Life is apparently idyllic for millennial Spencer Marlowe, a successful marketing guru with black belt in karate who lives in Perth with his Japanese girlfriend, Michiyo.
Except for the strange vivid, dreams that disturb his sleep…
Spencer’s world is upturned when he time-travels back to 1942, a recruit in the Australian Army on his way to the Northam Army Training Camp.
Suspicion arises when Marlowe’s officers discover he has no background, and he speaks Japanese. Incarcerated and facing the prospect of a firing squad, Spencer must convince the quiet but sinister SIB agent, Don Bidstrup, he’s not a spy!
Bidstrup doesn’t trust Marlowe, but he’ll risk sending him to meet Colonel Harada in Japanese-occupied Singapore. Just as he’s prepared to sacrifice his sergeant, Irwin Lenane, and the crew of the Taipan if it means crippling the Japanese fleet in Singapore Harbour.
Spencer wants to return to his own time, and to Michiyo, but he can’t ignore his role in the mission, and how it may affect the lives of the people he’s come to know and care about.
Spencer awoke with a jolt. He glanced at his gold Rolex Datejust watch, a twenty-first birthday present from his late father. Four minutes past seven. He had a board meeting in the city at eight-thirty, and his head was pounding.
Beside him, his girlfriend Michiyo was beginning to stir. Spencer gazed at her through tired eyes and thought, as he always did, what a beautiful woman she was with her sleek black hair and delicate features.
He had met Michiyo three years earlier on a business trip to Tokyo. Spencer was in marketing. He often reflected on the miracle of their chance meeting and just how much she now meant to him. She had become his life.
‘Ohayo, darling,’ he whispered.
She smiled. ‘How did you sleep?’ she asked softly, her sleepy gaze taking in his face. ‘You look tired. Did the dreams return?’
Spencer hesitated. ‘Michiyo, you’re the only person I can confide in. And I certainly can’t hide anything from you. Yes, I had the dreams again last night. They were more vivid than ever before. And look…’ Spencer turned his face, exposing a bruise on his cheek.
Michiyo frowned. ‘Ooh, that looks nasty. How did that happen? Did you get up in the night and bang your face?’
‘That’s possible, I guess. But in my dream, it was caused by my rifle, pressing hard against my cheek. So, what do we make of that eh?’ He searched her face. ‘I know, don’t say it. Even to me it seems crazy, but I feel like I’ve been transported into a 1940s Hollywood movie with a bad script. Only, I’m not an actor, but a real soldier.’
Michiyo looked back at him, her features clouding. ‘I don’t think you’re crazy, Spencer, but this is happening more and more often. It’s starting to affect your quality of life. What happened to my man who used to be up and dressed by six o’clock every day—even weekends—and ready to take on the world? Now you can hardly drag yourself out of bed in the morning.’ She stroked his face. ‘You must think about getting help. Perhaps it’s time to see a doctor.’
Spencer held her hand, ‘I’m having enough of a problem confiding in you, let alone a doctor. I just have to hope and pray the dreams stop.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I mean, what the hell do I tell a doctor or a bloody psych? Oh yes doctor, I have vivid dreams that seem very real. Then what, eh? Everyone has realistic dreams. How do I tell someone––anyone––these dreams are more real than…? And in the cold hard light of the day it sounds bloody ridiculous, even to me.’
‘But I’m worried about you,’ Michiyo continued, ‘and what you’re telling about these dreams. Their reality—or at least their reality to you—is simply not normal. You have to find a resolution.’
Spencer glanced at his watch. ‘I need to go to work.’
‘What about breakfast?’ Michiyo asked.
‘Well, I have just enough time for breakfast.’ He looked up. ‘Or…’
Michiyo smiled and seductively peeled off her t-shirt. The sight of her undressed stirred Spencer, as it always did, her slim, lithe body and her beautiful, full breasts, never failing to arouse him. Spencer forgot about his strange dreams.
He lay back and Michiyo slid across to him. ‘Kiss me.’
He cupped her face in his hands, and gave her a tender kiss.
‘We really should get married,’ he whispered.