So casually was it thrown into the conversation that it took Miyagi’s brain a few seconds to actually process what the man had said, and that sudden, terror-filled desire to throw up struck him again as the accusation hung in the air between them.
“My Lord, I’m not sure I understand…”
“Miyagi, the entire Imperial Headquarters – excepting myself, I’m obviously relieved to say – were provided with letters of request drafted and marked with your official seal, and signed in my name: letters that implied quite brazenly that The Emperor himself would deem it a personal favour if they were all to attend the launching ceremony of that aircraft carrier. The letters even go on to offer my most sincere apologies on the grounds of illness.” He displayed a thin, mirthless smile. “My mind appears to have gone blank, Miyagi, as I cannot seem to recall exactly what was wrong with me. What was it, again? Hmmm…?”
“My Lord, what you are accusing me of is insane,” he tried to reason, desperately unwilling to give any ground and believing, quite reasonably, that he might well be fighting for his life. “What you’re accusing me of is treason!”
“And yet, here we are,” Kido observed almost flippantly. “Not having any prior knowledge of this launching ceremony, I was surprised to hear that the rest of my colleagues had gathered for this without my being informed, but I thought nothing of it at the time… nothing, that is of course, until the bombs fell. In one sword stroke, not only had the enemy revealed the devastating power of their weapons, but had also all but completely cut off the nation’s head into the bargain. How could this possibly be a coincidence? And so, I began to investigate further… and discovered some very interesting facts about how these letters came to be drafted and delivered. There are most definitely occasions in politics, Miyagi-san, where it is appropriate to be ‘liberal’ in one’s adherence to the truth,” he pointed out, a harder edge creeping momentarily into his tone. “This, however, is not one of those occasions. I would suggest to you that complete honesty would serve you far better in this…”
“Are you going to call a guard?” The younger man asked miserably, lowering his head and suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
“Guards…?” Kido actually sounded surprised by the idea. “Who mentioned anything about guards?”
“You accuse me of passing secrets to an enemy… during wartime…!” Miyagi wailed desperately, completely confused by the direction of the conversation and terrified of what was yet to come. “What other possible alternative could there be other than my arrest?”
“Were you now listening five minutes ago, you young fool?” Kido asked wearily. “I told you that if Japan was to have a future, we would need men like you. What possible purpose would be served if we just hanged you all instead? And do not think I did not notice that you still admitted nothing, speaking only of my ‘accusations’…” he added, almost smiling. “You will make an accomplished politician one day, Miyagi Ryo, although I am not certain that that is a compliment.”
“But…” he began haltingly, struggling to find the words. “But, My Lord, you believe me to be a spy…! A traitor…! Surely, I must be tried and executed? The shame…”
“Was it their idea to have them all congregate in one place, or was it yours…?” Kido asked bluntly, changing tack.
“They merely asked to be informed… if the situation ever arose…” Miyagi moaned softly, leaning forward and burying his head in his hands. “An opportunity to frighten them all – show them how dangerous it would be for Japan to continue in this folly…”
“And indeed, they were true to their word… after a fashion…” Kido observed with bleak sarcasm. “No doubt they were all terrified in the last seconds before their deaths – those last seconds in which the enemy very clearly showed us how dangerous this madness surely was. You see: they have ‘politicians’ within their ranks also. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think they would drop leaflets that politely asked us to stop ‘being bullies’? This is war, Miyagi! Enemies do not ‘frighten’! Enemies do not simply scare!”
“How could I have possibly imagined…?”
“That they would use atomic weapons…?” Kido suggested with an eyebrow raised. “Of course you could not. None of us could have imagined such a thing. We had the highest assurance from our ‘friends’ in Germany that this could not be possible. What of Abe… of Miki…?” He asked suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Who else was involved in this treachery?”
“None but I, My Lord,” Miyagi answered immediately, completely sincere. “The others’ opposition to this war is well known, but the decision act – the decision to betray – was mine and mine alone…”
Just so…?” Kido asked searchingly, and he saw the pain in the young man’s eyes. “You feel the guilt, yes…?”
“So many…! So many dead, their blood on my hands…!”
“Indeed…!” Kido agreed bluntly, his tone hardening again. “And so you should feel guilty, having been complicit in the murder of half a million of your own countrymen, and yet… this guilt nevertheless shows that you have retained at least some principles, misguided as they clearly are. Be assured, when I first deduced your involvement in this, I was prepared to have you arrested. It was a very near-run thing that you were not simply shot out of hand to avoid the scandal of a trial…” he went on, the betrayal he felt clear in his voice now.
“And then, last week, I received a box of personal reports and essays that had been brought over from Tōjō’s office during the clean-up. Shouldn’t have come past my desk at all, except that there were a few personal items that the officer in charge had thought might be of sentimental value to his family. These things were of no consequence to me, however also in that box were two or three reels of original transcripts: records of interviews held last year between the Prime Minister and that German Direktor, Hegel.
“I suspect the man was certifiably insane,” Kido continued, shaking his head as he recalled the erratic intensity of Hegel’s fanaticism, “yet some of what they discussed was incredibly enlightening. A few of us directly below The Emperor had known for some time now the truth behind the origins of Reichsmarschall Kurt Reuters and the group the Germans call ‘New Eagles’. I believe you have learned of these stories also…?”
“Fantastic tales… almost unbelievable ones…” Miyagi conceded, still struggling to hold it all together but at least interested now as to where the conversation was going.
“Unlikely enough to actually be true, I suppose,” Kido suggested drily. “This Hegel told Tōjō of what happened in this ‘Realtime’: that in a war that lasted four years in the Pacific, Japan was all but destroyed by Allied bombing and crippling attacks by American submarines. That both Hiroshima and Nagasaki would be destroyed in 1945 by atomic bombs similar to the device we used against the Americans at the Panama Canal, yet the conventional firebombing of our great cities toward the war’s end would kill far more of our citizens than both of those bombs combined!
“If only you could have heard them, Miyagi!” He snorted with the dark irony of it all. “That pair of fanatics complaining bitterly over the future Hegel had worked so hard to destroy: a future in which a shattered and broken Japan, after many dark and difficult years, worked hard and with much honour to become an economic powerhouse of the Twenty-First Century!”
“My Lord…?” He asked blankly, uncomprehending.
“How they sneered, Miyagi! And yet I heard the truth come through for all that. In the future from which Hegel came, Japanese electronic devices are sold the world over; are used in households across the entire globe! In that world, the greatest compliment and guarantee one can give to a device is that it is ‘made in Japan’! Tōjō was so blind! So blind that he couldn’t see how great our nation could become… without war…! They laughed and sneered, and listening after the fact, all I could feel was pride and honour in knowing what we would accomplish as a nation.
“All this, Miyagi…” he went on, eyes alight now with something
the younger man had never before seen. “…All this, from a shattered nation that lay completely and utterly defeated at the hands of the Americans and their Allies. Imagine what we could do, Miyagi…! Imagine what we could become, if this sense of honour and duty were put into practice in a nation still in control of its colonial possessions…?
“I am not going to denounce you, Miyagi…” Kido explained finally, the relief of that news so powerful that it brought tears to the younger man’s eyes. “Misguided as it was… as deceitful as it was… what you have done has saved Nihon from total annihilation. I meant what I said: that we need men to lead us who will do whatever is necessary to protect The Emperor – to protect our heritage. We need men willing to risk any danger or make any sacrifice in his country’s name. I believe you are such a man, and I do not intend to see your life wasted at the end of a hangman’s noose. It is businessmen, not generals, who will lead Japan to world domination, Miyagi, and you will be part of this.”
“I… My Lord, I know not what to say…”
“Then say nothing,” the older man replied simply. “Your contact with the enemy must cease immediately, of course. The war may be over for the time being, but they remain our enemy, and you would do well to remember that from now on: the next person who discovers your secret may not be as understanding as I.”
“I owe you my life…” Miyagi murmured, finding the words almost impossible to say.
“Whether that becomes a blessing or a curse is yet to be proven,” Kido suggested philosophically with a faint shrug. “That can be a consideration for another day however. Go now… return to your quarters, gather yourself and prepare for the road ahead. We will never speak of this again.”
Too overwhelmed to think straight, Miyagi found it impossible to reconcile the combined feelings of fear, guilt, gratitude and elation that were simultaneously coursing unchecked through his psyche.
“Osoreirimasu…!” That short, extremely formal word of thanks was all he could manage in the end as he rose stiffly to his feet and executed a deep, respectful bow before the great man of Japanese politics he had been fortunate enough to consider a mentor. He was gone a moment later, wandering waywardly through the grey, steel corridors of that huge warship and somehow- against all odds, it seemed – finding his own quarters and collapsing onto his bed ten minutes later.
For his part, Kido sat for a long while after Miyagi had departed, struggling with what he knew he must do next… what he knew was the only thing he could do to atone for his part in all of this death and destruction… his part in this failure that had shamed an entire nation.
He opened a drawer at the side of the desk and drew out a large fountain pen, along with several blank sheets of exquisite writing paper. Taking a cloth from one pocket, he wiped daintily at the sweat collecting on his brow and then leaned down over the desktop, pen poised to write and waiting only for the words to come.
Miyagi-san. I have never been anything but direct and forthright in my dealings with you, and it pains me now, in such times, that we must part on such a sour note. I gave you my word that what we have discussed will remain safe between us, and I must prove to you now that I intend to keep with me this confidence in my journey to the next life. I understand that what you have done was for the finest of intentions. I understand that what you have done has perhaps saved our homeland from destruction and subservience at the hands of heartless, foreign invaders. Yet it is also true that in my name, without my knowledge, thousands have died at the hands of our enemies.
I said to you that the Japan of the future should be one led by young men, and this I believe with all my being. The old ways are dying now, and those dinosaurs who remain must die with them. There should be nothing left that might deceive us into ever again believing that war is ever worth the expense of innocent lives. The nation that I imagined, as I listened to those tapes, is one that stands at close and willing ally to the free nations of the Western World. This is where there lies great business to be made among friends, and this is where we will find our greatest triumph.
The Soviets have thrown their lot in with the Nazis, and firsthand we have tasted the bitterness of the fruit that alliance has borne. We must never make that mistake again, and we will need the support of the most powerful allies if we are to weather this storm. Believe me when I tell you that neither the Americans nor the British want an expansion of Russian military forces in The East or, by proxy, any extension of Nazi power. There will be obstacles of trust to overcome, but never underestimate the attraction of self-interest. They will need us, and if we fulfil that need then – eventually – the trust will be return, albeit hard-earned and fragile as may be the case.
You have always honoured this nation with your selflessness and your hard work, and I leave you now with my gratitude for what you have done – with no thought to your own safety – to protect this nation from its greatest enemies… those within its own command.
I leave you now with a simple poem – one that I’d forgotten years ago, but that has come into my mind once more in this darkest of times. I do not know that it is one to bring you comfort as you read this farewell, but I hope that at least it will help you to understand that I rest now in the arms of my ancestors, completely at peace.
Kido Kōichi
Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal of Japan
There were a few more silent moments, the only sound the faint scratching of the nib across the paper, as Kido completed the lines of the short verse and set the letter aside to dry properly. After just a moment spent searching through the same drawer, he located a small envelope and laid it out flat on the desk, carefully folding the note beside it to ensure a perfect fit. With a few strokes of the pen, he added Miyagi’s name to the front and sealed the message inside before calling for an orderly to come and collect it for delivery.
The drawer beside him remained open, and as soon as he was alone again, Kido took out the large automatic pistol that had lain inside, mostly acting as a paperweight atop the stationery being stored there. Bulky and awkward in its appearance, the Taisho ’04 ‘Nambu’ was of a shape vaguely reminiscent of the Luger P’08, although internally its design was completely different.
Kido knew that it would suffice well enough or his needs as he removed the magazine, checked that it was loaded, and slapped it home once more before drawing back the slide and loading a round into the chamber. Laying the weapon almost reverentially on the desktop before him, he closed his eyes and bowed deeply, giving a moment of prayer for his ancestors before once more taking up the weapon and slipping off the safety.
The Nambu fired the same bottle-necked 8mm cartridge used in Japanese submachine guns, and by Western standards of the day was considered somewhat underpowered. It would prove powerful enough for the purpose at hand, however, and just minutes later, a second, muffled gunshot rang through the metal decks and walls of that mighty battleship.
Port Taufiq
Suez, Egypt
January 25, 1943
Monday
There was smoke in the air as Khalid al-Hakim made his way carefully across the rooftops of the large warehouses lining the Suez docks. It was a cloudy night, with little illumination to aid him as he moved at a crouch, yet he knew his way well enough. His family owned many of the warehouses in the port area, including the one he was now on, and he knew the building like the back of his own hand.
The stench of smoke and burnt things still hung vaguely in the air, as it had now for almost four months since Egyptian rebels seeking independence had risen up against the Commonwealth units that still remained in the country, only to themselves be struck down and broken by advancing Wehrmacht forces in the days that followed – the same forces that by and large had provided the rebels with weapons and equipment with which to mount their resistance against the British Army. Thousands had died during those few, desperate days, and many more since, and the spark of hope for a free and independent Egypt had died with them as the Nazis had taken contr
ol.
Nineteen-year-old Khalid had been a German spy during that time, working against the British and supplying information both to the Nazis and to his commanders in the local resistance cell. All that had changed now however, and there was no longer any doubt with either Khalid or his superiors where the young man’s loyalties lay. What was left of the independence movement was splintered and weak, but it remained nevertheless, and it was often said that nature abhors a vacuum. In the face of what was seen as German treachery, the resistance movement was quick to find a new sponsor seeking to dramatically expand its influence into the region.
Slipping through a skylight, he dropped into a third story office and made his way through the hallways to the front of the building, where those same offices looked down on the main warehouse floor below. Unlike the darkness of the office, that huge room was well-lit and covered thousands of square feet of space.
In peacetime, he might have seen bales of cotton, stacked to the ceiling and awaiting shipment to the waiting mills of Europe or the United States. Right now, however, most of that wide, open floor was empty save for two large low-loader-style trailers, each weighed down by identical huge, alien-looking tanks painted in Australian Army camouflage and kangaroo insignia.
The nearest – the one which was mostly still intact – carried the stencilled nickname ‘JAKE’ on the forward, lower edge of its wide, slab-sided turret. Its hull and turret were scarred and scorched by numerous shell hits of which most, even from Khalid’s relatively distant vantage point, had clearly not penetrated. It was definitely the better of the two, as the second – named ‘ELWOOD’ – lay in pieces, its great hull blackened and burned. Askew and placed upside down atop the wreck, Elwood’s huge turret was – almost inconceivably – quite dished and dented across one side, as if struck by some unimaginable force.
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 118