Yamamoto nodded, explaining himself to everyone in the room.

“It is why most of the fleet has left. They are to cover the withdrawal of our forces from China and the invasion of New Guinea and the Australian mainland. We will deny the Americans their base for a counterattack in the Pacific.”

He did not react to the sharp intake of breath around the table. To this point only he and Tojo had known of the plan.

“And what of Hawaii?” asked the prime minister.

“I have plans for them, too.”

“Even with these supercarriers and warships there?” barked an army general. The army had never been supporters of the thrust to expand the empire southward. To Yamamoto’s way of thinking they were fixated on Manchuria and the Communists. He had to suppress a mischievous smirk at the prospect of dragging them out of China, kicking and screaming.

“The Sutanto will destroy the Kolhammer force,” Yamamoto promised, raising his hand against the inevitable objections. “Yes, she is one small ship, but she will sweep them away like a Divine Wind, a kamikaze.”

“And when will we know?” asked Tojo.

“We still have sources in Hawaii,” Yamamoto explained. “They will send word.”

He leaned forward and smacked the table with his injured hand, slowly growling out his next words.

“But even if by some chance the Sutanto fails, and this Kolhammer survives, we will still forge on with our new plan, because we have no choice. You have all read the reports I gave you. You know where fate will take us if we do not change our path. We have allowed ourselves to be blinded to the real danger. It does not lie in Russia or China. It lies across the Pacific in the United States, and south in Australia where they will first build up their forces. We must defeat them there before they are too strong. We must take their base at Hawaii from them. And on the last day of this war we must stand in the Oval Office and put their crippled president to the sword.

“Because we have no choice.”

Complete silence greeted this uncompromising speech. A dozen men stared at him, some in awe, some in shock, and some without discernible emotion. The moment stretched uncomfortably until Yamamoto began to worry that one of them might actually laugh at him. Finally, a lone voice spoke up. The army officer who had questioned him before.

“But how?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

Yamamoto smiled.

MOSCOW, 2215 HOURS, 25 JUNE 1942