“So the south side of this hill?”
Jiro shrugged. “It’s where I would have put them.”
Haru stepped around the communications tower and flicked the switch on the metal detector, beginning a slow sweep of the ground, Jiro activating his own.
“Got something!”
Jiro placed his metal detector down, marking his spot, and joined Haru who was furiously digging with a spade.
He hit something, metal.
Haru glanced up at him, grinning. “I think someone may want us to succeed brilliantly today.”
Jiro dropped to his knees and they both carefully removed more dirt, a hint of metal appearing, then disappointment. Haru jammed his spade in and pushed it down by the handle, popping a Russian soda can from the ground. He picked it up and whipped it at the communications tower, it ricocheting off the steel lattice.
Jiro patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s keep going, we don’t want to waste any more time here than we need to.” Haru nodded and rose, resuming his search as Jiro returned to his own detector, but before he could reach it Haru cried out again.
“Got something! Big!”
Jiro returned to join Haru in his frantic dig, this time it taking several feet of dirt before they hit something. Something hollow. Haru looked at him. “Wood?”
Jiro shrugged, clearing away more dirt, the hole finally big enough that every movement didn’t rebury whatever they had found. “Definitely wood.” More frantic clearing with the spades and it was obvious it was something manmade. “I think it’s a chest.” They quickly found the edges, trimmed with metal corners and hinges, there now little doubt this was what they were searching for.
Though when he brushed away the dirt, all doubt was removed.
“Is that—”
Jiro smiled. “An imperial seal? Yes.”
Haru fell onto his backside. “What do we do?”
“Open it.”
“Are you crazy?”
“We have to be sure.”
A motor revved behind them and they both spun, Jiro’s heart leaping into his throat at the sight of a boat, a rush of adrenaline surging through his already on-edge body.
“Russians!” hissed Haru. “We’re dead!”
Jiro joined in his friend’s assessment for a moment then noticed the markings. “No, they’re ours.”
Several men jumped ashore, rushing toward them, the man clearly in charge pointing a finger at them the entire climb. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Haru scrambled backward in fear but Jiro responded with anger of his own. He was moments away from restoring his family’s honor, and now, these men, clearly government, were ruining everything. “Who are you?”
The lead man produced identification showing he was Arata Sasaki from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”
Jiro pointed at the exposed chest. “The same thing you’re doing here, I would guess.”
Sasaki’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped before he fell to his knees, reaching inside and opening the chest. The adrenaline and anger of the moment was lost as everyone knelt around the hole, gasping as the hinged top revealed its secrets after all these years.
“May I?” asked Jiro, looking at Sasaki. “It was my grandfather who put this here.”
Sasaki smiled slightly. “It is fitting then that one of his descendants should be responsible for returning it to our people.”
Jiro exhaled, thankful the expected argument had never occurred. He reached inside and lifted the first of what appeared to be three carefully wrapped objects. If he knew his history, its size suggested it would be the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi sword. He placed it on the ground and gently opened the cloth, revealing an ornate black case.
He opened it.
And they gasped.
It was indeed the sword.
“We’ve found them!” hissed Sasaki.
Jiro stared at him. “Then you knew?”
Sasaki nodded. “A few of us did. I just never dreamed I’d be the one to find them.”
Haru cleared his throat. “Umm, we found them, not you.”
Sasaki bowed slightly. “Of course, I just meant I didn’t think I’d be part of finding them.”
“That’s better.”
The whoop of a navy ship split through the silence and the totally engrossed men all jumped at the sound. Jiro nearly peed when he saw the Russian cruiser rapidly approaching, two zodiac style boats already in the water, filled with troops.
“What do we do?” asked Jiro, staring at Sasaki.
“We get these out of here now!” he cried, reaching into the chest and retrieving the other two relics. Jiro quickly wrapped the sword and they all sprinted for the boats when gunfire suddenly erupted over their heads, bringing them all to a hasty stop.
“They can’t know why we’re really here,” said Sasaki. “We’re archaeologists, here by mistake. We made a discovery that clearly belongs to our country and we intend to return with it and hand it over to the Tokyo National Museum.”
“And us?” asked Jiro.
“You are fishermen who came to see what we were doing.”
“I like that story,” said Haru. “It keeps us out of this.”
The troops stormed ashore, quickly surrounding them, the commander stepping forward, saying something in Russian.
Nobody responded.
He then spoke English, Japanese apparently not in his repertoire. “Do you speak English?”
Jiro stayed quiet, despite speaking English quite well. Sasaki responded. “I do, a little.” Jiro had a feeling the man spoke perfect English.
“What are you doing here?”
“We’re archaeologists.”
“What are those?” The man motioned toward the tightly gripped relics.
No one said anything.
The man reached forward and took the wrapped case from Jiro, quickly removing the cloth and tossing it aside. He opened the case, his eyes widening slightly. “Interesting. Looks valuable.” He snapped the case shut, using it as a pointer as he singled each of them out. “You’re thieves, stealing from the Russian people.”
Sasaki stepped forward, still gripping the other two relics against his chest. “No, these clearly belong to the Japanese people. All we ask is that we are allowed to leave here with them, and we will never return.”
The commander motioned at Sasaki with a flick of his wrist and two of his soldiers stepped forward, yanking the remaining relics from Sasaki’s arms. “They are on Russian soil, therefore they belong to Russia.”
Sasaki stepped forward. “No! They—”
Weapons were suddenly aimed at them all, the negotiations over.
Jiro’s head dropped and his shoulders sagged.
His family’s honor still not restored.
I really hate Russians.
13
South Kuril Islands, Russian Federation
Japanese name: Chishima Islands
Present Day. Two days before Acton’s arrival in Moscow
Jiro anxiously watched the Russian boat shadowing them, risking only a glimpse from the corner of his eye, terrified if he paid them too much attention they might change their minds. Behind them the fishing boat belonging to Haru bobbed happily along, the towline taut between the larger research vessel the government officials had arrived on, and the small but proud commercial relic that had been in Haru’s family for three generations.
The Russians had confiscated the Imperial Regalia, though it was clear they had no clue what they had. The government official, Sasaki, had begged them to be careful with the objects, using the word ‘priceless’ to give the Russians pause.
It only made the greed in their eyes more obvious.
And the doubt within grew as to whether or not the Imperial Regalia would ever be seen again, he getting the distinct impression the Russian commander intended to profit by them, perhaps on the black market.
And once they hit that, the truth
will come out.
And his family’s shame would be rekindled in the minds of their neighbors and friends.
And a government, and a dynasty, could fall.
And it would. The fact that Sasaki had arrived proved they knew the relics were missing. Sasaki had expressed no surprise at what was inside the chest, expressed no doubts as to whether they might be genuine. The government had been searching for them, and it wasn’t until his grandfather had been found that they realized where they might find them, just as he had.
But they found Grandfather weeks ago.
He walked over to Sasaki. “How long did you know?”
Sasaki looked at him, gripping the rail that ran the length of the deck. “Excuse me?”
“How long did you know they were there?”
“Frankly, Mr. Sato, we had no idea where they were until you mentioned it to the notification detail yesterday. Up to that point, we had lost all hope they’d ever be found.”
“Why did you lie?”
Sasaki regarded him, it clear a debate was raging inside. Openness won. “There’s no point in lying to you, since you’re one of only a handful that know the truth. From what I understand, it was a very confusing, chaotic, shameful period. Our nation had surrendered, our crimes laid bare and our emperor forced to admit unfathomable truths. For him to admit he was a mere mortal, and then to reveal he did not possess the Imperial Regalia, it would have shaken the country to its core. We needed stability, and His Majesty provided that.”
“Yes, but surely by the time the new emperor was sworn in, the truth could be told.”
Sasaki shook his head. “No, by then the lie had been underway for over forty years. To admit to it then would have brought the government down, the families involved too powerful. The hope was that the current emperor would live a very long life, and by then, those who were involved would be long dead, and perhaps, with good fortune, the Regalia would have been found. At a minimum, those alive who knew, and participated in the lie, would be gone.”
“Leaving their shame for future generations.”
Sasaki massaged his wrist. “Your family carries the shame, doesn’t it?”
Jiro nodded. “A shame only a few of us know the true extent of. When this goes public, I hope my grandfather’s good name will be restored.”
Sasaki shook his head. “This can never go public.”
Jiro felt his heart slam hard, just a single palpitation, then a bulge rush up his throat. “This must go public. My family now knows the truth. My grandfather fulfilled his duty and was killed by the Russians. He successfully hid the Regalia as he was ordered to, protecting it from the invaders. They didn’t find it until today, when we failed, not him. There was no dishonor in his mission. He died fighting, the Regalia were left safe. Seventy years of derision must stop. Now!”
Haru looked over at him, shocked at the outburst. Jiro ignored his friend, instead focusing his rage on the man in front of him.
“I understand, but you must understand that there are bigger things at play here.”
“What could be more important than the truth, especially now?”
“Honor. Integrity. Tradition.”
“There was no dishonor in protecting our Imperial Regalia. There was no lack of integrity in the way my grandfather fought to protect them. And he upheld the greatest of traditions by dying to protect that which His Majesty had ordered him to. The truth will only uphold those three tenets you hold so dear. What won’t uphold them is the Russians selling them on the black market, and your secret getting out.”
Sasaki’s face froze for a moment then a look of horror flashed in his eyes. He glanced back at the Russian cruiser shadowing them. “You don’t think…”
“Don’t you?”
Sasaki swung around. “Are we in international waters yet?”
“Yes, sir, five minutes ago,” replied a young man. He pointed ahead. “And look!”
They all turned to see two large military vessels steaming toward them.
A lump formed in Jiro’s chest. “Are those ours?”
“Yes they are.” Sasaki rushed toward the bridge, Jiro following. “Hail the lead vessel, and make sure the Russians can hear us.”
“What?”
“You heard me!”
“Yes, sir!”
The radioman complied, and moments later handed the mike to Sasaki. “Japanese naval vessel. Be advised that we are in international waters and have been peacefully conducted from Russian claimed waters. They are in possession of property belonging to the Japanese people, confiscated at the time of our arrest. Please notify the Foreign Minister to arrange recovery of the confiscated items. Out.” He handed the mike back and turned toward Jiro.
“What does that accomplish?”
“We have now made it public that the Russians have property of ours. That will force the captain of their vessel to return what was taken to Moscow, or at the very least, notify Moscow that they have something of ours. That prevents it from being sold on the black market.”
“But it still leaves them in the wrong hands.”
“Yes, but governments are more likely to be reasonable than rogue naval captains.”
“And if the Russians refuse?”
“Then I fear the peace we have enjoyed for seventy years will be broken.”
Jiro’s eyes widened slightly. “Do you really think it could come to that?”
Sasaki looked back at the Russian vessel as it bore hard to port. “Don’t you? The Russians now possess our country’s most important relics, integral to our culture, our history, our traditions and our very way of life. Honor demands we do whatever it takes to get them back.”
“But war?”
“Countries have fought for less, and I can’t think of any reason more important than one’s very identity.” He looked at Jiro. “I fear, young man, that we could be at war before the week is out.”
14
Ministry of Culture, Gnezdnikovsky Lane, Moscow, Russian Federation
Arseny Orlov glanced up from his computer as an old colleague, Igor Krupin, entered the room, dropping a rather large box on his desk. “What’s this?”
“That’s what the Kremlin wants to know.”
Orlov’s eyebrows rose as he stood, examining the box, an emblem of the Russian Navy emblazoned on each side. He flipped open the four sides of the lid, finding three items inside of varying sizes, all wrapped in towels. He picked up one and carried it over to a light table in the corner of his cluttered office, the life of a curator at the Ministry of Culture a solitary, unglamorous one, art and culture not belonging to Russia not a very high priority in his country.
He carefully unwrapped the item and gasped.
“Where did you find this?” He barely heard the answer as he carefully examined the ornate piece, a jade sculpted jewel in a shape best described as a comma. He stared at Krupin. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
Krupin shook his head, smiling. “You academics. I said, it was confiscated from some Japanese nationals on one of the Kuril Islands. The Japs are raising quite the stink about it, so the Kremlin wants to know what we’ve got.”
“Why? Why not just return them?” Orlov retrieved the second item from the box and brought it under the light, carefully unwrapping what turned out to be a bronze mirror.
“Well, it’s odd, that.”
Orlov looked up from the mirror, staring at Krupin. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the Japanese haven’t actually asked for them.”
“I thought you said they’re raising a stink?”
“They are, but not about these items specifically.”
Orlov leaned back, jamming a palm into his spine, his decision to start a workout routine this morning now regretted. “You’re talking in circles, man.”
Krupin shrugged. “I’m just a messenger here, but what I do know is that the Japanese have decided to enforce their territorial claims over the islands, and are demanding the return of any and a
ll things taken from the islands.”
“Odd.”
“Exactly, which is why the Kremlin wants to know what’s so important about these things that they’d be willing to risk war over them.”
“War? Do they really think it will come to that? What’s the president said?”
“So far, not much, except that trespassers were arrested, items stolen from Russian soil seized, and then the trespassers were released and escorted out of Russian territorial waters as a goodwill gesture in the hopes of fostering peaceful relations between our two great nations.”
Orlov grunted. “So he bullshit them.”
“What else did you expect?”
“Not much nowadays.” Orlov held up a hand. “You didn’t hear that.”
Krupin grinned. “Hear what?” He nodded toward the table with the relics. “So, what are they?”
Orlov shrugged. “No idea, Japanese antiquities aren’t really my area, but I’ll find out. Is it okay if I bring in some outside help?”
Krupin made a face. “I wasn’t told you couldn’t, so…”
Orlov smiled. “So what Moscow doesn’t know can’t hurt them.”
Krupin smiled for a moment then frowned. “Umm, I didn’t hear that. What Igor doesn’t know can’t hurt him either.” He pointed at the relics. “The Japanese know we have them, so I guess it’s not that much of a secret.” He sighed. “It’s scary how everything old is new again in Mother Russia.”
Orlov agreed, Krupin speaking the truth. As each day passed he felt less and less free, the stories his father and grandfather told of the past, days he could barely remember, could barely believe, now reflected in the sights he saw every day.
Russia was going to hell, a barking mad egomaniac at the tiller.
With his shirt off.
He lifted the mirror. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out something.”
“Good.”
Krupin left the room, but Orlov already knew the answer.
He just couldn’t believe it could possibly be correct.
Though he did know someone who would.
Raging Sun (A James Acton Thriller, #16) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 5