Honorable Enemies (1994) (29 page)

He called Langley and received an update on world affairs and the current status of the Pearl Harbor and Los Angeles cases. He scribbled a series of notes on a small hotel pad, then cupped the receiver when Susan completed her call and turned to him.

"Two minutes." He smiled and jotted a phone number on the writing pad.

She finished her coffee and nervously watched everyone who entered the business center. The encounters with the muscular Asian who was stalking them had forced Susan to be constantly on guard. She had even resorted to wearing her Smith & Wesson in a special shoulder holster under her jacket.

When he finally placed the receiver down, Steve looked at his homespun shorthand. "The Agency is still looking for the needle in the haystack, and they have focused on our ship."

"Number three Matsumi Maru?" she asked with a surprised look on her face.

"That's right. One of our people interviewed a dockworke
r w
ho swears he remembers that the crane--the one lying flat on the deck in the photos--was upright the entire time number three was in Honolulu."

He looked at his scrawled words. "The man has twenty-two years of experience around ships, and he said there wouldn't be any reason to lower the crane to go to sea."

Susan tried to quell her growing excitement. "Do they know where it's going?"

"Not yet," he admitted and tore off the slip of paper. "But they've got a number of military reconnaissance aircraft scouring the Pacific."

"Steve"--Susan suddenly changed the subject--"did you see the report about the Japanese man who was shot while a television crew was filming him?"

"Yes," Steve confided and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I saw it on television first thing this morning."

The Japanese protester had been standing on a packing crate yelling through a megaphone at San Francisco commuters. A group of male Caucasians were taunting him from across the street. When the young man shouted, "Japan must never apologize for the war! We don't owe America anything, and we will not pay any reparations!" a single shot rang out and the crowd scattered, leaving the wounded protester writhing on the sidewalk. He died three hours later at San Francisco General Hospital .

"Do you think," Susan asked, "that relations between Japan and America are irretrievably doomed?"

"I wish I could give you an answer," Steve temporized, "but in my opinion there's a high probability that our two nations will never get along."

"Do you really think that's what the future holds?"

"Yes, I really do." He glanced down. "I doubt if the Japanese, who are a fairly pure race, and the hodgepodge of people we call Americans, will ever be close to each other."

Susan looked at the entrance when an Asian businessman walked in.

"Many of our core values," Steve went on, "including ou
r i
deology and a number of other things, are diametrically opposed to the Japanese . . . and then we have the matter of their sneak attack and the two atomic bombs we dropped on them. So I don't see much hope for a warm, friendly relationship between our two societies."

"I'm afraid you're right. And, as I said before, I think we'll go to war. The people of both countries--for the most part--don't like or trust each other. If I had been born and raised in Japan, I probably wouldn't trust Americans either."

They remained quiet until Susan checked her watch. "Well, now that you've brightened my morning, are you ready to go to the Port Authority?"

The President was conferring with his Chief of Staff when an aide brought Japanese Ambassador Koji Hagura and Special Envoy Yamagata Isoroku into the Lincoln Sitting Room. The quiet space was the President's favorite environment to contemplate difficult situations. He felt more organized and disciplined in the historical surroundings, and often said he got most of his best ideas in the room.

The men had dismal looks on their faces, and the Chief of Staff had coffee stains on the front of his white shirt and blue silk tie.

"I'd like you to sit in on this," the President said hastily when Scott Eaglehoff started to leave.

"Yes, sir."

Evening was settling over the city as the formalities were exchanged and the men took seats.

"Mr. President," Hagura began glumly, "I apologize for bothering you and your staff at this hour; however, due to the present difficulties our two nations are experiencing, my government has instructed me to initiate an immediate dialogue with you and your staff."

The Ambassador's polished etiquette and decorum wer
e c
learly evident, but the occasional half-smile was missing. Although Special Envoy Isoroku was more woodenly expressionless than the President had ever seen him, the young diplomat didn't seem as depressed as Hagura.

"We are extremely pleased," the President replied when he noticed Eaglehoff give him the take it easy look, "to sit down with you and Mr. Isoroku. We have serious problems that we're confident can be resolved if we work together."

Hagura allowed the slightest of smiles.

"What would you suggest we do first," the President continued in a conciliatory manner, "to rectify the situation and gain the trust and confidence we once shared?"

Hagura pursed his lips. "Our first concern. is the placement of the U
. S
. carrier groups in the South China Sea."

You should be concerned, the President thought. "We can understand how you feel, Ambassador Hagura, but the United States must take the steps necessary to protect our vital interests as well as those of our allies."

Hagura showed no emotion and neither diplomat made an attempt to communicate. The Ambassador knew he was in a position that was controlled by the Americans. He struggled to maintain his patience and not display any sign of irritation. The worst thing he could do was lose his self-control, thus losing face on behalf of his country and his government.

"Mr. Ambassador," Scott Eaglehoff said in a friendly tone, "I would like to make a suggestion, if you don't mind." Hagura solemnly nodded his head.

"I think it is extremely important," Eaglehoff said with conviction, "for the President and our Secretary of State to meet with Prime Minister Koyama and Foreign Minister Katsumoto as soon as possible.

"We feel a great sense of urgency," Eaglehoff continued firmly, "about the escalating friction between our two countries, and we trust that it is a priority to your government and to the Prime Minister."

Out of habit, Koji Hagura raised an eyebrow. "We deeply share your concerns, and Prime Minister Koyama is prepared t
o o
ffer the first step toward normalizing our relationship with the United States."

The President was caught off guard, but he didn't outwardly convey his elation. This was by far the toughest game of international stud poker he'd played since taking the oath of office, and the outcome was indeed unpredictable. He and Eaglehoff shared a quick glance and remained quiet.

"Our Prime Minister"--Hagura looked at the President while Yamagata Isoroku stared straight ahead--"has suggested that he and Foreign Minister Katsumoto meet with you and Secretary Tidwell in Anchorage, Alaska, as quickly as the necessary security arrangements can be worked out.

"Our leaders," the Ambassador went on in a grave and formal manner, "have agreed to a collective plan we feel will be in the best interest of both great countries, and Prime Minister Koyama wishes to personally present it to you."

"That sounds like an excellent beginning." The President smiled broadly and turned to his Chief of Staff. "Scott, I'd like you to work out the details with Ambassador Hagura, and then let's get under way as soon as possible."

Chapter
25.

Kitty Hawk steamed slowly downwind eighteen miles northwest of Langsa, Sumatra, while the pilots and naval flight officers emerged from their quiet, air-conditioned ready rooms to preflight their aircraft. All appeared to be in order, business as usual, but a strange sense of foreboding had spread among the officers and sailors.

As the aircrews spread out among the F/A-18 Hornets, A-6 Intruders, S-3 Vikings, E-2C Hawkeyes, and F-14 Tomcats, the tempo of operations rapidly increased. Helicopters, planes, white tractor tugs, and flight crews crisscrossed in a surrealistic ballet of moving aircraft and imminent danger. People ducked under moving wings and simultaneously dodged wheels and other obstacles while they went about their hazardous jobs.

The studious-looking aircrews, encumbered by their green flight suits, boots, g-suits, torso harnesses, oxygen masks, and helmets, scrutinized their airplanes for any structural damage and checked the security of the external fuel tanks, missiles, and bombs. Next, they looked for fuel or hydraulic leaks, then peered into jet intakes to assure that nothing would be sucked through the engine's fragile innards.

Because of the aircraft carrier's relatively slow speed, everyone on the flight deck was breathing the dense, acrid black smoke from the funnels used to vent the exhaust gases from the ship's oil-fired boilers.

When the external checks were completed, the aircrews climbed into their cockpits and began the familiar task of helping the plane captains strap them to their ejection seats. This was an extremely important ritual for each person because their lives might depend on the explosive seat to propel them clear of a doomed airplane.

After they were secured to their ejection seat, each crew member went through the routine of checking the multitudes of dials, switches, buttons, knobs, circuit breakers, levers, and gauges. One small item missed, whether it was overlooked or out of place, could spell instantaneous disaster for the aircrews or the individuals who worked on the perilous flight deck.

Once the prestart checklists were completed, the pilots started their engines and checked all the systems for any anomalies. After satisfying themselves that all the temperatures and pressures were normal, the aviators carefully checked their flight controls and waited for the carrier to turn into the wind and increase speed.

Shortly thereafter, the conventionally powered Kitty Hawk and her array of escort ships commenced a sweeping turn to prepare for the first launch of the day. The flotilla of escort ships executed the course reversal at precisely the same time as the flattop.

Although the carrier provided an airborne knockout punch, it rarely operated alone. Armed with Sea Sparrow missiles to shoot down high-flying threats or surface-skimming targets, and automatically fired Vulcan Phalanx cannons for close-in protection, the floating airfield was still vulnerable to attack and relied heavily on the escort ships.

While the Aegis guided-missile cruiser Cowpens took up station off the starboard side of the 80,000-ton carrier, the plane-guard guided missile cruiser William H. Standley eased into position two miles astern the Hawk.

The Belknap-class cruiser would be responsible for workin
g i
n harmony with the carrier's designated plane-guard helicopter. Together, they had the responsibility for search and rescue missions during flight operations. The small Sikorsky SH-60 helicopter, which had a specially trained rescue swimmer on board, would fly near the starboard side of the flattop.

The pace on the flight deck increased even more as the aircraft began to taxi forward toward the catapults. The flight-deck personnel had to avoid the searing heat from the powerful jet exhausts while they sidestepped the propellers from the screeching turboprops of the E-2C Hawkeye. Others kept an eye out for the jet intakes, which could suck an unwary deck-hand into the gaping openings leading to the engines.

Operating in international waters, the air group could launch warplanes in international airspace without permission from local authorities, hostile governments, or capricious politicians. The mammoth Hawk, as a sovereign United States territory, is capable of projecting tremendous power with a flexible mobility unknown to other countries.

Although the huge aircraft carrier is highly visible during daylight hours in clear weather, the ship can disappear in bad weather, especially on stormy nights. The aircraft can launch and recover, in almost any conditions, with the ship's radars and communications systems completely shut down to conceal the carrier's position.

The Group Two E-2C early-warning command-and-control aircraft was positioned on the number-two catapult while the carrier's four screws accelerated the flattop to thirty knots. The all-weather surveillance and strike-control airplane would launch first in order to relieve the Hawkeye that was currently orbiting high above the carrier group.

The yellow-shirted catapult officer gave the Hawkeye aircraft commander the full-power signal, returned the pilot's snappy salute, then gave the deckedge operator permission to shoot the straining airplane.

After the E-2C blasted down the catapult and clawed for altitude, the Tomcats, Hornets, Vikings, Intruders, and a radar-jamming EA6-B Prowler taxied forward to be launched.

From a standing start, each jet rocketed the length of the catapults in approximately 21/2 seconds, reaching speeds up to 170 knots as they flew off the bow.

From his large, comfortable chair perched on the left side of the flag bridge, Rear Admiral Isaac Landesman scanned the expansive flight deck and then focused his attention on a single Grumman F-14 Tomcat as it approached the number-two catapult track.