Honorable Enemies (1994) (12 page)

"Sure," she teased with a doubting look.

Theresa Garney quietly entered the room before he could respond. She was dressed in white slacks with a blue and pale yellow aloha shirt. The former tomboy had blossomed into a blue-eyed beauty as well as a top-flight aerobatic instructor and helicopter pilot. Theresa was about to sit down when Steve suggested lunch.

"Sure," she replied with a nervous laugh. "I'd feel more comfortable if we had some privacy."

"We understand," Susan interjected smoothly.

While the trio drove to an out-of-the-way restaurant frequented mainly by local residents, Steve noticed a car following them. Constantly aware of his surroundings, he watched their "tail" as the driver maintained a set distance behind their sedan and made every turn they made. Steve started to say something to Susan, but decided against doing anything that might frighten Theresa.

When they reached the restaurant, Wickham casually glanced at the Chevrolet Corsica as the rental car made a right turn at the next intersection. He tried to see the license numbe
r o
f the dark-blue car, but his view was obstructed by a high hedge and other automobiles. He kept his secret to himself as they entered the restaurant and sat down.

The small, manicured lawn by the outdoor dining area was awash in colorful anthuriums, hibiscus, orchids, and red ginger. A mixture of furniture, including Filipino country antiques, carved Asian tables, and rattan chairs dotted the wooden floor.

After their fresh seafood lunches and iced tea were served, Susan turned to the pilot. "Theresa, you left an urgent message with our office. Is there something you forgot to add to the initial interviews?"

"No," she replied cautiously, "but there has been another development since I first talked with the local authorities and the FBI."

Theresa quietly cleared her throat and placed her fork on her plate. "It was by coincidence that you requested to talk with me a short time later."

Steve and Susan stopped and looked directly into her eyes. "Just take your time," Wickham assured her, "and tell us exactly what happened."

"I had a call from an elderly lady," Theresa explained with a renewed confidence in her voice, "who watches Channel Nine and knows what our helo looks like. To make a long story short," she continued in a hushed tone, "quite a few people saw the helicopter after the attack--as I'm sure you've seen in your reports. By most accounts, the helo passed west of Aloha Stadium, continued toward Camp Smith Marine Corps facility, then was last seen over the Ewa Forest Reservation."

She glanced down at the table, then looked at Susan. "The woman who called me said that she and her granddaughter saw the Sky Nine helicopter after the attack, but on the windward side of the island. She is the only person to my knowledge who has reported seeing the helo after it went over Ewa Forest.)
,
"Did she give you an exact location?" Steve calmly asked.

"And the time of the sighting?" Susan added, feeling the tingle that she always experienced when an important piece of the puzzle was falling into place.

"Mrs. Sakoguchi said they saw my helicopter flying close to the ridgeline of the Koolau Range."

"Where did they first see it?" Susan asked while she formulated a plan.

"The windward side, as I mentioned, near Kahana Bay. She said the helo was hugging the ridge, ducking in and out of the rain clouds." Theresa looked to Susan. "The ones that often settle along the top."

"I know," Susan replied. "The sun can be shining over Waikiki while torrential rains are falling on the tops of the mountains."

"What about the time?" Steve asked.

"She thinks it was about nine or ten minutes after the time of the attack--the time that was reported by the media."

Susan and Steve exchanged curious glances before he looked at Theresa. "Which way was the helicopter headed when they saw it?"

She looked slightly offended, but understood why he had asked the question. If Mrs. Sakoguchi was off on her time of sighting, the helicopter could have been on the way to Pearl Harbor.

"It was headed northwest, barely skimming the side of the mountains." Theresa took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "Mrs. Sakoguchi is certain about the time. They left their home at a quarter to seven, and it was exactly eight when they saw the helo."

Susan lost interest in her meal. "Why didn't she go to the police or talk to us?"

Theresa glanced at Steve, then fixed her gaze on Susan. "Mrs. Sakoguchi, who is extremely shy, is of Filipino
-
Japanese ancestry and speaks only pidgin English. She was afraid that I might get in trouble or that she would somehow become involved in the investigation and have to go to jail."

Steve raised his hand slightly. "Theresa, we'll be happy to talk with Mrs. Sakoguchi and assure her that nothing will happen to her."

Theresa nodded and gave him a faint smile. "I would appreciate that, Steve. She's a nervous wreck, and I don't blame her for feeling insecure. It took a lot of courage to come forth with her information."

"What's your schedule for the afternoon?" Susan asked, thinking the same thing as Steve: a drive to see Mrs. Sakoguchi and reassure her that no harm would come to her could provide some useful information.

"I'm scheduled to fly during drive time, but we've got a contract pilot who could fill in for me." She looked at Wickham. "I'll have to check with our manager."

"After lunch," Steve suggested to Theresa, "let's go talk to your boss about borrowing you for a while."

"Good idea," Susan acknowledged and reached for her glass, then glanced at the pilot. "It would be nice if you would call Mrs. Sakoguchi and let her know that we'll stop in for a short visit this afternoon. We need to have her show us the exact point where she saw the helicopter."

Theresa openly smiled for the first time. "She'll be thrilled to know that she isn't in some kind of trouble."

"Quite the contrary," Steve responded, trying not to stare at the blue-eyed beauty. "We owe her a debt of gratitude."

After the final guests had left the moored yacht, Tadashi Matsukawa went to the communications center and sat down at the control station. He ground out his cigarette and flipped on the power switch for the Magnavox satellite terminal, then punched in the ship's latitude and longitude to align the large antenna mounted over the wheelhouse.

The terminal was certified to interface with the Inmarsat satellite network to provide telephone, fax, data, and telex communications from remote areas around the world.

Checking his wall-mounted brass clocks, Matsukawa noted the time in Tokyo. The Prime Minister would be preparing to have his usual light lunch of rice patties with fish, or broiled ric
e w
ith slices of beef and fish. Genshiro Koyama was a regimented man who never varied from his strict diet.

Matsukawa looked at the signal-strength meter and tweaked a small lever to optimize the antenna elevation. He grabbed the secure-voice handset and tapped a special code into the sophisticated keyboard.

Waiting for his call to go through, Matsukawa lighted another cigarette and listened to the clicks and tones emitting from the handset. When the switchboard operator answered his call, he gave her his identification number.

The call was routed to a governmental agency in the heart of the Kasumigaseki district in Tokyo, then to an administrative assistant in the Prime Minister's Office. The aide asked Matsukawa his name, advised his boss, then put the call through to Prime Minister Koyama.

Matsukawa instantly recognized the unmistakable rasping voice of the man many Japanese felt was the strongest leader they had had in years. Outmaneuvering his opponents, Koyama had jockeyed to be at the right place to eventually ascend to the supreme position after the demise of the Liberal Democratic Party. The resulting political calamity had rocked Japan and caused many scars and strained relationships, but the crafty politician had waited patiently and emerged unscathed from the fracas.

Genshiro Koyama had received a degree in engineering from Japan's elite Tokyo University, then attended Harvard, where he took a master of business administration.

The sometimes caustic Prime Minister was a loner who rarely showed any emotion in public. Trim and always impeccably groomed, Koyama was capable of conversing freely in English. He firmly believed in maintaining his proficiency in English so that he would not embarrass himself in front of world leaders. Koyama seldom used his native language unless he was speaking with one of his closest aides or a member of his family.

"Ah, Matsukawa-san," the Prime Minister began slowly. "It is good to hear from you."

Tadashi Matsukawa exchanged pleasantries and steeled himself for the conversation. The Prime Minister had a well-deserved reputation for being blunt.

"Ambassador Hagura called me and mentioned that he had been in contact with you."

"That's correct."

"I understand," Matsukawa went on with a guise of nonchalance, "that you have been invited to a meeting with the President."

"Correction. I was summoned like a subordinate."

Taken aback, Matsukawa cautiously proceeded. "I sense that our breach in friendly relations with the Americans is rapidly widening, especially after the terrorist attacks."

"The terrorists from both countries," Koyama said curtly, "are making things more difficult for everyone."

"I know," Matsukawa replied glumly, "and it's very sad that the attacks are destroying the rapport we share with the Americans."

"Are you using secure-link?" Koyama asked while he opened the locked drawer in his desk.

"Yes."

Matsukawa learned the hard way not to leave anything to chance where sensitive communications were concerned. The top-of-the-line Magnavox satellite system was equipped with a secure-voice capability.

"I have recently been involved," the Prime Minister paused to spread his notes on the table, "in a number of meetings and discussions concerning the immediate and long-range planning for our country."

Tadashi Matsukawa perceived a dramatic change taking place in Tokyo. He could tell by the subtle difference in Koyama's voice that the politicians, bureaucrats, business leaders, and academics were awakening to the fact that they had to face up to the Americans--or become accustomed to being subservient to the powers in Washington.

"We are rushing toward the waterfall," Koyama continued in his raspy voice, "and we have to do something bold or we'r
e g
oing to be swept over the brink. Japan, unfortunately, is on a direct collision course with the United States."

Matsukawa gripped the phone. Was his government finally going to cleanse itself of the last stains of guilt about World War II? Was the Prime Minister finally going to break the shackles and confront the Americans?

Pressing the call button for his aide, Matsukawa reached for his fountain pen next to the console.

Yoshio Okura quietly entered the communications center and Matsukawa handed him a note. Okura nodded and hurried to tell the flight crew to have the corporate jet standing by for a flight to Los Angeles.

"This morning," Genshiro Koyama continued, "I met with the chairman of Keidanren."

Matsukawa was well acquainted with the man who headed Japan's most powerful business federation. Chihiro Yamashita always made any negotiation with the Americans as difficult and time consuming as possible. He generally succeeded in wearing down the U
. S
. business representatives until they collapsed.

"He implored me," the Prime Minister confided, "to stand up to the Americans and restore sovereignty and honor to our nation."

Matsukawa knew the core of the problems with Washington centered around the weakened American military and Japan's growing military capability. The key issue to the Japanese was the ongoing dispute over the constitutionality of the Self-Defense Forces and the fear that Japan would be left to defend herself if the U
. S
. failed to protect the islands if they were invaded. Most Japanese citizens simply didn't trust the fickle Americans to stand by what they promised.

Koyama sounded very troubled. "Yamashita reminded me about Nakasone and Takeshita. Especially about how they had been highly visible and outspoken advocates of dramatically increasing Japan's military capability."

Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone had enraged many U
. S
. citizens by saying that America's intellectual level was lowe
r t
han Japan's because America had too many blacks, Mexicans, and Puerto Ricans.

In 1988 Takeshita spoke to a group of cadets, telling them that Japan would need a defense force equal to its vast economic power. The message was clear: Japan had to become a global military power in order to protect her future.

"I've always believed that Nakasone and Takeshita were right," Matsukawa interjected. "We need to be able to defend ourselves, regardless of the potential enemy. At this period in time, we can't depend on the shrinking U
. S
. military."

"You are precisely correct," the Prime Minister confided.