Carter smiled. "I guess I forgot." He lit a cigarette and sat down. "Now, my boss tells me that we're going to be working together."
"Right," Hansen said. "You know us, but it wasn't made very clear just who you are."
"I'll vouch for him," Barber interjected.
"Wait a second, Tom. My life is going to be on the line here. I want to know who the hell this guy is."
"Belay that, Captain," Barber snapped. "I said I would vouch for him."
Hansen glared at Carter but sat back. "Right," he said at length.
Carter had a bad feeling about this mission already. It was getting off to a very poor start. He hoped that everything would straighten itself out quickly because, as Hansen had said, their lives depended upon their working well together.
"What have you already been told, Tom?" Carter asked.
"Not a lot, other than the fact that our mission is to steal a computer chip for the ECM room of a Soviet-built sub. And that you made a try for it yourself but failed. But it wasn't made clear exactly where we were to find this sub, or even if the chip was aboard a sub."
"It's aboard a submarine, all right," Carter said. "A Petrograd-class sub. Have you heard of it?"
It was obvious they all had. Hansen's mouth dropped open, and Barber and Forester were thunderstruck.
"There are no Petrograds around here," Barber said.
"They're all in Svetlaya," Hansen added. "And you have to be stupid to think of getting in…" He stopped.
"You flew up to Hokkaido?" Scott asked.
Carter nodded. "Took a fishing boat to within a hundred miles of the Soviet coast, but their navy was running an exercise and we got stopped."
"Were you boarded?" Scott asked.
"No. Nor was I spotted as an American. But I had to dump the carrying case overboard. I couldn't risk the chance of the Russians seeing it."
"I don't understand, Carter," Hansen snapped. "You mean to say that you planned on stepping ashore, walking onto the naval base at Svetlaya, and stealing the computer chip out of the boat itself?"
"That's a pretty stupid idea, isn't it," Carter said, a hard edge to his voice.
"I'll say," Hansen said, sitting back.
"Then you won't have to come along, Captain, because that's exactly what I'm planning on doing."
Hansen's jaw dropped open even further. Barber sat forward.
"We have a sub standing by for us with sealed orders. She is to do whatever we ask of her," Barber said.
Hawk had said he was still working on something. The submarine must have been it. It was clear now to Carter what they were going to have to do. What wasn't clear was why Barber, Hansen, and Forester had to be included.
"The sub will have to drop me off along the coast somewhere," Carter said. "I'd just as soon do this alone…"
"Not a chance," Barber cut in. "It's time the Company did something with a bang."
"I can be of assistance with the computer itself," Forester said. He was slight of build and soft-spoken.
"That coastline is pretty harsh this time of year, Commander," Carter said. "Almost certainly there will be some bloodshed."
Forester managed a smile. "As long as it's not my blood being shed, I think I'll manage."
"I know the layout of the base," Hansen growled.
"We're going in as a team," Barber said. "It's the way it was handed down to me."
"I've been instructed to give you anything you need in the way of ground support from this end," Scott spoke up. He turned to Barber. "It won't be safe, however, for Carter to be seen anywhere in Tokyo. We have a training compound and safe house up near Mito, about sixty miles up the coast."
Barber glanced at his watch. "The sub is actually thirty-six hours out. We could rendezvous off the coast. It would give us some practice." He looked up. "But this is your operation. Carter. We'll do whatever you say."
"Bullshit!" Hansen snapped, jumping to his feet.
"Ease up. Chuck, or you're out," Barber said.
"I see two Navy, one ex-Navy at this table. And it is a U.S. Navy submarine standing off to pick us up."
"You're out, Captain," Barber snapped harshly.
Carter shook his head in disgust, and he too got up. "No, he's not. If we're going in as a team, we'll need him."
Hansen started to protest, but Carter ignored him.
"Set up our transportation for Mito right away," he said to Scott. "I have a call to make first. Can we be out of here within the hour?"
"Sure," Scott said.
Barber and Forester both nodded.
"I'm not taking orders from you, Carter…" Hansen sputtered.
Carter turned back. "Oh, I think you will, Chuck," he said. He turned and left the screened room.
Kazuka was at the office. Carter managed to get a secure circuit through the communications center in the embassy's basement without anyone on duty realizing whom he was calling.
"You had no trouble getting back?" he said.
"No. Did you?"
"Everything is fine here. I'm leaving Tokyo within the hour for a place near Mito."
"The CIA compound."
"That's the place. Do you know it?"
"I've been up there," Kazuka said.
"Is it secure? I may have to be there for a day and a half.
"It's reasonably secure, Nicholas. But Major Rishiri does know about the place. It's the training area they use on joint missions. If he gets wind that something is up, you can bet he'll be up there snooping around."
"Right," Carter said. "If anything does come up, don't try to contact me directly unless it's an extreme emergency. Go through Hawk."
"Are you making another try?"
"Yes. This one by submarine. But I'll have a CIA operative and two U.S. Navy officers in tow. If there's anything I should know about, Kazuka — anything concerning the mission — let Hawk know. He understands the entire situation."
"Be careful, Nicholas."
"You too," Carter said, and he hung up.
They hitched a ride on a big garbage truck a little before ten. The Russians were on them from the moment they left embassy grounds and did not give up until the truck had actually dumped its garbage at the processing facility a few miles south toward Yokohama.
Once the Russians were gone, Carter, Barber, Forester, and the still surly Hansen climbed out from the large hydraulic compartment and got into the van waiting for them.
The driver was one of Scott's men who assured them he had gotten to the dump without a tail. They skirted the city far to the west before they headed back to the northeast coast.
Mt. Fuji and the rugged hills were all to the south and southwest, so in a matter of a few miles they had come again down to the gently rolling hills that led to the ocean. Again Carter was struck by the storybook neatness of the farms and villages, though it was obvious even to a casual observer that Japan was a densely populated country.
It was a lovely though cool afternoon by the time they made it to Mito, the capital of the Ibaraki Prefecture and a city of about 150,000 people.
The main sprawl of the city was a few miles inland from the sea. The CIA compound itself was directly on the coast behind a tall wire fence; the locals believed it to be the estate of a wealthy Japanese industrialist.
A low line of hills hid most of the compound's grounds from the coastal highway. They were let through the gate by a mean-looking Korean guard. The Japanese hated the Koreans, Carter explained to Barber. Their mere presence at the gate of a compound insured that the average Japanese would not come within spitting distance.
A wide, well-paved road wound its way down to a very large, Western-style house perched on the edge of a cliff looking out over the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Big breakers rolled in from across the sea to thunder against the rocks at the base of the cliffs. They could almost feel the entire coastline shudder each time a breaker hit.