The Manila Deception Read online

  A round of confirmations circled the room.

  “I’m a patient man, right?”

  More confirmations.

  Akira stared at Takashi. “Have I not been patient with you? Have I not been a nice guy with you?”

  “Y-you’ve been both, sir. It’s just that when we made our agreement, I didn’t realize you would also be demanding—”

  “Demanding?”

  Takashi paled. “I-I mean, requiring—”

  “Requiring? Remember, I’m a nice guy. A patient guy.”

  “Y-yes, of course. Umm, requesting…?”

  “I like that.”

  “Requesting protection money also be paid. When I opened my restaurant, I never thought I’d be not only paying back the loan, but paying protection money as well.”

  Akira shook his head. “But we’re offering you a service. Have you been bothered by anyone else? By the police? By the health inspectors? By local thugs?”

  “N-no, and I appreciate that, but—”

  Akira tossed his head back, his blazer opening, revealing a shoulder holster filled with as large a pistol as Takashi had ever seen. “Oh, how I hate that word!”

  “I’m s-sorry, but—I mean, not but, umm. I don’t know what to say!” Sweat trickled down his back. “I thought taking a loan from you to open my restaurant meant automatic protection.”

  “It did. We provide protection to secure our investment. However, protection is never free. You do understand that I’m running a business here, not a charity.”

  Takashi’s shoulders slumped. There was no point in arguing. And it wasn’t safe to do so. He remained silent.

  “You have until the end of the week to pay back the loan in full.”

  Takashi’s eyes shot wide. “End of the week!”

  “You are in arrears. You know the terms.”

  His pulse raced as his stomach churned. “I-I have no way of paying you back. Not that quickly.”

  “That is unfortunate. Defaulting does happen, though I would have thought you had learned from others who have done so that it isn’t wise.” Akira sighed, glancing at his men. “I guess another example is necessary to remind others what young Takashi here has forgotten.”

  Heads nodded.

  Akira pointed at the door. “End of the week, or face the consequences.”

  Takashi stumbled from the room, blind to the world around him as his pulse pounded and he lost focus. He was going to die. The amount of money was simply too much.

  He needed help.

  Yet from whom? His parents didn’t have money like this, even if they sold their home—something that couldn’t be done by the end of the week, regardless. His grandparents were both dead, and he had no siblings.

  And no rich friends.

  There was no one he could go to for money, nor confide in for advice.

  Hiijiisan!

  His eyes widened slightly as he pushed his way through the dancefloor, thick with revelers, the Yakuza bar always doing a brisk business at this hour. His great-grandfather, his hiijiisan, was nearly 100 years old, yet he had a sharp mind, and generations of experience.

  He might know what to do.

  And he was at least a safe ear to speak to.

  4 |

  Mindanao, The Philippines November 5th, 1944

  Captain Kijima ordered the driver to stop in what could tenuously be called the center of the village. If the village had a name, he wasn’t aware of it. His map merely had a reference number, and any future maps produced wouldn’t even have that.

  He stepped out of the truck and pulled at his shirt, the sweat causing it to stick to his body. He could never get used to the heat. Yes, a summer back home could get hot, but nothing like this.

  It was the humidity.

  Part of him wished the war would end soon so that he could return home to his wife and son, yet that could only happen if they lost.

  A year ago, if anyone had asked, he would have thought them crazy for even suggesting the possibility. And promptly ordered them interrogated then executed. But today, with the Americans making rapid inroads, and intelligence rumors of further landings, their days were numbered, despite the hundreds of thousands of brave Japanese soldiers willing to lay down their lives in defense of their homeland.

  For if the Philippines fell, then so would Japan.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Though that, he had serious doubts about.

  Yes, they might lose the war, but there was no way the Americans would be willing to pay the price in blood to take Japan itself. Millions would die, for every single Japanese citizen would fight them tooth and nail before surrendering.

  No, America would drive the Imperial forces back to Japan, then sue for peace to save their sons from the carnage that awaited them.

  Japan would survive, though might be licking its wounds for decades before emerging once again.

  Enough time for his son to become a man, and serve the Emperor in any future glory the Empire might seek.

  He gave the order, and dozens of blindfolded soldiers emerged from the back of several transport trucks at the lead of the large convoy that stretched far out of sight, only the drivers witness to where they had driven, and none privy as to why. This mission was beyond top secret, though the fact the treasure had arrived in Mindanao was one he feared wasn’t well kept. This was why he had diverted the two ships still laden with gold and other valuables in their holds north, hugging the coastline to avoid the American Navy, to rejoin General Yamashita’s forces.

  A secret intentionally leaked by the local intelligence office, with one small falsehood embedded among the truth.

  That it was the entire treasure.

  It was only another fifth, the same as had been sunk earlier by the Americans.

  His large convoy held almost 60% of the treasure, excluding the artwork left behind to be destroyed if the Americans neared. Paintings and sculptures couldn’t be easily liquidated to fight a war, but precious metals and gems could be. The only people who knew of the existence of this convoy were in the trucks he now commanded. Nobody at the port knew, or at least should know, though those that did had no idea of their destination.

  He alone was privy to that.

  It had meant a long, tiring trip on roads that could barely be called that, through dense vegetation that at times had to be cut back with machetes to proceed.

  It was nearly noon, the sun high in the sky, the villagers working their rice paddies taking notice. Shouts of concern were relayed among the fields, and fortunately, for him, the villagers began to gather inside the village as he ordered his men to calmly take up positions around the town.

  “Be friendly. Smile. We don’t want anyone running.”

  A young girl ran up to him, a flower in her hand. She held it out, and he knelt in front of her, taking the gift and making a show of smelling it. He smiled and patted her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  She ran back to her mother who picked her up, eying the new arrivals with suspicion.

  As he took in the gathered crowd, so many women and children among them, he sighed.

  Not enough workers.

  He turned and stared up at the hills nearby where the caves they sought were located. He had been here a couple of years ago on a survey mission, searching for caves and other natural locations that could be used for defensive purposes. Caves like those he had found here were now used to store supplies throughout the archipelago of over 7000 islands, with the intent that this would be the final stand of the Imperial Army. Here they would either defeat or delay the Americans, long enough that the defenses of the homeland would be prepared to the point America would realize the price of invasion was simply too high.

  He turned to the translator he had brought with him. “Florencio, find out if everyone is here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Filipino, a translator at the Japanese Embassy before the war, and who had worked for them since their arrival in exchange for food and
shelter for his family, approached the locals, words exchanged briefly before returning. “Everyone is here, sir. They want to know why you are here.”

  “Tell them we have a job for them to do, and they will be rewarded handsomely for it.”

  Florencio informed the gathered villagers, now numbering at least two hundred, and smiles were exchanged.

  Kijima pointed to the hills. “Tell them we need to transport the contents of these trucks to the caves up there. Everyone will be fed, and will be paid in gold when finished.”

  Florencio’s eyes flared for a moment at the mention of gold, his greed quickly masked. “Gold, sir?”

  “Yes, gold. Enough for them to feed their families for years.”

  Florencio smiled. “Might I help as well? To share in this gold?”

  Kijima regarded the man for a moment with a mix of disgust and pity. “Why not?”

  5 |

  St. Paul, Maryland Present Day

  “I think this is the first time I’ve ever given you a lift.”

  Archaeology Professor James Acton grunted, again applying his imaginary brake as young Tommy Granger came to yet another abrupt halt as a result of his tailgating. He was regretting accepting the young man’s offer of picking him up after dropping his car off at the garage. “And it might be the last.”

  Tommy didn’t pick up on the commentary. “Anything serious?”

  Acton shook his head. “No, just routine maintenance.”

  Tommy grinned. “Could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “Professor Palmer could have forced you to buy one of those British sportscars.”

  Acton chuckled. “Nah, I’ve never been a two-car kind of guy.”

  “Two-car?”

  “Yeah, one for me, one for the mechanic who’d have to drive behind me everywhere.”

  Tommy laughed then made another turn without his signal light.

  Acton had had enough. “Is there a reason you don’t use your signal light?”

  “Huh?”

  “We’ve been driving for ten minutes, and I haven’t seen you use it once.”

  Tommy shrugged. “It’s not the law, is it?”

  “Actually, it is. And even if it isn’t, why wouldn’t you want the other drivers to know what you’re doing?”

  Tommy made another turn, the signal light clicking this time. “I don’t know.”

  “There must be some logic.”

  He shrugged again. “Well, just back there I was in the turning lane, so everyone should know I’m turning left.”

  “Riiight, because no one ever changes their mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve never seen some idiot decide to turn left then change their mind and go straight? You can never be sure what the driver is intending unless they have their signal light on. And if the vast majority of us use signal lights, we assume someone isn’t making a turn if they don’t have theirs on, so we make decisions based on that. If you then do something different, that’s how accidents happen.”

  Tommy chewed his cheek. “Yeah, I suppose. I guess I should use it sometimes.”

  “Why only sometimes? Do you only brush your teeth when you’re seeing people, or do you do it every day?”

  “Umm, every day?”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno. Habit?”

  “Exactly. If you signal every single time, then you get in the habit, and you never forget. That way the rest of us don’t have to try and read your mind to figure out what you might be doing on the road you share with innocent people including children.”

  Tommy signaled again. “Okay, sir, you’ve made your point. Always signal.”

  “Good boy.”

  “You should be a driving instructor.”

  “Ugh, don’t get me started about why that’s a colossally bad idea. You couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

  “Why?”

  “No patience.”

  Tommy glanced at him. “I always thought you were remarkably patient.”

  “I usually am, but trying to teach someone to drive? There’s just something about it I find so frustrating.”

  “Who did you ever teach to drive?”

  “A buddy in high school. Never again.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  Acton unnecessarily pointed at his driveway, Tommy quite familiar with where he was. “That’s a story for another time.” Tommy pulled into the driveway and Acton climbed out. “Want to come in and say hi? Laura will make my life miserable if she thought I didn’t ask.”

  Tommy shrugged. “Sure.”

  They entered Acton’s humble home, one he had owned for years before he met his wife, Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer, and smiled at the sight of her rushing from the kitchen and into the hallway.

  “It’s about time! I’ve been going nuts waiting for you.” She gave Tommy a quick peck on the cheek. “Good to see you, Tommy.”

  “What, no sugar for me?”

  She gave Acton a look then planted one on him that had his knees shaking within moments. “Happy?”

  “Tommy, go home.”

  “Nonsense. You’re not getting any.” She shook a manila envelope that had gone unnoticed in her hand. “I think we found it.”

  Acton eyed her. “Found what? The lost Templar Treasure?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I thought we already found that in the south of France?”

  “That was just one room of it. There was enough to fill a whack of ships.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, we should go looking!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because the fact no one has ever thought of that is why it’s never been found.”

  She grinned. “Haha.” She shook the envelope again. “And speaking of lost treasure, you remember Professor Bautista’s request?”

  “Buwan? About Yamashita’s Gold?”

  “Exactly.”

  Acton’s heart skipped a beat as he finally focused on the envelope. “You don’t mean—”

  “We found something.” She spun on her heel and returned to the kitchen. Acton and Tommy followed and found her poring over dozens of photographs laid out on the kitchen island, the envelope evidently an empty prop.

  Acton leaned over the satellite photos with various different filters applied. “What am I looking at?”

  “Satellite photos of the Philippines. Mindanao to be precise.” She pointed at one of the photos. “What does that look like to you?”

  “Camera defect?”

  Tommy leaned in. “Godzilla’s final resting place?”

  They both stared at him.

  He raised his hands in defense. “Hey, Hollywood wouldn’t lie, would they?”

  Laura sighed. “You two aren’t very helpful.”

  Acton grinned. “We had ice cream. We’re giddy.”

  Laura tapped his chest and he looked down at the mint green ice cream still staining it. “I’m buying you a bib to keep in the car.”

  “Wouldn’t have helped. We were in Tommy’s.”

  “It’s a wonder I can take you anywhere.”

  “I yam what I yam.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  It was Acton’s turn to roll his eyes at his British wife. “We’ll make an American out of you yet.”

  “God help me.” She tapped her finger on the photo. “Do you want to know what I think it is?”

  “Please.”

  “It’s the site of what was once a village. A farming village.” She moved her finger slightly. “See, this? It looks like abandoned rice paddies, and this looks like a long-abandoned village.” She shifted her finger again. “And here’s a river that leads to the ocean, just south of Parang.”

  Acton’s eyes widened as he stared at the mouth of the river and the coastal town in question. “There are two major rivers coming out here, and two minor.”

  “Exactly. Don’t you think this matches all the clues he gave us?”

  “Mountains?”
br />   She tapped her finger just north of the abandoned village.

  His heart drummed with excitement. “Holy shit! Do you think you’ve found it?”

  Tommy cleared his throat. “Umm, found what?”

  Acton turned to him. “Yamashita’s Gold!”

  “Yam a shit a what?”

  “Yamashita’s Gold. A massive hoard of gold and other valuables stolen by the Japanese during World War Two, last seen in the Philippines.”

  “How much gold are we talking about?”

  “Billions. And I mean billions.”

  Tommy grinned. “When do we leave?”

  6 |

  Mindanao, The Philippines November 6th, 1944

  Juan’s parents were excited. In fact, all the adults appeared excited. Since the Japanese had arrived, they had all been breaking their backs hauling heavy crates of supplies from the trucks in the village to the caves he had played in despite his mother’s admonishments. And as each truck was emptied, another from what appeared to be an unending supply arrived to take its place.

  Everyone was exhausted, yet everyone persevered. He had never seen gold before that he could recall, though he must have seen a ring or some jewelry at some point and hadn’t realized what it was. In his ten years on this earth, he couldn’t fathom how much gold it would take to feed a family for years, though he imagined it was a lot. He had to think of it in terms he could relate to. He knew what the rice harvest looked like, how many baskets the mango trees filled. It was huge when looked at all at once.

  And food was the most precious commodity he knew. Gold to him was merely a word. It was supposed to be valued, but if it couldn’t be eaten, then it was of little use unless it could buy food. And food could buy food already. His family would trade rice and mangoes for other foodstuffs they required. Money never exchanged hands. In fact, he had never seen money before. Everything was barter. A bushel of rice could buy you so much at the markets of the surrounding villages and towns. But gold? What could that possibly be worth? After all, it couldn’t be used for anything beyond jewelry, so why would anyone think it was valuable?

  It made no sense to him, but even his family were struggling to carry the cases up the treacherous hill and into the caves while he and the other children made certain everyone was provided plenty of water as they broke their backs serving the Japanese.