Fiends of the Rising Sun (33 page)

A checkpoint had been established on the road south that passed the headquarters of Admiral Kimmel, Commander in Chief for the Pacific. Kimura had needed all his powers of persuasion to get past that,
pushing
the sentries at the checkpoint into allowing him through. After that the greatest threat had come from trigger-happy Japanese pilots, intent on machine-gunning anything that moved on the ground below them. The saloon was twice targeted by passing Zeros, its roof and passenger side door punctured repeatedly by bullets. Kimura enjoyed the irony, if not the reality, that his own side was coming closest to destroying him. He had found Hickam Field virtually unguarded, a single sentry stopping traffic at the gate. Another
push
and the soldier called his commander for orders.

Now Kimura was sitting outside the colonel's office in the heart of Hickam Field, surrounded by burning hangars and ancillary buildings. The blazing remnants of US Army bombers littered the apron beside the landing strip, but the runway remained all but untouched by Japanese bombardment. Hitori's orders had been obeyed by both attack waves. Kimura heard a clock tower in the distance, though it was impossible to count the chimes over the noise of war all around him. Nevertheless, he sensed it was 09.00 hours. The Japanese storm had been lashing Oahu for at least sixty minutes. Besides, the black Kate circling overhead was descending towards the airfield. This was the moment of truth.

Two men emerged from the administration block at Hickam, one dressed in the uniform of an American army colonel, the collar of his coat pulled up to shield him from the sun, a peaked cap keeping his features in shadow. Kimura smiled at Hitori's disguise; his old friend had gotten a promotion on Oahu. The other man was a sergeant, his face bearing the blank, passive look that typified thralls. He walked ahead of Hitori, a sub-machine gun in his grasp. Several members of ground crew ran towards the sergeant, shouting and waving their arms, gesticulating at the Kate coming in to land. The soldier flinched, a trickle of blood escaping from one nostril, before opening fire on his fellow Americans. Once they were dead, Hitori signalled Kimura closer.

The Kate made a hurried, ugly landing, its undercarriage skidding and bouncing along the runway. The bomber's brakes eventually took effect, slowing the plane enough for it to manoeuvre past two American B-17s that had touched down earlier. The Kate circled around them and waited at the far end of the landing strip. While it was doing that, Hitori climbed in beside Kimura. The sergeant trotted after his master and got in the back of the vehicle, hands gripping his weapon so tightly the knuckles were blanched white. Kimura and Hitori exchanged smiles, pleased to see each other again.

"I was worried you wouldn't make it," Hitori said in Japanese.

"I had to eliminate the Nagara woman," Kimura explained, "make sure she couldn't tell anyone about us. Better our presence here remain a secret."

"You succeeded?"

"Of course," Kimura replied, hurt that his friend had even asked. He drove them across the landing strip to the waiting Kate, its tinted glass canopy designed to keep the pilot and passengers safe from sunlight. Hitori muttered instructions to the blank-faced American sitting behind them, commanding the sergeant to keep back anyone on the ground who might attempt to stop their escape. All three men abandoned the saloon beside the runway and headed for the Kate, the two vampyrs taking care to keep themselves shielded from the sun. Kimura clambered up on to the aircraft's wing and slid back the canopy enough to get inside. Hitori hissed one last command at his thrall before joining Kimura inside the Kate and sliding the canopy shut. The menacing black bomber rolled along the landing strip, picking up speed before lifting up into the air.

Inside the cockpit Hitori tapped their pilot on the shoulder once. He nodded and made one last pass over the airfield, dropping his bomb on the block where the colonel's body lay dying on a wooden desk. The building exploded in a fireball of destruction, removing all evidence that the vampyrs had been at Hickam. As the Kate climbed away into the sky, four Zeros joined formation with it, one at either wing as sentry planes, while one took position above the Kate and the other below it as flying shields. Hitori and Kimura were too valuable for further risks to be taken. Their job on Oahu was over. The first wave of Japanese aircraft was already on its way back to the task force, and the second would soon follow. The attack on Pearl Harbour was all but over. The Pacific war had just begun.

Cochrane watched the Japanese bomber fly away, his gaze fixed on the plane as it became little more than a speck in the sky. Ever since that moment in the colonel's office when he had heard the word
Stop
in his mind, the sergeant had been fighting for control of his actions. Cochrane felt as if he was a prisoner in his body, a puppet being controlled by invisible strings. His limbs did the bidding of another master, no matter how hard he battled to stop them. His body committed atrocities for which he could never forgive himself. He had murdered indiscriminately, gunning down his colleagues in the hall outside the colonel's office.

After executing the last of them, he stole a sub-machine gun from the dead hands of his best friend, Matt Davis. The two of them had grown up together in Tulsa, they had volunteered together, and they had gone through basic training side by side. The army had torn them apart after that, but chance had brought them back together at Hickam. Now Matt was dead and Cochrane had murdered him. It didn't matter that the slaying was an involuntary act, in fact that made it worse somehow. The two friends had always promised to look out for one another. Instead Cochrane had slaughtered his closest buddy, too weak to resist the urgings of some unholy monster.

Hitori had made Cochrane go first as they stepped outside. When the ground crew came running towards them, the sergeant knew what was going to happen and had closed his eyes, unable to witness the murders he was perpetrating. He felt the sub-machine gun jerking in his grasp, heard the cries and torments of his victims, and tasted the salty tears of grief running down his face, but he couldn't stop himself, couldn't control his own body.

He had stood in the centre of the runway and watched as the Kate took off and witnessed it swoop back to bomb the building housing the colonel's office. Cochrane looked at the burning building where he had butchered Davis and the others. He stared at the corpses of the ground crew, killed by his hand.

All the witnesses to his involuntary treachery were dead, and nobody ever need know it was him who had slain his brothers in arms. But the thought of trying to forget what he'd done, let alone trying to forgive himself for doing it, was too much for the sergeant. Cochrane knew he'd never be able to look in a mirror again. He'd never be able to look himself in the eye without reliving his crimes, without seeing the ghosts of those whose lives he had stolen.

End your misery
, a voice whispered in his thoughts. Was it his own mind speaking, or was it one last, lingering command from Hitori? In truth, it did not matter. Cochrane jammed the end of the sub-machine's barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

[Public Law 328 - 77th Congress]

[Chapter 561 - 1st Session)

[S. J. Res. 116]

Joint Resolution

Declaring that a state of war exists between the Imperial Government of Japan and the Government and the people of the United States and making provisions to prosecute the same.

Whereas the Imperial Government of Japan has committed unprovoked acts of war against the Government and the people of the United States of America: Therefore be it resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of American in Congress assembled, that the state of war between the United States and the Imperial Government of Japan which has thus been thrust upon the United States is hereby formally declared; and the President is hereby authorized and directed to employ the entire naval and military forces of the United States and the resources of the Government to carry on war against the Imperial Government of Japan; and, to bring the conflict to a successful termination, all of the resources of the country are hereby pledged by the Congress of the United States.

Approved, December 8, 1941, 4:10pm. EST.

FOUR

Martinez rolled over and smiled when he saw Angela, Mrs Martinez, beside him in bed. Mrs Martinez, that sounds weird, he thought. Mrs Angela Martinez. Well, it would take some getting used to, but what the hell. They'd spent a glorious night together, savouring each moment as if it might be their last. Angela was transferring south to Manila on the midday transport, so who knew when they'd have the chance to spend another uninterrupted night together. Everybody kept talking about war, how it was only a matter of time before the Japanese attacked. Even if it was inevitable, it was still in the future, right? They still had a few hours before Angela had to leave.

Martinez moved nearer to his new wife, intent on giving her an unexpected reason to wake. Her eyes were still closed, but she couldn't help smiling as he got closer. "I never knew you Latin lovers were so insatiable," she murmured. "If somebody had told me, I would have gotten married years ago."

"Yeah, but you only met me in the last couple of months," he replied, grinning at her playfulness. "You might have been disappointed with someone else. And how would you know they were a real Latin lover? Never accept any substitutes, that's my policy when it comes to love."

"You better not," she said, opening her dazzling green eyes. "I hear any rumours you've turned into Don Juan Martinez while I'm stuck down in Manila, I'll be back here faster than you can say unscheduled castration."

"Ouch," Martinez grinned. "Don't even joke about a thing like that."

"Trust me, it's no joke." She slid a hand down his chest until it nestled between his legs. "Now, where did we get to last night?"

"I thought we gave each other a thorough examination."

Angela smirked. "True, but would you value a second opinion?"

"Maybe a third, too."

"Only if we've got time. Come here, lover-" Their flirting was interrupted by hammering on the door.

"Martinez," Buntz shouted from the corridor, "you in there?"

"You better believe it, Arnie."

"Well, finish whatever you're doing and get dressed. The Japs have attacked Pearl Harbour. The sarge wants everybody at their posts, now!"

"What did he say?" Angela whispered.

Martinez jumped out of bed and pulled on his trousers. "Buntz, if this is your idea of a practical joke, I'm gonna rip you a new one!"

"It's no joke. The Japs have been bombing the hell out of Pearl all morning. They hit the
Arizona
, other ships too. Radio says there could be hundreds, maybe thousands dead on Oahu. Word is we're next in the firing line!"

Martinez fastened his trousers and opened the door. Buntz was standing in the corridor, biting his fingernails. "Jesus, you're not kidding."

The other soldier shook his head. "Aimes sent me to find you. Says if you're not back at the battery and ready for action by eight, he'll have your nuts for paperweights." Buntz peeked over Martinez's shoulder and caught a glimpse of Angela pulling on her brassiere. "Trust me, with a woman that good-looking, you don't want to be minus your manhood."

Martinez pushed Buntz away from the door. "Keep stealing a peek at my wife and you'll be the one minus his testicles, Arnie, not me."

"Sure, sure, look, I'm just passing on the message, okay? What you do with it is up to you, but I suggest you stop your grinning and hitch up your linen. Sounds like we're gonna be in for a bumpy ride." With that he was gone, waddling away along the corridor, pausing to hammer on each door as he passed it. "Everybody up! Get moving! The Japs are coming!"

Martinez went back into the bedroom and found that his wife had already finished dressing. "This is it, isn't it? The war, it's really happening."

Angela pulled on her shoes. "Sounds like it. First thing I've gotta do is contact Manila, see if they still want me on that transport. If the Japanese start bombing the Philippines, it's a safe bet Clark Field will be a prime target. Half our planes in the Pacific must be over there. The base hospital's gonna need more nurses, not less." She threw the few personal possessions she'd brought into a canvas bag. "We'll need more blood, too. Once the wounded start coming in, we'll be lucky if our supplies last a day."

Martinez watched her, unable to believe how calm she was, how reasoned and efficient her response to the situation. "You're already planning how to treat the wounded and I haven't got my shirt on yet," he said.

She smiled at him. "Yes, you'd better get dressed. I don't mind looking at my husband whether he's half-naked or not, but Sergeant Aimes might." Angela finished packing her bag and checked under the bed to make sure she was leaving nothing behind. "Well, who knows when either of us will make it back here?"

"Didn't you hear what Arnie said, love? We're going to war."

Angela stopped what she was doing and walked across to him "I know. Five minutes ago we were making love and now..."

"It doesn't seem real, not yet."

"It will when the bombs start falling."

"I know." Martinez touched a hand against her face. "I just wanna remember this moment, savour it. Who knows when we'll see peace again?"

Angela kissed him, her hands in his hair, her body pressed into his. Distant voices were bellowing orders, and heavy feet ran past their room. Finally, Angela broke off the kiss, but she stared into her husband's eyes. "You look after yourself, Mr Martinez. Don't do anything stupid and don't try to be a hero. Nobody wins a war on the first day, but plenty of people get killed trying. Don't you be one of them, okay?"

He nodded, emotion choking him. "You be careful in that hospital. You're supposed to be a nurse, remember, not one of the patients."

Angela smiled as a tear ran down her face. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before going, striding away along the corridor, not looking back.