"Water," Dennis rasped. When a canteen was held to his lips, he gurgled and swallowed. After a moment, his voice returned enough to speak. "What about the blindfold?"

"It comes off when I think you're ready for it to come off."

That didn't make sense to Dennis. "Ready for what? You're an American, aren't you? Take the damn thing off me."

That brought a chuckle. "Yeah, I'm American, but maybe not what you expected in the way of a fellow American. It's not exactly like I'm mom and apple pie."

"When did you escape?"

There was a pause and Dennis heard the other man take a deep breath. He was making a decision. "I didn't escape, Mr. Chambers. I came here by submarine. And I'm not in the military in the strictest sense, I'm with the OSS."

The man was a spy and didn't want his face to be seen. That made sense. If Dennis was discovered, he couldn't possibly describe the other man if he hadn't seen him. Of course he wondered just how a white man could be an effective spy in the land of people whose skin was yellow.

Then the answer hit Dennis like a blow to the stomach, and it was his turn to take a deep breath. "Where're you from?" he asked, switching to his brand of halting Japanese.

"Honolulu" came the answer. The other man sounded amused.

"Were you in the army?"

"Yep. For a while, anyhow."

Dennis smiled. "Bet it was the 442nd, wasn't it?"

"Very good, Mr. Chambers. Now do you understand why I didn't want you to see me right away? It would have scared the hell out of you to wake up and find a real live Jap staring you in the face. You might have started screaming and brought us some unwanted company."

With that Joe removed the blindfold. Dennis blinked and realized it was evening. He wondered how long he'd been out. Then he looked at the one-armed man in the Japanese army uniform who sat across from him. "Jesus Christ."

"Actually, the name is Joe Nomura, although many people do make that mistake. It's my Christlike demeanor."

"You rescued me, didn't you?"

"Right again."

"What did you do with the other two men?"

Nomura paused. "Thanks to you, I had to kill them, Mr. Chambers. I finished what you so foolishly started." He took out a knife and sliced through Dennis's bonds. Dennis wondered if Nomura had killed them with the same knife he was so casually using to free him.

"One man I stabbed and the other I hit on the neck with the side of my hand. If you're not aware of it, it's an ancient Japanese art called karate. Then I stole their food and weapons, which is what you probably had in mind, and then set fire to the planes. A few minutes later, a couple of our navy hotshots flew overhead and strafed the site and probably took credit for my kills." Joe looked at Dennis and saw the other man looking at him curiously. "Oh, how could I kill my fellow Japs? Is that what's bothering you?"

"Something like that."

"Easy. I'm not a Jap. I'm an American. I crossed that bridge a long time ago. Even though I've lived here in Japan for a while, I was born in the U.S. It wasn't an easy decision and it was a long time coming, but I think I've made it correctly. These people here are just too fucking weird for my taste. Tell me, you got any German ancestors?"

"A couple," Dennis replied. "Yeah. You're right, flick 'em."

Joe Nomura said he had an errand to run. He had to learn some more about a bunch of Japanese soldiers who were down in the valley. Before he disappeared into the deepening night, he offered Dennis a bowl of rice, which he ate voraciously.

Joe left Dennis with a pistol, a 7mm Japanese Nambu, which looked curiously like a German Luger. Joe explained that it was an officer's gun and it was not for protection. Dennis was to stay hidden in the trees and shrubs and wait for Joe's return. On the off chance that he was discovered, or that a Japanese patrol was about to stumble on him, Joe was to try to disappear into the woods. If he did not get away, he was to stick the gun in his mouth and blow his brains out.

"I think," Joe said, "you would find that preferable to what they would do if they captured you. And the gun jams, so don't even think of wasting shots shooting at them. One other thing. I trusted you with the knowledge of my existence. Believe me when I say I did that very reluctantly. I am much more important alive than you are, is that clearly understood?"

"Yes."

How could Dennis argue with any of that logic? He fondled the pistol and wondered if he had the willpower to kill himself. Yet, even with the fear of death far from removed, he felt a lot better. He was no longer alone.

It didn't even bother Dennis that Nomura had made it clear that he, and not Dennis, was in total charge of this two-man operation. For the first time in a while, Dennis Chambers began to think it really possible that he would survive this ordeal.

Harry Truman sat on a plain wooden chair and looked about. "Tell me, General Marshall, did you know this room existed?"

As always, Marshall answered truthfully, no matter how much it discomfited the still new president. "Yes, sir. I've known about it since it was put in, even been here a few times, but most people, even those pretty high up, have no need to know about it."

They were in the White House map room on the ground level of the White House. It was directly across the hall from the elevator that went to the president's private quarters. The walls of the room were covered with maps, many of them from the National Geographic Society, and the windows had been covered with dark paper to provide its occupants with a degree of privacy. Normally it was staffed by officers whose job it was to keep up-to-date the symbols on the maps that showed the progress of the war. For the duration of this meeting between himself and Marshall, Truman had chased the staff out.

"It was almost two weeks after I'd become president that I learned of this place," Truman mused. "FDR would take the elevator to this level and wheel himself in almost daily and be able to keep track of things. Imagine, it was going on in the White House for almost four years and most people, myself included, were wholly unaware it existed. Makes sense that FDR would have something like this, though. I wonder how many other secrets I still don't know about."

"No more, I would hope. Certainly nothing major," Marshall said truthfully.

Truman swiveled in the chair. "Now, tell me about that damned typhoon."

"And about the atomic bomb, sir, and not much of the news I've got is good news."

Truman laughed, which startled Marshall. "It never is, General, it never is, and no one can accuse you of being a fair-weather sycophant- no pun intended. Well, give me the truth. I can stand it."

The typhoon had done extensive damage on Okinawa. The resulting injuries and loss of life were small, but a great deal of the equipment being gathered on and around Okinawa was destroyed or seriously damaged. Literally hundreds of aircraft were demolished and many others damaged. Large numbers of valuable landing craft were either sunk or damaged. The larger ships had been able to get to sea and ride out the storm without too much difficulty, although a large number of carrier planes were destroyed or damaged. Mother Nature had handed the navy a devastating defeat.

The men on Okinawa were without equipment, and many didn't even have a complete uniform to wear. Everything they owned was blown out to sea. Even though most of the staging for the invasion was in the Philippines and elsewhere, the need to refurbish and replace what was lost on Okinawa would definitely delay the invasion of Japan.

Supplies stockpiled to replace those lost in the invasion would have to be used to resupply the half-naked men on Okinawa. The invasion would be delayed, perhaps as long as a month.