The Gate

CHAPTER 9

“I want the rest of the payment credited to the same account before close of business today,” Okomo said. The wounded were being carried off the tug to dark cars parked on the otherwise deserted pier. They were being whisked away to doctors who owed the Yakuza a favor.

“You will be paid,” Nishin said, deliberately omitting the title of respect he had so grudgingly been forced to use the last several hours. He no longer needed the old man and would be glad to be done with all of this.

“That includes the payments for the dead,” Okomo growled.

“Yes, yes, I will include the blood money.”

“Some of those wounded may die of their wounds,” Okomo added.

Nishin again felt he was in the fish market dickering with some old hag. “Sensei Nakanga will contact you in two weeks. Let him know if there are more dead. But do not count bodies that are still breathing, old man, or you will face the wrath of the Black Ocean.”

“Ah, the puppy growls,” Okomo said with a short laugh.

“But you do not have very long teeth,” he added. “Remember, you are not out of reach of my arm yet.”

Nishin turned his back on the Oyabun and walked off the tug. He headed for the first phone booth he could find. Stopping at it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper. There were two messages on it, from the dates, obviously copied from messages in the box.

Nishin ran his eyes down the first one.

Then he read the second one and his heart felt an icy hand surround it. He now understood why the North Koreans had been so willing to die.

With shaking fingers he dialed the phone number he had memorized and was gratified to hear Nakanga’s voice answer after the second ring.

“Yes?”

” “It is Nishin.” He knew that the Society’s phones were secure. The chances of this pay phone being tapped were not significant enough to be considered a threat.

“Yes?”

“The target has been destroyed.”

“With the papers?” Nakanga asked.

“Yes.”

“Any problems?”

“There was a radio transmission just prior to the target being destroyed.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “We will check on that.”

Nishin related the frequencies and radio data that he had memorized. “I also have the content of the message,” Nishin said.

“Go ahead.”

Nishin read both messages. When he was done, there was a long silence, then finally Nakanga spoke. “I will have to speak to the Genoysha about this. Remain there. Await further orders.”

“There is something further.”

“Yes?”

Nishin told Nakanga about the American arms dealer and how he had been on board the ship.

“Was he there to collect his payment?”

“He was in the room with the box of documents,” Nishin said. “I do not believe he would have been there simply to collect a few thousand dollars.”

“Then he was not simply an arms dealer?” Nakanga asked.

“I do not believe so.”

“You are sure he died with the ship?”

“Yes. There were no survivors.”

“You must try to find out who this American worked for. How much he knew and how much he told those he worked for.” The phone went dead and Nishin slowly put the receiver down.

The man who Nishin was concerned about in death was actually very much alive at the moment. Lake’s legs had settled into a smooth rhythm that he knew from experience was propelling him at three knots through the water. The only problem was that he estimated the current he was swimming against was about six to eight knots which meant he was going farther out into the Pacific at three to five knots an hour.

The option of turning and swimming with the current, while it would certainly go with the flow, was unacceptable because no matter how fast he swam, Lake didn’t think he’d be able to make it to Hawaii; alive at least.

If Araki had chartered a boat, which Lake assumed he had done, the CPI agent would be heading out here and the less distance he had to go, the quicker he’d pick Lake up. That is if Araki was looking for him.

There was always the possibility that he’d get picked up by a passing ship, Lake consoled himself with as he swam. He was in the shipping lane for San Francisco Harbor. There was a chance something would pass by, in which case he could use the flare strapped to his left calf.

Lake became aware of a strange hissing noise that he’d never heard before. He twisted about, treading water, but in the darkness could see nothing. But he felt that something was different in the waves around him. He focused on his hearing because it was the sense that had alerted him. There was still the faint hissing noise, but now there was also the sound of waves splashing against something solid. As another swell lifted him, Lake looked about.

He blinked. A large black form in the shape of an inverted V, with the points in the water, was silhouetted against the night horizon about fifty feet away. Lake watched the ship as it got closer. He’d never seen anything like it. With its sharp angles and flat surfaces, the thing it reminded him of most was the F-l 17 stealth bomber. Lake couldn’t hear the throb of conventional engines, just that hissing noise.

A brief burst of red light showed on the right front. A man’s figure was briefly outlined, then the light was out.

“Lake?” Araki’s voice called out.

“Here!” Lake yelled.

A rope ladder was thrown down the slick skin of the ship. Lake turned on his stomach and swam over, grabbing hold of one of the rungs. As he pulled himself up, he was surprised to feel that the hull surface wasn’t metal, but rather some form of hard rubber. He climbed up the side to where Araki was waiting on a small indentation. The hatch opened once more, bathing them in red light, and Araki led him inside, quickly shutting the hatch behind.

Lake looked around. He was in a large room, obviously the bridge of the ship based on the equipment and amount of activity. Several men in uniform, all Japanese, were watching various screens that showed the sea outside and monitoring computers that gave them readouts. There were no windows and all was lit in the red glow that had come out the hatch.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Araki said.

“What is it?” Lake asked.

“The pride of the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force. A stealth surface ship. You saw the outside. It has an inverted triangular hull with a propulsion unit in each leg. This is the bridge. Weapons systems, crew quarters, and supply areas are behind us. All sides of the ship are inclined at angles designed to defeat radar, including missile lock on systems such as that used by the Expcet.”

Lake had heard that the U.S. Navy had experimented with a design such as this and then discarded it in favor of the more traditional ships they were used to. “How does the propulsion system work?” he asked. No one in the crew had come over; they all seemed to defer to Araki, which Lake found interesting.

“Seawater is taken in, put under pressure, and pushed out the rear. Very quiet and efficient and undetectable by sonar outside of five hundred meters away.”

“Weaponry?” Lake asked as he unbuckled his belt.

“Surface-to-air and surface-to-surface missiles fired from closed hatches along the top rear deck. Two subsurface torpedo tubes, one on each propulsion pylon.”

Lake untied the garbage bags from his belt. “How did you get this here?”

“This way,” Araki said, gesturing toward a hatch. “I have some dry clothing for you.”

Lake picked up the garbage bag and allowed himself to be led to a small stateroom. Araki handed him a dark blue jumpsuit.

“I don’t suppose you have any cigarettes?”

Araki shook his head. “There is no smoking on board. The captain is very particular.”

Lake peeled off the top of his wet suit. “So, how did you get this here?”

“I told you that my government considers this mission very important. I was assigned the appropriate assets to get the job done.”

Lake pulled on the jumpsuit. He noted that Araki was looking at the garbage bag.

“How long have you been in the area?” Lake asked. The relief of being rescued had not yet registered on his emotions; he didn’t have time for that. It would have to wait for later when he was alone.

“I just arrived here. I picked up your signal and homed in on it.” Araki took the homing device from Lake and put it in his pocket. “I assume you got the documents,” he added, pointing at the garbage bags.

“I got them,” Lake said.

“And Nishin?”

“Nishin got away.”

Araki nodded. “I have his signal heading back to San Francisco. I was hoping it was a signal from a dead body.” “No, last I heard, he’s very much alive,” Lake said.

“You heard?”

“I heard his voice through a hatch just before he left the trawler.”

“The North Koreans?”

“The trawler went down. I assume all the North Koreans are dead.” Lake related the story of what had happened on board the Am Nok Sung, from his jumping out of the helicopter to being picked up by Araki.

Araki picked up with his end of things. “I had the helicopter take me to the Farallon Islands, which are about twenty-one miles outside of the Golden Gate. I was dropped off on a small islet where I had arranged for this ship to be nearby on station. I contacted the captain on my satellite phone and he picked me up with a rubber dinghy. We headed toward your beacon as quickly as possible.”

“What now?” Nishin asked.

“Let’s find out what all the fuss is about,” Lake said. “Do you have a knife?”

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.”

Cyclone and Forest. Kuzumi had the intercepted and decrypted North Korean message on his desk, probably before the North Koreans did. The Black Ocean had access to better technology than even the Japanese government did since most of it was invented by companies that the Society had a hand in controlling or developing. Anything they gave to the government to use, they first had to insure that they had something better made that could defeat it.

Kuzumi stared at the text of the old messages. When the second message had been sent, he had already been taken prisoner by the Russians. He did not know the destinations those two words were the code for. Since the Navy had sent the message, it was likely that the codes were originated by the Navy. He would have to check on that.

What he did know was the atmosphere in Hungnam leading up to that message being sent. In March 1945 there had been little hope that they could make one bomb, never mind two. What little uranium they had scraped together had been used in experiments or lost to American submarines in shipment from Japan to Korea. It was the Germans who had come to their aid.

In early April the Germans decided to mount a special mission to Japan, one that showed the desperate straits the Third Reich was in at the time. Two specially modified submarines, the U-234 and the U-235, were’ assigned the mission. Kuzumi had found the numbers most interesting and considered it at the time to be a fortuitous stroke.

The two U-boats were modified mine-layers and among the largest submarines constructed in the world. Almost three hundred feet long and weighing in at 22,000 tons, they were ideally suited for their role as underwater cargo vessels. And into those two submarines, the Third Reich packed some of its greatest secrets and assets to be sent to Japan to continue the fight as the Russian juggernaut rolled down on Berlin.

The Germans loaded the plans for their two jet aircraft, the Messerschmitt 262, which made an appearance in the skies over Europe just before the end of the war, and the 163 Komet, which never became operational. They also added in samples of jet fuel and directions for making more. There were various other items, but of special significance to the Genzai Bakudan project was the twelve hundred pounds of uranium that was packed into special metal containers and put on board the U-235. A Japanese liaison officer from their embassy in Berlin was on board each submarine.

The two submarines departed Germany on the twelfth of April, paused briefly in Norway, then headed for the Atlantic to begin their long journey. Their route would be through the English Channel, south through the Atlantic, around the Cape of Good Hope, into the Indian Ocean and then to Japan. The odds of both ships making it that far were very low.

The two subs were not in communication with each other, but did have contact back with Germany. By the time they made it out into the middle of the Atlantic, Hitler was dead and the war in Europe was over. In Hungnam, Kuzumi remembered hearing the news and believing it spelled the death knoll for Japan also. Now the Allies could focus all their destructive energy on Japan.

On the tenth of May, Admiral Doenitz sent a broadcast to all U-boats, ordering them to surrender and giving directions about where to go. The captain of the U-234 complied, sailing west to the United States. The Japanese officer on board committed ritual suicide. The ship was boarded by an American crew and brought into Portsmouth, New Hampshire, under heavy guard and tight security.

U-235, however, did not surrender. No one knew what had happened to it. That is until it showed up in Hungnam Harbor on the eighth of June. Kuzumi could clearly see in his mind that day as the strange submarine surfaced and was challenged by a patrol boat. The excitement as the flag was unfurled from the conning tower. The uranium was taken off and immediately put into production. The U-235 took on food and fuel, then turned back to sea, disappearing forever, most likely destroyed by the Americans who thought it was a Japanese submarine.

The Genzai Bakudan team worked nonstop, Kuzumi remembered, toiling over the parts of the project, trying to bring it all together in the cave on the hillside overlooking the valley where most of the components were produced.

The intelligence forwarded by TO from Nira and other agents in the United States indicated that the Americans were progressing on their Manhattan Project. In early May it was reported that the Americans had exploded a small batch of uranium with TNT as a preliminary test. Kuzumi had been glad to get the results of the American test since Genzai Bakudan could not afford that luxury; there simply wasn’t enough uranium to be spent in such a manner, even with what the Germans had brought.

Then in July there was the rumor that the Americans had actually detonated an atomic bomb in the middle of one of their vast deserts. Security had been so tight that no Japanese or TO agent had been able to confirm or deny the rumor. Even Nira did not know. Kuzumi believed it was true and told the Genoysha that. By that time Genzai Ba kudan was in its final stages. They had one bomb assembled. Kuzumi wanted to test it. He was overruled by the Navy. They only had enough uranium to make two bombs. They could not waste one on a test. He was ordered to complete the second one.

Kuzumi had recommended that they use the one bomb anyway. Attack an American carrier task force off the coast with it. Again he was ignored. There were fears the bomb would not work and would be captured. There were also fears that the bomb would work and that the retaliation unleashed upon Japan would be even more devastating than the current state of affairs. There was concern that if the Americans had successfully tested a bomb in July, that they then might have a stockpile of atomic weapons and detonating the one Genzai Bakudan had could bring a rain of American-made atomic bombs onto Japan.

So Kuzumi was frozen out of the decision-making process on how the bombs were to be used and spent his time putting together the second one. And that was why he had no idea where Cyclone or Forest was and where 1-24 was now. But now as Genoysha he could find out. Of that he was sure.