4
“Everyone in this house
has gray hair, walks with a cane,
visits the graveyard”
― Matsuo Bashō
Yukon Station, Alaska Prefecture
Levi turned and said, “Yes, captain,” as the door clicked shut behind her.
“May I take your coat, Mr. Fischer?”
He handed Tomiko his coat and sat his suitcase on the floor as he surveyed the room. The office contained a sturdy desk with a new chair behind it and two rather pedestrian chairs at angles in front of it. A thick rug covered the floor and, with the exception of the desk lamp, the lighting was subdued and recessed.
He turned to Tomiko. “Unless there is an officer present, please call me Levi. It bothers me to work with someone who addresses me by my last name all the time. Okay?”
“Of course, M–, ah, Levi. I must say this is very unusual.”
“It’s very American and I cling to informality,” he said, grinning.
She relaxed and gave him a brief smile. “So what would you like to know about your duties, Levi?”
“What are they? What do we do here?” He waved at the wall and dropped into his new chair, gestured toward her. “Please, have a seat.”
She automatically gave him a quick nod and carefully sat down. “We are the main personnel office for the rail–“
“I know that,” he snapped. He hesitated and in a kinder tone said, “Pardon me, I’m nervous and feel like I’m out of my depth. I know about the roads and grounds part of things, but what is the railroad for? What is the function of this station?”
“I am very sorry, Mr. Fischer, but I am not allowed to reveal classified information. You will have to ask Captain Atsumi.”
Before he could point out his new Lotus clearance, the telephone on his desk rang, startling him. “This is Levi Fischer.”
“Mr. Fischer, this is Major General Tsuji. Please bring your papers and orders up to my office.”
The line went dead; he replaced the receiver, and frowned.
“Does Major General Tsuji greet all of the new people?”
Tomiko gave him a neutral stare. “Just ask the person at the top of the stairs to show you the way to his office, Mr. Fischer.”
He had seen the stairs when first entering the building and it took but a moment to gain the second floor. Captain Atsumi waited a few feet from the steps.
She smiled and said, ”We meet again. Follow me.”
Without knocking, she opened an office door and entered. Three busily typing women in civilian dress and two men in uniform examining papers and making notations sat at desks. None of them looked up at their entrance.
Captain Atsumi opened another door. He expected to see yet another secretary or gate guard and was astounded to behold a Japanese major general in full uniform behind the striking cherry wood desk.
He immediately followed the lieutenant’s example and snapped to attention before executing a first-degree bow. When they stood upright again the general nodded his head.
“Welcome to Yukon Station, Mr. Fischer. I am Major General Tsuji, the right hand of General Yamashita. When I speak it is his voice that you hear, do you understand?”
“Yes. General Tsuji, I understand.”
“You have been carefully investigated and cleared by the Kempeitai to fulfill the role selected for you. From now until you are told otherwise, you will explicitly follow the directions given to you by Captain Atsumi. It would be in your best interest to become as Japanese in thought and deed as you possibly can. If you are successful in this role, you will be generously rewarded.”
The few moments of ensuing silence spoke volumes.
“Excellent. You may leave.”
Again Levi bowed deeply then pivoted and left the room following Captain Atsumi. His heart hammered so loudly he felt sure everyone in the next room heard it. Not one person gave them any obvious attention yet he knew they all carefully scrutinized him.
Captain Atsumi walked him to the stairwell and wordlessly nodded for him to continue down. He entered his office and waved Miss Watanabe down when she stood. He glanced up at the clock.
“It is after five and I have absolutely no idea where I live. Who should I ask about that?”
She smiled at him and he suddenly realized that Tomiko Watanabe was an attractive woman.
“I would be happy to drive you to your new quarters, Levi.”
“I would appreciate that. Who arranged my office?”
“I did. They provided me with a diagram of your old office.”
“I am impressed, everything is here except Jim Spreter.”
She laughed. “Mr. Spreter now has your former position. I believe he is happy where he is.”
“Jimbo’s no dummy,” he said holding down the sarcasm.
“Would you like to see your new quarters?”
“Yes, please.” He pulled on his parka and grabbed the suitcase he was tired of carrying.
Her striking parka was Athabascan made, boasting rich furs and intricate floral beadwork around the hem. From each parka sleeve hung an ornately beaded mitten that matched the design on the parka itself.
They went outside where the wind created miniature icy tornadoes and stung where it touched bare skin. She pointed to a small, green Toyota coupe. He opened the door and fought the wind as he crawled in the passenger side while she unplugged the heating element from the post socket and wrapped the cord around a small metal cleat.
The car started immediately and the heater vented warm air into the cab.
“I appreciate this, Tomiko.”
“You are most welcome. Have you met with Mr. Gunther Charles yet?”
The name was familiar but the past few hours had been full and confusing.
“Charles?” The name brought a dim memory of a heavily muscled man to mind, but at first he couldn’t remember a face to go with it.
“He was Mr. Suzuki’s assistant. Many of us thought he would inherit your position.”
“Including him?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“How is it he was not in the office today?”
“He was this morning but he went into the field as he often does. Here are your quarters, Mr. Fischer, I mean, Levi.” She smiled.
“Thank you, Tomiko, I appreciate the ride.”
“You are most welcome. I will see you in the morning.”
He briefly stood on the small porch and glanced around the collection of small houses in the darkness and drifting snow. He wondered if the wind always blew off the Yukon River. Farther south in Livengood and Fairbanks the wind rarely nudged the winter landscape.
Up here the weather reminded him of blizzards he remembered as a kid in Nebraska. Smoke from the chimneys shredded quickly into oblivion by the wind. He shivered and entered his new home.
Someone had done an excellent job of placing the furniture. His clothing had all been folded and neatly put away in a bureau obviously inherited from the late Suzuki. He harbored no doubt that at least one listening device lurked in an unobtrusive location, safely out of sight.
However not out of mind.
A medium sized wood stove radiated heat and the cabin felt snug and welcoming. A wall clock bearing Japanese characters ticked away the dark afternoon. His radio, freshly dusted, squatted on a shelf, thoughtfully plugged into the nearest wall socket. He switched it on and it filled the house with one of Mozart’s symphonies. He felt surprise; he had expected Japanese music.
For a few minutes the recorded orchestra created the illusion that musicians crowded the room to capacity. The music stopped and the phantom audience enthusiastically applauded. The house felt empty again and he switched off the radio when an official newscast began.
Why wasn’t Gunther Charles introduced to me? I know we’ve met before but not under circumstances like this. Will he be antagonistic because I got the job? Can it matter?
Levi felt weary, tired of living in constant fear of those who ruled his life in small and large ways. Obviously there was much more going on here than just maintaining railroad tracks, runways, and the connecting streets. What was the huge building inside the barbed wire compound?
Over the years he had gained a great deal of engineering knowledge both mechanical and electrical. He yearned for a formal education but admission into advanced studies would necessitate close examination of his personal history.
Levi had seen power plants before, quite large ones, and none of them were even half the size of this structure. The only power lines emerging from the building followed the railroad south and were inadequate to carry large loads of electricity. For what purpose were they using all of that power?
Who could he safely ask? Being a total stranger in this place he felt alone and threatened. He would have to start all over again to blend into the background fabric of this small society, if that was even possible.
Deep inside him something stirred and it took him a moment to recognize it as anger. Anger he could ill afford, but felt unable to suppress.