ROY HOOPER was singing “Rock of Ages” in the back row of church when Harry showed up. Things were bad enough for Methodists; American wives and children had been sent home, while Japanese members of the congregation dwindled week by week until only a handful came to Sunday service. Hooper’s father had preached in this same modest church with its mahogany pews, pedal organ, plaque with hymnal numbers. Hooper himself had chosen the Foreign Service, but still he resented the fact that the cross now shared wall space with a portrait of the emperor in a Shinto robe, the Son of Heaven ensconced in the house of the Lord.
Hooper also resented a finger jabbing him in the back.
“Hoop, we’ve got to talk.”
Hooper whispered, “Harry, what are you doing here? We’re in the middle of the service. Whatever it is can wait.”
“It can’t wait.” Harry poked him again.
“I’m not going.”
“I’ll have a cigarette while I wait.”
“Jesus.” Hooper led the way out. As soon as they reached the street, he turned on Harry. “What is the matter with you? Other people go to church on Sunday. Remember that? Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?”
“Keep walking.” Harry had pulled his germ mask off, and he thought some of the passengers waiting at a trolley shelter looked more interested in the church than in the next ride. Otherwise, the street held the stillness of shuttered shops. The only store open sold candies and toys, taking advantage of kids being home. A top skittered out the door into the light.
“Cigarette?”
“I’m quitting.”
“Good for you. Filthy habit.”
“The first cigarette I had was at the age of twelve, with you.”
“Fun times.”
“No, they weren’t fun, they were stupid.”
“You’re just saying that because you always got caught.”
“Not all of us are born thieves.”
“Nip?” Harry showed his flask.
“No, I didn’t leave church in the middle of a service to have a drink.”
“Pretty sparse attendance.”
“You noticed. Well, there’s been a little intimidation. The authorities demand that the church support the war.”
“Which one?”
Harry turned the corner and led Hooper by a row of child-size statues with toys and flowers at their feet. Christians relegated the souls of unbaptized babies to limbo; the Japanese made room and welcomed all. In a corner of the cemetery was a red and gold one-room temple where Harry bought a joss stick. The rest of the plot was a jumble of headstones, stakes and blowsy roses. The stakes had special Sanskrit names given the dead; the more money paid, the longer the name. Harry suspected that when Charon ferried souls across the river Styx, he sold tickets for first class or steerage. At the bottom of one stake was Kato’s name. Harry lit the joss stick and set it in a glass on a shelf of the stone. Into another cup he poured an offering of Scotch.
He offered the flask to Hooper. “You’re sure?”
“What the hell.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
Harry added a cigarette on the shelf for Kato, and Hooper had one, too. It was peaceful in the cemetery, among the stones and wilting flowers.
Hooper said, “I hear you’re on the plane. I can think of a few thousand people more deserving than you. Why you?”
“I earned it.”
“I bet. And if I brought you a mother whose small children were waiting for her in Shanghai, what would you say?”
“I’d say bring your violin. Anyway, it’s not that sort of flight, it’s back and forth, just to show the imperial flag.”
“Are you coming back, Harry?”
Harry said nothing.
Hooper laughed weakly. “At least you don’t lie about it, I suppose that’s something.”
“The Lord hates a lying tongue. How did you know about the plane?”
“You’re not the only one in Tokyo with contacts.”
“You’re the only one at the embassy with contacts.”
“The American embassy is staffed with keenly intelligent men.”
“Right, starting with the ambassador, only he can’t speak a word of Japanese and he’s deaf as a post. Where is he now?”
“As a matter of fact, I think he’s golfing. He’s a very decent man, and he’s made friends with the top people.”
“The top people don’t run this country, the army does. The man has never met ninety-nine percent of the Japanese. He couldn’t communicate with them if he did. If a beautiful woman took his hand and slipped it in her pants and said, ‘Give it to me, Mr. Ambassador, give it to me good,’ he wouldn’t know what to say.”
Hooper developed hiccups. Harry shared the flask again.
“Thank you. The ambassador doesn’t learn Japanese because-”
“Because he’s got you.”
“Because he’s afraid of making a mistake that would damage the dignity of the United States. How would it be if, say, an ambassador from China came to the States and said, ‘No tickee, no washee’?”
“That’s the level of competence you expect the ambassador to reach?”
“No. But face is important.”
“Not anymore. Something’s up.”
The hiccups vanished. Hooper looked around. “Harry, I can’t give you intelligence information.”
“You’ve got it backward. I’m giving you.” Harry plucked a rose and put the petals, like dabs of paint, on Kato’s stone.
Hooper said, “You’re a tainted source.”
“Any good source is tainted. This is not a pact with the devil, do you want the information or not?”
“Harry, I don’t know. I’m not even supposed to be seen with you.”
“Have I ever lied to you, ever?”
“You’re such a cynic.”
“Exactly, that’s what you call a guy who tells you the truth.”
Hooper smiled with resignation. “Okay, Harry, then I’ll tell you. The Japanese Combined Fleet disappeared a week ago. It’s exercising radio silence, which is the same as sounding a fire alarm, so far as I’m concerned. It could be just to rattle us. I don’t think so, they don’t have enough oil for that kind of bluff. They’re going to the Dutch Indies, I’m sure. That’s where the oil is. They’ll also probably strike in Malaysia and Singapore. Even the Philippines. It’s a matter of days at the most. You’ll get out by the skin of your teeth.”
“That’s the plan.” Harry looked at his watch. Where he really wanted to be was the ballroom, to keep tabs on Michiko and lay low.
“You have something to add?”
“Hawaii.”
Hooper raised his eyebrows. His bow tie went up and down. “You’re serious? Impossible. They’d never reach it without being seen, and then they’d be hung out to dry.”
“That’s where they’re going. If you were going to fight a hundred-foot snake and you had one shot, would you go for the tail or the head? They’re after Hawaii-the fleet, the planes and the oil tanks-and then they’ll rule the Pacific. They’re going to gamble big, Hoop, they don’t have a choice.”