Chapter Two
Moskau, Sakura Hotel
A sixth floor office, three hours later.
From a classified audio
transcript,
“I’m highly disappointed in
you, Itiro san,” a male voice said bitterly.
“And so am I, Onoda san. Allow
me to write a poem on the subject, followed by my performing seppuku. I will be very careful in
ripping my belly; I won’t soil the floors. I’ve brought a waterproof cloak and
twenty feet of plastic film specifically for the purpose.”
“And what am I supposed to do
with your body? Cut it into pieces and burn them in the fireplace? Thank you
very much! As far as I know, you and your wife received two million yen for the
job. The imperial Kommandatur in Hong
Kong made sure you boarded the plane without being checked. No, don’t start.
I’ve heard all your excuses. But somehow I doubt they’ll convince the others.”
A heavy sigh. “I understand.
What am I looking at?”
“Nothing good, really. The
Mikado Bank account where you placed the money has been frozen. Your family
isn’t getting it until the job is complete. Excuse my being so blatant, Itiro
san, but how much time have you got left until your meeting with Amaterasu, the
solar goddess?”
The other voice paused. “About
a week, according to the doctors. I appreciate your concern.”
An expiring cigarette hissed
against the ashtray. “In this case, I have the displeasure to state that you
have seven days to complete your mission. In any case, the government will pay
for your funeral. Out of pure respect of your past services, Itiro san.”
“I do not deserve a single
crumb of respect, Onoda san.”
“Excellent. In this case, try
to retrieve it, as well as your money. This is the only way to secure adequate
living standards for your children. I’ll make sure that you have everything you
need this week, including reichsmarks. The reichsmark isn’t as stable as the
yen, but at least you can use this Monopoly money all over Europe — both in
Moskau and in the Reichskommissariats of Norway, Ukraine and Netherlands. Italy
is the only country now not accepting the reichsmark. They prefer their
hand-soiled liras. What a joke of a nation! They still exploit the bygone glory
of Cesar's legions while in fact they struggled to conquer those barefoot
Abyssinian savages. War just isn’t their thing. They should stay at home and
eat spaghetti. All those weekly Hello
Duce! TV shows! Romano Mussolini is just as eccentric as his father was.
He’s eighty, for crissakes, and he’s prancing around like a college student.
All that drunken sax playing of his at the Axis countries summit; his courting
the ancient Sophie Loren... the man is a joke. You should rent an apartment by
the day. Hotels are crawling with Gestapo agents. You know, don’t you, that
this so-called empire of theirs is a rather loose structure? It’s not a single
state but some sort of hostile competing Reichskommissariats. Even their
capital is alternating. Last year it was Amsterdam. This year it’s Moskau.”
“I thank you, Onoda san. The
diamonds of your thoughts enrich the poverty of my mind.”
A lighter clicked. “I swear by
the Mikado, you won’t find it easy. Yes, you do speak a bit of Russisch, that was
part of your profession... still, theory and practice aren’t the same thing.
The Russlanders are a very peculiar nation. They’re terribly xenophobic — but
they love all things foreign, especially with some well-targeted promotion. You
know, don’t you, that Japanese food is extremely popular in Moskau? In less
than ten years it has become a sensation."
The other man coughed. “Please
accept my admiration for your work, Onoda san. I always found it strange that
the Third Reich eats nothing but sushi, considering them a national Japanese
dish and the ultimate in health foods. If this is the work of the promotional
department at the Mikado’s court, they deserve being immortalized. Turning
Japanese cat food into the local jetset hors-d’oeuvres!”
“Oh, yes! Thanks to this idea,
the Nippon koku has no problem getting rid of raw fish leftovers. As for the
rest, it’s all the same. Did you notice the abundance of blond people in
Moskau?”
The voice paused again. “I
did. Everybody’s either blond or a redhead. Not a single dark-haired person.”
“Exactly. Itiro san, this is
something you need to understand. In Moskau, being Aryan is considered cool. The Führer’s initial doctrine
considered the inhabitants of Russland as an inferior nation of untermenschen, as they called them.
Substandard people. But closer to September 1945 the Reich's generals realized
they weren’t going to defeat the guerrilla movement. Which was when the
opposite idea prevailed. Reluctantly they recognized the Russlanders as an
Aryan nation which allowed them to recruit them into the SS. Moreover, the
Berlin racial department officially recognized all Slavs as Aryans, including the Bulgarians. Everyone but the
Poles, that is. From that moment, Russland women started receiving alimony for
the children born from German soldiers[i].
It’s been half a century since. The European nations have all cross-bred: it’s
a true melting pot here. These days you’d be hard pressed to guess the origins
of anyone. But here, Aryans are obliged to dye their hair blond. It’s not a
trend even. More of a necessity.”
“You don’t want to say
there’re no dark-haired Russlanders left, do you, Onoda san?”
“Oh, yes. Plenty of those
around. But they either wear wigs of shave their heads. Those who have the guts
to be seen with their natural hair are called the Schwarzkopfs — Black Heads. It’s the slang word for dissidents. I
told you already that Russland is a very peculiar area. It eagerly soaks up any
foreign filth — but by the same token, it resists any foreign invaders. The guerrilla
movement is still going strong all over the Reichskommissariat of Moskau. They
control entire areas in the Urals, in St. Petersburg suburbs and around
Yekaterinodar. You won’t want to go picnicking in the woods, oh no! Even in
Moskau, Resistance is quite active. Two months ago they killed the city’s
Oberkommandant Gruppenführer von Travinsky.
“This is crazy," the
other voice burst out coughing. "Overzealous fanatics.”
“You would think so, wouldn't
you? But this is simply a local tradition. The Russlanders have lots of habits
they inherited from the Mongols. Corruption, for one. An Oriental love of
creature comforts. Sucking up to the authorities. Cronyism. And with all this,
they resisted the Yoke for two hundred years until the Golden Horde gave up and
left them well alone. The Russlanders’ ties with the Germans are much stronger
than you might think. They were ruled by Kaiserins,
Empresses of German blood, like Katharina I and Katharina II who is also known
as Catherine the Great, the best queen in Russland’s history. Every Kaiser of
Russland starting with Peter the Great married a German princess. The very
first Royal Russian dynasty was the Rurik, descendants of Danish princes. They
were followed by the Mongols followed by the Germans. After the Bolsheviks had
seized power, Jews came — followed by the Georgians followed by the Germans
again. Basically, Russland has always been controlled by a foreign power. So
there’ll always be some who hate it. Unfortunately, neither the government of
Russland nor the Schwarzkopfs have noticed that the Wehrmacht is long gone.
They’re at war with themselves.”
“How can I express my
gratitude to you, Onoda san? All this is highly informative.”
“Don’t mention it. What a
shame that Amaterasu is in such a hurry to summon you. You won’t have time to
get a feeling for Russland. I’ve been working here for ten years already. You
can’t imagine some things I’ve seen — even in the Siberian cities of Uradziosutoku and Habarosito which are
thriving in the Mikado’s care. You can make the locals take Japanese names but
they’ll still drink moonshine instead of sake!”
The
other voice trembled. “How truly awful...”
“I haven’t told you half of
it. No one wants to study Japanese. Women are the only ones who agree to wear
geta sandals and kimonos. No one makes rock gardens over here. They prefer to
dig the ground up and grow those wretched cucumbers, of all things! The only
things that took were yakitori and
right-hand drive cars. Oh, they love them in Uradziosutoku! This is something
they won’t let you take away from them! I completely agree with the Mikado’s
position: in order to ensure our empire’s world leadership we do need natural
resources. And still sometimes I wish that our acquisitions didn’t go beyond
taking the second half of Karafuto Island.”
“I completely agree with you,
Onoda san.”
“Sorry for keeping you so
long, my dear Itiro san. Here, take these reichsmarks," the voice said,
accompanied by the rustle of paper notes. "I’ll give you the address in a
minute. Go to the first street kiosk and buy yourself an oxygen mask and a
Geiger counter. Do you have the Hong Kong equipment with you? Excellent. But be
careful. Don’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“If you don’t mind me
asking..." the other voice shook with anxiety, "could you issue me a
handgun, please?”
“You don’t need it. Whatever
you do, you can’t shoot him.”
[i] In March 1943 Adolf Hamann,
the commandant of Orel — the Russian city occupied by the Germans — issued this
little-known order about “alimony payments to children born of Wehrmacht
fathers”. The reason for the Slavs’ recognition as Aryan was simple: Germany
needed to replenish its troops after its Stalingrad losses.
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