The Russian spy with the British accent had somehow traced the uranium to this place。
It was doubtful that he could convince Refugio’s cousins to kill the Englishwoman and her
friends。 It was even more doubtful that the deaths would be kept secret。 Attention would be
drawn to the neighborhood and to him – official attention； the one thing he could not tolerate。
He had a chance to secure Japan’s future so long as he and his trail were invisible。 But one
misstep； one clear footprint revealing his presence； and his pursuers would fall upon him and
tear him apart。
“I must hide；” murmured Kestrel。 “But where？”
Ana was watching him； sorrow in her eyes。 He had never seen her so vulnerable。
“You’re going。” Ana’s voice was as empty as her eyes。
“We’re going；” corrected Kestrel。
“You’re going；” continued Ana as though he had not spoken。 “You’re going and I am not。”
Kestrel was momentarily disoriented； as though they were speaking separate languages based on
separate assumptions。 Then he understood what she did not want to put into words： he must flee
or die。 Either way； she would be left alone in a hostile land。 Even if he took her with him； he
would return eventually to Japan； then she would be alone。
“I won’t leave you； Ana；” Kestrel said； lying as he spoke； knowing he lied； and why。 “How could
I？ I don’t even know where to go。 The submarine won’t be off the coast for five days。”
“Then we’ll go back to Mexicali and wait。 Refugio and Takagura will protect us。”
Kestrel hesitated； deciding how much of the truth Ana could bear。 “Refugio is dying。 When his
men realize that； we will be at their mercy。 We must have a place to go where we’ll be safe until
Takagura can make new arrangements to smuggle us south。 And we must go very soon。”
“Dying？ Refugio？” whispered Ana。 Her eyes searched his face； and then she asked no more
questions。 “A place where Japanese are safe in America！” Her lips hardened into a bitter smile。
“The prison camps are the only place in America where Japanese aren’t noticed。”
Kestrel was startled by Ana’s insight； and appalled。 “What about the guards？”
“They are nothing。 The fences keep them out rather than keeping us in。 At least； my father said
it’s like that at Manzanar。 And Masataka Oshiga is there。 He is my father’s uncle and Takagura’s
friend。”
“Is he a loyal Japanese？”
Ana hesitated。 “He believes in the Japanese people； no matter what country they live in。 He
helped me when I refused to go to Manzanar； but he also helped my brother go to war in Italy。
He’s very powerful because he hasn’t taken sides。”
“Does he know Takagura is America’s enemy？”
“Yes。 But Takagura still trusts him。”
Kestrel frowned。 “Do you know how to get to Manzanar？”
Ana began to laugh； but the sound disturbed her so much she stopped。 “Yes。 It’s so easy。 The
camp is on the dry side of the Sierras。 A desert where only the wind is free。”
Kestrel waited for a moment； weighing all that she had said and implied。 He was as still as a
stone at the bottom of a midnight pond。 Then； “Bring Julio to me。 I have orders for him from
Refugio。”
“You said Refugio was dying。”
“Yes； but his cousins won’t obey me。 Whatever I say must seem to come from Refugio。”
Ana returned almost immediately with Julio Rincón。 The Mexican walked into the room； then
Page 113
stopped。 Kestrel was standing beneath the Cristo with a handful of American money。
“Refugio is resting；” said Kestrel。 “He asked me to give you the details。”
“Details？”
“Of his plan；” said Kestrel； as though Julio must surely know what plan was meant。
“What plan？”
“Didn’t Refugio tell you？ He thought he had。 The fever makes his dreams very real。”
Julio moved impatiently。 As Kestrel had hoped； Julio’s attention was more on Kestrel’s money
than his words。
“How many cars and trucks do you have？” asked Kestrel； “including the ones owned by the
flower shop； the funeral home and all of your family？”
Julio squinted； thinking。 “We have two hearses； four black cars for the chief mourners； three
flower trucks and seven or eight family cars。” He shrugged。 “They don’t all run all of the time。”
“So many？”
“We’re a large family。 I myself have four brothers and three sisters； and our wives also have
brothers and sisters； and they； too； are married。”
Kestrel smiled。 “Refugio is a more generous man than I thought。”
Julio looked skeptical。
“He wanted to give you all a present；” said Kestrel。 “A vacation。 He has even picked out the
cities。 Everywhere from here to Mexicali。”
“But our work –！”
Kestrel looked from the money in his hand to Julio。 “He gave me 10；000。 Surely that’s enough
for even such a large family as yours for three days。”
Julio opened and closed his mouth。 Then； “Just what is it that my cousin wants done？”
“A vacation。 Leave now。 Take every vehicle but one car。 And； if for some reason you attract the
attention of any police； a few days of silence will give Refugio a chance to get well before he goes
back to Mexico。”
“That’s all？ Take every car but one； be gone for three days and say nothing？”
“That’s all。”
“Good。 It is done。”
San Francisco
27 Hours 31 Minutes After Trinity
The door to the embalming room closed softly behind Kestrel。 Even so； Refugio was startled。
His fever magnified and distorted sounds。 He wanted desperately to sleep； but the conflicting
agonies in his guts and thigh made sleep impossible。
“Refugio。”
Kestrel’s voice was close； calm； cool； like water。
“Yes。”
Kestrel wrung out a rag and placed it on Refugio’s forehead。 “The pain is very bad for you？”
Refugio did not answer for a moment； then sighed。 “If it were not a sin to wish for death； I
would。”
“To me；” said Kestrel； “death is an interruption between lives； not a sin。”
Refugio would have smiled had the pain not been so cruel。 “If I had to feel like this again； I
would spit on another life。”
His hot hand closed around Kestrel’s wrist as the Japanese moved the damp cloth from
forehead to basin and back again。
“But what is worse than the pain is the time when I’m falling and there’s nothing but hot black
sand around me； filling my mouth and nose； going down my throat and I’m choking； dying – “
Slowly； the Mexican’s fingers loosened。 His head fell slackly onto the pillow。 Kestrel dipped the
rag in water again； wrung it out and wiped Refugio’s face。 Clumps of hair fell away as Kestrel
worked。 Refugio began retching helplessly； too weak even to move his head。 Blood gathered on
Page 114
his lips and he choked。 Kestrel turned Refugio quickly； holding his head so that he would not
gag on his own blood。
“Madre de Dios；” moaned Refugio； twisting in agony。 “That pigfucker poisoned his bullets。 I
will die。”
“Yes；” Kestrel said； “you will die。”
Kestrel moved the rag again over Refugio’s face； blurring the distinction between sweat and
tears； then he lifted Refugio upright so that he could breathe without choking。
“How – long？” gasped Refugio。
“Two days。 A week。 Or now； Refugio。 Would you prefer to die now？”
Refugio tried not to moan。 Then； realizing what Kestrel had said； he stared into the slanted black
eyes so close to his own。
“Suicide is a mortal sin；” said Refugio； his voice shallow and hoarse。
“I’m not a Catholic；” said Kestrel； “and I’m not speaking of suicide。”
In the silence； Kestrel could hear Refugio’s fast； shallow breathing。
“Please understand me；” said Refugio； his tongue thick with pain。 “I’m Catholic。 I can’t ask for
death。 Please – you must – understand。 I can’t – ask。”
Kestrel nodded。 As he lowered Refugio back onto the gurney； his head lolled back over
Kestrel’s arm。 Kestrel’s right hand moved in a blur of speed and power。 With a single clean
crack； its calloused edge broke Refugio’s neck。
There was silence； then came Ana’s thin； strangled cry。
Kestrel spun toward the door that opened into the flower shop。 He saw Ana’s startlingly pale
face； her wide black eyes ringed by the hated blue makeup； her white teeth bruising her lower lip。
“Ana； Ana；” murmured Kestrel。 “When will you learn not to open doors？”
Ana looked at him wildly。 She started to speak； but could not。 She wanted to be comforted； but
the only man who could comfort her was the very man who had frightened her。
“Murderer。”
“You’re very American； Ana Oshiga； American and Christian。 You would have left Refugio in
agony and called it the will of God。” Kestrel went to a long counter and began opening drawers。
He moved quickly； collecting the items he needed。 “Bring my uniform；” he said without turning
around。 “Quickly。 And get two pails from the flower shop。”
Ana watched Kestrel； carrying a handful of makeup； approach the corpse。
She fled back into the flower shop。
When she returned with the two buckets and uniform； Refugio’s corpse was naked on the
embalming table。
“Bolt the door。”
Ana turned and fumbled with the bolt。
“They’re leaving；” she said hesitantly。 “The Rincons。 They’ve taken the flower trucks and the
hearses and all but one car。”
“Good。”
Kestrel dressed the corpse。 The uniform was too small。 He opened up the back of the clothes
with a scalpel。