experience such suffering again.”
Johnny studied the picture again. Looked for something positive to say. “Please tell her she and her brother look like good athletes.”
Nakamura told her. He listened to her answers and translated. “Her brother was her inspiration until his death last year. He was one of the Fukushima Fifty.”
Nadia remembered the newscasts during the nuclear disaster. Fifty TEPCO employees volunteered to stay at the power plant to stop the leakage and prevent further disaster.
“We heard about these great men in America,” Johnny said. “I’m sure they did the entire world a great service. We all owe them a debt.”
Nakamura translated, and Mrs. Yamamato nodded her appreciation.
“He died from shame,” Nakamura said. “The Fukushima Fifty were among the men who stood by as the reactors melted down. They were not prepared for what happened. Some people consider them heroes, but others believe they’re to blame for the disaster. When the disaster was finally stopped, credit went to the Prime Minister. It is a very Japanese thing. To let credit rise to the top, and blame fall to the bottom. When the press took photos of the Fukushima Fifty, Yamamoto-san was one of the men who turned his back to the cameras. Out of shame. He died because he wouldn’t leave his apartment to go to the pharmacy to get his heart medication. In the end, it was not his illness but his shame that killed him.”
Someone screamed.
The sound came from outside the house. It was far enough away to sound muted, but loud enough that its meaning was unmistakable. Someone was in trouble.
Genesis II was in trouble, Nadia thought.
Nakamura and Johnny rushed toward the front door.
A second scream. This one was muffled, as though one person had silenced another.
Nakamura and Johnny burst out of the house. Nadia caught the screen door before it hit her in the face. She flung it open and stepped outside.
A young man struggled to free himself from two burly men. The young man had his back to Nadia. He had short black hair, long legs, and narrow hips.
It was the boy. It was Yoshi. It was Genesis II .
The beefy men wore leather jackets. They looked like the duo that had followed Bobby and her to the airport. The Slavs. They’d found Bobby and her in New York. Now they’d found Genesis II in Fukushima.
A large truck rumbled backward down the street. It stopped. The rear door rolled up. A third man reached out with his hands. The other two men lifted Genesis II off the ground. The third man grasped him by the lapels of his shirt and jacket. The men shouted at each other in Russian over the din of the truck’s idling engine. The two men holding Genesis II had their backs to the house. The third man didn’t look up until it was too late.
Nakamura lowered his shoulder and rammed one of the men in the chest. The man groaned. Released his grip of Genesis II and doubled over.
The second man on the ground held onto Genesis II . He turned.
Johnny drove his fist into the man’s jaw. The man toppled backward against the truck. Johnny reached for Genesis II, but the third man in the truck pulled him up into the cabin and out of Johnny’s outstretched hands.
Bobby started toward the truck. Nadia grabbed his arm and stopped him. Shoved him to the ground and sent him rolling on the lawn.
Nakamura put his hands on the bed of the truck to lift himself up. Johnny did the same on the other side. Nakamura had his back to the man he’d hit. He didn’t see that the man was recovering and pulling something out from beneath his coat.
“Hiroshi, watch out!” Nadia said.
The man behind Nakamura pulled him to the ground and drove a knife through his throat. Blood spurted. The Russian pulled the knife out, twisted the doctor around, and plunged it into his heart. Nakamura slumped to the asphalt.
The third man stomped on Johnny’s hand to prevent him from vaulting into the truck. The killer pulled the knife out of Nakamura’s
Johnny studied the picture again. Looked for something positive to say. “Please tell her she and her brother look like good athletes.”
Nakamura told her. He listened to her answers and translated. “Her brother was her inspiration until his death last year. He was one of the Fukushima Fifty.”
Nadia remembered the newscasts during the nuclear disaster. Fifty TEPCO employees volunteered to stay at the power plant to stop the leakage and prevent further disaster.
“We heard about these great men in America,” Johnny said. “I’m sure they did the entire world a great service. We all owe them a debt.”
Nakamura translated, and Mrs. Yamamato nodded her appreciation.
“He died from shame,” Nakamura said. “The Fukushima Fifty were among the men who stood by as the reactors melted down. They were not prepared for what happened. Some people consider them heroes, but others believe they’re to blame for the disaster. When the disaster was finally stopped, credit went to the Prime Minister. It is a very Japanese thing. To let credit rise to the top, and blame fall to the bottom. When the press took photos of the Fukushima Fifty, Yamamoto-san was one of the men who turned his back to the cameras. Out of shame. He died because he wouldn’t leave his apartment to go to the pharmacy to get his heart medication. In the end, it was not his illness but his shame that killed him.”
Someone screamed.
The sound came from outside the house. It was far enough away to sound muted, but loud enough that its meaning was unmistakable. Someone was in trouble.
Genesis II was in trouble, Nadia thought.
Nakamura and Johnny rushed toward the front door.
A second scream. This one was muffled, as though one person had silenced another.
Nakamura and Johnny burst out of the house. Nadia caught the screen door before it hit her in the face. She flung it open and stepped outside.
A young man struggled to free himself from two burly men. The young man had his back to Nadia. He had short black hair, long legs, and narrow hips.
It was the boy. It was Yoshi. It was Genesis II .
The beefy men wore leather jackets. They looked like the duo that had followed Bobby and her to the airport. The Slavs. They’d found Bobby and her in New York. Now they’d found Genesis II in Fukushima.
A large truck rumbled backward down the street. It stopped. The rear door rolled up. A third man reached out with his hands. The other two men lifted Genesis II off the ground. The third man grasped him by the lapels of his shirt and jacket. The men shouted at each other in Russian over the din of the truck’s idling engine. The two men holding Genesis II had their backs to the house. The third man didn’t look up until it was too late.
Nakamura lowered his shoulder and rammed one of the men in the chest. The man groaned. Released his grip of Genesis II and doubled over.
The second man on the ground held onto Genesis II . He turned.
Johnny drove his fist into the man’s jaw. The man toppled backward against the truck. Johnny reached for Genesis II, but the third man in the truck pulled him up into the cabin and out of Johnny’s outstretched hands.
Bobby started toward the truck. Nadia grabbed his arm and stopped him. Shoved him to the ground and sent him rolling on the lawn.
Nakamura put his hands on the bed of the truck to lift himself up. Johnny did the same on the other side. Nakamura had his back to the man he’d hit. He didn’t see that the man was recovering and pulling something out from beneath his coat.
“Hiroshi, watch out!” Nadia said.
The man behind Nakamura pulled him to the ground and drove a knife through his throat. Blood spurted. The Russian pulled the knife out, twisted the doctor around, and plunged it into his heart. Nakamura slumped to the asphalt.
The third man stomped on Johnny’s hand to prevent him from vaulting into the truck. The killer pulled the knife out of Nakamura’s
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