Amelia

by Harvey Mendez

  Ito shifted forward in his chair. “Some things even a son must not know. Her grandfather was the first foreign governor of Saipan. She was very instrumental in our victory at Pearl Harbor.”

  “And her relationship with you?”

  Ito looked up. “I taught her the fine art of espionage.”

  “He taught me well.” Her voice came from the doorway.

  Harry stared at the tall woman, whose figure made her long, tight dress come alive. Her medium-length hair was streaked golden-blonde. Her blue eyes, accented with green eye shadow, reflected light from the room. Bright red lips punctuated her smooth face.

  “Ruth—still ravishing.” Ito stood.

  “Thank you. I need a drink.”

  “Harry...”

  He opened the liquor cabinet. “What would you like?”

  “White wine. German, of course.”

  “Most relaxing.” Ito sat back in his chair.

  “Yes,” Ruth said, “but now we must get down to the business at hand.”

  “I agree,” Harry said. “Amelia has drawn the line between us. Her man is a prying fool.”

  “Once, he tried to destroy us,” Ito said. “The Society vowed to live on. It is only a matter of time before we resurface forever. Only my Viet Cong friends know when.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” Ruth moved to the couch near Ito’s chair. “That man, Adams, and the old man almost uncovered the truth.”

  “They’re both gone,” Harry said.

  “You sure you got rid of Antonio?” Ito asked.

  Harry gulped his drink. “Of course.”

  “You’re sure, eh?” Ruth laughed. “Maybe he’s just off on one of his drunken treks. I never trusted him. His hand shot out in too many directions.”

  Harry gave her a curt look. “He’s dead, all right. My boys took care of that. I saw his jeep in the Grotto.”

  “His jeep?” Ruth said, “What about him? Did you see him? He could have escaped.”

  “No chance. Those water are monstrous.”

  “A good place to dump Joaquina.” Ito rose from his chair. “That old snoop must be eliminated.”

  “First, find out what her husband knew,” Ruth said. “We need the papers he stole.”

  Ito sat next to Ruth. “I’ll leave Joaquina up to you. Make sure she causes no more problems.”

  * * * *

  “What do you say to a little outing?” Amelia set a large breakfast tray at Vincent’s bedside. “Dr. Hernandez said you could go if you take it easy.”

  Vincent’s eyes brightened; he pulled Amelia beside him. “I’m more than ready. How about you? You were more beat up than me.”

  “I’m okay.” She smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He snuggled his face between her breasts.

  “How’s my patient doing today?” Joaquina walked into her spare bedroom.

  Amelia jumped up, straightened her blouse; color filled her cheeks. Vincent pulled the blanket above his waist.

  “Why are you two so red-faced?”

  Amelia opened a window. “It’s hot in here.”

  “Yes... I can see that.” Joaquina folded her arms.

  “We’ve plans for a drive today,” Amelia said.

  “Why?” Joaquina’s smile faded. “Whenever you leave my house, you get in trouble.”

  “Vincent makes my life exciting.” She sat on the bed, brushing her hand along his leg.

  Joaquina stood in the doorway. “I better pack a lunch if you really must go. Don’t think you should—but who listens to me around here?” She turned. “Oh, I nearly forgot . . .” She fished into her apron pocket, brought out a crumpled envelope. “This came in the morning mail. It’s from Guam.”

  “Thanks.” Amelia put it on the nightstand. “I’ll read it later, probably nothing important. First, I better help Vincent get dressed.”

  “I think he’s plenty able to take care of himself in that department.” Joaquina walked out the door.

  Amelia tore open the envelope and read the note. “Go to top of Mt. Tagpochau—spectacular view from north side—Mrs. G.” She handed the scribbled note to Vincent. “What do you make of it?”

  “Don’t know if I trust Mrs. G.”

  “Mrs. Garcia’s the only one who’s ever helped us.”

  He shook his head. “I guess... then, let’s get going.” He climbed out of bed. “A mountaintop’s not a bad place for a picnic—and it’ll give us a little privacy.” He smiled.

  Amelia gave him a sly look. “Yes, she is right—the view’s spectacular.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Vincent maneuvered the jeep through dull green meadows of tangan-tangan and up the steep dirt road. “Mrs. Garcia—what’s she up to? This gonna be another dead-end? If she really knew about the secret societies and how they were involved in the AE mystery, she’d be dead.”

  Amelia brushed stray hairs from her face. “Maybe she is, or maybe we’ll finally find some concrete evidence up here.”

  “It bugs me, she warns you, then she’s in the paper and on Guam. Then we get the note. We fall for it, come up to this isolated area. Good set-up to get rid of us.”

  “Her husband helped Dad—remember the letter he sent you two years ago. They’d lived here for years.”

  “Well, he got killed,” Vincent said. “Did you know them very well?”

  “Not really, he and Dad went off alone a lot, like Antonio did.”

  “Same pattern.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Is there another way up here?”

  She gazed at the mountain. “Not that I know of, unless the Japanese had one.”

  The jeep hit a pothole. They lifted out of their seats with the bounce.

  Vincent surveyed the area. “Quite a strategic spot.”

  “No one was allowed up here during the war. Supposedly, the Japanese carried out executions in the caves.”

  “Could AE have been one of them?”

  Amelia’s face saddened. “I wonder...”

  “Will we ever know?” The jeep scaled the last incline. Vincent stopped on a plateau.

  “This is the highest point on Saipan,” she said. “Always a nice breeze, helps when the humidity’s unbearable.”

  “No wonder the Marines fought so hard to capture it. You can see the whole island.” He hopped out. “Many people come here, now?”

  “Sometimes young lovers. We thought it was spooky, but I remember once in high school . . .” Her face reddened.

  “You came here with Harry?”

  She nodded. “He wanted to show me the secret caves. We’d just gone swimming—didn’t have much on. He got a little overzealous.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “The police showed up—shooed us away. Harry was mad. That’s how he was when he didn’t get his way.”

  Vincent cleared his throat, glanced down the mountainside. “Then you never saw the caves?”

  “No, but I heard they honeycomb the entire mountain. Japanese stragglers came out several years after the war ended. Didn’t even know it was over.”

  “I remember you saying something about that when we sailed into the harbor,” he said. “They must’ve used the caves to hide ammo and supplies. Wonder what’s been hidden in them since then?”

  “Now that I think about it,” Amelia said, “Dad and Antonio used to come up here. I didn’t pay much attention, but Mother got upset—like she knew something would happen to them. Seemed like she cooked and cooked on those days.”

  “Couldn’t have hidden AE’s plane here. If it’s still on Saipan, it’d be buried in a cane field someplace, where the earth’s a lot softer.”

  “Funny you said that.” She gazed down the mountain at the scattered sugar cane fields. “That’s where they found Dad’s body—in a cane field.”

  Vincent put an arm around her. “Gotta be something to connect it all.”

  “How can this little island hold so many secrets?” She turned close to him.

  “That’s what we’r
e going to find out.”

  “Feels good to be close again.”

  “Yeah, all that’s happened, we haven’t had much time for our own needs.” He kissed her lips, gently at first, then pressed harder.

  Their mouths opened; they caressed each other like it was their first time again. He pulled up her blouse. She opened his shirt.

  “I need you,” Vincent said.

  “I’ll get the blanket.” Amelia slipped from his grip, grabbed the blanket from the jeep, and spread it on the ground. “It’s chenille, not wool.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  They lowered on the blanket, squeezed together again. Their urgency hastened with passionate kissing and caressing. Breaths came as quick gasps.

  “Well, well...” a voice from behind said, “taking a little break, are we?”

  Vincent released Amelia, looked up. Ito and Harry Sakura loomed above them.

  “Getting careless in your old age, Electra?” A wide grin spread across Ito’s face.

  “Once, you were not so lax.”

  Vincent’s eyes narrowed, he stared at his old adversary. “Ito, you sonofa—”

  Amelia grasped his knee. “No.” Color drained from her face.

  “Stand up, both of you,” Harry said. “Very slowly.”

  Amelia stood. “What do you want, Harry?”

  “Get over here, next to me.” He motioned with his finger.

  “I—I’m staying right here.” Her voice cracked.

  Harry moved closer.

  “She’s staying here.” Vincent put an arm around her. “You and I aren’t finished yet.”

  Harry pulled a Luger from his pocket. “You got it all wrong, Vince, old buddy, unless you want blood all over your love blanket.”

  Ito stepped forward. The three men glowered at each other.

  “They won’t hurt you.” Vincent removed his arm from Amelia.

  Ito pulled back. “We hear you’ve been searching for evidence. Answers to events you should leave buried.”

  “You’re good at burying things—and people,” Vincent said.

  “Don’t play games with me.” Ito stiffened. “I know you and Adams built that spy plane and he stole secret documents we had brought here from Tokyo.”

  Vincent took a step toward Ito. “You killed Stan.”

  Ito drew his pistol, pointed it at Vincent’s head. “I want those papers.” His eyes cut into Vincent.

  “Stop!” Amelia stepped between them.

  Harry pulled her back.

  “Tie her up,” Ito said.

  Harry pulled out a cord, wound it around her wrists. Amelia winced, twisted her arms. Vincent lunged at him, clutched his throat. Harry choked, gripped Vincent’s arms. Ito jumped behind Vincent, hit him several quick chops with his gun barrel.

  “No!” Amelia dove for Vincent’s falling body.

  Stop the hammering—each whack stabbed his head harder—turn on lights. Vincent jerked, twitched back and forth, rolled on his back, felt the ropes around his wrists and ankles. What the hell? He sniffed the cool air, struggled with his bonds. Shallow breathing drifted out of the darkness. He strained his eyes. “Amelia?”

  “Over here.” Her voice echoed.

  He edged his shoulder into the dirt, crawled toward the voice. After several moments of intense pain, he bumped into rocks. “Where are we?”

  “Musty, damp—must be one of the caves. You okay?”

  “Hurtin’. Hands and feet tied behind my back. Can’t move much. How about you?”

  “All right so far—they tied me, too.” She twisted her hands.

  “Where are they?”

  “Don’t know. They rushed out of here. Will they kill us?”

  “Not gonna wait around to find out. Soon as my head clears, we’re getting out.”

  “Too late,” a woman’s German-accented voice said.

  A flashlight’s beam circled the cave walls, shone in their eyes.

  “Herr Carlson, we meet again.” A fiftyish-blonde stood before them. She wore dark slacks tucked into high leather boots.

  Vincent blinked at the light. Where had he heard that voice—so long ago? “Do I know you?”

  “You disappoint me, Electra.” She set down the lantern she held in her other hand.

  “Who? Where’d you get that name?”

  He gazed at her face and figure in the lantern light, but his eyes had not fully adjusted yet.

  “You Americans—still so stupid. Did you think Ito and Doctor Keuhn were incompetent?”

  Vincent heard the contempt in her voice. Shadows danced on the walls each time she moved. He braced his lower back against a rock. His bound hands dug into the damp dirt. Sweat ran off his face.

  She leaned closer to the lantern. “So, Electra, you prove my point.” She let out a throaty laugh.

  “You still despise us that much, huh, Ruth?”

  “Very good, Herr Carlson. You do have a memory of better days.”

  He struggled to rise. She kicked his ribs, knocked him over.

  He caught his breath. “You’re Ruth, all right.”

  “No, even with that accent, I recognize her voice.” Amelia wiggled forward.

  “She’s Mrs. Garcia.”

  “Clever girl, but I knew my warning would just suck you in more.”

  “My dad—you and Ito killed him.” Amelia’s voice rose.

  Ruth spun around. “You are such a fool, Fraulein—no one will ever—”

  “Enough!” Ito stood behind her, a flashlight and lantern in his hands. “Say no more.” He gave her an icy stare.

  Ruth’s lips snapped shut. She turned, glared back.

  Ito stooped in front of Amelia, skimmed his hand across her breasts. “You’ve always been such a beauty.”

  She bit at him. “Stay away from me.”

  Ruth’s eyes blazed at Ito, then she smiled.

  Ito backed off. “Feisty, too.” He pointed the light in Amelia’s eyes. “We’ll continue this later.”

  Vincent, eyes straining, twisted across the cave’s dirt bottom toward Amelia.

  “I wouldn’t suggest that.” Ito stomped his foot on Vincent’s shoulder.

  “Leave him alone!” Amelia threw her body at Ito.

  Ito sidestepped; she fell on her face. “I’ll show you what a real man is.” He turned her over.

  Vincent rolled on Ito’s foot. Ito pushed him away, hit him three times on the back of the head with the flashlight.

  Vincent lay still. Amelia screamed.

  “Come on.” Ito pulled Ruth’s sleeve. “We have important business in town.” He walked out of the humid cavern.

  Ruth stared down at Amelia’s dirty face. “Stay away, Ito’s mine.” She dragged Amelia to the opposite wall, tied her to a metal stake, and kicked her in the stomach with her boot.

  Amelia groaned, dropped her head to a shoulder.

  Ruth’s heels crunched the soft earth when she strutted out, pitching the cave into total blackness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Joaquina stirred Escabeche on the stove, then dried the dishes standing in the sink. She wiped her hands, looked out the kitchen window. A car halted in the driveway. “What’s his car doing here? The nerve of him, calling on me like everything’s normal.” She walked into the living room. A knock sounded at the front door. “I thought I told you never to—” She opened the door. “Oh, Mrs. Garcia, it’s you. I thought it was Harry.” She glanced outside. “Isn’t that his car?”

  “It is,” the hunched-over woman said. “I just borrowed it. May I come in?”

  “Yes, certainly.” Joaquina scratched her head. “Harry let you use his car?”

  She ignored the question. “Is your daughter home?”

  “No, but why don’t you sit down and wait?” Joaquina motioned to the sofa. “Maybe I can help you.”

  “Yes, I think you can.” A coarse smile crossed her lips. Her voice deepened. “Would you mind coming with me?” She reached inside her large handbag.

  J
oaquina rubbed her hands on her apron. “I can’t right now, got food on the stove.”

  Ruth rose to her full height, pulled a pistol from her purse, and pointed it at Joaquina’s face. “Then I must insist.” Her accent turned from Chamorron to German.

  “I—I don’t understand.” Joaquina threw back her arms. “Who are you? This isn’t funny.”

  “Listen fatso, this is no joke. Get moving!”

  Joaquina drew up her shoulders, took a step toward Ruth.

  “I wouldn’t.” Ruth fired a round past her head.

  * * * *

  Harry entered the cave carrying a lantern and a blanket. He walked toward Amelia. “Getting a little more cooperative?”

  Amelia looked up. “Who...”

  “I could take you someplace nice and warm.” He threw the blanket near her feet. “Your friend would never know—he’s still out.”

  “Not interested.” She struggled with her bonds, looked at Vincent sprawled on the dirt.

  “Well, maybe you’re interested in this.” He pulled a gold cross from his pocket, dangled its broken chain in front of her.

  Amelia’s face clouded. “Where did you get that?”

  He polished the crucifix with his shirtsleeve. “S.A.—look familiar?”

  In the lantern light, Amelia saw the menace etched on his face. “It’s my father’s.” Her eyes moistened. “He wore it all the time. Give it to me.”

  Harry’s lips curved in a twisted smile. “Sure—soon as we go someplace more comfortable.”

  Amelia spotted Vincent wiggling behind Harry and scooted her skirt up her legs, caught Harry’s attention. Her scowl turned to a smile and she threw back her head, raised her breasts. “And where would that place be?”

  Harry moved closer, mesmerized by her bare thighs. “I’ll untie you.” He bent, undid her leg bonds.

  Vincent coiled his bound legs, kicked Harry in the back, knocked his head against a jagged rock. Harry crumpled face down in the dirt.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, “ Vincent said. “Back up to me, untie the ropes.”

  After releasing each other, they stretched to get their circulation going. Amelia grabbed the crucifix from Harry’s hand. Vincent tied a cord around his wrists, cinched it tight until Harry winced, then stuffed a handkerchief into his mouth.