Debt Of Honor by Clancy, Tom

It was called judo, “the gentle art,” and consisted mainly of using an

enemy’s strength and movements against himself. Nagumo thought he was

making a very skillful use of it now. It had to appeal to Cook’s vanity that he

might be able to manage foreign policy himself through cleverness. It ap-

pealed to Nagumo’s that he’d thought up this gambit.

Cook’s face twisted into disbelief again. “But if we’re at war, how the

hell will-”

“Goto is not completely mad. We will keep the embassies open as a line

of communication. We will offer you a return of the Marianas. I doubt the

offer will be completely genuine, but it will be placed on the table as a sign

of good faith. There,” Seiji said, “I have now betrayed my country.” As

planned.

‘ ‘What will be acceptable to your government as an end-game scenario?”

“In my opinion? Full independence for the Northern Marianas; an end to

their commonwealth status. For reasons of geography and economics they

will fall into our sphere of influence in any case. I think it is a fair compro-

mise. We do own most of the land there,” Nagumo reminded his guest.

“That is a guess on my part, but a good one.”

“What about Guam?”

“As long as it is demilitarized, it remains U.S. territory. Again a guess,

but a good one. Time will be necessary for a full resolution of the various

issues, but I think we can stop this war before it goes further.”

‘ ‘What if we do not agree?”

“Then many people will die. We are diplomats, Chris. It is our mission in

life to prevent that.” One more time:” If you can help me, just to let us know

what you want us to do so that I can get our side moving in that direction,

you and I can end a war, Chris. Please, can you help me?”

“I won’t take money for this, Seiji,” Cook said by way of a reply.

Amazing. The man had principles after all. So much the better that they

were not accompanied by insight.

The Japanese Ambassador arrived, as instructed, at the East Wing entrance.

A White House usher opened the door on the stretch Lexus, and the Marine

at the door saluted, not having been told not to. He walked in alone, unac-

companied by a bodyguard, and he passed through the metal detectors with-

out incident, then turned west, past a long corridor including, among other

things, the entrance to the President’s own movie theater. There were por-

traits of other presidents, sculptures by Frederic Remington, and other re-

minders of America’s frontier history. The walk itself was intended to give

the man a sense of the size of the country to which he represented his own. A

trio of Secret Service agents escorted him up to the State Floor of the build-

ing, an area he knew well, then farther west to the wing from which the

United States was administered. The looks, he saw, were not unfriendly,

merely correct, but that was quite different from the cordiality he ordinarily

received in this building. As a final touch, the meeting was held in the

Roosevelt Room. It held the Nobel Prize won by Theodore for negotiating

the end of the Russo-Japanese War.

If the mode of arrival was supposed to overawe him, the Ambassador

thought, then the final act was counterproductive. Tin- AIIH-IU mis, ,uul olh

ers, were known for such foolish theatrics. The Indian Ttvat> Room in the

adjacent Old Executive Office Building had been designed to overawe sav

ages. This one reminded him of his country’s first major i-onMii’l. which had

raised Japan to the ranks of the great nations by the defeat of awuliei mom

ber of that club, czarist Russia, a country far less great than she had ap-

peared, internally corrupt, strewn with dissension, given to posturing and

bluster. Much like America, in fact, the Ambassador thought. He needed

such ideas right now to keep his knees from trembling. President Durling

was standing, and took his hand.

“Mr. Ambassador, you know everyone here. Please be seated.”

“Thank you, Mr. President, and thank you for receiving me on such short

and urgent notice.” He looked around the conference table as Durling went

to his seat at the opposite end, nodding to each of them. Brett Hanson, Secre-

tary of State; Arnold van Damm, the Chief of Staff; John Ryan, National

Security Advisor. The Secretary of Defense was also in the building, he

knew, but not here. How interesting. The Ambassador had served many

years in Washington, and knew much of Americans. There was anger in the

faces of the men seated; though the President controlled his emotions admi-

rably, just like the security people who stood at the doors, his look was that

of a soldier. Hanson’s anger was outrage. He could not believe that anyone

would be so foolish as to threaten his country in any way-he was like a

spoiled child resenting a failing grade on an exam from a fair and scrupulous

teacher. Van Damm was a politician, and regarded him as a gaijin-a curi-

ous little man. Ryan showed the least anger of all, though it was there, indi-

cated more in the way he held his pen than in the fixed stare of his blue cat’s

eyes. The Ambassador had never dealt with Ryan beyond a few chance en-

counters at state functions. The same was true of most of the embassy staff,

and though his background was well known to all Washington insiders,

Ryan was known to be a European specialist and therefore ignorant of Japan.

That was good, the Ambassador thought. Were he more knowledgeable, he

might be a dangerous enemy.

“Mr. Ambassador, you requested this meeting,” Hanson said. “We will

let you begin.”

Ryan endured the opening statement. It was lengthy and prepared and pre-

dictable, what any country would say under these circumstances, added to

which was a little national spice. It wasn’t their fault; they’d been pushed,

treated as lowly vassals despite years of faithful and productive friendship.

They, too, regretted this situation. And so forth. It was just diplomatic em-

broidery, and Jack let his eyes do the work while his ears filtered out the

noise.

More interesting was the demeanor of the speaker. Diplomats in friendly

circumstances tended to the florid, and in hostile, they droned, as though

embarrassed to speak their words. Not this time. The Japanese Ambassador

showed overt strength that spoke of pride in his country and her actions. Not

quite defiant, but not embarrassed either. Even the German ambassador

who’d given word of Hitler’s invasion to Molotov had shown grief, Jack

remembered.

For his part, the President listened impassively, letting Arnie show the

anger and Hanson show the shock, Jack saw. Good for him.

“Mr. Ambassador, war with the United States of America is not a trivial

thing,” the Secretary of State said when the opening statement was con-

cluded.

The Ambassador didn’t flinch. “It is only a war if you wish it to be. We

do not have the desire to destroy your country, but we do have our own secu-

rity interests.” He went on to state his country’s position on the Marianas.

They’d been Japanese territory before, and now they were again. His coun-

try had a right to its own defensive perimeter. And that, he said, was that.

“You do know,” Hanson said, “that we have the ability to destroy your

country?”

A nod.’ ‘Yes, I do. We well remember your use of nuclear weapons on our

country.”

Jack’s eyes opened a little wider at that answer. On his pad he wrote,

nukes?

“You have something else to say,” Durling observed, entering the con-

versation.

“Mr. President-my country also has nuclear arms.”

“Delivered how?” Arnie asked with a snort. Ryan blessed him silently

for the question. There were times when an ass had his place.

“My country has a number of nuclear-tipped intercontinental missiles.

Your own people have seen the assembly plant. You can check with NASA

if you wish.” The Ambassador read off the name and the dates in a very

matter-of-fact way, noting that Ryan took them down like a good function-

ary. The room became so quiet that he could hear the scratching of the man’s

pen. More interesting still were the looks on the other faces.

“Do you threaten us?” Durling asked quietly.

The Ambassador looked straight into the man’s eyes, twenty feet away.

“No, Mr. President, I do not. I merely state a fact. I say again, this is a war

only if you wish it so. Yes, we know you can destroy us if you wish, and we

cannot destroy you, though we can cause you great harm. Over what, Mr.

President? A few small islands that are historically our possessions anyway?

They have been Japanese in all but name for years now.”

“And the people you killed?” van Damm asked.