Just before entering the outskirts of Tokyo the following evening, Kimiko turned down the car radio and glanced at Masters. “We will stop by your hotel and pick up your clothing.”
“I don’t mind staying there. It will be a bit of a shock for Hiroko to have me move in lock, stock and barrel.”
“What is this lock, stock and barrel?”
“Moving into your house completely.”
“Hiroko will understand.”
“After us knowing each other a bit over a week? I doubt it. She may understand our feelings for each other, and perhaps our making love, but moving into your house suggests a rather permanent interpretation of the situation.”
“Oh, Keith,” she said, lamely. “I never thought you might not feel as I do. Please forgive me.”
“Pull over,” he said. When the car had stopped, he took her in his arms. “Listen, Kimiko, back there near the temple I gave you my tie pin.” His eyes twinkled. “I’d be lost without it. I have to protect my interest.” He kissed her warmly. “I don’t know whether that oath we took is legal or not, but I meant it more than if we had signed a dozen certificates and had as many ministers drone it over our heads. I want to live with you, permanently, but I am just wondering if maybe we should do this less suddenly.”
“Oh, Keith,” she said, smiling broadly. She kissed him heartily. “I am such a stupid woman.”
“Easy there. You are talking about the girl I married.”
She started the car again and continued on their way. “You will move in, my dear. Hiroko must understand or she will have to accept it without understanding.”
“How about the rest of your world? Your friends, neighbors?”
She answered in her direct manner. “You are now my world, Keith.”
“That Admiral Kowasachi didn’t eye me like I was part of anyone’s world. Who is he anyway?”
“He is a gentleman I met three years ago. He wanted to purchase some stock I owned in a trucking company. Since then, he has been cultivating a friendship.”
“Maybe he is interested in more than just a friendship.”
“Admiral Kowasachi?” She shook her head. “I am not from his....” she searched for a word....“type of acquaintances.”
“I am not speaking of marriage.”
She said nothing, just concentrated on the road.
“How about it?” he persisted.
“He has suggested a form of relationship.” She was clearly uncomfortable.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I did not expect him to go that far.”
“He’s a rather imposing person. I would think you would be complimented.”
She turned to him. “Keith, the day before I met you, I did not want to become involved in anything but my children and businesses. Something happened to me when you came to my house. Perhaps it is because you are the continuation of Ito. I felt him flowing back into my very being, regardless how you were part of his death. Then I realized even more that you are a very wonderful person. You touched my heart. I do not believe anyone else could have done that.”
She had revealed herself more than was her nature, and it embarrassed her. A thought suddenly struck her. “Keith, I never thought of asking. Do you want to live in Japan?”
He paused to consider it. “I don’t know, Kimiko. I haven’t really thought of it before. I do know that I want to live with you, and I guess one place is as good as the next. I didn’t come here expecting to stay, but I do like it.” He shook his head. “I’d better start learning Japanese if I’m going to stay around.”
“You do not mind our way of life?”
“If you’re speaking of last night, I sure don’t,” he said, grinning. “I like the food, the atmosphere, the hustle bustle without becoming nervous. I guess I like everything I’ve seen so far. But I just can’t sit around all day. I’ll have to find something to do.”
“Are you permitted to work?”
“The doctor said I could, if it wasn’t physically too taxing or exciting. Frankly, I haven’t the least idea of what I could do here.”
“Does just resting bore you?”
“Not so far, but sooner or later I’ll have to do something or turn into a vegetable.”
“Then why do you not take a course in Japanese while you are resting? Later on, you can decide what you would like to do.”
He kissed the side of her throat and slipped his hand under her jacket, fondling a breast. “Still babying me?”
“I enjoy that,” she said smiling. “Especially after last night and today.”
He took his hand away reluctantly when they entered the heavy city traffic. At the hotel, she came up to his room and helped him pack. He paid the bill, and they started off for her house. When they arrived, she got out, and he slipped behind the wheel to park the car in the garage. Kimiko and the old woman came out to bring in the suitcase and shaving kit. “Scoot,” growled Masters, carrying them into the house. “Where do they go?”
Kimiko led him to a room at the rear, which he could see was hers. It was large, brightly papered with scenes of the countryside. Her bedding was rolled against one wall with a handsome chest of drawers and a matching vanity along the others. Low tables, holding vases of flowers, were placed round the room, and a small altar stood in a corner. Sliding doors opened into the garden.
He put down the cases. “I’ll unpack,” said Kimiko. “Please go to the garden and lie down.”
“I should have carried you over the threshold,” he quipped.
She came to him and placed her arms around his neck. He smiled at how small she actually was, for she came just above his chin, and he was not a tall man. She kissed him. “Go, rest now, the trip was tiring.”
He stretched out on the chaise lounge, and before long he sensed the approach of Hiroko. He opened his eyes. She drew up a stool and sat down. “Congratulations,” she said dryly.
“Thanks. You can call me Papa if you want.”
She suddenly grinned. “I can’t do that. I would be committing incest later on.”
He had to laugh. “Didn’t you get the moral about the little boy who couldn’t pee with his friends?”
“Sure. But he had to pee some time. I’ll wait. You’re on your honeymoon now, but sooner or later you’ll begin thinking how it would be with me. You’ll want to see what I’m like in bed.”
“When I do, I’ll run home to mother and get it out of my system.”
“Go right ahead. But one of these nights, while you’re making love to her, you’ll wish I was there instead. I can wait. Haven’t you heard of the Oriental patience?”
“Haven’t you heard of the American crack in the face?”
She raised her breasts so they would be more obvious. “I liked it when you struck me in the street. It made me want you all the more.”
“It’s called masochism.”
“I call it a good, healthy, sexual lust.”
In spite of himself, he had to laugh. “You shouldn’t talk like that to your weary father. Also, you’re not supposed to know about those things. How in the hell will I be able to marry you off if all the boys know how lustful you are?”
“They’d stand in line. So will you.”
“I’m a happily married man. Go peddle your business elsewhere.”
“Nope, I’m saving it for you. But I promise not to seduce you. However, I’m adding a codicil. If mother doesn’t remain the happiest woman I ever saw, then I promise to make you pay for it after we’re living together.”
“How come you’re so concerned with her well being? It hasn’t bothered you up to now?”
“I love her, Keith. Don’t get the wrong idea about that. I just don’t think you’re right for her. But I do know that you and I are perfectly matched. If I didn’t believe that, I’d back you two up, no matter how much I wanted you.”
“You’re so damned full of contradictions that you give me a headache. How do you expect your mother and me to make a go of it with you hovering around ready to stick in the knife anytime you can?”
“Come off it, Keith. The day you reach out for me is the day you admit that mother is not the woman for you. If I can take you away, then almost any other good looking girl could do the same. But if you get by me, then I know mother is safe. Furthermore, I want you badly. That’s killing two birds with one stone. If she has to find out, it would be better that she does so before she’s an old woman.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Man, you give my headache a headache. Why don’t you be a good daughter and help your mother in the kitchen?”
“Are you tired? Want me to rub your back?”
“Like hell I do. The next goddamn thing you’ll have my pants off.”
“See!” she chuckled. “You’re thinking about it already.”
They heard Kimiko coming out. She drew up another stool and sat down with them. “It is getting dark,” she observed, “but it is too nice to put on the lights.” She looked anxiously at Masters. “Did Hiroko say anything?”
“Yes. She decided to call me Papa.”
The girl laughed. “I’m glad you brought him home, Mother. I haven’t heard as much laughter here for a long time.”
“I am glad you have accepted it so well, Hiroko,” said Kimiko, visibly relieved. “We were very much concerned.”
Hiroko rose. “I’m going downtown to get a sandwich and take in a movie.”
“Eat supper here,” suggested Kimiko.
“Not on your life.” she called out cheerily, starting off. “You’re on your honeymoon. I sure wouldn’t want you along on mine.”
After they ate supper, they went for a stroll in the garden. “It is good for you to take a walk after meals,” said Kimiko. “The book says so.”
He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Does the book also tell you what a wonderful person you are?”
She liked that. She led him into the house and made him lie down on the sofa and place his head in her lap. Slowly she stroked his hair, and time drifted by as they relaxed and listened to light music from the radio.
When they entered the bedroom, she stopped and turned to him. “I knew this before, Keith,” she said softly, “and was more certain when I gave you my ear rings and became your wife last night. I love you.”
He did not remind her that it was the first time she had said those words, nor did he reveal how desperately he had longed to hear them. Instead, he reached out, swept her up in his arms, and carried her to their sleeping mats.
On Tuesday afternoon, Masters accompanied Kimiko and Hiroko to Mr. Takahashi’s office. The attorney greeted them formally while an assistant bustled around the room arranging chairs. He spoke slowly so that Hiroko could interpret.
“I spent the morning with the Minister,” he said, “and his decision is that the sentence must be carried out as ordered.”
Kimiko blinked and made an effort to keep from crying out. It was impossible: a hiss of pain broke from her lips. Hiroko’s eyes filled and she swallowed several times before she could go on.
“I do not see what further action can be taken,” continued the lawyer. “I am afraid that we must bow to the inevitable. Ichiro, however, has been considering a confession of his guilt. I assume this is his way of making peace with his conscience. It would certainly not alter the sentence, and would, in fact, result in more adverse public opinion. He has requested that I ask you if he should remain silent or confess.”
“My son must make the decision,” said Kimiko.
The lawyer nodded. “I said as much to him, but he insisted that I ask his mother, for a confession would bring more shame on his house.”
Kimiko’s face remained expressionless. “My son must make the decision,” she repeated.
Masters sighed and stood up. “Mr. Takahashi, will you please carry a message to Ichiro from me?” The lawyer nodded. “Then tell him,” continued Masters, “to remain silent. We will understand.” He looked down at Kimiko. “Okay?”
She stared straight ahead, looking into space, then turned her eyes to the lawyer. “Please give Ichiro the message. It is from me also.”
They left the attorney’s office and drove home together in silence. Kimiko went directly to her room, and Masters knew she was going to pray in front of the small altar in the corner of the bedroom.
“Come outside,” he said to Hiroko, and led the way into the garden. “Sit down,” he ordered. She sat immediately, alerted by his tone. He eyed her closely. “Hiroko, they are going to execute Ichiro and there isn’t a damn thing that can be done about it.” He paused. “Unless we take the law into our own hands,” he stated softly, flatly.
She leaned forward, excited. “You mean to help him escape?”
“Keep your voice down,” he growled. He took out his package of cigarettes and lit one, relishing the bitter taste in his mouth. “I can’t think of anybody in this world whom I’d rather not discuss this with than you, but I need help and you’re the only one I can turn to. Now, can you get time off work for a vacation?”
“Yes, I can take time off whenever you want.”
He looked at his watch; it was shortly before four o’clock. “Go to your office right away and put in your request. Try to get three weeks at least.”
“All right, Keith.” She stood up to leave.
“Wait a minute,” he called. He stood for a few seconds thinking. “Get some maps of the west coast of Japan and of,” his brow wrinkled, “Hong Kong, China, North Korea and Siberia.”
“All right, Keith,” she replied quietly, subdued.
“Now, get.”
When she had gone, he went to the bedroom door and called Kimiko. She came out wearily, her eyes red from weeping. “I’m going downtown, Kimiko. I may not be back until late. Do you mind if I leave you now?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
He left the house and walked until he found a roving taxi, then directed the driver to take him to the United States Army Headquarters. It was almost 5 p.m. when he arrived. It was a large administration building, and directly inside the lobby was a military police desk. A sergeant was seated behind it.
“Sergeant, I’m an ex soldier from World War Two and Korea, and am now on a visit here. Do you have an officers’ directory? I’d like to see if any of my friends are back over here.”
“No, sir. But we have a telephone book that’s unclassified.” He handed it over. “You’ll have to look at it here, though. We’re not supposed to let it out.”
“Why not?”
“There’s just so many, and headquarters had a gang of complaints about salesmen swiping them and bothering the people.”
Masters looked round and saw a table to one side. “May I look at it over there?”
“Okay, sir.”
He took it to the table, sat down, and studied the lists. Captains of fifteen years ago, he reflected, would be lieutenant colonels now. Just for the hell of it, he looked at full colonels also.
He found the names of two or three officers that rang a bell in his memory, and jotted them down. Then his finger stopped and his heart skipped a beat. “Jesus Christ,” he said aloud. Lieutenant Colonel W.C. Wilson, Headquarters, Operations.
He took the phone book to the desk sergeant. “Sergeant, how can I find out the serial number of this officer?” The MP eyed him. Masters grinned. “If he’s the one I think he is, his serial number is very close to mine. We were at OCS together.” He wrote his own number on a pad and handed it over.
“Okay, sir.” He put in a call to the officers’ records section, spoke briefly, then put down the phone. “He’s your man, sir.”
“Thanks.” Masters copied Wilson’s office number and his home address. “Will he still be in?”
“I doubt it. They generally leave at a quarter to five, but I’ll give it a try.” He made the call. “He’s already gone, sir.”
“Could you ring his quarters for me, please.”
The MP was cooperative. He dialed and handed the phone to Masters. It rang, then a woman answered. “Hello.”
“Hello. My name is Keith Masters. I’m a friend of Colonel Wilson. Is he home, please.”
“One moment.” He heard her call out, “Honey.”
Wilson almost jumped through the phone. “Keith, is that you?”
“Hi, Bill. Still shacking up with strange women?”
“That’s my wife, you wild bastard. Where the hell are you?”
“I’m at headquarters. Seems that I just missed you.”
“You stay right there. I’ll be over in ten minutes, driving a blue Buick. Anyone with you?”
“I’m alone.”
“Freeze in place,” he ordered, then said something like “Goddammit,” and hung up.
Masters walked outside and leaned against the building, thinking hard. The honk of a horn brought him out of his reverie. Wilson was waiting at the curb and had opened the door for him.
They shook hands, excited as boys. “Jesus Christ,” said Wilson. “I almost flipped when Betty said Keith Masters wanted to talk to me.” He eyed the smaller man. “You haven’t changed one iota. Put on a few more pounds, though.” Wilson was a tall, slim man with blond hair, dressed in sports jacket and slacks.
Master smiled. “Time hasn’t changed you very much, either. What is it fourteen years?”
The tall man sobered. “I ought to know. Yeah, fourteen years.” He edged the car into the traffic. “What are you doing in Japan? Back in service?”
“No. I had a bit of heart trouble last year. Just loafing around. Got the bug up my ass to see the old haunts.”
Wilson turned an anxious eye on him. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“No, I’m okay. Just not supposed to climb hills anymore. Got your family over, eh?”
“Yes. Betty and the kids will be tickled to see you. I’ve talked so much of you over the years that they’ll never believe a meek looking shrimp like you was the wild bastard I spoke of. What gives with you and the domestic stuff?”
“It didn’t work out. We were divorced.”
Soon they arrived at a large apartment complex and parked in a lot. A sign stuck in the grass directly in front of the vehicle read: LT. COL. W.C.WILSON.
“Brass hat, eh?” remarked Masters.
Wilson laughed. “Anyone over sergeant gets the same sign.”
His apartment was a plush, field grade officer’s quarters, four bedrooms, two baths, modern kitchen, handsomely furnished with quartermaster items, supplemented by personal pieces collected during tours around the world. Betty Wilson was a tall, plain, bright eyed woman of forty or so, from Montana, and Bill proudly introduced his son, aged sixteen, and a daughter of ten. He took a picture of a boy about nineteen years old from the mantelpiece. “My oldest. Name’s Bob. He’s going to UCLA, but is spending the summer with my folks in New Jersey.”
The daughter opened the conversation. “Sir,” she asked politely, trying not to dance around. “Are you the one who saved daddy’s life when he was shot?”
“Well,” said Masters, pretending to think hard. “If I remember correctly, your daddy was still going pretty strong. I had to pull him out of the fight because he was so mad.”
“That’s not the story we heard...” started Betty. A wink from Masters cut her off. She began mixing drinks, and when Bill told her about Masters’ heart, she made him a glass of lemonade while she and Bill took scotch and water.
“Where are you staying?” asked Bill.
Master lowered a brow in warning. He and Bill had met twenty four years before at officers’ training school, had soldiered together for a while in World War II, and then the rough year in Korea. He did not have to draw a picture for Wilson. “At a friend’s house,” he answered, glancing at the children.
They chatted until supper, and after they had eaten, the boy and girl left while Masters, Bill and Betty settled down in the living room.
“What’s up, Keith?” asked Bill.
“I’m staying with a Japanese woman. We’ll get married when I can find out how it’s done over here.”
There was no visible reaction, except for Betty saying, “Let’s all get together some evening,” or something to that effect, and hurriedly leaving the room to supervise the Japanese maid taking care of the dishes.
Bill grinned. “It shakes the round eyed women to hear about those cute babies nabbing the home town boys.”
They gabbed and reminisced, and after a while Masters got down to business. “Bill, I’ve decided to take up writing. Had a couple of articles accepted by a magazine a while back, and thought I’d take a shot at writing a book.”
“Christ, write an autobiography. That would make good reading.”
“It would have to stop after Korea. There wasn’t much to it after then. Anyhow, I’d like to write an adventure story with an army background. When you have some time, I’d appreciate being brought up to date.”
“How about now?” he asked. “Do you need classified stuff?”
“I doubt it, but if I ask about anything which is confidential, you just lower the boom.”
“Okay.” He began to outline the new ROAD organization of the army divisions, and got a pad and pencil to explain their structure. Masters waited patiently, putting in a question here and there to throw him off the track.
An hour passed swiftly, and Master decided it was time to probe for the information he sought. “Bill, the plot is about an American officer in Japan. He’s a major, so he can still be young enough to screw around.” They grinned at each other. “The major falls for a Jap doll.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m catching up on that part now.” Bill chuckled. “Anyhow, the doll is a real bitch will screw anything that walks, and is head over heels in love with this Jap who is a spy for the Commies. She helps him by conning the major into turning over secret files. To give the story color, I intend to bring in the intelligence people, the Jap cops, and just about every group, including the Boy Scouts.
“The major is no dummy, but he is really hung up on this girl.” Masters’ mind turned to Hiroko. He could see how a nice, solid guy from St. Paul, for example, would take secret files for her. “Although the plot has been used a couple of million times, I believe the background color will make it different.”
He leaned forward. “Bill, who would handle this kind of case?”
“Hell, that’s basic. The counterintelligence.”
“Would the Jap police come into the picture?”
“Well, generally we’d try to handle it ourselves, but you must remember that we have a Status of Forces agreement now which subjects all Americans to Nip law. We could take care of the major if he was on a military installation, but if he was on Nip property, like in his gal’s bedroom, we’d have to get the Nips to knock down the door, or tap phones, or stuff like that.”
“With which section of the Jap government would the counterintelligence work?”
“The National Police. They’re actually a paramilitary organization, and could be turned into an army overnight.”
“Do they have a counterintelligence section?”
“Damned if I know. I guess so, but it would be hidden under another title, like the Political Science Board, or some shit like that. I’ll get the poop for you if it isn’t classified.”
“Thanks. One more question. Suppose this major walks up to a cop on the beat and asks him to help him apprehend an American soldier. Would he do so?”
Bill scratched his head. “Wow.” He thought for a while. “If the soldier was doing anything contrary to Nip law, the cop would arrest him without being asked. But if not, it would be a toss up. He could help or refuse. If he had a feather up his ass about Americans, and officers in particular, he could say that he would have to first check with headquarters.”
Masters interrupted. “But suppose the major said there was no time?”
“Then it’s the old army buck buck game, Keith. The cop would have to make the decision as to whether he wants his ass chewed for failing to use his initiative or have his ass chewed for acting without an okay from his headquarters. One thing is certain, though. If he told the major to go to hell, he’d really be in hot water.”
“What’s you personal opinion?”
“Well, the Nips are probably the most intelligent people I’ve come across. You don’t have to draw them a big picture before they catch on. If the major had a valid reason and explained it properly, I think the cop would give him a hand. But if the major permitted him to have one shred of doubt, he would bow and scrape and be as courteous as hell, but stall until doomsday to check it out first.”
That was it. Masters made a bit more polite conversation, then looked at his watch and said he would have to go. Bill would not hear of him taking a taxi, so Masters fobbed him off with a story that he was meeting his shack up girl at his old hotel, so Bill grinned and let him off in front of it.
“Keith,” he said, and he was serious. “Don’t let us lose contact again.” He felt somewhat bashful at asking the question. “How are you fixed for money?” Then before Masters could answer, he continued, “I’ve been sorta flush these past few years and I’d like to help.”
“Thanks, Bill. I’m okay, but I promise to ask if I need some help.” He watched the taillights of Bill’s Buick being swallowed up in the traffic, and thought with fondness of the tall, blond, lieutenant colonel. Then he hailed a taxi and went to Kimiko’s. He was not about to let Wilson know that he was living with the mother of a boy scheduled to be executed for murder.