Melissa drew the bath and helped Alexa into the comforting hot water. She watched sadly as her friend attempted to wash away all vestiges of the terrible night. It wouldn’t work, of course, but Alexa had to try, and she scrubbed her body with an almost manic fury, even putting the soapy washcloth into her mouth, which made her gag. Her stomach was empty, so she could only retch.

When Alexa finally tired, she left the tub and lay down on her bed. Melissa then called for a doctor she knew who was very discreet. He was of Hawaiian extraction and was still permitted to practice. He examined Alexa, gave her a pelvic exam, suggested she douche, and left them.

Somewhat revived, Alexa filled Melissa in on the details.

“Do you have a diaphragm?” Melissa asked.

“Of course. I was so stupid. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

“Just make sure you take it the next time. It won’t save you from some of the sick games he likes to play, but it should keep you from getting pregnant by the bastard.”

Next time? Pregnant? Alexa hadn’t given that a thought. Dear God, would it happen again? Yes, she realized, it would happen again. And again, and again, and again. The colonel had made it clear that she was his possession, his mistress. There would be more times with him mounting her, more sessions with Han, and more times with her sucking Omori’s penis and tasting his semen. She wanted to be sick.

Melissa stayed with her as long as possible through the day, even offered to stay the night with her child, but Alexa said no. She would deal with her problem herself.

Thus, she was alone and the house was dark when the rear door burst open. Three men dressed in dark clothes and hoods grabbed her, and one covered her mouth with his hand before she could scream. She had been ready for bed, and there were no lights on.

One man was the leader. “Please be quiet, Mrs. Sanderson, we are not your enemy. We wish to talk with you. Will you promise not to scream?”

Alexa agreed. Once again she saw no choice.

“What do you want?” she asked when they released her. They didn’t behave like burglars. “And why those hoods?”

The leader handed her a robe, which she put on eagerly. She’d been wearing only a short cotton nightgown. The act of tying the robe around her waist comforted her.

The leader gestured for her to sit down, and he did as well. The other two took up stations as guards, looking out the windows. “I am sorry that I was too late to help you in your dealings with Omori. I can only hope that I can now be of assistance. As for these ridiculous hoods, it is better for everyone if you do not know our faces at this moment.”

“Then you know what happened?”

“Yes. He raped you. He forced you to serve him in order to save someone else. The Japanese will do this wherever and whenever they can. The threat of sexual assault is a weapon of terror for them.”

Alexa started to cry softly. This stranger had called it rape, and, while she thought it was rape, Alexa wondered if others would think the same way. After all, Omori hadn’t beaten her, hadn’t held a knife to her throat, hadn’t even actually threatened to hurt her, although Han had said he would. Alexa knew that, in some people’s eyes, this lack of violence would make her seem a willing partner in what had occurred. She knew better, but others would judge from the smug safety of distance. But she had saved Kami, which she told the intruder.

“No,” said the leader sadly, “you didn’t.”

Alexa was stunned. “Omori swore he wouldn’t touch her!”

“He didn’t. His pig of a lieutenant, Goto, did. He raped her all night and then turned her over to a couple of his men, who passed her around like a child’s toy.”

Alexa sagged. It had all been for nothing.

“It gets worse,” he said. “Kami managed to free herself and ran away. Some of my, ah, friends found her and drove her to a place near the ocean for safety. That was a mistake. In her shame and despair, she walked into the sea and never came back.”

As Alexa reeled from this new blow, she caught a catch in the man’s voice. “What was she to you?” she asked.

“My grandniece,” he gasped. “A lovely flower that had only half bloomed. She was my wife’s brother’s son’s child and the joy of my years. She was only half Japanese, and that made her inferior in some eyes but not mine. She was deeply loved and will be missed forever.”

They were silent for a moment. “What do you want from me?” Alexa asked.

The man sighed. “Nothing can bring Kami back, and nothing can eliminate your night with Omori. What I can do is ensure that nothing further happens to you. I wish to move you from here to one of the other islands. There you will be with friends of mine and out of Omori’s reach. There are comparatively few Japanese military in the islands, and Omori doesn’t have the resources to search for you.”

“How much time do I have to think it over?”

“None. I want you to leave now. You are not the only woman in Omori’s stable. There are two other Americans who’ve already been turned into opium addicts and whores by him. He will use you for a couple of weeks, and then you will be passed around to a succession of other Japanese officers. What happened to you last night was bad enough. How would you like to service half a dozen men each time? In six months, I predict you will be dead of drug usage, or dying of it, or of syphilis.”

The hooded leader knew this wasn’t the truth. So far, Alexa Sanderson was the first woman Omori had attacked, but it was felt that she needed to be frightened into moving.

Alexa was convinced. She would go, and right now. “Let me pack a few things. What about my friend? Will you take her?”

The leader shrugged. “If she wishes it. However, if it is the friend we saw you with, she has a small child. I doubt that she would wish to live the life of a refugee with him.”

And that, Alexa thought, tells me that there will be danger where he is sending me. However, she decided it would be far better than the lingering agony Omori had in store for her. He was right. Melissa was better off where she was. Alexa wanted to say good-bye to her friend but decided against it. Melissa was safer in a state of honest and plausible ignorance.

“Now, please take off the mask,” she asked.

He did as requested, revealing the face of a Japanese man well past middle age. She looked into his eyes and saw deep sadness that was possibly as great as her own, along with strength and more than a hint of cruelty. This man would be a terrifying enemy.

“Who are you?”

“I am Toyoza Kaga, and I am a merchant in the area. I am Japanese born, but I have no wish to see the Japanese military succeed. Is that acceptable, or does the fact of my race offend you?”

“Do I have a choice?” Alexa asked grimly. “How will you get me off the island without the Japs”-she caught herself and flushed while Kaga smiled slightly-”I mean, without Omori’s men finding me?”

“That will not be difficult. Each night scores of fishing boats leave and return without the Japanese caring. Our occupiers have done nothing to hinder commerce between the islands. Quite the contrary; it is in their best interests to encourage fishing to help feed the people. You will be on one of the boats.”

Alexa rose. She felt strength and hope returning to her. “All right, let’s get going.”

Colonel Jimmy Doolittle thought he had seen everything in his years in the army and the air corps. Now, he knew he was wrong.

Doolittle was forty-five and had taken a slightly unusual route toward higher rank. Instead of attending West Point, he had graduated from the University of California and later earned a doctorate at MIT. He had joined the army in 1917, resigned in 1930 to work in private aviation, then reenlisted as a major in the summer of 1940.

As the short, trim colonel walked along the beachfront with Admiral Nimitz, he could only gawk at the array of planes floating before him. None of his experience had prepared him for what he was seeing and what he thought the admiral was going to tell him.