Along the Broken Bay

by Flora J. Solomon

  She went to the bathroom and ran cold water over her wrists. In the mirror she saw a woman with wild eyes and a hive on her upper lip. Her stomach churned, and she thought she might be sick. How could Admiral Tanaka have fooled her so thoroughly into thinking he was a regular guy with the simple hopes and dreams of every man? Or was Davy wrong? Tanaka, after all, was a common Japanese name . . . Davy could be wrong. She disguised the hive as best she could with lipstick. It itched like the devil. When she left the bathroom, Davy was gone. Thank God.

  Gina’s relief was short lived; on her way to the Jasmine Room, she peeked out the window and saw Davy’s car still there.

  Julio whispered, “He and Lucas are in your office.”

  That damn son of a bitch. “Julio, get them out of here as soon as you can.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt, composed her face, and turned on the charm before entering the room to greet the Japanese officers. Mah-jongg tiles were laid facedown on a table, and Julio had brought in drinks and bowls of peanuts. She recognized the compilation of Chopin’s Études playing.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. You caught me by surprise.” She bowed to each one and slid into the empty chair. She cautioned herself to keep calm and not talk too much, like she tended to do when under stress.

  Admiral Tanaka started the game by drawing and discarding a tile, and the play proceeded around the table as players sought to collect specific combinations, following a myriad of complex rules and Asian conventions. Not knowing Davy’s intentions, Gina played poorly, her glance often going to the curtain and her fear of what he might be doing overpowering her ability to think. She furtively watched the admiral, looking for clues to his real character that she had missed. He gave nothing away.

  Even though the conversation was limited by the click of tiles and incoherent mumbles, today, Gina sensed a change in these men. There was a lightness about them not apparent in these weeks they’d been waiting in port for their ships’ repairs to be completed. Between games, she smiled broadly, hoping the sunny beam didn’t look as fake as it felt. She teased, “You dour gentlemen are almost cheerful today. It must be the Chopin. Should I play his works for you more often?”

  Admiral Tanaka looked directly at her, and she struggled to hold her poise. “You are most gracious as always, Signora Aleo, but this is my last visit to Pearl Blue. I’ll be leaving Manila soon.”

  She lowered her gaze. So Davy wasn’t wrong. With her world turned upside down, she didn’t know how to feel about this man, whom she’d believed had a kind soul—but now she knew of the cruel heart under his gracious exterior. She swallowed down bile before leaning forward. “Oh, that makes me sad. When will you be sailing away from me?” She noticed a slight downturn of his mouth. She placed her hand on his arm, hoping it wasn’t her demeanor cautioning him to trouble. She hurriedly added, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask your business. I wish you a safe trip, Admiral, sailing or flying, business or pleasure.” Turning, she smiled. “And you gentlemen. Are you leaving me too?”

  Both captains nodded.

  “Then that calls for a toast.” She left the room to get a bottle of whiskey. She whispered to Julio. “Please tell me that Davy’s gone.”

  “Wish I could, boss. He and Lucas are in your office. Davy’s been on the phone the whole time.”

  “Damn it! What’s he up to?” She selected a bottle of Old Crow and placed it on a tray with the whiskey glasses, filling her glass with ginger ale. She pressed her hand on her chest and closed her eyes. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  “It’s stress, boss. I have a pill . . .”

  “No. I need a clear head. The officers are shipping out. I’ll keep them busy with a little goodbye party. Try to get Davy out of here. If he won’t go, tell him to stay hidden.”

  “It’s not like he’d listen to me,” Julio mumbled and lifted the heavy tray for her. “What’s with your lip?”

  “It’s a hive. It itches like hell.” She added more lipstick. “Does it show?”

  “Not much. Be careful in there.” He cocked his head toward the Jasmine Room.

  Chopin’s Polonaise no. 6, a raucous, toe-tapping military composition, played over the PA. She paused and pasted on a smile before entering the Jasmine Room. Pouring generous measures of whiskey, she passed the glasses around, offering a toast to clear skies and safe trips. Mah-jongg tiles were stirred and stacked, and the game began again, the players drawing and discarding tiles to form melds in their quest to complete a legal hand. However, the game of skill and strategy soon deteriorated and was abandoned altogether as toasts “to our ships at sea and to our planes in the air” went around, then around the table again. The men began trading war stories. Gina steeled herself to sit and seethe.

  “Excuse me, please.” Admiral Tanaka rose and left the room.

  Holy shit, where is he going? She pretended to listen to the stories flying around the table, but her questions were stepping on one another: Would the admiral see Davy? Would Davy try to take him hostage? What the hell was Davy doing on her telephone? When the music stopped, she cocked her ear to pick up sounds: glass breaking, a telephone ringing, her office door banging, or was that the bathroom door? Her eyelids batted with each ring, thud, and thump, and she lowered her head to hide the tic. Damn it all, where are those two men?

  Not able to sit still a minute longer, she jumped out of her chair just as the admiral returned. She quickly sat down and assessed his demeanor—calmly balanced or a raging bull? He remained standing, his hands on the table and his fingers splayed as if his body were seeking stability.

  Gina felt sick in the pit of her stomach.

  Admiral Tanaka said in his usual well-modulated voice, “I dislike interrupting this party, but I have many things I must do to prepare for my departure.”

  The others agreed, and they gulped down the last of their drinks and boxed up the mah-jongg tiles.

  Gina stood, took a deep breath through her nose, and composed her face into what she hoped was a pleasant expression.

  Admiral Akia Tanaka turned to Gina. “You’re a formidable woman, Signora Angelina Aleo. I’ll never forget you. Had we met in happier times . . .”

  “That would have been lovely,” she said and knew at some level she meant it. She bowed slightly.

  As soon as the Japanese were out the door, she hurried to Julio, finding him sweeping up the remains of a water glass he’d dropped. The look on his face warned her of trouble. “Tell me the worst.”

  “Colonel McGowan and Lucas left a few minutes ago. He’s been on the phone the whole time. He told me to tell you to keep the Japs here as long as you could, that he was setting up an ambush. He promised it would be away from Pearl Blue.”

  Gina sank into a chair, and Julio handed her a glass of water. “Don’t faint on me yet,” he said. “There’s more. I think Admiral Tanaka saw Colonel McGowan leaving Pearl Blue. He watched out the window as the colonel and Lucas got into the car. I don’t know if the admiral knew what he’d stumbled on.”

  “What are the odds?”

  Julio shrugged. “My guess, fifty-fifty. He may not have recognized Colonel McGowan’s face, but there’s that limp. You need to let Colonel McGowan know he may have been spotted.”

  Gina called the Hahns’ and left a cryptic message. After hanging up the phone, she patted the itchy hive on her lip, which had grown to the size of a US dime. Damn Davy McGowan and his arrogance. Damn that son of a bitch! Her anger turned to fear. “What now, Julio?”

  “We wait and see.”

  After days of nothing happening, Gina let down her guard. She picked up the phone to call Jonesy. She heard a click, and she quickly hung up. Tapped. Again a feeling of doom fell over her like a shroud.

  As if on cue, Jonesy showed up with copies of the Candor for her to distribute. She pointed to the phone. “It’s tapped. What can I do?”

  “Be careful what you say. You know the codes, right?”

  “Pre
tty much. It’s the first I’ve heard the click.”

  “Be sure to tell your staff.” He held out a copy of the Candor. “Did you hear about the breakout at Santo Tomas? Gruesome stuff.”

  “No!” She snatched the newsletter from his hand.

  Santo Tomas Internees Escape

  Two women and three children escaped the confines of Santo Tomas Internment Camp late Wednesday night under the cover of darkness and in the confusion of a fire in the shantytown area of the campus. A hole was found in a brick wall at the back of the compound along with three dead Japanese guards.

  The Japanese retaliated by torturing and executing four internees suspected as being complicit and five others selected at random while the population in the camp were gathered in the courtyard to witness the punishment.

  Two escapees were identified as the wife and son of Colonel Davy McGowan, one of the most powerful guerrilla leaders on Luzon.

  Gina handed the newsletter back to Jonesy, unable to feel joy at Davy’s success. “How much horror can one take before one becomes immune to it? If we don’t get away from this, we’ll all be raving idiots soon. Do you have any good news?”

  “Not good, but interesting. A couple of dockhands attacked your Admiral Tanaka as he was boarding his ship. Sailors killed the dockhands and threw them into the river. Can you fill me in? What’s the story here?”

  Gina sat with her hand covering her mouth. She had no desire to share her complicated feelings about Admiral Akia Tanaka with Jonesy or anyone else. “I knew he was leaving. That’s all. How is he?”

  “No worse for wear, I’ve heard.”

  The Philippines was a perilous place to be living in 1944. Every day people were picked up on the street, marched out of offices, or plucked out of beds to be taken to Fort Santiago and grilled by the Kempeitai. Increasingly, bodies were found floating in the Pasig River. Clara told Gina that the number of Japanese sentries in the market in Cabanatuan City had doubled, putting Dion’s stalls and their smuggling operation in greater danger.

  On an unusually gray day, she received the phone call from Franca that she had been dreading—“True Heart is on his way to school”—Father Morgan becoming the first of their network to be arrested by the Kempeitai. Gina could barely dial the telephone to pass the grim message on to Jonesy and Mrs. Hahn as prearranged and then to warn Julio, Inez, and Arielle to be on guard. That night, the four huddled around the bar, drinking beer and eating peanuts, their nerves jumpy, nobody wanting to be alone. The next day Armin Gable, known as Bashful, and Freddie Sulet, the accountant known as Slapstick, were detained by the Kempeitai.

  Inez said to Gina, “I’m taking Rizal to my mother’s. I’m scared. If I disappeared off the street, he’d be alone. Have you thought about closing Pearl Blue?”

  Gina had, weighing the increased danger to herself and her staff against the diminishing needs of the guerrillas and the increased needs of the prisoners in Cabanatuan. “I’m going to let it ride for a while, but I’ll warn the staff we could close overnight. Everyone should have a plan to disappear into the city or the mountains, should one of our staff be picked up by the Kempeitai.” Just saying that out loud gave Gina the shivers.

  Inez said, “Most of us are local. We know where to hide. How about you, Gina?”

  “At the first sign of trouble, I’m going back to the mountains and will leave the island by submarine. I’m setting it up.”

  “Don’t wait too long, will you?”

  “No, I’ll be watchful. You too.”

  Irma’s Bakery always drew early-morning crowds, and people were passing by with their bags of breakfast sweets. When Gina picked up the morning newspaper by her front door, she stood for a moment and watched the children walking to school.

  Cheryl had been safe in the mountains with Vivian for almost two years now, a long time in a short childhood. Did she remember anything of her life before the war . . . the parties and pretty dresses, the cuddles at bedtime, playing hide-and-seek in the house on rainy days, dancing as a threesome in the moonlight with Ray?

  Julio’s band was practicing, and music floated into Gina’s office, where she had settled at her desk to attend to her mail. She opened and read a letter from a prisoner to his girlfriend:

  Dear Elena,

  You’re probably surprised to hear from me after so long a time. I’m a guest at the Son of Heaven’s royal mansion here in Cabanatuan prison camp. A bout of tuberculosis laid me low, followed by dysentery, followed by . . . enough of that. I’m on my feet, metaphorically. I’m really just lying on a hard, stinking floor feeling lonely and thinking of our time together enjoying the best the Pearl of the Orient had to offer.

  Rumor has it our navy is trouncing the Imperial forces, and it’s my dream to take up where we left off before all hell broke loose. If that’s not in the stars for you, please write to me anyway. I need to know someone is out there beyond His Highness’s golden gate.

  Love in yearning,

  Georgie

  Gina chewed on the end of her pen. Undeliverable letters were hard to answer. She wrote,

  Dear Georgie,

  I’m sorry we could not locate your girlfriend, so your letter was not delivered. On the bright side, you must know there are many people outside the golden gate who are working on your behalf. The Nips are losing ground, so please take heart in that. In the meantime, when you’re lonely, write to me, and I promise to answer. Please use a code name.

  Yours in war,

  Kitty

  From the pile Gina selected a letter addressed to Kitty from Sparrow, a sassy kid from a small town in Iowa. They had been trading jokes for a while. She wrote,

  Hey, Sparrow,

  Did you hear about the magic tractor? It went up the road and turned into a field.

  Ha-ha!

  Last count in the Philippine Sea: Nips, 3,000 dead, to Allies, 100 dead.

  Hold on to your hat. Victory bells are in your future.

  Kitty

  There was a rap on her open door, and Gina looked up and recognized Ricco, one of Davy’s most trusted guerrillas. He stepped in and handed her a note. “It’s from Davy.”

  “Thank you. Get yourself a beer at the bar. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  She closed her door and took cash from her safe. She scribbled a note to Vivian and another to Cheryl and then put the cash and letters in an envelope.

  She found Ricco at the bar, guzzling beer and looking pleased. She handed him the envelope. “Give this to Dr. Theo. I heard that a supply of quinine was smuggled in by submarine. Tell him to check the black market.”

  “Thanks. That’s good news. Not much is around.”

  Gina drew herself a beer and sat with Ricco. “Do you know anything about Davy sending the women and children home on a sub?”

  “I know he wants to, but Vivian’s been too sick to travel.”

  “Malaria?”

  “Yeah. It puts her down periodically. So far she’s always pulled through.”

  It wasn’t good news. Vivian had to be getting weaker with each bout. “There’s a letter in the envelope for her. Be sure she gets it.”

  “I’ll do that.” He drained his beer and got up to leave. “Thanks for the beer. It’s hotter than the devil out there.” He left with a wave.

  Gina took her half glass of beer to her office and opened the note from Davy. It was short. Three sentences only:

  Code breakers decrypted Admiral Akia Tanaka’s radio messages and pinpointed his location. US forces blew the Musashi out of the water. A victory to celebrate.

  Gina knew Davy wrote in the spirit of good news, but tears clouded her vision. Gone from this world was a beautiful soul—a gentleman, a poet, a lover of music and mind-bending games. Her admirer.

  Her enemy?

  Her Judas?

  Gina slumped back in her chair, remorseful for her part in his undoing and weary of the hostility that had determined it.

  Chapter 29

  BUSTED

  I’
m herded here and driven there like one in a flock of sheep. How much I yearn for solitude.

  —Ray Thorpe, Fukuoka #17, Japan, February 1944–September 1945

  Valentine’s Day had always been a favorite holiday, but now the day was difficult for Gina to get through, her reflections on Ray more poignant and her thoughts of Cheryl more urgent and heartrending.

  Planning a special Valentine’s Day program at Pearl Blue helped numb her reflections of what had been. She wooed Manila’s lovers with hard-to-find miniature chocolates, abundant fresh flowers, glowing mood lights, and Margo and Manny’s sensuous shadow dance. A couple arrived whom Gina watched with desirous interest, he a gorgeous hunk of male imperative and she a beautiful deep well of yearning.

  New lovers? Those weeks of exploration, sparks of novel discoveries, and unbounded sensations. Newlyweds? A time of abundant physical and psychological intimacy.

  Inez eyed them keenly too. “Look at them. Antony and Cleopatra.”

  The customers lingered until Eddie closed the bar and the band packed up their instruments. Ling turned off the neon sign and locked the front door. As chores were completed, the staff filed out. Inez and Arielle stayed behind and were sipping red wine and eating chocolates with Gina. Ling approached the table. “Miss Gina, I must talk to you.”

  “What’s on your mind, Ling?”

  “On Friday I must accompany my father to present a document to my third cousin. I needing the night off. Biyu taking my place.”

  Arielle whooped. “A document? Would that third cousin be a girl?”

  A flush crept up Ling’s neck and across his cheeks.

  Arielle continued her tease. “Gina, I think our young stud is about to enter marital bliss. Fess up, Ling. We’ll keep your secret.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “If she have me.”

  “Well, if she won’t, I know two others who will,” Inez said as she pushed out a chair. “Here, sit down. Tell us about her. Do we know her? What’s her name? Is she pretty?”

  Ling remained standing, his eyes shifting as if he were looking for an exit. “No, you don’t know her. Her name is Jade. She as pretty as a budding rose. Miss Gina, Friday night?”