Kinoga stepped away and returned to his duties, smiling as he watched the rockets seduce the enemy missiles, breaking the radar lock on his vessel.
Takishi silently urged the ship forward, not wanting to know how close they had come to being hit. Let’s move, Takishi thought, as the missiles veered away and screamed ineffectively into the water, which quickly drowned their potency.
Ling watched the pursuit on the radar screen. He saw the three aircraft quickly circle to the east of the ships as one escaped into international waters. He applauded as the missiles struck two radar images. Perhaps he would not be shot if the pilots could kill them all. Plus, this was way less boring.
“We’ve hit two,” the pilot called back to the central command.
“Good work. Kill the one moving east, then the rest,” the section chief responded.
The pilots pulled out of their attack formation and swung east again, bearing down on the fleeing radar image. Acquiring radar lock, each pilot removed the safety from his weapons control with the flick of a gloved thumb. They had the intruding ship in their sights. Suddenly, twelve F-16 aircraft pushing squawk codes of the 401st Tactical Fighter Wing of the Hualien Air Force Base, Taiwan, intercepted the Chinese aircraft, appearing as a mass on the two pilots’ radar screens and warning them that they were prepared for combat.
Outnumbered, the Chinese pilots quickly turned and re-formed to cover one another. Speeding back into Chinese airspace, the fighters were joined by the People’s Liberation Air Forces and destroyed the remaining “ships” within their offshore zone, erasing any evidence of what had really transpired. They remained vigilant throughout the night, as a carrier battle group received word to deploy from Zhoushan and churn full steam ahead into the East China Sea.
Takishi managed a smile as he knew that the F-16s were actually Japanese air defense forces. He had secured the squawk codes from a Taiwanese air force general in exchange for a generous “gift.”
The F-16s conducted an aerial display worthy of an air show, providing cover for the retreating vessel.
Chapter 5
Takishi watched Kinoga pilot his ship as they continued to tunnel through the black, salty night. They finally split the lighthouses of Kubura and Irizaki, which guided them into a port tucked safely behind the rocky bluffs of Yonaguni, the southernmost of the Japanese Ryukyu Islands and a short 130 kilometers from Taiwan. As they arrived at the small pier, Takishi pondered the night’s activities. Their actions had given the impression that Taiwan was probing, if not provoking, China.
Takishi was a master strategist, and he was certain that Prime Minister Mizuzawa had chosen the proper course for his native land. With North Korea and China possessing both the capability and the intent to dominate the Pacific Rim militarily, Japan could not let a few radical Muslims divert the world’s attention away from what really mattered: the geopolitical balance of power in the Pacific. His alliance with the Americans was simply a means to an end.
Having performed his duties as a teenager in the Japanese Self Defense Forces, Takishi had migrated to becoming a clandestine operative with Naicho, the Japanese equivalent of the CIA, then ventured into the banking business, where he amassed a fortune. He was an expert marksman, mountain climber, and viewed himself as the ultimate Renaissance Man. He believed that there was nothing of which he was not capable. How many times had he climbed Fuji, he wondered? Why not Everest? Perhaps his ascent up his personal Mount Everest had begun two years ago over a few beers with an old Harvard Business School classmate.
Nobody planned wars in a vacuum, Takishi knew, and he was no exception. His instructions from the prime minister had been as clear as they were vague.
“Exploit this window of opportunity to our advantage. We have China and North Korea salivating now that the U.S. is focused on their upcoming Iraq war. And we have pressing resource and economic issues that we must confront. You are a Harvard man. Help me solve them.”
Takishi knew that most people recognized a window of opportunity by the sound of its slamming shut; always in hindsight. But not Mizuzawa and especially not him. Takishi was proud of the phased operation he had begun planning right after 9-11. Whether the Americans had engineered that attack or not, he didn’t care. There were so many conspiracy theories about how the U.S. had invited Japan to attack Pearl Harbor, but he doubted them all. It was Japanese brilliance that had led to the most stunning victory in the history of the world, not American conspiratorial cunning.
Takishi felt relieved as he spied his Shin Meiwa US-1A float plane, a Japanese air-and-sea craft with four Rolls-Royce AE 2100 engines that drove the amphibious craft’s four propellers, tethered just one pier away. The sun was already spreading its morning glow on the rugged terrain of the atoll, where Japanese explorers claim to have found a city that sank when the island broke away from the continent in the twelfth century.
A sinking Japan, Takishi thought, was exactly what they were trying to avoid.
“Satisfied, my friend?” Kinoga asked as he walked to the starboard ramp with Takishi, the morning brightness hurting his eyes.
“Yes, I am getting satisfaction,” said Takishi. “I was much too bothersome to you last night, Admiral.” He snapped from his reverie as he held a stanchion at the top of the ramp.
“It is good that you are not in my line of work — don’t ever pretend you could handle it.”
Seagulls circled nearby, hoping for the ceremonial dumping of the ship’s slop bucket. Their loud squawks hurt Takishi’s ears, causing him to flinch and narrow his eyes. The fresh morning air returned some coherency to his thoughts.
“If you could gather your crew, the prime minister has given me the authority to award you and your men the Imperial Cross.”
Kinoga hesitated, ever suspicious. But the Imperial Cross was the highest military decoration, and his men had earned it.
“Why are you so generous, Takishi?”
“It’s not my idea, Kinoga. Our prime minister instructed me that if you successfully completed the mission, your men were to receive the Cross,” Takishi said, avoiding eye contact.
“Do you not believe we deserve the medal?” Kinoga scoffed.
“What I believe is irrelevant. Your men accomplished the mission, and they deserve the prime minister’s compliments.”
“Very well, I will be in the cockpit debriefing the men.”
Kinoga assembled his six men while Takishi debarked and walked to a black limousine waiting near the pier. Inside the small room, Kinoga told his men to sit. They did so at a rectangular wooden table.
“You performed a difficult and sensitive mission for your motherland last night. You should be proud,” Kinoga said, his mouth dry and sticky. “Whether you know it or not, you all have taken part in the first of a series of activities that will lead our great nation back to its rightful place. Because of your actions last night, the Japanese Empire will rise again.”
The sailors, all hand-chosen by Kinoga, were weathered seamen who wanted only the best for their country. They all nodded with approval at Kinoga’s words.
Kinoga then individually congratulated them, reminding them of the secrecy of the mission.
“Your prime minister will reward you highly for your accomplishments,” said Kinoga, facing the table with his back to the door. He heard the door open with a metallic squeak.
Before he could turn around, a whisper shot through the room. Kinoga fell forward at his men’s feet, bleeding from the skull.