Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 14

  “Sir, we thoroughly comprehend our responsibilities to the fleet and I thank you for your confidence,” replies Iwasa.

  “Now I invite all of you to meet me in the club for lunch!” Shimizu smiles and quickly leaves the room.

  Ken looks at Gary, smiles and takes a sip of tea.

  “We proceeded to enjoy a truly lavish lunch. There were many toasts, most of them to a complete victory. It would prove to be my last visit to that, or any other Officer’s club as a member of the Imperial Japanese Navy. I still remember the club was named ‘Suikosha.’ To loosely translate, it means ‘Officer’s Friendship Association.’ Our spirits that day were very high and nobody spoke of the dangers we faced. However, it was not much longer before we found ourselves setting sail and looking at Japan for what proved for many of us to be the last time.”

  “It was during the voyage to Pearl Harbor, aboard the submarine I-16, where I found time to contemplate the enormous task of engaging in a war with the United States”

  Ken suddenly rises from his chair, as quickly as you might expect a ninety or so year old man can rise. “Gary, I am late for my evening meditation. Come back tomorrow and I will continue my story; assuming you still desire to hear more. However, at present I find myself fighting off the need for sleep and I must still make time to meditate. Meditation keeps me sharp!” Ken chuckles.

  “Of course Grandfather, but I must tell you I’m frightened for you and Kapuna. I’m also kind of mad because there’s nothing I can do so I feel helpless; and I assume you don’t want me to share this with my dad, right?”

  “That is a good point Gary. This is between you, me and Kapuna until such time as events might dictate otherwise. But now I am very tired and the thought of my comfortable bed is strong on my mind.”

  “I’ll see you both tomorrow and will come straight here from school!” Gary watches his grandfather until the bedroom door slowly closes behind him. He finishes off his iced tea, picks up their glasses and pitcher and deposits them in the kitchen. As he walks to his car he is thinks about how everything seems so normal, but also so very different.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A GAME PLAN

  Though it’s only eight in the morning Clarke is already offering a second pot of coffee. Yamura pauses long enough to acknowledge his effort. “Thanks Clarke, I appreciate it.” Clarke smiles and motions towards Pastwa’s cup.

  Pastwa casually drops a small stack of death certificates onto his desk and accepts Clarke’s offer.

  “I was not expecting so many names on the death rolls.” Pastwa pauses in mid-sentence. “Clarke, remember that portable chalk board we used to demonstrate Navy ranks to the Kaneohe first grade class last year?”

  “Yes Sir, do you want me to get it?”

  “Absolutely, and grab some donuts for all of us while you’re at it. We’ll take a short break when you return.”

  At the mention of ‘donuts’ Clarke’s face lights up. “Yes Sir! I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes!” Clarke rushes through the doorway.

  “What’s the plan, Chris?”

  “We’ll write the name, birth and death dates of each candidate on the board. Then we’ll divide the names between you, me and Clarke to speed the background research. That way we all work together to narrow the list of potential candidates. We must plow through this today and get ourselves down to the absolute bare minimum of potential impersonators. Reardon is probably fighting the urge to come down here and look over our shoulders so we need to get some results before he shows up.”

  “Agreed,” replies Yamura, “here’s the first one. His name is ‘Mitsuo Tanaka who died December 3, 1941, and was born September 6, 1920. Tanaka’s spelled the same as our favorite restaurant.”

  “Good. As soon as we get the chalkboard he’ll be candidate number One!” Pastwa takes a sip of his hot coffee.

  “Chris, I’ve been dealing with a funny feeling ever since I saw the ship’s log. I’m really worried we’re lunging headlong into what may prove to be a much larger problem than any of us has imagined. I don’t know why, but I’m getting the chills again.”

  Pastwa gazes through the windows for a few moments. “I have to agree with you Karen. There’s something about this case that just seems to be screaming out to me that it doesn’t want to be discovered, perhaps shouldn’t be discovered; but discover we shall, as we simply don’t have the luxury of having any other choice. We’re navy, not a bunch of civilians on a treasure hunt. If he’s alive, we’ll deliver him to Reardon and if not…” He doesn’t finish the thought.

  Clarke walks in, a folded chalkboard under his left arm and a box of donuts under his right. He places the donuts on the edge of Pastwa’s desk and walks to the far side of the office, between the window and the back wall.

  “Sir, would this be a good spot for the chalkboard?”

  “Perfect, Clarke. “We have a name for you to put up there as candidate number one. Ready?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLAR REWARD

  Jim Mori is fidgeting with a pen and pencil set on his desk top as he stares at Lani Gale. The look on her face usually means she’s about to hit him up for a raise and the fact she appears to be in a good mood is, to him, additional cause for concern. Gale’s patiently waiting for Mori to open the conversation, coffee cup in her right hand and a file folder in her left. She loves it when she can put Mori on edge and especially loves to keep him dangling.

  “So, what’s the ‘blockbuster’ information you have for me that can’t wait?” Mori asks.

  Gale casually slips her cup onto a coaster and opens the folder. She’s playing Mori a bit and he knows it. After spending a few moments viewing her file, she decides it’s time to move forward.

  “Boss, I guarantee you’ve never read anything like this!” Gale hands the file to Mori who places it flat on his desk, cover open. “This is straight out of 1941!” Gale allows herself a broad and obviously self-satisfied smile.

  Mori is staring at the first page of the report and she can’t figure out if he’s in shock or angry.

  “Lani, this is marked ‘Top Secret-Eyes Only.’ Where in the hell did you get this? I’m not sure I even want to read whatever’s in here!” Mori’s upset, but Gale is not about to be put off, especially after what she has gone through to obtain the contents.

  “Boss, as for where I got this, I have my sources and they are confidential and they are completely trustworthy, not to mention accurate! As for whether you want to read it, well, I can just take it back and call the AP.” Gale feigns a motion to pull it back. Mori, in response, puts both his hands on top of the file.

  “Alright, alright already. This material is pretty thick so you better give me a couple of hours to read it through. Why don’t you go get yourself some early lunch and on the way out please ask Jimmy to bring me a fresh pot of coffee.” Mori does his best to sound as if he’s aggravated, but the fact is he strongly suspects whatever is in the file is likely to make his day.

  “No problem Boss, take all the time you need.” Gale smiles, grabs her cup and heads out the door. As she passes through the outer office she slows down just enough to bark some orders: “Hey, Jimmy! The boss needs a fresh pot of coffee and I suggest you make it extra strong.” She throws Jimmy one of her patented smiles that gets her what she wants most every time as she quickly struts through the doorway.

  “Yes, Miss Gale. I’m on it, good to see you Miss Gale.” Jimmy briefly stares at the now empty doorway before jumping from his desk, grabbing the coffee pot and running down the hall to the kitchen.

  Mori alternately stares at his empty coffee cup and the cover page of the pilfered logbook. He strongly desires to read the contents, but at the same time he’s worried about what manner of shenanigans Gale pulled to get it to him. He looks out the window for a few minutes as he considers the consequences of publishing what looks to be a stolen secret document. Just as Mori’s pondering what job opportunities he might find in Sw
eden, he’s brought back to reality as the door bursts open with a flourish and Jimmy comes charging in.

  “Sir, your coffee!” Jimmy’s voice is almost a shout, holding a pitcher of hot coffee in front of him as if it were a bomb.

  “Thanks Jimmy. Please pour me a cup and leave the pitcher. And be so good as to close the door behind you.” Mori pulls the file cover over the report so Jimmy can’t see it as he pours his boss’s coffee.

  “Anything else Boss?”

  “Not for now.” Mori pauses, “Oh, Jimmy,” Jimmy’s half way through the door, but stops in response, “hold all my calls, and cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. You can tell them anything you want, but I’m only available to Lani Gale. Understood?” Mori gives Jimmy one of his classic stern stares that sends goosebumps down Jimmy’s back every time Mori looks at him that way.

  “No problem Mr. Mori.” Jimmy quietly closes the door behind him.

  Mori takes a sip of his hot, black coffee and smiles. Only Jimmy makes it exactly as he loves it and knows Mori well enough to keep a good supply of his favorite on hand at all times. Returning the cup to his desk-top he again opens the cover of the report. He slips off his shoes, takes the report into his hands, pushes his chair back from the desk just enough so he can rest his feet on the top and turns to the first page.

  “Lani, this better be good,” he says out loud as he begins to read the logbook of Imperial Japanese Navy Lieutenant, junior grade, Masaharu Yokoyama.

  Mori carefully reads the first few pages, but as his excitement increases he begins to skim through the bulk of the log. When he reaches the page dated December 7, 1941, he realizes Yokoyama is on Japan time. He immediately skips to December 8th, which consumes a full four pages of the log. He considers the numerous occasions he’s studied the surprise attack on that fateful day and cannot even count the number of times he’s re-read the framed Front Page of the December 7, 1941, 1st Extra Edition of the Honolulu newspaper hanging on his wall. Now he’s actually reading about the attack from a point of view never before known and he’s more excited than any time in recent memory. Mori notices his hands are shaking as he turns the pages. He carefully reads right through the final log entry before he carefully lays the file on his desk, simultaneously releasing a deep sigh.

  He picks up his coffee and is repulsed as he realizes it is now room temperature. He pulls a spare cup from the lower right drawer of his desk, where he also stores a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. Just as he’s closing the drawer there’s a knock on his door, which brings his mind back into the present.

  “Yes?”

  “Miss Gale is here to see you,” says Jimmy.

  Mori stands and tucks in his shirt as he gathers his composure.

  “Show her in, Jimmy.”

  Gale confidently strides to a chair as Jimmy quietly closes the door behind her.

  Gale is smiling broadly as she takes a seat across from Mori. Her hair is neatly pulled back from her face and she’s sporting a conservative, solid black dress with matching black, low-heeled shoes. She is purposely presenting a more conservative look today for she believes her product needs no icing. The Front Page is coming her way and she knows it.

  “So boss, would you like to see the story I wrote based on what you’ve just read?” Gale sounds confident, not an inkling of doubt anywhere in evidence.

  “Yes, but first let’s talk about this for a bit,” Mori’s voice is barely above a whisper, though his office door is closed.

  “How can we be sure this is the real thing?” Mori asks.

  “I promise you,” Gale replies in a subdued voice, “my source is impeccable and will be feeding me follow-up information as we move forward. The source is close to the people investigating this matter and knows to reach me whenever something happens, large or small, any time of day. I have every reason to believe this is an absolutely authentic copy of the actual logbook the navy dug up. No doubt it’s the real McCoy.” Gale sits a little further back, crosses her legs and continues.

  “I saw the sword buried with the skeleton. The Navy doesn’t know about the sword because Auntie Lee grabbed it for herself before they arrived. However it’s clearly Japanese and most certainly matches with the type of sword a Japanese Navy officer would have owned back in 1941. I did some research on those swords just to be sure.” Gale leans a little forward and points to the log.

  “This is the real deal, Jim. And I have an idea about how to shortcut discovering what became of this Yokoyama fellow. I suggest we offer a fifty thousand dollar reward for anyone who can present evidence that directly and conclusively leads us to where Yokoyama is today, or to his gravestone or death certificate.” Gale leans back in her chair, obviously extremely satisfied with herself.

  Mori has been gazing at her without expression, but now he allows himself a hint of a grin.

  “Fifty thousand dollars?” Mori breaks into an open smile.

  “Let’s be serious here, Lani. Radio stations in town offer fifty thousand dollar prizes all the time. No, we can do much better than that! We’ll make it one hundred thousand dollars, so put that into your story!”

  Mori pushes back from his desk and stands as he cannot contain his excitement.

  “I want you to set up a separate hotline number and lay out complete instructions for supplying tips which we’ll run on page two. Make it easy for people to comply and be sure to give them a webmail address, a text address, along with twitter and the rest of ‘em. And set up web-based social network sites while you’re at it. I want you to go full tilt and grab attention on a world-wide basis and cause my head to spin with your efficiency!”

  Mori returns to his chair and pauses a moment, his face flush with excitement.

  “Pull out all the stops in seeking what became of this fellow. Would you like a couple of hours to revise your story and get everything set for tomorrow morning’s edition?”

  “I could use a couple of hours, sure.” Gale quickly rises from her chair and begins to leave, but suddenly stops and turns to face Mori.

  “Can I borrow Jimmy to help me with the hotline details?” Gale’s voice rises above conversational level as she can barely contain her excitement.

  “Consider it done!” Mori replies with conviction. “I want to keep the momentum going so we can follow this up on the Front Page every day until it’s resolved!” Mori walks around his desk, picks up the log and hands it to Gale.

  “Take this and get a copy made and sent up to me as soon as you can. I want to re-read it, a little more slowly this time. Let’s plan on publishing this treasure book a little each day, keeping the readers hooked.” Mori raises his right index finger, almost as if he has forgotten something. “Oh, and Lani, this is really good work! I am quite pleased with you today.” Mori returns to his chair, a broad smile on his face.

  Gale’s impressed as Mori dishes out kudos as if it physically hurts him to do so. Not only has Mori complimented her, but he appeared to express a genuine smile while doing so.

  “Thanks, Boss. You’ll have your own copy before you know it!” Gale whirls around and practically runs out of his office.

  “Jimmy!” Mori shouts more loudly than he intended.

  Jimmy comes running, looking as if a deer caught in the proverbial headlights.

  “Yes Sir!”

  “Go help Lani with whatever she needs, no matter what it is, and for as long as she needs you!”

  Jimmy stands in place not knowing if he’s kidding or if his dream assignment is real.

  “What are you waiting for? Get moving!”

  “Yes Sir! I’m outta here!” Jimmy quickly turns around and slams Mori’s door behind him, shaking the glass in the door so hard Mori fears it might break.

  Mori pours himself a fresh cup of coffee and again returns to his chair. He swivels around as he sips his coffee and stares out towards Honolulu Harbor and says to himself: “This story’s a long way from finished.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DEATH CRE
EPS FORWARD

  One of Ken’s granddaughters is clearing the last evidence of dinner from the dining room table. Gary and Ken are the only two diners remaining while Sun is busy supervising the clean-up and planning the next days’ meals.

  “Let’s go to my study and I will continue my prior life’s story, actually you might call it life number one.” Ken slowly rises from his chair.

  “I’ll grab a pitcher of Kapuna’s iced tea and a couple of glasses and meet you there,” replies Gary.

  Ken slowly walks into the den and opens the blinds which lets him watch two of his granddaughters playing in the backyard. The sun has moved along and the entire back yard is well into the shade. This is Ken’s favorite time of day.

  He makes himself comfortable in his large, over-stuffed leather chair and waits for Gary who arrives in a couple of minutes. He pours each of them a glass of iced tea before settling into a wide, comfy seat with padded leather arms over which he swings one of his legs. Gary quietly waits for Ken to resume.

  “Let me think for a moment, just where should I pick up?” Ken is not really asking a question as much as he is talking aloud to himself, slowly stroking his beard as if it helps him remember. “Yes, this would be a good point to continue.”

  “I have orders to report aboard the fleet submarine, I-16, at a secret base near Kure. Upon arriving I am surprised to discover my midget submarine is strapped to the aft deck of I-16, held in place by metal straps. You see, until now all of our training involved being slipped off the stern of the Chiyoda, not released from the deck of a submerged submarine. We had not practiced such a maneuver even once!”