“But even after all that,” Marvin said, “Dad said he still vowed the secret societies would never die.”
“Shows how hard-nosed he was.”
“Still is. He had to know their bottom card.”
“AE . . .”
“Yeah,” Marvin said, “the Kempei Tai latched onto her right from the start. They knew why she didn’t land at Howland, why she had high-powered cameras on board. They even knew you switched planes.”
Vincent’s mouth popped open. “They knew that?”
“That’s why Naval Intelligence sent Dad to Australia ahead of you. He was ordered to infiltrate their spy system, find out how far Plan Z had progressed.”
Amelia walked back into the room and set the flower vase on a bedside table. “That the Pearl Harbor attack plan?”
“Yeah.” Marvin shifted his weight. “They were building battleships, carriers. The Zero was more than an engineer’s draft and the surprise attack seed began to grow.”
“March ’37,” Vincent said, “AE’s at Luke Field taking off for Howland and she crashes. Japan didn’t want her flying anywhere near their Mandated Islands.”
“Well,” Marvin said, “if they failed to get her that time, they wouldn’t fail again. On July 2nd when Earhart reported she only had a half-hour’s gas left, it tipped off the Japanese. They knew where she was going down. The Itasca didn’t know. The Japanese picked up her and Noonan in the Marshalls.”
“And there I was,” Vincent said, “sitting on Nauru twiddling my thumbs. Couldn’t contact her or the Itasca. It’s like someone put a static record on the airwaves.”
Amelia squeezed Vincent’s hand. “My dad thought she ditched on purpose. He just couldn’t prove it.”
“I’ve found the hard evidence,” Marvin said. “After she was downed, my dad took over. G-2 said Vincent was too close to her—they needed her in Japanese hands.”
“Downed?” Amelia asked. “You mean they shot her down.”
“We made it look that way,” Marvin said. “Actually, she had orders—take the Electra down, just don’t wreck it too much.”
“AE could’ve made Howland easy,” Vincent said. “That new plane had over 1200 gallons of special gasoline for extra power. Range over 4500 miles. Howland’s only 2,556 miles from Lae. Question is, did the U.S. want her taken all the way to Saipan?”
Marvin turned on his good side. “Our Navy wasn’t fast enough. The Japanese whisked her to Truk, a big sub base, then here to Saipan. She would’ve died in Garapan Prison if it weren’t for a wounded Japanese pilot. He knew all about her flying exploits, fell in love with her, kept her alive, and even planned her escape. When they were discovered, he committed seppuku.”
Amelia looked at Vincent. “Is that—”
“Hara Kiri,” he said.
“Sounded quite romantic till then,” Amelia said. “Wonder if they had a real love affair? What’d they do to AE?”
“It’s all fuzzy after that,” Marvin said.
“I think Tad knows,” Vincent said. “He was in Tokyo during the war.”
“I’m not sure,” Marvin said. “Ito was there, too.”
Vincent gazed out the window. “Yes, Ito—I owe him much. We’ll meet again, very soon.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Joaquina’s telephone rang. Amelia looked up from the newspaper she was reading. Joaquina, lying on the living room couch, stirred but did not awaken.
Vincent rose from the kitchen table, picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Electra?”
Vincent hesitated. He listened to the even breathing on the other end. “Not many people know that name.”
“This is—”
“Toshio, you old dog. How the hell are you?”
“Good, thanks. Hear you hit a snag.”
“Slight understatement.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“That’d be great. Still with the same company?”
“Yes, just completed a little job.”
“So Marvin said.”
“Ah yes, my son. Honda had a close call. I want to thank you.”
“No need,” Vincent said, “we seem to even out.”
“Ito the problem?”
“He’s never stopped fighting the war.”
“Never will. He’s heavy into Nam.”
“Thought I had him cold,” Vincent said, “but was too late. That’s when I found Marvin.”
“Honda told me. You better get down here. My contacts say he’s headed for Brisbane.”
“I’ll tell Amelia.”
Amelia heard her name, looked up.
“Don’t bring her,” Tad said.
“Roger.” Vincent grabbed a pencil and paper from the countertop. “Where can I reach you?” He scribbled Tad’s number, hung up.
Amelia stood beside her chair. “Where are you going?”
“Brisbane.” Vincent turned. “Tad’s there.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, not this time. You take care of your mother.”
Joaquina stirred again, opened her sleepy eyes. “Please, baby, don’t leave me. They might come back.”
“Ito’s gone,” Vincent said.
Amelia moved to Joaquina, patted her arm. “I’ll stay.”
“Thank you.” Joaquina pressed Amelia’s hand.
Vincent rushed into his bedroom, stuffed a few clothes into a travel bag, and shoved his .45 into a shoulder holster under his shirt.
Amelia stopped in the doorway. “You be careful.”
“You, too.” He held her in his arms.
Amelia snuggled against his chest. Vincent lifted her head, kissed her, felt her shudder.
“Just hurry back,” she said.
The taxi stopped at the airport. Vincent stepped into the hot afternoon sun, hurried to the open-air terminal. He looked at his watch. “Siesta time.” He paced back and forth in front of unoccupied ticket counters, glanced at his watch again. Picking up a discarded newspaper, he dropped onto an empty bench.
Two hours later, Vincent called Amelia to tell her he had been delayed. The telephone rang more than seven times. No one answered. Where were they? Did he dial the wrong number? He dialed again. The line’s dead.
Vincent grabbed his bag, raced from the terminal, and jumped into a dilapidated jeep with a taxi sign hanging from the rear license plate. “Go!”
The fat driver jerked awake, turned around. “What?”
“Chalan Kanoa—fast!” Vincent pounded his fist on the back of the driver’s seat.
The taxi sped down the road in Joaquina’s neighborhood. Street’s empty—too quiet. Vincent sat on the worn seat’s edge. He gripped the left side panel of the jeep, leaned forward.
They turned into Joaquina’s yard. Her jeep sat parked in front. Vincent jumped out, paid the driver, and ran for the porch. The screen door, ripped off its hinges, lay in the grass. He leaped up the steps onto the porch, entered the open front door into the empty living room. Amelia’s newspaper lay on the kitchen table.
“Amelia? Joaquina?” He rushed down the hall. Amelia’s room empty. Joaquina’s, too.
“Help!” Joaquina’s cry carried through the house. ‘Somebody, please help!”
Vincent ran into the living room. Joaquina stood in the center, her bosom heaved up and down. He caught her just before she collapsed.
“Ito—he’s taken Amelia!” Joaquina breathed short gasps. “Ran to neighbor’s for help—no one home.”
Vincent paled, lunged for the telephone.
“No use, he cut the line,” she said. “Must’ve done something to the jeep—won’t start.”
“Where’d he take her?”
“Far away. Bragged you’d never find them.” She buried her face in her hands.
“My baby . . .”
Vincent smashed a fist into the palm of his other hand, set his jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll find her.” He started out the door. “Better check out the jeep. You gonna be okay?”
“Yes, just bring her back.”
Vincent raised the jeep’s hood. Damn—distributor cap gone. Plugs pulled. He slammed down the hood, ran along the road toward Tanapag Harbor.
After an hour, Vincent found an abandoned jeep, hot-wired it, and rumbled to the harbor. His boat slip was empty. “Bastard stole my boat.” Vincent looked around. Marvin’s sailboat was moored across from his. He won’t need it. Vincent jumped on board, started the engine. Fuel level almost empty. He motored to the gasoline dock.
The attendant sat under a palm tree asleep.
“Hey, wake up,” Vincent said. “I need diesel.”
The teenage boy opened one eye.
“I’m talking to you.” Vincent cut the engines.
The boy rose, sauntered onto the dock.
“Fill the tanks.” Vincent twisted off the gas caps. “Seen any other boats leaving today?”
“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.” The boy yawned.
Vincent pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet.
“What kinda boat you lookin’ for?” The boy looked at the twenty.
“Forty-three foot schooner—name is Courage.”
“Big boat, don’t think I remember.”
Vincent yanked out another bill.
The boy’s eyes grew big. “Oh, yeah—left here a few hours back. Japanese man and young girl. She looked real sleepy. They turned south past the reef.”
Vincent stuffed the bills into the kid’s hand. “That should cover the gas too. You know Joaquina Adams? You call the cops—tell them to get to her house.” He turned the key, the engines roared. Vincent brought the boat around, headed out the harbor for open sea.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
From Vincent’s boat, Ito gazed back at Saipan’s faint outline in the late afternoon sunlight. That island wasn’t really home. He wouldn’t miss it. Japan was his homeland. His loyalties belonged to the Rising Sun. He glanced at the map in his hand, turned the wheel four degrees south.
Amelia lay unconscious on the cockpit cushion.
“Ah, my pretty.” Ito touched her cheek. “Soon we will have good times together. No one will find us.” He rechecked the heading, set the autopilot, then carried Amelia below.
She stirred in his arms but did not awaken. He lowered her on a bunk, tied twine around her hands. “You are a beauty.” He stepped back, stared a few moments, then walked back on deck.
Amelia awoke a short time later. Fuzziness—head ached, breaths came quick. She tried to sit up. Wrists hurt. She slumped back on the berth. Darkness floated through her again. The boat rocked up and down on building waves. She lay still, mesmerized by the boat’s rhythm. Vincent gone. Airport. Mother. Ito....
Knock on the door... Joaquina had slumped on the floor.
“No!” Amelia lunged at Ito. The hypodermic needle had plunged into her outstretched arm....
The cabin door creaked open; soft lantern light invaded Amelia’s darkness. She opened her eyes, saw Ito’s face in the glow.
“Good evening, my lovely.” He moved closer. “I trust you are not too uncomfortable.”
She twisted her hands, turned toward the bulkhead.
“Face me when I talk to you.” Ito sat on the bunk’s edge.
Amelia whirled, kicked her rubbery legs at him. “You bastard!”
“Rest, you are still very sleepy.” He ran his hands along her legs, up her thighs.
“Don’t!” She pushed at his hands, tugged at the ropes on her wrists.
“It will do no good to fight,” Ito said. “We are miles at sea. I alone will hear your screams.”
Her spine quivered. She fell against the lone pillow.
A slow smile spread over Ito’s lips. He pulled a knife from his belt, slid the blade under two buttons on her blouse.
Amelia’s eyes grew huge. The buttons popped off. She trembled. He would take her. “Wait!” Her glare cut into him. She struggled with her bonds, shuddered again.
“So, you anticipate the pleasure.” He touched the knife’s tip to her neck.
“Never—never with you! You’ll have to kill me first.”
Ito set the knife down. “Such a shame, this beautiful body is just for one man.” He pulled her blouse open until it exposed her smooth skin. “You will be mine.”
Amelia jerked back; her chest heaved with her quickened breaths. “Stay away from me!”
He held her neck with one hand, caressed the roundness of her small breasts. “I don’t have to force women. They come to me.”
She stiffened at his touch, spit at him. “Not this one.”
“I don’t take that from women.” He slapped her face.
Amelia fell back, dazed. She raised her bound hands to her mouth. “You’ll never touch me again. I’ll kill you first.”
“You’re in no position to threaten me.” He stood, gazed down her body. “You will be my greatest conquest.”
Still dizzy, Amelia pressed her head against the bulkhead, sighed. “Why do you want me? I thought you preferred Japanese women.”
“I do.”
“I’m an exception?”
“Yes, someday you will come to understand.”
“What do you mean?”
Ito ripped the remaining buttons off her blouse. “Your breasts are like theirs—your skin, soft, brown, smooth. Small feet, strong legs, a face, the beauty of Asia.”
“I still don’t understand.” She sat forward.
“We have plenty of time.” He backed away, walked up the companionway.
Amelia took a deep breath. He’d be back soon. Had to come up with something, get him off guard. String him along to a point. His touch—she gagged. Her body, her only weapon right now. She stared at her nakedness.
At the helm, Ito checked the compass, reset his course south, southeast. He stared down the companionway. What pleasures awaited him. He’d tried force—didn’t work. Try patience, might win her. If not, he’d find another way. But he’d never compromise his purpose.
Three hours behind Ito and Amelia, Vincent pushed Marvin’s boat like Zeus hurled thunderbolts. Darkness encompassed him, not even a sliver of moon. Might have underestimated Ito—Amelia his prey now, his captive. Vincent jammed a fist against the wheel. Was he too late? He grabbed the binoculars, searched the black sea ahead, and prayed he’d see their running lights.
Ito slipped into the cabin, lit the lamp, and moved toward Amelia. “Time we get on with our business.” He hung the lamp on a hook.
Amelia kept her eyes closed.
“Still asleep, eh?” He bent over her.
She remained still, her breathing deep. He caressed her hair and face, moved his touch down her body.
Her breathing increased but her eyes did not open. Her body screamed insults against him. All her inner strength kept her still.
“Too much sedative,” he said. “I’ll not take this woman in her sleep.” He dropped onto the other bunk. “There is time.”
Amelia heard the even rhythm of Ito’s snoring, twisted her hands, tugged at the twine on her wrists. Her hands numbed, her bonds held fast. She took a deep breath, sighed. Couldn’t pretend to sleep forever. Ito would get her one way or another. She gazed into the night. Where was Vincent? He should’ve called her mother long ago. Had Ito killed her? No—not without Dad’s papers. She heard Ito stir, tensed up, rolled on her other side. Restless sleep closed in.
First light the next morning, Ito carried a tray of hot tea, rice cakes, and tiny pieces of raw fish into the cabin. “I see you are awake, my beauty. You must eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” She turned her head.
He shoved a cup of tea to her lips. “I said you must eat.”
Amelia thrust up her bound hands. The tea spilled on Ito. He jumped off the berth, hurled the cup into the galley. “You bitch!” He wiped his chest.
Amelia cowered. Bad mistake. She’d have to buy time—play his game. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” She waited for his outburst. “Maybe we can resolve this? If you�
��d untie my hands? My arms are tingling.”
He shook a fist at her. “I will untie them when I’m ready, when you are ready. First, you will tell me what you and Electra did with Adams’s papers.”
“Don’t know what you mean.” Amelia bent her head.
“Do you think I’m stupid? He stole secret documents that belonged to the Japanese Empire.”
“There is no empire. It’s long gone.”
Ito stared out a porthole. “We could have conquered the world.”
“What went wrong?” Amelia sat up. “Too many young girls get in your way?” She bit her lip.
Ito’s eyes blazed. He grabbed her hair. She threw up her arms, shielded her face. He held her with one hand, hit her repeatedly with the other. Her arms fell limp; she slumped on the bunk, lost consciousness.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Amelia’s swollen eyes let in slits of light. The lump on her forehead ached. She raised her hands. The twine was cut but her wrists still hurt. How long out? Drugged more?
Sunlight filtered in. Water slapped against the hull. Still on board—no dream. She shivered, drew her knees to her chest. Half clothed—what had he done? Soiled, used her . . . must escape. Vincent’s boat was Courage. She needed it.
Her shock passed. How dare Ito! Rage spurred inside her gut. He must die. Bruises hurt everywhere. She stood, took a swallow of air.
Amelia took a cotton top from a locker, put it on, and searched for a weapon. The galley drawers and cupboards were stripped. Damn Ito. She’d find something. Her dad’s knife—she’d stashed it under the mattress back on the island, before they escaped. She pulled out the knife, traced her fingers over his initials. Pointing the knife at the cabin door, she stared at the shiny blade.
On board Marvin’s boat, Vincent peered off the bow. Unless they broke down, he’d never catch them. Courage was the best boat, now he chased it. One step behind Ito. He should’ve let Tad kill him at Pearl Harbor, when they captured Dr. Keuhn. Dumb-shit MPs nabbed Tad instead. No wonder he escaped and chose Ito and Tokyo. Internment camps weren’t pretty. Ito’s got Amelia—was he nuts, thinking about Tad?
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