Katsumoto's perpetual smile had been replaced with a grim set to his mouth. "Because of the shock of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, our people have consistently refused to look at ourselves as the perpetrators of the war."
"I'm not going to listen to any more of this tripe," Koyama declared and rose to his feet, then looked down at the stooped man struggling to get up from his chair. "Furthermore, I strongly advise you to keep those kind of thoughts to yourself if you want to have a political future."
"Think about what I said," Katsumoto countered and abruptly turned to leave. "Facing the truth about Japan's past is the first step in winning our total independence from the United States."
Chapter 24
When Steve walked into the hotel's executive center, Susan was having a spirited conversation with someone in her San Francisco office.
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 dockworker who 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 our ideology 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 were clearly 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 to offer 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.