Toward Night's End (28 page)

“I’m not!” Matthew suddenly erupted.

“Yes, you are. Know how I know? I’ll show you.” Johnstone kneeled in front of Matthew and reached for his left leg. Matthew tried to kick him away, but Johnstone had a good angle and lifted Matthew’s pant leg and pulled down the sock. The same tattoo Merrick and Johnstone had seen on Sean Kanagawa and Cody Carsteen was etched onto Matthew’s ankle. Johnstone looked at Merrick. “Here it is. He’s an Imperialist. A spy.”

“I agree,” Merrick said.

“Death penalty,” Johnstone said simply.

“Right,” Merrick acknowledged.

Matthew didn’t say a word. But Johnstone could tell the young man wanted to.

“So here’s what I think,” Johnstone said, rising to his feet and staring down at Matthew. “You’ve been spying for the Imperialists. Carsteen found out, so you killed him. Then Tom Bollgen found out. So you killed him.” He looked to Matthew, but the young man just glared. “Then you killed Sean Kanagawa—”

Startled, Matthew looked up sharply at Johnstone and said, “Sean?” His voice was barely audible.

“Didn’t think we’d connect you to that one, eh?”

“I didn’t kill Tom,” Matthew insisted, his voice firm. “Or Sean.” He looked away. “I didn’t even know he’d been killed.”

“But you did kill Carsteen.” Johnstone reminded him. “You’re not denying that.”

“Spying, killing a U.S. Navy sailor, that’s more than enough to hang you,” Merrick stated.

Matthew glared at Merrick. “You kill me, fine. But you better listen to what I have to say first.”

“So start talking,” Merrick said.

“After we have a deal.”

“We can’t do anything about the death penalty—”

“I don’t care!” Matthew hotly retorted, surprising them both. “You’re wrong about the tattoo. You want to know what it means? You want to know why Sean and Cody had their fingers chopped off?”

His face a tight mask of anger, Matthew watched as Merrick and Johnstone exchanged startled looks. He pressed on, “You want to know who killed Tom? You can pin it on me. But if you want the truth, we make a deal first.”

She had been terribly frightened by the summons to the office of Major Dorrell. Was it Matthew? Had he been found? Or was he dead? A part of her envisioned him waiting for her in the major’s office. But she told herself this wasn’t really possible. Or was it? If he had been found, he would be brought to the camp, wouldn’t he?

Both Daniel and Julia had wanted to come with her, but she had insisted that they remain at the barracks. They, too, thought that there was now news of Matthew, and of course, they wanted to be included. Ido had not asked to come along. In fact, he hadn’t said a word. He just lay on his cot, one arm over his sightless eyes, as if blocking out the sun.

Kumiko had worn her finest dress and an elegant hat for the occasion, but now as she waited in the outer office area, she wondered if she might have been wrong to do so. She was needed in the mess hall and should go there immediately after meeting with the major. She could hardly work in the beautiful dress she had on now. Yet in a sense, it was only proper to wear her very best attire. She was meeting with a very important man. She would look her best, be her most respectful.

She had been told to be at the office at eleven o’clock, but now it was close to noon, and still she hadn’t seen the major. The warrant officer who sat behind a nearby desk apologized a few times for the major’s delay, but didn’t say a word more. Surely if Matthew were here, they wouldn’t keep her waiting. Would they?

Her stomach churned as she imagined all the possible bad news the major might tell her. Matthew was in an accident. He’s in a hospital fighting for his life. Or worse still, he was dead. Like Tom Bollgen, he was dead.

“Mrs. Kobata?” said a tall man standing in the open doorway.

She hadn’t even heard the door open. She leaped to her feet.

The major gave her an uncomfortable smile and motioned her inside. “Please, come in.”

Of course, Matthew was not waiting inside the office. That had simply been wishful thinking. It was a small space with a desk and two chairs. He went around the desk to his chair and motioned to the remaining chair. She took a seat opposite the major, sitting ramrod straight, her hands properly folded in her lap.

“I understand you have volunteered to teach class.” The major flipped through some papers on his desk. “First grade.”

“Yes,” she politely confirmed. Inside, she was so disappointed. There was no word about Matthew. She had not been called to the major’s office concerning Matthew. What a bitter disappointment.

“First grade. Five-, six-year-old children, I guess.” He glanced up at her. “You have any teaching experience?”

“No.” She was baffled by this question. She had very carefully filled out the teaching form. She had double-checked it when she was done. No, triple checked it. The form had a box to check if the applicant had teaching experience. She had left it unchecked.

The major nodded. “Well, Mrs. Kobata, I’m afraid then you can’t teach.” He saw her surprised look and gave her a polite smile. “We need people who have taught before. Who have experience. That is what is best.”

Her heart beat rapidly now. “May I?” she asked, motioning to the papers. “The form I answer. Can I see, please?”

The major handed over the form. She took it and immediately recognized it as her application. She skimmed it. Then she found it. She read, “It say, ‘
Teaching experience not necessary.’”
Kumiko stood, put the paper in front of the major, pointing to the sentence she had just quoted. “See?”

But Major Dorrell did not even look at the document. He looked up at her and said, “You will not be allowed to teach, Mrs. Kobata. I’m sorry.” He then motioned. “You may go now.”

Her heart still beating wildly, she fought back the tears and gave a polite nod of her head. Then she promptly left. Once outside, in the fresh air, it dawned on her that while the meeting officially had nothing to do with her missing son, nor was his name even mentioned, her teaching application had been denied for only one reason – Matthew.

The curtains were drawn against each window of the house, just the way Kumiko had left it. Matthew had noticed a somewhat musty smell when they had first gone inside, just after midnight, but now he couldn’t smell it. He looked around at the familiar furnishings, but it all looked different now. He knew it was because his life had changed so much in such a very short time. The house wasn’t different. He was.

Johnstone watched as Matthew slowly looked around. It was as if it was his first time in the house. He now had a very deep respect for the young man. It was too bad the military would never let him serve. The country needed men like Matthew Kobata. Instead, he was headed for prison and most likely a fatal meeting with the state executioner. It was to be expected since he had admitted killing Carsteen with his fishing knife.

Once Johnstone and Merrick heard Matthew’s one demand, they promised to grant it, providing Matthew reveal all he knew. Then Matthew abruptly asked what day it was. When told it was the thirteenth, Matthew relaxed a little. But he wasn’t willing to talk at the Wilmington jail. He said he had to get home. As soon as possible. The proof of what he would disclose was on Bainbridge Island. Once again, the detective and JAG officer agreed to their prisoner’s requirement. And so it was that only after they had boarded a military plane headed back to Seattle, Matthew told them everything.

Unfortunately, Matthew didn’t know quite everything. He thought the anti-aircraft guns must be on Old Man Pete’s property for the simple reason that whoever was behind the plot had left him and Tom tied up inside Old Man Pete’s smaller barn. Merrick argued that anti-aircraft guns are large – too large for the small barn, and they had checked the larger barn. It contained a tractor and farming equipment. No anti-aircraft guns.

“Wait a minute,” Johnstone had said. Looking at Matthew he asked, “Old Man Pete have large hay stacks on his property?”

Matthew frowned. “Why would he? He doesn’t have horses. Or cattle.”

“Oh, God, that’s it,” Merrick had blurted out.

Johnstone nodded. “Hidden in plain sight.”

After landing in Seattle, Merrick had made some phone calls. A Navy boat would take them to the island, and they would be accompanied by two Navy MAs.

Now inside the Kobata family home, Matthew seemed different. Not focused.

“The book?” Merrick asked Matthew who had gazed around the rooms, as if he were lost.

Matthew nodded and stepped into the kitchen. Almost immediately, his eyes went to the counter where the family’s finest chopsticks were bundled together with a rubber band. This was odd. The chopsticks were normally stored in a drawer. Then he realized that his mother had forgotten to pack them. He put them away in their proper drawer, at the same time removing a small knife. One of the MAs stiffened a bit, but Johnstone waved him off. Matthew then walked across the tiny living room and started up the stairs. Merrick and Johnstone exchanged glances, watching as Matthew stopped before the fifth step. He kneeled down and used the knife to pry up the loose board. He reached inside and removed the small package wrapped in oilcloth.

Johnstone took the parcel and carefully unwrapped it. Merrick came over as Johnstone flipped open the small spiral notebook. It was all in Japanese. Merrick looked to Matthew who now sat at the kitchen table. “We can’t read this.”

“I’m sure the Navy has someone who can translate it for you.”

“You should have told us!” Merrick retorted.

“We have time, Commander,” Matthew calmly answered.

Quickly looking through the book, Johnstone immediately thought of Professor Paulson at the University. But if what Matthew had told them was true – hell, even if only half of what he said was true – it was not something that should be revealed. Only those at the highest levels in Washington should know. Anyone else having this information could be disastrous.

“It better say what you say it does,” the commander reminded him. When Matthew didn’t respond, Merrick continued, asking, “The date?”

“I told you,” Matthew answered. “It’s in some sort of code. Tom was the one who figured it out. Look in the back.”

Johnstone turned to the last few pages. Here was English writing. Mostly numbers, some long division and multiplication figures. “I don’t get it.”

“I translated the numbers, he figured it out. He was a whiz at math.”

Johnstone looked at the last page. Circled in red was “4-17-42.” He glanced at Merrick. “Says the seventeenth.” Merrick nodded. “Two nights from now.”

“I told you,” Matthew said defensively. The notebook confirmed what he had told them on the airplane ride north.

“And you told Russell Porter,” Johnstone had reminded him.

“What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want him thinking I had stolen his truck.”

“Just been better if you hadn’t told him everything.”

“Someone had to stop them,” Matthew replied defensively. “I thought I’d be at sea. Not here.”

“Could’ve contacted the police,” Johnstone said. But they had been over this point before. He knew Matthew felt more than justified for killing Carsteen. And he wanted the plot stopped. Plus, he trusted Porter.

Matthew didn’t answer. And they knew it didn’t matter anymore. They had already checked. Porter was in Spokane and wouldn’t be home for another couple weeks. By then, it would all be over.

Looking through the cedar forest and not seeing a thing, Matthew realized that the Japanese had planned well. There was only a quarter moon, and what light it might provide was blocked by the thick fog. Of course, they couldn’t have planned for the fog, but it was definitely an asset. Suddenly what Tom had assured him just a few weeks ago popped into his head. “
Toward night’s end, it will all be over
.” Of course, Tom had meant the night they had been caught. But those words were certainly true on this night. It would indeed be over toward night’s end. One way or another, it would all be over.

“You okay?” Johnstone whispered. He was lying down on Matthew’s left, Merrick on his right.

Matthew looked at the detective in surprise. “Me?” he whispered.

Johnstone nodded. “Yeah, you.”

Matthew sighed. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

Pushing aside his thoughts of Tom, Matthew replied, “How many. And if they will smell a trap.”

Johnstone was actually sorry he asked. He hadn’t thought of that. But he didn’t admit it. Instead, he said, “I doubt it. I think we’re just fine.” At least, he hoped so.

“Hey, Dad, you there?” a voice suddenly boomed over the radio. “It’s me. Scotty. You there, Dad?”

Merrick scrambled to lower the volume on the two-way radio he had placed by his side. He pressed the transmit button and quietly answered, “Yeah, Scotty, I’m here, Son.”

Static echoed through the smaller speaker. Then the voice was back. “I have the deck all cleaned now, Dad. Repeat, I have the deck all cleaned now.”

Merrick’s heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath and replied, “Roger, Scotty, a clean deck will make for a good day tomorrow. Let me know when you are going to call it a night.”

The three men just looked at each other.

Johnstone was suddenly very nervous. This was it. The Navy had used the day and a half after receiving Matthew’s notebook to plan for this moment. It was decided that the Navy would place ultrasonic sound devices on several fishing boats anchored fairly close to shore. Those boats would appear unmanned, but each would have a Navy team on board. They would use the sonar, a term Johnstone had never even heard of before, to detect an enemy submarine. Each fishing boat covered a wide swath in its range and Scotty’s vessel was located dead ahead of where they were now positioned.