Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第26部分

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leaving　enigmatic　patterns　in　the　sand。　The　car　was　quiet　but　for　the　rustle　of　newspaper　when
Kestrel　turned　a　page。　Beside　him　on　the　front　seat　was　a　pile　of　unread　periodicals。
Kestrel　folded　up　the　section　he　had　read　and　put　it　on　the　floor。　The　noise　startled　Ana；　who
had　been　dozing　in　the　back　seat。　She　sat　up。
“Is　it　time？”
“It’s　only　five　o’clock；”　said　Kestrel；　glancing　at　his　watch。　“It　won’t　be　dark　for　several　hours。
Go　back　to　sleep。”
“I　can’t。　I　keep　thinking　about　Manzanar。”
“Don’t　worry　about　getting　into　the　camp；”　said　Kestrel。　“Manzanar　won’t　be　well　guarded。
Why　should　it　be？　Where　would　an　escaping　Japanese　go？”　He　waved　a　hand　at　the　desolation
surrounding　them。　“Only　the　gate　has　soldiers；　and　we　won’t　use　the　gate。”
Ana　looked　at　the　stack　of　newspapers　and　magazines　on　the　front　seat。　Kestrel　had　bought　one
or　two　in　each　little　hamlet　he　had　driven　through　on　the　way　down　the　east　side　of　the　Sierras。
“There’s　nothing　in　those　but　propaganda；”　said　Ana。　“Lies　and　more　lies　about　what　a
generous　victor　America　is。　All　lies！”
Kestrel　shook　out　the　July　17th　edition　of　the　San　Francisco　Chronicle。　“American　newspapers
are　naive；　malicious　and　often　trivial；　but　they　aren’t　echoes　of　their　government。　They　tell　more
about　the　war　than　my　own　government　does；　and　tell　it　more　accurately。”
“For　example？”
“Your　newspapers　tell　me　Russia　is　more　America’s　enemy　than　her　ally。　That　would　be　useful　to
Japan；　if　Russia　weren’t　also　our　enemy。”　Kestrel　turned　the　page。　“Russia　is　a　sword　with　every
edge　honed　and　no　handle　–　whoever　uses　it　risks　cutting　himself　more　deeply　than　his
opponent。”
“Where　does　the　Chronicle　say　that？”　Ana　asked。
“Where　are　the　pictures　of　smiling　Russian　soldiers　playing　poker　with　American　GIs　in　Berlin？”
countered　Kestrel；　pointing　to　a　feature　story。
“Those　are　British　soldiers；”　said　Ana；　reading　over　his　shoulder。
“Exactly。　Not　a　single　Russian　smiling　for　the　camera。”
A　wave　of　nausea　rippled　through　him。　He　breathed　slowly；　deeply；　until　it　passed。　Sweat
suddenly　covered　his　skin。　Another　surge　of　nausea　gripped　him。　Deliberately；　he　folded　the
newspaper　and　put　it　back　on　the　pile　beside　him。
“Where　are　you　going？”　Ana　asked　as　Kestrel　opened　the　car　door。
Her　only　answer　was　the　sound　of　the　wind　scouring　the　land。　The　car　door　closed；　leaving　her
alone　with　the　taste　of　dust　on　her　tongue。
Manzanar
38　Hours　37　Minutes　After　Trinity
The　wind　blew　unhindered　across　the　desert；　sweeping　up　dust　and　grit；　shaping　and　reshaping
the　land　with　careless　power。　Inside　the　squat；　fieldstone　guardhouse；　the　wind’s　restless　howl
was　reduced　to　a　low　cry　of　anomie。
The　private　turned　over　another　card；　yawned；　and　stuck　the　card　back　into　the　deck。　He
rejected　the　next　three　cards；　cheating　at　solitaire　with　bored　indifference。　Occasionally　he
looked　at　the　utilitarian　clock　on　the　wall　or　leaned　forward　to　get　a　better　view　of　the　dirt　road
leading　up　to　Manzanar。
The　sound　of　the　car’s　approach　was　masked　by　the　wind。　When　the　guard　saw　the　dark　green
sedan　slide　to　a　stop　and　glimpsed　the　blond　woman　at　the　wheel；　he　hurriedly　gathered　up　the
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cards　and　straightened　his　uniform。
“Vanessa　Lyons；　BBC；”　said　the　woman；　coming　up　to　him　and　holding　out　her　credentials　in　a
slim　white　hand。
The　guard　took　the　credentials；　gave　them　a　cursory　inspection　and　returned　them　to　Vanessa。
“I’ll　call　Captain　Anderson。　He’ll　give　you　a　tour　of　the　facilities　and　answer　whatever　questions
you　have。”　The　private　spoke　carefully；　like　someone　reciting　from　memory。　“It　will　be　the
captain’s　pleasure　to　entertain　you　at　dinner　at　1900。”
“I　really　wouldn’t　want　to　put　you　to　that　much　trouble；”　began　Vanessa　earnestly。
“Our　pleasure；　ma’am；”　said　the　private　in　fervent　tones。　“It’s　a　welcome　break　in　the　routine。”
Vanessa　looked　at　the　empty　land；　the　cramped　stone　guardhouse；　and　the　windblown　sand。
Ugly　rows　of　barracks　sat　back　from　a　wire　fence　clotted　with　tumbleweeds　and　miscellaneous
debris。　She　could　well　imagine　the　boredom　of　the　men　assigned　to　guard　a　well…behaved　group
of　Japanese　in　the　middle　of　desolation。
“It’s　necessary　for　my　research　that　I　go　without　an　escort；”　Vanessa　said。
“Of　course；　ma’am。　After　dinner；　you’ll　be　on　your　own。　The　Japs　here　are　very　polite。　You
shouldn’t　have　any　trouble　after　the　captain　introduces　you　around。”
Vanessa　agreed　to　the　inevitable。　She　smiled　warmly。　“Would　you　be　so　kind　as　to　call　Captain
Anderson　right　away；　then。　I’m　very　anxious　to　look　around。”
“Yes；　ma’am！”
The　private　turned　away　too　quickly　to　see　Vanessa’s　beguiling　smile　condense　into　a　hard　line。
Outside　of　Manzanar
39　Hours　21　Minutes　After　Trinity
Darkness　gathered　like　a　tide；　pooling　in　nameless　ravines；　spilling　out　across　sand　and
sagebrush；　lapping　at　the　awesome　Sierras。　Kestrel　ations　of
light　with　a　poet’s　eyes；　knowing　that　each　day’s　end　was　a　beauty　never　before　revealed。
“Wait　here；”　he　told　Ana；　“until　I　come　back　for　you。”
Ana　watched　him　walk　around　to　the　back　of　the　car。　The　raised　trunk　lid　cut　off　her　view。　She
heard　the　rattle　of　the　rusty　tin　pails。　There　were　two　distinct　thumps　as　the　heavy　metal　balls　hit
the　bottom　of　the　pails。　The　trunk　lid　closed；　revealing　Kestrel　again。
Although　color　had　been　drained　from　the　land；　some　light　remained。　Ana　saw　Kestrel　turn
away　from　the　car；　carrying　one　pail　in　his　right　hand。　He　scrambled　out　of　the　ravine　which　hid
the　car。　For　a　moment　he　was　silhouetted　against　the　blue…black　sky；　then　he　vanished。
Ana　hesitated　for　only　an　instant　before　she　got　out　of　the　car　as　silently　as　she　could　and
followed　Kestrel。　She　was　worried　by　the　change　that　had　come　over　him　since　he　had　first
opened　the　trunk　in　the　high　Sierra　pass。　Since　that　moment　he　had　seemed　to　recede　from　her
like　a　dream；　becoming　more　distant　as　the　afternoon　light　had　thickened　into　sunset。
Ana　knew　he　was　ill。　She　wanted　to　help　him；　but　did　not　know　how。　He　could　be　so　remote；
folded　in　upon　himself　like　the　immaculate　curves　of　a　lotus　bud；　aware　only　of　his　own　silent
center。
Yet　when　he　had　sensed　her　growing　fear；　he　had　gathered　her　into　his　arms；　held　her　within　his
silence　like　a　precious　memory。　She　could　not　sit　now　and　watch　him　walk　alone　into　the　night。
Sand　and　rocks　turned　beneath　Ana’s　feet。　Brittle　brush　caught　the　folds　of　the　dress　that　was
bright　red　by　day；　black　in　the　twilight。　Cautiously；　she　peered　up　over　the　edge　of　the　ravine。
Thirty　feet　away；　Kestrel　waited；　his　face　a　distinct　paleness　against　the　dusk。　He　was　looking
toward　her。　She　realized　that　he　had　heard　her　follow　him。　She　shrank　back；　not　wanting　to　face
his　anger。　His　footsteps　approached；　then　stopped　at　the　edge　of　the　arroyo。
“I　just　wanted　to　help…”　Ana’s　voice　thinned　into　silence。
Wordlessly；　Kestrel　set　down　the　heavy　pail。
“You’ve　been　so　far　away；”　said　Ana。　“I　was　afraid　you　would’t　come　back。”
Just　as　the　silence　became　unbearable　to　Ana；　Kestrel　reached　out　to　her；　pulled　her　against　him。
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His　skin　was　cool；　chilled　by　night　closing　swiftly　around　him。
Ana　held　on　to　him　with　surprising　strength；　understanding　only　that　at　this　moment　he　needed
her　warmth。　He　kissed　her　very　gently；　and　just　as　gently　released　her。
“If　you　must　follow　me；”　he　said；　“you　can　bring　the　other　bucket。”
“I’m　sorry。　I’ll　go　back。　I’ll　wait　for　you。”
“No；　it’s　better　this　way。　Bring　the　bucket。”
She　turned　away。
“Wait；”　said　Kestrel。　“In　this　you　must　obey　me。　When　you　carry　that　bucket；　do　not　come　close
to　the　other　bucket。　The　buckets　must　not　touch。”
“Yes。”
She　scrambled　back　to　the　car；　snatched　up　the　handle　of　the　pail　and　returned。　Kestrel　had
climbed　out　of　the　ravine。　He　pulled　her　up　its　crumbling　side　with　an　ease　that　belied　sickness。
Thirty　feet　away　from　him；　the　other　tin　pail　glowed　faintly　in　the　twilight。
“Wait　here；”　said　Kestrel。　“When　I　pick　up　my　pail；　follow　me。　When　I　walk；　you　walk。　When　I
stop；　you　stop。　Don’t　talk。　Sound　carries　far　in　this　land。”
Ana　followed　Kestrel　across　a　subtle　rise　in　the　desert　floor。　The　land　looked　flat；　but　was　not。　It
was　like　an　enormous　rumpled　sheet　draped　across　the　foot　of　the　Sierras。
With　each　step　the　desert　and　the　night　closed　more　fully　around　her。　Her　eyes　continued　to
adjust；　finding　illumination　where　she　thought　there　was　none。　Kestrel　set　down　his　pail　and
walked　back　to　Ana。
“Manzanar　is　just　ahead；”　he　murmured。　“I’m　going　to　bury　the　buckets　before　we　go　in。　When
we　get　through　the　fence；　I’ll　hide　until　you　find　your　family。”
Kestrel　dug　in　the　sandy　soil　near　the　base　of　a　clump　of　sagebrush；　using　one　of　the　pails　as　a
shovel。　Each　time　the　metal　lip　of　the　pail　scraped　over　hidden　rocks；　Ana　held　her　breath。
The*1　sounds　seemed　loud　in　the　desert’s　vast　silence；　as　vivid　as　lightning　at　midnight。　Kestrel；
knowing　that　some　noise　was　unavoidable；　kept　on　digging。
He　lowered　the　larger　piece　of　uranium　into　the　hole　he　had　made。　Quickly；　he　shoved　in　a　layer
of　loose　soil；　tipped　the　bucket　on　its　side　in　the　hole；　and　filled　both　bucket　and　hole　until　only
a　half…inch　of　metal　pail　poked　above　the　sand　to　mark　the　burial　place。　Thirty　feet　away；　he
repeated　the　process　with　the　smaller　piece　of　uranium。
When　Kestrel　was　finished；　he　selected　three　small　branches　from　the　litter　at　the　base　of　the
sagebrush　clump。　He　used　the　branches　as　guides　pointing　from　one　piece　of　uranium　to　the
other。　The　third　branch　he　jammed　into　the　lip　of　the　rise。　Then　he　stood　motionless；
memorizing　landmarks　that　stood　out　of　the　increasing　gloom。
The　lights　of　Manzanar　glowed　more　brightly　with　each　moment；　so　close　Ana　thought　she
could　touch　them。　It　was　an　illusion　fostered　by　clear　air　and　her　own　anxiety；　Manzanar’s　outer
fence　was　a　hundred　yards　away；　the　barracks　several　hundred　yards　beyond　that。
“Come。”
Ana　started　at　Kestrel’s　voice　so　close　to　her　ear。　Silently　she　followed　him。　When　they　reached
the　fence；　Kestrel　took　a　small　pair　of　wire　cutters　from　his　pocket。　The　cutters　were　suited
more　for　florists　wire　than　Army　fencing；　but　Kestrel　was　both　strong　and　patient。　The　wires
parted。
Kestrel　guided　Ana　through；　then　pulled　a　tumbleweed　over　to　conceal　the　break　in　the　fence。
Ana　waited；　her　heart　beating　so　loudly　that　she　could　hear　nothing　else。
“This　way；”　breathed　Kestrel。
He　led　her　closer　to　the　barracks　lights。　As　they　approached　the　buildings；　they　heard　voices
raised；　people　calling　back　and　forth　across　the　barracks　rows。　The　smell　of　a　compost　pile
replaced　the　astringent　odor　of　sage。　A　garden’s　orderly　rows　marched　toward　the　first　building
a　few　hundred　feet　away。
Kestrel　stopped。　Ana　moved　until　she　was　so　close　that　his　breath　warmed　her　lips。
“I’ll　wait　for　you　here；”　said　Kestrel。　His　hands　framed　her　face。　“If　you　aren’t　alone；　I　must
Page　135
assume　you　are　a　prisoner。　I　will　kill　whoever　is　with　you；　Ana。　Come　alone　if　you　can。”
Ana　remembered　Refugio’s　swift　death；　but　the　memory　had　no　impact。　She　realized　suddenly
that　she　did　not　care　who　Kestrel　had　killed；　or　that　he　might　kill　again。　She　buried　her　face
against　his　neck。
“Just　be　here　when　I　come　back；”　she　whispered　fiercely。　“Nothing　else　matters。”
Kestrel　smiled　against　the　silky　coolness　of　her　hair。　“You’re　becoming　more　Japanese；”　he
whispered。　“Now　if　you　could　only　learn　obedience…。”
Ana　laughed　softly。　Her　lips　brushed　his；　then　she　slipped　from　his　arms　into　the　impersonal
embrace　of　night。
Manzanar
40　Hours　After　Trinity
Ana　walked　between　rows　of　plywood　and　tarpaper　barracks；　looking　for　“apartment”　number
39A。　All　around　her；　people　hurried　through　the　night；　pushed　by　the　wind　that　was　as　much　a
part　of　Manzanar　as　the　blowing　sand。　Several　times　she　was　frightened　by　the　sight　of　uniforms；
only　to　realize　that　they　were　worn　by　Nisei　soldiers　on　leave；　visiting　their　families　in　Manzanar。
At　first　Ana　kept　her　head　down；　avoiding　direct　glances。　Then　she　realized　that　the　camp　was
too　big　for　a　strange　Japanese　to　be　noticed。　What　was　one　more　among　Manzanar’s　thousands？
She　found　apartment　39A　at　the　end　of　a　long　barracks　row；　facing　the　Sierras。　The　public
washrooms　were　nearby；　and　the　fence　was　only　a　short　distance。
Reluctantly；　Ana　faced　the　barracks　where　her　father　and　mother　lived。　She　hoped　that　her
brother　was　still　in　Italy。　She　did　not　want　to　argue　about　loyalty　tonight。　Nor　did　she　want　to
confront　her　sad；　worn　father。　For　a　moment　she　considered　going　directly　to　Masataka　Oshiga；
her　father’s　uncle。　It　was　Masataka　who　had　given　her　money　and　a　letter　of　introduction　to
Takagura　Omi　in　Juarez。　But　it　was　also　Masataka　who　had　helped　her　brother　enlist　in　the
American　Army。　Masataka　was　like　a　weaver；　knotting　up　the　disparate　threads　of　the　American
Japanese　communities；　carrying　messages　between　families　torn　apart　by　war。　Japanese　loyalists
and　Americans　alike　claimed　Masataka　as　their　own。
Ana　did　not　know　where　the　truth　of　Masataka’s　loyalty　was。　All　she　knew　was　that　he　had
helped　her；　and　Takagura　trusted　him　in　many　things。　But　Masataka　was　traditional；　he　would
expect　her　to　go　to　her　father　first。　If　she　did　not；　Masataka　would　simply　ignore　her。
Cold　wind　rocked　Ana；　deciding　her。　She　took　the　three　stairs　in　a　rush；　opened　the　door　and
stepped　inside　before　she　could　change　her　mind。　The　wind　snatched　the　door　out　of　her　fingers
and　slammed　it　shut　behind　her。
Startled；　an　old　man　looked　up　from　his　chair。　For　a　long　moment　he　and　Ana　stared　at　each
other。
“Ana！　Where　did　you　come　from？　What　are　you　doing　here？”
He　spoke　the　inelegant　Japanese　she　still　heard　in　her　dreams。　She　looked　at　him　with　a　familiar
mixture　of　anger　and　love。　He　was　small；　worn　away　to　bones；　hands　knotted　by　a　lifetime　of
labor。
“Ana？”　said　her　mother；　rising　from　a　floor　cushion。　“I　was　just　writing　to　you！　What　–？”
“Listen。　Both　of　you。　No　one　knows　I’m　here。　I’ve　brought　a　–　friend。　He’s　sick。　He　needs　a
place　to　stay　for　a　few　days。”
“The　hospital　will　–　“　began　her　mother。
“No！　No　one　must　know　he’s　here。　It　will　just　be　for　a　few　days；　until　he’s　better。”　And；　added
Ana　silently；　until　Takagura　can　arrange　a　safe　passage　south　for　Kestrel　and　the　odd；　heavy
metal　he　guarded　so　carefully。　She　looked　at　her　father。　“He’s　weak。　Surely　you　can　give　shelter
to　a　weak　friend？”
“Is　he　Takagura　Omi’s　friend？”
Ana　hesitated；　then　decided　on　the　truth。　“Yes。　He　is　a　samurai。　A　true　Japanese！”
Her　father’s　expression　became　closed。　She　watched；　wanting　to　scream　at　him　as　she　had　done
Page　136
years　ago；　when　the　relocation　orders　had　been　signed　and　he　had　obeyed　without　even　arguing。
“Then　he　is　America’s　enemy；”　said　her　father。
“He’s　too　sick　to　be　anyone’s　enemy。”　Ana　turned　toward　her　mother；　but　she　looked　away；
waiting　for　her　husband’s　decision。　“Just　a　few　days；”　Ana　said。　“No　one　will　know。　Please！　He’s
outside　and　it’s　cold。　He　needs　help！”
“All　right。”　Her　father’s　voice　was　rough。　“Bring　him　in　out　of　the　wind。　But　no　promises；
daughter。　We　have　much　to　talk　about。”
Manzanar
40　Hours　20　Minutes　After　Trinity
The　black　desert　night　was　crisscrossed　by　golden　rectangles　of　light　from　barracks　windows。
After　9：00　A。M。　most　of　the　inhabitants　of　Manzanur　stayed　inside。
Vanessa　buttoned　her　dark　jacket　against　the　wind　and　set　off　between　two　rows　of　barracks。
Conversations　among　the　people　still　outside　gusted　with　the　wind；　words　in　Japanese　and
English；　but　nothing　that　had　any　meaning　to　her。　By　the　time　conversation　reached　her；　it　had
been　shredded　by　the　wind。　Each　time　she　tracked　the　sounds　to　a　group　of　people；　the
conversation　died。
“Good　evening；”　said　Vanessa；　coming　up　to　a　group　of　two　men　and　a　woman。　“I’m　Vanessa
Lyons；　from　the　British　Broadcasting　Company。　I　believe　Colonel　Mahan　made　an
announcement　to　the　camp　about　me　earlier　this　evening。”
The　three　people　bowed　politely。　There　was　a　murmur　of　low…voiced　greetings。
“Have　you　been　in　Manzanar　since　it　was　built？”
No　one　answered。　The　three　people　bowed　again；　but　said　nothing。　If　they　understood　English；
they　did　not　reveal　it。
“Where　did　you　live　before？”
The　Japanese　bowed　to　Vanessa　and　silently　walked　away。
The　next　group　she　approached　did　not　speak　English　either。　They　listened　to　her；　bowed
politely　and　melted　into　the　darkness　with　more　bows　and　apologies。　Vanessa　tried　several　other
groups　with　no　better　luck。　The　Japanese　had　built　their　own　society　in　Manzanar；　closed　and
circumspect；　all　but　impenetrable。　It　would　take　time　and　luck　to　find　an　inmate　who　would　help
her。
Impatience　and　anxiety　tightened　the　lines　of　her　mouth。　If　anyone　should　decide　to　do　more
than　a　cursory　check　on　her　BBC　credentials；　she　would　have　a　lot　of　explanations　to　make。　She
had　to　find　the　Oshiga　apartment　before　that　happened。
Finally　she　tried　a　group　of　four　boys；　all　in　their　early　teens；　all　with　the　casual　mannerisms　of
Americans。
“Good　evening；”　said　Vanessa；　smiling　brilliantly。　“I’m　Miss　Lyons　of　the　British　Broadcasting
Company。　I’m　supposed　to　interview　the　Oshiga　family；　but　I’ve　lost　my　way。”
“Which　Oshiga　family？”　asked　one　of　the　boys。
“The　one　from　San　Francisco。　He　owned　a　flower　shop　called　the　Fragrant　Petal。”
The　boy　smiled　apologetically。
“Sorry；　Miss　Lyons。　Perhaps　Mrs。　Tamamura　can　help　you。　She’s　from　San　Francisco。　She　went
down　to　the　washhouse　just　a　while　ago。　Perhaps　she　is　still　there。”
The　boy　pointed　down　the　row　of　barracks。　Vanessa　saw　a　well…lit　building。　When　she　turned
back；　the　last　boy　was　closing　the　barracks　door　behind　him。
Vanessa　strode　down　the　dirt　path　to　the　washhouse。　There　were　five　women　inside；　all　past
middle　age。　They　looked　up　from　their　laundry；　bowed　and　waited　for　her　to　speak。
“Good　evening；”　Vanessa　said。　“Is　one　of　you　Mrs。　Tamamura？”
The　women　looked　at　Vanessa　for　a　moment；　then　bowed　gain。
“Ta…ma…mu…ra；”　said　Vanessa　slowly。
There　was　no　response。
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“Oshiga？”　said　Vanessa。　“Ana　O…shi…ga？”
The　women　blinked；　folded　their　hands；　and　bowed　politely。
“No　Eng…lish；”　said　one　of　the　women　with　soft　finality。
Vanessa’s　smile　was　brittle。　She　turned　on　her　heel　and　left　without　another　word。
After　the　human　warmth　of　the　washroom；　the　night　seemed　even　colder；　filled　with　wind　that
tasted　of　sand。　She　started　up　another　row；　toward　the　USO　barracks　on　the　far　side　of　camp。
Lights　and　music　streamed　out　of　the　building。　BBC　credentials　in　hand；　she　entered　the
barracks　and　began　asking　about　a　family　called　Oshiga　that　had　once　lived　in　San　Francisco。
Above　the　Sierras；　California
41　Hours　47　Minutes　After　Trinity
The　Piper　Super　Cub　bounced　and　sideslipped；　caught　by　the　edge　of　a　storm　massed　over　the
high　Sierras。　Finn　braced　himself　and　stared　down　at　the　land　below；　straining　to　catch　a　glimpse
of　Manzanar’s　distant　lights　between　filaments　of　cloud。　But　except　for　an　occasional　explosion
of　lightning；　he　could　see　nothing。
He　wedged　himself　against　the　window　and　closed　his　eyes；　fighting　the　tension　that　was　making
his　nerves　leap。　He　breathed　slowly；　deeply；　letting　tension　drain　out　of　his　body　unt