Edge of Valor (37 page)

Landa laughed at that one.

They walked over and Ingram said, “Excuse me, General, good to see you again.” He introduced Landa.

“Good Morning, Commander,” said Sutherland, offering his hand. “And good morning to you, Captain Landa.” They all shook hands.

Now that he was closer, Ingram was surprised to see that the man Sutherland had been speaking with was Colin Blinde.

Blinde didn't miss a beat. “Haven't seen you since Yontan, Todd. How you doing?”

“Sleeping better.”

“That's something,” said Blinde. He raised an eyebrow at Landa.

He's trying to decide which end to kiss
. “Please say hello to Captain Landa, my squadron commander.”

“The one they call ‘Boom Boom'?” Blinde thrust out his hand.

Landa gave Blinde a fish grip and a cheesy smile. “So this is Mr. Aqua Velva,” he muttered to Ingram with an exaggerated sniff.

“Shhhh.” Ingram stifled a grin.

Sutherland said, “We begin . . .” he checked his watch, “in six minutes. And I have to join the general.” He turned to Ingram. “I wanted to make you aware of something, Commander.”

“Yes, sir?” said Ingram.

Sutherland asked, “Did you know that the Soviet Union will be signing the surrender agreement along with the other Allied countries?”

Ingram said, “To be truthful, General, I hadn't thought about it but, okay, that makes sense.”

“And that Lieutenant-General Kuzma Nikolayevich Derevyanko will be signing the surrender agreement for the Soviet Union?” Sutherland said.

“Yes, sir.”

Sutherland's eyes bored in. “As a signatory, General Derevyanko was allowed to bring five guests as part of his official party.”

Ingram kept silent. He had an idea of what was coming.

Blinde said, “Yes, we get Captain Third Rank Eduard Dezhnev as a member of General Derevyanko's entourage. They boarded about twenty minutes ago. Now they're wandering around the ship.”

Ingram seethed. The man who only days ago had tried to kill him, and who had tried to kill both him and Helen three years ago, was now on board this ship and corrupting this magnificent moment in history. Jaw muscles twitching, he gave Blinde a hard stare.

Blinde said, “Don't look at me; it wasn't my idea to let him aboard.”

“Oh? Who approved the Commie list?”

“Well, I—”

“Colin, I've got some Marines here who would love to stuff Dezhnev into a garbage can and drop it off the fantail. That son of a bitch tried to kill us. You too, if you didn't notice.”

Blinde shook his head. “I know, I know. But here, today, it's diplomatic immunity and all that. Also, you should know they've got him rigged with a camera—a German Zeiss—and he's snapping pictures of everything from gun barrels to radar antennae to toilet seats.”

“How sweet,” said Landa. “Maybe we should send him up to the flag cabin and have him photograph our classified files.”

“He is being watched,” said Blinde. “Actually, they made me responsible for his safety today.”

“Who is ‘they'?” demanded Ingram.

“Well, that's part of—”

“Gentlemen,” interrupted Sutherland.

Ingram took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. Thanks for letting me know, General. I promise I won't try to kill him. At least not this morning.”

Sutherland said, “That's the spirit, Commander. We can't afford an international incident at this stage. But you should also know that his station is on top of the gun turret where I understand you will be.”

Landa said, “Now this gets interesting. Maybe we can help him over the side, like on the New York subway.” It was a twenty-foot drop to the veranda deck.

Sutherland gave a polite cough as more admirals were gonged on board. “I must join our party. But I wanted you to be aware of this and to ask that you be discreet.”

Blinde said, “That means nothing physical, Todd.”

Ingram said, “Shut up, Colin.”

“What?” Blinde took a step back.

Landa looked away to cover a snicker.

Sutherland seemed unfazed. “I know you'll conduct yourself accordingly. Now, please excuse me, gentlemen.”

Blinde shrugged and nodded to the rungs running up the side of the great gun turret. “See you up there.”

“Topside,” corrected Landa.

“Yes, topside,” said Blinde. He began climbing.

“Okay,” Ingram nodded to the ladder, “your turn, Boom, Boom.”

“Very funny. You go ahead. I have to hit the head. Be right there.”

“Good luck finding one in this mess.”

“I'll figure it out.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

2 September 1945

USS
Missouri
(BB 63), Tokyo Bay, Japan

I
ngram mounted the ladder and made his way through the noisy crowd that seemed to take up every square foot atop the gun turret. Tubby White beckoned from the starboard side, and Ingram walked over to join the rest of his group. They stood loosely, joking, gawking, and pointing things out. He was particularly glad to see the Marines standing alongside a proud GySgt. Ulysses Gaylord Harper. A few had cameras and were making full use of them.

Ingram shook Harper's hand, “This is your day, Ugly, you and your boys. Thanks for it all.”

Harper's chest puffed a bit. “You too, Commander.”

White walked over. “Your spot is there, Skipper.” He pointed to numbers fixed on the deck in tape. “You're number sixteen, the commodore is fifteen, and I'm fourteen.”

Ingram took his spot and looked about. “Amazing.” Situated behind a row of chairs, space number sixteen offered a fine view of the veranda deck below and the single stand-up microphone where the speaker would conduct the ceremony. Outboard of the veranda deck was a temporary platform jammed with photographers and their camera equipment. Row upon row of officers, most of them admirals and generals, lined the after part of the veranda deck and the area directly below Ingram on the inboard side. A lonely table covered with a green baize table cloth stood in the middle of the deck, a single chair on either side. On the table were two open folios, each easily twenty by twenty inches. A pen and inkwell stood sentinel beside each.

Below, on the forward part of the main deck, sideboys in dress whites were mustered in ranks around an accommodation ladder on the starboard side waiting for the Japanese. Officers in working khakis, the uniform of the day, stood at the end of the ranks waiting to escort the Japanese to the veranda deck. Sailors in undress whites were jammed into every available corner; not a
square foot of horizontal space remained. Sailors lined the main and 01 decks, the decks above, the main bridge, the flag bridge, lookout stations, gun tubs, and antennae platforms; they crouched atop the main battery director and 5-inch gun mounts. Two men had found a space inside the 16-inch gun turret's massive rangefinder. Some, like big-city flagpole sitters, had slid out onto the Big Mo's yardarms, eighty feet above the main deck.

A group of Japanese photographers and newsmen, unlike their jocular counterparts, stood stiff and silent on the outboard platform, staring straight ahead.

Ingram spotted Jerry Landa speaking with Otis DeWitt on the veranda deck just below. Interesting to see those two conversing. The last he'd heard, DeWitt and Landa regarded each other as social misfits. What sort of small talk could they be making? Then Toliver walked up and shook hands with them. Landa pointed to Ingram standing atop the gun turret. They waved up to him. As Ingram lifted a hand to wave back, General Sutherland walked up and joined them. Then, to Ingram's amazement, Admiral Halsey walked out of a hatch and joined the group. Landa seemed to be doing the talking. Sutherland rubbed his chin. Toliver began talking, waving his arms as DeWitt stood patiently. Soon Admiral Halsey brightened at something. With a grin, he raised a finger and began talking. The other three nodded; something had obviously been decided.

A microphone blared, “Testing, testing.”

Halsey flicked his wrist, checking his watch. Clearly there were things to do. He clapped Landa and Sutherland on the shoulders and stepped back into the hatch with Sutherland, DeWitt, and Toliver close behind.

Landa climbed the ladder and took his place with a grin. “Found the head.”

“Oh, yeah? Looks like you were telling farting jokes to some high brass,” said Ingram.

Landa gave a thin smile.

Tubby White said sotto voce, “Don't look now.”

Ingram turned to see Eduard Dezhnev limp up with another Soviet and take spots behind Radcliff and Peoples.

Leroy Peoples said, “Mercy me. I thought we'd seen the last of this critter.”

Dezhnev was dressed in a Soviet naval infantry uniform featuring a Sam Browne belt and polished boots. His companion, another captain third rank, was similarly dressed. Draped around Dezhnev's neck were an elaborate Zeiss camera, its hard leather case, and an exposure meter. He looked like a tourist photographing the Golden Gate Bridge. Incongruously, just beneath the camera and exposure meter glinted Dezhnev's rogue belt buckle from Alcatraz, light glistening off the golden edges.

“Too bad he's not in the front row,” said Jon Berne, who stood beside Peoples. “We could pitch him over the side. But you can't win 'em all.” Berne raised his movie camera and began slowly panning from left to right.

Dezhnev caught Ingram's eye and, with a slight smile, tipped two fingers to the brim of his hat. Then he raised his camera and began rapidly clicking. One or two of the shots included Ingram and Landa.

Aqua Velva wafted down the line as Colin Blinde walked up and took the space to Dezhnev's left. He flashed Ingram and Landa a broad smile and shook Dezhnev's hand.

“Wheooow!” Landa held his nose. “Smells like a Shanghai whorehouse.”

Berne and Peoples held their noses and began coughing loudly. Then Berne spun around, apparently responding to something Dezhnev had said. The two spoke for a moment; Berne smiled, then Dezhnev. Peoples turned and started speaking to Dezhnev and his companion. They all shook hands, Blinde smiling along with them.

Ingram began to grind his teeth.

Radcliff muttered, “Well, if it isn't Benedict Blinde.”

Berne handed his movie camera to Dezhnev, who examined it with great interest. He held it up, looked through the eyepiece, and began panning as if he were really shooting. In exchange, Dezhnev absently lifted the camera strap over his head and gave his Zeiss to Berne.

Peoples winked at Ingram and Radcliff, then leaned over and pretended great concentration on Berne's examination of the Zeiss.

An OS2U Kingfisher flew down the
Missouri
's starboard side. Its canopy was wide open, and a man with a giant camera hung from the aft cockpit. Berne nudged Dezhnev and pointed.

Dezhnev said, “
Da, da
,” and began shooting, the camera's chrome windup key slowly turning. He stopped and waited as the Kingfisher did a slow 180-degree turn and headed for a pass down the port side. Dezhnev kept the Kingfisher in his eyepiece as it swooped by. While Dezhnev was occupied, Berne slipped the Zeiss to Peoples, who unsnapped the back and flipped it open. He held camera and film open to the sky for a moment, exposing the thirty-six-shot roll. He would have gotten away with it, but Dezhnev heard the Zeiss' back cover snap shut. He looked up in time to see Peoples' Cheshire cat grin as he slipped the Zeiss back to Berne. Dezhnev's face darkened and his eyes narrowed.

Peoples said, “Oops, sorry.”

Blinde said, “See here,” and reached for Dezhnev's camera.

“My camera, please,” said Berne.

“Mine first.” Dezhnev thrust out his hand.

Blinde made another move for Dezhnev's camera, but Berne turned away. “I said, gimme back my camera.”

Dezhnev sputtered, “My film . . .”

“Give . . . it . . . back,” said Blinde.