Never before had such a tiny nation defeated one so vast. Never in the modern era had an Asian power bested a European one. And never before had a victor been treated with such international disdain. It had been military intelligence that defeated the Russians—or so Keiji had been taught in command school—and because of that victory, the intelligence division had enjoyed almost limitless favor with those who controlled the purse strings.The Military Intelligence building in Shōwa-ku was one of the products of that favor. Western in every aspect of style, it was one of the first buildings in Tokyo whose original specifications included wiring for telephones. It stood out like an island, a Bauhaus atoll rising out of a sea of ceramic-tiled roofs.On the fourth floor in a room of tall windows, General Matsumori paced back and forth. Hollow echoes resounded from his heels clopping against the concrete floor. “So this is the young lieutenant Kiyama,” Matsumori said. “Late, damp, stinking of sweat.
