“Well, gents, shall we?”
“You first, Spike,” Irish transmitted from the back.
They stepped out of the big fighter into the tense night. Japanese marines sprinted out of the shadows, rifles pointed at the invaders as bright flood lights flashed on, blinding the Americans. A curt order in Japanese cracked through the silence. Reluctantly, slowly, the marines lowered their rifles. Out of the black backdrop Prime Minister Suzuki stepped onto the fringe of the illuminated ramp. Spike addressed him in broken Japanese. Irish gave him a sideways glance. Spike returned a wink and then continued his attempt at Japanese. Irish was too nervous to be irritated.
“English would be better,” responded the prime minister.
“As you wish, Prime Minister.”
“You are OSS. Code Name Spike.”
“I am.” Spike bowed in acknowledgment.
“We have a complication.” Spike stiffened, hearing the concern in the prime minister’s voice.
02:08 Local, 16 August, 1945 (17:08 GMT, 15AUG)
Mount Fugi, Japan
Admiral Hiroshi and a company of Japanese marines slipped silently past the lodge that marked the halfway point on the ascent of Mount Fugi. They had been on the switch-back trail for hours. Hiroshi had hastily put together a backup plan. He and his elite company of marines had to be in position before daybreak to seize the radio station. It was imperative that infamy continue. Imperative that he warn Atsugi that a surrender order was imminent. Imperative that Atsugi ignore the order.
13:28 Local, 15 August, 1945 (18:28 GMT, 15AUG)
Victoria Strait, Northern Territories, Canada
A strobing fire alarm light silently announced danger to the entire ship. A ship-board fire was every sailor’s biggest fear, and Captain Tsukuba was instantly on the phone to the engine room. Hanging up, he ordered the ship to periscope height as Atsugi and Wolf entered the bridge.
“Captain, we cannot surface and give away our position. It is daylight.” Atsugi said.
“Lieutenant Commander Atsugi, if we do not surface we could lose the ship. Toxic fumes from an electrical fire have filled the engine room. They must be vented.” With that he gave the order to periscope height and also deployed the snorkeling system to vent the smoke and fumes. A call from the communication center came ten minutes later, a priority message for Atsugi. He left the bridge and made his way aft. Once in the comm center he read the message from Admiral Hiroshi.
JAPAN HAS CAPITULATED. TWO NUCLEAR BOMBS EXPLODED ON CITIES OF HIROSHIMA AND NAGASAKI. EASTERN INFAMY IS THE ONLY DIVINE WIND THAT WILL BLOW. WEAPONS MUST BE ON TARGET BY 2 SEPT. THAT IS OFFICIAL SURRENDER. WILL SEND CODED INTEL/UPDATES THIS FREQ ONLY. RUN SILENT AND AVENGE THE HOMELAND. HIROSHI SENDS.
Atsugi handed the message back to the petty officer. “Has anyone else seen this?” Afraid even to turn around, he spoke into his radio counsel.
“No, sir, only you.” His head exploded all over the radio equipment.
Atsugi jumped back, turning to see Wolf and a smoking Luger. Atsugi looked down on the body of the petty officer with detachment and was wiping the blood off his face when Tsukuba came through the hatch.
“So my crew is expendable at your whim?” he demanded, anger rising with each word.
“Captain Tsukuba, we are all expendable on this mission. The communication center is off limits to everyone except the general and me.”
Atsugi brushed past the captain and left Tsukuba staring after him.
03:42 Local, 16 August, 1945 (18:42 GMT, 15AUG)
Yokosuka Naval District, Tokyo Japan
Spike nonchalantly tapped a pencil on a glass ashtray as the other three Americans did their best to fill it to overflowing. They sat in an austere and now smoke-filled office with no windows and just one light fixture over a single table.
“Any other surprises for us tonight, Spike?” Irish lit another cigarette. Hass-man and Stoney looked up.
“I didn’t know you smoked, Stoney,” Spike said, ignoring Irish’s question.
“Just started.” Before anything else could be said, Prime Minister Suzuki entered the room.
“You mentioned a complication, Mister Prime Minister,” Spike said. He acknowledged with a bow as Suzuki’s aide, with hatred in his eyes, dropped four German uniforms on the table and left without making eye contact.
“It is better if I show you. You should probably wear these for now.” He motioned to the Nazi uniforms on the table.
Concealed by the darkness, the immensity of the covered sub pen was readily apparent when they were inside with the lights on. The awkward-looking group with ill-fitting uniforms walked deeper into the pen. Irish registered the surprise on Spike’s face as his eyes darted around the building, analyzing and cataloging the contents instantly. The German submarine with its captive crew lounging on the deck didn’t surprise him. It was the monstrous Japanese submarines that shocked him. He got close to one and examined its catapult from the pier, looking at the Seiran fighters parked on the pier with wings folded. Spike counted three I-400 class submarines and then walked up to an empty berthing. Prime Minister Suzuki joined him.
“Please tell me there are only three, Prime Minister.”
“There is another, and it has sortied.”
“Route and refueling points?”
“Known only to the crew.”
“Target?”
“Targets. Plural. New York City and Norfolk Naval Base.”
Spike leaned against a steel girder, heart pounding in his ears. He felt he’d aged a hundred years in a single instant. Irish walked up to him, wondering what was going on. Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and said nothing. Cognition sparked; he looked up at the two Seiran fighters and took a Geiger counter out of the rucksack Irish carried. Walking toward the Seiran fighters, it began to click, sensing radiation. As he walked closer, it increased in frequency, finally becoming a constant tone; its meter was pegged. Irish followed and finally demanded an answer.
“What the hell is going on?”
After a long pause, Spike spoke quietly and slowly.
“These submarines are submersible aircraft carriers, and these little gems,” he nodded at the aircraft, “increase their range and are loaded with Wolf’s nuclear weapons.” He looked at Irish. “The prime minister says there are four of these vessels.” Irish’s eyes widened. Spike continued. “The one not in its berth here will surface at an unknown time and unknown place with the sole mission of doing to New York and Norfolk what we just did to Hiroshima and Nagasaki.”
CHAPTER 25
08:00 Local, 16 August, 1945 (23:00 GMT, 15AUG)
USS Missouri, Tokyo Bay
Spike paced back and forth in admiral’s country waiting impatiently for Admiral Bull Halsey to appear. He had already sent flash messages to the Chief of Naval Operations and OSS Headquarters. He’d even sent a back channel message to C. R. Smith and had him hand carry it to President Truman. Experts in Alamogordo had responded that the mating of a nuclear bomb to an aircraft of that size was unlikely. When Spike responded he had not one, but two functional weapons, mated to Seiran aircraft capable of medium-range missions and submarines capable of not only transporting but launching them, Alamogordo didn’t have anything else to add.
Hans had landed an hour earlier and now watched nervously as Spike paced. Finally Halsey banged through the hatch, having come from operations where he’d observed film and stills of the nuclear destruction.
“My God Almighty! What has mankind wrought?”
“Hell’s fury, Admiral,” Spike said, stopping in his tracks in the far corner of the room, “and it is heading to New York as we speak.”
Halsey turned on a dime and walked right up to Spike. He stood toe-to-toe with the spy, looking him in the eyes for a three count and then spoke. “Okay, Major, you have my attention. Explain.”
Spike detailed everything—from capturing Hans to the mission in Germany to get the rest of the notable scientists to the chase from Germany to
South America and then on to Tokyo, and then what they’d found in the sub pens at Yokosuka. He brought Hans into the conversation for the scientific details and then spread out a chart of the world with two plots on it. Halsey took it all in without a word. Once Spike was finished, he summed it up.
“So a submersible aircraft carrier with two flying nuclear weapons is headed for New York City and Norfolk. And we don’t know their position or route.”
Spike nodded but then added, “They have to have gone east around the tip of South America. West around Africa is longer, and there are no refueling stops. Also our fleet has pulled in tight around Japan, but the rest of the eastern and southern Pacific is wide open. We are all over the Indian Ocean and Malaysia.”
“Where do you think they stopped for fuel?”
“Truk.”
“We are on Truk, Major.”
“Yes, sir, but they have a sixteen-day head start.”
Halsey sat in a small metal desk chair and tossed the report on a table. “Any other little details like that last one?”
“Yes, Admiral. None of our assets knew of the existence of either the I-400 class submarines or the Seiran fighter. We are evaluating them now but currently know very little. These were high-level, top secret projects that apparently few in their naval or air force command knew about. And if the Japanese we’re interrogating knew, they are not talking.”
A loud knock interrupted the conversation. Halsey barked, “Enter!” and a chief appeared. He started to speak and then stopped, looking at the two strangers. “It’s okay, chief, they are read in to more than I am. Speak freely.”
“Admiral, I was asked to go through the surrender messages sent from Japan to their troops. Admiral Nimitz’s Staff was concerned there might be a Trojan horse somewhere; there were thousands to go through …”
“And?”
“I found a strange message that was sent repeatedly on an HF frequency. We only had a recording of it, so it was off to the side—”
“And?”
“Well, sir, it indicates that a mission, code name Infamy, is still active.”
All three men looked at each other, and then Halsey leaned forward onto the chart, his eyes piercing the chief radioman. “Please tell me you know where it is coming from.”
“Yes, sir. That is even weirder. It triangulated to the top of Mount Fugi. And it was signed off, ‘Hiroshi sends,’ unusual for the Japanese.”
Halsey wasn’t listening anymore; a plan was materializing in his head. He picked up a phone and called for his staff to assemble in flag plot. Before they even could take their seats, he was barking orders.
“I want every ship in Sixth Fleet that has antisubmarine warfare capability headed to the tip of South America at flank speed. I want the entire Seventh Fleet headed south down the eastern coast of South America. We have a rogue Japanese submarine with nuclear weapons headed for America. All aviation assets that can hold depth bombs need to be headed south within the hour. We are going to drive that bastard into a vise and kill him. Gentlemen, this comes from the office of the president.”
There was a stunned silence as his staff stared back in disbelief. The war was over, and now this.
“Turn two!” Halsey uttered the old Navy term that meant Move your butt. “INTEL?”
“Aye, aye, Admiral.”
“Get word to Truk, I want some damn evidence I-403 was there.”
“Chief of Staff?”
“Aye, sir.”
“I want that damn duplicitous prime minister in my flag plot first thing tomorrow.”
18:23 Local, 15 August, 1945 (23:23 GMT, 15AUG)
I-403, Victoria Strait, Canada
Atsugi sat alone, his rage transformed into an emptiness that could not be filled. Even his thoughts were lost in a black hole of vengeance. Nothing but the mission would trigger synapses in his damaged brain. All else was gone—his family, his home, his humanity. A dark curtain had dropped behind the center stage of his mind, and the only thing illuminated was the plan. Infamy would take the stage and perform, and then the curtain would rise on the destruction of those who had destroyed everything he held dear.
“Lieutenant Commander Atsugi?” He did not stir or respond.
“Sir, you requested to know when the ship would be ready to proceed.”
Atsugi nodded but did not speak.
“It could take up to three days. The fire is out, but the damage was extensive.”
Atsugi gave a second nod, almost imperceptible as the on-stage monologue ran. The slight nod was enough to release the engineering officer, who fled immediately.
05:38 Local, 16 August, 1945 (05:38 GMT, 16AUG)
USS Suwannee, Strait of Gibraltar
Kid looked aft and watched as the Rock of Gibraltar slowly shrank. Rising behind it on the eastern horizon, the sun lit the low hanging clouds. Their edges were on fire, the centers dark. To the south were the lights of Tangier. From seven decks above the flight deck, the view was spectacular. He thought about all he had seen and done in just the few short years since he’d joined the Navy. Barely twenty-one, he wondered how he could ever return to normal life. Then he thought of Theresa and his son. Certainly he’d never be the same. He’d never be normal. But he would do everything he could to make sure they were.
Kid glanced down to the flight deck below. From bow to stern, it was covered with rows of Sherman tanks. The crew had struck the air wing below and loaded the tanks in less than twelve hours. They got just a glimpse of Italy and now were headed for Boston. Five days later and he would be on the American mainland. He couldn’t remember how long it had been.
08:01 Local, 17 August, 1945 (23:01 GMT, 16AUG)
USS Missouri, Tokyo Bay
A defeated man trying to save his homeland from further wrath, Prime Minister Suzuki shuffled into the flag plot. Halsey was furious, convinced he had been played for a fool. He got straight to the point and handed Suzuki the message. Bowing deeply, the Prime Minister hung his head in shame and then spoke without a translator.
“Can we retire to your quarters, Admiral?”
Halsey held out his hand, pointing the way. They settled around a chart that had Fuji in the center. Spike stood in the background, hoping to learn the route and re-fueling points. Suzuki spoke slowly.
“Hiroshi has dug in at the top of Fuji, hoping to guide Infamy from there.”
“Why Fuji?”
“Radio capabilities and symbolism.”
“Okay, what is I-403’s route?”
“Only Hiroshi and the crew know the route. I only learned of Infamy after it had been initiated. Hiroshi kept all details secret.”
“What is his troop strength on Fuji?”
“We believe company strength.”
“Fine, we’ll blow him off the top with a B-29 strike.”
Suzuki shifted uneasily in his chair. He was obviously very uncomfortable at the thought. “I’m afraid that would cause … severe complications.”
“So what?” snapped Halsey. Spike jumped into the conversation.
“Admiral, Mount Fuji is sacred. An open attack would fuel rebellion. And we need Hiroshi alive.”
Halsey fidgeted, tugging at his open collar. “Suggestion for a course of action?”
Spike took over the conversation and interrogation of Suzuki. He stepped forward and bowed deeply. “Prime Minister-San, the communication center on Fuji, is it known to the public?”
“Yes, public radio stations also use the mountain for a range of purposes.”
20:03 Local, 17 August, 1945 (01:03 GMT, 18AUG)
I-403, Victoria Strait, Canada
Atsugi and Wolf sat alone at the cold steel table in the wardroom. It had cleared quickly when they entered the space. Atsugi ate his rice ball methodically, as if he had become nothing more than a cold, mechanical being. After a few moments of silence, he glanced across to Wolf.
“We must read in key members of the crew,” he stated in a bland, matter-of -fact tone.
&nb
sp; “Why?”
“So we do not end up like the communications petty officer.”
Wolf considered it and decided that without his Storm Troopers to keep the crew in line, it was a necessity at this point. “And Japan’s surrender?” he asked. “Do we tell them about that?”
“What surrender?” Atsugi said, his eyes clouding in what should have been shame.
14:10 Local, 18 August, 1945 (05:10 GMT, 18AUG)
Yokosuka Naval District
Spike and Irish were briefing two Marine Corps officers: Colonel Sean ‘Thumper” McDonald, Commander of Marine Air Group 11, and Lieutenant Colonel Jim Russell CO of the 2nd Battalion of the 29th, 6th Marine Division. Irish had known Thumper for years from American Airlines and a secret mission called Project 7 Alpha that they both were a part of. In fact, that’s how he’d met Russell, too. Irish had flown supplies into Russell’s raider unit in Burma and China during the dark days of WWII. He had run into both men on Okinawa.
“Sorry to drag you gents back into this, but I need people I can trust.” Spike had read both in on Infamy, and now each had a pale, sickly look. Then Irish went over the tactical picture and got down to the nuts and bolts of the plan.
“We need Admiral Hiroshi alive. We believe he’ll be in the bunker, so we need to leave it intact. Thumper, we need two one-thousand pound fragmentation bombs to land simultaneously on top of Fuji at sunrise; that will take out most of the troops but not penetrate the bunker. Jim, your boys are then to take the summit.”
Spike interjected. “We’ll release a press report that the radio station’s power plant exploded. That’s why we need a smaller explosion and why we need the bombs to hit simultaneously. We’ll also release a second press report stating that the Marines are going to put a replacement station on the back side of Fugi. That should take care of sacred politics.”
Code Name: Infamy (Aviator Book 4) Page 15