“Yea, Jack, maybe the billionth time is the charm.”

  The A.A. meeting would be starting in about an hour. Adam Welsh here early to help Jack Bender, his curious savior, with the coffee and general set-up. This an important part of the whole sobriety process. Commitments, the old-timers called them. Art’s death a couple of days ago putting Adam at a crossroads of sorts. He could continue drinking to escape the pain and eventually die or go insane, or he could kill himself.

  There was a third option as well. A “jumping off” place would be the term used in the rooms to describe this pivotal point that Adam Welsh had arrived at in his heretofore turbulent existence. He really didn’t want to drink anymore. The booze was, after all, no longer the friend it had been. At one time it had been his best friend. The friend had turned though. The “rapacious creditor,” taking and taking without giving back. The agony of staying sober, a major problem as well. Therein lies the rub. Adam didn’t want to drink but at the same time did not know if he could do what he knew from years in and out of the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous would take an act of monumental willingness on his part. To drink was to die though. Even absent the minor detail of the physical demise of the body, it would still be a living death of the soul for Adam if he continued to consume the demon alcohol. The death of Art Chambers had been a major catalyst to start the journey to Jack Bender’s meeting here at Yokosuka Naval Base. Perhaps, though, even more of a factor was Adam’s new awareness of his overwhelming love for Keiko Watanabe and his intense desire to right the wrongs that he had administered to her over the years.

  The weird bastard, Peanut, was sitting by himself as usual. There in the corner, never speaking to anyone save an occasional few words to Jack, always, curiously out of earshot. Jack claiming it as normal behavior.

  “He’s a newcomer. Give him time. He’s still shaky, plus, he’s Japanese.”

  The reference not lost on Adam. To drink oneself into a stupor in Japan was a disgrace. To ask for help, even more of a reason for family, friends, hell, the entire society, to disown the drunken sot. Still Adam had run into a few Japanese at the meetings, and they didn’t resemble this whack-job in any way. In fact, a few of the Japanese even questioned Peanut’s sincerity in respect to his very alcoholism, under their breath of course.

  The altercation in the cave at Ikego the other day. Ominous now for some reason. It didn’t seem like much at the time to Adam, but afterwards, on the way back, Adam noticed something very different in Jack’s look. His very demeanor out of kilter. A sense of fear seemed to run through him. Jack Bender knew the Tokyo traffic better than most Japanese, yet his driving was unusually erratic all of the way back. A couple of near accidents in fact. Adam sensed later that just maybe Jack had seen something different in that cave. Something that Adam had missed. A feeling not unlike someone walking on his grave. A brief chill. Putting it down to the booze, finally. Shit, he only had a couple of days dry. It was a wonder he wasn’t having nightly visitations from the Tooth Fairy let alone these ominous feelings. Feelings of impending doom. Yes, that’s what they were. All alkies in early sobriety experienced them. Kind of a senseless paranoia. Of course, you know what they say? – “Just because you are paranoid, doesn’t mean everyone is not out to get you.”

  Jack saw the small smile on Adam’s face and felt a sudden love for the young man he cared for like a son.

  37

  Kelley Bronsan fell in love with Japan instantly. Only here a day and a bond had developed. The sights, the sounds, the smells; yes, the smells. Mostly the smells in fact. She had been at the fish market near Shinagawa this morning and had been mesmerized immediately. It wasn’t just the seemingly endless activity. It was the aroma. The beautiful almost diabolical aroma of the newly killed fish mixed with the scent of the damp sidewalks fresh with the morning dew. She had dreamt how it would be here many times as she tried to envision her experience. Of course as is almost always the case, it was nothing like she had expected. It was so much more. So all encompassing. She cursed the fact that she did not have the writing skills of her father. That part of the Irish gene had bypassed her generation. She would have loved to be able to put her experience into words. Instead she settled with internalizing the sights and sounds of this remarkable land which was indeed another planet, just as her father had told her. Joe Dickwell had reiterated this during their magical meeting which now seemed to have taken place ages ago in anther galaxy.

  Adam Welsh had delivered as promised. “Mr. Sanno” had booked Kelley into a beautiful suite. One of the two that had handicapped access in the hotel. The room had all the comforts of home and even included a bidet. Kelley smiled as she remembered her father’s awkwardness as he briskly pointed it out. Kelley, of course without mercy,

  “And what is this for, Dad?”

  Dan saved by the Japanese maid who whispered what Kelley already knew into her by now scarlet ear.

  The news of Art’s death had hurt Kelley deeply. As was her wont, she gave away only her initial shocked and distressed feelings before retreating into herself and placing the “I’m fine” sign on the now neutral façade of her outward being. This disturbed her father, but he never made an issue out of it, partly because it had been handed down by way of DNA and perhaps more importantly, it was a defense mechanism which Dan believed his daughter needed.

  38

  “Excuse me, is this the alcohol meeting?”

  Jack Bender looked at the frazzled, unkempt figure in front of him, smiled and extended his hand. “That’s right, my friend, and I believe you are in the right place. My names Jack, and you?”

  “Joe, Joe Dickwell. Nice to meet you, Jack.”

  After consulting with Blasingame, they had decided against having Joe use a fake name. The logic being that this operation would not take up much time, and if and when Jack Bender decided to investigate Joe, it would be too late.

  “How about some coffee. Rough out there, ha?”

  Joe not getting the full meaning of this last allusion of Jack’s. Thinking he meant the weather at first but then catching the glances from the rest in the room, realizing Jack had meant a state of being rather than a place.

  He nodded and sipped on the coffee.

  Joe had planned on getting to the meeting as close to starting time as possible so as not to draw too much attention to himself. He had never actually attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting before, but he had an old uncle he remembered had attended, and nonetheless, he had been thoroughly briefed by Commander Blasingame and his staff.

  “Get there as close to the beginning of the meeting as possible. Find Bender and introduce yourself. Once the meeting starts, you’ll just have to raise your hand and say your name when they ask for any newcomers or visitors. Don’t say a lot. Just tell them that your drinking has gotten a bit out of control, and you think you might have a problem. You’re an English teacher at the Berlitz school in Roppongi. That’s all they need to know. After the meeting, you won’t even have to approach Bender. He’ll come to you. He loves helping newcomers. Try to get him to take you out for coffee. Feel him out. You know the drill. Find out as much as you can without raising any suspicions. NSA needs to know the basics – where, when, how, and they need to know fast. We’re talking not more than 48 hours. We have to know where they’re keeping the sarin and where and when they plan to use it.”

  Joe pondered the briefing with Blasingame just a few days ago. Time was indeed running out. CNN had been sniffing around as had the Washington Post. The fact that sarin had actually been used by terrorists in a major metropolitan city would not be able to be kept under wraps much longer. Mass hysteria would no doubt ensue once the populace of what had once been a city practically devoid of violent crime found out that a chemical agent had been used to kill a human being right in its midst. This of course part of the Aum Cult’s plan. The hysteria causing the needed confusion right before the strike to the jugular.

  There was one other American in the room besides Joe and Jack. Joe watched Adam as he fidgeted and shook visibly. Felt bad for the guy. Definitely an alky but something more. A darkness to him. Couldn’t put his finger to it. The rest, Japanese all stereotypically bent over and humbled.

  All except for one. The guy in the corner. Away from everyone. Strange, thought Joe. All the Japanese sitting together and this guy, who called himself Peanut when they asked for newcomers, he was sitting by himself. Uncomfortable but with a look that said “don’t come close.” Don’t even think about it. A dangerous bastard. Joe getting this not from any empathy for alcoholics but from years of schooling and experience in tracking assholes just like this guy. He filed him away in the back of his brain for further development later.

  . . . . .

  “So how did you like the meeting? Feeling any better?”

  “Did I look that bad?”

  Joe, a bit cocky with him, thought Jack. Sensed it right away. A shadow moving across Jack’s otherwise empathetic exterior. In an instant, gone. The sun breaking through the clouds again.

  “No, you look fine, Joe, just fine. Thanks for helping with the clean-up. It’s much appreciated.”

  Jack turned towards Adam now, “Adam, Let me introduce you to a new friend; Joe Dickwell, Adam Welsh.”

  The quick handshake. Adam self-conscious. Joe reminded of the Tasmanian Devil as Adam’s hand shook violently in his.

  “Nice to meet you, Adam. Active duty?”

  “Yea, three hundred eighty-one days and a wake-up till retirement from the New Navy, but who’s counting.”

  The sarcasm mixed with bitterness unmistakable to Joe.

  “What brings you here?” Adam adding quickly.

  “Teaching English for Berlitz. Did a few years in the ‘Canoe Club’ myself. Wish I would have stayed.”

  Jack fought off a smile. If he’d had a thousand yen for every vet who had said he should have stayed in, well, he’d be a quite a rich man now. Definitely wouldn’t need this GS12 job and the meager Navy retirement. No time to think those thoughts though. He was in the right place. Everything happened for a reason. Yumiko wouldn’t be avenged if Jack wasn’t right where he was. Head of the Toxic Waste Facility at the largest American Naval base in the Pacific. No, Jack Bender was right where he wanted to be. Needed to be. No regrets.

  Back to the present now. The scene in front of him. Adam Welsh, hopeless alcoholic speaking with Joe Dickwell, impostor. Jack Bender had been around the rooms of A.A. a long time, and one thing that Joe Dickwell definitely wasn’t was an alky. Who was he, and why was he here? Jack needed to know, and he needed to know immediately. Nothing would stand in the way of his beloved Yumiko’s retribution.

  “Joe, any plans tonight? We usually get together, myself, Adam and have coffee. There’s a nice place in a quiet part of the Honcho.” “Honcho” a term used for a section of the entertainment district in Yokosuka.

  “Damn, didn’t know there was a quiet part of the Honcho.” Laughing a bit. A tad too self-conscious for Jack. Adam noticing that Jack didn’t treat this guy like the rest of the newcomers, as anyone with less than thirty days was called. Adam noting that Jack’s behavior a bit out of the ordinary in any case. His sponsor not one to ask someone out for coffee. Jack always told Adam and all that would listen that the most important thing that a newcomer to sobriety needed was willingness. The willingness to do whatever it took to stay sober. The fellowship of the program was one of the things that insured sobriety. In the words of Jack Bender, “If you want what we have then you will do what we do.” Jack had not waited for Joe to ask about coffee. He had made it easy for him.

  “I’d be honored.”

  Again the inappropriate attitude. Newcomers were not honored. They were terrified, restless, irritable and discontent. Aside from being a bit under the weather from a recent drunk, Joe Dickwell did not exhibit any of the symptoms of a “real” alcoholic in Adam Welsh’s eyes.

  “Fine. Let me just escort Peanut out the front gate, and we’ll be on our way.”

  . . . . .

  They sat in the back of the VFW Hall in Honcho One, just about a mile from the main gate. Walking distance. The Hall a quiet watering hole for expats and young sailors and marines who usually only paid one visit to the place. Visiting more as a sign of respect or more often than not by mistake. Nothing much here for a twenty-something who ached for the harbor of a young and willing Japanese girl. No, just some burned out expats talking about the “Big One, WWTWO.” The only Japanese females here were well past their prime. If AARP had a geisha division, this would be it. A crack that Dan Bronsan had made on more than one occasion, thought Adam as he sat drinking coffee with Jack Bender and the new guy.

  “So, Joe, what makes you think that you’re an alcoholic? Sorry, I don’t mean to assume. You are an alcoholic?”

  Caught a bit off-guard by the immediacy of the question. Dickwell briefed on what to say by Blasingame, but still…something about this Bender. He felt uncomfortable. For the first time in a long time, Joe Dickwell not completely at ease with his wits. He was flying on instruments. Alone.

  “Well yeah, Jack. I mean I drink too damn much.”

  “Not really about how much you drink, Joe.”

  Adam joining the inquest now.

  “More about how it affects you. I mean I drink my share, but there are some normies out there who probably drink more than me on occasion. The difference is that they don’t have that feeling of incomprehensible demoralization that the Big Book talks about. You do have a Big Book, don’t you Joe?”

  “Oh yeah, most definitely. Read it yesterday, in fact….Not the whole thing of course.”

  Joe uncharacteristically screwing up. He just came off a binge. At least that’s what he had told Jack. How the hell could he read the damn book in his condition?

  If Jack caught this misplay he didn’t let on.

  “Well, Joe, you’re in the right place. I’ll do anything I can to help you stay sober as will Adam.”

  “I’m grateful. I really do appreciate your help. Both of you.”

  Jack smiled. Adam nodded. Neither bought it. Jack excused himself.

  “Got to make a head call, gentlemen. Coffee like the beer in a way. You only rent it.”

  A laugh from Joe. Adam had heard it more than once. Preoccupied. Somewhere else. They both watched as Jack headed to the front of the hall, disappearing around the corner.

  “Great guy, that Jack. He really does seem to care.”

  “Oh yeah. The best.”

  Adam snapping out of his momentary lapse of consciousness. Coming back to the present reality. Joe realizing he hadn’t fooled anyone. Jack would be gone for a few moments at the most. Needed to go with his gut. Not a lot of time left.

  “Petty Office Welsh.”

  “Hey no need to go military on me.”

  “Petty Officer Welsh, look at me. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  Dickwell staring directly at him now. A complete transformation. No Berlitz teacher here. Regular Navy.

  “I’m Lt. Joe Dickwell, Naval Intelligence Service or NIS as you may have heard us called.”

  “Jesus, you’re a Narc.”

  Dickwell not taken aback by the remark. Most Navy personnel, particularly enlisted, had a very negative view of NIS. The only time you really heard of them is when they infiltrated a ship’s crew with a thirty year old agent that looked twenty playing a Boatswain Mate and busted some poor bastard for smoking dope or dealing it.

  “Look, I’m going to forget you said that, and I’m going to call you Adam. Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you call me. I need answers from you, and I need your trust. A lot of lives are depending on it.”

  Joe glancing quickly towards the front of the Hall. Bender would be returning any second.

  “Okay, copied and understood. Go ahead…sir.”

  “We have reason to believe that your friend, Rose Carney….”

  “How did you know…”

  “Please…let me finish. Rose Carney was murdered as part of a preliminary strike by the Aum Cult. We have further intelligence that indicates that Jack Bender has aided and abetted Aum.”

  “No fucking way, Lieutenant! Goddamn where the hell did you guys get that shit. Should have known, fuckin NIS!”

  “Keiko Watanabe is involved as well.”

  Adam, beside himself. Unable to speak. Finally finding the words and…

  “Sorry, gentlemen, you know when you get old like me the plumbing is just not the same. Just when I think I’m done…well you’ll know in your time. Why the terrified look, Adam? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Dickwell was finished. Bender knew. He didn’t miss a thing. Of course now Welsh knew as well.

  “Well, Jack…”

  Dickwell starting to speak but Adam cutting him off.

  “Jack, Mr. Dickwell here is a fraud.”

  Adam looking directly at Joe now. Dickwell thinking he had misread him badly. Then…“No he isn’t an alcoholic. He’s a REAL alcoholic.”

  A pause for effect and then Jack and Adam both laughing at the little joke. Adam had not turned on him at all. He was going along, for now. The term, Real Alcoholic something used by the old-timers to discern the high-bottom drunks from the low-bottom ones.

  “Yea, Jack, he’s definitely one of us. Just keeping a low-profile. What a story though. He’ll be a great circuit speaker one day.”

  The small talk continued a bit longer. When Joe Dickwell got up to leave, he shook hands with Jack and Adam. The palmed business card that Dickwell discretely placed in Adam’s hand not missed by the trained eye of Jack Bender. He had never believed him in any case. The exchange of the business card the nail in Joe Dickwell’s coffin as far as Jack Bender was concerned as he headed home to his beloved Yumiko. Changes would have to be made. Immediately.

  39

  The first indication to Jack Bender that something was wrong was the door. More accurately, the position of the door. Ajar. He had always kept the door to the apartment locked as had Yumiko, even when they were at home. Jack had been adamant about this.