Randi let the gun slide from her hand and took off her jacket, keeping her head down as they passed the security cameras that so were ubiquitous in modern airports. Smith stripped off his coat too, letting it fall to the floor amid the travelers darting around them. He threw an arm around Randi and pulled her close, partially in an effort not to get separated but mostly to try to camouflage her blood-soaked sleeve.

With nowhere to go, they stayed in the densest part of the crowd, mimicking their movements and trying to blend in. With a little luck, whoever was watching would lose them in the chaos.

39

39

Northeastern Japan

Doctor? The general is on a secure line for you. He says it’s urgent.”

Hideki Ito looked up from the computer terminal and saw the guard standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry. Did you say the general?”

The man nodded. “If you could follow me, please.”

Ito stood and walked nervously down the corridor behind the man. Takahashi was a fanatic about security, particularly when it came to their primary research facility. He rarely came to the retasked nuclear waste dump and he never called there. The vulnerability of electronic communications had been made crystal clear to the old soldier.

What could have happened that would prompt Takahashi to ignore his own security protocols? Had the Chinese retreated in the face of world pressure? Ito began to sweat despite the cold emanating from the earthen walls. Had they attacked?

There were almost no connections to the outside world in this place—a lack of distraction that he normally appreciated. But he was beginning to ask himself if the general was taking advantage of his propensity to submerge himself in his work. Ito had always known he was a pawn in Takahashi’s grand plans. An important one, of course, but a pawn nonetheless. Now, though, he was wondering if he had allowed himself to become a prisoner.

“Through here, please, sir,” the guard leading him said, indicating a door cut into the wall.

The communications room was understandably small and sparse. In his entire time working at the facility, this was the first time Ito had ever seen it open.

A lone computer screen was flashing a message requesting his password. He typed it in and slid a headset over the damaged skin stretched across his scalp.

“Hello? General?”

“We need to access the Fujiyama files,” Takahashi said by way of greeting. The normally disciplined voice had an angry timbre that caused Ito’s stomach to clench.