“Stop, you motherfuckers!” screamed Hawkins.
Instead, the Japanese vehicle continued to accelerate. The six men bounced along the road like children’s toys in a sickening dance of bloody death. Whatever screams they made were drowned out by the sound of the trucks and the distance involved. Jake wondered if the sailors were all dying in stunned silence.
A few moments later, the Jap column and its hideous cargo were out of sight. Jake and his men stood in silence. Several were crying in anger and frustration, and Jake felt tears on his own cheeks. The Japs would pay for this.
“You gonna radio this in, sir?” Hawkins asked.
Jake thought for a moment. It would be risky, but the truth of the Japanese atrocity had to be told. He had a code and a list of frequencies to use. He would take the chance. “Yeah. Tonight when it’s real late and all the little yellow bastards are sound asleep.”
Jake wondered how the sailors had been caught since the Japs had been so casual in their patrolling. Was it bad luck? Hey, even a halfhearted attempt at hiding should have worked. Or had they surrendered in the desperate hope they’d be treated fairly? Then it struck him that maybe they’d been turned in by a local. He might never know, but the possibility would make him redouble his caution.
Hawkins nodded. “I learned something today, sir.”
“What’s that, Hawk?”
“No fucking way I’m gonna be taken prisoner.”
Admiral Yamamoto felt that Prime Minister Tojo was not quite the man for the job of leading the nation. Perhaps Tojo was a good army minister, but it looked like the combined duties of army minister and prime minister were overwhelming. Yamamoto thought Tojo was not enough of an internationalist to cope with being prime minister. The result was a man who was nervous and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
“More military successes, Admiral?” Tojo asked with a brittle smile.
“Some, but nothing grand. We have defeated a joint Anglo, Dutch, and American squadron in the Java Sea and are consolidating our landings in that area. The naval portion of the noose is tightening around the Americans in the Philippines. With MacArthur having abandoned them, it is only a matter of time before they too surrender.”
“It’s taken the army enough time already.” Tojo sniffed. “The Americans are outnumbered and starving.”
The comment surprised Yamamoto. In effect, the prime minister had just criticized the army minister, himself. “Very shortly,” the admiral said, “our fleet will sail into the Coral Sea and strike at Port Moresby as a precursor to invading Australia.”
“And the operation against the British in the Indian Ocean remains canceled?”
“Regrettably, yes. We are stretched too thin, and our men and equipment are too fatigued to undertake it at this time.”
Tojo agreed that it was regrettable but made no further objection. Yamamoto knew the capabilities and limitations of his fleet. If he said the raid was a bad idea at this time, then so be it.
“And Hawaii?”
“Organized resistance is over. The army is withdrawing, and our marines are garrisoning Oahu and the Hilo region of Hawaii. Some of the fuel depot is already repaired, and tankers are en route to begin stockpiling oil. When that occurs, Oahu will be a truly viable fortress.”
Tojo nodded. “You are aware that the first American food convoy is on its way. The kempetei will be on the alert to ensure that the Americans don’t try to sneak in spies or saboteurs.”
“I’m certain Colonel Omori will do an excellent job, Prime Minister. However, that does bring me to a point. It might appear that he is being overenthusiastic in his application of authority. A case in point might be that massacre of prisoners the Americans are screaming about.”
While the army had led the patrol, it had been the handful of kempetei operatives escorting them who had ordered that the Americans be dragged to death behind the truck.
“The Americans were outlaws,” Tojo said. “According to international law, they were subject to execution. However, I agree that a little more prudence was called for. I am also surprised that the Americans found out about it and so quickly. Any thoughts, Admiral?”
“Prime Minister, I said that organized resistance had ceased, but there still remain some incidences of disorganized resistance. The death of the prisoners might have been observed, and the information either radioed or telephoned to someone able to get it out of the islands. We have evidence that there are other stray American military personnel in the area, and the information may have come from them. If nothing else, this will definitely discourage any remaining Americans from surrendering, which could be unfortunate.”
Tojo concurred. He would discuss it with his army subordinates. “There are those who feel that such harsh actions may hasten the Americans to the conference table.”
“Have you seen any indication of that, Prime Minister?”
Tojo was surprised at the sarcasm in Yamamoto’s voice. “None yet, but it will come.”
The prime minister rose. The audience was over, but the admiral wanted the parting shot. “I hope it comes soon, Prime Minister. In a short while, the American fleet will be strong enough to confront us on even terms. In a while longer, we will be dreadfully outnumbered and facing the possibility of defeat.”
When Yamamoto left, Tojo sat alone in the room. He was close to despair. Why hadn’t the Americans asked for a truce, an end to the conflict? He felt totally inadequate. Events were running out of his control. He was like an engineer on an accelerating train whose brakes wouldn’t work. He had to prevent a crash.
However, he did not agree with Yamamoto about the kempetei’s actions being counterproductive. No, he felt that the screws could be tightened even more on the Americans in Hawaii.
Alexa knew that the Japanese colonel was mentally undressing her and ignored it. At least he was a little more subtle than his assistant, Lieutenant Goto, who had practically fucked her with his eyes as he admitted her to Omori’s office.
Goto’s hand had brushed her hip as she passed him in the doorway, and it was not an accident. She was glad that she had worn an older dress, one that came well below her knees and was baggy as a result of weight loss. Jake would have been proud of her. In her mind’s eye, she looked absolutely sexless.
“Be seated,” Omori said in only slightly accented English. “I am pleased that you could meet with me, Mrs. Sanderson. First, let me extend my condolences on the tragic loss of your husband.”
“You’re very kind.”
“You must be wondering why I requested the opportunity to talk with you, Mrs. Sanderson.”
Indeed she was. It had come as a request, but few were foolish enough to decline such a summons from the head of the kempetei.
Alexa thought it amusing that Omori made any implication that the meeting was voluntary. The “invitation” had come the day before and said that a car would pick her up.
The office was fairly small and sparsely furnished; a slightly ajar door led to what appeared to be sleeping quarters. She wondered if that was where Omori lived. She caught a glimpse of an Asian woman in the room and concluded she must be one of the prostitutes the Japanese were rumored to have brought with them.
Alexa smiled. “Before we get to that, may I ask you a question, Colonel?”
Omori was mildly surprised. “Certainly.”
“When will the schools reopen? I have almost forty students who haven’t been inside a classroom in several months, and this is not good for them. They should not be idle.”
Omori nodded in apparent sympathy. “I understand your concern. However, it will not happen for a while. Perhaps not until fall. All schools will remain closed until we can reorganize the curriculum. As Hawaii is now part of the Japanese Empire and the Greater Southeast Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, we must change the local schools’ academic focus toward Japan. Instead of American history and values, schools will teach everything that is Japanese, including the language to those who don’t know it.�
�
“I see,” said Alexa. His answer confirmed a rumor she’d heard earlier. To the conqueror went the spoils, and the schools.
“Now, Mrs. Sanderson, may I come to the reason you’re here? Are you aware that there was a dossier on you in the FBI offices?”
“No,” she said in genuine astonishment. It must have had to do with her pacifist activities and openly stated opinions. She was shocked to realize that the FBI was even remotely interested in what she did and said.
“The FBI destroyed many of their files, but they did not get to all of them, and yours was one of a number that remained. Tell me, Mrs. Sanderson, are you still a pacifist?”
“I consider war to be awful, and now I have personal proof of that awfulness,” she answered carefully.
“Then you would be willing to do what you can to bring a peaceful end to this terrible conflict, would you not?”
Alexa felt a trap opening. “Within reason.”
“I am aware that you have influence in Washington, and, therefore, your comments on war might be listened to. We have prepared a series of statements that we would like to publish under your signature.”
He handed her a sheaf of papers, each of which contained several paragraphs of virulently anti-American propaganda. After she read them a second time, Alexa returned them to Omori. “These go too far,” she said. “They would proclaim me as a traitor to the United States. I’m sorry, but I cannot sign them.”
Omori shrugged. “And afterward, we would like you to broadcast a number of prerecorded radio statements supporting the written statements. We will, of course, prepare the scripts for you.”
Alexa was puzzled. Hadn’t he heard her decline? “I’m sorry I can’t do that.”
“Are you aware that your friend Father Monroe was arrested yesterday?”
“For what?”
“Insulting a Japanese officer. The punishment can be as extreme as death by beheading.”
Alexa’s mind whirled. Father Monroe was a good man. A bit naive, perhaps, but not one to go about insulting their conquerors. “There must be a mistake,” she said.
“Would you like to see him?”
Without waiting for an answer, Omori took her arm and led her outside and across a road to a building that looked like a warehouse. Inside, the walls were bare with a number of cruel-looking hooks hanging from rafters. From one of them dangled Father Monroe. He was naked and blindfolded, and his hands were tied behind his back. A rope from his wrists was connected to one of the hooks, and his feet were tantalizingly but barely in touch with the ground. Alexa watched in horror as he groped for the ability to stand and ease the pain in his extended shoulders.
“The effect of suspending him from his hands as we have,” Omori said, “is to slowly dislocate his shoulders. As you can see, he is suffering terribly.”
Alexa was appalled. “That’s barbaric.”
“Not to us. We believe in quick, severe justice in these circumstances. A trial would simply be a costly and unnecessary delay. Punishment must occur immediately and must deter others from doing the same thing. However, we do not consider the incident with Father Monroe serious enough to require his death.”
“How long will he be like this?” Alexa wanted to vomit. Under the blindfold, Father Monroe’s face was a mask of pain. Bruises and welts showed where he’d been beaten, and there was a puddle of urine and feces on the floor. She felt ashamed to be looking at his old, frail body in his humiliation and pain. She could not, however, stop staring. It was so horrible as to be unreal. It must be a nightmare from which she would soon wake up.
“He will remain where he is for twenty-four hours. Of course, he might be dead well before that, which would be a shame. However, he could be released if you agree to work with us. If you decline, he could easily die. Perhaps I will just leave him up there until that happens. If he’s stronger than he looks, he could be in agony for days.”
Alexa took a deep breath. The trap had been sprung and she was helpless. “All right,” she said sadly. “I’ll sign the statements.”
Omori led her back to his office, where she quickly signed all the papers he put in front of her. She didn’t reread them. There was no point. “We could have forged your signature,” he said, “but this is so much better. We will get back to you when we’re ready to record your speeches. As an added benefit for your cooperating with us, you will immediately start getting better rations, and you will no longer be required to work in the rice fields.”
Alexa mumbled her thanks. She would share her additional food with Melissa and the child. Perhaps some good would come of her humiliation.
When Alexa left to be driven back home, Omori turned to Goto, who had been watching the proceedings with interest. “Did you see how easy that was? Had I tortured her, she might have resisted out of a sense of outrage and courage, and made herself a useless martyr. But, by my threatening someone else and making her responsible for that other person’s fate, she folded immediately. Americans are very predictable like that. This is an extremely effective technique you can use in your own future interrogations.”
Goto nodded politely. He understood that Omori had gotten his desired result, but to Goto it had been an empty result because Mrs. Sanderson did not yet truly fear Omori and the kempetei. He preferred the more direct and painful approach. Not only was it equally effective, but it was so much more satisfying.
Omori laughed. “Besides, I have further plans for Mrs. Sanderson. I had no idea she was so attractive. American women are so tall and arrogant, and it is so marvelous to reduce them to a more primitive level. The next time she’s here, it’ll be far more interesting for both of us.”
Goto smiled. He did not think Mrs. Sanderson was attractive at all. Not only was she so much taller than both he and Omori but she was older than he was. Goto preferred his women to be both smaller and younger. Much younger.
CHAPTER 13
Dear Joe,
By the time you read this, you should be well on your way to safety. I wish you the best and hope that your efforts against the Japs will be successful and end this war so we can all go home. I also want you to know that your friendship and companionship were appreciated, and I look forward to renewing them at a more congenial time and place.
Now for the hard part. I concluded fairly early on that there was more to what you were doing on Oahu than simply monitoring radio messages you couldn’t understand. Like a good soldier, I didn’t go searching for answers, but you and Lt. Holmes accidentally provided them. You navy guys seem to forget that other people have brains, and you totally ignored the possibility that I spoke Japanese. I do, although not that fluently, and it was impossible not to listen in when you and Holmes discussed your problems in what you thought was secrecy.
That means I know you’ve broken at least some of the Jap codes and are reading their mail. I believe you called the program Wizard, or Magic, or something along that line. Great work. Keep it up and we’ll nail the little yellow bastards.
You’re a good man, Joe, and I know you’ll show this letter to the right people even though it means you’ve got some egg on your face. Let the military know that Jake Novacek and his little army are alive and well on Hawaii and that I know a real important secret.
I don’t want to blackmail anybody, but these are desperate times and I don’t wish to be left out to dry. I believe that I can do important things here on the Big Island, and I believe it is equally important that I’m not captured. (Note: Joe, I have no intention of being taken alive, but things can go wrong, can’t they?)
I don’t want to leave here for the comforts of California while so many of my friends are suffering in prisons and from hunger and other privations. Pass this note on and get me some help for them.
Thanks,
Jake Novacek, Lieutenant Col., U.S. Army
General George C. Marshall placed the letter on his desk. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had a terrible headache, and this piece of news wasn�
��t helping at all.
Across the room, Admiral King grinned sardonically. “Helluva note, isn’t it?”
“Rochefort’s a man of honor,” Marshall said. “A lesser man might have just destroyed the letter. After all, it makes him look just a little foolish, doesn’t it?”
“True, but you’re right. Rochefort is honorable. A little embarrassed perhaps, but honorable. Fortunately, he’s damned brilliant, so he’s forgiven his sin. Holmes’s punishment for having a big mouth is that he has to continue working with Rochefort. Now, what do we do about it? We jumped through hoops to get Rochefort out because of his knowledge of Magic, and now we have your man Novacek wandering around Hawaii with it. Should I send another sub to pick him up?”
The general thought about it. It had taken several weeks for the sub carrying Rochefort to make harbor and for the offending letter to get by courier to Washington. During that time, there had been intermittent contacts with Novacek on Hawaii as he and others, like Fertig on Mindanao in the Philippines, began resistance movements. Novacek had already formed cells of sympathetic civilians and located a handful of other stray military personnel on the islands. Right now, all they were doing was observing and reporting, but who knew what their potential might be.
“No,” said Marshall. “Novacek is in too deep. If we ordered him to leave, he’d think of some reason to evade the order and stay. What Novacek appears to want is involvement in the war. What we have to do is figure out how to give him that without causing the whole Jap army to try to catch him.”
King nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that. The president wants the islands retaken, and it struck me that we may have a forward base already in place.”
“What do you want him to do?”
King stood and stretched. “I haven’t the foggiest idea yet. All it is right now is an intriguing possibility. Hell, our torpedoes are beginning to work, which means the Jap navy is looking over its shoulder at us, and now we’ve got a bunch of GIs an hour’s flying time from Pearl. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but Nimitz is working on the problem, and he’s got some bright boys on his staff. I want to know if I can work with Novacek. After all, he’s army, and that means he’s yours.”
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