by J. F. Holmes
Lighting the cigarette, Takeshi waved it at the people passing by on the street. “Look around you, Mr. American Marine. Do you really believe these people want to be under the thumb of the American government? How many did your military kill in the Filipino Insurrection? Tens of thousands, to be sure. Your Military Governor General Otis condoned the use of rape, torture, and theft by American soldiers. That was less than forty years ago. Plenty of time for hatred to simmer and bubble. First the Spanish, and then the Americans. When do they get out from under Western rule?”
“And being under your rule would be better for them?”
“The Emperor cares deeply about all his subjects. The Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere will bring benefits for all.” He puffed on the cigarette and blew smoke out his nostrils. “Instead of being American slaves. With not even the chance for statehood.”
“Beyond my pay grade. Decisions like that are best left up to politicians. My only responsibility here is to stop you.”
“I can see that. Your dedication to your duty is admirable. In duty, there is honor. But are you willing to risk death for your duty? That is the true measure of the samurai.” He stubbed out the cigarette and rose. “You’re out of your depth, Captain. You’ve had all day, and you still don’t know where to find me. I control when and how we meet. I control the battlefield, as it were. Goodbye, John Torres. The next time we meet, it will be for your death.”
“Bastard. You can try.” John forced himself to sit and watch his opponent walk away. In moments he was lost in the passing mass of people, but he made no move to follow. Sam walked up a few moments later.
“Ham gave me the high sign. His crew is on him like white on rice. We’ll see where he takes us. Think he’ll be dumb enough to lead us straight back to his base?”
“Not directly. But yeah, he’s plenty smart. Remember, he got a degree from the University of California. Not only is he smart, but he lived among Americans for more than four years. He’s got a pretty good idea of how we think and work.” John sipped from the coffee, now going cold, and smiled. “But we have assets he doesn’t know about. He’s feeling pretty good about himself now. We’ll wait, and watch. Sooner or later, he has to get back to his base and coordinate things. A man like that doesn’t leave too much to underlings.”
~~~~~
It was approaching seven o’clock before Ham’s people got word back to them where Takeshi had gone to ground. He was at a rented house on the north side of town, and it covered extensive grounds. There was a wrought-iron fence facing the front of the property with a gate, and a dirt road that wound its way through the numerous trees to get to the house. However, the fence didn’t extend the full perimeter of the property, so it would be a simple matter to travel by foot around it.
It took John a couple of hours to get cooperation from the commander of the Fourth Marine Regiment. With the majority of the regiment stationed further west to guard the naval bases at Subic and Mariveles, there were a limited number of Marines available for ‘other duties’. Only with prolific use of the Naval Intelligence identification and the associated letter—and the cooperation of the United States Far East Forces G-2—was he able to pry loose a squad. After that, it was still more than two hours to travel to Manila from Subic. The entire time Ham and Sam had watched the house, but hadn’t seen anyone else enter or leave.
However, Sergeant Joseph Keller, the squad leader, was far more cooperative. Once he realized that John was in fact a real Marine officer, all was right in his world. He took in the mission phlegmatically, only replying, “Aye, aye, sir. We’ll catch that Nip bastard for ya. Squad’s down one man, though. Malaria.”
“That’s fine, Sergeant Keller. We’ll make do without him. We’ll drive to within a half mile, and then we’re going to march overland to the house where they’re holed up. If they fight, return fire, and otherwise defend yourselves. If they flee, attempt to capture first.”
The tall, thin sergeant nodded once. “We expecting heavy resistance, then?”
“Frankly, I don’t know what we’re expecting there. I asked Colonel Howard for a platoon, but he was…reluctant to part with that many men.”
Keller laughed briefly. “Hell, sir, the regiment’s in a tizzy since the move from China. Most of the men didn’t land here but a few days ago, and there’s been fuck-all transport to move most of our shit around. They got guys filling sandbags, digging foxholes, and ain’t nobody knows shit about when the Japs are coming.”
He paused and then said soberly, “Since those yellow bastards ran us outta China, most of the guys got a mad on about them. We all agreed on the drive over here that we got lucky, sir.”
John looked the other man in the eyes. “Sergeant, I can’t say how this is going to go. But I will say if you and your men see any kind of hostile act, don’t hesitate to fire. No matter how unusual it may seem.”
The trip overland to the house was without incident, although it was almost midnight by this time. They met up with the other two men, and they informed the Marines that the people in the house had dragged a fifty-five-gallon barrel into the backyard. They were now in the process of dowsing the wood inside with gasoline.
“My guess is they’re getting ready to burn important papers. Which means they’re getting ready to leave, and in a hurry,” Sam said. “Although midnight isn’t exactly the best time for driving on these roads, and the fire will give away their position.”
“Unless they figger something else is going to distract people,” Sergeant Keller said.
Silence fell as the group considered that action. In the distance, shouted orders in Japanese could be heard from the backyard, and a dull thump announced the ignition of the fire.
Ham peered over the bushes they were crouched behind. “Won’t be long now. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes at the most before they start burning shit. What’s the call, Cap?”
John looked around at the assembled men. “We don’t know how many of them are in there, or how they’re armed. If possible, I want the leaders captured alive, but whatever you do, don’t let any escape.”
He turned and motioned at the house with a knife hand. “Sergeant, I want you and the BAR man covering the back entrance of the house from the tree line. Corporal Hauser, take two men and put yourselves in the woods where you can put a crossfire on the back entrance, and otherwise support Keller’s team.”
He looked at the sailor. “Ham, you want to come with us when we knock?”
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll hang back some and cover you. Might be you need to dive for cover fast, and I can cover pretty well with this beast.” He patted the side of his cut-down BAR.
Turning to the remaining Marines, he motioned at the front of the house. “Lance Corporal Holmes, you’ll cover us at the front entrance with Lieutenant Hammeler. Captain Hawthorne and I will take the other two men and…knock on the front door.”
Sam had his shotgun, and John had borrowed a trench gun from Ham and had his Colt Automatic on his hip. The two Marines with them, like the others, had the Springfield bolt-action rifles. John had them fix their bayonets, because sometimes the supernatural respected only cold steel.
He gave Keller and Hauser twenty minutes to circle the house and get into position. The Japanese agents had started burning their documents, but they had to feed it slowly to ensure all the paper burned. They counted three men, none of them Takeshi, going in and out of the house to burn before they headed for the front door.
“How do you want to play this, John?” They crouched in the bushes near the front, watching Ham get set to cover the front door.
“I want them to run, preferably straight into Keller’s arms. So let’s make some noise and spook the spooks.”
The four of them approached the door from the side opposite Ham’s position to give him a clear field of fire. There was a single window on the front of the house, and John motioned the two privates to one side, away from the door, while he and Sam took the side nearest the
door. As they got into position, they could hear men talking inside—questions shouted and answers returned, some in Japanese, and some in the local language.
John mimed to the privates to use the butt of their rifles on the window and held up three fingers. He pointed at the door hinges for Sam to shoot out, and then took a position a few steps from the door. With one hand he counted down from three.
At zero, the two privates smashed in the window and then ducked back. As the shouts rose from inside, John nodded to the pilot. He raised his shotgun and plugged each door hinge. They shattered easily, the old wood and cheap hinges no match for double-ought shot from a twelve gauge.
Before the report of Sam’s last shot had sounded, John ran at the door. He kicked the hinge side and it fell inward, and he followed it in. The front room had been a living room at one point, but now it held a large shortwave radio on a table in the middle of the room. Most of the furniture had been moved to the walls, except for one armchair that sat next to the radio. A man, local by his looks, was entering the room from the opposite side, from what looked like the kitchen. He yelled as the door fell inward and fumbled at his belt for a pistol.
John shot him twice, the trench gun sounding with a dull thud as the short barrel sprayed the man with heavy shot. He screamed in pain, shirt shredded and bloodied, and staggered backward about two steps before collapsing to the floor.
The Marine continued into the room, and he heard Sam enter behind him. There was another door in the living room, but it was shut. From the kitchen he heard more shouts and running footsteps. Moving quickly, he put his back to the doorway to the kitchen and motioned for Sam to cover the other door. Shots rang out as the two privates entered the house, striking the wood by the door frame with dull thuds, but not hitting anyone. One private went to a knee, shouldering his weapon and returning fire with slow precision. The other came to John’s side, his Springfield held at the ready.
~~~~~
Kasumi started out of her trance as the sound of glass shattering and gunshots echoed through the woods. She frowned in annoyance; her activation spells were not yet complete. More time, just a few more minutes was all she needed. Quickly she took a sheet of rice paper from the inside of her kimono and tore it in half with a quick jerk. Instead of tearing like paper, it shrieked like a person dying. A cloud of yellow smoke emanated from the two halves, coalescing quickly into a seven-foot-tall creature. It was shaped like a man, but with blue skin, huge tusks, and sharp, pointed teeth. Its arms were grotesquely long and simian-like, and it growled fiercely as it solidified.
She spoke a command in Japanese and pointed in the direction of the house. It grunted and took off at a fast lope, using its long arms to propel itself faster than a man could run. Taking up her activation spells again, she smiled. The oni would at the very least give her the time she needed to complete her tasks, and if there were any intruders left, she could have some fun for herself.
~~~~~
John counted five shots from the private by the door, and then tapped the Marine next to him. The man dashed forward into the room, rifle leveled, and John followed him. Someone appeared out of the darkness from behind a cabinet near the far doorway, bringing a pistol down from the raised position they’d held it in. Before he could even level the weapon, the private had run him through with the bayonet, stepping into the lunge and pushing the man away from the doorway out of the kitchen. His opponent gasped at the impact, and he dropped the pistol to fumble at the blade in his gut.
Shouts came from the backyard in English telling someone to ‘halt’, and exclamations of surprise and anger in the local language. There were several pistol shots, and then the BAR opened up. Its heavy drumbeat of fire echoed loudly in the house, and screams of rage and fear followed the fire. Rifle shots followed closely after, both the heavy bang of the Springfield and a lighter caliber weapon.
John briefly wondered if Takeshi would stand and fight, or attempt to escape. The man’s ego wouldn’t like being surprised like this, but he was a professional’s professional. The more logical option would be to escape and start again. The other door in the kitchen led to the backyard, so he wouldn’t be that way. That only left the door Sam was guarding.
Back in the living room, Sam, Ham, and the Marines were gathered around the door. John took advantage of the pause to thumb two more shells into the trench gun as he looked at the others.
“Oxborough, take your team around the opposite side. Watch for any leakers from the windows. This looks like the last part of the house our target could be hiding in.”
Corporal Oxborough nodded and took the other two at jog out of the house. Looking at the other two, John nodded at the door. “Time to end this thing. Ham, get ready. I’ll open it and you be ready to spray the other side.”
But before they could act, a huge roar sounded from outside in the backyard. A man screamed in terror, a loud, agonized sound. Then the back wall of the house shook as something impacted on it. The BAR started up again, short bursts at first, then a long, sustained roar of fully automatic fire. Something out there roared back, and there was the sound of wood shattering.
Ham looked at other two, a question on his face. Sam shrugged, and John motioned at the door. “They’ll have to deal with whatever is out there. We have bigger fish to fry.”
He readied himself to open the door as Ham positioned himself to one side, modified BAR at his shoulder. John tested the handle, found it unlocked, and nodded to Ham. He then whipped the door open and stepped back quickly. Ham swept the hallway with his weapon, but didn’t fire. He lowered the heavy rifle and stepped up to the door frame.
“Sam, you take the left, I’ll take the right.”
Sam nodded, and they proceeded into the darkened hallway. There were three doorways opening off the hall, with two on the left, and one on the right midway between them. The first door was half open, and John peered carefully around the doorway. Seeing nothing but a bed and a dresser, he nodded to Sam, who stepped quickly into the room. Seconds later he came back out, shaking his head.
The sounds of the battle outside continued, rifle shots hammering away in rapid succession. The BAR had fallen silent briefly after one agonized scream, and then started back up again as someone else had picked it up. Still, the number of weapons still firing was dropping steadily.
The door on the right was closed, and John motioned Ham to come up and cover the last door while they forced this one. Sam kicked this door open, and John charged through. It was a bedroom as well, with the bedding in disarray, and a half-packed suitcase on the floor. There was no one in the room, however.
Carefully they approached the last door, Ham in the lead, and the other two men a few steps behind him. The hall creaked slightly, barely audible over the sound of the firefight outside. Ham stepped over to the hinge side of the door, preparing to enter the room after someone opened the door.
Motioning Sam back, John stepped up and kicked in the door. Ham sprang through, weapon coming up to his shoulder. It was fortunate that he did so, as something struck the wooden foregrip with enough force to kick the barrel up and to his left. His finger tightened on the trigger, sending a round into the ceiling. Ham paused in the doorway, realigning his aim on whatever had attacked him.
John had no clear shot past Ham, and he yelled, “Clear the door!”
Ham continued to bring the heavy rifle around, and this time the barrel intercepted the blade of a sword that swung from the room’s interior. The screech of metal on metal filled the hallway. The Navy man attempted to muscle the blade back the way it came, but a foot lashed out and caught him in the right knee. It buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, giving John a clear shot.
He fired once, even though he didn’t see a target. Charging forward, he leapt over Ham’s writhing form into the room. A man clad in black seemed to bounce upward from where he had been lying on the floor. He’d obviously anticipated a shot from the hall and had dropped to the ground as he was taking Ham down. H
e held a short-bladed sword in his hand, and as his head came around, John recognized Takeshi’s profile.
Bringing the trench gun up, he tried to line up a shot on his nemesis, but the man slapped the barrel in the direction it was already going, sending it spinning past him and spoiling the shot. Takeshi continued his own turn, using the momentum to bring the other hand with the sword around.
John had no choice but to duck back out of the way of the sweeping blade, which left him open to a kick from Takeshi. A solid blow struck him on the shoulder, sending his already off-balance form falling backward into the door jamb. Sam looked up from where he was helping Ham, and tried to bring his own shotgun to bear.
Instead he had to use it with both hands to block the downward sweep of the sword. It impacted on the weapon, and Sam struggled mightily from his crouched position to keep the blade away and maintain his balance. John attempted to bring his trench gun around, but Takeshi, without relenting the pressure on Sam, kicked the weapon out of his grip and sent it skittering across the floor.
“Arrogant gaijin. I told you that you would…” His words cut off as Ham lifted the BAR from the floor and fired a single round upward through the Japanese agent’s stomach. The force of the gases from the barrel sent him stumbling back, and he wobbled on his feet as he tried to fight the force sending him away from his targets.
John used the wall at his back to stand up, pulling his Colt from his holster. Takeshi was coughing now, one hand at his chest, but the other still holding the sword. John raised the pistol and fired once, straight into Takeshi’s chest. The heavy bullet struck him high on the chest, and he collapsed into a sitting position like a puppet with his strings cut.
Walking carefully over to the man, John kicked the sword from his nerveless hand. Blood sprayed over the floor as Takeshi continued coughing. He crouched down in front of the man, carefully avoiding the sprayed blood. “Who dies now, fucker?”