Just Needs Killin (16 page)

Jan and I were experiencing an Earnest Hemingway kind of day.

By the time we motored into the harbor with that poor fish tied to our panga, word was out—I still don't know how it happens so fast in Mexico—of our catch and a small crowd was gathered, mostly men, as the women were still in church.

Unlike what happened to the unfortunate Santiago in
The Old Man and the Sea
, our catch was not eaten by sharks on the way in. During the entire trip, however, scenes from the movie, with Spencer Tracey fighting off the sharks as they attacked his prize over and over, plagued my mind. I didn't care so much about the fish, but Po Thang's reaction to sharks worried me, so as a precaution I tied him tightly to a cleat.

When we pulled alongside the wharf, a couple of strapping young Mexican men climbed into our panga, fastened our sailfish's tail to a hoist, and others on the dock hauled him up.

He weighed in at eighty nine kilos—around two hundred pounds—and was a little over nine feet in length. One local fisherman said it was close to a record, as far as he could recall. Several residents whipped out their phones and asked Jan, me, and Po Thang to pose with our fish, which would yield lots of sashimi material for Kazoo and Moto, with plenty left to share with the Mexicans on the dock. I just wanted to head for the dive ship and check out our vase. As soon as we could gracefully depart, we did, leaving Kazoo and Moto to the dirty work of fish cleaning.

Out of ear shot of the crowd, Jan said, "Ya know, Hetta, we're gonna have to come up with a story of some kind."

"I know. I've been thinking about that. How about we were anchored somewhere looking at reef fish and somehow the sailfish got tangled in our anchor line, and then the anchor was lost sometime during the melee?"

"Sounds good to me, but we know for sure Kazoo and Moto saw the yellow polypropylene line coming out of that fish's mouth, and our anchor line is white." To make her point she reached over and held up the end of what was left of the severed anchor line.

"I have a feeling they aren't going to be saying much of anything."

Jan cocked her head. "Why do you say that?"

"Because they know I saw what was in
their
panga."

"Abalone? Okay, it's illegal for them to take them, but so what? Who on
Nao de Chino
would even care? I mean, we're talkin' fried abalone steaks for dinner here."

"Abalone, smabalone. They had handheld metal detectors with them. Last I recall, abalone ain't made of metal."

"I've eaten some that tasted like it."

I grinned. "Me too. Not everyone knows how to cook it, but you can bet Rosa will."

"So, what do you think they're looking for?"

"No idea, but I'm planning to find out. They're out all the time by themselves and I now suspect they have a hidden agenda aside from finding a few artifacts from a sunken galleon. Maybe they're here on a secret mission somehow tied to that hundred thousand dollar investment by some folks back in Japan."

"Surely you don't think they were involved in Ishikawa's death, do you?"

I shook my head. "I doubt it. Hell, they might not even know he's dead. Tomorrow night, at dinner, I'm gonna rattle their cage and see what falls out."

"Speaking of what's falling out, if we're gonna get a look at that vase, we'd better haul butt for the boat. Our Japanese buds will be back way too soon."

"I don't think we can risk it yet. Maybe we should rebury the vase in shallow water near Po Thang's beach and get back to it when no one is around."

"Dang, the curiosity is killing me."

"Me, too, but we have to be so careful now. You take Po Thang on a walk at the beach so he won't see me burying the vase. All we need is for him to dive down and get it."

Po Thang, who was dozing after all the excitement, heard his name and perked up. When he saw we were heading for his beach, he rushed to the bow and when we were still twenty feet out, dove in and swam the rest of the way, then disappeared behind a sand dune. Jan sighed and followed him.

We were both exhausted, but I still had to bury the vase. I checked the tide line. Good, low tide. I found a large rock in four feet of water, tied it to the panga with what yellow line didn't get chewed up by the prop, put the panga motor in reverse, and pulled the rock a few feet, creating a hole. I planted the vase in the hole, covered it with sand and returned the rock next to it. Then I went ashore and carefully placed stones above the high water mark, making them look randomly scattered, but actually forming an arrow pointing to my treasure. By the time Po Thang came racing back, I was collapsed on the beach.

Behind every fortune lies a great crime. Honore de Balzac

Behind every great crime lies a whole lot of work. Hetta Coffey

We had our full contingent back on board
Nao de Chino
by Monday evening, with everyone rested and ready to tackle our tough work ahead. Even Jan and I had recovered from our hard weekend of what we hoped was grand larceny.

As expected, Rosa's abalone steaks were melt-in-your mouth delicious, and Jan and I made a contribution of homemade French custard ice cream. Everyone was in good spirits, laughing at our tale of the wild ride behind our sailfish. And, just as I surmised, Kazoo and Moto didn't blink an eye when we blamed the whole thing on our snagged anchor line. 

"Oh, by the way Chino," I said casually, nudging Jan with my knee as a signal to watch the Japanese divers for a reaction, "have you heard anything more from Mrs. Ishikawa regarding her husband's disappearance?"

Kazoo only blinked, but Moto's head shot up from the bowl he was holding near his mouth. The chopsticks he was using to shovel rice into his mouth froze in mid-shovel. He stared at Chino as if anticipating his answer, then I caught a movement that was probably a knee-nudge from Kazoo, and Moto went back to his rice shoveling. 

Chino swallowed abalone and put down his fork. "I called her this afternoon, to see how she is doing. After the family stayed with us for so long, I felt I owed her at least a courtesy call. She sounded well, but as you know, her English is limited. We mostly communicated through Ishikawa's secretary. Still no news of the missing Airliner, as everyone in the entire world know from so much media coverage, but he was listed as a passenger, so I guess as long as the plane remains missing, she's still hopeful."

Jan and I exchanged a glance. We had discussed often who might have the power to put a dead man's name on the passenger list of a missing airliner.

Moto, looking unsettled, stood and excused himself for the evening.

Kazoo stayed for our ice cream, but took a bowl for Moto when he left.

From their reaction, it looked to me as though they knew who Ishikawa was, but were unaware of his disappearance. What was their connection?

I'm pretty sure Moto was in for a lecture on inscrutability from Kazoo while he ate his ice cream.

"Jan, do you think we can somehow bug Kazoo and Moto?" I asked when we went back in my cabin for our nightly final final wine and gab-fest.

"Our bugging devices are back at the fish camp," she said, talking about them as if everyone had high tech bugs hidden in their lingerie drawer.

"Maybe need to go get 'em?"

"You gonna bug the diver's computers and cabins?"

"I'd like to. Problem is, if they talk to anyone, it'll be in Japanese, so I guess bugging won't help us much, will it?"

"Nope. Same with emails."

"What about research done on the ship's computer? I've seen them use it."

"That's easier. I can maybe look at their search history. But what are we looking for?"

"Damned if I know, but I'm gonna do some cyber-snoopery of my own tonight. Maybe get a clue what they're after. I'm pretty good with Google these days."

"Yeah, well, Google this: Hetta Coffey found dead as dirt in Magdalena Bay after running afoul of a bunch of Japanese gangsters."

"Hey, that's a great idea!"

"You bein' dead as dirt?"

"No. I'll do some homework on old man Fujikawa, maybe find out just who he is. And what he does that puts him in company with Luján."

She finished her wine, gave Po Thang a pat, and went to her own cabin. I fired up my computer, emailed Jenks about our sailfish adventure—mainly because if I didn't and he heard something from Chino, he'd smell a rat—and began my research.

Googling Tadashi Fujikawa got me all kinds of hits, but nothing I could definitively identify as our Tadassan. I knew nothing about him except he was probably elderly, but ageless in that he could be anywhere from seventy to a hundred. He had the wiry frame and thickened, wrinkled skin of many Asian seniors, but pinning an age on them is difficult. He probably practices tai chi or some such.

Next, I entered,
Japanese in Magdalena Bay Baja
.

I already knew something of their history in Baja because Chino recounted his involvement to halt Mitsubishi's plans to build a salt plant in San Ignacio Lagoon, one of the last natural whale birthing grounds in the world. Then, of course, there was my little project last year, involving Tanuki Corporation and the proposed desalination plant, and sea salt by-product. Ishikawa was Tanuki's contact in Japan, but he and Dickless had more planned than salt. And, I saw Japanese vessels daily in the bay, mostly cargo ships picking up seafood in Puerto San Carlos.

What I didn't know was what popped up on my Google search: In 1912 Japan evidently tried to
buy
Mag Bay, and was halted by an amendment, or corollary, to the Monroe Doctrine, prompted by Japan's attempt to buy a port in Mexico. The Lodge Corollary forbade foreign governments from acquiring sufficient territory in the Western Hemisphere so as to put that government in "practical power of control."

Interesting bit of history, but nothing to do with our two divers or Fujikawa.

Another tidbit I found using the same key words was of far more interest: Turns out that following the attack on Pearl Harbor, and probably even before that infamous day, the Japanese navy used Mag Bay as a hideout for submarines. They stayed submerged during the day and surfaced at night, awaiting orders from Japan. The Japanese expected a swift victory, and were poised to take over the United States from several directions, one being Mexico.

But my best find, and one that almost sent me to get Jan until I realized it was one in the morning, was about a Texas Ranger by the name of Van Zandt—Whoa! Didn't we have a county by that name?—who worked as an undercover intelligence officer in Baja during WWII.

I went to the galley for coffee; this was getting way too good to put off until the next day.

When I finally ran out of steam at three, and was forced to shut down my PC out of sheer exhaustion, I'd learned much, much, more and could not wait to share it with Jan. 

Well, maybe I could, because it took both Jan and Po Thang to drag me out of bed the next morning, and it wasn't until we took Po Thang to the beach that I got a chance to tell her what I'd found.

Jan listened intently, then said, "Lemme get this straight. This Texas Ranger, who is a
spy
for the United States, hears from
his
network of spies in the Baja that fishing boats spotted Japanese subs in Mag Bay. Then, while some Japanese officers came ashore to make contact with
their
spies, their crew, I'm sure disobeying strict orders, did a little horse trading with the locals?"

"Yup. And this Ranger, Van Zandt, passed this info to an American actress, Rochelle Hudson, who was also a spy for the US, and she relayed it back to Washington."

"Wow, who knew? And who the hell was Rochelle Hudson?"

"I knew you'd ask. You might remember her as Natalie Wood's mama in
Rebel Without a Cause
. She was also the disgraced gal to whom Mae West imparted the immortal wisdom, 'When a girl goes wrong, men go right after her!' "

"Really? I love both those movies. How did she come to be an American spy in Mexico, for cryin' out loud?"

"Her hubby at the time was a Disney exec who doubled as a civilian espionage agent down here. They took several so-called vacations to Baja, looking for any German activities, and somehow hooked up with that ranger to pass on the Japanese sub info."

"So, what happened then?"

"This is where it gets really good. Van Zandt pulled a raid using some Yaqui Indian warriors and blew up two submarines."

Jan's mouth dropped open. "This just keeps getting better and better."

"And, in 1972 someone reported spotting a sunken sub around here, but it was never found again."

"So, our guys might be looking for the wreck? I can see their interest, but why would some Japanese money guys finance
our
expedition just to dive on an old sub wreck?"

I had no answer for that. "I don't know, but I'm going to keep digging. Meanwhile we need to keep an eye on Kazoo and Moto. You check the ship's computer history thing, and I'll do more research."