used the Tojo militarists.'
'And,' said Adachi. This was an area where Koancho files would be more complete than his own. The police were not invulnerable to political pressure. The war was a sensitive issue. Detailed records of behavior during that period were not encouraged by those in power.
'Prior to Pearl Harbor,' said Chifune, 'he had connections with U.S. Army Intelligence. He supplied them with information about China. He was there a great deal. Prior to the actual outbreak of war, there were certain mutual areas of interest between the U.S. and this country.'
Adachi whistled. 'Energetic little fellow, wasn't he? Was he actually an American spy?'
'We don't know,' said Chifune. 'They may have thought so, but I doubt he was in the sense you mean. Certainly he balanced things out by actually funding part of the Kempei Tai – the secret police – operations in China.'
'And then came the bombs,' said Adachi. 'Distracting even for a kuromaku.'
'Very distracting,' said Chifune. 'Japan surrendered, the Americans landed, MacArthur arrived, and within a short space of time Hodama was arrested and slung into Sugamo Prison to await trial. He was classified as a Class A war criminal.'
'I imagine he was,' said Adachi. 'But nobody hanged him.'
'He had a great deal of money hidden away,' said Chifune, 'on the order of hundreds of millions of yen – and he was a good talker. And he knew people and things, and he could make connections. And he had people outside who worked for him. Part of his money went to found a new political party – democracy now being in fashion again.'
'The Liberal Party,' said Adachi, 'which merged with the Democratic Party in 1955, which as the Liberal Democratic Party has ruled this country ever since. Ouch! Why couldn't somebody less controversial have got himself killed?'
'You're leaping ahead,' said Chifune. She looked straight at him as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then removed it. Underneath it, her skin was golden. She removed her bra. She had small but full breasts and prominent nipples. 'Don't,' she said.
Adachi raised an eyebrow. He was glad he had changed into a yukata when he had returned to his apartment. Its light cotton could accommodate his growing excitement. Western trousers would have strangled the thing. Heavens, in some ways the West had a brutal culture.
'The war crimes trials took place. They lasted for two and a half years right here in Tokyo, and on December 23, 1948, seven of the defendants – six generals and one premier – were executed. Shortly afterwards, Hodama was released. He was never formally charged, let alone tried.'
'The guilty are punished; the innocent go free,' said Adachi. 'That's modern justice for you.'
'Ha!' said Chifune. She unzipped her skirt, raised herself slightly off her knees and then slid the garment over her head with a technique that would have done credit to a striptease artist. Adachi wondered how many times she had performed that movement before, and for whom. The thought hurt a little.
She moved forward and untied his yukata and gently slid him inside her. Adachi groaned with pleasure. Sex with Chifune was decidedly not like that with other women he had known. Chifune was an artist. Sight, touch, sound, taste, smell; she played on all his physical senses, but most of all she played games with his mind. He was obsessed with her, but he feared her. He loved her, but did not trust her. There was no certainty or predictability to their relationship. He knew little about her, and her file, as an employee of the security service, was sealed.
'Until 1952 when a formal treaty was signed with the U.S.,' said Chifune, 'we were an occupied country. And as always, Hodama gravitated to where power lay. His release came neatly in time to avail of a major opportunity – suppressing the rise of communism.'
As the full scale of the threat to the West of Stalinist communism became clear, anti-communist opinion in Washington hardened. The Central Intelligence Agency was founded. The West began to fight back. The threat was worldwide. The scale of the menace demanded drastic solutions. Some were legal. Some were not.
In what the Japanese called the gyakkosu, or political about-face, SCAP – the predominantly military administration of Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers – and the conservative Japanese government in power at the time carried out an official purge of communism. It was decided that a strong Japan was needed to stand against Soviet communism, and if that meant leaving some of the militarist and their prewar industrial support structure in power, then so be it.
But just so much could be done through official channels. Where more drastic methods were required – to break up a communist union or intimidate a left-wing newspaper, for example – SCAP and the new organization, the CIA, used gangs of local thugs. Fairly soon, it became clear that these ad hoc arrangements required organization, and into this opportunity stepped Hodama. Heavily funded by the CIA, he used the yakuza to do the strong-arm work and bribery to ensure that the appropriate anti-communist politicians got elected.
Japanese politics, as the prewar assassinations and other excesses showed, were never exactly squeaky clean, but the contamination of Japan's new and fragile post-war democratic system by institutionalized bribery could be traced directly to the CIA. The same thing was happening in France and Italy and in many other countries.
Communism was checked, but at a high price. Organized crime received a major cash injection and direct links with the political establishment. And links with the politicians meant protection.
In such an environment, Hodama, the kuromaku, thrived.
Adachi opened his eyes. Chifune had stopped speaking and was reaching behind her head, her breasts uplifted by the gesture. Her hair, glowing richly in the candlelight, came tumbling down. Then she leaned forward to kiss him, and he put his arms around her and held her and caressed her while they kissed.
Connemara Regiona lHospital
January 2
There was no time to bring in a rescue helicopter, so Kilmara had decided to use the aircraft in which the terrorists had arrived.
There was no margin for any other decision. The Rangers had done the best they could, but it was not enough. Fitzduane had been too seriously wounded. He was losing ground.
Kilmara made the reasonable deduction that a machine meant to be used in such a covert mission would be fully fueled, and the tank would probably have been topped up when they had landed on the island.
So it proved. One of the Delta men was Unit 160 trained. He could fly low and fast and land on a dime. Unfortunately, he had no idea of the local geography or Irish radio procedures. Anyway, thought Kilmara privately, his Georgia drawl would be practically unintelligible to the locals. Sergeant Hannigan went with him to monitor the injured, navigate and act as an interpreter.
Flying low was vital. Fitzduane had a punctured lung. The higher he flew, the thinner the air, the greater the pressure put on his lung as he struggled to breathe – and the greater the risk of his lung collapsing.
To the Delta warrant officer, trained in contour flying, low meant low. It was the most hair-raising and exhilarating flight of his Ranger comrade's life. Unfortunately, Hannigan was able to enjoy little of it. Seatless, he had to work from a kneeling position. The noise and vibration of the helicopter meant vigilant observation of the injured passenger's essential signs. He took blood pressure and pulse repeatedly, monitored airways occasionally, fought to keep the drips in place in the exposed interior.
By the time the helicopter arrived at ConnemaraRegionalHospital, Hannigan was of the opinion that on the balance of probability, Fitzduane was going to die.
The helicopter trip took thirty minutes. It was now forty-five minutes since the shooting.
Mike Gilmartin, the casualty consultant, had been briefed ahead by radio, and made his own diagnosis now while his team went to work.
The consultant anesthetist, Linda Foley, checked the airway for obstructions. Clearly, he could not breathe adequately for himself. 'Bag him,' she said. An oxygen venting mask was attached and connected to an Ambu-bag,
