“You could have been shot for treason.”
Akira shrugged, handing Joshua another stone. “In the weeks that followed, I often wondered why this man had left everything, had risked everything, to be with this woman. And I never understood why. If anyone found him, either Thais or Japanese, they would most certainly kill him. And yet he went with her.”
Squinting against the young sun, Joshua stopped in his tracks and turned toward Akira. “And this is how you feel?” he asked. “You would risk everything . . . for Annie?”
Akira watched a bird as it stalked a school of fish. “I now understand how the man felt,” he said simply.
“Would you . . . could you kill your countrymen for her?” Joshua asked, amazed at what he was hearing.
“Yes,” Akira said quietly. “That is why I took the scalpel. To protect her.”
“A scalpel against a gun?”
Akira shook his head. “Not every danger is posed by my countrymen.”
Joshua started to ask what he meant, but stopped himself. “I’d never let Roger hurt her. I can also see what my men are doing. And if Roger so much as touches Annie, I’ll kill him myself.”
“She does not want him killed.”
“So you’ve had this talk? A talk of killing him?”
“Yes.”
“And you decided not to?”
“She decided.”
Joshua nodded. “Well, that sounds like her.”
Akira found Joshua’s eyes. “If my countrymen land, I will help you hide from them. Will you help me?”
“How?”
“Observe Roger. If I should die, know that he has killed me, and that he will then come for Annie.”
“That won’t happen.”
“If I should die, I ask that you kill him before he hurts her.” Akira bowed slightly. “You will do this, yes?”
“Has he threatened her? To you?”
“More than one time.”
Joshua looked at the sea, wondering why God had decided to send him this Japanese soldier. What was the purpose of Akira’s delivery? “Then I agree to what you say,” Joshua replied. “But don’t let him kill you. I need you. And . . . and I believe that Annie needs you. And if you’re to be with her, then you’re to be with me.” Joshua stuck out his hand, which Akira took firmly.
“We can . . . be friends, yes?” Akira asked.
“I’d like that,” Joshua said, pleased with the handshake, with the partnership. For the first time in months, he thought that perhaps lasting peace was possible. “I’d like that very much.”
IN THE JUNGLE near the cave, Isabelle and Annie searched for fruit. The sun mostly failed to penetrate the dense canopy of leaves, and the ground was still quite muddy. Emboldened by the wetness, slugs and snails inched across seemingly every rock and fallen branch. Oddly, there appeared to be far fewer insects than normal, almost as if the typhoon had kindly swept the mosquitoes and flies out to sea.
Annie held the machete, and Isabelle carried a few papayas and breadfruits that they’d found near the cave. The sisters moved slowly, searching for more fruit-bearing trees. The typhoon had certainly left its mark on the island’s interior, and Annie and Isabelle constantly circumvented fallen trees or pools of muddy water. The siblings had left with Scarlet, but once they’d reached a large hill, Scarlet had climbed it with the binoculars in hand while Annie and Isabelle had continued onward.
Feeling a large snail crunch underfoot, Annie vowed to watch the ground more carefully. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“What?”
“I just murdered a snail.”
“Where on earth did they all come from?”
“Don’t the French eat them? Like popcorn or something? Warm and dripping in butter?”
“Oh, Annie. I’m pregnant, remember? Please don’t say such things.”
“Let’s hope the Germans choke on them,” Annie replied, using the machete to push through a series of vines. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”
“Really quite good. Just a bit weak at times. And you?”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
“Wonderful?”
“Very much so.”
Isabelle kept looking for fruit. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. I’ve seen you holding hands. How else do you feel?”
Annie stepped on a slippery root and almost fell. “Clumsy, I guess,” she replied, smiling.
“Well, you’ve always been that.”
Brushing mud from her knee, Annie added, “How did you feel . . . when you fell in love with Joshua?”
“Nervous. Happy. Excited. I think excited mostly. I was so pleased to have found him.”
“I feel all those things,” Annie said. “But also something else . . . almost like I’m a new person. It’s hard to describe and I’m not sure that I even understand it, but I’m . . . I’m more at peace with myself since I’ve come to know him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know exactly. But maybe because I’m not afraid like I used to be. I’ve always been afraid, Izzy. Ever since Mother slept next to me and I pretended not to notice her cry.”
“But these days you’re not?”
“These days I’m not.”
Isabelle spied a cluster of hanging bananas and pointed it out. Annie rose on her toes and with one deft stroke from the machete cut down the fruit. The cone-shaped mass of bananas tumbled to the ground. “There must be forty of them,” Annie said happily, handing Isabelle the machete. Picking up the bunch and placing it on her shoulder, Annie turned and started retracing their steps.
“Can you manage it?” Isabelle asked, surprised at the strength of her little sister.
“I think I love him,” Annie said. “I know that I’m engaged, that I’ve sinned, and that I should be ashamed for what I’ve done, but to tell you the truth, I don’t regret it.” She shifted the bananas atop her shoulder. “I . . . I feel terribly guilty about . . . betraying Ted. I really do. But I don’t regret what’s happened with Akira. I love him, Izzy. He . . . he takes me to a place I’ve never known. A place I didn’t even know existed. He’s wise and good and he likes me just the way I am.”
“I’m happy for you, Annie, I really am,” Isabelle replied, trying to ignore a slight ache in her belly. “But as your older sister, I have a responsibility to tell you—”
“To tell me what? That there’s no future with him? That he’ll end up in an American prisoner-of-war camp? Don’t you think that I know these things? That I think about them every day?”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Isabelle responded. “And what of Ted? Don’t you have a duty to him?”
“And what of me? Don’t I owe myself anything? Anything at all? A life with Ted, especially now, after having experienced . . . a taste of love, will be miserable.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You never even liked him that much. And now you’re protecting him.”
“Well, he’s not here to protect himself.”
“Protect himself?” Annie asked angrily, walking faster. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Love can be blinding,” Isabelle said, trying to be patient, knowing that Annie needed to hear these words. “It can blind one to . . . to the realities of life. How do you see a future with Akira? Where would you live? Do you think you could settle in California? How do you think he’d be treated? We have our own camps, you know. The Japanese just don’t die in them.”
“Why do I have to think so far into the future?” Annie asked. “Just because you followed a perfect little plan doesn’t mean I have to. I’m not you, Isabelle. I don’t know what I want and how I want to get there. That’s not who I am. I want to live for today.”
“He—”
“He understands that. He’s the first person in my life who hasn’t told me what to do.”
Isabelle reached out and held Annie’s elbow, forcing her to stop. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m trying to protect you.??
?
“You’ve protected me all my life, Isabelle! And what has it done for me? I’ve been alone and afraid, and I’m set to marry a man I don’t love.”
“I didn’t do those things to you. To blame me for them isn’t fair.”
Annie crossly blew at a large moth that landed on her shoulder. “What do you know about fairness? You with the perfect health. The perfect husband. The perfect life. How can you preach to me about what’s fair?”
“Can’t you see that I’m just saying what has to be said? If I were making a mistake, wouldn’t you talk—”
“You think that falling in love is a mistake? That I’m some kind of fool?” Annie shook off her sister’s grip. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, walking as quickly as possible.
“Will you please stop?”
“No!”
“Annie, I don’t want to fight. I just want to make sure that you’re thinking about what will happen after we leave the island.”
“I’m not a child! I can think for myself!” Envisioning being forced to separate from Akira, Annie started to cry. “I can’t leave him!” she shouted, dropping the bananas and running into the jungle.
“Wait, Annie, wait! I’m sorry! Please don’t go!”
Ignoring Isabelle’s protests, Annie hurried through the jungle. For the first time in days, she felt a familiar sense of fear building within her. A part of her knew that Isabelle was right, that fate might make it all but impossible to remain with Akira. And this thought caused her to tremble, to cry as she hurried forward. Fate had stolen so much from her. It had ended her childhood innocence. It had cast a shadow over what should have been some of her fondest moments and memories. And now it threatened to steal the man she loved.
“No!” she shouted, rushing forward so hard and fast that she tripped on a fallen branch and tumbled to the ground. She rolled upon the muddy soil, banging her elbow against a stone. Her body afire with pain, Annie pulled her knees to her chest and wept. The dread of losing Akira, just when she’d found him, overwhelmed her. She felt cold without him, felt more alone than she had in many years. Running her muddy hands through her hair, she tried to gather her wits, but suddenly lacked the strength to do anything but cry.
And so oblivious was she to the world around her that she didn’t see Roger standing twenty feet away, leaning against a flowering sandalwood tree. His hands twisted around the shaft of his spear. His face bore a smile.
Her tears made him happy.
THE FOUR JAPANESE WARSHIPS cut through the debris-laden water with the same ease as swans gliding across a pond. At the front of the convoy was one of Japan’s newest and most advanced heavy cruisers. Following the zigzagging path of the cruiser were a transport ship and two smaller destroyers. The transport ship carried more than a thousand soldiers, as well as antiaircraft guns, ammunition, armored personnel carriers, and everything necessary to fashion a runway in the middle of a tropical jungle.
From the bow of the cruiser, Katsuo Kawamoto, known to Roger by the code name of Edo, stared through binoculars toward their destination. As he gazed at the sea—which was littered with branches, coconuts, and other debris from the typhoon—Edo speculated as to how the past few days had affected the American spy. Aboard the cruiser, things certainly hadn’t been easy. The typhoon had forced every ship in the area to seek calmer waters, and even far from the storm’s eye, the seas had been ferocious. Adding to their troubles, two days later the convoy had come upon a similar-sized group of American warships. The resulting battle had been short but intense, not ending until an American light cruiser and a destroyer were sunk. Though Edo’s countrymen had been victorious, the ship that carried him and his ten handpicked men was hit by several shells.
Turning around to eye the cruiser’s superstructure, Edo was impressed by how much damage had already been repaired. Though some of the buckled and torn metal would remain untouched until they returned to Yokohama, the legacy of the battle was much less than it had been. The cruiser’s giant guns were all intact and, even to Edo, looked rather menacing.
Fortunately, none of Edo’s men had been harmed during the encounter. He’d selected them himself from a group of elite Imperial Navy paratroopers who’d been aboard the transport ship. Though Edo doubted he’d need so many talented men, the survivors from Benevolence had to be dealt with as efficiently as possible. The issue of how to handle the Americans had troubled Edo for the past week, and hadn’t been settled until his superior in Tokyo had taken the dilemma away from him, deciding that it would be best if the survivors were eliminated. After all, a handful of Americans telling the world about how their hospital ship was torpedoed wouldn’t benefit the emperor—regardless of whether the Americans had broken international law by filling the ship with extra fuel and munitions.
Killing the Americans made Edo’s task easier, and he’d been pleased to receive the orders. However, he hadn’t been as satisfied with the command to eliminate Ronin. He’d worked with the American spy on several occasions, and while Edo admitted that Ronin was somewhat unstable, the man had served him well enough. Regrettably, the problem of somehow reintroducing Ronin to his countrymen as the sole survivor of Benevolence was inherently risky. Too many questions would be asked of such a survivor, and it was possible that the Americans would realize that Ronin had betrayed them and would set about converting him into a double agent. And Edo had to admit that contemplating the future motives of his operative wasn’t something he cared to envision.
Putting the field glasses against his eyes once more, Edo looked ahead. Once Ronin contacted him a final time, the particulars of their meeting would be arranged. Then it would be a simple matter to follow Ronin into the jungle and eliminate the survivors. Their bodies would be burned, and after Ronin was killed, no American would ever know for certain what had happened to Benevolence. The ship would have simply disappeared.
As Edo scanned the sea, he thought about how he’d directed and manipulated Ronin over the past two years. The man certainly had his talents. He was bright, forward thinking, fearless, and physically formidable. Of course, Edo had always detected a certain kind of madness within him. And this madness ensured that his usefulness would be relatively short-lived. But the destruction of Benevolence and its secret cargo had made headquarters happy. Not only had precious supplies been destroyed, but a new American ship had been sunk. Edo didn’t care that Benevolence had been a hospital ship. In his mind it was an enemy vessel. It took steel and men and time to make. And now that it had been destroyed, the Americans would have to make another—if they wished to draw upon such valuable resources.
Edo had spent much of the war in an underground bunker in Tokyo. He’d created complex schemes that aided the emperor in his early victories. Through secret messages and code-ridden commands, Edo had killed hundreds of men and women. But he’d never killed by his own hand, and a large part of him yearned to do so. After all, wasn’t it considered an honor to see an enemy’s blood upon one’s skin? How could he let the entire war pass without pulling a trigger and watching someone crumple before him?
His fingers tracing the contours of his holstered pistol, Edo debated how he could put himself in the best position to kill. Should he shoot one of the nurses or doctors they were likely to find? Would such a death give him any satisfaction? Or should he kill Ronin? Should he watch the man’s face reflect bewilderment, then pain, then peace? Or, better yet, should he shoot several Americans?
Musing over such questions the way a mathematician ponders a complex theorem, Edo continued to create a plan for his arrival on the island. Only much later, when all the details of the next few days had been finalized within his mind, did Edo return to his cramped quarters. There he glanced at a photograph of his wife and children. He cleaned trace amounts of dirt from beneath his fingernails with the tip of a dagger. And he then withdrew his pistol from its holster and pulled slightly and longingly on the trigger.
THE HILLTOP PROVIDED an almost unobstructed view of th
e entire island. Though three other distant rises were of greater height, these outcrop-pings only obscured small slices of the sea. After handing the binoculars to Ratu, Scarlet immediately held a giant leaf above her head to shield herself from the sun. “Do you see anything?” she asked, wondering if perhaps his young eyes could discern something she could not.
“I see everything!” Ratu replied excitedly.
Jake smiled and sat down near Scarlet, removing a long blade of grass from his teeth. “I reckon that’s what our preacher said once. That God saw everything.”
“I’m not God, Big Jake. But I tell you, I see everything.”
Jake looked about the hill, curious as to why Scarlet wanted to be alone atop the island. “A nice little day, ain’t it, miss?” he asked.
“If you like the sun and heat, yes, I’d say so.”
Liking such things, but seeing that she did not, Jake just smiled. “Has anything caught your eye?”
“Some beautiful birds, but that’s about it. I look for ships and I look for birds. And I see a lot of birds.”
Jake squinted against the sun, his gaze dropping to the trees below. “We don’t see many birds on the farm.” Then, he added with a grin, “My daddy thinks they’re trespassers.”
“Trespassers?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Does he shoot them?”
“He did for a time.”
“How terrible. Did you?”
Jake scratched his chin, which was filling with whiskers. “I know how to shoot a gun, miss. And on occasion I did eat pheasant and quail and turkey. But I just shot them for dinner, so that my mama had something to fill her pots. Otherwise, I liked watching them. Especially waterfowl.”
“I used to feed pigeons with my grandmother,” Scarlet said. “In Central Park.”
“That sounds real nice.”
“It was.”
“And now you sit here and watch parrots?”
“It beats sitting in the cave. I can’t breathe in that place.”
Jake smiled at her and turned to Ratu. “I reckon we should get back. We still got some fish to catch.”