Fiends of the Rising Sun Read Online Free PDF

terror into the hearts of the Americans and their allies in the Pacific. Putting his glasses back on, the general returned to his desk and opened the plain manila folder. Inside were reports from observers along the Eastern Front, the Ostfront as the Germans liked to call it. Each made mention of three words: vampyr, terrifying, powerful. In each case, Lord Constanta or one of his acolytes had been assisting the Wehrmacht, driving fear into the hearts of Red Army units.
    The effect had been devastating. Combined with the blitzkrieg tactics that had served Germany so well in other parts of Europe, the Wehrmacht and its Rumanian allies had smashed through the Russian defences and penetrated deep into the Soviet interior. At the current rate of progress, Hitler's forces would be inside the Kremlin by December. When Moscow fell, Russian capitulation would be all but inevitable. The observation reports stressed the fact that Constanta and his vampyr forces were a small part of that success, but they had been a powerful insurgency force in key battles. Used well and used wisely, the same weapon could be even more effective in the battle for control of the Pacific.
    Tojo stroked a hand across his bald pate, subconsciously enjoying the sensation of skin upon skin, the sensuality of it. Very well, we shall make selective use of this weapon of terror, he decided. But the Imperial Japanese Army did not need outsiders to fight battles for it. If we Japanese are to embrace what Constanta has to offer, it must be done on our terms, Tojo determined, not for the benefit of this inscrutable Rumanian. The general prided himself on being a good judge of character, able to read those around him, and instinctively know their thoughts, fears and feelings, but Constanta was a closed book, impenetrable to insight or interrogation. It did not matter, Tojo was certain of that, but he was still disquieted by it.
    A knocking at his office door focused the general's thoughts. He closed the file and slid it in a desk drawer, turning an ornate brass key in the lock.
    "Enter!"
    His adjutant Suzuki opened the door and came in, nodding to Tojo before stepping aside to allow another figure in a crisp military uniform to enter. The general smiled at the arrival of Hitori, one of the most decorated soldiers in the interminable quest for supremacy in Manchuria. "It is good to see you again," the war minister said. "Come in and sit down."
    Hitori nodded and followed Tojo to the far end of the office where a baroque table and chairs waited in front of a fireplace, a delicate display of orchids standing in a Ming vase on the table. The general glanced at Suzuki, who remained waiting at the door. "Bring us green tea and warm sake," he ordered. The adjutant snapped his heels together and bowed to acknowledge the command, before withdrawing from the office, closing the door after him. Tojo sat in the chair with a clear view of the doorway, an old habit borne of too many years spent in dangerous situations where it was hard to know your friends well.
    Hitori sat down opposite the general, easing himself into the padded chair. The general knew his former adjutant was only twenty-seven, but Hitori looked older than his years. Too long spent on foreign shores, fighting brutal battles in service of the emperor had left their marks on the young officer. Hitori bore no visible scars on his face or hands, but his eyes carried the haunted look of a man who had seen damnation done in this life and been responsible for much of it. His cool, calculating eyes and emotionless face made him almost as difficult to read as Constanta. Hitori gave the impression of being effortlessly able to lead others into certain death while remaining totally self-sufficient and contained. Admirable qualities in a warrior, Tojo thought, qualities he would need if all went according to plan. "There is much we have to catch up on, my boy."
     
    Father Kelly stood outside the imposing white building in