The Manila Deception Page 4

  Not now.

  For he understood their needs more than most. He had resisted the temptation of taking advantage of the “comfort women” on offer. He wanted to remain true to his wife, though it was difficult at times, especially when so much flesh was on display before him.

  He could take the woman for himself, or perhaps one who hadn’t already been spoiled, and fulfill his pent up desires while his men finished the task at hand.

  Yet no matter how much he wanted to, the image of his smiling wife always prevented him from pressing forward, from taking advantage of his position, of using captured women held in camps around the newly conquered empire to satisfy his needs.

  You’re a saint.

  He grunted.

  And you’re going to explode one of these days.

  The woman and what might be her son disappeared into the cave, the woman whimpering, the boy screaming and beating his free hand against the soldier dragging him, his protests fading as they were led deeper inside.

  “Is that all of them?”

  His lieutenant stepped forward. “Yes, sir. We searched the village and the surrounding area and found no one. I’m confident we have them all.”

  “Good. And the explosives?”

  “Ready on your command.”

  “Excellent. Proceed, Lieutenant, then I want the village burned.”

  “Won’t that raise suspicions? Especially if there are no bodies?”

  “It might, but the fact there are no bodies will make people think that they moved on. And with nobody alive, nobody will think to look here for them.”

  The lieutenant smiled. “An excellent plan, sir.”

  Kijima ignored the compliment, instead turning on his heel and proceeding down the hill as the warning was shouted, a terrific explosion ripping through the air moments later.

  Sealing the fate of the village the Empire hadn’t bothered to name.

  11 |

  The Lotus Tokyo, Japan Present Day

  “You appear to be emptyhanded. You realize we don’t take checks.”

  Akira’s men roared with laughter, momentarily drowning out the constant pounding of the bass track on the other side of the insulated walls of the Yakuza boss’ inner sanctum. Takashi Kijima forced a smile, his entire body shaking. “I-I’ve come with something better.”

  “Better than the millions of yen you owe me?” Akira took an exaggerated look behind Takashi. “I don’t see her. Where is she?”

  More laughter.

  “Have you ever heard of Yamashita’s Gold?”

  Akira’s smile disappeared, and he held up a finger, silencing the room. “It sounds familiar.”

  “During the Second World War, the Imperial forces stole billions of dollars’ worth of gold and other priceless items like artwork and gems. It was all collected in Singapore by General Yamashita, then transported to the Philippines where his command had been transferred. They intended to transport it to Japan, but the Americans prevented that, so they hid it in the Philippines.”

  “I call bullshit on that, boss.”

  Takashi’s blood drained from his head and he felt faint. Akira leaned forward and shoved his chest, sending him into a nearby leather chair with a thud. One of his men stepped forward holding his phone.

  “It says here that Yamashita’s Gold was found in 1971 by some guy named Roxas, outside of Baguio City. Apparently, the Filipinos beat the shit out of him until he told them where it was, then the dictator Marcos stole it all.”

  Akira stared at Takashi. “So, you take us for fools?”

  Takashi shook his head, only slightly recovered. An impossibly gorgeous woman walked over and handed him a bottle of water. He smiled slightly and twisted off the cap, downing half of it, life returning within moments. “No, my hiijiisan explained it. That was a secondary hoard. Only a fraction of the treasure. The rest was actually hidden inside a cave in Mindanao, in the south.”

  “Your hiijiisan? You expect me to believe your great-grandfather knows where billions of dollars of gold is hidden, and yet you can’t pay your debts?”

  “I can prove it. Or at least prove he could know.”

  Akira looked at the others. “This should be entertaining.”

  Takashi reached into his jacket pocket and was immediately surrounded by pistols aimed at his head. He nearly wet himself. “I-I’m just getting an envelope.”

  Akira waved them off and Takashi removed the envelope and opened it with great difficulty, his hands jerking furiously from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He finally produced the pages, handing them over.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “My hiijiisan’s military records. He was a captain in the war who served under Yamashita. You can see his last posting was in the Philippines. It’s all there.”

  Akira glanced at the pages then tossed them on the table between them. “That tells me nothing except that an impossibly old man served where there once might have been gold. I see no proof here of a second stash, nor any evidence he could have known about it.” He leaned forward, jabbing a finger at him. “You’re stalling for time. You think that you can send us off on some foolish errand while you try to figure a way out of your mess.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m tired of this. Do you have my money?”

  “No, and I never can.” Takashi picked up the pages, carefully folding them then returning them to the envelope. “This is worth billions, and my hiijiisan swears he knows exactly where it is. He’s willing to tell you in exchange for clearing my debt and swearing no harm will come to me, my family, or my restaurant.”

  “The old man doesn’t want much, does he? How about I just go beat the location out of him? Then I get this so-called gold, and you still owe me the money.”

  Takashi paled at the thought of his poor hiijiisan assaulted. “He’s approaching one-hundred years-old. He’d rather die than tell you.”

  “Then I’ll beat you until he tells me.”

  Takashi shook his head. “You don’t know him. He will never tell you until he has your word.”

  Akira grunted. “Then he has it.”

  Takashi gripped the arms of his chair. “He, umm, wants to meet you. He wants to look you in the eye when you make the promise, to see if he can trust you.”

  Akira leaped from his chair. “What? My word isn’t good enough for some old fossil? I’ll meet him! Then I’ll kill him! The insolent old fool can keep his gold!”

  “Akira!”

  Everyone in the room froze, even the irate Akira, as a man emerged from the shadows. How long he had been there, Takashi wasn’t sure, but it was clear by the shocked expression on Akira’s face, that no one had known he was.

  “Father! What are you doing here?”

  Takashi felt the room spin for a moment at the realization of who had just made his presence known.

  Akira’s father.

  The oyabun. The head of Akira’s entire syndicate of Yakuza. Tens of thousands of men and women swore allegiance to this man as if he were their father. Oyabun literally translated as “foster parent,” and no one dared challenge him in any way lest they face death.

  Heads around the room were bowed with respect, even Akira straightening himself. Takashi struggled to his feet then bowed, trembling with renewed fear.

  The oyabun stepped closer, accompanied by two large bodyguards, finally stopping in front of Takashi. “I came to see my son, and instead find a disrespectful self-centered ignoramus.”

  “But—”

  The oyabun raised a finger. “You know how I hate that word!”

  So, that’s where he gets it from.

  “General Yamashita is a legend, and the fact the Empire amassed an incredible amount of gold during the war is fact. It is also fact that it has never been seen again. I have read about the gold that was found in the Philippines, and it was not nearly enough to be the entire treasure if it is as described.” The oyabun turned toward his son. “If you didn’t spend so much time playing video games and raci
ng your cars, and instead did some reading about the world around you, you would know this, and recognize that what this man is offering deserves investigation. The wealth that might be found could change everything.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  The oyabun faced Takashi. “It would be my honor to meet with your hiijiisan, and discuss his terms.”

  12 |

  Mindanao, The Philippines November 6th, 1944

  The screams and cries echoed throughout the cave as the panicked villagers pressed deeper inside, away from the entrance that had collapsed moments before after a tremendous bang unlike anything Juan had heard before. His father held him in one arm over his shoulder, and he assumed had his mother with them as well, complete darkness now enveloping them.

  He was wailing along with so many others, never before in his life experiencing such terror. His heart was racing, his ears were pounding, his entire body drenched in sweat, his mouth filled with dust or powder, his eyes burning from the same.

  A match flaring behind him caught his attention and the tiny sense of comfort it brought had his wails waning as he and the others focused on it. A makeshift torch was created and the retreat deeper into the cave halted as the one torch was used to find other materials to light, and within minutes, several small fires were burning from scraps of wood and broken apart crates.

  A sense of calm took hold, and the village elder pointed toward the entrance. “Someone go check to see if we are indeed sealed inside.”

  “I’ll go,” replied someone Juan couldn’t see.

  “Now, does anyone know of another way out of here?”

  Murmurs to the negative rippled through the crowd, and Juan’s whimpers returned.

  “There’s a small hole!” cried the man as he returned. “Come, look!”

  Everyone rushed toward the entrance, the settling dust highlighted by a single beam of the fading sun shining through a small opening. The men rushed forward, including his father who handed him off to his silent, trembling mother. He hadn’t heard her say a word since they had been dragged into the cave, and he was worried. What he had seen had been wrong. It had been against God’s will. It was something only mothers and fathers should do.

  There was a word for it, yet that word escaped him.

  He just prayed his mother would be her old self soon.

  He took her hand then turned to watch the efforts of the men as they attempted to clear away the stone. At first, he had hope, the smaller rocks easily moved, handed from man to man and tossed far enough away to not create yet another barrier to their escape, though hope turned to frustration as it was clear what remained was simply too big to move.

  Far too big.

  Minutes seemed like hours, and with the sun almost gone, so was their optimism. They weren’t getting out of here. His father returned, hugging them both.

  “It’s no use.”

  Juan eyed the faint hole then pulled away from his parents’ embrace and rushed toward the pile of stone, weaving between the dejected villagers who had struggled for so long, then scrambled up the boulders and to the small hole.

  A hole he was convinced he could fit through.

  He reached his arms through then pushed with his feet, succeeding brilliantly before he found himself wedged at the shoulders.

  “Juan, what are you doing?” cried his father, and he felt hands on his feet.

  “I can fit! I know I can! Push me!”

  “No, you’ll just get hurt.”

  “You have to let him try, he might be our only hope!” said someone, and he could hear the others were on his side. For they were right, he was their only hope.

  “Please, Father, let me try!”

  He could hear the sigh behind him. “Very well.” His father’s hands gently squeezed his ankles. “Let out all your breath, then try to move forward.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  He breathed deeply then exhaled as hard as he could, his lungs burning for air, and the moment he wheezed, his father pushed on his bottom, signaling Juan his efforts should begin. He pulled with his hands and wiggled as hard as he could. He was seeing stars, desperate to take a breath, yet he was making progress, progress he might never achieve again if he took in air.

  Suddenly he slid forward, his shoulders through, then his torso, then his hips, and he scrambled forward then turned around, staring back in the hole, the glow of a torch revealing his father’s elated face.

  “Father! I made it!”

  “I’m so proud of you, son.”

  “I’ll go get help!” He was about to turn when his father reached out. Juan climbed back inside the narrow opening and took the hand.

  “Don’t go to the village, understand? And avoid the Japanese. Follow the road, and when you come to the next village, tell them what happened. Tell them to hurry, we don’t have much time.”

  Juan nodded. “You can count on me, Father.”

  The grip on his hand tightened. “Your mother and I love you. Never forget that, no matter what happens.”

  Juan’s chest tightened, sensing his father expected him to fail.

  Yet he wouldn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  All the lives of anyone he had ever known depended on him.

  And he was determined not to let them down.

  13 |

  Sheraton Cairo Hotel & Casino Cairo, Egypt Present Day

  “I wish I could see you more often.”

  Retired Special Air Service Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Leather reached over and ran a finger across his girlfriend’s forehead, pushing aside a lock of hair. “You knew what you were getting into when we started dating.”

  Adelaide Burnett’s lips pushed out, displaying a pout that would make any child proud. “I know, but I still don’t have to be happy about it.”

  Leather sighed. “Me neither. You could always quit your job and come with me. You could help run the company.”

  She gave him a look. “Or you could quit your job and come live with me.”

  He laughed. “I see your point. You know, things must have been so much easier in the old days.”

  “What? When women were barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, waiting for their big man to come home from work so they could dote on them for every waking moment?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Where’s your gun?”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t say I wanted it that way, I just meant it must have been simpler. Back then, we’d have met, fallen in love, and you’d have dropped everything to follow me around the world.”

  She stared at him. “I think a little part of you yearns for those days.”

  He shrugged. “Hey, it was a man’s world and I’m a man. But I like my women more liberated. I like to be kept on my toes.”

  “And I keep you on your toes?”

  He grunted. “And then some.”

  “So, what are we going to do? Eventually, I’ll be transferred by Foreign Affairs to some other embassy or consulate somewhere in the world, or your job in the desert guarding a bunch of pimply-faced kids will be finished, then we’ll barely see each other. With just an eight hour drive between us, we only see each other once or twice a month.”

  His chest ached at her words, for she was right. He ran a security company he had created after retiring from the British Special Air Service, pulling in dozens of former Special Forces from various nations to provide security for the rich, famous, powerful—whoever had money to pay his exorbitant fees, and who felt they were truly in danger from the nuts of the world.

  Enter Laura Palmer.

  He never would have thought a lowly archaeology professor would require his type of security, yet she did in spades. And she was so rich with the inheritance she had received from her late tech entrepreneur brother, that she could afford him.

  In fact, she could afford him.

  She insisted on the best, and that was him. And he didn’t mind. He loved the work, and she was yet another woman that kept him on his toes, currently bab
ysitting a group of students at a dig site in southern Egypt. They had come under serious attack by Islamic fanatics, and it had been a bloody, vicious battle to save them.

  Too many dead.

  The job provided employment for dozens of veterans like him with the physical and mental scars of doing their nations’ bidding for years, battling the worst of humanity, while witnessing atrocities and tragedies that would break most.

  He gave them structure.

  He gave them purpose.

  And he’d keep giving them that until the day he died.

  Even if it meant being alone.

  “What are you saying?”

  She wiggled across the bed and into his arms. “I’m not saying anything. I just don’t want this to end.”

  He held her tight, burying his face in her long blond hair, breathing in her scent. “Neither do I.”

  “Promise me we’ll figure this out?”

  He closed his burning eyes and squeezed her tighter. “I promise.”

  Yet he had no clue how they could.

  His phone demanded his attention and he let her go, rolling over to grab it off the nightstand.

  Speaking of women who keep me on my toes.

  He swiped his thumb as he rolled his feet out of the bed, taking a seated position. “Professor Palmer, how are you?”

  “I’m good, Cameron. I called the camp and they said you were in Cairo. Sooo, how’s Adelaide?”

  He smiled. “She’s fine.”

  Adelaide waved at the phone.

  “And she says hello.”

  “Say hello to her for me.” There was a sigh. “Now that I know you’re with her, I feel terrible for interrupting.”

  “What do you need?”

  “James and I are heading to the Philippines in a couple of hours along with Tommy and Mai.”

  Leather tensed. “Where in the Philippines?”

  Please don’t let it be Mindanao.

  “Mindanao.”

  Of course that’s where she’s going.

  “A dangerous place, ma’am.”

  “I know, which is why I thought we should bring some security.”