Araki produced a stiletto from inside his right boot, something Lake noted for future reference. Lake slit through the layers of garbage bags until he uncovered the document box, somewhat battered for its recent journey but dry at least.
He put the box on the bed next to him and pulled off the lid. He found the bound group of papers that had been on the deck and let it fall open to where the pages were bent. “What’s that say?” he asked.
Araki sat on the other side of the box from Lake and leaned over.
“Date, time, group, 1 August 1945. 1000 hours. Tokyo. From the Imperial Navy Staff — there’s some letters here, CO-M-S-UB-GP.”
“Commander Submarine Group would be my guess,” Lake said.
“To,” Araki continued, “C-O-M, slash, 1-24. Eyes only.”
“Commander of whatever 1-24 was,” Lake interpreted. “It must be a submarine if the orders are coming from the commander of the submarine group.”
Araki nodded. “Submarines had the / prefix to identify them from surface ships during the war.”
“The rest of the message,” Lake prompted.
“Text. Proceed to Hungnam, Korea, at flank speed to take on cargo. Further orders will follow.” Araki looked up. “That’s it.”
“Cargo,” Lake said, rubbing the stubble of beard on his chin. It snapped into place. “That means this submarine, I24, took something out of Hungnam before the end of the war. The Koreans must be looking for it. Whatever it is I assume it would give them proof that the Japanese atomic bomb program existed.”
“I have been thinking about that,” Araki said. “To be frank, I find it hard to believe. I have never heard even the slightest rumor about such a program during the war.”
“I find it hard to believe also,” Lake said, “but it’s the only explanation that fits what’s going on right now.”
Araki frowned. “Do not blind yourself to possibilities. Maybe this is all a setup to make us believe there was a program. There may be no proof. Maybe the North Koreans are simply doing this to raise a flicker of suspicion which the media, if it gets a hold of, will fan into a raging fire.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” Lake said. “We still have to pursue this as if it were true. This message is real, so let’s stay with that. This sub must have come in and taken something out. Maybe the scientists behind the project.”
“It says cargo,” Araki said.
“People can be cargo,” Lake replied.
Araki shook his head. “I don’t think so. The Japanese word used is specific for inanimate objects. That’s not to say people also weren’t taken on board, but from what I read here, the primary purpose of this order is for the sub to pick up something.”
“Perhaps all their data,” Lake said. “It would make sense that they would want to save as much information as possible before destroying the base.”
“The date of this message is 1 August 1945,” Araki said. “That is two days before Hiroshima was bombed and several days before Nagasaki was bombed.”
“They might not have known the end was near then,” Lake said.
Araki ceded that point. “The home islands were preparing for a great defense. Before the bombs were dropped, it was thought the war would last another year at least.” Araki flipped over the page. “Perhaps we can find the further instructions and—” His voice choked and he paused.
“What’s the matter?” Lake said, snapping up straight on the bed, sensing the dramatic mood change in his fellow agent.
“Date, time, group, 2 August 1945.” Araki read the deciphered words in a flat monotone. “1745 hours. Tokyo. From the Imperial Navy Staff, Admiral Sakire, Fleet Commander. To COM, slash, 1-24. Eyes only.”
“Text. Pick up Genzai Bakudan at Hungnam. Follow orders of Agent Hatari, Kempei Tai. Proceed to primary target, Code Name Cyclone. Secondary target, Code Name Forest.”
“What’s Genzai Bakudan?” Lake asked.
“An atomic bomb,” Araki whispered.
Lake blinked. “They had another bomb and they put it on the sub?”
“And they had a primary and secondary target,” Araki added.
“Great,” Lake said. “Just fucking great.”
A long silence descended as both of them considered the import of this message. Lake was the first to break the silence. “So where’s Cyclone and where’s Forest?”
Araki couldn’t answer that, not that Lake expected him to. He was still processing this startling piece of information. Lake changed direction. “So where is 1-24 now?”
Araki was thumbing through the message in the bound group. “I’m looking for any further transmissions to the submarine.”
“Obviously they didn’t succeed,” Lake noted.
“But if this is true then there is a bomb out there with ‘made in Japan 1945’ stamped all over it,” Araki said.
“Probably at the bottom of the Pacific,” Lake said.
“This can never be made public,” Araki said.
“Why not?” Lake asked, even though he knew exactly why not. He wanted more information from Araki, and while the man was still unsettled over the shock of this discovery, it was as good a time as any. “It’s over fifty years ago, for Chrissakes.”
“Do you know what public opinion in your country will be if it is found out that the Japanese had atomic weapons at the end of World War II? And they issued orders launching an atomic assault against a target?”
“It’ll even the score card,” Lake said. “Except we did it right.”
Araki didn’t smile. “This is no time for humor.”
Lake hadn’t exactly meant to be funny. He didn’t have much sympathy for Araki. “They didn’t contemplate it, as you said, but they actually did it. They ordered this submarine to conduct the mission. Kind of knocks you off the old atomic moral high ground, doesn’t it?”
Araki’s fingers feverishly flipped pages and his eyes were scanning.
“We may be pole-vaulting over a mouse turd here,” Lake said as he slowed his racing mind and considered the situation. “The explosion in the harbor at Hungnam may have been the bomb they loaded onto this sub going off prematurely or even on purpose to prevent it from falling into enemy hands.”
“Maybe,” Araki acknowledged, “but we can take no chances. If 1-24 is at the bottom of the Pacific, we must find out where and make sure it is never discovered.” “I doubt that—” Lake began, but Araki cut him off.
“Listen to this! It is a message from the Imperial Fleet Commander, to the commander of 1-24, dated 10 August.” Araki looked up. “That is the day Japan radioed the Allies and said they were willing to negotiate a surrender.” He looked back down.” “The text of the message reads: Change course. Abort attack on primary target, Cyclone. Proceed to secondary target, Forest, at flank speed.”
The first two words of the text struck Lake. “They were at sea for over a week when that message was sent. They’d already been to Hungnam and were on their way to the primary target. So much for the explosion in the harbor being 1-24.” Lake pointed at the folder. “Anything in there that says what happened to the 1-24?”
Araki went through the rest of the folder. “There’s nothing further.”
“Great, just fucking great,” Lake said.
“Look at the bright side,” Araki said. “If we don’t know, the Koreans don’t know either. And we have the documents.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get off that easy,” Lake said. “What if the Koreans know what Cyclone and Forest are the code words for? That will give them an idea of where to look.”
“We need to check into that,” Araki agreed, “and also see if we can find out the fate of 1-24.”
“You contact your government and take me back to San Francisco,” Lake said. “I know someone who might be able to help me find out about the code words.”