He moved to a map of the Pacific on the wall and pointed to Hawaii. Matsuo noted the stumps of the two fingers he had lost at the battle of Tsushima in the Russo-Japanese War.
"Its Pacific Fleet has been stationed here for the past nine months—already halfway to Japan. When war is declared—" he swept his right arm westward from Hawaii "—it will move the rest of the way toward us." He swept his left arm eastward from Japan. "The Imperial Navy will rush to meet it." The two arms met in the center of the Western Pacific. "We may or may not win the ensuing battle. I think we will. But even so, our fleet will be severely damaged. And as we work to rebuild, how are we to hold the Philippines, Malaya, the Dutch East Indies, and Singapore without a Navy?"
"I don't know," Matsuo said. "But I do know that the Americans will be rebuilding, too. And faster than we."
Yamamoto nodded curtly. "Exactly. If only I could make the Supreme Command see that."
"You must." Matsuo said. "We must."
"No. I have tried in vain for months. They have decided not to hear what displeases them. So…" He took a deep breath. "If we cannot change the way they think on Sanno Hill, we must change the way we meet the US Pacific Fleet. Do you remember how the Japanese Navy opened the war with the Russians in 1904?"
Of course Matsuo knew. Japanese torpedo boats had surprised the Russian fleet off Port Arthur and sank some of its best battleships. It was an historic naval victory. But what did that have to do with—
And then the parallel struck him like a dash of cold water in the face.
"You don't mean…?"
Admiral Yamamoto pointed to the area of the Pacific where his arms had met. "We must not meet here. We must meet and defeat them here."
His stubby finger jabbed at Hawaii.
Matsuo shot out of his seat toward the map. The audacity of the plan—it was brilliant. The Americans had moved their fleet from San Diego to Pearl Harbor as an obvious warning to Japan. Hiroki had called the US fleet's presence in the trade lanes Taiheiyo-no-gan—a cancer in the Pacific. But Admiral Yamamoto's plan would make use of that very nearness and turn it to Japan's advantage.
"Can it work?" Matsuo said, breathless.
"I don't know. That's why I called you here. We have reams of intelligence concerning Oahu and Pearl Harbor, but none of it specifically geared to planning an attack."
"From the air, of course."
Yamamoto smiled. "Of course. But I need to know if an air attack on the harbor is feasible. That will be your job. I've arranged with Intelligence to relieve you of your present duties and assign you to me. You will report directly to me. And only to me."
Matsuo gazed at the map on which the Hawaiian Islands were small splotches of green and brown on a field of blue.
"If we can catch them there with enough ships in port..."
"There must be a minimum of four battleships at dock to make the attack worthwhile. Hopefully, we can catch an aircraft carrier there, too. Since we will have to go to war with them eventually, the object of the attack will be to deal a crippling blow at the outset with no damage to us. That will afford us time to consolidate our gains in the Philippines and the East Indies. Within six to nine months after we open hostilities, we should be able to sue for peace on favorable terms. Japan's economic future will be guaranteed and we will have avoided a protracted war with an enemy we cannot defeat."
Matsuo could not take his eyes off the map. "You do not intend to hold the Hawaiian Islands? When he heard no reply, he looked up and saw the admiral staring at him, grinning broadly. "Sir?"
"Excellent!" he said, clamping a hand on Matsuo's shoulder. "You are thinking like an admiral! A lightning strike at the harbor and the airports—cripple them and leave them to lick their wounds—might buy us enough time. But if we occupy the Hawaiians, we will rob them of a staging area in the Central Pacific, leaving us still more time to consolidate in the South Pacific, and providing us with an extremely valuable bargaining chip when we sit down to talk peace: ‘Yes, we will return the Hawaiians to you if you will acknowledge our gains in Asia and the South Pacific.’ "
"I see only one problem, sir," Matsuo said hesitantly.
"And what is that? Speak up."
"If I remember my history correctly, in 1904 we broke off diplomatic relations with the Russians and immediately attacked their fleet, then we declared war."
Yamamoto nodded. "Yes, that's true. Go on."
"I think that would be a major mistake with the Americans. We must declare war first, then attack immediately. But by all means we must declare war first."
"It is the honorable thing to do, I agree," Yamamoto said with narrowed eyes. "But do I sense another, more strategic reason?"
"Yes, sir: the isolationists."
The admiral's eyes widened. "Yes. Yes, of course. You are absolutely right."
Matsuo knew of few Japanese to whom he could have said that one word and sparked such complete understanding. Only someone who had spent the admiral's years in America would know how its people loathed the thought of a foreign war, and how many of its legislators reflected that sentiment. Those legislators would impede the conduct of any war that smacked of adventurism or where they thought Americans should mind their own business. Japan had to take advantage of that sentiment.
"From what I have been hearing from America," Matsuo said, "I believe their President Roosevelt wants war. He has tried everything else to bring his country out of its economic depression—war is the only thing left. But I am sure we can count on the isolationist sentiment to impede or greatly slow any rush to declare war on us—as long as they don't feel they have been stabbed in the back. We must play extremely fair with America. We must declare war first, then attack, and attack only military targets. If we attack Oahu, we must strictly avoid any direct damage to Honolulu. Anything else, and the isolationists will be clamoring for our heads louder than anybody else."
"An excellent point," Yamamoto said. "I will make it an integral part of the plan from the start. And already I see that I was wise in choosing you for this assignment.” He guided Matsuo toward the door. “But before we get to concrete plans, we must first have a feasibility study. That will be your job. If the island is too well protected, or the waters around it too well watched, or if they keep most of the fleet at sea, there is no point in attacking Pearl Harbor."
He sobered and stood silent for a moment. His voice was grim as he spoke. "I also chose you because I know you dread war with the United States as much as I. I want you to hold onto that dread and keep it in mind as we make plans I hope we never have to use. Pray that by some miracle we will be diverted from this course."
The enormity of the responsibility suddenly crashed down on Matsuo. That, and the honor of knowing that Admiral Yamamoto had handpicked him for the task, rendered him momentarily speechless. He bowed and left the office in a daze.
Once outside in the fresh air, he quieted his emotions and decided to get directly to work. But as he hurried toward the Intelligence offices, he could almost sense the wheels of history turning about him.
* * *
"What do you know about Pearl Harbor?" he asked Lieutenant Shigeo Mikawa after they had shared some tea and friendly conversation in his office. He knew Shigeo had been concentrating his intelligence efforts on Hawaii.
Shigeo was reed-thin and smoked incessantly, seeming to pride himself on the fact that he could light a cigarette and not remove it once from between his lips until he was done with it. He spoke around one now, squinting against the smoke that drifted up into his eyes.
He grinned. "Everything Absolutely everything. What do you want to know?"
"How about some maps and pictures to start."
"Simple." He pulled open one cabinet drawer after another. "I have topographical maps of Oahu and nautical charts of Pearl Harbor. “I have hundreds of pictures of the harbor. Would you prefer color or black-and-white?"
Matsuo was astounded. "Where did you get all this?"
Shigeo pa
ssed him the maps. "I had our agents buy them at government offices and at bait-and-tackle shops. You can keep these. I've got plenty."
"And the photos?"
"Color?"
"Why not?"
Shigeo pulled out a large envelope. "Take your pick. I've got duplicates of almost everything."
Matsuo dumped the contents onto Shigeo's desk. He picked up one photo after another. Their colors and focus were perfect. He noticed that some of the best had scalloped edges. He turned one over. It was stamped and carried an address in a residential district of Tokyo. A handwritten message said, "Isn't this lovely!" The printed inscription in the upper-left corner of the card read:
Ford Island: The Pearl in the Harbor.
Matsuo laughed out loud. "A postcard!"
This was going to be easier than he had anticipated.
MARCH
HONOLULU
I awoke to the sound of Meiko sobbing. Tiny sobs, muffled, but each one causing a gentle quake in the bed. We had first made love here in my Kalihi apartment about a month ago and she had been spending the night with increasing frequency ever since. As I rolled over to look at her, she turned away, but I saw the little heaves of her bare shoulders.
I gently pulled her back to face me. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks glistened with tears. I wondered if she might be thinking about Matsuo and a knot formed in my belly. I didn't want her thinking about Matsuo. I wanted her thinking about me.
"Meiko, what's wrong?"
"I'm so happy!" she said and burst into a full-fledged cry. She clung to me like ivy to a tree.
"If this means you're happy," I said after a while, "what do you do when you're sad?" That managed to raise a tearful smile. "So come on now, tell me what's wrong."
"I'm just happy," she said with a little shrug. "I never thought I'd be happy again." She held me tighter. "But I am."
Meiko could not know how those words made me feel. The past month had meant more to me than any other time in my life. Making love, being together every night, and spending every day off together—it was like a dream come true. I had never felt this close to a woman before. I wanted it to go on forever. I wanted to make it official.
"Then marry me."
"Oh, Frank…" she said, loosening her grip.
I wouldn't let her go. "Uh-uh. You've begged off twice already. Not this time. Say yes or no. And if no, give me a good reason."
"Very well," she said, staring at the ceiling. "You are an American Naval officer; I am Japanese. The United States and Japan are on less than friendly terms and no one seems to expect any improvement in the near future. A Japanese wife could be very harmful to your career."
She looked at me and caught me smiling.
"It's not funny!" she said.
"How long did you rehearse that?"
"Never! It's just that I've been… thinking about it."
"Oh, you have, have you?" That meant a lot to me. "Well, I've been thinking about it, too. But I've done something about it."
I got out of bed and went to the top drawer of my dresser. Under my socks was the envelope I was looking for. I brought it back to her.
"Remember that little jaunt I had to take to Maui last week? I bought something when I was there."
I handed her the envelope. She pulled out the piece of paper, read it, then looked up at me.
"Is this a deed?"
I nodded. "To a hundred acres of sugarcane on Maui. A descendant of one of the original missionaries is selling off some of his land. I have an option on more."
"Why?"
I settled back on the pillow. "I've been thinking about it for a couple of years now, and I've finally made up my mind: When my present hitch is up, I'm not going to reenlist. I'm going to become a cane farmer."
"But you don't know anything about farming!"
"I'll learn." I ran a finger up her arm, over her shoulder, and down to her breast. "We'll learn."
Her eyes were wide. "You're giving up the navy?"
"Yep. I'm never leaving the islands. I can't imagine living anywhere else. This is paradise. The only thing that will make it less than perfect is not having you with me."
"But Frank—"
"No ‘buts'! Your being Japanese won't hurt my navy career because I won't have one. And on Maui you'll probably be better accepted than me."
She was silent. At least she wasn't saying no.
I prodded her: "What do you say? We'll go over there and ignore the rest of the world. Let it all go to hell in a handbasket. We'll have each other and we'll have our farm. Besides cane, we'll grow papaya and pineapples and breadfruit and guava and bananas. We may never be rich, but we'll sure as hell never go hungry."
"We'd be away from everyone, wouldn't we?" she said, gazing off into space.
"Our own little world, where no one will care if you're Japanese or Martian."
She hugged me, then got up and went to where her purse sat on a chair. I watched her slim, naked body as she searched through it. Desire rose in me. She returned to the bed with a bankbook and placed it in my hand.
"What's this?"
"Three hundred dollars. My savings. A small dowry, but I hope you'll accept it."
"Dowry?" Then it hit me. "Does that mean you'll marry me?"
She nodded, smiling, and we embraced. I almost cheered and I almost cried. Now I had everything.
"When?"
"Whenever you say. I have no family to invite."
I thought about that. "If I can get some leave next week, we can get married Friday and honeymoon on our ‘plantation.' How's that sound?"
"Wonderful," she said softly, then pressed her slim little body against me.
I kissed her and as I drew her closer, the telephone rang. It was Harry Thornton.
"The Salt Lake City's in port," he said, "and its captain was here looking for you."
I was annoyed at being pulled away from Meiko. "So?"
"Captain Zacharias asked for you specifically."
"Zacharias? Ellis Zacharias? Is he there?"
"He's over at CINCPAC now, but he's going to stop in on his way back. He wants to get together with us before he has to ship out. I don't know what he thinks is so damn important, but see if you can get over here by noon."
"I'll be there."
As I hung up Meiko said, "What was that about?"
"My old commanding officer when I was in San Diego is in Pearl. I'm going to meet with him later."
"You admire him, don't you," she said, watching me closely.
"I think Ellis Zacharias is the savviest man in Naval Intelligence. But I don't want to talk about him, I want to talk about us. Where were we?"
Meiko slid against me. "We weren't talking."
* * *
Captain Ellis M. Zacharias, dark-haired, lean-boned, and lean-featured, was sitting in Harry's office puffing on a cigarette when I got there. I wanted to throw my arms around him but settled instead for a firm handshake.
"You look brown as a beach boy, Frank," he said. "Don't they give you any work to do at this country club?"
"Sure. All officers must go to the beach and swim at least twice a day." He laughed and I said, "C'mon. I'll buy you lunch."
"Sounds good to me."
We strolled over to the Officers Club, the two of us catching up on people we knew during the "old days" in the San Diego District Intelligence Office while Harry tagged along and looked bored. We got ourselves a table and ordered drinks. Noon was a little early for me, but I ordered a scotch with Zach. Harry had a gin and tonic.
Finally I asked the question that had been plaguing me for months: "What are you up to with the Salt Lake City?"
He looked amused. "What do you mean?"
"Is it secret? If it is, I'll shut up. But I've got to say there's something awful strange about the former Chief Intelligence Officer of the Eleventh Naval District commanding a heavy cruiser. Are you on a special intelligence assignment?"
He shook his head. "I'm out of Intel
ligence. I'm now a cruiser commander. Nothing special. They told me last November they were reassigning me from ONI to the Salt Lake City, and so that's where I am. That's it."
I couldn't believe it. Zach had been in Intelligence for a quarter-century, had done duty in Japan and spoke the language like a native—the Japanese knew him well, and respected him. Why on earth would ONI isolate him on a cruiser running interference for battleships and carriers just when relationships with Japan were getting hotter and hotter?
"There's got to be more to it. I mean I know you aren't exactly the most popular guy with the Navy Department—"
"Stark doesn't like to hear criticism. Admiral Richardson used to command the Pacific Fleet, but I'm sure you heard his assessment of Pearl Harbor when Stark said the President wanted the fleet moved here."
I nodded. "Called it ‘a goddamn mousetrap.' "
"Right. And is Richardson still Fleet Commander? Hell, no. The President told Stark to get someone a little less outspoken. So Kimmel's in and Richardson's out. I'm out, too."
"But that doesn't make any sense at all."
"Neither does putting the Pacific Fleet in Pearl. I'm in full agreement with Richardson." He stared out the window at the harbor. "Pearl is a goddamn mousetrap."
"Oh, come now, Captain," Harry said. "It's not so bad. And it puts the fleet right in the thick of things."
Zach looked at him. "That's what I'm afraid of."
I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"
He turned toward us. "I just brought the Salt Lake City through that bottleneck out there. It comes down to less than five hundred yards across and it's so damn shallow I was afraid my keel would drag if I did better than ten knots. A carrier or a big fatty like the Arizona would have to crawl out of here. You'd need a full spring tide and a good half-day's notice of attack to clear Pearl for action."
"Come on!" Harry said. "What attack?"
Zach's mouth twisted. "I had a nice long chat with Kichisaburo Nomura as he was passing through Frisco last month."
"I know," I said, and was glad I could say it. Nomura was the new Japanese Ambassador to Washington and I had been keeping track of any intercepts that concerned him.