The Manila Deception Page 3

  He had heard of them, and a group had passed through their village when he was younger, but other than that, they hadn’t affected his life until now. His parents were afraid of them—everyone appeared to be, yet other than the fact they looked different, they seemed normal enough.

  Their uniforms are nice.

  He handed his father a scoop of water from the bucket he was hauling. “Can I be a soldier one day?”

  His father drank, his Adam’s apple bobbing greedily. “To rid ourselves of these vermin, you may have to be.”

  “Are they bad?”

  His father glanced around nervously, his eyes settling on the Filipino who had arrived with the troops. “Enough talk. Attend to your duties.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  He pressed up the hill to the next group of four carrying another heavy crate, the footpath to the caves narrow and riddled with roots and other treacheries threatening to twist ankles and break bones. The caves weren’t much farther, and scores of trucks had already been unloaded, their cargos safely deep inside.

  He handed a scoop of water to the first man as he kept pace, looking forward to when the soldiers left and he and his friends could examine what was inside the crates. He imagined all manner of wonders, from foods he had never even heard of, to the strange devices and weapons the Japanese carried on their person.

  I want one of their swords.

  A smile spread as he refilled the scoop for the next man. One of the crates had to hold swords.

  He frowned as a thought occurred to him. Certainly the Japanese wouldn’t want them opening the crates. After all, whatever was in them must be valuable, at least to the Japanese. There was no way they would leave these supplies here, unguarded. He took a sip of the water, his own thirst demanding attention before he shifted to the opposite side of the path to quench the other two men. It was disappointing. He had been excited about discovering the contents of what they were moving, but now he realized that he’d never be given the chance. The Japanese weren’t leaving, at least not all of them.

  They couldn’t.

  He spotted the Filipino he had heard called Florencio ahead, leaning against a tree, his contributions to the efforts lasting a single trip up the path. He decided he better offer him water lest he become displeased. Obviously, these Japanese were bad if his father thought he might have to become a soldier one day to fight them, so making any of them mad might not be a good thing.

  And bypassing the man while carrying water might do just that.

  “Water?”

  The man nodded and took the ladle, holding it up to his mouth and drinking. He returned it to Juan. “Thanks.”

  “Do you like working with the Japanese?”

  Florencio shrugged. “It beats the alternative.”

  Juan’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re too young to understand.”

  Juan’s stomach churned with the insult. “When we’re done, will you be leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “All of you?”

  “Yes.” Florencio shoved him back toward the column of villagers hauling the supplies. “Get back to work.”

  Juan scrambled back up the line, catching up to his position, but not before he had a sudden realization.

  They were all leaving.

  All.

  That meant no one to guard the crates.

  A smile spread.

  It meant he would have some exciting adventures after all.

  His father glanced at him as Juan pushed up the line to regain his position. “What are you smiling about?”

  “That man said they were all leaving when we’re done.”

  “So?”

  “So, that means we can see what’s inside the crates when they leave.”

  His father stared at him for a moment, then his eyes widened with a fear Juan had never before seen.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His father quickly shook his head. “N-nothing. Move along. There are thirsty men ahead.”

  Juan complied, rushing up the hill, left to wonder what had his father so scared.

  7 |

  St. Paul, Maryland Present Day

  “Can you send me the images?”

  The excitement in Professor Buwan Bautista’s voice was obvious to them all. Professor James Acton laughed with glee at his wife and Tommy Granger, all huddled around the phone set to speaker. “Not on your life!”

  Disappointment replaced the excitement. “Why?”

  “Because then you wouldn’t need me to bring them to you!”

  Bautista roared with laughter, a burst of static momentarily overwhelming the speaker. “Jim, if you and your wife want to join me, you are more than welcome. But I must warn you, we’re on a shoestring budget here. Nobody here believes the gold exists, so it would just be the three of us.”

  Acton chuckled. “Well, I don’t know if I believe you either, at least not until a few minutes ago. Everything you told us about, we found, or more accurately, my wife found.”

  Professor Laura Palmer leaned closer. “Actually, it was a colleague at the Smithsonian. And as to funding, if you would permit us, we would be happy to make a donation and bring equipment.”

  “No no no, I can’t ask that of you.”

  “Please, it would be our pleasure. We have some money set aside for just these things.”

  “If you insist, then who am I to say no when I’m so desperate? When can you be here?”

  Acton replied. “Tomorrow. We’ll arrange the jet then send you the details.”

  “Arrange the jet? Don’t tell me you have a private jet now!”

  Acton laughed. “Things have changed quite a bit since we last met, my friend.”

  “Well, I know you’re still a lowly archaeology professor, Jim, so I’m guessing you married well.”

  He winked at Laura. “You have no idea.” She squeezed his knee. “Listen, I’ll text you the flight details as soon as we have them.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll start preparing everything at my end. I look forward to seeing you again and meeting your lovely wife. Until tomorrow!”

  “Goodbye, my friend.” Acton ended the call and leaned back in the stool at the breakfast bar. “I’ll start putting together an equipment list, you make the flight arrangements.”

  “Can we come?”

  Acton and Laura both stopped what they were doing and turned to Tommy. “Excuse me?”

  “I’d like to come, and I’m sure Mai would too.”

  Acton frowned at the mention of Mai Trinh, Tommy’s significant other, and a young woman he and Laura had taken under their wing when she had been exiled to America after helping them escape her native Vietnam several years ago. She was like the daughter they couldn’t have. “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.”

  “I agree,” said Laura. “This is Mindanao. It’s not exactly the safest of places.”

  Tommy shrugged. “Safer than Mongolia.”

  Laura wagged a finger. “Safer than Mongolia turned out to be, yes, but Mongolia isn’t inherently dangerous. Mindanao is different. Things could go south in a myriad of ways.”

  Tommy folded his arms. “Well, if you’re so concerned about the possible dangers, then I assume you’re going to bring some security with you.”

  Laura looked at Acton. “We probably should.”

  Acton had to agree. The Philippines wasn’t exactly the safest of countries, and where they would be traveling, there were Islamic groups active in the area. “I think you’re right. Do you think Cameron can get there in time?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure he can join us before we head to Mindanao. We should spend at least one night in Manila to acclimate.”

  “Then it’s settled,” smiled Tommy. “We should be safe with him, shouldn’t we?”

  Acton sighed, regarding the young man he had grown quite fond of. He was a graduate student at his university, and was the love of Mai’s life. If these satellite photos d
id indeed point to Yamashita’s lost gold, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for all of them. He turned to Laura. “If we find it, it’s history-making.”

  She was forced to agree. “It is.”

  “Maybe the kids should come.”

  Laura shook her head. “Well, you’re both grown adults, I guess.” Air burst through her lips, causing them to vibrate. “I just wish we weren’t so rich.”

  Acton’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because then I could use the excuse that we couldn’t afford their tickets.”

  8 |

  Mindanao, The Philippines November 6th, 1944

  Chatter was rippling up and down the line, and it was clear to Juan that any excitement once held by his elders was gone, though he wasn’t sure why. Any time he would approach with water, they would fall silent, then resume as he left.

  It was frustrating.

  He hated it when adults protected him from the truth. What was so dangerous about it? His mother always told him to tell the truth, and if he were caught lying, his father would give him the back of his hand.

  So, why protect children from the truth?

  He spotted his mother ahead, the women coordinating things at the bottom and top of the hills, making sure everyone was fed, and providing extra water or repairs to footwear, along with much-needed shoulder massages.

  He paused. She was scared too, her eyes darting between the Japanese soldiers gathered around the cave entrance, and the men of the village as each group arrived with yet another crate, disappearing into the gaping maw of the cave.

  It suddenly took on a different aura, that of a beast swallowing the adults, and it took him a few moments to realize why.

  No one was coming out.

  Earlier in the day, there had been a steady stream of eager men entering the cave with their heavy loads, then reemerging with smiles before grabbing a quick snack and some water, then heading down the trail to fetch another load.

  But no longer.

  Now even he was concerned.

  He glanced back and spotted his father cresting the rise, his body drenched in sweat, the fear from earlier still pasted on his face. His father glanced at him as he passed.

  “Go to your mother, and be ready.”

  “For what?”

  “Do what she says.”

  “Yes, Father.” He followed him toward the cave entrance. “Father?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why aren’t the men coming out of the cave anymore?”

  His father stared ahead for a moment, then cursed. “Go to your mother, now!” he hissed, and Juan complied, his little legs carrying him across the rock-strewn clearing and toward the gathered women.

  “Where are they?” asked his mother as she held out a hand for him. “Nobody has come out for at least fifteen minutes.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” said his aunt.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What can we do?”

  She placed a hand on his back, holding him tight against her, and he freed himself of the water, hugging her as hard as he could, his entire body trembling as he realized something truly was wrong, and that the adults were all scared, including his mother and father.

  Maybe protecting me from the truth is better.

  His father passed them, and his mother pressed him even harder against her.

  “Get out of here,” whispered his father. “They’re going to kill us all.”

  Nails dug into his back, but he suppressed the whimper as his father’s words sent jolts of terror through his body. The women around him all began to mutter, the panic growing, a panic not lost on the Japanese soldiers surrounding the area.

  The last box, carried by four men he had grown up with his entire life, crested the hill and slowly followed his father through the cave entrance, one last look exchanged between him and his family before the darkness swallowed him whole.

  His mother grabbed his hand. “Stay quiet, and do exactly what I say.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She slowly stepped backward, toward the trees that lined the clearing. He followed, his breath held as his heart hammered, when she yanked his arm, sending them sprinting into the jungle. He struggled to keep up, his mother saying nothing as branches and leaves swatted at him, the undergrowth thick.

  Shouts erupted behind them, then loud cracks rang out, the trunk of a tree to his left exploding as it was hit by something. He had heard gunshots in the past, though they were nothing like this.

  He slowed.

  “Hurry!” cried his mother, yanking him forward once again. They were following them now, the sound of men crashing through the forest overwhelming in his panicked state.

  He was slowing her down.

  They would be caught because of him.

  “Hurry!”

  He pressed forward, trying to keep up, but his little legs were simply too short. She stopped and gathered him in her arms then continued their flight, yet it was no use. From his new vantage point, staring over her shoulder, he could see the soldiers closing the gap. More gunshots sounded in the distance, though it wasn’t from their pursuers.

  “They’re going to catch us!”

  Tears filled his eyes with the terror he now felt, yet he wasn’t certain what he should fear. It was clear his mother didn’t want to be caught, that his father thought these were bad people, but what did it mean to be caught? Did it mean death? And what did that even mean? Wouldn’t that simply mean they’d all be together again in Heaven?

  A shot rang out and his mother stumbled, falling to the ground, trying to cushion his fall. She pushed to her knees then pointed forward. “Go! And no matter what you hear, don’t come back!”

  “But I want—”

  “Go!” she cried, the soldiers now only feet away. He turned and sprinted into the thick jungle as his mother screamed, the men upon her. The pursuit stopped as he heard more screams then laughter.

  Laughter?

  He stopped, hiding behind a tree, and stared back. His mother continued to scream, and he was old enough to recognize the difference between agony and terror.

  And he heard both.

  Yet the men continued to shout and laugh.

  It made no sense.

  He slowly walked toward the noise, creeping forward from tree to tree, whatever horrors his mother was going through growing louder as the laughter continued, and though he couldn’t understand the language, he recognized the tone of men encouraging other men onward.

  His jaw dropped as every muscle in his body slackened at the sight ahead. His mother lay on the ground with one of the soldiers on top of her. He recognized what was going on, even if he didn’t understand it.

  His mother was being hurt. He continued forward, urine streaming unnoticed down his leg, when his mother twisted her head to rid herself of the soldier pressing his mouth against hers.

  And their eyes met.

  And he screamed.

  9 |

  Tokyo, Japan Present Day

  Takashi’s great-grandfather’s heart ached for him, the story spilling out between sobs and gasps for air terrifying. He remained silent in his chair, his oxygen tank by his side, the tubes pushing the vital gas into his nostrils long forgotten.

  Yet the story had his failing heart pounding too hard.

  He grabbed the mask sitting on his chest and pushed it against his mouth, taking a bigger hit of the oxygen, feeling its effects immediately.

  “What can I do? I just don’t know what to do! I think they’re going to kill me.”

  He nodded. “They will kill you, my boy, they will kill you. The Yakuza of today are not those of when I was your age. There was integrity then. They never would have tricked you like that. It is dishonorable. A disgrace.” He wagged a boney finger. “But you were a fool to go to them. To get yourself mixed up with the likes of them, you should know better!” He coughed, Takashi leaping to his feet to help, but he waved him off, instead sticking a tube
in his mouth and drawing some water. “Have you spoken to your parents?”

  “I’m too ashamed to.”

  “You must. This man you owe money to might decide to come after them for your debts.”

  “Even after he kills me?”

  “Yes. They should know so they might take steps to protect themselves.”

  “What about me? What steps can I take?”

  “You must go to the police. Tell them everything.”

  “They’ll kill me for sure! Even if Akira is arrested, his men will still get me. He’s the oyabun’s eldest son! Surely they’ll kill me!”

  “I see little choice.”

  Takashi shook his head. “No, I can’t go to them. If they kill me, they might spare my parents. And can we trust the police? Don’t the Yakuza have people on the inside?” He threw his hands up in the air. “If only I had something of value! Something I could give them! But even if I sold my restaurant, it wouldn’t be enough. The interest alone is more than it’s worth.”

  He exhaled slowly, his eyes closing as his foolish descendant’s words triggered a thought. He did know something, something of value. Something of great value. Something that might satisfy the Yakuza.

  If they believed it.

  “I may have an idea.”

  Takashi leaned forward eagerly. “What?”

  “It is my greatest secret.” His chest tightened as his eyes burned. “And it is my, Captain Takuma Kijima’s, greatest shame.”

  10 |

  Mindanao, The Philippines November 6th, 1944

  Captain Kijima supervised the herding of the remaining women and children into the cave, when several of his men emerged from the jungle dragging a half-naked woman and a young boy. He frowned at the sight of the beaten and obviously raped woman. They didn’t have time for antics such as that, though he wasn’t about to chastise his men for it.