Another thud, louder. Dan making a note to light a few candles at Mass if he ever got the opportunity in gratitude for the fact that this was an American style hotel and not your standard, papier-mâché of the Japanese variety. He and Kelley would surely be history by now if the latter was the case.

  “Hold please, sir.”

  “Hold my Irish balls!”

  Oh, Jesus, thought Dan. Kelley smiling though. Good sign. A tension breaker. No problem, Dan thinking. He wants Keiko. He thinks she’s in here.

  “Dad, I don’t understand.”

  “Okay, baby, listen. Adam Welsh reserved this room for us. You remember me talking about him on a few occasions, I’m sure. Nice guy. A drunk. The fatal flaw. Anyway, his girlfriend was, is Keiko Watanabe. For some ungodly reason this assclown from hell wants Keiko and thinks she’s in here

  “It still doesn’t make sense. Why?”

  “Keiko San!”

  The ranting of the Monster now. Unmistakable. Shaking the room like a boombox reverberating from the car of a recent graduate of the Los Angeles Unified School District. Dan, with a brief smile thinking of his friend Art.

  God, how Art hated what Los Angele had become. The ignorance the most.

  “Mr. Bronsan, we are working on the situation. We…”

  “Dan, Benny Carter here. Stay away from the goddamn door. Help is on its way.”

  “Benny…”

  The explosion knocked the phone from his hand. Smoke all around.

  “Kelley, are you alright! Kelley! Jesus, where are you!?”

  Silence. Almost serene now.

  The plastique hidden in the innocuous tourist bag belonging to the terrorist had worked well. The Monster was amongst them. Here in the room, through the smoke. The silhouette began to shake, then the guttural laugh. The sound of pure evil.

  “Daddy, I’m okay. Where are you?”

  “Keiko, my darling. At last we shall be cleansed together.”

  Dan seeing his worst nightmare unfold. Through the smoke he caught a brief glimpse of the Monster. He was standing directly over Kelley. The shiny object in his hand like a beacon through the fog. Not a friendly one however. The knife only inches from his precious daughter’s neck.

  Then the rains came.

  . . . . .

  “Sir, the sprinkler system in the New Jersey suite has been activated.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “Sir, Team One is in the western grid and reports an explosion with heavy smoke throughout the passageway.”

  “Any communication with the occupants, the civilians in the room?”

  “We are trying to raise them now. Stand by please, sir.”

  Kelley Bronsan would reflect later how inexplicably the image of the Wicked Witch of the East from the Wizard of Oz had entered her thoughts. As a young girl she had watched the classic a million times. The constant being her terror no matter how many times she saw the witch. That god damn bitch scared the hell out of her. Apple lying very close to the tree on this point. Dad had mentioned the feelings of trepidation that came over him even as an adult every time he saw that friggin Margaret Hamilton, the actress who played the witch. Her Mom would bring up a great story about it every chance she got to Dan’s eternal consternation.

  One night before Kelley was born or when she was just a baby, probably in the sixties, Cathy Bronsan could never quite pinpoint the exact date, Dan and his friends were imbibing at a local bar in Asia someplace. This was when he was serving during the Viet Nam War. Anyway they’re watching Super Bowl commercials that Cathy had sent from the states. One drawback for the ex-pat or serviceman overseas was that although one could see American television courtesy of Armed Forces Radio and Television System or A-FARTS as it was lovingly referred to, one could not view the American commercials. Sometimes they were even better than the game.

  “Anyway,” Cathy went on, “while watching one of these Super Bowl commercials, who comes on but Margaret Hamilton riding her trademark bicycle down the lane but this time a can of Maxwell House in the basket instead of Toto. No matter to poor Dan. He actually froze in mid gulp and then put his whiskey back down on the bar. “(An anomaly never seen before or since, Cathy loved to point out.) “The man looked like he had seen a ghost, which indeed, truth be told, he had. His shipmates that day at the bar actually thought he was going to have a stroke.”

  “Jesus, Dan you okay,” Snuffy Perry, a boiler tech who died a year later in the fire aboard the USS Forestall, had asked.

  Nothing.

  There was Margaret Hamilton, the Wicked Witch of the East, sitting at a kitchen table content as can be drinking a cup of Maxwell House coffee and exclaiming for all to hear, “Mmmm Mmmm good!”

  This was too much for poor Dan.

  Snuffy recounted that Dan uttered the words “My Jesus God Almighty!” and ordered a double and drinks all around. He shot the double in one gulp. Not a word was ever mentioned in his presence about the incident ever again. Except of course by the long suffering Cathy Bronsan. Kelley heard it probably almost as many times as she had actually seen The Wizard of Oz.

  An updated somewhat surreal version of Oz now playing in the New Jersey suite. Peanut the Witch to Kelley’s Dorothy. Dan the Cowardly Lion watching helplessly as the cold steel descended towards his daughter.

  “Ahhhhhhh!”

  The sprinkler system projecting water directly into the eyes of the witch. Was he/she melting? The knife falling to the ground. The Monster dropping it as his hand reflexively went to his eyes. Wiping the water and the smoke away with one quick motion. His prey now clearly visible for the first time followed by the realization that this was not Keiko staring up in terror at him from the floor. At this moment the Monster was vulnerable. A window of opportunity for Dan or Kelley, maybe a few seconds. It came and then it went. The Witch/Monster pouncing on Dorothy as she reached for the knife. No Toto in sight. The Lion too far away.

  The Monster beat Kelley to the knife by probably a nanosecond. Simultaneously grabbing the knife while wrapping a bear-like arm around her. Standing up now, Kelley in his arms. The knife at her jugular.

  “No. Jesus, God in Heaven! Please. No!”

  “Be still, gaijin pig. This one is of no consequence to me. Tell the American bastards to bring Keiko to me now or this cunt will die.”

  Anger enveloping Dan Bronsan. The fear gone. This scum would die. If it took the rest of his days. He would die. Of this Dan was certain.

  Fighting to compose himself now though. Everything, his daughter’s life at the balance. Winning.

  “Yes, yes, anything you want. Who is Keiko?”

  Not a good liar. In any case he knew that Keiko was somewhere in the hotel.

  Roaring now.

  “Bring me Keiko San!”

  The tip of the knife glistening against Kelley’s pink skin. She stared straight ahead. A look of utter resignation.

  51

  “That’s crazy talk girl. You’re not going anywhere. Tell her, Joe. Rhodes, Jesus, someone talk sense into this girl.”

  Logic, or sense for that matter, were not on the table here in the Missouri suite. The latest communications from Team One at the scene were that the Aum soldier had entered the civilian’s room and had taken both hostage. His demands were very simple. Kelley Bronsan for Keiko Watanabe.

  Team One had only been seconds from taking the terrorist out when the explosion had occurred. Now the four marines who would have liked nothing better than to have drawn and quartered the murderer of Corporal Timothy Sullivan, U.S.M.C were ordered to remain on station and await further orders.

  A fly on the wall in the Missouri Suite may have taken the occupants for mourners at a wake. Keiko, head in her hands, leaning forward slightly, no visible expression. Benny Carter with a pleading, anguished look. Dusty, rigid in his chair, almost at attention, all eyes on him, waiting on the words he had already decided; the inevitable.

  Keiko would have to go to the Aum soldier.

  Dusty broke the silence.

  “Ms. Watanabe…”

  “Keiko, please.”

  “Yes, Keiko, what do you think you could accomplish by confronting this murderer? Even if I were to let you go, which I’m most certainly not going to do. Aside from the obvious guilt factor inherent in having your blood on my hands, there is the problem that you are worth much more to us alive than dead.”

  Benny, with a glare of utter hate. A jaguar waiting to pounce. Not moving though.

  Yet.

  Keiko without emotion. Businesslike. The dead Keiko back.

  “I have told you everything. There is nothing left to tell. I am of no further use to you as to the plans of Aum. They do not suffer traitors lightly. In any case I am as good as dead now.”

  “Keiko, no! God no! How can you talk like that, little daughter?”

  “Sir, the intruder is giving us an hour.”

  Rhodes in communication with Command and Control I in the hotel Ballroom.

  “Okay, Ms. Watanabe, you have my complete, undivided attention. I let you go to this…soldier. What do you plan to do?”

  All eyes on Keiko now. This small, fragile creature. The geisha doll relegated to hell now.

  “Bring me to him. I know how to talk to him. You must believe me.”

  “What about you, baby? You can’t do this. Please, little daughter, it’s suicide.”

  Keiko put her small hand on the bald headed black man’s now slightly trembling shoulder. He was close to tears.

  “I have to do this, Benny San. It is the only way. No more innocents… like Rose.”

  Trailing off now. You could hear a pin drop.

  “Lieutenant, send the auxiliary team up here ASAP.”

  “On their way, Sir.”

  Turning back to the assembled cast now. A look of communal, stunned acceptance. A feeling of finality hanging in the air. Keiko would go to the Monster.

  52

  “Jack, let me go with you. Nothing better to do, you know. No life since I stopped drinking and all that.”

  The humor lost on Jack Bender. Adam Welsh watched as his now desperate friend scrambled about looking for the car keys that were in his hand. Incoherent. The unnatural, albeit relaxed mood of earlier gone now.

  “Ah, what, Adam? No, no…it’s okay. Oh, Jesus, the damn keys. Here they are. Senior moment there I guess.”

  A weak laugh. Adam trying to move the muscles that would have formed a smile on his lips. Might as well have tried to bench press 220 with his tongue. In any case, Jack oblivious.

  “Yea, just a routine thing. Probably need me to fill out some paper work. These Japanese hospitals very big on the paperwork. More than the damn Navy hospitals, if that’s possible.”

  Jack had answered the earlier phone call from the hospital. Adam had seen the look on his friend’s face as he listened to the disembodied voice on the other end of the phone line. The only paperwork that his dear friend would be filling out would be of the death certificate variety.

  “I insist old buddy. Not a problem.”

  He gently maneuvered his friend out of the office and down the stairs to the car, Jack uttering feeble objections while clenching one of Yumiko’s kimonos in his hands. He finally slumped into the front passenger seat, letting the younger man drive. A light drizzle was beginning to fall. June in Japan, the rainy season still a few months off. This weather not unusual though. It would be like this on and off throughout the early summer. The typhoons wouldn’t come till later though. A flash crossing Adam’s mind. Strapped into his “rack” the loving term used to describe the compartment that he slept in while aboard ship. He was riding out twenty-five foot swells as the ship navigated in between three super typhoons. All of this accompanied by a stubborn hang-over. These lasting longer and longer in direct proportion to Adam’s aging process. Not a kid anymore.

  Thank God he was off that boat.

  Adam turned the ignition on, the radio chiming in simultaneously with the rumble of the 84 Toyota.

  “….within a five block radius of the New Sanno Hotel, closed until further notice. No word from any authorities, Japanese or American as to why as yet. We can only assume an exercise. Stay tuned to Armed Forces Radio for further developments. Now back to the Charlie Tuna Show here on AFRTS.”

  “Jack, Yumiko is in the Hiroo Hospital, right?”

  Adam knew of course. A feeble attempt at small talk.

  “Yes. Yes…turn the radio back on…please.”

  Some kind of jingle. No doubt a high-tech AFRTS public service spot. God, Adam missed the stateside commercials. He would be happy with “Mr. Whipple and the Charmin” right now. Anything, but here it was again. The trials and tribulations of the poor Air Force guy forced to have a roommate on base.

  “Damn.”

  Jack muttering; something wrong. Sure, probably upset about the time it would take to reach Hiroo Hospital. Located just a couple of blocks from the Sanno. Adam had gone there after being beaten by the “Watusi” what seemed like eons ago. Just last year though. So much had happened since.

  “Jack, don’t worry. I’m sure they will be allowing traffic into the hospital. We’ll get you there, my friend. Remember that Au….”

  “Godamn it, Adam, shut the fuck up. Just drive!”

  Someone else in the car now. Jack Bender was having a breakdown of some sort. There was no doubt in Adam’s mind. They would find a way to get to Hiroo Hospital. Adam would make sure his friend did not leave once they got there though. He would insist on it.

  Mutterings under the older man’s breath. Inaudible until…

  “Adam, I’m sorry. Please get me to the hospital. Get me to my wife. I need to see my wife before…”

  The tears coming now. Good tears, Adam thought. Maybe tears of cleansing. He held his friend for what seemed like an eternity. No words spoken. Finally the embrace was broken without a word and Adam began the drive.

  “You know how they’re always doing exercises over at the Sanno, Jack. I remember one year they closed it for the whole weekend. Godamn was I pissed. Had a suite reserved, plenty of money…the drunk sailor was going to prove the stereotype.”

  He winced as he recounted this seemingly minor detail. He was going out with Keiko at the time, but the cheating was at its zenith. The only reason he stayed with her was because the Sanno was closed and one night of partying in Roppongi had depleted his funds. She knew this of course but took him in anyway. Denial.

  No response from his friend. Jack sitting rigid in the passenger seat. Eyes glued to the road ahead. Hadn’t said a word since his breakdown at the base just before they left.

  “Yea, always doing exercises,” Adam continued. “Especially now with all of this gas stuff and everything. Yea, just a drill. I’m sure of it.”

  Jack, even in his current state, not believing a word. Of course he knew better. Jack Bender knew what was happening at the Sanno Hotel. Not exactly what was taking place, but he could piece together puzzles with the best of them. Jack had not seen or heard from Peanut in over a week. That could only mean that Aum was utilizing him in some sort of manner of which he was specifically trained. Peanut was a killer. Pure and simple. There was no drill at the Sanno Hotel. Of this Jack Bender was as certain as the belief that his beloved Yumiko was already dead.

  53

  “There is a problem, Divine One.”

  Shoko Asahara stood motionless in the dimly-lit room. His back to the unfortunate messenger who had been given the task of informing his leader that the mission at the Sanno Hotel had not gone quite as planned.

  Taka was his name. About nineteen years old. A zealot brought in like many of the others from university. His parents had once had high hopes for the boy whose nickname was taken from his adoration of the sumo champion, Takonahana. His story not unusual The pressure of university to make grades soon lead to drugs, alcohol and finally dismissal in disgrace and then perhaps, inevitably to Aum.

  “Leave at once. No one is to enter here.”

  “It is done, Divine One.”

  Taka leaving immediately. Relieved to be free from the darkness that was Shoko Asahara.

  A minor complication thought the brooding figure, sitting alone now in the antechamber. He would deal with the traitor. Of this he had no doubt. She would be cleansed. Time now to concentrate on the more immediate matters at hand.

  “The Master wishes to be left alone.”

  “Yes, of course. You gave him the news?”

  A nod. It had been done. Taka shaking. Glad to be alive.

  . . . . .

  The curious group that had been summoned by Aum all gathered around the 17th century, Louis IV marble table in the library. Each and every one protected by diplomatic immunity. The Iraqi Chief of Staff here for the ambassador. Iraq the supplier of the sarin. The other terrorists seated in statesman-like attire all representing various havens of terror throughout the Middle East, Africa and Europe. Most providing financial and logistical support with the lone representative from Europe, Minister Lemieux, a tall man with a moustache and an accent right out of a Godard film, handling the air transport of the deadly sarin on its travels through Europe enroute eventually to where it rested now – A non-descript World War II era cave outside of Yokosuka Naval Base in Japan. Sitting quietly awaiting the whim of a Madman.

  Lemieux had been staring intently at the gold leaf adorning the base of his long deceased compatriot’s prize possession, musing on the bizarre twists that history had taken for this exquisite symbol of a truly civilized world, now sitting here in the decadent outpost of a psychopath. His back was to the huge wrought iron door when it swung open as if hit by a Kansas tornado, missing his head by a matter of centimeters.

  The One loved to make an entrance, Atashi thought as the door crashed into the wall, fully open now. Shoko Asahara stood before them naked and aroused. The pulsating head of his engorged penis stood, it’s one-eye quizzically pondering the aghast figure of Lemieux as he lay prostrate on the palatial floor.

  “Gentlemen, don’t get up. Please, excuse my tardiness. A few minor matters to attend to. Anyway, you have my undivided attention. Please take your seat, Minister Lemieux.”