The Patriot Attack (22 page)

Northeastern Japan

F
rom his position on the cot, Jon Smith studied the room for what must have been the thousandth time. Clearly Takahashi hadn’t considered the necessity of housing prisoners in this facility and had been forced to repurpose what appeared to be a break room. The kitchenette was still there, including a refrigerator stocked with food. Furniture was utilitarian, and a small bathroom with a sink was on the other side of a pocket door.

More interesting was the construction. The walls were natural rock and hardened mud, while fixtures—even the fridge—were a mix of ceramic, carbon fiber, and wood. His clothes had been taken and he was now wearing the same white cotton jumpsuit as the two workers he’d glimpsed when he’d been moved to this cell. Buttons appeared to be bone and there was no belt that would necessitate a buckle. Shoes were slip-on and contained no nails that he could discern.

So, while he couldn’t be 100 percent certain that the nanotech was being developed here, the lack of materials it could consume suggested that it was at least being stored here.

The question was, what could he do about it? The door wasn’t budging and the best tools he had for tunneling were a few plastic spoons left in one of the drawers.

Even if he could escape, what would he be escaping to? For all he knew, World War III was already being fought on the other side of the millions of tons of earth above him.

Smith stood and picked up one of the folding chairs with his right hand. He lifted it carefully out to his side, the searing pain behind his shoulder blade not quite as bad as it had been the day before. He wasn’t sure if he’d survive long enough for it to matter, but he might as well use the idle time to get some of his strength back.

Halfway into his third set, the door leading to the corridor outside slid back. He dropped the chair and turned, expecting Takahashi but instead seeing someone very different.

The man who entered was probably no more than five feet six, but the fact that he walked slightly stooped made him seem smaller. His hair was long, but growing only in intermittent patches on a damaged scalp. The discolored skin on his face seemed to have collapsed in places, but his eyes were surprisingly clear.

Despite the disfigurement, there was little question as to his identity. And there was even less question that he had been working in Reactor Four on the day of the tsunami.

“Dr. Ito,” Smith said, indicating the chair he had just put down.

The scientist nodded gratefully and took a seat without speaking. His expression was hard to read due to the intermittent paralysis of his facial muscles, but his body language suggested fear. Of what, though?

“My compliments,” Smith said as he took a chair on the other side of the table. “Your nanotechnology is half a century ahead of anything else I’ve seen.”

Ito gave a barely perceptible bow to acknowledge the compliment. “Molecular engineering. It was my dream. Can you imagine the possibilities? Skyscrapers building themselves. The repair, and perhaps even creation, of organs without surg—”

“But that’s not what you created,” Smith interjected.

“No,” he said, a hint of misery mixed with his thick accent. “The closer I got, the more afraid people became.”

“Of the dangers?” Smith prompted.

Ito nodded. “A scientist such as yourself will recognize the irony. The more success I had, the harder it was to get funding. No one wanted to be associated with a potential accident.”

“No one but Takahashi.”

This time the nod was more of a head jerk. Strangely violent.

“He had virtually unlimited resources. And he was very generous with them.”

“But there are always strings attached, aren’t there?”

Ito leaned forward, suddenly seeming to need the table for support. “He wanted my invention to consume concrete, metal, and plastic. This wasn’t ideal from a safety standpoint, but the dangers were acceptable. After I made self-replication work, of course I wanted to branch out in other directions. To find practical uses for the technology. Takahashi, though, wasn’t interested.”

As a scientist, Smith could sympathize. It was easy to become blinded to everything but that next breakthrough. Discovering something capable of changing the world, the opportunity to take a place alongside the great minds of history—all things that could be more intoxicating than any drug.

“So when it became clear that your invention destabilized the materials it fed on, Takahashi wanted you to focus on controlling it.”

Ito looked at him suspiciously.

“I’m not just a scientist, Doctor. I’m a soldier. And I wouldn’t be a very good one if I didn’t understand that weapons that can’t be controlled aren’t very useful.”

Ito was silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I didn’t start my life intending to make weapons, Colonel Smith. But I wanted to create. I wanted to explore my theories.”

“And this was the only way to do it,” Smith prompted. “Takahashi was your only source of reliable funding so you did what he asked.”

Another jerky nod. “I built in limitations to their ability to replicate from the beginning for obvious reasons. Takahashi asked that I also create limitations based on geographic position—so they would shut down outside a preset area. It seemed like a prudent additional measure.”

“And do those measures work?”

“Flawlessly in our tests,” he said with discomfort that Smith understood perfectly.

“How many replications did you perform in your tests, Doctor?”

He seemed to want to stand, but didn’t have the energy. “Tens of millions.”

“And how many replications would you expect if this was used as a weapon?”

“The number is nearly incalculable. Larger than the number of stars in the universe. I’ve explained this to the general many times—that as the number of replications increases, so do the chances of a disastrous mutation. But he seems less inclined to listen with every passing day. He’s changed, Colonel. You’re still a young man, so you wouldn’t understand. Takahashi doesn’t have many more years left. He’s dedicated his life to this. He—”

“Dedicated his life to
what
?”

Ito looked around him as though someone might be watching. “I thought it was to create a new Japan—one that could rival or perhaps even surpass America. Imagine what the weapons we’ve developed could accomplish. We could destroy North Korea’s military-industrial complex without harming its citizens. Or even specific weapons in precisely defined regions. Can you imagine? There’s no limit to where our technological and military power could have led the world.”

In many ways, Ito was right. What if his nanotech could be targeted at bomb-making materials or even gunpowder in the Middle East and Africa? Hell, in certain neighborhoods in inner-city America. How many lives would be saved? How many countries could be stabilized? The problem, though, was one of intent. America had done shockingly well in wielding its overwhelming power. While imperfect, the US had a stable government with built-in checks and balances, a deep-rooted culture of democracy, and a general reticence to project power unless it was absolutely necessary.

Takahashi, it appeared, had none of those virtues.

“I understand that this isn’t what you intended, Dr. Ito. But you know as well as I do that what you intended doesn’t matter. Takahashi’s provoking a war with China and he plans on demonstrating Japan’s new military superiority by wiping that country off the map.”

Ito nodded miserably. “And he won’t stop there. His vision is the same as his father’s: the rebirth of Imperial Japan. But this time, because of me, he will succeed.”

Outside Tokyo
Japan

G
eneral Masao Takahashi walked alone through the stone-and-earth corridor, feeling a familiar resentment. It was an insult to him and the men loyal to him that they had been literally forced underground. It wouldn’t be long, though. Soon, the Japanese people would understand what he had accomplished.

The door in front of him slid open without his bidding, having read various biometric markers as he approached. Inside, he found the heads of the three branches of his defense forces as well as Akio Himura, the director of Japanese intelligence.

Takahashi chose not to sit and indicated for his men to dispense with the customary greeting of their superior. The meeting was, after all, a formality. Plans for the attack on China had been carefully laid over years, and every detail of those plans was being meticulously adhered to. As the day finally approached, though, it was appropriate—even in the new technological era he had ushered in—for the men leading the war effort to meet face-to-face. Perhaps for the last time in this place.

“It’s my understanding that all defensive measures are in place and ready to be deployed. That includes civilian rescue missions in the event an attack reaches our soil.”

The men seated around the table in front of him all nodded.

“To reiterate. There are no problems that I’m unaware of?”

More nods. Despite having known the answers to his question already, seeing his staff’s acknowledgment allowed him to relax a bit.

“Then we’re waiting on Ito. He’s completing the individual canisters containing specifically targeted nanotechnology. They’ll be smuggled into China and released in all major cities, military bases, and power installations.”

“Do we have an updated estimate of the time to failure on the dam?” Admiral Inoue asked.

The Three Gorges Dam across the Yangtze River would be the first structure attacked. Its collapse would unleash a flood that they projected would kill millions as well as cutting electricity to critical sections of the country. The catastrophe would overwhelm China’s military and civilian network as they carried out rescue efforts and tried to determine the cause of the failure.

While the country was consumed with that disaster, the rest of their infrastructure would quietly disintegrate. When their machines began to fail and their cities crumbled, the Chinese would have no idea of the cause. And even if they did, it would be too late.

“We expect a full breach within six weeks of deployment,” Takahashi said. “The rest of China will be three weeks behind that.”

“And the Americans? What of your meeting with President Castilla?” Tadao Minami asked. He was too brilliant a soldier to remove as head of the air defenses, but Takahashi considered him the weakest of the group. He saw Japan’s future as one of the most powerful members of the international community, while the others shared a vision of Japanese dominance.

Takahashi crossed his arms over his still-powerful chest. “Their reaction is difficult to predict. While their president seems intelligent enough to understand his country’s new subordinate position, I’m not sure of the depth of that understanding. Further, we have to acknowledge that he’s only one facet of the American government and that the congress he answers to is largely populated with half-wits and fanatics. In light of that, we have to be prepared for America to act stupidly.”

The faces of the men in the room darkened. Some carried more than a hint of apprehension, but it was something Takahashi was prepared to tolerate. History created a powerful current in Japan, and they all remembered the consequences of the attack on Pearl Harbor.

“Don’t misunderstand me, gentlemen. I’ve made it abundantly clear to the president that this is not an attack on America and that we have no intention of mounting one unless we’re provoked.”

“And if we are?” Minami said. “They’re the cornerstone of the current world order and account for almost a quarter of the world’s gross domestic product—something that will be even more important to us when China’s economic output disappears. How much damage can we really afford to inflict on them?”

Takahashi was unaccustomed to being challenged and stiffened perceptibly at what he saw as an attack. “If the Americans side with the Chinese, we
will
respond. Is that understood?”

His men all responded in the affirmative, but the concern persisted on their faces. While he would deeply enjoy crushing the United States for what it had done to Japan, it was admittedly impractical. In the end, the pleasure of slowly bleeding it of its power and influence—watching its arrogant population face the reality that their every action was subject to approval from Tokyo—would be so much more satisfying.

“As you well know, I understand and appreciate the importance of America to Japanese interests,” he continued, making an effort to moderate his tone. “I’ve created a slowly escalating battle plan against them that should prove a sufficient deterrent without the use of Ito’s weapon.”

“And does that plan involve an attack on their mainland? Against their civilian population?”

Again Takahashi stiffened. He had responded to Minami’s concerns but now the man was courting insubordination. “We’ll destroy America’s naval capability in the Pacific. If they don’t immediately disengage, yes, we’ll move against their homeland. The American people are weak and unable to endure even the mildest discomfort. We’ve identified a series of fourteen individual power stations that are protected by nothing more than chain-link fences. If destroyed, virtually the entire country will go dark for a minimum of three weeks. After only a few hours of that, the country’s citizens will be demanding that their politicians agree to an unconditional surrender.”

“And if they’re stronger than you give them credit for?” Minami pressed.

“Then America will cease to exist!” Takahashi shouted. “We will release Ito’s weapon there and watch it rot! Is that understood?”

Minami looked down at the floor, unwilling to meet his superior officer’s glare. “Of course, General. I understand completely.”

Takahashi looked around the room and, finding no further dissent, gave a short bow before leaving. There was no more to say. He’d chosen his men well. Even Minami would die before he failed to carry out his duty to Japan.

The general hesitated at a T in the corridor. He had matters in Tokyo that demanded his attention, but instead of turning left toward the exit, he turned right. The grade steepened, sinking farther into the earth as he traveled its considerable length.

The door at the end didn’t automatically slide open at his approach like the other. He had to put his hand against a glass plate and punch his personal code into a keypad.

Inside, the walls were painted stark white with the exception of the one at the back, which was floor-to-ceiling glass. Through it, Takahashi could see what appeared to be sixteen normal thermoses, each containing millions of Ito’s nanoscale weapon. In the next few days the scientist would fill another ninety-six. One for every target in China.

Takahashi moved forward reverently, finally stopping and leaning in close to the transparent barrier. The political summit in Australia was complete, and President Castilla had done his job admirably. Tensions between China and Japan were calming. Prime Minister Sanetomi had been to the Japanese news outlets and convinced them that the profits they were generating by whipping up hysteria would be of no use with a sky full of missiles. And China was following suit, using its iron-fisted control of its media to moderate anti-Japanese messages.

Sanetomi had even scheduled a trip to Beijing. The rumor was that he would make yet another apology for World War II atrocities and that China would formally accept that apology.

Takahashi continued to stare at the innocent-looking thermoses, his breath rhythmically fogging the glass in front of his mouth. He’d hoped to provoke an outright attack by China in order to provide a plausible defensive motive for its annihilation. But it wasn’t to be.

In the end, it was unimportant. The rules of engagement, illusions of morality, and international law were irrelevant to war. They were institutions of the weak. And Japan would feign weakness no longer.