Drone Command

FOUR

The tee box on the fifteenth hole was a golfer’s dream. Hugging Japan’s rugged Pacific coast along the Izu Peninsula, the Kawana’s Fuji course was long known as the Japanese version of Pebble Beach, but the fifteenth hole held a particular allure for avid, well-heeled golfers. It was postcard perfect in its beauty, perhaps the most picturesque hole of its kind in the world and one of the most treacherous.

The tee box stood high on a hill overlooking the untamed Pacific Ocean crashing into the rocks below on the left. A lush manicured fairway nestled between majestic twisted pines beckoned like the Sirens, while a steep, unforgiving precipice stood a short distance away between the tee and the fairway below.

The course designer, Charles H. Alison, knew his business. The least hesitation or distraction in the tee shot here inevitably led to disaster. The serenity of the surrounding landscape demanded equal poise within. More than any other hole on the course, the fifteenth required both intense concentration and uninhibited flow. Golf was Zen, a game not so much of skill as self-mastery. Many Asians believed that Tiger Woods’s successes were due to his mastery of Buddhism and the lack thereof his undoing. The Japanese who could still afford to play the game on courses like this one — corporate executives, movie stars, yakuza bosses, and senior politicians — were crazy about it.

The titanium driver rang like a gunshot. The white Titleist golf ball lofted high and true toward the cliff edge, then arced effortlessly in a right-hand fade, landing finally in the center of the fairway.

Prime Minister Hiroshi Ito laughed. The gusting Pacific breeze tousled his famously wild silver hair, which complemented his sky-blue shirt and black slacks. He was sixty years old but still rakishly handsome. He was often compared to the Hollywood actor Richard Gere, but his avid passion for golf earned him the nickname the Obama of Japan.

“That kind of drive puts a lot of pressure on me, Margaret. My gender and my nation demand I rise to the occasion.”

Former American president Margaret Myers snatched up her tee with a satisfied smile. She hit from the same tee box as the men. “What pressure? Just don’t think about the wide blue Pacific on your left or the cavernous gully in front of you or the impossibly tall pines and you’ll be fine.”

It was a cool day in the high sixties, no rain. Perfect golf weather save for the coastal winds. Mt. Fuji, a prominent feature of the course, loomed in the distance, but unfortunately it was shrouded in cloud cover today. Myers wore a black Nike long-sleeve polo shirt and a matching golf skort and shoes, very subdued. She still had the toned arms and shapely runner’s legs to carry off the ensemble smartly. She was more than fifty but looked a decade younger. Heads turned when she entered a room — men and women both. Having been a public figure for several years, she was never sure if she drew attention because of her fame or her good looks. Modest to a fault, she always assumed it was the former.

The one thing she didn’t want to do today, however, was draw attention to herself, another reason to wear black. To help keep this meeting secret, Prime Minister Ito’s security team also stayed two holes ahead and behind them, clearing away the other players on the course at all times. President Lane asked Myers to pay her old friend a visit off the record and, as far as she knew, neither the American nor the local press had gotten wind of their private tête-à-tête.

“Seems to me, Hiroshi, that you were always the better… putter.”

Ito laughed.

Myers and Ito first met in Colorado. They discovered a mutual passion for Kentucky bourbon and golf, which her late husband had also shared. The future prime minister was serving as a trade representative at the Japanese consulate in Denver when he helped arrange Myers’s first business deal in Japan, just a year before her husband was killed by a drunk driver. Her husband’s needless death at the hands of a repeat offender thrust Myers into state politics with a personal mission to stiffen the lax DUI laws. But even after she was elected governor, she and Ito played together as often as her schedule allowed until Ito returned to Japan and ran for office himself. They managed to remain in regular contact over the years. Ito airmailed a hundred orchids from his private greenhouse the day after her son’s murder two years ago. Her favorite flower. He remembered.

Ito stepped up to his ball and laid the custom-fitted EPON driver head next to it. His fingers tightened on the grip, then loosened, then tightened again.

“Bah! You’re in my head!” Ito laughed again, stepping away from the ball.

Myers didn’t say a word. She just kept smiling.

“You’re more Japanese than I am, I think,” he said with an impish grin. “You never attack your foe straight on.”

“You know I’m not your enemy. We’ve been friends too long.”

Ito pointed a gloved finger at Myers. “You see? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. No self-respecting politician ever comes out and talks about politics directly. Maybe you should run for president of Japan.”

“But Japan doesn’t have a president,” Myers said, playing along.

“But if it ever did, I’d be the first to endorse you. After all, you were a magnificent American president. Don’t you agree, Katsu?”

Katsu Tanaka stood silent as a statue by the golf cart, his fingers laced precisely around the grip of his driver. His thick, well-groomed hair was perfectly kept in place. Wide shoulders and thick arms stretched the red polo shirt neatly tucked into his creased slacks, the collar buttoned up to the throat, hiding an old tracheotomy scar.

President Lane wanted Myers to meet with Ito, but Ito needed her to meet Tanaka, his most powerful political ally and a member of his cabinet. Tanaka was not only a member of Japan’s House of Representatives but also the parliamentary senior vice minister of foreign affairs. Whatever Myers and Lane had in mind, Ito knew Tanaka would eventually play a key role.

“Madame President was one of the most interesting presidents the Americans have ever had.” Tanaka allowed himself the slightest smile. “You’re even more popular since leaving office than when you were in it, despite your low profile. Perhaps your popularity is because your reforms proved to be the correct ones?” Tanaka’s English was Oxford accented owing to a study-abroad program he had participated in during his university days.

“The budget freeze was the most important reform I put in place. Congress still has yet to pass a true balanced-budget amendment, but neither presidents Greyhill nor Lane nor Congress has dared undo it.”

“Amending constitutions is a difficult task, but sometimes necessary, especially when they are horribly outdated, don’t you agree?”

Tanaka seemed pleased with himself. Myers had been briefed about him. In addition to his elected office, he also led the study group that wrote proposed legislation to change the Japanese Constitution to permit remilitarization of its purely defensive forces and change the strategic mission of the JSDF. Article 9, like the rest of the Japanese Constitution, had been imposed upon Japan by the United States after the war and technically forbade the Japanese from ever going to war to settle disputes or even maintain a navy, army, or air force. Recent “reinterpretations” of Article 9 loosened up some of the restrictions, but Ito and Tanaka were determined to rescind Article 9 altogether.

“It depends on the amendment, of course,” Myers said. “The balanced-budget amendment remains a popular idea with the people, but the lobbyists are still too strong to allow the Congress to act.”

“Of course, your ‘no new boots on the ground’ reform was also very popular. It seems isolationism is the majority sentiment in America these days. I wonder if your country will someday add its own Article 9 to your Constitution?” Tanaka grinned beneath his aviators. “After all, Article 9 is an American idea.”

“Mr. Tanaka, I assure you, the United States does not want to impose its will on you in these matters.”

“But it already has.”

“President Lane only wants to offer his assurances and advice. We don’t want the current tensions to escalate into a full-blown war with the Chinese, and neither do you. But aggressively expanding your conventional fighting capabilities is more likely to lead to war than prevent it.”

“And so you would suggest we simply give in to Chinese demands? Let them make their false claims on the Senkakus?” Tanaka was referring to the leaked drone video of the Chinese stele ceremony. It made national news. Myers had seen it privately but was stunned to also see it on airport television screens after she landed. The Japanese public was livid.

“Chinese expansion must be contained. But President Lane believes there might be a third way.”

“And if he’s wrong?”

“Katsu! Didn’t I just say that a good politician doesn’t come right out and speak his mind? Please, no more politics. It will ruin our golf game.” Ito shook his head, feigning disgust, but he and Tanaka were close political allies and friends. The two of them had forged a strong prodefense coalition that helped their party regain control of both houses of the Diet. Until recently, the majority of the Japanese population opposed remilitarization, but recent Chinese aggression had dramatically changed the political climate.

Tanaka laughed. “That’s why you’re the prime minister and I’m only a lowly legislator. I was never good at subtleties. Forgive me, Madame President.”

“What’s there to forgive? We’re all friends here. You both know I’m also friends with President Lane, and not to be too subtle about it, he wants you to know that he stands committed to honoring our mutual-defense treaties and that we will stand with you in the face of any aggression.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Ito said. “President Lane said the same thing to me in our phone call last month. It would be helpful if he would make that announcement publicly or at least on Chinese national television.” He laughed at his own joke as he addressed the ball again.

His grip tightened. The club turned. The ball cracked against the metal face and rocketed toward the fairway. It landed a yard behind Myers’s tee shot.

“The wind must have caught it,” Myers said. She found that male egos were more fragile on the golf course than just about anywhere else, especially when playing against women golfers. Good manners normally required that Ito and Tanaka allow their esteemed guest to win the round, but Myers and Ito had long since killed that custom on the fairways and putting greens in Colorado.

“The ocean winds around here are very problematic. But the truth is, I just missed the shot.” Ito laughed. “Or perhaps I should have let you hit the ball for me instead?” He pointed at his ball in the fairway. “But at least it’s safe, isn’t it? That’s the important thing.” The prime minister picked up his tee.

“Yes, it is. That’s why your plan to build a larger, more powerful navy isn’t in your best interest.”

“How does having a more powerful fleet make us less safe?” Tanaka asked. He lit a Marlboro.

“You know it will raise tensions all over Asia, especially with the Chinese. At best, you’ll provoke an arms race. The Chinese will match you ship for ship.”

Tanaka grunted. “Tensions, Madame President? The Chinese are always tense. It’s in their blood. They were tense when they started the First Sino-Japanese War in 1894. They became even more tense when we defeated them.” He took a long draw on his cigarette. “We haven’t built a navy since 1945, and yet, they are engaged in a massive shipbuilding program despite our lack of naval assets. We only spend one percent of our GDP on defense, less than Bangladesh and Burkina Faso in percentage terms. Simple observation leads to only one possible conclusion. China is the only threat to the region, and it is the Chinese who are raising tensions now, not us. And if you don’t mind my saying, a lack of U.S. leadership in the region isn’t helping to lower tensions, either.”

Myers bit her tongue. She didn’t need a history lesson or a lecture on the current state of affairs. When she was president, she read her Presidential Daily Brief first thing every morning before she sat through the oral presentation with her security team, peppering them with questions. She remained well versed in global politics and, by extension, history. But her mission over the next few days was to win over Ito and Tanaka, not assuage her own ego. “The Chinese naval buildup is a response, in part, to their concern about our navy, which safeguards Japan and all of our other allies in the region.”

Tanaka blew out a cloud of smoke. The breeze whisked it away. “And yet, even as the Chinese expand their navy, your government is cutting back on its ships and crews to pre — World War Two levels. And, of course, Beijing’s good friends, the North Koreans, just acquired their first MIRV. With just that one missile, they could obliterate our largest cities within minutes of launch.”

Myers had read the reports. The CIA believed the North Koreans were deploying the third-generation Chinese-designed DF-41, a MIRV missile with up to ten independently targeted nuclear warheads. That same missile could reach the continental United States as well. Whether the Chinese gave it to them or the North Koreans stole it through their own formidable cyberspying program was still being debated.

The former American president glanced over at her friend Ito, hoping that he would reel in Tanaka, who was pouring it on pretty thick. But Ito’s mischievous smile told her that this was a deliberate game of good cop, bad cop.

Tanaka continued. “With all due respect, some of us fear that America is no longer committed to our security. But our enemies remain totally committed to our humiliation, if not our destruction. We want peace.”

“As do we,” Myers said.

“We can hope our enemies will give it to us or trust you’ll never fail us. Or we can rely on ourselves. I believe the motto of the British Royal Navy is ‘Si vis pacem, para bellum.’ When Japan is allowed to have its own navy again, it should adopt the same motto.”

“Which means?” Ito asked.

“‘If you want peace, prepare for war,’” Myers answered.

Tanaka grinned. “Yes. A most remarkable president.”

Ito nodded. “Besides the security issue, Margaret, the truth of the matter is that building more ships will be good for our stagnant economy. You had your TARP and your quantitative easing to get you out of harm’s way in 2008. A naval rearmament program will be a huge stimulus for us.”

Tanaka adjusted the glove on his hand. “Don’t forget, we’ve been struggling for twenty years since our financial crisis. We call them the Lost Decades. And if you don’t mind my saying, a great deal of your economic activity is centered around defense spending. Why shouldn’t we be allowed to create jobs for our people in the same way as well?” He flicked his cigarette away and marched over to the tee box.

Myers knew Tanaka was right. The Japanese stock market had fallen much farther and harder in 1990 than the U.S. stock market had in 2008, and they still hadn’t fully recovered; in fact, the Nikkei had begun contracting again recently. It was also true that tens of thousands of Americans were employed in high-paying defense-related jobs. That was one of the reasons the budget freeze had caused so many political headaches. In many cases, defense spending really was just another hidden form of welfare spending. Too many unnecessary military bases and weapons systems were still funded because congressmen feared losing their jobs to angry unemployed defense workers voting their pocketbooks. Of course, the purpose of the budget freeze was to weed out the unnecessary spending. Unfortunately, Congress still too often cut the most important programs in favor of the pork barrel projects that kept them reelected.

“Do you understand the significance of the drone video?” Ito asked Myers, as he stood next to her, watching Tanaka. “We have always been willing to share the undersea resources with China. They are the ones who want it exclusively.” He grunted. “Typical of them.” Ito distrusted all other Asians, especially the Chinese.

Myers lowered her voice, whispering, as Tanaka addressed his ball. “I’m surprised you allowed that video to be shown. It has only inflamed public opinion and made your negotiating position with the Chinese that much more difficult. That’s not like you.” Myers had a great deal of respect for Ito. Like her, he was a reformer. He wanted to clean up corruption in Japanese politics and even took the unpopular stand with his party to denuclearize Japan after 3/11—the Fukushima nuclear disaster. Even Tanaka opposed Ito’s stance on the nuclear issue.

Ito shrugged. “I didn’t allow it to be shown. Frankly, I thought perhaps your government leaked it. It was your man Pearce on the sub who recorded it.”

“Troy Pearce is completely trustworthy. He would never do such a thing without authorization and, I promise you, President Lane would never do anything to embarrass you or put pressure on your government. You know me. You know I shoot straight.”

Ito gently raised his hand to signal that Tanaka was taking his swing. The club smashed through the ball. It launched into the air like a mortar round and dropped ten yards past Myers’s ball. His longest drive of the day.

“Where did that come from?” Ito burst out laughing. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

Tanaka grinned. “Just lucky.” He picked up his broken tee. “Did I hear the name Pearce?”

“Yes, we were just talking about him.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Tanaka said. “We were scheduled to meet tomorrow, but I was just notified by my office that he had to postpone. Very disappointing.”

“I apologize, Mr. Tanaka. Something terribly important must have come up.” Myers couldn’t imagine what that could be. She and Troy had carefully prepared for tomorrow’s meeting with Tanaka, the most powerful member of Ito’s governing coalition. Two other important guests were also invited. “Mr. Pearce is also a friend of the president, and he would never want to disappoint him or you. I apologize for him on his behalf.”

“I’m sure we can make new arrangements,” Ito offered. “Shall we finish our game?”

“Yes, of course,” Myers said. Tanaka nodded.

Ito laughed. “Good! Because I’m still three strokes ahead, and I intend to win this match. And as you both know, the losers buy the drinks!” Ito signaled to the three female caddies standing discreetly away, dressed in their traditional long-sleeve shirts, pants, and oversize hats, to bring the golf bags. Myers was glad they were allowed to use electric-powered carts to carry their bags over the steep hills. In the old days, Ito told her, the caddies were young women from local farms who hauled the heavy bags over their shoulders like sacks of rice.

Ito threw his driver into his bag as Tanaka wiped the grass off his club head.

Myers glanced out over the idyllic Pacific coastline, lost in the crashing waves.

Where was Pearce?