Fortunes of War Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Uumpf.”
    â€œMr. President, the emperor of Japan was assassinated in the Imperial Palace about two hours ago. The report is that he was beheaded.” The voice was that of Jack Innes, national security adviser. He would have been called about this matter by the duty officers in the White House situation room.
    â€œWho did it?”
    â€œApparently a junior officer in the military and three enlisted men. They got into the palace by posing as telephone repairmen. Lopped off the emperor’s head with a four-hundred-year-old samurai sword. Then they committed suicide.”
    â€œAll of them?”
    â€œAll four. The officer stabbed himself in the gut; then someone shot him in the head. The three enlisted apparently shot themselves.”
    â€œJesus!”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œRight-wing group?”
    â€œApparently they were followers of some right-wing cult, Mishima something. They left a letter written in blood, full of bullshit about Japan’s destiny and national glory.”
    â€œHave we received any answer from the emperor to my letter?” the president asked.
    â€œNot to my knowledge, sir. I’ll check with the Tokyo embassy and the State Department.”
    â€œDo we even know if he received it?”
    â€œIt was delivered to the Japanese government by our ambassador. That is all we know for certain.”
    â€œWe are fast running out of options.”
    â€œWe should know more in the morning, Mr. President.”
    â€œWhen you know more, wake me up.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    President David Herbert Hood cradled the instrument and lay down on his bed. He was very tired. It seemed that he was always in that condition these days.
    So Naruhito was dead. Murdered.
    And the letter had accomplished nothing.
    The president, Jack Innes, and the secretary of state had sweated for three days over the wording in that letter. After careful consideration, they had decided not to mention the fact that the United States had a secret military protocol with Russia promising military aid if Russia’s borders were ever violated. The protocol was three years old, negotiated and signed as an inducement to Russia’s fledgling democratic government to speed up the pace of nuclear disarmament. Even he, David Herbert Hood, had personally told the Russian president that the secret protocol was a solemn promise: “Russian territory is as sacred as the boundaries of the United States.”
    Well, a promise is a promise, but whether the promise would be honored was a different matter entirely.
    The president got out of bed and went to the window. He stood there looking at the lights of Washington. After a bit, he sank into a chair and rubbed his head. He had spent the last twenty years in politics and he had seen his share of unexpected disasters. Most of the time, he had learned, the best thing to do was nothing at all.
    Yes, nothing was usually best. The Japanese had another crisis on their hands, and the Japanese were going to have to solve it.
    He should get some sleep.
    The news from the far side of the Pacific had been getting steadily worse for years. Democracy in Russia had been a mixed blessing. Freed at last from Communist tyranny and mismanagement, the Russians soon found they lacked the ability to create a stable government. Corruption and bribery were endemic everywhere, in every occupation and walk of life. A dying man couldn’t see a doctor without bribing the receptionist. Apparently, the only people doing well in the post-Communist era were the criminals. Ethnic minorities all over Russia had seized this moment to demand self-government, their own enclaves. If the Russian government didn’t get a grip soon, a new dictator was inevitable.
    In the United States, the public didn’t want to hear bad news from overseas. The recent crisis in the Mideast had doubled the price of oil, here and around the world, a harbinger of shortages to come. Still,