Lieutenant Moertopo gazed out over the oily, black waters of the Seto Inland Sea from his vantage point in a small cabin on Hashirajima Island. He couldn’t see the famous city of Hiroshima. It was some thirty-two kilometers away, hidden behind Edajima Island, but he still didn’t like being so close to site of the first atomic strike in history. It made him nervous. Irrationally so. He knew it would be years before the Americans dropped the bomb, but still. He was very, very keen to get away from here.

He wondered where the Sutanto was now. The dock where she had tied up was empty and had been for three days. He was certain he would never see his ship again.

“I would have thought a man like you could sleep on a hot night.”

Moertopo recognized the German’s voice and smiled. He’d warmed to Brasch. The engineer was levelheaded and even a little cynical. It was actually refreshing when fanatics like Hidaka surrounded you every day.

“Does the heat bother you, Major?” he asked.

Brasch had walked up the narrow cobblestone path to the wooden lookout in nothing more than shorts and an undershirt. Moertopo could see by the moonlight that he was sweating.

“No,” said Brasch. “The heat doesn’t bother me. Not after Russia. But it does keep me awake at night.”

“The heat, and other things,” said Moertopo.

The German didn’t reply, but his silence was heavy. Moertopo lit a clove cigarette and offered it to him.

“No, thank you, Lieutenant. Those things smell like fragrant dog turds.”

A half-moon hung over the Inland Sea. From their vantage point, on a small platform a hundred or so meters above the water, they could see a flotilla of ships that remained at anchor off the island. Ripples and wavelets caught the moon’s reflection and turned it into a net of spun silver on the surface of the Seto-naikai. The hint of a breeze carried the perfume of half a dozen local wildflowers to mask the salt-laced sea air. It was an arcadian scene, but they would not be staying much longer to enjoy it.

Brasch was scheduled to return to the Fatherland with Skorzeny before long, there to personally address the führer. Moertopo would be joining his men in the city of Hakodate, far to the north in Hokkaido, where the research effort had been transferred. He was surprised to find he would miss the jasmine-scented gardens and the old stone cottage that had been his gilded cage since they’d arrived.

“You know they’ll kill you, one day.”

The Indonesian officer nearly choked on an inhale, coughing violently and painfully as the kretek smoke burned his air passages.

“I’m sorry?” he gasped.

Brasch clapped him on the back a few times. Starlight softened the severe lines of his face, and he seemed to be smiling. Something approaching warmth lit his eyes.