"Jesus." He'd been hoping for a few days, maybe even a week before going ashore.

"Yeah. We all should be getting a good night's rest, but I think that's kind of impossible under the circumstances. I can't imagine anybody able to sleep much this night."

Paul felt his heart race and he tasted a surge of bile. "Whatever you do, don't let them hurry us in on my account."

Ruger stood and looked over the railing. The captain was staring in the direction of Japan, and a distinct glow was now on the horizon. The ship and the entire convoy had been zigzagging, and the motion was enough to cause a standing man to sway, but they were still moving inexorably closer to Japan.

"Is that the battle?" Paul asked in wonderment.

Ruger gripped the railing. The Luce had changed course again, and their bodies tilted slightly. Ships always zigzagged now. What had happened to the cruiser Indianapolis when she had failed to do so was on the minds of everyone. She'd been sunk with enormous loss of life by one Jap sub.

"It sure ain't the dawn," Ruger said hoarsely. His throat was suddenly dry. "That would arrive from the other direction. Yeah," he said, still in little more than a whisper, "it's the landings. We're moving slowly but still getting closer with every minute."

Paul stood and walked the couple of steps to the railing. Others had seen the strange light in the distance, and the rail was soon lined with silent men straining to look and listen. The light, an orange-reddish glow, seemed to flicker slightly, and the men became aware of a dull, rolling, thundering sound. Guns. They could hear the big guns from the ships.

"Before I saw you sitting here," Ruger said softly, "I went up top as far as I could in this tub and I saw the lights from off in the distance. Funny thing about a ship, you can see for twenty miles, maybe more. I just stared at it until someone from the crew asked me to get down."

"The fires of hell," Paul rasped. Now the quivering light extended for miles in each direction, painting numerous ships in its satanic glow. "How far away from Japan do you figure we are?"

"Maybe fifty miles. Maybe a little less."

Suddenly, light flashed above them, followed by the booming sound of an explosion. In the flaring light of the explosion a plane disintegrated and fell into the sea in flaming pieces, some only a few hundred feet away. Men pointed and yelled at the sight.

"Oh my God," gasped Paul.

"I think we just saw our first suicide attacker, and it looks like one of our planes got him."

The decks of the Luce bristled with 20mm and 40mm Oerlikon antiaircraft guns, whose crews strained to see in the night skies. What would have happened if the Jap hadn't been seen by the American pilot? Both men shuddered and concluded that there was no safety on the USS Luce, or anywhere else in the world.

Lines of tracers from other ships illuminated the night as gunners sought out targets that neither Paul nor Ruger could see. A helmeted sailor ran by and told the soldiers to get their asses belowdecks. A few complied, but most remained on the deck. They would take their chances where they were.

The Luce's antiaircraft guns added to the angry, deadly chatter. Still, no one could see what the guns were shooting at. Paul and Ruger crouched on the deck. All around them, men removed their boots and some of their clothing in case they were plunged into the water. They could hear yelling and screaming from below.

"Jesus Christ," Ruger yelled, "we'd better get down and try to calm them." He turned and raced toward the sound of the tumult. They didn't want a hysterical mob on their hands.

There was another burst of light. A ship was on fire about a mile away as a kamikaze drew blood. Then another ship was hit as more kamikazes struck home, and both wounded vessels became plumes of flame. What if those ships were full of men like the Luce? How many hundreds were dead or wounded in what had to be a pair of charnel houses? He caught the silhouette of a destroyer against the flames as it raced toward one of the stricken ships to pick up survivors.

Oh, God, he moaned again as he headed below to escape the carnage.

The young and disturbingly neat kempei officer stood at attention, looking elsewhere and avoiding eye contact, but was otherwise undaunted as Col. Tadashi Sakei vented his wrath.

"It is inconceivable that you have been unable to find one radio and one spy with all the resources at your disposal. It is even further inconceivable that you have been taken off the assignment. Is it your commander's intention that the traitor wander about Kyushu until he dies of old age?"

The lieutenant wasn't sure just who was going to die of old age, the spy or his commander, but decided it would be imprudent to ask. "Sir, the invasion in the south has forced us to reassess our priorities in light of our capabilities. There are far too many civilians who wish to surrender, and there have been some desertions from the army."

Sakei was aghast. Weakness from civilians he could understand, but Japanese soldiers running from the enemy? Never! But then he recalled that many of the men now in Japan's army were new soldiers, very young, and not well trained. With that in mind, he concluded that he should not be surprised that many were not imbued with dedication to the code of Bushido.

Sakei shook his head in disgust. "So, you gave up on the spy."

"Not entirely, Colonel. While my captain is of the firm opinion that we will never be able to find the spy with the detection gear we now have, we will not cease looking. But we have given up on using technology to locate the clandestine radio. We will have to wait for him to make a mistake."

Sakei rubbed his forehead. He had a savage headache. There had been many of those lately. "Again, tell me why."

"Colonel, we need three pieces of directional information to locate a transmitter, which is, of course, why the method is called triangulation. One or two will only give us a long line, and the traitor could be broadcasting from anywhere along that line, which could conceivably stretch around the earth. Three sources is an absolute necessity, and we must have them before the spy's radio is moved. We have been able to get one, sometimes two positions, but never three because the hills and valleys block the signal. The roads are so miserable that we cannot get our trucks with the triangulation gear out into the valleys to set up for that third source.

"To be truthful, sir, triangulation works best in an urban environment, not the countryside. The spy transmits in short bursts, rarely more than a couple of minutes each time, and it takes us hours to set up, if we are able to get out into the field in the first place. By then, he is always off the air well before we can establish meaningful contact. He is cunning and never broadcasts from the same location. The best we've been able to do is identify a fifty-square-mile area in which he is operating."

Sakei took a deep breath to control himself. Even though he'd like to strangle the insolent and pompous kempei puppy, he was telling the truth. They would find the spy when he made a mistake, and not sooner. He reassured himself with the knowledge that most people in such a situation would make a mistake sooner or later. Sakei could only hope the mistake occurred before the war ended.

"Are you still able to translate his messages?"

The officer beamed, delighted to change the subject. "Indeed, sir. He is still using the very simple code he started with, and we now suspect it's the only one he has. Moreover he is rotating his frequencies on a predictable basis. Again, we think he was given only a few to work with, so we are able to anticipate him and listen to his transmissions.