Debt Of Honor
Prologue
Sunset, Sunrise
In retrospect, it would seem an odd way to start a war. Only one of the
participants knew what was really happening, and even that was a coinci-
dence. The property settlement had been moved up on the calendar due to a
death in the attorney’s family, and so the attorney was scheduled for a red-
eye flight, two hours from now, to Hawaii.
It was Mr. Yamata’s first property closing on American soil. Though he
owned many properties in the continental United States, the actual title
transfer had always been handled by other attorneys, invariably American
citizens, who had done precisely what they had been paid to do, generally
with oversight by one of Mr. Yamata’s employees. But not this time.
There were several reasons for it. One was that the purchase was personal
and not corporate. Another was that it was close, only two hours by private
jet from his home. Mr. Yamata had told the settlement attorney that the
property would be used for a weekend getaway house. With the astronomi-
cal price of real estate in Tokyo, he could buy several hundred acres for
the price of a modestly large penthouse apartment in his city of residence.
The view from the house he planned to build on the promontory would be
breathtaking, a vista of the blue Pacific, other islands of the Marianas Ar-
chipelago in the distance, air as clean as any on the face of the earth. For
all those reasons Mr. Yamata had offered a princely fee, and done so with
a charming smile.
And for one reason more.
The various documents slid clockwise around the circular table, stopping
at each chair so that signatures could be affixed at the proper place, marked
I OM < I A N< Vwith yellow Posl-ll notes, and then it was time lor Mr. Yamala to reach intoliis coat pocket and withdraw an envelope. He took out the check and handedit to the attorney."Thank you, sir," the lawyer said in a respectful voice, as Americansalways did when money was- on the table. It was remarkable how moneymade them do anything. Until three years before, the purchase of land hereby a Japanese citizen would have been illegal, but the right lawyer, and theright case, and the right amount of money had fixed that, too. "The titletransfer will be recorded this afternoon."Yamata looked at the seller with a polite smile and a nod, then he rose andleft the building. A car was waiting outside. Yamata got in the front passen-ger seat and motioned peremptorily for the driver to head off. The settlementwas complete, and with it the need for charm.Like most Pacific islands, Saipan is of volcanic origin. Immediately to theeast is the Marianas Trench, a chasm fully seven miles deep where one geo-logical plate dives under another. The result is a collection of towering cone-shaped mountains, of which the islands themselves are merely the tips. TheToyota Land Cruiser followed a moderately smooth road north, windingaround Mount Achugao and the Mariana Country Club toward Marpi Point.There it stopped.Yamata alighted from the vehicle, his gaze resting on some farm struc-tures that would soon be erased, but instead of walking to the building sitefor his new house, he headed toward the rocky edge of the cliff. Though aman in his early sixties, his stride was strong and purposeful as he movedacross the uneven field. If it had been a farm, then it had been a poor one, hesaw, inhospitable to life. As this place had been, more than once, and frommore than one cause.His face was impassive as he reached the edge of what the locals calledBanzai Cliff. An onshore wind was blowing, and he could see and hear thewaves marching in their endless ranks to smash against the rocks at the baseof the cliff-the same rocks that had smashed the bodies of his parents andsiblings after they, and so many others, had jumped off to evade capture bythe advancing U.S. Marines. The sight had horrified the Marines, but Mr.Yamata would never appreciate or acknowledge that.The businessman clapped his hands once and bowed his head, both to callthe attention of the lingering spirits to his presence and to show proper obei-sance to their influence over his destiny. It was fitting, he thought, that hispurchase of this parcel of land now meant that 50.016% of the real estate onSaipan was again in Japanese hands, more than fifty years since his family'sdeath at American hands.He felt a sudden chill, and ascribed it to the emotion of the moment, orperhaps the nearness of his ancestors' spirits. Though their bodies had beenswept away in the endless surf, surely their kami had never left this place,1)1 HI 01 HONOR isnnd awaited his return. He shuddered, and buttoned his coat. Yes, he'd buildhc-rc, hut only alter he'd done what was necessary first.1'irsl, he had to destroy.ll was one of those perfect moments, half a world away. The driver camemnooihly back, away from the ball, in a perfect arc, stopped for the briefestof moments, then accelerated back along the same path, downward now,gaining speed as it fell. The man holding the club shifted his weight fromone leg to the other. At the proper moment, his hands turned over as theyfthould, which caused the club head to rotate around the vertical axis, so thatwhen the head hit the ball it was exactly perpendicular to the intended flightpath. The sound told the tale-a perfect tink (it was a metal-headed driver).Thai, and the tactile impulse transmitted through the graphite shaft told thegolfer everything he needed to know. He didn't even have to look. The clubfinished its follow-through path before the man's head turned to track thenight of the ball.Unfortunately, Ryan wasn't the one holding the club.Jack shook his head with a rueful grin as he bent to tee up his ball. "Nicehit.Robby."Rear Admiral (lower half) Robert Jefferson Jackson, USN, held his pose,his aviator's eyes watching the ball start its descent, then bounce on the fair-way about two hundred fifty yards away. The bounces carried it anotherIhirty or so. He didn't speak until it stopped, dead center.' 'I meant to draw ita little.""Life's a bitch, ain't it?" Ryan observed, as he went through his setupritual. Knees bent, back fairly straight, head down but not too much, the grip,yes, that's about right. He did everything the club pro had told him the pre-vious week, and the week before that, and the week . . . bringing the clubback .. . and down . . .... and it wasn't too bad, just off the fairway to the right, a hundred eightyyards, the best first-tee drive he'd hit in ... forever. And approximately thesame distance with his driver that Robby would have gotten with a firmseven-iron. About the only good news was that it was only 7:45 A.M., andthere was nobody around to share his embarrassment.At least you cleared the water."Been playing how long, Jack?""Two whole months."Jackson grinned as he headed down to where the cart was parked. "Istarted in my second year at Annapolis. I have a head start, boy. Hell, enjoythe day."There was that. The Greenbrier is set among the mountains of West Vir-ginia. A retreat that dates back to the late eighteenth century, on this Octobermorning the while mass of the main hotel building was trained with yellowsand scarlets as the hardwood trees entered their yearly cycle of autumn fire."Well, I don't expect to beat you," Ryan allowed as he sat down in thecart.A turn, a grin. "You won't. Just thank God you're not working today,Jack. I am."Neither man was in the vacation business, as much as each needed it, norwas either man currently satisfied with success. For Robby it meant a flagdesk in the Pentagon. For Ryan, much to his surprise even now, it had been areturn to the business world instead of to the academic slot that he'dwanted-or at least thought he'd wanted-standing there in Saudi Arabia,two and a half years before. Perhaps it was the action, he thought-had hebecome addicted to it? Jack asked himself, selecting a three-iron. It wouldn'tbe enough club to make the green, but he hadn't learned fairway woodsyet. Yeah, it was the action he craved even more than his occasional escapefrom it."Take your time, and don't try to kill it. The ball's already dead, okay?""Yes, sir, Admiral, sir," Jack replied."Keep your head down. I'll do the watching."