Tokyo – June 16th 1991 – 5pm
Douglas held Robin’s final words close to his heart the 4 hours it took for the big 747 Jumbo jet to chug and pull through the turbulence and headwinds it faced on the traverse over the China Sea to Japan.
He mucked them over constantly and debated their meaning and how she fit into the long and winding road of his life. “I care about you guys more than I should AND I don’t know what the fuck’s going on…” played and roamed in his mind.
He was happy enough with her final instruction to go back and love Kris like he should. That thought had him wishing he could inject more power into the big aircraft and that his anticipation of lovemaking would allow him to sit comfortably during the flight back.
His uncle John occasionally was vocal in there too. “Yeah ma boy, a really pretty 25 year- old, naked as a jay bird in front o’ ye an’ ye no so much twitched.” he chided. “Settled or no wi’ Kris, I’d hae at least expected some physical reaction,” and he finished with, “Ah mean yer no dead yet boy. Lookin’ will no get ye into any trouble ye ken.”
Bill finally decided to put the whole question or niggling thought into its’ own box in his head. Robin’s purely coincidental behavioral similarities to Lynda were just that. He figured that all Australian girls probably cock their heads to one side and bug and nag their guys in such a way that they get away with it because it IS so damned cute after all.
As always, the ANA girls were being their attentive selves and on their very best courteous behavior. One of them on this particular flight had worked a couple of other journeys where Kris and he had been travelling together. This it seemed, gave her permission to shower him now with constant attention, a steady flow of food and of course brandy. A couple of good and large cognacs settled him down and he allowed himself to sleep the majority of the flight.
“Narita, ah Narita,” he thought as the familiar hustle and bustle accosted his senses again. The place was a zoo and seemed to him to be disorganized chaos. It never changed and this time he didn’t have Keiko to whisk him away and through the crowds.
He always felt that arriving in Tokyo was punishment for some previous life. The sheer volume of moving bodies, the extremely long train journey into the city and, if you were stupid enough to try it, the even longer car journey.
Truth be told, it was about the only thing he disliked about Japan, and he always wondered why in God’s name the Japanese tolerated it.
He gave a mental shrug to the entire thing and reminded himself that in a few hours he’d be lying with Kris and making up for lost time and getting himself reacquainted with some precious female anatomy.
The tap on his shoulder was firm but polite and he turned with an inquisitive look to see the ever smiling face of Yoshikwa san and his outstretched arms.
‘Yoshikawa san,” he exclaimed. “What the Hell brings you here to this ant hill of a place? Are you going somewhere? If so let’s go grab a drink and catch up.”
Yoshikawa reached forward and gave Douglas a huge bear hug – highly surprising to him – and slapped him on the back saying, “No Douglas san. I just thought that since it was a Sunday and I was slack, that I’d come pick you up and show you yet another new toy of mine!”
Douglas simply returned the slap on the back and said nothing. He was asking himself what the Hell could a new toy be here at the airport? And shook his head with eyebrows raised in a quizzical way.
Yoshikawa caught the look, took it for humorous skepticism and retorted, “You’ll thank me soon Douglas san, because you’ll be in the center of Tokyo in twenty five minutes.”
He spun Douglas gently around and took his arm as he guided him back through the masses, waved off security and traversed the departure gates out onto the apron itself.
Silent during the fifteen minute walk back, Yoshikawa now continued, “Keiko and Kris have been up to some mischief while you’ve been away and they are anxious to show off to you, so they asked me to come pick you up,” and he gave Douglas a wide smile with a big wink added for good measure.
He continued, “But I wanted to come anyway. Seems like you’ve been up to some interesting shenanigans,” and he paused as if enjoying his own use of the Scottish expression, and then moved on with, “while you were away. I feel like I need to hear them from the horse’s mouth rather than the intelligence chatter floating around the US Embassy.”
Douglas thought to himself that Yoshikawa probably knew more than he did himself about the bullshit being conducted between the British Prime Minister and the American President. He also probably had the insight on how Yelstin had managed to outfox the old fox Gorbachev and have himself elected on the 12th and confirmed today, the 16th of June as the President of Russia SSR.
Douglas looked forward to hearing Yoshikawa’s take on all of it, but also couldn’t wait to see what this new toy was all about. Based on the Dragonfly experience to date, Douglas felt that he was correct to have the first tingles of excitement nibble at the base of his spine.
The evening’s progress saw the lights beginning to shimmer and the always on runway lights and guiding cones along the taxiways were starting to stand out in the mist of dense moist air that clung to the ground all over Narita. Not just the airport itself. The place was really just one big field of lush moist land. The airport was inserted, seemingly without thought or reason, just like a monopoly board might be on the carpet of a room. Ready to be played upon, but out of place.
So too was Yoshikawa’s “surprise”. It shimmered under the lights, seeming to give off a vibration that rose and fell around its surface. Yoshikawa had simply stopped as they turned the sharp right angled outcrop of the moving staircase. He let go of Bill’s arm so subtly that Bill was unaware.
Bill Douglas stood mesmerized and stunned. It was like a helicopter in that it had a central rotor with blades spinning slowly in the air. Otherwise it was low to the ground and sleek, looking more like an insect. This effect more startlingly enhanced with the darkened windows, like staring eyes and budding antenna pointing forward from the forehead of what was obviously the cabin.
It was fired up, the blades were spinning but totally silent. The ground crew more used to the aircraft of the day were also transfixed and frozen as if time had stopped. Yoshikawa told Bill later that they had begun to do that as he landed and looked like the same people were still there now.
“C’mon Bill, hayaku! Get your backside in there and let me show you Tokyo in a different way and from a very different perspective.”
It didn’t require further encouragement and Bill stepped forward and made to climb the short step into this strange little aircraft. Before he got there however, Yoshikawa beat him to it and held a hand out from the doorway back down to offer support.
He spoke with a smile, “I know you don’t normally need any help Douglas san, but on this occasion I think you might faint once you see what’s in store for you in here.”
Douglas wondered once again, “How the fuck did this old guy just move like a fucking ghost and appear in front of me? And then continued the thought adding, “Is he going to fly this damned thing? Or is he going to let me, the way he did with the dragonfly, the night he introduced that particular little darling?”
Inside was exceptionally dark. Almost like all light had been sucked out. Bill’s eyes adjusted to it, but not by allowing him to discern any particular features. Through the creatures eyes he could see the lights and still transfixed ground crew, but no semblance of illumination crept into the interior.
Yoshikawa watched Douglas’ reaction with amusement and kind regard, but deep down was really enjoying seeing this man shocked and impressed into silence and awe.
‘Yoshikawa san,” he began. “What the fuck is this?
He got no reply. Yoshikawa merely clicked his fingers and the cabin illuminated dimly to allow Bill to see for the first time the seating arrangements available.
There were two well designed and body hugging seats right up front at the ‘eyes.’ “Right where the fucking controls and pilots seats should be.” Thought Bill.
And round the interior walls were softer couch like sofas, with built in arm rests that gave definition to the interior.
“Take the front left one Bill,” said Yoshikawa. “You can be the Captain this evening. I’ll take the copilot’s chair and we’ll get underway.”
Bill mouthed, “What the Hell Yoshikawa san. There no fucking controls in here. How in God’s name do you expect me to fly this thing?”
Yoshikawa smiled and nodded sagely, as if to a student and said, “Remember the Dragonfly Douglas san. Japan has more secrets than the West can ever comprehend or amass. We have been silent but diligent little workers since the end of the war. This technology is another of my favorite secrets.”
He moved forward and took the right hand seat before continuing. “We have pre clearance Douglas san. Please sit back and clap your hands once only.”
Uncle John spoke up for the first time in Douglas’ head saying, ‘Whit the fuck boy. Jist dae it. Clap this fucking hands and let’s see what in Hell this is going to become.”
“What the Hell,” shouted Douglas as he clapped his hands. Just the once as instructed. Probably the first time he’d ever done exactly what he was told in his entire life.
A belt settled down over his shoulders and across his lap fixing itself snuggly to his form. Firm but not aggressive in its feel.
The aircraft began to elevate and move forward simultaneously. Not a hint of vibration or interruption of the acoustics. Bill could hear Yoshikawa’s breathing and also, he was convinced, his own beating heart.
Once the buildings were beneath them, the craft rose more steeply but with a huge increase in forward motion. Nowhere other than in a previous life in a Rolls Royce propelled jet had Bill Douglas felt anything like the acceleration he was now subjected to.
“Speak to her Bill,” said Yoshikawa. “Tell her where you want to go. Tell her how fast and at what height. She has your voice in her soul and will obey your every command. He paused, and looked directly at Bill before continuing, “Oh, and before you do that, please clap your hands again. This time twice, if you’d be so kind.”
Bill did not bother with a response, and clapped his hands the requested two times. Immediately he regretted he had done so.
The surface of the interior vanished completely and he found himself sitting as if unsupported in the darkening sky. Not a hint of glass or reflected light presented itself. It was as if he was literally hanging in the sky.
Nothing beneath his feet other than eight thousand feet of clear air. The lights of moving traffic on the motorway below were all too vivid in his night vision. Above him only the early evening stars: But so vivid that he felt them and saw them simultaneously.
Bill’s Uncle John mouthed up in his mind, as was his way, saying, no singing it sounded like, “It’s a long way from this place to Denver, it’s a long way to hang in the sky. It’s a long way home to Starwood in Aspen…”
“Shut the fuck up, Uncle John,” Douglas retorted. “You were a long time deed when he wrote that song. John fucking Denver be damned.”
Yoshikawa, silent until now spoke up, “What’s up Bill. What’s that you said? The bird will not understand what you just said. Please tell her where exactly you want to go: before we end up well out into the Sea of Japan instead of into Tokyo. You can call her ‘Peter’” And he gave a loud chuckle.
“I expected you to be surprised by this new beast of mine. But not in a state of shock. Who in God’s name were you talking to there? Don’t make me start worrying about you,” He finished this time with an actual laugh.
Douglas spoke in return as calmly and clearly as he could, “OK Peter. Yoyogi Uehara ma de oh negashimasu. Sugu kudasai!”
‘Peter’s’ response was with a low 3G turn to starboard and a steep climb, both of which had Douglas, feel his legs swing beneath him and his stomach begin to recall days from a long time ago.
Yoshikawa merely laughed again, saying, “Peter was expecting English, Douglas san. But it seems he got your Japanese just right.”
“Yoshikawa san,” Douglas replied. “Apologies for the question, but who the fuck is Peter? And how does this thing understand verbal commands in my totally screwed up Japanese accent?”
“In a moment Douglas san,” was the clipped reply. “But first, we are going to the wrong place.” He paused and then continued in a mock Scottish accent, “Peter ye ken. Please disregard the furst instruction. You must go right noo to 3, 19, 12 – Nakane – Meguro – Ku.”
This whole exchange now left Douglas with a smile on his face and a bewildered flow of thoughts in his mind. He spoke but now feeling yet another pull to port and an even more rapid climb.
“So Yoshikawa san,” he began. “Spill the beans. Who is Peter? What the Hell is this thing and where the fuck is Nakane?
“Tell me first,” Yoshikawa smiled. “Is this not the closest thing you have ever felt to being a bird? The look on your face surpassed even the time we showed you how the Dragonfly worked. And then I thought you were going to shit yourself when Peter made the first turn. You, the big fighter pilot from the jolly old Royal Air Force.” And he laughed again.
Douglas just nodded his head and beckoned with backward flips of his fingers for Yoshikawa to continue.
“OK my young man,” Yoshikawa began. “I owe you this, but please relax and take in this wonderful flight experience. It has taken us a long time to perfect this extension of the initial dragonfly project. And I want you to enjoy it.”
He continued, “Peter is certainly an odd name for a female device, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Because she is named after the most famous of characters, Peter Brady – the original British invisible spy, based on the novel by HG Wells and the British TV series from 1958.”
He continued, “You see Bill, we are now as invisible as the fictional character from the show. Not only can you not see what you are sitting in. But neither can anyone else see it either. We are, you see, sitting in an enlarged version of your new Dragonfly friends.” And he paused to let this sink in.
Douglas heard his Uncle John start to rumble in his head but he pushed back and hushed him – but not quickly enough. “Ma Boy, jist think what mayhem ye can cause wi’ this wee beauty!” The old man said.
Yoshikawa went on, “One of my people is flying this right from his desk back in Keisi Cho, deep in bowels of our building. He hears your every command… and mine. There’s no need to tell me about Joe Minor and his cock up. I know all about it. I just wanted to bring you this device and set your juices flowing as to its possibilities,” and he paused again.
“I suspect you might put it to good use sometime soon, and you have it with my, and my Government’s blessing. The only thing we ask for going forward is your absolute silence and confidence.”
Douglas started to respond with thanks, but Yoshikawa held up both hands to silence him saying.
“Douglas san. you have an old soul. You came into our world here in Japan and had an immediate profound effect on my only daughter. Your mission excites me and my people on a level we have NEVER had the opportunity to participate. So as you’d say in Scottish, “Shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride. Your lovely Kris can’t wait for your return, and she and Keiko have something to show you.”
Douglas smiled broadly at the thought of Kris again, and the way this thing was moving, he’d be seeing her very soon it seemed. ‘Peter’ was taking them in low now, at the height of the Tokyo tower and he could see the crowds walking the Ginza and then over Shibuya, he could see the TV screen on the main plaza. Mick Jagger was strutting live from a concert God alone knew where.
No one even glanced skywards. All eyes were on Mick. Not that they would have seen anything in the air above them anyway..
To be continued … June 16th Nakane, Tokyo 8pm
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