“No. My father thinks that if they admit what they’re after then they have to admit they’ve been lying to their people for over seventy years. I guess they don’t want to do that.”
“Understandable,” agreed Acton, it matching his own theory when he had heard what the boy’s father had in his possession.
“They’re insisting that the islands belong to them and that they want them back, along with anything removed from them.”
“The Imperial Regalia.”
Vitaly peered in his mirror at Laura. “Yes, this is at least what my father thinks.”
“So it’s all a smokescreen. The Japanese are rattling their sabers to get the regalia back, all so they don’t have to admit they lost them in the first place.” Acton shook his head. “Honor!”
Vitaly took a hard right. “Are these things really worth going to war over?”
Acton shrugged. “These aren’t just relics. These are essentially holy relics to the Japanese, handed down for millennia, given to them by the gods, their possession confirming the divinity of their leaders for thousands of years. Are you Christian?”
Vitaly nodded.
“Imagine Russia was a deeply Christian country and possessed the bones of Jesus. Then imagine Japan stole them. Wouldn’t you go to war to get them back?”
“Yes, I guess, though I must admit I’m not that religious.” Vitaly shook his head. “But Japan against us? They can’t possibly think they’ll win!”
18
South Kuril Islands, Russian Federation
Japanese name: Chishima Islands
“Sir, Tokyo can’t possibly think we’ll win!”
Captain Yamada looked at his Executive Officer, Haruto Nakano, and motioned for him to sit in his cramped sea cabin. “Don’t let the men hear you say that.”
“Of course not, sir, I would never think of doing something so dishonorable.”
“I know, I know.” Yamada glanced at the orders from the Chief of the Maritime Staff then pushed them aside with a flick of a finger. “This explanation ignores history.”
Nakano’s eyes narrowed. “Sir?”
“The line from our government is that since these soldiers were killed after the surrender, it proves the Soviets occupied the islands illegally as they were in our possession at the end of the hostilities, and were not foreign territory to be taken back. They’ve decided to press this now of all times.”
“But I thought pretty much everybody already knew the occupation was illegal? The Soviets declared war the day after we surrendered and illegally occupied all the islands, even challenging American overflights.” Nakano shook his head. “This makes no sense! We’re blockading the Russians because some soldiers were found on an island the world already accepts we own, claiming that it is proof that we own it?” Nakano pointed out the porthole. “And have you seen that thing? It’s barely a kilometer across!”
“The size of the island is irrelevant, and the reason for this provocation has nothing to do with territorial rights.”
“But the orders—”
“Are a story to tell the press and the public to keep them busy, while the real machinations occur behind the scenes.”
“Forgive me, sir, but may I know what those are?”
Yamada regarded his Executive Officer. He was a good man. An honorable man. They had served together for years, and should the man fulfill his duties during this crisis, he was going to recommend he be given a ship of his own.
So he had to assume he could trust him.
“There’s something few know about, that I didn’t know about until just a few moments ago when I called my father to find out the truth.” He flicked a wrist at the printout of their orders. “These were clearly ridiculous. Since when have our orders included a political explanation? Especially one so weak?”
Nakano remained wisely silent, listening instead to his commanding officer.
Definitely command material.
Keep your mouth shut when a senior officer decides to loosen his tongue, and you may get more information than if you interrupted him.
Yamada sighed, looking at Nakano. “The Russians have the Imperial Regalia.”
Nakano gasped. “How? Did they steal them?”
Yamada shook his head. “No, they were found on Harukaru Island and confiscated by the Russians.”
“What were they doing there?”
“They were hidden there near the end of the war and lost.”
Nakano’s head jerked back. “But that doesn’t make sense. I remember watching the enthronement of His Majesty when I was a boy. The Imperial Regalia were presented as per tradition.”
“Fakes.”
Nakano’s head tipped forward, bouncing slightly as his eyes opened wide. “Fakes?”
“Yes.”
“But—” Nakano appeared at a loss for words. Yamada didn’t blame him. He had been too, when his father had told him the truth. Few knew it, his father part of an inner circle in the bureaucracy that didn’t change from one government to the next, he having served the people for over forty years.
He had been certain his father would know the truth.
He had just never expected the truth to be what it was.
Nakano finally gathered his thoughts. “The Russians have the Imperial Regalia, which was lost after the war, this fact hidden from the people since.”
“Yes.”
“Which means His Majesty was sworn in…” His eyebrows jumped, his eyes wide. “You don’t mean?”
Yamada nodded. “You can see why this is a delicate matter.”
Nakano eyes remained wide. “Yes!” He paused. “Do the Russians know what they have?”
Yamada shook his head. “We don’t know. They must, but perhaps they don’t believe it either.”
“Surely they wouldn’t keep them, would they?”
“Who knows with Russians? They are not honorable or principled like us. But one thing is certain, the people cannot know the truth.”
“Why not? If they did, surely they would support the government’s efforts to retrieve the Regalia.”
“I have no doubt they would, then after we did retrieve them, they would promptly demand the resignation of the government, and the arrest of those involved in the conspiracy. It could topple not only the government, but the Imperial House itself.”
“Then what do we do?”
Yamada rose, Nakano immediately leaping to his feet.
“We follow our orders, and hope that someone in Russia with honor and principles does the right thing.”
19
Courtyard Moscow Paveletskaya Hotel, Moscow, Russian Federation
Arseny Orlov checked his watch. “Where are they?”
He continued pacing in front of the large windows, eyeing the road below, the news belching out of a flat screen television mounted to the wall.
News that wasn’t good.
He looked at the table and the three relics so important to the Japanese they were willing to go to war with the massive military might of the Russian Federation.
They can’t possibly think they’ll win.
Yet they just might win in the court of international public opinion. Though the Russian press wouldn’t report on it, the news was out there if one was willing to look, and the news wasn’t favorable to the Russian position. A forgotten piece of history was being taught to the people of the world once again, and people were mad. The islands had been seized after the Japanese surrendered, and in violation of the Potsdam Declaration, the Russians didn’t leave. Instead, within a year, his country had deported all 17,000 Japanese inhabitants then began to settle it with their own people. Even the American government had demanded Soviet withdrawal, a demand that went ignored, American planes sent in the immediate aftermath of the invasion to observe what was happening, intercepted and turned back by their Soviet “allies”.
The Cold War had already begun, only days after World War II had ended.
And now that the world was
being informed of the forgotten truth, talking heads and individual elected members of governments around the world were demanding the return of the islands.
These demands were also emboldening others, Vietnam and the Philippines sending their own navies into the South China Sea to assert their sovereignty over disputed islands ridiculously claimed by the Chinese.
It was a powder keg searching for a match, a match almost found earlier when two ships had collided. He didn’t believe for a second it was the Japanese that had rammed his country’s ship. That was a move of arrogance, of brashness, traits he didn’t expect to see from modern Japanese.
And exactly what he’d expect from his people, of any era.
His phone rang and he checked the call display.
He ignored it.
It had been ringing with greater frequency for hours now, Krupin now aware that the relics he had delivered were no longer on government property.
His phone vibrated with a text.
Sorry friend warrant issued for your arrest.
Orlov sighed, his heartrate ratcheting up a few more notches as he stared out the window. He pulled at his shirt, it soaked with sweat, the cheap material matted against his chest and back. He stared in the mirror, the beet red visage that greeted him, startling, the fear in that unknown man’s eyes bringing home just how terrified he was.
Why did you take them?
He sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing a pillow and using it to wipe his face dry, tossing the stained result aside. Why did he take them? He had to. He knew immediately what they were when Krupin had delivered them, and it would have been a simple matter to confirm them as genuine, though as the hours passed and he waited for the arrival of someone he could trust to verify what he already knew, the official news grew more dire, and the unofficial news even more so.
It was when Krupin had called for an update that he knew he had to act.
“Have you confirmed what they are yet?”
“I’m still working on it. Why the rush?”
“The Kremlin is anxious. I think they want to use them as leverage to settle some land disputes. Blackmail the Japanese into some concessions, I guess.”
It hadn’t surprised him at all. It was typical of the new Russia as shown with the taking of the Crimea, South Ossetia, and Eastern Ukraine. Not to mention the involvement in Syria. The Russian leadership didn’t care what the world thought anymore since they had essentially been unopposed for eight years. “The Japanese are never going to admit these are the real thing. You realize that if they are, the current emperor is illegitimate.”
He could almost hear the shrug. “So. They should toss that paper fixture like we did the Tsar.”
“Not quite the same, I’m afraid. What’s the Kremlin going to do if the Japanese won’t stand down?”
Krupin’s voice had lowered. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I was just in a briefing where they said they’re preparing to blow the Japanese fleet out of the water within the next twenty-four hours.”
“But that would mean war!”
“A war we would easily win.”
“Assuming the Americans stay out of it.”
“They will.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“They didn’t get involved in the Ukraine or Georgia. They’ve stood by and let us do what we want in Syria. By the time they decide to do anything, it will be over.”
“They’re not talking occupation, are they?”
“Oh no, just blast their navy out of the water, demand formal surrender of the islands to us so this never comes up again, probably reparations, then we’ll hand over their relics.”
“Reparations. Is this about money?”
“Isn’t it always? I heard that the boys in Foreign Affairs are coming up with a wish list of demands.”
“This is insane.”
“This is the new Russia, our pride and strength restored.”
The conversation hadn’t improved, and the moment it was over, he had called his son to pick him up, sneaking the relics out of the building, his security clearance at least affording him some privileges.
That’s probably been revoked.
He had a plan, but it relied on a man he had met only once, and a woman he had never heard of.
A knock at the door had him nearly fainting.
He tossed a towel over the relics then grabbed the edge of the table and took a deep breath before tiptoeing to the door. He peered through the peephole and sighed in relief, pulling the door open and putting a finger to his lips. Everyone entered quietly and he closed the door before delivering traditional greetings to the two professors.
“I cannot thank you enough for coming!”
James Acton nodded. “You made it sound like we had no choice.”
Orlov smiled, the next few minutes a blur as he showed the relics to the professors, his son joining them and guarding the door. And as he had feared, they confirmed them as most likely genuine, it taking a lab to be 100% certain.
Though he had heard enough to satisfy his initial assessment.
They were real.
And his government was going to use them to force a country that couldn’t admit they had been lost, into paying an unforgivable price.
Laura looked at him. “Why won’t your country simply return them?”
Orlov shrugged. “Politics, I fear, but whatever the reason, they must be stopped.”
Acton frowned. “What’s your plan?”
Orlov stared at them, taking a deep breath, this the moment of truth. “I want the two of you to smuggle them out of the country.”
Tires screeched on the streets below.
Orlov rushed to the window, his suspicions confirmed. Police and other dark-suited men were pouring out of vehicles, rushing into the hotel below.
They had only minutes.
He pointed at his son. “Go get the car!” His son nodded and immediately left. Orlov turned to Acton. “They’ve found me—probably traced my phone. You need to leave. Now.”
Acton peered out the window. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“But I have, and you’re with me. Remember, this isn’t Russia anymore, this is the Soviet Union under a different name with a different flag. If you’re found with these, God only knows when you’ll be seen again.”
He shoved the mirror into Acton’s hands, the sword and jewel into Laura’s.
“What are you doing, Arseny?” He could tell by Acton’s tone he wasn’t happy.
“You need to take these with you.”
“What?”
“Get them out of the country and back to Japan. I won’t let that egomaniac lead us into a war over some stolen islands. Getting these back to Japan will defuse the situation.”
“Arseny, I don’t really think we should be getting involved in this,” protested Acton. “Christ, if we’re caught with these things, they’ll send us to Siberia. Or worse!”
Orlov placed both hands on Acton’s shoulders. “My friend, I know I ask a lot of you. But you could save thousands if not millions of lives.”
“We can’t.”
“You must!”
Orlov rushed for the door, Acton and Laura following him, continuing to protest, but it fell on deaf ears. He reached the stairwell door and glanced back at the clearly scared and angry professors. “Go! Now! They don’t know who you are yet! You can still make it!”
Acton stood in shock as Orlov rushed through the stairwell door and disappeared. He looked at Laura. “What the hell just happened?”
She stared at the door as it slowly closed, the pneumatic closer doing its job as Orlov’s hasty footfalls echoed down the hall. She held up the two relics forced upon her. “We can’t be caught with these. Do we just leave them?”
Acton looked around. “Where, here?”
“In the hotel room?”
Acton tried the door. It was locked.
“We can’t just leave them in the hall.”
Shou
ts suddenly erupted from the stairwell just as the door clicked shut. “Shit! There’s no time.” He pointed at the small jade jewel. “Put that in your purse. Will the sword fit under your jacket?”
Laura shoved the jewel in her purse then stuck the short sword underneath her jacket. “Looks rather obvious.”
Acton frowned then pulled open the jacket, tearing open the lining near the top. Laura smiled. “Smart thinking.”
“Or desperate thinking. Let’s go with smart.” He slid the sword through the opening and it fell to the bottom of the long ankle length jacket. “Perfect.”
She motioned toward the bronze mirror. “That’s not fitting under a jacket.”
Acton looked about and spotted a maid’s cart nearby. He grabbed a garbage bag and handed it to Laura who quickly opened it up, he slipping the mirror inside, folding the plastic around it. “It’ll have to do.”
They hustled toward the elevator and he pressed the button, his eyes on the doors at the end of the hall, the shouts louder.
Acton glanced at his wife. “Ignore it.”
“There’s cameras.” She nodded almost imperceptibly at a black dome on the ceiling only feet away.
He muttered a curse. “That means they’ve got our faces.”
The doors opened and they boarded, trying to appear as calm as they could to the one passenger. Shuffling to the back, Acton pressed himself against the wall, trying to make the large garbage bag wrapped mirror appear as uninteresting as possible.
As they slowly made their way to the lobby, the elevator stopping several times to eventually pack it quite tightly, he could feel sweat trickling down his back as his heart slammed hard.
The elevator chimed, the doors opening, shouts immediately greeting them as everyone streamed into the lobby. Acton grabbed Laura’s hand and he felt a tug, slowing him down slightly.
She’s right. You’re panicking!
He took a deep, slow breath, trying to gain control of the adrenaline fueling him as they continued toward the door, ignoring the police rushing around the lobby, their numbers still too small to control the large numbers of guests.
Raging Sun (A James Acton Thriller, #16) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 7