“You know, these things are addictive.”
Chris Slaughter patted his stomach and smiled.
“Tell me about it. Doc,” he added ashe turned to the forward hatchway.
Sixteen
Morning found Dr. Yukio Ishii decked out in a white robe and billowing pants, briskly walking down the busy Takara pier toward the docked Katana. Only a few fluffy clouds dotted the blue sky, and it promised to be another clear, warm day. The previous evening had been a busy one, and though he was able to get little rest, he was hardly aware of any fatigue. After all, his lifetime goal was about to be achieved with the Katana’s sailing, and he was too excited now to sleep even if he wanted to.
Ashe approached the stern of the submarine, he passed by a truck that was in the process of being unloaded. He halted a moment to inspect this vehicle’s cargo, packed in a number of open-sided, wooden-slat crates.
“Just a second, lad,” said Ishii to one of the young dockworkers who had been stacking the crates on a two-wheeled handcart for transport to the submarine.
One look at the silver-haired elder from whose mouth this request emanated immediately caused the dockworker to stop working and bow deeply.
Oblivious to this show of respect, Ishii reached over and opened the top crate. Inside he found two dozen heads of lettuce. He noted with some degree of satisfaction that the green leaves didn’t show any hint of wilting or spoilage, that the heads were firm and compact. He tore off a small piece and slowly chewed it, finding the lettuce succulent and fresh.
Only then did he signal the laborer to carryon while he continued on toward the Katana’s gangway.
Captain Okura could be seen in the sub’s sail, and Ishii raised his voice in greeting.
“Good morning, Satsugai. It seems that the Way is still smiling on you. Never before have I seen such a magnificent sunrise as today’s.”
Okura came over to the side of the sail to respond.
“I just got through studying the latest meteorological forecast, Sensei. We should have smooth sailing all the way into Tokyo Bay.”
“Surely that’s another good omen,” said Ishii.
“Is all prepared for this evening’s departure?”
Okura nodded.
“As you can see, we’re just taking on the last of the foodstuffs. All that remains to be loaded is our special cargo — and the brave team of ninja who will deliver it.”
“I just came from the lab,” Ishii informed him.
“The aerosol canisters are being filled with fresh toxin, and they will be delivered here by noon.
Though I can’t say the same for our ninjitsu brethren.
It seems thatone of our lab workers is missing, and I sent them into the hills to search for her.”
“Is it anyone I know?” asked the curious submariner.
“As a matter of fact, you do know her,” Ishii replied.
“She’s Yoko Noguchi, the young scientist who recently toured your boat.”
“Ah, thatone.” Okura sounded pensive.
“I hope that she hasn’t had an accident of some kind.”
“We can’t say for sure, Satsugai. All I can tell you is that she mysteriously disappeared from the toxicology lab shortly after being called in for a special work shift.”
“The way you’ve been driving those poor lab workers, it’s no wonder,” said Okura.
“I’ll bet this washer day off.”
“As a matter of fact, it was, Satsugai.”
Okura had it all figured out now.
“Check the trails beyond the wind farm. She’s probably just trying to get a little fresh air. She’ll be back soon enough.”
But Ishii didn’t agree.
“Not thatone, my friend.
Like ourselves, she thrives on her work. Though she is new to us, and who really knows what’s in the minds of the younger generation. Well, whatever bethe case, let’s just hope the ninja don’t have to waste anymore of their precious time locating her. Are their accommodations ready?”
“That they are, Sensei. The weapon’s pallet has been removed to make room for them and their equipment. And because of this, we’re carrying only six tube-loaded torpedoes. And even these, I don’t anticipate having to utilize.”
“A wise warrior is prepared for all contingencies,” advised Ishii stoically.
The deep, throaty rumble of a diesel engine drew his attention to the other side of the pier, where a sleek patrol boat was about to pull up to the vacant slip located directly opposite the Katana. This formidable-looking vessel had a pair of two-inch deck guns mounted forward of the wheelhouse, and a dual rack of depth charges was positioned on its fantail. Its tall mast was bristling with aerials and radar dishes, along with several adjustable spotlights.
With a minimum of difficulty, the hundred-foot long, attack craft reached the slip and cut its engines.
While a group of sailors fastened its mooring lines, a baldheaded officer with a patch over his left eye emerged from the wheelhouse. Ishii returned this individual’s crisp salute, then watched ashe climbed down onto the main deck to the pier.
Ishii had a genuine fondness for this one-eyed naval man. Lieutenant Satoshi Tanaka had joined his organization five years ago, while in the midst of a somewhat tempestuous career in the Japanese Maritime SelfDefense Force. An avowed lover of rice wine and geisha girls, Tanaka had constantly been in trouble during his early cadet days. These vices almost had kept him from receiving a commission.
And when he finally had gotten a ship of his own, it had been little more than a tugboat.
Tanaka had had to work extra hard to prove himself, and after ten years of tireless effort, he’d been given command of a Shirane-class destroyer. This had been a dream come true. The Shirane was a state-of-the-art warship. Over five hundred feet long, and displacing over 6,800 tons, it was powered by a pair of geared steam turbines that gave it atop speed of well over thirty knots. It had a complement of 350 men, carried three Sea King helicopters, and was equipped with a variable depth sonar and a variety of weapons systems, including two triple Mk32 torpedo tubes, a pair of Phalanx Gatling guns, a Sea Sparrow SAM launcher, two five-inch Mk42 guns, and an ASROC Mkl6 launcher.
While the ship was in port in Sasebo, certain members of Tanaka’s crew had crossed paths with some unruly US Marines. Tanaka had attempted to intercede on their behalf, and a violent brawl had ensued, during which the forty-seven-year-old naval officer had lost his eye. When one of his men later died as a result of this fight, Tanaka had been brought up on charges. Though the court of inquiry found him innocent, his prospects were how tainted.
He lost command of the destroyer and once again found solace in sake. He was well on his way to selfdestruction when Ishii learned of his plight and offered him work on Takara Island.
With Satoshi Tanaka’s able assistance, Takara Bay had been outfitted with atop-rate defense system.
And he’d overseen the purchase and subsequent refitting of the two Romeoclass submarines. His most current project had been the overhaul of the fast attack boat he had just docked. Altogether, Tanaka had proved to be an invaluable member of Ishii’s family, one whose loyalty was beyond question.
“Good morning, Satoshi!” Ishii said as Tanaka strolled down the hastily arranged gangplank.
“How did the refit go?”
Tanaka’s hefty frame was outfitted in a starched white uniform bereft of any insignias, and his deeply tanned face broke out in a warm smile ashe joined Ishii on the dock.
“Wonderfully, sir. You’ll have to accompany us on a patrol soon and see for yourself. The new gas turbines give us an additional eight knots, and I can’t wait to try out the towed, variable-depth sonar unit.”
“I’d enjoy coming along on such a cruise,” said Ishii as Tanaka spotted Satsugai Okura still perched on the Katana’s sail.
“Greetings, Captain!” Tanaka called in the direction of the sub.
“So today’s the big day.”
“
That it is, Satoshi,” replied Okura from above.
“Just say the word and I’ll join you.” Tanaka was quite serious.
“You’re needed here, old friend,” observed Okura.
“Besides, you never were much of a submariner.”
While both officers were still cadets, they had done trial time on a submarine, and Tanaka had experienced claustrophobia. Shortly afterward he had requested duty with the surface fleet.
“Well, the offer still stands, should you need me,” the one-eyed mariner said.
“Why not join me on the Katana, Satoshi?” invited Ishii.
“I believe we can find a suitable beverage on board to drink to Satsugai’s safe return.”
Tanaka’s good eye twinkled.
“Lead the way, sir. I never was one to say no to a send-off toast.”
As they made their way to the Katana’s forward gangway, he added, “It’s just too bad that Captain Sato hasn’t returned yet. With him back, we could really have a proper sen doff.”
Ishii responded while beckoning him to lead the way up the ramp.
“I’m not expecting the Bokken back for agood twenty-four hours. But I’ll tell you what, when Sato returns, the party’s on me, with a beautiful geisha for each one of us!”
Before Tanaka could react to this offer, the low rumble of an approaching diesel truck sounded behind them. Both men turned in the direction of this noise, and saw a large green pick-up truck with darkly tinted windows pull right up to the Katana’s gangplank. They were about to ignore it when a black-robed ninja with a sword hanging from his waist emerged from the driver’s side.
Ishii was especially interested in this hooded individual, who walked crisply around the truck and yanked open its passenger door. The elder was somewhat surprised when Yoko Noguchi stepped out of the vehicle. The young scientist appeared disheveled, her face and clothes smudged with dirt. And strangely enough, her hands were tightly bound behind her back. Seeing this, Ishii immediately reversed his intended course and returned to the concrete pier.
“Whatever is the meaning of this?” he asked, his first concern was for Yoke’s welfare.
The ninja faced the confused elder, bowed, and spoke out in a deep, raspy voice.
“Sensei, Miss Noguchi was found on Katami ridge, with an unauthorized shortwave radio transmitter in her possession.”
Astounded by this revelation, Ishii turned to meet the accused.
“Is this true?” he queried.
Yoko nodded, ashamed that it was, and looked downward. This prompted a spirited response from the still unbelieving elder.
“But why would you do such a thing? You know this is a serious breach of your security pledge. Will you at least tell me who it was you were attempting to contact?”
Yoko remained silent, and it was the ninja who answered in her place.
“Sensei, the frequency band of her transmitter was set on a channel reserved for the JMSDF (Japanese Maritime SelfDefense Force).
Our homing equipment indicates that she was able to send a pair of brief broadcasts, the last of which occurred only seconds before we intercepted her.”
Ishii’s mood suddenly shifted from disappointment to rage.
“And to think that I actually trusted you! Such treachery cannot be excused. At the very least I feel you owe me some kind of explanation, even if you are only a cowardly spy — a traitor on the payroll of the Western barbarians!”
The crestfallen scientist slowly lifted up her head and bravely replied.
“It’s you, Doctor, who’s the traitor.
Your subterfuge threatens to undermine the democracy that has led Japan from the shame of unconditional surrender to a position of great economic power.”
“So, it was for the sake of this precious democracy that you infiltrated my organization,” observed the bitter elder.
“And what may I ask did you hope to gain by this foolish act?”
“To stop you before untold thousands of innocent lives are lost as a result of your scheme to wrest power from the legitimate seat of government,” Yoko blurted out.
“You, Doctor, are just a throwback to the shortsighted militarists who led Japan into the disastrous war that brought our proud country to its knees. And if the last thing I ever do, helps bring you to justice, I’ll go to my grave with my soul at rest.”
“Justice?” cried Ishii with a wrathful laugh.
“I’ll show you justice, my dear. It will take you to the grave even sooner than you anticipated.”
This said, the red-faced elder reached over and pulled the sword out of the ninja’s scabbard.
“Satoshi!” he ordered.
“Hold her in place from behind.” To the ninja, he curtly added.
“Prepare her to be beheaded.”
The mere mention of this last word caused Yoko’s eyes to widen in horror. And as the ninja roughly grabbed the hair on the top of her scalp and pulled her head forward until she was fully bent over at the waist, the full reality of her plight set in.
“And to think I had such great plans for you,” whispered Ishii with an icy softness.
“You were going to be my representative to the younger generations that will lead Nippon into the twenty-first century. The only trouble is, your soul has not yet progressed to the level of spiritual enlightenment needed to understand the true course of my ambitions.
It’s evident that the veils of samsara still blind you, and because of your distorted inner vision, you fell victim to the persuasive lies of the establishment.
I pity you, Yoko Noguchi — so bright, so beautiful, with so much potential, yet lost to the true call of the Way.”
Ishii halted at this point to draw in a series of deep breaths. Then, his hands firmly grasping the sword’s hilt, he stood at Yoke’s side and eyed the white skin of her exposed neck. Without another word spoken, he swung the katana overhead, then swiftly drove it downward.
The razor-sharp blade cut through skin and bone as if it were rice paper, and Yoke’s detached head plopped down onto the concrete of the pier to lie in a crimson pool of blood. Satoshi Tanaka continued tightly holding her body from behind ashe squeamishly watched blood continue to spurt from the cut arteries in the victim’s open neck. He felt great relief when the ninja took the limp body from his trembling hands and he was able to step back and fight the urge to retch.
“Come, Satoshi,” instructed Ishii in a calm tone.
“Have you already forgotten about our sen doff toast aboard the Katana?”
Amazed at how quickly the old-timer was able to adjust to this traumatic event, Satoshi Tanaka somehow managed to summon the self-control needed to voice a reply.
“Of course I haven’t, sir. It’s just that I have never witnessed a beheading before.”
“Then tell me, my friend, what did you think of it?” Ishii asked matter-of-factly.
Tanaka was momentarily distracted when the victim’s bloodsoaked head unexpectedly rolled over, and the young girl’s eyes could be seen blindly staring up at them.
“It… cer-certainly was quick,” stammered the shocked mariner.
Noting Tanaka’s continued upset, Ishii walked over and gently took him by the arm and led him toward the submarine.
“What do you expect when you’re judge, jury, and executioner all in one?” observed Ishii.
A concerned voice came from the direction of the Katana’s gangplank.
“What was that all about, Sensei?”
quizzed Satsugai Okura.
Ishii waited until he and Tanaka were well up the gangplank themselves before answering.
“It seems that we had a rat in our midst, Satsugai.”
“Has the security of the operation been compromised?”
breathlessly asked the submariner.
“I seriously doubt it,” returned Ishii.
“I believe we eliminated the vermin before she could do us any real harm. However, I want to expedite the loading of the toxin. And I want the ninja
on board and the Katana ready to sail at a moment’s notice.”
“I thought thatone was asking too many questions for her own good,” said Okura ashe escorted them onto the sub’s deck.
“I guess I should never have allowed her to tour this vessel.”
“Nonsense,” replied Ishii.
“We have nothing here to hide. And besides, the weak-willed fools she was reporting to are of little concern to us. They’ll waste days in analysis and planning, and by the time they get the nerve to act, it will be too late.”
As they prepared to climb down the forward access trunk, Ishii lightly added, “Now I hope you’ve got the sake warming. Captain. Satoshi here needs some fortification, and we must toast our success.”
Chris Slaughter was taking his turn as OOD, when the excited voice of Ray Morales filled the control room.
“Radar shows land dead ahead. Captain!”
Slaughter rushed over to the radar station to see this sighting for himself.
“There it is, sir,” said Morales, ashe pointed to a jagged line visible beneath the glass display plate.
“It’s due north of us, at a range of about eighteen miles.”
“Good work, Mr. Morales,” replied Slaughter.
“If the visibility topside cooperates, we should be able to eyeball it.”
While crossing over to the periscope well. Slaughter addressed the acting quartermaster.
“Inform Mr.
Brown to join me here on the double.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the quartermaster, a soundpowered telephone hanging from a harness around his neck.
Since they were already traveling at snorkel depth, no change was necessary for Slaughter to effectively deploy the periscope. But the eyepiece seemed to take forever to rise up, and he anxiously bent over and snapped down the dual grips as soon as they showed themselves.
A rubber coupling protected the eyepiece itself, and as Slaughter nuzzled up against it with his brow, the lens finally broke the water’s surface. The first thing he viewed was the wave that slapped up against the lens. Then he saw an expanse of blue sky, and after initiating a quick 360-degree scan, he swung the scope to bearing zero-zero-zero. A slight adjustment in focus was necessary before the eyepiece filled with the green profile of a distant landmass.
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