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Phantom Pearl

Page 13

by Monica McCabe


  The flash went off as Craig snapped several photos, all from different angles.

  “Let’s get it out of the box,” Dallas said, “make sure it’s still in one piece.”

  It took several moments of painstaking care, but they soon had it out and the sawdust swept clear. The Pearl sat proudly on the footlocker, roughly two-feet in length with the mouth of the horn reaching skyward, supported by a tarnished silver dragon leg.

  “It’s perfect.” Riki scarcely believed it survived.

  “Tell me if I have this straight,” Oscar said. “First it’s stolen by Yamashita’s soldiers, then by a renegade intelligence officer, then went down in a violent plane crash.”

  “You got it,” Dallas answered.

  “And yet,” Oscar continued, “here it sits in mint condition. Is this thing protected by the gods or something?”

  “Perhaps,” Riki answered. She sat back on her heels. “It is written that in the early fifteenth century a mystical spirit appeared to the Buddhist monks of Rajavihara. She gave them an enchanted mammoth tusk and a bag of jewels, then requested specific details be carved into the precious ivory.”

  Oscar blew out a woof of air. “It has to be priceless. No wonder everyone and his dog are searching for it.”

  Riki rose to her knees, pulled a penlight from her pocket, and meticulously went over every square inch of the treasure. The ivory had darkened with age, but the design held clear and unblemished. Delicate trees, birds in flight, a dragon and a warrior queen, all interlaid with jewels and mother-of-pearl. It was the most exquisite artifact she’d ever seen. The tusk’s point was supported by a long-muscled dragon’s claw of pure silver, intricately crafted with contours, scales, and pointed talons that made her catch her breath.

  Dallas seemed equally captivated. “Can you read the language etched into the leg band?”

  She shook her head. “Sadly, no. But the ivory carvings tell a story of love and sacrifice. Have you heard it?”

  “The one where a dragon swallows a prince?” He pointed to the fire-breathing beast whose tail encircled the wide end of the tusk.

  “Yes. Legend says the prince was saved by Mei Shon, a Mekong River nymph. She was Apsara, and born to dance for the gods. The ethereal nymph loved the prince so much that she sacrificed her life, offering her soul to the dragon in exchange for the release of her lover. Her beauty and graceful dance deeply captivated the dragon, and he bowed his head to her will. Now her spirit lives as a phantom in the mother-of-pearl and inlaid jewels of the tusk.”

  To her surprise, they were all gathered close and listening in rapt fascination. But she was done, and silence filled the plane. Wind had picked up outside, and the scratch of tree limbs on the hull promised rain before the night was over.

  “That’s one hell of a story,” Craig finally said.

  “And why Cambodia wants it back,” Dallas added. “It’s part of their cultural heritage and belongs in a museum, safe and protected.”

  “That Yakuza agent in Cairns,” Craig said to Riki. “He had a dragon tattooed on his neck. You suppose there’s any connection?”

  “What agent?” Dallas immediately asked.

  “The one that followed her from the airport to Mackie’s Pub. You should’ve seen this girl in action,” Craig said with something akin to pride. “That guy had skills like I’ve never seen, and she took him down.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Riki argued. “That was you and the glass pitcher full of beer.”

  Dallas turned to stare at her, realization on his face. “That’s why you smelled like a tavern when I ran into you back at the Sovereign.”

  Craig barked with laughter. “No doubt all three of us did.”

  “He had a dragon on his neck?” Dallas asked.

  She nodded. “Front to back, the tail curving upward to follow his spine. The dragon’s head and front feet were inside an isosceles triangle.”

  “Don’t forget the flames,” Craig said. “They were shooting from its jaw and out the pointy end of the sideways triangle.”

  “I think you’re describing Shimshi, an elite Yakuza splinter group,” Dallas said. “They’re something like our Navy Seals, only with a criminal element. They’re heavy on the secrecy, and Homeland Security has yet to learn much about them.”

  “That Cho fellow Shimshi?” Oscar asked.

  “Good chance,” Dallas replied.

  Oscar stared back and forth between her and Dallas. “Should’ve brought more firepower. You two have some serious enemies.”

  Worry suddenly filled her chest. She had struggled with that Asian, not at all sure she could’ve brought him down. If he represented what they’re up against, then getting away from here with Phantom Pearl wasn’t going to be easy. They were in for a showdown.

  Chapter 16

  “Well I don’t know about the rest of you,” Oscar said, “but I’m starved.”

  “I brought food, along with a case to carry the Pearl in,” Riki said. “It’s in my backpack outside. I’ll go get it.”

  “Let me,” Craig said and turned away from the footlocker. “Mine is out there, too. I’ll get them both.”

  She muttered her thanks, but a few minutes outside would’ve done wonders to alleviate the closed-in feeling taking hold. The growing darkness inside the plane made it seem smaller, and it grew more confined by the minute. She stood, took a deep breath, and stretched tight muscles.

  “We’re going to need to do a perimeter sweep.” Oscar was talking to Dallas and rearranging boxes and cargo to create sleeping space. “Then keep watch all night.”

  Spending the night was the smart thing to do. They all needed rest. But she’d rather do the unexpected and travel at night. It would be dangerous, but then, so was being cornered by Cho.

  Shimshi. How did she not know of them? Kai stayed informed on all things Yakuza. If Homeland Security knew of them, surely Kai did, too. And if he did, why hadn’t he warned her?

  She needed space to breathe. To think. She was surrounded by stark metal walls, by the aftermath of war, and would be sleeping in a broken plane alongside what was left of its crew. She glanced at the parachute-covered bodies and shivered.

  “Trust me,” Dallas said from behind her. “We’re far safer bedding down in here with the dead than risking whatever threat looms out there.”

  A light rain began to patter on the plane’s hull, emphasizing that reality.

  “I know,” she replied.

  “You aren’t afraid of ghosts, are you?” he asked.

  He’d meant it to lighten the severity of their situation, she knew that, but the comment struck a nerve. She didn’t know what it was about being here that bothered her. Finding the Pearl should be a crowning moment, an epic achievement. Instead, memories of her father troubled her, left her with a sense of melancholy she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “I meant that to be funny,” Dallas said to her. “I can see it didn’t work. I’m sorry. Want to share what’s wrong?”

  “Please don’t do that.” She grabbed one of the wadded-up packing blankets and started folding. “Don’t apologize. And don’t ask me what’s wrong.”

  “Why not? Something clearly is.” He pitched in, helping her fold and stack.

  She snatched another blanket and viciously shook it out. “Because I don’t believe in your nice guy routine. It’s an act, an attempt to lure me into complacency so you can pounce. I’m not buying it.”

  He gave her a solemn stare. “It must get lonely behind those sky-high walls.”

  The comment took her aback. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He stopped folding. “You’re good at shutting people out. I bet your only friend is Kai Menita.”

  “I don’t understand you,” she said. In fact, he completely confused her. It was probably intentional on his part. “You aren’t here to be my fr
iend. We’re here to do a job.”

  “Right you are, but like it or not, we’re in this together. All of us. And we’re going to have to make a decision soon.”

  She knew what he meant, but who would get custody of the Pearl wasn’t up for debate.

  “There’s nothing to decide,” she told him. “I was here first.”

  “That’s how it’s going to be?”

  “Nothing has changed, Landry.”

  Craig returned with both bags, and she immediately got busy loosening the straps of the hard-shell case. She opened it and slid it over close to the Pearl.

  “You apparently planned well,” Dallas said. “Custom case?”

  “Kai had it made. It was at the airport waiting for me, along with a first-class ticket to Australia.”

  “At least he treats you well.”

  She was on her knees in front of the Pearl and reached for the base, then carefully lifted the fragile piece from the box and laid it on the soft foam of her case. She picked off a couple stubborn scraps of sawdust, lightly ran a finger down the silver dragon’s leg, and straightened a wrinkle in the silk fabric covering the foam.

  “I’m not sure what you’re implying,” she said as she closed the lid and latched the case. “Unlike you, Kai has always treated me well.”

  With Phantom Pearl secure, she grabbed a couple folded blankets off the stack and sat cross-legged on one as she dug in her backpack. Oscar wasn’t the only one hungry. She used the other blanket as a table and piled a variety of granola bars, dried apples, and nuts. Then, in an act of pure defiance, she tossed on the last two chocolate chip cookies.

  Her eyes met his. The only light came from two flashlights positioned to bounce their beams off the ceiling, but even in the dim glow, she could clearly see the memory of last night in his eyes. He should be angry over breaking that silly oath he made her swear, but the sudden sharpness in his features said he was thinking of later that night, of handcuffs and a kiss that set her world on fire.

  She shook off the errant thought as Craig and Oscar joined them around the dinner blanket. Oscar had his arms full, and as the rain pattered outside, he unloaded crackers, cheese, beef jerky, and best of all, a pint of Nant Cask Bourbon.

  “You are by far the best supply officer I’ve ever known,” Dallas told him.

  “You learn a thing or two playing war games.” Oscar pulled the stopper from the bottle and lifted it in a toast. “Here’s to making it up the mountain alive and in one piece, and to finding Phantom Pearl.” He took a swig and passed the bottle to Craig.

  “Here’s to making new friends and sharing an evening of good food and good company.” He took a drink and handed it to Riki.

  She held on to it for a second then said, “Here’s to the soldiers doing their job and to the families who wait for them back home.” She tipped the bottle up and drank, then handed it to Dallas.

  “Here’s to safe passage home,” he said simply, then drank.

  The bourbon warmed her throat and cut through the anxiety she’d been carrying. Dallas had been right about one thing. They were in this together, at least for the next twenty-four hours. No reason not to relax and enjoy a meal.

  Right this minute, they were safe, had a dry place to spend the night, and even though they were in the middle of nowhere and shared their sanctuary with the ghosts of men who’d died in the crash, the conversation, occasional laughter, and communal bottle of liquor warmed a part of her that had been cold far too long.

  At least it did until Craig finished his meal and leaned back against a bench wall to stare at her with a look of concern. “Tomorrow is going to be another rough day, Riki. Cho and his helicopter won’t give up. He’ll eventually find our vehicle. Then it’s only a matter of time until he finds us.”

  “Don’t much like that guy,” Oscar chimed in. “Seemed like a cold-hearted bastard. Which means I plan on going through a few of these crates to see what I can salvage. Guns, bombs, maybe a tank. Whatever is handy.”

  Perhaps it was the bourbon, but she liked the camaraderie. Liked their willingness to help. It wasn’t something she’d known much in her life. Hers was about constant training, going from one job to the next—get in, get the job done, and get the piece back to Kai. That accomplishment had always been enough. Her restlessness was fairly new.

  “You have any suggestions?” Dallas asked Craig.

  “Besides thinking you two need to learn to work together?” He shook his head. “The fate of that fine piece of treasure over there hangs in the balance. You both have a job to do. Unless you plan on coming to blows or settling this with a fast round of rock, paper, scissors—you should work up a plan tonight.”

  All this time, Riki thought Craig worked for Kai. That was an assumption she now doubted. Seems there’d been a lot of that going on lately.

  “I like plans,” Dallas said. “And strategy. But negotiations are at an impasse. She’s battling a misplaced sense of loyalty, and I’m obligated to return Phantom Pearl to its rightful owner.”

  She resented the fact that his statement implied bad judgment on her part. “What makes you think your agenda is the more important one?”

  “See what I mean?” Dallas asked. “I’ve met my match when it comes to stubbornness.”

  “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, old chap.” Oscar broke off a piece of cookie and munched. “Between a rock and hard place is no place to be.”

  Dallas tossed the remainder of his peanut butter crackers onto the blanket and shifted to face Riki. “Tell me, does Menita employ other acquisition experts? Or are you the only one he uses to further his own ends?”

  That wasn’t fair. “We preserve cultural heritage. The pieces I recover are either returned to the original owners or given over to the protection of museums or reputable collectors.”

  “You need to take the blinders off,” Dallas argued. “Some pieces find their way back, but others disappear.”

  “Seriously. What is it about Kai that bothers you so much?” she asked.

  “Homeland Security has been watching him for some time,” Dallas said. “He’s working both sides and turning you into a high paid looter.”

  Anger flayed her nerves. “Kai has been there for me since I was thirteen years old,” she snapped. “He has trained me, educated me, and given me the skill and means to get back at the people responsible for my father’s death.”

  “Ever asked yourself why?” Craig interrupted. He lifted the bourbon for another pull, then handed it to her. “Take a drink, koala girl. I’m about to tell you something.”

  Riki hesitated, uncertain over the hard finality of his tone. She’d wanted to know more about Kai’s past and her father’s friendship with the man. And yet, at the same time, her blood raced in nervous expectation. She had a feeling she’d need the bourbon.

  She reached across and accepted the bottle from Craig, then downed a heavy sip. Fumes singed her nose as she drank, but she welcomed the burn. It paired well with her frustration, so she went for a second pull. Once satisfied, she shot an annoyed glare at Dallas and intentionally passed the bottle to Oscar.

  Craig smiled at her slight. “You already know the Consortium that Menita, your dad, and I worked for had an ulterior goal.”

  She knew at least that much. “You searched for Yamashita’s gold.”

  “We’d found three small caches hidden in tunnels,” Craig said. “Enough to light their fire and keep the payroll coming.”

  Dallas leaned forward intently. “What did you recover?”

  “Gold bars, a few paintings, some sculpture,” Craig replied.

  “Can you make a list of specifics?” Dallas asked.

  “I could, but it doesn’t matter. All of it disappeared.”

  Honestly, Homeland Security could wait. Riki wanted to hear Craig’s explanation of the past. “You had something to tell
me?” she prompted.

  “Roger that,” Craig said and reached for the bourbon. He took a drink and sighed. “I discovered something else that day. Something that made me quit the group and leave.”

  Riki’s stomach tightened, and suddenly she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear what he had to say. But it was too late. Craig was already talking.

  “The public face of the Consortium was a board of engineers, historians, and one or two military generals. Behind the scenes, the group was funded and controlled by Jun Sakura. He’s Koyo, an old guard Yakuza faction, and filthy rich. Strong imperial connections, but very private. He rarely put in an appearance. Then one night as we were wrapping up a job, I was working routine maintenance on my plane when I saw Sakura arrive. A strong sense of self-preservation kept me in the shadows, and I watched the head of Koyo accept gold bars from the leader of the Consortium. I also heard him give direction on what to do with the rest. That’s when I realized Yakuza funded the team with the expectation of a major score. They aren’t nice people. I didn’t want to be responsible for a find that bankrolled their organization. I told Menita all of it, but for whatever reason, he refused to listen. I knew the truth, however, and couldn’t keep working there. Sooner or later I’d let slip what I saw and that, I assumed, would spell the end for me.” Craig leaned his head back against the plane’s metal wall and closed his eyes. “I found a way out and left, but Menita chose to stay. Said it didn’t matter whose pockets paid for historic recovery and restoration, as long as the work could be done.”

  “Did you tell my father?” she quietly asked.

  Craig sighed and opened his eyes, looked straight at her. “Not then. I wasn’t close to Charles, not like I was with Menita. And your dad was leaving to go home anyhow, I didn’t see the need.”

  “But you did end up telling him?” Riki persisted.

  “Yes. Almost a year later I got a phone call from Menita asking me to come back for an important job. Said it would only be for four or five weeks and that Charles Maddox was already on board. I thought about it, needed the money at the time. But I had a bad feeling about the Consortium when I left, and that hadn’t changed. I didn’t think it wise to go back. I turned him down, then looked up your dad. Found him in California and called him. Told him what I knew and cautioned him about going back.”

 

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