Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (45 page)

At the age of nine, Kazuo awoke late one
night. He heard loud shouting from the other side of the house.
Being in a traditional Japanese home, most of the doors were
literally paper-thin. He crept towards the commotion and peeked
through a small hole in one of the door’s panes.

He observed his father and four other men
sitting around their chabudai dining room table. His father pointed
at one of the men across the short table and yelled, “You know how
that makes us look! You take advantage of the American contracts,
but you will not be social with them!”

The man kept his head bowed in deference and
tried to explain. “But, Nakamura-san, these Americans will do more
business with us if I find the time to eat dinner with them
or…”

“NO! I SAID NO! You must never associate
yourself with them outside of business. We will use them for now,
but soon Japan will be ours once again. The next time…”

The elder Nakamura stopped in mid-sentence.
Even at close to sixty years of age, he was still physically
commanding. Not a day passed that Kazuo’s father didn’t practice in
the family dojo. Looking straight at Kazuo, he sprang up and moved
to the door. Young Kazuo knew there was no sense in running. He’d
felt his father’s wrath before.

The elder Nakamura’s hand shot through the
thin papered pane, grabbed his son by the back of his head, and
threw him into the room. He’d proceeded to methodically beat his
son. There would be no cuts or bruises on his face or hands, but
his torso would be black and blue for weeks. He was sure that his
father had broken at least two ribs in the process.

The next day, his father walked into his
room. Kazuo was at his desk doing his homework.

“Come with me,” his father ordered.

With a wince, Kazuo rose and followed.

They entered the family dojo and the old man
turned to his son. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. The next time you are caught spying…”
he let the threat linger as he turned to the small shrine situated
in one corner.

He grabbed two sake glasses, filled them,
and handed one to his son.

“I have a story to tell you, son. Drink
first, then we talk.”

Kazuo did as instructed and gulped down the
fiery liquid. It was his first taste of sake, but far from his
last.

His father produced a pile of papers from a
locked compartment under the small shrine. Kazuo looked at him
anxiously.

“Have I ever told you the history of our
family, My Son?”

“No, Father.”

Akemi Nakamura nodded and spread the papers
on the floor then knelt. Son followed. The first thing young Kazuo
noticed were the pictures of his father. He was always standing in
uniform. He knew his father has served in World War II, but he
didn’t know in what capacity.

“I was very young when I entered my first
military academy,” his father began. “At that time, we had a very
strong force. Because my father was a prominent politician, I was
given the choice of where to serve. After excelling in my studies
and training, I was selected to serve with our Military Police. We
were called the Kempeitai. I was recruited to be part of their
elite interrogation unit. I trained extensively with the German
Abwehr. Some of my friends flew to Italy to train with the Italian
Military Intelligence called the Servizio Informazioni Militare, or
SIM. It was a wonderful time in our history. The Empire reached
farther than we ever had in our history. I spent much time in China
and the Pacific islands. We captured and tortured our enemies. I
was a very good interrogator. They called me Akemi. Do you know
what that means, my son?”

“I think it means Beauty of Dawn,
Father.”

“That is correct. Now, what is on our
national flag of Japan?”

“A rising sun, Father.”

“Yes. I was named Akemi because of my
cruelty and success. My fellow soldiers saw my actions as bringing
about the new dawn. The rise of the Empire of Japan.”

“But, Father, is Akemi not your real
name?”

“It is now. That is another part of the
story. As I was saying, we conquered wherever we went. Our warriors
could not be stopped. The Pacific Islands, China, and Australia
were all within our grasp.”

Nakamura’s eyes clouded. “That all changed
with the invasion of Pearl Harbor.”

“I thought that was a great victory for our
people, Father.”

“It was, my son. But it was only one battle.
And that small victory awoke the American giant. Yes, we fared well
at first. I still remember the newspapers filled with sinking
American warships. It was a glorious time to be Japanese. But,
after a time, the Americans recovered. Soon they were shipping
unlimited resources to the Pacific. Our warriors fought
valiantly…but, of course, you know the rest.”

Father and son sat silent for a moment.
Akemi seemed to be gathering his thoughts again.

“After the war the Americans came looking
for war criminals. I knew that what I did was in service of the
Emperor. It did not matter to the Americans. They tracked down many
of my friends. Most were hung or shot.”

Kazuo’s eyes went wide with wonder. “What
happened to you, Father?”

“I was eventually caught. Luckily, I had
forged documents with my new name, Akemi Nakamura. My other stroke
of luck was that anyone who witnessed what I’d done was now dead.
That is, all except for a few of my men. Some were captured and
some escaped. The gentlemen you saw last night were four of them. I
was imprisoned until no evidence could be produced to prosecute me.
I found a new home and started my new life. Over the years, I found
some of my old comrades. Most have new names as well. We meet
periodically to reminisce about the old days and talk of the
future.”

Kazuo stared at his father with awe. His
father had been a great warrior of Japan, just like the mighty
Samurai he learned about in school.

+++

The next time his father’s friends came for
a visit, Kazuo was invited. He was always instructed to sit and
stay quiet. A trend quickly emerged in Kazuo’s mind. They were
planning something. What was it?

Soon, with the approval of the elder
Nakamura, the other men started bringing their own sons to the
gatherings. Kazuo became their leader. Not only did they spend time
together at the Nakamura household, they would run in the hills and
play Samurai. Little did he know then that gatherings for monthly
dinners would one day become what it was today.

He forged those relationships through his
teenage years and his father slowly prepared him for the future.
There was always the lesson of putting Japan first. They talked for
hours about their ancestors as they trained in the dojo. Kazuo
remembered those days fondly.

Then came the day when the military police
came to his home. By some cruel twist of fate, the modern day
version of the Japanese Kempeitai had found his father’s true
identity. Enough evidence was presented at the trial to lead to a
swift prosecution. The war criminal, Akemi Nakamura, and his
associates were killed by a Japanese military firing squad at the
age of sixty-eight.

No one thought to question the children.

+++

Kazuo Nakamura assumed leadership of
Japanese outcasts. Instead of mourning, he turned his sights on the
ultimate goal: returning the Empire of Japan to its former glory.
He had two enemies to confront: first, the current Japanese
leadership and second, the United States. He saw the two as being
the parties guilty of killing his father. He would not forget.

He led a delicate balancing act in the
ensuing years. Nakamura pursued his education both in Japan and in
the United States. Instead of being outwardly hostile to
non-Japanese, Kazuo encouraged his small band to branch out. They
learned about their enemies and entrenched themselves in both the
Japanese and American political systems.

Nakamura’s patriots slowly grew over the
years. Now, there were close to twenty men in the inner circle. The
influence of the group extended throughout the Japanese and North
American economies. They studied their enemies and gained leverage
whenever possible.

Kazuo relocated to America when his son was
born and raised Ishi as an American. They’d first lived in San
Francisco, then moved east and settled into Wellesley, a quiet
suburb of Boston. At the age of nine, his son was indoctrinated
into the group. He’d been an apt pupil.

By dumb luck, Nakamura had stumbled upon
what would become one of their greatest assets. During Ishi’s
freshman year of private high school, he’d become friends with the
son of a famous celebrity. At first, the strict father had
forbidden the relationship. He didn’t want his son THAT
Americanized.

One of Kazuo’s strengths as a businessman
was to always search for the silver lining of unintended
consequences. For years, he’d tried to figure out how to infiltrate
America’s capital. So far, he’d only achieved marginal success. His
son’s high school friendship gave him another idea. What if his son
and the children of his compatriots became the friends of prominent
politicians? He decided to try an experiment. First, he made
discrete inquiries.

The next morning, he instructed Ishi to
begin cultivating a relationship with the son of a long-standing
U.S. Congressman. The two were in the same private high school but
had never mingled in the same groups. Later that day, Ishi returned
home to tell his father that the Congressman’s son had rebuffed his
attempts at friendship.

After a severe rebuke, Kazuo calmed down and
gave his son more to work with.

“I want you to do anything you need to. Find
out if the boy uses drugs. Maybe he likes girls and alcohol.
Observe without being obvious.”

Ishi agreed and the next day came home with
the expected details.

“Father, I followed the boy and his friends
at a discreet distance and found that they do like marijuana. In
fact, I saw them smoking behind the football bleachers.”

His father smiled. “Good work, my son. We
have our way in.”

Over the next week, father and son crafted a
scheme to get Ishi into the boy’s clique. Through his contacts,
Kazuo Nakamura purchased medical-grade marijuana. He had Ishi
practice smoking the drug in order to understand its effects and to
learn how to maintain control. The next week, Ishi joined the boys
behind the bleachers.

The Congressman’s son, a fat spoiled
teenager, confronted Ishi. “We don’t want Japs hanging around
us.”

His friends laughed, but Ishi ignored the
comments. Instead, he pulled out a carefully rolled joint, lit it,
and took a long hit. The boys’ eyes opened wide and menace changed
to wonder.

“Where’d you get that, Jap boy?” asked the
Congressman’s son.

The young Nakamura looked straight into the
boy’s eyes and pointed at him. “First, my name is Ishi,” he paused
to take another hit. He could almost see the boys salivating.
“Second, you want some?” He motioned to the boy with his joint.

“What is it?”

“It’s something special.”

“Is it laced with something?”

Ishi shook his head. “Nope. Just some shit
stolen from a government lab.”

The other boys all looked to the
Congressman’s son. They knew what his father did. They waited for
him to lead.

The boy smiled and grabbed the joint
hungrily. “I think you’re gonna fit in just fine around here,
Ishi.”

It was a huge lesson for the Nakamuras. They
now understood how their targets could be manipulated. Simply find
their vice and exploit it. It was a formula they continued to use.
Nakamura instructed his Japanese compatriots to do the same with
their children and their businesses. Soon, their results surpassed
Nakamura’s wildest predictions. Blackmail was a powerful tool.

After doing some research, Kazuo found
another interesting weakness he could exploit. The sons of
prominent bureaucrats tended to follow in their fathers’ footsteps.
Over the years this phenomenon created families that would become
political dynasties. It was time to attack the governmental
elite.

During college, Kazuo Nakamura chose Ishi’s
target: The Zimmer Dynasty.

+++

The Nakamura’s ultimate victory neared.
Their blackmail list stretched far and wide. Leading Japanese
politicians and businessman, hungry for additional international
market share and respect, had privately endorsed Nakamura’s bold
plan. In exchange for crippling the American machine, they would
push through the reform needed to bring Japan back to superpower
status. Yes, it would mean some minor disputes in Asia. But the
ends justified the means. Besides, they would have the tacit
approval of the next American President. The Empire of Japan would
rise again.

+++

Back in his posh suite, the politician ran
the details through his mind. He wished the coup didn’t involve the
Japanese, but that was now beyond his control. So far, they’d
succeeded in their planning. If worse came to worst, he could
always point the finger back at them.

Grabbing his gin and tonic, he sat down and
prepared for the mayhem.

Chapter 30

Las Vegas,
Nevada

1:34pm, September 18th

President Waller and Cal decided that
meeting to review and discuss the packet was worth the risk. Cal
agreed to meet the former President in under an hour.

Meanwhile, Neil had successfully hacked his
way into the Ichiban internal servers. He was now downloading the
mountain of information for his software to start analyzing. Patel
also had a team ready to assist at his office back at SSI
headquarters.

Because of the fact that the enemy somehow
knew their location, Cal had a dilemma. What they needed to do was
move Neil and all his equipment. The problem was that they needed
it up and running.