Fiends of the Rising Sun Page 4

  "Go on, my son," the other priest urged.

  Father Kelly took off his glasses and rubbed his nose between thumb and forefinger, massaging the indentations where his spectacles rested. "I find it hard to admit this, even to myself, let alone say it out loud."

  "Whatever you have to confess, God can forgive. He is listening, my son."

  "That's just it, I'm not sure he is listening. I'm not sure there even is a god, not anymore, not after what happened in my old parish." The troubled priest put his glasses back on and peered through the grill at his confessor. "Please, father, you've got to help me. I've... I've lost my faith."

  "Tell me, how goes the fighting in Manchuria?" Tojo gestured towards his desk. "I get the official reports, of course, but my generals only tell me what they think I want to hear. I can trust you to speak the truth."

  Hitori took a deep breath and succinctly outlined the various battles being fought between China and the Imperial Japanese Army. He spoke dispassionately, confining himself predominantly to facts and figures, coloured with a few anecdotes. "In all honestly, we're winning most of our battles, but we're fighting a war that can never succeed. China is simply too vast to be conquered by one army, however brave and resourceful its warriors, no matter how superior their skills and weapons to the peasant militia."

  The general nodded at the truth of these statements. "You sound tired."

  His former adjutant smiled, for a moment. "More like exhausted. It's a long way back from Manchuria and your request for me to return sounded urgent."

  "It was," Tojo replied. "It is." Suzuki returned with their drinks before the general could explain further. The general waited until the adjutant had left, before continuing. "Hitori, I must ask you some difficult questions. Be as honest with your answers as you have been with my previous questions."

  "Of course, general."

  "Many of our people believe the emperor is a living god, a deity in human form, sent to lead us to greatness. From birth, we Japanese are trained to believe in the divinity of our emperor, to trust in our inherent superiority to other races, and to know that we all share a collective destiny. No one of us is any more important than another, and all of us would lay down our lives in the service of the empire." Tojo poured each of them a cup of green tea. "Is that what you believe, Zenji?"

  "Yes, of course, general."

  "You would lay down your life for the emperor, if he asked?"

  "Yes."

  "Say it."

  "Sir?"

  "Say it out loud, so I can hear it for myself." The general leaned back in his chair, sipping the hot tea, his cold eyes fixed on Hitori's.

  "I would willingly and happily give my life for the emperor, if he asked."

  "I see, and what else would you sacrifice for the emperor?"

  Hitori frowned. "I'm sorry, general, I don't understand the question."

  Tojo put his tea back down on the table between them. "It's quite simple. What else would you sacrifice for the emperor?"

  "Anything," the younger replied, "everything."

  "Your life?"

  "Yes, I've already said I'd-"

  "Your wife?" Tojo interjected.

  That stopped Hitori, giving him pause for thought. "Is there something the matter with Aiko, sir?"

  "No, your wife is fine, as is your baby son."

  "I have a son?"

  The general smiled. "You didn't know?"

  "Aiko was pregnant the last time we saw each other, but that was several months ago and letters from home rarely reach their destination in Manchuria."

  "Of course. Forgive me for breaking news that I imagine your wife would rather you'd heard from her lips. Well, congratulations are due. You have a son, fit and healthy. His name is Noriyuki, I believe."

  Hitori smiled. "In honour of my father."

  "Quite so." Tojo poured a tumbler of warm sake for himself and another for his guest. "So, would you be willing to give up your wife and your son? Would you sacrifice your young family for the emperor, if he asked?"

  "I... Yes, of course. If that was what the emperor asked of me."

  "You hesitated before answering my question."

  "It is difficult, being asked to sacrifice a son you have not met yet."

  "It's better you do not know him. It may make the loss a little easier."

  "Loss? But you said he was fit and healthy-"

  "He is, as is your beautiful wife. I am not asking you to sacrifice their lives."

  "Then what, sir?"

  "Drink your sake first," the general suggested.

  "Please, sir, I need to know-"

  "Drink it," Tojo snarled.

  Hitori snatched at the tumbler, raising it to his lips. Then he stopped to stare into the clear, colourless liquid, as if afraid the sake might contain some deadly substance. The general arched an eyebrow at his subordinate, and Hitori emptied the sake into his mouth, swallowing the warm liquid with a grimace. He put the porcelain tumbler back down on the table and waited, but nothing happened.

  "Did you think I had poisoned you?" Tojo asked, laughter in his voice.

  "I wasn't sure," Hitori admitted.

  "But you drank it anyway. Very good, I like a man who can follow orders, even if he believes those orders may cost him his life." The general swallowed his own sake, licking his lips appreciatively at the taste. "It is not that I wish you to sacrifice your life for the emperor - quite the opposite in fact. But I'm sorry to say that you can never see your family again after today. They will be told you were killed in Manchuria, a warrior's death, of course. They will be well compensated for your loss and can be proud of your heroic sacrifice. But you will not die today, at least, not in any conventional sense."

  The young officer shook his head. "You speak in riddles, general."

  "I'd have thought you'd be used to them after so long in China."

  "Be that as it may, please tell me what you wish."

  "You said you would willingly give your life for the emperor, Hitori. Would you also willingly give up your soul?"

  "My soul?"

  Tojo rose from his chair and clapped his hands. "You can come in now," he called out. Hitori turned towards the double doors through which he had entered earlier, but nobody came in. Instead a thin white mist crept beneath the door, forming into a pale, translucent cloud inside the office. The mist solidified, slowly merging into the figure of a man. As the fog became flesh, a familiar face appeared within it: Lord Constanta of Rumania. He smiled at the young officer, making no effort to conceal the prominent fangs that protruded from his upper jaw. Hitori sprang up to put himself between the apparition and Tojo, protecting the general from the supernatural wraith. He spat a crude curse at the fearful visage as it coalesced before his amazed eyes.

  "You need not fear our guest," Tojo said, moving across the room to stand beside the creature from Transylvania. The general smiled at Hitori like a kindly father. "I seem to recall you two have met before, in Berlin. Lord Constanta is what the Nazis call a vampyr, a blood drinker, a creature of the night, if you will."

  "We prefer to think of ourselves as favoured sons of the Sire," the Rumanian interjected, plainly enjoying the fear and disbelief on Hitori's face.

  The general clapped a hand on Constanta's right shoulder. "Take a good look at his lordship, Zenji. You will become like him. You are my first recruit for a new covert division. You will lead the Imperial Japanese Army Vampyr Unit."

  REPORT ON U.S. READINESS FOR WAR

  In accordance with orders, we have infiltrated the island of Oahu and established our presence within the downtown sector of Honolulu city. Occupation of the safe house has been secured without incident and our new identities as siblings went unquestioned by the authorities. The cover story about our 'uncle' was not challenged, nor his abrupt disappearance. Both Hawaiian natives and Americans from the mainland have welcomed us as newcomers to the community.

  Our observations of the US servicemen suggest a nation far from ready for
war. The vast majority of those we encounter are drunkards and fools, lacking discipline or moral strength. Our clients include pilots, marines and soldiers passing through Hawaii en route to US military bases scattered across the Pacific. If these are the best America has to offer in the event of war, the conflict will be short and our victory a certainty. The enemy exhibits an arrogant belief in its superiority that stands no scrutiny.

  We are beginning efforts to infiltrate America's armed forces bases. Enclose the latest reports on movements of troops, vessels and aircraft. As yet the US shows little indication it is making ready for a war in the Pacific and even less inclination of willingness to fight such a war. In view of these factors, we believe a swift and successful outcome to any such hostilities would be likely and, indeed, probable.

  SOURCE: Agents TN and SN, Station H.

  TWO

  Benjamin H Paxton of the United States Marine Corps had the perfect plan for his day off in Honolulu: get drunk, probably get into a fight and, hopefully, get laid. Since joining B Company at the marine barracks in Pearl Harbour he had walked in and stumbled out of almost every bar on the island of Oahu. Paxton could claim with some measure of authority to know the best places to attain at least two of his three goals within the next twelve hours. If he got lucky with the beautiful Kissy Nagara tonight, he might even hit the trifecta of happiness. Hell, was there a better way to kill another dull day and night in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?

  The way Paxton saw it, Honolulu was a melting pot where red-blooded Americans like him could mingle happily with people from the Orient and the locals. Of course, Paxton's idea of cultural intermingling usually involved the exchange of bodily fluids, but that didn't make it any less effective as a way of breaking down boundaries between people of different origins. There was no better example of that philosophy than Tokyo Joe's Bar and Grill, a popular drinking hole in downtown Honolulu that often got so crowded that customers spilled out on to the sandy beach behind it. According to legend, the bar had once been called the Oahu Oasis, but that was too much of a tongue twister for most drunken US servicemen. Back then the owner was Mitsuo Nagara, a tiny, bespectacled man from Japan. He had soon been nicknamed Tokyo Joe and the title became so universal that Nagara adopted it for his business.

  More refined establishments on Oahu didn't willingly welcome grunts like Paxton and his brothers in arms, fearful of what would happen if men from different services ran into each other while inebriated. There was little love lost between the navy flyboys and men from the corps, both sides considering the other to be inferior fighters. Tokyo Joe's Bar and Grill was one of the few places that allowed all comers from all services without question. In gratitude for this attitude, it was deemed neutral territory by all branches of the US armed forces, a sanctuary from their petty rivalries. Anyone who started a fight in Tokyo Joe's could mess that up for everyone. So, a simple rule was instituted: if you had a beef, you took it outside. Otherwise the military police were liable to take it out on everyone. Paxton had seen the MPs in action. They had truncheons and sidearms on their side, not to mention military law, so, one way or another, the MPs always won every battle.

  Mitsuo Nagara had gone home to Japan in August, but before leaving he made certain his bar and grill didn't change its easygoing attitude towards servicemen. Management of Tokyo Joe's shifted to the old man's nephew Tetsuzo, and niece Kissy. The same open door policy remained in place for all the servicemen from Pearl Harbour and Hickam Field. As long as you had money to spend and the good sense to keep any fighting outside, you were always welcome at Tokyo Joe's. As far as Paxton was concerned, the bar and grill had gotten a whole lot friendlier with the arrival of Kissy Nagara. She was the sweetest little honey he had ever laid eyes on, and Paxton had known more than his fair share of ladies before joining the corps.

  Hell, it was his love of the ladies that had landed the wisecracking Californian in the damned marines. He'd been making his living as a tennis pro in San Diego, helping the bored, neglected wives of wealthy naval officers improve their backhand, amongst other things. The wives were happy, he was having fun, and the tennis club appreciated the extra memberships his tutoring skills brought in. But one of the women got knocked up and pinned the blame on Paxton after suffering a messy miscarriage. He'd been given a simple choice: a long walk off a short pier or a voluntary enlistment with the marines. The husband in question had pulled a few strings to ensure Paxton got sent as far away from San Diego as possible on short notice. The unwilling marine had been rotting on Oahu ever since, wishing he'd had the forethought to take a few more precautions.

  Paxton had liked to think of himself as a tomcat, romancing one woman after another, spreading his loving around as if it was a blessing. Kissy Nagara changed all that. She was the only woman who'd ever turned him down, explaining that her family back in Japan wouldn't approve of any relationship with an American soldier. Paxton kept asking her out and she kept refusing, until it became a game between the two of them. Then, one day the cocky marine had realised he was smitten, bewitched by the coy young woman with the warm brown eyes and cute-as-a-button smile. He woke up thinking of her, spent his day wondering what she was doing and fell asleep hoping to dream about being with her. If he didn't know better, Paxton would have said he was falling in love. But Paxton believed in loving one person before all others, and that was himself.

  He strolled into Tokyo Joe's from the street and stood with both hands on his hips, striking a mock heroic pose. "Hi, honey, I'm home." A handful of customers propping up the bamboo bar glanced over at him before slumping back into their rum and pineapple drinks. Kissy was dutifully polishing glasses, while her brother swept the floor. She sneaked a smile at Paxton, but soon turned away, made bashful by a disapproving glare from Tetsuzo. Her brother was fighting a losing battle against the white sand traipsed inside by those who entered the bar from the beach instead of the crowded downtown street.

  "We're not open yet," Tetsuzo growled as the marine strolled past him.

  "Then who are your friends at the bar?"

  "Still here from last night. They never leave."

  "Lucky them." Paxton found an empty stool and sat on it. "Don't worry, I only came in to savour your sister's gorgeous face."

  Kissy blushed and giggled, hooking an errant strand of long, black hair behind one ear. She stole another glance at Paxton, the two of them sharing a secret smile before Tetsuzo interceded. "How many times we tell you? My sister is not interested in marrying an American. She already has husband waiting for her back in Tokyo. She is marrying him next summer."

  "Well, she ain't married yet. Besides, I'm only looking, 'Suzo."

  "My name is Tetsuzo!"

  "Whatever you say, kemosabe." Paxton glanced at his wristwatch. "You open at midday, don't you?" The red-faced Tetsuzo nodded. "Then I'll have a pineapple juice, and make sure it comes in one of those hollowed out coconut shells, with a paper umbrella on top. I just love those little bitty paper umbrellas you guys have in the drinks here."

  Tetsuzo stomped his way behind the bar, hissing angrily in Japanese at his sister. She fastened the buttons on her blue silk blouse up to the neck before taking charge of the broom. Paxton waited until her surly brother was distracted before whispering into Kissy's ear, "Don't you worry about Tetsuzo. He's just trying to look after you. Anything that keeps you safe is fine by me."

  Kissy smiled at him. "How long until you have to go back to barracks?"

  "Not 'til midnight. Got me a day pass and I'm spending it here with you."

  "Hey, Paxton, there you are!" a voice shouted. A diminutive man of Japanese descent stood in the street doorway, dressed in a colourful Hawaiian shirt and khaki trousers. Behind him lurked a nervous teenager with a painfully thin face, round framed glasses and a crop of acne across his cheeks.

  "Pat!" Paxton called back, waving for the new arrivals to come over and join him. "You took your sweet time getting here, didn't you?"

  The newcomers strolled ov
er, the younger man straggling along behind his more confident companion. "I had to persuade Walton here of the wisdom that could be found at the bottom of a Hawaiian fruit punch."

  "There's no alcohol in one of those, is there?" the timid youth asked.

  "Not so as you'd notice," Paxton laughed. He watched Pat admiring the beautiful young woman with the broom. "Kissy, this is an old friend of mine, Toshikazu Maeda, but everyone in the corps calls him Pat. We did basic together. Pat's just transferred in from Stateside."

  Maeda bowed to Kissy, his hands together as if in prayer. She returned the gesture before asking a question. "You are Japanese, but in the Marines?"

  He smiled. "If I had a buck for every time somebody's asked me that."

  "So sorry, I did not mean to-"

  "No, no, it's fine. My parents are from Japan originally. They travelled to America in 1919. I was born and raised in San Francisco. I joined up when war broke out in Europe, figured it was my duty. Who knew we'd still be sitting on the sidelines after all this time, eh Paxton? Two years later and I'm still waiting to see some action." He jerked a thumb towards the fretful youth at his side. "As for this extrovert, his name is David Walton and he's from Virginia."

  "Hey, how you doing, Flinch?" Paxton asked. "I didn't notice you there."

  "Why you call him Flinch?" Kissy asked. "I thought his name was Walton."

  "It is, but our young friend here startles easily, don't you, Flinch?" Walton shook his head, but still jumped when Paxton suddenly shouted, "Boo!"

  Kissy punched her would-be suitor in the arm. "You leave him alone, Paxton, he done nothing to you," she remonstrated.

  "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Paxton replied. "You run along and ask your brother to make two more of those pineapple juices. I want to buy my brothers in arms here a drink. Reckon we all deserve it, right boys?"