yanked her jacket open and pocketed her Smith & Wesson. "Stop," he growled and pushed Susan against the side of a building.

  "You," he said to Wickham. "Throw your gun behind the trash cans and spread out on the ground."

  Okamoto pointed the Taurus at Steve while the agent reached behind his back to retrieve his Beretta.

  Susan seized the moment to spin around and grab Okamoto's weapon. Steve reacted instinctively and slammed the man's head against the wall while Susan wrenched the gun out of Okamoto's grasp. The hit man lashed out, knocking Susan to the ground and kicking Steve in the groin.

  Dazed, Susan struggled to get to her knees while Wickham lunged at Okamoto and both men fell against the rubbish containers. Steve regained his balance and smashed Okamoto in the face at the same instant the assailant hit him in the head with something heavy.

  Steve saw only a blur as Okamoto leaped to his feet and ran toward the street. Steve reached for his Beretta, then jammed it back in the holster and hobbled over to assist Susan.

  Chapter 27.

  ARMY-NAVY GOLF COURSE, ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

  Swinging his new club with wild abandon, Tadashi Matsukawa's senior Washington lobbyist solidly whacked the golf ball high into the early-morning sky. The sweet sound of a well-hit tee shot carried across the course while Gichi Ebata paused to follow the flight of the ball.

  The small white sphere soared down the right side of the fairway, bounced twice near the edge of the rough, then left a straight trail in the dew as it rolled to a stop near his partner's first shot.

  "You're definitely getting better," Senator Frank Brazzell commented in his quiet, servile manner. "There's no question about it, you've cured your slice."

  "At least it's on the fairway," rejoiced the Japanese influence peddler, flashing his mechanical smile.

  "That's always a good sign," Brazzell replied with his own unctuous smile, then added a small chuckle. Everyone was pretending that relations between the U. S. and Japan were pleasant.

  The slender lobbyist and the Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee waited for another Matsukawa lobbyist and Bryce Mellongard to tee off, then Brazzell drove the electric cart toward Gichi Ebata's golf ball.

  Brazzell could feel his anxiety reaching a peak as they cruised down the fairway. He had worked hard to accommodate Matsukawa's special request to have the Secretary of Defense meet with the creme de la creme of Japanese lobbyists.

  After Brazzell and Mellongard had agreed to talk with the President about giving the Japanese the next decommissioned aircraft carrier, Matsukawa had loudly demanded that his representatives meet with the Senator and SECDEF.

  "Senator Brazzell," Ebata began pleasantly, "Matsukawasan would like you to express to the President another primary reason for acquiring an aircraft carrier, other than antisubmarine warfare."

  "The piracy problems along China's coast," Brazzell suggested with a nervous laugh.

  "Yes," the polished lobbyist declared through his perpetual smile. "The pirates are a growing menace that could easily trigger a military and diplomatic flash point between the major Asian powers. We believe a Japanese carrier with a complement of vertical-takeoff attack aircraft would be a strong deterrent to the marauders."

  Brazzell beamed as he formulated a more persuasive argument to present to the President. "I can definitely see the merit in that idea. Excellent proposal."

  "We think so," Ebata went on. "As soon as the American presence wasn't felt in the South China Sea, the cowardly pirates began taunting and attacking merchant ships from the border of China and Vietnam to the waters off North Korea. Matsukawa-san believes it's time to stop them."

  "I agree, and to my knowledge," Brazzell said as he shifted into his sedate and reserved role, "most of the attacks have been taking place between Hong Kong and Vietnam."

  Ebata nodded in his charming way. "You're right. The Russians have a number of the Pacific Fleet ships protecting their freighters and fishing vessels in both the East China Sea and the South China Sea. We feel confident, after our Asian neighbors become used to our involvement, that a Japanese carrier can project a stabilizing influence on the high seas off the coast of China."

  Glancing up at the hazy sky, Brazzell inhaled a breath of fresh air. Beijing won't be thrilled, but who gives a shit what those clowns think? "I couldn't agree more, and as I promised Matsukawa-san, I'm going to take the lead in recommending that Japan receive the next carrier that is scheduled for decommissioning."

  Ebata pursed his lips and smiled. "Matsukawa-san will be most pleased with your enthusiasm."

  Frank Brazzell watched the progress of the other golf cart as it approached Mellongard's ball. Brazzell slowed to a smooth stop and watched the Secretary of Defense address his ball.

  "What worries Matsukawa-san," Ebata quietly confided, "is the uncertain security environment surrounding Southeast Asia and the real potential for armed conflict in the near future.

  "The Chinese," he went on while Brazzell studied Mellongard's swing, "even after Emperor Akihito went to Beijing and apologized for the occupation of China, still don't trust us .. . and we can't trust their intentions."

  "It's very unfortunate," Brazzell sighed with a glum look plastered on his face. He was still trying to master the fine art of Japanology--trying to figure out what was going on in the minds of the Japanese.

  Ebata turned to the Senator. "I'm sure you remember when Akihito was on his historic visit to China, and the Chinese bungled a nuclear-bomb experiment that blew the side out of a hollowed-out mountain?"

  Brazzell absently nodded. "How could I forget?"

  The Chinese test that went awry spewed radioactive gases and dust into the atmosphere. Upper-air winds subsequently transported the deadly emissions from Xinjiang province to Japan, where the vast majority of the fallout settled over the Nipponese Islands and the Sea of Japan.

  After taking two practice swings, the seasoned lobbyist hit a solid shot that flew straight toward the pennant on the back of the green. "Senator Brazzell, Japan doesn't want to do anything that would radically alter the balance of power in Asia; however, China has nuclear capability, and we would like to take a step to counter that threat."

  "What are you suggesting?" Brazzell asked skeptically.

  "Japan," Ebata said confidently, "would like to investigate the possibility of acquiring one or two of your ballistic-missile submarines to counter the Chinese."

  Brazzell was dumbfounded. "Well, I I. . . I'm not sure this--" "It means millions and millions in your pocket," Ebata persisted with a sudden intensity, "and everyone wins."

  SINGAPORE

  Steve and Susan stood at the hotel window and looked down at the sights of the spectacular city, then turned to each other and shared a knowing smile. They had reported the incident outside the waterfront bar to the local authorities and had given them a description of the assailant and the serial number on Susan's Smith & Wes
son.

  "We were lucky this time," Susan said. "He caught us totally off guard . . . and we survived."

  "That's because he didn't want to bring attention to himself. He knows how they deal with crime here."

  "In most other places," Susan ventured, "he would have just gunned us down and walked off."

  "We'll get him," Wickham said boldly, "because he will try again. I think the people behind the attack at Pearl know we're on the right trail, and they're becoming more desperate by the hour."

  They quietly soaked in the sights of Marina Bay and the Singapore River while they watched the shimmering sun dip below the horizon.

  Susan studied an ominous squall line of churning dark clouds approaching their hotel. "I believe our sightseeing time is about to come to an abrupt halt."

  Steve moved his chair aside to have a better look at the windstorm and heavy rain as the system moved toward the city.

  She picked up her notepad. "I think the information about the ship's insurance company--Tokio Marine and Fire--is the link we've been missing.

  "The company has confirmed the coverage and the dates," she went on. "When we get to Tokyo, I'm sure we can get the insurance company to tell us the name of the former owner of the shipping line."

  Even though he was still outraged by the brawl outside the Cat and Fiddle, Steve hadn't lost his professional perspective. "What makes you so confident?"

  She gave him an innocent look. "A couple of years ago--three to be exact--I was in charge of investigating a series of sabotage attempts at an aerospace company involved in U. S. government contracts."

  The wind and rain suddenly blasted against the windows and momentarily interrupted her.

  "The case centered around an internal-security problem," she said loudly over the howling wind, "and one of the experts I consulted was, and still is, a Japanese investigator for a pool of Tokyo-based insurance companies."

  She noticed the surprised look on Steve's handsome face. "So I figure if anyone can help us pin things down, it'll be my friend from the sabotage case."

  He stared into her eyes while the violent storm raged outside. "You're really amazing."

  "Oh, I wouldn't go that far," she teased him with a quick glance, then watched in fascination as the torrential downpour obscured her view of the bay and river. "If you had been incapacitated, that son of a bitch would have killed us . . ."

  "Susan," Steve responded calmly in an attempt to change the subject, "we need to find out who is selling us down the river."

  Susan's features hardened and she pulled her feet up under her. "Like we discussed, it appears as if someone has a direct connection to what we're doing and how the investigation is proceeding."

  She looked at Steve and saw a smile slowly spread across his face. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." He suddenly took her by the shoulders. "Susan, contact your office and tell them that we're going to check into the Hyatt Regency at noon tomorrow."

  She beamed with understanding.

  "I'll call Langley," Wickham hurried on, "and tell them that we're going to meet representatives of a Japanese insurance company at noon tomorrow in the Port of Singapore Authority building."

  Susan reached for a writing pad. "I'll set up a phone watch and surveillance at the hotel and you can stake out the Port Authority."

  Steve seemed to hold back, then gave her a cautious look. "Susan, we're going to have to be damn careful."

  USS KITTY HAWK

  Leaning back in his cushioned seat on the flag bridge, Rear Admiral Isaac Landesman had a commanding view of the approaching warships. He raised his binoculars and observed the Japanese Maritime Defense Force flagship Hayasa pass the carrier group on the portside.

  He carefully examined the Aegis destroyer from bow to stern, noting the numerous missiles, guns, and radar systems sprouting from the spotless man-of-war. Landesman blew on his hot coffee and watched an SH-60J antisubmarine-warfare helicopter lift off the fantail of the flagship and commence a slow turn away from the carrier group.

  Following his long look at Hayasa, the battle-group commander scanned two Asagiri-class destroyers, the replenishment oiler Tsukeru, and the minesweepers Yurishima and Hikoshima. When the last Japanese vessel passed the carrier, Landesman felt the ship list to starboard as the flattop turned Into the wind in preparation to recover aircraft.

  Shortly after Kitty Hawk steadied on course, a flight of two F-14 Tomcats thundered over the ship and snapped into a gut-wrenching break as they turned downwind. Landesman was watching the airplanes decelerate when his aide stepped up to his chair.

  "Admiral," the youthful-looking officer said as he peered down at the flight deck, "we just received confirmation from CINCPACFLEET. Bremerton has entered the southern end of the strait and is expected to rendezvous with us in approximately thirty hours."

  "Very well," Landesman replied without taking his eyes off the lead Tomcat. "If we get into a skirmish in these waters, it's going to be like a knife fight in a dark closet."

  "Yessir," the aide automatically responded and left the bridge.

  Isaac Landesman had twice made his case to the four-star commander of the Pacific Fleet, but to no avail. CINCPAC was going to do precisely what the President wanted to do, even if it didn't make sense, and even if the tactics unnecessarily impeded the capabilities of the carrier battle group.

  ANCHORAGE, ALASKA

  The large conference room in the Hilton was a madhouse of bewildering actions and uproarious confusion. Japanese Special Envoy Yamagata Isoroku, who had been dispatched by Ambassador Koji Hagura to coordinate the schedule for the upcoming meeting between Prime Minister Koyama and the President, was attempting to deal with an overbearing U. S. State Department representative who continued to ignore him.

  Isoroku, like Ambassador Hagura, sorely missed the pleasant American Ambassador to Japan. They had stayed in touch with the recuperating statesman and wished for his speedy return to Japan.

  Emotionally strained, Isoroku knew the stage was being set for a less-than-harmonious session if he didn't seize control of the situation. The Americans were clearly attempting to dominate the meeting and they showed open disdain toward his Japanese delegation.

  In total frustration, Yamagata Isoroku telephoned Ambassador Hagura and explained the situation.

  "Ambassador," Isoroku said with a combination of embarrassment and anguish in his voice, "I came here under the impression that we would make all final decisions. After all, Prime Minister Koyama initiated the meeting."

  "That was my understanding," Hagura answered bitterly and gave instructions to his special envoy. "Keep our people away from the Americans until you hear from me."

  Isoroku fought to maintain his composure. "I understand."

  "We simply cannot afford," Hagura said firmly, "to be responsible for causing any incidents that might jeopardize the conference."

  Chapter 28.

  NEW YORK CITY

  Bud Tidwell felt exuberant after his whirlwind trip to gain support for the Administration's position toward Japan. The only opposition had surfaced in France, and the Secretary of State had diplomatically twisted some arms to obtain the backing of the less-than-comfortable French government.

  However, Tidwell's expectations for resolving the dispute with Japan had become abysmal after he spoke to the members of the United Nations Security Council. The coalition of permanent and nonpermanent members was not willing to immediately address the maintenance of international peace and security.

  He thought about the preamble to the United Nations Charter while he walked to the room reserved for the U. S. Secretary of State. The introduction to the formal document declares that the representatives of the United Nations are determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war.

  Nice verbiage, Tidwell thought when he entered the suite, but no one wants to play their hand when big money and massive power are at stake.

  Chief of Staff Scott Eaglehoff, whom the President asked
to accompany Tidwell to New York, was waiting impatiently in the room. While Bud Tidwell coped with the reluctant Security Council, Eaglehoff was busy making final arrangements for the trip to Anchorage. He was also lobbying select members of the General Assembly for their support on behalf of the United States.

  Eaglehoff saw the look of deep concern etched in Tidwell's face. "How'd it go?"

  The Secretary of State loosened his tie and opened his collar before he sat down and sighed. "In a nutshell, not so good. The Chinese are extremely concerned about their most-favorednation trade status, or being slapped with more human rights conditions, so they've gone straight into their normal ostrich position."

  Eaglehoff in turn loosened his tie and adjusted his collar. "What's the position of the Japanese member?"

  "Surprisingly, he hasn't said much thus far," Tidwell answered, "but there's something mighty strange blowing in the wind."

  "Oh?"

  "I can't remember his name--"

  "Fukushima," Eaglehoff prompted.

  "Yeah, that's the guy."

  Eaglehoff remembered an exchange with Fukushima when they met during a trade show reception at the Four Seasons Resort at Wailea, Maui. "He's a smooth operator."

  "At any rate," Tidwell paused, "he stays glued to one topic, and that's the parent-child relationship we've had with Japan since the occupation after World War Two. However, there's something much bigger under the surface."

  "Like what?"

  "I'm not sure," Tidwell grumbled, "but he's obviously been ordered to mindlessly repeat the same message."

  "So you think at Anchorage they're going to tell us to kiss their asses and they don't want it to come as a complete surprise?"

  Tidwell glanced at his close friend. "I wouldn't doubt it, and they've got a lot of monetary and military power to back up a stand against us."

  Eaglehoff shrugged. "Who knows? They may have finally developed enough backbone to cut the ties with the parent, as Fukushima refers to us."

  "I wouldn't doubt it," Tidwell warned, "not for a second." "What's your plan," Eaglehoff asked, "if the Security Council won't take steps to pave the way to Alaska?"