“My aunt said he was in communications. I’m not sure what that involved, to be honest.”
Sam was looking in the box. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a small leather-bound notebook, battered and scarred almost beyond recognition.
“Ah, I was going to mention it. My father kept a journal while he was a prisoner. I have read it numerous times. There is not much in it. Some poems, his thoughts on being a prisoner. Nothing very detailed that relates to his captivity. One of the men in the building where he was imprisoned gave it to me after the war. He said that the prisoners were allowed to keep diaries, but they were regularly raided and read to ensure that nothing seditious was being written. It is pretty bland.”
“May I see it?” Remi asked.
“Certainly. But I must warn you, it is all written in kanji.”
Chiyoko handed her the book. The pages were badly yellowed and stained in many places, covered in neat, tight Japanese symbols from top to bottom. Remi handed the journal to Sam and lowered her voice. “Is there any way we can get a copy made and return the diary to you? It might provide some information we can use. We’ll guarantee it isn’t damaged in any way.”
“There is nothing in it, but if you want to make a copy, I have no objection.”
They continued their discussion for another half hour, but as friendly and helpful as Chiyoko was, she really had no material information that they didn’t already know. When it was obvious that there was nothing further to be gained by continuing the questioning, Sam and Remi stood and Chiyoko showed them to the door.
“Thank you so much, Chiyoko,” Remi said. “We both appreciate the time and your sharing painful memories.”
The Japanese woman looked down at her small feet. “It’s been a pleasure. I’m sorry I don’t have anything more I can offer.”
“You’ve done more than enough. Thanks again.”
The taxi was still parked where they’d left it, and when they got into the car, they were both silent. Only once they were under way did Remi lean forward and speak to the driver.
“Can you take us to the nearest place that would have a scanner and a printer?”
CHAPTER 36
Three hours later, they had returned the diary to Chiyoko and were sitting in the Narita Airport departure lounge, awaiting their flight. They had e-mailed the scans of the pages to Selma with the instruction to find a translator as soon as possible. Both were quiet. Chiyoko’s story weighed heavily on their minds. Remi intently paged through a site on her tablet, preoccupied.
Sam studied her face. “You okay?”
“I suppose so.”
“A lot to think about, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I can’t shake her description of the firebombing. Imagine what that must have been like—to lose your mother at such an early age. And the scars . . .”
“According to Selma’s research, Chiyoko never married. I can’t help but think that the scarring might have played a role,” Sam said. “It had to have been terrible to grow up like that.”
“I’d bet the external damage is nothing compared to the baggage she’s carrying around inside.”
“No question.”
They watched the busy crowd rush through the terminal, countless anonymous faces on their busy way to important destinations. Remi shifted in her seat and edged closer to Sam.
“Anything interesting online?” he asked, peering at the tablet screen.
“Oh, just a litany of horror. One historian estimates that the Japanese killed thirty million. It’s mind-boggling.”
“Hard to comprehend,” Sam agreed. He sat back in his chair and checked the time. “I wonder if I can get a clear line of sight for the sat phone over by the window?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Sam retrieved the phone from his bag. After half a minute, the device had acquired a satellite and he dialed Selma’s number. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Same to you.”