“Any evidence of a Japanese atomic program in Hung nam would have fallen under Russian jurisdiction.” She pointed at the computer screen. “I found out from a New York Times article that the Russians actually shot down an American B-29 flying in the area of Hungnam near the end of August 1945. They apologized and said there had been a misunderstanding, but the Russians seem to have an extensive history of shooting down planes flying in areas they don’t want them in. My question would be, if there wasn’t an atomic program in Hungnam then what else could be there of such importance?”
Harmon was excited. “If the Russians did find something in Hungnam of the Japanese atomic bomb program, this could help explain how the Soviets managed to develop men-own bomb so quickly after the end of the war. Everyone claims the Russians were able to detonate their own bomb because they stole much of their needed intelligence from the U.S.” but that’s always been very controversial. What if they used the Japanese scientists and information they recovered from Hungnam?
“I know for certain that the Japanese scientists from Unit 731 that the Russians captured were imprisoned at the end of the war. They were tortured by the Russians, who wanted to find out what they had learned from their experiments. Many of these men died in captivity and the survivors were released almost a decade after the official ending of the war. Who’s to say that the atomic scientists weren’t also captured and tortured to reveal their work?”
She tapped the screen. “The article also says that American troops during the Korean war did find the remains of some sort of secret installation but they weren’t able to investigate. And of all the places on the face of the Earth that you would want to hide the remains of a secret base, North Korea is the number one choice. It has the most closed society on the planet. No one goes in there. No one comes out. We can’t even keep track of the North Korean nuclear program now, never mind find out if the Japanese might have had one there over fifty years ago.”
“How come you never checked all the documents you have,” Lake asked, “to see if you could verify this story?”
“Because I had no connection between the Imperial Navy and the story,” Harmon replied. “I still don’t. You’re the one who mentioned the Black Ocean Society and that was the connection to this story, not the Navy. This newspaper article was the only source material and, technically speaking, the way we historians look at information, it’s secondary source material, not primary.”
“Wait a second,” Lake said. “What’s the connection between the Black Ocean Society and Hungnam?”
“The industrialist who first developed Hungnam was one of the key members of the Black Ocean Society,” Harmon replied. “If the Japanese military did something in Hungnam, you can be damn sure the Black Ocean was involved also. But I would say it was most likely the other way around: the Black Ocean was involved in the program and the military was brought in to join it.”
“What about the report this Major Harlan filed?” “If it still exists, it would require a hell of a lot of work to find and would really add very little in the way of proof to the article itself,” Harmon said. “I didn’t pursue this because it sounded farfetched and because there was no avenue to pursue. No proof.”
“There must have been something in the box the North Koreans took,” Lake said.
Harmon conceded that point. “They must have known what to look for. But what they found might not be proof. Perhaps they were looking for some other information to point them to proof.” She removed the CD-ROM disc from the computer and returned it.
Lake thought about it. He didn’t know exactly how the revelation that the Japanese had had an atomic bomb program during World War II would affect the current world order, but he had no doubt that it would not be good. That was motive enough for all that had happened the last several days. He wondered if Araki knew anything about this.
Harmon came back and indicated for them to leave. Lake followed her out of the library deep in thought. By the time they had returned to Wellman Hall, he had gone full circle and come back to the start line, wiser but still in the same place. “I have to get that box to find out what’s going on,” was his conclusion.
Dr. Harmon agreed. “At least then we’ll know what’s important and maybe that will tell us why it’s important.”
“I’d prefer if you wouldn’t inform anyone about my visit here,” Lake said.
“I won’t,” Harmon said. “Besides, as you told me, what can I tell them?”
“Thanks.”
“Will you be back?” Harmon asked. “You promised me that you would fill me in on what’s going on. That’s my price for helping you.”
Lake, paused and looked her in the eyes, feeling out the edges to the question. “Yeah, I’ll be back. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”
“Thanks. And be careful,” she added as he swung the door shut.
“For a box of old papers?” Okomo was not impressed. They were seated on top of the Japan Center, inside the cocoon of the Yakuza’s protective black glass.
Prior to coming here, Nishin had called back to Japan from a pay phone using the card and special number Nakanga had given him. His boss’s instructions had been simple: Stop the North Koreans. Use any means necessary.
The only means Nishin had at his disposal, or hoped he had at his disposal, were under the control of Okomo, and the old man had listened to his story of the North Koreans with little patience. “You do not know what is in the box? It could be nothing.”
“The North Koreans consider it something worth dying over, Oyabun,” Nishih said, keeping his voice flat.
Okomo spit out a laugh. “The life of a Korean is worth nothing to me.” The Oyabun was using a gold toothpick, working on his teeth. He spit something to the side. “I don’t like you,” he added. “I don’t like your organization. Why should I help?”
“The friendship of the Black Ocean Society can be a very valuable thing, Oyabun,” Nishin said. He had to grit his teeth to keep from adding his next immediate thought: And the enmity of the Society was a very dangerous thing. He felt the point of the ice scraper on the skin above a ridge of stomach muscle.
“Besides,” Okomo said, “the docks are not mine. At least not on that side of the bay where their trawler is anchored. It would be bad for business for me to interfere where my arm is not supposed to reach.”
“We can take the ship after it departs the harbor,” Nishin said. “At sea, outside the twelve-mile limit. Surely your arm can reach that far. And there will be no trouble from the law, American or otherwise, in international waters, Oyabun.”
Okomo stood. “Wait here.” Nishin watched the old man walk to a door at the rear of the room. The doors slid open and he was gone. He was back in less than a minute.
“It might be possible,” Okomo said. “But it would require a ship and men. Very expensive.”
“We will pay you two million in American dollars for your assistance, Oyabun.”
Okomo looked at Nishin impassively. Nishin felt like he was in a fish market, trying to bargain with an old lady over some moldering carcass. “Three million.”
“Four million with a bonus of one hundred thousand dollars to the family of any man killed or seriously injured,” Okomo finally said.
Nishin inclined his head, indicating acceptance of the terms.
When Nakanga informed him that the Koreans had gone to the University of California at Berkeley, Kuzumi had felt a cold chill run down his spine. He ordered Nakanga to have Nishin stop the Koreans at all cost. As Nakanga left the room, the blue phone on his desk rang. Kuzumi picked it up. The voice on the other end was mechanical, the result of being scrambled and digitized to prevent interception and decryption.