Dragon's Triangle (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 2) (27 page)

“There’s something I didn’t tell you about Peewee.”

“What?”

“He knew who I was—not John Paul Jones, but Cole Thatcher. Theo, they know I’m alive.”

Aboard
Bonefish
Malacca Strait

November 22, 2012

The small open fishing boat changed heading and began motoring in her direction on an intersecting course. Riley pulled out the binoculars. Through the glasses, she saw three fishermen. There were no weapons evident but that didn’t mean there wasn’t an arsenal in the boat hidden from view. The word in the sailing community was that ever since the 2004 tsunami, piracy in the straits here had ceased. But Riley wasn’t about to let her guard down.

The decision as to whether or not to carry a firearm aboard had been a difficult one for her. She often longed for a gun in situations like this one, but most foreign countries had made it extremely difficult for transient yachts to carry firearms. They made the captain surrender the firearm when you entered through customs and they only returned it to you when you got your clearance to leave. And the time you were most likely to need a gun was when you were in port. Yes, there were those yachts that had devised very well-hidden compartments and they never declared their guns. The problem with that was that it left
you vulnerable to losing your boat or imprisonment if caught. It was a risk Riley decided she did not want to take.

So Riley had come up with her own weapons that wouldn’t run her afoul of customs regulations in some third-world country. Her primary weapon was a Barnett Ghost 400 crossbow with an upgraded Nikon 3X scope, which rested on the port settee below cocked and ready to go. In addition, she had her dive knife on the bulkhead next to the binoculars case, the 26.5 millimeter German-made Geco flare gun in the sheet bag, her speargun just inside the seat locker, and several cans of hornet spray (which was far more caustic than pepper spray and would shoot farther) in the galley cabinet.

It was still a bit early to be attempting this passage, as the southwest monsoon season would not end for another month—when December brought with it the dryer winds of the northeast monsoon. Thus far, she had been lucky with squalls. She’d only been hit by one during the last three days, and though the winds got up to over forty knots, she had seen it in time to take in her sails. Now she was motoring with only her main up and a whisper of wind off her starboard bow. The sea was flat and glassy.

Riley moved into the companionway as the boat pulled alongside and matched her speed. The biggest man in the group stood up and hollered, “Cigarette? Whiskey?”

This wasn’t the first time Riley had been approached and asked for these items. It seemed a bit odd coming from a devout Muslim populace, but she supposed the items sold for lots of money because they were scarce. She shook her head and held up empty hands. “No, sorry. No smoke, no drink.”

The men waved at her and smiled. The helmsman started to turn off, but the big man called out, “You! Where husband?”

Riley put her hands together and placed them next to her cheek. “Sleeping.” She pointed down into the cabin.

The big man nodded slowly and as the boat pulled away, he kept staring at her. She didn’t like his look at all. When the boat had receded far enough away, she went below and grabbed her logbook and a pencil from the chart table. She brought them topsides and settled behind the wheel to make her entry.

She copied the longitude and latitude off the GPS chart plotter mounted in the helm. Then she added boat speed, course, wind speed, and wind direction. Her boat was making just over eight knots now thanks to some push from the tidal currents in the strait, but when the tide turned, her speed would drop considerably. It didn’t matter. She would press on. She didn’t have time to stop and anchor to wait out the unfavorable currents.

When she’d finished describing the incident with the fishing boat she returned to the cabin to put her logbook away in the chart table. Spread out on the other table in the main salon were many sheets of paper, her iPad, and her laptop. She’d been working on the CAD drawings for the musician’s house in Nashville. He had a guitar collection worth over a million as well as original artworks, a recording studio, and a car collection. It was the biggest job she had ever taken on.

Before going back to work, though, she connected her satellite phone to her laptop and checked for email. Nothing more since the email last night from Cole. He’d said he would call her on the single-sideband radio this afternoon at 1:00 p.m. her time. She checked her watch. It was later than she thought. Only ten minutes to go.

She threw the switch on the panel, turned the radio on, and tuned it to 8104 megahertz. She put the volume all the way up so she’d be sure to hear his call over the noise of the engine, then went to the fridge to get a bottle of water.

“
Bonefish, Bonefish
, this is
Bonhomme Richard
.”

She looked at her watch. Three minutes early. She grabbed the mike. “
Bonhomme Richard
, this is
Bonefish
. How do you read?”

“Loud and clear. And it’s great to hear your voice.”

“Likewise. It does get a little lonely out here sometimes.”

“You’ve only got yourself to blame for that.”

“I seem to remember you wanted me to run off and leave my boat behind.”

“I was ready to get back to work. How has the trip been so far?”

“Everything’s good. I’m not happy about burning so much fuel, but I’m hoping to have more wind soon. I imagine you’re chomping at the bit for me to get there so you can do some paperwork.” When she’d made her plan to leave alone, she hadn’t thought about the fact that she was taking the prayer gau with her. Cole would have to wait for her arrival to start work on the other documents.

“I have plenty to keep me busy,” he said.

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. He sounded like he didn’t care whether she got there or not. “It’s going to start getting really hairy tonight. There are fish traps in close to shore, but the middle of the channel is for shipping, and the traffic will get heavier as I approach Singapore.”

“I don’t know how you do it. How you stay awake.”

“I’ve got alarms on my radar and on my AIS system. And then I just catnap.”

“Well, listen, you be safe. I’ll call you again on Sunday, same time, okay?”

“Sounds good,” she said, although she didn’t really want the call to end. “Say hi to Theo for me.”

“He’s standing right here and he says ditto. You be safe.”

“Roger that.”

“This is the
Bonhomme Richard
, clear.”

Aboard the USS
Bonefish
A Cave in Luzon

June 25, 1945

Ozzie saw comprehension transform the faces of the two Japanese sailors on the stone quay—this was not a Japanese submarine. The two men looked at each other and Ozzie knew they were about to run.

He cocked his pistol and pressed the barrel to the side of Prince Masako’s head. “Tell those men not to do anything stupid.”

The prince spoke aloud, but none of them had any idea what he was saying. The two sailors bowed deeply and then each went to stand by a bollard.

Westbrooke gave the order for the deck crew to proceed with mooring.

“Skipper, I think we’ll need an armed detail to accompany us ashore.”

“Right, ExO. Issue the orders to organize a shore party. I’d sure like to know where the rest of the Japs are.”

As would we both
, Ozzie thought.

The monkey’s fists flew both forward and aft. The Japanese sailors on shore pulled across the heavier hawsers and secured them fore and aft. The winch motor started and slowly the sub narrowed the gap of aqua water until the hull was snug against the big black tires that hung along the rock face.

The chief of the boat organized a crew of half a dozen men with rifles to stand along the deck. The gunner held his position on the fifty-caliber deck gun as the gangway was being rigged.

“Listen, Your Highness. I know you don’t think I’m going to shoot you because you are my best bargaining chip. You’re absolutely right. But I won’t hesitate to shoot Ben here.”

The prince turned and met Ozzie’s gaze with a hard look Ozzie hadn’t seen before. So, there was a warrior under the professor façade. “Lieutenant, you do not have to worry. We are cooperating. We understand each other.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Tell the men on the dock not to leave.”

The prince spoke again and the two men stepped back against the far cave wall and stood at attention.

Up on the bow a sailor rigged another light and more of the cave became visible. The cavern was oblong, stretching back from the opening what looked like a good six to eight hundred feet, while the width was perhaps three hundred feet. The stone quay they had tied to had been carved into the cave wall. On their side of the chamber there were no stalactites, but on the far side of the water the spires stretched down from the ceiling like long dark icicles. Some reached down to the level of the water.

“What can you tell me about the layout here?” Ozzie pointed to the back of the cave where the light did not penetrate. “How far back does this cave reach?”

“This is an underground river, Lieutenant. We have followed it back for twelve kilometers.”

“What? That’s not possible.”

“Oh, yes, there are many such caves here in Luzon.” The prince smiled. “Trust me, I know.”

“Where are your men encamped?”

“After the lake here, the river narrows and so does the passage. But it opens again into several large chambers. When the sea is rough, docking like this is not possible and this whole chamber floods. My men are camped in the third chamber, about one kilometer back.”

“And what about another opening? Is there another way out back there?”

“Yes. That is why we camp there. We call it the back door. It is a small opening, not big enough to bring cargo through, and it is far from any road. But the cook’s hut and the latrine are outside through that exit.”

“Okay. You ready, skipper?”

“Let’s go,” Westbrooke said.

They assembled on the dock. One man was left behind on the quay to guard the two Japanese sailors, while Ozzie, Prince Masako, and Ben, flanked by two armed guards, led the way. Westbrooke, the chief, and four more armed sailors followed.

Two of the sailors carried flashlights, at the front and the rear, as well as both officers, but the ground was wet, slippery, uneven clay, so the going was slow. As the prince told them, the cave grew smaller at the rear and eventually the walls closed in around them. They found themselves in a high-ceilinged tunnel about twenty feet across with a fast-moving stream flowing down the middle of the passage. Overhead, stalactites dripped water on their heads and the passage walls shone with dampness in the light. There was still room on the right-hand stream bank for about three men to walk abreast, but the going was slow as the ground was slick with mud.

On their side of the passage, wires had been strung, and every twenty feet or so electric lights were affixed to the muddy side wall.
Ozzie considered asking the prince how to turn them on but he didn’t want to warn the men ahead.

The air filled their nostrils with a damp, boggy smell. To Ozzie, it felt like trying to breathe through a muddy kerchief. The temperature was cool enough, but due to the humidity, his shirt was already drenched with sweat and the water that dripped on them from the cave.

One of the sailors at the rear of the patrol slipped and went down hard. He cursed and Westbrooke shushed him even more loudly. Ozzie halted the group while one of the other sailors helped the man who had fallen. It appeared only his pride had been injured. Ozzie waved them onward. The prince stepped along the passage with confidence, not even looking at the ground. Of course, he knew what was ahead. That was what worried Ozzie most.

Because they had been watching the ground, they came on the second chamber without warning. The lead man’s flashlight lit up the wood of an enormous crate. They were all marked “UO2.” The man shifted the light and there was another and another. They all had Japanese writing on them in addition to the symbol.