*Author’s note*
It’s been so long since I’ve written a short story, I’m surprised that I even remembered how. This story was written for a prompt: a found story set in a secret laboratory. A found story is a story comprising a collection of diary entries, letters, newspaper articles etc which are then found by somebody else.

This story is about Unit 731 – a series of war crimes and atrocities perpetuated by the Japanese against the Chinese and other minorities in the lead-up to and during the Second World War. These war crimes included, but were not limited to, the Rape of Nanjing and human experimentation. As such, expect lots of distressing content including SA.

The historical background is real, but the characters are all fictional.

Logs is how the Japanese referred to the Chinese, as part of their dehumanisation techniques. The log cabin was where the ‘logs’ were housed. Olga Sapphire and Anna Pavlova were famed ballerinas of the time. A hikokumin was a traitor, a tamagoyaki is a Japanese omelette and an onyro is a Japanese screaming demon.

*

The Log Cabin

12^th October, 1939, Pingfang District, Harbin, China

This could be the last thing I ever write. In a matter of hours, I will either be in the custody of the CCP or I will be joining the Chinese test subjects in the log cabin. If you read this and think I am the worst man in the world, I wouldn’t blame you. For a time I was. And it all started a year and a half ago where I was interviewing for a research assistant position with the famed biologist Dr Yamada. My name is Dr Makoto Takeda and this is my confession.

12^th December, 1937 – Pingfang District, Harbin, China

“Do you love Japan?” Dr Yamada looked me in the eye as if daring me to say no.

But, why would I have said no?

“Of course, sir,” I said, “I will do my duty to see Japan take its place on the world stage.” I gripped the edges of the chair, my knees shaking under the desk. It had only been a month since I had earned my PHD. Now I was one step away from working with Dr Yamada. His walls were drowning with framed certificates and degrees, as well as pictures of his wife and young daughter.

“Good, because at the Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification department, we are pioneering cutting-edge research that will see Japan become the next superpower. Everything we do aids the Imperial Army in establishing our empire. China may have fallen to the Europeans, but we are not that pathetic. We are Japanese.”

It took all my energy not to jump up and salute. Instead, I said a simple, “yes sir.”

Dr Yamada sat back from his mahogany desk. With his receding hairline, wrinkled face, tailored suit and half-moon glasses, he looked more like a bank manager, than an author of multiple papers.

“Have you heard the rumours the logs have been saying about us?”

I frowned. “Logs?”

“Some call the Chinese dogs. Some rats. We prefer the term logs. China is a sick, old, decaying tree. And when trees get too old, you must chop them into logs, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes sir, but I’ve not heard any rumours. I only moved here recently from Osaka.”

“The logs say we torture them. Experiment on them. They say we are monsters, but we are academics. Serving the Japanese empire. This is all propaganda you understand.”

“Absolutely. The logs are liars.”

Dr Yamada nodded with a stony face. “Can we trust you? You are not a hikokumin?”

“Traitor?” I almost jumped out my chair. “No sir. My family have been loyal servants of the Empire since the Meiji Restoration. The logs killed my grandfather in the First Sino-Japanese war and my father died in the Russo-Japanese war. I serve Japan and the Emperor.”

“Good. Because our research is not just limited to the Chinese logs. It can apply to hikokumin too.” He grinned.  “Congratulations, Dr Takeda. I will see you tomorrow at 9am.”

I hurried across Pingfang’s cobblestones to my studio apartment. Other men were going home to a loving family and a hot bowl of yakisoba noodles. Not me. No wife. No children. Just my work, my country and now my new job. That was all I needed.

13^th of December – 1939 – the laboratory

The following morning I had my first assignment. Dr Yamada and I were researching the effects of frostbite and hypothermia on logs in the aid of helping our valiant soldiers who were fighting for the glory of Japan. Like me, he wrote in notepads. Unlike me he was hoping to publish his. Our first log was a Chinese he-log -named Fu Zhiwei – similar to us Japanese, the Chinese dogs reversed the family name and the first name. But his name didn’t matter. He was a log barely older than me. Twenty-nine or thirty. And he looked just like me. Perfectly average. Average built. Average height. Brown eyes, black hair – at least before we shaved it all off.

“Strip him.” Dr Yamada ordered.

And I obeyed without question – you never questioned your superiors – before I wrestled him into an ice bath, holding him there while he writhed and screamed. Louder than the bombs that flattened Harbin. I wished he would stop screaming so much.

 But then the timer started.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Measuring how long it took for his limbs to be frozen solid. Dr Yamada struck his arm with a cane, like hitting a plank of wood. He made an approving noise and made a note.

“That’s enough,” Dr Yamada said, after twenty minutes, “thaw him.”

I plunged him from ice water to scalding-hot water, as I let his howls wash over me. The smell of boiled flesh filled my nose before silence crashed down.

Dr Yamada clicked his tongue. “He didn’t last very long at all. Get the next log.”

I hurried to the log cabin and dragged along the next screaming log.  Eventually, we discovered the best treatment for frostbite was to immerse the frostbitten area in water that was hotter than 100 degrees but no hotter than 122 degrees. Dr Yamada assured me that everything we did served the empire. Besides, it was fascinating and if some people were hurt, then so be it.

Yet I laid awake for hours that night as the log’s screams bounced around my brain.

“It’s all for the greater good. All for the Empire.” I said to myself over and over again until sleep finally came.

27^th of December 1939

We are jumping forward in time now. During that time, the Imperial army began their conquest of Nanjing. And the logs spread lies that they were massacring whole villages, raping women from children to the elderly. All propaganda.

Meanwhile, I conducted, what I thought at the time, was fascinating research into the bubonic plague. A naked he-log was tied down. Rats ran loose over his body. His howls mixed with squeaks. Within days he had buboes all over his body. A week later, the Imperial Army dropped “plague bombs” on the backwater Chinese village of Ningbo. 100 logs died. If Japan only had these biological weapons earlier… it was all for the Empire. All for the Japanese. But on that day, things started to change.

Two guards marched in a Chinese he-log. According to his records, he was called Zhao Xingchi and he was only eighteen. He looked so much like me when I was that age. A complete weed. Pale. Skinny. Small. Messy hair. The faintest moustache on his upper lip. Unlike me, he hadn’t had a chance to fill into his body. He wouldn’t get that chance either. I picked up a syringe. He tried flinching away, but the guards held him still.

“This for cholera.” I said in poor English, but he simply frowned at me. Even if he had understood, it wouldn’t have mattered. The guard ripped off his shirt and held out the log’s arm while he tried breaking free. I stabbed the needle into his vein. This was no cholera vaccination. Instead, I was infecting him with syphilis, so we could study the transmission rates. That’s what Dr Yamada had said.

7^th of January 1939, the laboratory

Ten days later the he-log was brought in naked into the operating laboratory. Sores covered his mouth and genitals. I had all too good of a view, while Dr Yamada stood behind a two-way mirror. The he-log’s hands were tied behind his back.  My stomach started churning. This couldn’t be right. What possible scientific benefit could this have? How would infecting logs with syphilis help the Imperial Army? My mind raced for answers, as the breath became caught in my throat.  A Chinese she-log barely older than the boy – she was small and skinny too – so tiny, like the boy she hadn’t had the chance to fill into her figure – was dragged in screaming and writhing. I quickly checked her notes. Liu Shunquan. Eighteen. She was only eighteen and she would be… no. That couldn’t be happening. The terror in her voice drilled down into my brain. The jigsaw pieces were clicking together. I swallowed down my tears. If Dr Yamada saw me, he would… but I couldn’t let this happen either.

The intercom crackled into life. “Strip her.” Dr Yamada ordered.

“Sir?”

“Rip her clothes off.”

“Sir, why are we doing this?”

“Our soldiers are being very naughty boys with the Chinese she-logs. Now strip her.”

Naughty boys? Were the rumours right? Were the soldiers really raping …? No, that couldn’t be true. And what did that have to do with these logs?

“Strip her or I will.”

 Ignoring the she-log’s – NO, not she-log, Shunquan’s pleading eyes, her protests, I ripped open her blouse and tore off her skirt while two guards held her in place. And she was naked, trembling. As white as chalk. Like glass that could shatter at the slightest touch.

And then we wrestled her onto a gurney, strapped her down, tied her legs apart, as she pleaded in a language I couldn’t understand. Yet she still struggled, the metal gurney crashing up and down on the floor. I could barely hear it with my heart pounding in my ears.

I took a deep breath before looking to where I knew Dr Yamada was standing. “Sir. Is this experiment necessary? There are other ways we can conduct our research.”

He glared at me and my gaze immediately fell to the floor. “These are Chinese logs. Cockroaches. Yes. It is necessary.”

I breathed in again before forcing my gaze back up. I needed to choose my words carefully. “All due respect, couldn’t we just inject the woman with syphilis too? Does she need to be raped?”

“Probably not.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised. You didn’t complain when you infected the he-log with syphilis or when you froze the arms of the frostbite log. What’s changed?” He glanced at the woman quivering in the restraints before cackling. “Do you want to fuck it? You young men are all alike. Obviously, you can’t, but we can find you a comfort woman in Nanjing.”

I threw up in my mouth before swallowing down the harsh bile. “I think we’re exceeding our mandate. It could be better …”

 “These Chinese logs were part of the CCP. They were saying we’re murderers. I’m not a murderer? Are you?”

I looked away. I wasn’t a murderer. He scribbled in his notebook, as I shoved the Chinese man into position.  A guard held a gun to his head, as I turned away. Yet nothing could block out her screams or the creaking gurney, before it all faded into silence. Biting down on my tears couldn’t stop them from flowing out, but then Dr Yamada stormed in, kicked me to the ground, before hauling me up and holding me eye to the eye with the woman, so close I could count every eyelash. All while the gurney rattled and she whimpered.

“You’re weak. This is what will happen to hikokumin who question my orders.”

*

I know you think I’m a monster. No better than Dr Yamada or those animals in Unit 731 and you would be right. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your pity. I could have said no. I could have refused, but what good would that have done? It wouldn’t have changed anything. Right? Anyway, back to that dreadful day.

7^th of January 1939, 19:00 hours

After our work had finished, I didn’t join Dr Yamada and the others for after-work drinks. Instead, I headed straight to my dark, studio apartment. Nobody there to greet me. No hot bowl of katsu curry. It barely looked like I lived there. No mementos or souvenirs. A bed, a wardrobe, a simple kitchen. Nothing special. Good. A monster like me deserved no better. I took a bottle of sake that I kept buried under my bed. I drank until my throat burned. I vomited. And I drank more. But nothing could stop that rattling of the gurney, Xingchi’s grunts, Shunquan’s shrieks and the silence that followed. That silence. I clutched onto the bottle before throwing it against the wall.

Liu Shunquan and Zhao Xingchi, but their names didn’t matter. They were No. Their names did matter. They weren’t logs. They were people. Dr Yamada said these were the CCP dissenters spreading lies about us. Except they weren’t lies. They were the truth. We were liars. Murderers. I was a liar. A murderer. No academic or scientist.

 Maybe I could contact them. Dr Yamada wrote everything down in his notebooks. What if I could deliver them? Tell the world. Maybe then these experiments could stop. I needed to contact them. Naïve? Sure. But I needed to do something.

7^th April, 1939, the laboratory

You’ll see three months have passed since this diary entry and the last. The dissenters have been harder to find than I thought, but I can update on Shunquan and Xingchi– or at least, Shunquan. She was brought naked into the operating lab with sores all over her mouth and genitals. Her eyes were yellow and her belly was bigger. As usual, I was in the lab while Dr Yamada was on the other side of the glass.

“Today, we want to study premature babies born at three months.”

“Why?”

“Because Japanese women can have premature births.” He looked at me like I was stupid for even asking. “For this, you will need to perform a caesarean.”

I looked at the glass. “Sir. I’m a biologist. Not a surgeon. I could hurt or even kill the log.”

“In the pursuit of scientific knowledge, sometimes the weak must die. Begin.”

“Can we anethesitise her?”

“Of course not. We need to study how she reacts to the pain. Begin.”

Shunquan looked up at me silently pleading, but I quickly blindfolded her. Pulling at my collar, I scratched at my chest. Why was it so hot in here? I picked up a scalpel in a trembling hand. My hands shook, my mind swam, but I forced the scalpel to stay steady.

“Dr Takeda, begin.”

A sob building in my throat, I began cutting. She screamed like an “Onryō,” as blood spurted across my body and face.

“Sir. I’ve cut an artery. She’s going to bleed to death.” I stared at the window.

“There are other she-logs.” Dr Yamada waved his hand. “Continue.”

The blood mixed with my tears running down my face. All I tasted was salt and iron. All I heard were Shunquan’s screams.

8^th April, 1939 – Dr Yamada’s office

The taste of last night’s sake still coating my teeth, I knocked on Dr Yamada’s office door. I had an idea about how to stop all this.

“Enter.”

I stepped inside. Despite being an office, it was more welcoming and homely than my apartment. All those family photographs. Wife, daughter, brothers, sisters, parents, grandparents. What did I have?

Dr Yamada sat at his mahogany desk writing in his blue-covered notepad. Again, he looked like a bank manager filling in a ledger.

“Yes?” He put the notepad away in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet behind him. This was covered with postcards from his family holidays.

“It was about those syphilis logs, sir.”

“If you’ve changed your mind about the comfort women, word is there’s a convent in Nanjing. Nuns and novices.”

I swallowed down my anger, before choosing my next words carefully. “I want to prove I’m not a hikokumin.”

He polished his glasses. “By constantly questioning my orders?”

“By delivering you the rest of those lying Chinese logs.”

“How will you do that?”

“By defecting. Promising to exchange information and leading the Imperial Army straight to them.”

“And why would the Imperial Army want your help?”

“The logs are like eels. Slippery. If the army hits them with a full-frontal assault, they’ll run like cockroaches. But they wouldn’t be expecting one lone scientist. If you can tell me where to find them, I can deliver their leadership.”

“And why would they trust you?”

“Because the Chinese know they’re a dead people. They’ll be desperate enough to take any opportunity they can.”

Dr Yamada chuckled and steepled his fingers. “Is this the same man crying at that she-log getting fucked like a dog? Very well, Dr Takeda.”

“Thank you, sir.” I bowed and left.

7^th October, 1939 08:00 hours

You’ll see there have been six months between this diary entry and the last. Because the last six months have been a failure. Five separate operations to find the rebels had led to five failures. I needed to stop this.

I was due to meet Dr Takeda first thing. I finished off my tamagoyaki, straightened my tie, combed my hair and headed to the log cabin.

7^th October, 1939 09:00 hours, Dr Yamada’s office

I waited outside trying to not listen to Dr Yamada’s phone conversation. He was speaking to his wife assuring her that he wouldn’t miss his daughter’s first ballet recital. It was happening in a week and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. This was the same man who had been telling me to take a comfort woman – some of them were no older than his daughter.

“Enter.”

I stepped in eyeing the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet where there was a postcard with a picture of the Eiffel Tower. If I could get to the notepads, I could put a stop to everything.

“Dr Takeda.” He handed me a memo. “Six months and five failures. The operation is terminated.”

“Sir, we’ve been underestimating these logs. They’re smarter than we thought.”

Dr Yamada smiled thinly. “The Chinese are no smarter than the Jews.”

“What if we leak that a research scientist heavily involved in the human experimentation of the Chinese was ready to betray the regime?”

“You want us to admit the propaganda they’re accusing us of? Everything we do is for the betterment of the Japanese people. For the good of the Empire.”

“But once we’ve sent them all to the log cabin it wouldn’t matter.”

Dr Yamada nodded slowly. “We do need more test subjects. The Imperial Army want to train their surgeons on live logs.”

“Sir, I would advise discretion here. Let me meet them alone. No soldiers or guards. I will establish contact, build rapport and lure in their leadership. And only then do we cast our net.”

Dr Yamada stared, his black eyes stripping away layers of my skin. “That could be a dangerous idea. Let me show you something.” He took a family portrait from his wall. “This is my wife Yumiko. The most beautiful woman in Yokohama. Her beauty is only matched by her generous heart. And my Ayako is only twelve, but she dances like Anna Pavlova. Like a bird. Such grace. Are you married, Dr Takeda?”

“No sir.”

“Children?”

“No sir.”

“Your father is dead. Is your mother alive? Do you have any siblings?”

“No sir.”

“If God forbid, somebody catches you, there will be nobody to miss you. Nobody to even notice you’re gone.”

My legs shook, as I forced myself to stand still. “That’s true, but it’s a risk we need to take. We can’t allow them to keep spreading lies. This could stoke resistance.”

“Very well, Dr Takeda. But this is your last chance.”

*

Did Dr Yamada know my plan? Was that a threat? For the rest of the day, I felt his eyes drilling into me, as if expecting me to protest. But I kept my mouth shut. Even when we injected horse urine into a woman’s kidneys. And I could tell Dr Yamada was willing me to protest, but I kept my head down, letting the screams and the protests fade into background noise.

When walking home that night, I kept my eyes on any moving shadow. Dr Yamada wouldn’t hesitate to throw a countryman into his twisted “experiments.”

As soon as I stepped into my apartment, the phone rang. It was Dr Yamada. I could tell from his velvet voice.

“We’ve found them. Go now.”

Scribbling down the address, I hurried onto the street. I was shivering. Not just because of the cold, but this could be my chance. If I could navigate this first meeting, I could give them the diaries in the second. But I had two stops to make first.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at the rendezvous. It was an abandoned noodle-bar on the edge of town. Not a soul in sight. Dr Yamada’s warning echoed in my mind.

Nobody to miss me or even notice I was gone.

I breathed in the smell of dust. Knowing this could be the last thing I ever did; I stepped into the bar. Shining my torch across the rubble and broken chairs, I could hear water dripping. In the back was some type of kitchen. For a second, I thought I could smell aniseed and ginger but for only a second.

That would have been before the war. Before the occupation. Before us. Then my knees buckled, and I tumbled onto the floor.

Later that night

I woke up with a pounding in my head and a dry mouth. Rocks dugs into my behind. What time was it? Nobody around. My hands were tied above my head. Opposite me sat two young Chinese men. One of them was shining a torch in my eyes so I couldn’t see much, but I could see a squat skinhead with a tree trunk for a body and a tattoo of a snake on his right shoulder. The other was a beanpole with a scar on his cheek and a gold signet ring. They didn’t look any older than Xingchi or Shunquan. On the table was my bag and its emptied contents: a lockpick and ten blue A4 notepads. Just like Dr Yamada’s. Skinhead tapped his friend on the shoulder before picking up a gun that I hadn’t noticed before. Something warm trickled between my legs.

“You rat?” He asked in bad English.

I nodded. Skinhead stood and walked towards me. I tried shuffling away, but I was pinned against the wall. He grabbed my face and spoke. I could smell his hot breath.

“You lying, Jap killer.”

He slapped me hard before retreating to his friend and pointing at my items. “Why you have?”

I spat out blood, tasting iron. “To help you. I Dr Makoto Takeda. I work Dr Yamada. We work log cabin.” My English was no better than his, but they seemed to understand me.

Skinhead turned to Signet Ring and whispered in Chinese. Any second now, there could be a flash, bang and darkness.

“Two your agents go missing in last six months? Liu Shunquan? Zhao Xingchi?”

Skinhead cracked his knuckles. “What you do?”

“It’s best you no know.” I looked away.

He grabbed my crotch. “Tell me.”

Grinding my teeth, I forced to keep my breathing under control. “We inject Xingchi with syphilis and make him rape Shunquan. When she become pregnant, I cut baby out. No anaesthetic.” A tear rolled down my eye, as my voice cracked.

Skinhead made a crying motion with his hands. “Poor Jap rat cry. Why you cry? You no raped. Shunquan raped. No you.”

Signet Ring pulled his friend away. “I right. You Jap bastards are experimenting us,” he said.

I nodded, my eyes trained on the gun that was pointed at the floor.

For the moment.

“You want shoot me, I no blame, but you no get evidence.”

Signet Ring crouched. His breath reeked of cigarette smoke. “What you say, Jap?”

The feeling was slowly leaving my hands, but I was more concerned about the gun. “Can you put that away?”

Signet Ring yelled and Skinhead holstered it.

Despite the night chill, sweat ran down my head over my cracked lips making them sting. “This trap. I gain your trust and meet your leadership. Then I lead Dr Yamada and Imperial Japanese Army to you. Instead, I want make deal.”

“Deal?” Signet Ring narrowed his eyes at me.

“Dr Yamada writes experiments in notepads. He wants publish academic papers. It proof. Maybe help stop. In return, I want protection. If they catch me, they send me log cabin.”

“You kill our friends.” Skinhead’s eyes were watery. “The log cabin too good for Jap rat. Why we protect you?”

“If no, you no get evidence.” I tried wriggling my fingers, but they had gone completely numb.

“How we trust you?”

I tried shrugging as best as I could. “You cannot.”

“Why you help us? We Chinese logs. You Jap rat.”

“Because I no killer. I academic. Scientist. I want help my country but they lie me.”

They spoke in rapid-fire Chinese, before Signet Ring took hold of the gun by the barrel. “We contact you four day. If we see other Jap bastard, you wish you go log cabin.”

The last thing I saw was his yellowing teeth, before the gun crashed into my face.

Later that night

For the second time in a matter of hours, I woke up in a fit of coughs with a pounding headache. My hands had been untied and I staggered to my feet. Signet Ring and Skinhead were long gone, but they had left everything on the table. I checked my watch. 2am. I would be back in the laboratory in seven hours.

Skinhead and Signet Ring believed me. If I could deliver them the notebooks, I would be free. Assuming they didn’t kill me as soon as they received them.

10^th of October, 1939, 18:00 hours

The last place I wanted to be after work was drinking sake with Dr Yamada and the rest of us murderers. For the last three days, he hadn’t stopped questioning me about my meeting with Signet Ring and Skinhead. But I lied and told him they didn’t believe me. Today, he grabbed my face, staring deep into my eyes, before he finally returned to our experiment. I breathed out. Did he suspect something? But I needed to do my work, as normal. That meant putting a fifty-year old man in a centrifuge and spinning him until he died. Apparently, it was to help our fighter pilots reach higher altitudes. More lies and propaganda.

“Makoto, why are you so quiet?” One of my colleagues – a surgeon – glanced at me. “You look miserable.”

Yes, I was miserable to be part of a torturous regime.

“There was a she-log in our syphilis study some months ago.” Dr Yamada bellowed out. “Makoto was too squeamish to see her get her medicine, but he just wanted to be the one administrating it.” He made a circle with one hand, before putting a finger through it with his other, before cackling. Everybody joined in.

I wanted to smash my glass over his head, but instead I smiled. “I was feeling sad that the she-log never had a Japanese man before we killed her. Shall I get the next round?”

I shuffled to the bar, my words tasting like cyanide. Somebody barged past me, his shoulder bumping into mine.

After I placed my order, I reached for my wallet in my coat pocket. I felt the bulky billfold, but also a scrap of paper that hadn’t been there before. I looked around, but the person who had barged into me was long gone. Could it have been … ? I paid for the drinks and took them to the table before heading to the bathroom.

The rendezvous would be the day after tomorrow at noon. I just needed to get the notebooks. Time to head back and drink with the animals.

One bottle of sake quickly became two and then three. The hour became later and later until Dr Yamada announced it was time to go.

“Same time tomorrow, sir?” The surgeon asked.

“Not tomorrow. I am attending Ayako’s ballet recital. You should see how she dances. Like music personified. I shall be leaving work early and I may be coming into work later the following day too.”

My heart rose. Tomorrow evening. That would be my chance.

11^th of October, the laboratory

You would think by now I would be hardened to the horrors of the experiments. I was a scientist after all. I needed to be professionally detached, but this morning was something else.

Remember Liu Shunquan? Today, there was another Chinese woman who was almost nine months pregnant. Pregnant from rape again, of course. A surgeon from the army was “operating” and there was so much blood you could smell the iron. You could hear her screams from Harbin to Chengdu. As usual, Dr Yamada was writing everything in his notepad, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Lava flowed through my veins, while I fought not to vomit. But tomorrow, I would give the diaries to the CCP and this would stop.

Dr Yamada stood, checking his watch. “Is that the time already? I must leave for the recital. Take over here, Dr Takeda.”

I bowed deeply as he left. It was 16:00 hours now. The woman still screeched, as her baby was ripped from her belly. It wasn’t crying. Or moving. The mother gently lifted a hand before her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I threw up into the bin, before leaving. That was enough. Time to get those notepads. I marched to Dr Yamada’s office taking the lockpick from my pocket. Time to put my hours of practice to good use. His office door was closed, but as I pushed on the handle, it opened. Strange, but he had been in a rush.

Next, it was onto the filing cabinet which was also unlocked. I found the diaries in the bottom drawer. The one at the front was half-finished. The second one was completed. That meant the five behind it were too. I swapped those out for the identical notebooks I had bought a few days ago. Clutching onto the books, I hurried home, the knot in my stomach loosening. I buried them at the bottom of my wardrobe.

12^th October 1939

And that brings you up to the present date. Today it would all be over. In one way or another.

First thing in the morning, I stepped into the laboratory, but Dr Yamada was already there, his notepad in his hand.

“Sir? I thought you would be coming in later?”

He shrugged. “I was mistaken. Like you were.”

I glanced around. What did he mean?

“Going alone to meet the logs? That was a decision that ended up with you being badly hurt.”

“Yes sir. How was your daughter’s ballet recital?”

“Have you ever had the pleasure of seeing Olga Sapphire perform? She would have been embarrassed to have been in the presence of my Ayako. Anyway, we found two logs yesterday. Dissenters.”

What new horrors would await us today? I nodded, staring into the laboratory, but it was different. There was a roaring fire in an oil drum. An iron kettle was nestled in the flames. Why? But then the Chinese were marched in.

My stomach tumbled out of me. Skinhead and Signet Ring. Both were skinheads now. And both had been badly beaten. Split lips, ripped clothes, broken noses.

“Recognise them? These are the logs you met.”

I snapped to my superior. “How do you know?”

“We were watching you.”

“But you said…”

“I lied. I didn’t trust you. I had my men keep track of these logs.”

Another man entered the room dressed in medical robes. He was tall, skinny with a squashed nose and thick hairy eyebrows. A big grin laid on his mouth. Too big.

“Too many of our brave soldiers are losing their arms and legs fighting the logs. This man is a trainee surgeon from the Imperial Army. He wants to practise his amputation skills. I want to see if you can amputate a limb, reattach it somewhere else and see if it will still function. What do you think?”

I swallowed. “I’m not sure how…”

Dr Yamada held up his hand. “Let me be more specific. What do you think would happen if we removed the leg from one man and attached it to the other?”

My throat was becoming so dry, I could hardly swallow.

“How would you feel if that happened to you? Academically speaking.”

Sweat oozed out my body. My palms grew clammy. Could he know? Had they talked? No. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if that were the case. He was still waiting for an answer.

“I would be in excruciating pain especially if I were a pathetic Chinese log. I assume we won’t be wasting anaesthetic on them?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Of course not. That’s only for the Japanese. Dr Takeda, what time did you leave last night?”

“Six.”

“Did you see anybody go into my office after I had left?”

My heart thudded in my chest. “I was here the whole time.”

He stood toe-to-toe with me looking me in the eye before turning away.

“Start the operation.”

Signet Ring and Skinhead were wrestled into two gurneys and strapped into the position. Their clothes were ripped off as the surgeon made a mark below Skinhead’s right knee. In response, he spat in his face. The surgeon merely smiled before picking up a handsaw and starting to saw. And Skinhead screamed. Deep and guttural like a beast, but Dr Yamada watched on with a grin, like he was back at Ayako’s ballet recital.

“It’s glorious, isn’t it? These were the same men who called us sadistic murderers. Aren’t you glad you’re not them?”

I looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“They could have been doing that to us. The Chinese are a bloodthirsty race, but they lack our ambition.” He spoke over Skinhead’s screams without raising his voice.

The surgeon had finished sawing holding the leg aloft like it were a trophy, before he pressed the iron toward Skinhead’s bloody stump. He screamed so loud my eardrums almost burst. I could smell the barbecued flesh from behind the glass.

But that didn’t stop the torture. The surgeon sawed off Signet Ring’s lower leg to sew it onto Skinhead’s bloody stump. And the men never stopped howling like animals. Begging and pleading while their blood spurted everywhere. And I smelled more than sweat. The air stank of sweet blood. By the end, both men were as white as milk with their remaining limbs the faintest trace of blue. They were barely moving. The clock read 11.00. Almost noon. Almost time for the rendezvous. The surgeon drove a scalpel into Skinhead’s chest and dragged it downwards. I stumbled onto the desk.

Dr Yamada shook his head. “I thought you had changed. My Ayako is stronger than you. Get out my sight. It’s a shame you will be missing the vivisection, but perhaps you’ll see the next one first-hand. You could even be in the room with them.”

I bowed and staggered away. He knew. But how? He had been watching my meeting with Skinhead and Signet Ring. Had he been listening too? Had the noodle bar been bugged? Or had the Chinese broken under torture? It didn’t make sense. If Dr Yamada had known then why was I still free?

I didn’t have time to think about that, as I hurried over the cobblestones. If I didn’t get those diaries to the CCP, it would be me going under the knife. Skinhead and Signet Ring were dead, but there must have been others.

The diaries were exactly where I left them. I held them close to my chest. My one chance to make up for Fu Zhiwei, Liu Shunquan, Zhao Xingchi, Skinhead, Signet Ring and the countless other Chinese I had killed, because I hadn’t been brave enough to stand up and say no. All written about in these notepads.

Turning to leave, I crashed into the open wardrobe door and the books tumbled down and fell open to blank pages. Blank?

No.

They couldn’t have been blank. I flicked through one. Completely empty. No annotations. No notes or comments. No evidence. Every other notebook was the same. Had I made a mistake? No. These were definitely the notebooks that had been in Dr Yamada’s filing cabinet.

My mouth fell open. This had all been a trap.

Dr Yamada had known all along.

These diaries had been planted. The office door had been left unlocked. The same with the filing cabinet. He had even revealed himself earlier: “did you see anybody go into my office?” If the office was locked, then nobody could have possibly gone into it.

He had known all along.

But I still had my own diaries. Would that be enough proof? I didn’t have long. Jumping behind my desk, I scribbled down everything that happened today. Hopefully it would be enough. Time to go.

And I looked up. Somebody was banging on the door.