Harmon didn’t look at the documents. She stared at Lake. “I’m supposed to believe that?”
“If you don’t believe that,” Lake replied, “then believe my story about writing a book. I can assure you one of them is true.”
“How come there weren’t a whole bunch of police here this morning? How come I haven’t heard of this man being killed?”
“Because they all used silencers and I took the body away,” Lake said. “Did you read in the paper or hear on the news about two men being killed on the Bay Bridge last night?”
Harmon nodded.
“Those two were Koreans. They tried stopping me from following them here.”
“You killed them?”
“One of them,” Lake answered. “The other was killed by this fellow from the Black Ocean.”
“This is unbelievable,” Harmon said, shaking her head. “I’ve seen more plausible stories than this on TV.”
Lake sat still, letting her make up her own mind.
“You don’t seem like you have the greatest sense of humor,” Harmon finally said. “I don’t know you well enough to know about your imagination.” She glanced at the documents. “These look like they’re from the records I’ve got here.” She tapped long fingernails on the paper. “What government agency?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Lake said. “But I can tell you it’s not the CIA, FBI, or associated with the military.”
“And why should I help you?” Harmon asked. She held a hand up. “And please don’t give me any patriotic speeches. I saw you looking at the picture. That’s my younger brother. He’s stationed in Okinawa and it was one of the saddest days in my life when he joined the Marine Corps, but he seems to like it and his life. But it’s not mine. So I ask you again: Why should I help you?”
“Because it’s interesting,”.” Lake said. “There’s a puzzle here and it involves material you have. I need to solve this puzzle and I think you would find it intriguing to help me solve it. It might be fun.”
“Fun?” A half-grin crossed Harmon’s face. “That’s the last reason I thought you’d give me.” The grin disappeared. “But if people have died, as you say, wouldn’t it also be dangerous?”
“They got what they wanted here,” Lake said. “There’s no danger to you.”
Part of the grin came back. “Okay, I’ll play along for a little bit, Mister Secret Agent Man. I’ve got nothing to lose and this will make a good story to tell at a party. What do you need to know?”
“Have you ever heard of the Black Ocean Society?” Lake asked.
“Yes, I’ve heard of the Black Ocean Society. Anyone who has made any in-depth study of Japanese history in this century has heard of it.” She put the documents down. “Now, why do you expect me to believe your story?”
Lake shrugged. “I don’t have expectations of other people because I don’t control them. I only have expectations of myself. I’ve told you the truth; what you choose to do with it is up to you.”
“Why would North Koreans break in here? What were they looking for?”
“I was hoping you could help me with that,” Lake said. “That’s what I’m here for. Perhaps if we went to where you keep these documents, we can find out what they took.”
Harmon stood. “Follow me.”
They didn’t have far to go. Lake was right behind her as she pointed at the other side of the small foyer. “This door doesn’t appear to have been broken open,” she commented.
“Excuse me,” Lake said. He pulled an ATM card out of his wallet and pushed it in between the door and the frame. Sliding it down he pushed the latch back and the door swung open.
“Point taken,” Harmon said.
She flipped a light switch and a set of metal stairs going down appeared. Her low-heeled shoes clattered on the metal as she went down. At the bottom, there was another door, this one with no lock. She pushed it open and turned on another switch. It lit fluorescent lights on a low ceiling.
Rows of metal racks rose from the pitted concrete floor to the ceiling. Cardboard boxes filled the shelves.
“We’re in the basement,” Harmon said. “This used to be the coal room. When they modernized the building about fifty years ago, this room was abandoned. I opened it up five years ago for storage. I’m sure I’m violating some fire code, but I have to make do with what is available.”
Lake looked around, “How would someone know this room existed? That records of the Japanese fleet would be kept here?”
“I’ve published quite a few articles on the subject,” Harmon said, “which was why I thought you were a legitimate researcher at first. Anyone who does any sort of checking would find out that I have access to all this. In the academic world we don’t hide our sources. By the way,” she added, “I would like to know which government agency you represent?”
“A multi jurisdictional task force,” Lake answered. He looked down. He could see boot prints in the concrete, coal, and plaster dust on the floor. “The North Koreans made those last night.”
Harmon looked at the marks. “Which jurisdiction of the multi do you come from?” she pressed.
“You are insistent, aren’t you?” Lake replied.
“Please don’t answer my question with a question,” Harmon said. “When a student does that, I give them so much grief they never do it again. It’s the sign of a mind that refuses to make a commitment to an answer, be it right or wrong.”
Lake was following the footsteps in the dust. The Koreans had gone down every aisle. He was looking for an empty space on the shelves. Some of the boxes were labeled on the end with dates. He was passing 1943 at the present moment. “I am the multi,” he said. “I’m so multi, I don’t exist.”
“If you’re so super-secret,” Harmon said, “why did you tell me that you were an agent?”
“Because it doesn’t matter,” Lake replied. “You have a name”—he smiled—“just a name, and you know my face. That and fifty cents gets you a cup of coffee.”
“You told me what happened and what is going on with the Koreans,” Harmon said. “You also told me that you killed someone last night. Isn’t that supposed to be secret, too?”
Lake paused where several booted feet had paused. He had just walked past several dozen feet of 1944. “Hell, Dr. Harmon, I don’t know what’s going on, so I have no problem telling you. You figure it out or you tell someone who can figure it out, more power to you. Of course by then it will all be too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“I don’t know,” Lake said, “but I suspect my North Korean friends will be setting sail for home this evening. If I don’t find out why they were here before then, there’s not much I can do about it.” He pointed. “Was this the way you left it?”
A dozen boxes had their tops ripped off, loose papers were scattered on shelves.
“No.”
“What’s missing?” Lake asked.
Harmon had carried her binder with her and she opened it, checking it against the shelves. “Most of the boxes I only labeled by date. I didn’t have a chance to cross reference the majority by message and document type.” She was counting to herself and Lake remained silent. “Forty-five dash sixteen is missing,” she finally said.
“Which is?”
“A box containing Imperial Navy documents from August and September 1945.”
That fit with the papers Lake had recovered from the lawn the previous evening.