“I know what you mean. Thanks for your concern.”
Somewhere, footsteps echoed off cold concrete. A car door slammed shut. An engine started. Tires squealed down a ramp.
Fumiko unlocked the car. “I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
The man heard a hiss in his earphone, then the voice of a team member from inside the parking garage. “On their way out.”
A moment later, the man, seated behind the wheel of a cab, its red sign showing In Use, spoke into a hidden throat mike, “Hai. I have them.”
Fumiko swung into Ginza traffic, and the cab fell in behind her car.
29
Midnight. The b-r-r-r-ing phone sounded like a submachine gun rattling in his head. Scott got his bearings, picked up the receiver. “Yeah, Scott.”
Silence.
“Who’s this?”
“Did you think I would call?” She was on a cell phone, her voice perfectly clear.
A trip-hammer went off in his chest. “Tracy?”
“Are you alone?”
Scott swung his legs out of bed. “Yes. Where are you? How did you find me?”
“I heard you were in town.”
“No one knew, or was supposed to know. How?…”
“People at the embassy know everything.”
His arrival in Tokyo had been arranged to avoid any contact with United States Embassy personnel. But someone, someone Scott knew, had found out he was there and told Tracy.
“What you mean is, Rick Sterling knows everything,” he said acidly.
“All Rick said was that you were in town and in Class-C quarters. I called every cheap hotel in Tokyo asking for a Mr. Jacob. Really, you should change your cover name.”
“Is that what Rick said?”
“He doesn’t know I’m calling you.”
“I’ll bet. Be careful he doesn’t find out and—”
“Can’t you let it go?”
“Sure.”
Silence.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Just want to talk, huh?”
“Maybe.”
“Where are you? I’ll pick you up, we’ll have a drink.”
“I don’t want to.”
“What you mean is you don’t want to see me.”
“Maybe that’s it. Maybe I don’t know.”
“Rick seems to have you confused.”
“I told you, let it go.”
“Sure.”
Another silence.
“How long will you be in Tokyo?”
“Trace, this isn’t a secure phone. And you know I can’t—”
“What, tell me anything? Sure, sure, I know how that works.”
“Maybe you’d better let that one go, too.”
“Sorry.”
“My offer stands.”
“To what, get me in bed with you, fuck my brains out, is that what you want? What’s the matter, no slant-eyed honey to keep you warm tonight?”
“Knock it off. You’re the one who called. What’s it going to be?”
“I told you, I just wanted to talk.”
Scott waited, listening to her soft breathing.
“I suppose you’re okay,” she said.
“A few new bumps, that’s all.”
“Your ship, she’s?…”
“Trace, I’m just a businessman, Mr. Jacob, here on company business, remember?”
At length Tracy said, “I wanted you to know that I’m not coming back to the States, not for a while, anyway.”
Scott’s mouth went dry and his breath caught in his throat. She always had that effect on him, even now, in Tokyo, over a cell phone. “Sure, those military attaché assignments are at least two-year hitches. It’ll give you and Rick plenty of time to see the sights in Japan together. Maybe even learn Japanese.”
“You haven’t changed, have you? You’re still a bastard, you know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ve been told. Do you want to get together tonight or not?”
“No.”
“Then where can I reach you?”
“I have a cell phone.” He copied down the number as she gave it to him.
“Where are you living?”
“Never mind that. Look, I’m sorry to call so late. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Trace, wait.” The call ended. He thought to call her back but decided not to. Wait her out, he told himself. See what she really wants. Better yet, don’t. Don’t risk it. Don’t die twice.
30
Director Kubota bowed to Scott. “Konnichi wa — Hello.” He smiled without warmth. His aides followed suit. Fumiko, who had arrived separately and slightly out of breath, stood silently to one side. She looked tired and haggard, as if she’d not slept at all last night.
“I am so sorry to report, Commander Scott,” said Kubota, “that at this time we cannot identify the other man in the video recording. However, I have prepared a full report on the matter for you and the esteemed General Radford. We will continue to work on this until we identify him, but for now we have, ah, certain technical difficulties with the identity software. The director general has authorized that as we develop information, we pass it on to the SRO as soon as possible.”
Kubota lifted a thin bound report off the conference table and handed it to Scott. “These are our conclusions. Photos and appendices are included for your convenience.”
“That’s it?” Scott said. “This is all you can come up with? There has to be some way to identify this man.”
“Not at this time,” Kubota said, an edge to his voice.
“I remind you, Director, that the United States is facing a hostile North Korean regime armed with nuclear weapons. What strategy we develop to confront the DPRK may depend on our ability to identify this man, who, we were given to understand, is a Japanese national.”
“And I told you yesterday, Commander Scott, Ms. Kida’s conclusions that he is a Japanese national have not been confirmed.” Kubota said this softly but with an undertone of controlled anger. “You are welcome to use our facilities to discuss this matter with General Radford. Sato, here, will arrange the video conference setup if you wish.”
“Director…”
Kubota turned his gaze on Fumiko, who gave him a slight head bow.
“Director, I worked through the night to compile this list of names of the men who might possibly have reason to meet with Marshal Jin. The list includes, as you have suggested it might, several influential individuals from Pacific Rim countries. Most prominent, however, are three Japanese who—”
“Give me the list,” Kubota commanded.
Fumiko complied, handed Kubota a folder, and flashed Scott a look. Kubota skimmed her data, then quickly closed the folder and tucked it under an arm. There was an air of silent tension in the conference room.
Kubota, in a seemingly pleasant but condescending tone, said, “As you know, Commander Scott, Miss Kida is one of our most valued analysts. She is exceptionally bright and eager to help.”
Scott caught Fumiko’s embarrassment.
“She is due full recognition for her work on this matter,” Kubota continued, “for the way she has conducted the briefings in Washington and for her devotion to maintaining the high professional relationship established between General Radford’s office and our own.”
“Those names she compiled,” Scott said pointedly. “May I see them?”
“Ah, I am so sorry, Commander Scott, but the answer is no. I will take them under study and let you know our conclusions. Until then”—he turned his gaze on Fumiko—“the information in this report is classified Himitsu — Secret, Director General Only. Miss Kida is not, therefore, permitted to discuss it further.”