End of Enemies

46

Tanner lay awake and listened to the rain patter against the window. In the distance, a foghorn wailed and faded. He lay in bed for a few more minutes, then threw on his robe and went downstairs to make some coffee. Cup in hand, he poked at the logs in the fireplace until they glowed back to life, then sat down.

He knew the source of his insomnia. After weeks of following the twisted trail left by Ohira, Hiromasa Takagi, and now, unexpectedly, a Jordanian terrorist, an ex-KGB colonel, and a mysterious Arab who was at this minute sailing Tsumago to God knew where carrying God knew what, his brain was screaming, Enough!

His visit to Myers and his retelling of the story to his father had been the proverbial last straw. “That’s amazing,” Henry said as he finished. “Myers sounds like a heck of a guy.”

“He is. In the space of a minute he went from being a nugget XO, to the captain. Hard way to grow up.”

“Tell me again about their stop at the Volcano Islands,” Henry said.

Tanner did so.

“And Myers didn’t know the name of the civilian that came along?”

“No.”

“Did he get a look inside the torpedo room?”

“Not really. He peeked inside, but got shot at for his trouble.”

“Fella sounds like he was a few sandwiches shy of a picnic,” Henry said. “What about the other civilian, the one on the pier? Did Myers get a name?”

Tanner dug through his notes. “Yes. John Staples.”

Henry was barely listening. “Mmm. John Staples, huh?”

The rest of the evening he had been reserved, sitting in his chair and staring at nothing. Briggs knew the look; it was what his mom called his “lost in space look.”

Tanner was going for another cup of coffee when the phone rang. It was Henry. “You, too, Dad?”

“Yeah. Have you got a few minutes?”

He arrived an hour later carrying an armload of books, maps, and a pad full of notes. Tanner poured him a cup of coffee, and they sat down beside the fire. As Henry took a sip, Tanner noticed his hands were shaking. “The story you got from Myers… Do you believe him?”

“Yes. The man spent twenty-two years in the Navy, retired a captain. Decorations, letters of commendation, perfect evals… he was a four-o sailor all the way. Why are you asking?”

“Here, let me show you.”

Henry spread out his books and began talking.

It was almost sunrise when he finished. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking through the clouds. Tanner got up from the table. “Dad, you’re a great researcher; I’ve always thought so. But…”

“But it sounds crazy.”

“Frankly, yes.”

“I know. Listen, I’ve gone over this forward and backward. I’ve checked and cross-checked. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last eight hours.”

“But is it possible? Were there enough—”

“Plenty. That’s what most people don’t know.”

It all made sense, Tanner decided. It bordered on the unbelievable, but there was an underlying logic to the scenario. If his father were right, Dick Mason and the CIA were headed down the wrong track.

“Dad, would you be willing to tell this again to Leland?”

“Sure.” He and Dutcher were long-time fishing companions. “When?”

“Right now.”

By seven A.M., Tanner and his father were sitting in Holystone’s conference room. Henry had just finished recounting his theory. Like Briggs, Dutcher and Oaken were stunned into silence.

Finally Dutcher said, “Henry, I’ve got to tell you: This is the wrong time to be starting a wild-goose chase. Bottom line: How sure are you?”

In all their years as friends, Henry had never seen Leland’s face so grim. It gave him pause, but only for a moment. “Very.”

“Briggs?”

“It all fits.”

That was all Dutcher needed. “Okay. I’ve got some calls to make.”

One call to Mason was all it took to get them invited to the DCI’s meeting with James Talbot. When Mason asked for an explanation, Dutcher said, “It’s best you hear it in person.” By nine, they were walking through the White House’s west entrance.

Bookworm that he was, Henry was overwhelmed. He glanced nervously at the Secret Service agents, then smoothed the front of his cardigan. He whispered to Tanner, “You know, maybe I should have changed—”

“You’re fine, Dad. Just tell it the same way you told me.”

“Maybe you should tell part of it.”

“You know the history better than I do. You’re the one who put the pieces together, not me. You’ll do fine.”

They were ushered into Talbot’s office, which was furnished in muted gold and burgundy. Talbot walked around his desk and greeted each of them in turn. If he was surprised by their presence, he didn’t show it. He shook hands with Henry last.

“Mr. Tanner, I don’t think we’ve met. Since we’ve got two of the Tanner family here, do you mind if I call you Henry?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Dick here tells me you have something that might interest us. Let’s get to it.”

Mason started by detailing Tanner’s and Cahil’s discovery of Stonefish and its tenuous connection to the salvage ship Toshogu. “At that point, they had nothing linking the two except pure conjecture. Out of curiosity, he asked his father for help tracking down the sub’s identity. I’ll let him explain what he found.”

Henry Tanner stood up, walked to the podium, and shuffled his notes. “The account I’m going to give is based on an interview with a retired Navy captain named William Myers as well as several unclassified documents.

“The submarine Briggs found off the coast of Japan was a World War II S-class fleet boat named Stonefish. At the time of her disappearance, she was commanded by Lieutenant Hugh Carpen.

“Navy records, which we now believe to have been falsified, indicate Stonefish was sunk by enemy aircraft near the Bonin Islands on July 30th, 1945. One survivor was reported found: the boat’s executive officer, then Ensign William Myers. Myers has confirmed this story was contrived by the Navy. And now we think we know why.”

Henry spent the next ten minutes recounting the voyage of Stonefish, from her penetration of the antisubmarine nets to her sinking off the coast of Honshu.

“Did Myers explain the purpose of their mission?” asked Talbot.

“No. According to him, there were only two people on board who knew that: Captain Carpen and the civilian.”

“Please continue.”

When Stonefish hit bottom, Myers realized she was badly damaged. They were taking on water in two areas, one of which was the after battery compartment.”

“Gas,” Talbot said quietly.

“Exactly.”

He’s got them, Tanner thought. Like any good history teacher, Henry was a superb storyteller.

“Myers had another problem, however. During the surface attack, the civilian shot and killed one of the crew. Myers ordered the survivors to don their Momsen Lungs and head for the escape trunks. Once they were on their way, he went to check on the civilian. According to Myers, the man refused to leave. With no other choice, Myers put on a Momsen and made his own escape.”

“So this civilian… he’s still down there?” asked Talbot.

Briggs nodded. “Chained to the stanchion. We also found the master-at-arms lying on the wardroom deck, exactly as Myers described.”

“So everybody else got out?”

“They all got out,” said Henry, “but only thirty-eight survived to be picked up by the Japanese.” Henry finished the story with the crew’s imprisonment, torture, and subsequent release following the Japanese surrender. “After spending three weeks in the hospital, Captain Myers returned to active duty and spent the next twenty years as a submariner.”

Talbot said. “This is a fascinating story, but I don’t see how—”

Henry nodded. “I know. I’ve saved that for last.”

He then retold the first part of Myers’s story: the off-loading of torpedoes at the Volcano Islands, the army trucks, and the mysterious “military civilian.”

“As Myers was leaving the boat, he saw Carpen and this man shaking hands. Myers remembered his name: John Staples.”

Both Mason and Talbot looked at him blankly.

“The name doesn’t ring a bell?” asked Henry.

“No, should it?”

“John Staples was a Navy captain during World War II. In 1945, he worked as ordnance coordination officer of the Bomb Delivery Group at Los Alamos. In other words, gentlemen, John Staples was the man responsible for the delivery of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs.”