Honorable Enemies

Chapter 28

Bud Tidwell felt exuberant after his whirlwind trip to gain support for the Administration's position toward Japan. The only opposition had surfaced in France, and the Secretary of State had diplomatically twisted some arms to obtain the backing of the less-than-comfortable French government.

However, Tidwell's expectations for resolving the dispute with Japan had become abysmal after he spoke to the members of the United Nations Security Council. The coalition of permanent and nonpermanent members was not willing to immediately address the maintenance of international peace and security.

He thought about the preamble to the United Nations Charter while he walked to the room reserved for the U. S. Secretary of State. The introduction to the formal document declares that the representatives of the United Nations are determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war.

Nice verbiage, Tidwell thought when he entered the suite, but no one wants to play their hand when big money and massive power are at stake.

Chief of Staff Scott Eaglehoff, whom the President asked to accompany Tidwell to New York, was waiting impatiently in the room. While Bud Tidwell coped with the reluctant Security Council, Eaglehoff was busy making final arrangements for the trip to Anchorage. He was also lobbying select members of the General Assembly for their support on behalf of the United States.

Eaglehoff saw the look of deep concern etched in Tidwell's face. "How'd it go?"

The Secretary of State loosened his tie and opened his collar before he sat down and sighed. "In a nutshell, not so good. The Chinese are extremely concerned about their most-favorednation trade status, or being slapped with more human rights conditions, so they've gone straight into their normal ostrich position."

Eaglehoff in turn loosened his tie and adjusted his collar. "What's the position of the Japanese member?"

"Surprisingly, he hasn't said much thus far," Tidwell answered, "but there's something mighty strange blowing in the wind."

"Oh?"

"I can't remember his name—"

"Fukushima," Eaglehoff prompted.

"Yeah, that's the guy."

Eaglehoff remembered an exchange with Fukushima when they met during a trade show reception at the Four Seasons Resort at Wailea, Maui. "He's a smooth operator."

"At any rate," Tidwell paused, "he stays glued to one topic, and that's the parent-child relationship we've had with Japan since the occupation after World War Two. However, there's something much bigger under the surface."

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure," Tidwell grumbled, "but he's obviously been ordered to mindlessly repeat the same message."

"So you think at Anchorage they're going to tell us to kiss their asses and they don't want it to come as a complete surprise?"

Tidwell glanced at his close friend. "I wouldn't doubt it, and they've got a lot of monetary and military power to back up a stand against us."

Eaglehoff shrugged. "Who knows? They may have finally developed enough backbone to cut the ties with the parent, as Fukushima refers to us."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Tidwell warned, "not for a second." "What's your plan," Eaglehoff asked, "if the Security Council won't take steps to pave the way to Alaska?"

Tidwell laced his fingers, turned his hands backwards, then stretched his arms and hands. "Use the Uniting for Peace Resolution and play some hardball with these weenies."

The statement elicited a crooked smile from the Chief of Staff, but he didn't interrupt his friend.

"Which means," Tidwell continued, "that if the Security Council, because of a lack of unanimity of the permanent members, fails to exercise its primary responsibility, the Peace Resolution provides an avenue for the General Assembly to immediately consider the issue."

Eaglehoff gave him a skeptical look. "Do you really believe they'd do anything, since we're talking about the U. S. and Japan? This isn't Bosnia or Somalia… where they can put up a smoke screen and howl in protest."

"If it seems like a threat to the peace," Tidwell answered slowly while he contemplated the options of the General Assembly, "which the Japanese feud with us certainly does, or an act of aggression, which it isn't yet, the General Assembly should invoke the clearly stipulated obligation to do something to correct the problem, including the use of armed force."

Tidwell looked at Eaglehoff and chuckled self-consciously. "End of lecture."

Eaglehoff didn't appear to be convinced. "You're right about one thing: when you deal with the General Assembly marshmallows, one of the key words is should."

"Scott, if we take this to the edge," Tidwell continued in a pleasant tone, "it will force the U. N. to establish a Peace Observation Commission to observe and report on our situation. By definition, the current circumstances — international tension that is likely to endanger global peace and security — is exactly what the commission was designed to deal with."

Eaglehoff thought about all the ships crowding the Strait of Malacca. "It would definitely buy us some time to work with the Japanese on a one-on-one basis without having everyone label us bullies."

"True." Tidwell cracked a smile. "And you know how slow a commission moves."

The telephone rang and Scott Eaglehoff answered it, then handed it to Tidwell. "It's someone from your staff." The recently installed phone was connected to the White House switchboard.

"Thanks."

Eaglehoff watched his friend's face turn crimson. Whatever the problem was, the news wasn't good.

"Patch me through to him," Tidwell blurted and cupped the receiver. "We've already got a problem with the Anchorage team — my understudy is being his usual asinine self."

The Chief of Staff listened to only one side of the brief conversation, but there was no doubt about the outcome. Bud Tidwell, the consummate statesman, was a firm, calm man most of the time — but this was not one of those times. The experienced academic and political expert, who normally exercised leadership with a great deal of self-discipline, was enraged at the man who had been forced on his staff.

"I'd fire that pompous ass," Tidwell said curtly after he terminated the call, "if the President didn't owe him a political favor."

Eaglehoff wasn't fond of the Under Secretary of State either, but he kept his thoughts to himself while the White House operator connected Tidwell with the Japanese Ambassador.

When he heard Koji Hagura's voice, Tidwell tried to sound pleasant.

"Ambassador Hagura, Secretary Tidwell," he announced lightly. "I deeply apologize for the misunderstanding with Envoy Isoroku, and I assure you that we will fully cooperate with your advance team in Anchorage."

After the brief conversation, he placed the receiver down and turned to Eaglehoff. "I'm already extinguishing fires in Anchorage — and the meetings haven't even started."

Promptly at 11:30 A. M., Steve parked the rental car in a position to view the main entrance to the Port of Singapore Authority building. He placed a Tiger Beep windshield sunscreen over the dashboard and checked his Beretta, then glanced in the rearview mirror and studied the area around the building.

Alternately looking at his wristwatch and peeking through two small holes he had punched in the sunscreen, Wickham grew more apprehensive as noon approached. With each sweep of the second hand, his anxiety rose to match his doubts about whether or not this whole thing was such a good idea.

His thoughts turned to Susan and he wondered what was happening at the Hyatt Regency. In an effort to avoid a one-on-one confrontation if the stalker appeared at the hotel, Susan and Steve had enlisted the aid of two private security officers. They had also asked two members of the Hyatt management team to monitor the switchboard for any inquiries about the arrival of the American agents.

Steve stretched his arms and legs in an effort to ease his tension, but it merely increased. As the minutes ticked off, he grew more impatient and began to question his own logic about a leak in the FBI or CIA.

At ten minutes after the hour, Wickham decided to enter the building and see if crew cut was inside. He leaned over to grab his sunglasses and Wallaby sun hat, then glanced in the rearview mirror and froze.

"Sonuvabitch'," he said under his breath as his pulse quickened and he felt a fleeting stab of pain from the sudden adrenaline surge.

The Asian with the short haircut and mangled ear had just stopped his rental car twenty meters behind him.

With feelings of outrage about the breach of security at Langley, Steve shifted into survival mode. Did he see me?

Wondering if the stalker was waiting for him to make a play, Wickham eased his Beretta across his lap and flipped the safety to the off position. He couldn't afford to allow his thinking to be clouded by his desire to find the weasel in the Agency. He would have to deal with that later. His sole priority had to focus on defending himself and capturing the hired killer.

He obviously doesn't know I'm here, Steve thought as the hit man cautiously looked around. I'm going-to have to confront him while I have the element of surprise on my side.

Wickham breathed deeply and slowly exhaled. Be aggressive, and if he tries to escape, take him out.

Without a moment's hesitation, Steve shoved the driver's door open and leaped out. He grasped the Beretta with both hands and placed the sight on the driver, then realized he'd made a tactical blunder. The Asian's engine was running and the man had already reacted to the unexpected assault. With the rear tires screeching, crew cut was barreling straight toward Wickham.

Steve took quick aim and squeezed off two shots before he dove back into the front seat of his car. He was scrambling out the passenger-side door when the hit man's car slammed into the open driver's door. The grinding impact tore the door off the car and blew out the left front tire.

Wickham belly-crawled to the front of the badly damaged vehicle and got off one shot before the stalker careened around a corner and vanished.

Shaken by the incident, Steve had calmed down externally by the time the local authorities arrived. He absently went about discussing the incident with the local police while his insides boiled. He vowed to capture or kill his assailant, then find the traitor at Langley and the bastard who was paying for the information.

From behind her concealment near the registration counter, Susan watched Steve walk into the spacious lobby of the Hyatt Regency. She could tell by his impatient stride that something had gone awry.

She rushed out to meet Wickham and gave him a faint smile. "Are you okay?"

"Couldn't be better," he joked feebly.

Her concerned gaze quickly sobered him.

"Susan, our leak is at Langley," he confided with a look of disdain etched on his face. "I'd have to bet that he's in a very senior position. Access to almost anything."

"What happened?" Susan asked and cautiously looked around the hotel lobby.

"He showed up at the Port Authority."

"And…"

"I blew it," Steve said with a disgusted shake of his head. "He's still out there… waiting for us — me — to make another dumbass mistake."

"Steve," Susan began with genuine concern in her voice, "let's arrange for a couple of agents — FBI, CIA, or a combination — to join us as backup."

"Susan, I don't want to run anything through the Agency," he said emphatically. "We've got a spineless weasel locked on to every move we make."

Feeling a little awkward, she sighed and nodded her understanding. "I know you feel rotten and betrayed, and I don't blame you, but we need to get to Tokyo and track down the lead about the insurance company."

"You're right," Steve conceded with a long face. "If you want to bring in more FBI agents, that's fine with me."

"It's the safe thing to do," Susan suggested.

"I know it is. But just one favor, okay?"

"Sure," she replied and hesitated a moment. "If it's within reason.

"I want to personally capture the sonuva bitch who is stalking us," Steve said contemptuously, "and find out who his Agency connection is."

The bright rays from the late-morning sun filtered through the trees as the gleaming Marine helicopter approached the sprawling presidential retreat, then flared for a smooth landing on the helo pad. After the Sikorsky VH-60's main rotor blades began slowing, Scott Eaglehoff hurried from the helo to the President's private quarters.

The Chief of Staff had had a lengthy breakfast meeting with the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of State, the National Security Advisor, the Director of the CIA, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

The President was ending a conference call when Eaglehoff was ushered into the richly appointed study.

"Well, Scott," the President said glumly as he dropped the receiver in its cradle, "our media watchdogs are saying that the proverbial shit is hitting the fan in Japan, and that I'm going to have splatters all over me."

"I'm afraid" — the President's closest adviser grimaced—"that we're going to take some heat, sir."

"No doubt," the President replied with a crooked smile, "but I'm not too concerned. I look forward to getting to Anchorage and facing Koyama, the snide sonuvabitch."

Eaglehoff, known as a two-fisted gunslinger around the Beltway, was disappointed by the President's drift toward a casual, contentious personality. Uncharacteristically low in spirits, Eaglehoff had even thought about tendering his resignation in order to salvage his future prospects in Washington.

"Scott," the President went on and propped his feet on an upholstered footstool, "the stakes are getting higher. I think we've got to take some bold steps if we're going to head off a confrontation in Anchorage and a possible military clash with Japan."

"Sir," Eaglehoff began tentatively, "I recommend that you convene the Cabinet as soon as possible and take a strong stance about the course you wish to pursue. Otherwise no one has any idea which way you want to jump or how far you'll go to force the Japanese to back down."

The President rubbed his temples. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it since I woke up this morning."

Eaglehoff frowned and blew his nose. "We're facing an ominous, challenging situation where our adversary could become unpredictable. Once bloodied, Japan may lash out and ricochet in many directions."

The President tossed the remains of his cheeseburger on the plate. His mood turned dark. "How'd the meeting go this morning? Any worthwhile ideas?"

"We had a productive session," Eaglehoff dutifully reported. "I think we're making progress in understanding how to deal with the Japanese."

The President glanced away. "What's the situation at the moment?" he snorted.

"Not exactly good," Eaglehoff said stiffly, and nervously cracked his knuckles. "There have been a number of bomb threats directed at Japanese and American airlines, the Japanese are fleeing from Oahu and the other Hawaiian islands as fast as JAL can provide flights, there's a tremendous exodus of all races from the Los Angeles area because the Asian protest has turned into an open rebellion, North Korea is rattling swords and flying reconnaissance missions close to Japan, and the Joint Chiefs and Bud Tidwell believe we should immediately withdraw our military forces from Japan and advise U. S. citizens to do likewise."

"Okay. Now tell me the bad news." The President grinned and walked to the liquor cabinet.

Eaglehoff sat in startled silence while he watched the President do something he hadn't seen him do before: drink straight whiskey out of a water glass.