Air Pirates of Krakatoa (Doc Vandal Adventures Book 2)

by Dave Robinson

  Just as Doc reached a hatchway he saw the elevator door open and Tigress step out between a pair of Ligers. Then two of the guards stepped forwards, and shoved him through the hatch.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Thrown in the Hold

  Vic's head ached even before she opened her eyes. Her hands were bound behind her, and she was seated on a hard surface. From the rattling, she was in the back of a vehicle on an unpaved road.

  “Are you awake?” The voice was Ming's and even through Vic's headache her voice sounded softer than it had the last few days.

  Just then, they bounced through a particularly deep pothole, and Vic grunted in pain as she hit her head on the side of the vehicle. She opened her eyes to see Ming peering at her from across the back of a truck, the concern on her face obvious even in the dim light. She was sitting the same way Vic was, her hands behind her back, and an apple-sized bruise on the side of her head.

  A moment later, Ming's face went hard as Vic met her eyes. “So, what do we do now? Wait for your husband to rescue us?”

  Vic shook her head, wincing as it sent another stab of pain behind her eyeballs. “No, we try to rescue ourselves.” She spread her legs a bit to stabilize herself and leaned back against the wall. She was bound with rope, not metal, so she gritted her teeth as she tried to reach the knots with her fingers.

  “That doesn't sound like much of a husband,” Ming muttered, glaring at Vic.

  “That's because he's not much of a husband,” Vic responded, pulling on her bindings to try and reach the knots. “Like I said, the marriage is a sham; it's just the easiest way to make sure we can look after each other if one of us gets in trouble.”

  “You didn't rush to him like it was a sham.”

  “I rushed to him because he might as well be family. This team is all I have left. Almost every close relative I had was killed by the Bolsheviks before the end of the Civil War. I was raised by my dying grandmother and a handful of servants until the money ran out. He took me in, and you're damn straight I'll be there for him!” Vic met Ming's glare with one of her own, then closed her eyes and focused on the ropes.

  They were thick and rough, chafing her wrists, but the ropes were moving slowly. The rough ride didn't help. Every other bounce sent her head into the side of the truck, forcing her to start again. The knots themselves were large, and tighter than she could have tied herself. Slowly, she ran her fingernails over the knots, feeling for somewhere to loosen them.

  As she worked, she tried to work out where they were going. About all she could tell was that they were heading out of the mountains down a back road. They went over another bump and the little voice in the back of her head reminded her that once you got out of the cities almost all the roads on Java were back roads. She smiled at the thought, then returned her attention to the ropes.

  “Vic?” Ming's voice was hesitant.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I part of the team?”

  Vic looked up to see Ming watching her through narrowed eyes. “Of course you are.” She shook her head. “That's a silly question, and not just because you're tied up here with me.”

  “I'm tied up with you because my former fiancé doesn't like loose ends.” Ming glanced towards the front of the truck. “I won't marry him so he's getting rid of me.”

  “If he was the one who hit me I don't blame you for dumping him,” Vic said a bit too enthusiastically, and then winced as she moved her head too fast. “Why did you break up.”

  “I didn’t want to give up my life to raise his babies; besides, he wasn't my type,” Ming said flatly.

  Vic nodded and went back to work on her bindings. They must have been moving for a while, more light was filtering through the flaps at the back of the truck. The road had leveled off and now that there were fewer bumps it was easier to get at the knots. Unfortunately, they were still too tight to get her nails into the ropes. She grimaced and tried again.

  A few moments later the truck rattled to a stop. After a moment, she heard the doors open so she wriggled around to face the tailgate, trying not to bump her head again. Vic managed to move just in time; someone threw the doors open and she found herself blinking in the bright morning light. In the seconds it took for her eyes to adjust, she was pulled out of the truck to find herself standing by a small wooden pier. A glance from the corner of her eye showed Ming standing beside her.

  A rusty freighter hung at anchor a couple of hundred yards off shore, as boats made their way to and from the pier. Meanwhile, workers were carrying heavy sacks to other boats tied up at the end of the pier. There were at least a dozen guards present, including the noisy one behind her. It took her a moment to figure out what looked different. Unlike Van Houten's barefoot guards, these were Japanese soldiers in proper uniform.

  “So this is the one?” A male voice broke the silence, speaking Cantonese. Vic looked away from the workers to see the man who had captured them staring at her, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. He was wearing loose dark brown clothes, and stood a little taller than Ming.

  “I don't know what you mean.” Vic shook her head, the man was a stranger; his voice sounded familiar, though. The more she saw of him, the more she was sure she knew him from somewhere.

  “I wasn't talking to you.”

  She turned her head to see Ming staring at the man, her face blank. “I told you we would never marry when I left. Things haven't changed.” She spat on the ground in front of him. “I didn't turn you down because of someone else, I turned you down because of you.”

  “You will soon see that that was a very bad decision on your part.” He turned and waved towards one of the guards. “Throw them in the hold. If they give you any trouble, shoot them in the stomach.” He pointed at Ming. “Her first.”

  Two guards came up behind Vic and hustled her down the pier towards one of the boats. Another pair had Ming; they pushed her ahead of Vic, the one on the right keeping one hand on her upper arm and the other on his holstered pistol. They marched the two of them down the pier, their boots thumping on the wood. Moments later, they were unceremoniously dumped on what felt like a bag of rocks near the bow of a boat, while two of the soldiers hopped in to cover them.

  The boatman cast off, and they headed toward the ship. Vic tried to catch Ming's eye to see how she was doing, but she just sat there looking out over the water. They were in a small motor boat, with one man at the rear controlling the tiller. As they got closer to the freighter, Vic saw the hull rise out of the water, with streaks of rust marking out the lines of rivets on the hull plates. Once they were alongside, a pair of barefoot sailors climbed down ropes and called down a couple of cargo nets. Less than a minute later, she and Ming were trussed up in the nets and on their way up the side of the freighter.

  It was all Vic could do to try and keep her head clear of the hull as the ropes jerked her upwards. She hunched her head forwards and tried to let her back bounce off the iron hull. Ming was a little below her, and from what Vic could see she wasn't doing anything to protect herself from the impact. Vic winced in sympathy as Ming's back slammed into the plates, only to gasp as a sudden impact knocked the breath out of her.

  By the time she had gathered it back, she was on the deck, and under the watchful eyes of more guards, again in Japanese military uniforms. An officer came out of the wheelhouse, and yelled something in Japanese at the guards. One saluted the officer, and then turned and pointed towards the hold. “Get in.”

  Others loosened the nets and Vic struggled to her feet, then looked to see how Ming was doing. She too had reached her feet, and this time she nodded when she met Vic's gaze. A guard shoved a rifle muzzle into her back, forcing Vic to take a step forward to keep her balance.

  One of the guards laughed, but his laughter was cut short by a barked order. They were all business as they marched the two women over to the hold and pushed them in.

  #

  Even from where he sat in the bottom of the left pontoon, Doc could feel the
vibration of the main engines through the structure of the flying wing. They had only been on the ground for five or ten minutes at most before they returned to the skies. The takeoff had been smooth, and once they reached altitude the engines had throttled back to cruise. Though it was almost as big as a Zeppelin, there was a sense of solidity to the flying wing that other aircraft seemed to lack. It felt like it was boring through the air, ignoring any crosswinds.

  Doc was in a cell about eight feet square, one of six arranged in two rows of three facing each other with a small corridor between them. Each cell was separated from the next by duralumin bars about an inch thick, the same as the front of the cell. A bed, sink, and what looked like a toilet made up the furnishings. Doc was in the front cell on the left side, so he had a wall to lean against, but Gus in the next cell was not so lucky. Gilly and Kehla were on the other side of the corridor, sitting on the bunks. There was no sign of Vic or Ming.

  The only light came from a single porthole about a foot across high on the back wall of each cell. It was both thick and solidly made, and while the glass looked clear enough, there wasn't much light coming through it in the shade beneath the wing.

  Doc tried the lock experimentally, but it seemed strong enough to hold him, even if Gus might be able to break out. He could probably pick it, but what to do next? More importantly, where were Vic and Ming? There wasn't anyone in the corridor, but that didn't mean they weren't being watched by someone on the other side of the door. Worst of all, there was only one way out. The wheels were in front of them and the only way up was through the stairway on the other side of the guardroom.

  A look through the porthole told him they were moving generally west, maybe a little north. The door at the end of the corridor opened softly and Doc turned to see a familiar masked woman step through the opening. A liger followed at her heels, taking up most of the available space. No sooner had the cat entered than the door clicked shut behind them.

  Tigress moved slowly up the short corridor, her dress rustling, as she looked from side to side. It was a short walk, but she took enough time to look over each of the prisoners, although she didn't say anything. Finally she stopped in front of Doc, and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “So this is where your search for your cousin's killer has brought you.”

  Doc turned to face her, and nodded. “So it appears.”

  She stood there, silently, observing him, while the cat paced back and forth as if it were the one in the cage. Tigress glanced at Gus, and then back to Doc before speaking. “Do you know who killed your cousin yet?” Her words were soft, but there was something in the way she said them that implied she already had an answer in mind.

  He shook his head. “No, I don't. I have an idea as to who was behind it, but not the actual killer.”

  Tigress sighed. “I would have thought someone as smart as you would have figured it out by now.” She held out her hand for Doc to examine. It was small and perfectly manicured; her nails were painted vermilion with the Chinese characters for freedom picked out in jade green. After giving him a moment to look at the back of her hand, she flipped it over to show the callouses. “This is what the hands of a coffee picker look like. Or at least those of anyone who lost her childhood doing stoop labor for the Dutch.”

  She stabbed her forefinger at him. “Your cousin's death was a corollary of the system by which he lived. He was part of the system, and the same system he used to build his wealth on the suffering of others was the system that eventually killed him. It was as much a suicide as it was a murder.”

  “And Van Houten is any different?” Doc raised an eyebrow. “I really don't see him as being any sort of champion of the oppressed; he certainly doesn't seem any better than my late cousin.”

  “Van Houten will pay for his crimes; unlike some others, he has already begun to make restitution.” Even through the mask her face hardened as she talked about the Dutchman. “For the moment, he is necessary.”

  “So I should have just turned everything over to Van Houten and left the rest to you?” Doc took a step and leaned against the wall. “Is that the idea?”

  “You and your friends wouldn't have ended up here,” she replied. “You might want to consider that.”

  “Funny you should mention my friends.” He gestured towards the empty cells. “They aren't all here. It seems your associate may have missed some.”

  “No, he told me he had made sure of everyone.” She glanced around the compartment. “You, a black man, and two gorillas.”

  “There were also two women,” Doc added. “My pilot, Victoria Frank, and a former resident of Batavia named Li Ming. They're missing.”

  Tigress stiffened. “Did you say Li Ming?”

  “Why, do you know her?”

  “It's a common name.” Tigress softened her stance, but Doc could still see the tension around her mouth. “There are many women who share it.”

  “Well, one of those women is missing, and she's the one who was treating me for the aftereffects of that explosion.”

  “Treating you?” Tigress was pacing now, her stride matching the liger.

  “Yes, she's a doctor, both of western and Chinese medicine.”

  Tigress stopped short, and spun back to face Doc. “You are sure of this?”

  “As sure as I am standing here.”

  She turned on her heel and strode to the door, which opened the moment she reached it. The liger padded after her without directing a single glance in anyone else's direction. The door clicked shut behind the cat and they were alone again.

  “Looks like she got some news she wasn't expecting,” Gilly said, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe someone isn't telling her everything he said he was.”

  “That does appear to align with my thoughts, as well,” Gus said. He was sitting on the floor in the middle of his cell; the bunk looked far too flimsy to hold him. “Perhaps they are not as united as they would like us to believe.”

  Kehla grunted in agreement. “I can't see Van Houten treating a woman as an equal. Especially not a Chinese woman.”

  “You're right.” Doc smiled. “Though I can tell you that anyone who underestimates that woman is making a mistake.”

  Kehla chuckled. “She really made an impression on you, did she?”

  “She's a strong leader with a clear moral stance; she knows what she stands for and why she stands for it.” Doc sat down on his bunk. “The question is whether she really understands who she's working with. I have my doubts.”

  “That wasn't what I meant.” Kehla grinned at Doc.

  “Then I'm not quite sure what you mean.” Doc frowned.

  “I'm sure you aren't.” She leaned back against the wall and pulled her feet up on her bunk. “For an intelligent man, you can be so oblivious sometimes.” Kehla shook her head and started laughing softly.

  Doc sighed. He'd planted some seeds with the Tigress, now all that mattered was to see how they played out. She was the key to everything, he was sure of it. As for Van Houten, if the man cared about anything other than himself, it was probably the size of his bank account. But who was the third player? Somebody had to be supplying their technology; if Van Houten had the factories to build something like this, he wouldn't be worried about getting his hands on Cornelius Basingstoke's coffee plantation. So who was it, and why?

  #

  It was a short flight, about three hours if Doc judged the time right. He didn't see the point of sleeping, and from his position on the outside he was able to see their destination: Krakatoa. This time they landed on water, inside the atoll. Doc was impressed with the ease with which the pilot put the wing down. Whoever it was had laid in a straight course and touched down perfectly on the step. Vic couldn't have done it better.

  Several hours later, the door opened to reveal Van Houten with some of his guards. The big man stood by the doorway, near one of the empty cells, while the four guards came up to Doc's cell. Doc waited as the guards opened the door. Once they were done they stepped
back and Van Houten waved him out into the corridor. Doc walked out slowly, the deck cold under his feet. Two of the guards fell in behind him while the other two took up positions in front.

  “Don't dawdle, we have places to go,” Van Houten said with a cold smile. “Your friends will be just fine where they are. I might even have them fed.”

  “That would be appreciated,” Gus said brightly.

  “Or perhaps not,” Van Houten added thoughtfully, without looking at Gus. “Come along Doctor, and remember that your friends are depending on your good behavior.”

  Doc nodded. “And the other two?”

  Van Houten shrugged. “I didn't think they were that important. I gave them to one of my men; he deserved a reward.”

  He pointed to the door. “After you.”

  Doc walked through the doorway. The guard who had been there earlier was gone, replaced by one of Van Houten's men. He followed the guards up the stairway and out into the body of the wing.

  None of the regular crew were anywhere to be seen. Instead, Van Houten's men were everywhere, guarding all the doors in sight. As they moved towards the hatch, Doc was able to catch a glimpse into the central body, where a dozen mechanics were working on a pair of Nakajima Ki-27 pursuit planes under the watchful eyes of the Dutchman's guards. An empty cradle showed that whoever they were, they had not been able to replace the plane Gilly had shot down the previous week.

  Someone shoved him from behind and he took the hint, and increased his pace.

  Van Houten and his men wasted no time in getting Doc out of the flying wing and on his way ashore. They put Doc in the front of a small motor launch while the big Dutchman took the rear, looking like nothing so much as a white-suited conqueror. He puffed on his ever-present cheroot as they sailed across the blue water between the islands. From his seat near the bow, Doc had a good view of a small volcanic islet rising in the middle of the lagoon formed by the three remnants of the eruption over fifty years earlier.