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Chapter 10

NEAR KEPULAUAN NATUNA BESAR ISLANDS, INDONESIA

DAYLIGHT WAS BEGINNING TO LIGHTEN THE SKY—FIFTY-SIX HOURS AFTER LEAVING PALAWAN. The Goodwin Brothers and ‘Big O’ sat in the dimly lit Captain’s quarters of the yacht. They had followed Hatchet Jack’s course by plotting his GSC messages on a map. He should arrive as predicted—near sunrise.

“It’s time to send our exact coordinates to Jack,” Doug said, reaching for his GSC. Adjusting the unit options to include degrees, minutes and seconds, he set his unit for more accuracy. He pressed the send button, and within a minute received a message that it had been picked up…meaning Jack now had their exact location and would send a new report on his location every ten minutes.

Nighttime seemed more relaxing than daytime—probably because there was less chance of being seen. Both Goodwin brothers felt the same uneasiness however, as the early morning sky blossomed. First the sunrays came streaking through the clouds, then the colorful illumination of the sky. Sitting on the deck of this very expensive yacht and ocean worthy that should give the feeling of wealth. It really is very much like being on a vacation cruise touring the world…oh, if only life could be so simple” Doug mused to himself. .

“I think I hear a plane,” Bill shouted, breaking the reverie of the morning. Everyone on deck strained to listen.

“You’re hearing things again,” Doug laughed—The beeping on his GSC interrupted his laughter. “Hey, you’re right little bro…Give Jack a couple beeps and lock onto a signal.”

Within ten minutes, everyone heard the airplane, and Capt. Scott turned on the rotating laser light atop the pilothouse. “Thar he comes,” ‘Big O’ shouted. “As soon as he gets nearer, Bill, get everyone dressed post-haste.”

Bill waited for the huge boat of a plane to circle twice and touch down on the water before charging down stairs to awaken the men. They surprised him, however—they too had been listening for the airplane sound and were ready for action. The powerful roar of the engines was hard to miss.

Bill and the men rushed topside—they weren’t about to miss the excitement. The roaring engines stirred the ocean like a small hurricane and vibrated the air surrounding the yacht as it approached. The deadpan face of Hatchet Jack soon became visible in the cockpit window, as he began throttling down the engines and drew closer to the yacht.

“You never fail, you old son-of-a-gun,” ‘Big O’ said to himself—Jack was one of the few people in the world that ‘Big O’ completely respected.

A slight wave from Jack brought great excitement to all the men on deck.

As ‘Big O’ watched, he wondered what part of the recovery should travel on the yacht and how much should go on the plane. The yacht would be tagged for possible seizure…if spotted; where the plane was a complete unknown to anyone looking for them. “I’d better get in the plane and check it out before making a final decision. Whatever we do, it is going to be hard loading that tall plane in moving water.” “Lower the dinghy and ladder,” ‘Big O’ shouted to Capt. Scott.

Capt. Scott’s crew didn’t wait for instructions. The dinghy touched the water the same time ‘Big O’ started down the ladder. He climbed into the rocking dinghy and motored toward the plane. Jack had opened the side door and lowered a weighted ladder.

As ‘Big O’ maneuvered the dinghy to the ladder, he realized that moving the heavy Orphans was going to be extremely difficult. Catching the ladder and attaching it to the dinghy, he swung himself onto the ladder and proceeded to climb. Jack grabbed ‘Big O’’s arm and pulled him inside the plane.

Jack spoke first. “I told you I’d find this little speck in the ocean.”

“You sure did, you ol’ codger. Where’d you find this old jewel?”

“Scraped it up from World War II—Isn’t she a beauty?” Jack said. “She ran like a new piece of machinery…ought to she’s costing you over twenty grand.”

‘Big O’ was already looking around at the large hollow interior with supporting frames circling the chamber like ribs of a huge beast—two rows of seats bordered the sides. It was nothing fancy, but just what they needed. “How much fuel is left in her?”

“We have around seventeen hundred miles yet…We need to refuel in some neutral country, probably Malaysia. I figure with a full tank in Kuala Baharu, we can go to Thailand and on to Hong Kong before refueling; and then to Saipan, and refuel again in Guam.”

‘Big O’ continued inspecting the plane. “That sounds good to me. We’ll be safe in Malaysia and Hong Kong. That means we had better load this plane to the hilt and move out of here as soon as possible…I’ll go back to the yacht. Get the plane closer to the yacht…as close as possible.”

‘Big O’ climbed down to the dinghy and hung on for dear life while stepping from the plane. “This is going to be hard, but like everything else on this adventure it is doable.”

While traveling back to the yacht he made plans for the fastest yet safest method of transfer; he worried about handling each bar and the chances of dropping one into the ocean. As soon as he stepped on deck, he began giving orders. “I want about twenty-five Orphans over there first as a trial run to work out the kinks. Then I want the chest next with about fifty Orphans. After that we’ll load the dinghy with as many Orphans as it feels safe. Bill you go below deck and open the hidden chamber and manage that end. Empty every man’s packsack and put two Orphans in each one. It will be easier to hang onto a packsack than an Orphan. Have the men form a chain from below deck to the ladder. We’ll empty each packsack into the dinghy and pass it back to the chamber. I’ll take three men and three packsacks with me to the plane and manage the transfer there…Let’s see how it goes.”

With that order everyone scrambled to their assigned positions. Doug arranged the chain of men and Bill opened the chamber. Stuffing two Orphans into a packsack, it seemed as though the plan might work. Within three minutes the first Orphans appeared on deck and were lowered down the ladder—hand over hand. Nobody dared think of the value of the Orphans. The packsack was emptied onto the floor of the dinghy and passed up the chain of men.

The twenty-five Orphans were loaded, and the dinghy headed for the plane—which had been maneuvered to within fifty feet. Upon reaching the plane, the dinghy was secured tightly, and ‘Big O’ headed up the ladder with the first Orphan in a packsack. Reaching the top, he handed it to Jack and stepped inside the plane. “ I’ll hand this pack to you, and you open it and carry the Orphan to the storage area. We’ll get more men over here if needed.”

By then, the second man was at the door and ‘Big O’ took the packsack while the man lowered himself to meet the next man. The rocking of the dinghy wasn’t coordinated with the movement of the plane; so holding one’s footing proved difficult. The process, however, seemed to be working; but ‘Big O’ realized that he would have to change men with each trip. The work on this end was extremely fatiguing—he could use two additional men.

The Orphans were transferred without incident. Jack began rearranging the Orphans into even stacks while the dinghy made another trip.

The men at the yacht had the chest and twelve packsacks waiting when the dinghy arrived. ‘Big O’ selected five different men to go on the next exchange. The chest worried everyone—getting it from the dinghy to the yacht had been accomplished before, but getting it from the dinghy into the plane presented an unknown challenge.

Doug had secured the chest inside a heavy nylon net with nylon straps tightly cinched around it, and a forty-foot length of nylon strapping extending from the net. As the chest was slid toward the side of the yacht Doug tied one end of the strap to a metal hook on the deck. Three men below the chest and two above inched it down the ladder. The men felt relieved as it touched the bottom of the dinghy.

“Pass down fifty Orphans now,” ‘Big O’ commanded in a stern voice.

The Orphans were loaded quickly, and the dinghy left once more toward the plane.

Upon arriving at the plane ‘Big O’ prepared the men for the next challenge—getting the billion-dollar chest safely into the plane.

“Let’s get these Orphans into the plane first,” ‘Big O’ instructed, as he climbed the ladder to the plane.

Once again the procedure began and continued somewhat better than the first load. The ocean had fortunately settled into a gentle swaying motion with few waves. Finally the nylon safety strap was brought up the ladder and securely attached inside the plane. Now for the moment of truth—three men below and two on the ladder above the chest with ‘Big O’ and Jack inside the plane.

Doug and Bill watched from the yacht through field glasses. While holding their breath they saw the chest leave the floor of the dinghy. Three men below strained and two above stretched to reach the nylon net. ‘Big O’ shouted for them to gradually test the ladder before lifting the chest out of the dinghy. With five men and the chest, the ladder would be supporting over seven hundred pounds. ‘Big O’ was grateful for small, strong Thailanders and a heavy duty World War II loading ladder.

Two men hung onto the bottom of the ladder with the chest on their shoulders and bounced slightly , testing it’s strength before beginning the climb…so far so good. Two men on separate rungs of the ladder, above the chest, had to lift most of the weight, but Jack, cinching the nylon strap, assisted. The third man steadied the ladder from below.

“She’s going up,” Bill declared to Doug, as both watched it slowly rise one rung at a time. “I can’t take much more of this,” Bill continued talking under his breath. He saw the chest touch the doorjamb of the plane just as the plane bounced in a wave. The chest slipped down slightly as all the men strained to regain ground. With one final lunge from Jack and all the men, ‘Big O’ grabbed the netting and braced himself as it slid inside.

A loud cheer came from the yacht, showing their total unity in the success of the mission. The men inside the plane and the men in the dinghy collapsed to the floor and gasped for air. It had been an exhausting effort; and all the while, they had no idea that they were dealing with diamonds…they suspected coins.

Their resting time could only be for a few minutes, for they still had much to do. ‘Big O’ spoke first, “Men, let’s get the job done; then we can rest for a lifetime.” With that brief statement, the men left the plane and joined those in the dinghy, and together with ‘Big O’ they returned to the yacht.

“Way to go, men!” Doug shouted; bringing cheers and smiles to everyone.

‘Big O’ climbed onto the yacht first and began giving orders again. “I’ve decided to take all the Orphans except twenty. Everyone continue being careful, but let’s hurry and transport everything to the plane. I want to be in Thailand tonight—how about you?” He knew the key words to motivate the tired men. New energy came from within each man, and the dinghy, filled to capacity, made three more trips.

On the last trip, ‘Big O’ remained on the yacht and allowed the men to transport their personal gear and battle equipment to the plane by themselves. While the men proceeded, ‘Big O’ met with the Goodwin brothers to discuss their next steps.

Doug produced a list of last-minute details. “We need to contact several people. First, Captain Shiva…He’ll need to meet you in the middle of the Gulf of Thailand to pick up Suwat and his men; so we need him alerted before you can leave.” Then he turned to Capt. Scott and asked him to select coordinates for a pick-up location. “Make it about seventy kilometers from Bangkok.”

Capt. Scott stepped to his map and began his calculations as Doug continued. “I’ll let Ken know of our latest plans in encrypted E-mail after you leave. Keep me informed of your progress on the GSC and call when you make contact with Capt. Shiva. I want to know if your plans change after you get a feel for the plane.”

‘Big O’ interrupted Doug with another bombshell, “I feel responsible for this cargo; so I’ve been thinking again about its safety. We want to get everything closer to our main operation in the States. We should meet Ken at Tinian to temporarily store the Orphans and Infants, and Jack can continue to Guam for refueling and return to the Philippines. As soon as you and Capt. Scott arrive in Guam, he can refuel the yacht and head for home. You can fly to Saipan by commercial jet; then we need to make plans to get everything to the States—possibly to Ken’s beach house in San Antonio del Mar, which is right near Rosarito Beach, Mexico.”

Bill couldn’t resist, “We never planned on Mexico being part of the equation.”

“Here’s my thinking,” ‘Big O’ continued talking. “It will take a concentrated effort for a long time to maximize our profits on the Infants. Ken will probably work it through the banking system in Turks and Caicos, but Saipan is halfway around the world from there. If we can at least get to Mexico, our distance problem will be greatly diminished.”

“Why not have Jack fly it to Mexico?” Bill asked.

“Fueling is the hitch. The plane will only fly twenty-eight hundred miles, and it is four thousand from Guam to Hawaii,” ‘Big O’ answered.

Doug, feeling nervous sitting in the open ocean on a yacht next to a huge plane, intervened. “We’d better get that plane out of here right now. We can think about our plans while we travel. You should contact Captain Shiva now; then I’ll alert Ken when you leave, and you can call him from Hong Kong.”

Capt. Scott handed ‘Big O’ a slip of paper with calculated coordinates; and ‘Big O’ dialed the home number of Captain Shiva—hoping he had obeyed instructions and carried his cell phone at all times. A woman answered the call on the sixth ring. “Hallo.”

“Is Captain Shiva there?” ‘Big O’ asked.

“A minute,” she said.

The welcome, sea-hardened voice of Captain Shiva broke the silence of a two-minute wait. “Hello, this is Captain Shiva.”

“‘Big O’ here. How are you?”

‘Big O’ could tell that Captain Shiva had snapped to attention and became suddenly alert. “I am fine where are you?”

“About four hours from Thailand. Can you meet us in the Gulf in the Magi?”

“I can leave now. Tell me where to be.”

“Go to the coordinates twelve degrees fifty minutes North and one hundred degrees twenty-nine minutes East. Do you have the GSC unit that I gave you?”

“Yes, Mr. ‘Big O’.”

“Turn it on now and press the blue button every half hour. It is programmed to send me a message of your coordinates. I’ll send my coordinates to you when we get in your vicinity. You’ll hear a beep on your unit and a message on the screen. I’ll test it right now.” ‘Big O’ then pressed a key and heard his own signal arrive on Captain Shiva’ unit. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, I heard.”

“That was a transmitted signal from me…I hear the same thing when you send me message…press the button now…’Big O’’s GSC sounded. It worked just fine. You get started now and we will keep in touch. Be sure to have your ship to shore radio tuned to receive calls from your home telephone, in case we need to reach you that way. Good bye, we’ll see you soon.”

‘Big O’ shut his ST and stood to leave. “We’ll get Suwat home…refuel in Hong Kong…and meet Ken. Let’s all keep in touch through our GSC and ST units.”

Just then, Luis the chef appeared with a heaping box of food that he had prepared for the men—they could always count on him.

Bill thanked him for his thoughtfulness and took the box.

Bill and ‘Big O’ shook Doug and Capt. Scott’s hands and climbed down the ladder. Doug felt a great deal of anxiety as the dinghy reached the plane, and he saw his comrades disappear behind a closing door.

Speaking to Capt. Scott, Doug said, “It would be best to move the yacht now to give them room to maneuver.”

Capt. Scott started the engines, pulled ahead and kept moving toward Singapore…The huge plane engines roared and moved through the water like a huge whale. Passing the yacht, and leaving a large spray of water, the plane first rose to the top of the water then lifted into the air. Everything the team had worked so hard to acquire was heading for Saipan via Kuala Terengganu, Malaysia and Bangkok, Thailand. Doug watched until the plane disappeared from view.

Glancing at Capt. Scott, Doug thought about his next task. This would be difficult to explain to the peace loving Capt. Scott, but he must prepare for even the most unlikely scenario. “Do you have a case of some sort that would hold four Orphans?”

Thinking for a couple minutes, Capt. Scott remembered a heavy vinyl case that had held electronic equipment. “You can check in the storage room next to the engines. There is a hinged case that once held a gyroscope.”

Doug went below deck and checked the case. It would serve his purpose. Taking the case to the hidden compartment in the hull of the yacht, he separated the Orphans into groups—ten Orphans were returned to the hull, six were set aside and four placed next to the case.

Doug taped an electronic detonating device against the inside wall of the compartment in the hull and switched the safety to the ‘off’ position. A small red led light glowed. Reaching inside a bag, he pulled out four packages of plastic explosive and arranged them tightly around the detonator—sliding several Orphans next to the explosives. He then covered the compartment in the hull, concealing the ten Orphans; and placed four Orphans inside the plastic case.

It was time to explain his actions to Capt. Scott. “Capt. Scott, I need to tell you something that might be hard for you to accept, but believe me it is necessary. The Orphans in the hull are wired with an explosive powerful enough to sink a ship.”

Capt. Scott’s head jerked toward Doug. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t get excited,” Doug quickly explained. “The detonator has to be set by a remote code from a device that I carry and can only be detonated with the push of the main switch.”

“I don’t understand why you need such a thing.”

“We have been through this in the past, and it is a secure way of protecting ourselves. Several years ago Bill and I were robbed and held hostage for a larger score. The package taken by the robbers was rigged with an explosive that had to be detonated to save our lives…It is only for self-protection. I will never consider using it inside unless absolutely necessary.”

Capt. Scott breathed a sigh of relief, but still didn’t fully accept the idea.

“I have six Orphans set aside for you and me to hide in separate locations on the yacht. This is in case of pirates. Can you have someone hold the wheel for a while?”

Capt. Scott stepped around the corner and called Luis to come forth. Luis, the chef, came to the pilothouse and took over the steering, and Doug led the way below deck.

Together they selected a location to hide each Orphan—mainly around metallic and electric devices to confuse metal detectors.

They returned to the deck with the case containing four Orphans, and Capt. Scott secured it in his safe.

Over an hour had passed since Hatchet Jack had left for Malaysia. “We’ll begin descending in about a half hour,” he said to ‘Big O’.

‘Big O’ had developed time distortion. His last means of travel, being a slow moving boat, had altered his internal time mechanism—descending so soon surprised him…“I had planned to talk to Suwat and his men before we reached Malaysia, but now I’d better wait.”

Jack pointed ahead. “There, you can barely make out land. Check the GSC for me, co-pilot,” he joked.

‘Big O’ did as he was told. “Here we are. North five degrees thirty…right here, pointing on a map and East one hundred three degrees thirty minutes.”

“Isn’t that only twenty-five miles to go?” Jack asked.

Measuring the map with calipers, ‘Big O’ answered with a smile, “ almost to the inch.”

“Close enough—we’re starting our descent.”

‘Big O’ turned toward his men, speaking loudly, especially to the sleeping Bill, “We’re descending to Malaysia. When we are towed to the dock, you may stand and stretch, but don’t move around much. We don’t want any indication that the plane is full of passengers.”

Most of the men were surprised at the announcement, but it became a reality as they heard Jack radio the dock. “Cat-104 calling for instructions.”

“Tower here. We see you…what are your intentions?”

“I only need to land and refuel. I’ll pay in US dollars,” he responded. Looking at ‘Big O’, “That always gets positive action. You’d best get out of sight.”

“Circle once and we will show the laser beam for landing…pull in straight toward the dock…we will tow you to the seaport,” the dock master answered.

“Roger.” Jack leveled to a low altitude and made a large circle, spotted the light and zeroed in on it. He touched down two thousand meters from shore. The monstrous plane rested to a stop, and Jack began his taxi run toward the seaport. Stopping a hundred meters away, he watched a small tugboat leave the shore and travel in their direction; so he cut the engines. “There we are, we’ve beat the Grim Reaper again.”

‘Big O’ didn’t like his reference but accepted Hatchet Jack’s dark sense of humor.

The tugboat reached the plane and attached a tow cable. ‘Big O’ spotted two men on the dock holding an extension hose…he watched as they were towed toward them, coming to rest with the nose of the “Cat” nearly in their laps.

One man patted the nose of the plane and attached a tether cord. The other man opened the single point gas-port and started pressure filling the plane.

“I’d better get in there with the cash before they think of questions,” Jack said while releasing his harness.

“Don’t let anyone come on board,” he told ‘Big O’ as he made his way to the door. “I’ll knock five times when I return. I’ll want to move out immediately.”

‘Big O’ stood to the side of the door and locked it as Jack made his way down the ladder and onto a floating dock that had been extended.

‘Big O’ wanted to watch Jack in action; but knowing that he should stay out of sight, he resisted the temptation. Jack stood by the desk showing papers given to him by General Giga, proving that the “Cat” was a restored vintage airplane having a test flight to check its durability. As a diversion, Jack played a game of strategy—every time the register indicated a hundred dollar figure, he would slap a US hundred dollar bill on the counter with fun-loving force. Everyone in the office got caught up in the game and laughed each time it happened. The last figure on the register found him with a bill in the air, which he lightly set on the counter with a dramatic gesture. “Thank you gentlemen,” he said kindly. “You may keep the change.” which amounted to forty -five dollars.”

He left the office acting as if he had all day, but he was actually moving quickly. Those in the office rushed together to see the amount of money that was leftover for them.

Jack went along the floating dock, up the ladder, pounded five times and pretended to be opening the door. Climbing inside, he shut the door and jumped into the pilot seat and gave a signal to the tugboat.

The tug moved the plane backwards out to sea. It was a humorous sight—a small dot in the water moving a huge boat with wings. The tug stopped at a point near the end of the sandbar and unhitched the plane. With a wave of the hand from the men in the tug, the “Cat” was free to leave.

Jack reacted quickly, hitting switches while snapping his seat belts. The engines burst once again into a loud roar, and the plane began moving on its own power. Manipulating the plane in a large circle, Jack finally had the nose pointed toward the open sea. “Here we go. I hope everyone is buckled up,” he shouted, as ‘Big O’ jumped into his seat, and the men hurried to secure their seat belts. The throttle went forward and the familiar lumbering sound resonated through the metal walls of the plane. The “Cat” crashed into the ocean waves, louder and louder, until the hum of the engines strained and the plane climbed into smooth air.

“We’re on our way to Bangkok!” ‘Big O’ shouted to men behind him; which was met with a cheer. He certainly knew how to motive tired Thai men.

‘Big O’ actually had one more surprise for the men, which would sustain them until the journey’s end. Waiting for the plane to level out at cruising altitude, he unlatched his belts and made his way to the rear of the plane. He looked over the Orphans, still securely bound. Untying one corner, he slipped two Orphans from the stack.

Walking to Ray in the closest seat, he handed him one Orphan and handed another to the next man. He announced, “I’m giving each of you one gold bar for your good service. It is valued at sixty-five thousand dollars US. Suwat will help you sell it for cash.” He started to walk back to the stack of Orphans but turned with another statement. “That should buy a house and a car for each of you.”

He could feel the excitement behind him as he went for more gold. He asked Bill to help him pass gold to the rest of the men, and the two of them watched the gleam in each man’s eyes as he touched the cool feeling gold. “It almost makes you want to give them more.” Bill thought. “To them, it’s like winning the lottery.”

As ‘Big O’ returned to his seat, the men gave him a spontaneous cheer. Even Ray was pleasantly surprised. Until now, their minds had been fully occupied with one thought only—success of the mission. The thought of monetary reward had been pushed far back in their minds.

“We only have three to four hours before we meet Captain Shiva,” ‘Big O’ stated as he studied his GSC. I’ve been watching his movement, and he is in good position…just waiting for us. ‘Big O’ then beeped Capt. Shiva maintaining contact with him; then sent a message to Doug.

Doug, stretching his legs on the deck, received his message.

Doug reported to Capt. Scott, “Hatchet Jack has refueled in Malaysia, and they are heading for Thailand. It looks like Captain Shiva is ready and waiting.”

“That’s great news. We’ll pull into Singapore port around 10 p.m.…eight hours to go.”

Doug slumped into a chair thinking his familiar thoughts; while feeling like a tortoise in a never-ending race, “They could be half way to Saipan before we reach Singapore. I guess I can’t complain—it won’t do any good.” He remembered a poster he had once seen that read—“It doesn’t do any good to complain because half the people won’t listen to you and the other half think you deserve it anyway.” With a slight smile on his face, he unzipped a side pocket of his pants and slid his hand inside, pulling out a small folded piece of paper. He set it in his left hand and carefully unfolded it…looking around to be sure that he was alone. As the paper opened, eight sparkling diamonds glistened…He had kept them out of sight until now—His slight-of-hand has never come up empty. As he had slid his hand to the bottom of the chest while in the cave, he palmed eight jewels. “It always helps to have a nest-egg in your pocket,” he thought. “These babies should be worth around ten to twenty grand apiece.” He then had a humorous thought; “Maybe I’ll sell them to NBA basketball players.”

After enjoying the touch and beauty of the diamonds for several minutes, he meticulously folded the paper and tucked it deep inside his pocket, which he zipped with a slow deliberate motion.

Doug leaned back upon a lounge chair and mentally began making time calculations. He determined that they were into their seventy-fourth hour AP (As Doug jokingly thought, “After Palawan”) One day to go and the captives would be free to inform authorities. That would place the yacht near Jakarta—conveniently hidden between the islands of Malaysia, and Borneo.

I’d better check on poor ol’ Teofisto.” Doug thought. Reaching for his GSC, he signaled Teofisto and received a punctual reply—“Teofisto must carry the unit in his hand.” Teofisto’s coordinates were the same as before, indicating that he was still at the cave. “We have a good team on this one,” Doug spoke out loud, while entering the pilothouse.

Capt. Scott, deep in thought, continued checking his gauges and coordinates, barely hearing Doug…he didn’t acknowledge him.

Stepping outside again, Doug breathed the cool ocean air and felt good. At least he didn’t have to worry about Suwat and his men any more, and Capt. Scott’s crew were always out of sight, taking care of their duties. Luis occupied his time preparing delicious food in the mess hall (as Doug referred to it); so Doug decided to relax and enjoy his South China Sea cruise.

Air turbulence kept the “Cat” bouncing, but Suwat and his men sat staring straight ahead—each man thinking of his future. The two thousand-foot altitude provided the unstable air which normally would have caused airsickness for a few of the landlubbers, but their focus remained on the treasure in their hands.

Bill couldn’t relax or rest; the noise of the plane and the sudden downdrafts kept him in a constant state of irritation. Even an occasional glance at the stack of gold couldn’t revive his attitude. “I’ll bet Doug is cruising on his yacht right now like a bloomin’ tourist.”

As they approached the “Magi”, ‘Big O’ remained in constant contact with Captain Shiva. Their GSC readings were set to read down to three decimals in seconds—theoretically directing them to within ten meters of one another.

Jack began a gradual descent while scanning the ocean, looking for a speck in the Gulf of Thailand. Suddenly, a signal light flashed from below.

“Check that!” ‘Big O’ shouted, pointing toward the light.

Jack responded, “We’ve got him…I think. I’ll circle low.”

‘Big O’ gave three prolonged beeps on his GSC, which were duplicated by flashes of light. “That’s him for sure…go for it.”

Hatchet Jack had already tested the windage and begun his approach. The wind had increased considerably producing one to two-foot waves in the ocean—the highest since leaving the Philippines. “Here goes nothing,” Jack exclaimed as the plane touched the tops of its first few waves.

Frightful sounds of straining metal ran throughout the plane—each passenger, including ‘Big O’, grabbed his shoulder harness with all his strength. Their lips moved in prayer while their eyes remained closed.

Hatchet Jack strained to maintain control with wide-eyed concentration. An airplane of weaker construction could have easily collapsed under the tremendous forces. Jack guided the plane on a straight course, crashing through hundreds of menacing waves.

It was easy to recognize the moment that the entire plane rested in the ocean—it captured the ocean’s movement.

“Nothing is easy when you’re fighting the odds,” Jack expressed with a huge sigh of relief. “We’re still right side up.”

“Don’t mention that reaper,” ‘Big O’ interjected.

“I was never worried a bit,”

“That makes one of us,” ‘Big O’ said, while turning to check on the passengers.

Bill’s white face caught his attention first, causing a faint smile. Everyone else seemed happy to be riding the bucking waves of the ocean.

“I’ll have to keep the engines running for as long as possible, Jack explained. “We have to keep vertical to the waves.” With that statement, he continued making his way toward the “Magi”.

“Here comes a boat from the “Magi”,” ‘Big O’ exclaimed, pointing at an object that appeared above the waves. “Looks like a big one. That’s good—we can only afford one try at this thing.”

Hatchet Jack couldn’t help but express his thoughts as he watched the boat inching its way toward them. “Those crazy guys are so used to the ocean that they think this is routine.”

“They do live on the ocean most of the time…As soon as their boat circles our plane, you will have to cut the engines. I’ll get the men ready.”

“Lifejackets are under their seats,” Jack informed ‘Big O’.

Hatchet Jack switched on the inside lights, as ‘Big O’ jostled his way toward Suwat. “Get your gold secured inside your packs and cinch them tightly.”

That instruction proved to be unnecessary; because they all had accomplished that pleasant task long ago.

‘Big O’ continued shouting instructions. “Take only the weapon you can carry on your back—you’ll have to leave the rest. Put on the lifejackets that are under your seats.”

Bill, who had been silently hanging on with all his strength, finally came to life. He attached a nylon strap to a handrail above his head, using it for support. Helping the men to open the storage compartment under their seats, he began distributing vests and assisting each man to put the bulky vest over his already bulky clothing—including over the rifle strapped to his back.

Suwat, following Bill’s lead, doing the same thing on the opposite side of the plane. The bucking-like movement of the plane made their task extremely difficult. None of them dared think about the step ahead of them.

‘Big O’ thanked heaven above that it was still daylight—a nighttime operation like this would border on the impossible. He certainly didn’t want to lose anyone into the ocean. His mind jumped to their future landing in Hong Kong. “I hope the weather calms down there.”

Checking each man’s straps, ‘Big O’ made his way to the side door. “Where’s that whaling boat?” he yelled to Jack.

“Circling behind the plane as we speak…I’m cutting the engines in ten seconds.” Jack answered. Then he adjusted his position in the waves, looked over his instrument panel and flicked the switch.

Without the roar of the engines the crashing waves became more obvious—especially as ‘Big O’ cracked the door slightly open.

“Get set men. Bill and I will clip on two safety straps for each man and send you down the ladder one man at a time. (Bill didn’t know the procedure, but ‘Big O’ had done it all before.) When you get into the boat, disconnect the straps…any questions?”

Each man understood, probably having done it before also, and braced himself by tightening his muscles. He began a psyche routine as if going into battle.

Bill positioned himself on one side of the door, strapped to the plane; while ‘Big O’ stood on the other side. “The boat is under the plane!” ‘Big O’ exclaimed as he slid the door open…a fierce gust of wind filled the plane.

“Here we go,” Bill shouted while pushing the ladder through the doorway.

A man in the boat snagged the ladder with a gaffing hook and attached it to the boat.

“Okay, number one,” ‘Big O’ yelled above the noise, motioning for Ray.

Ray stumbled toward the door, while both Bill and ‘Big O’ grabbed him and attached the safety lines. Then Ray crawled backwards out the door, hanging tightly to the ladder. The firm feel of the safety lines gave him enough confidence to leave the safety of the plane and venture down the ladder…one rung at a time, until he felt contact of hands on his boots. Someone then grabbed his legs and lifejacket, pulling him to the bottom of the boat. He rolled into a ball and unclipped the safety straps.

Bill and ‘Big O’ retrieved the straps as they flapped in the wind. The next man and all eleven successfully maneuvered to the boat—Suwat being the last. There was no time for good-byes…only a slap on the back, and Suwat joined his team.

The men waved as the boatmen released the tether, and the oarsmen began the arduous task of rowing away from the plane.

‘Big O’ closed the door and went to the cabin, collapsing onto the seat. Bill just collapsed on the floor for a few minutes, but the rough ride gave no relief; so he crawled to his seat.

Hatchet Jack was the first to speak. “Way to go, men. You’ve done it again.”

‘Big O’ could only shake his head. “Wait for them to clear the plane, and then start the engines; but I want to wait for them to reach the “Magi” to be sure they made it.”

Both men fixed their gaze on the boat fighting the ocean as it slowly pulled away from the plane. Jack started the engines when they were at a safe distance and once again gained a degree of control over the beast.

Finally the boat reached the “Magi” and they watched the men struggle up the ladder. Two men managed to roll onto the deck of the “Magi” without difficulty but the third slipped and stepped directly on the head of the man below him—catching himself in time to hang on, but causing a chain of events until the bottom man fell into the ocean.

“Oh man, he fell off the ladder,” ‘Big O’ shouted, and Bill rushed forward to see the accident.

Watching the horrifying scene from the plane, the three men to stared in disbelief; using all the body language they could muster to help the boatmen retrieve a fellow comrade. The boatmen jumped into action and were well equipped for such emergencies. The man in the water was instantly captured and pulled tightly against the boat with a huge gaffing hook, and ‘Big O’ watched as the man was pulled back into the boat.

Bill shook his head while expressing relief, “I can’t take much more excitement,” and returned to his seat. There he tried to clear his emotions.

‘Big O’ turned to Jack and commented, “That’s about it for me too. We might as well go. There’s nothing we can do to help anyway, and it looks like they’ll make it okay.”

Hatchet Jack reacted promptly and pushed the throttle forward, turning the “Cat” around. Anxious to be in the air again, but not anxious to hit the waves, he gritted his teeth and began the takeoff.

“This loud banging noise would be impossible to describe,” Bill thought. “It’s probably like going over Niagara Falls in a tin barrel.” After what seemed like a lifetime the plane eventually lifted from the water and climbed into the smooth quiet sky.

Heading southeast, Jack set his course to circle Vietnam; and while smiling at the Philippine Islands, pressing onward to Hong Kong—five and a half hours away. The next landing will be in the dark, but the China Sea was normally calm.

“Do you guys want some of this food that Luis the chef prepared?” Bill asked.

“Throw me a couple bags of sandwiches.”

“You’ve got it,” Bill replied and tossed them into the hands of ‘Big O’.

Doug received confirmation from ‘Big O’ that they were headed for Hong Kong. “Ken should have received the same message, but I’d like to talk to him anyway.”

Dialing Ken through the ST, Doug listened as the connection linked and rang.

“Hello.”

“Hi Ken. How’s everything on Saipan?”

“Nothing much is happening on the island, but I’m following ‘Big O’. It looks like they will be coming my way soon.”

“Well, they’re on their way to Hong Kong now; so if all goes well with their refueling, they will wait there nine hours before flying toward Saipan…allowing them to land near Tinian in the cover of darkness around eight o’clock tomorrow evening.”

“I’m ready to meet them a mile off the northwest side of Tinian.”

“Has he given you the coordinates?”

“He only gave me the approximate coordinates: North one forty-five, zero three minutes and East fifteen degrees zero five minutes.”

“What boat will you use?” Doug asked, knowing that Ken would cover all the bases.

Ken answered with a sense of pride, “I rented a boat from your old friend, Ben Concepcione.”

“That’s great. You’ll have no problem with that boat…to bad we can’t use Ben, but we can’t trust anyone outside our circle. Can a banker handle a motor boat in the Pacific Ocean at night?”

“Don’t remind me. I’m nervous enough. I suppose you receive the same tracking information from ‘Big O’ that I receive,” Ken said, with a questioning inflection.

“Yes, it’s great to be connected through these global units. Well, keep in touch. I’ll be at Guam in about six days—I’m on a slow boat from China.”

“Okay, I’ll be happy when we are all together with our Infants and Orphans.”

Doug said good-bye and closed the switch.

Hatchet Jack maintained a steady course around Vietnam—twenty-five miles off shore. The weather was cooperating with a clear star-studded night. It looked like they would have a smooth landing, as they turned northeast toward their next destination. When things go right they seem to continue.

‘Big O’ periodically sent a coordinates message to Ken and Doug as they ambled along. The hours passed as Bill caught some shuteye and ‘Big O’ rested occasionally. Hatchet Jack continued to grind—he’d rest later.

Faint lights began to twinkle on the earth below at a great distance away. Jack disturbed ‘Big O’ to have him check their coordinates. “Slightly east, but if you turn directly north, we’ll go right down the pike.”

Jack made the adjustment and flew toward a blinking laser light. Being more sophisticated than the other ports they had visited, they required landing verification and vital information; so Jack waited until they were thirty kilometers from port and radioed the tower.

The controller accepted his request to land at the seaport for refueling. His approach heading given, Jack locked onto the heading and began a gradual descent. The time was around midnight; so the landing would be mostly by instrument, but the tower continued to guide him. He was grateful for the help—landing a seaplane was much different than a land aircraft—there were no boats on the land.

The wind velocity was negligible; so the sea should be calm. Inching toward the sea, Hatchet Jack shouted to the sleeping Bill, “Hey Bill, are you buckled up?”

Bill, acting as if he had been awake for the entire trip, answered, “You bet.”

“Okay, brace yourself…The water is coming up fast,” and suddenly the touchdown occurred with the usual noise—not nearly as loud as before, however.

As the plane taxied forward, Jack couldn’t help but whisper, “We’ve defied him again.”—It was just part of his routine. Several hundred yards from the dock, he caught the signal of a tugboat. Jack knew that they planned to pull the plane to shore for safety reasons; so he killed the engines and waited.

The tugboat approached slowly until it reached the nose of the “Cat”. With a long flexible boon, the seaman hooked to the plane and moved away until the tether was taut.

Fortune finally smiled on the “Cat”…the sea was calm, as they moved to the seaport. Once again the huge plane was positioned for refueling, but the process would not begin until the proper papers were presented to the inspector—with the appropriate bribe, of course.

The men in the tugboat secured the plane to the dock and manipulated a floatation dock to the area below the plane and waited for its pilot to drop the ladder. The process was nearly the same everywhere in the world, except the fees differed.

Hatchet Jack lowered the ladder and climbed down to make friends with the inspector. “We are on our way to Guam then back to the Philippines,” he explained while handing him his papers.

The inspector reviewed the papers as if scrutinizing them thoroughly, but he only determined the maximum docking fee he could charge. “The fee is fifty dollars US,” he said after a few minutes.

“Most reasonable,” Jack said, handing him seventy-five. “Extra for an eight hour stay.”

The inspector accepted the money without a sign of thanks and hand-signaled a man in the fuel shack. That was all it took for good service.

Fuel lines were attached and purple gasoline began to flow. Jack moved to the cashier window to await the charges.

Gasoline prices were beginning to climb out of sight. “I’ll be glad to return this monster,” he jokingly said to the cashier, as the meter continued to spin. The cashier ignored his humor, and finally presented him with the bill.

“I’ll get this guy to smile yet,” Jack told himself. He counted off the correct amount of money and set an extra ten-dollar bill to the side. As he turned to walk away, he heard a “Thank you” and turned to see a smiling face. “It works every time,” he thought.

“Can I have the tug move me down the dock?” Jack asked the inspector.

A few more hand signals and the process began. Jack had to rush to get into the plane. “That’s all she wrote,” Jack said to ‘Big O’.

“No questions?”

“None, only sixty bucks.”

‘Big O’ smiled and turned to Bill, “Any more food back there?”

“A few scraps…I’ve been chowing down for a thousand miles,” Bill joked and tossed a sack.

“That chef is okay in my book,” ‘Big O’ commented, as his nostrils caught the scent of food. “What was his name again?”

“Luis the chef,” Bill replied.

Doug could tell the time when Hatchet Jack arrived in Hong Kong by his signaled messages. The ‘sleek, high-speed yacht’, as Doug humorously called it, neared its first rendezvous point, Singapore. “What will we run into this time,” he wondered.

Joining Capt. Scott in the pilothouse, he reviewed the map near the steering wheel. “Where are we?” Doug asked.

“Right here,” Capt. Scott indicated with his finger. “I’m getting ready to contact the dock at Singapore.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem, should there?”

“No, it will be routine.”

Doug reached for his pencil to recalculate the time from Palawan to mentally picture the condition of the men in the cave. Those poor suckers will never want to check another yacht as long as they live. They won’t be released before tomorrow noon.

Doug then sent a GSC signal to Teofisto. A reply returned shortly—they were still at the cave. “I hope those men are alive. Surely, Teofisto gave them food and water.”

Capt. Scott continued steering his yacht around the Singapore peninsula, heading for the city of Singapore. His detailed maps presented exact directions for entering the port. As he viewed the dock coming closer he lit his rotating signal light and proceeded slowly—visibility was difficult because of the darkness of night.

There were many boats in the harbor, and dozens more at the dock. Capt. Scott continued to guide his craft toward the docking area. Finally, a signal light flashed a message, and a red light blinked on the dock.

Capt. Scott slowly glided toward the red light and pulled broadside to the dock. Dockhands rushed to secure the yacht, and an inspector made his appearance.

“You want to refuel, yes?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Capt. Scott replied. “We are on our way to Australia.” –lying to cover his intended route while handing him papers.

“Very well and you pay how?”

“US dollars.”

“Come this way.” Then the inspector turned and walked in the direction of a small office—Capt. Scott followed.

Inside the office, under a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling on a frayed wire, the inspector sat at a desk and motioned for Capt. Scott to sit in a chair. The inspector studied the papers he had just received and asked, “Are you a tourist?”

Capt. Scott continued his charade, “Not really, I conduct tours for a living. My clients have asked me to check Hong Kong Jakarta and Australia.”

“And…what about Singapore?”

“I have been here before on a trip from Bangkok. It is good for tourists.”

“How long will you remain in Singapore?” (It was obvious he was doing his best to promote more business to his port.)

“Only to refuel,” Capt. Scott answered. “Is there a port tax?”

“Yes, two hundred fifty.”

“Is that Singapore dollars?” Capt. Scott asked with one eyebrow raised.

The inspector smiled slightly. “Yes, one hundred thirty US.”

Capt. Scott, anxious to leave, stood and counted the money. “Is that correct?”

The inspector cooperated by standing; “I’ll order the fuel now.”

Not wanting to prolong the conversation Capt. Scott left the office and returned to his boat, giving a thumbs-up to Doug.

The fuel lines were inserted and slowly the huge tanks filled. Finally, a red light flashed above a cashiers window, and Capt. Scott paid the bill while the dockhands held the yacht’s ropes.

“We’re on our way,” Capt. Scott stated as he turned the ignition. “I’ve never been to Singapore and never want come again. There’s something about this place that doesn’t feel right.”

Doug agreed, “I’ve bypassed Singapore several times. I feel the same way. I’m anxious to get down the road.”

The yacht began pulling away from the dock; while Doug slid next to the maps to study their plotted route. It looked tediously long as he measured each four hundred miles with a caliper. “That’s a day to Jakarta and four and a half days on to Guam…do we have to stop at Jakarta.”

“Well, figure it out for me; we’re good for four thousand miles.”

Doug carefully measured again. “Looks good to me…Guam is only a sho…rt twenty-eight hundred.” He shook his head in dismay.

Teofisto and Mario still detained the patrol officers inside the cave. The prisoners lay on the dirt floor curled in fetal positions—looking barely alive. Daylight was beginning to lighten the horizon, and Teofisto leaned toward Mario and nudged him.

“Hey, what?” the sleepy Mario moaned.

“This morning is the time to let the officers go,” Teofisto explained.

“I know, but you never said how to do it.”

“I’ve been thinking since midnight. They won’t be able to hardly walk…Let’s get them out to see how they do. I’d like to force them down the trail toward Puerto Princesa until they are away from the Chief’s village and leave them on their own. It will take them all day or more to reach the town.”

“We should cover our faces; so they don’t know us.”

“Here’s the cloths we used before,” Teofisto said, pulling two soiled cloths from under his shirt and handing one to Mario.

After putting the cloths around their faces, Teofisto told Mario, “Uncover the opening.”

Mario removed the brush that enclosed the opening and shouted in Tagalog for the men to come out.

The shouts disturbed the men inside, but they failed to react at the first call. “Come on, we’re moving you. Wake up…get up…hey, do you hear me? Get up or I’ll shoot.” Teofisto yelled as loudly as he could then he listened. Muffled sounds came from inside—at least showing signs of life.

Mario turned on a flashlight—shining it inside the cave. He could see men rolling over trying to shield their eyes. “Hey, it’s time to come back to life. Start crawling to me or I’ll shoot you.”

The strongest and most coherent man began shaking and helping his companions into a sitting position. He rubbed and massaged their legs saying, “Wake up. It’s time to go. They are setting us free…I hope.” He prodded them awake, and gradually they could crawl. While keeping their heads down, they made their way toward the light.

“That’s right…keep coming.”

The emotionally and physically beaten officers exerted all their strength to break free of their confinement. Exhausted, the first man lay on the ground, trying to help the others.

Teofisto felt sorry for the poor souls, but realized it was only part of his assignment. He had protected those who had paid him and those who were helping his uncle Pedro.

Mario offered water to the men as Teofisto stood a few feet away with his rifle pointing in their direction. Gradually Mario could see strength coming to the men. “I think they can walk,” he said.

“Stand up now,” Teofisto commanded and watched them stagger to their feet. Waiting for a few minutes, he then told them to walk—pointing down a narrow trail. The men obeyed in spite of their infirmities—wobbly at first, and steadier as their muscles stretched back to normal.

The officers staggered along the trail at a slow pace for nearly forty-five minutes then fell to the ground to rest. When they looked behind them, their guards had disappeared. Teofisto and Mario had gradually lagged further back until the opportune time, and then hidden in the brush along the trail.

The men, feeling renewed energy from being free, arose to their feet and continued onward.

Teofisto and Mario traversed around the officers in a wide circle and located the trail several hundred feet ahead of them. Moving at a rapid pace they soon left them far behind. “They’ll be okay,” Mario said, as if reassuring himself.

At eight O’clock in the morning in Hong Kong, the men on the “Cat” began preparing for their departure. Ten hours to Tinian would place them there in the evening, just before dark.

Hatchet Jack started the engines of the “Cat” and his passengers braced for takeoff. Heading directly into the sun, the plane, as if stretching for the sky, left the water and climbed rapidly.

As the plane leveled off, ‘Big O’ signaled both Ken and Doug. They were elated to receive the message. The last stage of the relocation of the Orphans was almost history. They, of course, had no way of knowing of a life-threatening danger that lay ahead.

‘Big O’ went back to Bill and told him to go back to the chest of Infants, carefully open it and place about one-fourth of them inside one of the packsacks. Knowing they would have to unload it from the plane at Tinian, his thinking was to lighten the weight of the chest.

Bill knelt beside the chest holding his flashlight in his mouth, and began unwrapping the strongly bound container. The weight of the chest and its contents still surprised him when he attempted to move it. “The value of these little Infants could finance several of the major corporations of the world,” he thought, while uncovering the top of the chest and studying the latch and hinges—they appeared to be made of brass with intricate engravings. Doug had broken the latch when they found it in the cave, and later secured it with a nylon cord.

After untying the cord, Bill raised the lid and gazed upon the glistening fortune. “If I drop one of these little devils, it’ll be like losing ten grand,” he whispered under his breath. He then demonstrated more caution than usual, positioning the opening of the packsack around the end of the chest and transferring a dozen or so Infants at a time…moving methodically and slowly. Eventually, after deciding that enough of the weight had been distributed, he pulled the drawstring of the packsack and tied it securely. The chest, likewise, was closed and firmly bound inside the net.

Bill returned to his seat and placed the Infants on his lap. He pushed his arms through the straps and pulled the cinch tightly, bringing the pack snugly against his chest. Patting the Infants as if they were alive, he said, “We’ll be together until the end, my friends.”

‘Big O’ continued studying the map that laid across his lap. Checking their position with his GSC, he added a mark on the map every fifteen minutes. They were making a wide swing around the west side of the Northern Marianas to avoid detection by the United States supply ships harbored off the coast of Saipan. Ken would be waiting west of Tinian near fifteen degrees latitude; so the “Cat” must remain west of one forty-five degrees fifty minutes longitude until crossing the fifteen-degree latitude…then approach Tinian from the south. Hatchet Jack held a straight course

Ken anticipated his reunion with team members and spent the day operating his rented boat. He stocked the boat with enough food to last three days on Tinian; and began getting used to the boat on the ocean. He drove it twice around Managaha, a small uninhabited island…composed mainly of a sandy beach surrounding a quarter mile square of thick brush and palm trees. Ken recognized that it provided an ideal retreat for sunbathing tourists. As he watched swimmers and snorkel divers enjoying the warm sun, he circled the island and decided to join the tourists on the beach.

Pulling next to a loose fitted wooden dock, he coasted along until reaching a three-step ladder. He grasped the ladder and climbed it holding a rope attached to the side of the boat. After tying the boat to the dock, he stood looking around the seascape while the warm sea breeze ruffled his pure white hair.

Children ran on the white sand chasing a beach ball while parents watched and older siblings scurried in and out of the warm water—crystal clear and always around seventy degrees. The atmosphere temperature is a constant seventy-five to eighty degrees, presenting an ideal environment for fun.

Ken removed his shoes and walked in the soft sand toward two people who were adjusting their scuba gear. He smiled, and they waved a friendly greeting and walked backwards into the water; then falling backwards, they disappeared beneath the water. Ken had never attempted underwater activities but enjoyed seeing others having fun. Looking around, he came to the realization that he was the only white guy on the beach; in fact everyone else was Japanese. He had known before, but now observed the reality that Saipan was being promoted in Japan as a nearby, inexpensive holiday site.

After walking the length of the island and back, he decided to make a run to Tinian Island and locate a site for hiding the Orphans; so he returned to his boat. The five-mile ride across open ocean would seem routine to islanders, but Ken was extremely nervous—especially after leaving the sand bar where the waves began breaking at the reef. Even on a calm day the breaking waves could reach three feet for a series of four to six consecutive waves.

Ken could see each breaker coming toward him and felt the boat rise in the swell ahead of the break, then white water as the crest collapsed, splashing water into the boat. After crossing the first wave, Ken wanted to stop, but he had past the point of return. Each of the next several waves decreased in size, but not in intensity. He cinched his safety jacket tighter and gripped the steering wheel with all his might until finally reaching the outer sea and calmer water. He was thankful for surviving an unexpected ordeal. The breaking waves at Tinian seemed much calmer than those of Saipan—due to the barrier reef.

He glided into the safety of smooth water ten to fifteen feet over the sandbar which extended two hundred yards. Using his GSC unit he navigated south to about 15:04 N and proceeded toward shore. “That’s enough of the sea for me,” he said aloud. “I’ll spend the rest of the day on this beach.”

He trolled toward the beach until the water was only knee-deep and slid out of the boat and tugged its bow upon the beach. Tossing out a small anchor, he proceeded to drive a stake into the sand for his tie-rope. He fell to the sand in a prone position and lay on his back for over a half hour.

Herman Arp, Doug’s friend living in Saipan, had explained to Ken about the hundreds of small underground bunkers on the island of Tinian that had been constructed by the Japanese during World War II. Ken determined that he would locate a bunker for temporary storage of the Orphans. He walked along the beach close to the jungle for about three hundred yards looking for signs of a raised earthy mound, but he soon realized that the bunkers were well hidden, after forty-five years of weather and jungle growth.

He spotted an elevated sandy area just inside the tree line but wasn’t able to find an opening or underground tunnel.

Returning to his boat, Ken sat near the motor mount and carefully studied the area along the shore. His attention was drawn to an area straight ahead, only a few dozen feet away. He walked to it and turned to look at the ocean. “This would be an ideal spot from which to observe the entire bay,” he thought as he began removing some brush that covered the mound.

Behind the mound was an indented depression—possibly an opening—so he knelt and dug into the sand with his hands. Just as he wished for a shovel, the sand ahead of him collapsed and shifted down a short tunnel, and a small room opened into his view.

Knowing that he had found a concrete bunker, he moved to the ocean side, and searched for another opening. Ken persisted until his fingers located concrete, and eventually he found the slit opening that he wanted. Picking up a broken tree branch, he dug at the sand and debris that filled the slit until it broke free into the interior cavity—light flooded the area.

Going back to the tunnel opening, he enlarged the space to accommodate his middle-age body and squeezed into the bunker. He worked in a kneeling position pushing sand out of the bunker and up the tunnel. After an hour or so, he sat, fully fatigued and admired his effort. “Looks good enough to me…I hope the Orphans like their new home,” he said, jokingly.

The Philippine government continued their search-and-rescue efforts, searching for the missing patrol boat. Daily flights around the periphery of the islands had failed to contact the boat, even though an automatic homing signal should be broadcasting. If the government were better organized, they might have located the boat bobbing in the ocean twenty-five miles from shore. The thought process of the government officials, however, was to look first in the areas where the boat routinely patrolled. Unknown to them, their lost officers would surface some time the next day.

The Filipino patrol officers would have wished that they had never seen the yacht or the Orphans, if they were capable of thinking to that depth. Their lives now depended on their survival training, and their only concern was that of staying alive. One of the men had collapsed and was being carried by two men, and the fourth man led the way through a narrow jungle trail.

The hike to Princesa would have normally taken six to eight hours under most circumstances, but the officers traveled at half the normal time. They found plants with moisture in the stalks for water and sufficient legumes for sustenance. During one of the rest periods, the man leading the way sat next to the other three and asked, “Shall we prepare to spend the night here?”

Although it was only late afternoon, all three men, including the incapacitated one, nodded with half closed eyes. Fatigue overcame them as they lay on the hot earth. Humidity settled upon the tired men with a physical weight. “How much further do you think we have?”

“I have no idea. We only have to go on,” came the unwelcome response.

The man who had collapsed seemed to be recovering slightly and sleep would probably restore his strength. At least they would be out of the confining cave and under the stars…even the hard ground felt more comfortable. Early evening arrived with the four patrol officers sleeping soundly.

Ken stood by his boat, still on the beach of Tinian—his GSC in-hand. He watched the screen as the “Cat” continued toward the designated fifteen-degree latitude. At their rate of travel, they would arrive from the south within forty-five minutes. He sent an E-mail message to ‘Big O’ explaining that he was prepared to meet them and had a temporary home for the Orphans.

An immediate response caused a wave of excitement to stimulate his senses. “We’re circling around the loop. Watch for us to come in low, inside the breaking water—we see the island…can you hear the plane?’

Ken answered, “Not yet, but I’m listening.” “It is hard to believe that the Orphans and Infants are just a few minutes away,” he thought. “I have wondered if they really existed many times, but here they come.”

He climbed into the boat and listened intently. A faint hum caught his attention. He tried blocking out the lapping waves of the ocean and strained to hear a new sound. Suddenly, as if the wind shifted, there it was—an airplane coming in low. The timing was well planned because the evening shadows were just spreading across the ocean.

With a sound of fury, the “Cat” made its appearance. Headlights came on for the landing but went dark as soon as it began to taxi. Ken flashed his flashlight five times and received a mimicking signal from the plane. He started the motor in his boat and waited for the plane to head for shore.

Soon the plane pulled within thirty feet of the island and its huge engines stopped. Ken began navigating the boat to the plane. Looking up from under the massive wing sent an agitated feeling through him. “I might be getting too old for these Goodwin Brothers,” he thought.

The plane door opened and Bill’s grinning face came into the opening. “Hey, look what we’ve found out here in the mid Pacific,” he shouted. “How ya’ doing?”

“I was starting to get bored until now.”

“Wait ‘til you see what we brought you…you won’t ever be bored again.”

Then ‘Big O’ made his appearance, “Hi Ken. Is everything okay here in the Marianas?”

“Everything seems to be in good order. I learned that I’m not a born sailor however.”

“Well, it has to grow on you. We have our work cut out for the rest of the night. Catch this ladder and use the bottom clamp to secure it to the boat.” Then ‘Big O’ lowered the heavy ladder.

Ken managed to grasp the ladder and attach it to the boat. “Shall I come up now?” he asked.

“Good idea come up and we’ll discuss our next move,” ‘Big O’ responded.

Ken climbed the unsteady ladder and was helped inside the plane. “Good to see you guys again,” he said with an energetic handshake.

‘Big O’ introduced Ken to Hatchet Jack, but Ken’s real interest was the gold.

“It’s been a long road to get here,” Bill stated with exhilaration, while he noticed Ken looking around. “The trip isn’t over, but this is a big step. Come over here and see what all our blood, sweat and tears have accomplished.”

Guiding Ken to the treasure was like taking a kid to a candy store. Ken was speechless for the first time. His hand reached forward as his fingers touched his first Orphan. He walked around the stack of gold bars twice, as if calculating his wealth.

Hatchet Jack remained at the door opening of the plane; so Bill was able to quietly tell Ken not to discuss the Infants—the less discussion about them, the safer they would be. Bill motioned the light at the chest and casually said, “Infants.”

“Hold it, men! We have company,” Hatchet Jack shouted from the doorway.

A bright spotlight shone through the door opening, and Hatchet Jack waved at the light and said to his companions, with an unbelieving tone of voice, “It looks like some kind of a submarine.”

Ken rushed to the doorway and looked down. A wave of relief shone on his face. “That’s just a tourist underwater sub…probably full of curious tourists headed for Saipan.”

‘Big O’ began giving orders to protect themselves. “Ken, can you go over to the sub and tell them the plane is a restored World War II plane on a test flight?”

Ken didn’t respond but began climbing down the ladder. Bill stated that he wanted to go with Ken for moral support; so he followed Ken into the boat and unlatched the ladder.

Ken started the motor and steered it to the sub. As he pulled next to the sub, he could see faces in all the port windows, tourists no doubt. Then he recognized a familiar face that popped up from the surface door—it was Tosh, the owner and operator of the Saipan Underwater Company.

“Hi Tosh. It’s me, Ken.”

Tosh smiled his broad grin and answered back, “Hey, Ken what is this big plane.”

“It is a restored World War II amphibious plane from the Philippines,” Ken answered.

“Don’t tell him too much,” Bill warned.

“Tell your customers on the sub that it is on a test flight and is leaving in a few minutes,” Ken explained to Tosh.

“Vely interesting, Mr. Ken. We have to go now. I have a nighttime underwater tour to complete. We were only wondering.”

Ken began turning his boat toward the plane and shouted; “I’ll see you tomorrow in Saipan.”

Tosh replied, “Okay, Mr. Ken,” and disappeared down the hatch.

As they returned to the plane, Bill commented, “That had me worried for a few minutes.”

“He won’t cause any trouble,” Ken reassured him, as the sub disappeared into the water.

“Now we have to hurry and get the Orphans off the plane.

“Infants too!” Ken added with a laugh.

“Infants too,” Bill agreed.

“Our first effort must be to empty the plane so Jack can leave before the sun comes up,” ‘Big O’ said, knowing how difficult the task would be in the dark. “Let’s just take it easy and plan to work all night.”

Bill moved to the Orphans and began removing the tie-downs. “What about the Infants?” Bill asked.

‘Big O’ answered, “Do them last…Jack if any crap happens, I want you to get out of here fast, without waiting for us. Go to Guam, taking the Infants with you, and connect with Doug.

“Right on, boss,” Hatchet Jack responded.

‘Big O’ continued directing the operation. “Bill use the same method as before—fill a packsack with two Orphans and pass it to Jack. I’ll wait on the ladder, and Ken you stay in the boat. Jack you can lower the Orphans to me, and I’ll get them to Ken…about twenty-five Orphans per load on the this boat would be safest—that will be about three hundred pounds; then three of us can be on the boat.”

Bill continued to work while listening and soon had the stack of beautiful Orphans ready to move. He placed two in a packsack, and everyone assumed his position.

Jack slid the packsack to the doorway and flicked a switch that turned on a spot light to the boat. He then stepped down a few steps on the ladder and lowered the Orphans to ‘Big O’; who in turn gave them to Ken. Ken emptied the packsack and returned it up the ladder. The process was slow and tedious, but safe and proven. After twenty minutes or so, Bill and ‘Big O’ joined Ken to move their first load ashore.

At the beach, each man had to step into water up to his knees and form a chain to the beach. They passed each Orphan hand over hand to the sandy beach and stacked it temporarily. Fortunately, the water felt like warm bath water—thanks for small blessings.

After moving the Orphans to the beach, the men carried them to the opening of the bunker and formed the beginning of another stack. “We’ll get everything this far while it’s still dark,” ‘Big O’ stated while inspecting each bar.

Bill added, “We’d better hurry. By the time we get back to the plane nearly an hour will have passed. Dawn will be here before we know it.”

They traveled quickly to the boat and then to the plane. The procedure was repeated many times until only the Infants and weapons remained.

“Look’s like zero hour,” Bill commented as he inspected the interior of the “Cat”.

‘Big O’ began gathering the armament, placing it near the doorway. “We ought to get this stuff out of sight as quickly as possible.”

Bill moved to his assistance and slung two rifles over each shoulder. He worked his way to the center of the ladder and handed them to Ken, then stepped up to receive more from ‘Big O’.

After the weapons were all on the boat, except for Hatchet Jack’s personal rifle and handgun, ‘Big O’ asked Bill and Ken to take the weapons to shore.

They left and ‘Big O’ began giving Jack what he thought would be final instructions. “I’d like you to wait in Guam until Doug arrives and assures you that everything is okay. Pedro wants to come to Saipan. He’s been out of the loop for so long that he needs reassuring that we are still including him in our goals. Doug has instructed him to be absolutely sure he isn’t followed from the Philippines, and I have confidence in him but still feel nervous for some reason. Pedro is to meet Doug and fly with him to Saipan on commercial jet while Capt. Scott returns to the U.S..”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Well, it will serve as a basic plan for now.”

Ken’s boat sounded below the plane and they heard the ladder being attached. Bill showed up at the doorway with renewed energy.

“What made you so full of life?” ‘Big O’ asked.

“I guess it’s the thought of success,” Bill said with beaming energy.

“Okay, let’s wrap it up,” ‘Big O’ stated, as he pulled the chest to the doorway. The heavy chest had been lightened by Bill’s transfer of Infants, and the ocean movement was only a gentle rocking action; so the tension was much less than before.

Bill secured the safety strap around the chest to support the lid and give them added control.

‘Big O’ climbed down to the boat with Ken; while Bill secured himself on the sixth rung of the ladder. Jack held the safety strap looped through an eyehook and braced for the weight of the chest, while sliding it through the doorway.

Bill then balanced the chest as he carefully stepped down one rung at a time. He finally lowered into the waiting hands of ‘Big O’ and Ken. “That does it,” Bill said, still breathing heavily. “I must have held my breath all the way down the ladder.”

“Well all we need now is your packsack, and we’re completely unloaded,” ‘Big O’ remarked as Bill hurried up the ladder.

As he returned to the boat, Bill had the packsack secured to his chest. ‘Big O’ unattached the ladder and waved to Hatchet Jack. “ Get this thing out of here…see you later…wait until we reach shore.”

Hatchet Jack simply gave a thumbs up and closed the door.

The boat headed for shore; and as soon as the boat touched the beach, the roar of plane engines vibrated the early dawn, and the “Cat” began to move. Demonstrating its extreme power once again, it raced across the water and lifted into the faint blue sky.

“We barely made it,” Ken commented as the three men stood looking upward.

‘Big O’ spoke next as fatigue began to hit. “The arms need to be out of sight immediately, then the Infants.”

“I’ll cover the Orphans with brush while you two take care of that,” Ken said.

Bill and ‘Big O’ stepped into the water and lifted the chest from the boat. Bill still wore his packsack, but managed to carry his share of the load. They took the chest to the opening of the bunker and set it on the sand.

Bill unhooked the packsack and slid it to his feet. “I’ve about had it. Where can a guy get some food around here?”

‘Big O’ laughed, “Say what? Can’t you see the McDonalds down the beach?”

Bill continued the charade, “You’re hallucinating man.”

Just then, Ken came by them dragging more brush. “You two are cracking up. Could it be that you’re getting tired?” he said jokingly.

Bill came right back, “Tired, hungry, sleepy and dreaming of my hot tub in Nevada.”

“I’ve forgotten that there was a Nevada,” ‘Big O’ added. “We need rest.”

The early morning sky that was coming to life as Bill said “I’m going inside the bunker. You guys slide whatever you want down to me; then I’m grabbing some shuteye.”

Ken added, “Both of you guys had better sleep a while. I’ll stay awake and sit guard.”

“Sounds good.”

Bill crawled inside and pushed the weapons and Infants to the side of the bunker as they came down the entryway. When the work was completed, he remained inside the bunker and cocked a loaded rifle. “They’ll never take me alive,” he joked and curled up, drifting into a vibrating sleep.

‘Big O’ likewise fell asleep on the sand outside the bunker, and Ken sat leaning against a palm tree and daydreaming about the wealth that he had just handled. Ken had seen the gold bars for the first time today, and hadn’t yet had the experience of touching the billion dollar Infants; still he couldn’t help but fantasize on what his share of the money would buy—so what if a car cost fifty or a hundred thousand…peanuts. “Maybe I’ll buy a new house in Malibu. I wouldn’t mind upgrading my Roserito Beach home; but then again, I can’t trust the Mexican government…yes Malibu would be best. My wife and I can tour Europe again…I need a house in Portugal too. In fact, Portugal would be the place to invest a lot of money. I’m glad I still have my bank and connections in Switzerland and Turks and Caicos. This is going to be fun.”

The Patrol Officers back on the island of Palawan awoke as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees. All four of them stood and rubbed their eyes and hair, trying to generate some energy. The long night’s sleep had been more like a prolonged nightmare, as negative visions of their horrendous experience danced through their minds.

Now they realized their duty and desire for revenge—they must get to Princesa Puerto today and report. They began their trek with thoughts of food and anger pulling them onward.

Early in their travels, they came to a clearing with evidence of dead bodies and brutal murder. (Unknown to them, but they had stumbled upon the rebel forces slaughtered by Suwat’s force.) All that was left were bones and a few fragments of canvas from tents—the elements of the jungle had stripped the scene clean. They quickly avoided close contact with the evil scene, believing that bad spirits lurked nearby death.

Their pace increased, and within a few hours—some time around noon, they arrived at the former base camp used by the Goodwin Brothers, composed of a cabin and a road leaving the camp. This was their first sign of civilization for many days. Searching the cabin, they found two cans of beans. A man punctured the cans with a sharp rock and passed them around to share the juice. Then, they managed to create a larger opening and sprinkled the beans into their cupped hands—devouring the contents.

Conversation among the officers was reduced to one or two words occasionally. It was as if they were trying to conserve strength. One of the men, apparently the chief officer, stood and began walking down the road. The others followed without being told.

Puerto Princesa was fifteen miles away, and the officers were moving at a two to three-mile an hour pace. It would probably be dark by the time they reached town, but at least they could make a report about the gold bars to their superiors.

Sheer will power drove them onward—their only thoughts were to survive. At long last, they stumbled into town, just after dusk. Their appearance must have been frightening because children and dogs ran away when they saw them. They startled a taxi driver parked at a curb. “Take us to police station,” they said, while climbing in the taxi.

The taxi driver looked with doubtful eyes to his right then over his shoulder.

“Government business,” someone said loudly. “This is an order…get out of here…now!”

The tires screeched all the way around the corner to the police station—three hundred yards away. The officers rushed from the taxi into the station. Showing his government badge to the desk clerk, the chief officer asked for a telephone with an open line. He was shown into a small office where he grabbed a telephone receiver and dialed.

The desk clerk watched from the front desk as the officer shouted then seriously settled into a conversation. Not knowing the circumstances he studied the other men as if they had been on a long drunken party.

Several minutes later, the man on the telephone motioned for his partners to come into the room and explained, “They—meaning their government agency—are sending a boat to take us to Manila for a report. We can shower in the police locker room and they will give us clean clothes.”

A telephone rang in a nearby office and the Chief of Police came quickly to them. “Follow me men. An ambulance and doctors are coming to help you. I have clean clothes for you.”

The fatigued officers were taken to the basement locker room for hot showers. There, they proceeded to rejuvenate their badly beaten bodies. The ambulance and doctors arrived with sirens blasting and rushed to the officers. They bandaged cuts and abrasions and disinfected multiple bruises. As they were treated, each officer repeated the same phrase, “We’re lucky to be alive.”

After several minutes, steaming rice and chicken gravy were delivered and the men ate heartily. By the time the officers had refreshed themselves; their message about the gold bars had flowed to the top of the government. President Aquino called an impromptu meeting with her cabinet. The message was like flicking a switch in the minds of the higher echelon government officials. Acquiring wealth was their principle goal and gold represented wealth.

Pres. Aquino issued a top priority order on the recovery and return of any gold taken illegally from the Philippines—locating the lost patrol boat took second priority. She ordered a jet airliner to immediately transfer the four patrol officers to the Malacanang Palace for interrogation.

Doug and Capt. Scott were nearly to Jakarta and decided not to refuel. They had told the port director at Singapore that their destination was Hong Kong to misdirect him and help create a smoke screen. Now, they would wend their way through the maze of islands and be close to New Guinea before breaking into the open sea toward Guam. Coming around New Guinea would place them about five hundred nautical miles from the southern tip of Mindanao, but they were convinced that the search for them would begin north of Luzon.

Doug continued giving regular reports of their position to ‘Big O’, feeling envious of their being in Tinian. “We should have gone with the plane in the first place,” he thought, but then remembered that they needed the yacht to transfer Orphans to the states.

The patrol officers arrived at the Manila airport and were rushed to the palace in a government limousine. The enjoyed the red-carpet treatment at first but feared their fate for loosing the gold and their boat.

The cabinet reconvened and sat around a huge oval table as the four officers were ushered into the huge room. They were seated at the head of the table with downcast eyes.

They looked up when President Aquino spoke. “Report to us everything that happened.”

Three of the men looked toward the main officer—making him the spokesman. He began slowly, “We have been held captive in a cave for many days…maybe five…by rebel forces, (Rebels were always blamed whenever the enemy was unknown.) Then he continued, “Americans and rebels are working together stealing gold. We caught them on a big yacht, but they overpowered us and took us captive.”

“How much gold?” the Secretary of Defense asked.

“Many kilos—we saw it”… all the officers nodded in agreement. “We arrested them, but we were only four against an army,” the spokesman exaggerated, with his cohorts agreeing with every word.

A voice from the far end of the table asked, “Where is your patrol boat?”

“It was hijacked and maybe destroyed.”

President Aquino then spoke, “We need to bring the stolen gold back to the Philippines. Where did the yacht go?”

“We were bound and blindfolded, but I heard it go northwest from Palawan.”

“Northwest?”

“Yes, maybe toward Thailand.”

A murmur of many voices erupted as the cabinet members discussed their ideas. Assignments were made and six men left the room—the search was about to begin, but fortunately for the Goodwin Brothers, it would begin in the wrong area.

President Aquino stood and approached the patrol officers who cringed with negative thoughts of punishment, but Aquino’s first words brought immediate relief. “You men are heroes. You are to be honored for your efforts to survive and bring us this important news. You will be taken to your homes for now, but will be presented a medal of honor at a celebration.”

She extended her hand and shook each man’s hand as he arose and bowed his head slightly. Their broad smile exhibited their relief and pride; but in their hearts, they would rather have a few gold bars.

The yacht passed Jakarta and began its final four-day trip to Guam. A storm had given Doug concern, but it passed quickly, and the sailing was smooth again with favorable weather reports.

Doug stood on the deck with the wind blowing in his face. Checking his GSC, he located his team—Hatchet Jack in Guam, Bill, Ken and ‘Big O’ were still at Tinian.

‘Big O’ kept the others working, but they all moved at a relaxed pace. Most of the Orphans were inside the bunker, and the rest were out of sight. Feeling no urgency, they worked only a few hours each day and spent the remaining time planning their future. The Infants had changed their thinking considerably. The heavy gold that had once felt so exciting was almost a burden to them. The small chest of diamonds was a thousand times more valuable that the entire stack of gold bullion.

That evening, Bill built a campfire on the beach and sat starring at the flames as Ken joined him. He looked toward Ken and asked a question that had been bothering him. “How can we turn our Infants into immediate cash?”

“We will have to do it in stages,” Ken answered. It will take several years actually. You can’t flood the market at one time with several billion dollars of diamonds.”

“That’s the point that bothers me.”

“Look at it this way, Bill,” Ken began a long dissertation. “You can’t spend that kind of money all at once anyway; so you don’t need it in one lump sum. I can get all the front money we need with a signature…using Orphans and Infants as collateral. That will give us the funds to proceed. I’ll have to establish several non-profit corporations out of Turks and Caicos and other places—including Saipan. In fact, each of us needs to establish residency in Saipan; so we can pay a legitimate income tax there instead of the United States. Saipan, being a commonwealth of the United States, has set up on of the most unique taxing systems in the world for U.S. citizens. If you source your income from a corporation in Saipan, you don’t have to declare it as income on your U.S. tax return.

“Doug told me about that, but I wasn’t sure it was legal.”

“It is completely legal,” Ken continued. “We still have to pay five percent, but that is better than fifty to seventy-five.”

Bill commented, “That’s the reason Doug registered our corporation here—The Worldwide Enterprises, Inc..”

“That is a good beginning. I will be a busy man for the next several years…We will need a dozen corporations.

Bill turned toward Ken and jokingly said, “I’m glad we’re not paying you by the hour.”

“It’s only lately that you could afford me,” Ken quipped.

‘Big O’ had been walking the beach and approached them. “What world problems are you two solving now?” he asked.

“We haven’t started on them yet,” Bill answered. “Our own keep multiplying.”

Ken, the stalwart one, interrupted, “We have no problems—only challenges.”

“Now that we have a fortune in our hands, it’s almost as much work taking care of it as it was getting it,” Bill commented.

Ken patted Bill’s shoulder and laughed. “That is the reason we call them Orphans and Infants. It is always easier to get them than to take care of them.”

Bill joined him in laughter. “I see what you mean…I’m going for a walk to enjoy this tropical island.” He then removed his shoes and stood while working his toes into the warm sand. “Agh, the simple things in life feel so good.”

“Especially when you are rich.”

“It hasn’t sunk in yet, I guess,” Bill said as he walked away. He looked up at the bright stars, and his thoughts flashed to Nellie. “I really miss that girl. It’s about time I settled down and raised a family…She probably thinks I’m mad at her because of that bad gold deal. I’ll make up with her some day,” he thought.

Neither Bill nor his other two “beach-bums” had the slightest premonition of the power wave of events that was rolling toward them.

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