The Third World War: A Terrifying Novel of Global Conflict

51

The Japanese Prime Minister's limousine, too low slung for the terrain, churned freezing slush underneath its chassis as it turned through the open gate of the high-wired security fence. Four-wheel-drive tyre tracks had hewn intricate patterns into the snow, hardened by weeks of cold. As the vehicle stopped, Sato lowered his window, and a red carpet was rolled out. The atmosphere in this cordoned-off, secret area was strangely unceremonial. Sato stepped on to the carpet and waited for his Defence Minister, Kenijiro Yamada, and Kiyoko to join him.

There could never have been any other way, thought Sato. If Japan was to break free of its Second World War defeat, it would have to embrace nuclear weapons. Being a victim of them was not an excuse not to possess them. At some stage, whether now or half a century on, Japan would no longer be protected by America, and she would have to stand up to China as an equal.

A delegation of scientists, their hands white-gloved, their breath creating a cloud around them, stood in a greeting line. Sato, Yamada and Kiyoko were led into a concrete bunker. Inside, they were confronted with a row of marker lights, dropping in a steep descent. The ceiling gradually became lower, but the corridor widened into a functional steel-walled passageway with hatch-like doors off the sides, as if on a warship. Gauges displayed the air pressure inside the rooms.

Yamada fell into step beside Sato. 'We are using 1.4 kilograms of plutonium,' he explained. 'It will yield a 14-kiloton explosion, which is exactly the strength of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. The shock wave will be contained within the Earth's crust.'

Sato nodded. He turned as he walked. Kiyoko quickened her pace and handed him two sheets of paper. One contained the text of his short announcement, the other, the agreed questions and answers for the NHK television crew accredited to the event.

'Ken,' said Sato. 'As soon as we've done this, I will call Jim West. And you must speak to Chris Pierce. Tell him the Harushio-class submarines are deployed — one in the Pacific and one in the Sea of Japan, and that they are nuclear-armed.'

Yamada's face was impassive. Computer simulation was now so sophisticated that nuclear testing was merely a cosmetic act of muscle flexing.

'But what should we do about Oak Ridge?' continued Sato.

Yamada stopped walking and turned to his Prime Minister with a frown. 'Do you mean shall we reveal it?' asked Yamada.

'I am thinking,' said Sato.

'Sir,' whispered Kiyoko, tilting her head at a line of scientists behind them. Briefly Sato and Yamada edged against the wall to let them through.

'When asked before, we have denied it,' said Yamada, once they were out of earshot. 'Do we admit to lying?'

Sato shook his head. 'No, Yamada-san. In order to obtain results, one can choose from many layers of revelation. But the argument is compelling. In the 1980s, when the Soviet Union was a major threat to the stability of the Pacific, the United States exported its nuclear technology and hardware to Japan. The United States understood that — at some stage — America's monopoly on security in this region would have to end, probably because of a challenge from an unfriendly power with whom it did not want to fight. Whether we see that as North Korea or China, the truth is that moment has now arrived.'

'Cited in a memo from the National Security Council in Washington on 8 December 1983 to our Cabinet Research Office,' added Kiyoko.

'Thank you,' said Sato gently. 'Your detail is impressive, and the date significant. Congress banned the United States' own fast breeder reactor programme in 1983, while we were developing ours at Oarai and later at Monju. The Americans needed us to go ahead with it in order to keep up with their own research.'

'Hence the Oak Ridge decision,' said Yamada.

'Exactly,' agreed Sato.

'This collaboration will allow the United States to maintain a core of expertise—' cited Kiyoko. 'The Oak Ridge National Laboratory Review confidential email in August 1987.'

'The purpose was simply to allow Japan to acquire nuclear weapons before either India or Paksitan declared their own, or before China attempted to test its military resolve. So far, the plan has mostly worked perfectly, and the logic is solid.'

Sato breathed deeply, while Kiyoko brushed his lapels and straightened his tie. 'Do those sound like the words of an elder statesman,' she said with a smile.

Kiyoko moved back, her lips pursed in concentration. She stepped forward again, unbuttoned Sato's coat, slid it off his shoulders and held it up for collection while one of the staff hurried forward to take it. She straightened his jacket. 'Better. Much better,' she murmured, turning to Yamada. 'You, too, Yamada-san. You must both be impervious to the weather.'

'Let's see how Jim West reacts,' said Sato, moving forward again. 'If it gets nasty, we'll Oak Ridge him.' He chuckled at his westernized use of language. He slowed as he rounded the corridor. The flickering orange and red lights of the control room appeared in front of him. He glanced across at Kiyoko and saw that her eyes were apprehensive and excited like those of a child. The wind tunnel created by the pressurized ventilation blew a scrap of paper along the concrete floor. Yamada caught it with his foot, bent down to look at it, was uninterested and handed it to one of the staff. Sato detected something in his manner which while composed also indicated an unsolved problem. Both men knew that the television pictures of Yamada by Sato's side would be the sign that the younger man was being handed the mantle of leadership. Yet, as defence minister, he was about to preside over an action that could pit his nation against both Russia and China.

'Don't worry,' said Sato, reasserting his confidence. 'Jim West will act bruised but he will be relieved. Better to have a well-armed ally than a eunuch.' He handed his documents to Kiyoko and put his hand on Yamada's shoulder. A television camera spotlight hit their faces as they entered the control room together. Technicians, working in a horseshoe at their terminals, stood up, bowed briefly, then returned to their workstations. The television camera stayed focused on the faces of the politicians. Another covered the floor of the control centre. A third simply stayed on the countdown which began at 30 seconds.

On the stroke of zero, down a shaft deep in the ground on an uninhabited military-controlled island fifty miles away, the plutonium atom was split. Seismographs in Lop Nor in China, in Russia, in Australia and on Wake Island in the Pacific picked up the shock waves.

Sato unfolded his brief statement and turned to the television camera. 'Reluctantly and with much thought, Japan has just conducted a limited underground nuclear test. We made the decision as a direct result of the recent hostilities carried out by North Korea. These included a missile attack on the the US airbase at Yokata, near Tokyo, and the long-range missile launch into the Pacific, after which the American navy detected a biological weapons virus. Under such circumstances, I concluded that it would be unreasonable for Japan — a wealthy and sophisticated nation — to continue to rely on the United States for our security.'

Up until now, Sato had been looking professionally into the camera and reading off the autocue set up for him. Briefly, he looked away and cast his eyes first at some distant point beyond the camera, then down to the ground and finally back into the lens, but with a completely different expression. He had transformed himself from detached politician into an old man, vulnerable, squinting with myopic eyes and uncertain of himself.

'Japan is frightened,' he said. 'Yes, we have done bad things in the past. But it was long ago. I was barely a child then and now I am at the end of my years. We are sad and frightened when we see what happened in Delhi. We are frightened that missiles are fired over our country and we can do nothing about it, because our ancestors were butchers. But we are not butchers. We have shown how as an American ally we can become a benevolent, economically successful Asian democracy.'

Then, as if by sleight of hand, the master politician refitted his mask: not vulnerable at all, a national leader who was determined that his words would be a legacy for the history books.

'And to my friend President West, to Prime Minister Nolan, to President Song and President Kozlov, to Prime Minister Mehta and to all our allies around the world, I have this to say. The events of recent times have amply demonstrated what we have all known for some time. That the days of America fighting wars to protect far-flung places are over. You have made your sacrifices, you have safeguarded this region while we have been able to grow strong and rich. But there comes a time when we have to bid our foster parents farewell and stand on our own. It is up to us to show our maturity.'