Sakei examined a fingernail. "How were you evacuated? Destroyer or submarine?"
Joe wondered, Is he trying to trip me? "Colonel, I really don't recall. My arm was badly infected, gangrenous, and I was heavily sedated. My only recollection of the entire trip is that of pipes overhead. I have no idea whether they were from a submarine or a destroyer. To be honest, sir, I really don't care."
To his surprise, Sakei laughed. The nonanswer seemed to satisfy him. "Someday you'll have to find out which it was and thank them properly. And now, what is your reason for being here in Camp Seven?"
"Sir, I was directed to work with Captain Onichi and you regarding the American spy and the radio broadcasts that we've intercepted."
Sakei registered surprise. "Why do you think he's an American?"
Oops, Joe thought. Shouldn't have said that. "Sir, it's the opinion of those who've read his reports, which are in English. The speech patterns are distinctively American."
"Ah," said Sakei. "Do you speak English, Captain?"
"Yes, sir, and quite well if I might say so."
"And do you agree with that assessment?"
Joe took a deep breath. "Sir, I believe it is either an American or someone who has spent a great deal of time in the United States."
"Is he of Japanese descent, in your opinion?"
Joe hoped Sakei's next question wasn't whether the spy had only one arm. "Possibly, but not necessarily," he answered, forcing himself to be calm and dispassionate in what amounted to a discussion of himself. "The spy, and we do think there is only one although he is traveling with an escaped POW, could be another escaped prisoner, or even a pilot who crashed and has managed to escape detection. Either alternative would raise the question of how the spy got his radio. Therefore, it is most likely someone who was landed by submarine or small boat. In that case it does not necessarily follow that the person would be Japanese. Someone who is stealthy, good at disguises, or perhaps just extremely bold might get away with what he's doing."
Sakei took a cigarette from his jacket pocket and offered one to Joe, who took it gratefully. It was a Chesterfield and he wondered how Sakei had gotten it this late in the game. Probably off a POW, or even a body.
"Captain Nomura, I want you to continue looking for the spy. I don't think Onichi will ever turn up, and I want you to work directly with me. Is that a problem?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Do you understand why I am so concerned about this one spy?"
"No, sir, I am not. I do presume that it has something to do with the presence of you and your men in this compound and the fact that you are disguised as medics." Joe decided to add another truthful statement to his story. "At Camp Ten, I read Onichi's files and they made reference to someone of importance being in this hospital. Again, I presume that is the reason."
Sakei looked at him thoughtfully. "Captain, do you play chess?"
Joe blinked in surprise. "A little. Truthfully, I haven't played in years." Joe recalled being taught by a thirtyish schoolteacher who'd been on vacation one summer when he was seventeen. She'd also taught him some amazing new sexual adventures that had been much more interesting than chess.
"Are you intimidated by extremely important people, Captain?"
"I don't think so, sir. I respect them, of course, but I am not intimidated to the point where I am unable to function properly."
"Good. Somehow I did not think that a veteran who'd faced death in the jungles of Guadalcanal would be incapable of thought or action in the presence of a high-ranking personage. The individual we are protecting is an extremely important member of the royal family. Let's just say he is not fully behind the current war effort and is being kept out of the public eye for his own good as well as that of Japan."
"I see," Joe said thoughtfully. Who the hell was it? One of the princes? Hirohito had two brothers and a son.
"The gentleman is bored and is constantly after me to play chess with him. While playing, he harangues me with reasons why we should quit the war. If he were a lesser personage, I would beat him with my fists as well as at chess. He is but a mediocre player, and I am confident you would be able to hold your own with him as well as refute his misplaced logic, or at least not be affected by it."
Joe allowed himself a smile. "I share that confidence, sir, but how will it affect my search for the spy?"
"You will have to do both, Captain. I will give you a small traveling chess set that I have. Please refresh yourself and practice. If you would like, I will play you and give you some pointers."
Joe smiled ingratiatingly. "At this time I do not think I would be a worthy opponent for an infant. I will, however, take you up on your challenge in a couple of days."
Sakei laughed. "It is good to be with a soldier. You have no idea how weak Onichi was. He was so squeamish during interrogations of civilian suspects that he had to turn them over to his underlings. He did not know that a few painful and necessarily brutal deaths were but a small price to pay for victory."
Joe took the small case with the chess set, saluted, and left. He hated chess, but if he was going to find out what was going on in Camp 7 and determine whether it was important enough to report, then he would play the damn game. But Sakei's comments about interrogating suspects surprised him. The kempei in Japan rarely physically abused Japanese citizens. They might kick or punch someone, but Sakei had strongly implied brutal torture. The kempei preferred more subtle methods of intimidation to inspire terror.
So what then was so important that people had to die for it? Who the hell was the haggard Colonel Sakei trying to protect? Who could be so important? Then it dawned on him. Sakei hadn't been referring to one of the princes or even the crown prince when he said it was one of the royal family. The man in the hospital was Hirohito himself!
Chapter 45
"Marine, you die!"
Lt. Paul Morrell nudged Sergeant Collins. "Maybe we should tell him we're U.S. Army and not marines."
Collins coughed deeply and spat on the ground. Like most of the men, the chill air had given him a bad cold. "Let'm die happy, sir. If he wants to think we're marines, it's just fine by me. I'm just a little surprised he pronounced his r so well. Don't they have difficulty since it's not in their alphabet?"
Once again, they lay prone on a hill and faced upward at a Japanese strongpoint. This one was a cave that had been pounded by artillery without destroying it or killing the occupants. The machine-gun fire from its narrow opening had stalled the advance, and the ground leading to it was too steep for Sergeant Orlando's tank to negotiate. Attempts to burn them out with a standard infantry flamethrower had also been futile. They were less than a hundred yards away from the cave and the inhabitants had started yelling at them in bad English.
"You die like MacArthur!"
One of the men near Paul asked, "Should we yell back, sir?"
"Don't let me stop you."
Morrell checked the shadows on the ground. In a few minutes it would be night and the advantages would shift, but to whom? Maybe he could get some men close enough in the dark to throw in a satchel charge and blow up the cave entrance. He thought back to the lecture on Okinawa and shuddered at the thought of people, even Jap soldiers who had it coming, being buried alive. He hadn't had to do that yet, but it looked as if the time was coming.
On the other hand, there was the distinct possibility that the Japs in the cave were working up enough nerve for a banzai attack, which would end it all and take them out in a blaze of fanatic glory. If that was the case, he didn't want his men out of the holes they'd dug when it occurred. They'd wait awhile.