the democratic processes the Reds were trying to subvert guaranteed them freedom of expression, and they were playing it to the hilt. And too many, far too many, people were listening. The revised Security Treaty was in for trouble, no doubt about that, and so was the pro-West government of Japan, its co-sponsor. And so were Americans in Japan, especially if the Treaty failed.
Prospects for the revised Treaty were dealt a new setback this morning, the briefer continued, by the Soka Gakkai Komeito—Japan's "middle road" party—in action unrelated to the Peiping charges. Soka Gakkai, which all along had supported Americans' presence in Japan, had finally decided that the new Treaty was not in the best interests of Japan. The new Treaty, as proposed, would give the U.S. additional "liberties" in Japan, thus increasing American domination, and further postponing the day in which Japan would be independently strong from a military standpoint. They now favored a year-to-year extension of the existing Treaty, a compromise not likely to be acceptable to anyone else. The government insisted on ramming through the proposed new Treaty exactly as written, come hell or high water, while the leftists insisted on severing all alliances with the West and kicking all Americans out next month, if not sooner.
And sooner it could be, for unconfirmed rumors of an imminent coup persisted. A coup in Japan, followed by Communist invasions of Thailand and Korea, could spell bad news for the West in the East. Chinese troops seemed to be massing for just such action, the briefing officer concluded. No signs of motion from the Russians, though. At least, not yet.
Joe heaved a troubled sigh of relief as the TOP SECRET sign over the podium winked off. At least, he didn't have to listen to any more bad news.
He passed Sally's desk again leaving the briefing room.
"Sorry if I embarrassed you awhile ago, Joe," she apologized. "I didn't realize Major Pointer was right behind you."
Joe smiled. "Embarrass me again some time, will you?"
"Sure, Joe. Anytime."
Joe raised his eyebrows.
"Anytime you're a hero, that is," she amended.
"No fair," Joe protested. "That's hard work, being a hero."
"Them's m'standards, just the same," Sally quipped. "Tell you what I'll do, though. I'll save you a dance at the party Friday night, if you'll save two for me."
"I'm overwhelmed," Joe said. Maybe Ben was right about Sally's being partial to him. Sally's reception had exceeded Ginger's . . . but, Ginger hadn't realized he was returning as a conquering hero.
Jack Rogers stepped up, interrupting his reverie. "Hi, Hero. Can I tear you away for a minute, if you're done signing autographs?"
Joe reddened and gritted his teeth, wishing they were grinding Jack instead. He excused himself from Sally, who made a face at Jack.
Jack led him to a corner.
"So what's up?" Joe asked irritably.
Jack examined his fingernails. "Oh, nothing much." He shuffled his feet. "I was over visiting Bill Maxim. You know Bill? Lives in the same I do. Works in Tech Anal, I think."
"I know Bill Maxim," Joe said impatiently.
"Yeh. Thought you did. Well, old Bill, he's got sort of a library. Showed it to me last night." Jack paused again. Joe could see Jack was deliberately baiting him, but he didn't feel like playing guessing games.
"Nice of old Bill," Joe said. "If you see him again tell him 'Hi' for me." He turned to leave, but Jack caught his arm, smirking.
"This library . . . ." Jack went on, "what he's got in it is bound copies of magazines. You know, the kind where you buy a binder and keep a whole year's worth in it. For posterity. He's got 'em all. From Number One."
"So?" Joe asked warily. He knew what magazine sold binders for posterity. Stud. The one that had introduced him to Ginger.
"That's all," Jack said, shrugging his shoulders. "Just thought you might be interested. Lots of good-looking meat in there. One in particular."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Joe said icily. "I've already got one in particular. That's plenty, for me."
Jack regarded him for a moment. "Yeh. Well, don't let Sally hear you say that; you'll bust her bubble." He turned and walked away.
Bastard, Joe said to himself. So who gives a rat's ass? Joe had known when he married Ginger that he shared the secret of her figure with 30 million other guys. Except the way that bastard Rogers was gloating, you'd think it was her bed he was sharing.
4
Ben Hart was Joe's regular navigator, whether in the Bat or the Bloat, so upon him fell the task of orienting Major Pointer in the latter.
"I'm sure a lot of this will sound pretty basic to an old hand like yourself," Ben apologized as the Bloat began to taxi. "But the SOP says do it. Maybe some of it will be helpful."
"I doubt it," Dick smirked. "I've always been able to find my way around okay."
"Of course. But you'd be surprised how many good navigators get all turned around the first time they try it in the Eastern Hemisphere, and have to let the pilots show them the way to go home, much to their chagrin."
"Here comes the clearance," Joe called from up front.
"Take it down," Ben said to Dick, handing over his head-set and a scratch pad. "It'll help you get to know the local pattern quicker."
Dick frowned, but accepted the pad and began copying the clearance as the tower radioed it. He stopped after a moment, and pressed the head-set closer to his ears.
"Troubles?" Ben asked.
"Someone's been over here too long. His accent shows."
"Japanese run the towers," Ben explained with a chuckle. "We're lucky to get our clearances even in pidgin English."
"I'm going to love this, I can see that," Dick grumbled.
"Ready in the rear?" Joe yelled.
"Hai, so des," Ben answered.
"You've been over here too long," Dick said accusingly.
As soon as they were airborne, Joe turned the aircraft over to the co-pilot and drifted back to the navigation-recon compartment.
Ben was explaining the Loran set. "This is the newfangled kind. Just set in your two station numbers. It automatically matches the pulses, and the computer gives you a dial reading of latitude and longitude. Just one catch."
"What's that?"
"It always matches the two strongest signals of each station—which
