Black Wind

by F. Paul Wilson

  Quickly, he saw his choices. He could stand and fight and probably be killed, or he could run. If he ran, he might survive. But that meant leaving Naka here. He cringed at the thought, but saw no alternative.

  I'll be back, Naka, he promised as he turned and ran for the door. I haven't deserted you. I'll be back.

  Then he was out into the night and running through the streets of the Kannonmachi district toward the water. He jumped into the launch, started it, and roared south toward the Inland Sea.

  "I'll be back, Naka!" he shouted to the night, seeing that little round face before him. "By all that's holy and otherwise, I'll be back!"

  TOKYO

  Hiroki was worried about Father. He seemed so morose. He had barely spoken all day. Hiroki found him kneeling before the household shrine, clutching a picture of Mother.

  "You mustn't blame yourself, Father. Matsuo has become slightly… mad."

  Father looked at him with heavy, world-weary eyes. "Your brother is not mad. He is the sanest of us all."

  "But you've heard the reports, you've seen the papers. He killed four men, then tried to attack the Emperor, tried to break through a cordon of the Imperial Guard. He has betrayed us. He has betrayed all Japan."

  Father shook his head. "No, Hiroki. You betrayed Matsuo. And it is you and yours who have betrayed Japan. I am a part of it, too. I am directly involved. Because of you I now have one son I cannot see because he is a fugitive, and another I cannot believe because he is a liar. Please leave me, Hiroki. I wish to be alone."

  Crushed, Hiroki bowed and complied with his father's wishes. He dragged himself to his office on Sanno Hill, but Father's words and anguished expression haunted him there, weighing upon him like a mountain. He could not think, could not concentrate.

  If only Father understood. Maybe that was the key. Sit down with Father and explain to him the Seer's visions, the ekisu for the Kuroikaze, the plans Shimazu and he had for spreading terror and death throughout the United States. Once he understood all this, he would see that Matsuo was wrong and Hiroki was right. Japan could not surrender.

  He hurried home to find the house silent and empty of servants. Alarmed, he ran upstairs to Father's sleeping area and found him lying dead in a pool of blood, his wakizashi protruding from his ruined belly. He had committed seppuku—alone, without a second.

  Hiroki cried out his rage and anguish. This was Matsuo's fault.

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 3

  TINIAN

  I watched Matsuo's eyes as he stood before LeMay and Groves in his wrinkled navy uniform. If anything, they looked more haunted than before he’d left. He seemed to be suffering the tortures of the damned. I’d been heartbroken that he hadn't returned with my son. Meiko felt the same. Matsuo, I could tell, was heartbroken by the message he bore.

  No surrender. That was all there was to it.

  I looked at the two generals and was shocked to see the relief on their faces.

  Relief!

  I realized then that they’d had more than the obvious reason behind their reluctance to allow Matsuo to return to Japan. Not because they were afraid he might betray them on his peace mission—they’d been afraid he would succeed.

  They wanted to drop that bomb.

  Ending the war had something to do with it, but dammit, they wanted to see the actual effects of an atomic bomb on a real, live, full-sized city populated with hundreds of thousands of real live people—Japanese people.

  Kyoto was going to be their test site. And its residents their lab rats.

  For the first time in my life, I fully understood the phrase, "cold-blooded."

  "All right," LeMay said, yanking the cigar from his mouth. "We're sorry you failed. But now it's time to live up to your end of the bargain. Where's the projectile?"

  "You must agree to two conditions before I tell you."

  LeMay flew into a rage, pounding the desk, storming around the office in a tantrum.

  "No conditions! No conditions whatsoever!"

  It would have been comical had the man been someone other than US Chief of Staff of Strategic Air Forces.

  "Let's hear him out, sir," I said.

  "You be quiet!" he shouted. "I don't want to hear another word out of you!" He swung on Matsuo. "And you! You're looking for a firing squad!"

  "There must be a pistol nearby," Matsuo said. "Do it now."

  "And your wife, too!"

  "I'm sure she won't mind."

  "Curtis, Curtis," General Groves said, as if placating a spoiled child. "Let's hear the conditions. This may be much ado about nothing." He pointed to Matsuo. "Go ahead."

  "First condition," Matsuo said, "is that the target city be changed from Kyoto to Hiroshima."

  LeMay slammed his palm down on the desk. "No! Absolutely not!"

  I scrutinized Matsuo, trying to figure out what he was up to. There had to be a trick here. And then I saw his tortured eyes and knew—no trick. Matsuo had just made the most brutally wrenching decision of his life. He knew an atomic bomb was going to be dropped on Japan one way or another. He could do nothing to prevent that. If he held out until death on the location of the Little Boy projectile, it would be only a matter of days before Fat Man was flown in. Either way, Japan lost. But for some reason I could not fathom, he was saving one city to condemn another. Why?

  "Now wait a minute, Curtis," Groves said to LeMay. "Just wait a minute. Hiroshima has been an alternate target all along. That's no problem." To Matsuo he said, "But give me a good reason to make the change."

  "The Black Winds that have left so much destruction in their wakes—"

  "Black Winds?" LeMay said.

  "The wilts!" I cried. "He means the wilts!"

  They were both interested now.

  "What about these Black Winds?" Groves said.

  "The… apparatus"—he seemed to stumble over the word—"for causing them is in Hiroshima."

  "And why should you want to tell us that?" LeMay said.

  "I have my reasons."

  "All right, all right," LeMay said. "What's the second condition?"

  "That I be allowed to return to Hiroshima and bring my son out before the bomb drops."

  Naka? I had just remembered that Meiko had told me that Naka was in Hiroshima. My son was in the city where Matsuo wanted the atomic bomb dropped.

  LeMay stared at him. "Your son? How do we know you won't pull something tricky?"

  "You'll still have his wife here as hostage," I said.

  "How do I know he won't send some suicide squad here to blow everything up? Or try one of those wilts? And don't tell me that his wife's life will make one goddamn bit of difference. I know better."

  Matsuo said, "A suicide raid would only make sense if Little Boy were the only atomic bomb. Since it's not, the raid would accomplish nothing."

  "How do we know you've even got a kid?"

  "He does," I said. "A three-year-old boy. In Hiroshima." LeMay glared at me. I glared back. "And to make sure he doesn't ‘pull something tricky,' I'll go to Hiroshima with him."

  LeMay and Groves went outside for another whispered conference. This one was nowhere near as long as last week's.

  When they reentered, LeMay said simply, "Okay. It's a deal."

  Matsuo said, "I have your word as American officers on both points?"

  Groves nodded. "You do."

  "Yes, yes," LeMay said impatiently. "You have my word, too. Now, where's the goddamn projectile?"

  Matsuo hesitated. He shut his eyes. His lips drew into a thin, tight, wavering line. For a moment I thought he was going to cry. After what seemed to be an interminable pause, he pointed a trembling finger down at the floorboards of the office and spoke in a barely audible voice.

  "Right under here."

  SATURDAY, AUGUST 4

  HIROSHIMA

  Hiroki could not bring himself to look at the bandaged stump of Shimazu's truncated forearm.

  "I will survive, Hiroki," his master said, his eyes heavily glazed from the medicatio
ns he was taking. "The loss of a hand is nothing."

  The words did not comfort Hiroki as he knelt abjectly before him. He felt miserable, physically and emotionally.

  "It is entirely my fault. If only I had—"

  " ‘If only' is a fruitless pursuit. It leads nowhere, yields nothing."

  "My father is dead because of Matsuo."

  "Seppuku may be an act of strength or weakness. In your father's case it was because he could not continue on the path he had been treading. He was afraid to see his journey through to its end."

  Hiroki experienced a flash of resentment. How dare anyone imply that Father was a coward. But a moment's thought told him that Shimazu was right. Father had been afraid to go on. His seppuku had been an act of retreat.

  "But if not for Matsuo, he would still be alive. And you would still have your hand." He pounded his fists on the floor. "He is a madman! With his swords and his outmoded beliefs—he is like some old samurai!"

  "A true samurai would fight to the death," Shimazu said.

  "So will Matsuo," Hiroki said, his rage a hot spike behind his eyes. "Because the next time I see him, I will kill him."

  "No!" Shimazu cried.

  Hiroki was stunned by his master's intensity. "Wha—?"

  "You must not spill your brother's blood. Not even a drop. Never."

  Hiroki sensed more in this outburst than mere revulsion at fratricide. Shimazu's eyes had lost their dreamy glaze. He seemed terrified.

  "You've said this before, sensei, but after what Matsuo has done, I do not understand."

  "It will mean the immediate destruction of the Order."

  Hiroki wanted to laugh but the intensity of Shimazu's gaze prevented him. "You must explain this, sensei."

  Shimazu took a deep breath. "When you were brought into the temple and underwent the motsu, the Seer said there would be two Okumo boys—"

  Matsuo would not be born for years, Hiroki thought.

  "—and that should one spill the lifeblood of the other, the Order would be no more."

  "But how can that be? Why would my killing Matsuo destroy the Order?"

  Shimazu shook his head. "I do not understand it myself, but the Seers have never been wrong. They have been difficult to interpret at times, but this was very clear: ‘Should one spill the lifeblood of the other, the Order will be no more.' "

  Hiroki turned the phrases over and over in his mind but could find no other way to interpret it.

  "I accept the Seer's warning," Hiroki said finally. He saw his master visibly relax. "Yet, Matsuo cannot be allowed to live after what he has done."

  "I agree." The glaze began creeping back into Shimazu’s eyes. "But I do not think we have to look for him. I am sure he will come to us. For that reason I am directing you to find a nearby ryokan and stay there until we have dealt with your brother."

  "But sensei—"

  "He will return for that miserable little zasshu he values so much. I have tripled the guard at night and doubled it during the day. They have been instructed to kill on sight. If you are here, we run a terrible risk that you will become involved in the struggle. That might mean the end of us. I want you out of harm's way."

  Hiroki bowed. "If that is your wish, sensei."

  "It is. We will move the mongrels and all members of the Inner Circles to the upper floor. The scrolls and records will be stored there too for safety. The altered shoten will remain on the ground floor, as will the acolytes and all of the guards. We will be ready for your brother when he returns. He will not last long."

  Hiroki bowed again. Something nightmarish about plotting the death of his own brother. He wondered if he had ever truly loved him as a brother. But that didn't matter now. Matsuo had gone mad—murderously so. And his wild stories about an American atomic bomb threatened the very future of the Empire. It was tragic, but he had to be stopped. He had to die.

  TINIAN

  Abrams and I entered the office right behind General Groves, who threw himself into a chair and wormed a small white paper bag from his pocket. The worry lines that had grown in his face over the past few days were smoothing out now.

  "Well?" LeMay said.

  He was the only other person in the room. He glanced at Abrams and me with thinly veiled annoyance. Our presence was tolerated, I think, because, besides the scientists and the two Army officers who had arrived aboard the Indianapolis, we were the only two other people on the island—perhaps in the world—who knew that the U-235 projectile had been stolen.

  "It's all there," Groves sighed. He pulled a piece of chocolate out of the bag and popped it into his mouth. "The projectile is intact."

  "Good!" LeMay smiled and rubbed his palms together. "Did the okay come through from Washington?"

  Groves nodded. "The President signed the order. We can drop an atomic bomb anytime after today, weather permitting."

  "Okay. I've had planes waiting to head for Kyoto to scout the weather."

  "Kyoto?" I said. "Sir, I thought the target was changed to Hiroshima."

  "Nah! I just told the Jap that to make him cough up the uranium."

  "You gave your word," I said. I felt Abrams nudging me in the ribs to shut up, but I wasn't going to shut up. "Your word as an American officer."

  LeMay looked at me like I was some sort of bug that had just crawled out of the jungle, but I wasn't backing down.

  He said, "That was against my will. That Jap had us over a barrel. I'd have promised him anything."

  I looked at Groves. "You promised, too, sir. Doesn't the word of an officer in the United States Army mean anything?"

  LeMay started toward me. "That'll be just about enough—"

  "He's got a point, Curtis," Groves said.

  "For Christ sake, Les. That was blackmail."

  "Still, the word of a US officer should stand for something, don't you think?" He smiled quickly. "Besides, as I said, Hiroshima has been a prime alternate all along. It doesn't cost us anything to keep our word."

  "It's just the principle that I object to."

  I opened my mouth to ask what was so unprincipled about keeping your word but Abrams stopped me with a sharp, anticipatory nudge in the ribs.

  "When can we leave for Hiroshima?" I said instead.

  "I didn't promise you anything," LeMay said. "How come you're so interested in going with the Jap? You got some sort of deal working with him?"

  I couldn't tell him that the "son" we were going to try and save was mine and not Matsuo's.

  "I want to see him get his kid out, that's all."

  "I don't trust you, Slater." He chewed on his cigar and stared at me. He knew I wanted to go but he didn't know why. I had the feeling he would anchor me here in the Marianas out of pure spite. "But I'll make a deal with you. You're so big on keeping your word and such, let's do this: You give me your word of honor as an officer that you never breathe a word of what's gone on here since last Thursday, and you can go."

  "You have my word," I said. "As long as I live."

  "And you, Abrams? I want the same from you."

  Abrams hesitated. "I'll have to explain this little trip from Saipan."

  "That can be arranged."

  "All right." Abrams was a career man. He would now be owed a favor in a Very High Place. "You have my word."

  "So when do we leave for Hiroshima, sir?" I asked again.

  "Couldn't be too soon for me," LeMay growled. "And get this straight: That bomb will be dropped on schedule, whether you and that Jap have made it out of there or not."

  I could tell by his expression that he'd shed no tears if we were caught in the blast.

  "Yes, sir. When will that be, sir?"

  "Monday morning, if the weather's right. Now, why don't you two take a stroll? General Groves and I have something to discuss."

  We saluted and left the office. Abrams went to make arrangements for his trip back to Saipan. I stayed in the area of the generals' office. The MPs had been pulled and so I was on my own. I wandered around by the
office window to see if I could hear what LeMay wanted to discuss without Abrams and me. I leaned against the outer wall and listened.

  "…well, probably not," I heard LeMay say. "But if it ever gets out, we'll look like grade-A assholes."

  "So what should we do?" Groves said, talking with his mouth full. "I think Slater and Abrams will keep mum, but that Jap . . . he might try to make a name for himself after the war."

  "Ask for his promise in exchange for letting him go."

  "You'd trust a Jap's word?" During the ensuing pause I could almost see LeMay chewing on his cigar. "Hey, what about this? What if we change the time of the Alamogordo test?"

  "I don't get you."

  "Look: This Jap says he saw the test, drove a stolen plane back to San Francisco, got on board the Indianapolis, and stole the uranium. What time was the test?"

  "Oh, around two-thirty in the morning. It was scheduled for two but we had a little delay."

  "Fine. We'll change the official record to show that it took place at five-thirty in the morning. You didn't have a little delay—you had a big delay—three and a half hours worth of delay."

  "I'm not following you, Curtis."

  "Don't you see? If the test took place at 5:30, he couldn't have made it to Frisco in time to board the Indianapolis before she sailed. If he says he did, he'll look like a liar."

  "I don't know. A lot of people saw that test."

  "All military or security, or government-employed scientists, right? You can get them to keep the lid on—national security and all that. If the official record says 5:30 A.M., that's what people will believe. And if you change your records to show that Hiroshima was the prime target all along, that's another mark against him. He'll look like a nut-case."

  I could hear the growing enthusiasm in Groves' voice. "You know, this could work. This could really work."

  "It will work. I guarantee it. We just fudge a few figures and no one will be the wiser."

  I walked away, smiling. They were going to all that trouble when all they had to do was ask Matsuo for his promise. That was the best security on earth.