The Golden Catch

by Roger Weston

  THE GOLDEN CATCH

  A THRILLER

  ROGER WESTON

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, and plot are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Weston Publishing Enterprises

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Andrew Johnson

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER ONE

  November 16th, 1995

  Frank Murdoch figured he had at least a fifty percent chance of surviving the hour. Navigating his ice-covered crab boat away from the epicenter gave him some relief. Having his ten-year old son with him did not. Frank stood wide-legged in the wheelhouse of the Hector and clung to the helm. He took a deep, strained breath of the frosty morning air. Fierce winds dragged streaks of foam across the wave tops. Morning had arrived with a sub-marine earthquake, epicenter the Aleutian Trench, apex of the Pacific’s rim of fire. Fortunately, no tsunami had followed, at least not yet. Frank knew that an aftershock could trigger one at any moment, hurling forth a seismic wave, taller than the sea cliffs of Kiska Island that stood on the horizon.

  It was no coincidence that Frank and his late wife had built their ranch house on the other side of the island. The Pacific side of the Aleutians had seen colossal tsunamis in the past. The hundred-foot wave that took out Scotch Cap lighthouse years ago came to his mind. The rim of fire was the most active seismic location in the world.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, Frank knew that the already pounding sea, light snow, and blustery winds were about to deteriorate into a williwaw, a violent storm with cyclone-force winds. He was eager to get his boat around the island and into the protected harbor of his home. For a minute, he questioned the wisdom of living on one of the most remote islands in the world, but that thought evaporated quickly. With a past like his, he figured he had no choice. If not for Kiska, he would’ve been dead long ago. Not a good alternative for a single father.

  But the kid’s actions had complicated Frank’s day. Luke had snuck away from home to look for his dog. He’d taken off on his horse and rode across the island. Frank had gone ashore and found the kid at their sheep station, a glorified shack where his ranch hands bunked down sometimes. He glanced over at his son, who stood looking out the window at the storm. Spray splattered the windshield and froze. The Hector bashed into a thundering wave and thousands of tons of salt water cascaded across the frozen, white decks. Vast dark cloud cover drifted above like a tide of liquid lead, pouring into a bulging dark horizon.

  Up ahead, a 4,000-foot volcano hid in the storm clouds, but the coast was visible, and lifting his binoculars, Frank scanned the rough terrain for a while.

  As they passed Musashi Inlet, Frank noticed something.

  “Hey, Luke, did you say Brian and Clay were planning to run the sheep up the Volcano Tundra Trail?”

  “Yeah, they said we might get a tsunami.”

  Frank focused the binoculars. “That quake was powerful, eight-point-two’er for sure. Cracked the trail in half.”

  “What?”

  “Hold on. . . Wait till the boat rises again. . . Look. . . The entire cliff has cracked open. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “You mean the quake broke the cliff? Can I have a look?”

  “Just a minute. That’s gotta be several yards wide.” Frank panned the binoculars along the base of the mountain. “What the …?”

  “What?” Luke reached up for the binoculars. “Let me see.”

  “Wait a second. It looks like there’s a new crater near the base of the volcano.” The boat shuddered as she dug her nose into the dark face of a twelve-foot wave. Frank handed the binoculars to Luke and hung onto the wheel.

  “Get ready to look when we crest on the next wave,” Frank said. “All right, here we go….Wait a second. Okay, now. You see the crack? It runs all the way from the breakwater to the top of the cliff. You see it?”

  “No.”

  Frank pointed. “It’s right there, above the shoreline where those black cliffs rise real jagged.”

  “I see it.”

  “That’s bad news. From the looks of it, the crack goes right across the trail. Clay and Brian might drive the sheep that way, and if they do….”

  Frank called up Vassily Prilimoff on the radio. Vassily was an old friend of Frank’s who lived on Attu and worked at the tide station there.

  “It’s ugly,” Vassily said. “Aftershocks are a major danger right now. We’ve already had two.”

  “I need to go ashore to check out some damage.”

  Vassily grumbled. “If there’s another earthquake, you could be looking at multiple tsunami waves, possibly six or eight in a row.”

  “I doubt we’ll have a second quake of that magnitude all in one day.”

  “Every quake is unique. It could be ten times smaller and still produce a big set of waves.”

  After he hung up, Frank turned to Luke and said, “I’m going ashore.”

  Frank maneuvered the Hector into Musashi Inlet, a fjord rimmed with basalt cliffs and black-sand beaches. Billows broke against the black hull, and spray cascaded across the deck. Even here on the island’s protected coast, wind whined a sinister high-shrill in the rigging. Ice was thickening on the boat’s deck and superstructure. Chilling white frost crusted over the ice while ominous dark clouds crowded in the sky. The rumble of the engines shifted.

  “How come you’re slowing down?” Luke said.

  “There’s a shipwreck up there. The wheelhouse and stack are just under the surface.”

  “Another Japanese shipwreck?”

  “Yeah, but this one’s different.”

  “What happened?”

  “I scuba dived on her once. She’s called the Musashi. Name’s right on the hull. That’s how I named this cove. What’s different is she’s not listed in any of the history books I’ve read about World War Two. The Japanese say she was never here.”

  “How can they if she is?”

  “I don’t know. I had a friend look into it for me once. He came up with nothing.” Frank glanced at the color depth sounder and eased the wheel to starboard. “Right now she’s a ghost ship.”

  “You mean she has ghosts?”

  “No, she’s just invisible to the world. Nobody knows about her. It appears she was abandoned. Her hulls are empty. There’s no sign of life, no
cargo, nothing. She can sink us if we’re not careful.”

  “Like the ones in Kiska Harbor?”

  “Anything hidden just below the surface is dangerous. We don’t want to wreck on her.”

  Luke moved to the windshield and began searching in earnest. “I can’t see it.”

  “That’s why she’s so deadly. You can’t see her till you’re up close. Just keep looking.”

  As the Hector rumbled into Musashi Inlet, Frank tried to think less about the ship’s murky history and more on keeping a safe distance. He moved several controls and watched his color depth sounder as the Hector rolled past the sunken Musashi. The monitor painted a vivid color picture of the bottom beneath. The sunken ship rested alow in the surging waters off the port beam. Frank glanced at the sonar display and fathometer.

  The old, ice-covered crab boat plowed onward through the frigid, sub-arctic elements and swirling gray mist. Surf crashed against the base of black cliffs and stone monstrosities, causing a continuous froth of churning white water along the rugged shore.

  Well clear of the sunken Japanese cargo ship, Frank slowed the Hector to a crawl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them and glanced out the window. For a moment, his eyes fixed on a colossal mass of fallen cliff. Thousands and thousands of tons of solid rock. It looked like the product of a mammoth volcanic cataclysm. The titanic slab of rock rested where the high cliffs leveled out onto a sprawling shelf of lava just above the water. The rock had always been there, but it was so imperious he couldn’t help glancing at it.

  He pulled his eyes away and quickly looked up toward the sky. He remembered the picnic he and his late wife Melody had enjoyed at this cove when he dove on the Musashi Maru. Even brief thoughts of Melody brought feelings of love and respect and sadness. Her memory emphasized how quickly life could come to a crashing halt. He knew that she would be frightened to see her young son in such a dangerous situation. Frank didn’t like it either, but he had to deal with circumstances. He couldn’t ignore a hazard that could cost his ranch hands their lives. He had to go ashore to check out the chasm.

  Weather conditions were holding for the moment, but Frank knew that was short-lived. He looked over at Luke. “You stay here and monitor the radio for changes in the weather. I’ll be back in twenty or thirty minutes. You know what to do if she drags anchor.”

  After he dropped the anchor, Frank craned the skiff over the side into the choppy gray waters. Moments later, he climbed down the ladder and jumped in the skiff. Glancing up, he saw Luke standing by the ladder. When Frank turned towards the shore, he felt a jolt shake the skiff. He whirled around and saw Luke standing in the shore boat with his arms crossed.

  “I’m coming with you. I want to see it, too.”

  Frank’s gut felt raw at the thought of bringing his son with him, but if the Hector dragged anchor, she could wreck on the lava shelf. Either way, it wasn’t safe. At least this way, they would be together.

  Frozen rain came like pellets from a gray nowhere. Frank and Luke fought the elements, running the skiff through the wind and spray, over bucking black swells, toward the stark, black shoreline and finally putting ashore, riding a wave up on the beach like a surfer.

  They climbed all the way up the ravine. As they summited on the high ridge, wind bowled Luke over. After making sure the kid was alright, Frank helped him up over the crest and into the blow. They hiked a hundred yards to the northeast, where they found the volcanic fracture. The new fissure ran up over the edge of the ridge and continued on in a dramatic, zigzag procession.

  “Alright, come on,” Frank said. “I need to see if it crosses the Volcano Trail.”

  The two made their way along the crevasse until it crossed the trail. It was worse than he had expected. The trail was now separated by a six-foot wide abyss.

  Frigid, numbing cold air was snaking inside Frank’s sweater. He wanted to get the kid back to the Hector and get the boat safely away from the coast. Still, his ranch hands were headed this way and didn’t know of this new danger. If they got too close and the edge gave away, they’d be dead. Frank didn’t want to be responsible for anymore death in his life. He’d seen enough of that.

  “We’ve got to create a barricade so Brian and Clay can see the crevasse. Let’s move those boulders in front of the trail.” Working up a sweat for twenty minutes, they grabbed every big rock they could find. They worked tirelessly to create a makeshift diversion. They branched out for a hundred yards on each side of the trail seeking the largest boulders they could carry.

  On one run, Luke yelled for Frank: “Dad, look over there!” Luke was pointing inland.

  At the edge of the tundra, where the solid, flat lava field began, a large crater had opened up. Frank glanced seaward and saw his boat rocking precariously in Musashi Inlet. “Come on,” he said, turning back to Luke. “Let’s take a look.”

  They jogged through the freezing squall, up the gently rising meadow, to where the lava began. Arriving at the crater, Frank stopped Luke from standing too near the edge.

  “Over there,” Luke said, gesturing toward the other side of the crater.

  Carefully, Frank inspected the black pit: fifteen-feet deep and thirty-feet across, round with vertical walls. On the other side, the collapsed ceiling was extra thick and now formed a jagged ramp down into the crater. Steam rose from cracks in the broken lava slabs below. Opposite, a cave disappeared into the volcanic earth. Despite the wind and rain, Frank could smell traces of sulfur and saw tendrils of steam curling out of the cave and vanishing in the gusts.

  He turned to Luke, but the boy was now standing on the other side of the crater and pointing down. “There, look!”

  Frank walked over and joined him. Now he saw what Luke was excited about. Down in the pit, next to a slab of lava, lay a gold sword. Looking at the partially collapsed, four-foot wide slab of lava that had been part of the ceiling and now formed the ramp, Frank said, “You wait up here. I’ll take a look.”

  “I want to come.”

  Frank took a deep breath. “Stay here.”

  Luke peered down the ramp.

  Frank put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You do what I tell you.”

  As Frank moved closer to the cave’s mouth, the smell of sulfur got stronger. He grabbed the gold sword. He started to unsheathe the find, but stopped.

  Looking the mouth of the cave over for stability, Frank stepped a few feet into the eight-foot high cave. Instantly the groaning gale was quieted by the shelter of the cave. He looked up at Luke shaking in the brutal wind above. He cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled for Luke to come down.

  Luke ran down the ramp and straight for his dad.

  “Let me see that,” Luke said, snatching the sword out of Frank’s hands.

  Frank took it back. When he flipped the sword over, they were both mesmerized by the gold and silver bands ringing the handle, by the scabbard with its gold “S” designs, its gold leaves, and the little gold balls around all the edges.

  Turning back toward the ramp, Frank said, “Time to go.”

  “Maybe there’s more,” Luke said. “I want to see.”

  “We’ll come back later,” Frank said, but he didn’t move. He was listening to the howling wind and wondered if Luke was right…

  Frank put his hand on Luke’s back, gently pushing him several yards into the cave. The warm, steamy air met them inside, stinking of sulfur.

  CHAPTER TWO

  They walked up a slightly-rising round black tunnel, about nine feet high and wide. Water dripped from the ceiling, and running water covered the cave floor. Their feet slapped in the shallow streamlet, causing splash sounds that echoed around them. Frank kneeled to touch the water, finding it as hot as bath water. “Stay close behind me,” he said. As long as there were no more aftershocks, they should be fine. As for the Hector, he hoped she was okay.

  At first, the light from the entrance was enough, but after they’d gone just fifteen yards underground, Frank got ou
t his flashlight. A little further and they entered a large cavern.

  Frank swung the flashlight around. The illumination cut through the rising steam and froze. “Look, right there, see that. It looks like a lava formation, but it’s a crate covered with a canvas tarp and lava dust.”

  Luke moved closer, but Frank grabbed his shoulder.

  “Don’t touch it! If that crate is old war remnants, it might still be booby trapped. Don’t touch anything.” Frank’s voice echoed through the chamber.

  The faint sound of wind howling at the cave’s mouth penetrated the cavern.

  Frank took a step and kicked something. He shined his light to see what it was.

  Luke backed up, his head bumping Frank’s elbow. “Bones,” he whispered. “They’re all over.”

  Frank slowly swung the light beam through the steam. The bones of at least six skeletons sprawled across the cave floor along with strips of tattered old Japanese uniforms. Scattered among them were dozens of gold treasures: a solid gold vase, a golden dragon head, a cup, a pitcher, another sword, a Buddha.

  Frank aimed the light down the tunnel and spotted more crates.

  Luke kneeled down by a rusted rifle and examined it. The rifle lay beside a frying pan and a fire pit, circled by stones. “What is this place?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “It looks like one of the old Japanese supply tunnels,” Frank said. “Go stand over by the entrance until I tell you it’s alright to come closer. Don’t kick anything.” Luke obeyed. Frank carefully stepped over the skeleton and walked to the crate. He started to pull the canvas tarp back, but the material crumbled. He lifted the lid an inch and shined the light inside, checking for booby traps. Volcanic dust floated densely through the flashlight’s beam. He pushed the lid back. Shining the light inside, he held his breath. Glitter filled his vision.

  “Come here.” He heard Luke’s footsteps echoing. Then he felt him breathing next to him.

  As Luke reached out and grasped a cup, it clanged on another piece of gold; a chime pierced the stillness. Luke held the piece in the light for closer inspection.