Page 25 of Daikon

The Inland Sea was sparkling in the distance when they arrived at the workshop, the cloud cover burning off in the rising sun. Sagara jumped down from the front seat and took an impatient step forward. Then he thought better of it and handed the key to the clerk who had alighted from the back.

“Open the door.”

“This thing is dangerous,” said the clerk. “One of our men is sick.”

“Yes. Now open the door.”

The clerk reluctantly removed the padlock, swung the double doors open, and stepped away. Sagara signaled to the driver to turn the truck around and back up.

He entered the building with Kan.

The disassembled carcass of the bomb lay exposed on the floor, just as Kan had left it.

The scientist watched Sagara eagerly looking around, taking in the various components: the curved steel sections of the bomb’s outer casing; the crushed fins that had been removed from the tail; the myriad of electrical components, switches, and wiring; and at the center, the long steel gun barrel with the bulbous mass on the end that was the heart of the bomb.

“The uranium,” Sagara said. “Show it to me.”

Kan pointed to the two lead-lined boxes he and Yagi had fabricated the previous day. He’d had them placed apart in opposite corners, painting “Do Not Touch” on the top for good measure.

“These were in the nose,” said Kan, “25.6 kilos.” He removed the lid from the smaller box to reveal the six rings inside. He pointed to the box in the opposite corner. “The projectile is there—38.5 kilos. They should be safe so long as they’re kept apart.”

Sagara picked up the top ring and turned it over in his hands, marveling at its weight. “This accident,” he said, gazing at the plum-patinaed metal. “What happened? What did you see?”

“I was preoccupied,” said Kan, dropping his head as he recalled the scene. “The seaman picked up one of the rings from the rear and brought it to this mass from the nose. Too close. There was a flash of light.”

Sagara’s eyes brightened. “Light,” he murmured. Hikari . “In a town called Hikari.”

Kan noted the look with deepening unease. “Yes, bluish light. And a wave of heat. The uranium—it was hot when I touched it.”

“And this made him sick?”

“Vomiting within ninety minutes. There must have been a tremendous amount of radiation to have had such an immediate effect. And his hand…” Kan shook his head.

“And this convinced you that this uranium is enriched.”

“Yes. I had no way to be certain before, but there can be no doubt now.”

“So we owe the seaman our thanks,” said the colonel. “His mistake was a crude test.” His face darkened. “And you?”

Kan did not know how to answer. In addition to the other symptoms he had already recorded, he was now feeling an urge to empty his bowels. But it could be unrelated. His bowels sometimes loosened when he was experiencing stress. Like now.

“I was more than four meters away,” he said.

“Your health. I’m asking about your health.”

“Nothing to speak of. I’m fine.”

Sagara grunted and nodded. “Good. I need you.”

He returned the uranium ring to the box and called to the soldiers outside. “You! Load this box into the truck. And that one over there.”

“They should be kept apart,” said Kan.

“Keep them apart, do you hear?” Sagara barked as the soldiers strained to pick up the heavy little crates.

He turned his attention to the rest of the bomb. “All right, what else do we need? We’ll be taking a plane, so weight is limited. We can manage a thousand kilos, perhaps a bit more.”

Kan pointed to the club-shaped core of the bomb, the machined piece of steel comprising the nose with the attached gun barrel extending from the rear. “This.” He indicated the assembly that fit into the nose cavity. “And this. But they weigh much more than one thousand kilos.”

“How much more?”

“Nearly two tons.”

Sagara winced at the figure. “It’s only a gun barrel. Why do we need it?”

“It’s quite complex, Sagara-chūsa, more than a simple gun barrel. There’s tamper material in the nose, a tamper inside a steel shell to contain it. I believe this is to contain the assembled critical mass to maximize the effect of the—”

“All right, all right, we’ll find a way.”

Sagara turned to the electrical components arranged on the floor. “What’s all this?”

“I believe most of it has to do with remote detonation after release from the plane.” Kan pointed to the four small white boxes.

“Those are batteries. And these—” He indicated the four larger black units, one of them partly disassembled.

“These may be some sort of radar unit. I think the Americans intended to detonate the bomb above the ground.”

Sagara scanned the mass of parts, his hand tapping his thigh. “To manually detonate the device, none of this would be required. Correct?”

Kan nodded. “I believe so.”

Sagara gave the order for the gun barrel assembly to be loaded.

The truck was backed fully into the workshop and the three soldiers began fumbling with the hoist. It was soon evident that they did not know what they were doing.

Observing the colonel’s rising irritation, Kan asked the clerk to get Petty Officer Yagi.

“Quickly!” Sagara barked.

The clerk hurried off. Sagara began poking through the mass of electrical components, giving the radar units particular attention.

Kan, standing beside him, kept glancing anxiously through the door toward the center of the base.

He half expected to see a rank of sailors marching toward them, heavily armed.

Sagara made up his mind. “We take it all.”

PO Yagi arrived at a jog, still chewing the last bite of his breakfast. He slowed to a walk, his eyes warily going from the gaunt officer in the uniform of an army colonel to an obviously anxious Keizo Kan.

“Petty Officer Second Class Ryohei Yagi,” he said, coming to attention, stone-faced.

“Where is Commander Koreeda’s clerk?” said Colonel Sagara, looking around.

Yagi glanced over his shoulder for the clerk. The man had disappeared.

“I don’t know.”

Sagara let out a growl of aggravation. His eyes went back to Yagi. “Show my men how to work this hoist. I want all of this loaded.”

Yagi stood there, confused, looking from Sagara to Kan.

“Move!” roared the colonel. “I’m from the Ministry of War in Tokyo! I have direct orders from the War Minister, General Anami!”

With Yagi overseeing, the gun barrel assembly was wound with chain and hoisted onto the back of the truck, the vehicle’s leaf springs creaking as it took the weight.

Colonel Sagara was visibly sharing Kan’s anxiety now, looking around for signs of trouble.

Had Koreeda’s clerk gone to get help? Was Koreeda’s executive officer still under guard in the office?

It was imperative to get away before something unpleasant occurred.

The truck was loaded, the gun assembly lashed down, the four radar units and other components tucked in alongside. PO Yagi, breathing hard from the effort, stepped back, waiting to be dismissed.

“Get in,” Sagara ordered, motioning him to the back of the truck with the soldiers. “I need you to help load the plane.”

Yagi faltered, but only for a moment. Sagara was a colonel in the Imperial Army, comparable in rank to base commander Koreeda. The petty officer climbed up into the back with the soldiers. Sagara waved Kan into the cab beside the driver. The truck roared to life.

That’s when Kan remembered. He ran back into the workshop and swept up the four small parts that he had forgotten on the workbench, the radioactive nubs that had been attached to the projectile’s outermost uranium ring.

“Get in! Get in!” Sagara roared.

Kan shoved the nubs into his pocket and climbed up into the cab, Sagara following.

The driver ground the engine into gear. A jolt and they were moving, rolling back up the road through Hikari Special Attack Unit, Sagara on high alert, looking for trouble.

They passed several men and were given curious looks, but no one tried to stop them.

Still no sign of the clerk when they reached Commander Koreeda’s office, where the base XO had been left under guard. Sagara got out, marched up the steps, and knocked on the locked door. The door opened. He disappeared inside.

In the front seat of the truck, Keizo Kan was watching the clerk hurrying toward them.

“Lieutenant Commander Koreeda is coming,” said the clerk in deep agitation. “I’ve spoken to him on the telephone. He says the truck must not leave.”

Kan could only stare at the man, speechless.

“Step back,” said the soldier behind the wheel, completely nonplussed.

“That is Commander Koreeda’s order,” said the clerk, holding his ground. “You must not leave. That is his order!”

The office door opened. Colonel Sagara appeared, followed by the soldier who had been guarding Lieutenant Miyata. The soldier closed the door and turned the key, locking Miyata inside.

“Colonel,” said the clerk, intercepting Sagara as he came down the steps, “I have spoken to Commander Koreeda on the telephone. He’s coming. He’ll be here shortly. Until then he has ordered that nothing must be taken from here.”

Sagara swept past him, heading for the truck. “I’m afraid I’m pressed for time. Convey my regrets.”

“Please, Colonel—”

“I’m afraid not. War Minister Anami was very insistent.”

He climbed up into the cab beside Kan and slammed the door shut. The soldier who had been guarding Miyata scrambled over the tailgate into the back and sat beside Yagi. The truck started off.

The clerk, ignored and left behind, frantically raced up the steps and tried to enter Koreeda’s office. The door was locked. He banged on it but got no answer. He looked about, trying to figure out what to do.

He ran back down the steps and chased after the truck. He caught it as it was slowing at the gate.

“If I could see the War Minister’s order,” he said, coming up to Sagara on the passenger side.

The truck stopped. The sentry came out. Sagara turned a look of astonishment on the clerk.

“What did you say?”