Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第55部分

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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。
Page　137
“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　until　he　was
poised　without　being　tight；　alert　without　being　jumpy。　It　required　all　of　his　discipline　to　remain
that　way。　An　hour　into　the　flight；　Coughlan　had　radioed　that　a　blond　woman　with　a　British
accent　and　BBC　credentials　had　entered　Manzanar。　She　had　come　alone。　She　was　using　the　name
Vanessa　Lyons。　She　said　she　was　working　on　a　story　about　Japanese…Americans　in　relocation
camps。
Finn　remembered　the　dead　Mexican　boy　with　the　maimed　hand。　She　must　have　tortured　the
name　Manzanar　out　of　the　boy。　She　was　almost　certainly　responsible　for　the　assassination
attempt　at　the　cemetery。　She　was　ruthless；　intelligent　and　had　the　nerves　of　a　tightrope　walker。
The　only　good　news　Coughlan　had　passed　on　was　that　Riley　was　off　the　critical　list。
Lightning　burned　across　the　night；　followed　by　enormous　thunder。　Finn　did　not　open　his　eyes。
“Not　much　bothers　you；　does　it？”　said　the　pilot。
Finn　looked　at　the　middle…aged　Army　major　who　had　volunteered　to　fly　a　stranger　over　the
Sierras　on　a　stormy　night。　“I’m　glad　it　doesn’t　show。”