Kurt tapped the keyboard and brought up Joe’s line once again. “None,” he said, surprised. “The closest ship is fourteen miles to the north and is headed into Nagasaki Harbor. Not out to sea.”
“The helicopter could have changed course,” Akiko said. “After all, it did shut off its lights.”
Kurt looked at Joe. “That seem odd to you?”
“Not if he didn’t want to be watched,” Joe said. “The only way I could track him was by the position lights. As soon as those lights went off, that bird literally vanished in the sky.”
“But how could Han or the pilot know you were following them?” Kurt said.
Joe tilted his head. “You’re right. They couldn’t possibly know. So why shut off their lights at all?”
Kurt had an idea. “How high were they?”
“Low,” Joe said. “Less than a thousand feet.”
“Were they climbing?”
“Not that I could tell. More like they were flying straight and level.”
Kurt turned back to the map.
“You have a theory?” Joe asked.
Kurt nodded. He zoomed back in on the course line. “I think they flew low to stay off Nagasaki radar. And they went dark not because they thought you were watching but because they didn’t want anyone to watch. And the only reason to fly like that is if you were going to touch down in sight of the mainland and you didn’t want anyone to see you do it.”
Kurt was looking for an island, not a ship. But there was no shortage of those either.
“Gunkanjima,” Akiko said.
Kurt and Joe turned her way.
“Battleship Island,” she explained. “Its real name is Hashima. It sits off the coast a few miles. The island was a coal mine. At one point, thousands of workers lived there. Miners and their families. The island became so built up, with concrete buildings and seawalls, that it resembled a fortress guarding the approach to the city. That’s how it got the nickname.”
She pointed to the island on Kurt’s computer screen. It was sixteen miles downrange from Han’s factory, but because the peninsula ran that way, the island was only a few miles off the coast.
Kurt had heard of Hashima. It was a crumbling relic of a bygone era, often listed as one of the world’s most haunting, abandoned places. “I thought they’d turned that island into a tourist trap.”
“They did,” Akiko said. “It was very popular until about a year ago. But then high levels of asbestos, arsenic and other poisons were discovered in the soil and the buildings. The tourists roaming through the city were stirring it up and breathing it in.”
Kurt pulled up an article on the mysterious island. “The federal government shut it down eleven months ago, three weeks after Han and CNR broke ground on the new factory. Something tells me that’s not a coincidence.”
“Coincidence is reserved for the trustworthy,” Joe said.
“Everyone else must live under a cloud of suspicion.”
Kurt double-checked the flight path, as Joe had recalled it. It went almost directly at Hashima Island, but . . . “There are other islands along the flight path,” Kurt noted. “Takashima and Nakanoshima.”
“Takashima is built up and populated,” Akiko told him. “There’s a museum on the island, along with small hotels and large homes.”
“Hard to land a helicopter there without disturbing the neighbors,” Joe said.
“Nakanoshima Island isn’t much more than a rocky outcropping,” she added. “There’s not even a good spot to land.”
Looking over the satellite image, Kurt agreed. “If they’re out there, they landed on Battleship Island.”
“The fact that it was closed to the public shortly after Han arrived seals it for me,” Joe said. “But why bother with an island lair at all? He’s got a sprawling, well-defended factory right here.”
“Because he has something to hide,” Kurt said. “Something he couldn’t risk being discovered during a Japanese safety inspection or by intrusive foreigners like us.”