How are you today?

  I’m here for you always, Rose had said. Meant it.

  Strange how the whole concept of the Aum Cult – Creation from destruction, actually was true in the case of Keiko Watanabe. Through the destruction of Rose Carney, the soul of Keiko Watanabe lived again. With another sip of green tea, a look at Chibi, a thought of Rose, a decision made.

  Keiko Watanabe would live.

  32

  “The caves were built in the late thirties. Don’t believe any of the bullshit you might hear about the Japanese not knowing that they would be going to war with America. It was a foregone conclusion. Economics. America was stopping the oil flow. The Japanese had to have the oil.”

  The flatbed truck rumbling forward with its human cargo of hopelessness, despair, rage and raw unabated hatred. Jack Bender, Adam Welsh and the man called Peanut. Bender regaling this captive audience with his knowledge of World War II history here in Yokosuka. Rumbling along in the flatbed truck headed to Ikego just a few miles from the base.

  Adam not really listening. Staring straight ahead. Peanut with two years of English grammar but feigning ignorance. On and on down the road to Ikego. Relentless. Adam taken off the ship yesterday. Reassigned. The despair too much. Art Chambers gone. Jack Bender requesting a body to help with a routine supply run to Ikego. Adam’s chief gladly turning over Adam. Adam shuffling off the boat. Not really here. Not really anyplace. The soul gone. The body there but the soul gone. Benny Carter noticing it when he left him at the hospital. After they had said goodbye to Art. Him and Dan. Dan and Adam almost getting into it. Benny the peacemaker. The empty suit that was Adam Welsh accompanying his friend Jack Bender and the terrorist known as Peanut. Empty suit a term used by Davey Welsh many times. A reference to someone that didn’t have any substance to them. Of course with Davey this more often than not referred to intestinal fortitude. The intestinal fortitude that Davey himself lacked but covered up with the bravado spawned by large intakes of booze over long periods of time. Strange that Adam should think of his father now. All these years ago. Down the Yokosuka Road. Route 1. Short trip. A few miles. Still, a bit of friction in the atmosphere. A bizarre trio. Peanut staring out the passenger side window. Adam between him and Jack. Jack speaking. Forced.

  “No rain today. Thank God. Good day maybe. Yes, a good day.”

  The reality of Rose and Art both gone. A fuzzy reality but in Adam’s alcohol drenched brain a crystal clear one nonetheless. Art and Rose. Two living breathing human beings. Walking and talking. Just last week he’d seen them. Touched them. The smell of Art’s pipe. The knowing look. Rose’s perfume. Her girlish manner when Adam looked directly into her eyes. A teenager again. Adam returning to the ship last night. The Asshole Mormon chief on duty. Different. Receptive. Sensing Adam’s pain. Adam ignoring the empathy. Shit, the self-centered, hypocritical bastard just wanted me off the ship. One less headache.

  Adam long ago losing the respect of his shipmates. Sleeping off the countless hangovers in the armory. Locking himself in. Against regulations of course. Ship going to general quarters- battle stations drill. Serious stuff. Adam passed out in the space. Ship failed the drill. Mormon Asshole getting chewed out by the skipper big time. Mormon Asshole beside himself with rage. Couldn’t prove Adam was passed out drunk. Couldn’t burn him. God, he wanted to. Adam Welsh, piece of human refuse keeping Chief Mormon Asshole from his Ensign bars. It would only be a matter of time though. Mormon Asshole would be ready when that time came. Adam Welsh would never retire in Mormon Asshole’s Navy. Not on his watch. No way. Good excuse to get Welsh off the boat. Ship Repair Facility requesting someone. A body. Adam Welsh was indeed a body. No soul requested so not a problem. The body would be delivered. Temporary duty under Jack Bender, supervisor of all hazardous waste disposal for Yokosuka Naval Base. Mormon Asshole thinking he was a strange bird. No matter. Welsh would be his problem for a while. The McClusky would conduct exercises for ten days in Yokosuka Bay.

  Adam Welsh would not be missed.

  Entering Ikego now. Ikego basically an annex of Yokosuka Naval Base. Jack giving Adam the history lesson that seemed centuries old. Jack the all-knowing one when it came to Japanese history. A veritable encyclopedia of Japanese history. World War II era. Jack the soft spoken gaijin turning into something akin to a Samurai when it came to World War II as seen from the Japanese view. Animated not a word normally used when describing Jack Bender but applicable indeed when the subject of World War II in the Pacific was brought up. Troubling to Adam. Something desperately attempting to come to the surface. Escape from the bowels of Jack Bender’s psyche. Lurking just behind the wild blue-grey eyes.

  “The Imperial Navy started digging these caves in the Thirties. War was a foregone conclusion. U.S. blocking the oil. No choice. Cut Japan off. Unreasonable. Roosevelt the pompous ass. Everyone better off if the polio had killed him early. A better world.”

  Stopping abruptly. Struggling for an instant and then back to low key subdued Jack. Uncanny. Scary. Adam’s look bringing him back.

  “Sorry, shipmate. Didn’t mean to get carried away.”

  Adam relieved to move on. Change the subject. Still it was all very unsettling. Jack Bender a mystery. A riddle. Unfortunately, for Adam, the subject did not change at all.

  “Stored the torpedoes in these caves. Best damn torpedoes built for that time. Germans didn’t even come close.”

  Jack sensing and cutting off Adam’s impending question.

  “The Germans? Shit! Just a bunch of barbaric bastards. Huns actually. Great uniforms. Sure. You can dress ‘em up but you can’t take ‘em out. Always reverting back to Huns. Germans given more credit than they were due in that war. Japanese a noble people. Honorable.”

  Adam smiling inside. Knowing what Art would have thought of all this. Knowing what his response would have been. One mentioned at his extreme peril the “honorable” Japanese around Art Chambers.

  Through the gates now. No sentry. No security whatsoever. Not in this area. Strange. Jack Bender rolling the flatbed past two or three Stone-Age like excavations. Seventy years old. God the stories they could tell. The horror.

  Peanut still staring. Motionless. Adam imagining the Japanese soldiers buzzing in and out of these fortresses. High spirits. Victory at hand back in ‘39 or ’40, or whenever they were here. The Emperor and God on their side. The Rising Sun getting higher every day. The Koreans, Filipinos, Chinese not sharing in this glorious empire. Butchered daily. Anger, resentment to this day. Never would end. Shouldn’t end, thought Adam.

  “Everybody out.”

  In front of cave number 134. Not much different from the others. Two very large wrought iron bars going across a steel door which almost looked new. Adam thinking this strange for a moment, then drifting away again into the release of his dreams. Switching everything off. Able to respond to the simplest command and carry out the most basic of tasks. Jack of course knowing this. Knowing the pain and loss. Relating to it. Adam the perfect specimen for this job.

  The door opening now. Jack releasing two padlocks. Darkness. The flashlight providing sudden illumination. Adam entering just in time to see the giant spider two inches from his nose. A start but in his naturally medicated state not the response a normal human being would have. Jack knocking the creature away. Peanut with no emotion. A walking Buddha from Hell itself.

  The fifty-five gallon drum sat in the farthest most corner. “Hazmat” painted on its side, along with “Property of U. S. Navy” and a skull and crossbones.

  No one would go off into the night with this. Jack pausing as the irony hit him. There was indeed hazardous material in this receptacle. Not the disposable kind. If the drum would have been perforated at this moment, thousands of living, breathing human beings in the surrounding areas would die in a horrible fashion.

  The drum would be transported directly into Roppongi soon. It would take place on a Saturday in Roppongi, the Sodom of Tokyo. A Saturday night full of gaijin revelers. Partying at Gas Panic, Hard Rock Café, Motown and scores of assorted passion pits where the young gaijin sailor with but a drink and a smile and perhaps a room at the Sanno Hotel could entwine himself in the willing arms of a young Japanese girl fulfilling her fantasy of wild, uninhibited sex with a young American sailor or marine. This moral erosion of an entire generation at the hands of the evil gaijin eating away at the heart of hearts of Jack Bender, Retired ET1, U.S Navy now the avenging angel of an entire race; the fallout in the figurative sense of Hiroshima itself. Jack Bender and Peanut would drive right down Roppongi Road. Into the very heart. Stop directly in front of the Almond Café, “Almondo” to the Japanese girls who rendezvoused with their new American boyfriends there. Impossible to miss. The drum with its lethal cargo would be opened and rolled into the street. Jack and Peanut would be wearing NBC or Nuclear, Biological and Chemical protective suits that Jack had procured from the Yokosuka Base under the guise of conducting a training exercise. Thousands would perish. Yumiko, beautiful, suffering Yumiko redeemed at last. The sins of the Enola Gay paid for in full with interest. Jack not bothering to inform Asahara of the slight change in plan. The emergence of the ambassador as well as the failing health of his beloved Yumiko changing everything, at least in the mind of Jack Bender.

  “Just need to clean this area up a bit gentleman.”

  Peanut moving before Jack had finished. Towards the drum. Checking it from top to bottom. Adam finding this strange. Just a drum of Hazmat. Peanut handling it like it was a priceless giant vase.

  “What’s in there, Jack. Let me take a look.”

  Adam not really caring, going through the motions. One step further towards the back of the cave. Heading for the drum.

  “Baca gaijin… !”and then something else.

  Adam of course familiar with “Baca Gaijin” – “American bastard,” but not the rest. Adam retorting, almost unconsciously. Shaken though. Strange look on Peanut’s face.

  “Hey, asshole, who the fuck you think you’re talking to?”

  Davey Welsh, his father rearing his ugly head within his son. Adam and Peanut toe to toe now. Peanut grabbing for something. His back pocket. The box-cutter coming out. Still out of view to Adam. Jack in an instant around Peanut. A bear-hug and then, “Samisen, my friend.” Under his breath. “Come on now. Chill as they say in South Central these days.”

  An usual joke for Jack. Adam coming back into reality. Why was Jack holding Peanut? Something behind him and then gone. Out of sight. Peanut turning abruptly. Back towards the cave entrance. Motioning to Jack.

  “I will kill him,” muttered under his sordid breath.

  Jack pushing him out the door.

  “Let’s go, Adam.”

  Back in the truck now. This trip just a partial run-through of the real thing which would take place very soon.. The canister checked out for any sign of damage. Peanut passing on the information to Jack in Japanese on the way back. Adam motionless. Enraged, yet confused. Unawares how close he had come to joining Rose and Art.

  33

  Huffing and puffing. Only a few more steps to the arrival area. The bulbous gaijin rolling through the microscopic Japanese like a boulder through a group of field mice. Relentless. Dan Bronsan made his way to the Northwest arrival area. A quick glance with the rolling eye to the flight status board indicated that Kelley would be in his arms very soon. Flt 1 from New York was on time. Well at least they were punctual. Still didn’t make up for the nightmarish service. Dan recounting briefly the experiences he had had with the barbaric stewardesses aboard Northwest Airlines. Better than PLA – Philippine Air Lines or “Plane Always Late” as Dan loved to call the Philippine national airline after a few gins at the Sanno. Used it almost as much as the “Tilt of your kilt.” Oh well. The others just jealous. A great line could and should be used over and over. Jesus, look at Shakespeare. Of course Dan not comparing himself to the Bard but the point had to be made. No drinking today. His little angel would be arriving. It had been a long time. God he could use one though. Maybe later. Back at the Sanno with Adam and Benny and Art…No, Art wouldn’t be there. God, how could it be that Art and yes, Rose were gone? Forever. He had prayed for them at Mass this morning. The irony of Dan Bronsan. Praying for his friends every day at Mass yet not missing a chance for character assassination at the slightest provocation – real or imagined.

  An open seat. Dan spying it. Locking in with the good eye. The crazed one warding off any insane Japanese that would have the audacity to attempt to seat him or herself at what Dan had now targeted like an aegis missile. Homing device locked. Warhead engaged. Dan Bronsan’s enormous ass mating with the poor Japanese-made airline waiting room seat that screamed with a loud creak as the gathered bemused Japanese travelers looked on in horror, albeit discreetly. No gawking here.

  The plane would be landing in fifteen minutes. With customs and the other necessities, he would be talking to the love of his life in the flesh in about an hour’s time. Added security these days at Narita Airport of course. Very subtle but there no less. Dan had noticed the numerous dogs roaming about the baggage areas as well as the gaijin FBI and Secret Service who gave themselves away with their uniform like suits. The attack at the train station just a few days before. Poor Rose. Very much on the minds of the Japanese. The news not releasing the cause of death- sarin gas. Still Dan had heard some American Intel types talking about it on the base. Hard to keep a secret like that. Reports that the gas had been smuggled in somehow from the Middle East. No one sure how.

  A long couple of days. Dan drifting in and out of consciousness. Sleep a welcome lover at this juncture. Soon the few Japanese nearby scattering in comic terror as the thunderous otherworldly sounds emanated from the 350 pound Goliath’s nostrils. Snoring like no one in this part of the world had ever heard. Little Japanese children gathering around the behemoth. Innocent to any danger. Sensing there was none. Giggling. Young mothers leading them away. Trying to keep their own giggles from becoming uncontrollable laughter.

  The beautiful young girl with the trembling hand approaching without warning. The young mothers whispering frantically to the young children.

  “Don’t look.”

  Kelley Bronsan in front of her father now. Breaking into laughter herself. Out of control. Dan awakening with a lurch. A blur at first. Then the realization. His daughter. The only real reason he had for living. Leaping forward now. Almost knocking her off her feet.

  “Kelley, It’s you. My god I have missed you. You look beautiful. A woman.”

  “I certainly hope so, Dad.”

  Kelley trying to be the self-assured cocky young daughter from New York City. Succeeding for about thirty seconds.

  The tears came.

  “Dad, I missed you so much!”

  Collapsing in his bear-like arms. Falling out of the chair. Her father supporting her. No fear. Embracing now like a father and his baby daughter. The tears coming for both of them. Dan’s tears a culmination of the events of the last few days and the sight of the love of his life. Holding each other for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Kelley breaking the hold. Slowly moving back into the chair.

  “What a horrible flight. Those stewardesses. Dad, where do they get them. All “waitresses at the Last Supper.”

  Dan smiling at this. His line. She had remembered it. What was that about “the highest form of flattery?” A mental note to look that up and use it the next time the unwashed at the Sanno ridiculed his platitudes.

  “And the movie. My god, they showed Black Rain. You know the one about the Japanese mafia?”

  “Yakuza.”

  “Yea, that’s right.”

  “The Japanese actor who played the young Yakuza was great though. I wish I knew what else he was in. I’ll have to research it.”

  Dan not ready to lower her spirits just yet. The actor had died right after the completion of the movie. In fact he was dying of cancer as the movie was being made. Courageous guy. National day of mourning when he died. Many Japanese heartbroken. A tragedy. So young and full of promise.

  Like Kelley.

  “Well, maybe when you get back, young lady. We have a lot to catch up on while you’re here.”

  “I can’t wait, Dad. I want to see everything!”

  Kelley, living life to the fullest. Dan feeling the pall that had been lowered over him the last few days being lifted away by the sheer spirit of this courageous young woman.

  Dan pushing her baggage cart towards the airport exit now. The rented car outside. No train. Insanity with the baggage. Dan not enthused about the drive but it would be a straight shot to the Sanno. He had managed to book a room for Kelley there with Adam’s help. The new Sanno Hotel a Department of Defense facility and so only for the use of Department of Defense personnel and their families and guests. Adam Welsh tipped the front desk every chance he got and was loved by most of the staff. Despite all of his demons, Adam Welsh had a heart, and the Asian staff at the Sanno saw and felt it.

  Something Dan could never understand. Dan still looking at Adam as a common drunk. Obnoxious. Takes one to know one, the late Art had said. Dan thinking about this now. Adam had procured the room. Under his name. Kelley would be signed in as his guest and for all intents and purposes it would be her room. This was the kind of thing that Adam did on occasion that made Dan forget about all the other self-centered bullshit. Almost even made him forgive him for what he had done to Keiko. Almost but not quite. Take a lot more to right those wrongs. Probably in the next life. He would pray for him at Mass this weekend though. Light an extra candle for dear Keiko wherever she was.