The Mystery of Yamashita's Map (21 page)

On the other side of the island, Kono and Tanaka were setting up camp. They had spent their first night in the open air of the Filipino jungle and they were little used to roughing it. Kono heaved his bulking frame over the guy ropes that held their canopy up and tripped over it, sending its canvas roof to the ground. ‘Idiot!’ Tanaka admonished. ‘Watch where you are going, can’t you?’ Kono apologised for the fifth time already that day and began to tie the roof back up.

Tanaka made his way down to the beach, where the pilot was moored, bobbing up and down on the soft waves. ‘You stay here,’ he motioned, ‘Until we return. We will give you the money when we come back.’

The pilot began to get suspicious and he mimed that he would fly away if they had not returned in two days, then showed Tanaka a bag with what looked like rations in it.

‘You’ll be able to buy plenty of that when we return,’ Tanaka said. ‘Just be sure to be here when we come back.’

He turned and walked off up the beach again, making his way through the slight undergrowth to the camp where Kono was fixing the stove. ‘I have a bad feeling about that pilot. We should have got a decent one, I think.’

Kono sighed. ‘But where do you get a decent pilot that would come on a trip like this?’

Tanaka began to argue, then thought for a moment. ‘Yes, you might be right there,’ he said. ‘Don’t bother making yourself too much at home, we are moving soon.’

Kono looked a little disappointed. He had liked camping in the hills with his father when he was young and this reminded him of it. He looked down at his stove, and the bed he had made nicely, with its blanket to keep the cold from coming up from underneath and the sleeping bag that would make sure he would get a good night’s sleep. He had owned these things since he had been a boy and had treasured them. With his life, it was hard to partake in things like camping these days. It was difficult to remember the child he had once been, in the life he had now.

‘Why are we moving?’ he asked.

Tanaka flicked his ear. ‘To find the professor and the girl. That’s why we are here; they will lead us to the tunnels and the gold. We are not here for you to play at boy scouts.’

Kono sat on his bed. The jungle was noisier than he had imagined. He didn’t mind that but he liked the peace and quiet of the hills where he used to go with his father. He liked how they made him feel and he missed them. Tanaka crossed the small patch of ground between their two beds and put a hand on Kono’s shoulder.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, and Kono looked downward. ‘Your father loved the outdoors, right? He liked to sleep under the stars and be out in the open air?’

Kono nodded.

‘He was a good man,’ Tanaka said.

Kono nodded again.

‘We can make him proud of you again with this gold. We can make him think of you again as his son. You know you want that, don’t you?’

Kono nodded. He thought of his father’s face, he thought of his disappointed look.

Tanaka spoke again. ‘You know that when you are rich everyone respects you, don’t you? You know that your father would have no choice but to see you as his son again.’

There were painful things in Kono and Tanaka knew how to access them, with a simple word or a sentimental reminiscence of their shared childhood. Tanaka knew how to get what he wanted out of Kono, which was usually a violence that didn’t come easily to the other.

‘Remember that time we camped out and it rained all night?’ Tanaka said. ‘Remember you came into my tent because yours had split right along the seam and you were shaking and moaning all night because there was thunder and lightning and you couldn’t sleep?’

Kono nodded.

‘Who was it that told you jokes until you eventually fell off to sleep?’

‘You.’

‘Yeah, and who was it that fixed it so you didn’t get scolded when you got back, who exchanged tents with you?’

‘You.’

‘Yeah, me, so when I say we are going to do something, when I say we’ve got to move soon, you know I’m doing it for you, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

‘I’m doing it because I love you like a brother.’

‘You do?’

Tanaka punched Kono’s arm playfully, ‘Course. Now, get the camp ready, I’m going to talk to that pilot again.’

The plane pitched and rode on the waves as Tanaka waded out to it. He noticed that the pilot was asleep in the cockpit. How dare he question me, he thought to himself as he carefully checked over his shoulder. Climbing aboard and with the speed of the consummate professional, Tanaka pulled a blade from his sleeve, held it under the throat of the pilot and pulled. From the outside of the cockpit all that could be seen was a single spurt of blood on the window. It stayed for a moment as if suspended by the shock of its release and then fell in small rivulets onto the dashboard. He knew that the guy with the professor was a pilot, and even if he did get stranded he could call Manila for assistance on the plane’s radio. Once again his high pride had got him into trouble, but he didn’t care. He demanded respect from these lesser mortals.  

A moment later Tanaka dropped down into the water, washed his hands and the knife in it and strode over to the beach again. As he got to the camp, he placed the knife into the backpack that was suspended from the bed and lay down on it breathing slightly but audibly in the hot air. Kono busied himself unpacking and packing his possessions.

* * *

Joe moved through the jungle like a cat through treacle. This wasn’t his terrain; he knew about it, he had read a few books about jungle warfare but, when it came down to it, he was a fish out of water and he desperately wanted a drink. The only thing that kept him going was the thoughts and images in his head of the boy he had seen in his dreams. With each step, with each difficult breath, he cursed the journey but somehow he knew it would be worth his while in the end. He placed his hand on his head and felt that it was damp with sweat. Try as he might he could not shake the sight of the aswang from his head. Until he had spoken to Lisa about it he was unaware that none of the others could see what he had seen. However, they had all sworn that when they looked to where the sound was coming from they saw nothing. Joe though, Joe saw it as clear as the light that shone through the trees. At first he thought it had been a ghost, the type that might appear to children and the superstitious; it was an old woman floating before his eyes, but only part of her body was visible. She had a strange face, old and tired, but eyes that could melt steel – red and violent. He had tried to scream but nothing came out of his mouth, all he could do was stare at her, stare and submit to whatever it was that she wanted. She floated right up to his face and he could smell her breath as it shot out of her mouth in thick, foul clouds. She smiled at him and he felt her lick his skin with her hard, scratchy tongue. Joe had tried to close his eyes but, again, he could do nothing.

Then there was a laugh, a flash and the aswang disappeared, flying off into the canopy of the trees. The first thing Joe remembered was Lisa calling to him. He felt as if he had been out cold; there was sweat running down his face into his eyes and he could still smell the breath of the aswang. The professor was moving more quickly than any of the others in the party. Every now and then he would rush off into the forest, dig around in the undergrowth and return with a prized sample or a handful of earth. They seemed to trek for hours when suddenly Lisa stopped them. ‘Shh,’ she said. ‘What’s that noise?’

They all craned their necks to hear.

‘I can’t hear anything,’ Fraser said, but Lisa placed a finger to her lips.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, it’s there. I can hear it.’ ‘Hear what, Lisa?’ the professor asked.

‘The river,’ Lisa answered. ‘The river.’ And she marched off into the jungle.

Joe and Fraser looked at each other, shrugged and followed her. As they parted the last of the branches, Fraser and Joe heard splashing and caught sight of Lisa diving head first into the river. The sun was high above and beat down into golden rivulets, hitting the surface of the water and sending warm rays of light throughout the area. Fraser kicked off his shoes, put his bag down and nervously joined Lisa in the stream. Joe sat by the bank, took his canister from its belt hook and filled it up. The professor stood behind him.

‘What’s it like?’ the professor asked.

‘Cold,’ Joe answered.

‘Not the water. The aswang,’ the professor replied. Joe stopped filling his flask and turned slowly. ‘How did you know?’

‘Just a hunch,’ the professor said.

Joe continued filling his flask. ‘Nothing to say, really. Nothing to say at all.’

The professor knelt down beside Joe. ‘I guess we’ll all find out soon enough, won’t we?’

Joe turned and began to speak but thought better of it.

The day was almost over but the sun was still warm. The group decided to camp by the river for the night and began to cut down vines and large leaves to make the shelter. Fraser set to finding dry wood for the fire; in an hour they had the camp as they wanted it and Lisa sat by the fire slowly drying out after her second swim of the day. Fraser looked at her, her skin looking a bright luminescence in the glow of the fire. He loved to watch her in moments like this – moments when he knew she wasn’t aware of him. He noticed how she dug her toes into the soft earth to cool them down after the fire had made them too hot; he noticed how she moved her shoulders to and fro so that they did not get burnt and he noticed how she looked at Joe every time he moved and that she laughed every time he spoke. Fraser wondered why he was here. He was too old for adventure and not nearly old enough for one last fling. He guessed he was here for her, but she was here for someone else. Perhaps that’s the way it always goes, he thought. Perhaps, the ones we really want are destined to be with someone else; perhaps that’s why we want them. He looked into the flames. They flickered and made his eyes hurt. Of course, he thought to himself, there was always the money; there is always the money.

That night the jungle was quiet; it breathed softly as the moon came out and folded its arms around itself. The night sky looked beneficently down upon the group. The river moved silently on, deep into the jungle’s heart. The jungle gives up her noises easily at night and Lisa lay awake listening to it move and sigh, scream and wail. Every time she closed her eyes, the noises got louder as if the volume were being turned up to full. She tried to block her ears but nothing seemed to work. She could hear Joe breathing heavily over the sounds the jungle made and it reassured her. She reached a hand out and touched his skin; it was warm and damp. Slowly she rose up on her elbows and looked into his face. She could tell he was dreaming. His face flickered, his eyelids moved with rapid intensity, his arms twisted this way and that. She wondered what he was dreaming about; whatever it was, she was glad not to be a part of it.

Eventually she lay back down and tried to concentrate on the sound of the river as it gently flowed.

The morning came quickly and suddenly. As soon as the light came streaming through the canopy, Lisa awoke with a start. She blinked her eyes, barely able to believe how light it was. Beside her, the professor snored so loudly she wondered how she had ever got to sleep. She shook him.

‘Uncle, uncle, wake up.’

The professor turned over and the snoring stopped. Glancing over to the other two she saw that they too were fast asleep so she lay back, with her hands behind her head, and closed her eyes. Five minutes later she opened them again, failing to fool herself that she was sleepy. She decided she might as well get up and go for a swim in the river. Whenever she had been camping before she had loved to go swimming just as the sun was coming up, before it could warm the water.

She wriggled out of her covers and quietly set them in a pile to one side, then placed her feet neatly in her shoes and stepped gingerly over the professor, who snored again and rolled over the other way. Feeling free, she skipped through the branches that surrounded their temporary campsite and made her way down to the river.

The sight of the river in the early morning sun was so beautiful it made her sigh as she set eyes on it; the water was so clear and so blue and the light spread itself out on its surface and made it shine. She knelt down by its edge, took her shoes and shorts off, reached down into the water and took a deep drink. She felt the coolness of the water flowing through her body, literally taking the sleep away with it. Suddenly she felt more alive than she had felt for all of her life. Around her the jungle was quieter than it had been during the night. The animals that came out after dark had calmed down now and there was only the slight sound of insects buzzing and the occasional bird somewhere far off.