1942

All he thought the Japs would do about the POWs’ command situation in the camp was to smack the guys involved around a few times, maybe put them in solitary for a while, and everything would get back to business as usual. Hell, everything had been fine so far. His “duty” outside the compound was now considered normal by his fellow prisoners, who actually awaited his returns with eagerness. Along with the others who worked outside the barbed wire, he had become a font of information regarding the outside world and even “smuggled” in excess food. His buddies in no way begrudged him the fact that he ate his fill from Jap leftovers and brought only what he could hide and carry. What the hell was he to do-they’d all laughed-push a handcart or wheelbarrow full of Jap goodies in each day? Only Jake knew that Colonel Omori made Charley take the food. It made him more valuable and trusted by his fellow prisoners.

All this was now threatened, even destroyed, by the punishment Omori was inflicting on the four American prisoners, which Finch was forced to watch. He was behind a screen and the POWs were blindfolded, but he had the nagging, crawling feeling they knew he was there.

Goto was clad in only a loincloth, and his short, muscular body glistened with sweat and the prisoners’ blood. He had worked the men over with his pliers as they hung from the rafters by ropes tied under their armpits. All their fingers and toes had been smashed, as had their noses and teeth. Now Goto was finishing the job by battering each man’s chest and back with a baseball bat. As another blow landed, a soldier groaned and Charley heard the nauseating sound of a rib snapping.

Goto laughed and pounded the kidney area of another man. Blood had begun to ooze from their bowels. At least they were through screaming. The first few hours had been terrible with their howls of agony.

Goto shifted and began a series of savage uppercuts with the bat on the prisoners’ testicles. He had done this earlier, and their balls were swollen like purple grapefruits that looked like they would burst.

“Enough,” Omori said, and his lieutenant looked disappointed. “Cut them down and have the other prisoners retrieve them.”

Charley was surprised. Earlier, Omori had said he would have them executed. The colonel looked fatigued. Charley had picked up enough Japanese to overhear that the colonel had spent the night drinking and fucking some white woman. Lucky bastard. It also looked like the colonel had been using drugs, and Charley found that intriguing.

The soldiers whispered that Goto had been dipping his wick in some local pussy all night as well.

“Don’t worry, Sergeant Finch,” Omori said, “they will die. Only it will be in full view of their comrades and over a great period of agonizing time as the prisoner medics try to save them. Since they don’t have the resources to do any such thing, their efforts will simply prolong the men’s death agonies.”

Charley shuddered. Jesus, what a sadistic bastard.

“You have kept your bargain,” Omori said. “And I will keep mine. We have captured two FBI agents and now have the two men who commanded the prisoners. You will not return to the camp. You will be reported as killed for insolence. Instead, you will be installed in a cottage just off the base and out of sight of the other prisoners. You will be fed and have liquor and the services of one of the Korean whores.”

Charley thought he’d been promised a white woman like the one Omori was screwing, but he didn’t press it. “Thank you, sir.”

“When the time comes, I will have other duties for you.”

Charley was again surprised. He had thought this was a one-shot deal. Of course, he realized ruefully, he’d also thought the four men would be relatively unharmed.

“There are Americans loose on several islands,” Omori continued, “and I believe you would be perfect in flushing them out.”

“What will you do with them, sir?”

Omori glared at him angrily. The question was impertinent. “They are outlaws, Sergeant; what do you think we do with outlaws?”

Charley Finch bowed deeply in apology. “I understand fully, Colonel Omori.” And he did understand. If a few more died so he could stay alive and well, that was just tough shit. It would be years at the earliest before the United States returned, and Charley Finch had best look out for Charley Finch. He knew it would be difficult to explain his prosperous survival when so many others were dead and dying, but that was something he would resolve when the time came. Maybe he would move to Japan? Hell, after he’d helped them, the Japs would welcome him with open arms, wouldn’t they?

CHAPTER 14

It was time to do something constructive, Jake thought, long past time. He and his men had spent more than enough days hiding and organizing, and now they had to show the people of the big island of Hawaii that there was an American presence nearby, and that it was capable of hurting the Japanese.