The President’s accusation was met by silence.
“When Dr. Mercer is found, I want him brought to me. There will be no charges filed against him. Perhaps he can shed more light on what’s happening in the Pacific. Does anyone have anything else to add?”
“Since our briefing yesterday,” Admiral Morrison said, “I have put our Pacific Fleet on standby alert. Two carrier groups are steaming toward Hawaii from the Coral Sea. The Kitty Hawk is in position right now, along with the amphibious assault ship Inchon. Both vessels and their support ships are three hundred miles south of Hawaii.”
“I don’t know if they’ll be needed, but it’s a good idea to have some firepower standing by.” The President rubbed his hands against his temples. “Gentlemen, we are right now facing a puzzle with no clues. If Ohnishi is behind the sinking of the Ocean Seeker, Dr. Talbot may be the only person who can provide any evidence against him. We must find out what she knows. Until then, we’re playing blindman’s bluff with an enemy who has surfaced twice, but has yet to be seen. That is all.”
The President asked Dick Henna to stay and dismissed Barnes and Morrison. “Dick, since this whole episode is taking place within our borders, you are the man in charge. I want to know, right now, what your opinion is.”
Henna took a few moments to think, then said, truthfully, “I don’t know.”
He let the statement hang in the air for several seconds.
“That note we received a couple days ago wasn’t any different from hundreds of crank letters sent to us every week. Until the Ocean Seeker went down, that is. Then we stood up and took notice. Two days later the only survivor was kidnapped by a man who I think is a patriot. He leaves a trail of bodies across the city, requests some type of maritime information from Miami, and requests the seismic records of Hawaii during May of 1954 from the USGS archives. Please don’t ask me why — my top people can’t even come close to figuring that one out. He’s on to something, I have no doubt.”
“Why, though? Why is he even involved?”
“His motivation may be revenge. He was asked to join the NOAA survey crew aboard the Ocean Seeker, but he was out of the country. I asked Paul Barnes for the background check the CIA did on him before the mission to Iraq. Maybe there’s something there that’ll help.”
“And what about the letter from Takahiro Ohnishi?”
“Look at any newspaper today and it seems that every small ethnic group in the world is declaring their independence, no matter how long they have coexisted with their neighbors. Africa, Europe, even Asia. Who’s to say we’re immune? The majority of the people of Hawaii are of Japanese ancestry, most of whom have never seen the continental states. Maybe we don’t have the right to govern them with our Western ideas. I don’t know.”
“Dick, do you know what you’re saying?”
“I do, Mr. President. I don’t like it, but I do know what I’m saying. You might be confronted with a situation only once before faced by a President.” Henna stood to go. “But, sir, that situation started a war that lasted five years and caused more deaths than all the wars in American history combined. Lincoln walked away a hero, but maybe only because he was martyred.”
Hawaii
Takahiro Ohnishi scraped a Frank Lloyd Wright- designed stainless fork across the Limoges plate, piling rich Bernaise sauce around a cut of Kobe beef. He brought the food to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Honolulu’s mayor, David Takamora, watched the elderly industrialist with well-hidden distaste.
Ohnishi chewed for several more seconds, then leaned over and spit the thick mass of meat into a silver wine bucket, already a quarter filled with his chewed but indigestible meal. Ohnishi patted his lips delicately and waved a butler over to clear the plates.
“Tell the chef that the asparagus was a bit wilted and the next time it happens, he’ll be fired.” There was no malice in his withered voice, but a man of his position needed none to ensure that his orders were carried out. “I can’t believe you didn’t eat more, David. That beef was flown in this morning from my farm in Japan.”
“My appetite isn’t what it used to be.” Takamora shrugged.
“I hope my condition doesn’t upset you.”
“Not at all,” the mayor denied too quickly. “It’s just the pressure I’m under right now. Planning a silent coup isn’t all that simple, you know.”
At home, Ohnishi usually used an electric wheelchair to get around easier. Now he wheeled away from the mahogany table. Takamora tossed his napkin onto the table and followed, silently cursing the revolting spectacle of Ohnishi’s eating practices.
Though still in his fifties, Takamora’s face was developing the languid cast common to many elderly Japanese men. His eyes had begun to retreat behind permanent bags. His body, once slender and toned from years of exercise, had paunched and bowed, so his trunk now appeared too large for his thin legs to support.
Warm light glinted off the frames of the paintings and brought out the beautiful burnish of the cherry wood paneling of Ohnishi’s private study. Takamora took the leather winged-back chair as Ohnishi wheeled behind his broad ormolu-topped desk.
“Smoke if you wish,” Ohnishi invited.
Takamora wasted no time lighting a Marlboro with a gaily colored disposable lighter.
“What have you to report?”
From behind a blue-gray cloud of smoke, Takamora spoke slowly to mask the tension he felt whenever he was in Ohnishi’s presence. “We are nearly ready to send the ultimatum to the President. I have two full divisions of loyal National Guards ready to blockade Pearl Harbor and the airport. The governor will return from the mainland next week; we will detain him as soon as he lands. Our senators and representatives can be called back from Washington with only a moment’s notice. If they resist our plans, they too will be detained — however, Senator Namura has already expressed an interest in joining us.
“I have full assurances from all the civic organizations involved that they are prepared to do their part with the strikes and marches. The press, too, is ready. There will be a full blackout for forty-eight hours after the start date. The news will be broadcast as usual, but will make no references to the coup.
“I have here,” Takamora reached into his jacket pocket and removed a sheet of paper, “the names of the satellite technicians on the islands who could broadcast unauthorized stories. I will have them detained or their equipment destroyed, whichever is necessary.”
“And the phone service?”
“The main microwave transmission towers and the mainland cable junction will be taken and controlled by our troops. It’s inevitable that some news of the coup will escape before we’re ready for our own broadcasts, but it will be largely unconfirmable.”
“You have done well, David. All seems to be in order, but there is a slight problem.”
“What is that?” Takamora asked, leaning forward in his chair.
The study door opened and the menacing form of Kenji, Ohnishi’s assistant/bodyguard, moved to stand behind the mayor’s chair, his steel-hard hands held at his sides.
“And what is that problem?” Takamora repeated, a bit more nervously, after a glance at the newcomer.
“The letter I had written as an ultimatum to the President has been removed from my office. I can only assume it has been sent to Washington.”
Takamora couldn’t hide his surprise. “We still need more time, why did you send it?”
“I did not say, David, that I sent the letter. I said that it had been removed from my office. The only person to know of this letter and to have spent time in my office alone is you. Therefore, I must ask if you sent the letter to the President without my authorization?”