Debt of Honor

Ryan found himself wishing that the Flat Earth Society was right. In that case the world could have been a single time zone. As it was, the Marianas were fifteen hours ahead, Japan fourteen, Moscow eight. Western Europe's principal financial markets were five and six ahead, depending on the country. Hawaii was five hours behind. He had contacts in all of those places, and everyone was working on local time, and it was so different in every case that just keeping track of who was probably awake and who was probably asleep occupied much of his thoughts. He grunted to himself in bed, remembering with nostalgia the confusion that always came to him on long flights. Even now people were working in some of those places, none under his control, and he knew he had to sleep if he were going to be able to deal with any of them when the sun returned to where he lived and worked. But sleep wasn't coming, and all he saw was the pine decking that made up his bedroom ceiling.

'Any ideas?' Cathy asked.

Jack grunted. 'I wish I'd stuck with merchant banking.'

'And then who'd be running things?'

A long breath. 'Somebody else.'

'Not as well, Jack,' his wife suggested.

'True,' he admitted to the ceiling.

'How do you think people will react to this?'

'I don't know. I'm not even sure how I'm reacting to it,' Jack admitted. 'It's not supposed to be like this at all. We're in a war that doesn't make any sense. We just got rid of the last nuclear missiles ten days ago, and now they're back, and pointed at us, and we don't have any to point back at them, and if we don't stop this thing fast—I don't know, Cathy.'

'Not sleeping doesn't help.'

'Thank God, married to a doctor.' He managed a smile. 'Well, honey, you got us out of one problem anyway.'

'How did I do that?'

'By being smart.' By using your head all the time, his mind went on. His wife didn't do anything without thinking it through first. She worked pretty slowly by the standards of her profession. Perhaps that was normal for someone pushing the frontiers buck, always considering and planning and evaluating—like a good intelligence officer, in fact—and then when everything was ready and you had it all figured out, zap with her laser. Yeah, that wasn't a bad way to operate, was it?

'Well, I think they've learned one lesson,' Yamata said. A rescue aircraft had recovered two bodies and some floating debris from the American bomber. The bodies would be treated with dignity, it had been decided. The names had already been telexed to Washington via the Japanese Embassy, and in due course the remains would be returned. Showing mercy was the proper thing to do, for many reasons. Someday America and Japan would be friends again, and he didn't want to poison that possibility. It was also bad for business.

'The Ambassador reports that they do not offer us anything,' Goto replied after a moment.

'They have not as yet evaluated their position, and ours.'

'Will they repair their financial systems?'

Yamata frowned. 'Perhaps. But they still have great difficulties. They still need to buy from us, they still need to sell to us—and they cannot strike us effectively, as four of their airmen, possibly eight, just learned to their sorrow.' Things had not gone entirely in accord with his plans, but, then, when had things ever really done that? 'What we must do next is to show them that the people who live on Saipan prefer our rule to theirs. Then world opinion will work in our favor, and that will defuse the situation greatly.'

And until then, Yamata thought, things were going well. The Americans would not soon again probe his country's mainland. They didn't have the ability to retake the islands, and by the time they did, well, Japan would have a new ally, and perhaps even new political leadership, wouldn't it?

'No, I am not being watched,' Koga assured them.

'As a reporter—no, you know better than that, don't you?' Clark asked.

'I know you are an intelligence officer. I know Kimura here has been in contact with you.' They were in a comfortable teahouse close to the Ara River. Nearby was the boat-racing course built for the 1964 Olympics. It was also conveniently close to a police station, John reminded himself. Why, he wondered, had he always feared the attention of police officers? Under the circumstances, it seemed the proper thing to nod his understanding of the situation.

'In that case, Koga-san, we are at your mercy.'

'I presume your government now knows what is going on. All of it,' Koga went on distastefully. 'I've spoken with my own contacts as well.'

'Siberia,' Clark said simply.

'Yes,' Koga responded. 'That is part of it. Yamata-san's hatred for America is another part, but most of all, it's pure madness.'

'The Americans' reaction is not really a matter of my immediate concern, but I can assure you that my country will not meekly submit to an invasion of our soil,' John said calmly.

'Even if China is involved?' Kimura asked.

'Especially if China is involved,' Chavez said just to let everyone know he was there. 'I presume that you study history, as we do.'

'I fear for my country. The time for such adventures is long past, but the people who—do you really understand how policy decisions are made here? The will of the people is an irrelevance. I tried to change that. I tried to bring an end to the corruption.'

Clark's mind was racing, trying to decide if the man was sincere or not. 'We face similar problems, as you have probably heard. The question is, what do we do now?'

The torment on the man's face was clear. 'I do not know. I asked for this meeting in the hope that your government will understand that not everyone here is mad.'

'You must not think of yourself as a traitor, Koga-san,' Clark said after a moment's consideration. 'Truly you are not. What does a man do when he feels that his government is taking incorrect action? And you are correct in your judgment that the possible consequences of this current course of action could well be serious. My country has neither the time nor the energy to waste on conflict, but if it is forced on us, well, then we must react. Now I must ask you a question.'

'Yes, I know.' Koga looked down at the table. He thought about reaching for his drink, but was too afraid that his hand would shake.

'Will you work with us to prevent this from happening?' This is something/or somebody a hell of a lot more senior than I am, John told himself, but he was here, and the senior pukes were not.

'Doing what?'

'I lack the seniority to tell you exactly what that might be, but I can convey requests from my government. At the very least we will ask you for information, and perhaps for influence. You are still respected within government circles. You still have friends and allies in the Diet. We will not ask you to compromise those things. They are too valuable to be thrown away.'

'I can speak out against this madness. I can—'

'You can do many things, Koga-san, but please, for the sake of your country and mine, please do nothing without first considering the effects you will achieve by taking action.' My next career change, Clark thought. Political advisor. 'We are agreed, are we not, that the objective here is to avoid a major war?'

'Hai.'

'Any fool can start a war,' Chavez announced, thanking Providence for his master's courses. 'It takes a better man to prevent one, and it takes careful thought.'

'I will listen to your counsel I do not promise you that I will follow it. But I will listen.'

Clark nodded. 'That is all we can ask.' The rest of the meeting was procedural. Another such rendezvous would be too dangerous. Kimura would handle messages from this point on. Clark and Chavez left first, heading back to their hotel by foot. It was a very different affair from dealing with Mohammed Abdul Corp. Koga was honorable, bright, and wanted to do the right thing, even if it entailed treason. But John realized that his words to the man hadn't just been part of the seduction dance. At a certain point, state policy became a matter of conscience, and he was grateful that this man seemed to have one.