The Gate

CHAPTER 16

Lake was like a spider on the fender, arms and legs holding to the concrete, his head pointing down. He looked at the midget sub and the object it had towed in the glow of his headlamp for several moments. He knew that whoever had killed the diver caught on the pipe had to be around here. His gaze flickered over the dark terrain and saw nothing moving or hiding. In the sub, Lake thought. He crawled down, then onto the sub and up the conning tower. From the way the rust and dirt had been disturbed he could tell that the handle had been touched.

Lake considered the situation. With only one entrance, and that one being an airlock, there was no way to get in without whoever was inside knowing he was coming. That made them even, Lake thought, as he turned the handle for the outside hatch. As he cracked it, an air bubble burst out. Lake slid in, pulling the hatch shut behind him and securing it.

He looked down at the handle at his feet. If the person inside didn’t want him in, all they had to do was jam it. He grabbed it and twisted. It turned freely.-The hatch was designed to open in and the moment he loosened it enough, it fell open with an explosion of water into the sub. Lake followed, the Hush Puppy at the ready.

His feet hit the side of the compartment and slid out from under him. Despite losing his balance his hands were working on the Hush Puppy, drawing back the slide, which ejected the chamber plug making it ready to shoot.

Which Lake didn’t do as he came to a halt half against the floor and wall, the muzzle of the weapon steady on the other occupant of the submarine. Who had an old-style Japanese pistol trained in reverse parallel to Lake’s aim.

“Nishin,” Lake said, spitting out his regulator after seeing that the other man was breathing the sub’s air.

The Japanese man raised an eyebrow. “How do you know my name?”

“An agent of your government has been following you,” Lake said, his grip still steady on the gun. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the other man, but in his peripheral vision he could see there was a body next to Nishin.

“Was he following me using a bug inside my body?” Nishin asked.

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Nishin was staring at Lake. “Your name is Lake. You are the American gun dealer. Except that is your cover. You really work for an organization called the Ranch.”

“How did you know that?” Lake asked.

“I was told so by the Yakuza.”

Lake was surprised that the Yakuza would know about him and the Ranch. Of course, he imagined that Nishin wasn’t too thrilled about having a bug in him. He also realized that he really didn’t know why Nishin was here.

“Now that we’ve been properly introduced,” Lake said, “what now?”

He knew he could kill Nishin with a pull of the trigger. And the odds were the other man would be dead before he could pull his own trigger. Of course he also knew that Nishin could have done the same at any moment also. But

Lake had a feeling that Nishin held some of the pieces of this mystery and Lake wanted answers more than he wanted another body. Why Nishin hadn’t fired yet, he didn’t know.

“I do not know,” Nishin said. “I should kill you, I suppose. But there is information that you have that I desire. A compromise perhaps?”

Lake didn’t trust Nishin and he knew the other man didn’t trust him. But they were currently in a lose-lose situation. They were both professionals, which meant they both knew that if they had wanted to kill the other, somebody would be dead right now. Nishin lowered his weapon and Lake followed suit.

“Who is that?” Lake said, finally looking at the mummified body. He grimaced as he spotted the hand on the knife and the slashed midsection. It was fortunate it was so cold down here or else the air inside of the submarine would have been foul. The body had dehydrated and the flesh was brown and wrinkled.

“The operator of this ship,” Nishin said. “A man named Hatari.”

Lake pointed at the box next to Hatari’s body. “Is that the detonator for the bomb?”

Nishin laughed, which surprised Lake. “It is supposed to be,” Nishin said. “But it is not functional.”

“After all these years it…” Lake began, but Nishin cut him off.

“I know it should not work after all these years, but it was not functional in 1945,” he said. He picked it up and tossed it to Lake.

“How do you know that?” Lake turned it over in his hands, looking at it, then he stuck it under his weight belt.

Nishin held up a leather-bound book. “The ship’s log. Hatari tried to detonate the bomb. Nothing happened.”

Lake remembered Feliks’s boasting about deals being made and broken back then. What the hell was this all about?

Nishin must have seen the look on his face, because the Japanese man tucked his gun into his pants. “Hatari was betrayed. I am beginning to believe I might also be betrayed.” He tapped his left buttocks. “Someone put this bug into me without my knowledge. Things are most strange.”

Lake had to agree with that. “I think I have been betrayed also.” He felt like he was talking to Harmon again, letting out information and thoughts that his training said he shouldn’t but the circumstances and his gut instincts told him he should. Nishin was a killer, but so was Lake.

Nishin didn’t seem at all surprised by’ Lake’s worry. “I have been a fool. I have been told that by a Yakuza Oyabun and I am beginning to believe he is right.”

You’re not alone, Lake wanted to say. Was Feliks right? Was he just a stooge who followed orders? Was Nishin one also? Had Hatari been in the same situation in 1945? Lake slid the Hush Puppy into his holster.

“There are many people after this bomb,” Lake said. “I think we—”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Nishin snapped. “I am not one of you. I am Japanese and that is where my allegiance lies. I am Black Ocean and that is where my allegiance lies. I might be a fool and not know what is going on, but I must be loyal. This man”—Nishin nudged Hatari’s shoulder-“was betrayed, but he was also Black Ocean and he died like a man. I will do the same if it is necessary.” Nishin’s hand strayed to the butt of his gun.

“The bomb will still be here even if you kill me,” Lake said. “What do you plan on doing with it?”

“One thing at a time. I will think of that when I am done with you,” Nishin said.

“How about if we do this together?” Lake said. “You don’t want anyone to find the bomb and I don’t want anyone to find the bomb.”

“I do not think—” Nishin began, but he paused as a metal thud reverberated through the interior of the submarine. They both looked up as if they could see through the metal skin and spot what had caused the noise. Both had instinctively drawn their guns.

“A visitor,” Lake said.

“Your people?” Nishin demanded, the gun focused right between Lake’s eyes.

“For all I know it could be your people,” Lake replied as he swung the hatch he had come in back up and wheeled it shut.

“It cannot be my people,” Nishin said. “It might be your CPI friend and his people. They are well equipped.”

“I guess we’ll find out shortly,” Lake said. He moved across the sub to Nishin’s side, ignoring the other’s gun. They both watched, waiting to see what wild card was going to be played into their standoff. From the sound, Lake guessed that someone with a submersible vehicle had come down. He figured that meant either Araki’s or Feliks’s men, the two agencies that had the technology.

He could hear the outer hatch opening. He glanced at Nishin, but the other man’s face showed no emotion. The outer hatch closed. Then Lake could see the inside wheel turning. It shot open with a gush of water and Lake blinked, keeping his gun focused on the figure that dropped in.

It was Araki dressed in a full-body black wet suit. “Lake!” he called out as he got his bearings. He had a submachine gun in his hands, which he brought to bear on Nishin.

“Hold it, Araki!” Lake yelled. “Don’t shoot!”

“He is Black Ocean!” Araki cried out. “He must die!”

Lake didn’t bother to argue further. He kicked, knocking the sub out of Araki’s hand. “Damn it, just hold on a second!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lake saw Nishin taking aim. Lake clamped down on Nishin’s gun hand, his thumb jammed into the gap between the hammer and the chamber, preventing it from firing. “Will both of you just hold on a goddamn minute?”

Araki drew a knife. He slashed and to Lake’s astonishment the blade flew at his face. Lake felt the blade cut into his cheek and slide along as he ducked, parting flesh and sending jolts of pain to his brain. In one smooth movement, Araki reversed the blade and the blade slammed into Nishin’s left shoulder. It was out just as quickly, a spurt of blood coming from the wound.

Lake and Nishin both let go of Nishin’s gun and scrambled out of the way of Araki’s knife, a blur of steel flitting back and forth between them. Nishin feinted forward and the blade went toward him. To Lake’s astonishment, Nishin caught the blade in his hand and grabbed hold. Lake didn’t waste the effort. He slammed an open palm on the left side of Araki’s head, knocking the agent against the steel wall, out cold.

Nishin slowly opened his hand. The knife had cut through skin and tendons to the bone. Blood flowed freely. Lake grabbed a rag and wrapped it around Nishin’s hand to stop the bleeding.

“Jesus,” Lake muttered as he worked. “I don’t know why he was so damn trigger-happy.”

Nishin was holding the knife that had cut him in his undamaged hand and looking at it with a strange expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Lake asked.

“I recognize this steel,” Nishin said. “This blade.”

“What—” Lake began, but Nishin leaned forward and before Lake could stop him, he had the tip of the blade inside the collar of Araki’s wet suit.

“Now hold on,” Lake said.

Nishin ignored him, slicing neatly through the rubber down to Araki’s navel. The material peeled back to reveal an intricate tattoo on Araki’s chest. Of a sun rising over a black ocean.

“He is not CPI,” Nishin said, throwing the knife to the floor with a clang. “He is Black Ocean.”

“But…” Lake began, then shut up as he collected his thoughts.

“I do not know him,” Nishin said, answering one of the questions that flittered across Lake’s brain.

“He was the one who was tracking you,” Lake said. _ “Of course,” Nishin said. His voice was quiet, introspective as if he was talking to himself. “The Society could have put a bug in me while I was unconscious when they worked on me after my last mission.”

“Why?” Lake asked, looking down at the man who up until a minute ago he had believed worked for the Japanese government.

“I do not know,” Nishin said. “I was ordered to back off and not pursue this matter any further. He must not have expected me to be here.”

“What a shit pile was Lake’s less than elegant summation of their situation. But it was all he could think of.

“As you were saying,” Nishin said, “what do we do now?”

Lake looked at Araki, then at the hatch. “Let’s see what kind of ride we have.”

Nishin nodded. “But first…,” he said as he reversed the knife and slammed it into Araki’s chest. The body twitched once, then was still.

Lake stared at him. “Why did you do that?”

“He was going to kill both of us. There is no point to keeping an enemy alive.”

Ohashi picked his way through the fog very slowly. They could hear the blasts from the south tower foghorn slowly grow stronger. Visibility was less than twenty feet. The Yakuza on the forward deck held their weapons at the ready.

“Anything on radar?” Okomo asked.

“We have the same one contact to the west,” Ohashi replied. “The ship that passed through earlier.”

“What is it doing?”

“It’s circling, as if it was waiting.”

Okomo gripped the bottom edge of the open window that faced forward. Where was everyone? Where were the North Koreans? The Black Ocean? The Americans? The CPI? One of those four must be to the west, but where were the other three?

Okomo had ordered Ohashi forward to pick up the two divers a few minutes ago. He waited until they could just make out the base of the southern tower. Ohashi’s hands moved smoothly over the controls, holding their position.

“They are not here,” Ohashi said, a most unnecessary comment, Okomo thought angrily. He checked his watch. The two men would be out of air in five minutes. They should have surfaced and waited, holding on to the fender, ten minutes ago.

“We wait,” Okomo ordered.

The second hand on Okomo’s watch swept around. Then again. After four more minutes, he had to accept what the empty concrete fender told him. “I will be back,” he informed Ohashi as he turned.

The captain’s voice halted him. “That contact to the west is coming back. It will be passing under the bridge in twenty minutes. They might have picked us up coming across.”

Okomo nodded to indicate he understood, then headed below.

“How could we have missed it?” Feliks demanded.

“It was in the radar shadow of the Golden Gate and the north shore,” Captain Carson explained.

“Is it the trawler?”

Carson looked over his radar operator’s shoulder. “It’s small. I don’t think it’s the trawler.”

“What about underwater?” Feliks asked. “The North Koreans were moving a submarine in this direction.”

“Sonar?” Captain Carson called out. “Negative contact, sir,” the operator reported.

“How long until we sight the radar contact?” Feliks asked.

Carson stared at him for a few seconds, then answered. “Visibility is down to maybe twenty-five feet. If we see a ship, we’ll ram it.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Feliks snarled. “I have to find out who that is under the bridge.”

“I suggest we track the ship and stay close by,” Carson replied calmly. “Sooner or later the fog will burn off. Then we can see what it is.”

“Great,” Feliks muttered. “Just great.”

If he could have whistled, Lake would have, but the mouthpiece from the scuba gear prevented that. The swimmer-delivery vehicle, or SDV, that Araki had ridden down was top-of-the-line equipment. About twelve feet long with double propellers, it was only three feet high, which meant it had very shallow draft. It was of the “wet” type, which meant that the place for the crew was not watertight. Lake looked in: there was room for two men side by side on their stomachs in the crew compartment. The double screws meant that the engine was probably very powerful, driven by banks of batteries in a watertight compartment in the rear. The SDV was held to the midget by a steel cable running from its front to an eyebolt on the midget’s deck, just forward of where the bomb sled was attached.

Lake looked up as Nishin swam out of the hatch of the midget sub. Lake pointed at the SDV and Nishin came over. Lake pointed at the cable, then back at the bomb sled. He could see Nishin’s face through his mask; it squinched up in confusion for a second, then cleared as the other man understood what Lake wanted to do. Nishin nodded. Lake pointed at his chest, then into the SDV. Then he pointed at Nishin, then the cable. Nishin gave a thumbs-up, international diver talk to indicate he understood.

Lake slid into the driver’s place. Looking around, the controls were not much different than the SDVs he had been trained on in the SEALs. There was even a place for Lake to hook his regulator in to breathe air off tanks on the SDV and conserve his own back tanks.

Lake powered up the SDV. The twin screws churned behind him as he got the feel of the controls. They were quite simple. Two levers, each of which determined power to a screw. That handled speed and turning. Then a shorter lever above those two that controlled a single horizontal stabilizer that was behind both propellers. That controlled attitude, which determined whether the sub went up, down, or remained at constant depth.

Lake looked out the Plexiglas window to his front. Nishin was holding onto the anchor cable, waiting. Lake signaled for him to release the cable, which he did. The current immediately grabbed hold of the suddenly free SDV and Lake manipulated the controls. It took him a few seconds to get the feel and in that time they were swept fifteen feet away from the midget and the sled.

Lake eased them back in, Nishin dangling at the end of the cable like a hooked fish. He maneuvered until Nishin was hanging right over the sled. He held in place while Nishin hooked the cable onto the front of the bomb sled. Then Nishin released the two cables that had anchored the sled to the midget.

Nishin swam up and entered the SDV, taking his place next to Lake. Pushing the center lever up slightly, Lake then increased power to both screws. For several moments nothing happened. Lake pushed the levers forward until they couldn’t go any further. Water churned in the rear but still nothing. Then slowly, with a cloud of mud, the sled began moving. For the first time in fifty-two years, Genzai Bakudan was on the move again.