Prologue of Vincent Carlson's quest for Amelia Earhart.
Honolulu, Hawaii
March, 1941
On a clear Friday night Tad Yamaguchi walked into the Shuncho-ro Restaurant overlooking Pearl Harbor. American sailors and officers filled the noisy bar, smoking and talking to pretty Nisei girls. A thin twenty-eight year old former ensign of the Japanese Navy sat in a corner booth. On each side a petite girl was tucked next to his bright aloha shirt.
Tad eased through the crowd, sat down in the frail-looking man’s booth. "Ito." He slid close to the younger girl.
"Toshio, you’re late," Takeo Ito said.
"I was swimming. You said you wanted the tides and beach gradients up to date."
A smile spread over Ito’s face. "Oh yes, America did provide me a champion swimmer."
"The best at Berkeley." Tad laughed.
The two girls giggled, sipped their drinks. Each had the soft, graceful features of Japanese women. Their eyes followed every movement of the men.
"Now to business." Ito crowded closer to Tad, squeezed the tiny girl between them. "I have photographs. They must reach Tokyo soon as possible. Admiral Yamamoto must know how many ships are in and out of Pearl at any given time."
"You amaze me, Ito." Tad surveyed the large room. Most of the servicemen drank, laughed, or made passes at the girls. Large Hawaiian bartenders poured beer and mixed drinks into bottomless glasses. The music blared. The dancers danced. No one paid any attention to Ito and him. "What were you this time? A garbage man, laborer, tourist…The Admiral knows by now the U.S. Fleet comes in every weekend."
Ito smiled, put his arms around both girls.
"There’s a freighter leaving for Japan early in the morning," Tad said. "I have a contact who will deliver your message."
"Well enough. Now, how are you making out with American Naval Intelligence?"
"It’s a cinch. They don’t have many Japanese translators. I slipped right in." The girl next to him moved closer. He felt the pressure on his leg. A rush of blood flushed his handsome face. "Ahhh…as far as the United States is concerned, Japan’s not interested in Naval movements around Hawaii any more than other places." He settled back in the booth.
"That’s part of the cover," Ito said. "The Americans get the same information from Tangier, Cape Town, Naples—you name it. When war comes, their Pacific Fleet must be destroyed at the outset."
"My friend, Vincent, knows war will come. But, American stupidity helps us. His plants are so obvious."
Ito’s thin lips tightened. "Make sure you keep him."
"He thinks we’re like brothers." Tad met Ito’s eyes.
Ito relaxed. "Now, it is time for enjoyment. An agent without a love life is an agent doomed."
"You don’t look very doomed." Tad grinned. "Too bad I didn’t bring a date."
Ito hustled his two girls out of the booth. "You can pick up one and meet us at my place."
"So, it is true ." Tad’s face flushed again. "You are Triangle of the Purple Code."
"Toshio, you talk too much." He ushered his escorts through the din of unsuspecting bodies dancing to swing music.
Honolulu, Hawaii
Saturday, December 6, 1941
Ito eased onto the wide futon, lit a cigarette, and lay on his back. In the dim light, two pretty girls put their purses on the dresser. He waved his finger. They took off their wedged-heeled shoes, unhooked garters, and rolled down silk stockings. Each unzipped the other’s dress, unsnapped brassieres, and slipped off black lace panties.
Ito smiled, took a long drag on his cigarette. The young Japanese girls unfolded before him, caressed each other with delicate fingers and lips. Moonlight rushed into the bedroom, exposed their naked bodies more deliciously than smooth ice cream on a hot day.
They knelt on the silk sheets, offered red painted lips to Ito. Soft black hair fell against his face. He squashed his cigarette into an ashtray without turning away from them. Their long hair swayed across his cheeks, tickled his skin, made him squirm.
The girls sat on their haunches, undid his flowered shirt one button at a time until they ripped open his shirt. He shivered when their soft hands brushed across his chest, stripped off his shirt, loosened his belt buckle. Ito lay still. They inched off his trousers and shorts so slowly agony shot down to his toes. Naked, he braced against the wall, drew their hungry mouths to his loins, waited for the ultimate pleasure.
Loud banging struck his front door. "Ito! Ito!"
"Damn!" Ito took a deep breath, waved the girls off, and wrapped a black kimono around his lean body.
Peering through the door blinds into the still-dark morning he saw a small man in a striped suit wearing a felt hat. "This better be big." He opened the door. "You were told never to come here."
"The Tigers are launched."
Ito looked at his watch. Hmmm...the night went fast. "0600…about two hundred miles out."
"Reports say the Americans think our ships are still in home waters." The little man smiled. "Agents dressed as sailors have paraded the streets of Tokyo and Yokohama for weeks. This will be a big victory." He bowed.
Ito turned, forgetting what he abandoned in his bedroom. "Tora! Tora! Tora!"
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
December 7, 1941
Dr. Bernard Keuhn checked his watch in the attic of his large home overlooking Pearl Harbor. 8:30 a.m., Sunday morning. Japanese dive bombers and torpedo planes had attacked the United States Pacific Fleet the past thirty-five minutes.
Explosions ripped around his house but no bombs landed on the roof where he had painted a large, bright-orange circle. Dr. Keuhn adjusted the special signal lamp and pointed it toward the mountains. He dashed across the room to the window facing the harbor. Wave after wave of Japanese "Kates," "Vals," and "Zeroes" shattered American battleships, cruisers, and destroyers moored together in pairs, like toys in a big bathtub.
Dr. Keuhn flashed code lights to fellow conspirators. They passed information to the Japanese Consul in Honolulu. These messages were relayed to the Japanese Naval Commander, Admiral Nagumo, aboard his carrier, the Akagi.
Tad Yamaguchi crouched in a tall bamboo field across from Keuhn’s house, watched light flashes soar from the attic window. He alerted the other Army Intelligence agents, rushed the house, kicked in the front and back doors.
Tad raced up the stairs, burst into the loft, leveled his .45 caliber automatic at the middle-aged professor’s forehead. Dr. Keuhn still operated the light flasher until Tad pulled back his weapon’s hammer. He looked at the young G-2 officer, raised his hands, but said nothing.
The operatives and their prisoner remained in the house until the last Japanese attack plane had disappeared to the north, leaving the Pacific Fleet in shambles.
Tad surveyed the devastation through binoculars. Tremendous uneven columns of heavy, black smoke poured from beaten ships. In the water, hundreds of dead men floated while others swam for their lives from twisted metal. Tad backed away from the window, set up his two-way radio. He called Vincent Carlson, his immediate superior, stationed in downtown Honolulu. "Toshio calling Electra. Come in Electra…"
"Electra here, go ahead."
"The doc’s out of practice. How’s it going on your end?"
"Complete sweep here—began right after the initial attack. We’ve had all the spy name lists for months. But, we’re taking a bad beating. The military’s ass is really in a sling."
"Yeah, can’t believe they didn’t receive the warning messages."
"Something’s sure screwed up—oh, shit!"
Loud gunfire blasted over the receiver.
"Vince! Vince!" Tad’s grip tightened around the tarnished mouthpiece.
Certainly gripping and historical. I would have to reread to find out who is who, but I sense both spy and counterspy at work. Love lines like, "more deliciously than smooth ice cream on a hot day."
But I am confused a bit because I thought this was about finding Amelia Ehrhardt? But the idea of spies and the Pearl Harbor attack is also quite interesting and much less heroic than the movie, Pearl Harbor. Good stuff.
Sometimes, vacations just don't turn out the way you hoped they would. An idyllic wilderness house boating get-a-way soon turns into a hellish nightmare...
A delightfully rare Historical Novel. 85% a biography of a spy, musician, mother and her neice trapped behind German lines in World War I. This background led to a diplomatic post in World War II. Aged 92, Vera disclosed her past life one year before
Sometimes, vacations just don't turn out the way you hoped they would. An idyllic wilderness house boating get-a-way soon turns into a hellish nightmare...
