As he walked through the flowering trees and stone gardens, it was still hard to believe that it all belonged to him. His father had suffered a rare moment of speechlessness when young Masao had told him his plans to join Japan’s fledgling defense forces. Of course his father had been a great patriot and had given everything to the war effort, but the defense forces were weak and would be kept that way by the obscene constitution forced on the country by Douglas MacArthur. A brilliant man, Takahashi’s father saw the future of Japan as economic and wanted his eldest son by his side, helping him build a new kind of world power.

In the end, though, he had given his blessing. There were many ways to serve and he’d respected his son’s decision to choose his own path.

It was a great tragedy that he’d died when he had. Japan was still mired in a decades-long recession, its people continued to bow and scrape over long-dead history, and China was becoming a superpower in its own right with a massively expanding economy and military. After a lifetime of devotion, he had passed with eyes filled by Japan’s weakness.

Now, though, things were finally changing. The recession was finally losing its grip and a generation with no firsthand knowledge of the war was refusing to take responsibility for the supposed sins of their fathers. Most important, though, Japan’s ability to defend itself—so long abdicated to America—was quietly reemerging.

For centuries the Japanese had been the masters of their own destiny, and soon they would be again. His plans didn’t end there, though. The mistakes of the past would not be repeated. This time Japan would take its rightful place as the planet’s supreme power.

Takahashi heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned to watch Akio Himura, the director of Japan’s intelligence apparatus, moving quickly along the path.

“The trees are very beautiful this afternoon,” he said, bowing.

Takahashi returned the bow. “Walk with me, Akio.”

They remained silent for a few moments, admiring the evening light fading around them. It was Takahashi who finally spoke. “What has the media been able to obtain?”

“Very little, sir. There appears to be no video of the actual explosion—though as you know, significant documentation of the aftermath does exist. It’s gotten extensive coverage on both national and international news networks.”

The general nodded. The advent of cell phones and the Internet made it virtually impossible to prevent the dissemination of information. Instead, it was necessary to master the much more subtle art of shaping it.

“And my limousine?”

“The clearest images are relatively low resolution, and the car is intermittently hidden by smoke. It is, however, possible to see the lack of damage compared with the completely destroyed vehicles around it as well as the destruction of the front of the building it was thrown through.”