A road or trail, or something, leads from there up the bank of the Tojo River, past the dam, and terminates at the site of the proposed diggings.
Goto Dengo bends close and peers. The area including both Lake Yamamoto and the diggings has been surrounded by a tidy square, neatly crosshatched with Captain Noda's brush-and-ink, and labeled 'special security zone.'
He jerks back as Captain Noda shoves the end of his stick into the narrow space between his nose and the bedsheet, and whacks on the Special Security Zone a few times. Concentric ripples speed outwards, like shock waves from dynamite. 'This area is your responsibility, Lieutenant Goto.' He moves the pointer south and taps on the zone farther down the Tojo River, with the worker housing and the barracks. 'This is Lieutenant Mori's.' He circles the whole area, windmilling his arm to cover the entire security perimeter and the road that gives access to it. 'The entirety is mine. I report to Manila. So, it is a very small chain of command for such a large area. Secrecy is of paramount importance. Your first and highest order is to preserve absolute secrecy at all costs.'
Lieutenants Mori and Goto blurt 'Hai!' and bow.
Addressing Mori, Captain Noda continues: 'The housing area will appear to be a prison camp-for special prisoners. Its existence may be known to some on the outside-the local people will see trucks going in and out along the road and will guess as much.' Turning to Goto Dengo, he says: 'The existence of the Special Security Zone, however, will be totally unknown to the outside world. Your work will proceed under the cover of the jungle, which is extraordinarily dense here. It will be invisible to the enemy's observation planes.'
Lieutenant Mori jerks back as if a bug has just flown into his eye. To him, the idea of enemy observation planes over Luzon is completely bizarre. MacArthur is nowhere near the Philippines.
Goto Dengo, on the other hand, has been to New Guinea. He knows what happens to Nipponese Army units who try to resist MacArthur in the jungles of the Southwest Pacific. He knows that MacArthur is coming, and obviously so does Captain Noda. More importantly, so do the men in Tokyo who sent Noda down to accomplish this mission-whatever it is.
They know. Everyone knows we are losing the war.
Everyone
'Lieutenant Goto, you are not to discuss any details of your work with Lieutenant Mori except insofar as they pertain to pure logistics: road building, worker schedules, and so on.' Noda is addressing this to both men; the clear implication is that if Goto gets loose-lipped, Mori is expected to turn him in. 'Lieutenant Mori, you are dismissed!'
Mori grunts out another 'Hai!' and makes himself scarce.
Lieutenant Goto bows. 'Captain Noda, please permit me to say that I am honored to have been selected to construct these fortifications.'
The stoic look on Noda's face dissolves for a moment. He turns away from Goto Dengo and paces across the floor of the tent for a moment, thinking, then turns to face him again. 'It is not a fortification.'
Goto Dengo is practically startled right out of his boots for a moment. Then he thinks, a gold mine! They must have discovered an immense gold deposit in this valley. Or diamonds?
'You must not think as if you were building a fortification,' Noda says solemnly.
'A mine?' Goto Dengo says. But he says it weakly. He is already realizing that it does not make sense. It would be insane to put so much effort into mining gold or diamonds at this point in the war. Nippon needs steel, rubber, and petroleum, not jewelry.
Perhaps some new super-weapon? His heart nearly bursts from excitement. But Captain Noda's stare is as bleak as the fat muzzle of a tommy gun.
'It is a long-term storage facility for vital war-making materials,' Captain Noda finally says.
He goes on to explain, in general terms, how the facility is to be built. It is to be a network of intersecting shafts bored through hard volcanic rock. Its dimensions are surprisingly small given the amount of effort that will be spent on building it. They won't be able to store much here: enough ammunition for a regiment to fight for a week, perhaps, assuming that they make minimal use of heavy weapons, and get their food off the land. But those supplies will be almost inconceivably well protected.
Goto Dengo sleeps that night in a hammock stretched between two trees, protected by mosquito netting. The jungle emits a fantastic din.
Captain Noda's sketches looked familiar, and he is trying to place them. Just as he's falling asleep, he remembers cutaway views of the Pyramids of Egypt that his father had shown him in a picture book, showing the design of the pharaoh's tombs.
A horrible thought comes to him then: he is building a tomb for the emperor. When Nippon falls to MacArthur, Hirohito will carry out the rite of seppuku. His body will be flown out of Nippon and brought to Bundok and buried in the chamber that Goto Dengo is building. He has a nightmare of being buried alive in a black chamber, the grey image of the emperor's face fading to black as the last brick is rammed home on its bed of mortar.
He sits in absolute darkness, knowing that Hirohito is there with him, afraid to move.
He is a little boy in an abandoned mine chamber, naked and soaked with icy water. His flashlight has died. Before it flickered out, he thought he saw the face of a demon. Now he hears only the drip, drip of ground water into the sump. He can stay here and die, or he can dive into the water again and swim back.
When he wakes up, it's raining and the sun has climbed free of the horizon somewhere. He rolls out of his hammock and walks naked in the warm rain to wash himself. Goto Dengo has a job to do.
Chapter 67 COMPUTER
Lieutenant Colonel Earl Comstock of The Electrical Till Corporation and the United States Army, in that order, prepares for today's routine briefing from his subordinate, Lawrence Pritchard Waterhouse, much as a test pilot readies himself to be ripped into the stratosphere with a hot rocket engine under his ass. He turns in early the night before, wakes up late, talks to his aide and makes sure that (a) plenty of hot coffee is available and (b) none of it will be given to Waterhouse. He gets two wire recorders set up in the room, in case either goes on the fritz, and brings in a team of three crack stenographers with loads of technical savvy. He has a couple of fellows in his section-also ETC employees during peacetime-who are real math whizzes, so he brings them in too. He gives them a little pep talk:
'I do not expect you fellows to understand what the fuck Waterhouse is talking about. I'm gonna be running after him as fast as I can. You just hug his legs and hold on for dear life so that I can sort of keep his backside in view as long as possible.' Comstock is proud of this analogy, but the math whizzes seem baffled. Testily, he fills them in on the always-tricky literal vs. figurative dichotomy. Only twenty minutes remain before Waterhouse's arrival; right on schedule, Comstock's aide comes through the room with a tray of benzedrine tablets. Comstock takes two, attempting to lead by example. 'Where's my darn chalkboard team?' he demands, as the powerful stimulant begins to rev up his pulse. Into the room come two privates equipped with blackboard erasers and damp chamois cloths, plus a three-man photography team. They set up a pair of cameras aimed at the chalkboard, plus a couple of strobe lights, and lay in a healthy stock of film rolls.
He checks his watch. They are running five minutes behind schedule. He looks out the window and sees that his jeep has returned; Waterhouse must be in the building. 'Where is the extraction team?' he demands.
Sergeant Graves is there a few moments later. 'Sir, we went to the church as directed, and located him, and, uh-' He coughs against the back of his hand.
'And what?'
'And who is more like it, sir,' says Sergeant Graves, sotto voce. 'He's in the lavatory right now, cleaning up, if you know what I mean.' He winks.
'Ohhhh,' says Earl Comstock, cottoning on to it.
'After all,' Sergeant Graves says, 'you can't
Comstock tenses. 'Sergeant Graves-it is critically important for me to
