Hoffman snatched his Kalashnikov and in one smooth motion turned around. He had only a moment to catch sight of two uniformed soldiers above, on the rocks, and he opened fire, cutting both of them down before they could utter another word.
For a long second or two, the night seemed suddenly still. Even the wind seemed to lessen for that time, but then Eichendorf grabbed Hoffman by the back of his jacket and dragged him into the boat.
“I hope they were alone,” one of the sailors said. “Because if someone is still alive up there, and can use a radio, we’re dead men.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“No,” the sailor said. “And now neither do we.”
Thoma Orff presented his passport and customs declaration form to the uniformed officer when it was his turn. Tokyo’s Narita Airport was jammed to capacity, but the noise level was surprisingly low.
“What is the purpose of your visit to Japan, Mr. Orff,” the customs official asked.
He had difficulty pronouncing the name.
“Tourism. I’ve had no holiday in years.”
“How long will you be here?”
“A week, maybe a little longer.”
“Have you nothing else to declare?”
“Only the brandy,” Orff said, holding up the cardboard liquor box by its handle.
“Three bottles. Good stuff. French.” The nuclear weapons initiators were hidden in two of the bottles, which were in turn wrapped in lead foil that had been sandwiched between thin layers of ordinary-looking aluminum foil.
“Welcome to Japan, Mr. Orff,” the official said, stamping the passport. “Have a pleasant holiday.”
Chapter 67
The morning on the mountain overlooking the port city of Nagasaki on the south island of Kyushu was pleasantly cool, the air sweetly fresh. McGarvey indulged himself in the luxury of coming slowly awake, careful to steer his thoughts away from the reasons he had returned to Japan.
Kelley was up already. She sat outside in the garden sipping green tea, and watching the sun over the mountains just beginning to illuminate the city below.
From where he lay on his tatami mat, he could see her in profile. Her dark hair was down, spilling around her tiny shoulders, and she was dressed only in one of the snow white yukatas or kimonos that the ryokan (a Japanese inn) supplied its guests. She was beautiful, he decided, yet she was a contradiction. On the one hand she was a frightened little deer, with large dark eyes and the sudden tiny movements of the animal that is always ready to bolt at the first hint of trouble. While on the other she had a surprising depth of character, of fortitude, that made her stay.
As she’d explained yesterday afternoon on the train, she had nowhere to go. “I can’t hide for the rest of my life, so I am with you to finish the assignment.”
There was an Oriental simplicity about her. Everything she did, or said, seemed to be clear-cut and obvious. Her life had been sad, and she was doing everything within her power to lay the groundwork for a big change. Like everyone else, she only wanted to be at peace, and happy.
But he was beginning to believe that that was all
she wanted. She seemed to have no other ambitions, and in that she was completely opposite of his ex-wife Kathleen.
A tiny table had been set up next to his tatami mat, steam rising from a pot of tea, a cup beside it. McGarvey rose stiffly on one elbow and poured a cup of tea.
Kelley turned and looked at him, a slight smile coming to her lips. “How do you feel this morning, McGarvey- san.”
“I’ll live,” he said, returning her smile.
“I am truly glad to hear that, because today we will make our move against Fukai.”
Kelley had arranged to rent a car yesterday, and at 8 a.m. it was brought up from the city and left for them in the tiny parking lot, across the garden beyond the hotel annex. She drove because she could read Japanese-none of the road signs, what few there were, were in English-and because McGarvey’s right leg had stiffened up, making it difficult to walk, let alone manipulate the pedals.
Only a few puffy white clouds sailed over the hills and mountains ringing the city, but the sky was a hazy, milky blue, illuminating the lush green countryside with an almost magical light. This region was like a fairytale land: Important in the mid-sixteenth century when Nagasaki was the only port open to foreigners; again in 1945 when the atomic bomb was dropped here; and now because of some insane plot for revenge.
Fukai Semiconductor’s vast factory complex and world headquarters were located northeast of Nagasaki on Omura Bay. McGarvey’s briefing package had contained extensive diagrams showing the installation’s layout and something of the sophisticated security systems designed not only to detect the presence of intruders, but in some instances to neutralize them, even kill them. Fukai himself was apparently paranoid about security; and he was rich and powerful enough to maintain a substantial armed force of guards without the federal government lifting a finger to stop or in any way control him.
The compound was built like a fortress. McGarvey had spent a considerable amount of thought on exactly how it could be breached, coming to the conclusion that he would have to get close enough for a firsthand look before he could make any plan.
He had briefly discussed the problem with Carrara and the Technical Services team that had been hastily assembled to brief him, and they agreed, with one reservation.
“If Spranger is actually working for Fukai-and we don’t have any direct proof of that yet-he probably told them about you,” Carrara had cautioned.
“No doubt,” McGarvey replied. “But they won’t be expecting me to show up so soon, nor will they be expecting me to come in the front door with the proper credentials.”
“I’d like to send someone over to back you up, but it’s not possible.” Carrara shook his head. “There’s going to be hell to pay for this. A lot of political fallout.”
“I stay out of politics,” McGarvey said.
“Right. Just like a surgeon stays out of the operating theater.”
Traffic was heavy along the narrow highway until they were well clear of the city, and even then there was no time when they had the road to themselves. Kelley was a good driver, and she apparently knew the local customs and rules of the road well enough to get along without incident.
She had dressed again in the plain gray business suit she had worn at the airport, making her look like the executive secretary and translator her legend said she was.
McGarvey had let her study the briefing package he’d brought out from Langley, and afterwards he had filled in whatever gaps he could, though there were holes a mile wide in the plan.
“What happens if something goes wrong out there?” she asked.
“We play it by ear.”
“I meant what if they recognize you, or me?”
“I don’t know,” McGarvey had told her, and they’d not discussed it any further. This morning she’d made no comment as she watched him reassemble his gun and then place the holster at the small of his back, but he could see that she was troubled. There was nothing he could say to reassure her, so he said nothing about the possibilities they would be facing.
They topped a rise and suddenly Omura Bay was spread out below. Fifteen miles across they could see a jetliner taking off from the Nagasaki Airport. But directly below, spread out along the western shore of the bay, the Fukai Semiconductor compound ran for at least five miles, and included the main administration area, a huge research facility, seven large processing and assembly buildings, a landing strip and several hangars for the fleet of business jets and two Boeing 747s, and an extensive dock and warehouse area for the fleet of ships the corporation maintained.
