Yokohama, March 1968

A taxi pulled up in front of Yokohama Station and the rear door popped open. From under the large canopy that jutted out over the station entrance, Harper watched as a young man in a gray suit got out and set off toward them. The man looked up, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Harper tensed as the man's eyes darted from Harper to Yumi and back again. But just as quickly he looked away, and moments later the stranger strode past them into the station.

Harper relaxed and allowed his gaze to wander. Beyond the busy forecourt directly in front of them was a separate paved area where taxis waited in orderly queues, and beyond that still an area reserved for buses. Four modern ferro-concrete buildings, in addition to the station building behind them, fringed the large station square, actually pentagonal in shape. All were of a similar height, around eight stories tall. Skimming over the signboards with their incomprehensible Japanese writing, Harper's gaze eventually came to rest on a large clock attached to the façade of the department store to his left. Ten past twelve. Without thinking he glanced down at his watch to confirm the time before looking across at Yumi.

Yumi had not spoken to him at all during the taxi ride from her apartment, and only sparingly since. He had attributed her quietude to nerves, but as he looked into her eyes now he saw not nervousness, but determination. Aware that he was staring at her, she looked up at him and smiled. He opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to speak she turned away, her attention drawn back to the forecourt. Following her gaze, Harper saw that another taxi had pulled up. In the back seat a middle-aged man in a baggy gray overcoat and black beret leaned forward and spoke briefly to the white-gloved driver. He then got out and without hesitating made a beeline for Harper.

"Mr. Harper?" the man asked, his head swiveling to the left and the right.

"Yes."

"Come with me."

Harper looked at Yumi. She nodded and they both stepped forward. But the man, his head steady now, held up a hand and muttered something to Yumi in Japanese and she halted.

"What is it?" Harper asked.

"He says I can't come."

"What?" He eyeballed the man. "Listen. I'm not going without her. Do you hear me?"

The man frowned. "It's out of the question."

"No," Harper said, his eyes narrowing. "You listen to me. Where I go, she goes."

The man hesitated. "All right. But we must move quickly. There may be people watching us."

The man led them over to the waiting taxi and they got in, Harper and Yumi in the back. After speaking to the driver in Japanese, the man turned to them and said, "Listen carefully and follow my instructions."

They left the station square and drove two blocks before turning right and then right again. The man had the sun visor down and every few seconds Harper noticed him checking the mirror. A few minutes later they arrived back in front of the station, but instead of stopping they drove straight past and out of the square via a different road. They turned left into a side street and pulled up behind another taxi.

"Follow me," the man said. "Quickly."

Harper grabbed Yumi's hand, holding it tight until they were inside the other vehicle. The man in the beret barked an order to the new driver, who swiftly put the engine in gear and pulled away.

Once they had rejoined the main road, Harper turned to Yumi and raised his eyebrows in a mock look of consternation. She smiled hesitantly before turning away. Normally she would have laughed, raising a hand to cover her mouth in the manner that was now so familiar to him. He was reminded of how much she had changed. Usually carefree and relaxed, in the last few days she had revealed an inner strength that only increased his admiration for her.

It was Yumi who had suggested they contact Beheiren. Two days ago, sick of being cooped up in her apartment, he had insisted they go out. They ended up in a bar in Chinatown, where a fight broke out. When the Shore Patrol turned up they had to make a run for it. Later, back at Yumi's apartment, they sat across from each other at the table in the tiny kitchen-slash-dining room, Harper still pumped up on adrenaline and unable to relax. Yumi had given him a cup of green tea. It would help calm his nerves, she said. But he found the bitter drink unpalatable and could only manage one or two mouthfuls. He set the half-empty cup on the table and stared at it, slowly turning it on its axis. After a while he stopped and looked up.

"What are we going to do, Yumi? They saw my face. The Shore Patrolmen saw my face."

"You must stay here. Until they stop looking for you."

"But they're not going to stop looking for me. Not now."

She lowered her gaze, then stood up and went through to the next room. Moments later she came back holding a sheet of paper. Harper immediately recognized it as the flyer he had been handed by an anti-Vietnam War demonstrator outside Yokohama Station a few weeks earlier. She placed it on the table in front of him and pointed to a name at the bottom. "This group, Beheiren. They might be able to help you."

"Behei-who?"

"In English they're called The Citizens' Federation for Peace in Vietnam."

"And they help deserters?"

"They smuggle them out of Japan, to neutral countries. They were the ones who helped the Intrepid Four escape to Sweden."

"The Intrepid Four?"

"Four American sailors from the Intrepid who deserted at the end of last year. Beheiren helped them get to Russia on a passenger ship."

"Russia? So this group, Beheiren, they're communists?"

"Some of them are communists. Some are Buddhists. Some are even Christians. They're just normal people who want the Vietnam War to end."

Harper looked down at the cup and gave it another couple of turns. "How do you know so much about these people, Yumi?"

She hesitated before answering. "I knew you couldn't just stay here forever. When I saw the name on the flyer I remembered the Intrepid Four. I asked some people I know if Beheiren still helped deserters."

He looked up, a stern expression on his face. "You told people I'd deserted?"

"No, I didn't tell them about you. Don't worry. They're people I trust. Friends."

Harper picked up the flyer. At the bottom he made out the word "Beheiren" in Roman letters. Next to it, what looked like a telephone number.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to contact them. Just to see if they can help."

She stood up and walked around to his side of the table. Standing behind him, she leaned over and put both arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head. "I'll phone them in the morning. Don't worry. It'll be okay."

The next morning, when Yumi announced before leaving for work that she was going to call Beheiren, Harper had second thoughts about the whole idea. Deep down, he still found it difficult to accept the situation he was in. Just hearing the word "deserter" made him flinch. After talking it through, though, he was forced to admit it might be his only hope.

Harper was emphatic that Yumi not use the phone in the apartment, and so just before nine thirty they went out to a nearby pay phone. They squeezed into the booth together and Yumi dialed the number. After a brief conversation in Japanese she placed her hand over the receiver and explained to him in English that someone from Beheiren could meet them the next day in Yokohama....