"So what's this about radar?" Hully asked. They were passing the Myrtle and Healani Boat Clubs.

"Well, you know what it is, don't you?"

"Sure."

"Frank brought radar to the islands, and it's a damn good idea, too. Look at the role it played in the Battle of Britain." O. B. shrugged, wind whipping the white linen of bis jacket. "And I guess I can't blame Frank for his attitude-both the military and the civilians have given him one load of horseshit after another."

"How so?"

"Well, General Short thinks mobile radar stations aren't worth operating on a twenty-four-hour basis. To him, they're just a good training tool for the lower ranks."

Rather enjoying the wind rustling his hair, Hully asked, "What good does radar do if you're not using it all the time?"

"None-that's Frank's point."

Just ahead was the entrance to Fort Armstrong, one of five Coast Artillery Defense Batteries on Oahu.

"You said civilians were giving him crap, too," Hully said. "What do civilians have to do with it?"

"Plenty, when it's the governor. Him, and the National Park Service. They won't let Frank put his radar setups on mountain peaks, where they'd be most effective-it might ruin the view."

"Hell," Hully said, snorting a laugh. "I can see why Colonel Teske is frustrated."

"So can I, son, but he's still wrong about a Japanese air raid on Oahu. And most military personnel, and informed civilians, agree with me, in considering that a remote possibility."

They were nearing Kewalo Basin, home of sampans in the water and out-several Japanese boatbuilding firms sat along the artificial harbor with its fleet of marine-blue sampans, blending with the water they bobbed in.

"The threat here," his father said, casting an eye toward the man-made Japanese harbor, "isn't from above-it's from within."