Omori shrugged. “And afterward, we would like you to broadcast a number of prerecorded radio statements supporting the written statements. We will, of course, prepare the scripts for you.”
Alexa was puzzled. Hadn’t he heard her decline? “I’m sorry I can’t do that.”
“Are you aware that your friend Father Monroe was arrested yesterday?”
“For what?”
“Insulting a Japanese officer. The punishment can be as extreme as death by beheading.”
Alexa’s mind whirled. Father Monroe was a good man. A bit naive, perhaps, but not one to go about insulting their conquerors. “There must be a mistake,” she said.
“Would you like to see him?”
Without waiting for an answer, Omori took her arm and led her outside and across a road to a building that looked like a warehouse. Inside, the walls were bare with a number of cruel-looking hooks hanging from rafters. From one of them dangled Father Monroe. He was naked and blindfolded, and his hands were tied behind his back. A rope from his wrists was connected to one of the hooks, and his feet were tantalizingly but barely in touch with the ground. Alexa watched in horror as he groped for the ability to stand and ease the pain in his extended shoulders.
“The effect of suspending him from his hands as we have,” Omori said, “is to slowly dislocate his shoulders. As you can see, he is suffering terribly.”
Alexa was appalled. “That’s barbaric.”
“Not to us. We believe in quick, severe justice in these circumstances. A trial would simply be a costly and unnecessary delay. Punishment must occur immediately and must deter others from doing the same thing. However, we do not consider the incident with Father Monroe serious enough to require his death.”
“How long will he be like this?” Alexa wanted to vomit. Under the blindfold, Father Monroe’s face was a mask of pain. Bruises and welts showed where he’d been beaten, and there was a puddle of urine and feces on the floor. She felt ashamed to be looking at his old, frail body in his humiliation and pain. She could not, however, stop staring. It was so horrible as to be unreal. It must be a nightmare from which she would soon wake up.
“He will remain where he is for twenty-four hours. Of course, he might be dead well before that, which would be a shame. However, he could be released if you agree to work with us. If you decline, he could easily die. Perhaps I will just leave him up there until that happens. If he’s stronger than he looks, he could be in agony for days.”
Alexa took a deep breath. The trap had been sprung and she was helpless. “All right,” she said sadly. “I’ll sign the statements.”
Omori led her back to his office, where she quickly signed all the papers he put in front of her. She didn’t reread them. There was no point. “We could have forged your signature,” he said, “but this is so much better. We will get back to you when we’re ready to record your speeches. As an added benefit for your cooperating with us, you will immediately start getting better rations, and you will no longer be required to work in the rice fields.”
Alexa mumbled her thanks. She would share her additional food with Melissa and the child. Perhaps some good would come of her humiliation.
When Alexa left to be driven back home, Omori turned to Goto, who had been watching the proceedings with interest. “Did you see how easy that was? Had I tortured her, she might have resisted out of a sense of outrage and courage, and made herself a useless martyr. But, by my threatening someone else and making her responsible for that other person’s fate, she folded immediately. Americans are very predictable like that. This is an extremely effective technique you can use in your own future interrogations.”
Goto nodded politely. He understood that Omori had gotten his desired result, but to Goto it had been an empty result because Mrs. Sanderson did not yet truly fear Omori and the kempetei. He preferred the more direct and painful approach. Not only was it equally effective, but it was so much more satisfying.
Omori laughed. “Besides, I have further plans for Mrs. Sanderson. I had no idea she was so attractive. American women are so tall and arrogant, and it is so marvelous to reduce them to a more primitive level. The next time she’s here, it’ll be far more interesting for both of us.”
Goto smiled. He did not think Mrs. Sanderson was attractive at all. Not only was she so much taller than both he and Omori but she was older than he was. Goto preferred his women to be both smaller and younger. Much younger.
CHAPTER 13
Dear Joe,
By the time you read this, you should be well on your way to safety. I wish you the best and hope that your efforts against the Japs will be successful and end this war so we can all go home. I also want you to know that your friendship and companionship were appreciated, and I look forward to renewing them at a more congenial time and place.
Now for the hard part. I concluded fairly early on that there was more to what you were doing on Oahu than simply monitoring radio messages you couldn’t understand. Like a good soldier, I didn’t go searching for answers, but you and Lt. Holmes accidentally provided them. You navy guys seem to forget that other people have brains, and you totally ignored the possibility that I spoke Japanese. I do, although not that fluently, and it was impossible not to listen in when you and Holmes discussed your problems in what you thought was secrecy.
That means I know you’ve broken at least some of the Jap codes and are reading their mail. I believe you called the program Wizard, or Magic, or something along that line. Great work. Keep it up and we’ll nail the little yellow bastards.
You’re a good man, Joe, and I know you’ll show this letter to the right people even though it means you’ve got some egg on your face. Let the military know that Jake Novacek and his little army are alive and well on Hawaii and that I know a real important secret.
I don’t want to blackmail anybody, but these are desperate times and I don’t wish to be left out to dry. I believe that I can do important things here on the Big Island, and I believe it is equally important that I’m not captured. (Note: Joe, I have no intention of being taken alive, but things can go wrong, can’t they?)
I don’t want to leave here for the comforts of California while so many of my friends are suffering in prisons and from hunger and other privations. Pass this note on and get me some help for them.
Thanks,
Jake Novacek, Lieutenant Col., U.S. Army
General George C. Marshall placed the letter on his desk. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had a terrible headache, and this piece of news wasn’t helping at all.
Across the room, Admiral King grinned sardonically. “Helluva note, isn’t it?”
“Rochefort’s a man of honor,” Marshall said. “A lesser man might have just destroyed the letter. After all, it makes him look just a little foolish, doesn’t it?”
“True, but you’re right. Rochefort is honorable. A little embarrassed perhaps, but honorable. Fortunately, he’s damned brilliant, so he’s forgiven his sin. Holmes’s punishment for having a big mouth is that he has to continue working with Rochefort. Now, what do we do about it? We jumped through hoops to get Rochefort out because of his knowledge of Magic, and now we have your man Novacek wandering around Hawaii with it. Should I send another sub to pick him up?”
The general thought about it. It had taken several weeks for the sub carrying Rochefort to make harbor and for the offending letter to get by courier to Washington. During that time, there had been intermittent contacts with Novacek on Hawaii as he and others, like Fertig on Mindanao in the Philippines, began resistance movements. Novacek had already formed cells of sympathetic civilians and located a handful of other stray military personnel on the islands. Right now, all they were doing was observing and reporting, but who knew what their potential might be.