Page 29 of Daikon

Sagara felt his blood pressure rising. He didn’t answer.

“You said you would be discreet!” Takeshita shouted through the line.

“The man tripped and fell,” Sagara managed to get out through clenched teeth.

“That’s not what he says. He says he was struck in the head! And what did you mean by that just now, ‘Total destruction’?”

Colonel Sagara was struggling to keep himself from exploding. He had just accomplished a magnificent thing single-handed and here was Takeshita quibbling about his tact. There was a great deal he could say to that, but he didn’t. He kept it all in.

“Hiroshima is destroyed!” he roared. “It no longer exists!”

He slammed down the receiver.

Keizo Kan and PO Yagi were passing along the edge of the airfield in company with a young sergeant, on their way to the mess hall for a much-needed meal.

Yagi, in high spirits, lit a cigarette and passed it to Kan, then lit one for himself.

Kan, recovering from the terror inside the plane, was starting to feel it too.

A smile played across his face as he drew the smoke into his lungs and the nicotine went to work. He was glad simply to be living.

He faltered as they passed a row of fighters, parked out in full view. They looked utterly insubstantial. Yagi had noticed them too.

“Paper on a bamboo frame,” explained the sergeant, noting their dubious looks. “That and some scraps. It’s getting hard to find men willing to fly these things, I can tell you.”

Kan and Yagi exchanged a glance. The sergeant savored their bemusement for a moment, then threw his head back and let out a laugh.

“They’re dummy planes,” he crowed, after enjoying his joke. “They’re to draw the Americans in where we want them.” He indicated the flight paths attacking fighters would take on strafing passes over the airfield. “This way and that way. Right into our guns.”

“Kan-sensei!”

The scientist turned to see a young soldier hurrying toward them from the nearby administration building.

“The Colonel wants you!”

Kan’s heart began to beat in his ears.

“You will be continuing on by train,” Colonel Sagara said as soon as Kan entered the office. “Tama Airfield. That’s where you’ll work. You will install the weapon in an aircraft for a no-return mission. Manual detonation. The simplest arrangement. And I want it done quickly. Understand?”

The order was shocking. Kan felt a pang of anxiety as he struggled to maintain his resolve.

He took a deep breath. This was the moment.

“Colonel,” he said, dropping his eyes to the ground. “About my wife—”

“You’re not here to talk about your wife! I don’t want to hear anything from you but ‘Yes, sir!’ and ‘No, sir!’?”

Sagara started pacing around in front of Kan, his fists clenched.

“First you say, ‘Oh, the Americans couldn’t possibly have a uranium bomb.’ Then it’s, ‘Oh, the Americans couldn’t have made more than one.’ Well, now we know they made two! And don’t tell me they couldn’t have any more because I know now that your predictions are worthless!”

Kan stood with his head bowed, his palms pressed to his thighs. Sagara glared at him, clearly expecting some sort of answer.

“Well?”

“Sagara-chūsa, please,” Kan heard himself say. “About my wife—”

Sagara lunged forward and slapped him in the face, sending his glasses flying.

“You stupid civilian!” he spat, standing over Kan who was bent over, clutching his nose. “You have no idea the importance of what is happening here, no inkling of the great events that are unfolding. The nation is in peril and you’re trying to haggle!”

Kan wiped the seeping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. His heart was no longer racing. He felt remarkably calm. The blow had somehow shocked his nerves into abeyance.

He picked up his glasses. There was a crack in the right lens. He straightened up.

“When we spoke on the telephone, the line wasn’t clear.” He spoke softly, continuing as if the blow hadn’t happened. “You said where she was being held, but I couldn’t quite catch it.”

“Ibaraki,” the colonel snapped. “A detention center in Ibaraki.”

“What is the charge?”

“There’s no charge! It’s the Tokkō. They can take as long as they want.”

“If there’s no charge, then perhaps—”

“Then perhaps I can get her released. Is that it?”

Kan kept his eyes submissively down. “Yes, Colonel. I would consider it a great favor.”

Sagara seemed to swell with anger. His hand dropped to his holster. “You insolent…”

He drew his pistol and pointed it at Kan’s head. “Do you realize that I could shoot you for that?”

Kan bowed his head even more.

“Attempting to extract a favor from an officer in His Imperial Majesty’s Army. And refusing to obey an order.” Sagara cocked the pistol and pressed it to Kan’s forehead, forcing him up. “I could shoot you dead for that.”

Kan didn’t move. He felt the barrel press into his skull.

“I could shoot you dead where you stand.”

Kan didn’t move.

Sagara shoved the barrel hard against his head, forcing him to take a step back. The scientist maintained his submissive posture but didn’t abandon his passive resistance. They stood facing each other in this manner, a tableau of the moment before execution, for what to Kan seemed a very long time.

The pressure of the barrel finally eased.

The pistol came down. Kan could feel the circular imprint it had left on his forehead.

“You stupid bumpkin,” Sagara said. “You know nothing about the Special Higher Police.”

“No, Sagara-chūsa.”

“Dealing with the Tokkō is no easy matter.”

The tide seemed to be turning. Kan dared to look up.

“But with your influence…” he began to suggest.

Sagara glared back. He aimed the pistol again at Kan’s head and the scientist knew it was over. He felt a sinking sensation, like his heart and stomach were dropping out of his body and down onto the floor.

Sagara angrily thrust his pistol back into its holster. He glared at Kan for another moment, then struck him again in the face, this time with his fist, knocking him down.

“You wretched, dirt-scrabbling farmer.”

Kan drew himself up onto his knees, blood dripping from his nose onto the floor. He remained there, kneeling like a servant in front of his master, his eyes on the toes of Colonel Sagara’s boots. He tensed his stomach, preparing himself for a kick.

It didn’t come. Instead the boots staggered. Then he heard a groan.

He dared to look up. He saw Colonel Sagara slumped against the desk, his hands pressed to his temples.

Kan rose and helped Sagara to an armchair against the wall. The colonel, clearly in agony, allowed himself to be led.

“Should I send for the doctor?” Kan whispered.

Sagara, eyes squeezed shut, shook his head and waved him away. Kan stepped back and remained at a submissive half bow, waiting for whatever had seized the colonel to pass.

It finally did. Sagara began taking slow, deep breaths, massaging his head.

“You will work at Tama Airfield,” he said, his voice low. “You will prepare for me my atomic divine wind. And I will see that your wife is released.”

Kan bowed deeper.

“Yes, Colonel. Thank you, Colonel. I’ll do my best. You have my word.”

Sagara was coming back to life now. He carefully hoisted himself to his feet and stood still for a moment, rubbing his left arm, flexing his hand.

He took a few tentative steps.

He straightened his uniform and turned to Kan, a look of contempt on his face.

“You and your American wife… you make a fine pair.”