Honorable Enemies

Chapter 5

The President, followed by his Secretary of State, Bud Tidwell, walked ramrod-straight into the renovated Oval Office and sat down behind his well-organized desk.

The stark difference between weekday and weekend Washington was clearly evident this morning. The cars and buses that choked the avenues were in sharp contrast to the empty parking lots and deserted streets of the weekend. The working citizenry of the nation's capital were flooding into the heart of the metropolitan area from all their widely scattered suburban homes.

"Okay," the portly Commander in Chief declared, "we've got to get a handle on this situation. The Japanese people need reassurances that we'll find and prosecute the person, or persons, responsible for attacking the tour boat at Pearl."

Tidwell nodded his agreement.

"By the same token," the President went on, "we expect them to show a sense of urgency in pursuing the sonsabitches who killed the retirees in Osaka. It's hard to believe that the Chukaku-Ha is still operating after they launched incendiary projectiles at the Imperial Palace and fired rocket bombs at the Narita Airport.

"What kind of idiots run their police force?" the President blurted. "They should have cleaned out the terrorists years ago."

Tidwell sat down in one of the three chairs that had been arranged in front of the cherrywood desk. The Japanese Ambassador and a special envoy, who normally dealt with the U. S. Ambassador to Japan and the Under Secretary of State, were waiting to meet with the President and his Secretary of State.

The American Ambassador, who was considered a has-been figurehead by many members of the Administration, had suddenly fallen ill and was recuperating during an extended leave of absence.

"I agree about taking a strong stance where the terrorist group is concerned," Tidwell replied in his usual confident tone, "but I would like to cover a few unrelated issues before we speak with the Ambassador."

"This ongoing flap about the trade issues?" the President shot back with a disgusted look.

"I'm afraid so," Tidwell lamented, "and the continuing plutonium shipments from France."

Robert S. "Bud" Tidwell was a consummate statesman who believed in a no-nonsense approach when dealing with foreign governments. "We need to talk about those problems, and the information and telecommunications infringement on the previous agreements we signed."

Tidwell removed his spectacles and allowed his shoulders to sag. "You've gotta know the lights in the Kasumigaseki district have been burning through the nights while their leaders are doing the same thing we're doing… debating the next steps to take in this latest standoff."

"I'm sure you're right, Bud," the President said emphatically. "Both sides are eventually going to have to face these things head-on."

He swiveled in his chair to look outside, then turned back to Tidwell. "However, the incidents at Pearl and Osaka have ripped open some deep wounds from the past, and the prevailing mood has the potential to set off a series of major international confrontations."

"No question about it," Tidwell cautioned and took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "We're sitting on a giantpowder keg, and I think it's time we push for a summit."

"Bud" the President smiled approvingly—"I was thinking the same thing. These guys have continued to stonewall under the guise of political revolution. I thinks it's time to call their bluff."

A rare smile creased Tidwell's face. "This is an excellent time to bring up a summit."

"As good as any," the President replied firmly. He glanced at his daily appointment schedule lying on the middle of the desk, then moved it aside and thought for a moment. "What's the current situation?"

"Not good, I'm afraid."

Tidwell opened his flat carrying case and retrieved two pieces of paper. "We have received an avalanche of reports about the violent anti-American protests in many cities in Japan, and we're seeing a groundswell of Japan-bashing beginning to take shape in some of our larger cities, especially in California. The media has seized on the attacks and it's the current hot topic on the talk shows."

The seasoned statesman, who often soothed the bruised egos of those individuals who crossed swords with the President, slid the papers back into his portfolio.

"Sir, these protests and racial clashes are becoming a firestorm that is feeding on itself while the goddamn media fan the flames."

"We can always count on the media vultures," the President said with a touch of sarcasm, "to take a bad situation and make it worse."

"They're all falling over each other trying to compete," Tidwell offered.

The President paused to sort through his options. "Bud, we need to stop the violence before we tackle the other problems with Japan. If we allow this situation to get out of control, it could really hurt us domestically."

"That's true." Tidwell nodded. "We've got to get a grip on things or we'll be dead in the water. I just received confirmation of three drive-by shootings in L. A.'s Little Tokyo district.

"Four Japanese-Americans are dead," Tidwell went on sadly, "and three others are in critical condition. People are canceling athletic and entertainment events because of the potential for outbreaks of racial violence."

The President, who was convinced that relations with the Japanese would only become more acrimonious, didn't want to continue the discussion. "Bud, let's talk about our options during the Cabinet meeting, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Right now," the President went on with undisguised irritation, "I want to get this game of posturing with the Japanese out of the way."

Tidwell quietly acknowledged the statement while the President touched the button that signaled his staff assistant in the reception room. Less than half a minute later the administrative aide escorted the two Japanese diplomats into the Oval Office.

FBI Special Agent Susan Nakamura glanced at her watch as she drove her white Toyota Camry southwest on Market Street. After working all night on the latest information about the Pearl Harbor attack, Susan was running late for her flight to Honolulu.

She reached forward and selected an easy-listening FM station as she neared Golden Gate Avenue. A few moments later she saw a large crowd of people moving into the street near the Civic Center.

She began to slow down when she saw the flashing lights from four police cars approaching from the opposite direction. Another anti-Japanese demonstration was forming.

The traff slowed to a crawl as the mob of angry Caucasians charged a group of young Japanese protesters.

Susan was attempting to turn around when she saw an assortment of bottles, sticks, rocks, and other debris fly through the air. Heavily outnumbered, the Japanese were defenseless as the police began to fire tear gas into the unruly crowd.

Blocked in front and back by other cars, Susan sat helpless as the enraged mob broke and ran in her direction. She made sure her windows were up and the doors were locked, then reached for the 10-millimeter Smith & Wesson in her purse.

Two scraggly men who appeared to be drunk stopped by the hood of her car.

Susan stared straight at them and slid her weapon next to her leg. "Move on and do yourself a favor," she said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, looky here," laughed a skinny man with a birthmark on his face. "We got us a stinkin' Jap bitch drivin' a Japmobile."

"Yeah, man," his pal chuckled and put his hands on the hood and leaned forward. "Hey, bitch, how about doin' us both for the price of one?"

Susan's temper flared and she gripped the Smith & Wesson with a renewed strength. "You morons."

The man with the birthmark reared back and kicked the left front fender as hard as he could, almost losing his balance. "Whad'ya think about that, Tokyo Rose?"

Susan flipped her badge on the dashboard where they could be sure to see it, then gripped her weapon with both hands and slowly raised it above the steering wheel.

"Shit, man!" birthmark exclaimed. "A fuckin' cop!"

Both of the vagrants ran through the traffic and disappeared into the crowd east of the Civic Center.

After the adrenaline shock wore off, Susan's heartbeat finally slowed to normal as she continued toward the airport. She turned the radio off and thought about the escalating conflict between the Japanese and the Americans.

Ambassador Koji Hagura was a short, rubbery-faced man who epitomized the etiquette of the Japanese lifestyle and ancient traditions. Always the polite gentleman, Hagura never directly contradicted anyone. Instead, he would go out of his way to find an indirect and conciliatory way to express his view.

Educated at Boston College and Stanford, Hagura would occasionally smile at a particularly amusing story or joke, but he never laughed in front of the Americans. His mission was serious, and he was a proud man who relished being the Japanese Ambassador.

Special Envoy Yamagata Isoroku was a younger and thinner version of the Ambassador. He had adopted many of Hagura's mannerisms, but not the stiff, formal public face. Isoroku was very active in the Washington diplomatic social circles. He enjoyed the less-pretentious social style of the Americans, and he had quite a reputation as a raconteur of anecdotes after a couple of stiff martinis.

Although Isoroku often grew impatient with the Americans, whom he considered short-term thinkers, he kept his feelings to himself. Like Hagura, Isoroku believed that any sign of impatience, or any display of irritation, would be regarded as a loss of face.

After they entered the impressive office, Hagura and Isoroku stopped and bowed.

The President and his Secretary of State, who were standing beside the desk, returned the polite gesture with bows that were almost imperceptible.

Although the Japanese occasionally shake hands, especially to save face when an unknowing Westerner thrusts out a paw, shaking hands remains for them an unusual and uncomfortable personal experience.

The President motioned for his guests to have a seat while Tidwell sat to one side.

"Gentlemen," the President began slowly while he seated himself, "we offer you and the Japanese people our deepest sympathy for the unconscionable incident in Hawaii."

He specifically avoided using the words Pearl Harbor. "Let me assure you that we're doing everything in our power to bring to justice the person who committed the heinous act."

The President looked straight into the Ambassador's widely set, soft brown eyes. He could see the sincere pain in Hagura's demeanor.

"It was a cowardly act, and we are using every resource available to find and apprehend the person who committed this abominable crime."

Koji Hagura's usual air of self-assurance had been replaced with a rather bland, expressionless look. He waited a proper amount of time before he delivered the short speech he had practiced for the past two hours.

"Mr. President," he said at last, "we sincerely appreciate your kind words and thoughts. On behalf of Prime Minister Koyama and the Japanese people, I offer our humble apologies for the regretable terrorist attack in Osaka."

Yamagata Isoroku lowered his dark eyes and nodded in agreement. They were honestly embarrassed by the brutal reprisal, and fervently hoped the authorities in the National Police Agency would soon track down the culprits of the grisly mass murder.

"I have been authorized," Ambassador Hagura continued with genuine compassion, "to offer a sizable amount of financial compensation to the families of the victims."

The President darted a look at his longtime friend. Tidwell gave him a slight nod. Hagura was going out on a diplomatic limb. If the tender was rejected, Koji Hagura would lose face and the refusal would further arouse resentment between the two feuding governments.

"Secretary Tidwell," the President advised gracefully while he fixed them with a stare, "will be happy to assist you in any way he can."

Before Hagura could respond, the President continued in a pleasant manner, sensing the suffering of the two men. "I know this is a painful time for all of us, but I need to discuss a few items unrelated to terrorist activities."

Seasoned diplomatic veterans, Hagura and Isoroku steeled themselves and mentally reviewed their standard replies to the standard complaints from the Americans.

"We have become concerned," the President said firmly, "about the insidious and continuing deterioration in the relationship between our countries."

He paused to allow time for the two diplomats to adjust to the sudden change in topics.

"We admire your efforts toward self-sufficiency," the President admitted with just the right amount of enthusiasm, "but the continued expansionism in the areas of strategic industries, especially nuclear, aerospace, and particularly the area of conventional weapons, has become alarming."

The President knew that many countries, including some U. S. allies, were deeply distressed by the ever-growing Japanese Self-Defense Force, known as Jieitai. Many U. S. military leaders, including the Joint Chiefs of Staff, regarded Japan as a mushrooming military power.

"Mr. President," Hagura said dryly while he attempted to keep his neck muscles from tightening, "strategic endeavors and military matters are not my area of expertise."

The President allowed a tiny grin to cross his face, then demonstrated some of his finely honed political skills.

"Ambassador Hagura" — he smiled, revealing his even white teeth—"I'm a straightforward guy who likes to cut through the obscurations. I like everyone to just throw it on the table, out in the open, so we can discuss our problems until we reach an agreement, then implement the plan and stick to our decision."

The President had his prey cornered. "Don't you think that's the best way to iron out our differences?"

Hagura. maintained his composure and simultaneously nodded his head and lowered his eyelids. He was aware of the American's reputation for coming across as a simple, down-home country boy and then nailing his adversaries to the wall. The intelligent, well-educated President was a formidable challenge, and Hagura was always on guard.

"We've had all kinds of meetings, assemblies, come-togethers, diplomatic exchanges, and days and weeks and months of endless discussions," the President declared and slowed his delivery. "And we're still not out of the starting blocks."

The Ambassador cleared his throat. "I assure you that our government would be pleased to open channels of communication if you wish to address certain specifics."

Concealing his frustration, the President caught Tidwell's look of concern. "Ambassador Hagura, since you're the direct link to Tokyo, how about arranging a personal meeting between the Prime Minister and myself — say in Lake Tahoe, or here if he so desires — in ten to twenty days? I know it's short notice, and I know your country has major political changes taking place, but I believe you would agree that time is of the essence."

Hagura and Isoroku were clearly uncomfortable with the suddenness of the suggestion.

The new Prime Minister didn't like the American President, and he had made that point crystal clear in front of Japan's leaders of industry as well as the bureaucrats who operated the government.

As a rising political power, Genshiro Koyama had also been extremely vocal to the previous Diet, Japan's former members of parliament. As a result of the concern generated in the legislature, a small number of the senior and more courageous members of the House of Representatives, the lower house, known as Shugiin, and the House of Councillors, Japan's upper house, known as Sangiin, had attempted to soothe Koyama's temper, but to no avail. He couldn't ignore the way the American government had led them on about the possibility of Japan building a next-generation FSX jet fighter independent of the United States.

When a wave of uneasiness about giving away sensitive technology swept the U. S., Japan had bowed to American pressure and agreed to codevelop the sophisticated warplane.

Genshiro Koyama, who at the time of the incident had been a front-running candidate for prime minister, had been one of the most staunch supporters for codeveloping the FSX. He fervently believed that Japan needed the advanced technology, no matter the cost to nationalist egos.

After successfully lobbying members of the Diet's lower house to go along with the proposal, Koyama had been deeply embarrassed when Congress pulled the rug out from under a hapless Japan.

Fearing a hostile reaction from their constituents, who were apprehensive about relinquishing the aerospace technology, Congress had initially killed the proposal.

After Genshiro Koyama had been politically humiliated, the FSX project had finally been resurrected and approved. The net result was a late start with a price almost twice the initial budgeted cost.

Ambassador Hagura studied the President's expression, then spoke in a quiet, measured voice. "We will be happy to convey your desire to the Prime Minister."

"I'll be looking forward to hearing from you." The President rose from his chair.

The surprised diplomats quickly rose to their feet. There was no doubt when a meeting with this President was. Over.

Koji Hagura maintained his serene composure. "Thank you, Mr. President. I will be in touch with you as soon as I have an answer."

The President forced a conciliatory smile. "We appreciate your cooperation, and I assure you that we will leave no stone unturned until we find the person who attacked the cruise ship in Hawaii."

The President turned to Tidwell. "Bud, would you mind escorting our guests out? And set a time for your staff to meet with them."

"Yes, sir," Tidwell replied and made a small gesture toward the entrance to the Oval Office. "Gentlemen."

The two men graciously bowed to the President and quietly followed the Secretary of State to the reception room.

The President reached for his fountain pen, then wrote himself a reminder to call the families of the California retirees who had been killed in the Osaka massacre.