LOST AND FORGOTTEN: Book 2 The Secret Path

by Maurice Barkley

“Oh, James,” she cried, “you understand. For our whole life together, you have always put me first in everything. This is one debt I can never repay.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to control my voice, “you’ve already given me a whole lifetime of everything so there’s nothing to repay. The books are in balance.”

  This resulted in a new round of shuddering sobs. No more words were necessary so I told her to get back to work until it was time for the Band to go. She went with a tear-stained smile. I hated this, but I knew it had to be. I reminded myself that the future is very flexible and nothing is final. I went and sat with my buddies who said nothing, but it was a comforting silence.

  Alice returned with bad news. “The Director agrees that we should go to Germany, but the big doofus, Bruno has thrown a monkey wrench into the works. He hasn’t found out a thing about what we’re doing, but what with all of his barging around the countryside, he has aroused the German authorities. They’ve been questioning both Bruno and Washington. If they find out too much, I shudder to think of the consequences.

  “Bruno has locked himself in his grounded airplane. The Director is trying to figure out some way to get him the hell out of Germany without spilling the beans. I told him that Biti would have an answer—am I right? Do I hear a big excuse me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” I said, while polishing my fingernails on the front of my desert shirt thing. “As a matter of fact, I do.” The boys were grinning ear-to-ear, happy to have a change in mood. “Let the Germans do the work for us by making a call to Fritz. Tell him to see if the giant Russian aircraft is still there. If it is, have him get a cheap film camera, one that doesn’t put a date on the negatives. Then have him take a bunch of pictures of the plane from different angles. We know that Fritz is clever so we tell him to take the camera aboard Bruno’s aircraft and tuck it under a seat cushion. If Bruno has his meals trucked in, maybe Fritz could hire one of the caterers to do the job.

  “When that little caper is complete, have the Director order Bruno to leave the plane with his briefcase, then allow the local gendarmes to search the interior. My guess is they find the camera and develop the film in one hour. They will accuse Bruno of spying on the Russians and boot him out of the country by sundown.”

  Harry chuckled. “Biti, I’m keeping my eye on you when you’re in my Hercules. You are one sneaky hombre.”

  “I’m learning from the best,” I said.

  Alice stood up. “I have to call the Director again to set this up, but I may as well do it as we move out. Pick up your stuff and let’s go say goodbye to Amisi.”

  As soon as she emerged from the side passage, we all engulfed her. She tried to voice her thanks, but her vocal cords refused to function. After a minute, she turned to give me a kiss, then ran back through the narrow passage that was the gateway to her second life. The remaining Band continued in silence to climb the steps that led to the exit tunnel.

  As we were entering that tunnel, Alice turned and with a perfect imitation of Vera Lynn, sang, “We’ll Meet Again”, in a loud, clear voice that filled the chamber.

  In response, Jean’s voice floated up from somewhere in that vast jumble of artifacts. “I love you all. Now go please.”

  We turned and left in silence. Outside it was getting on toward evening and the air was cooler. Alice had talked to Kosey to fill him in on our decisions. There was nothing to do but begin our trek back to the puddle jumper along with five of his men as our guides. After Alice finished her satellite phone call, all was silent until we passed the JU390 graveyard. Harry broke the gloom by informing us that he had made a deal with Kosey. His men were to dig up at least one of the big radial engines and set it aside until our next trip. “I want it for display in my office at Bill’s Garage,” he said.

  “Speaking of our next trip,” Alice said, “the Director has diverted us back to Washington. He is busy setting up the Fritz caper so a day’s delay shouldn’t make any difference. Actually, he wants Biti back because something came up.”

  My ears perked up. “He’s finally going to pay me, or at least tell me where my money dwells?”

  “Thank you for the levity,” she said, “but it concerns Bebe.” Suddenly, she had the total attention of the Band. “She found something of value regarding Sergeant Gunter Weis and will give it to us for free. The catch is that Biti, who she knows as James must go to Panama in person to get it.” There was a moment of silence. “I have the distinct feeling you have omitted something from your report on your visit to the Canal Zone. However, I trust it had nothing to do with your mission so I will let it go.” No one spoke for about twelve steps. “Okay, you’re not going to tell me though we are a tight knit group and have shared many dangers together.”

  “Biti,” M1 said, “You don’t understand, when Alice says she’ll let something go, she really means she’ll frown and brood and glare at you until you eventually bite the bullet and spill the beans.”

  So I did spill the beans without damaging the pot. Alice even said that I handled it well and that I would probably continue to do so on my upcoming trip to Panama. She and the boys would just hang out at the Atsas restaurant until my return and hopefully by then the route would be clear to Germany.

  “You are aware,” I said, “that Biti is now a handsome brown man. Whatever do I say to Bebe? There’s a good chance she might notice. And there’s also my name change. Perhaps it’s time to retire my Egyptian name.”

  “It’s up to you,” M1 said. “We’re finished with Egypt.

  “Okay,” I said, “Biti is retired, but what do I say about my skin?”

  “You’ll think of something, James,” Alice murmured. “You can’t help it that women become infatuated at first sight.”

  “Was that a compliment?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes, then closed them and shook her head.

  “Remember the story,” M1 said, “of the fat man and the bowl of ice cream.”

  “I remember,” I replied. “What is it that Bebe has for us?”

  “We’re not quite sure, but apparently it’s some maps and writing that Gunter had with him when he first came to Panama. Arnaud found it after a drunk plowed his car through the wall of the Cantina and crumpled the corner of the bar. While he was fixing the damage, he found the package behind a hidden panel. The maps are in Portuguese and Spanish, but everything in writing is in German. Gunter had written his name on the top envelope so Arnaud gave it to Bebe. Not exactly gave, you see. There was a transfer of some green. ”

  The ride in the puddle jumper was without incident and soon we were airborne in the big bird. Harry provided us with another bottle of happy water and we all indulged. It wasn’t quite another evening at Batts, but it would do. All of this followed by a good snooze.

  On landing, Harry and I swapped planes and were on our way to the Canal Zone.

  CHAPTER 4

  Noon found us exiting our aircraft in Panama. Harry walked me to the shower room and on the way introduced me to my taxi driver who would be at my beck and call for the duration. As he turned to go, he handed me a wad of cash and told me to keep in touch. He was going to see some old friends.

  “You have friends here?” I asked, somewhat surprised he would know people in this relatively remote place.

  “I fly everywhere and I make friends everywhere. My only problem in life is remembering all of those names.”

  My Ralex watch was on my wrist, the wad of cash was in one pocket, my gold coin in the other and I was on my way. My drop off point was the same except for the addition of a colorful popcorn-vending cart, parked on the walkway next to the railing. It was an old fashioned, steam driven design I had not seen since I was a child. Fragrant vapors curled from vents at the top. A tiny, red and silver steam engine cranked away behind the glass. Its labors turned the gadget in the roaster stirring the popping corn.

  Bebe, in a bright yellow dress, was there watching the little red and silver flywheel spin. As I got out of the cab, she gl
anced my way, saw only a brown man, then turned back to watch the little wheel. My taxi pulled away and I walked up beside her to display the gold coin in my open hand.

  She turned to look up at this stranger with eyes that seemed to have a golden cast. “You are not—” she hesitated, then licked her finger and touched my throat with a wiping motion. Seeing that the color did not come off she, lifted my shirt to see how far the color extended. “I will pretend you did this for me. Are you brown all over?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” I said.

  “Good golly, Miss Molly. I will have to see for myself,” she plucked the gold coin from my palm. “I may let you borrow it again before you leave. We shall see. I do like surprises so we are off to a very good start. We will walk and talk and then you will take me to dinner at a place I know by the ocean. What did you do to your skin? Was it deliberate?”

  “Yes, but it’s a dye that will wear off in two or three weeks.”

  “Pity. Perhaps you could have it done again. Do you mind too much that I tend to take control? I am, how do you say, a boss?”

  “Bossy—and no, not so far,” I said. “I’m on a very pleasant boat ride and I don’t have to steer.”

  “I go to interesting places around here and those who tag along usually have a very good time. You could say the same about the places you go, I’ll wager. Am I right? Where do you go?”

  “I wish I could tell you, I really do and I know you would be eager to go along. Have you ever asked Alice?”

  “I know better. I have never met the lady, but I do know that she must be as strong as Bebe—maybe stronger.”

  “No Bebe, you are Wonder Woman and Xena in one.”

  “Okay, sailor, I’ll pretend to swallow your line.”

  Carlos, her driver, had been shadowing us in his yellow taxi. Once we climbed aboard, he turned around and headed toward a more resort-oriented part of Colón.

  “I do not sit on your lap just now. I think you know why.”

  I smiled, not knowing what else to do.

  Carlos delivered us to a beachfront bar/restaurant/dance hall called The Beachcomber. The small sign out front was in English or maybe the name was the same in both languages. It was a large elevated platform with a flimsy looking building resting on the back portion. Without asking, Bebe ordered for both of us, then we went to one of the outside tables where we sat and looked out over water that went on forever.

  The drinks arrived first. Whatever it was in our glasses was colored a dusky red. I took a sip. “This is wonderful,” I said. “What is it?”

  “My favorite,” she replied. “This is the drink preferred by no less than the Queen of England. It’s a combination of Dubonnet and gin with a twist of lemon.”

  “A drink fit for a Queen and for Bebe,” I said.

  “You’re pulling that sailor stuff on me again, but I confess that it’s working quite well.”

  “I don’t know your last name,” I said. “Is it a secret?”

  “Yes, a secret and a mystery that perhaps you could help me solve. I never knew my parents or even where I was born. My earliest memories are of a wild place of high cliffs next to the ocean. I am not sure how I came here. I remember a mule. I was very young. I have few happy stories to tell of my youth, but I have done quite well here in Colón so one must not weep for Bebe.”

  The food was simple, but fabulous. Bebe said it was rice and beans with a little chicken, but it was a new experience. I didn’t ask for the recipe because I knew only here would it taste the same.

  Our after dinner drink was a strong, but mellow coffee that we sipped while a steel band warmed up. Suddenly, I was on the dance floor with several other couples. Bebe was teaching me how to dance the Meringue.

  It had to be the Queen’s drink and the relaxed mood because I just let go and my subconscious took over. Bebe and James burned up the floor, even though it took more effort as the evening progressed. My dance partner had to be close to fifty, but she showed no signs of fatigue. It surprised me, but we had the approval of the other dancers until the sun was about ready to call it a day. I was thankful that I had exercised daily.

  It was a delight to see the package called Bebe moving and bouncing to the music just inches away. She locked her eyes on mine and teased me with an open mouth smile. My brain must have been a bit fuzzy when her face blurred and I saw a misty image of Jean. I blinked and Bebe came back along with a ton of guilt. What am I doing? I thought. I didn’t plan this—something I’ve never done before. Confusion swirled around me. Jean has gone willingly to her new life. Perhaps she never intended to return to me. More important, my feelings for her were ambivalent—neutral. They had been since she first joined the Band. I gave her her freedom. I thought it’s about time I did the same for James. My mind returned to the magic dancing before me.

  After one slower, but suggestive dance, Bebe pulled my head down and whispered, “Take me home now, James. If you don’t, I will explode.”

  Her home was another elevated structure with a balcony that overlooked the water, but I only became aware of details like that much later. She preceded me up the outside steps, but she wasn’t fast enough so I scooped her up and ran the last few feet, listening to her giggle all the way. I began to worry about my stamina, but the fabulous creature in my arms soon brushed aside all of my concerns. The screen door closed behind us with a soft slapping sound—my last memory of worldly events.

  As our planet spun along its ancient orbit, two tiny sparks of humanity, in a remote and unimportant place, repeated the simultaneous conquest and surrender that is as old as the waves washing the shore. Later, I fell into an exhausted sleep. I did not dream—not of Jean—not of anything. I was at peace with myself.

  I was alone in the bed when a brilliant splash of sunlight brought me back from a very deep sleep. The smell of bacon saturated the air. It stimulated my appetite the same as a Friday visit to Batts. I rolled out; looking for my wantonly discarded clothing to cover myself, but Bebe turned down the stove and ran to me with a glass of blue liquid. Her only covering was a small apron that got discarded along the way.

  “Drink this, James,” she said. “It is mouthwash. Just swish it around and swallow. It is only alcohol.”

  As soon as I obeyed, she pushed me down on the bed. On that morning, breakfast was late.

  The sun was high overhead when we finished our morning meal. Canadian bacon was the featured meat and the eggs were, as requested, over easy. Slant cut slices of French bread became the toast and the coffee was otherworldly. We took a quick swim just before we ate and a strong breeze did the work of a towel, though we hid from the sun under a large umbrella. I was wearing my shorts and Bebe wore a one-piece suit that looked like a sarong. Though they did not look at all alike, for some reason she reminded me of Annette Funicello, a young Annette Funicello. This stirred up thoughts I would rather suppress, but smart or dumb, my conscience made me speak.

  I reached and took her hand. “Look, Bebe, being with you only increases my appetite for more of you.” She smiled and leaned forward. “Have you thought about the difference in our ages? You have thirty or forty years ahead, but I may have twenty or thirty. Is this fair to you if we should continue?”

  She lowered her head and locked her eyes on mine. “I do not know your age, James. I know you and that is all I need to know. Bebe has always known what she wants. More important, Bebe thinks she knows how to get it. You and I are on paths that may join in the near future. That is what I want you to think about.” Her eyes gathered in and reflected the dusty blue of the horizon. She was a pleasure to look at and that’s all I did. I sat, smiled and looked. For a time, she did the same. “James, I don’t like this part,” she said, while hopping over to sit on my lap. “I know you must leave. Now I will get the package for your Alice.”

  “Before the package,” I said as she got up, “I hope you will let me borrow the gold coin once again. Returning it to you yesterday has been very rewarding.”

&
nbsp; She turned and smiled. “You see—we have a future, you and I.”

  CHAPTER 5

  It took less than an hour to return to the dock area, thank Carlos, and call my airport taxi driver who delivered me to the waiting jet. The jet and copilot were waiting, but my pilot was not. I forgot to call him, understandable considering my internal turmoil. Sure, Bebe said age was irrelevant, but I can see the wrinkles when I look in a mirror. Harry made an appearance in about twenty minutes and when he saw my face, he winked. “That good, huh?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, “that good and more.”

  “I’m glad I never met the lady,” he said. “Much more of this and I’m going to become envious. Lucky for me, my stay here was also very pleasant.”

  He volunteered no more information, but went to his cabin to crank up the engines and hustle us back to Washington before dark. As we left the ground, I took the gold coin from my pocket. This was all I had of her, but for now, it was enough.

  I took a deep breath and shifted my mental gears back to the business at hand. The package Bebe had given me was in a large yellow envelope. I removed the twine and took a quick inventory. There were two old maps and several individual sheets filled with Gunter’s writing in both pencil and pen. One map was of Panama and Columbia and the other was of Brazil. A young Sergeant Weis had roughly indicated his voyage from the east coast of Brazil to Colón in Panama. There were pencil lines and circles around places where apparently he had stopped on his journey. I read the other papers and learned only that he was a lost soul, yearning for his homeland.

  Carl believed that Gunter never knew the name of the place where he had come ashore, but Gunter had circled a place on the coast of Brazil called Parnaíba. His memory might have failed, but I held the proof in my hands of where he had arrived. It was time to call Alice.

  As I dug out my hardly used and still mysterious FBI official cell phone, it crossed my mind that I had no restrictions on its use. That meant that I could probably call Jean. The big bowl of ice cream I had consumed was causing some mental indigestion, but I remembered my thoughts on the dance floor. I didn’t need to forgive myself. I knew those thoughts were interfering with my job so I set them aside and tapped Alice’s number.