The Mystery of Yamashita's Map (29 page)

‘But you’re mad! This is no way to repopulate a village. What will happen in a few years’ time? You need variation in stock, genes, you can’t populate a village with such a limited gene pool.’

‘But professor, I have no choice, and I’m afraid, you have no choice.’

The professor was suddenly aware of the door to the hut being closed. There was a click and he turned to see a gun being trained upon him. The young woman who held the gun looked no more than sixteen years old and she looked more scared than the professor, but held the rifle as if her life depended upon it. Across the other side of the hut, Winthrope smiled.

‘It is awful to be so heavy-handed, professor. I was hoping that you might agree to my little plan without me having to exert force. The gun is a leftover from my original party. I have never had recourse to use it but it’s in perfect working order and I’m sure could still do considerable damage should the need arise. You see, professor, this issue is bigger than both of us. It is bigger than our petty wants and desires. It concerns the regeneration of a beautiful people. After all, professor, when would you have the chance again to be with such young, beautiful women?’

The professor grew suddenly red and flustered. ‘I don’t know, it’s something I’ve never really thought about before, something that . . .’

‘Professor, do not be afraid, these women are housetrained.’

Winthrope laughed and the women laughed too. The professor grew redder and redder. All the while Lisa was staring at Joe. She had noticed how suddenly he seemed interested in everything Winthrope was saying. Suddenly he was listening with rapt attention. Not for the first time that day she felt the pang of jealousy. It had surprised her at first but it was definitely there, like an itch that refused to go away. For his part, Joe began looking around the hut and casting his eye over the women. He saw their beautiful round faces, their deep brown eyes, their burnt umber skin. Then his eyes fell upon Lisa and they were the only two people in the world. All the pain and the fear of the last few days disappeared when he looked at her, the loneliness he had known for his entire life seemed to fade and he felt touched by her beauty and her intelligence. When she looked at him there was no jungle, no Winthrope, no women of the village.

Fraser, for his part, had begun to resemble a thirsty dog on a hot day; his initial reticence had given way to an almost evangelical persuasion by Winthrope’s arguments. Once again he let his mind wander to cities he had known, their grey grubby surfaces, their stupid, mindless people; he knew suddenly what he had been looking for through all of his wandering. He knew why he had been brought here. The others may have been brought by the aswang or greed or for the love of a girl from Hong Kong but he had been brought here to help these women.

He lay on his back. ‘You have my vote.’ he said, and nuzzled up against the thigh of the woman sitting next to him.
 

Chapter Sixteen

Night was drawing in but inside the hut the revellers still ate and drank and talked. The warm orange glow of the fire made patterns on the wall of the hut and on the faces of those that sat round it. Every now and then, Lisa and Joe would exchange glances and wordless communication would pass between them, each knowing what the other was thinking. After a while, Joe shuffled forward and spoke to Winthrope. ‘So,’ he said. ‘How about letting us out of these ropes, eh? I mean, we’re hardly going to run away now, are we? The jungle is so dark out there I wouldn’t even get past three feet of this place, and besides, all this water and milk, you know – I gotta go use the bathroom.’ Winthrope thought for a moment. ‘OK, and you’re right – you try to run away from the village and you won’t get far. Your only hope is to stay here with us.’ Joe nodded as one of the women set about loosening and then untying his bonds. He made his way out of the hut. As he passed Lisa he reached down and gave her arm a squeeze. Lisa stroked his hand and smiled up at him but he was gone before she could catch his eye.

The night was cool and clear. Above him the stars shone brighter than he had ever seen them before. It was beautiful here, he thought to himself; the sky was clear, the air was clean and the jungle let you know you were part of something bigger, something that needed you as much as you needed it. He knew, though, that it wasn’t home; there was none of the magic of the city, the excitement. He had smog for blood, he knew that, and here he was a stranger. He couldn’t stay; they could never make him stay. He passed a young girl sleeping by the hut, obviously too young to enter. Her long black hair trailed over her shoulders, a blanket was wrapped around her legs and she shivered a little in the cold night air. Carefully Joe unwound the blanket and placed it over the girl’s shoulders, patting it down gently. They were a beautiful people, he thought to himself. Perhaps he was too ugly for them; perhaps he had too much of the city in him, perhaps he had always had too much of the city in him. He stroked the hair of the girl. ‘Gun or no gun,’ he said, ‘tomorrow, we have to leave.’

When Joe returned to the hut, he realised things had begun to go with a swing. He approached the door and heard raucous laughter from inside. He gathered from listening for a while that Winthrope had begun to elaborate on the plan he had for the professor, Fraser and himself. He gently eased open the door and made his way in. The air in the hut was stifling. He coughed as it hit his lungs, an action that made everyone turn around and stare at him. Winthrope was busy smoking in the corner, a strange heady mixture that Joe had vaguely smelt somewhere before, in the back streets of Hong Kong. The pipe from which Winthrope smoked was handed to his left, to Fraser, who took a long drag from it. Joe noticed the blood drain from Fraser’s face as the smoke was shot out of his nose. Fraser coughed and spluttered, causing hoots and giggles to fill the inside of the little hut.

Winthrope took the pipe and laid a hand on Fraser’s chest. Together they breathed slowly and rhythmically, then Fraser’s eyes rolled back into his head and he seemed to lose consciousness. His legs started twitching and his arms flapping by his side, like a fish. Joe had seen this once before, one early morning long ago by the harbour. The boy who had smoked the pipe that day did not return from wherever he had gone. That was different, however – the smoke that he had inhaled was cut with chemicals and other man-made poisons while this was fresh from Nature, in all her benevolent glory.

Fraser started dribbling slightly and sweating. One of the women in the hut shuffled over and began to wipe his chin. Joe could tell Lisa was getting concerned. She knew Fraser was not even used to strong liquor let alone whatever it was that was in the pipe. She kneeled and leaned across to the professor, then whispered in his ear. The professor glanced over at Fraser but merely nodded, sagely; whatever it was he was thinking, he was not about to let the rest of the village know. Joe rushed over to where Fraser lay and placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Is he OK?’ Lisa asked and he could hear the worry in her voice. ‘I think so. He shouldn’t have been given this, whatever it is. He faints at the smell of whiskey.’

The girl beside Fraser gently leaned over and kissed his lips and the change was miraculous. Without fuss, the girl’s breath had calmed Fraser. First his eyes flickered, then his legs and arms stopped twitching and then, as if waking from some strange sleep, he opened his eyes and smiled around the hut. Joe and Lisa sighed. Fraser could say only one word.

‘Wow!’

The look on his face told Joe that wherever he had been, Fraser liked it and wanted more. He gazed upon Lisa, who slouched back against the wall of the hut, the sparks from the fire dancing around her hair, causing her to take on a holy glow. Joe realised he didn’t care where he was or what he was doing as long as he could do it with Lisa. He thought back over his life in an instant and realised that, out of all the women he had known, the only name he could remember was Lisa’s. Hers was the only face he ever wanted to see again. He wanted to do all those stupid things with her that he had never even considered with anyone else before, engagement, marriage . . . he gulped a little and felt his heart beat faster . . . kids.

No matter how stupid he told himself he was being, he could not bring himself to do what Winthrope was asking of him. This was not the way to start something big and pure, perhaps the purest thing he had ever embarked upon. He didn’t care if it meant he would be shot, he was not going to aid in the repopulation of the village. He was not going to jeopardise his relationship with Lisa, possibly the only thing worth having in the world now. More precious even than the golden Buddha.

Lisa looked nervous. She had been watching Joe and had finally admitted to herself that the feelings she had for him were deeper than just the casual attraction she thought she had felt at first. As his eyes looked into the fire, she thought she saw all the pain and hurt he had ever suffered in his life mirrored on his face. He was such a boy really – but such a charming, brave, funny one that she knew she had fallen for him.

Beside her Winthrope clapped his hands. ‘In an hour or so, gentlemen, I will retire to my hut and I will allocate you each a number of women for the night. However, this will be just the first of many nights. You can think of yourselves as Adams, ensuring that the human race continues in this small island of beautiful people. One day, there will be a whole village of happy smiling faces, just like Fraser’s here. One day the island will be thriving again. I have ensured that you each have a hut. Joe, you can stay here; Fraser, you can go in the hut next to mine and, professor . . . well, there is a small one on the outskirts, you can use that. Use these wisely, my friends, for I do think of you as friends now, and most of all . . .’ He smiled a glinting smile that seemed to speak of many things. ‘Have fun.’

Fraser leered, the professor looked nervous and Joe looked at Lisa and suddenly time slowed. He looked into her eyes and noticed for the first time that one was a slightly deeper brown than the other. It was hardly discernible and could perhaps have been put down to a trick of the light, but Joe noticed it and in noticing was made to wish for more things to know about Lisa. He wanted to know everything about her, every step she had ever made, every thought she had ever thought, every dream she had ever dreamed. He leaned over, pretending to feed the fire, and touched her foot. At first she recoiled but then, as if some current had passed between them, something unsaid but palpable, she relaxed and pushed her legs nearer his hand.

In the crowded hut, full of strangers and smoke, Lisa and Joe shared a moment of intimacy few could boast of in a lifetime. It was merely a touch, the briefest of glances, but it said more about human warmth and fragility than if they had been free to express their thoughts till dawn. As if the fire had connected them with its heat, they both sat back against their respective walls and breathed deeply, knowing that something important had been said without words.

At the allotted time, Winthrope snapped his fingers and the hut was emptied of everyone except Joe, Fraser, the professor and Lisa. Winthrope began to speak.

‘You have made a very wise decision in accepting the hospitality of the village. I have known people who have merely wanted to take what they could get and be on the first plane out, but you have shown courage and respect, my friends. Thank you.’

The professor eased himself forward. ‘Do you know this area well?’ he asked.

‘Do you know the streets where you live well? Do you know your house well, or your apartment? Well, that is how I know the jungle. I have been over most of it in my time, walking here and there, fishing, gathering food and water.’

The professor felt a little light-headed from the smoke he had inhaled earlier. He reached into his pocket. Lisa, realising what he was about to do, tried to stop him but he was insistent.

‘I have here an important document,’ the professor began, ‘That I thought you might like to take a look at.’

The professor pulled the map from his pocket and handed it to Winthrope, who examined it casually. ‘Yes, a map,’ he said. ‘I have seen many maps of this kind.’

The professor smiled. ‘But it is a map of peculiar importance. It is a map of the island. Do you recognise any part of it?’

Winthrope studied it more closely. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Whose map is it?’

There was silence in the hut for a moment, while the professor debated how much to tell him. Finally after what seemed like hours he spoke.

‘Yamashita’s. We think it was drawn for him by a man called Amichi. I knew, or at least had dealings with, his granddaughter. She wanted me to have it. She knew that I would look after it and serve her well.’

The professor bowed his head. Winthrope’s eyes widened. He traced a line with his finger and with each inch it passed his face grew lighter and his smile broader. ‘Yes, I think I do know this. I can’t be sure – it has probably changed since this was written, but I am almost sure I recognise this high ground here. I’d say it was about two and a half miles away.’

The professor was suddenly energised. He shrugged the hazy feeling from his brain and sat bolt upright. ‘Then, we must go,’ he said. ‘Right away, we must leave. There may not be much time to waste.’