Dragon's Triangle (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 2)

by Christine Kling

  When he opened his eyes a dirt-covered face with black eyes hovered six inches above his face. He smelled hot breath that stank of cigarettes. The eyes blinked and he couldn’t help but notice how long this guy’s eyelashes were.

  “What’s your name?” The voice sounded like a kid’s. Filipino accent.

  “Who’s asking?”

  The guy answered with another blow to Ozzie’s sternum from the rifle butt.

  “Okay, okay.” Ozzie coughed and tried to catch his breath.

  The sunlight burned into his eyes as the breeze waved the feathery leaves high up in the tree canopy. “Lieutenant Harold Oswald Riley, United States Coast Guard.”

  The face was back. Ozzie welcomed the shade. He’d take anything to block that sunlight.

  “Why’d the Japanese let you go?” The eyes were taunting him.

  Ozzie blinked, trying to clear the sunspots out of his eyes. He wanted to get a better look at the face. This guy must be one of the Filipino guerrillas in the resistance movement. So they were recruiting kids now. Must be getting pretty desperate.

  “Look,” Ozzie said. “I’m an American. I’m on your side. If you’ll let me sit up, I can explain.”

  He was surprised then when his interrogator stepped back and grabbed one of his arms. Another person grabbed his other arm. They dragged him over to a tree and propped him up against it.

  There were two of them then squatting in the dirt in front of him. His interrogator, the smaller of the two, was dressed in raggedy old US Army uniform castoffs with a web belt that cinched the blouson tight at the waist and another web belt that crossed from shoulder to waist carrying extra ammo and a couple of grenades. He wore a broad-rimmed hat with a string cinched up under his chin. The other man was shirtless, though he wore a red cotton scarf round his neck. A leather belt held up his pants and the machete he wore. They both wore dusty high boots and their faces were streaked with mud and sweat. They were speaking to each other softly in their own language as they studied him.

  Ozzie reached back and felt the back of his head. He felt dampness and his hand came away bloody. Must have landed on a rock. He was wondering if he had a concussion when he heard movement in the brush behind him. With a half turn of his head, he saw that there was another body on the ground not far from him. Then he recognized it was Ben. The boy was tied up and gagged, and he was struggling against the ropes.

  The shirtless one stood, walked over, and delivered a vicious kick to the boy’s ribs. He said something in Tagalog and then spit.

  “Hey,” Ozzie said. “That’s not necessary. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Leave him alone.”

  The shirtless one looked over at his companion.

  Ah, Ozzie thought. Only the kid speaks English.

  His interrogator stood and walked over to Ben, then turned to look at Ozzie. There was something about the way the man walked. Then it hit him.

  “You’re a woman,” he blurted out.

  She walked back over to him and squatted in front of him again. Now that he knew to look, he saw the swell of her breasts beneath the shirt, under the ammo belts. “Yes. And why should that matter to you? Don’t think it means I’ll be sorry if I decide to kill you.” She laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “You keep saying you will explain. I’m waiting. Why were the two of you set free with all this gold?” She pointed to the bag the prince had given to Ozzie.

  “I can explain that.”

  From far up the mountain on the other side of the valley, Ozzie heard the loud screeching sound of an animal or a bird. His captors exchanged a look and spoke a few words in their language. The woman turned to him.

  “It looks like the others have made it back to the camp already. You can explain to them.”

  They untied Ben’s feet and used the rope to bind Ozzie’s hands. Once they’d pulled both of them to their feet, the woman led the way while the man brought up the rear with his rifle pointed at their backs.

  The noise they’d heard had sounded close by, but they had to walk all the way down to the bottom of a deep valley and then traverse a stream. And though Ozzie prided himself on his fitness, he had never realized just how difficult it was to walk without one’s hands and arms for balance. It wasn’t so bad at first and he was enjoying watching the woman’s ass. But then he stumbled and fell several times, and the bare-chested man seemed to get perverse pleasure out of yanking him back to his feet. Ozzie’s head ached and his mouth was parched. The going didn’t get really difficult until they started up the other side. The trail led them back and forth in switchbacks and across rock outcroppings where it was almost impossible to climb without his hands. Or without a rifle at his back. It was quite the motivator. By the time they arrived at the camp it was late afternoon, and Ozzie was starting to think he would prefer to be shot than to have to walk another step.

  At first he didn’t even see the camp. The woman held up her arm and stopped walking. There was a clear space on the jungle floor ahead, but Ozzie didn’t see anything other than trees. Then he noticed movement above. When he looked up, he saw a man’s head appear in the leaves of a tree. The head was bare, the hair a light brown. He dropped a rope ladder and it wasn’t until he started to climb down that Ozzie made out the roof of the tree house, or more accurately, tree hut. The walls and roof were all made out of leafy living branches and it would take a very sharp eye to recognize that the tree was anything other than how nature had made it.

  When the man reached the ground, the woman dropped her weapon and ammo belt to the ground and ran over to him. She nearly knocked him over when she leapt at him, throwing her arms and legs around him, embracing him before he even had a chance to turn around. When they kissed, her hat fell off her head and hung down her back by the string round her neck. Thick black hair fell past her shoulders.

  Must be nice getting a greeting like that, Ozzie thought.

  Above him in the branches of the trees, he began to make out other faces appearing amid the leaves. One man slid down a vine, another dropped a second rope ladder from a different tree.

  When the two finally let go of each other, the woman led her lover over to inspect the two prisoners. The man wore a ragged and torn US Army uniform with sergeant’s stripes on the shoulders. When they were about fifteen feet away, the man stopped, raised his arm, and grabbed his own forehead.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Riley?”

  Ozzie blinked, trying to focus. He knew the voice, but he wasn’t sure he would have recognized the man without it.

  “Peewee?” he said. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  Corregidor Island

  The Philippines

  December 3, 2012

  When his watch started beeping, Benny’s eyes blinked wide open. He threw off the green army blanket he had stolen from one of the diorama displays in the Malinta Tunnel, stood, and stretched. He had grown accustomed to snatching his sleep in these two-hour stretches. He didn’t mind waking and making his rounds anymore. He picked up the binoculars and headed for the edge of the cliff that overlooked the sea and the entrance to the bay.

  He had chosen this campsite on the hill above Corregidor’s public beach because it offered a fantastic view of the channel and there was close access to bathrooms and showers. During the day there were often tourists on the beach with their picnics, and he’d been very successful at getting invited to eat with them. The moon was directly overhead and only one night past full. When he stepped out of the shadows of the trees, he felt exposed in the bright light.

  There were lights from three different vessels visible. Nearly every time he looked, there was some kind of boat passing by. The biggest was clearly a large ship. He could see the squarish shape of the containers stacked on deck. The other two vessels were mere pinpricks of light. Through the binoculars, he made out the bigger of the two. It looked like a Filipino long-liner fishing boat, headed out to search for the elusive huge tunas that feed the local demand for sushi. He shift
ed the glasses to the third and felt his pulse speed up.

  The moonlight reflected off the single white sail. This was the second time in four days he had spotted a sailboat. The previous time it soon became apparent that the boat was leaving Manila and heading south. He thought back to the boat he had seen in Phuket. The details seemed to match. Long low cabin. No pilothouse. White hull. Single mast.

  Benny checked his watch. It was twenty minutes past one. From abreast of the island Corregidor, the sailboat had to cover about twenty-five miles in to the Manila waterfront. He did the calculations and decided they would probably arrive at sunrise. They would be kept under close watch until they could clear with the authorities, and on a Sunday that would probably take a while. The first boats would start arriving here at dawn, ferrying the employees out for the day. He could arrive shortly after they did.

  Over the last several days, Benny had reached a decision. Hawkes had said to call when they arrived. The man had said Benny was no longer fit to intercept them, and from experience Benny suspected that meant he would not pay, either. Benny would call Hawkes when he had the girl and the old man in his custody, and then they could renegotiate his fee.

  Yesterday Benny had called his support source at the Enterprise. He explained the situation and said he needed the number to the woman’s personal phone. He knew her website from the information they had gleaned off the computer the old man had used to contact her. Two hours later, Benny had got a call from his contact. He had her number. He had already composed the text in his mind. He needed the location, though. The earlier he got back to the city, the sooner he could scout for a quiet spot where he could take them.

  He lifted the glasses one more time to check the boat. The timing was right and the boat fit the description. There were not nearly as many sailboats traveling into Manila as there were in Thailand. Yes, that must be hers. He turned and headed back to his campsite. He buried the charcoal wood and ash from his fires as well as the blanket. He swept the ground clean, then started out on the long walk to the ferry dock on the other side of the island.

  Aboard Bonefish

  Manila Yacht Club

  December 3, 2012

  The customs and immigration officers didn’t show signs of wanting to leave. She had filled out all the paperwork and the officers had stamped the passports, but the man and woman were looking at each other and speaking in Tagalog.

  The four of them were seated around the table in the main salon of Bonefish. Even though it was only a little after 9:00 a.m., the cabin was hot and stuffy. Riley had turned on the fans, but the thick, humid air in that tight space barely moved.

  “Here it comes,” Irv whispered.

  The woman customs officer avoided looking into Riley’s eyes when she asked for five thousand pesos as a clearance fee. “If you don’t have pesos, you can just pay one hundred US dollars,” the woman said.

  At that moment, Riley’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. She saw the message: Meet me at 11:00 in the San Agustin Church in Intramuros.

  Riley showed the phone to Irv. “Do you know where that is?”

  He nodded.

  She turned back to the officials. “If I pay you, I will need a receipt with your names on it.” Both officers had ID badges on lanyards. Riley started writing down their names on the corner of her clearance papers. “Sir, could you spell your last name for me?” she said to the man.

  He spoke to the woman in Tagalog again, and then he slid out of the banquette seat and rose. He offered Riley his hand. “Thank you and welcome to the Philippines,” he said.

  As they climbed up the steps and out onto the dock, Riley could hear the plaintive notes of the woman’s voice. She did not seem happy about her partner’s decision to give up on the bribe.

  When they were gone, Riley said, “You ready?”

  “Yeah. You want I should call us some transportation? I’ve got an old buddy from the Scouts who runs a cab service.”

  “That sounds good.” She handed him her phone. “Hey, do you know if there’s a back way out of this place?”

  “Through the boat dry-storage area. There’s a gate back there. I can loosen up the chain so we can squeeze through.”

  “Okay, have your friend pick us up in front of that gate.”

  He nodded and dialed. He spoke in Tagalog and when he disconnected he said, “It’s all set. He’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “Give me a minute to throw some extra clothes and things in my backpack, and then we’ll get out of here.” She tossed him a small duffel. “Here. Feel free to pack your old clothes and any stuff that I’ve loaned you.”

  Up in the forward head on her boat, she pulled out the compartment behind her toiletries and removed the prayer gau. When she had returned it to the hiding spot here, she had wrapped it again in the silk cloth. She unwrapped the silk and looked at it. Since Cole had already copied the documents, they probably wouldn’t need this. On the other hand, back in the Caribbean, the answers they sought turned out to be not in writing on the page, but in the design of things. Maybe the little gold prayer box had its own story to tell. She wrapped it back up and slid it into one of the plastic bags she used for taking liquids onto airplanes. She buried it under her clothes in the backpack.

  When they were ready, she got two towels out and told Irv to drape one around his shoulders. “Let’s make it look like we’re just moseying up to take our showers.” She wasn’t sure how effective it would be, since he already had his damn garrison cap on his head. She didn’t think guys usually wore their battle ribbons into the shower.

  After she locked up her boat, they walked up the finger pier and into the main yacht club building. The receptionist was a large woman whom Riley thought looked disturbingly like Imelda Marcos. The woman focused on Irv. “Are you the captain of Bonefish?”

  He turned to Riley and winked.

  Riley said, “No, that’s me.”

  “Oh? All right. A young woman telephoned a few minutes ago. She asked if your boat had arrived yet. When I told her it had, she asked for your cellular number. I told her giving out phone numbers is against policy. She was not happy. I hope this won’t inconvenience you.”

  “No, it’s quite all right. Really. Thank you.” Riley leaned across the counter. “I’m going on a little sightseeing trip. Could you please alert your security to take extra care watching my boat? I don’t know who this woman is, and I fear she may try to break in.”

  “Don’t worry, miss. I’ll tell them.”

  “Thanks. The showers are back this way?”

  “Yes, at the end of the hall.”

  Riley had already seen that there was a side door across from the showers that led out into the boat dry-storage area. They headed down the hall and slipped out the door.

  “A woman,” Irv said once they were outside. “I’ve never known Benny to work with a woman.”

  “It would be smart, though. We’d be less likely to suspect a woman.”

  “Come on. The gate’s over here.”

  Irv was right about the chain on the gate. How he’d come by this piece of information, she didn’t know, but since the chain was looped around the gate a couple of times they were able to pull tight all the slack, and because they were small they both managed to squeeze through the gap.

  Outside at the curb, an old-fashioned horse and buggy waited while the traffic on the wide boulevard lined up behind it trying to get around. The cart had two big wooden-spoked wheels and a small seat in back for passengers. The cart itself was made of wood, but it bore a roof of what looked like leather. The driver, who had thick white hair, dark wrinkled skin, and a hunched back, sat on a little seat just ahead of the passenger seat. He held a long whip in his right hand.

  “What the hell?” Riley said.

  “Jump in,” Irv said. “It’s called a kalesa. This is Manila, sweetheart.” He walked up to the front and shook the driver’s hand. “Good to see you, Pedro,” he
said. He continued in Tagalog, but Riley understood when he said San Agustin in Intramuros. Then Irv hopped in back with Riley.

  The horse took off at a trot. Pedro waved his whip in traffic like a turn signal and managed to get into the center lane, from where he could make a U-turn. Riley saw another kalesa traveling in the opposite direction with a couple of smiling Japanese tourists in the carriage. And there were crazy painted stainless-steel buses that looked like they belonged in a Mardi Gras parade.

  Irv noticed her looking at one with the name “Ruby” on a big signboard above the windshield. “That’s called a jeepney,” Irv said. “You’ll see them all over the country here.”

  Riley turned back to face him. “Irv, I don’t like that business about that woman on the phone. We need to be extra careful.”

  “You’re right, sweetheart.” He scooted forward on the seat so he could speak into the ear of the driver. After they conversed, Pedro turned right onto a side street.

  There were lots of women on the street, and Riley suspected they were prostitutes from their dress. “Where are you taking us, Peewee?”

  Pedro stopped the horse and turned to look at Riley. Irv reached over and picked up several strands of her hair and the two of them chatted on in Tagalog.

  Riley swatted his hand away. “What are you doing?”

  Pedro whistled and pointed at one of the girls. She strolled over to their carriage.

  “Do you speak English?” Irv said.

  The woman nodded and Irv scooted closer to Riley and told the young woman to climb in.

  “She’s about your size and build, but her hair’s too dark,” Irv said. “Do you have a hooded sweatshirt in your bag?”

  She understood his plan, then. “Great idea,” Riley said, “as long as she doesn’t get hurt.” She dug into her backpack and pulled out her favorite navy hoodie.

  “It’s a church,” Peewee said. “If it’s not your friends, they’ll be out to snatch, not to hurt.”

  It was crowded in the kalesa now with the three of them in the back. Pedro flicked the reins and the horse took off, his hooves making a lovely clip-clopping sound as they made their way through the city traffic.