End of Enemies (25 page)

Alaska

The tide was already beginning to lift the stern, banging it against the cliff face and breaking free chunks of ice that shattered on the deck. Tanner looked aft and saw waves lapping at the midships rail. Soon the entire afterdeck would be submerged.

Bear tied off the rope, set himself, and lowered Briggs over the side until he was perched against the hull. Below his feet, waves rushed through the hole with an explosive sucking sound. The billowing mist froze almost immediately into clouds of vapor. Tanner peered into the hole but could see nothing of the interior.

“Ready, Bear?” he called.

“Ready!”

Briggs watched the waves surge, timing them.
One one thousand,
two one thousand
… He eyed the hole's ragged edges; if he timed it wrong, he'd be gutted like a fish.

Tanner pushed off the hull, swinging out and down. Jagged metal flashed past. He plunged into the water and he felt like he'd been hit with an electric current. Then he was up again, gasping for breath. A wave broke through the hole and blotted out the sky. His ears squealed with the pressure change.

He looked around. He was submerged up to his waist; already he could feel his legs growing numb. Above him was a horizontal steel railing. He grabbed it, pulled himself up, and rolled himself onto the catwalk.

He was in the anchor windlass room, a small compartment containing the winch that raised and lowered the anchor. A few feet away, a ladder ascended into the darkness.

“Briggs,” Cahil called. “Hey, Briggs—”

“I'm okay, Bear,” Tanner shouted. He untied himself and tossed the rope through the hole. “There's a catwalk a few feet inside the hull. Once you get through, reach out. I'll grab you.”

With a banzai cry and a splash, Cahil swung through the hole. Tanner caught his hand and pulled him onto the catwalk. “Welcome aboard,” Tanner said.

“God, that's cold.”

“I noticed.” Briggs shined his flashlight over the blackened edges of the hole. “Shaped charge,” he said. “They tried to scuttle her.”

“Just one's not enough to sink her,” Bear said. “There's gotta be others.”

“Yep. Let's get moving.”

They climbed the udder to the next deck. The tide had not yet reached this high, but they could hear it below them, sloshing and echoing. They headed aft, passing several machinery rooms and the galley, all of which were deserted. In a crew's lounge they found a magazine lying open on a couch; a paperback novel spine-up on a coffee table; a mug, half full of tea. There were no signs of disorder. It was as though the crew had just walked away.

Cahil picked up the magazine; it was written in Kanji.

In the crew's quarters they found several lockers containing clothes. “Here,” Tanner called to Cahil, tossing him a towel. They both stripped, toweled off until the color returned to their arms and legs, then found a couple pair of coveralls that fit.

“This feels creepy,” said Cahil, slipping into one.

Tanner nodded. “Like borrowing clothes from ghosts.”

They made their way to the pilothouse. The windows were rimmed with ice, and rainbowed sunlight danced on the bulkheads. Like the crew's quarters, the bridge was a picture of orderliness. Tanner found the helm controls set at All Stop.

They made a quick search. “No logs, records … nothing,” Briggs said.

“Same with charts. Everything's gone.”

Under their feet, the deck groaned and leaned farther to starboard.

They descended two decks but were stopped by rising water at the entrance to a machinery room. The hatch was open, however, and Tanner shimmied down the railing and shined his flashlight inside.

“There's another hole,” he called. “About the same size as the one at the bow. It's filling up quick.”

“Just time for one more stop, then,” Bear said.

In the engine room, the sea had flooded all but the upper-most catwalk on which they stood, and Tanner could hear gurgling
whooshes
as air pockets were forced ever upward by the tide. They trotted through the next hatch and down a ladder.

The after cargo hold. Water lapped at the edges of the catwalk beneath their feet and up the bulkhead, leaving an ever-thickening sheet of ice. Tanner could feel the chill on him.

“Briggs, you better get over here.”

Tanner walked to where Cahil was kneeling.

The bodies were lying face up and side by side against the port bulkhead. All but one of them were chained to the railing, and all were submerged up to their chests, their faces crusted with ice. Several of the corpses' wrists were rubbed raw, some clear to the bone. Tanner tried to picture it: chained here as the scuttling charges exploded … flailing in the rising water, screaming for help, but no one coming.

What a god-awful way to die.

The only body not chained had met a different fate than had the others. Aside from being the only non-Oriental, this man, a Caucasian with thinning blond hair, had been shot once in the forehead.

One by one, Tanner shined his flashlight over each face. At the fourth face, he stopped. “Bear, recognize him?”

“Yeah.”

It was the missing engineer from the Takagi Shipyard.

Cahil took some quick photos, then followed Tanner down the catwalk to where it widened into a small alcove. Here, beneath the catwalk, they found an undetonated scuttling charge attached to the port bulkhead.

“Sealed bowl charge,” Cahil said. “Half pound of RDX, looks like. See the funnel at the bottom of the bowl?”

“That's not good,” Briggs whispered.

The charge was armed with a hydrostatic trigger, essentially a funnel at the bottom of which sat a detonator designed to fire when water poured in and caused a short circuit.

Tanner looked down. Water was lapping at the catwalk.

“We're out of time, Bear.”

They were climbing the ladder when the deck lurched under their feet, then leaned sharply to starboard. The ship started wallowing. Instinctively, Tanner knew what was happening: the tide had floated the ship's stern. They had only minutes before the bow followed.

“Go, Bear. Run!”

Chasing the beams of their flashlights, they charged up the ladder, through the engine room, and out the opposite hatch.

They heard a groan of steel. The deck rolled beneath their feet. They crashed against the bulkhead. Cahil's flashlight clattered to the deck and rolled away, the beam casting jumbled shadows against the bulkheads. They stood up, braced themselves, kept moving. The list was passing fifty degrees now.

“Ever see
The Poseidon Adventure
?”
Cahil called.

“As a kid. It scared the hell out of me.”

“Me, too. I think we lost our exit, bud.” The hole in the bow was now either submerged or buried in silt.

“Let's go for the one in the MR,” Tanner said.

It took them sixty seconds to reach the ladder to the machinery room. They shimmied down the rail and slipped into the icy water. Water was boiling through the hatch.
Too fast,
Briggs thought. As the ship was rolling over, the trapped water was cascading from port to starboard, gaining speed like a self-contained tidal wave.

The water reached their waists, swirling higher and faster.

“Gonna be a tough swim!” Cahil shouted.

“We'll wait till the hatch fills! The current will lose some speed. There should be an air pocket below the hole.”

“Should
be?”

“Will be!”

Tanner felt the fear swell in his chest. He quashed it. The water reached his chin, the cold like a vise around his chest. He raised himself onto his toes. With a final
swoosh
of escaping air, the hatch disappeared beneath the foam.

Tanner nodded to Cahil, then took a breath and dove.

Inside the machinery room they found a jumble of inverted catwalks and ladders. Above their heads, the gash in the hull was open. Tanner could see murky daylight. They headed for the nearest ladder and started up.

Three feet below the hole, they broke into an air pocket. Outside, Tanner could see the face of the cliff. Waves and spume broke against it and rushed into the hole. He stretched his arm, caught the edge, and pulled. “Gimme a shove,” he yelled. Cahil hunched his shoulders and Tanner pushed off. He pulled himself out, rolled onto the hull, grabbed Cahil's hand, and lifted him up.

Toshogu
lay prone on her starboard side, her decks perpendicular to the water. Behind them, the stern rolled and crashed against the cliff face. With a deafening grating of steel on gravel, the bow began sliding off the beach.

“Now
there's
something you don't see every day,” Cahil yelled.

Tanner followed his outstretched finger. His heart filled his throat.

Jutting over the edge of the cliff was the helicopter's tail rotor. The rope, taut as a piano wire, ran from the strut to the ship's railing where they'd tied it off.

Toshugu
rolled again. The helicopter skidded toward the edge.

Tanner pointed to the cliff face. “Think you can make that ledge?”

“Yep.”

“Do it. I'm going for the rope.”

“Wait, Briggs—”

“If we lose the helo, we'll die out here.”

Tanner took off running, arms outstretched for balance as he sprinted along the hull. He slipped, fell hard, scrambled for a grip. He pulled himself up and kept going. Behind him, he heard a muffled explosion.
Scuttling charge,
he thought absently. He kept his eyes fixed on the rope; it trembled with the strain. The helicopter lurched closer to the edge.

“Jump, Briggs!” Cahil called. “She's going over!”

Ten feet from the rope, Tanner leapt. Even as his feet left the hull, he felt it sliding away beneath him. He caught the line in both hands, pulled his dive knife from its sheath, and sliced the rope below his knees.

Then he was swinging, the wind rushing around him. The cliff face loomed before him. With a teeth-rattling jolt, he hit the rock and bounced off. He reached out, found a handhold, and pulled himself to a ledge.

He caught his breath and looked over his shoulder.

Toshugu
was gone. Only her port railing was still visible above the waves, and as Tanner watched, transfixed, that, too, slipped beneath the waves and disappeared in a cloud of bubbles.

“Briggs! You there?”

He leaned out and saw Cahil perched on the ledge, grinning like a maniac.
Alive
!
Tanner felt it, too. “I'm here! You okay?”

“Yeah, but all things being equal, I'd rather be back at the Starlight!”

Japan

Thirteen sleepless hours later, a taxi dropped them back at the Royal Palms Hotel. There was a message waiting for Tanner. He handed it to Cahil.

“Wonder what the good inspector Ieyasu wants,” Bear said.

“I'll call and arrange a meeting.”

Cahil yawned. “Make it a couple hours, huh?”

Before leaving to meet Ieyasu, Tanner called Holystone to check in, the first time since discovering
Toshogu.
Oaken listened while Tanner told the story.

“Good God. So are you thawed out?” Oaken asked.

“I am, but the tips of Bear's toes are still blue.”

Cahil said, “Better that than my—”

“I get the picture,” said Oaken. “So bottom line is we have a scuttled ship with a murdered crew. Is she reachable?”

“I doubt it,” said Tanner. “She probably stayed afloat long enough to get washed out past the shelf. We're talking about some deep water.”

“How deep?”

“Five, maybe six thousand feet.”

“Then no salvage operation. My guess is Leland is going to call this the end of the road. We've got nothing else solid to follow. Unless …”

“What?”

“I'm working on something. Can you lay low for a day or so? That'll give me a chance to finish this; if it pans out, we might have something.”

Tanner almost asked why Oaken was going to such trouble, but he knew the answer. Oaken loved a mystery as much as anyone, though his detecting was more the armchair variety. “Thanks, Oaks.”

“You bet. I'll get back to you.”

Ieyasu stood near the tide line, tossing stones into the surf. Tanner introduced Cahil. “And you are a tourist as well?” Ieyasu asked.

Cahil smiled. “What can I say? I've heard good things about your country.”

“My country would be better without people like Hiromasa Takagi.”

“Agreed.”

Tanner led them to a log, and they sat down. “Inspector, it's time for some truth between us. You know we're not tourists, and you know Ohira and Sumiko were more than just employees of Takagi Industries.”

“Yes.”

“The U.S. government believes Takagi Industries is involved in illegal arms dealing. Ohira had been trying to help us put a stop to it.”

Again Ieyasu simply nodded, saying nothing.

“Takagi's involved, that much we know. What we don't know is, with whom and how. My question to you is, will you continue to help us? Can we trust you?”

Tanner felt naive asking such a question, but the success of espionage ops often came down to the solidity of personal relationships. In a word, trust.

Ieyasu was silent for a minute. “I've seen too much to think the world is black and white, and that good and evil obey national borders. I am a patriot, but I am not a fool. So, the answer to your question is, yes, you can trust me. Tell me what you need.”

Tanner briefly outlined Ohira's interest in
Toshogu
and their subsequent search for her. He opened his laptop, called up the file into which they had downloaded the digital photos from Alaska, and turned the computer toward Ieyasu.

“There were eleven bodies. This one we know; he's an engineer who disappeared a few days before
Toshogu
sailed. According to the records, she sailed with seven crew and a representative from Skulafjord. That's nine, leaving two unaccounted for … these two here, we believe. I'm hoping you can use some of your contacts to identify them.”

“That is not necessary,” said Ieyasu. “I know these men.”

“From where?”

“In the CIB we had a list similar to your FBI's Most Wanted. Both of these men are still on that list. They are
Rengo Sekigun,
Japanese Red Army. Both are wanted in connection to the subway gas attacks. Back then, I was certain they had served as go-betweens for Takagi. Until now, no one had seen them for over eight months. How were they killed?”

Tanner told him.

“Oh, my. Your theory about Takagi is more plausible now. The JRA has strong links to Mideast groups; these two men were well-traveled: Lebanon, Syria, Iran.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Ieyasu stood up. “One more thing I thought you would like to know: Ms. Fujika's funeral is tomorrow in Totsukawa. As I understand it, Hiromasa Takagi will be attending.” Ieyasu shrugged. “Whatever it is worth.”

Tanner nodded. “Thanks.”

“I will be in touch.” Ieyasu left.

Finally Cahil said, “Don't tell me you're thinking about it.”

“I am.”

“Not a good idea, bud.”

“A bad idea, in fact. But I think it's time we met Hiromasa Takagi face-to-face.”

Holystone Office

That something that had been nagging Oaken was a tiny voice shouting, “You missed something!” The answer popped into his head while he was shaving in the Holystone bathroom.

He stopped, razor poised on his cheek. “That's it.” He wiped his face, ran to his desk and thumbed a stack of folders. It took him only moments to locate the photo he wanted. He grabbed a magnifying glass from the drawer and peered at the corner of the photo. “Bingo.”

Dutcher accepted a cup of coffee from Oaken and pulled up a chair in front of his desk. “I know that look,” Dutcher said. “It's your
ahha
face.”

“First, Briggs and Ian called.” In fact, Tanner had called a second time to report Ieyasu's ID of the two JRA soldiers.

Dutcher raised his eyebrows. “So they found her.”

“Yep.” Oaken related the story. “Eleven bodies, three of them identified; the rest was probably the crew. I'm running the JRA names now.”

“Good. Without the ship, though, we're spinning our wheels. Does Briggs have any idea why she was scuttled?”

“Not really, aside from it being a very permanent way to dispose of witnesses.”

“And evidence, whatever the hell that might be. We still have no idea what Takagi's up to.”

“True, but we may be able to find what
Tsumago's
been up to. Remember the deck log from the shipyard Briggs photographed? It listed her as having made eight trips in the last six months, each about five days long.”

“Shakedown cruises?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” Oaken handed Dutcher one of the photographs. “That's her helm console. I knew I'd seen the design before. I saw an article on it in
Jane's
last year.”

“I assume there's something special about it.”

Oaken nodded. “It's going to tell us where she's been going.”

Japan

Sumiko's home village lay in the mountains, an hour's drive from Osaka. In a steadily falling rain Tanner and Cahil parked in what appeared to be the village's central square and got out. Tanner asked directions from a passing woman, and they began walking.

They found the Fujika ancestral shrine sat at the edge of a spruce forest.

A dozen or so mourners surrounded the shrine, which was decorated with small wooden plaques called
ema,
each a memorial from a family member. Tanner knew many Japanese practiced a blend of both Shinto and Buddhism; this seemed the case with Sumiko's family, for while the shrine was Shinto, the presiding priest was Buddhist.

“Tell me what's wrong with this picture,” Cahil whispered.

“I see him.”

Standing a dozen paces away from Sumiko's family, was Hiromasa Takagi. Tange Noboru stood by his side, sheltering him with an umbrella.

The priest recited a prayer, wafted an incense stick over the shrine, then turned and nodded to the mourners. It was over.

“Some would question your judgment in coming here,” a voice whispered.

Tanner turned and saw Inspector Tanaka standing behind them. Tanner felt rage flood his chest. Tanaka had helped cover up both Ohira's and Sumiko's murders, and now here he was at her funeral. As far as Tanner was concerned, he was as guilty as Noboru and Takagi. He took a deep breath and turned his back on the man.

Near the shrine, the mourners were dispersing, except for Takagi, who was speaking quietly to Sumiko's grandmother. After a moment, she began weeping.

“Inspector, why don't you introduce us to Mr. Takagi?” Tanner said.

Tanaka laughed softly. “I don't think that would be wise.”

“Introduce us, or I will.”

Tanaka shrugged. “Very well.”

Flanked by Noboru, Takagi stopped in front of them. Up close, Noboru was even more imposing, a bull of a man with huge shoulders and a thick neck. Deadpan, he stared at a spot in the middle of Tanner's forehead.

Standing this close to Hiromasa Takagi, Briggs could feel the man's power radiating outward, like a palpable force. He suddenly realized just how dangerous Takagi was. This was a man who could do exactly as he wanted, to whomever he wanted, with near impunity.

Tanaka made the introductions. Takagi bowed stiffly. Briggs countered with an inclination of his head. Takagi accepted the insult with a thin smile.
We're gnats to him.
So far, they'd been simply annoying. That was about to change.

“Inspector Tanaka tells me you knew Ms. Fujiko,” Takagi said.

“She was kind enough to show us around Osaka,” Tanner replied.

“And now that you've seen my country, what do you think of it?”

“Aside from the crime, it's beautiful.”

Takagi frowned. “Ah, yes, I see. Mr. Ohira. Terrible thing. Interesting that both the Takagi employees you've met have died under mysterious circumstances. Some might call you bad luck.”

“There's little mystery involved,” Tanner replied. “Ohira was executed by a sniper who escaped in a truck very similar to those you use at your shipyard, and Ms. Fujika was butchered in the parking lot of your headquarters. It's been three, by the way.”

“Three what?”

“Three Takagi employees I'm aquatinted with. The third was an engineer in your maritime division.”

Takagi's eyes darted toward Noboru. “And has your bad luck affected him, too?”

“If you call being chained inside a sinking ship and dying of hypothermia bad luck, then I'd say yes.”

Takagi's face went red. Noboru growled and took a step toward Tanner. Cahil blocked him and shook his head:
Bad idea.

“The job was botched,” said Tanner. “She didn't go down right away. Not to worry, though: The water's at least a mile deep where she sank. No one will ever reach her, and no one will ever know … except for us, that is.”

Takagi balled his fists. “What are you after, Mr. Tanner?”

“You, Mr. Takagi.”

“A lot of men have tried that.”

Tanner gave a hard smile. “I love a challenge. Plus, I think you'll find I do business a little differently than you're used to.”

“We will see.”

“At last something we agree on.” Tanner leaned forward and stared into Takagi's eyes. “Make no mistake, though,” he whispered. “Whatever it takes, however far I have to go, I'm coming for you.”

“Enough!” Takagi barked. “I suggest you leave Japan, Mr. Tanner!”

Takagi stalked away, drawing Noboru and Tanaka in his wake.

Cahil clapped Tanner on the shoulder. “And yet another Christmas card you won't be hanging over your mantel.”

Tanner let himself exhale, then smiled. “So many friends, so little mantel.”