“Maybe, I have two names that are open-ended. One is a young man by the name of Kida and the other is named Ito. Both are actually good candidates, but I need to hear back from a friend of mine, an aide to the Army Chief of Staff in D.C. because the files require a higher security clearance than I have.”
“Seems to me we are both waiting out the time difference. I’ve left a message with a friend at Langley regarding the only name I couldn’t conclusively rule out and can’t reach a conclusion until I hear back from her. But you say these names are promising?”
“Only in as much as I could not eliminate them. But this Kida fellow does appear to match up with dates and places well beyond December, 1941, when he was supposedly killed. I get a solid case of the goose bumps on this one. The name also appears in numerous Army references, but really, the balance of my research on Kida has yielded dead-ends or requires files I cannot access on my own.”
“Good afternoon, Sirs.” Clark enters, looking a bit depressed. “Sorry, but all five of my characters are definitely not our man, no doubt about it. I was able to put every file to rest with absolutely no margin for error. Sorry for the pun.” Clarke lightly drops the files on Pastwa’s desk.
“That’s fine, Clarke.” Pastwa smiles at Clarke’s play on words. “We have three names still to be played out, so I think this is a good time for me to bring the Admiral up to date. Clarke, please call over to his aide, Jones, and ask whether Reardon can still see me today.”
“I’m on it.” Clarke quickly slips out of Pastwa’s office. Within a minute Clarke is again standing before them.
“The Admiral can see you right away.”
Pastwa takes Yamura’s files and adds them to his own. “Karen, don’t wait for me. Clarke, go get yourself dinner and check back with me by phone when you’re finished.”
Clarke responds, “Yes, Sir, and thank you.” He quickly disappears, whistling the Popeye the Sailor song, one of his favorites.
Pastwa turns his attention to Yamura. “Karen, why not go home and get yourself refreshed. I’ll swing by after I’ve met with Reardon and we can go to Tanaka’s of Tokyo for dinner. How’s that sound to you?” Yamura smiles. “Perfect! Call me when you’re on the way over!”
She grabs her purse and starts to walk out. Reaching the doorway, she pauses and turns to Pastwa, smiles slyly and says, “I trust you’ll approve of my outfit tonight, and it won’t be dress whites!” She quickly spins around and disappears through the doorway. Pastwa smiles and decides he’ll be sure to clean up as he is suddenly feeling quite energetic. But first, the Admiral awaits, so he grabs his hat and darts out the door, the files firmly tucked under his left arm.
Fifteen minutes later Pastwa finds himself in Reardon’s outer office. Reardon’s aide, Keona Jones, immediately stands and salutes. “Good evening Commander.” Pastwa returns the salute just as smartly as was delivered by Jones. “I’ll advise the Admiral you’re here.” Jones picks up the phone and rings the Admiral to announce Pastwa’s arrival. “Please, Commander, follow me.”
Pastwa is lead into Reardon’s office where he finds Reardon is seated behind his desk. “Good evening, Sir.”
“I’ve been looking forward to your report Chris,” replies Reardon.
“I’ve brought some files and would like to bring you up to date on our research efforts.”
“Fine, have a seat and let me take a look at what you have.” Pastwa sits directly across from Reardon, reaches over the desk and hands him the three files.
“Sir, these are three individuals we have not been able to eliminate. One of them may prove to be Yokoyama, but until we have responses from queries we have placed on the mainland, we’re at a standstill.” Reardon opens the first file and spends about sixty seconds scanning it. He does the same with the second file, then opens the third one. Something in the file catches his attention and Pastwa notices Reardon’s right eye begin to twitch. Several minutes pass before he lightly drops the file onto his desktop.
“Hmmm, I assume you are waiting on Langley and D.C., correct?” Pastwa shakes his head in the affirmative.
“Would you like me to light some fires for you?” Reardon has never before offered to pull any strings on an investigation, so the offer takes Pastwa by surprise.
“Sir, that shouldn’t prove necessary as we’ll have our answers very early tomorrow.”
“Chris, this Kida fellow is catching my attention and looks to be the most viable candidate.” Reardon pauses as he picks up a picture of the deceased Ken Kida.
“So you say he was listed as killed just after the attack on Pearl Harbor? It certainly would have been the easiest solution for their problem of a new identification for Yokoyama. He’s about the right age and Nisei. The poor young man’s demise rather much fell into their lap.” Reardon pauses as he spends a few moments gazing through the window towards the harbor. The early evening sun is casting shadows across the waters and lights from a pair of warships resting at anchor are just becoming visible.
“Commander, my right eye is twitching out of control!” Reardon firmly presses his right index finger into the skin just below his twitching eye.
“This Kida fellow is setting off all my internal alarms and as far as I am concerned you can discount the other two for Kida will prove to be your man.” Reardon stands, walks over to the window, starts to look out towards the harbor, but catches himself and instead turns to face Pastwa.
“I assume you will have your answers early tomorrow, given the time difference. But mark my words, this is the file that will prove to be the focus of your investigation!” Reardon walks back to his desk, picks up the three files and returns them to Pastwa.
“Good work Chris. I expect you to keep me advised on every move you make, but mark my words, tomorrow’s going to be decisive.” Reardon pauses a moment. “Now, take the evening off and clear your head because I have a hunch the heat is going to be turned up several notches come morning.”
“Yes Sir, I’ll do exactly that.” Just as Pastwa reaches the doorway, the files under his left arm, Reardon calls out to him.
“Almost forgot something, Chris. I’m conducting some inspections tomorrow and don’t anticipate I’ll be back until at least fifteen hundred hours.”
“Roger that, Sir. I’ll phone Jones when I have something to report.”
As he watches Pastwa disappear into the outer office, he again presses a finger deep into the annoying twitch, but to no avail.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
MONEY SPEAKS
Once outside Reardon’s office Pastwa stops and opens the third file. He quickly flips through it while memorizing the most pertinent facts. “If the Admiral thinks this is you, I wouldn’t bet against it.” He hurries across the grounds to his office where he locks all three files into a desk drawer and deadbolts both sets of office doors on his way out. He stops in an adjacent locker room where he shaves, freshens up and carefully steams his dress uniform. He gives himself a once-over in front of a wall mirror, picks up his cell phone and speed dials Yamura.
“Hello, Chris?”
“Hi Karen, can you be ready in twenty minutes?”
“I’m almost ready now and I’m starving! Look for me out front, okay?” Yamura smiles as she continues to brush her hair with her free hand while holding her cell phone with the other.
“Excellent, I’ll see you then.” Pastwa disconnects the call and jogs to his vintage, brilliant red with cream leather interior, 325i cabrio. Clarke has made some under-the-hood improvements for him, but on Oahu there is scant opportunity to use them. Nevertheless, he loves putting the top down and cranking up the Alpine stereo.
As he slides into the Recaro bucket seat he decides to keep the top up, on the wise assumption Yamura won’t want her hair to get all tangled before dinner. He can’t help but smile as he imagines how her hair is going to appear a couple hours after dinner.
As he pulls up to the security gate at the edge of the base, the SP on duty salutes him smartly. Pa
stwa smiles as he returns the salute and immediately points his car towards the Nimitz Highway. He’s not in the habit of keeping Karen waiting and has no intention of making an exception today.
Ryota, a Japanese/American is the maître d' at Tanaka’s in downtown Honolulu. He is a veteran of twenty years’ service and has rotated three month educational residences at the main restaurant in Tokyo several times. He works long hours to ensure the dining experience in Honolulu is as good as what a customer would experience in Tokyo, which is where he first met Pastwa nearly eight years earlier. They’ve become good friends and Pastwa has attended numerous birthday parties at Ryota’s home.
As Pastwa and Yamura walk into the restaurant they notice Ryota is animatedly speaking to one of the waiters. Upon recognizing Pastwa he immediately sends the waiter on his way and rushes over to greet his friends.
“Commander! Lieutenant! So wonderful to see you both this evening. It has been too long. Please let me take your hat.” Smiling, Pastwa removes his hat and offers it to Ryota. “Thank you my friend. On our last visit it was one of those rare occasions when you were off duty. However, you’ll be pleased to know the staff performed admirably in your absence,” says Pastwa.
“Good evening, Ryota,” Yamura says in Japanese. Ryota breaks into an ear to ear grin and responds, also in Japanese. “You are most beautiful tonight and I am honored you have chosen to grace our premises.”
Pastwa has a working knowledge of Japanese, though he’s not too comfortable speaking it. He understands the upshot of what Ryota said and responds in English: “My friend, if I didn’t know for a fact you are very happily married, with a beautiful wife and six wonderful children, I would suspect you are trying to undermine my position.” Pastwa laughs when he sees a momentary concern cross Ryota’s face. Yamura also has a little laugh at Ryota’s expense, but he is soon smiling and leads them to a teppan where two couples are already seated.
“Chef Shiro will be out momentarily. Your timing, Commander, is perfect!” He pulls out a chair for Yamura and seats the commander next to one of the men. As Pastwa takes his seat Ryota pulls out a small pad of paper, writes something on it and discreetly slips it into Pastwa’s hand, which Pastwa slides into his side pocket.
“Noriko shall be your server this evening. Again, I thank you for choosing to dine with us.” Ryota bows and makes his exit.
“Did I see Ryota slip something to you?”
“You don’t miss a thing, do you?” Pastwa glances around the dining room searching for any familiar faces and concludes they are in a room of strangers. “Let me take a look.” He pulls out the note, reads it over and can’t hide a frown as two names jump out at him.
“Chris, what’s it say?” Yamura whispers.
“Damn, Karen, you won’t believe who had lunch together in here today; Lani Gale and a seaman by the name of ‘P. Young.’” Yamura appears shocked. “I know who that is, it’s Paul Young, a seaman who performs copying and pretty much office boy type stuff. Chris, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Gale’s a bit too up market for the likes of Young.”
“Nothing we can do at this moment except enjoy our dinner. We’ll follow up on this matter later.” Pastwa puts the thought of Gale nosing around the base out of his mind and shoots a sly grin at Yamura. She, in turn, picks up his left hand and gives it a gentle kiss. “I agree, let’s indulge ourselves and then retire to my place for dessert.”
“Karen, you know how I do love my desserts!” Pastwa gently kisses the top of her right hand, as the waitress approaches to take their order.
Very early the following morning Pastwa is drinking coffee while relaxing on Yamura’s lanai, taking in the first faint signs of sunrise. He’s mentally preparing for what he expects to be a challenging day. A light breeze carries the aroma of salt water, the smell of which is what initially attracted Pastwa to boating and, ultimately, the Navy. He’s convinced the only way his life at this moment could be better would be if he and Karen were on his boat, sailing between the islands.
Pastwa’s contentment doesn’t last very long. Yamura rushes out, dressed only in a sheer negligee and throws the front page of the newspaper onto the table in front of him.
“Now we know why those two were having a cozy lunch yesterday!” Her voice is both excited and aggravated.
Startled, though not fully distracted from Yamura’s figure, Pastwa picks up the newspaper. “Damn her! She’s obviously been busy snooping around the base!” Pastwa reads the full page headlines aloud: “Second Bombing of Pearl Harbor! Captured Documents Prove Jap Midget Subs Sunk Our Battleships! Jap Midget Submariners May Be Your Neighbors! One Hundred Thousand Dollar Reward to Anyone Who Can Prove Their Whereabouts…or Their Gravesites!”
“That reward offer may well prove more effective than our own research!” Pastwa tosses the newspaper onto the table. “We absolutely must beat Gale and that newspaper of hers to the punch!” Standing, he takes Yamura’s hands into his own. “We will not be beaten on this. If Yokoyama’s to be found, you and I are the ones who’ll find him, guaranteed. And if he’s alive, we’re the ones who’ll bring him in.” Pastwa isn’t shouting, as he is restraining himself, but his anger is clear. At the same time he’s worried about Reardon’s reaction.
Yamura notices his face turned a pale gray for a few moments, as if a dark cloud was moving across his psyche. She has seen this look only once before, during an incident a number of years earlier at Kaneohoe when a child turned up dead from a drug overdose. He busted the entire ring, though not until there had been significant bloodshed.
“I agree Chris.” Yamura gives him a light kiss on the lips. “I can be ready in ten minutes. Maybe you should call Clarke and Ferguson and get them over to the base?”
“Right!” Go ahead and finish getting dressed, I’ll clean up out here and call them.” Yamura smiles and disappears into the condo. He grabs everything from the table and heads to the kitchen where he quickly puts the food away and stuffs their plates and glasses into the dishwasher. He pulls his phone from a pocket and starts making the calls as he intends to leave the moment Yamura is ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“VISION, SPIRIT, PATIENCE and HONESTY”
Gary races up the stairs to the front lanai of his grandparents’ home only to find it empty. The newspaper is in his left hand, his heart’s racing and his imagination is running wild. He’s worried they’ve already left town. Breathing heavily he tries the front door, finds it open and quickly enters. Alarm bells are ringing in his head as there’s nobody in sight so he runs to the kitchen and calls out “Kapuna! Grandfather!” No response. He notices the rice cooker is in ‘cook’ mode and the tea pot on the stove top is still steaming. Calming down a little, he walks onto the back lanai and spots both his grandparents sitting in their gazebo, maybe twenty feet from the house. “No wonder they didn’t hear me.” He thinks to himself.
Gary bounds to the gazebo and excitedly blurts out: “There you are! I was worried you both left town!” Ken and Sun are a little surprised and both smile at their grandson’s alarm.
“Gary, my boy, relax. What would you have us do, run away and hide?”
“Please calm down and have a seat. We are enjoying the beautiful morning,” says Sun.
“How can you be so calm? Didn’t you see the newspaper?” Gary is amazed his grandparents can be so at ease while he’s the exact opposite and wonders if they know something he doesn’t.
“My boy, if I reacted with emotion to every problem and crisis I have faced in my life, I would have worn myself out decades ago. I must remind you of what Buddha might say: ‘The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed.’” Ken pauses to allow Gary to digest the wisdom.
“Gary, you must learn to approach each hurdle that comes your way with a combination of calm, intelligence and resourcefulness. If you let your heart rate dictate your actions, surely the results will
prove most unsatisfactory more often than not. Today we are faced with a problem, but it is a problem of unknown urgency and unknown depth. To respond with urgency or fear would likely produce an unfavorable result. Thus, it is time for meditation.”
Gary’s face contorts into a look of total disbelief. “I don’t understand; this looks pretty darn urgent to me!”
Ken smiles and gently takes Sun’s right hand. “We have decided there is no action we can take that might change the course of our destiny. If it is deemed I am to be discovered, then so be it. We read the story and there are very few facts for anyone to work with. Maybe they will find me and maybe they will not. We are prepared for either event.”
“But grandfather, the U. S. Navy has great resources, won’t they find you?”
Ken sighs and releases Sun’s hand. He turns his chair slightly so he can more directly face Gary.
“Gary, the Navy may have more resources, but if they find me what would there be for me to do? Buy a gun and have a shootout?” Ken laughs.
Gary is frowning as he doesn’t find his grandfather to be funny. “Seriously, you plan to do nothing?”
“Quite the contrary Gary, I plan to relate the rest of my first life’s history. After all, it is worth One Hundred Thousand Dollars!” Ken smiles, but Gary doesn’t appreciate the humor.
“Grandfather, there’s nothing I can do to help if you don’t let me, so I can at least learn the rest of your past directly from you, rather than eventually read about it in the newspaper.”
“Gary, we appreciate your concern, but trust in our judgment. After all, we have made it this far and have fared well for our family.” Ken says.
“Yes, Gary, please trust in your grandfather.” Sun smiles at her grandson as she certainly understands his concerns. She agrees with her husband’s analysis of the situation and recites a line from an American song she liked very much, maybe fifty years earlier: “What will be, will be.”
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