by John Muir
CHAPTER 9
THE VIP HOTEL
corner Velez Avenue and Borja Street, Cagayan De Oro City, Mindanao.
Sitting in the back seat of the taxi on the way from the airport, T.A. decided rest and catching up on lost sleep might be the best plan for the first day. Then again he was willing to be flexible if something interesting came along.
He paid the taxi driver the pre-agreed fare price from the airport. The cooling effect of the air-conditioned taxi was lost immediately he alighted. Beads of sweat started on his forehead in the few seconds it took him to return the pack to his back and cross the footpath to the VIP Hotel doorway.
The Hotel entry had not changed since his last visit. The office to the left of the main door still conducted a business that he had never been able to figure out. It was always empty of customers and only rarely with an employee sitting behind the counter. On the right was the same travel agency as before, always with customers waiting to be served. The travel agents were always seemingly too busy to attend to the waiting customers.
In the centre of these two offices were the VIP Hotel double entry swing doors. There was no concierge on duty. T.A. turned and backed into one of the two doors, using his backpack to push the door open.
The cool air hit him again. Not quite as cold as the taxi, but appreciated nevertheless. As he stood and enjoyed it he glanced left and right. There was no-one seated at the thirty or so comfortable lounges, some organised into squares of conversation areas. Each of the squares of three or four lounges surrounded a coffee table. An occasional tall bushy pot plant separated some of the tables. T.A. was quite thankful for the absence of people. He felt dirty and dishevelled.
He had not made any reservation. Experience had taught him that it was unlikely any hotel in the Philippines would be fully booked. Usually a deal for a slightly cheaper room rate could be struck without a reduction in room quality. But the two rate room cost system operated by Philippine hotels angered him. Filipino's and balik-bayans were charged a much lower rate than 'Americanos'.
As he approached the reception desk beyond the lounges he looked into the dining area to his right. That too was deserted. Not even staff moving around feigning work, transferring crockery or cutlery from one cabinet to another.
Three people greeted him at reception and all smiled politely as he removed his backpack and placed it on the floor between his legs. Then unbuckling his waist-bag as some called it, or his bum-bag as he called it, he placed it on the counter. The Americans he had heard called it a fanny bag. He grinned as he thought 'if only the Americans knew what a fanny was in the Antipodes.' After advising the reception staff that he had stayed at VIP before, they gave him a reduced room rate and he began his check-in procedures.
Movement to his left attracted his attention to the glass entry door about five metres to the left of the reception desk. That door gave entry or exit to and from the side street. Even when the security guard was present they were always locked. A man stood outside the doors, taking advantage of the guard’s absence. He was waving his arms to attract T.A's attention to the paintings he was trying to hawk. When the guard returned, T.A. knew the pedlar would be promptly moved on.
T.A. was extracting his passport from his bum-bag when an arm reached past and collected a room key from a receptionist who obviously had it ready. T.A. was surprised. He had not been aware of, or sensed anyone else around or coming toward the counter. He looked at the key-taker and saw he was both tall and very solidly built. Tall that is for an Asian. Then T.A. noticed the key taker had strong Japanese features. Even though he was wearing a Filipino barong, the bearing and manner did not fit with the character of a local born Japanese Filipino.
To the right of the reception counter, and standing at the entry hall to the lifts was another similarly dressed, also solidly built, and very strong Japanese features. He wore a large square leather pouch at his right hip on a belt under his barong. Probably his equivalent of a bum-bag thought T.A. Then as the key collecting Japanese walked away from the counter, T.A, noticed he too had a similar square pouch, but on his left hip. Both the bags were very square and larger than T.A's bum-bag. The thought that the bags might contain a pistol crossed T.A's mind. Certainly, outwardly, they did not look like pistol holsters but were over-sized as bum-bags.
A voice to the front of the two men came from the passageway leading to the lifts. Obviously a third man, out of sight of T.A., was waiting for his solid companions. The two moved quickly on hearing the voice.
T.A. organised a safety deposit box for his valuables, and was going to ask the receptionists about the origin of the guests. Then he decided against it. He just wanted to get into a shower and change out of his sweaty clothes. Maybe he might have a little snooze then come down for some lunch. If he slept too long he would just treat the meal as a late lunch. He had nothing planned for this day.
Remembering that he had told his Manila 'Rolex man', Nilo, to contact him at the hotel he asked, "Has anyone called to see if I have arrived or are there any messages. The message might be under the name of T.A."
The three receptionists talked among themselves for a few seconds before one of them went to a folder and drew out a VIP Hotel envelope.
"A gentleman delivered a note yesterday. We put it in an envelope because we didn't know who T.A. was."
"Thanks," said T.A., opening it and read Nilo's note welcoming him to Cagayan de Oro with the request to ring him as soon as he arrived. He would; but after a shower and sleep.
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Cagayan de Oro, Mindanao.
For Ken Yamada it had been another frustrating day. The managers of the banks that seemingly could provide reasonable security guarantees for large safety deposit boxes were too inquisitive. He would never have been questioned about the nature of what he wanted to put in his boxes had he been in Tokyo. The managers here passed off the questions as simply a way of clarifying what his needs were so they could better see if the banks could provide the services he required.
In his travelled and educated world, a secured bank vault was where clients could keep secrets and valuables. Whatever was in the client's personal vault or safe, as long as it was paid for, was not information the bank needed to know.
He was born in the Philippines, he was a Filipino citizen and carried a Filipino passport. Legally he was Filipino. Despite the mix of blood in his veins, he still considered himself Japanese. His birth in the Philippines was much to the angst of his Japanese Father who wanted him born in Japan where he and his Filipino Mother were treated as residents. A Japanese birth would have enabled him to enjoy the political and social benefits a Japan born child can have. Not to mention the advantages of a "proper" Japanese passport.
Apart from three years in the USA, most of his education and early years until his mid-twenties were spent in Japan. Ken Yamada considered himself Japanese.
Even now as the chief executive officer of the family’s business operation in the Philippines, he spent more time in Japan than he did in the Philippines. He had homes in Tokyo and Kanazawa in Japan; and Iligan, Mindanao, where he and his wife and family stayed when he need to spend time attending to the Philippine business.
If citizenship was measured as the highest reading of the blood line of a particular nation, then Ken Yamada was probably right in claiming to be Japanese. On his father's side, his grandfather, Colonel Toshio Yamada, was pure Japanese. But his grandmother's ancestry contained equal amounts of Filipino, Spanish, German and French, with both of the latter having very fair hair.
His Mother was a Filipina with strong Spanish blood lines and features, with a smattering of French blood as well. Even though she knew the advantages a Japan born baby would have, in a revengeful state of pique, she flew back to the Philippines just before his birth. Literally minutes before. Her waters had broken on the plane. The flight had brought on the birth. Normally women with such an advanced pregnancy would not have been allowed to fly, but his Mother had lied about the stage of th
e pregnancy
Though his Father was in fact half Japanese, his features combined the mix of all his ancestors and were really international. The fair haired European side of his family gave him hair much lighter than the obvious "give-a-way" straight black Asian hair. It was a brown with some curl in the hair he kept cut short. Even then, some of that influence of the dark hair could also have come from the Spanish part of the bloodline. His eyes were considerably lighter than either Filipinos' or Japanese, being almost hazel.
Ken Yamada knew that during his American education he had been asked if he was Brazilian or from many of the other Latin American countries. On his European holidays he was asked if he was Italian or Greek. He was always quick to respond that he was Japanese. He was not at all proud of the Filipino part of his heritage.
The only thing he felt he had in common with Filipinos' was that his Mother had insisted he become a Roman Catholic. He was, but certainly not a practising one.
Yet, here he was now, all his family earning their money from the Philippines but preferring to be in Japan. His wife was Filipina so she took every opportunity to return to the Philippines with him to be near her relations. Ken Yamada had no conflict in his mind about profiting from the Philippines natural resources, having married a Filipina, yet despising their way of life.
Even his Japanese friends and business acquaintances were not aware he was Philippines born. His family still maintained strong political influence in the Japanese Government, so his real birthplace was kept like a skeleton in the closet.
The family business was started in the Philippines by his Grandfather, Colonel Toshio Yamada, soon after the Second World War. It was a cover to provide a legitimate reason to spend a lot of time in the Philippines. His Grandfather needed time to locate the tons of buried treasure he had looted, then, hidden during the Japanese period of occupation.
Despite virtually neglecting the company he had created, the pineapple plantations flourished, the cannery grew and markets demanded more diversity in product. Soon his Grandfather was dragged into spending more time running the business than he was hunting the treasures he had buried during his tenure in the area as Colonel with the 35th Japanese Army. His son, Makoto Yamada then took over the running of the business while his ageing father spent weeks in the rain forest looking for marker pegs he had placed during the war.
When Ken Yamada was young, his Grandfather would tell the tales about the things he had found and accumulated during the war. Then, because of the American landings and the imminent withdrawal of Japanese forces, how he had to hurriedly bury all that he had accumulated. Only a few small valuable items were able to be taken with him in his kit. Because of the speed at which it all had to be done, his maps were not drawn with the pin point accuracy he had intended.
Some of the areas he had marked were vast with very little official accurate maps available. The treasure he had taken with him gave him considerable wealth, but he was not content when he knew there was many hundreds of times greater wealth just waiting for him to return and recover. But the rapid re-growth of rain forest areas meant relocation and recovery was not as easy as he expected. His marker pegs had been over-grown.
In an effort to ensure that he successfully covered all the areas in which he had buried treasure, he purchased large areas of land as an absentee, generally in dummy company names or with Filipino directors whose acquiescence could be bought.
Resentment; even feelings of hatred toward Japanese, after the war, was common. He had to delay his personal return to allow natural ageing and a few other aids to disguise his identity. He had not been popular with any of the locals during the time of occupation. If he had been recognised in 1953 on his return, his life would have been in danger from a revenge killing. Then all trace of the Spanish treasures he had recouped and re-hidden would be lost, unless some individual caches were accidentally uncovered. The rank of Colonel was never mentioned in his dealings.
Now Ken Yamada, the Grandson, was still seeking the remaining buried wealth. His Grandfather estimated that less than one fifth of the caches had been recovered. Some of those that had been found had yielded considerable wealth for his family. After circuitous routing, the treasures had found their way to Japan, then yielded funds now safely deposited in Japanese or other foreign banks.
The reason for Ken Yamada's current trip was the recent location of three large triangulated boulders, and marker pegs; a probable site for the discovery of the largest cache. He had not reported this to his Grandfather. His Grandfather had often mentioned that the area around the three rocks probably contained forty percent of the total treasure he had buried and would yield fortune enough for several lifetimes.
Ken Yamada needed to dispose of this treasure by different means and through a different route to any and all of the previous shipments, without his family knowing. He could not leave any trace of his discovering and transferring this latest fortune.
If he could successfully route this load through the port of Cagayan de Oro, then there would be little need to actively pursue the remaining forty percent, or whatever was left.
The fear of changes to Government land-holding laws had meant a more concentrated hunt in recent times, in case they lost land ownership rights.
It had only been because of the recent increase in Ken Yamada's search activity, re-exploring areas already searched, that long lost natural markers shown on one of his Grandfather's maps were discovered. Now he had to arrange to have the area around those rock markers cleared by as much as 400 metres in all directions around them.
The pressure for him to locate the wealth though was not driven by fears of changes in the Government laws. Yamada, without his families knowledge, had invested a high proportion of his family and companies finances heavily firstly in Thailand just before the Thai Baht drastically lost value in a market tumble affecting all of Asia.
Then, in an effort to recoup his losses, he transferred the capital he was able to save from Thailand's debacle into the Indonesian market. The Indonesian Rupiah then suffered an even worse fate, devalued during and after the Suharto overthrow.
His companies and family still had working capital available, but he knew he could not hide the worthless long term investments much longer. The company Finance Director, Daniello Seville, had been pushing Yamada hard for verification of the value of some of the overseas investments.
His Filipino side would have been stoic about the whole thing, if that side dominated his personality. But it did not. He had been raised to think as a Japanese. Therefore this prospective financial ruin would cause the loss of face not only for him, but his whole family.
If he could recover some of the treasure in secret, he could replace and recoup the fortune he had lost. That pious Daniello Seville might eventually uncover the problems Yamada was having. If he found the treasure quickly enough, no-one would know what had happened. That is, apart from himself and his long-serving loyal bodyguard, Ueda.
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