Real people are at risk today, and I wish you folks in the press would bear
that in mind from time to time.”
“Jesus,” Tish Brown whispered behind Durling. “Mr. President, it might
be a good idea to-”
“No.” He shook his head. “Let him go on.”
The Press Room became silent. Someone whispered something sharp to
the standing journalist, who managed to take her seat, flushing as she did so.
“Dr. Ryan, Bob lloll/man of the Washington Post,” he said unneces-
sarily. “Whal are the chances of ending this conflict without further vio-
lence?”
“Sir. that is entirely up to the Japanese government. The citizens of the
Marianas are, as the President said, American citizens, and this country does
not allow other nations to change such things. If Japan is willing to withdraw
her forces, they may do so in peace. If not, then other operations will take
place.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ryan,” Holt/man said loudly, effectively ending the
press conference. Jack hustled toward the door, ignoring the additional ques-
tions.
“Nice job,” Durling said. “Why don’t you go home for some sleep?”
“And whal is this?” the customs officer asked.
“My photographic equipment,” Chekov replied. He opened the case
without an order to do so. It was warm in the terminal, the noon tropical sun
beating through the wall of windows and overpowering the air conditioning
for the moment. Their newest orders had been easily implemented. The Jap-
anese wanted journalists in the islands, both to check up on the election cam-
paign and to safeguard against American attack by their mere presence in the
islands.
The customs officer looked at the cameras, gratified to see that it was all
Japanese. “And this?”
“My lighting equipment is Russian,” Ding explained in slow English.
‘ ‘We make very fine lights. Perhaps one day we will sell them in your coun-
try,” he added with a smile.
“Yes, perhaps so,” the official said, closing the case and marking it with
chalk. “Where will you be staying?”
“We weren’t able to make hotel arrangements,” “Klerk” replied.
“We’ll check the local hotels.”
Good luck, the official didn’t say. This idea had come off half-baked, and
every hotel room on Saipan, he was sure, was already filled. Well, that
wasn’t his problem.
“Can we rent a car?”
“Yes, over that way.” The man pointed. The older Russian looked ner-
vous, he thought.
“You’re late.”
“Well, sorry about that,” Oreza replied tersely. “There’s nothing new
happening at all. Well, maybe the fighters are a little more active, but not
much, and they’ve been pretty busy anyw-”
“You’re going to gel some company soon,” the National Military Com-
mand Center told him.
“Who?”
“Two reporters. They have some questions for you,” was the answer be-
cause of the renewed concern for Oreza’s secure status.
“When?”
“Anytime, probably today. Everything okay with you, Chief?”
Master Chief, you turkey, Portagee didn’t say. “Just great. We saw part
of the President’s speech, and we’re a little worried because that missile site
is so close to us and
“You’ll have enough warning. Does your house have a basement?” the
voice asked,
“No, itdoesn’l.”
“Well, that’s okay. We’ll let you know, okay?”
“Sine, sir. Oui.” Docs your house have a hascment? No. Well, that’s
oktiy. II it’s okay, why did you ask, goddamn it? Ore/,a deactivated the
phone after taking it out of the mixing bowl and walked to the window. Two
Eagles were taking off. Such a mechanical thing to watch. Something was
happening. He didn’t know what. Perhaps their pilots didn’t either, but you
couldn’t tell what they were thinking from looking at their aircraft.
Shiro Sato reefed his F-isJ into a right turn to clear the civilian air traffic. If
the Americans attacked, they would do it as the attacks on the Home Islands
had come, off island bases, supported by tankers, from a long way off. Wake
was a possibility, and so were a few other islands. He’d face aircraft not
unlike his own. They would have airborne radar support, and so would he. It
would be a fair fight unless the bastards brought down their stealth aircraft.
Damn the things. Damn their ability to defeat the Kamis! But the Americans
had only a few of them, and if they flew in daylight, he’d take his chances.
At least there would be no real surprises. There was a huge air-defense radar
on Saipan’s highest point, and with the squadrons based on Guam, this
would be a real fight, he told himself, climbing up to patrol altitude.
“So what’s the big deal?” Chavez asked, playing with the map.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Well, take the next left, I think, by Lizama’s Mobil.” Chavez looked up
from the map. There were soldiers everywhere, and they were digging in,
something they ought to have done sooner, he thought. “Is that a Patriot
battery?”
“Sure looks like one lo me.” How the hell am I going to handle this?
Clark asked himself, finding the last turn and heading into the cul-de-sac.
The house number was the one he’d memorized. He pulled into the driveway
and got out, heading for the front door.
Orc/.a had been in the bathroom, finishing a needed shower while Burroughs
handled the running count on the aircraft in and out of Kobler when the
doorbell rang.
“Who are you?”
“Didn’t they tell you?” Clark asked, looking around. Who the hell was
this guy?
“Reporters, right?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Okay.” Burroughs opened the door with a look up and down the street.
“Who are you, anyway? I thought this was the house of-”
‘ ‘You’re dead!” Oreza was standing in the hall, wearing just khaki shorts,
his chest a mass ol hair as ihick as the remaining jungle on the island. The
hair looked especially dark now, with the rest of the man’s skin turning rap-
idly to the color of milk. “You’re fuckin’ dead!”
“Hi, Portagee,” Klerk/Clark/Kelly said with a smile. “Long time.”
He couldn’t make himself move. “I saw you die. I went to the goddamned
memorial service. I was there!”
“Hey, I know you,” Chavez said. “You were on the boat our chopper
landed on. What the hell is this? You Agency?”
It was almost too much for Oreza. He didn’t remember the little one at all,
but the big one, the old one, his age, about, was-couldn’t be-was. It
wasn’t possible. Was it?
‘ ‘John?” he asked after a few seconds of further incredulity.
It was too much for the man who used to be known as John Kelly. He set
his bag down and came over to embrace the man, surprised by the tears in his
eyes. “Yeah, Portagee-it’s me. How you doin’, man?”
“But how-”
“At the memorial service, did they use the line about ‘sure and certain
hope that the sea will give up its dead’?” He paused, then he had to grin.
“Well, it did.”
Oreza closed his eyes, thinking back over twenty years. “Those two ad-
mirals, right?”
“You got it.”
“So-what the hell have you been-”
“CIA, man. They decided they needed somebody who could, well-”
“I remember that part.” He really hadn’t changed all that much. Older,
but the same hair, and the same eyes, warm and open to him as they had
always been, Portagee thought, but underneath always the hint of something
else, like an animal in a cage, but an animal who knew how to pick the lock
whenever he wanted.
“I hear you’ve been doing okay for a retired coastie.”
“Command Master Chief.” The man shook his head. The past could wait.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, we’ve been out of the loop for a few hours. Anything new that you
know?”
“The President was on. They cut him off, but-”
“Did they really have nukes?” Burroughs asked.
” ‘Did’?” Ding asked. “We got ’em?”
“That what he said. Who the hell are you, by the way?” Oro/a wanted to
know.
“Domingo Chave/..” The young man extended his hand. “I sec you and
Mr. C know each other.”
“I go by ‘Clark’ now,” John explained. It was odd how good it felt to talk
with a man who knew his real name.
“Does he know?”
John shook his head. “Not many people know. Most of them arc dead.
Admiral Maxwell and Admiral Greer both. Too bad, they saved my ass.”
Ore/.a turned to his other new guest. “Tough luck, kid. It’s some fuckin’
sea story. You still drink beer, John?”
“Especially if it’s free,” Chavez confirmed.
“Don’t you see? It’s finished now!”
“Who else did they get?” Yamata asked.
“Matsuda, Itagake-they got every patron of every minister, all except
you and me,” Murakami said, not adding that they had nearly gotten him.
“Raizo, it is time to put an end to this. Call Goto and tell him to negotiate a
peace.”
“I will not!” Yamata snarled back.
“Don’t you see? Our missiles are destroyed and-”
“And we can make new ones. We have the ability to make more war-