The Pearl Harbor Murders

'Well, get out here to Schofield,' Burroughs had told the FBI man, from a phone booth outside a gas station with a magnificent view of Pearl Harbor that rivaled the Shuncho-ro's. 'I have new information for the general, and I won't be able to get past the guard without your help.'

Burroughs filled Sterling in on what he'd learned from Kuhn and Morimura, and the FBI man, excited, said he was on his way and hung up.

The writer had paused to look at the view, before driving to nearby Schofield. Pearl Harbor was spread out before him, warships moored in pools of yellow luminance, signal lights blinking back and forth, search beams stroking the sky.

A chatty little Japanese man in coveralls-who had introduced himself as Mr. Sumida, the service station's owner, and who had smiled during every moment of gas pumping and windshield cleaning-was also admiring the glittering view, as Burroughs paid for his gas.

'So beautiful,' Mr. Sumida said. 'Like great big Christmas tree!'

Somehow this observation was less than comforting, and now-as Burroughs waited for Sterling outside the Schofield gate-he wondered how his son and Sam Fujimoto were faring. About now they would be combing Hotel Street for Bill Fielder and Jack Stanton, and he writer was well aware of the potential perils of that sleazy strip of sin.

Sterling pulled up in a black Ford, government issue no doubt, and Burroughs left the Pierce Arrow and hopped in front, on the passenger side. The FBI man showed his ID to the guard and they soon were rolling through the lush, suburban 'barracks.'

'We're probably on a fool's errand, Ed,' the FBI agent said. The rangy, square-jawed Sterling-who still reminded Burroughs of a hero from one of his own books-seemed frazzled at the end of this long day, his white linen suit rumpled, his tie a limp, wrinkled rag.

Sterling proceeded to tell Burroughs that when he'd arrived at Fort Shafter at seven, for a promised ten- minute audience with the general, both Mrs. Short and Mrs. Fielder were already seated in the general's car with its motor running, in the driveway, waiting to go to the party at the Schofield Officers' Club.

Short had been unimpressed with the transcript of the Mori radiophone call. 'If this is code,' the general had asked skeptically, 'why do they talk in the clear about things like planes and searchlights?'

While the wives fretted and fumed in the car, Sterling had tried to make his case to Short and Fielder (who lived next door to the general).

'General Short thought the Mori call was 'quite an ordinary message,' ' Steriing said to Burroughs, pulling into the officers'-club parking lot. 'Nothing much to get excited about.'

'And of course Fielder parroted that view,' Burroughs said dryly.

'The worst of it is, the general said he appreciated my 'zeal,' but perhaps I was being 'too intelligence- conscious.' '

Burroughs, shaking his head, said, 'Is there such a thing, with war hanging over us?'

'When it comes to matters like these,' Sterling said, as he parked his car in the nearly filled lot, 'it's easy to be wrong…. Morimura being a case in point, on my part.'

Burroughs was getting out of the car. 'You might have done better with General Short during working hours. When a man's wife is waiting for him in a car, dressed to the nines ready to go to a party, his judgment is easily impaired.'

As they walked up to the entry of the unpretentious brick building, the FBI agent warned Burroughs: 'The general was pretty patient with me at his house, all considering, but this interruption may be something else again.'

Sterling had already explained that this was not just the club's weekly Saturday-night dance, but an annual cabaret-style benefit show put on by 'talented young ladies' who worked on the post. Right now they could hear a small combo-piano, drums, guitar and bass fiddle-accompanying a thin female voice doing Ella Fitzgerald's 'A Tisket a Tasket,' passably.

Once inside, they peeked in at the wood-paneled dining room, which was decked out with ferns and floral arrangements, and every linen-covered table had fresh-cut flowers; between two lava-rock columns was the stage area, where various amateurs were coming up to sing and dance and do their best. The men in the audience were in dress uniform and the women in their fanciest gowns, and the club was brimming with brass-in addition to Short and Fielder, who were positioned up front (unfortunately), Burroughs spotted Major Durward Wilson of the 24th Infantry Division, Lieutenant Colonel Emil Leard, and Lieutenant Colonel Walter Phillips, Short's chief of staff.

'Wait in the bar,' Sterling told Burroughs, who did as he was told, as the FBI man waded gingerly into the sea of high-ranking officers.

With the benefit show in full sway, the bar was empty, but for the bartender himself, and Burroughs ordered a root beer at the counter, and retreated to a booth.

A few minutes later, Sterling returned with both General Short and Colonel Fielder, neither of whom seemed happy. Nor did they did seem inclined to join Burroughs in the booth, and the writer crawled out and stood and apologized for interrupting their evening out.

'I hope there's a good reason for this, Mr. Burroughs,' the slim, wiry general said tightly.

Burroughs jumped right in. 'You already know about the Mori radiophone call, and the Jap Consulate burning its papers. What you don't know is mat Otto Kuhn, the German 'sleeper' agent, is working with Vice Consul Morimura, in an effort to pin the murder of Pearl Harada on an innocent man.'

The general frowned, but with interest. This news perked Fielder's curiosity, as well. Short gestured to the booth, said, 'Let's sit down-I'd like to hear this.'

Burroughs and Sterling sat across from the general and the colonel. Both men seemed keenly attentive as the writer told them what Kuhn had admitted about the phone call, and that Morimura had flaunted his spying activities, right down to the powerful telescope in his private room at the Shuncho-ro.

Sterling said, 'My office has clearly underestimated Morimura-he's put on a good front as a womanizer and buffoon. But it's apparent he's involved heavily in spying, though much of it may be legal.'

'This is intriguing information, Mr. Burroughs,' the general said, nodding thoughtfully. 'But I as yet fail to see a reason for your sense of urgency….'

'Pearl Harada's uncle is on the FBI's list of dangerous Japanese-Americans here in Oahu. She may have been involved in something having to do with espionage, or overheard something.' Burroughs turned to Fielder. 'Wooch, that girl made a concerted effort to have me arrange a meeting between the two of you.'

Fielder shrugged. 'Of course-because she and my son wanted to get married….'

This was news to Short, who looked sharply at Fielder, who went on, faintly chagrined.

'My son and that girl knew I would forbid such a union, and she wanted to try to win me over.'

'That's right,' Burroughs said. 'And we've been assuming that she was going to bat her eyes and sweet-talk you and just generally appeal to your basic goodness… but Wooch, what if she was going to prove herself to you by handing you sensitive information?' -

Fielder's eyes narrowed, and so did Short's.

'I spoke to that girl minutes before her murder,' Burroughs said. 'She was anxious to see you, Wooch, as soon as possible. She had a real sense of urgency about her, let me tell you … and somebody else had enough of a sense of urgency to murder her before she could talk to you.'

Fielder seemed stunned, trying to absorb this.

'What do you think she knew?' the general asked.

'I can only guess,' Burroughs said. 'But if the Japs, through Morimura, are waking their sleeper agent… literally … and murder is being committed, right down to framing some poor fall guy … it must be something important. Something … urgent.'

'It would certainly seem that Morimura and Kuhn are worth serious investigation.' General Short turned to Fielder, who was after all his top intelligence man. 'First thing Monday morning, I want you to meet with Agent Sterling and whoever's handling this murder case.'

'That would be Detective John Jardine of the Prosecutor's Office,' Burroughs told the general, 'but do you really think you should wait until Monday?'

Short raised an eyebrow. 'Morimura is a diplomat-with protected status. If he's been involved in illegal espionage, that status dissolves. Kuhn we can simply have arrested. Nevertheless, we need to tread slowly, carefully.'