Kurokawa looked at him. «Of course. It is valuable information and they will see it as such.» He smiled. «That we’ve somehow divined it will surely raise us in their estimation.»
Sato took a deep breath and glanced around at the other men on the bridge. He knew they were straining to hear, but doubted they could understand much. In spite of that, he spoke barely above a whisper. «Before we reveal that we can send and receive messages over long distances, let alone where we think the American base might be, would it not be best to speak to the Americans first?»
Kurokawa’s eyes bulged and he screamed, «You would speak to the enemy?!»
Sato forced his voice to remain calm and low. «Captain, please! Let me speak!» he said. «First, would it not be best to conceal the technology of radio from. our ‘allies’ as long as we can? Once they know of its existence, we will have irretrievably lost an advantage. They will want its secrets and we will have difficulty withholding them.»
Taken aback, Kurokawa lowered his voice. «But what good is it to keep the secret? We have no one to talk to!»
«That may not always be the case! Besides, we have two aircraft of our own. The spotting planes! They have radios!»
Amagi had lost one of her spotting planes in the battle that brought her here — ironically when a Japanese dive bomber went out of control and crashed directly atop her amidships ten-inch turret, destroying it as well as the plane and catapult on top of it. But she still had two planes left. Both were obsolete, short-range biplanes. Nakajima Type 95 E8Ns, to be precise. They were single-engine affairs and carried one huge float under the fuselage and a couple of smaller ones under the wings. They were good, reliable, low-maintenance airplanes with all-metal structures covered by fabric. The two-man crew sat in individual open cockpits where they would never have to worry about being too comfortable to keep their eyes open. Perfect for observation planes. Probably the best kind of planes they could have right now, since they were so simple. But they were certainly not fighters.
Kurokawa still seethed constantly over the loss of their much more capable plane, the Aichi Type Zero E13A1 that had been turned into flaming confetti along with quite a lot of other very useful equipment, weapons, ammunition, and fuel — Kurokawa didn’t consider the men — when the crippled plane smashed into his ship. Okada mourned every scratch Amagi suffered and every life she lost, but practically speaking, under the circumstances, he’d trade the Type Zero for the Type 95s any day.
«True, but we have hardly any fuel for them,» the captain snapped bitterly. He waved his hand. «Enough for a few short flights. Most of our reserve was destroyed by the Americans’ cowardly torpedo attack. And That Imbecile Who Crashed IThe officer said something in Japanese and the hatch was closed and secured. As always, now that they were alone, the officer wrinkled his nose at the stench from the other bucket, in the corner. Kaufman didn’t even notice the smell anymore. Still squinting, he hastily stood.
«Good morning, Captain Kaufman,» said the man in pleasant, if badly accented, English.
«Is it morning?» Kaufman asked eagerly.
«Yes. Just dawn.» Sato paused, watching the nervous twitch that had taken control of the prisoner’s pale, waxy face. That was new. «I have not come to take you to the Grik,» he hastily assured him. «You are well?»
Much of Kaufman’s tension ebbed, but the twitch remained. «I am, thank God. I mean, thank God.» He shuddered, and Sato nodded understanding.
«I too am glad,» he muttered. «But I have to ask you a question.»
Kaufman nodded and straightened his shoulders. «Of course.»
«Yesterday, our. the fleet we are a part of was involved in action with an enemy ship.» Kaufman tensed again and his expression was one of anguish. «It wasn’t the American destroyer,» Sato mercifully assured him. «It was a captured Grik vessel that the enemy had supplied with cannons. They were most effective. Many Grik ships were destroyed.» He paused and watched to see how Kaufman reacted to that. He wasn’t surprised to see a fragile smile and he had to struggle not to match it. «Regrettably, from an intelligence standpoint, the ship was destroyed. Nothing was recovered, but there is testimony from the survivors on nearby ships that there was one human, perhaps two, on board the enemy ship. We can only conclude they were countrymen of yours.» Sato hesitated when he saw the prisoner’s stricken look. «For that, you have my condolences. What I must ask you, however, is whether or not you were aware of the existence of an American flying-boat?»
Kaufman’s eyes went wide and, if anything, his twitch became more violent. He began scratching the left side of his face unconsciously. «Well, yes, I am. I mean, I was. You mean you’ve seen it?» Sato nodded and Captain Kaufman closed his eyes and smiled with genuine relief. «My God. So Mallory made it after all!» He stopped and looked at Commander Okada. «We found it on the beach. The plane, that is. It was shot up and half sunk, but Mallory and a couple other fellas got it flying. The Grik nearly got them! Anyway, I sent it on to Ceylon to bring out an escort for Mahan.» He stopped and his face was stricken. «But he couldn’t have gone to Ceylon. could he?»
«Why did you never mention the plane before?»
Kaufman glanced vacantly around. «Nobody asked. I just figured it was lost. The Griks that got after it saw it that day.» He looked imploringly at Sato. «I’m sorry. I would have told you, I swear! I just never thought it was still around!» He sat back down on his bucket and rubbed his twitching face, staring at Sato through his fingers with red-rimmed eyes. «Please,» he whispered. «Don’t beat me anymore.»
Sato stared down at the prisoner, sickened. As much with Kaufman as with himself. «You won’t be beaten,» he said. He glanced back at the hatch to make sure it was still dogged. «This plane,» he said, «has a radio.» It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. «So too does the American destroyer. If I could arrange it so you had access to a radio yourself, could you contact either of them?»
Kaufman looked down at the floor. «I don’t have a codebook,» he saidon, but ge a radio, you would be able to speak in the clear.»
«What would you want me to say?»
Sato shook his head. «I do not know yet. That would depend on a number of things. What I want to know now is can you do it? Do you think they would listen to you?»
«I doubt Reddy would,» he said grimly, and Okada recognized the name of the destroyer’s commander. «I doubt he trusts me. I know he doesn’t like me. Mallory, though.»
«Mallory is the pilot of the flying-boat?»
«Yes. At least he was. I think I could talk to him. Maybe he’d talk to Reddy.» Kaufman looked up at Sato. «Why?»
«Perhaps no reason. But let us keep this between ourselves.» He waited until he saw Kaufman nod. «In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?»
For a long moment, the aviator didn’t reply. He just stared at Sato with astonished eyes. Finally, he spoke.
«Light. Leave the light on, please.»
Sato nodded. «Anything else?»
Kaufman blinked and looked vaguely around the compartment. «Something to read,» he pleaded. «I don’t care what it is.»
Big Sal left at dawn. Slowly, majestically, the giant wings spread and the sweeps were stowed. Matt watched her go with tired eyes and decidedly mixed emotions. Big Sal or Keje had always been there, somewhere nearby, almost since they came to this world, and he knew he’d miss them and worry about their safety. Aracca Home was being loaded now, and in the distance he saw the first smoke of the fires that would consume B’mbaado City. He realized with regret that he’d never even visited the Orphan Queen’s palace, and now it was being destroyed. At least not all of it would be lost. Several feluccas had been detailed to take away B’mbaado’s greatest treasures. He wished the same could have been done for Aryaal, but Rasik still hoarded them to himself, locked in the royal palace. Matt realized that the vengeance he’d chosen had contributed to that loss, but lives were more important. His conscience wouldn’t suffer much when all was said and done.