Cole took a sneak peek at her profile. Amazing. Ninety-nine percent of the women he knew would be flaying him up one side and down the other for deserting her. Riley was teaching him how to use her GPS. God, he loved her.
Aboard the USS Bonefish
Sea of Japan
June 19, 1945
Westbrooke made the announcement to the ship’s company at 0900. Ozzie thought he would have problems with at least one of the four other officers. They all held the same rank, and while Ozzie had the most years of service, they were regular Navy submariners while he was Coast Guard on his first sub patrol. Turned out, though, that the others were all reservists, not career sailors, and not one of them was excited about getting any closer to Westbrooke. They took Ozzie’s elevation to second in command with looks that said, Better you than me.
When Westbrooke set the boat’s course for the Korean coastline along Tsushima Strait, there were raised eyebrows, but the new skipper settled it when he explained they had new orders for a top-secret mission. The thing that delighted Ozzie about these regular Navy boys was their allegiance to orders. If there were doubts, none were voiced.
In the late afternoon, Ozzie saw Ben and Colonel Miyata approaching from their quarters.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” Colonel Miyata said.
Ozzie nodded.
“I would like to express my sadness at the death of your captain,” he said. Ozzie saw that hint of humor around the man’s eyes.
They were standing only a few steps away from the captain’s cabin.
“Perhaps we could find someplace to continue your questioning,” Ozzie said.
The colonel nodded.
Ozzie turned and knocked on the bulkhead by the captain’s door. He was almost certain Westbrooke was topsides, but he checked to make sure. They wouldn’t be bothered in there. He opened the curtain and indicated that the two prisoners should join him. Ozzie closed the curtain and pointed to the bunk. “Sit,” he said.
The cabin was barely six feet long. Ozzie paced the short section of floor. Neither Ben nor the prince said a word.
Finally Ozzie spoke. “I assume you are aware we have changed course.”
“Lieutenant, I know nothing about the operations of this ship.”
Ozzie barked a laugh. “Right. You know, Colonel Miyata, we are not as different as you might think.”
The eyes behind the lenses opened wider. “You surprise me with your insight.”
“The way I see it, we have each decided to use the other for our own purposes.”
“It is possible you are correct, Lieutenant.”
“So, what I need to know is, what are your purposes? What are you really up to?”
“I am just a sailor in this war like you are, and I am trying to get back to my men.”
“Bullshit. There’s more to it than that.”
“It is as I told you. I am charged with Golden Lily. We have completed many of our projects, but the last one was not yet complete when I had to return to Japan. Just as it is very difficult to get our treasure back to our homeland, it is equally difficult for me to get myself back to the Philippines.”
“That’s why you were on a maru cargo vessel.”
“Yes, by keeping close to the Korean and Chinese coasts, we hoped to make Hong Kong and then cross to the Philippines from there. We did not expect an attack here in the Sea of Japan. However, I have come to realize the potential benefit of my current situation.”
Ozzie nodded. “A US submarine is one of the best and fastest ways for you to get back to your post.” Ozzie had calculated that it would take them roughly four days to get to the coast of northern Luzon.
“Indeed.”
“So, tell me more about these projects of yours. These Golden Lily caves.”
When Colonel Miyata began to talk freely about the wonders he had buried underground, Ozzie knew the prince had marked him for death. Otherwise he would not be speaking so freely.
“So how many of these underground sites have you built?”
“Throughout the Philippines, there are one hundred and seventy-five sites.”
“You’re kidding. So many?”
“Yes, we had so much material. This represents two years of work and hundreds of thousands of man-hours of engineers and prison laborers. The majority are on the island of Luzon in the mountains known as the Cordillera.”
“What kind of material are you talking about?”
“Much of it is gold bullion, but there are other treasures as well. Gems, priceless artifacts, artworks. But as I said, Lieutenant, if you do not have the locations, you will not find them.”
“But you say there is a map.”
“Yes, in order to prevent anyone outside the royal family from knowing the locations of these sites, the map and the key to deciphering the map have not been kept at the same location. However, now that the Americans are fighting my countrymen and pushing them back into the mountains, there is a real concern that the Philippines will fall into American hands. I must retrieve the map. If you return me to the Philippines, I will pay you very well—in gold.”
“That’s your offer?”
“I know you want more. You think you can get your hands on the map and the key. I would advise you to be satisfied with the gold, Lieutenant. The gold and your life.”
“That’s daring talk for a prisoner.”
Colonel Miyata smiled that ghoulish smile. “Yes, but that situation could change.”
“You’re quite the optimist.”
“I know my people.”
“Speaking of which, where are we taking you, exactly? I gave Westbrooke some general coordinates, but I need—”
“I will give you the coordinates.”
Ozzie took out his notebook and pencil and handed them to the colonel. The man wrote the latitude and longitude and handed the book back to Ozzie.
“Is this a port?”
Colonel Miyata showed all his teeth this time in a broad smile. “It is one we have made. You will see.”
Ozzie opened the door. The little man stood and Ben followed him out. At the door, the colonel paused. “It’s been a pleasure speaking to you, Lieutenant.”
Watching the two of them return to their bunk area, Ozzie wondered, not for the first time, if the whole thing was a hoax. Did Golden Lily exist? Even if it was only a remote possibility that there were one hundred and seventy-five caves full of treasure, Ozzie knew the men he worked for would be pleased with his initiative.
Aboard the Ferryboat
Gulf of Thailand
November 18, 2012
Riley hadn’t seen another vessel in a couple of hours, not since they’d left the mouth of the river and cruised out into the Gulf of Thailand. She checked her watch. It was past four in the morning. She hadn’t slept all night. Hadn’t slept much on the train the night before, either. This had been one of the longest days of her life. Although technically it was Sunday morning, it wouldn’t feel like a new day until the sun came up.
She’d spent the first few hours stretched out on one of the benches at the stern of the boat watching the lights pass by on the banks of the river and trying to sleep. She couldn’t silence her mind. Not that her thoughts were coherent. She’d spent four years hoping to find him alive and now that she had, she didn’t know what to say to him. Maybe four years was just too long. Or maybe a part of her knew that if they did get back together, she’d have to tell him what she’d learned about that day in Lima and her part in it all.
Finally she’d walked forward and told Cole she would take the helm, and he should try to get some sleep. He’d spread out on the box over the engine compartment and then nodded right off like a good seaman. She envied him that. Sleeping while under way on overnight passages was always a struggle for her. On her single-handed crossings, she got most of her sleep during the daylight hours.
Cole had to know she was waiting to hear his story. And she figured he wasn’t exactly eager for the opportunity. Why hadn
’t he contacted her? So much time had passed, and she had so many questions. Or maybe he knew more about her past than he was letting on. Perhaps the reason he’d stayed away was because he knew the truth about Lima, and now he was finding it difficult to tell her so.
After going over the charts on her iPhone a few hours earlier, they had decided to head for the Mae Klong River. If they kept this speed up, they should arrive around sunup. There were a few fishing boats and squid boats out on the gulf, but nothing that had come within half a mile of them. Keeping a lookout wasn’t hard, just boring. She wished this boat had an autopilot. She wanted to go back and watch him sleep.
“Hey, Magee.”
She jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach.
“How are you doing?” He leaned on the dash at the front of the boat and looked out over the bow. They were running with the wind and there wasn’t much breeze over the boat.
“Too much time to think on night watches,” she said.
“Yeah. I know what you mean.”
They both stared out into the black night. There was no moon and they were too far away from land to see any lights there. The sky was ablaze with stars. She was awkward with him, while he looked rested and relaxed.
“Riley, remember that first time you and I sailed your boat at night around the island down in the Saintes?”
She couldn’t hold the smile back. She loved hearing him speak her name. “Yeah. We saw dolphins.”
“I knew that night that I was falling in love with you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. They were on a boat alone at sea, and he hadn’t touched her. She felt her stomach muscles tense. Maybe now he would tell her why he had kept his distance all these years.
“So what changed?”
His head whipped around and the worry lines in his forehead were etched deep. “Nothing changed.” Then he looked away. “Well, I didn’t change. The world did.”
“Cole, where the hell have you been for the last four years?”
She hated his silence. After what felt like forever, he said, “I had to keep you safe.”
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she heard the long exhale. “That was you that day in Cherbourg, wasn’t it? Dressed up like a homeless Vietnam vet?”
One corner of his mouth turned up, and she wished she could see the dimple beneath the beard. “You didn’t recognize me. It was a hell of a disguise to fool you.”
He made it sound like a game. It hadn’t seemed fun to her. “I followed the clues. I went back to my boat and took off down to Puerto La Cruz in Venezuela. From there to the Cayman Islands. I crossed the Pacific looking for the Dragon’s Triangle. Even after four years, you are what brought me to Thailand. You gave me that damned recording. Let me know you were alive, and then it was like you broke your promise.” She felt her chin trembling, and she bit her lower lip to regain control. “I solved all the puzzles you gave me, but you weren’t there.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She turned her back to him. It was his turn now. The silence dragged on, and she could feel him watching her. She kept her eyes forward on the inky blackness beyond the glow of the boat’s red and green running lights.
“It’s hard to know where to start.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
“I still don’t know how I got out of that sub. I remember putting the box I’d found into the cargo net on the Enigma. While I was out of sight of the video camera, I opened the box. The lock had rusted and it broke after one punch from my fist. I grabbed the pouch and stuffed it inside my wetsuit. I checked my dive computer, and I knew I was running short on time. Then when I was back in front of the video cam, I felt the sub shudder and something hit me. I remember trying to find the camera again and signing to you as the water got all cloudy. I partially inflated my buoyancy compensator, and then that’s it. Nothing more.”
She turned around and the look on his face made her chest ache. “I saw your sign,” she said. She held up her hand with the thumb and pinkie raised in the sign for I love you.
He looked at her hand and then his eyes locked on hers. She rocked back on her heels, then turned away.
“I washed up on the beach at Îles de la Petite Terre,” he said. “I guess I must have swum part of it. Like I said, I don’t remember.”
He had been so close by. “Just like Henri Michaut did when Surcouf first sank. I should have thought of that. I should have searched there.”
“No. I wasn’t there long. Our old friend Henri had sent some of his family to pretend they were fishing off Petite Terre while we searched for the Surcouf. They saw me crawl onto the beach. I couldn’t remember anything. They helped me into their boat and took me to the Princess Margaret Hospital in Dominica.”
“I called all the area hospitals.”
“They had me admitted under a false name. You remember how paranoid Henri was. There was a hyperbaric chamber there. The doctor said in addition to decompression sickness, I had a severe concussion. He told me the amnesia wasn’t unusual with that kind of traumatic brain injury and diving accident. A few days later when I started remembering about the Surcouf and you and Theo, Henri told me about what had happened. There’d been a boat collision, a volcanic eruption on Montserrat, and an earthquake—hell of a trifecta. Then he said the authorities in Guadeloupe had declared me dead.”
“And you decided to just go with that.” Without giving me a second thought.
He winced, catching her tone. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Like what? What did I say?”
“Riley, I’m sorry. I know I’ve caused you pain. But it was about what I’d found. When they got me to the hospital and stripped me, they found the diplomatic bag I’d tucked inside my wetsuit. It was rubberized canvas and weighted with lead—but the documents inside were dry.”
“Operation Magic.”
“That’s right. The hospital staff gave it to Michaut’s granddaughter, and we opened it when I was released. I did a little research on the web while I was recuperating in Dominica, and what I discovered scared the crap out of me. I knew there were men out there who would kill for what was in those documents. I wanted to keep you safe.”
“You were protecting me.”
“Right! And I have been ever since. I’ve kept an eye on you. That disguise in Cherbourg? That wasn’t the only time. I had to see you.”
“So, all those times when I thought I was going crazy, when I thought I saw you—sometimes I was right?”
He grinned. “Nah, you never spotted me. I mean, they never found me either, so don’t feel bad.”
Riley expelled her breath like something between a cough and a groan. She shook her head. “So who the hell appointed you my protector? Why would I trust you with my life when you couldn’t trust me with yours?” She handed him her iPhone. “Here are the charts. Here’s the wheel.” She stepped back and he grabbed the helm. “It’s your watch. I’m going to get some sleep.”
She heard him calling her name as she walked aft to the engine cover and stretched out. She didn’t answer.
Sea Gypsy Village
Phuket, Thailand
November 18, 2012
Benny paid the cabdriver the ridiculous fare for the trip from the Phuket airport to the Sea Gypsy Village south of Ao Chalong. When the vehicle pulled away, he joined the tourists strolling down the road browsing the fish market stalls selling brightly colored reef fish, prawns, spotted crabs, squid, and green mussels. In clear plastic bags shelled oysters, clams, and dozens of other sorts of shellfish floated in seawater like flesh-filled water balloons displayed atop plastic bins filled with ice. Shoppers haggled in loud voices and tourists tried on shell necklaces.
Benny’s destination was on the other side of the touristy section of the village, so he walked at a brisk pace. Where the road plunged down the hill to sea level, a mud and sand beach was crisscrossed with the stern lines of the dozens of wooden fishing boats anchored just a
few feet offshore, their upturned prows pointing out to the bay. The road turned to dirt at the bottom of the hill and there under the trees, the boat builders worked repairing old leaking planks and crafting new vessels. They applied new coats of brilliant-colored paint and sparkling clear varnish.
His people, the Dayak, were waterborne folk. They had lived on rivers before immigrating to the city, and boatbuilding was taught from one generation to the next. One group from his clan had emigrated and settled here in Phuket. They now built boats in the distinctive Thai style. As he walked down the hill, he saw the characteristic red headband and the tattoos covering the back and arms of the man squatting next to a half-finished hull. One of the other workers nodded at his clansman, then pointed at Benny.
The man stood and turned. Benny saw the hand-rolled marijuana cigarette dangling from his lip. The man smiled, lips tight, eyes squinting, and the end of the cigarette flared red.
“Good to see you, Iban,” Benny said.
“And you, Benjamin.”
They shook hands.
Benny explained what he needed and Iban took him down to the water’s edge to show him a selection of boats.
“I will need to anchor, perhaps for a few days, so I would like some nets to sleep on and a tarp. If you could have one of the women bring me two days’ food, I will pay.”
Iban shouted orders to a young boy playing with the shavings under the hull. The boy took off running toward the village.
A couple of hours later, Benny was motoring north in a bright blue fishing boat, the bow piled high with provisions. Iban’s woman had sent enough food for him to live for a week. He hoped it wouldn’t take that long. In the stern of the boat was a small charcoal cooker. The engine was an air-cooled automotive engine on a pivot with the prop at the end of a long shaft. Iban had shown him how to operate it. Benny preferred the old ways. Back home when he was a boy and they lived with his grandfather, his people poled their canoes on the river. He recognized the necessity of the big engine but he didn’t like the noise and smell, and he did not feel proficient in its use.
Dragon's Triangle (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 2) Page 13
