Joe had just signed the card in the name of the regional commander and put it away in the wallet that had once belonged to the late Captain Onichi when the outside door opened and a young private entered. The man stared and blinked at him for a second and snapped to attention.
Joe took the initiative. "Why was no one here?" he demanded. "Do you always leave the office and official files in such a manner? Is there no sense of security here?"
"Sir," the private stammered, "there are only two of us and my corporal was out investigating an incident when I received word of a disloyal act occurring. Someone had put up a white flag and I did not feel I could wait for his return before tearing it down."
Good, Joe thought, only two people at this little station. "I presume that you resolved it satisfactorily," he said haughtily.
"Yes, sir. The man who put up the flag was identified by his neighbors and beaten thoroughly."
"Very good," Joe said, and the private relaxed. The unknown captain was not going to punish him. "Where is Captain Onichi? I was expecting to find him here."
"Sir, I have not seen him in a couple of weeks. This is a very small station and he spends very little time here. You will more than likely find him at Camp Seven." The private pointed to a map. It showed that Camp 7 was about ten miles farther away and to the west.
"Indeed. Why would he be there? Is Camp Seven all that much larger or more important than Camp Ten?"
The private looked puzzled. "Sir, the camp is about the same size as this is, and I'm not certain about the reason he spends his time there."
Joe thought that the fat little captain whose body was rotting in a field was either getting laid or fed at Camp 7. Maybe even both, but he was curious at the look in the private's eyes and the tentative tone of his voice. Joe decided to probe a little more about the late Onichi's actions.
"Then tell me what it is you are not certain about."
Now the private was definitely uncomfortable. "Sir, it's only a rumor, but I have heard it said that there may be a very important member of the government under guard in the hospital at the camp."
Joe was intrigued and wondered who it was. More important, was it information that was worth forwarding to his handlers. "Really? What makes you think that?"
The private clearly wished he were elsewhere. This was the longest conversation he'd ever had with an officer. Even shorter ones had usually resulted in his being punched. He was deathly afraid he'd make a mistake and be punished.
"Sir, one of my fellow soldiers went there once with Captain Onichi. There is an area of the medical compound that is restricted and protected by soldiers of the Imperial Guard, who are commanded by a guards colonel. The soldiers are disguised as hospital workers and allow no one in or out of the restricted area without the colonel's permission."
Interesting, Joe thought. Disguised as hospital workers, they could not be identified as soldiers from the air and thus compromise whatever they were doing. Why were they going to all that effort, and whom were they protecting? "And you believe that your captain should be there now?"
"Yes, sir," the soldier responded eagerly. Perhaps the unknown officer would leave right now if he was encouraged. "Captain Onichi and the guards colonel are working very hard together to capture the spy who is active in the area."
"I know," Joe lied glibly, although his heart was racing. The private had just confirmed that the radio setting was no coincidence. "That is why I am here. Catching the spy is very important."
The private was even more eager to please. "Perhaps you would like to see the latest radio intercepts we got from the spy? We get copies of what we don't hear ourselves so that they will help us catch him."
Joe would indeed like to see them, and the private got them. As he read the partial transcripts of his messages to the OSS, Joe congratulated himself on not telling the outside world what he was doing. As he'd suspected, the Japanese were reading and decoding his messages, and any reference to his being disguised as a one-armed kempei officer would have meant his doom. He still had an ace up his sleeve in the form of another way of sending a coded message, but he'd been told to save it for something truly important, as any code could be broken over time. He would use the second method as a last and desperate resort when there would not be enough time for the Japs to decipher it.
Then he wondered. Why would the guards colonel and the late Captain Onichi be so concerned about the actions of the spy? Why would they consider one spy such a threat to whatever it was they were doing? Whom or what did they have at Camp 7 that they were so desperate to hide? Joe had the nagging feeling that whoever was in seclusion at Camp 7 was more important than the average wounded general or admiral.
Joe walked over to the map and checked the coordinates. If he left immediately, he could be in Camp 7 in a little while.
Chapter 44
Joe Nomura stood at attention in the tent that served as a command post and tried to analyze the man he'd just reported to. Col. Tadashi Sakei was a strong and dominating presence, but seemed to be on the edge of an emotional cliff. The colonel's left eye twitched and he looked exhausted, almost haggard, as he questioned Joe about his background. Something was clearly bothering the colonel.
Joe wondered what pressures the man was under. Camp 7 was almost a mirror image of Camp 10, where he'd gotten the phony identification that Colonel Sakei had insisted on seeing and examining carefully. This in itself was unusual. The uniform and the armband had so far been more than sufficient to ensure cooperation. No one had asked for proof that he was a kempei officer, and he had begun to wonder if he had wasted his time by forging the document. Now he knew it was time well spent as the hawk-eyed colonel stared at the piece of paper.
But why the concern and the elaborate disguise? Camp 7 was crowded and dirty, filled with thousands of confused and frightened civilians who lived in disorganized and shabby clusters. The focal point of the camp was the hospital in which Nomura now stood. Sakei wore a medic's jacket over his uniform and immediately insisted that Joe do the same. There had been no explanation for this behavior except the obvious one- Sakei wanted no one flying overhead to detect soldiers on duty in what was otherwise a civilian hospital. Why? Why the hell were armed soldiers disguised as orderlies guarding a small tent complex?
Sakei finally returned Joe's identification. "Be seated, Captain Nomura." When Joe complied, Sakei went on, "Tell me, where is Onichi? He was supposed to report to me yesterday."
"I don't know, sir. He hasn't been seen in several days." True enough, Joe thought. Even if he was found now, no one would be able to recognize him. "It is possible that he could have been killed or wounded by an American plane."
"Or he could have run off and tried to save himself. I hope this doesn't offend you, Captain, but Onichi did not strike me as a strong-willed person. Certainly he did not have your combat experience. Where did you say you lost your arm?"
"Guadalcanal. I was wounded in the early fighting and was fortunate to be evacuated." He managed to look sad as he said that as if in memory of lost friends. The vast majority of the Japanese sent to fight the Americans on Guadalcanal were dead and rotting in the jungle. The Japanese navy had performed marvels in getting at least some of them off, but many thousands did not make it.