“You are right, Senator,” Suma said in quiet control. “In your eyes I must appear as a maniac intent on supreme power. I won’t hide it. And like all the other maniacs of history who were driven to protect their nation and its sovereignty, I won’t hesitate to use my power to guide expansion of our race around the globe while protecting our culture from the corruptions of the West.”
“Just what do you find so corrupting about the Western nations?” demanded Diaz.
A look of contempt came into Suma’s eyes. “Look to your own people, Senator. The United States is a land of drug addicts, Mafia gangsters, rapists and murderers, homeless and illiterates. Your cities run rampant with racism because of your mixed cultures. You are declining as did Greece and Rome and the British Empire. You’ve become a cesspool of deterioration, and the process is unstoppable.”
“So you think America is undermined and finished as a superpower,” said Loren in an annoyed voice.
“You do not find such decay in Japan,” Suma replied smugly.
“God but you’re hypocritical.” Pitt broke out laughing, turning every head at the dining table. “Your quaint little culture is rife with corruption in the highest political levels. Reports of scandals fill your newspapers and TV stations on a daily basis. Your underworld is so powerful it runs the government. Half your politicians and bureaucrats are on the take, openly receiving money for political influence. You sell highly secret military technology to the Communist Bloc for profit. Living costs are ridiculously out of sight for your own people, who pay twice what Americans pay for goods manufactured by Japanese corporations. You steal high-tech advancements wherever you can find them. You have racketeers who regularly disrupt company meetings to extract payoffs. You accuse us of racism when your best-selling books promote anti-Semitism, your department stores display and sell black Sambo manikins and dolls, and you sell magazines on street newsstands depicting women in bondage. And you have the gall to sit there and claim you have a superior culture. That’s garbage.”
“Amen, my friend,” said Diaz, raising his teacup. “Amen.”
“Dirk is one hundred percent right,” Loren added proudly. “Our society isn’t perfect, but people to people, our overall quality of life is still better than yours.”
Suma’s face altered into a mask of wrath. The eyes were as hard as topaz on the satin-smooth face. His teeth were set. He spoke as if cracking a whip. “Fifty years ago, we were a defeated people, reviled by the United States! Now, all of a sudden, we are the winners, and you have lost to us. The poisoning of Japan by the United States and Europe has been stopped. Our culture will prevail. We will prove to be the dominant nation in the twenty-first century.”
“You sound like the warlords who prematurely counted us out after Pearl Harbor,” Loren reminded him curtly. “The United States treated Japan far better after the war than we’d have expected if you were the victors. Your armies would have raped, murdered, and pillaged America just as you did China.”
“Besides us, you still have Europe to contend with,” warned Diaz. “Their trade policies are not nearly as tolerant and patronizing as ours toward Tokyo. And if anything, the new European Common Market is going to dig in against your economic penetration. Threatened by nuclear blackmail or not, they’ll close their markets to Japanese exports.”
“Over the long term, we will merely use our billions of cash reserves to slowly buy up their industries until we have a base that is impregnable. Not an impossible operation when you consider that the twelve largest banks in the world are Japanese, constituting almost three quarters of the total market value of all the rest of the foreign banks. That means we rule the world of big money.”
“You can’t hold the world hostage forever,” said Pitt. “Your own government and people will rise up against you when they discover the world’s warheads are aimed at the Japanese islands instead of the United States and the Soviet Union. And the possibility of another nuclear attack becomes very real should one of your car bombs accidentally detonate.”
Suma shook his head. “Our electronic safeguards are more advanced than yours and the Russians’. There will be no explosions unless I personally program the correct code.”
“You can’t really start a nuclear war,” Loren gasped.
Suma laughed. “Nothing as stupid and cold-blooded as what the White House and Kremlin might attempt. You forget, we Japanese know what it’s like to suffer the horror of atomic warfare. No, the Kaiten Project is far more technically sophisticated than masses of missile warheads aimed at cities and military installations. The bombs are designed to be set off in remote strategically unpopulated areas to create a massive electromagnetic force with the potential of destroying your entire economy. Any deaths or injuries would be minimal.”
“You really plan to do it, don’t you?” said Pitt, reading Suma’s mind. “You really intend to set off the bombs.”
“And why not, if circumstances warrant it. There is no fear of immediate retaliation, since the electromagnetic force will effectively close down all American, NATO, and Soviet communications and weapons systems.” The Japanese industrialist stared at Pitt, the dark eyes cool and tyrannical. “Whether I take that step or not, you, Mr. Pitt, won’t be around to find out.”
A frightened look swept Loren’s face. “Aren’t Dirk and AI flying back to Washington with Senator Diaz and me?”
Suma exhaled his breath in a long silent sigh and shook his head very slowly. “No… I have made them a gift to my good friend Moro Kamatori.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Moro is an expert hunter. His passion is tracking human game. Your friends and the three intelligence operatives who were captured during their attempt to destroy the center will be offered a chance to escape the island. But only if they can elude Moro for twenty-four hours.”
Kamatori gave Pitt a subzero stare. “Mr. Pitt will have the honor of being the first to make the attempt.”
Pitt turned to Giordino, the trace of a grin on his saturnine face. “See, I told you so.”
48
“ESCAPE,” MUTTERED GIORDINO, pacing the small cottage under the watchful eye of McGoon, “escape” where? The best long distance swimmer in the world couldn’t make it across sixty kilometers of cold water swept by five-knot currents. And even then, Suma’s hoods would be waiting to gut you the minute you crawled onto a mainland beach.”
“So what’s the game plan?” asked Pitt between pushups on the floor.
“Stay alive as long as possible. What other options do we have?”
“Die like stouthearted men.”
Giordino raised an eyebrow and stared at Pitt suspiciously. “Yeah, sure, bare your chest, refuse the blindfold, and puff a cigarette as Kamatori raises his sword.”
“Why fight the inevitable.”
“Since when do you give up in the first inning?” Giordino said, beginning to wonder if his old friend had suffered a brain leak.
“We can try to hide somewhere on the island as long as we can, but it’s a hopeless cause. I suspect Kamatori will cheat and use robotic sensors to track us down.”
“What about Stacy? You can’t stand by and let that moonfaced scum murder her too.”
Pitt rose from the floor. “Without weapons, what do you expect? Flesh can’t win against mechanical cyborgs and an expert with a sword.”
“I expect you to show the guts you showed in a hundred other scrapes we’ve been through together.”
Pitt favored his right leg as he limped past McGoon and stood with his back to the robot. “Easy for you to say, pal. You’re in good physical shape. I wrenched my knee when I crash-landed into that fishpond and I can barely walk. I stand no chance at all of eluding Kamatori.”