Wake of the Hornet

by R. R. Irvine

  When they reached her, Elliot raised an eyebrow and said, “Everything that belongs to us is loaded on board.” She translated his eyebrow’s unspoken message as we’re up to our asses in alligators.

  Farrington smiled. “I’ve just had a nice chat with your father, Ms. Scott. Lily, I debriefed earlier. The facts seem clear enough and undisputed. Now, it’s only a matter of tying up the loose ends. Before we do, I just want to let you know that I’m on your side.”

  Nick held her breath. Her department head, Ben Gilbert, had said the same thing to her once, while all the time he was slipping a knife into her back.

  “As you know,” Farrington continued, “Balesin is under United States protection. Since I am the senior government representative present, I’m acting as ambassador. Which means I’m here on your country’s behalf, Ms. Scott. And right now, your country needs your cooperation.”

  Nick cringed inwardly. “What exactly are you asking?”

  “It’s best that no word of what happened here on Balesin ever gets out.”

  “You can’t cover up murder.”

  “You misunderstand me. It’s the collateral damage I’m talking about.” He gestured at Mount Nomenuk. “Besides, there’s no surviving evidence to prove that anything of importance happened up there.”

  “What about the plane that blew up?”

  “What plane? My men have been over the site with fine-tooth combs. They found nothing at all.”

  “Even after an explosion, there have to be pieces left. I’m sure I’ll be able to find them with a metal detector. I won’t need much to prove it was a Lockheed Electra.”

  Farrington shook his head. “You’re mistaken. It was nothing but an old B-25. It probably wandered off course and crashed. It was nothing but war salvage, a wreck.”

  “Plane wrecks are my line of work. And if it was just a B-25 as you say, why was it here? This island was bypassed by our forces during the war and never actually invaded.”

  Farrington shrugged. “Proof, Ms. Scott. Where’s your proof?”

  “I’ll find it.”

  “I’m afraid not. As of now Balesin is off-limits to outsiders. The Reverend Innis and Mr. Parker have already been flown off the island.”

  “What about Mr. Parker’s store?” she asked.

  “Mr. Parker has decided to retire from his many activities,” Farrington replied. “Besides, we wouldn’t want any more tragic incidents to taint this island’s unique culture.”

  Elliot stepped in. “Just hold it. Ohmura destroyed whatever evidence there was. He came with you, he was your man. Why would he bother if all there was up there was an old war relic?”

  “He wasn’t my man, but only our consultant on Pacific cultures.”

  “Crap,” Nick told him. “Since when do consultants carry guns?”

  “Maybe the man was deranged. How do I know? Perhaps the heat got to him.”

  “That plane was rigged to explode when Ohmura got there,” she said. “Somebody was there before us.”

  Farrington pointed to himself. “Don’t look at me. While you were hiking up that mountain getting yourself injured, I was with Chief Jeban.”

  “I’ve told you that Buettner killed Ohmura, and I told you why. He wanted that plane for himself and the fame that went with it.”

  “What are you suggesting, that we charge Lily with murder?” He stroked his chin. “That’s certainly a possibility since, according to your own statement, she was the one who pushed the button.”

  “She saved my life, you bastard.”

  “Ambassador, please. Now, let’s get down to cases. If you and your father go along with me, I’m sure we can lay all the blame on Buettner. He was a psycho after all.”

  Nick glared. “You really are a bastard.”

  He spread his hands innocently. “I’m a Good Samaritan, here to offer you a free sea voyage back to Guam.”

  Nick spun on her heels and walked away, trying to calm herself. Farrington knew more than he was saying. That much was obvious. She suspected that the Lockheed Electra had come as no surprise to him. Or the B-25 either, for that matter. But there was nothing she could do about it. Worse yet, she couldn’t prove a damn thing. Only Lily was witness to what happened, and she was nowhere to be seen. None of the villagers were either. No islander had come near them since the explosion on their sacred mountain.

  “It’s time to go aboard,” Farrington called to her.

  She turned back to see him supervising Navy personnel who were loading body bags onto the helicopter. She counted them. There were six, one too many. Dear God, she thought. Maybe he hadn’t conceded anything in Lily’s case. Maybe she’d been more seriously injured than Nick thought.

  “Come on, Nick,” Elliot said, taking her arm. “We don’t have any choice.”

  But when they reached the chopper, Nick dug in her heels. “I want to know who else died before I’m setting foot in there.”

  “There are no more nor no less bodies than there should be,” Farrington answered. “Nothing for you to be concerned about. Just a little housekeeping for an old friend of mine in Tokyo.”

  Nick didn’t like the sound of that. Or was Farrington merely being flippant? She said, “You call extra bodies housekeeping?”

  “Some things are best left alone, Ms. Scott. When people don’t follow orders, the consequences could be—how shall I say it?—unfortunate.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Make that us,” Elliot said.

  “You know,” Farrington said, his smile showing all the warmth of a pit viper, “it’s a long boat ride to Guam.”

  A chill climbed Nick’s spine. Elliot took her hand and squeezed, but the chill wouldn’t go away.

  Farrington continued. “Think of it this way. Your government wants you to be careful. The best way to do that is to make certain that no one spreads lies that can’t be proved. Think of how it would look to your fellow scientists if you claimed to have found pieces of a famous Electra, without so much as a scrap to show for it.” Farrington snickered. “Next you’ll be claiming it was Amelia Earhart’s.”

  He leaned close, staring into her eyes, ignoring Elliot. “I can see what you’re thinking, Ms. Scott. That one day you’ll come back here to find your proof. Sorry. I’m afraid everything has been policed up, as our friends in the Navy would say. After all, it would be a crime to leave litter in a paradise like this, wouldn’t it?”

  Nick gritted her teeth, trembling with rage. Or maybe it was plain fear, because looking at Farrington she knew he would do anything necessary to keep her silent.

  Elliot must have sensed that too, because he tightened his grip on her hand, squeezing hard enough to make her wince. “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Farrington. She would never publish anything without evidence to back it up.”

  “Well, then, that is good news.” Farrington rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. “Now why don’t we board our bird and head for the ship. Hot showers and food are waiting.”

  Elliot, his grip still a clear warning, kissed Nick on the cheek and climbed into the chopper. She was about to follow when Lily appeared, supported by Josephine.

  “We couldn’t let you go without saying good-bye,” Lily said.

  Nick glanced at Farrington, who shrugged. “Just make it quick.”

  Lily pushed Josephine forward. “My niece has a going-away gift for you.”

  Shyly, the young girl handed Nick a small wooden box.

  “Thank you,” Nick told her. The girl scampered off immediately. “You too, Lily. Thank you for saving my life.”

  Lily smiled sadly. “This morning Henry went to join his ancestors. The loss of John Frum’s plane was too much for him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Nick said, but Lily held up her hand as if to block any more discussion.

  “I’ve kept my promise,” Lily continued. “No more secrets. I have given you John Frum.” Lily hugged her.

  As soon as Nick took her seat inside the chopper, the r
otor blades thundered to life. A moment later they were heading out to sea. Farrington was riding up front with the pilot, while she and her father were sitting opposite one another in the cargo bay. On the floor between them, body bags had been laid out side by side. Their placement, Nick suspected, was another of Farrington’s not so subtle warnings.

  Sighing, she leaned back against the bulkhead and opened the box. Inside, on a bed of cotton, nestled a badly corroded oblong metal tab. Its shape identified it as an American dog tag. She rubbed it between her fingers. Because of the heavy oxidation no name or serial number was discernible.

  Lily’s words echoed in her head: I give you John Frum.

  She searched in her pocket and took out a second small box, the one given to her the first night. A fragment of clothing or shoe, she thought. But whose, someone from the B-25 or the lady that was married to the tycoon George Palmer Putnam, Mis’ta’putam? He, indeed, would have brought great wealth to the island.

  If she could identify a flier from the B-25 that had landed on Balesin, she might eventually discover the plane’s mission. And that might give her the proof she needed to publish.

  Smiling, she replaced the dog tag in its box and closed the lid. She tucked both boxes safely in her pocket. Technology had progressed tremendously over the last fifty years, and with a little bit of luck the dog tag would clean up nicely. She sighed and felt sorry for Lily. She was an intelligent woman, and in another culture she would not have believed so fervently in a man who didn’t exist.

  CHAPTER 49

  April 18, 1942

  The Island of Balesin

  Things hadn’t turned out the way Johns had expected. The jungle had been silent and that was always a bad sign. He’d almost ordered the pilot to take off immediately, but then an unarmed man who was clearly a native had stepped into the clearing. Johns had left the plane and gone forward to meet him. He knew it was dangerous, but that was his job. Get the broad and get her off the island.

  The native spoke good English and said his name was Thomas Yali. He’d been sent to tell them to wait. The woman was coming but she would be late. She’d sent him on ahead to tell them not to leave. It would only be a few minutes.

  Women, he’d thought. Even on this godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere, they couldn’t keep their promises. You’d think that after five years she’d be panting to get off this rock.

  He should have been more suspicious, but the islander had had a pint-sized kid in tow. Who would have thought that any man would bring his own son to an ambush?

  He offered the man a smoke, which was accepted eagerly. The kid looked at him with hungry eyes and Johns offered him some gum. The kid pulled a silver-wrapped stick from the pack and didn’t seem to know what to do with it. Johns laughed and bent down to show him how to unwrap it and the bullet whizzed past where he’d been standing.

  He heard the engines of the plane cough to life and his first thought was that the bastards were leaving him behind. His second was that he hoped they’d make it, but the mortar round put an end to any coherent thoughts after that. He’d plunged into the jungle and didn’t look back.

  He’d been trained to survive in the jungle, but he couldn’t do much about the piece of shrapnel that had pierced his lung. When he started coughing pink froth he knew he was a goner. What a joke. It was probably a piece of metal from the plane. Well, the plane took me here, and it was going to take me away. He wondered if he was getting delirious.

  The kid found him about an hour later, propped up against a tree. Shit, he thought. If the kid can find me, the Japs won’t be far behind. The kid just kept staring at him, with large dark eyes.

  “Beat it,” he managed to croak out.

  The kid held something out to him in his grubby hand. It was the package of gum.

  Johns wished he had the strength to wring the kid’s scrawny neck. He motioned the child to come closer.

  “Henry,” the child said, pointing to himself. “Henry so sorry.” He proffered the small package again.

  Johns closed his eyes. He felt so tired. When he opened them again, the child was still there. It was getting difficult to breathe and he guessed that he was drowning in his own blood. He felt something in his hand and realized that the child had placed the gum in his hand. He shook his head, slowly withdrew a stick, and unwrapped it. “Come,” he said.

  The child took the unwrapped stick and placed it in his mouth. A look of wonder passed over his face.

  “Kid . . . Henry,” Johns managed to breathe, “I’m Johns.” He clasped his chest. “Johns from . . .” There was no more breath. He thought he felt the small child’s hand in his and some corner of his brain cried out in wonderment.

  THE END