Yamamoto tapped the fingers of his mangled hand on the table between them. What the arrogant junior admiral had said was correct. Tokyo had not been fully confident that Hawaii could be held, so it had not provided the wherewithal to do a proper job. The government emissaries who expected to see the annexation of a radiant jewel in the middle of the Pacific would be disappointed, but they would have to deal with that fact.
But his presence now meant that this situation would change. Only moments before, he had received confirmation that the American carriers were in the Atlantic, off Iceland, and preparing for an undetermined action against Germany. Exactly what they were up to didn’t concern him. He didn’t care if the Americans tried to cruise up the Rhine. His only concern was that they were far away from Hawaii.
The sole remaining Allied force of significance in the Pacific was a British squadron that had taken up a position in Australian waters in anticipation of a move in that direction by Japan. Yamamoto had sent a pair of old battleships, a small carrier, and a dozen heavy and light cruisers toward Australia to threaten it and further mask his move to Hawaii. Now it seemed that the effort had not been necessary. The Americans were gone. The Pacific was Japan’s. The world would soon know that the fleet was in Hawaiian waters, and Tokyo would shortly announce that the annexation would occur. Representatives from Nazi Germany, along with emissaries from several puppet and neutral nations, had accompanied the fleet.
“On Saturday, August first,” Yamamoto said, “the Hawaiian Islands will be proclaimed a province of Japan. That is only a week from now, which is not enough time to change matters. When the fleet departs, which will be within a couple of days after that, I will leave you sufficient resources to carry out the following tasks.
“First, the airfields at Hickam, Ewa, and Barbers must be repaired. Second, the shore batteries and antiaircraft installations must be reconstructed.”
“Will I receive additional forces to man them?” Iwabachi asked.
“Of course,” Yamamoto snapped. “Then I want the wrecks removed from the harbor.”
Iwabachi nodded. “It will take a tremendous effort to remove the carcasses of the sunken battleships. It was not something I attempted to do because, even with the best of resources, it would take an enormous amount of time and effort.”
This time Yamamoto agreed. “Which is why it is your last priority.” He turned to Omori. “The existence of the American guerrillas on Hawaii is repugnant. What will you do about it?”
“To be candid, Admiral, there is very little we can do. We know they have a radio and communicate regularly with California, but we have been unable to locate it. We cannot triangulate in such rugged terrain. Right now, we place it in an area of over a hundred square miles, which, given the harshness of the land, means we could march ten feet away from it and not see it. The same holds true with the guerrillas themselves. They can stay out there forever until I get sufficient troops to mount a series of massive sweeps that would wear them down and cut them off from their supply bases.”
Yamamoto had seen the Philippines and other areas of the Hawaiian Islands. He knew precisely what Omori’s problem was. American guerrillas were still active in the Philippines and even on the relatively small island of Guam. Only time would wear them down.
“You would need a division,” Yamamoto said. “It must wait. Are they capable of disrupting the annexation proceedings?”
“They might try something,” Omori said. “But they are only a handful and could do little more than cause an embarrassment. They would also have to transport themselves from Hawaii to Oahu, which I do not consider likely as it would be suicidal.”
There was no more to be said, and Yamamoto dismissed them. On the deck of the battleship, Omori spent a moment gazing at the splendor of the Japanese navy. He swelled with pride at the force that had humbled the Americans and taken this jewel from them.
Now all he had to do was ensure that what he’d told the revered admiral was correct. He would contact Goto and make certain that he was doing all that could be done to keep pressure on the American guerrillas. If anything happened, Omori was confident it would be near Hilo, where the Japanese garrison was relatively small, which made it a potentially tempting target. Only a raving idiot would think of attempting anything disruptive with the fleet in the harbor along with a brigade of infantry on troop transports. No, any move by the Americans would be at Hilo.
So why did he have the nagging feeling of doubt that something was going to go wrong? He would double and redouble his efforts to ensure that the ceremony went off without a hitch. After that, did he really care?
Alexa watched from behind a tree as Charley Finch headed off in the direction of Hilo. He was alone and carried some rations in a field pack, along with a rifle across his shoulder. He lumbered more than walked, and it was obvious that the sergeant was not in good shape. Too bad, she thought.
It would take Finch a couple of days to get to either Hilo or the farms he was supposed to visit, and a couple more to come back. If he came back. She wondered if he would actually visit the farms. Perhaps she had misjudged him. After all, there was nothing definitive to hang on him, just the very strong suspicion that there was more to Sergeant Charley Finch than there should be. If he came back and if he had completed his assignment, she would have a lot of her suspicions allayed. But not all of them. She could not get the photograph out of her mind. How had he gotten it?
Jake walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, massaging it gently. “Are you solving the problem?”
She felt his strength and drew from it. She pressed backward so that she was leaning against him. It was a very comforting feeling. What she was doing was so far removed from her previous life as a docile navy wife that it was terrifying. “Sure am, Jake.”
“We just got the word, Alexa. It’s going to be the early morning of August second.”
Alexa thought quickly. What the devil day was today? It was so easy to lose track out in the wild. Ah yes, August second was a week away. Perfect.
“Are you worried?” she asked.
“Damn right I am. I still don’t know everything that’s going on, and that’s the best way. But I do know that if our part of this fails, we could be running for our lives from thousands of angry Japs. We’ll have proven that we’re a lot more dangerous than they thought, and they won’t stand still for that. We’ll have a devil of a time hiding or getting away from here.”
She shrugged. It was easy to be fatalistic. “If that’s the case, Jake, then we run. And if we can’t run, then we die. Like I said before, I’m not going to go back as a prisoner.”
“Me neither,” he said gently as he hugged her and nuzzled the back of her neck. Soft hairs grew there, and he thought they were fascinating.
“We all have to die sometime, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” he answered with a harsh laugh. “I just don’t want it to be right away. I’d kind of hoped to spend more time with you. Like maybe thirty years or so.”
Alexa took his hand and led him away. Several other people were about and trying not to look at them. When they were alone in the shadows, she turned and kissed him. “Then let’s spend what time we have together. I know a marvelous place in the bushes where we can make love. I find you very attractive now that you no longer smell like fish.”