CHAPTER 40

Yokohama, Japan

Tsukuda sat in stunned silence, as he read the message his bodyguard brought him from the communications center located at the back of the large estate. He reread it to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. The message was brief, stating that all the freighters and the supply ship were destroyed in what appeared to be an accidental fire. He removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and just last night, his grandmother, Umeko, visited him in another dream—warning him once again to beware the white samurai.

“Raizo, get hold of our Chinese contact in Tokyo. I want to know whether it was a careless accident—or a deliberate attack on the docks. And if it was an attack, who do they suspect? I can replace the boats, but I cannot tolerate an attack.”

Raizo bowed and said, “Yes, General.”

“Nozomi,” Tsukuda shouted. “Bring me a bowl of rice and vegetables and some hot sake.”

Nozomi entered Tsukuda’s office, a few minutes later, and set a food tray on a small table near the wall. After she placed a bowl of rice and steamed vegetables in front of the general, she returned with a cup of sake.

Nozomi bowed and asked, “Will there be anything else, General?”

“Yes, when I’m done, bring some wagashi with my tea. I seem to have a sweet tooth today,” Tsukuda replied.

As Tsukuda devoured his breakfast, he couldn’t help but think that the disaster at Nampho had been orchestrated. But, by whom? Tsukuda asked himself. It could be one of the more aggressive yakuza organizations. The Yukako-kai had approached him to take over his trade with the Chinese and Koreans. Stating that they would take all the risks and share a thirty percent split with him. He politely refused, saying that his arms business was not within the parameters of the yakuza’s organizational business model. Shipping arms and ammunition was a legal and legitimate commercial enterprise. He wasn’t going to share when he could take a hundred percent of the profit.

Tsukuda wasn’t worried about the money. Once the ships reached Nampho, he was paid. Fortunately, his freighters and supply ship were insured. The report to the insurance company would state that an accident caused the initial explosion, which led to the destruction of all the berthed ships. Nevertheless, he needed to get to the bottom of this disaster. Since the North Koreans were not at war with the south, he had discarded American or British involvement.

There were several incidents of subversive organizations in North Korea. And it was believed that Kim Il-sung had squashed the movements. But, still, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that a foreign power was behind it. Of course, I would think that, Tsukuda thought. I have been battling them for decades. But, could the Americans or British really be behind the disaster, or am I just paranoid?

Nozomi returned with the dessert and tea and began removing the other dishes from Tsukuda’s desk. As she turned to leave, something fell from her sleeve. Tsukuda reached down and picked it up. It was a flyer for a Kabuki performance.

“Nozomi, you dropped something,” Tsukuda said politely.

As he held the leaflet out for her, he froze as he read the title of the play, Legend of the White Samurai.

“When is this play?” Tsukuda asked.

“Oh,” Nozomi stated in surprise. “I forgot it was still in my sleeve. I believe it will be in December, General. I picked up the flyer at the grocery store, this morning. The grocer said that it was a historical play. Apparently, there were two foreign-born samurai of European descent in the late-1500s. I had never heard of a white samurai in Japan before, so I thought it would be fascinating. I plan to visit my mother in Tokyo and take her to the play.”

“I am very interested in the subject, too. Please keep me informed so I may purchase tickets.”

“Certainly, General,” Nozomi said. She retrieved the flyer, bowed deeply, and left the room with the tray of dishes.

Tsukuda quickly returned to his thought of the Americans and British. Both had very efficient, intelligent organizations. But, could his grandmother’s warning have anything to do with the Americans and British? Or was it simply a warning to stay away from the public eye and the Kabuki Theater?

Before Tsukuda could dwell on the problem, Raizo entered the room and bowed. Then, as he handed the message to Tsukuda, he said, “Here is a message from Taro Abe in Havana, General. It’s good news.”

Tsukuda took the message and dismissed Raizo. He read the contents and smiled. Abe had discovered the source of the gems being shipped to São Paulo and the American Guy Wong. An export company in Manila received gem shipments from Vietnam and forwarded them to São Paulo for grading and cutting. The gems were then shipped to a middle man in Havana who sold them to Wong. Abe had traced the source to a former U.S. Army officer living in Hanoi. The officer had captured the gem market after the war ended.

“Raizo,” Tsukuda shouted.

“Yes, General,” Raizo said, bowing.

“I want you and Asahi Tanaka to go to Hanoi. Find out as much as you can about this former U.S. Army officer, Yul Butler, and how he operates his gem export business. Once you have all the information, eliminate him, take over the operation and leave Asahi in charge. After that, we won’t need to go through the middle man in São Paulo, and we certainly won’t need that half-breed Chinaman, Guy Wong. Asahi has a good business mind. Plus, he used to operate in the region and speaks the languages.”

Raizo smiled. He was going to get work as a field agent again. He loved the general for his decisiveness. The general was action-oriented. When he ordered his subordinates to do a job, he trusted them to get it done. There was no what-if thinking. No, let’s come up with a plan and execute it. Tsukuda had absolute faith in his operatives. He believed in their capabilities. After all, he was responsible for designing their training and ensuring they were the best-trained operatives in the world. And now, after three years of living through the humiliation of Japan’s defeat, Raizo would strike the very men who were responsible for Japan’s humiliation. They may not be the men at the top, but it would be a victory, nevertheless.

Three days after rendezvousing with the HMS Storm, Preston, Linka, Jung, and Ikestead were picked up by a British PBY in the Yellow Sea and then flown directly to Yokota Air Base. After the PBY landed, it taxied inside a large hangar with a small British flag flying on the rooftop. Before the passengers deplaned, the hangar doors were closed. The same untalkative British corporal who picked them up on their first visit to Yokota met them as they stepped from the plane. This time, he was dressed in the uniform of an SAS paratrooper.

“Good day, gentlemen. Brigadier MacKenzie is waiting in the conference room. Jump in, and I’ll drive you to the door,” the corporal stated.

“Are you really an SAS paratrooper, or do you have numerous uniforms from other services that you switch between?” George Linka asked.

“Yes,” the corporal replied as he led them deeper into the British complex.

“Well, Jon, I think we have just met another counterintelligence counterpart within the British Secret Intelligence Service,” Linka stated.

“Or, at least one of them,” Preston replied. “But he doesn’t have the personality of Miles Murphy or Henri Morreau.”

“I heard that, Colonel,” the corporal replied. “You will find both those charming characters in the Brigadier’s office.”

“For crying out loud,” Linka stated. “He does talk, and he does have a sense of humor in a British sort of way. I think I like him.”

“Don’t get carried away, Colonel. You haven’t met my dark side yet.”

“Now, I’m sure I like him, Jon. Can we take him on our next assignment?”

“Only if he speaks fluent Japanese,” Jon replied.

The corporal replied, “Watashi wa anata no yanku no o shiri o nihongo o fukumu 4 tsu no gengo de keru koto ga dekimasu.”

“Did he just swear at us?” Jon asked.

“No. The corporal said he could kick our yank asses in four languages, including Japanese,” George replied laughingly.

“Do you still like him?”

“Definitely.”

As they entered Brigadier MacKenzie’s conference room, Miles Murphy and Henri Morreau were leaning over a map along with the Brigadier. MacKenzie motioned them over. Preston looked at the map of French Indochina and then at Murphy and Morreau.

“I thought that you all had left Indochina,” Preston remarked.

“Henri is in Singapore, and I’m in Hong Kong. But, unfortunately, things are getting nasty in our old stomping grounds in French Indochina, which Uncle Ho wants us to call Vietnam now,” Miles Murphy replied.

“How is Yul Butler fairing?”

“Struggling. After René Clairoux and his older brother booked, he moved his operation to Saigon. Butler managed to save René’s younger brother’s life. After that, however, he’s moved back to Hanoi to be closer to gem mines. Or, so he said.”

“What’s really happening?”

“A Chinese gang was trying to take over his business. We helped him take them down.”

“And with the French?”

“The French are getting their asses handed to them every time they go after the Viet Minh. They are trying to fight a conventional land war in a damn jungle. But, of course, the Viet Minh won’t play the Frenchies’ game. They’re using hit-and-run guerrilla warfare tactics—as they had used during the war against the Japanese,” Murphy stated.

“How much longer can they hold out?” Linka asked.

“Two, maybe three years.” Henri Morreau replied. “It will take a significant defeat before they capitulate.”

“Do you think Butler will be safe?”

“So far, Uncle Ho is doing nothing to intimidate the British or the Americans. Regardless, we’re staying clear. However, if they go after the French civilians, it might be the tipping point needed to bring you Yanks into the war.”

“God, I hope not. I told the Pentagon and the State Department that we should let the Viet Minh take over in 1945,” Preston said.

“Did they listen?” Miles asked.

“Only the Pentagon. The State Department is run by a bunch of Ivy League idiots. They think they can rule the world from Washington by swinging a pencil. It’s a war that would be unwinnable.”

“I don’t mean to disturb this conversation, but we just found out that Tsukuda has purchased two dozen more freighters and three large supply ships. Apparently, he plans to double his shipments from China into North Korea,” Brigadier MacKenzie interrupted. “His other ships were insured, and because there is no war, the fire on the docks was declared an accident.”

“So, he’s back in business,” Jung stated.

“I have an encrypted message for you, Jon. It’s from General Miller. The packet you left in my safe must contain the codebook you need, so you can come with me, collect it, and use my office to decode the message.”

When Jon returned to the conference room, he handed the message to George, saying, “It’s for you.”

George read the message forwarded from Hattori Nozomi and stated, “Tsukuda took the bait.”

“Care to explain, Jon, or is this a Top Secret, U.S.-only operation?” Brigadier MacKenzie asked.

“No, it’s certainly something we need your help with to take Tsukuda down. One that has presidential authorization, and one for which you received funding already,” Jon replied.

“Tsukuda stays in virtual seclusion behind the walls of several large estates in Tokyo, Yokohama, and Tsuchiura. Hardly ever goes out. Yet, he wields tremendous power over politicians and rivals. They come to his estates when he summons them,” George stated.

“So, what’s your plan to lure him out?” Henri Morreau asked.

An hour later, Jon stopped talking and sat down at the large conference table. Brigadier MacKenzie, Henri Morreau, Miles Murphy, and Kim Jung were astonished but believed it was achievable. They had worked with Jon during the war against Japan and knew he was brilliant at out-of-the-box thinking. And this proved it once again. The proof, however, would be in the execution of the plan. And execution was Preston’s strength. And he was the best at what-if thinking, on the fly.

George Linka knew the capabilities of his teammate, Jon Preston. Jon had taught Linka that the places they were going were extremely dangerous and full of wicked men. After the first two missions with Preston in World War Two, Linka realized that he and Jon were the scary guys. George felt they had been terrifying when they had worn the shrunken heads in the jungles of Southeast Asia. The shrunken heads had been given to Preston by a Kachin chieftain.

That knowledge motivated George, which instilled confidence and determination to get better and better at his trade. And the more dangerous and alarming, the better. The purpose of Jon’s plan with the Kabuki Theater and the White Samurai play was to create panic in Tsukuda’s organization. The key, however, would be the timing at the Kabuki play and the assault on Tsukuda’s hideout.