Dragon's Triangle (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 2)

by Christine Kling

  The sticky part was going to be that moment of the arrival of the sub. Presumably, the prince had a loyal army waiting for his return. How many men? There was no way to know for sure, but given that all the word out of Luzon was that the core of Yamashita’s men who had retreated into the mountains of Luzon were starving, weak, and low on ammunition, Ozzie believed their odds of overpowering them were pretty good.

  Ozzie was going to have to give both Westbrooke and Prince Masako just enough information to think they each knew the whole score. He would like to avoid a shoot-out when they first arrived, but in the end, they would have the firepower of those deck guns and any shoreside installation would be a sitting duck for the nimble submarine.

  As it turned out, Ozzie and Westbrooke were both standing atop the conning tower when the lookout called out that he could see land. It was late afternoon and the winds were down. The sea surface mirrored the crisp cumulous clouds, and the usual humid haze had taken a breather. The bluish mountains of Luzon’s Cordillera range were visible over twenty miles away.

  “I hear these are beautiful islands,” Westbrooke said as he surveyed the distant coast through the binoculars.

  “Oh yeah. I spent a good bit of time here before Pearl Harbor.”

  Westbrooke lowered the binoculars and turned to face Ozzie. “Really? I didn’t know you’d been stationed in the Philippines.”

  “Yeah, lucky me. I was on Corregidor before the Japanese showed up. Used to work in SIS. I made it out of there just in time, too.”

  “I guess you’ve been a part of all this from the start, then.”

  “Yes, sir. It seems a lot longer than four and a half years ago.”

  “I was still in school when it started.” Westbrooke turned back to look on the faint image of the coast ahead of them.

  “Skipper,” Ozzie said. “I think we need to talk about the details of a plan.”

  Without turning, Westbrooke said, “So I’m finally going to be told the details of this mission. It’s about time.”

  “I’m just following my orders, sir.”

  “I hate this damn secrecy, but let’s hear it now.”

  “As you know, MacArthur has taken Manila, but General Yamashita has withdrawn into those mountains we see over there.” Ozzie pointed to the coast. “He has about fifty thousand troops with him and they are being supplied by Japanese submarines making drops at the port we are about to visit. Our mission is to get in there and take out the ground forces. We need to close this off as a supply line for Yamashita.”

  “Okay. What do we know about the shoreside installation?”

  “Very little. We got these orders due to information I got from our prisoner, Lieutenant Colonel Miyata. He says it is a very small harbor, barely big enough for this sub to enter. But they don’t have any big guns installed, so we’ll only be looking at small-arms fire. It shouldn’t be a problem to take it. Based on Miyata’s intel, I suggest a night entry. He’s given me the radio frequency and code that will make their guys think a Jap sub is coming in. They’ll light up a range. They won’t know who we are until it’s too late.”

  “Our Japanese colonel seems to be uncharacteristically cooperative.”

  “Well, it’s the end of the war. We know it and they know it.”

  Like all the officers on the USS Bonefish, Ozzie had been issued a sidearm, but on the boat he never wore it. But this evening, he and Westbrooke both wore their sidearms. As the USS Bonefish approached the coast, Westbrooke called for full battle stations. The crew manned the deck guns. After he had the radioman send the signal, Ozzie had the chief of the boat bring their two prisoners up to the top of the conning tower.

  The moon was hidden behind a layer of clouds that had moved in after sunset, but the scent of land, that mixture of earthy vegetation and the sweet smell of rotting organisms, tingled in the noses of every man on deck. The night was so black Ozzie began to feel dizzy. It was difficult to know which way was up and he braced himself in a corner of the deck. He could not see the prince’s face, but he felt him smiling.

  “Dammit, Lieutenant Colonel, you’d better not be leading this submarine into dangerous waters. You know a grounded sub is no good to you.”

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. Your submarine will be safe. I give you my word.”

  Then ahead of them two white lights appeared out of the blackness, one high and the other almost at water level. Westbrooke called for a course adjustment and slowly the range lights aligned one over the other.

  The skipper ordered a man to the spotlight.

  “Sir,” Ozzie said, “if we light up this boat at all they will know it’s not a Jap sub.” He spoke quietly, knowing well how far voices carry across the water. “They might see our guys on the guns.”

  Westbrooke told the man to stay ready on the spot awaiting his orders. He dropped the speed to three knots and called for a constant depth.

  “Fifty-two feet,” a soft voice called.

  “Forty-nine feet.”

  Every man on deck from the gunners to the officers was straining to see something in the dark, but all they saw were the two range lights aligned one over the other. It was impossible to tell how far away they were.

  “Forty-eight feet.

  “Forty-five feet.

  “Forty feet.”

  “Ozzie,” Westbrooke said. “Tell me I should keep on this heading. Tell me you can see something out there in the darkness.”

  “Thirty-eight feet.”

  They heard the whispers from the men on the bow first. They saw the cliffs. But even as slow as they were moving, there was nothing they could do at that point. Then the men on top of the conning tower saw the rock walls on either side emerge out of the darkness. The sub passed under a rock arch.

  Westbrooke called for all engines hard astern. All the men on the sub braced themselves for a hard grounding. Ozzie pulled his gun out of his holster and grabbed Prince Masako. He put the gun to the prince’s head.

  “Depth is forty-five feet.”

  Everything sounded different, close, echoey. Ozzie strained his eyes to try to make out what was out there.

  The range lights blinked out as the sub’s engines drew the big boat to a stop.

  Westbrooke called for the searchlight. When the brilliant light turned on, it was like turning on the sun. The light bounced off the walls around them and everything was illuminated.

  Ozzie felt his mouth open even as he heard the prince chuckling.

  “Welcome to the Philippines,” Prince Masako said.

  The sub was floating in a pale aquamarine pool under a dome several hundred feet above them. Around the sides of the chamber, long, slender stalactites reached down from the high dome, throwing shadows like witches’ craggy fingers. On their port side was a long stone quay twice the length of their boat, with big black tires strung along the face to act as fenders. Two lone Japanese sailors in white uniforms were holding up their arms to shield their eyes from the bright light and waving at them, ready to take their lines.

  “What the hell?” Westbrooke said.

  “I guess we’re docking here,” Ozzie said. “Inside a cave.”

  Ao Chalong

  Phuket, Thailand

  November 19, 2012

  This was new. Benny Salim was not accustomed to failure. He didn’t have a knife in his bag, so he had searched every inch of the boat until he found a small, rusty eating knife in the bottom of the boat. He’d stripped down to his underwear and slid into the water. He worked for nearly half an hour but he could not cut through the rope. It was stretched into a tight ball around the propeller and though he sawed his little knife back and forth, it barely made a dent.

  Benny climbed back into the boat and sat on the nets. He could no longer see the woman’s boat. Even her tall white sail had disappeared around the point. He pulled his bag to him and took out his phone. His cousin answered finally after many rings.

  “Yes, I know it is early,” Benny said.

  His c
ousin groaned and mumbled something unintelligible. Benny didn’t know if he was simply groggy from sleep or already high.

  After he’d explained the situation, his cousin said he would come in another of his boats and bring a good knife.

  “You aren’t thinking of going after her, are you?” his cousin asked.

  “I have to. That is my job.”

  “You’ll never find her unless you know where she’s going. Do you know where?”

  “No,” Benny answered. “But your boats are much faster.”

  “Yes, but I know these waters, and I would not search for such a boat. There are too many places to go, too many to hide. Maybe she is going around the southern tip of Phuket Island and up to Patong. Or she might continue north in the Andaman Sea to Burma or to the islands offshore. Or maybe she’s going down to Langkawi, or on to Singapore or down to Australia. Chasing her would be no good. Find out where she is going.”

  Benny nodded, and at the same time he saw a large inflatable dinghy start up behind the very big blue boat. A suntanned young man was driving. Benny waved at him and then motioned to the shore. The young man turned the dinghy and began to head toward Benny.

  “Thank you, cousin. You can send someone to get the boat.”

  His cousin started speaking and Benny disconnected the call. He grabbed his pants and pulled them on. By the time the dinghy pulled alongside, he was dressed again.

  “You need a lift to shore, buddy?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Benny sat on the edge of the fishing boat and swung his legs into the dinghy. He could tell from the man’s voice he was an American.

  “Glad to be of help.” The young man nodded. “My name’s Billy, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. My name is Rafi.”

  “Is it okay if I drop you off at the Yacht Club? That’s where I’m headed.”

  “Yes. That would be fine.”

  Billy revved the engine up and the big inflatable dinghy jumped onto a plane. For the next several minutes the boat dodged between the moored boats and the engine noise was too loud for them to speak. He throttled down as they approached the beach, and with a flick of a switch the outboard tilted up so the prop wouldn’t hit the bottom. Billy tossed an anchor over the side.

  “Sorry, man, we’ve got to wade in from here. It’s not deep.”

  Benny followed the American when he slid out of the boat and started walking through the shallows. The young man crossed the sand beach and tied a rope from the dinghy to a palm tree.

  Benny shook his hand. “Thank you for the lift.”

  “No problem. Want to join me for a cold one? I’ve got a nasty chore to do. Came in to borrow Roger’s phone to call the cops. I think my girlfriend’s sailboat was stolen last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’m so pissed because I told her I’d watch it for her.” They crossed the concrete slab, dodging between the tables, and sat down on benches at the bar. Benny didn’t say anything. Billy was the sort of man who would keep talking as long as there was silence.

  “The boat was right there when I hit the rack around three in the morning. I’d been partying pretty hard, but I wasn’t so drunk I didn’t check. It was there. But I didn’t wake up till almost eight. I couldn’t believe it when I looked outside. Gone.” Billy held up two fingers when the bartender approached. “Beer okay with you?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  The bartender set the two cold bottles on the bar and Billy drained half of his right away.

  “Hey, you were pretty close by. You didn’t see anything, did you?”

  “Maybe,” Benny said.

  “Really?”

  “I woke up in the dark when I heard the sound of an engine. I saw a white sailboat go by, but it was a woman driving it.”

  Billy swung around on his stool and faced Benny. “Really? You’re shittin’ me. She took it out herself?”

  “I don’t know who it was,” Benny said. He hoped his new friend Billy would provide him with more information.

  “Well, I’ll call her and find out. Hey, Roger, can I borrow your phone?”

  The bartender walked toward them and pulled a small cell phone out of his pocket. “Here you go, you cheap bastard. When’re you gonna get your own damn phone?”

  “On the salary the owner of that boat pays me? Not likely.” Billy took the phone and punched in a number. He held the phone to his ear and said, “Besides, I’d rather borrow yours and use my money for beer.”

  Billy frowned. “Hmm.” He punched at the off button. “It went straight to voice mail.” He handed the phone back to the bartender.

  Roger said, “You trying to reach Riley?”

  “Yeah, I got up this morning and her boat’s gone. I thought it had been stolen. Nearly had a heart attack when I got up.”

  “When she rented the mooring here, I think she left the number of her satellite phone, too. Let me look.”

  Roger disappeared for a few minutes and when he returned, he had a scrap of paper. He handed it to Billy.

  “Thanks, man.”

  Roger started toward the other end of the bar, halted, and retraced his steps. He sighed as he handed Billy his phone again.

  “I’ll leave you a big tip. I promise.”

  The bartender rolled his eyes.

  Benny held his breath while Billy dialed the number. The man waited, then his eyes lit up. “Riley! I’m so glad you answered.”

  He listened for several seconds. Then he said, “Hey, that’s cool. I’m just glad it was you. I thought your boat had been stolen at first.”

  He paused again. “Man, that’s a long trip to make all by yourself.”

  Billy nodded as he listened. “I understand. He was your grandfather. I liked it there. I’ve done several races out of the Manila Yacht Club. Listen, this must be costing good beer money. Drop me an email if you ever need me. And I’m sure we’ll cross paths again. The world of boats is like that. Bye.”

  Billy dropped the phone onto the bar. “Shit,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s a hell of a way to break up with a guy. I’m going to miss that one. Roger! Another round.”

  Benny held up his hand. “Not for me. I’ve got to get going. Sorry about your girlfriend.”

  Billy reached out and shook Benny’s hand. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. She was a fine woman, but a little weird, too. She was kinda secretive. Like just now, she made me promise not to tell anyone where she’s headed.” Billy shook his head, but then a broad grin split his face. “But it’s not so bad being a single guy again in Thailand.”

  Billy high-fived Roger as Benny turned away and started walking out of the Yacht Club.

  Patpong

  Bangkok, Thailand

  November 20, 2012

  The taxi dropped Elijah off at the corner of Silom and Patpong Roads. The night market vendors had set up their booths in the street selling T-shirts, jewelry, and knockoff perfume brands. Like in so much of Thailand, even this red-light district didn’t have a clear identity.

  Elijah did not understand why the man had asked to meet in such a degenerate part of the city. Patpong—the name alone made him feel nauseous. From the ladyboys to the BJ bars to the promises of a ping-pong show—Elijah knew better than to ask for details on that one—the place was a cross between a third-world Walmart and a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah.

  Though it was not yet ten o’clock, the street was crowded with Thai tourists and farang men who looked a sickly white in the light from the neon signs.

  The mamasan out in front of the Thigh Bar was particularly obnoxious as Elijah approached the door. The old woman grabbed hold of his arm and screeched so she could be heard over the sound of the hip-hop music pulsating from the speakers overhead.

  “Come have a look. You like!”

  Elijah wrenched his arm free, but entered anyway, which pleased the old broad. She shouted something at him, but he didn’t understand the words. He didn’t want to, eith
er.

  Inside the bar, he saw the usual layout of dancers on poles in the center of the room and the tables for customers around them. The dancers were well lit by spotlights, but the customers were deliberately seated in the shadows. He was there to meet Mr. Black. While Elijah was head of the Philippines section, Black headed up the entire Asia section. Elijah tried not to allow himself to be distracted by the go-go girls.

  He felt a tug at his sleeve and turned to see a girl no more than five foot two standing next to him. She wore a fluorescent pink bikini and her unnaturally huge breasts bulged out of the small triangles of cloth.

  “Mr. Hawkes?”

  “Yes,” he said, but Elijah could not take his eyes off her breasts.

  “Follow me.”

  She turned and slipped past the crowd of men who had just arrived and were arranging a table close to the dancers. Elijah hurried to catch up with her. As she led him up the stairs his face was mere inches from those smooth, hypnotically swaying cheeks, and he nearly ran into her when she paused at the top. Then she crossed the floor to a black leather booth back in the shadows away from the bar.

  Mr. Black sat alone wearing his usual black Nike jogging suit and sneakers. That was all Elijah had ever seen him wear.

  “Good evening, Elijah,” he said. “Sit down. Suzie, take his drink order.”

  Elijah asked for a scotch on the rocks and watched the girl as she crossed to the bar.

  “She’s something, eh? I paid for those tits.”