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  “You’re right about that, but let’s keep moving as we’re not likely to learn the answer to that question anytime soon, if ever,” says Pastwa.

  Yamura continues, “This last item seems to be wrapped in some type of protective oil cloth.” Yamura lays it on the table and carefully pulls the folds of oil cloth away revealing a small and very much worn leather-bound book. All three of them stare at it in silence as they realize the cover is embossed with the still visible lettering, “I-16.”

  “Does that say I-16?” Clarke asks the obvious.

  Pastwa takes a magnifying lens from the bench and examines the print. “No doubt in my mind. I can make out I-16 easily enough, but it looks as if there had been a bit more to it than that. The embossing is too worn to read, but there are definitely letters after I-16.” He glances at Yamura. “Maybe you can run some tests and pull up the missing letters?”

  “Of course! No problem.” She writes a note to herself on the matter.

  Pastwa takes a little time to examine the cover with the magnifying lens before he sets it on the counter, a little too hard. This draws a severe look from Yamura, a look he chooses to ignore.

  “I think we should risk the pages disintegrating and proceed to open this. What do you think?” Pastwa looks over to Yamura for her opinion.

  “I agree. Whatever type of cloth this is wrapped in seems to have done a respectable job of preserving the contents.”

  Yamura pauses, looks carefully at the cover and continues, “Let me see if I can’t just pull this open without tearing it.” Using two pairs of very long tweezers, one in each hand, she grips the top and bottom of the cover and slowly pulls it open, revealing the first page. The ink is faded and a little water stained, but remains reasonably legible and there is no mistaking the fact the entire page is hand-written in Japanese.

  Pastwa, Clarke and Yamura instinctively pull back from the bench at the sight of the Japanese hand writing. “Reardon’s right, there’s more to this than we thought. Karen, you read Japanese, can you decipher any of this?”

  Yamura stares at the writing for a minute then carefully turns a couple of pages, glancing over each page briefly.

  After a few minutes of examination she turns to Pastwa. “The paper is in remarkably good condition.” She pauses as she further considers the problem. “This is a little more formal style of Japanese writing than I’m accustomed to, but certainly well within my abilities. I’ll need at least the rest of the day to translate all of this. You know, it’s not as if I can casually flip through the pages.” She pauses again as she stares at the open first page. “If you have some time to spare I can take a look at a few of the passages and maybe get a handle on what we’re dealing with.”

  Pastwa shakes his head in the affirmative as he finds himself mesmerized by the Japanese script.

  She examines the opening paragraph of the first page while Pastwa and Clarke remove their goggles and wait for her to translate the faded characters. After a few minutes she stops reading and looks over to Pastwa. “Chris, you won’t believe it, but this is probably a ship’s logbook. My best course of action would be to dictate a complete translation first, then type it all up for you and Reardon.”

  “A ship’s log? But what ship? Does it give a name? Is it the I-16?” Pastwa’s questions are rapid fire, leaving Yamura to decide how to answer.

  Clarke resumes snapping photographs. “Clarke, I think that’s enough for now. I need to concentrate please,” says Yamura.

  “Take all the time you need.” Pastwa motions for Clarke to pull back from the counter and as he does so Yamura returns her attention to the first page.

  “This page seems to be laying the groundwork for a logbook being written by a ‘M. Yokoyama,’ who identifies himself as the skipper of a new type of secret submarine weapon. It also mentions his engineer went by the name of ‘Kamita’.”

  Yamura decides to carefully open a page in the middle of the log, looks it over for a minute and continues. “I’m absolutely certain this is a ship’s log! The author made entries every day, sometimes multiple entries in a day, always taking care to note the time. Further, all the geographic locations, so far anyway, are in Japan. There is a particularly interesting passage that discusses training for a secret mission. This passage,” she points to the logbook, “is about exercises they are conducting at a secret base located within the Inland Sea of Japan. The log, I’m pretty sure, is from a ship called the I-16-tou, not the I-16. I’m not really positive of the terminology here as it’s a little confusing. For example, in one paragraph he refers to the ship as a submarine, in another he refers to it as a tube.”

  “Well, isn’t a submarine pretty much like a tube in basic design?” Pastwa suggests.

  “What kind of a ship had a number like that?” Clarke asks. Pastwa is quick to respond.

  “Not one of ours! This type of ship identification was used by the Japanese on their large, fleet submarines.”

  Pastwa pauses as he strains to remember his World War II history. “I think the additional designation, ‘tou,’ had something to do with midget submarines. I may have some books back in my office that can shed a little light on it; and I know a good website for everything there is to know about the old Imperial Japanese Navy.” Pastwa, his mind racing, pauses as he tries to make sense of what they have discovered.

  “I-16 was a long range submarine, not some experimental or secret sub.” Pastwa stops as he realizes the scope of the potential problem is suddenly expanding along with the number of loose ends. He glances at the various objects Yamura has neatly lined up on the work bench, then turns to face her.

  “Let’s regroup and reorganize.” He turns to face Clarke. “Make me a set of the pertinent photos from the dig site as well as the photos you took here. Print them on glossy paper and make certain they’re in color and leave them loose, not bound, but organized. The Admiral prefers to spread photos across his desk.”

  He pauses again as he looks at Clarke to make sure he understands his instructions. “Put them all into a folder, label each photo and tell nobody what you are working on; and don’t pass off any of this assignment to anyone else because as of right now this is Top Secret, Understood?”

  “Roger that! I’m on it.” Clarke, camera in hand, almost runs out the door.

  Pastwa quickly turns to face Yamura. “Listen Karen, just how up to par are you on your Japanese? Reardon’s going to need to know what this says, probably before you can even finish reading it, let alone print up the translation. Patience is not a virtue with him. You know his motto: ‘There is no profit in delay.’ Do you think we need to go outside and get you some translation help?”

  Yamura shakes her head to indicate the negative. “I can read this pretty well, Chris. The writing is a bit overly formal in style, but I can handle it. After all, it was my grandfather who first taught me to read and write Japanese.”

  Yamura pauses as she carefully turns another page. “I’ll have this ready for you by late morning, tomorrow. Do you mind if I ask Lieutenant Ferguson to examine the skeleton, the hair clippings and run some dating tests so we can save time? Maybe have her look at the pistol and watches to see what she can make of them?”

  “Good idea.” Pastwa gives her a big smile while also thinking that maybe they’ll have time for themselves later tonight. “I’ll give her a call and ask her to come over right away,” says Pastwa.

  “No worries, Chris. I’ve already started tests on the box. I’ll also ask Ferguson to make a preliminary determination of probable cause of death and should we need her for more, she can handle it. We don’t want too many people involved at this stage.”

  “One last thing, Karen.” Pastwa stops as he realizes he almost missed something. “Make that more than one. First, what of the clothing found with the skeleton? I know it’s not dated yet, but can you make anything of it at all?”

  Yamura walks over to a nearby table where two plastic bags contain some very beat up looking rags, if you ca
n describe a few shreds of cloth as rags. “These are in really bad condition. I think they are, perhaps, two separate types of clothing so I have separated them into, roughly, two sets for now. One material may be a little different than the other, but they’re in such bad shape I don’t know.”

  “A second issue is about these Yokoyama and Kamita characters. You say Yokoyama is the author? So tell me, is he still writing when the log finishes, and if so, does he mention anything of Kamita?”

  “Chris, I’ll get those answers for you and I will be as definitive as possible. Count on me.” Yamura flashes a smile.

  Karen, I know I can count on you, and I know I’m seeking answers before you can reasonably be expected to have them. I’m just anticipating what Reardon’s going to be asking me later today and I don’t want to give him any information that could prove wrong, so take your time. I’m also going to request he assign you and Ferguson to me and relieve both of you of all other duties for the duration of this investigation. As of now you should consider yourself on this investigation full time.”

  “That will make my life a great deal easier,” says Yamura, “and I will make the translation of this log my first priority, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course, and with a little luck Ferguson will have something concrete on that skeleton for us this afternoon. Is there anything else you need right now?”

  “Yes, how many copies of this log do you want me to compile?”

  “Good point.” Pastwa thinks about it for a few seconds before answering.

  “Two, exactly two. I’ll give one copy to Reardon and we’ll keep one for ourselves. Remember to mark it ‘TOP SECRET-EYES ONLY.’ Please number them as ‘One of Two’ and ‘Two of Two.’” Pastwa pauses, looks over at Karen and fights back the desire to take her in his arms and give her a long embrace.

  “Sorry, but this means you’ll have to do your own typing and copying.”

  “No problem, Chris. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of. You can get back to work, and really excellent work at that!” Pastwa pauses again to make certain he’s not overlooking anything. “Karen, I’ll touch base with you after Ferguson reports in with her findings. Right now there are just too many loose ends so we need to tighten this up quickly. I have a strong hunch time is not going to prove to be on our side.”

  Pastwa turns and quickly walks out of the office.

  Yamura returns to her examination of the first page of the log. “Hmm. What secrets are you waiting for me to discover?” she whispers aloud.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHOT IN THE BACK

  A few hours later Pastwa finds himself in the pristine lab of Lieutenant, junior grade, Stephanie Ferguson. She’s wearing goggles, latex gloves and a black rubber smock to cover her working uniform. The skeleton is lying face down on an examination table and a single, expended bullet lies in a glass Petri dish on an adjacent table.

  “So, Stephanie, what can you tell me about our boney friend? Pastwa asks.

  Ferguson pulls up a stool, takes a seat and slips the goggles to the top of her forehead, revealing red lines in her temples from the elastic grips. She glances at the skeleton a moment and angles the stool so she can more easily face Pastwa. Her hair is pulled back and braided, the natural wave of her hair fighting at the tension of the braiding.

  “Well Sir, he was about five foot, two inches tall and, based on my computer analysis, I’m quite confident he’s of Japanese descent. As per your orders I have designated all my lab tests as ‘Extremely Urgent and Top Secret’ which should speed up the testing and none of my test samples refer to the Kailua skeleton in any way.”

  She reaches over and picks up the glass Petri dish containing the bullet.

  “I pulled this rifle slug out of his back. From the looks of it somebody tried to pry it out of him, most likely while he was still alive.” She hands the dish to Pastwa, who holds it close to his face as he examines it.

  “And what of this; what can you tell me about it?”

  Ferguson stands and, using tweezers, removes the bullet from the dish before placing it under a nearby magnification lamp for Pastwa to examine. Pastwa leans forward for a better look.

  “See? You can clearly tell where someone tried to pry it loose. Notice the small scrapes on the bottom and the sides? There are similar markings on the bones.”

  Pastwa shakes his head in agreement.

  “This man was shot in the back by someone using an old M1 Garand rifle, a model we started using in the 1930’s.” She returns the bullet to the dish and sets it aside.

  “So, in theory Stephanie, this man could’ve been shot in the back by, for the sake of argument, an Army sentry. It was certainly the correct type of gun for the anticipated time period.”

  “Anticipated time period?” The tone of Ferguson’s voice matches the quizzical look on her face.

  “1941.” Pastwa’s response is met by silence as they both quietly mull over the facts for several long moments.

  “Okay Lieutenant. Good work, as usual.”

  Ferguson smiles. “Thank you Sir. What do you want next?”

  “Stephanie, I’ve asked Admiral Reardon to assign you to Lt. Yamura for the duration of the investigation, if not longer. This matter is absolutely Top Secret and, at least for the near future, needs to stay this way. Don’t talk about this investigation to anyone outside of Lt. Yamura, Clarke, myself or the Admiral, and certainly don’t give anyone a reason to nose around into your testing either.”

  Pastwa gazes out the window beyond several swaying palm trees and over to the harbor itself as he takes a few moments to consider the situation.

  “Stephanie, I know you’re not a medical doctor, but do you think this guy could have lived if he’d been properly treated?”

  Ferguson considers the question for a few moments before responding. “Sir, the human body can do a lot of things when the adrenalin’s pumping. He may have been running when he was shot and the excitement of the moment allowed him to keep going and escape pursuit. That could explain the attempt to remove the bullet and his unlikely burial place.” She pauses a moment before continuing.

  “In my estimation his death had to be kept under wraps or, being Japanese, they would most certainly have cremated him. However, if this was around the time of Pearl Harbor and he was shot for being where he wasn’t supposed to be, that might offer an explanation as to why he was buried rather than cremated. You see, a cremation would have drawn some attention and attention is exactly what Yokoyama and Kamita needed to avoid, assuming this body is actually one of them.” There being so many elements for her to consider she finds it necessary to again pause for a few moments.

  “Whether he could have survived with proper care is beyond the scope of what I can do. Based on the bullet’s location near the spinal column and the fact it appears someone attempted to remove it, I think it’s quite safe to assume he was not immediately killed and someone apparently was of the opinion his life might be saved.”

  “Thanks Lieutenant, that’s the scenario I was pretty much imagining.” Pastwa picks up his cap as he prepares to leave.

  “Please call over to Lt. Yamura and confirm you’ve been formally assigned to assist her. She’s expecting your call at some point, regardless. And remember, never hesitate to call me no matter how miniscule you think the matter might be. I have a lot of loose ends to tie off so if you get so much as a funny feeling over something, call me. I’m a believer in intuition and advise you to never ignore your intuition as the price to be paid might prove disproportionately severe.”

  “Yes Sir, I’ll call Lieutenant Yamura right away and thanks for the advice.”

  Pastwa quickly strides out the door, a man with a mystery to solve and an Admiral breathing down his neck.

  It’s about a two city block walk from Ferguson’s office to his own building. Pastwa prefers to take walks when he’s thinking matters over and the distance is perfect for the way his mind works. When he was a k
id he would take long bicycle rides and allow his thoughts to wander. It was his own way of meditating. When his bike gave way to a car, he would take long drives. But when he’s on the base, he prefers to walk. Upon his return he finds Clarke eating a chocolate covered donut while juggling some photographs. Clarke doesn’t immediately notice him enter. Startled, he drops a handful of photographs onto the desk and floor.

  “Clarke, how many times have I told you not to keep food on your desk? Look at the mess!” Pastwa pauses as he surveys the disarray that is Clarke’s desk and softens his tone. “Kindly put a call into Lieutenant Yamura for me and ask her if she has time to stop over.”

  “Now, Sir?

  “Well, I think now is better than after you finish that donut,” Pastwa points his right index finger in the direction of a donut lying on top of the desk. “Yes, now please.”

  Pastwa walks into his office, hangs his cap on the coat rack behind his door, sits at his desk and twirls around in his seat to stare across the harbor. His thoughts are racing to a period of time more than seven decades ago as he ponders the ramifications of what they know so far. About half an hour passes when he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Lieutenant Yamura is here Sir.”

  Smiling, Pastwa stands, ready to greet her. “Please come in Lieutenant.”

  Yamura walks in, closes the door behind her, removes her cap and holds it under her left arm.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I need to run something past you.” Pastwa takes a seat behind his desk.

  She takes a seat across from Pastwa, places her cap on the empty chair to her right, drops her briefcase beside her, crosses her legs and allows her arms to settle on each armrest. Pastwa cannot help but notice just how incredibly appealing she is. He loves intelligent women and knows he’s hard pressed to match her as she’s smart as hell and is also an amazing athlete. He pulls himself together and continues.