Endo warily took his seat. “Although you are not armed, I believe you still constitute a threat to the safety of this aircraft, Mr. McGarvey. Be advised that I am armed, and quite a good shot. In addition, you are being watched at all times by at least one of our crewmen, also armed, and also an expert marksman.”
A stewardess came in, took McGarvey’s drink order, and until she came back with it, Endo and Liese said or did nothing except stare at him, as if they expected him to jump up at any moment and strike at them.
When the young stew returned with his cognac, Endo said something to her in Japanese.
She replied politely and then left.
“We will be taking off within the next few minutes,” Endo said.
“The bomb is already aboard, I presume,” McGarvey said.
Endo ignored the question. “If you make no untoward moves during the flight, no immediate harm will come to you. But again I warn you that you are being watched.”
McGarvey rudely crossed his legs and sipped his drink as Endo talked, his eyes on the woman.
“What did you mean?” Liese asked. “What job of yours will be so much easier now that Ernst is dead?”
“Killing you, of course.”
“Rich,” Endo said. He got to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll see to our final preparations.”
Liese was about to say something, but then bit it off as Endo turned and left the main cabin.
McGarvey sat absolutely still. He’d spotted the armed crewman at the partially open sliding door.
Nervously, Liese reached for her purse and took out a small automatic; what looked to be an Italian-made .32-caliber. Probably a Bernadelli Model 60, McGarvey thought. Very effective at close range. She pointed it at him. “Buckle your seatbelt.”
He put down his drink and complied. “If you’re going to shoot me, I suggest you do it now. If you’re using steel-jacketed ammunition, or if you miss when we’re at thirty-five thousand feet, you might kill everyone aboard.”
“I use soft points, Mr. McGarvey, and I don’t miss,” she said, more confident now that the odds, at least in her mind, had tipped in her favor. “I am really surprised to see you here.”
“Not staying to make sure I was dead was the second biggest mistake of your life.”
“What was my first?”
“You know,” McGarvey said, his voice suddenly very soft.
Liese flinched. “You mean the little girl? Your daughter? You and she have talked?”
McGarvey could feel every muscle in his body tensing. He had buckled his seatbelt, but he had made certain the latch hadn’t caught. He could be out of his seat in a split second. She would fire, and miss, and he would be on her before she could recover, her body blocking any shot from the crewman at the door. But he continued to maintain his control, though the effort was costing him dearly.
“Yes,” he said, still softly, his eyes locked into the woman’s.
She began to shiver, her nostrils flared, color coming to her bronzed, high cheeks, and a blood vessel throbbed at the side of her neck. McGarvey figured she was on the verge of firing and he got ready to spring.
The sliding door opened all the way, and an old, but very well built, almost athletic man came in. He wore a light polo shirt, slacks and Western-style loafers. Endo, a Heckler and Koch pistol in hand, was right behind him.
“That won’t be necessary just yet, my dear,” the old man said.
Slowly Liese dragged her eyes away from McGarvey’s, and looked up. “He is a very dangerous man, Kiyoshi- san. He means to kill us all.”
“Yes, I know.”
McGarvey made himself relax. “A pleasure to meet you… Nakamura-san,” he said.
The old man’s expression darkened.
“You do understand, of course, that my government will block you because they know your true identity… Isawa Nakamura, a favored son until the defeat in 1945.”
Chapter 77
Deputy Director of Intelligence Tommy Doyle knocked once then stepped into the darkened room just off Roland Murphy’s seventh-floor office. The general was asleep on the cot that had been brought up.
“Mr. Director,” Doyle called from the doorway.
Murphy looked up immediately. “What is it?”
“Fukai’s 747 took off thirty-two minutes ago and headed east as it climbed to altitude.
The pilot filed a flight plan direct to San Francisco.”
The DCI sat up. “What time do we have?”
“Coming up on one-thirty in the afternoon,” Doyle said. “Three-thirty Tokyo time.”
“What’s their ETA in San Francisco?”
“Another nine and a half hours would make it eight tonight, their local.”
“All right, it gives us a little time.” Murphy shook his head and looked up. “No word from Kelley Fuller about McGarvey?”
“No, sir.”
“Tell Phil to pull her out of there right now. Bring her back here to Washington.
Then have my secretary call the President for me. We’ll get the FAA and, I suppose, the Air Force started.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Director, but I have a better idea. Their ETA over Honolulu is around six this afternoon, local. It’ll still be daylight. Why don’t we have the Navy send up an intercept from one of their carriers out there? Seventh Fleet. The Carl Vinson is five hundred miles west of the islands right now.”
“You’ve done your homework,” Murphy said. “I’ll check with the President first. But he’s going to want to know what happened to McGarvey.”
“Yes, sir, we all want to know.”
“Who was Kiyoshi Fukai, or was that just a fictitious name?” McGarvey asked conversationally.
They had raced east into a brilliant sunrise, after which the two stewardesses served them breakfast of tea, steamed rice, fish, raw eggs and other delicacies, which everyone but Liese seemed to enjoy. The dishes had just been cleared.
“Actually he was my chauffeur, Mr. McGarvey,” Nakamura said. “A loyal, if somewhat unimaginative fellow, who was killed in Hiroshima in the atomic blast.”
“You would be well advised to curb your tongue, McGarvey,” Endo warned, the automatic on the couch at his side, but Nakamura held him off with a gesture.
“Actually I am curious about one thing. Perhaps Mr. McGarvey will tell us how his government has supposedly uncovered our little adventure. If they have.”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” McGarvey replied.
“I don’t think that’s the case,” Nakamura countered. “If the CIA had its proof we would not have been issued clearance to land at San Francisco, or to overfly the entire continent. No, I think that you were here for two reasons: To get the proof, and for revenge.”
McGarvey shrugged. “In any event my absence will be reported.”
“By the woman who visited headquarters with you?” Endo asked. “My people will soon find her. And kill her.”
Again Nakamura held him off with a gesture. “Let us spare Mr. McGarvey the details.
For now, my curiosity remains about how my real identity was guessed.”
“It was simple, actually,” McGarvey said, watching Liese out of the corner of his eyes. She’d put away her gun, but she was still very nervous. The armed guard was no longer at the forward door, which meant only Endo’s weapon was close at hand.
“Yes?” Nakamura prompted.
“We understood early on that some organization or individual was assembling the materials to build a
