Honorable Enemies (1994) (42 page)

Mellongard, stinging from the embarrassment of being treated like he was willfully neglecting his responsibilities, became cold and caustic.

"Mr. President," SECDEF said with unusual conviction, "I would strongly advise against further military involvement in the strait."

The President's hoarse voice cut through the air like a razor-sharp sword. "Secretary Mellongard, the subject is not open for discussion."

Mellongard's eyes widened and his face turned dark red as he faced the possibility of being relieved from his position. He had to keep his mouth shut and comply if he wanted to salvage his political future.

"Yes, sir," he said as steadily as possible.

"The next incident"--the President pointed his index finger for emphasis--"whether it's labeled accidental or not, is to be met with swift and decisive retaliation."

Mellongard returned the President's glare. "I will see to it, you can rest assured."

"If our ASW people," the President went on, "detect anything foreign under the water, I want it sunk. I want a thorough and ongoing submarine hunt."

"I fully understand," Mellongard replied as boldly as possible, then thought about the best way to cover his ass if things didn't go well. I'll use a leak to let the press know I was against the President's actions in the strait. We're headed for a shooting war. . * *

"We've lost a carrier and a submarine," the President said firmly, "and I'm not going to stand by and see our military credibility go in the tank."

He looked at the rest of his staff, then turned back to Mellongard. "Not when I'm getting ready to confront the Japanese about their growing military strength."

Windblown after the helicopter ride from Kitty Hawk, Rear Admiral Isaac Landesman stood on the bridge of the Aegis guided-missile cruiser and watched the last of the sailors and officers depart the blazing carrier.

Captain Carl Witowski, who remained onboard the huge flattop until he was assured that all hands had left the ship, was the last man to leave the doomed carrier.

Only a small area of the flight deck near the bow was visible to Landesman. The rest of the listing ship was burning furiously and the stern was beginning to settle lower and lower in the water. The once mighty carrier would soon be relegated to a watery grave.

Landesman followed the flight of the helicopter carrying "links" Witowski and reflected on the incidents that had led to the order to abandon ship. Who fired the two torpedoes? And why? If none of the ASW equipment detected the torpedoes, they must have been stealth technology. And the Iranians don't have that capability. . . .

Casting a look at the other vessels in the flotilla, Landesma
n w
as appreciative of all the rescue efforts put forth by the military and civilian ships. Even Hayasa, the Japanese flagship that inadvertently started the initial conflagration, was bursting from the bulkheads with American sailors and Marines.

Landesman had been impressed by the extraordinary help from the Japanese officers and seamen. They had displayed professionalism and resolve during the long ordeal, and their ship handling had been precise and snappy.

Twenty-five minutes later, Landesman and Witowski sadly watched the Hawk slip sternfirst below the surface of the strait. Emotionally, they had lost a close member of their collective family.

The President and his senior staff assembled in the lounge at the Top of the World rooftop restaurant with Prime Minister Genshiro Koyama and the other participants in the summit meeting. The painful, inexplicable events of the past few days dampened the occasion, causing the Japanese delegation to be more cautious than usual.

Forty-five minutes had been allocated for cocktails and informal discussions before the dignitaries were scheduled to have gourmet cuisine prepared by select Japanese and White House chefs.

Taking advantage of the local waters, the cooks had decided to showcase Alaskan salmon, cod, herring, halibut, and pollack, as well as king, Tanner, and Dungeness crabs. A wide variety of European wines, and sake, would be served during the meal.

The entire restaurant and lounge area was off limits to hotel guests, and security was extremely tight. A large contingent of Secret Service agents worked quietly and efficiently with their Japanese counterparts to ensure the safety of their leaders.

Off to the side of the other men, Genshiro Koyama and the President greeted each other with restrained skepticism. The
y b
owed politely and shook hands, then admired the panoramic view of Anchorage and the beautiful mountains that surrounded the city.

The atmosphere was tense and the initial awkwardness caused their casual conversation to be stilted. A moment later, each man was subtly handed his favorite libation.

"Prime Minister Koyama," the President began, then smiled with apparent innocent enthusiasm, "I'm very pleased to have this opportunity to visit with you."

Koyama observed the carefully rehearsed politeness in the voice of the American. Ambassador Koji Hagura had thoroughly schooled the Harvard MBA about the intricacies and craftiness of the American President.

"I share your feelings," the fiercely proud man replied in his raspy voice, "and look forward to a meaningful dialogue with you and your staff." What Koyama didn't say was that he loathed the American President.

Chapter
38.

The sun was shining brightly when Steve and Susan left their hotel in Nishi Shinjuku and entered the train and subway station. Nineteen minutes later, they stepped out of the train at Central Station and walked toward Matsukawa's office building in the Marunouchi business quarter.

They had grilled each other with a series of questions they planned to ask Tadashi Matsukawa, and each carried a spiral-bound notebook. Susan and Steve had no idea what they might find, but they felt confident that some incriminating evidence was bound to surface. He had to be involved in more ways than one. The fact that he'd kept his trail so well hidden was in itself proof. Matsukawa was, in effect, a ruthless murderer; the worst terrorist of them all.

The President was irritated by the last-minute decision to honor the Alaskan Governor and the local Mayor by taking an early-morning windshield tour of Cook Inlet and the surrounding area. He and Prime Minister Koyama rode together, but the
Governor's incessant narration prevented them from having an opportunity to discuss anything significant.

When the limousines returned to the hotel, the President discreetly signaled to his Chief of Staff.

Scott Eaglehoff quickly fell in step with his boss. "Yes, sir?"

"Make sure there aren't any more surprise excursions or ceremonies," the President ordered in a quiet voice. "I want to focus on substance and keep it there."

"I'll take care of it," Eaglehoff responded and headed for Ambassador Koji Hagura, the man who had been responsible for the spontaneous trip.

He knew Hagura meant well and was trying to create a friendlier environment for the discussions, but the President wanted to get to the core of the issues, deal with them, then move on to other major problems.

When the early lunch was over, Prime Minister Koyama and the President led their senior staff members into a large conference room.

Bud Tidwell and Bryce Mellongard followed their Commander in Chief to the single long table in the center of the room.

Prime Minister Koyama, accompanied by Foreign Minister Nagumo Katsumoto and Ambassador Koji Hagura, joined the Americans and sat down while the security team left the conference room.

The formal atmosphere reflected a sense of seclusion, tranquillity, and simplicity, but the undercurrent of tension and false harmony was felt by everyone.

The President's Chief of Staff, the Chairman of the Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, the National Security Advisor, and the top deputy of the National Security Council were meeting in another room with Special Envoy Yamagata Isoroku and other members of the Japanese delegation.

When the formalities were concluded, the President decided to skip some of the less pressing problems and begin with the difficult issues they had to resolve.

"Prime Minister Koyama, Minister Katsumoto, Ambassador
Hagura, I'd like to move forward on our agenda and discuss some topics that must be addressed and resolved to the satisfaction of everyone."

Trim and impeccably dressed as usual, Koyama allowed his irritation to show before he recovered and gave the President a narrow smile. The Prime Minister was not a person who easily adjusted to changes in schedules or prearranged formats.

Katsumoto and Hagura showed no emotion, while Tidwell and Mellongard smiled inwardly. The two Secretaries were accustomed to the President's penchant for cutting through the chaff and going straight to the heart of problems.

Koyama and Hagura lookcd puzzled while Katsumoto appeared to be his normal, unflappable self. They had been prepared to discuss the unprecedented events in the Strait of Malacca and were caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events.

"The recent incident at Pearl Harbor," the President began slowly, "was the beginning of an escalation of events that has culminated in this meeting. We are working diligently to uncover the perpetrators of the attacks, and we trust that Japan will fully cooperate with U
. S
. officials during the investigations."

Prime Minister Koyama allowed only a brief frown to indicate his irritation. He steeled himself and stared down the President of the United States. "We can't do anything about the past until we know who is behind the assaults, so we must deal with the present and the future."

He's a cocky little bastard, the President thought while he displayed his disarming smile. "I'm glad we agree."

Bud Tidwell cleared his throat, ready to employ his special negotiating skills, but his boss quietly stalled him with a light tap on the sleeve of his suit.

Koyama's natural skepticism surfaced and he sensed that the President was being clever and deceptive. "Why are you threatening Japan with an oil-tanker blockade?"

The hectic pace of the bottom floor of the office building gave way to a quiet calm when Susan and Steve walked out of the elevator on the top level of the structure.

Susan's confidence was beginning to ebb. She was well schooled in following precise rules and guidelines and functioning within certain parameters of authority, but operating outside her jurisdiction made her uncomfortable.

"Steve," she began when her restless fear began to surface, "our first four agents are due to arrive tomorrow. Maybe we should wait until we have everyone in place."

He gave her a comforting look. "Take it easy. We're simply going to interview the guy today. We'll wait until we have backup before we go for the jugular."

Unconvinced, Susan maintained her superficial barrier of calm. "Okay. I'm going to follow your lead," she said under her breath as they approached the receptionist.

"Just relax and be yourself," he replied out of the corner of his mouth.

Steve withdrew a business card from the inside pocket of his suit and handed it to the gracious woman.

"We're from The Wall Street Journal and we have an appointment with Mr. Matsukawa," he announced while the receptionist looked at the counterfeit card and smiled.

She spoke softly into her small lip-microphone and then escorted them to the entrance to the executive suites.

The wooden sliding doors appeared to open by themselves and a smiling Tadashi Matsukawa bowed slightly and extended his hand to Steve. "Please come in."

"Eric Thomas," Wickham replied as Matsukawa quickly turned his attention to Susan.

He had a gleam in his eye when he warmly clasped her hand. "Yoshiko Ohira." Susan smiled confidently. "We appreciate the opportunity to interview you."

"It is my pleasure," Matsukawa beamed and ushered them into his office, then motioned toward the two plush chairs canted toward each other in front of his large glass desk. "Please have a seat."

Matsukawa couldn't take his eyes off Susan. She looked truly beautiful. He slowly walked around the unique desk and sat down in his mink-fur chair.

Steve glanced out at the Kokyo Gaien square, then studied the Imperial Palace and the massive walls that surround it and the palace gardens.

Susan was surprised by the open concept of the luxurious executive offices. Once inside the primary entrance, glass partitions divided the interior structure of the offices. The openness was in contrast to the traditional design of most of the American offices she had seen.

"On behalf of the Journal," Steve said cheerfully, "we thank you for fitting us into your busy schedule."

Keeping his eyes on Susan, Matsukawa gave Wickham a disinterested look. "I'm always happy to accommodate my American friends."

Steve forced himself to display a convincing smile. I'll bet you are, you slimeball.

"We have a few routine biographical questions that we need to ask before--" Steve froze in place when he saw the look on Susan's face.