After a while, the entire crowd, including Winthrope, was laughing and shaking in a raucous way. Joe wriggled on his belly like a snake to entertain them and made noises like a pig that made the women hop and skip in delight. Every now and then one of the women would summon up the courage to move forward and would offer a naked foot to Joe who would try to butt it or to gnaw at it with his flashing teeth. The woman screamed with laughter, clearly enjoying the joking attention of this man who seemed so young and fresh compared to the others.
Fraser and the professor sat together smiling but trying their best not to join in the frivolity. They were too busy trying to work out why they had been brought there and why Winthrope had insisted that they were tied. Fraser whispered in the professor’s ear. ‘What is this all about?’
But the professor just shrugged and rolled his eyes. There was nothing in his textbooks about any of this and he was content to let Joe take the lead where women were concerned. Joe larked and played a little more, pulling himself up on all fours and moving around the circle with difficulty. He would nose the legs of the women who stood at the front, pushing his head up against their shins until they lifted each leg with a hoot of laughter. He liked to be the centre of attention, especially the attention of young, pretty girls. He moved from girl to girl, butting their knees, pretending to bite their shins until, eventually, he came to a pair of legs that were different. Where the others had been a deep brown, these were lighter; where the others had been hard and rough, these were soft and smooth, and where the others had been excited and jumpy these were still.
Joe followed the line of the legs up until eventually he came to a face that he recognised. ‘Lisa!’ he exclaimed. ‘What . . . the . . . ?’
He could barely form the words that came out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure whether this was due to the surprise of seeing her, the happiness of finding her or the guilt that the look on her face made him feel. He smiled the best smile he could manage.
‘It’s nice to see you’re missing me,’ she said, and crossed her arms. Joe felt lower than he had ever felt. Lisa looked across at the professor and Fraser and gave a huge smile. She skipped over Joe and crossed over the circle to where they sat.
‘We thought you were lost,’ the professor said. ‘We were looking for you. Joe was out all day yesterday trying to find you. We were captured by these – who are these people, Lisa?’
‘I‘ll tell you everything, later, uncle. You have to know, though, you will be all right . . .’ She looked at him. ‘Well, I think you will be.’
Fraser piped up. ‘I don’t suppose you will be able to get us out of these ropes, would you, Lisa? They hurt. I think I’m losing the feeling in my hands.’
Lisa shook her head. ‘They’ve only just let me out of mine. They don’t allow strangers to wander the village alone. You’ll understand why later on when they explain why you’re here.’
The professor looked imploringly at her. ‘Why are we here Lisa? Has it got something to do with the gold?’
Lisa hushed him and looked around suspiciously. ‘You’d do well to forget the gold for a while, uncle, and concentrate on getting out of here.’
‘That’s if we can,’ said Fraser.
Lisa laughed. ‘Oh, I think the problem will be wanting to.’
She felt a tapping on her back and turned to see Joe smiling at her, his face covered in the dirt from the floor. Lisa stood, pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared into Winthrope’s hut. Joe looked longingly at her, then back at the professor, who could only offer a shrug in explanation. Winthrope beside him clapped his hands together and the circle of women closed in around the three men. They were taken roughly by the hands and led to a hut that was being built in the middle of the village.
It was then that Fraser started noticing that none of the villagers were men. At first he had not thought about it but as time went on he slowly began to realise that, other than Winthrope and the few small boys he saw running about, the only three men were himself, Joe and the professor. He tried to get the latter alone to mention this but it was proving difficult. The women had prepared small beds for the men in the sunshine, so they could sit and watch the building of their hut. Some of the girls mopped the professor’s brow or rubbed Joe hands until they could feel themselves being lulled into a deep sleep. Beside them, however, Fraser was vigilant. He began to take a keen interest in what was happening around him.
He noticed that Winthrope seemed to control the operation. Everything he wanted, the girls would run and get for him. Whether it was food, water or just company they seemed eager to get him everything he desired. He wondered what relationship he was to them. He was obviously English, from some part of the south, he guessed, so what was he doing here? What hold did he have over these women?
One of the older women sidled up to his bed and sat beside him. Fraser did not want to engage her at all so he remained motionless, looking straight ahead, not meeting her gaze. The woman reached across and took his hand but Fraser snatched it back; from the corner of his eye, he could see that she looked hurt but he did nothing.
After a few seconds she reached out a hand and tried to stroke his head but Fraser lifted her arm and placed it back on her lap. He swiped at the air as a fly buzzed around his face. There was silence in the village. Next to him Fraser heard the woman gently crying. He turned and looked at her. She bowed her head, either in deference or embarrassment, and let her tears fall onto her knees. Fraser felt his heart softening but he knew he must not let himself be taken in by all of this until he knew what was going on. He waved the woman away and reluctantly, after a few minutes, she went.
Fraser sat back on his bed and watched the clouds scudding across the sky. The sky looked so blue after the rains and the clouds were a brilliant white. He closed his eyes but would not let himself drift off to sleep. He knew he must keep alert whatever happened. However much they tried to relax him, he knew he must keep his mind aware at all times. Beside him, the professor snored as a young girl played with his hair. For the first time Fraser thought how ridiculous the professor was, how odd he seemed here, miles away from his classroom and his schoolbooks. The snores seemed to get louder and louder until the girl had to hold his nose causing him to start and to cough back phlegm.
Fraser was aware of a shadow crossing him. Suddenly things got darker and colder – something was blocking out the sun. He opened his eyes and saw Winthrope standing over him, and beside him, cowering, was the woman who had left moments ago. ‘You do not like our hospitality?’ Winthrope asked.
Fraser was taken aback for a moment. There was something in the tone of voice that he did not like, something that made him wary. ‘It’s fine . . .’ he managed after a while. ‘I just need some time on my own.’
‘Perhaps,’ Winthrope continued sarcastically, ‘You don’t like the women?’
‘No, they’re fine, fine . . . I just need to be on my . .’
Winthrope interrupted him. ‘No, you misunderstand me, perhaps you don’t like THE women?’
Fraser thought he realised what he was insinuating. ‘Well, I’ve never had any problems before.’
He felt a sharp pain around his jaw. Winthrope had struck him and Fraser fell to the ground. He clutched his mouth and tasted the sharp, iron tang of blood on his tongue. ‘You will like our women, or you will regret it!’ Winthrope said menacingly. Fraser looked up and saw that he had a small club in his hands. Suddenly the pain in his jaw seemed a hell of a lot more understandable. He got up off his knees and swung his fist but Winthrope was too quick and Fraser was never much of a fighter. Again he landed in the mud, the force of his missed punch sending him off balance.
Joe and the professor awoke sleepily at the noise and stared in amazement as Fraser, for the second time in as many minutes, tried to pick himself up off the floor. He spat a mouthful of blood into the dirt and shook the grogginess out of his head.
‘You will enjoy yourself, while you’re here, or you will feel t
hat again, do you understand?’
Fraser nodded. He was not about to try and hit out again. He figured you had to admit if you weren’t a fighter. Winthrope raised his hat to the professor and Joe and left, leaving the woman to pick Fraser up and wipe the blood from his chin.
‘What the hell was that about?’ Joe asked.
‘Do yourself a favour,’ Fraser told him. ‘If they ask you if you want anything, say yes.’ For the first time in his life Fraser felt that he was being pushed against his will to pair up with a woman, any woman. It wasn’t his style. He still hoped that there might be a chance with him and Lisa. He felt uncomfortable taking advantage of the host’s gracious hospitality, but hey, when in Rome...
The women of the village busied themselves making the hut. Some carried wood from the jungle on their backs, some wove leaves and ferns around the struts that made the side of the building and still others daubed its walls in mud made in small pits around the hut’s perimeter. Within a few hours it was made and the whole village, it seemed, gathered at its opening. Winthrope was there and beside him Lisa. Winthrope cleared his throat and began to speak.
‘It gives me great pleasure to declare this new building open. It’s not often that we are lucky enough to welcome four visitors into our village, three of them strong and virile men . . .’ He gave a quick glance at the professor and corrected himself. ‘Two of them strong and virile men. We have seen, over the years a sharp decline in our fortunes. These people have known tragedy and they have known pain but, hopefully, this is behind us now. Now we can start again, a new beginning for mankind – out of the ashes of the past a new dawn will arise. With the help of our friends we can make a better life for these people and, who knows, we might even be able to forge a new life for the whole world. If we show the way, perhaps they will follow. When the rest of the world has gone to rack and ruin we will be here with our bright faces and our strong hearts, right here on this island, a glorious paradise, a little piece of heaven right here on earth.’
He bowed his head and there was silence. Fraser did not know whether to laugh or to cry. The speech, although beautiful, had made a curious impression on him. He felt, suddenly, as if he knew what Winthrope had been talking about. He looked around himself at the bright smiling faces of the villagers and thought of the streets of Hong Kong, or the streets of London or the streets of New York; he remembered the scowls and the growls and the pushing and shoving; he remembered how he had hated every moment of shopping at Christmas or trying to get home in the rush hour. He could feel his heart melting.
Winthrope raised his head and made his way inside. He motioned to the older women to join him and for the younger ones to lift Joe, the professor and Fraser inside. Lisa followed on behind, feeling forgotten and ignored. She had realised that now they had found the men she was largely redundant. As she made her way through the doorway she met Joe’s eyes. He smiled at her and she smiled back, feeling as if a bridge had been crossed somewhere and there was no going back to the relationship they had once had.
Inside it was dark but Winthrope lit the fire and it roared into life. The girls put the men down so that they formed a circle around the fire. One of them offered a pipe to each of the men, who refused, but accepted the milk that another offered; Winthrope took a pipe and smoked it with his legs crossed looking for all the world like a village chief.
Joe looked at him and laughed. ‘You’re no more a villager here than me, Winthrope,’ he said.
‘What is a villager and what not?’ Winthrope asked. ‘I live here, that makes me a villager, whatever colour my skin is, whatever my facial features are. I am here so here is me.’
Joe thought for a moment. ‘But why are we here?’
Winthrope laughed a little. ‘All in good time. Are you comfortable, gentlemen? I can bring some more cushions if you want. I had to show the girls how to fashion them from leaves and interlaced vines myself; however, they’re only comfortable up to a point.’ He shifted his buttocks to get comfortable. ‘Can I offer you more milk? Water? I would offer you wine, a nice Merlot perhaps, but as you can appreciate it is a little difficult to get out here. I have heard of a drink the men used to drink here but I have yet to try it. Perhaps I will this year.’
Fraser took the opportunity to ask Winthrope about the village. ‘Where are the men? Did they all drink their drink and die? Were they poisoned?’
Winthrope shot a glance at Lisa. ‘The men are dead,’ he said. ‘They all contracted flu, common or garden flu. The virus was too much for their systems and they all died while on a trip looking for Yamashita’s gold.’
Suddenly the professor’s ears pricked up, his eyes opened wide and his face was a picture of intensity. ‘You know of Yamashita’s gold?’
Winthrope laughed. ‘My dear professor, that’s why I’m here, that’s why you’re here, that’s why anyone is here. Except these lovely creatures; they had the misfortune to be born here.’
The professor’s eyes narrowed as his brain clicked into gear. ‘Do you know where it is?’ he asked
‘The gold? If I did, do you think I’d be sitting here, professor? No, I’d be lying in a mansion built with the proceeds. The general was a clever old stick, he knew how to hide things from the rest of the world – the Americans especially. I have been over most of the island and have never even had a sniff of the treasure. I have heard tales of it, though.’
‘Tales?’ Joe asked.
‘Yes, of the kinds of artefacts there, and the kinds of fate that await those that find it. I came here, you see, with a party such as yours. We were ready and willing to hunt for the treasure wherever we thought it might lie. However, we did not count on the belief in the spirits of the jungle.’
Joe felt his heart grow cold suddenly. He too believed in the spirits of the jungle; he had seen them and felt their presence.
‘You don’t believe in them?’ he asked, whereupon Winthrope looked guiltily around him.
‘I believe as much as I allow myself to, which is to say to the extent that it benefits me. I am a man of science, I was a doctor in another life, a medical man, how could I let myself believe in ghosts and spirits? The aswang, the dwendi, they are all names to me, not entities.’
‘The dwendi?’ Joe enquired, not wanting to hear the answer to his question.
‘Little people, can be good or mischievous, the locals leave food out for them, just to keep on their good side.’
Joe swallowed hard. He would have said the same himself until a few days ago.
‘However, it’s the aswang that come to me at night,’ Winthrope added.
Joe and the professor looked at each other with fear in their eyes.
‘They come to me in dreams. Oh, I dare say it’s because I spend so much time thinking about them, you know what Freud said about dreams – they are the royal road to the unconscious and all that. I suppose they might have some deeper significance but they come to me at night.’
‘What do they say?’ Joe queried.
‘Say? Oh, nothing much. They show me a tunnel, a dark tunnel that reeks of death, people, bodies. They make me feel its claustrophobia – no doubt the effect of the jungle on a man’s mind. Then they show me . . .’ He hesitated for a second. ‘The golden Buddha.’
The professor almost fell backwards from his bed. He gathered himself quickly and sat intently looking at Winthrope. ‘You must tell us about the golden Buddha,’ the professor exclaimed. ‘You simply must.’
Winthrope rocked back on his haunches. His face grew cold and uninviting. His eyes closed momentarily and then opened, to reveal their full, shocking colour. ‘You seemed interested in the golden Buddha professor. I wonder if that is why you are here.’
The professor was taken aback and stammered out an answer. ‘I, well, we are here to find the golden Buddha, yes, and the rest of the contents of Yamashita’s gold. For the past and for the future, for the sake of history and knowledge.’
Winthrope laughed and the women that surrounded h
im followed suit. ‘History and knowledge won’t get you very far out here, professor. There is no history in the jungle. To have history is to progress and there is no progress here, only life, day after day, year after year, life. That’s the beauty of it.’
The professor shot a hard look at the man opposite him. ‘I’m not from here, Winthrope. I’m from Hong Kong, where history is more important than anything else, perhaps even the day to day.’
‘The golden Buddha, as you probably know, professor, is only the outer casing for what lies inside. Hundreds upon hundreds of years of wealth, collected by the monks of temples throughout Asia, stolen from them and brought here. It was so revered by the men who carried it that they were not allowed to look at it as their bent backs ached and broke under the weight. It is said to be so beautiful that to look upon it is to render the rest of your life useless. These people, these simple people, are not Buddhists. They know nothing of Buddhism’s teaching or its creed but even they speak in hushed tones about the golden Buddha, the giver of riches and the taker of lives.’
The Mystery of Yamashita's Map Page 21