“Tell me about Takahashi,” Castilla said. This was one of Klein’s few blind spots. He could lay out the intel better than anyone, but he’d never worked with the Japanese general. Never gotten drunk with him.

Morrison chewed his lip for a moment. “Masao is a complicated man. He’s brilliant—there’s no question of that. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of history but manages to avoid getting bogged down in it. He’s always leaned toward a progressive view of the military…” His voice faded for a moment. “But I wasn’t aware it was this progressive.”

“Let me ask you a question, Keith. Do you like the man? Do you consider him a friend?”

Morrison shook his head. “I’ve always admired Masao, but when you get to know him, you come to understand that he has a dark side.”

“Explain.”

“First of all, let’s be clear that he blames the US not only for the defeat of Japan, but for what he sees as Japan’s weakness over the last three-quarters of a century. And on a personal level he holds us responsible for the deaths of a number of his family members during and after war, including his mother.”

“So the fact that after everything the Japanese did, we helped rebuild them into a major economic power doesn’t hold any water with him at all?”

“He doesn’t see that as generosity. He sees it as fear.”

“Fear of what?”

Morrison didn’t respond immediately, obviously wanting to choose his words carefully. “In addition to history, Masao has a keen interest in genetics. And while he’s never come out and said it directly, I can tell you that he believes the Japanese people are—”

“Please don’t say the master race,” Castilla said, starting to feel a little ill. The world had been down this path before.

“As much as I want to say no, that’s an accurate portrayal. In his mind, we singled out Japanese Americans for internment during World War Two because we subconsciously acknowledge that they’re a homogeneous, superior group that has to be suppressed. He sees our rebuilding of their country as a desperate attempt to control them. To make them dependent on us and prevent them from reestablishing a military capability.”

“Jesus, Keith. Why am I just hearing this now?”

“Because Takahashi’s personal feelings were never important before. He doesn’t run the country and Japan is an ally with virtually no offensive capability. Or so we believed.”

Castilla didn’t immediately respond. The thought of Takahashi using his new arsenal against the American mainland had made his mouth go dry. “If he thinks the Japanese are at the top of the genetic hierarchy, can I assume that he thinks the Chinese are at the bottom?”

“Unquestionably.”

“So where do we slot in, Keith?”