"Two days!" he heard Freddy Farmer choke out. "What day is today?"
"Friday, the thirteenth of the month," Yammanato replied. "And Friday, the thirteenth, is supposed to be an unlucky day in your country, is it not?"
"Friday, Friday?" Freddy Farmer mumbled over and over to himself. "Why ... why, it was Monday night when we were at the Kahuku Point beach. I can't believe it. It's a blasted lie!"
"It is the truth, Captain Farmer," the Jap corrected him smoothly. "I am sorry that I cannot permit you to go outside and confirm it by asking anybody you might meet on the street. You will just have to take my word for it. It is Friday, the thirteenth, and the American carrier force has been at sea for two days. Its destination is, of course, a matter of mystery to us. But of course it will not remain a mystery to us for very long. I ... You are sick, Captain Dawson? Kato! Get that chair for Captain Dawson. He is ill, or perhaps something I have said has upset him."
Dave wasn't even listening. He probably couldn't have, even if he wanted to. All the bombs and guns in the world were going off in his brain. His insides felt as though they had shriveled up into nothing, and as if every drop of blood in his veins were trickling out through the end of his toes. The carrier force had come and gone? That Nazi rat spy had not been caught, and he was now aboard one of the carriers? He made his contact with the man in Honolulu, who was obviously this Yammanato, and had obtained other information to be taken to Admiral Shimoda at Truk? As well as the water flares? But it couldn't be! It was impossible! Yammanato was lying. Freddy and he couldn't have been out cold from drugs from Monday night until Friday. That was crazy, screwy, and downright impossible.
"It is true, Captain Dawson, I am sorry for your sake, to say," the quiet voice of Yammanato filtered through his spinning and roaring thoughts. "And here is your proof. I didn't think of it until just this moment. Stupid of me. I fear I have just been living amongst you Americans too long. I am becoming forgetful. But here, Captain Dawson. See for yourself."
The little Jap had pulled a folded copy of the Hawaiian Herald from his pocket, and was holding it up for them both to see. The big black headlines were just so many blurs to Dawson. His eyes flew to the date in small type, and all the life seemed to flow out of him.
It was Friday, the thirteenth of the month!