by Nick Carter
"Who have we got up in Hokkaido?"
"We have a small listening post in a fishing village just south of Wakkanai… that's on the very northern tip of Hokkaido. Mostly brush country with the mountains inland. Very cold at this time of year."
"How about a fishing boat and crew?"
"To take you across to Svetlaya?" she asked. She shook her head. "You wouldn't get within fifty miles of the place. You certainly would never have a chance to land."
Carter smiled. "Who knows?" he said. "Set something up for me."
"When do you want to leave?"
"Tonight," Carter said, and Kazuka sucked in her breath.
"Have someone pick up my things at the hotel."
"Where will I see you?"
"How do I get up to Hokkaido?"
"By air," she said. She named the small airstrip outside of the city.
"I'll see you there, then," Carter said. "Ten o'clock."
"Where are you going now?"
"To set up another diversion."
On the way down into the basement, Carter thought about Major Rishiri. He had blamed American interventionism in the region for the loss of his hand. He would be the weak link in this operation, though in many respects he could be the most important.
* * *
Carter made his way to the American embassy in Kojimachi-ku without incident. Inside he was given the runaround for the first ten minutes by a junior staffer in Consular Affairs until someone began to realize that at the very least they had someone on their hands who knew the entire CIA operational chart for Tokyo. Arnold Scott was finally called down.
Scott was one of the old hands from way back. He should have been manning a desk at Langley, but he preferred field assignments. He and Hawk knew each other, and although Scott had heard of Carter, they had never met.
They shook hands when Scott showed up in the Consular Affairs office. "I just got a call from your boss," he said.
They went upstairs to Scott's fourth-floor office. His secretary brought them coffee, and when they were alone Scott pulled a bottle of bourbon out of his desk and poured some into each of their coffee cups.
"Hawk has pulled out the big guns," Scott said. "We've gotten it from on high that we're to cooperate with you one hundred percent."
"I appreciate it."
Scott shook his head. "Hawk said something about never finding the chip here in Tokyo…?"
"Even if it is here, I don't think we'd find it in a hundred years of searching."
"So what are we all doing here?"
"Not nearly enough. I'm going to need a diversion. The bigger the better."
Scott's eyes narrowed. "What have you got in mind, Carter?"
"We need the Petrograd chip. It's highest priority."
"But you just said…"
"Right — we'll never find the chip here in Tokyo. But I know where another one is."
Scott started to protest, but then he sat back in his chair, a look of amazement on his face. "Svetlaya."
Carter nodded.
"You're going to lift a computer chip out of a Soviet submarine in the middle of the most heavily guarded base in the world.
"Something like that. But if the Russians here in Tokyo think we've stopped looking, they might begin to get worried about Svetlaya, and beef up their security even more."
Scott thought about that for a moment or two. Carter took a sip of his laced coffee. It was good.
"The Japanese will have to be informed," Scott said. "How does Hawk feel about that?"
"It'll make the operation seem more legitimate."
"But we're not going to tell them what's really going on?"
That was a tough one. "Not yet, I don't think," Carter said. "Major Matsu Rishiri and I have done business before, and he doesn't particularly care for me."
Again Scott fell silent while he thought that through. "You've made arrangements to get to Svetlaya?"
"Yes, I have."
"I don't want to know about it." Scott shook his head. "Paul Tibbet was a good man. They killed him right here in Tokyo over the chip. They won't be kind to you either if you're caught."
"No, they won't."
Scott reached out and flipped his intercom button. "Get Major Rishiri on the telephone. Tell him I'd like to meet with him here — immediately. Top priority."
"Yes, sir," his secretary said.
Scott poured them some more coffee and bourbon. "Between Rishiri's men and my people, we should be able to make a pretty fair-sized stink."
"One that I'll have to be personally involved in," Carter added.
"What?"
"I want the Russians to see me. I want them to know that I'm here in Tokyo."
"If they've seen you here, and believe you're still here, they won't suspect you're jogging off to Svetlaya."
"Something like that," Carter said, grinning.
Scott's secretary buzzed him five minutes later. "Mr. Scott… Major Rishiri is here already, sir."
Scott's eyebrows rose. "Send him in."
"He's been following me around," Carter said. He and Scott got to their feet as the major came in.
"I was expecting this little meeting," Rishiri said cooly. He didn't look too happy.
"Good afternoon, Major," Scott said. "You know Mr. Carter, I believe."
"Indeed," Rishiri said. "On Mr. Carter's account I have spent a trying half hour this morning with my boss and my Secretary of State. They are two very persuasive men who do not enjoy becoming involved in the personal likes or dislikes of their subordinates."
"Then you'll cooperate with us?" Carter snapped. He was tired of playing games with the man.
"For the moment, Mr. Carter, for the moment."
"We start tonight, Major."
"Start what?" Rishiri asked.
"You asked me what the Russians were looking for, and why Paul Tibbet was killed. Now I will tell you."
Rishiri looked to Scott. "Carter is CIA? He works for you? He is to be assigned here in Tokyo?"
"No to all of the above. Mr. Carter is simply here on a special assignment. When it is completed, he will leave."
"Good," Rishiri said. "Good. Now tell me everything, Nicholas-san."
Carter went through most of the story again, including the business with Lieutenant Lavrov attempting to trade the Petrograd chip for a secret defection. He left out his discussion with Howard Peyton, and of course made no mention of Kazuka, AXE, and his plans for departing Hokkaido that night.
When Carter was finished, Rishiri fell into a thoughtful silence. Scott looked at Carter and shrugged.
"The only ones who will have any chance of finding the chip are the Russians themselves. We have to follow them. All of them. Night and day. The moment they come up with the chip, we'll grab it," Scott said.
"It is their property after all," Rishiri said reasonably.
"The Petrograd-class submarine, once it is fully operational, will seriously upset the balance of power. It could mean war."
"Spare me the histrionics, Carter."
"Will we have your cooperation?"
Rishiri hesitated. Finally, however, he nodded. "Of course. It will be interesting to see how the Russians will react to your presence. Their man in the park across from their embassy is dead. Their ambassador has been called to see my Prime Minister. You have been here for barely twenty-four hours, and already there is trouble. There will be more. But I have nothing to say about it."
* * *
Major Rishiri arranged for two rooms on the twenty-first floor of the new Tokyo Hilton that had a good view of the Soviet embassy. Within a couple of hours a complete communications net had been set up in one of the rooms, while in the other, surveillance gear had been installed so that the embassy itself could be monitored visually, aurally, and electronically. The systems were all passive, so that the Russians would not be able to detect the surveillance. They would, however, be able to monitor the communications net.
Rishiri had at least two dozen o
f his people in the field, while Scott had been able to muster only a half dozen of his legmen. It was enough, however, to completely cover the Soviet embassy and especially KGB operations. It was also enough for the Russians to know that something was going on. How they were going to react was anyone's guess.
Carter managed to slip away into the lobby of the hotel long enough in the late afternoon to call Kazuka and confirm that she had been able to make all the arrangements.
"Everything is ready, Nicholas," she said. "But what is happening with the Russian embassy? There is a lot of activity over there."
"Call our people back. This is Scott's and Rishiri's show," Carter said.
"You're involved with it?"
"Yes, but listen to me very carefully, Kazuka. No matter what you hear… no matter what you think may be happening, stick to our schedule. Do you understand?"
"I hope so, Nicholas."
"I'll see you tonight at ten."
"Good luck," she said.
Carter hung up and went back upstairs. It was starting to become a habit for people to wish him luck on this assignment. It was beginning to get on his nerves.
* * *
By six that evening it was becoming obvious what the Russians were up to. They had divided their efforts into six teams, each assigned to one of Tokyo's major districts: Kanda, Hongo, Kyobashi, Asakusa, Nihonbashi, and Kojimachi-ku.
They evidently had a list of Lavrov's haunts and contacts, as well as the haunts and contacts of other embassy employees.
Step by step they were literally taking Tokyo apart, a Herculean task into which they had thrown themselves with a frenzy.
And there were troubles because of it. Besides the Russian killed in the Shinto park across from their embassy, two Japanese dockworkers had been killed in Nihonbashi when they had attempted to stop two unidentified men from coming aboard a vessel that had come from the Soviet Union five days earlier. Tokyo police didn't know who the killers were, though Rishiri's people did. But they had orders only to follow and to observe, not to interfere unless the Russians actually found the chip.
By eight the opportunity Carter was waiting for finally came. The timing was cutting it close, but he had wanted to make sure.
A small riot had broken out in the Ginza between a couple of Russians and several dozen Japanese teen-age toughs. Rishiri hurried off to see what he could do to calm things down without bringing too much police attention into play.
Carter and Scott left the hotel a couple of minutes later, separating in front. Scott had his instructions for the pickup. He didn't like the idea very much, but he was enough of an old field man to understand — considering the pressure of time — that there weren't many options.
Scott went for his car while Carter headed on foot directly over to the Soviet embassy. The building was lit up like a three-ring circus and was just as busy, teams coming and going.
Kojimachi-ku was a modern district of Tokyo. It was mostly well lit and busy with traffic.
It look Carter nearly ten minutes to make it over to the embassy. He stationed himself once again across the street near the entrance of the Shinto park, though for the moment he hid himself in the shadows.
The Russians wanted him, if for nothing else than the fact that one of their men had been killed on his behalf.
At the agreed-upon time four minutes later, Carter stepped out of the shadows so that he was in plain view of the embassy. A car came out of the gate. Carter pulled out a notebook and wrote down its license number.
He started toward the food stand a moment later — and saw a pair of agents rushing out of the embassy. Carter turned and pulled out his Luger at the same moment he saw Scott's car turning the corner.
Carter raised his gun and squeezed off a shot high. He was playing a dangerous game here. His life depended now upon the fact that the two KGB agents across the street were professionals and knew how to shoot.
They opened fire, three rounds catching Carter high in the chest, driving him backward, off his feet.
Traffic was screeching to a halt, and people were shouting and screaming.
Scott pulled to a stop a split second later and rushed to where Carter lay. The Russians had stepped back into the embassy compound and were watching from the shadows as Scott hurriedly dragged Carter back to the car and unceremoniously dumped him into the back seat.
Scott stopped a moment to look across at the embassy, then he jumped into his car and took off as police sirens began to sound in the distance.
Four
"We have a casualty here! Carter's been hit!" Scott shouted into the radio.
"Roger that," the operator at their surveillance center in the Hilton radioed. "Where are you?"
"We're heading out of Kojimachi-ku. But I think we might have a tail."
"Do you need some help?"
"Negative, negative," Scott said. He hauled the car around the corner, then shot up a ramp and headed east on the freeway.
"Unit one, give us your exact location," the radio blared.
Scott reached out and shut it off. He glanced in his rearview mirror. "How are you doing back there?"
"I've felt better," Carter said, sitting up stiffly. He looked back the way they had come. It seemed clear, though it was hard to tell. There was a lot of traffic at that hour.
"You were taking one hell of a chance back there," Scott said.
Carter's chest ached where the three bullets had hit the Kevlar vest. "I want my body on the next plane back to the States."
"The box will go out first thing in the morning. But Rishiri might want to see it."
"If your people move fast enough, he won't have the time to force anything," Carter said, taking off his jacket and unstrapping the bulletproof vest. "If you run into too much trouble, call Hawk. He'll be able to pull some strings."
Scott was having some trouble accepting what was happening. "Can you tell me who you're working with here in Tokyo? Who make the arrangements for you to get up to Hokkaido?"
"No, I can't."
"There's no way for me to get in touch…"
"Listen, Scott," Carter said, sitting forward. "I don't want you people trying to come after me. I don't want anyone at my back door. This is going to be difficult enough as it is."
"Crazy, if you ask me."
"Just convince everyone I'm dead."
"Including Major Rishiri."
"Especially him," Carter said.
* * *
It was well after nine o'clock by the time Scott dropped Carter off in Hongo on Tokyo's far north side. They had made a big circle around the city to make absolutely certain they were not being followed.
"I can't say as I like this, Carter. If and when you make a big splash somewhere, Rishiri will know I lied to him. It'll be tough working with him after that."
"I know. But this is important."
"Right," Scott said, resigned. "Well, good luck."
Carter just looked at him for a moment, then he shook his head, turned, and walked off.
Hongo was a relatively quiet section of the city at night because this, was the area where most of the schools and colleges were located.
It took Carter nearly ten minutes to find a cab to take him back into the city where Kazuka had left him a small Honda in a parking ramp. He circled the area a couple of times on foot, then got into the car and drove immediately east out of the city.
According to Kazuka, the Hachioji Commercial Aviation Field was all but defunct, its facilities old-fashioned and run-down. A couple of Japanese barnstormers, flying old Steerman biplanes brought from the States, were the only ones to use the field on a regular basis. An old couple lived at the far end of the strip in a small house. They maintained the grass runways, made sure the lights worked, and kept the fuel tanks full.
Carter turned off the secondary highway and drove slowly down the dirt road that led back to the airfield. A mile in, his headlights flashed on the gate, which was open. He stopped. Kazuka had given him a key for
the gate. But now it was open.
He got out of his car and walked up to the fence, which was illuminated in his headlights.
The lock hung from a heavy chain. It was open. He picked it up and examined it in the light. It hadn't been forced, though it could have been picked. He looked up. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.
Back in his car, Carter doused the headlights, drove through the gate, and headed across the field toward the terminal building, which was dark.
On the far side of the field, he could see the dim lights of the caretaker's house, but on this side of the strip, even the lights on the hangars were out.
Coming around the nearest hangar, Carter spotted a twin-engine Cessna 310 sitting on the apron in front of the terminal building, and he pulled up short.
The plane was dark, and from where he was he couldn't see if anyone was inside or nearby. For a moment or two he just sat there, but then he put the car in reverse and backed up behind the hangar where he shut off the engine and got out.
The Russians had followed Kazuka all over Tokyo. It was possible she had not been able to shake them this time, and they had tracked her out here.
Carter pulled out his Luger but then thought better of it. He stuffed the gun back in its holster. Officially, he was dead. He didn't want the police coming out here to investigate a gun battle. He flicked out Hugo, the stiletto's blade glinting in the starlight as he headed on foot around the hangar.
The building was made of corrugated metal over a wooden framework. It creaked and rattled in the light breeze. Twice Carter was stopped in his tracks, thinking he heard a door slamming. Each time, however, he decided it was simply the wind and he continued.
At the far end of the hangar, he peered around the corner. Kazuka's red Datsun was parked at the rear of the two-story white stucco terminal building. No lights shone anywhere. It was as if that entire side of the field had lost its electricity.
He remained in the shadows for a long time, watching the terminal, but there was no movement. Perhaps he had spooked himself. Perhaps Kazuka had simply forgotten to lock the gate and she was waiting inside for him now. Some inner voice, some sixth sense told him differently, though. This didn't feel right to him.