Atonement for Iwo Page 17

“Yeah, how about getting somebody to break me out of here?”

  They both laughed. “Sorry we can’t help more,” added McMahon, “but your treatment will be quite above board, we’ll see to that.”

  “How about bail?”

  “We’ve already checked on that. It was refused.”

  Masters felt much better after the enthusiastic young man had left; at least he wouldn’t be getting a drum-head trial.

  A short while later, there was a knock at the door, and Bill Wilson, accompanied by a tall, gray-haired full Colonel, came in. Bill tried to hide his anxiety with a big grin, but it didn’t come off too well. He shook Masters’ hand.

  “Hi, you wild bastard,” he said, rather softly. “I should have known you were up to something. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, Bill. Thanks. Did they grill you?”

  “And how. What a patsy you made of me. The Old Man is eyeing me like I should have my head examined.” He turned to the Colonel. “Sir, this is Keith Masters. Keith, this is Colonel Carradine. I hope you don’t mind my bringing him along.”

  Masters glanced at the Judge Advocate’s insignia on his uniform. “Is the United States Army going to hang me, too?”

  The Colonel grinned as he brought a chair over to the bed. “Hello, Masters,” he said, shaking his hand. “Wilson has been beating my ear off, so I thought I’d come along and have a few words with you.” He pulled out a folder. “We sent to Washington for your record. You’ve been a pretty good soldier.”

  “Pretty good, my eye,” interjected Bill. “He was a real soldier. Christ, Colonel, we just can’t let the Nips drop him into one of their cells.”

  “Your record,” explained the Colonel, “would have weight in an American court, but the Japanese ...” He glanced again at the folder. “A DSC, Silver Star with cluster....”

  “One of those Silver Stars was mine,” interrupted Bill. “He wouldn’t have gotten it without me.”

  “Lay off,” said Masters.

  “Like hell, I will,” replied Bill, seriously. “I owe you one, Keith, a real big one. You just shut up and let people say what they must.” He turned to the Colonel. “Keith saved my life in Korea, and not by just reaching out a hand and pulling a fellow back into a hole. Colonel, I don’t give a shit what he’s done, you’ve got to help.”

  “Well, perhaps it would be best to get all the facts before giving an opinion.”

  Masters sat up a little. “If I say anything, can they make you reveal it in court?”

  Carradine rubbed his jaw. “They can work on Wilson, but I can claim a consultant’s immunity.” He turned to Bill. “How about taking a walk?”

  “Okay,” he replied, pleased to see that the Colonel intended to help. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Masters told the Colonel the entire story, from start to finish, from Iwo Jima to Kimiko’s house. He left out nothing except intimate details. The officer listened closely, making notes every now and then. When Masters had finished, he leaned back in his chair and rocked to and fro for a few minutes.

  “Well,” he finally said. “There isn’t a damn thing the United States Government can do to you. Your only concern is the Japanese court, and I’m not enough of an expert in their law to advise you.”

  “You mean I haven’t violated American law? How about wearing the uniform?”

  “The impersonation of an officer was not done in the United States.”

  “How about conking Durkin and taking his things?”

  “The housing area was on property subject to Japanese law. Even if we had caught you in the act, we would still have had to turn you over to them. You’re a civilian. The army has no jurisdiction over you, and the United States civil authorities have none either - as regards this case. You can only be tried and sentenced by the people having jurisdiction, and in this action it is the Japanese. Of course, if you ever return to the United States, Colonel Durkin could bring suit for physical damages, if any were sustained. Outside of that - nothing.” He called in Bill. “There’s nothing for me here, Wilson. Masters has not violated any American law.”

  Bill heaved a great sigh of relief. “How about the Nip courts. Can you help there?”

  “I’ll speak to some of my people in the office and look for a good attorney. They come high, though.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Wilson.

  “Bill ...” started Masters.

  “No dice,” said Bill, cutting him off short. “You just lie quiet and rest.” He took Masters’ hand. “Hold on tight, wild man. I’ll visit you again as soon as I get something going.”

  When they had gone, he lay back and tried to calm his jumping heart. They wouldn’t get him to court alive if the door kept opening and closing like it did today. He tried to think of Kimiko, but he was too weary. He was too weary to think of anything except breaking down and crying, and maybe begging to be put some place where it was restful, where the vise-like pressure on his chest could be eased.

  For a moment he thought of Ichiro, of when the boy had asked him if he would have surrendered, and how he had said “yes”. But deep inside, he knew he was pulling the kid’s leg, that he would have tried to kill at least one more guy instead of hiding in a cave and rotting away like a vegetable.

  But now he wanted to surrender, and didn’t know how. All he wanted was peace and quiet, for people to leave him alone so he could get that goddamn weight off his chest and that crummy, broken-down heart to allay its searing pain.

  But he could feel the net drawing in relentlessly. They were going to stamp on him, cut him up, hurt and torture his body - and all the praying and begging and blustering in the world wouldn’t make one goddamn bit of difference. If it hurt one iota more, he decided, I’d kill myself. Then I’d have no more of it. But like some gullible simpleton, my brain will listen to some fool nonsense that the pain and heaviness inside must sooner or later ease up and will tell the muscles not to finish me off yet, but to hold off for just a little longer. Horseshit.

  He tried to sleep that night, but it was difficult to go under, and it was a restless sleep that weakened the already fragile fibers of his heart.

  In the morning, the doctor took one look at him and stopped all further questioning. It was three more days before the police could prevail upon him to relax his restrictions, and on the following morning, Masters got his first pleasant surprise. Mr. Takahashi, Ichiro’s attorney, walked in. He stopped at the doorway, bowed, and advanced to the bed. Behind him was a tall, husky, young man. Without a word, the lawyer reached into an inner pocket and handed Masters a sealed envelope. Masters motioned for them to take seats, then tore open the envelope. It was a letter from Hiroko.

  ‘Oh, Keith, dear, dear Keith. Mother and I are frantic with worry. We hope you are getting better, and we send our love and our gratitude. Please, Keith, keep well for us. Mother has sent Mr. Takahashi to assist you. He is very interested in your case. Will you please accept him? Just nod at him. He’ll understand.’

  Masters raised his eyes to the lawyer and nodded. Takahashi nodded back and placed one finger in the palm of his other hand.

  ‘With Mr. Takahashi,’ continued Hiroko, ‘is Mr. Kawamoto, his chief assistant, who speaks fluent English and can interpret. Mr. Kawamoto is a wonderful young man. He told me to shut up and keep to the point when I spoke about you. He looks and acts so much like you that I think I could fall in love with him. Please nod again at Mr. Takahashi if you accept him as an interpreter.’

  Masters studied the tall, husky aide. Like hell he looks like me; that fellow is a damned good-looking guy. He switched his glance to the attorney and nodded again. Takahashi placed a second finger in his palm.

  ‘Keith, mother and I are determined to visit you. Mr. Takahashi says we should not, but he is only smart in legal matters. Now you just nod ‘yes’ at him.’

  Masters grinned and shook his head. The lawyer almost smiled, then took his fingers out of his hand.

  The next part of the lette
r was written in tiny, precise letters, and they reminded him immediately of the woman.

  ‘My dear Keith. Forgive me, dear husband, for having had doubts during the weeks you were worrying and making yourself ill to help Ichiro. Thank you, dear husband, for having given life back to my son. My heart is sad that you are not a free man and that you have no one to take care of you. I have been to my altar and prayed like I have never prayed before. I love you.’ It was signed, ‘Kimiko, your wife.’

  Masters folded the letter and began to place it under the pillow to be reread at a later time, but Takahashi reached out and plucked it from his hand.

  “The Honorable Counsel for the Defense, Mr. Takahashi,” said the young man, in a clear, firm voice, “wishes to retain the epistle until a more appropriate time. It contains material which should not be revealed to the prosecution.” Masters nodded.

  “The Honorable Counsel ...” Takahashi must have caught the drift, for he waved a hand, and Kawamoto got down to business. “Please, Mr. Masters, would you tell Mr. Takahashi all the details. I am to inform you that Mrs. Tanaka has spoken at great length regarding her relationship with you, and her daughter, Miss Tanaka, has recounted every incident of which she is cognizant. You may exclude, if you wish, all information leading up to your arrival in Japan, such as the battle on Iwo Jima, and,” he hesitated, swallowed, and continued, “any personal facts relating to yourself or to Mrs. Tanaka.”

  Masters grinned to himself; Hiroko would eat this boy up. Then he sobered down and began the story all over again. Kawamoto was a good translator. He spoke lucidly, without hesitation, and seemed to express Masters’ sentiments exactly. It took a long time, and now and then Takahashi interrupted to recheck a point or to ask a question. He made no notes.

  When Masters had finished, the attorney sat quietly, turning the details over in his mind. Then Masters learned why Kimiko had engaged him. Kawamoto translated as if Mr. Takahashi himself were speaking.

  “Mr. Masters, you are guilty of the following violations of Japanese law; you have assaulted Colonel Durkin with a deadly weapon, inflicted a wound upon him, and committed armed robbery. The wounding of the officer will not be a serious charge, as he has fully recovered. Furthermore, the charge could be fought on the grounds of common assault.

  “You have entered the American Post Exchange and purchased military supplies. That does not violate the Status-of-Forces agreement, nor does the wearing of the uniform constitute a felony, regardless of its purpose. You have, however, bought an attaché case. That violates the Status-of-Forces agreement in that you have purchased this article without having paid customs and sales tax on it. The government will insist upon this.” Masters almost laughed.

  “Your impersonation as an officer of the United States Army at the prison is without precedent, and the prosecution would be amiss in bringing this charge against you. Your deceiving of Captain Watanabe and Lieutenant Fujii is merely interference with the police, and is a misdemeanor. This is an offense of secondary importance.

  “The freeing of a prisoner is obstruction of justice, and is a serious charge. The striking of the two guards is assault with a lethal weapon, and is a much more serious offense than the assault against the American officer, as the police were acting in the performance of their duty.

  “The renting of vehicles and the purchasing of the pistols do not break the law. However, if there is damage to the cars, the companies can, and will, seek indemnity.

  “The wounding of the owner of the boat is again assault with a lethal weapon, and the forcing of the boat to sail for North Korea is piracy, for you did, in essence, assume command by force. However, as he did ask for money and did accept one hundred and fifty thousand yen after the assault, and then did change course, you can disregard any action against you. He cannot even sue you for injuries sustained, as the one hundred and fifty thousand yen is evidence of his having accepted compensation for the wound, and agreeing, for an additional sum of two hundred thousand yen, to the change in course. Your statement about taking the vessel in by the auxiliary motor can be construed as having been a disagreement as to the distance inshore stipulated in your contract.

  “You will receive four years of imprisonment for the assault with an offensive weapon upon Colonel Durkin, two months for interference with the duties of the police, eight years for the obstruction of justice in having freed a prisoner, and eleven years for assault with a lethal weapon upon the guards who were acting in the performance of their duty. This comes to a total of twenty-three years and two months.

  “Appeals will consume approximately two years, and at the conclusion, the sentence will be reduced to approximately thirteen years. You will then be eligible for parole in eight years.”

  He rose. “Do you have any questions, Mr. Masters?” There were none; Masters was almost in a state of shock. The attorney bowed, then thrust out his hand for an American handshake.

  CHAPTER 15

  Masters did not sleep very much that night, so when the tall police investigator and his short partner entered the room the following morning, he was in a morose and contrary mood.

  “Have you anything further to say?” asked the lanky cop.

  A devil took hold of the weary man. “You’re damn right I have,” he snarled. The investigator leaned forward eagerly, the short one whipping out his notebook and pencil. “I wish to state publicly,” said Masters, in a clear, firm voice, “that the information you have obtained from the people you paraded through here is absolutely correct.” The tall man almost smiled. “Furthermore, I also wish to state publicly that Ichiro Tanaka’s escape was engineered with the full cooperation and approval of high-ranking police officers and officials of the Japanese government, and that I was brought to Japan for the express purpose of carrying out that plan. I will not tolerate being double-crossed, and will reveal all identities at my trial.”

  He lay back and closed his eyes - but not before he saw the look of utter stupefaction on the face of the tall agent. He lay in the deepest silence he had ever experienced, then there was the sound of footsteps and the opening and closing of the door. He raised an eyelid and saw that the room was empty.

  The deluge swept in less than an hour later. Captain Watanabe and Lieutenant Fujii were the first ones. The Captain’s eyes were not expressionless this time; they were flashing flames of outraged fury. Fujii’s face was a mask of absolute hatred. They shouted, yelled, stamped their feet, threatened, jerked at the bed, pushed over chairs, and almost reached the point of laying hands on the bed-ridden man. Masters kept his eyes closed and refused to open them or to reply. Watanabe’s voice finally gave out half an hour later and they went away.

  McMahon, from the United States Embassy, must have been waiting outside. He tramped in and stood stiffly at attention. “Are you trying to create an international incident?” he roared. Masters was tempted to ask him whatever had happened to his collegiate manners, but remained silent and shut his eyes instead.

  He didn’t open his eyes but he did listen carefully to the next visitor. “Mr. Masters,” said a soft voice. “I am from the Japanese Ministry of State. My office would look with great favor upon you if you would kindly reveal the names of the people who have participated in this plot. I am quite confident that our appreciation would be demonstrated in court.”

  Masters opened his eyes and saw a small, well-dressed man, his hat resting squarely on his head, seated on one of the white, metal chairs at the foot of the bed. He closed his eyes. The man sat quietly until he realized that Masters would not speak, then left the room.

  The next visitor was from the Ministry of Justice and offered even more for the names - merely five years in prison. Masters did not bother to open his eyes to look.

  Then the flood stopped; he was cut off from the outside world. For three days, the only people who entered his room were the doctor and the attendant who brought his meals. Each was escorted by a guard who made certain that Masters did not pass a message to the hospital p
ersonnel.

  On the fourth day, the well-dressed man from the Ministry of State returned. “Mr. Masters,” he said, in his soft voice. “I am sure you understand the gravity of the charges against you. Would you please not reconsider?”

  Masters opened his eyes. The visitor’s hat was still squarely on his head. “Go discuss it with Mr. Takahashi,” he ordered, then closed his eyes again.

  Mr. Takahashi and his assistant, Kawamoto, were there directly after lunch.

  The lawyer was smiling.

  “I have,” translated his assistant, “been visited this morning by a number of government officials, who informed me of the statement you gave to the investigating officers. Before we go any further, I wish to advise you categorically that I do not want to know whether the statement is true or not.” His smile grew broader. “All the officials are convinced that you are lying, but they have asked me to intercede.”

  “So,” mused Masters. “Politics are the same the world over.” He glanced up at Kawamoto. “What have the newspapers been saying?”

  The young man spoke to the attorney and was given permission to reply. “They have been filled with the most inaccurate stories about Tanaka’s escape, and the capture of an American who engineered it. Your identity has not yet been revealed to the public, and I am certain that the police have sworn all participants to strict silence. The news media of the center left and the center right are hinting at a complicity between the present administration and certain unidentified parties. The center right infers that it is a Communist plot, and the center left intimates that the far right is in collusion with the government.”

  Masters whistled softly. “Then perhaps we can fish in troubled waters, eh?”

  The young man’s eyes were shining. “Yes.”

  Masters turned back to the attorney. “What do the officials want?”

  “They are willing,” translated Kawamoto, “to have the prosecution recommend ten years of imprisonment as a sentence and permit me to appeal. It should end up with no more than five years of actual confinement.” He regarded Masters closely. “They wish, however, to have the names first, undoubtedly to take immediate action to silence the rumors being bandied about by their political opponents.” Takahashi raised a brow. “If there are names. However, if there are no names, they want you to make a full confession to dispel the doubt.”