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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。”
The pilot laughed； then cursed as an updraft hurled the little Piper toward the stars。 “At least
you’re not puking all over the place。”
Finn stretched as much as he could in the small cockpit and wished for coffee。 Suddenly he
leaned to the right； staring out his window between the last streamers of storm。 “Lights at three
o’clock！”
The pilot checked his gauges。 “Manzanar。 Where do we land？”
“On the highway。 There are roadblocks five miles on either side of the camp。 Pick one and set
me down as close to it as you can。”
The pilot gave Finn a speculative look； but asked no questions。
The roadblocks were lit by flares and headlights shining along the black surface of the highway。
The pilot brought the plane in low； tracing the road with his landing light。 In the beam； smoke
from the flares bent across the highway in a diagonal line。 The plane jerked and shuddered in the
grip of the wind。
“Hang on；” said the pilot。 “This could be a bitch。”
The pilot was good； the plane bounced only once。 Even on the ground； the wind jerked at the
Piper as it taxied toward the Army Jeeps parked in the traffic lanes； blocking and at the same
time illuminating the highway。 The plane stopped six feet from the Jeeps。
Finn looked over at the pilot and nodded appreciatively。 “Nice work。”
The pilot sighed。 “I’m damn glad I don’t have to do it again。”
With no wasted motions； Finn unbuckled himself； grabbed the radiation counter； and climbed
out of the plane。 The night shuddered with wind。
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The guardhouse showed as a black blot in the middle of the road。 The private stopped the Jeep
next to the field…stone building。 As Finn climbed out； the guardhouse door opened； illuminating
him with a wash of light。 The Jeep turned and gunned back toward the highway； leaving Finn
alone with the man who was emerging from the small stone house。
“Captain Anderson？”
“Yes。” The captain looked oddly at Finn。 “I was told to expect you – and to stay out of your
way。”
“Any trouble？” Finn asked； following Anderson back into the guardhouse。
“Not yet。 The Englishwoman was trying to interview people； but she didn’t have much luck。 The
Japanese are very polite； but they don’t say much。”
“They lived in paper houses for centuries；” said Finn。 “They’ve raised civility to an art – and
turned it into armor。”
Anderson smiled sardonically。 “Last I heard； she was in the USO canteen。 Not many people are
out at this hour。 A few gamblers going back to angry wives； or some kids sneaking off to be
alone。 She’ll probably give up and go to bed soon。”
Finn disagreed； but said only； “Is there any rumor of new Japanese in the camp？”
Captain Anderson paused as though listening to。 the wind。 “Agent Coughlan asked the same
thing。 I’ve done what I could to find out； but – have you ever been around a prison？” Without
waiting for an answer； the captain continued。 “The inmates run them。 Any prison – every prison。
But especially this one。 We don’t know any more about these people than we did the day they
arrived。 Less； really。 We thought they were enemies； then。 Now – who knows？”
Anderson poured coffee out of a vacuum flask into two cups as he talked。 He handed one cup
to Finn。 Finn drank steaming coffee and studied the schematic of Manzanar on the guardhouse
wall。 The camp was a warren of barracks laid out in military rows； functional living quarters for
several thousand men； women and children。 Almost one…fifth of the inmates were U。S。 citizens。
The rest were Japanese nationals。 All had reason to resent the government he represented。
Even if Manzanar’s population remained neutral； the camp gave Kestrel thousands of Japanese
faces to lose himself among。 Finn glanced at the clock on the guardhouse wall。 Less than six
hours left。 Six hours； thousands of Japanese and two lumps of uranium that could be buried
anywhere。
Finn turned back to the captain。 “Every prison has informants。”
“There’s just no point； here。 The Japanese aren’t going to riot。 It’s not their way。 The ones who
felt differently never came to Manzanar in the first place。”
“Would they tell you if one of Hirohito’s spies dropped in for a visit？”
“It would depend on what the spy wanted from them。 They solve their own problems in there；
and they don’t make any waves while they do it。 Oh； every once in a while Mr。 Oshiga will ask
the colonel’s advice； but it’s just a polite gesture。 They are very polite。”
“Oshiga？ Takeo Oshiga？” asked Finn。
“No。 Masataka。 He’s Takeo’s uncle； I believe。 Or grandfather。 The Japanese in Manzanar may
bow to us； but they obey Masataka Oshiga。”
Finn turned back to the wall map for a moment； as though willing it to reveal the location of a
Japanese spy； the daughter of a San Francisco flower seller； and the uranium whose value was
measured in lives as well as dollars。 Somewhere inside Manzanar a second sun waited to rise； a
sun that would kill thousands and thereby save hundreds of thousands from dying in an invasion
of Japan。
“Look；” said Captain Anderson； “why don’t I call out the troops and search the place one
apartment at a time？”
“No。” Finn’s tone was smooth； final； leaving no possibility of question。 He faced the captain。
“All I need is one of your men for a few minutes。 I’ll meet him by the front fence。 Which
barracks does Takeo’s family live in？”
“Thirty…nine； apartment A。 Back by the rear fence； first row； near the washhouse。”
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“Does Masataka live there too？”
“No。”
“Good。 What’s the name of Masataka’s wife？”
“Kiku。”
Finn reached back under his jacket； snaked out his 。45 and checked it。 Anderson stared at the
gun。
“Jesus。 You aren’t going to shoot her； are you？”
Finn returned the gun to its holster in the small of his back and picked up the radiation counter
again。 “If you don’t hear from me in an hour； call General Groves。 He’ll tell you what to do。”
He opened the guardhouse door and stood for a moment as though testing the wind。 The door
closed behind him。 He was alone in the desert night。 As he faced the lights of Manzanar； he felt
the skin of his neck tighten and move； hidden among those lights was the power to change the
world。
He walked toward the camp with long strides。
Manzanar
42 Hours 19 Minutes After Trinity
The USO barracks was the only one fully lit。 The wind blew through cracks； stirring the
American flags that were draped everywhere。 Vanessa sat at a table just inside the front door；
smiling and talking with a young； slightly drunk lieutenant； an Isei； second…generation American。
He lacked the personal and cultural reserve of many who lived in Manzanar。 She had led the
conversation to the subject of life in San Francisco before Pearl Harbor。
“Did you know the Oshigas？” she asked。 “They had a flower shop in Little Tokyo。 I heard he
was sent to Manzanar。”
“You bet；” said the lieutenant； finishing off his beer。 “His son was with me when I got this。” He
thumped on the cast covering his right leg。 “Hell of a fight。 We were lucky to come out alive。”
Vanessa smiled； concealing the leap of her nerves。 Finally； a Japanese who was not afraid to talk。
“Is the whole Oshiga family here？”
The lieutenant frowned。 “Ana – his sister – went to Mexico。 It nearly killed her father。”
A feral alertness swept over Vanessa。 “Mexico？”
“Juarez； I think。” He shrugged。 “It’s not a popular subject with the Oshigas。”
“I understand；” she murmured。 “They are loyal Americans。” Fools。 “Do they still live in
apartment 28B？”
“No； it’s 39A；” said the lieutenant； signaling for another beer。
Vanessa controlled the impulse to leap to her feet and run out of there。 She must stay for a few
minutes more。 The lieutenant must not suspect that she was going to the Oshigas’ apartment。 She
smiled and pretended interest in what the lieutenant was saying about the Italian campaign。
Manzanar
42 Hours 29 Minutes After Trinity
“He must stay here！” said Ana fiercely； her voice hoarse from the long argument that had
followed her appearance with Kestrel in her father’s apartment。 “You can see he’s ill！ What harm
can one weak stranger do to any of you？”
“Tonight； the man you call Kestrel will stay；” said Takeo。 “I wouldn’t dishonor our house by
refusing shelter to a sick man。”
Unconsciously； Ana looked around her father’s “house” – a 20’ by 25’ segment of barracks –
with a combination of contempt and sadness。 Her father noticed her expression； but he said
nothing about her lack of respect。
“Tomorrow；” Takeo said； “we go to Masataka…san and ask the honor of his wisdom。 He will
hear you； and the man Kestrel； and then Masataka…san will decide what to do。”
“But – “ began Ana。
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“Enough； daughter！” whispered Takeo。 “Masataka…san is wise。 He will tell us what is best for the
Japanese in Manzanar。”
“There are no Japanese in Manzanar；” hissed Ana； “just 2；000 faceless Americans！”
Ana turned and stalked past her mother to the apartment door。 As she opened it and stepped
out； wind snatched the door out of her grasp。