The Pearl Harbor Murders

Burroughs leaned forward in the booth. 'General Short, what if Pearl Harada had information indicating invasion was at hand?'

'Mr. Burroughs, war is at hand, unless these negotiations with the Japs start going someplace, quick… Washington indicates we could have hostile action at any moment.'

'Well, then-'

'And I'm grateful to you, Mr. Burroughs, for this information indicating that espionage efforts here in Oahu are heating up.'

The writer was shaking his head. 'General, I'm not talking about war, I'm talking about invasion-a sneak attack. Your man Colonel Teske believed it would come by air at dawn on a Saturday or Sunday-when the Japs know they would have their best shot at rinding our ships in port and many men off duty, our guard dropped.'

'Our 'guard' is never dropped, Mr. Burroughs,' the general said, crisply, defensive irritation unmistakable in his tone. 'War is coming but almost certainly not in Hawaii-I asked my chief of staff just yesterday what the odds were of that, and he told me, flatly, 'Zero.' '

Then Short was out of the booth, Fielder too, the general thanking the writer for his patriotism and his conscientiousness.

'This activity by Morimura and Kuhn is unquestionably pertinent,' he told Burroughs and Sterling, who were still seated in the booth. 'We're on alert against sabotage, espionage activities and subversion right now. When the Japs attack-whether it's the Philippines or Borneo-we'll have to be ready to handle a bloody uprising of their local fifth column.'

And, after a few polite smiles and nods, General Walter Short and Colonel Kendall Fielder were off to rejoin their wives, who were listening to a trio of girls from the camp PX singing 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.'

'Hell, Ed,' Sterling said, ashen, as the two walked out into the officers'-club parking lot in the still, crisp air, 'if your hunch about invasion is correct, the general's antisabotage efforts could backfire tragically.'

'How so?'

'Well, in this antisabotage alert he's implemented, Short's ordered ammo boxed up and locked, to prevent theft. And all the warplanes are disarmed and massed close together, in the middle of open tarmacs.'

The writer's eyes popped. 'Are you serious? That makes a perfect target for an enemy air raid!'

The FBI agent shrugged, glumly. 'It's easier to guard the planes that way, Short says-against the 'fifth column' of local Jap saboteurs.'

Burroughs shook his head. 'And what I told him about Morimura probably only reinforced that notion.'

As they headed out of Schofield in the black Ford, Burroughs said to Sterling, 'We have to talk to Admiral Kimmel. We have to try him.'

'That's probably not advisable….'

'Do you know where he is tonight?'

'I do,' Sterling admitted. 'A party at the Halekulani, given by Admiral Leary and his wife.'

A number of the Navy's top brass lived at the Halekulani Hotel.

'Drop me at my car,' Burroughs said, 'and I'll meet you over there-in the lobby.'

Just beyond Fort DeRussey, on the ocean side of Kalia Street, the Halekulani was a low-key, casually posh hotel whose buildings and cottages seemed interwoven with the Hawaiian landscape. The House Without a Key bar was named after Earl Derr Biggers' s first Charlie Chan mystery, a small resonance Burroughs might have savored, under less tense circumstances: John Jardine's late colleague on the Honolulu PD, Chang Apana, had been the basis for the fictional Chan.

Burroughs and the FBI agent found Admiral Kimmel in the company of Rear Admiral Draemel and Admiral Pye and their wives, sipping cocktails at a table under the big hau tree on the Halekulani terrace. A grouping of tables nearby made up a dinner party of around a dozen-all top brass and their wives … except, of course, for Husband Kimmel, whose wife was back on the mainland.

Sterling approached the stern, broad-browed admiral, apologizing for the intrusion, and politely asking for a few minutes of his time.

In the charming, pale pink, wicker-furnished lobby, standing near a huge window looking out on a seemingly impenetrable thickness of tropical garden, Burroughs and the FBI man laid out their cards for Admiral Kimmel. It took a while longer than the meeting with Short and Fielder, because Kimmel knew nothing of the Mori radiophone call, though he was aware of the Japanese Consulate burning their papers.

'That's only natural,' the stately admiral said, a faint touch of Kentucky in his voice, 'at a time like this.'

'With war imminent, you mean?' Burroughs said.

'Yes. Now what is this business about murder, and espionage?'

They filled him in slowly, and the admiral listened, absorbed, frequently nodding. Burroughs and Sterling exchanged occasional glances, both men feeling they were getting through to Kimmel.

But in the end, the admiral's reaction mirrored the general's.

'This begs prompt action,' Kimmel said. 'First thing Monday morning.'

'Admiral Kimmel,' Burroughs said, 'Sunday is the perfect time for an invasion….'

The admiral's clear blue eyes seemed tranquil. 'The Japs may indeed invade, tomorrow-somewhere in Southeast Asia, that is.'

'What about here? In Hawaii?'

'No one gives that possibility much credence. Just last week I asked my operations officer what the chances were, of a surprise attack on Oahu, and he said, 'None.' I hope you won't mind if I rely on the advice of our leading military minds and not… forgive me … the creator of Tarzan?'

The admiral thanked both men for their diligence, and returned to the terrace and the single cocktail he was conservatively making last all evening.

Soon the writer and the FBI man were back at the Niumalu, in their respective bungalows; when he took his leave, Sterling seemed weary and defeated. Burroughs felt about the same, but was relieved and even energized to find Hully at home. They had company: Hully had hauled his inebriated and somewhat battered friend, Bill Fielder, to sleep it off, which he was doing, on a pallet on the floor.

Father and son sat on the couch and exchanged their tales of the evening's investigations, each surprising, occasionally delighting, the other with revelations and adventures.

But finally it was left to Hully to ask, 'What does it all add up to, O. B.?'.

His father shrugged. 'Harry Kamana is innocent-and so, most likely, are Bill and Stanton and the other 'jealous lovers.' Pearl Harada was killed for a classic motive: she knew too much.'

'But what did she know, Dad?'

'I can't tell you, Son-and neither can Pearl.'

Hully sighed. 'I guess our investigation is over.'

'Ours is-but when Sterling and Jardine get together with Colonel Fielder of Army intelligence, Morimura and Kuhn won't stand a chance.'

'And when does this happen?'

'Monday.'

'Monday.' Hully stretched, yawned. 'I guess it can wait that long.'

And-with Bill snoring on his pallet on the floor-Hully folded out the couch into a bed, while his father trundled off in hopes of a good night's sleep, minus any nightmares or other rude awakenings.

THREE: December 7, 1941 THIRTEEN

War Games

After the midnight closing of the Navy's new Bloch Recreation Center-where the