She felt the hand first. Trembling. Not as much as she had remembered though. Afraid to open her eyes at first. Lost in the whiteness. The snow drifts. No pain here. Nothing. Afraid to go back out. Something inside urging her to however. A survival instinct perhaps. Love more likely.

  She opened her eyes.

  Adam Welsh stared down at her. Into her very heart. Yes, there was a heart now. Born again. Beating. Tears forming. Adam’s hand trembling a bit more. No words for what seemed like forever. Finally…

  “How’s my baby? Still beautiful as ever. More now. Are you sure you didn’t go back to heaven for a while, baby? Don’t talk. It’s okay. Just hold my hand here for a while. Let me feel you. Your eyes. God, this hurts. A good hurt though.”

  She raised her hand and touched his lip. Still looking into his blue eyes. Still as blue as ever. Like the South China Sea on a bright day when you can see the gulls. Pure white against the azure sea. Like that now. The blue of Adam’s eyes against the whites.

  Her touch too much for him. Lips trying to move. Finally, “God baby, I’m so sorry.”

  The past flooding back in waves. The pain he had caused her. The desertion. All alone. So fragile. Yet, she had survived. Stronger now. Yet, still the delicate angel he remembered. He leaned down and buried his head in her breast. An avalanche of emotion now. Pouring down from him. A cleansing though. This was good. She stroked his hair. Said nothing. Just held his head to her breast. If they both died now it would be okay, she thought. No. No time for death now. Time to start living. The thought came and went in an instant. Still there though. She didn’t miss it. She wouldn’t forget it. In that moment she knew that the thought had been placed in her consciousness by something much more powerful than herself.

  “Adam, I love you, and I forgive you.”

  The one sentence from the lips of this beautiful creature saving Adam Welsh. He would go on. They would go on. They would live now. Sleep came. The doctor passing by, stopped for a brief moment but then left to finish her rounds. No need to bother them now. Let the healing begin.

  66

  The tall figure moved across the room with a delicacy that hid the mass beneath his flowing velvet robe. As the shadow of Shoko Asahara slithered back and forth across the anteroom in the country estate of Ren Hideo, former respected university professor, current lost soul, one thought of the mythical hooded vestige of Death complete with sickle. The ornament here that was being waved through the air like a grotesque cheerleader from Hades was much more deadly.

  “Ren San, you know I cut my father’s balls off with this. Yes, one swoop. Balls, dick, everything. Gone. The look on his face before he bled to death, rapturous. Ah yes, such memories. The real beginning for me. For all of us. Yes, my friend. The beginning of the rebirth. Soon it will be complete. You are trembling my friend. Do I trouble you?”

  Asahara had glided across the room. Now directly in Ren Hideo’s face. His breath that of cold vomit. He had been pacing, seemingly levitating a few inches off the floor for what seemed like hours. Twirling and thrusting the Japanese banzai sword as he went. Hideo terrified. All alone here in the room. Himself and the Madman. The meeting had been held earlier. A council of sorts, Hideo not knowing all of the details. Not wanting to know them. Knowledge was death. The Arabs had been here. As had the Europeans. When word had come of the death of Haruki Okamoto at the Sanno Hotel, the meeting came to an abrupt end. All the visitors dispersing to the four winds it seemed. Plans changed. Atashi and Asahara himself meeting alone. Then Atashi leaving the room. Asahara would be departing himself of course. The Americans were on the scent. Plans had to be expedited. Changes made. Loose ends tied up.

  “Did you know Okamoto San, Ren?”

  The One calling him by his first name. Fear pulsating through his body now. He was dead. He knew beyond a doubt now. Strangely though, Ren Hideo did not feel so bad for himself. The loss of this house weighing far more deeply on him now.

  “No, I did not, Omnipotent One.”

  “Please call me Shoko.”

  The familial, further confirmation of his demise.

  “Yes, you two are very similar. Both sacrificing for the cause. The rebirth. The cleansing.”

  The sword held up now. Bristling in the light. The Van Gogh catching Ren Hideo’s eye. A reminder before his impending death that he once was a man who possessed a soul. He had loved. He had been a good man. Once. A feeling of peace now.

  The sword dropped to the floor. A smile from Asahara, a slight prick in the neck and then blackness.

  “You will both be great martyrs as well.”

  The last thing Ren Hideo saw before the drug took effect and rendered him unconscious was the Van Gogh looking directly at him from the far end of the room. A look of commiseration. Possibly also of relief.

  The two bodyguards and Atashi noticed the excitement in The One’s eyes. A glow. Atashi knew what it was. He had seen it many times.

  “Burn the house. Make the arrangements with the usual people.”

  A quick glance at Atashi as he entered the SUV.

  “It will be done.”

  The SUV accelerating onto the gravel road that was once the play area for the small children of Ren Hideo in happier times. Hideo being administered to in the back of the SUV by the Cult doctors. The bedside manner of Joseph Mengele thought Atashi.

  Poor bastard.

  It would be important for him to be compliant in the next few hours. Ren Hideo’s final service to the Aum approaching.

  “I have made the changes you have directed Shoko.”

  Atashi resorting to the familial tone with Shoko Asahara. He did this only in times of crisis. No need or time for protocol.

  “The French will be with us on this?”

  Asahara, looking out the window of the SUV, not waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, of course they will be. The minister has too much to lose. They will perform their duties. As they always have.”

  67

  “Can’t a man be granted even a tinge of human decency. For the love of Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the saints. I can get the damn thing off myself. Please, go.”

  A bedpan in any hospital in the world can be an instrument of dehumanization notwithstanding its advertised reason for existence. This at least the opinion that Dan Bronsan had held throughout his life. This thought at least in this bizarre scene in his room at the Yokosuka Naval Hospital coming true to the nth degree. The sight of the minuscule, by contrast, bedpan protruding from the mammoth-like posterior of Dan Bronsan, two diminutive Japanese nurses grabbing at it desperately to no avail in a hopeless attempt to free it from its hairy captor was something that should have been left to some futuristic museum of the grotesque. Finally, for no apparent reason other than divine intervention, the pan released itself from the walrus-like cheeks of Dan Bronsan sending nurses falling backwards onto the bed and Dan spread eagled with his enormous ass raised to the sky like some Picasso rendering of Mt. Fuji.

  “My God, Dad, is that you.”

  Kelley rolling into the room, the specter of her father lying sprawled on the floor a cause for alarm at first only to be followed by a convulsion of laughter. The nurses scampering to their feet immediately. Covering the massive bottom of Dan Bronsan who now actually wished that he had died in the hotel room a day earlier.

  Getting to his feet now with the help of one of the nurses along with another, much larger figure. The arm shaking ever so slightly. Not as much as he remembered. Adam Welsh grabbing Dan around the shoulder and helping him up.

  “Dan, I was in the neighborhood and thought I would drop in on you. If I had known you were having this much fun though...”

  “God damn it man, have some respect. Jesus…”

  Dan actually speechless. How much had Kelley seen? God he needed a drink now.

  “Oh, Dad, don’t be so embarrassed. It isn’t like I haven’t seen a naked man before.”

  “For the love of God, child…please.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we have ever met. I’m Adam Welsh.”

  “Oh, of course, Adam. I would thank you for getting the room for me, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Adam, please excuse my daughter here, I don’t know where she gets the sarcastic streak.”

  “Oh come on, Daddy.”

  Turning back to Adam now. Flirtatious mode in full effect.

  “Thank you so much for all your help. I do appreciate the friendship you have provided my father. Christ, you should be canonized.”

  “Now, girl, blasphemous language is not appropriate at this moment.”

  Kelley had been much less formal, much less Daddy’s little girl since the ordeal at the Sanno. Thank God they had survived and only with minor injuries. Dan with a herniated disk as a result of his fall after the diversionary explosion and Kelley with some bruises and a sprained ankle. God, it could have been so much worse. Of course what Kelley would never know is the horror that had passed through her father’s psyche as the white powder had been thrown on her face. Kelley not really having any idea of what it could be. Dan knowing of the demise of Rose, did not have that luxury. He knew clearly what it could have been and what he was sure it was, at the time at least. She was no worse for the wear though. At least on the outside. She had that Bronsan gene which adapted to change and also acted as a mask for any feelings one might have which might be construed as a sign of weakness. It would take a while before he or anyone else found out what damage was done within.

  “I’m sorry that your visit has to be cut short.”

  “Cut short?” Kelley glaring at her father.

  Dan glancing at Adam. A microsecond but enough time for Adam to realize that Kelley was not privy to the fact that she would be leaving Japan very soon. He winced.

  Dan, for his part, looking away from his daughter but realizing it was no use. She must be confronted. Now, for her own good. For the good of all of them.

  “Look, your mother has been on the phone all morning. She does have a point you know. You could have died for the love of God.”

  Dan almost in tears. Everything finally hitting him. The stress of the last few days. All that could have happened. Kelley forgetting her disappointment and hugging her father tighter than she could remember. They were alive.

  68

  Loss. The sense of complete and utter emptiness. The void that nothing could fill. Perhaps only hate. Maybe anger. When we lose someone or something that is in essence our entire world, we all deal with it in a different way. Sometimes the psyche, that phenomenal connection of checks and balances that enables the human being to go on despite pain of the most indescribable kind, kicks in and takes over the body and the mind. Mercifully. This is what had happened to Jack Bender. Twenty four hours removed from the bedside of his dear Yumiko. She had passed before he had arrived. He had ceased to exist as Jack Bender at that moment only hours ago. Now merely a receptacle of hate and retribution. This his fuel. This the new DNA make-up of one Jack Bender. Never meeting with Adam Welsh in the cafeteria as promised. Sliding out the stairwell of the hospital. Avoiding the all too obvious NIS tail that had been following him the last few days. A mission to be completed.

  Jack Bender rumbling along in the U.S. Navy flatbed truck ostensibly on a routine waste dump. At least that is what was recorded on his sign-out sheet back at his office at the Toxic Waste Facility. The Lieutenant probably wouldn’t even read it. Lieutenant Parker not really paying too much attention to things at the office. His wife about one month from dropping a future officer into the world. Eight months pregnant now. Yea, Jack thought to himself, what kind of world is that child coming into? Thoughts again of Yumiko. Never could have a child. Wondered if she couldn’t or just wouldn’t. The idea of bringing even a half-American into the world probably too much for her. Yea. The LT was a good man though. Trusted Jack like he would trust his old man. Even told him that one day. Jack grimacing, a bit of a twinge thinking of this. The LT’s dream of a teaching post at Annapolis would surely never come to fruition once it was learned that a mole for a major terrorist network was operating right under his nose. Scapegoats would have to be created and the Lieutenant, unfortunately for him, was the perfect one.

  Bloody hell, Jack screaming aloud now. They had tried to kill him. Why? Of course, he was expendable now. His wife dead. A bit of a loose cannon perhaps. Fine. Plans would be changed. Retribution would be exacted. But first a visit.

  Jack Bender pulled the truck off Highway 1 entering the ramp exit for Roppongi. He would make one stop before the Almond Café - The Gas Panic bar and a meeting, albeit unannounced, with Shoko Asahara himself. Jack fumbled with his cell phone and dialed.

  “Is he there? Let me speak to him. Now.”

  Voices in the background. Silence. Then, “Yes, Mr. Bender. Nice to hear from you. We were worried. So sorry to hear of your beloved wife. My condol...”

  “Shut up, you piece of shit. You can find your errand boy’s carcass in a gully near the cave. I’m sure you could care less though. Just answer me one question, “Why was it necessary to kill me?”

  “Mr. Bender, Jack. May I call you Jack? Yes, again very unfortunate. I am sorry that you seem to be very distraught. Under the circumstances…”

  “I have the sarin, asshole.”

  Silence. Some mumbling in the background. Sharp words. Orders. Then, “Where are you now? We must talk. You have no idea what you have there, Mr. Bender.”

  “Oh, we will talk. Gas Panic. One hour from now. Upstairs. Be there. Alone.”

  The large flat-bed truck did not blend in at all with the normal weekday traffic here in the Roppongi district of Tokyo. Of course this area was cosmopolitan, probably one of the most diverse areas in Tokyo and as such was known to be a bit eccentric. On a normal day or night, one could see anything from dancing Elvis impersonators to Japanese kids dressed like Middle Eastern terrorists. Therefore the sight of Jack Bender and his flatbed truck with tarpaulin covering the fifty-five gallon drum did not raise any eyebrows. Probably just another publicity stunt by one of the many nightclubs looking for the slightest edge. He stopped the truck in front of the Gas Panic bar. About 1700 or 5PM now.

  The Aum soldier came out the front door on a dead run. Jack took the top of his head off with one round from the .45. Put it back under his coat and then pulled the tarpaulin off the fifty-five gallon drum. He stood staring at it for a moment, then raised the gun and pointed it directly at its center.

  “Bender San. So nice of you to visit.”

  Asahara himself standing over the dead soldier. Leaning over now. Touching the brain matter. Very good shot my friend. Yes, but a bit messy. And of course now the police will be involved.”

  “A moot point now.”

  Jack’s eyes glazed over. He would meet his beloved Yumiko soon. Pay off the promissory note. He fired one round into the drum. Nothing. He fired another, and the liquid began streaming out. Water. Brown water. Nothing more. Fifty-five gallons slurping out of the drum onto the flatbed and then onto the street. The sounds of laughter behind him. He turned to see the source. Asahara had raised his arm, pistol in hand. Fired. One round through the center of the tormented man’s temple.

  Jack Bender died sober.

  The Japan Times would report that a mentally unstable American who worked at Yokosuka Naval Base had committed suicide after shooting an innocent bystander in front of the Gas Panic bar in the Roppongi District of Tokyo. It was rumored that the man, identified as Jack Bender, had recently lost his wife to cancer and was deeply distraught. The fact that Jack Bender had driven a U.S. Navy truck to the center of Roppongi with a fifty-five gallon drum marked Toxic Waste that contained nothing more than raw sewage water was never reported.

  69

  Hiroshi Aki thought the guy looked strange. Out of place. Hiroshi couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Competent enough but definitely something amiss with this fellow. Keeping his eyes on him.

  A visitor to the Tokyo Metropolitan Department of Water’s website would note a new program which is described as - An effort to establish an accurate grasp of customer needs while enhancing user understanding and appreciation of the water supply services provided in Tokyo. Under this program, department personnel and investigators from contracted companies visit customers to analyze individual water use and inspect water quality and leakage and otherwise assess the conditions surrounding water supply and usage.

  Over 11 million people each day used the water which was the subject of these investigations. This last bit of information could also be found in various Al Qaeda briefing memos.

  “You really should stop talking so much you know. Let someone else into the conversation.”

  The blank look from Akeno Mori. Hiroshi Aki’s attempt at levity would have been better used inside a morgue for the response it received.

  Mori had said nothing since the trip to the Yamaguchi Reservoir had begun over twenty minutes ago. Hiroshi thankful that they would soon be arriving at their destination. The last inspection of the day. Hiroshi looking forward to leaving Mr. Personality and getting home to finally see his little girl, Honoka. He felt guilty at times because he had to work so much lately. Too many long hours away from the family. Not spending near enough time with his precious daughter. The work load had been much heavier these last few weeks. The terrorist activity culminating with the death of the American woman and the hostage situation at the hotel in Hiroo. The early morning meeting with Benjiro Zen, the head of security for the Tokyo water system.

  “We need to keep a low profile about this, gentlemen. If people start believing that their drinking water could be poison, or worse; well gentlemen, we can all see the obvious consequences.”

  The new man had been there as well.

  “Aki San meet Akeno Mori. Just transferred over from the Science and Technology division of Tokyo University. He will be assisting you with the sampling.”