Godzilla Returns Part 2

"Hey, wake up!"

Brian covered his eyes with his hand. No use. He could shut out the light, but Nick Gordon's voice was just too insistent.

"Come on, s.h.i.+mura!" Nick said, shaking him. "It's ten P.M. - the night is young!"

Brian groaned. He straightened up in the bed and opened his eyes. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His straight, raven black hair was a mess. There were deep shadows under his eyes. He blinked.

He saw Nick's reflection in the mirror, too. "Jet lag, huh?" Nick asked sympathetically. Brian nodded.

"There's a cure for that," Nick continued. "And it isn't sleeping the night away!"

"Oh?" Brian asked. "Then what is the cure?"

"Good food and good friends. Off your meat and on your feet, soldier. It's party time!"

CHAPTER 3.

A NIGHT ON THE TOWN.

May 12, 1998, 10:45 P.M.

Roppongi-dori Avenue

Tokyo, j.a.pan

Nick and an awestruck Brian navigated the noisy, crowded streets of Roppongi. Brian was amazed at the sheer volume of street life. Even Los Angeles' famed Sunset Strip on a Sat.u.r.day night lacked the kind of excitement and energy of this district of Tokyo. And it was only Tuesday!

As they walked, Nick chatted while Brian absorbed the exotic sights and sounds. Brian marveled at the sophistication of these Tokyoites. Almost everyone was sporting the most expensive designer clothes from the best European, American, and j.a.panese houses of fas.h.i.+on. Those who didn't were dressed in wild rock-and-roll regalia. Some sported T-s.h.i.+rts with weird words and phrases in English, j.a.panese, or French.

A few people were dressed more traditionally. Brian noticed several older women in black kimonos.

The neon lights were amazing. The Tokyo night was ablaze with brilliant colors. Crazy, busy signs in unreadable kana characters flickered and danced. Occasionally a word, phrase, or brand name written in English could be spotted.

Nick explained that Roppongi was the live- music center of Tokyo. As they walked he pointed out various discos and music clubs with exotic names. One club was called Deja vu, another Africa's. A club called the Lexington Queen was surrounded by rockers. The marquee proclaimed, METALLICA - LIVE!

"The hottest meeting spot around here is Amando," Nick told Brian. "We'll check it out later. Let's get something to eat first."

Brian nodded, still scanning the street. Once, when he was fourteen, Brian had visited New York City. But the bright lights of Broadway paled in comparison to the blinding multicolored neon of Roppongi.

Among the throngs that choked the streets, Brian noticed some Americans and Europeans. There were United States Navy and Marine Corps officers and enlisted men - some in dress uniforms, others in civilian clothes, but still recognizable because of their severe haircuts and erect, military posture.

"Why are there so many Westerners here?" Brian asked.

"It's because of the emba.s.sies! They're all over the district!" Nick was almost shouting so he could be heard over the blaring music. "And this is the hot spot for tourists, too!"

Nick turned a corner and led Brian down yet another garishly lit, but quieter, street. Brian recognized a familiar sign halfway down the block.

A few minutes later, Brian was sipping a drink with Nick in Tokyo's Hard Rock Cafe. The music was loud, and the place was very crowded. Nick and Brian stood against the wall while they waited for a table.

"Tomorrow you'll meet some of the guys," Nick told Brian. "You have an appointment to meet Boss Gaijin at noon, too."

"Boss Gaijin?" asked Brian.

"Everett P. Endicott the Third. 'Boss Gaijin' to the newsroom. He's -" Nick fell silent as three gorgeous young j.a.panese women in short skirts and perfect makeup slipped past them, leaving a trail of delightful perfume lingering behind.

Brian cleared his throat. "You were saying?" he said as the three women took seats at the bar and turned their backs to them. Nick, his eyes occasionally straying to the hot young ladies, continued.

"Endicott's the chief of the Tokyo news bureau," Nick said. "He's a dork, plain and simple."

"I gather you don't like him," Brian said.

"I don't think he likes me. I just had my fourth story in a month rejected tonight."

"I'm sorry," Brian said sympathetically.

"It was a good one, too. Two years ago, a Russian nuclear submarine sank off the coast of j.a.pan, in very deep water -"

"What was a Russian submarine doing there?" Brian interrupted.

"Well, the French were conducting nuclear tests in the South Pacific at the time. And the Chinese had war games, too. The sub was probably observing one or both events - but that ain't the point." Nick took a deep breath.

"The point is that there was a big splash a couple of weeks ago about the deep-sea retrieval research being done by Dr. Is.h.i.+do in the area where the sub sank. The project is called Sea Base One -"

"Yeah, so?" Brian b.u.t.ted in.

"So Dr. Is.h.i.+do and his team just packed up and sailed for home today - six months early, with absolutely no explanation. There's a total news blackout!"

"I don't get it," Brian confessed.

"I've been covering the Sea Base One story - as much as Endicott will let me cover it, anyway - and let me tell you, something funny is going on." Nick took a breath.

"Three days ago, they reported finding what they thought was the Russian sub's reactor core. Then came the news blackout. Now the whole team is sailing back to j.a.pan - and the whole Sea Base One program is canceled, or postponed, or something!"

Nick looked at Brian. "I got the inside track on this story. Not even Max Hulse, INN's so-called science correspondent, knows what I know." Nick lowered his voice. "They found something," he said ominously.

"Like?" Brian asked eagerly.

"That I don't know," Nick admitted. "Maybe evidence that the sub was sunk by the Chinese or the French. Maybe radioactive damage of monumental proportions. I really don't know." Nick threw up his hands. Then his eyes narrowed, and he stared off into s.p.a.ce.

"But I smell a story," he muttered. "And Everett P. Endicott took me off the a.s.signment." There was bitterness in his voice.

Then he shook his head. "Ah, don't worry about it. We are young, we are free, let's have fun, dinner's on me..."

"It's all right!" They both sang the Supergra.s.s tune in unison, then laughed. The three ladies glanced their way, but Brian and Nick were so busy laughing, they didn't notice.

After that, Nick pa.s.sed on the latest newsroom gossip. There were new Chinese war games beginning off the coast of Taiwan. Threats of trade sanctions against j.a.pan over an insurance industry dispute. And something else.

"Something big is up." Nick said mysteriously. "I can smell it. Some hot, breaking story is brewing. Something even bigger than Sea Base One."

Brian, whose field of vision had strayed during Nick's news update, tore his eyes away from the three j.a.panese women. "How do you know it's something big?" he asked.

Nick smiled knowingly. "Endicott was in the conference room with some bigwig field reporters. n.o.body would talk to me, which is another sure sign something's up. They never tell us interns anything. We'll learn what's going on when the world does," he concluded.

Then he began telling Brian what kind of work he would be doing for the Independent News Network. This was Nick's second interns.h.i.+p to j.a.pan, so he was something of an expert, at least in his own mind.

"In the first month, you'll be doing boring stuff," Nick informed Brian. "The three Fs, mostly."

"The three Fs?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Filing, fact-checking, and finance," Nick replied.

"The first two are obvious, but what's the 'finance' part?" Brian pressed.

"We process the real reporters' expense accounts," Nick answered sullenly.

"Oh, well," Brian sighed. "So much for the exciting life of a foreign correspondent."

"I hope you didn't go into journalism for excitement," Nick said.

"Not really," Brian answered honestly. "I was never much interested in that kind of excitement."

"Are you a current affairs junkie? Politics, stuff like that?" Nick continued. "You don't look the type."

"No way!" Brian laughed. "Actually, I want to be a sportscaster someday. Think about it. Super Bowl and World Series tickets for life!"

"I have a confession to make," Nick said solemnly. "I am a nerd. Sports never interested me much."

"Well," Brian continued, the disappointment evident in his voice, "my original interns.h.i.+p was to cover the Winter Olympics in Nagano, but..."

"But they were held four months ago." Nick finished Brian's thought. "I've been to the j.a.panese Alps - they're really beautiful. Great skiing! " Nick paused. "It's too bad you missed it," he added.

"Yeah, well. I had to postpone my interns.h.i.+p. There was... a family emergency," Brian replied. He didn't elaborate. He didn't want to tell Nick the whole story just yet. Maybe I don't want to see another look of pity in a friend's eyes, Brian mused. In any case, now was not the time for "the whole story."

Nick's eyes drifted to the three j.a.panese women. They were drinking exotic c.o.c.ktails and giggling among themselves.

"Well," he said, still gazing at the girls. "Since you missed the Olympics, why come to j.a.pan now?"

"Gee, round-eyes... I j.a.panese-American," Brian teased.

Nick turned up his nose. "As a full-blooded WASP, I never went in for that hyphenated-American stuff. Enlighten me."

"Well," said Brian. "According to my dad, it was time for me to make that voyage of discovery. Find my roots, you know. My father was born here in Tokyo, and I have family here."

"Family... hmmm. Any cousins - female cousins?" Nick asked slyly.

Brian laughed. "Nah, only my Uncle Maxwell."

"Uncle Maxwell?" Nick replied. "That's an odd name for a j.a.panese man."

"He isn't j.a.panese," Brian said. "Uncle Maxwell is an officer in the U.S. Navy. He met my aunt - my dad's sister - when he was stationed here during the Korean War. They got married... my aunt died about five years ago, but Uncle Maxwell still lives in j.a.pan. He's still in the Navy, too."

"Interesting." Nick said, his eyes straying to the j.a.panese girls at the bar. "So, you were saying, your dad wanted you to intern here?"

"He was a kid when he left j.a.pan," Brian continued. "My dad met my mother in California, they got married, and he never came back. But he talked about j.a.pan a lot when I was growing up. So when this second j.a.panese interns.h.i.+p came down, I grabbed it."

"But you don't speak much j.a.panese," Nick observed.

"No," Brian confessed. "My mother wouldn't let us speak j.a.panese in the house. She said that was part of the Old World, a world she didn't want to go back to. My mom had a career, friends. She liked being an American. She was as American as apple pie, or so my dad used to say."

Maybe it was the noise, or the women across the bar, or by choice - but Nick didn't catch the past tense Brian used when he spoke of his mother.

"My father likes to talk about j.a.pan like it's some paradise," Brian continued. "l figured I had to see it."

"So why did he leave j.a.pan, if he loved it here so much?" Nick asked.

Brian shrugged and was silent. It occurred to him that he never thought to ask his father that question. Not that his dad would have given him a straight answer, anyway. Dr. Ryuhei s.h.i.+mura was the strong, silent type. John Wayne by way of Tos.h.i.+ro Mifune.

"So," Brian said, changing the subject. "Why are you here?"

"Not many news agencies offer science correspondent interns.h.i.+ps. INN does, and it's here in j.a.pan," Nick answered.

"I'd never peg you for the scientific type," Brian said.