Escape from Second Eden

Prologue

Nagasaki, Japan: August 9, 1945

Hurry Mai, the planes are coming! Eiko and her friend ran for the safety of the shelter as the sirens blared. One of many such events in the outskirts of Nagasaki since the Empire chose fighting the American war machine. The piercing wail of a bomb falling hit her ears as she pushed forward in the crowd.

Mai stumbled and fell on the rubble in the street. Go on, I’m right behind you.

Eiko entered the underground shelter. Come on! They are getting closer.

The shelter’s steel door slammed shut behind her. She pushed her way through the crowd of people waiting….expectantly peering at the ceiling.

Then it came. The impact caused dirt showers and knocked them all to the concrete floor. Babies cried in fear from the safety of their mother’s arms. Women screamed and men trembled. Slowly she got to her feet. A flash of light penetrated in around the door blinding those closest followed by a smothering darkness.

For a moment, total silence followed by a rumble that reverberated through the walls and outward. The indescribable sound of ten thousand thunders slammed her back to the ground. She covered her ears and buried her head in her knees. Eiko felt warm, sticky fluid seep from her ears and realized her eardrums had ruptured. The warm, rich smell of the earth filled her sinuses and she closed her eyes. The air sucked from her lungs by force and her oxygen-deprived brain slowly ceased functioning as she lost consciousness. The world had ended.

M-Mai? Eiko felt hands lift her to a standing position. Opening her eyes, she saw the twisted remains of the steel door, now opened. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. Mai! Where are you?

She searched the sunburned faces around her, no friendly smiling face of her friend. People moaned in pain, helped by others outside. Dusty rays of sunlight filtered through the destruction with smoky fires burning off in the distance. She shook off the remains of the dizziness her ears caused. What happened? Where’s my friend?

Eiko stepped out of the shelter. Nothing left. Buildings of concrete and metal twisted into grotesque caricatures of what they once were. Charred remains of people smoldered and lay like strewn sticks of her childhood game. The stench of burned flesh filtered through her dirt filled sinuses and her eyes burned from the melted rubber. She saw a distorted familiar bracelet partially melted and buried under the rubble. She ran to it and touched the body gently. It crackled in protest as bits crumbled beneath her bloody fingertips. Oh, Mai!

She looked into the distance in the direction of where the hospital stood. Why had she ever come to live with her sister in this place. My sister, where is my sister? Clumsy steps soon evened out as she walked the three miles to the hospital. The roofless building still stood. Nurses and doctors scrambled caring for the injured. Spotting a familiar face, Eiko rushed to her side in relief. Junsuiko! I’m so happy to see you!

Grab that end of the stretcher, will you? I’ve got to get this man into surgery."

Muffled by Eiko’s destroyed eardrums, her sister’s voice distorted as if she was hearing underwater. Junsuiko motioned to the wooden bars that stuck out past the man’s bloodied, burned stumps.

Eiko rubbed her eyes and side of her face with the sleeve of her school uniform. What happened here?

The Americans dropped a bomb. Just like Hiroshima.

Did she say one bomb? How could that be? One bomb? The world will never be the same.

CHAPTER 1

Colombo, Ceylon: March 10, 1969

I want to go home, Eiko Mueller thought as she stepped through the airplane door. She looked at Ceylon, her husband’s new embassy assignment. Another TWA DC-10 roared down the tarmac and swept upward into the air like an ostrich intent on flight. She turned to Jack. The noise drowned out her words.

From her vantage point at the top of the stairway, she saw the airport nestled in the middle of a forest with a small piece cut out for the runways and terminal. Waves of heat from the pavement distorted her vision of the thick, distant trees forming the perimeter. A trickle of sweat escaped from under the headband holding back her permed hair. Stray blue-black locks hung limp and clung to her face. With a delicate movement of her index finger, she lifted the plastered neckline of her dress releasing it from her back.

Confined for thirty hours in a plane with her husband and two young children did nothing for her disposition. She knew she had dark circles under her eyes without pulling her compact from her purse. Even the one-hour layovers in Germany and Greece hadn’t helped. Sleeping on airplanes never came easily to her.

This was just one of many such trips in her life: Tokyo, San Francisco, North Carolina, London, New York, and now here. All the airports were the same, only different in the décor. How would her family survive in this backwater country?

She felt a tap on her shoulder, Jack urged her forward. As a delaying tactic, she stooped, straightening the hem of her daughter’s miniskirt and loosening the tangled fringe on the hippie vest Beth had insisted on wearing. Rising, she ran her fingers through John’s hair smoothing his wayward cowlick. Grabbing her children’s hands, she steeled her back, descended the stairs, and walked toward the terminal.

They entered the building, goose bumps rose on her arms at the sudden chill of air conditioning—or was it fear? That little tingling tremor of sensation crawled up her spine. The feeling akin to ants inching up her leg. Or someone using a feather to tease and vex. No matter what the State Department in Washington had said about Ceylon being an idyllic tropical island and a simple assignment, her intuition told her something different. Something, that unknown thing that haunted her nightmares, would happen during their time here. She tried passing the feeling off as fatigue and failed.

The pungent smell of sweaty bodies, perfumes, stale tobacco smoke, and cleaner caused her nose to wrinkle. People in all manner of dress crowded the low-ceiling building. The crowd thinned, she observed two men approaching. The shorter man’s demeanor spoke of military training, though he wore a regular button-down shirt and belted tailored slacks. She knew this welcoming party did not want undue attention to the family’s arrival. US Marines rarely travel abroad in uniform, except on military transports. Everything about this man said Marine.

Jack lengthened his stride so he was a step or two ahead of Eiko and the children.

Jack Mueller? At Jack’s nod the man extended his hand, Howdy y’all, I'm Bill Cutter, Embassy Marine Commander. This here is Edmond, my servant, he introduced the six-foot tall, dark skinned man standing beside him.

Edmond bowed his head at the introduction, showing a balding pate. The scowl on his face looked as if it were his normal expression.

Jack shook his hand. This is my wife Eiko and these are our children, Isabeth and John.

Eiko shook Bill’s limp wristed, sweaty palm. She smiled at this strong man’s weak handshake. She thought of herself as a modern woman and was slightly offended. She preferred the firm handshake of equals, but let it pass as chauvinistic manners. Why it was most Texans she had met were cowboys? Yee-haw! Pardon me, ma’am with a gentle tip of his ten-gallon hat. Except, Bill wasn’t wearing a hat. Eiko struggled with the smile that pulled at her lips and a tension filled giggle threatened to explode into raucous laughter.

Bill took their passports and went to Customs and Immigration. Edmond collected their luggage from the pick-up area. This was the family's first close-up view of a Sinhalese man and John stared at him with his mouth half opened. Eiko reached over and pushed upwards on his chin, while Bill and Edmond busily preformed with their tasks.

John tugged at her arm and whispered a little too loud, He's got hair growing out of his ears, Mom, and he’s wearing a skirt!

She answered him with a quick jab to his shoulder for his rudeness. It’s a sarong. If you had bothered researching the country like Daddy suggested, you would have known that.

The greeting party returned and ushered the family out of the terminal and into the waiting embassy Harvester three-seat station wagon. Once the family left the noisy surroundings of the terminal with its announcements and crowds, the jungle sounds struck like a physical blow. The forlorn cry of the Koha birds and the chatter of black-faced Languor monkeys in the trees assaulted her ears. She pushed her apprehension aside and looked at the new, unfamiliar country with piqued curiosity.

Though she had not seen the jungle when they deplaned, there was no denying it now. The thriving vegetation threatened to overrun the small bit of modern construction in their midst—so many shades of green her artistic mind could only hope to recreate with oils on canvas. Eiko inhaled deep, yes, the usual smells she associated with islands: decomposition of plants, warm rich soil, and a touch of briny saltiness from the ocean—Ageless—the kind of lushness that took millennia to create. Unbidden happy memories of her Japanese childhood flooded her mind.

The Watcher had observed the family when they arrived and departed the airport. His contact was code-named Foxglove. Who she was, he had no idea. Foxglove made all payments to him in a drop box on Abdul Cader Road. That was all that mattered.

Our party has arrived. He ran his hand through his thick, wavy black hair as he spoke into the pay telephone. Foxglove’s voice, harsh and raspy, reminded him of sandpaper.

Thank you for that information. They're right on schedule. Do you see any problems with your assignment?

Not at all. They are easy to spot. The woman's Japanese like the report says.

Interesting, follow them and let me know where they go. Our sources say they're going to the Galle Face. Keep me informed of their actions. Let’s see if they establish some sort of pattern of activity. Then we’ll snap the trap.

The Watcher hung up the phone and caught a taxi outside the terminal. No rush, he thought, there was only one road leading into the capital from the terminal.

Edmond drove and Bill sat in back with the family. He faced them with a smile plastered on his face. Welcome to Ceylon. Y'all are gonna love it right’ here.

Eiko sat back and watched Jack and the children gawk at the local scenery. She analyzed her fear. It was more than traveling abroad during the Cold War. More than the effects of the Cuban Missile Crisis, when Jack came home, packed his bags without a word, and left for over a month. In some ways, it was similar to what she felt as a child during the war against America with their bombs dropping overhead, certain uncertainty. The prickly chill continued gnawing in the pit of her stomach and creeping down her spine—all too real.

You're driving on the wrong side of the road and the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car just like in London, John stated in an experienced tone.

E-yep. ‘ Member, this was once a British colony. Bill turned to the adults. Jack, I'm gonna drop y’all off at the Galle Face Hotel. It's a couple of blocks from the embassy. Y’all settle in. Tomorrow morning come to the embassy. I'll show y’all around. The hotel’s service and food are ex-ce-llent. He accentuated the last word by putting his thumb and index finger into a little circle to his mouth and pulled it away like a blown kiss. Eiko knew Bill added the last line for her benefit.

The trees passed outside the window in blurs of green, her mind revolted, and her stubborn streak worked overtime. Was she under hotel arrest unless she was with Jack? In their conversation so far, Bill made it sound like they weren’t supposed to do anything but stay in the hotel. Did he really expect her to keep two kids confined to the hotel for the next two weeks? Jack knew better, or at least he’d better. Calm down Eiko. You’re just tired. No sense jumping to conclusions.

Jack and Bill continued their discussion of the hotel and some local points of interest. Bill watched everyone. Bill’s trying to be sneaky, which comes with the jobs of embassy guard and intelligence gathering. Jack was the same way.

The children glued themselves to the windows and watched the coconut palms and banana trees pass by, both pointed excitedly so the other could catch glimpses of the local color.

Edmond sounded the horn as he approached an intersection, and then waited until he did not hear a horn in response before speeding through.

John turned toward his father. Hey, there're no stoplights.

Bill chuckled. Nope, don't think they believe in ‘em.

Edmond slowed, allowing a Brahma bull to cross the street and passed giving it a wide berth.

John pointed at the bull. Wow, the cows can walk anywhere they please here, huh?

E-yep and ya better not hit one or y’all gonna go to jail fer murder. Cows are sacred animals to some of the local. They believe they’re the reincarnation of their passed family members.

Bill’s answer impressed the boy and John studied the cows and bulls in the street more closely. The Marine had an answer for everything, Eiko thought. She looked out the window. But then, it’s his town.

They neared the capital of Colombo, taxis, bicycles, rickshaws, ox carts, and double-decker buses entered the crush of the busy roadway. Vehicles crowded narrow streets and the cacophony could have awakened a deaf man. With all the windows rolled up and the hum of the air conditioning, the painful pulsations in her ears made her thankful for the small barrier of glass. Soon the palm-thatched huts gave way to white turn-of-the-century buildings of stucco and limestone plaster.

Beth poked her finger at the window as they passed a group of people. Why do the women have marks on their foreheads and earrings in their noses?

The women with the marks on their foreheads are Tamils. It's a part of their custom. The marks signify whether they’re single, married, or widowed. Earrings in their noses are jist adornments. Kinda like, you have earrings in your ears, Beth. Here the more gold ya show the richer y’all’s family is.

This assignment promised to be a real learning experience for the children. Eiko watched their excitement as the surroundings changed. John could barely sit still.

For me too. She wondered if her being Japanese instead of an American-born wife would cause any difficulties. Washington had issued the security checks and clearances. Her mind started rattling off the trouble-shooting issues.

She wasn’t like the shallow and vain wives who only cared about gossiping, fashion, and the prestige of their husband’s posting. Eiko wasn’t like any of them unless she play-acted the part. She suppressed a sigh. The impending loneliness seeped into her soul. She’d be an outcast—again.

Well, I have Jack and the children. As long as I have my family, it’ll be all right, she thought with little conviction. She focused on the view outside her window dispelling her troubling thoughts.

The city was an odd mixture of new and old. Old British colonial buildings rubbed elbows with modern high rises, each vying for space. The locals wore colorful saris and sarongs, but a few dressed in European business suits and brightly printed dresses.

Vendors walking the streets had poles with suspended baskets at each end balanced on their shoulders. They filled them with fruits, vegetables, fish, plates of curry wrapped in plantain leaves, and brassware. The baskets swayed while the vendors traveled the street, like the plates on an old scale.

Rambutans, Ra-a-a-mbu-u-tans, one vendor cried, selling his lychee nut fruit.

Fish, fish, fre-e-esh fish-h-h, cried another.

Every time Edmond stopped the car, shirtless native boys flocked to the windows begging for coins.

Begging and street vending are a way of life fer most ‘round here. Jist ignore ‘em.

Edmond drove the circular path in front of the hotel. The uniformed doormen opened the automobile doors, helping Eiko and the children out. Porters removed the luggage from the boot of the car and followed the foreigners inside. Eiko stretched in a genteel way and rubbed a sore spot on her buttocks. The car had jostled and bounced with every pothole the entire twenty miles into town. She caught Bill’s glance and stopped.

He was laughing at her soundlessly. It was the cocky screw of his mouth—a dead giveaway.

Bill took her arm. Yeah, the roads ‘round here are a bit rough on the bee-hind, he whispered as they entered the hotel. A quick glimpse backward saved her from responding. Beth was being her independent self and John skipped beside Jack

Inside the lobby, Eiko looked around in awe. She had never seen so many Victorian antiques in one place. The oversized carved mahogany reception desk caught her eye. The artisanship of the ornately carved, pigeonhole key and message center with its tropical theme of waving palms and birds flying in the sunset held her attention. The artist in her appreciated the long hours it took to fashion it.

Eiko fanned her face with her clutch. Large ceiling fans circulated the air dropping the temperature a few degrees inside, but it was still hot. Potted palm branches swayed in the artificial breeze.

After the front desk clerk scribbled the necessary information into the register, he handed Jack the keys. Welcome to Sri Lanka, Sir. Sri Lanka means isle resplendent. It is our native title for the country.

Worried thoughts niggled her mind at the expense of such a hotel. It must have shown on her face, but Bill reassured her, as if he could read her thoughts.

Don’t worry. The embassy is pickin’ up the tab ‘til me git packed and rotated Stateside. Jist promise me one thing. Don’t drink the water. The parasites will eat ya alive. If it comes from the tap send it back.

Everyone nodded and they said their goodbyes to Bill. The porter took the keys from Jack and led the family to their rooms.

John entered his parent's room. Holy cow, Batman!

Eiko laughed and stepped through the door. You may want to think of another phrase. Cows are holy here, remember.

The porter tied the velvet curtains back and sunlight flooded the room. We usually leave these closed, but I be thinking you can be enjoying the view. The maid will be coming up shortly to see to your clothing. While she does, you might be wishing to walk along the Galle Face Green, the large park outside. Or you can be walking in the Cinnamon Gardens beside the hotel, he suggested in lilting Sinhalese-English.

Eiko and Jack followed behind the children as the porter showed them to their rooms. Jack tipped the man.

"Bohoma stuthi," replied the porter. He thanked them, clutching the rupees between both hands as if in prayer, then slightly bowed his head and left.

The Watcher bided his time and waited for the maid to finish loading her cart. When she left the others he pulled her aside. Speaking rapidly in Singhalese, he outlined what he wanted. She would be his eyes and ears in the Americans’ rooms reporting directly to him.

He pulled a wad of rupees from his coat pocket insuring her loyalty, which she quickly stuffed into a hidden pocket in one of the many folds of her sari. Her big gapped toothed smile, assure him she was bought for as long as he needed her and her extra set keys would find their way into his pocket for him to rummage later. Hotel maids were such unscrupulous characters, easily bought and sold.

After a discreet knock on the door a few minutes later, the maid came and unpacked their clothing. I could get used to this. Eiko sighed.

Jack and Eiko retrieved Beth from the wonderment of her room and reprimanded John for doing a trampoline somersault off his bed they walked to the ancient wrought iron elevator to the ground floor restaurant for lunch. Afternoon tea had arrived. Eiko loved this custom of a small meal—a British custom, it fell in between luncheon at one and dinner at eight. The eighteen-hour time difference had thrown them all off.

They ate their pickled herring, finger sandwiches of watercress and cucumber, sweet wild berries with clotted cream, and mango-banana confections with gusto, like half-starved waifs. She chastised John for the food oozing from his overfilled mouth. After a few quick gulps of strongly infused Ceylon tea heavy with sugar and cream, he wiped his mouth and let out a resounding burp.

Eiko shook her head in disbelief. He’s eaten more than Beth and I put together, and in half the time. That boy will eat us out of house and home before he’s sixteen.

While walking the Galle Face Green, John fell in love with a twenty-foot long, black cobra kite so Jack bought one for him. He spent the next half-hour flying it over the beach and park. Her heart fluttered and quickened with realization that John looked just like his father. She watched her son run across the Green; same blue eyes, blonde hair, the scrawny musculature of an eight-year old but tall for his age. The typical German stereotype or at least Hitler’s version

Mom, where are the seagulls? Beth asked as she looked around.

Black crows flew and scavenged like their familiar seagulls at their former North Carolina home. When John let out a yell, she turned back toward him. He was shaking his foot and rubbing it into the grass. The cows roamed the beaches and park freely. The piles they left made walking precarious.

Oh yuck, I stepped in a pile of sh—shoot. Now I gotta take off my shoe. She watched him and she could see a much younger Jack doing the same thing at his boyhood farm, a small smile tickled the edges of her mouth as he plopped onto the grass, untied his shoes, and pulled off his socks intent on continuing to fly his kite barefooted.

No, you don’t young man. Put your shoes back on. We’ll wash them when we get back to the room. You don’t want the kind of worms growing in the ground here growing into your feet.

The boy grumpily complied with her order and soon was lost in his world again.

She watched Beth walk over to the Cinnamon Gardens, the landscaped spice garden. One of the porters in the lobby had told them a sampling of every spice and herb that grew on the island could be found here. Eiko watched Beth sniff appreciatively of their pungent aromas. Her long brown hair blew in the gentle ocean breeze.

My little girl is going to be a knock-out when she grows up. Not that I want that to happen anytime soon. She can wait a dozen years or so. She could read Beth’s attitude, total distain for her kid brother and his antics. At twelve, she was the typical pre-teenager.

Now the Watcher viewed them from across the street. The Muellers were the only Americans staying at the hotel today, which made his job easier. He would ask his friend for information after the man completed his shift at eight. Of course, he would want a stipend for information just like any other national in this God forsaken country, too poor to know anything different, but it was the same in India his homeland. But Foxglove would have no problem with reimbursements.

His linen suit was hot in the tropical sun and he removed his jacket. He bought a bottle of water and some papaya from a vendor. He washed the fruit down, leaned against the building, and waited for further developments.

CHAPTER 2

Eiko sat by the hotel window sipping her second cup of coffee the next morning. Jack’s vacation was over. He’d left for the embassy a little while ago. Even at eight in the morning, people crowded the Green. Several kites dotted the sky with multicolored specks and tails. The playing children were as innocents all over the world. The image of happy little ones made this world seem a little less alien to her and gave her comfort.

After breakfast in the dining room with the children, they walked out the front of the hotel. They neared the street and a man was seated on the ground with a basket in front of him. He squinted one eye enhancing his wrinkles into deep chasms as he looked up at the trio with the sun at their backs.

Want to be seeing the cobra, Lady?

She wanted to shout no, but the vigorous affirmative head shaking of her children overruled her. She shrugged. Sure, why not?

Lady, you and the children be making no sudden movements. It will be drawing the snake’s attention to you.

Eiko pulled the children a large step back away from the basket and nodded.

The man picked up his recorder and put the lid ajar on the basket. The horn made its high-pitched whines when the man blew into it and soon an eerie tune emerged. The basket moved the children took several steps back, treading on Eiko’s sandaled feet in the process. She grabbed them by the shoulders so they wouldn’t move again. The pitch and rhythm increased so did the basket’s movement.

Slowly a head appeared. The snake charmer rose to a raised squatting position as he played, drawing the cobra out of the basket. It swayed hypnotized in time to the music. Its fan extended, showing its black diamond and the tan coloring. Its scales glowed almost iridescent green in the sunlight and the tongue flicked the air in rhapsodic time to the music. The glass-like eyes transfixed on the charmer as it moved.

The tune slowed, the snake slid back into the basket and with a quick movement the man closed the lid. He looked up at Eiko expectantly. She handed him a few coins then hurried away. Icy fingers ran down her spine. I hate snakes!

She noticed the streets congested here as any city and held tight to the children’s hands. The cars and trucks left a thick haze of burned oil and gasoline as they passed causing John a choking coughing fit. The smell of urine struck Eiko like a sledgehammer when they reached the cross street. She was trying to figure out why when a man pulled up the front of his sarong and urinated on a wall as they passed him.

So many different smells, scenery, and people, it rattled her civilized mind. They played matador with a bullock cart when they crossed 32nd Lane next to the American embassy. The bullock won. They waited for it to pass. It was bigger and the horns on that beast looked deadly even with the red tassels and bells that jingled with every step. The strong aroma of the animal crinkled her nose and she raised a tissue in an attempt ward off the odor.

The US Embassy faced Galle Road and, like the hotel, had the Indian Ocean as a backyard. The white, three-story, Georgian-style structure had tall white columns adorning the front. The architect had designed it to impress and signify the power of a great nation. It did a good job. She shuddered when she noticed the six-foot high, twelve-inch thick, limestone wall with broken glass imbedded in the top to keep out intruders. Why were such precautions necessary? Maybe the fear she had felt since their arrival wasn’t so far-fetched as she thought.

A Sinhalese man in a linen suit brushed past her before they could cross the street, a black umbrella shielding his face. Man, he sure was in a hurry and rude too. Eiko patted her purse to make sure it was still hanging from her shoulder. Good, still got it. Can’t be too careful around here. Her eyes shifted to take in the area as a safeguard. She watched the man cross another street and ducked into a sari shop.

Eiko and the children walked into a curio shop across from the embassy. It looked promising for little knick-knacks to send home to Jack’s family. Carvings of elephants in every size imaginable were everywhere with ivory tusks and moonstone eyes. On the walls hung pictures done with polished straw on black velvet—beautiful. She looked at the price, quickly converting rupees to dollars in her mind. Everything seemed so cheap once she did the conversion.

Once safely in the store, the Watcher turned to look out the window. That was close. I need to be more careful. I did not see them leave the hotel until they were down the block. He closed his umbrella, walked into the store and ran his fingers across the heavily embroidered, thin cotton sari hanging in the window. Foxglove would pull all my teeth without anesthetic if I lost contact. He pulled a handkerchief from of his breast pocket and wiped his brow, then considered the sari once more.

The Japanese woman’s daughter was pretty, but not as pretty as my Nada. His fingers traced the delicate gold embroidery of the sari. I need to arrange her wedding soon. At thirteen, she was almost past her prime for a proper arrangement with a strong, eligible young man. Rupees and dowry in gold would secure a good match for her.

Foxglove was the key. Soon they would initiate the plan.

CHAPTER 3

Bill and Jack met Eiko as she and John stepped off the elevator in the hotel lobby. Jack leaned over and pecked Eiko on the cheek, Hi Sweetheart. How's your day been so far? Where's Beth?

It's been okay. We did a little sightseeing. Beth is up in her room reading. A little too much sun today.

After they ordered lunch, Jack turned to her and smiled in his sweet, knowing way. The one that told her watch out, here it comes rattled through her brain. The silent communication of fifteen years of marriage spoke volumes to her.

Sweetheart, there's a cocktail party at the British High Commission and a reception at the Israeli ambassador's house starting at eight tonight, black tie. Ambassador Campbell requested we attend. Would you have someone steam my dinner jacket and pants?

So, it began already. Her woman’s intuition told her there was more to this, but knew it would have to wait until later when they were alone.

Sure, Jack. The conversation continued around the table with John monopolizing most of it. He babbled on about the snake charmer they'd seen. He had never seen a cobra before. He described in detail how the man had it in a basket and lured it out with a horn.

Eiko tuned them all out and was lost in her own thoughts of preparation for the reception while she ate. She started making a mental list: arrange for the hotel nanny to watch the children, have the maid steam the travel wrinkles out of her gown and Jack's formal wear, and find a hairdresser.

The snake just kept going higher and higher John high-pitched voice continued reciting his adventure, half heard by Eiko while her brain continued making her plans for the afternoon.

She knew the usual routine. An unmarried ambassador needed a female escort and hostess for the functions, and she was it. The dutiful wife looked at her watch. Two o'clock. I have to hurry, she thought. John finished his serving of bread pudding and she broke into the conversation. Gentlemen, if you would excuse me I need to check on Beth. A handy excuse.

Jack and Bill rose out of habit when she did. Sure Sweetheart. Have a good day. I'll see you later. Jack leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

After she left, she knew the men would light their cigarettes and continue discussing the night's events. She took John's hand and led him to the lobby. Her first stop was the front desk. She had everything arranged within an hour. Yes, she could definitely get used to all of this again.

We should develop this relationship. We may be able to manipulate her into gathering information for us. She must be homesick.

Zenzo Tanaka, the Japanese Ambassador to Ceylon, leaned back in his leather chair and waved his cultural attaché Anjiro Akira to the seat opposite the desk. He had not seen her since she was five or six. Would she remember him? Probably not. He was just one of a thousand faces who entered in and out of her father’s world.

The patriarch of the family himself had told Tanaka the sordid story. Such a dishonor to a powerful man descended from Shoguns to have such a child. He shook his head in disgust. Not many people had the red line of shame through their names in this family’s book of descendants. At least, not in Hikaro Kato’s family—but she did.

Anjiro Akira offered a single, sharp nod to his ambassador.

Tanaka