Debt of Honor

'It's my job, Jack.'

Tennessee arrived at her station off the Japanese coast and finally slowed to her normal patrol speed of five knots. Commander Claggett took a required moment to get a position fix on a rocky outcropping known to sailors as Lot's Wife, then dived his boat below the layer to a depth of six hundred feet. The sonar showed nothing at the moment, odd for the normally busy shipping lanes, but after four and a half days of dangerously high-speed running, it came as a considerable relief to everyone aboard. The Army personnel had adapted well enough and joined sailors for their jogs in the missile room. For the moment, the mission orders were little different from those the boomer had been designed to do: remain undetected, with the additional assignment of gathering whatever information on enemy movements that came her way. It wasn't exactly exciting, but only Claggett knew at the moment how important it was.

The satellite link told Sandy Richter and his colleagues that the mission was a probable 'go.' It meant more simulator time for all of them while ground crews prepped their Comanches for business. Unfortunately, that meant affixing decidedly unstealthy wing fittings to the side of each aircraft, along with long-range ferry tanks, but he'd known that from the beginning, and nobody had bothered asking how much he liked the idea. There were three scenarios on the sim now, and one by one the flight crews went through them, their bodies gyrating, quite unaware of what they were doing in the real world while their minds and bodies played in the virtual one.

'How the hell do we do that?' Chavez demanded.

Russians would not have questioned the orders in quite that way, Scherenko thought. 'I only relay orders from your own agency,' he told them.

'I also know that Koga's disappearance was not caused by any official agency.'

'Yamata, you suppose?' Clark asked. That piece of information narrowed the possibilities somewhat. It also made the impossible merely dangerous.

'A good guess. You know where he lives, yes?'

'We've seen it from a distance,' Chavez confirmed.

'Ah, yes—your photos.' The Major would have loved to know what those had been about, but it would have been foolish to ask the question, and it was not certain that these two Americans knew the answer in any case. 'If you have other assets in-country, I suggest you make use of them. We are making use of ours as well. Koga is probably the political solution to this crisis.'

'If there is one,' Ding noted.

'Good to fly with you again, Captain Sato,' Yamata said pleasantly. The invitation to the flight deck pleased him. The pilot, he saw, was a patriot, a man of both pride and skill who really understood what was happening. What a pity he'd chosen such a lowly path for his life. Sato took off his headset and relaxed in his command seat. 'This is a pleasant change from the Canadian flights.'

'How does that go?'

'I've spoken with a few executives on the way home. They say the Americans are more confused than anything else.'

'Yes.' Yamata smiled. 'They confuse easily.'

'Can we hope for a diplomatic settlement to this business, Yamata-san?'

'I think so. They lack the ability to attack us effectively.'

'My father commanded a destroyer in the war. My brother—'

'Yes, I know him well, Captain.' That remark, he saw, lit up the pilot's eyes with pride.

'And my son is a fighter pilot. He flies the Eagle.'

'Well, they have done well so far. They recently killed two American bombers, you know. The Americans tested our air defenses,' the industrialist said. 'It was they who failed.'

41—CTF-77

'You're back!' the rental agent said with some pleasure.

Nomuri smiled and nodded. 'Yes. I had a particularly good day at the office yesterday. I do not need to tell you how stressful such a 'good' day can be, do I? '

The man grunted agreement. 'In the summer my best days are those when I get no sleep. Please excuse how I appear,' he added. He'd been working on some of his machines all morning, which for him had begun just after five. The same was true of Nomuri, but for a different reason.

'I understand. I own my own business, too, and who works harder than a man who works for himself, eh?'

'Do you suppose the zaibatsu understand that?'

'Not the ones I've met. Even so, you are fortunate to live in so peaceful an area.'

'Not always peaceful. The Air Force must have been playing games last night. A jet flew close by and very low. It woke me up, and I never really got back to sleep afterward.' He wiped his hands and poured two cups of tea, offering one to his guest.

'Dozo,' Nomuri said graciously. 'They are playing very dangerous games now,' he went on, wondering what response he'd get.

'It's madness, but who cares what I think? Not the government, surely. All they listen to are the 'great' ones.' The equipment owner sipped at his tea and looked around his shop.

'Yes, I am concerned, too. I hope Goto can find a way out of this before things spin completely out of control.' Nomuri looked outside. The weather was turning gray and threatening. He heard a decidedly angry grunt.

'Goto? Just one more like all the rest. Others lead him by the nose or some other part if the rumors about him are correct.'

Nomuri chuckled. 'Yes, I have heard the stories, too. Still, a man of some vigor, eh?' He paused. 'So can I rent another of your cycles today?'

'Take number six.' The man pointed. 'I just finished servicing it. Pay attention to the weather,' he warned. 'Snow tonight.'

Nomuri held up his backpack. 'I want to take some pictures of cloudy mountains for my collection. The peace here is wonderful, and fine for thinking.'

'Only in the winter,' the dealer said, returning to his work.

Nomuri knew the way now, and followed the Taki uphill over a trail crusty from cold and frost. He would have felt a little better about it if the damned four-wheeled cycle had a better muffler. At least the heavy air would help attenuate the sound, or so he hoped, as he headed up the same path he'd taken a few days earlier. In due course he was looking down at the high meadow, seeing nothing out of the ordinary and wondering if—wondering a lot of things. What if the soldiers had run into an ambush? In that case, Nomuri told himself, I'm toast. But there was no turning back. He settled back into the seat and steered his way down the hillside, stopping as he was supposed to in the middle of the clearing and taking the hood down off his red parka. On closer examination, he saw that some sod had been disturbed, and he saw what might have been a trail of sorts into the woodline.

That was when a single figure appeared, waving him up. The CIA officer restarted the cycle and headed that way.

The two soldiers who confronted him didn't point weapons. They didn't have to. Their faces were painted and their camouflage uniforms told him everything he needed to know.

'I'm Nomuri,' he said. 'The password is Foxtrot.'

'Captain Checa,' the officer replied, extending his hand. 'We've worked with the Agency before. Are you the guy who picked this spot?'

'No, but I checked it out a couple days ago.'

'Nice place to build a cabin,' Checa thought. 'We even saw a few deer, little ones. I hope it isn't hunting season.' The remark caught Nomuri short. He hadn't considered that possibility, and didn't know anything about hunt ing in Japan. 'So what do you have for me?'

'These.' Nomuri took off his backpack and pulled out the cellular phones.

'Are you kiddin' me?'