Northeastern Japan
General Masao Takahashi sat silently in the open vehicle, looking ahead at the rail it rode on disappearing into the gloom.
The tunnel was almost perfectly round and five meters in diameter, dug into a mountainside in a remote part of Japan. Widely spaced overhead lights intermittently illuminated the rock walls and the security detail seated around him. Beyond that, there was nothing.
They would descend nearly a kilometer into the earth before arriving at a set of blast doors leading to what had originally been conceived as a storage facility for Japan’s nuclear waste. After the Fukushima disaster, though, many of the country’s plants had been shut down, leaving the complex largely idle.
It was then that he’d had control transferred to the defense forces under the cover of making certain the radioactive refuse was secure. The real reason was that he needed a replacement for the Reactor Four lab that had been lost. A replacement that offered both foolproof containment and distance from prying eyes.
It took another ten minutes to reach the entrance, and Takahashi could feel the cold from the cave beginning to penetrate his uniform. Or maybe it wasn’t the temperature at all. Maybe it was something more.
The massive doors opened automatically as the vehicle approached and they glided to a stop inside. Before his takeover of the facility, this section had been lined with concrete. All that was gone now, replaced by the natural dirt and rock.
As they continued deeper into the earth on foot, the passageway constricted until it was only two meters across. Ahead, one of his men paused at a turn and then signaled that it was safe to proceed. Living surrounded by constant security made Takahashi feel like a coward, but there was little choice at this point. Most of his meetings were now being held at his heavily secured home. This trip, though, had been unavoidable. Moving Dr. Ito was becoming too difficult to do with the required efficiency and anonymity.
They finally came to a door made of a reddish woven material—the same material his limousine had been constructed of. His men fanned out, taking up strategic positions along the corridor while he pressed his thumb against a screen set into the wall.
Inside, the light was much better, though the walls remained the necessarily unadorned dirt and rock. The only furniture was a wooden table surrounded by similarly constructed chairs. The two men seated in them immediately stood and bowed.
Takahashi returned the bow, nodding at his intelligence czar, Akio Himura, and then walking over to Hideki Ito. He put a hand warmly on the scientist’s back. “How are you, Doctor?”
“I’m well, General. Thank you for asking.”
Of course it wasn’t true—a reality that was very unfortunate for their cause. Ito was entirely bald from successive rounds of chemotherapy, and his face seemed to have collapsed in places, creating strange hollows where the muscles had selectively atrophied. The pigmentation in his skin also seemed to have been short-circuited by the massive dose of radiation he’d received in Reactor Four, leaving light and dark splotches of various sizes on his cheeks and bare scalp.
The two people assisting him that day were dead—though not by natural causes as Ito had been told. They’d simply not been valuable enough to warrant the cost of dealing with their radiation injuries. Hideki Ito was quite a different matter, though. There were no limits to what Takahashi would do to keep the man alive and working.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” the general said, pulling out a chair and holding it as the frail scientist sat, a grateful smile on his peeling lips.
Takahashi took his place at the head of the table and looked at Himura. He seemed nervous. As he should be.
“It’s my understanding that you’ve identified the man who escaped with Randi Russell?”
“Yes, sir. His name is Jon Smith. Though we found him through his personal connection with Russell and not through the CIA.”
“He’s not an agent, then?”
“No, sir. He’s an army doctor stationed at Fort Detrick. A microbiologist and virus hunter.”
“What was a virus hunter doing in a Japanese fishing village collecting reactor samples?”
“We don’t know, sir. He has a Special Forces background, which explains how he was able to kill a number of our men and make it to the water, but there’s very little additional information available on him. Suspiciously little.”
“Military intelligence?”
“That’s my assumption, though we can’t find any connection between him and that division in the US Army’s computer files.”
Takahashi’s first order of business when he’d begun designing Japan’s clandestine remilitarization program over thirty years ago had been building Japan’s cyber warfare unit. Computers were still crude and largely unconnected at the time, but he’d predicted with uncanny accuracy their proliferation and how critical they would become to modern warfare. He’d pulled together Japan’s top minds and, with that head start, put together a system that was now a decade beyond anything even America’s NSA could bring to bear. With a few notable exceptions, Himura’s people could bypass the security of any private or government database in the world. Or so he’d thought.
“Maybe our abilities aren’t as advanced as I’ve been led to believe.”
“I don’t think that’s the case, sir. While our access fluctuates when our targets upgrade or change systems, it’s quite good right now. More likely Smith is involved in a unit that’s kept off the books.”
The danger signals continued to grow.
“Any leads on finding either him or Russell?”
Himura’s mouth tightened. “Not yet. Russell is on paid leave awaiting an inquiry relating to the killing of an American citizen in Egypt. Smith is on paid medical leave for injuries that officially occurred in a scuba accident. He has not, however, received care at any army facility.”
Takahashi nodded. “Why him? Why Smith?”
“He’s a scientist,” Himura responded.
“But not in this field.”
“Nanotechnology has many similarities to virology,” Ito interjected.
“Agreed,” Himura said. “The specific field of nanotech is fairly obscure. It’s unlikely that the Americans would have anyone with the exact mix of skills necessary. Smith may have been their best choice.”
“So it’s possible that the Americans suspect nanotechnology was present at Fukushima,” Takahashi said, trying to keep his voice calm.
“I’ve gone back through every security protocol and haven’t been able to find a breach that could have led to that kind of knowledge,” Himura said. “But anything is possible.”
“All right, then. Who would he take it to, Doctor? Who are America’s top people in the field?”
“There are a number of them. Most are pure academics working at universities.”
“Dr. Ito’s already provided us with the names, General, and we’re watching all of them as well as the military’s top materials engineers in case they don’t suspect what caused the damage and are just looking for a starting point. Nothing so far.”
Takahashi knew that there was no point in raising his voice or making threats. Despite his recent string of failures, Himura was eminently competent and would do everything in his power to perform his duty. Even laying down his life if necessary.
“And the assassination attempt?”
His intelligence czar didn’t bother to hide his relief at the change of subject. “The JPF continues to deny involvement. The evidence against them is solid, but it’s all circumstantial. Certainly nothing that couldn’t be fabricated by the Chinese intelligence apparatus.”
“Do you believe that’s what happened?”
“I’m becoming increasingly convinced. But it will be extremely difficult to prove. Despite our penetration into their information systems, there is no indication of any move against you. When it comes to operations this sensitive, the Chinese tend to work completely off the grid. Orders are given in whispers to men with no official government positions.”
Takahashi leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the stone walls for a moment. “The Chinese are obviously getting bolder. The Americans are doing what they can to broker peace, but I’m not convinced they’re going to succeed. And frankly, I’m not sure we can trust them. The time has come to face the possibility of war and to assess our readiness.”
“Surely passions can be calmed,” Ito said, obviously shaken by the thought of a military confrontation. The man’s unparalleled genius had allowed him to rise from a small, largely experimental cog in Takahashi’s machine to his chief technological officer. There was no denying, though, that Ito was weak. It had been easy to ply him—indeed, blind him—with unlimited research funds and unfettered access to cutting-edge technology, but he had no real patriotism or political conviction. He was a man whose interests lay only in the things his magnificent mind could create.
“Of course we will do everything possible to promote peace, Doctor. But while it’s comfortable to hope for the best, it’s wise to plan for the worst, no?”
“Of course. I understand.”
“And on that subject, is the demonstration of our drone technology still on schedule for this week?”
“It is,” Ito said submissively. “I think you’ll find the software to be an order of magnitude more sophisticated than prior generations. We’ve also made intermediate strides in range, speed, and maneuverability.”
“I look forward to it. Now I don’t think there’s any reason to keep you from your work any longer. It’s been good seeing you as always. I’m glad you’re well.”
Ito was typically anxious to go and stood quickly, giving a short bow before leaving the room. Takahashi remained silent for a long time, considering the dangers and opportunities presented by the quickly shifting landscape.
“You told me it would be possible to fabricate evidence that implicates the Chinese in the attempt on my life, Akio.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can I assume you’ve created a plan to do just that?”
“I have.”
“Good. Leak just enough to get the press speculating about a possible link to Beijing.”
Himura wiped a hand nervously across his mouth before responding. “I would advise against it.”
“Why?”
“First, creating something like this out of whole cloth was extremely complicated. Our efforts could be discovered. And second…” His voice faded.
“Speak up,” Takahashi prompted.
The intelligence chief gave a jerky nod. “Sir, you understand that this…” Again he hesitated. “Dr. Ito is right. Passions are running high. Very high.”
“I trust it’s not lost on you that US military intelligence has physical evidence from Fukushima. And just as important, Ito’s health is failing. I don’t know how much longer our doctors can keep him alive. I assume that you agree his presence would be desirable in case there are problems with the deployment of his weapon?”
“Yes, sir. But—”
“We don’t have the luxury of waiting any longer,” Takahashi said, standing and smoothing his uniform. “Do it immediately.”