"You see," Admiral Willis spoke again. "G.o.dzilla is a radioactive creature. He"s not really a dinosaur, although he probably was a dinosaur once. But now, after the exposure to radiation that created him, G.o.dzilla is more like a living, breathing nuclear fusion reactor."
Dr. n.o.beyama nodded in agreement. "G.o.dzilla is a creature capable of generating tremendous power, but like a reactor, he needs raw nuclear material to start the process -"
"So you"re saying that once G.o.dzilla absorbs enough radiation, he becomes self-sufficient," May said, finishing the doctors thought.
The j.a.panese scientist nodded and smiled sagely. "You are correct, young lady," he said. "G.o.dzilla is alive now, and active. But we believe that the creature still lacks enough radioactive material to achieve full strength."
Admiral Willis leaned forward in his chair. "We - Dr. n.o.beyama and I - are certain that G.o.dzilla will come ash.o.r.e in j.a.pan. We think G.o.dzilla is looking for radioactive material to consume, the way he consumed that Russian sub"s nuclear core -"
"And j.a.pan has more nuclear reactors than any other country in the world!" Nick broke in, slapping himself on the forehead.
"Indeed!" Yoshi nodded. "The monster wants to feed on one of our nuclear reactors - or perhaps more than one."
"And we must stop him before he does!" Admiral Willis declared. "Right now. Before he reaches land."
"But will conventional weapons be effective against G.o.dzilla?" Brian asked. "If I remember correctly, they didn"t work the last time."
Dr. n.o.beyama and Admiral Willis were silent for a moment. Then Dr. n.o.beyama spoke. "In my opinion, the weapons that the Navy is planning to use - bombs, missiles, cannon sh.e.l.ls, machine-gun bullets - will not work," he said with emotion.
Admiral Willis nodded his head in agreement. "But until the governments of the world actually see conventional weapons fail, they will not believe their weapons are useless," he said.
"Why are you so sure modern weapons will fail?" Nick argued. "Do you have scientific proof?"
Again, n.o.beyama and the American exchanged glances. "I would rather not make my theories known until I have more... evidence," the old j.a.panese man said cryptically.
"But you"ve tried to convince them that weapons won"t work, haven"t you?" Endicott asked.
"Of course," Admiral Willis drawled, shaking his head. "But the boys in the Puzzle Palace - er, the Pentagon - have a thousand different excuses. They say our bombs are better now, our weapons are more powerful, they"re smarter, and on and on."
"My government, too, has become overconfident," Dr. n.o.beyama said. "They do not remember the last time G.o.dzilla came, or they choose to forget."
"What about nukes?" Nick suggested. "A hydrogen bomb dropped on his head might give G.o.dzilla more than a migraine! It would probably vaporize him."
Dr. n.o.beyama and Admiral Willis exchanged glances once again, but neither of them spoke.
The little INN meeting continued into the evening. At nine o"clock, Admiral Willis rose. "I think that about wraps things up for now," he announced, stifling a yawn.
"Tomorrow morning my a.s.sistant will arrive and supply you with some additional material on G.o.dzilla," Dr. n.o.beyama added. "I hope you can spare her some facilities - a videotape machine, an overhead projector, tape recorders."
"That can easily be arranged, Doctor," Endicott said. "Ms. McGovern will set up a conference room for your a.s.sistant"s exclusive use."
"That"s fine, Mr. Endicott." Admiral Willis added, "I think it"s important for these young people to be brought up to speed." The Admiral turned to Nick, Brian, and Yoshi. "Pack your bags, boys. Tomorrow you"ll take a helicopter to the Sea of j.a.pan and link up with the j.a.panese forces. We"ll bunk you on our research vessel tomorrow night. That"ll give you twenty-four hours to get your sea legs."
As the meeting broke up, Admiral Willis approached Brian and slapped his nephew on the back. "Excited, boy?" he said with a smile.
"Something like that," Brian said nervously. He couldn"t believe what was happening. This morning he"d woken up an unimportant intern at a small news network, and now he was in the middle of the biggest news story since World War II!
"It"s the chance of a lifetime," the older man said.
Brian smiled. "And I thank you for it, Uncle Maxwell," he replied gratefully.
"Don"t mention it, Brian," the admiral said. "I... I wanted to make it up to you. I"m just sorry about what happened... and I"m sorry I couldn"t make it back for your mother"s funeral. She was a great lady..."
Brian felt a rush of affection for his gruff gaijin uncle. "Thanks." he simply replied.
On the other side of the office, Nick cornered May.
"You almost sounded like a real journalist for a minute there," he said. "Not some secretary who arranges conference rooms and makes coffee for the big boys."
May glared at Nick but did not reply to his barbed comments.
"Oh, I understand," Nick continued boldly. "If you suck up enough, someday you"ll get a corner office with the parent company. You might even make CEO - but it"s a waste!"
"Why?" May snapped back. "What"s wrong with having a little ambition? I"ve told you over and over again, I don"t want to get down in the mud and grope for stories anymore."
"And I remember that quote by Shakespeare," Nick said with a smile. "Something about a woman protesting too much -"
"Don"t forget your air-sickness pills," May said with a nasty sneer on her pretty face. "Remember the last time you were in a helicopter."
Nick quaked, nearly turning green from the mere memory as May quickly left the office.
The next morning, Brian was awakened by a knock at the door. When he answered it, one of the j.a.panese interns handed him a box. Brian thanked the man, then closed the door and opened the package.
Inside, he found a note from Uncle Maxwell.
Brian,
Here are a couple of things to look at before Lieutenant Takado arrives for your briefing.
Brian found a hardcover book, three videoca.s.settes, and an ancient issue of Life magazine inside a clear plastic envelope. The magazine, dated 1955, featured a black-and-white photo of G.o.dzilla on the cover. It was an eerie image of the creature"s head photographed through a gigantic cage filled with wildly panicked birds. Brian actually shivered when he looked at the strange, powerful photograph.
The book, of course, was famous. Brian already had a copy in his bedroom back in Los Angeles: This Is Tokyo was written by Chicago journalist Stephen Martin, an eyewitness to G.o.dzilla"s 1954 attack on j.a.pan"s capital city.
Like John Hersey"s Hiroshima and Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein"s All the President"s Men, Martin"s book was a standard volume for journalism students to study. Brian had read it when he was twelve years old. He still remembered parts of This Is Tokyo vividly.
The three videotapes were identified by labels. One tape was of the G.o.dzilla episode of the PBS show Nova. Brian remembered seeing it when he was a teenager. The show featured doc.u.mentary footage of G.o.dzilla and interviews with the survivors of the monster"s first attack.
The second tape was a commercial videoca.s.sette of the l956 docudrama adapted from Stephen Martin"s book. The movie, sensationally ret.i.tled G.o.dzilla, King of the Monsters, featured studio footage of actors mixed with real doc.u.mentary footage of the actual destruction of Tokyo. Brian recalled seeing this film as well. Raymond Burr portrayed Stephen Martin. That same actor had later played Perry Mason and Ironside on television.
The third tape was more personal. It was a copy of some of Uncle Maxwell"s home movies, including Brian"s and his sister"s high school graduations and shots from his sister"s wedding. Brian put this tape aside for now.
"What"s in the box, Brian?" Nick asked, yawning.
"Just some stuff Uncle Maxwell sent over." Brian replied. "Stuff about G.o.dzilla."
Nick picked up the book. "Oh, man," he said. "I read this Martin guy during my freshman year in journalism... This Is Tokyo, or how not to write a book. What a hack!"
"Yeah, well, he won a Pulitzer Prize, you know," Brian observed.
Nick nodded. "Sure he did. But those were the good old days of broadcast journalism. All you had to say was, "Oh, the humanity" or "That"s the way it is" or some other vapid cliche, and you were enshrined as an immortal G.o.d of journalism. That was then. This is now," Nick argued. "Stephen Martin is just too weepy and sentimental for modern tastes."
Leafing through the pages, Nick shook his head.
"My G.o.d, just listen to this guy"s prose..." He began to read from the book in a pretentious voice.
""This is Tokyo,"" Nick intoned, ""a smoldering memorial to the unknown. An unknown that at this very moment still prevails, and could, at any time, lash out with its terrible destruction anywhere else in the world. There were once many people here who could have told what they saw. Now there are only a few...""
Nick held his nose theatrically. "Stink-a-rino!" he snorted. He flipped through more pages.
"How about this one?" Nick continued. ""I"m saying a prayer, George. A prayer for the whole world."" He slammed the book shut in exasperation.
"Yeeesshhh, what c.r.a.p!" he concluded.
"You"re right. Times were different then," Brian replied. "Journalists had much different standards. They weren"t supposed to be totally Objective - they reported the news, but they were allowed to show a little bit of emotion."
"Whatever," Nick replied. He glanced at the digital clock on the front of the VCR.
"We"re supposed to get briefed at ten-thirty," he said. "I"m gonna take a shower." Nick dropped the book, turned, and headed for the bathroom.
When his roommate was gone. Brian picked up the book and began reading.
CHAPTER 10.
NIGHT FLIGHT.
May 30, 1998, 7:55 P.M.
Aboard a U.S. Navy MH-53E "Sea Dragon" helicopter
Somewhere over the Sea of j.a.pan
The ride was b.u.mpy, the noise was horrendous, but the smell was the worst.
Nick had been heaving into a sickness bag for the past hour. Unfortunately, in the jittering chopper, which was buffeted about by winds coming off the ocean, he was missing the bag more than he was. .h.i.tting it. The mess was beginning to nauseate everyone else riding the helicopter.
Brian lifted his eyes from the book he was reading and exchanged an amused glance with Yoshi. The j.a.panese cameraman sat opposite Brian in the metal hammocks that pa.s.sed for chairs in the military helicopter. His cameras, packed in steel cases, were strapped in next to him.
Sitting beside Brian, across from Yoshi, was Dr. n.o.beyama"s a.s.sistant, Lieutenant Emiko Takado. She wore the dress uniform of the j.a.panese Self-Defense Force, and the three men couldn"t help but notice that she wore the uniform very well. They wondered if her skirt was a little shorter than regulation length.
They had met Emiko - Lieutenant Takado - that morning, when she arrived at INN headquarters. She"d been sent by Dr. n.o.beyama to brief them on theories concerning the origin and physiology of G.o.dzilla.
Yoshi, especially, had been surprised to see that Dr. n.o.beyama"s a.s.sistant was a member of j.a.pan"s Self-Defense Force - and a woman at that. The j.a.panese military was not as open to female recruits as the armies of many other countries. She must be a very remarkable woman, he thought with admiration.
Yoshi suddenly realized that the lieutenant had caught him staring at her. He turned his head away shyly.
Emiko"s expression remained fixed, but she smiled to herself behind the mirrored sungla.s.ses.
The noise, and the shaking of the chopper, made it next to impossible for Brian to read Stephen Martin"s account of the destruction of Tokyo. The copy of This Is Tokyo his uncle had sent him was a recent edition, reprinted after Martin"s death in 1994. Unfortunately, Brian hadn"t even finished reading the in-depth introduction by Carl Sagan.
He sighed, stretched, and shut the book. He tucked it into a travel bag and settled back into the metal-and-canvas chair. As the military helicopter raced over the Sea of j.a.pan, Brian closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the briefing that morning.
"G.o.dzilla first appeared off the sh.o.r.e of Oto Island in August 1954," Lieutenant Takado had said that morning, as a grainy black-and-white photo flashed onto the white projection screen. It was a picture of G.o.dzilla, his head and much of his torso peeking over a hill. In the foreground of the photograph, Brian noticed several humans, fleeing in panic.
It"s a cliche, he thought, but they look like ants.
Brian looked away from the screen and scanned the other faces in the room.
Nick Gordon, Yoshi Masahara, and May McGovern sat around a huge table in the INN conference room. Their eyes were glued to the screen at the front of the room. Each member of the INN team had a folder open in front of them. It was filled with dozens of pages of text, mathematical formulas, graphs, and diagrams.