“Yes. Thank you,” he said, bowing. “Very excellent suggestion.”
After heating the water for thirty minutes, the bath was ready. “Ah,” Vladimir groaned with pleasure. The woman’s a genius, he thought. She had also volunteered to wash the clothes he wore, and he would wear the extra set in his pack. By 2030 he was ready for the walk into town.
“What is my best approach to town and the flower shop?” he asked the man.
“You are wise to take my advice. This is an exceptionally dangerous time to be out. The Tokkō will be extremely suspicious of a foreigner on his own at night.”
The thought of implicating Okimi made Vladimir shudder.
“This route will take longer, but it will be safer,” the man said, pulling out a piece of paper. “Let me show you.”
“How much longer?”
“Thirty minutes,” the man said, noticing a frown on Vladimir’s face. “She will wait, comrade, don’t worry.”
The man’s directions were easy to follow. They sent Vladimir around the town to approach the flower shop from the north instead of the south. He observed that coming through town between the buildings would have been treacherous, as several Tokkō soldiers were on watch. For what, he wasn’t sure. I’m just glad it’s not me, he thought. The moon was just a sliver, so finding the greenhouse was difficult. But finally, there it was, a low, cheap, glass-paneled building, barely visible in the night shadows. There was a kerosene lamp dimly burning at one end. He slipped inside through the open pedestrian door and stood motionless, gaining his orientation. Except for the slight hissing sounds from the steam heat, the greenhouse was silent.
Okimi approached as quietly as a praying mantis on the limb of a leafy, spring bush.
Once she was convinced she recognized him in the shadows she announced herself by tapping on one of the opaque window panels. Vladimir quickly turned toward the sound and saw his beautiful flower wearing a plain kimono robe with little embroidery; it was elegant in its understated design. He was finally able to reach out to her. Their embrace made Vladimir weak. Okimi cried quietly on his shoulder as her dream had finally come true. Neither said a word. The feeling of well-being was enough.
“Are we safe here?” he asked, thinking of her first.
“Yes. This will be our home for the night.” She walked him down an aisle with larger plants blocking the view from either side. Okimi had prepared a place for them to sit and lie down on the clay floor. She gestured that he rest on the blanket first and said, “My parents have grown old and are fast asleep. There’s nothing for us to fear.” She could feel the tightness in the back of his neck, his body rigid and ready to strike out at an enemy at any moment.
“It has been a long time,” she whispered.
“Yes, too long.”
“I knew you would come back. My mother tried to persuade me to forget. I suppose I would have done the same for my child, but I never stopped believing in you.”
Vladimir held her hands and felt the calluses earned from the years of work in the flower shop. “You work hard for your father. Is it enjoyable?”
“It is my life. The beauty of the flowers is enough to make me content. And every now and then someone will order a bouquet of white jasmine. Thinking of you makes me happy.”
They kissed their first kiss of the night. A soft and tender kiss, searching for the perfection they desired. Regardless of their lost years, they kissed confidently in complete acceptance of each other. Their eyes remained open and in the dim light from the kerosene lamp their gaze confirmed a trust beyond words. Neither of them was in a rush.
“Your hands are so hard, and your lips are so soft. I hope that it is because they have not seen much work,” he said, smiling in jest, but honest in his intent.
“There is only you.”
“It makes me happy to hear that, but it is also unfair. Everything is so different now … with the war.”
She put her fingers to his lips. “I understand. It is no one’s fault.”
They repositioned themselves lying next to each other on the blanket. Vladimir stroked Okimi’s cheek to reassure himself of her very presence. They talked for a long time, sharing events over sixteen years from entirely different worlds that were now entangled in the same war. She told him that most of the men were gone from Shimoda, fighting the Americans. Her brother was on the Marshall Islands, and she hoped he would return home safely. Vladimir’s stories of the Americans reflected an image of reasonableness and helpfulness to the Russians in their war with Germany. He explained that he lived with the Americans and found them to be intelligent and fair.
“None of this war makes sense to me, but the Emperor commands it.”
He heard the futility in her voice and could feel her rejection of the war in her body’s tension. “Let us talk of other things,” Vladimir said. “But before we leave this discussion of war, you must promise me one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Stay away from large cities … remain in Shimoda. It is perfect. Do not move or travel. Do not ask why or you may be afraid. Just trust me in this.” Vladimir’s belief in the bomb’s existence motivated his comments, of course, but he didn’t want to frighten her. “Will you promise?”
“Yes. I don’t know where I would go anyway.”
“Good.”
Vladimir wrapped his arms around her as though to protect her from what he knew. And soon they were kissing and comforting each other with gentle touches and embraces that allowed each to express their desire.
She could feel him push up against her and wished he would continue. Even though she had never been with a man, she wasn’t worried, just sensitive to her inexperience.
Vladimir had concerns as to where this night would go. He came prepared with condoms, but wasn’t sure if having sex was the right thing to do. He knew that this may be the last time he would ever see Okimi, and, while he didn’t consider himself overly modest or proper, he did respect her to his core and didn’t want to create a false expectation through his actions. All of that went out the window when she placed her hand on his inner thigh and rubbed gently. He slid his hand into the top of her kimono and discovered a soft breast with a nipple that was hard with anticipation. He wedged his leg between hers. It was met with a drive from Okimi that left no doubt as to her commitment. They kissed and explored each other’s body as they slowly removed their already loosened clothes. Vladimir’s condoms were as much of an indication of his intentions as the extra blankets that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Okimi wanted the experience to be perfect. She was no longer a young girl and in her mind, her satisfaction would depend on whether Vladimir’s relationship with her would be strengthened. In his eagerness, however, it was more painful than anticipated, and she let out a muffled cry during penetration. It wasn’t what she had expected. Vladimir removed himself.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You may not understand, but it is my first time. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe if we go a little slower.”
They relaxed and spent more time sharing the magic of being naked together under the blankets. By early dawn they had made love twice. Vladimir would be forever indebted to Agent Sirak for arranging for him to go to Shimoda. They began to see the subtle shift in the darkness of the night sky through the greenhouse panels and knew their time was coming to an end. It would be hard, as they both knew a time like this may not come again.
“I will think of you always,” Vladimir said as he held her tight. “You will be my single thought of my existence on the day that I die.”
“I will always hope for more but will be happy for what we have had,” she responded. She reached to the inside pocket of her kimono and produced a photograph they had taken sixteen years previous. “It has been precious to me, and I want you to have it to remember who we were when you are old.”
Vladimir cried softly as they embraced, knowing that she spoke the truth. He left the greenhouse before the morning daylight would
betray him.
CHAPTER 29
Short on sleep, Vladimir was happy when he saw the arrangement his host had prepared in order to make the trip from Shimoda to the farming community of Yoshida. It was basically a straw-covered quilt. The man was to deliver forty bales of hay that day to a buyer. Vladimir could easily disguise himself between the bales and sleep most of the way. The horse-drawn wagon, however, would make for a long and bumpy ride.
“Have you done this before?” Vladimir asked the man.
“Once every two weeks I make this delivery.”
“What can we expect along the way?”
“Just the normal checkpoints as we enter each new town.”
“Checkpoints?”
“Routine stops. Nothing to worry about. I know every one of them. Just stay quiet until I make this noise.” At that point he rapped twice on the frame of the wagon with a pole he used to prod and guide the horses. “Two strikes means all clear.” He rapped once. “One strike means someone is approaching.” He rapped three times. “Three strikes means big trouble.”
“In that case I’ll keep this loaded and in a ready position.” He flashed his Nagant revolver to impress upon his host that he meant business.
“I’d like to thank your wife for her help before I leave.”
“You’re welcome to, but I don’t have a wife. She died four years ago of torture by the Tokkō. She was a nice woman who never hurt anyone.”
“Who was the lady here?”
“My visiting sister. She was very close to my wife and became an operative right after my wife died. She was here as it was suggested that we have backup if needed. It was easier for us to say she was my wife. She left right after you left last night.”
Agent Sirak’s attention to detail constantly amazed Vladimir. He usually could spot the players. She was good, he thought. I never saw it coming.
“We need to leave. It will be a long day.”
By noon they had passed only a few travelers, mostly locals going about their daily routines. At about 1300 two Tokkō officers approached the wagon, and Vladimir was awakened with a single, sharp rap of the stick on the wagon. The wagon came to a stop and the farmer engaged the officer in charge in a conversation about the weather and the nature of his trip.
In time, the officer said, “Why do you drive so far to deliver hay?”
“It is for my dead wife’s brother. Here, let me show you the delivery receipts.” At that, the farmer produced a clipboard of receipts over the last six months. “I get a good price from a wholesaler in Shimoda and pass it on to my brother-in-law. He is poor, and he needs it for his livestock.”
The officer walked slowly around the wagon poking a stick into the load between the bales. Vladimir was ready if he needed to act. “Your brother-in-law is lucky to have such a good relative. This is good hay, no rot at all.”
“He will repay me in the summer with a new calf.”
The men said good-bye and the wagon started to move. Within minutes Vladimir heard two sharp raps, indicating all was clear. He fell back to sleep.
By mid-afternoon, Vladimir was starting to get restless cooped up between the hay bales. “I need to stop to relieve myself and stretch my legs,” he called out.
“There’s a perfect spot just up the road. I’ll let you know.”
After conducting his business, Vladimir walked around for a few minutes. They were in the countryside about five miles west of the ocean and ten miles or so south of Yoshida. They were on track to arrive around 1900.
“Will there be an opportunity for food?” Vladimir asked.
“Just south of town is a roadhouse where I usually stop. Here’s some food my sister made for you before she left. I’ll let you know when we’re about forty-five minutes from the roadhouse. There won’t be any opportunities to get out after that.”
“You’ve done a good job. It will be in my report when I get back.”
“Here is the map giving you the coordinates and passwords for your meeting. Study it now while you have light and give it back for me to destroy before entering the town.”
It was dark when the men shook hands and Vladimir left the protection of his host. In a short time he would be at his brother-in-law’s farm unloading hay.
“Thank you and good luck, comrade,” Vladimir said.
“You are different,” the man said. “You care for people and are loyal to those you love. Those are admirable traits, just not very common for an agent. Good-bye.” The men parted company.
The meeting location was an abandoned travel shelter on the old ocean bluff road and was about an hour’s walk away. He wanted to be in place well in advance of the other operative. Their meeting was scheduled for midnight. In his mind there was no time to waste.
The location was wide open, giving anyone in the shelter a good view of the surrounding area, if it were daytime. But, at night it was vulnerable. Any light in the shelter could be seen for quite a ways off. And with very little moon, it would be hard to detect if someone was approaching. Vladimir surveyed the area for an alternative place to wait. He wanted to have the advantage. He found a pile of rocks on the bluff about twenty-five meters away that would work, but the sound of the ocean would make it difficult to hear someone approaching.
At 2300 he saw the glow of two lit cigarettes near the shelter that indicated two men were present. The precise planning of this mission did not allow for an extra man. Something was wrong. The men seemed more concerned about staying warm in the shelter than going about their duties. They were definitely Tokkō officers on assignment. Vladimir watched intently for thirty minutes to determine if there were others. When he determined they were alone, he slowly positioned himself within listening range. They were irritated, pissed they drew this assignment. “What are we looking for anyway?” one soldier asked.
“I think the general is crazy with the idea of spies,” the other one said. “Someone found a blanket made up to look like straw, and now we have to spend the night out here.”
They both lit second cigarettes with a disregard for being seen. Vladimir concluded from their inexperience that the shelter wasn’t a prime target of the Tokkō. He waited until 2345 to act. One of the soldiers indicated that he needed to take a piss. The soldier walked a short distance from the shelter and unbuttoned his trousers. With his focus, and his hands, on other things, Vladimir was easily able to sneak up and quickly slit his throat with such meticulous precision that no alarm or noise was registered by the slain soldier. Being close to the officer’s size, Vladimir donned his coat and hat and picked up his rifle with the bayonet fixed.
In a few minutes the other soldier came outside, curious about the delay. Seeing his partner at some distance from the shelter he said, “What’s taking so long, you old man?” He stood staring off toward the ocean finishing his cigarette, chuckling to himself. Vladimir started walking in the soldier’s direction with his head down fiddling with the buttons on his fly. In a flash, Vladimir impaled the other soldier on the bayonet. He quickly disposed of the bodies in some tall weeds out of the way. He was back in the rocks by 2355.
Midnight came and went. Something was wrong. He had some latitude in time, as his pickup was not until 0400, but he needed to complete his mission. He decided to wait. Time was of the essence, but nothing happened. At about 0100 he saw the quick flicker of a penlight, the sign he was to receive from the mole. Vladimir approached from behind without the man’s knowledge and said, “The ocean is calm, comrade.”
Startled, the man whirled around to face Vladimir, calmed himself, and said, “It won’t always stay that way, comrade.” The men shook hands and went into the shelter out of the cold.
“Why the delay?” Vladimir asked.
“Yoshida is a small town and word travels. This evening there was a disturbance when a local man turned in what people say was a relative for concealing a traveler in his wagon. Apparently, the relative goes there regularly to deliver hay, but today a blanket of some sort had been
made up to blend in with the load. They think he was transporting a person. It was the first time the blanket was seen and the local man didn’t want the Tokkō to think he was involved. When they found out, more soldiers were called out to search the area for a possible spy.”
“And the wagon driver, what happened to him?”
“Took away to be interrogated.”
Vladimir reflected on the oversight of the quilt and the harsh consequences it would have. It’s an unforgiving business, he thought.
The documents promised were in a binder presented by the operative, making them easy to review. Vladimir went to work without wasting time. Most of what he was able to understand described an atomic bomb project centered around Japan’s Riken Scientific Institute and other university physics laboratories. The chief figure was Yoshio Nishina, a leading scientist and physicist of international stature. Pages from a diary of Masa Takeuchi, a worker in his laboratory assigned to the thermal diffusion project, and copies of a journal kept by Bunsabe Arakatsu, a physicist from Kyoto, were also included.
Several pages were devoted to the Japanese efforts to keep pace with the developments of physics in the 1930s, including both theory in Europe and techniques in the United States. The Japanese scientists had built a small cyclotron in Nishina’s lab at the Riken Institute in Tokyo. Nishina’s assistant, Ryokichi Sagane, was sent to Berkeley to work under E. O. Lawrence, the American physicist who arranged for a two-hundred-ton magnet in order to build a second, much larger, cyclotron. The Japanese army sponsored the development of the atomic bomb in September 1940—large-scale research began at Riken in December. The navy became involved in late 1942, which led to the “Physics Colloquium,” a galaxy of leading Japanese scientists to achieve such a weapon. Last, a section was included describing a secret manufacturing site in Konan, Korea, because of its vast uranium resources.
After about fifteen minutes of review, Vladimir said, “The documents appear in order. Let me complete our end of the bargain.” He handed the man the bundled money for his inspection.
Fatal Incident Page 18