She had seen little of him about the castle. They rarely took their meals together and when they encountered one another, he had no more than a curt nod for her. When they spoke it was only an exchange of vacuous niceties, nothing of substance. She perceived a chasm widening between them day by day, hour by hour.
She watched the planes until she heard the car engine purr to life, then she turned and walked in that direction.
There was a memo on Eichelberger’s desk for him to come to MacArthur’s office as soon as he reported in.
He found MacArthur slouched in one of the chairs facing his desk, a chair Eichelberger could not recall ever having seen the general occupy. MacArthur puffed his famous corncob pipe. A cloud of gray smoke obscured his features. The lights were off and though sunlight streamed in from the windows, the office seemed more dim than usual.
“Early morning?” Eichelberger asked.
“Late night,” MacArthur said. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much going on. They made it, Bob. Tench and his planes set down at Atsugi shortly after dawn this morning.”
“Looks like I was wrong. The Japs weren’t laying a trap.”
“Tomorrow the 11th Airborne lands five hundred men, and the day after tomorrow you and I head in. That’s when they’ll strike, Bob, if they intend to spring a trap.”
“Why do you say that, General?”
The wreath of smoke obscured MacArthur’s expression. “Because I personify the conqueror, and if it is a trap, I’m the one they’ll want and they’ll want me dead.”
Chapter Sixteen
A servant showed Okada into the meeting twenty-five minutes after it was scheduled to begin.
“My profuse apologies, Baron-san.”
The stocky Kempeitai officer bowed deeply, then barely inclined his bald head as a greeting to Hayashi and Nagano. Baron Tamura began as if there had been no delay.
“I never thought demobilization would be accomplished so quickly, but I have managed to arrange for ammunition and weapons to be cached where the Americans will never find them.”
“The time to strike is now,” Okada said, “before the Occupation begins. There has been widespread unrest.”
“I listened to His Majesty’s Rescript, knowing my duty was to obey my Emperor,” said Baron Tamura. “And yet, those of us of the samurai class understand that it was a hatred of the barbarians that diverted loyalty to the Emperor in the first place. When we last gathered here together, I spoke of a symbolic gesture to reawaken the spirit of Japan.”
“You spoke of giving the people hope,” Nagano recalled. His thin, normally cadaverous face was animated with anticipation. “There are many who grow restless, restraining their impulse to rebel,” Hayashi said. “They wait for leadership, they’re afraid they will end up like those rebels two weeks ago.”
“We shall not endure the sad fate of Major Hatanaka,” said Baron Tamura. “We shall strike first with a bold, symbolic gesture designed to rekindle the fires of patriotism in our people. Our forces will then be brought into action according to the contingency plans we have already agreed upon.”
“What is to be the nature of this symbolic gesture?” The stout air force colonel’s jowls shook as he spoke.
“No!” Okada shouted. “I cannot abide by this. I have heard enough. I must leave.”
“Major, please.”
Nagano’s entreaty was lost. Okada blustered on. “I have had my fill of leaving this business to others. The enemy already bivouacs at Atsugi Air Base. Something must be done, I say!”
“Let us hear the Baron out,” Hayashi suggested.
Okada shook his head. “I have heard everything I need to hear. I must follow my path as you must follow yours.” His iced dark eyes pinned each of the men in turn.
Hayashi said, “Major, please reconsider.”
“I am through considering. It is time for action. And I would caution any man here against attempting to take action against me.” He smiled without humor. His gold tooth winked. “I have the power to arrest and detain any man in this room.” He bowed curtly. His voice changed and in a much different voice, full of respect he added, “Apologies for my bluntness, Baron-san. And please extend my best wishes to your beautiful niece.”
He left them.
Nagano sighed. “Major Okada proves to be a complication.” His thin face was pulled taut with anger.
“One which will be dealt with in due time.” The Baron appeared unperturbed by the outburst and hasty departure. He crossed to the bookcase which covered one wall of the study. “And now, if you will follow me, I shall share with you what Major Okada was too impatient to wait for.”
“It was almost as if the Major was looking for an excuse to leave,” Hayashi mused.
Baron Tamura pulled two thin volumes from a shelf slightly above eye level. He held the books in one hand and with the other reached into the niche left by them and activated a soft whirring sound.
A portion of the bookshelf opened inwardly to become an entranceway wide enough for one at a time to step through.
The Baron led them down the dimly lighted passage. The entrance closed behind them. Down a steep, winding, narrow stairway, past where a passage branched off in another direction; unlighted, a dark tunnel. After a short while, their passage widened to become an underground chamber of impressive dimensions.
Flickering torches along one wall cast barely enough light to show a high ceiling where shadows were murky. The opposite walls supported pillars which added to a fathomless gloom that echoed even the slight footsteps of Nagano and Hayashi as they joined Baron Tamura on either side.
The Baron raised his right hand and snapped his fingers once, loudly.
A stirring of the shadows. Three figures appeared as if propelled from the Stygian gloom. Two of the human figures somersaulted down from somewhere high overhead, the third tumbled acrobatically from beneath a stone archway directly across from them. They landed with catfooted grace.
They wore black from head to foot, only their eyes visible through slits in black cloth masks. They bowed deeply in unison. Each wore a short sword strapped to his back.
Nagano emitted an audible gasp.
“Ninja!”
“But … this is incredible,” Hayashi whispered in the tone of one humbled and yet questioning the reliability of his own eyes. His jowels quivered more than before.
“Their loyalty is to me, to the death,” said Baron Tamura. “Their jonin, chief of the Shikotan clan, is beholden to me. I sponsor them in large part, you see. It is my way of keeping alive the traditions we are heir to.”
“The colonel is right, this is incredible,” said Nagano. “Ninjutsu is thought to be extinct in Japan.”
“The art of stealth and invisibility,” said the Baron in a reverential tone. “Ninjutsu lives. It will work for us. It will reawaken the flames of Bushido.”
“One possible use for them,” noted Hayashi, “could be in dealing with the impatient Major Okada.”
“Not yet,” said the Baron. “We may well have need of the major before this is finished. I think it better to allow him to continue to live awhile longer, so long as it suits us.”
“Perhaps Major Okada will be persuaded to see things our way,” said Nagano.
Hayashi asked the Baron, “Have you a specific strategy in mind?”
“I will go into it at greater length when we return to my study,” said Baron Tamura, “but as I started to say before I was interrupted by Major Okada, I intend our strike against the enemy to be symbolic, yes. The Americans will learn too late that they have walked into a trap. And Japan will rise again to continue the struggle. I speak of symbols. The ninja are the symbol of the glory of Japan’s past that cannot be extinguished by time or decree. And what symbol embodies in one man all that we have come to hate among the barbaric hordes that would destroy us? Who is our conqueror?”
“MacArthur.” Nagano whispered the name.
Hayashi nodded. “We would be striking at the heart of th
e enemy. It would signal Japan and the world that we are not finished. When will your ninja strike, Baron-san?”
“I will tell you that also, upstairs.”
He nodded once and the three ninja took several steps back in unison and vanished into the shadows.
Keiko drew back deeper into the shadows of the passageway from where she had stood poised, listening to what she could hear of the conversation like a light-footed forest creature ready to bolt.
They were about to return this way, back through the passage!
Without hesitation, she withdrew.
Ninja!
She had heard of the famed, dread assassins of medieval Japan, of course. None had wreaked more havoc nor spawned more terror in the pages of Japan’s history than the clans of ninja.
Trained from birth in the spiritual and martial arts discipline of ninjutsu, it was said the ninja trained day and night to attain their superhuman skills. They become masters of disguise, different dialects, sabotage, assassination, poison, and every aspect of cunning and force in the art of subterfuge and combat.
When the three same military men who had been here that other night arrived at the castle, the same curiosity began gnawing. She had thought for some time about whether or not she should eavesdrop again, despite what had happened the last time, and if the “secret” passages might not have been the best way of going about it in the first place.
The passages were no secret to a youngster whose inquisitiveness had known no bounds, who had not been adverse, then as now, to going where she knew she had no business being. She had been there then because the network of passages running through the castle walls was there to be explored; no more motivation was needed of a curious child. The castle had been a wonderful place to grow up. She had not realized how extraordinary her upbringing had been until well after she left this place. With her own castle to play about in, scary tales had never frightened her. Now she felt compelled to learn, if she could, exactly how wide the chasm was between her and the Baron.
She had not gone down into the musty darkness in years. The first time was when she was fourteen years old. She was supposed to be doing her mathematics exercises but her tutor was ill that day. Keiko had been left to study on her own and so, as she often did, she had gone off exploring.
Though she had not gone far, she had been drawn back again and again to the wending passages that were frightening and seductive at the same time. With a lantern Keiko would spend time relating in her mind the passageways, their winding stone steps, with the rooms of the wing of the castle inhabited by herself and the Baron. She had never gone beyond the juncture, though, where the passage led to her uncle’s study. As a young girl, her greatest fear was that she would be standing by that door and it would open and she would be discovered. Those fears of a young girl were with her every step of the way this night when she left her rooms.
On this latest visit she had gone unseen to the wine cellar, twisted the bottle in the shelf that operated the sliding panel, and entered the passage revealed there. She followed it. Nothing had changed, and something had pulled her up short where the passageway branched off toward her uncle’s study. They would be in there, discussing, plotting, as they had been the last time.
She paused at that spot.
To her right were narrow, worn stone stairs that branched away to other wings of the castle and an underground entrance on the other side of the castle wall. She had taken one step toward her uncle’s study, wondering if the bookcase on the opposite side would make it impossible for her to hear conversation from within.
Her body stopped short at the purr of an operating mechanism, and gained cover in the branching-off passage with scant seconds to spare.
The Baron and his visitors had passed. She followed, standing just short of the entrance to the underground chamber. She had seen the ninja appear, had overheard the complete conversation up to the point of the Baron suggesting they return upstairs.
The only reason they had not caught her listening in was because the Baron and his men stood between the ninja and her position, blocking their line of vision.
It was said the ninja’s skills were almost supernatural. How long had they been about the castle?
Fear surged within Keiko. She took great care to tread lightly until she reached the passage which took her back to the wine cellar. The dread racing through her did not subside until she returned to the wine cellar and replaced the proper bottle in its slot, causing the sliding portion to close.
She leaned against the wall.
Ninja!
Chapter Seventeen
The recon party was bivouaced in neat little rows of pitched tents near the C-47s lined up in the moonlight. Lights were visible across the field. The beacon in the landing tower flashed rhythmically a half mile away. Atsugi Air Base was abnormally quiet for a base of its size. There would be few if any landings or takeoffs before tomorrow, when the 11th Airborne would land its men and equipment. Kerosene lamps burned in many of the pitched tents. No one was getting much sleep this night.
Ballard and his men had just completed one of their hourly inspections of the American perimeter when they were accosted by the noncom head of security for Colonel Tench’s group, a sergeant by the name of Kujack.
“Looks good, Sarge,” Ballard told him.
“Everyone’s sharp and on their toes,” Hanklin added.
“They ought to be,” Kujack groused. “You’ve been breathing down our necks every hour on the hour and we’ve had to rearrange the sentry placement three times because you didn’t like it.”
“Just doing our job,” Ballard said.
“Some job. Getting in the way of my men doing their job.”
“I’m not crazy about your company, either, Kujack. If you want to take it up with General MacArthur, I suggest you do so first thing the general touches down, day after tomorrow. In the meantime, the boys here and I’ll be breathing down your fat neck so I also suggest you get used to it and stop being such a pain in the backside.”
Kujack started to frame a retort until he realized he was talking to the backs of three men striding away.
They crossed over to where they had pitched their tent.
Hanklin said, “That sergeant doesn’t seem too fond of us bird doggin’ him around, does he?” He patted his pockets, located his pouch of chewing tobacco and took a bite.
“At least he’s cooperating,” said Ballard. “Let him do his job, we’ll do ours.”
“Everyone’s on edge,” Mischkie offered. He looked at the semidarkness surrounding them. “You’ve got to admit this is a weird way to end a war.”
“That gunfire we heard this afternoon,” said Hanklin, “sounded like the nips are still hashing things out amongst themselves.”
The Japanese liaison officer had assured Colonel Tench that the sounds of gunfire from across the base were no more than a minor disturbance near the enlisted men’s barracks. The disturbance had been quelled; there was nothing to worry about.
Mischkie grinned, “My favorite part of the day was when the Nip liaison offered Colonel Tench that glass of orange drink.”
“The Colonel wouldn’t take a drink until the Nip took a taste from the glass to show it wasn’t poisoned.” Hanklin chuckled. “The Colonel’s a careful one.”
“He’s got the right idea,” said Ballard. “MacArthur thinks the Jap government is on the level and that has to be good enough for us. It’s the rebel factions we’ve got to be on the lookout for, and that’s some of the best they’ve got.”
Mischkie fired a cigarette. “Well, we made it this far. I’d say we can handle this.”
Hanklin worked his chew of tobacco. “We’ve never been inside Jap-land before, there’s the difference, so don’t get too smug, city boy. That could make you careless and that could make us all dead.”
“At least it’s over for the boys back on Iwo and Luzon and all those other goddamn islands,” said Mischkie. “And if we do pull through this on
e, it’s over for us too. Seems impossible. We’ll be heading back to the States.”
“Maybe,” said Ballard. “Maybe you guys will.”
Hanklin warmed up to that notion, working the fresh chaw in the corner of his mouth.
“Me, I’d welcome the chance to see Nacogdoches again. Got me some folks to track down. Namely Bobbi Sue and a little varmint what’s supposed to look just like me.”
Mischkie blinked. “You’ve got a wife and kid?” he blurted with some astonishment.
“Didn’t say that. Me and Bobbi Sue, why, we only had one night of joy and it weren’t with no preacher’s okay. That was the night before I signed up, but sometime later I got word from a buddy back home that old Bobbi Sue was seen buggying around the cutest little tadpole you ever did see and they say that, yup, the little geezer looks just like yours truly.”
“Why have you waited this long to think about tracking them down?”
“Wasn’t no need to track ‘em down. I knew where they were, but hearing from old Tex wouldn’ta done anybody any good. See, Bobbi Sue was the mayor’s wife.
“Course, this war coulda changed that too and Bobbi Sue, why, she was an angel to linger on your mind. Wouldn’t mind seeing how Tex, Junior turned out, if he is Tex, Junior. Old Tex just might settle down once he gets back home. Always had a hankering to be a tater baron.”
Mischkie looked blank. “A what?”
“Grow taters,” Hanklin explained with little patience. “Damn, what do they teach you slickers up in them Yankee schools?”
“Guess it’s just kind of hard thinking that far ahead. What did you say about not heading back to the States, Sarge? You going to stay in when this thing is over?”
“I can’t think that far ahead yet, either,” said Ballard. “I’m just damn glad for every man who’s got a home to head back to.”
Hanklin spat. “Fifty years from now this war’ll be nothing but dates and places in a history book.”
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