The colonel glanced in the rearview mirror. “From here on out you want to be anonymous.”
“Yes, sir … but why?”
The colonel smiled for the first time that morning. “It will all make sense soon.”
Zenji got out. He grabbed his suitcase and duffel, set them down, and looked back in at Colonel Blake. “Thank you for everything, sir. I appreciate it.”
The colonel reached over and shook Zenji’s hand. His grip was strong. “Remember, Zenji. Pay close attention to your instructions, then follow them unfailingly. Be invisible. Don’t put yourself in danger. Trust your instincts. Trust yourself. Be alert. Every second. Got it?”
“Listen carefully, be invisible, don’t put myself in danger, follow instructions, trust myself. And get back here in one piece! And, sir, can you check in on my family while I’m gone? Once in a while?”
“Of course. I’ll write and let you know how they are.”
The colonel squeezed Zenji’s hand and let go.
“Another thing,” he added, tapping his forehead. “Take care of this. If war does come you will see some things you won’t want to see, and you can’t let it get to you. Block it out. Harden yourself. Think of your family. Think of every good thing you can. You come home to us.”
Zenji studied him. War?
Two plus two equals four, little brother.
“I’ll do my best, sir. Count on it. No matter what happens.”
“I know you will.”
Zenji shouldered his duffel, grabbed his suitcase, and headed toward the pier without looking back.
Hundreds of soldiers waited in a long, lazy line to board the ship, army gear stacked everywhere. The men talked, laughed, shouted, and sang, as if they were going on vacation.
Zenji found a dockworker who told him that the Republic was the ship going to Manila.
Zenji casually headed up the gangway.
A man dressed as a civilian approached. “Watanabe?”
Haole, looked like a businessman. Aloha shirt, khaki pants, and leather shoes.
“Yes.”
“Come with me, please.”
He led Zenji down steel stairs to a stateroom eight feet long and five feet wide, with two bunks on one side.
“Top rack is yours. Your roommate got here first.”
A suitcase and duffel were stashed under the lower bunk.
“Who’s my roommate?”
“Kid from Maui, Kimura.”
Zenji shook his head. “Don’t know him.”
The guy smirked. “In these quarters you’ll know each other extremely well by the time you get to the Philippines.”
“I’ll bet.”
A young Japanese guy ducked through the door. “Hey, you must be the wonder boy I been hearing about. You Watanabe?”
“That’s me. Name’s Zenji.”
“Freddy Kimura.” He reached out to shake with a smile. “We took that test together, remember?”
“Yeah, sure,” Zenji said, but he didn’t. There were so many guys.
“Okay, listen up,” the haole said. “This is important. I’m CIP, just like you two. That’s Corps of Intelligence Police. For security reasons we won’t be seeing much of each other on this bucket. The first thing you need to know is that you’ve been transferred from the Hawaiian Detachment, U.S. Army, to the Philippine Detachment, U.S. Army. You’ve been assigned to G2. The ‘2’ means intelligence.”
Zenji listened intently, remembering the G2 on Colonel Sutherland’s office door at Fort Shafter. He glanced at Freddy, who raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Spies.”
The CIP guy went on.
“To everyone else on this ship you’re basically nobodies. Civilian travelers. Keep a low profile and don’t talk to anyone about anything other than the weather. If you have to say something to avoid suspicion, your cover story is that you are just two guys heading to Manila to look for work. Fraternize with no one. Besides myself, only the ship’s captain and someone you’ll meet later on know who you are. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Freddy said. “Where’s the girls’ deck?”
“Wise guy.”
“I have a question,” Zenji said. “Do we need fake names, or what?”
“No. Use your real name. You start using a fake one, and somebody checks, they’ll get suspicious. You’re just two American civilians heading to an American commonwealth looking for work. However, you will each have a code name for security purposes.”
Freddy looked at Zenji and winked.
“You,” the CIP guy said to Freddy. “Your code name is Spider. When someone calls you that, you answer, Hate those things. That way you will both know the other is legitimate. Understand?”
“Clear as mud.”
“Yeah, and you,” he said, turning to Zenji. “Your code name is Bamboo Rat. When someone calls you that, you answer with I heard they live underground. Got it?”
Zenji nodded.
“Any more questions?”
Zenji had a thousand. He shook his head.
“Good. I hope you don’t get seasick.”
The CIP guy left.
“I guess we made it, then,” Freddy said.
“Made what?”
“It’s official—we’re certified nobodies.”
Zenji grinned. “Spider, huh?”
“Hate those things. You look like a bamboo rat.”
“I heard they live underground.”
Freddy shook his head. “Crazy.”
“How do they come up with these names?” Zenji said.
“Search their nightmares.”
They laughed, and went up on deck to stand at the rail, looking down on the troops heading aboard in a long, slow-moving line. Each carried a huge backpack and a duffel.
Zenji pointed with his chin. “Where are these guys from?”
“New Mexico. Army Reserves. I asked them.”
“You asked? That’s not being invisible.”
“Those guys don’t care. Look at them. All they’re thinking is, where are the hula girls? This is Hawaii, right?”
Some did look kind of disappointed. Zenji nodded toward a figure in the crowd on the pier. “Look. Sutherland.”
He wanted to wave, but that wouldn’t be invisible.
Freddy humphed. “I guess he wanted to make sure we got on board.”
Colonel Sutherland looked up, giving no indication that he saw either of them.
So weird.
“Who are we supposed to be hiding from, anyway?”
Freddy winked again and whispered, “Spies.”
“What spies?”
“The ones we’re hiding from.”
Zenji grunted. “What school did you go to?”
“St. Anthony on Maui, then over here at the university. What about you?”
“McKinley.”
“Tokyo High, right? Almost all Japanese?”
“That’s what they call it.”
“You still look like high school. How old are you, anyway?”
“Not old enough to be in the army. I had to get my mom’s permission.”
Freddy raised an eyebrow. “They wanted you pretty bad.”
“I guess.”
“Cannon fodder.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you better get good at digging foxholes.”
A couple of hours later, two tugs pushed the Republic out into the harbor. Zenji and Freddy stayed at the rail to watch as the ship slowly powered out to sea.
Zenji gazed back at his island. When would he see it again?
“How long you think it’ll take us to get to Manila, Freddy?”
“Two weeks, I heard.”
Zenji glanced toward the distant horizon. “What will we find there, I wonder?”
“Filipinos.”
“Are you ever serious?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Good.” He and Freddy Kimura were going to get along fine, even in an eight-by-five-foot room.
&nbs
p; Freddy waved to the island. “Bye-bye, hula girls.”
Men stood all along the rail, silently watching the island shrink. The ship’s engines thrummed, an exciting yet calming sound.
Zenji remembered Ma’s note and pulled it from his pocket. He curled it into his closed fist.
Long minutes later, he unfolded it.
He looked at her familiar Kanji.
When
Tomorrow starts
Without you here,
So begins my prayer
For your honorable
And safe
Return.
His ears tingled.
Oh, Ma …
Fifteen long, boring days later, the Republic drew within three miles of Manila Bay. Zenji and Freddy had spent the trip walking from one end of the ship to the other, practicing eavesdropping, observing people, and slipping out of sight, trying not to be seen. Zenji caught Freddy more times than Freddy caught him.
“Got to get better at your spycraft,” Zenji said.
“Maybe we’re not going to be spies.”
“Then why are we hiding from each other?”
“Because we’re bored out of our minds?”
Zenji punched Freddy’s arm. What a wise guy. He liked him as much as Tosh.
As they approached the harbor, Zenji, Freddy, and every last man on the ship surged to the rails to gaze at the lush, green land with a coast that went on forever.
“This is an island?” Zenji asked.
“Luzon.”
Even at a distance he could smell the earth, and almost taste the rich thickness of salty tropical air born of shallow waters.
“The Pearl of the Orient,” he whispered.
Freddy whistled, low. “Almost as nice as where we came from, ah?”
Zenji agreed … but new thoughts were starting up. About machetes. Murders in the night. Ma’s words had scratched their way into the darkest corners of his mind.
Stop! Thinking like this will drive you crazy!
Still …
He nudged Freddy. “You think Filipinos carry machetes here?”
Freddy looked at him and burst out laughing. “Machetes! For a minute I thought you were serious.”
“No, no … just joking.”
Freddy kept chuckling. “Chop-chop.”
“Hey you!” someone behind them called.
They turned to see the CIP guy. Zenji had forgotten all about him.
“You boys enjoy your trip?”
“Yeah,” Freddy said. “But it was too short.”
The CIP guy snorted. “Follow me.”
Zenji tried to hide his excitement. Finally he and Freddy would learn why they were so important. The army didn’t go through testing and bringing them here just to have them read newspapers and listen to the radio. There had to be more.
The CIP guy led them up steel stairs to the bridge. It was deserted, except for a gray-haired man and the ship’s captain.
The CIP guy motioned them toward the gray-haired man, who was studying a nautical chart. “This is Major Thomas Harding, G2 operations officer, U.S. Army, Philippines Detachment. Your new boss.”
“Sir,” Zenji said.
Should he shake hands or salute? He chose to salute.
“None of that,” the major snapped. “Not with what you’ll be doing.”
“And what’s that?” Freddy asked boldly.
The major pulled two envelopes from his coat pocket and handed one to each of them. “You’ll find everything you need to know in these envelopes. But don’t open them now. You can do that onshore while you travel to your respective destinations.”
Zenji glanced at Freddy. “We’re not going to the same place?”
“The instructions will explain everything. Right now, we need to get you off this ship secretly. We don’t want any Philippine government officials to be able to identify you as having come in with all these troops, so we’re going to get you off before we dock.”
Freddy grinned. “I like it.”
The ship’s captain nodded to Major Harding. “The launch.”
The CIP guy hooked a finger toward Zenji and Freddy.
“Time to pack up.”
Zenji hesitated, looking at the major.
“Be careful disembarking,” the major said. “The launch will let you off in a secluded spot. Once onshore, read your instructions, then split up and catch a cab to your destinations. Make sure it’s a Yellow Cab. The others can be unpredictable. Act like you know the place. Never look at a map in public. You’ll stand out like the blinking lights on an ambulance.”
They left the bridge.
Freddy and Zenji grabbed their gear and the CIP guy took them to a part of the ship where the crew had fashioned a view shield and hung a rope ladder over the side.
Zenji looked down to the water.
Below, a burly Filipino stared up from a small launch. He was holding just off the hull of the ship, keeping pace as the Republic eased toward the harbor.
It was a long way down. And the ship wasn’t going to stop.
Zenji stepped back. “It looks dangerous.”
“It is dangerous, if you don’t focus on what you’re doing,” the CIP guy said. “Just take it slow and easy. We’ll lower your gear down after you. Just don’t fall in the water. The screw on this tub will eat you alive.”
“The screw?” Zenji said.
“The propeller. It’ll suck you right under and chop you up. Not a good way to go.”
Zenji’s hands trembled all the way down the loose rope ladder. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done in his life. Once he was safely in the small boat, he took a deep breath, amazed at what he’d just accomplished.
“That wasn’t bad,” he said when Freddy plopped down in the launch next to him.
“Piece of cake.”
The Filipino who skippered the launch was silent as he gathered their gear and secured it under the seats.
“What’s your name?” Freddy asked.
The Filipino looked up.
“Name,” Freddy repeated.
The guy rapid-fired some incomprehensible response, waving in the direction of the island. Then he laughed and headed over to the controls.
Zenji elbowed Freddy “You get all that?”
“Sure. He said last time he did this a guy fell in the water and the sharks got him. He’s looking forward to seeing that happen again. Maybe today.”
“Sharks?” Zenji glanced at the water.
“Man, you Honolulu boys are so gullible.”
“Not.”
Freddy shielded his mouth with his hand and whispered, “Watch out. He just picked up his machete.” He cracked up as the Filipino hit the throttle. The bow rose up out of the water, and flattened when the launch got up to speed and raced toward the mysterious island of Luzon.
The Filipino skipper took them to a small deserted beach park. He tossed their gear onto the sand and buzzed back out into the bay without a word.
In the distance, the Republic steamed into Manila Bay.
Zenji threw his duffel over his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase. “I don’t think that guy liked us.”
Freddy grunted.
They found a grassy spot in a small grove of palm trees where they dropped their gear and sat.
Zenji took out his envelope.
Freddy slapped his against his palm.
Zenji knew how he felt. He wasn’t eager to open his, either.
“This is one of those moments,” Freddy said. “Once we read what’s in here our lives will shoot off in new directions. The question is, will we like it?”
“We have to.”
“Welcome to the army, ah?”
Zenji tore his envelope open and pulled out a half page of written instructions.
And cash—U.S. dollars and Filipino pesos.
And a small key to a post office mailbox, number 72.
He looked up at Freddy.
Freddy shrugged. “That’s all I got, too.”
Sure wasn’t much after all they’d gone through to get here.
Zenji stuffed the key and the cash into his pants pocket and read the letter.
Follow these instructions exactly. Commit them to memory and destroy this communiqué immediately after reading.
Make your way by cab to a Japanese-owned hotel called the Momo. Ask for a room using your real name. There will be vacancy. Guests there are almost all businessmen from Japan. The hotel serves good Japanese food, which is why the businessmen stay there.
You are to use the enclosed key at the Central Post Office in Manila twice a day for your daily orders and information. Your first visit to the mailbox will be Thursday morning by 0900 hours.
Under no circumstances are you to reveal your connection with the U.S. military. You are a civilian—repeat: civilian—looking for work abroad. Nothing else.
Further instructions will await you at the post office.
Destroy this communiqué now.
They compared letters. The only difference was the mailbox number and hotel. Freddy’s was called the Toyo.
“Looks like we really are supposed to be spies,” Freddy said.
“No, we’re translators. What do we know about spying? And what’s there to spy on?”
Freddy shrugged. “Who cares? Whatever we’re doing, I like it so far.”
“It’s mysterious, in a spooky way.”
“An adventure, city boy. Climb aboard.”
Zenji shook his head, fingering the key in his pocket. Just a month ago he was goofing off with Aiko and Nami. Now look. Ma would’ve croaked if she’d seen him climbing off that ship.
“Well,” Freddy said, reaching out to shake. “Guess this is it.”
“For now, anyway.” Zenji took his hand. “If you need me, I’m at the Momo hotel. And you’re at the Toyo.”
Freddy grinned. “I hope it has a swimming pool.”
They nodded once, then let go and turned toward the ocean for one last look. The Republic was out of sight, the sea smooth and quiet, as if nothing had ever disturbed it.
“Onward,” Zenji said, turning back. “Good luck, Spider.”
“Hate those things.”
“Me too.”
“Chop-chop.”
Freddy walked away laughing, his duffel on his shoulder and his suitcase dangling from his hand.
Hunt for the Bamboo Rat Page 5