Marvin’s boat was dark. Tad waited a few minutes. Should he wake Vince? He wanted to. Damn him, they were still brothers. Tad took a deep breath, moved closer to the boat. The moored boats swayed back and forth with the water movement.
From the shadows of the next boat, the muzzle of a pistol stopped Tad. “Toshio,” a low voice said, “I believe we have some unfinished business.”
Tad looked into the barrel, stepped back, lowered his right hand to his waistband.
“I wouldn’t.”
“Triangle . . .” Tad tapped the hammer of his automatic.
“That would be too quick an end, Toshio. Our account is of long standing. It will take time to close the books.”
Tad moved his hand away from his belt. “So, the Japanese still enjoy the long torturous death.”
“You betrayed me.” Ito pushed his gun against Tad’s ribs.
“I had a job. You had a job. Just different employers.”
Ito smirked. “The Americans interned your family. You did nothing. I would have killed.”
“You did kill. My family overcame their ordeal. My country did what it thought right.”
“Your country is Japan.”
“Wrong, my country is the good old U.S.A.”
Ito’s face twisted. “You still believe what they tell you? You’re just a Jap, a gook, in America. You killed my wife at Hiroshima. My vengeance will never cease.”
“You can’t beat us.”
Ito’s eyes widened. “The North Koreans won. The Viet Cong are winning. How many more American wars to suppress Asians will there be?”
“So, your hate is endless.” Tad moved closer. “Time somebody stopped you.”
Ito raised his pistol to Tad’s heart. “That won’t happen. Electra deserted you. I’ll finish him, like I did his girlfriend.”
“We’ll see.” Tad pressed his chest against the gun, felt Ito flinch. “You really killed Amelia?”
Ito looked into Tad’s eyes. “That bitch had to pay. Electra killed my son. He dishonored me.”
“Harry dishonored you.”
“He had his duty to me.”
“A scab, a weakling—that was Harry.” Tad’s tone reflected disgust.
Ito’s face softened. “What happened, Toshio? I once thought you a son.”
“You’re nuts, like Tojo and the other war criminals were.”
Ito stepped back. “Our divine right was to rule the Pacific. We were not like the Nazi butchers.”
“The dead can’t testify. MacArthur should’ve hanged more of your comrades, but you had what he wanted.”
“If you mean that Earhart bitch, no woman would command such rank.”
“Amelia Earhart did,” Tad said. “She had you guys cold. That’s why the Imperial Navy sent you to Saipan, to Honolulu.”
“Then, why didn’t the Americans attempt to free her?”
“She knew she was on her own.”
Ito’s lips parted in a thin smile. “That’s how G-2 took care of their spies?” His eyes narrowed. “You were there, on Saipan, I knew I’d seen you before Honolulu.”
“You were too busy with your women to remember a glimpse of me on Saipan.”
“No matter. Because of me, Hawaii was ours for the taking.”
Tad stuck his chin in Ito’s face. “Except you blew it. Somewhere between your girls and your ego, you blew it, Triangle.”
Ito shoved his pistol harder against Tad’s chest. “You’re dead now.”
The wake from a motor launch moving up-river sent waves against the dock. Ito turned his head. Tad knocked the pistol from Ito’s hand. He whirled, ducked under Tad’s arm, sent a fist into his ribs. Tad doubled over, gasped for breath. Ito pounced on him, flattened Tad against the wooden wharf on his back. Ito’s arm pinned Tad’s throat. With his other hand, he pulled a knife, pressed it against Tad’s chest.
“Relax,” Ito said, “the master is still the master.”
Tad took a breath, raised his head.
“Stay down.” The knife ripped Tad’s shirt.
Tad froze. Ito spotted the gun, reached for it, came up short. Tad moved. Ito sprang back, leveled the knife at Tad’s neck.
“Enough, Toshio.” Ito’s grip tightened. “You are no longer needed. Join your ancestors.” He pressed the knife closer. “Aaaaahhh!” Ito dropped the knife.
A powerful arm twisted Ito’s throat. “Hold it, you son of a bitch!” Vincent dropped a knee into Ito’s back. “Where is she? Tell me or I’ll snap the life out of you.”
Tad rolled over, jumped to his feet. “Vince! Where the hell did you come from?”
Ito wheezed, pulled at Vincent’s arm.
“Don’t kill him.” Tad grabbed Vincent’s shoulders. “We need him.”
Vincent pushed Tad aside. “Outta the way! He’s mine.”
“Can’t tell us anything if he’s dead.”
Vincent tightened his grip. “What about Amelia?”
“Stop!” Tad pried him off Ito, wrapped his arms around Vincent.
Vincent’s eyes bulged. He flexed his arms. “I mighta saved your sorry ass one time too many.”
Tad looked stunned. “So that’s it, eh?”
Ito wiggled up, shot an elbow into Vincent’s throat, knocked him down. Ito jumped him, pounded his fists on Vincent’s gagging mouth. Blood spurted across Vincent’s shirt. Tad pulled Ito off, wrestled him near the edge of the dock. Vincent rolled on the wooden planks, coughing, choking.
Tad cracked the side of his hand across the back of Ito’s neck, rendered him unconscious. “Washington will want him.” Tad pulled Vincent to his feet. “Tie him. I’ll be back.” He stuffed his gun into his waistband, squeezed Vincent’s shoulder. “We even now?”
“Not yet.” Vincent glared at him.
“No matter.” Tad disappeared down the wharf.
Vincent picked up the knife, stuck it in his belt. He poked Ito’s back with his foot. Ito stirred, opened his eyes, sat up.
“What did you do to Amelia?” Vincent held the knife to Ito’s throat.
Ito threw up his knees. He smirked. “I showed her what a real man is.”
Vincent raised his fist.
“Go ahead, that won’t change anything.”
“It’ll change your face.”
“Won’t bring her back.” He smiled. “Only I can do that.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not the first Amelia I’ve tucked away.”
“Bastard! I knew you killed AE.”
“No woman should have such prestige. She was just a spy.”
Vincent grabbed Ito’s throat, pressed the knife under his chin until blood trickled down his heck. “What about Amelia Adams?”
“She’s alive.” Ito transfixed on Vincent’s eyes.
Vincent relaxed his grip. “Amelia—alive?”
Ito jerked away. Vincent exploded, seized Ito’s hair.
“I wasn’t done with her.” Ito leaned against Vincent.
Vincent gnashed his teeth. “You’re done now.”
“She’s dead.” Ito glared into Vincent’s flashing eyes.
Vincent’s grip tightened on the knife. He backed Ito to the pier’s edge.
A sedan screeched to a halt at the wharf. Headlights flashed on Vincent and Ito. Tad and his agents leapt out. A glint of light reflected off the knife at Ito’s throat.
“Vince!” Tad drew his weapon. “Hold on!”
“He’s got a gun!” The agents rushed at Vincent.
Vincent didn’t hear the report but felt the bullet whiz past his shoulder. Blood squirted from Ito’s chest; he slumped into the water. Vincent turned to the wharf. A shadowy figure ducked around a corner. Vincent looked at Ito floating in the water, then jumped on board Marvin’s boat.
“Vince! Drop—right there.” Tad ran toward the boat.
Vincent started the engines, roared away from the pier.
Tad stood on the pier, saw Ito in the water. He motioned to the agents. “Get on the radio.
Send an ambulance. Call the Coast Guard.”
The agents ran to the car. Tad peered into the harbor’s darkness. “Damn, Vince, you blew it...”
The car radio parted the night’s airwaves.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Tad walked up the stairs dragging his tired feet. His eyes barely open, he focused on the steps. Damn Vince—he ran out. Ito’s in the morgue—Amelia’s gone. He’d had it, just wanted some sleep. “What now?” A newspaper stuck out under his door. He picked it up, read one of the headlines. UNIDENTIFIED YOUNG ORIENTAL WOMAN RESCUED BY JAPANESE FISHING BOAT. Tad looked both ways in the hall, opened his door. Plopping in a big chair, Tad read the article. Tuesday afternoon off the coast of Coral Sea Islands Territory, a woman was found in a dinghy. She was unconscious and suffered from a shark bite. The fisherman recovered an old trunk and a few supplies. The woman was taken to a Cairns hospital. Tad set the paper down and stared at the headline. If Vince saw the paper, he’d go to Cairns. Tad squeezed his chin. He’d have to beat Vince there. The Company wouldn’t let go. They needed Ito alive. Vince shouldn’t have killed him.
Tad called the hospital in Cairns. The woman was alive but still unconscious. He dialed Marvin on Saipan. “Honda, I think I found Amelia. Tell Joaquina. Stay put till I confirm.”
Tad caught the next plane for Cairns.
* * * *
Tad hurried to the hospital. The white corridor was quiet, shades drawn against the afternoon heat. Overhead fans stirred the heavy air.
A nurse led him through the Intensive Care ward to the young woman’s bed. She lay still, eyes closed. Her long, black hair flowed onto the pillow. I.V. and oxygen tubes dangled over the sheet. On her left arm, a jagged line of sutures jutted like a mountain range. Her breaths came deep, even.
Tad had never seen a woman with such beautiful features. No wonder Vince fell for her. And Ito wanted her. Even with her wounds, who could resist such beauty? Must be Amelia. He rushed to a phone, called Marvin. “Honda, I’m sure it’s Amelia. You and Joaquina hop a plane quick.”
“She’s got to be my baby.” Joaquina plowed behind the white curtain surrounding the young woman’s bed. “Amelia, you’re alive!” She burst into tears.
Amelia flinched at the sound of her mother’s words but did not open her eyes.
Joaquina picked up her daughter’s hand. “I’m here, honey. You’re gonna get well, I know. Be just fine.” She squeezed her big hand around Amelia’s fingers.
Each day, Tad, Marvin, and Joaquina sat at Amelia’s bedside. They spoke of her childhood, Vincent, even Amelia Earhart. She remained in a deep sleep.
One day, Amelia’s eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?” She focused on their faces.
Joaquina leaned closer. Tears came fast. “Thank you, dear Lord.”
“Mother!” She glanced around the room. “I’m in a hospital? Where’s Vincent?”
“He’s fine. We’re trying to get in touch with him.”
Amelia raised her head. “I’ve got to see him.”
“You’re still too weak.”
“I’m okay.” She touched the wound on her arm. Storm—shark—thirst. Burning sun like a giant flag bearing down. Haze, sickness, then all blank until her mother’s voice. Amelia blinked. “Guess I was pretty lucky.”
“Yes, you were.” Tad stepped forward, introduced himself. “I’ll get Vince back here soon.”
Amelia met his eyes. “Back?”
“He might be on his island.”
“I want to go with you.”
Tad thought a moment. “All right—when you’re well. Might need you to locate the island.”
“I can find it.” Amelia stared out the window. Her gaze, captured in a vapor... She and Vincent had walked across the park that day in the rain... .
Tad noticed her wet eyes. He pulled a small envelope from his pocket. “Vince dropped this.”
Amelia turned to Tad. ‘What is it?”
“A letter.” He pressed it into her hands. “It’s torn, I taped it. He thought you were dead.”
“We’ll leave you alone, baby,” Joaquina said.
Amelia pulled out a handwritten letter. She fingered the tape, stared at the tear.
14 June 1967
My dear Amelia,
Although we’re apart, I still feel your presence. Everyday I walk the streets expecting you to pop out and surprise me. But you don’t. Men aren’t supposed to cry—especially a tough old CIA guy. I can’t help it, the tears just come.
I’ll never forget how you looked that first rainy night. You were so beautiful. You got me right from the start. Hooked—Boom!
I can still hear the music at the concert in the park—see the city lights reflecting on the river as we strolled along the bank. The fire, the night we cooked lobsters on the beach, watched the sunset. First time I kissed you under the Banyan tree—rain trickling down your hair. The warmth, softness of your lips. I loved you even then.
Amelia’s eyes filled with tears. She clutched the letter tighter, read on.
You know that little chapel on the hilltop above you mother’s place. It’d be a great spot for a wedding—Father Quantero officiating, of course. Will you marry me? I’ll wait forever, will always love you.
Vincent
Amelia held the letter to her bosom, stared out the window.
Joaquina watched Amelia through the open door. Thoughts she hadn’t dealt with for a long time ran through her mind. She sighed, kept staring. When should she tell Amelia?
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Tad banked the seaplane above the island’s turquoise lagoon, then landed on the quiet water, and cut the engines.
“The boat’s gone.” Amelia jumped knee-deep into the warm water, stumbled to shore. She bounded up the hut’s steps. “He’s not here.” Her mouth dropped. She gazed around the ransacked room, wanted to scream, cry.
Tad entered. “What a mess.”
“We had to leave in a hurry.” She spotted the empty cans and rotten fruit under the table. “Look—he must’ve been here after the storm.”
“Looks like it.” Tad walked around the room.
“I thought he might come back here if he was in trouble.”
“Where else would he go?” He shrugged.
“I’m not sure.” She sat at the table. Charts, maps, books scattered all over. Seemed like they’d been together for years instead of a few months.
Tad set the smashed radio on the table. “Ito’s men did a thorough job. We’d better go.”
Amelia blinked. “In a minute, I left a few clothes in the bedroom.”
“All right, I’ll be in the plane.”
She opened the top dresser drawer, pulled out a couple blouses and T-shirts. In the second drawer, her lavender pareau was folded over other lingerie. She ran the softness through her fingers, pressed the silk to her lips, remembered the overhead fan at Jungle Wings stirring the fabric to life when Vincent gave her the pareau. Amelia lifted her head. That’s where he was. Blue would help him.
The plane’s motors revved. She wrapped the pareau around her shorts, grabbed some other clothes.
“Nice.” Tad held the door for her.
Amelia climbed into the cockpit. “Vincent gave me this one special night. A souvenir from Jungle Wings.”
* * * *
At the harbor’s entrance, Vincent looked back at the wharf. Ito robbed him of Amelia, now Ruth robbed him of revenge. Tad thought he killed Ito. He’d be after him.
Vincent ditched the sailboat up the coast in a deserted overgrown cove. No Coast Guard yet, but he’d have to lay low.
He hitched a ride back to the city, knocked on the backdoor of Jungle Wings.
A huge hand opened the door. “Vincent . . .”
“Blue—need your help.”
* * * *
The setting sun hit Amelia’s dark eyes when she left Tad’s apartment and walked toward Jungle Wings.
A tall woman in red high-heels moved out of a doorway, followed Amelia. Her sho
es glided over the pavement noiselessly. She knew the art of shadowing prey. She’d missed Vincent with that second shot, but now was payoff time. When he saw the newspaper article, nothing would stop him. The girl would lead her to Vincent. Her bright, red lips spread into a smile.
Tad stared at the pareau Amelia left draped over her clothes on his couch. Jungle Wings—that’s where... He picked up his .45, rushed out the door.
Rain splattered off the front awning of Jungle Wings a little after sundown. Amelia pushed through the swinging doors. The bar was jammed already. A good haven from the rain—like the first night they met. She saw two empty seats at the bar. She looked for Blue, sat down. “Where’s Blue?”
“Night off.” The relief bartender kept pouring drinks.
Amelia stared into the bar mirror at the crowded tables. The noise, the laughter—why did she think he’d be there?”
“What’ll you have, miss?” the bartender asked.
She flinched. “Oh, nothing, I’m not staying.”
The Beatles’ Yesterday started playing on the jukebox. Amelia listened. Troubles—they were here to stay. Maybe she would have a drink.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Is this seat taken?”
Startled, she fixed her eyes on the mirror, met his gaze. Her pulse pounded. “Vincent!” She turned.
He stared into her sparkling, dark eyes. “Amelia—I thought you were dead—never see you again.” Moisture filled his eyes, spilled down his cheeks. “God, is it really you?”
She rose on her toes, kissed his mouth, blended their tears. His arms engulfed her, lifted her off the floor, and hugged her until it seemed she had no breath.
“All the time I was adrift in the dinghy,” Amelia said, “I thought of you—knew I’d see you again. You kept me alive.”
“Never, never will I let you go.” He kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her neck. “I love you. I love you.”
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