Gold Buddha Historical Novel Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

The early morning activities began before dawn, four thirty to be exact. Doug awakened with a start as he heard Hatchet Jack pacing the floor. Jack had barely slept during the night because of his anxiety to get his hands on the controls of the Global Express.

Doug rushed to shave and pack before the others, then began reviewing and completing his check-off list. He contacted a twenty-four hour courier service and arranged to have money delivered to the girls and a limo service to pick them up at 7:00 a.m.. Everything was easily charged to his Bank of America debit card. “Might as well give them the rich and famous treatment,” he thought.

Conversation was minimal—each man had duties for the day and mentally rehearsed them in silence.

“Zero hour!” Doug announced as he headed for the door with his pack over one shoulder. By the time he reached the car, the front door of the apartment slammed behind four wide-eyed, adrenaline pumping, men. Each man threw his gear into the trunk of the rental and hurriedly climbed into the car. A new, and possibly the final, stage of the Gold Buddha Adventure began in the early morning darkness. Doug chose to drive, and the others slumped into the seats for the half-hour trip to Long Beach.

The traffic was sparse but beginning to increase by the time they arrived at Intercontinental Airways. Surprisingly, they pulled through the gate just ahead of the transport for the Sea/Land container that contained their photography equipment. “I’m surprised to see them this early,” Capt. Scott exclaimed.

Nobody replied to Capt. Scott’s comment as Doug stopped the car and walked back to the transport. He identified himself and gave them instructions to follow him to the sleek Global Express jet. Capt. Scott spoke with great excitement as they drew near the jet, “Man, what a beautiful plane. I thought I could only feel this way about a yacht.”

Movement sensors caught them as they pulled close to the plane and lit the area with powerful spotlights. Two armed men emerged from the hanger and met them at the plane. “Good mornin’, Are you Mr. Abel?” the first man asked.

Ken stepped forward, presented documentation, and one of the men climbed the stairs to unlock the jet door. Hatchet Jack followed on his heels and reached for the keys as they were pulled from the lock, “Thank you gentlemen. We could use a lift truck to load some equipment,” he explained.

The guard turned his head toward the shoulder cellular phone and reported the arrival of the lessees, requesting a transport lift. A voice responded to the affirmative, and the guard relayed the information to Hatchet Jack, who had already headed for the cockpit.

“That will be fine,” Hatchet Jack responded. “Can you two guards watch over the plane while we prepare to leave?”

“We were told to stay with you until liftoff,” the guard answered, and left the plane to join his partner.

Ken and Capt. Scott had begun unloading the car and passing bags to Doug, who carried the bags up the ladder into the passenger area.

Capt. Scott asked the guard about the transport lift; then went to the Sea/Land container to instruct the drivers.

It took the lift about thirty minutes to arrive, but as soon as it pulled next to the plane, the action began. The cargo doors were opened, and the container backed up to the lift. Fortunately, two men came with the container; so Capt. Scott could supervise and avoid heavy lifting. He went up with the first lift and directed the positioning of crates. He had loaded many ships in his day and planned this load the same way—mainly to avoid shifting and to provide a good balance of weight in the plane.

Hatchet Jack reviewed his flight plan and worked on his checklist; while Doug and Ken reviewed their schedule.

The sun rose over the horizon, and the rays flashed through the low-lying clouds. The photography equipment was loaded, and the Sea/Land container left the field along with the transport lift. Anticipation showed on the faces of the men in the plane as Capt. Scott entered through the door. “Everything is loaded and secured,” Scott reported.

“Have a seat and rest for a few minutes,” Doug said. “We have to wait for the girls, who should be here within twenty minutes. I’ll be with Hatchet Jack.” Doug then made his way to the spaciouscockpit and climbed into the copilot’s seat.

Hatchet Jack looked up from his concentration and asked, “How’s it going back there?”

Doug answered, “Everything is loaded, well secured, in position, and set for the trip. I’m anxious to get started but not anxious for the long journey.”

“Won’t be bad—in fact it will be a thrill-a-minute.”

“I don’t need any more thrills right now. Wake me up in Saipan.”

Hatchet Jack smiled and continued making notes without responding. Picking up the radio microphone, he called in his flight plan to Hawaii, for a layover and refueling; then on to Guam and finally Saipan. Doug leaned back and watched him work.

Suddenly a long black Cadillac limousine pulled along side of the plane, and three energetic blond girls leaped from it and stood gaping at the plane. One of the girls shouted, “Mr. Goodwin, are you in there?”

Doug hurried to the door and responded, “You’re in the right place. I’m Doug Goodwin.” He moved down the stairs and toward the limo.

The limo driver struggled to unload the luggage, as the girls rushed to meet Doug. They were bouncing around excitedly with all three talking at once so fast that Doug couldn’t get a word into the conversation. Finally, he directed them to the stairs and carefully watched their backsides while they ascended and disappeared through the doorway.

Ken and Capt. Scott stood as the girls entered and rushed to their assistance. “Good morning girls, I’m Ken Able, and this is Capt. Scott,” Ken said with a dignified flair.

Ken upstaged Capt. Scott to a degree because of his distinguished aura; but Scott, being closer to their age, moved in to claim his turf. Stepping slightly in front of Ken, he shook each hand and made sure he programmed their names. “Here let me show you to your seats,” he said, “I’ll stow your carry-on bags in the compartment above you.” He then secured their bags and closed the door. “You might as well buckle up—we’ll be leaving in a few minutes.

The girls sat and excitedly continued talking while looking at the luxury of the corporate jet. The red carpet and red leather seats glistened in the early morning sunlight showing the opulence of the multimillion-dollar plane. It was obvious that this part of the “Gold Buddha” adventure was already vastly different from what they had been experiencing up to this moment. Excited female voices and laughter permeated the plane. The cockpit door slammed; and everyone, except the three girls, knew that Hatchet Jack couldn’t tolerate the noise.

Ken and Capt. Scott looked at one another. “It’s going to be a long trip,” was an unspoken thought.

The driver began carrying the bags, but Doug stopped him explaining that the bags would be taken care of. He paid the driver with a substantial tip and smiled. “That’s for new ear drums when you get home.”

The driver grinned and shook his head, “I’m glad they’re all yours buddy.” He drove away, squealing his tires as an expression of his freedom.

Doug gained Capt. Scott’s attention with a shrill whistle and asked for help with the bags. Together they made four trips, and finally were loaded and ready to travel. The armed guards were signaled to roll the stairs away just as Doug closed the door. He moved to the copilot’s seat.

The jet engines started, and Hatchet Jack’s voice came across the speaker, “Buckle up, Pilgrims,” and the plane began rolling.

Ken told Capt. Scott to check the girls, “They’re your responsibility.”

Scott jokingly asked, “Who died and made you Captain?”

Ken came right back with, “You’re the Captain, but I’m a General.”

Scott laughed and moved back to sit near the girls, “Seat belts fastened?”

“Yes sir,” all three echoed.

The plane turned sharply to the left and rolled off the tarmac toward the runway. After two minutes, Hatchet Jack received permission to move into position for takeoff. He controlled his internal excitement and displayed a calm demeanor as he accelerated the engines and pushed the control levers forward. The trip had begun.

Although the plane flaunted luxury, it bounced excessively over the concrete seams, causing the passengers to cinch their seat belt tighter. Insecurity flashed through their minds for a moment, but it left instantly as the plane turned to rush down the runway, leaving the earth in a rush of energy, and resting on the peaceful cushion of air between earth and the sky. The powerful jet engines pulled the plane into a steep climb over the ocean, through the clouds and leveled out in the clear air at ten thousand feet.

Excitement flowed through Doug's mind as he sat in the copilot's seat—it felt good to be in a large company jet again. He glanced at Hatchet Jack, who remained engrossed in his flying concentrating on the thrill of it all.

The plane leveled and relaxed forward through the thinning air. The gauges registered 25,000 feet with a speed of Mac .75.

Each person in the cabin stared through a side window and felt the moment of magic. Bright rays of sunshine bounced off the thick carpet of clouds below, and the rapid speed of forward movement actually felt minimal in the new environment. Suddenly a rocking turbulence shook the plane and broke their euphoria.

Hatchet Jack broke the silence, “I'm going above this weather,” and then climbed to 34,000 feet.

The sudden movement startled Doug who suddenly sat up straight and mentally returned to reality. “Man this is something else. I see now why you wanted to get your hands on this machine.”

“It wouldn't take much to push to the speed of sound,” Hatchet Jack commented without paying any attention to Doug's comments.

Doug glance at the panel of gauges and smiled, “It's truly unbelievable. Is it safe to check our passengers now?”

“No problems,” Jack replied.

Doug made his way aft to the passenger cabin and immediately sensed a bubble of silence. “Is everybody OK?”

Loud chatter suddenly enveloped the cabin filling the cabin with giggles and laughter. It was as if a bubble had burst, bringing the girls and everyone else back to life.

“I’m OK!” Me too,” came another response “This is great!” said the third.

“I’ll check with Hatchet Jack for the arrival time at Hawaii,” Doug said, turning to return to the cockpit.

The girls looked at one another, and each of them mouthed the words at the same time, “Hatchet Jack.”

Scott caught the subtle action and responded, “He’s our pilot. You’ll learn to love him.”

“What kind of name is that,” Audrey asked.

Capt. Scott teasingly answered, “You don’t want to know,” His statement brought the response he wanted—six wide, unblinking eyes. “Don’t worry about it though. He’s on our side.”

The jet settled into a monotonous forward movement for the next three hours with the engines creating a sleep producing white-noise.

Doug rested his eyes for a few minutes, and then opened them to check Hatchet Jack. Doug had been rehearsing their upcoming plans in his mind. Hawaii was only an insignificant stop over; so, on to the Western Pacific for a stop in Guam then Saipan. He, being well familiar with the airport in Saipan, visualized the customs check and Chamorro customs officials. Their duties seemed very undefined. A customs check on the island appeared to be only to satisfy the curiosity of the inspector. Boxes would be opened randomly and stored items casually fondled—especially the female personal items in suitcases.

Suddenly his brother, Bill, came to mind, and Doug realized he should update him. Reaching for his ST, he dialed. It took six or seven rings before Bill answered.

“Joe's Bar, Joe speaking,” Bill said with a southern drawl.

Doug responded with a childhood joke, “Hey, do you have pop in a bottle?”

“Well I did, but just let him out.”

“You doin' any good over there, lil' Brother?”

“Just waiting for you.”

“Well we're getting closer. Hawaii is nearly in sight, and we'll lay over about eight hours.”

Hatchet Jack interrupted, “More like four hours.”

Doug continued, “Jack says four hours; then we'll keep coming to Guam for refueling, and then Saipan.”

“It can't be too soon for me,” Bill stated, with boredom gushing from every word.

“You must be sick of the Orphans by now.”

“Not the Orphans—I've got island claustrophobia. I'd even welcome the freeways of Los Angeles right now.”

“Hang in there buddy. I'm coming to save you. Has 'Big O' filed the filming permits?”

“He's wined and dined every official in Saipan—even spent time in the Governor’s mansion. All the paper work is in good shape.”

“We'll put on a good show,” Doug said with a confident smile. “After we refuel in Guam and allow Hatchet Jack some rest, we’ll hop over to Saipan.”

“Everyone who is anyone on the island intends to get in the documentary. It will bring tourist dollars—so they think.”

“Scott is prepared to shoot some real footage. Who knows it might even do them some good. I'll get back to you when we leave Hawaii.”

“Okay, Bro..”

“There are the islands,” Hatchet Jack announced.

Doug strained to see any sign of land. Nothing came into his view for several minutes; then faint dark spots appeared on the horizon. “How’d you see them so soon?” Doug asked.

“Radar vision.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Doug said, while unstrapping himself and making his way to the cabin “How’s everything going?”

Ken and Capt. Scott were dozing, but the girls responded with the usual enthusiasm, “This is a fun trip. The plane is big enough to walk around in real style”

Doug sat next to them, “Hawaii is in view from the front, but it will be a while before you can see it.”

Audrey asked, “Are we staying on the island long?”

“Jack, the pilot, is planning to get some shut-eye; so we’ll be here for about four hours.”

“All right, can we do some sight seeing?” Carla wanted to know.

“Not really, we’ll all go to the Sheraton when we arrive and have the world’s finest buffet; then you girls can stretch your legs until about midnight, but stay close to the hotel. The beach usually has some night-time entertainment—hula girls and native dancers.”

“Don’t worry about us; we’ll find something to do,” Kim interjected. “My mom said to catch the Don Ho show, but he sounds too old fashioned for me.” The girls all nodded their heads in agreement.

Doug added, “We’ll have a long trip tomorrow; so we have to leave on time. Keep your eyes on your watches and not on those Hawaiian dudes.”

“Never fear, Mr. D,” Carla said with a smile in her voice. “I’ll make sure we are back on time.”

Doug stood to leave and said, “I’ve got no fear now. Carla—you’re in charge.” You girls had better buckle up again. We’re getting ready to land. Passing his partners, he noticed that their seat belts were still locked and decided not to disturb them.

The tiny islands continued to grow until Honolulu became a significant land mass. Hatchet Jack received permission from the control tower to land and brought the jet to a smooth but firm landing.

As they taxied to the designated spot near the terminal, fuel trucks and workers rushed to meet them. Energetic men rolled the stairway to the plane and all passengers disembarked—Hatchet Jack gave instructions to the refuelers. This fuel had to carry them thirty-seven hundred miles to Guam without a midway stop.

Two golf carts shuttled them to the terminal, and they walked into a Hawaiian environment of music and leis. A greeter rushed to each girl, placing a lei of fresh flowers around her neck, bringing a broad smile to their faces. Judging by the attention they were given, the corporate jet must have created the impression of a celebrity guest. The men graciously accepted the attention, but the girls ate it up.

They went directly to the Sheraton where Hatchet Jack registered for a few hours sleep. The rest became tourists—the girls rushing to the beach, and the men to the Sheraton buffet. They worked on the vast selection of food for over an hour, and then relaxed in the lobby area of the hotel.

Three hours later, Hatchet Jack surprised them. “I can’t sleep any longer,” he said.

Doug, being the first to speak, said, “You realize that was a hundred twenty-five dollar nap?”

“Well, I napped hard and fast to get my money’s worth.” Hatchet Jack responded with a joke.

Ken, being a gourmet of finer foods, directed him to the buffet table and made suggestions. Jack listened quietly then proceeded to make his own selections. He ate for forty-five minutes; then retired to the lobby to relax and await the girls. Jack was the first to spot the reflections of three blonds coming through the revolving door. Jumping to his feet, he caused immediate action in the others, who followed him to meet the girls, blocking several native men who were walking closely behind them.

Scott greeted the girls, “Did you have any fun?”

In one voice, they responded, “Oh, Yes.”

“This is a fun place, we’d like to live here, Carla voiced while glancing at their male followers standing quietly behind Hatchet Jack.

Ken was quick to add an incentive, “After we shoot the movie, maybe you can vacation here a couple weeks,—all expenses paid of course.”

The girls smiled and laughed as they clutched each other’s arm. “That would be great,” Kim said.

Ken thought, “Ah, to be young again,” as Doug began ushering them out the door.

Upon returning to the airport, they found their jet ready and positioned for departure.

They boarded the plane, and Hatchet Jack executed a perfect take-off. The longest leg of their journey leg of their journey had begun. “You might have to relieve me on this one,” Hatchet Jack explained to Doug.

“How’s that? Doug asked.

“I’ll need some rest in a few hours; so let me show you how to keep this bird in the air. Actually, the autopilot will do almost everything for you.” Pointing to the gauge that registered their heading, Jack explained, “271.9 degrees will take us straight to Agana, Guam. Here’s the nautical mileage that I programmed in when we were at LAX; so now the autopilot computer will calculate distance traveled, speed of travel and automatically lock onto the radio frequency at the Agana airport as soon as we are within range. All you need to do is watch these gauges.” Jack then reviewed the gauges, showing elevation and speed. “I’ll explain it again when I need some rest.”

Doug continued to study the gauges and observed Hatchet Jack’s actions as they continued forward at Mac.75 speed. He realized the ease of flying once the plane was in the air and at the right altitude—the landing and take off were the difficult steps. Emergencies, of course required years of experience, so he would pray for no emergencies.

The tired passengers relaxed and dosed into deep sleep, all except Ken. He sensed the time approaching where his expertise would be needed. He knew the plan was to store the Orphans in a bank at Turks & Caicos and sell the Infants to diamond dealers who had been controlled and shunned by the diamond monopoly since the beginning of the diamond trade. Each product presented its own unique set of problems. The Orphans were heavy and bulky, making transporting them awkward and inconvenient. Placing a ton of gold on the market would disrupt the economy, but the more critical worry would be to avoid raising red flags and prompting an investigation. The bars needed to be reconditioned, melted, and restamped. The remelting would allow for a new mixture of trace elements in the 99.9% pure gold and thereby avoiding the possibility of anyone linking it to gold from any particular country or from any specific era. In addition, restamping the bars, would eliminate the identifying Japanese markings. “The whole idea is mind-boggling—it really is a nuisance having twenty million dollars in gold bullion when we have a crate of diamonds that are easily carried by two men and is worth over a billion dollars,” he nearly said aloud.

Then thoughts of turning diamonds into cash came into Ken’s mind. The price of diamonds has been inflated by a highly successful marketing scheme and completely controlled by one group of men—a powerful group of men with the power to crush any intruder. “My job is to establish a fool-proof plan to avoid the crushing power of the cartel and turn the diamonds into cash without being detected. It won’t be easy. It will take a billion dollar plan.” Ken knew and accepted the weight of his responsibility. He glanced at the sleeping girls and thought of their carefree life and thought, “My work doesn’t end when we get the cash—I have to help spend it.” He smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned back to review over and over different methods of achieving his goals.

The sleek aircraft streaked through the high altitude atmosphere at a constant speed, approaching the speed of sound. Hatchet Jack asked Doug to take over for a short time while he rested his eyes. Doug held the reins of the powerful beast, but the beast was really on its own—computer controlled and automatically set. He knew that his role was to react to any emergency by shouting a Jack. Doug simply pretended to control the plane, and it was exciting.

Remembering the early planning days of the Gold Buddha adventure, Doug thought of the many twists and turns the adventure had taken. The original “Plan of Operation” proved to be only a rough outline. C2 and Harry had betrayed the team and were long gone in a blaze of fury. Rob hadn’t been used because of the advent of Satellite Telephones, which allowed direct communication between team members, but he was always available to cleanup collateral problems. Capt. Scott had become a full-fledged team member. Hatchet Jack had entered the scene to “save the day”. Ken had come through with flying colors, and of course, ‘Big O’ had saved the Orphans, the Infants and the entire team. “I even saved the Philippine government from an attempted coup take over,” Doug said aloud to himself with a huge grin on his face.

Doug’s voice awoke Hatchet Jack with a jerk, “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Not a thing, I was just talking to myself,” Doug responded.

“I can’t sleep with strange sounds around me,” Hatchet Jack commented with a tired sleepy voice, as he quickly surveyed the gauges. Finding everything in order, he took control and began calculating the distance traveled. “It looks like we’re over the hump and will be in Guam in three hours.”

Doug added his two cents, “Man, I like traveling the speed of sound.”

“I’d rather go the speed of thought,” Hatchet Jack joked without any indication of humor.

Doug once again made his way back to the passengers finding them all alert and enjoying themselves. The girls were playing a game they called fast scrabble, while Scott and Ken were discussing the process of filming a documentary. Doug sat next to Ken and joined their conversation.

“Do you have this filming charade figured out?’ Doug asked under his breath, directing his attention to Capt. Scott.

“I sure do. I even plan to put film in the camera.

Doug handed Scott several loose sheets of paper covered with scribbled notes. “Here are some ideas I’ve put down on paper for us to think about. I believe it would be good to begin filming near the business section of the beach. I’ll spread the word that we are filming a documentary, and we would like many native families on the beach. These are modern times where the island is no longer isolated from the world, but those who live there still relish the excitement of a new activity. You should start filming near Smiley Beach, and then work your way inland to Mt. Topachow. That will draw the attention and most of the population away from the location of the catamaran carrying the Orphans.

Capt. Scott studied the paper given him, reading the following list

1. Beach across from the island Mañagaha

2. Submarine launching dock with Mr. Conception giving scuba lessons

3. Homes of native families

4. Hospital

5. Mayors Mansion

6. Mt. Topachow

“This should fill a week,” Scott commented.

Ken added his thoughts to the conversation, “We need to work long and hard at filming to make it one hundred percent believable—even hire locals to move equipment.”

“That’s all in my plans,” Scott answered. “I’ll spread your money around as far as the budget will allow.”

Ken penciled a few notes in his notebook and said, “Let’s keep expenses on the island between ten and fifteen thousand. That should be enough to give them something to remember. Don’t forget, I’ll be keeping my bank license here; so I want good feelings. I’ll make sure I grease the palms of a few politicians—just to be welcome in the future.”

“Let’s remember that this filming project has three purposes,” Doug reminded them. “First, a cover for relocating the Orphans, second, providing a gap in the trail in case anyone or organization has traced our activities; and lastly, producing a real documentary to present to the Saipan tourist council.”

XXXXScott felt his creative juices beginning to flow, “I take it then that you want me to edit the final film with sound and music.”

“Sure do—you’ll be able to finish it in the states. That’s how the Goodwin Brothers do things—always leave a place better than we found it. I know Saipan can use a professional tourist catching film,” Doug explained in a fun but serious way.

Scott asked, “Can I hire John when I get back to help put it together?”

Ken commented that he liked the idea, “We are spending the money; so we might as well produce a top-notch product.”

“Well you guys work on it,” Doug stated as he arose and joined the girls. “Here, let me get into this game.”

Audrey instructed him on the rules of the game and gave him fifteen letter tiles, and all three girls assisted him in arranging them in a crossword.

The game moved forward quickly with Carla taking command. Doug didn’t like being left behind, but went along with the fun until the game ended. “You girls are too sharp for me. I’d better get back to flying the plane.”

“You’re the pilot?” Kim asked with a concerned look on her face.

“Well me and a man named Auto,” Doug answered.

Audrey tried to clarify things by saying, “Isn’t Mr. Hatchet the real pilot?”

Doug agreed but confused them again by saying, “We have three pilots.”

As he left, Kim tried to explain to her two friends, but all three agreed that they had never met Mr. Auto.

Doug returned to the cockpit and settled in for the last leg of the trip. Hatchet Jack appeared to be wide-awake and enjoying himself. Doug sat, looking into space at first; but as the rhythmic sounds of the jet engines produce a slow delta wave pulse, his eyes closed, and sleep overcame him.

The powerful jet streaked across the sky like a silver bullet with a definite target in mind. Doug dreamed of a pirate’s chest full of red diamonds, each worth two or three million US dollars. As reality crept into his dreamy thought, in his mind’s eye, he watched himself setting up trust funds that provided scholarships for students and loans for entrepreneurs. It had worked before and would work again.

Hatchet Jack glanced at Doug who was emitting a sound of happiness, and thought, “This guy’s mind never stops planning,” which was an accurate assessment.

Time seemed to pass more quickly when traveling at high speed—as if the mind recognized the high efficient use of space. Hatchet Jack studied his charts and began watching for Guam. Doug stretched his arms high above his head and cleared his head for more immediate needs.

“What’s happening?” Doug asked, using his habitual phrase.

“Not much, but Guam should pop up over the horizon soon”

“Man, I must have zonked.”

“I could tell that you were enjoying your sleep.”

Doug smiled and commented, “I always sleep hard and fast too. In fact, I still remember some of my dream. I think it was a premonition of my future efforts.”

Hatchet Jack didn’t respond for quite a while, but finally said, “You can have your future efforts. I want to get back to the Philippines. I might even get married.”

Doug thought, “This guy would drive a wife crazy.” And then he smiled and said, “Congratulations.”

Hatchet Jack looked ahead with no further comment about his plans. After several minutes, Jack exclaimed, “There’s Guam, peeking over the edge of the ocean.”

Once again, Doug strained to see and eventually spotted a tiny image and watched it grow. A sense of relief went through his mind. Announcing to the passengers that they should prepare for landing seemed unreal and fulfilling at the same time.

Hatchet Jack communicated with the Agana tower, received permission to land, circled, and brought the sleek jet in for a perfect landing.

Doug said, “I’ll tell the passengers to sit tight. We only need to refuel; then it’s a short jump to Saipan.” He left the cockpit and gave them the word, “It is only a half hour to Saipan; so don’t get restless yet.”

They were all looking at the scenery from the windows and paid little attention to Doug.

Jack maneuvered the plane near the tarmac and killed the engines. A small electric tow truck pulled them to the refueling area, and refueling began immediately. The in-and-out procedure required only the formality of presenting the preflight computer printout that had been filed in LA; so the entire layover took only forty-five minutes. They were airborne before Hatchet Jack could rest.

The flight to Saipan was simply an arch over the Mariana Islands; so as soon as maximum elevation was achieved, the plane began its descent.

The landing in Saipan was routine and brief. As soon as the plane stopped, the passengers and Hatchet Jack exited toward the terminal for clearance with passports in hand. Saipan, being a commonwealth of the United States, didn’t require passports, but they were still the best type of identification.

Doug remained with the jet and met two customs officers. His previous mental picture of them proved to be one hundred percent accurate. He explained the filming project and dropped a few names, like the mayor, to satisfy their need-to-know requirements while opening a couple crates to prove evidence of photographic contents. The inspectors seemed more interested in the plush interior of the jet than its contents. At the prime time Doug happened to mention, “Do you know anyone on the island who needs work?”

Both inspectors became alert and voiced affirmative remarks.

“Get me five strong men right now to help unload equipment, if you can,” Doug said, and the men smiled dark, beetlenut grins and hurried from the plane.

Once the officers were on the asphalt, they signed papers and handed copies to Doug. He felt like slipping them a hundred dollar tip, but decided against it—could be a sign of bribery.

Joining his fellow travelers inside the terminal, Doug found that all had passed customs without incidence, and he checked through easily.

‘Big O’ waiting outside the small terminal building in a partially painted truck, honked the horn as he saw Doug.

Doug smiled and led his party to the truck. “It’s great to see you again, Doug said, extending his hand in a friendly hand shake.

“You can say that again. I wasn’t worried about you guys, but it is hard on me to be out of the loop of action,” ‘Big O’ replied. “This truck is to haul the equipment; that jeep is for the girls and a couple guys,” he stated, pointing to the infamous rusty jeep.

Doug glanced at the familiar jeep and said, “I’ll have Capt. Scott take the girls to the Nikko Hotel and come back to help with the equipment.”

‘Big O’ interrupted, “I’ve been thinking about that. Let’s stay away from the Nikko. It is owned and operated by Japanese, and I’m sure the Yakz use it for their home base here on the islands. Let’s make the small Starlight Motel our base. It’s right on the beach and not easily watched.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Capt. Scott,” Doug said; then he returned to Scott and explained to the girls that they had decided not to stay in the large hotel, but a small motel near the shooting location. Scott was asked to transport the girls to the Starlight Motel and return to the airport. He willingly began loading the girls and their luggage, and drove away.

Doug returned to the terminal and found five large Chamorros waiting to begin working. He hired them on the spot and ushered them to the jet.

‘Big O’ gained permission and drove his truck next to the jet, remaining inside the cab to minimize his exposure. Ken joined him in the cab, while Doug rushed around the area giving instructions and supervising the workers. Fortunately, the small airport had a lift truck; so the Chamorros were able to raise the lift to the side door of the jet, load the equipment directly to the lift platform, and haul it to the truck.

‘Big O’ looked at the loaded lift as it slowly moved away from the plane. “Those crates look extra large to me.”

Ken realized that ‘Big O’ knew the reason for the crate size, but answered in hushed tones, “That gives us plenty of room for false bottoms in each crate to hide the Orphans.”

“I knew that, but I wanted to hear it out loud. You’ll never know how good that sounds to me,” ‘Big O’ stated with pure sincerity. “We have lived every moment of the day with a churning sense of urgency since you guys left. I know I’m being watched; so I’ve had to travel to Bill’s hideout only at night. He’s sitting alone in the jungle with only a satellite telephone and a cave full of Orphans to keep him company.”

“I realized that you were in danger; so we worked as fast as possible,” Ken assured him.

“I know you did, and I appreciate it, but after the second week here, I began counting hours.”

“How long will it take to get out of here?” Ken asked.

“Probably five days, I have a catamaran in the bay to transport the Orphans, but we’ll have to do it at night. That will be tedious. I think we’d better relieve Bill right away—he looked like Grizzly Adams the last time I saw him. He even looked glassy-eyed. I think the jungle has gotten to him.”

Doug walked to the open window of the truck and expressed his thoughts, “I believe it would be best if I stay with the Orphans while you and Bill transport them to Saipan. Ken is needed to be a diplomat and spend time in his bank while Capt. Scott films the documentary.”

“That would work, but I think you should help Capt. Scott, and Hatchet Jack should replace Bill,” ‘Big O’ suggested.

Doug agreed that his idea made more sense. Someone would be needed to control the actors and spectators while Capt. Scott operated the cameras. “I agree with your assessment. I’ll be able to keep the attention of the locals away from you guys,” he said.

‘Big O’ then explained the arrangements that he had made. “I’ve rented the same house on Capital Hill that you used before, but I also rented an old World War II bunker. We’ll store the photo equipment in the bunker and use the house for R and R.

Doug immediately recognized the wisdom in his plan. A guard could be in the bunker at all times while the Orphans were being moved from Tinian to Saipan. That way, the Orphans could be surreptitiously stored in the fake bottoms of the crates during the day or night.

As they discussed their plans, the crates reached their truck. Two strong Chamorros slid them onto the truck bed; while their partners arranged them. ‘Big O’ smiled at the large number of crates while thinking, “The photographic equipment doesn’t use half this space. We’ll have to be careful how the Orphans are packed into the bottom of these crates so none of the workers we get to load them will become aware of them.”

Capt. Scott had been gone for about half an hour, when the jeep pulled next to the truck. “The movie starlets are safely tucked into bed,” Scott reported.

“And you probably did the tucking,” Doug joked.

“I always do my best to make my guests happy. It’s the duty of a captain,” Capt. Scott replied.

The last crate slid onto the truck, and a small crate marked “Fragile—lenses” was placed in the jeep. The Chamorras were paid, and the two vehicles left the airport traveling three-fourths of the fifteen mile length of the island to a twelve-foot square concrete bunker. The solid reinforced concrete walls and steel door offered ideal protection from curious natives or possible subterfuge.

Ken stepped aside as the others unloaded the heavy crates. He made an ideal lookout because of his highly observant nature—few things escaped his notice.

Fortunately, dusk had begun to settle over the island, and it was suppertime for the locals. People seldom strolled on the beach at that particular location—the rough breaking waves on this particular stretch of beachfront and small amount of beach frontage made it undesirable for locals and tourists, but good for the Orphans.

‘Big O’ had prepared the bunker with a cot and snack food; so Capt. Scott was assigned to stay overnight to watch and protect the equipment. Ken stayed in the bunker with Capt. Scott; while Hatchet Jack, Doug, and ‘Big O’ drove the jeep to Smiley Bay.

The rented catamaran sat moored in the bay, gently rocking in with the evening waves. As it came into view, Doug began to get excited with the thought of giving Bill some relief. They boarded without hesitation, and Hatchet Jack launched the craft, progressing toward open sea.

With calm water and bright moonlight, they progressed rapidly. The reflection of the moon in the water produced an eerie glow.

‘Big O’ showed no interest in the beauty of the moment. He had grown accustom to the sights and had one goal in mind—get the Orphans and Infants and head for home. Hatchet Jack stared ahead into the night; while Doug relaxed in the Captain’s chair.

They circled around the end of Tinian, and ‘Big O’ tapped out a signal with his light while Doug called Bill on the ST.

Bill flashed a light to answer the call, “Whose there—friend or foe?”

“Just me little brother.”

“Where the heck have you been? I’ve grown old waiting for you.”

“Is that any way to talk to your rescuers?”

Bill, feeling like the fictional character, Robinson Crusoe, replied, “Come on in as fast as you can; I need to be rescued.”

“Flash your light every thirty seconds if all is okay—ten short ones if we need to back away for any reason.”

“Roger.”

‘Big O’ steered the Catamaran toward the beach with a quiet trolling motor to avoid drawing attention. Regular flashes continued; so they pulled near the sand in knee-high water. From there they waded to the beach, holding the tether ropes.

Bill appeared out of the jungle, as they tied to a boulder.

Doug stared in disbelief. “Is that you or Big Foot?”

“It’s my camouflage,” Bill replied while increasing his pace. “It keeps the natives and mosquitoes away.”

Doug grasped his hand in a firm handshake and each patted the other on the back as they embraced. “Good to see you, brother.”

“You can say that again.”

“How ya’ doin’?”

“I’m okay but feel like a beach rat. The rats and I have gotten to know each other. I’ve spent more time underground with the rodents than on the beach.”

“Well, you and I can take a few loads of Orphans across the sea tonight and you can sleep in a real bed for a change.”

“It will feel good just to be free again. I know what prison feels like now.”

‘Big O’ proceeded into the underground cave that housed the Orphans and began planning the tedious task of their relocation. “Do you guys feel like taking any Orphans tonight?” he shouted up the tunnel.

Doug answered first, “Well, I’ve only traveled four thousand miles today. I guess I’m good for a few more.”

Bill added, “I’m getting off this island tonight if I have to swim. I might as well take some Orphans with me.”

“I’ll pass them to you, and you tell me when,” ‘Big O’ said. And the relocation began under tiring circumstances.

Each brother could only handle forty pounds at a time. Hatchet Jack carried the Orphans to the beach, about fifty feet away; and then the brothers had to wade into the knee-high water to the Catamaran, lift the Orphans above their heads to the platform, climb a rope ladder, and arrange the Orphans on the floor. Both men were fatigued after the first load. Their muscles had gone flabby without exercise. “If we live through this adventure, we are going to have to get into shape,” Doug said.

Digging deep into their inner strength, they managed to load six hundred pounds of gold. Hatchet Jack remained with the remaining gold while the others returned to Saipan. Bill steered the catamaran, allowing Doug to rest. Sleep was out of the question, but with his eyes closed, he was able to relax in a canvas deck chair. The weather was ideal, and the full moon lit the way across the open ocean and through an opening in the reef.

As the boat approached the sand bar, Doug stirred and reached for his ST and dialed Capt. Scott. The length of time it took for Capt. Scott to answer indicated that he had fallen asleep.

“Hallo,” Scott answered with a deep guttural growl.

“Hate to disturb you, but we decided to bring some Orphans over tonight and need some help. Can you meet us at the beach?”

Capt. Scott could hardly focus his thinking, “Okay, I’ll meet you.”

Doug closed the lid of the ST and looked toward Bill who was enjoying his freedom from the island. The experience of steering the large cat seemed to rejuvenate him. Doug watched him through blood shot eyes and thought, “A shave and a good shower might bring him back to normal.”

Bill had other ideas—he would remain the hairy mysterious one for the rest of the adventure.

They could barely make out a human figure on the beach, and were relieved when they saw a flashlight signal. “What mankind will go through for money,” ‘Big O’ stated from the rear of the boat. He had been so quiet that the Goodwins had forgotten him, and his voice in the still night startled them.

“Where’d you come from?” Doug asked.

“Just sleeping with the Orphans,” he responded.

Bill added his thoughts “Don’t scare me like that. You know my nerves are shot.”

“I’m sorry man—I wasn’t thinking of you. My mind is totally involved with our next ten moves,” ‘Big O’ stated apologetically.

Doug relaxed and Bill maneuvered the catamaran as close to the beach as possible and flashed a signal to the men on the beach.

Capt. Scott was already wading into the water to meet them. Doug threw a tether rope to him, and he latched it to a concrete anchor on the beach.

Doug and Bill lowered themselves into the waist high water and left the boat empty-handed to meet Scott. Doug spoke first, “We’re beat to a pulp. We brought some Orphans over; so will you unload the boat?”

“No problem,” Scott stated, using Hatchet Jack’s now familiar phrase.

Doug continued to explain, “Bill and I will post ourselves out fifty yards from the bunker and guard the perimeter while you unload. There are about forty Orphans in the catamaran.”

Capt. Scott proceeded to the boat and met ‘Big O’; and together, they began removing the Orphans and carrying them to the bunker.

Ken stationed himself inside the bunker and assisted in stacking the Orphans as they arrived. He, being a banker and businessman on Saipan, realized that it was important to keep out of sight. The image of his role in the documentary filming must be that of a financier.

Bill blended into the darkness of the jungle near the bunker and watched the activity of moving the Orphans until the last bars were transferred. He walked through the beach sand to Doug’s hideout and suggested that they make another trip to Tinian. It would be good to transfer the Orphans as soon as possible, and the night weather was ideal.

Doug agreed that his plan made good sense; but feeling extremely fatigued, he wanted to remain on Saipan and get some sleep. Bill, ‘Big O’, Capt. Scott and Hatchet Jack could handle another load by themselves. They moved to the bunker and explained their feelings to the others. The plan was accepted, and Ken remained in the bunker with the steel door shut.

The blackness of the tropical night created a security blanket around their activities. The catamaran left the bay, and Doug drove the jeep to the rented house. Before collapsing on the bed, he picked up his ST and dialed Pedro in the Philippines.

Pedro answered the call so quickly that it surprised Doug. “Hello.”

Even in his tired state of mind, Doug decided to initiate a common Filipino telephone-answering ploy, where for some reason Filipinos continue saying “Hello” each time the other party says “Hello.” The “Hellos” went back and forth four or five times before Doug said, “Pedro, is that you?”

“Yes, is that you, Mr. Goodwin?”

“Yes, it’s me. How are you doing?

“I’m fine. How’s the Orphans?”

“Safe and sound, we are getting ready to take them to the US in a few days.”

“When can I count on my share?”

“In about three weeks.”

“That’s good. Thank you Mr. Goodwin.”

“I’m glad to help. This has been and is still an exciting adventure, but hopefully it is winding down.”

“Maybe I come to the US.”

Doug agreed that it would probably be okay, and they said goodbye. Within five minutes, Doug collapsed into deep sleep. He was awakened at early sunrise by a noisy truck driving rapidly down the coral covered driveway. Hurrying to get dressed, he met the men as thy pulled next to the house. He saw four fatigued individuals drag from the truck: ‘Big O’ and Hatchet Jack along with Bill and Capt. Scott. “Hey, what’s happened,” Doug shouted with great anticipation.

‘Big O’ answered, “We worked all night and moved all the Orphans.”

“You what?” Doug exclaimed in disbelief.

The hairy Bill Goodwin confirmed it. All of the Orphans were now in the bunker on Saipan. Doug looked at Capt. Scott and realized that he would be in no condition to begin filming without several hours sleep. “Scott, you grab a few winks, and I’ll handle the girls. Try to meet me at the Starlight Motel around one O’clock.”

Scott answered,“That’s eight hours. I could do it in five.”

“No, take your time. I’ll take the girls to breakfast, and then let them go to the beach for a while,” Doug said, thinking of his favorite breakfast, veggie-omelette with rice on the side.

Doug left the men as they slowly made their way to the house. He drove down Capital Hill road toward the motel, feeling elated that the major effort of the week had been accomplished in one night. He knew that he would have a couple hours before the girls were ready; so he drove to the beach and sat on the warm sand.

His elation would have been replaced with a flood of worry had he known of a terrible mistake that Kim had made. Immediately after Capt. Scott had left the girls the night before, Kim had telephoned her agent, Steve Blush, in Los Angeles. She explained that she was sorry for not telling him sooner, but she had left in a hurry with two of her girl friends to be in a South Pacific film documentary.

Steve was irate. He could taste money and, immediately, began making plans to get his commission. “I’m coming over there. Where are you staying?” he had asked. Kim had not foreseen his dogmatic attitude and couldn’t convince him it wasn’t worth his worrying about such a brief little filming. Before she knew it she had told him too much and that they were in the Starlight Motel. Little did she know that Steve would be on a plane headed to Saipan within a few hours to try to weasel into their good fortune

Doug would not learn of this unexpected twist of events for several hours, but for the time being it was enough to just sit on the white sand with the soft tropical breeze blowing through his hair. The soft rays of the new-day sun began breaking through the low hanging clouds and that contributed to his feeling of well being. This adventure was coming to a smooth ending—so he thought.

Later, upon driving by the Starlight Motel, he spotted the girls standing on the balcony laughing and talking with five Filipino workers. The men were fascinated with their silky hair waving gently in the morning air. Blond hair is a rarity on the island. All natives and imported Philippine workers, along with Japanese tourists, have black hair; so blondes on Pacific islands are like beacons attracting flies.

“Good morning girls,” Doug shouted from the jeep, causing the Filipinos to scatter. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

Three voices in unison responded with a happy, “Yes Sir.”

“How would you like a veggie-omelette?” Doug asked. The girls looked at one another, and Doug continued, “It’s a healthy breakfast made especially for California girls.”

“Are you kidding?” Carla asked.

“Jump in the jeep, and I’ll show you,” Doug answered. “This is like being in college again,” he thought, being surrounded with giggles and carefree attitudes.

The restaurant was only three blocks away allowing them to arrive within a few minutes. Twelve sets of male eyes met them as they walked through the open doorway and to an empty table at the far end of the room. The layback Chamorro atmosphere immediately changed as the men customers assumed a macho posture and the waitress came to life.

The Filipina waitress approached the table, surrounded by intimidating blue eyed blonds, and shyly asked, “Well, what will you have today, Mr. D?”

Doug, who had frequented the restaurant many times before, responded, “We’ll have four orders of my favorite veggie-omelette.”

“That’s with your usual glass of tubig?” she asked with a slight giggle.

Doug always smiled at the word ‘tubig’—the Tagalog word for water. “Yes, four tubigs,” he answered while glancing at the silent girls at his table—they were spellbound with their new experience. Their silence burst into chatter as soon as the waitress walked away.

“Do you think you’ll enjoy two weeks of island life?” Doug asked.

Carla, being the most forward, answered with laughter, “I could live here for a year. Are there any single men on this island?”

“Probably a couple hundred, but all short Filipinos,” Doug answered to their dismay. “We’ll be too busy for any social life anyway, but you can have fun in Hawaii on your return trip to the States.”

Audrey added one of her usual cheerful comments that they would have a lot of fun anyway. The waitress returned carrying four tall glasses of tubig (water). She arranged the glasses and silverware and left with a quick glance at Doug.

Doug spent the next ten minutes explaining an overview of filming sequences for the day. They were to be prepared to spend the entire day at the beach in their bikinis—beach towels and sunscreen would be provided. He mentioned that he expected a crowd of locals, including every free man on the island, to be watching from the sidelines.

Of course, the girls were anxious to perform, especially for a crowd. Then Kim dropped a bombshell. “Did I hear Ken and Capt. Scott talking about gold on this island?”

Doug felt a bolt of lightning shoot through him, but then caught his composure. “Where did you hear anything like that?”

“On the plane when we landed in Guam,” Kim replied with an innocent tone.

“No, they must have been joking about something,” Doug said, laughing at the idea.

Kim let the conversation drop as the waitress delivered their omelettes but whispered under her breath, “It didn’t seem like joking to me.” Then she wondered about the telephone call she had made last night to her agent in California—she had even mentioned gold to him because it seemed to contribute to the excitement of their adventure.

After Kim’s off-the-wall comment, Doug, refrained from discussing anything serious. He joked and talked about frivolous things while hurriedly eating his omelette. His main concern was to finish breakfast and rush to Ken with the news.

“We’d better hurry. Capt. Scott has a lot of filming planned,” Doug said wanting to get Kim’s disclosure to Ken as soon as possible. That one silly act could jeopardize their entire mission.

Doug finished first and pretended to relax while the girls continued eating. Rushing the girls, he paid the check, and the girls sensed his urgency. While leaving the restaurant, the girls chattered amongst themselves, but Doug’s thoughts were far into the future as he drove them back to the motel.

“That was good!” Audrey commented, unaware of any problems.

Carla added her comment, “I could go for a veggie-omelette at least three times a week. How about you, Mr. Doug?”

His attention came back to the present upon hearing his name. “Yes, I’ve eaten many veggie-omelettes.” He hadn’t looked their way; so they didn’t include him in any further conversation.

Upon reaching their motel, he informed them that Capt. Scott would pick them up within an hour; so they should dress in their bikinis with a lightweight wrap-around skirt, sandals, and a slip-on blouse. “Don’t forget the sunscreen,” Doug reminded them. “The sunrays are extremely hot in this clear atmosphere—not like smoggy Los Angeles.”

Each girl assured him that she knew what to do and rushed toward the motel. Doug drove away and went directly to the bunker. His high hopes of finding Ken at the bunker were satisfied. Ken was sitting on a wooden crate in the western shade of the bunker. The jeep screeched into the sandy surface barely ten-feet from Ken, causing him to jump aside.

“What’s up you crazy man?” Ken shouted.

Leaping from the jeep, Doug rushed to his side. “We have a monumental problem,” he panted. “Our circle of security has been breached.”

Ken recognized fear in Doug’s voice and his expression, and became agitated, “Slow down, what in the world are you talking about?”

“Kim called her agent in Los Angeles.”

“So how is that such a major problem?”

“I believe that she told him we were involved with gold.”

“She what? How did she come up with that?”

“The girls heard you and Capt. Scott talking about gold, and they concluded that we had gold.”

Ken had to sit down in order to compose his thoughts, “So, did she tell her agent about the gold?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m willing to bet that she spilled her guts, and you know how agents living in Los Angeles can smell opportunities. He’s bound to talk and might even show up to cut himself in on the deal.”

“It’s hard to believe that he would come here.”

“It isn’t hard for me to believe. He probably thinks he deserves a percentage of Kim’s purse. It’s impossible to know how Kim embellished the situation.”

Ken’s mind began shifting into an emergency mode. “‘Big O’ needs to stand guard around the bunker while Hatchet Jack and Bill and I continue getting the Orphans and the Infants stashed. We might have to leave some of the filming equipment behind and use only enough equipment to conceal the false compartments. The police on the island will probably watch us at the airport, but they won’t inspect anything.”

“Maybe you can leave some equipment in the storage room at your bank.”

“That is a good idea. You and Capt. Scott get that filming charade wrapped up in a couple days, and we’ll have all this stuff put away and loaded on the plane. I can’t believe we were that careless around those girls—we usually only discuss our load as Orphans and Infants.”

“It probably only happened once, and the girls, whom we thought were so harmless, tuned in at that wrong moment. Let’s just move our plans ahead a few notches and get out of here.”

Ken agreed and asked, “What are Capt. Scott’s plans?”

“He’ll be here in a few minutes. We’ll leave the truck with you and take the girls and equipment in the jeep. Here are the plans for filming.”—Doug handed Ken a list of locations. They would begin on the beach about three miles from the bunker, spending a lot of time filming the girls and locals. That should attract the attention of the native onlookers, which would include most of the people living on Saipan, allowing the moving of the Orphans from the bunker to the plane without being noticed.

Doug decided to cut Mañagaha from the list…it would not draw the interest of the islanders. During the first day they would visit the Mayor’s mansion, the hospital (that was built at great expense by the United States government for the war-torn islanders), and a couple native families. Tomorrow they would ask a large number of locals to join them at some of the tourist sites of Saipan like Mt., which some claimed to be the highest mountain in the world, if measured from its beginning at the bottom of the ocean. They could also take in the suicide cliffs where hundreds of Japanese, including families, leaped to their deaths rather than being captured by the American soldiers. That will take a full day.

“If we have time, I plan to film the scuba instructor, Ben Conceptione giving scuba lessons to the girls, but that might be put on the shelf,” Doug concluded.

“I think that we should work night and day to get the Orphans and Infants secured and leave right away,” Ken stated with authoritative conviction.

“I agree,” Doug said, as he saw Capt. Scott drive into the driveway.

Doug met Scott before he had time to walk away from the truck. “Capt. Scott, we have a problem I’ll tell you about as we travel. We’ll have to use the jeep; so let’s load a few boxes of equipment and hurry along.”

Capt. Scott asked no questions. He simply followed Doug in haste and began loading. Cameras, tripods, and umbrellas were load onto the jeep, leaving the wooden crates behind. It only took fifteen minutes to get everything ready.

Doug began explaining to Capt. Scott as soon as they left the bunker area. The idea that they were involved with gold had been leaked by one of the girls to her agent in Los Angeles, making it the first leak of the entire adventure. “We can’t take any chances of some character coming over here and saying anything to the locals. This island is crawling with Yakz.”

“That is hard to believe,” Capt. Scott responded with astonishment.

“Let me explain,” Doug said, catching Scott’s attention with his seriousness. “I think Kim’s agent is coming to Saipan from Los Angeles. He probably will show up in a day or so.”

Capt. Scott looked very confused, “What’s this all about?”

“Well, Kim called her agent last night, and he was angry that she hadn’t consulted him; then I think she dropped a bombshell mentioning that we were involved with gold.

Capt. Scott drove in disbelief. “How in the world did she get that idea?”

“Somehow, she overheard you and Ken talking about it on the plane.”

“I can’t imagine when.”

“When we landed in Guam,” Doug explained. “You were probably talking louder than usual during the landing procedure.” So, we have to make a quick course correction and get out of here as soon as possible.”

“What are the filming plans?” Capt. Scott asked.

“We have two days of shooting then we leave for Guam,” Doug replied.

“Wow, I’m glad we aren’t making a real movie. I can always make it look good,” Scott explained. “The cameras are auto loading and make an impressive sound; so I will use film some of the time.”

“Just continue as you’ve planned with the girls running on the beach, but film some of the local family groups and children diving in the water. You don’t have to tell them anything. The have lived most of their lives in the ocean. That will keep their parents talking about if for a few years.”

Capt. Scott added, “I have planned to have the girls play with the children too.”

“That’s great, but put everything into high gear,” Doug advised.

Capt. Scott withdrew into his internal thought process and drove staring into space. “I’ll have to bluff this through and play it by ear today. I have to keep telling myself that this is only a distraction.”

The girls were once again waiting outside the motel and came running full of excitement, as soon as they saw the old jeep. Doug and Scott helped them climb into the back.

Doug explained that even though it was a tight fit, they only had to travel a mile down the coast.

“Hang on girls,” Capt. Scott shouted. “I’ll take it easy, but as you know the clock begins ticking right now, and we have our work cut out for us.” And the overloaded jeep made its way to the beach by the Nikko Hotel.

Scott had predetermined the beginning location for filming and had spread the word at the local restaurants. Huge crowds of people of all ages were already set up with their Budweiser, baskets of food and lounge chairs. This was a rare event for the locals; and as Doug had predicted, the full attention of the people was on Capt. Scott and the three blondes.

The girls headed for the sand near the water while Doug and Capt. Scott began unloading the filming gear. Strong natives came to their assistance right away and carried everything to a covered table area.

“You go get started filming,” Doug said to Capt. Scott. “I’ll spend my time walking around the area to keep my eyes on the people. I’m sure the Yakz will send scouts, and I want to observe them.”

Scott grabbed a huge camera with a bag of accessories. Two large Chamorro young men stepped forward and asked if they could help. Scott handed each of them two bags and a twenty-dollar bill and rushed toward the girls. “Follow me,” he instructed them over his shoulder.

Doug watched him organize for the first shots and was pleased with his expertise and professionalism. He enjoyed seeing the huge crowd of people following the camera. There were the locals, businessmen, families with children, beach bums; and of course, the Japanese tourists and, most likely, Yakz—at least he felt that he could identify them. “This plan has done the trick. ‘Big O’ and the others can load the Orphans without drawing any attention to themselves,” he thought.

Capt. Scott quickly developed a good rhythm of filming as he taught a crew of young men how to handle his equipment. Doug had told him not to worry about anyone stealing equipment from him; because the natives had a good reputation of virtually no thievery on the island. It might have been because a thief would always be caught—he had no place to run. Scott set his actors, including natives and children, and shot film for the next three hours without a break.

Around noon, Doug used his ST to call the Nikko hotel to cater a lunch for his actresses, and a few kegs of Budweiser for the spectators. He had previously alerted the hotel; so they were prepared upon receiving his call. They loaded the food and promptly at one o’clock arrived at the tabled area.

Capt. Scott was signaled to usher his crew and actors to the food. Doug had the kegs of beer set among the spectators. They needed no instructions.

Doug continued to pace and survey the perimeter of the beach, not expecting any trouble, but wanted to be aware of anyone filming or watching through field glasses. Late in the afternoon as the sun was beginning to set. Doug spotted a man, probably an American tourist, sitting a large rock watching the filming scene. By the type of clothes he wore, Doug knew he hadn’t been on the island very long. There was a fresh-tourist aura about him. His pale-skinned balding head and squinting eyes showed his lack of experience with penetrating island sunshine.

Moving to a location slightly behind the tourist, amongst some palm trees, Doug knelt to watch the man. Suddenly the man raised his hand and waved at someone. Doug followed the direction of his wave and was shocked to see Kim raise her arm and acknowledge the gesture. Doug wondered,“Can that be her agent from the States already?” With a quick calculation of time, he realized that it was possible for someone to make the trip, with all the connections, in twenty-four hours. “It has to be the man.”

Doug’s mind reeled with shock and confusion as he watched Kim flit across the sandy beach toward the man. The man remained seated while Kim approached. Their reunion was not friendly. At first, it appeared that Kim would give him a warm hug, but she stopped short at the man’s first words.

Doug could not hear the conversation, but could imagine by his gestures and Kim’s response that he was pressing her for information. After watching for several minutes, Doug made his way toward Capt. Scott, indicating with a wave of his hand for Scott to join him at an area behind the food bar.

“Capt. Scott we have a new wrinkle in our program. See that man over there with Kim,” Doug started explaining while motioning toward the man. “I’m sure that is Kim’s agent from Los Angeles. I’ll talk to him and keep him occupied while you continue filming the beach scenes. Remember that he probably knows film production procedures; so make it look authentic.”

“How has it looked so far?” Capt. Scott asked with a worried look.

“It really looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Fortunately, I’ve been around the film industry off and on throughout my adult life.”

“Well, don’t pay any attention to that guy. I’ll need the keys for the jeep to get the word of this jerk back to ‘Big O’.”

Capt. Scott handed him the keys and finished his lunch before calling everyone back to the filming area.

Doug waited for Kim to return to the set before making his way to the stranger. Doug extended his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Doug Goodwin from Newport Beach,” he said to get a similar introduction for the man.

The response came in a business-like tone of voice, “I’m Steve Blush, Kim’s agent, from LA. You are using my client without my permission.”

Doug who was good at keeping his composure under trying circumstances, answered in a friendly way, “Is that right. I wasn’t aware that she had an agent, but I’ll be glad to work with you.”

“I was just concerned with her safety mainly.”

“She’s in good hands, I assure you. We planned to spend a few days on Saipan, but Scott, the photographer, is moving along at a rapid pace. We’ll probably have it in the can by tomorrow; then we are going to Guam.”

“I thought it was a two week contract.”

“Yes it is. Don’t worry; we’ll pay for two weeks and all Kim’s expenses.”

“Well, I just didn’t like the way it was handled.”

“You would have been the first one contacted if we’d known of your position. I’ll talk to my partners about adding a ten percent fee to Kim’s contract to cover your expenses.”

Steve Blush nodded in agreement and wanted to ask about the gold but felt too uncomfortable at this first encounter. “See what you can do; because I intend to get my fair share.”

“Feel free to get some food at our buffet,” Doug said, pointing to the eating area.

Steve relaxed his tenseness for the first time and thanked him for the invitation.

“Just help yourself,” Doug said and presented his hand in friendship.

Steve shook his hand and walked slowly to the food tent. Doug watched him for a couple minutes then slipped away into the nearby palm trees, disappearing from sight. He hurried to the jeep and drove at the edge of the speed limit to the bunker.

The empty truck was just pulling into the bunker driveway as he arrived. Ken, Bill, and Hatchet Jack were in the front seat.

Doug drove in behind them and met Bill as he stepped down from the truck. “How’s it going with you guys?” he asked.

Bill was glad to report their success. “We’ve transported two full truckloads of crates to the plane and are nearly a third finished.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I need some good news.”

“What’s wrong, brother,” Bill asked at the same time Ken and Hatchet Jack joined them.

“Well the worse case scenario has occurred. That lousy agent of Kim’s has shone up already,” Doug explained.

“That was fast; that guy must be money hungry. We need a power meeting to talk about it,” Ken added.

“Where’s ‘Big O’?” Doug asked.

“He’s inside working his head off,” Bill answered. “Let’s get inside, out of sight.”

They went into the bunker and found ‘Big O’ stripped to the waist and soaked with perspiration. The hot afternoon sun had made it nearly unbearable. The first comment out of his mouth was that he’d be glad when this job was finished.

Doug began explaining, “Well, Kim’s agent made his grand entry today at the beach.”

‘Big O’, turning in disbelief, asked, “Did you talk to him?”

“Yes I did and I sense trouble. He started out by wanting his commission from Kim.”

Ken then took over the conversation for the next few minutes, giving his opinion on leaving the island as soon as possible and getting the infants and Orphans on the plane during the night.

Bill asked the question, “What about the filming? Can we quit when the locals are expecting us for the entire week?”

‘Big O’ settled that question, “We can’t worry about the locals now. We’ll get ready to leave as soon as possible. Bill and I are stir-crazy anyway, and that agent puts the damper on our good will efforts around here. Ken, you’re a resident of Saipan; so why don’t you go around tomorrow to the mayor and anyone else you think is important and explain that we have an emergency to take care of and we must leave right away. We will return when we get a chance.”

Ken agreed with that idea and already had a few ideas of how to sugar coat their unexpected exodus.

The conversation continued for about a half hour; then Doug explained that he had better get back to assist Capt. Scott, and he left.

‘Big O’ and everyone else on the team suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of urgency. “I think we have to get loaded by first thing in the morning. I’d like to make a couple more trips to the plane with the Orphans in crates and continue under the cover of darkness,” he stated with no room for argument.

Steve Blush, meanwhile, had left the beach and began working on his personal agenda of getting a cut of any gold that was involved. Having no idea of the danger that he could create, he visited local bars and asked questions about any buried treasure on Saipan.

Steve heard that a few stashes of valuable metal, possibly gold, had been discovered since World War II, but nothing significant. He talked to a bartender who continually diverted the conversation from that of treasures to the spectacular, like the bomb that exploded in the grade school playground. It had lain dormant for forty-five years just below the surface. An unlucky backhoe operator detonated it while digging a trench. The unfortunate man was scattered across the school grounds.

Capt. Scott continued filming without Doug’s help, taking the girls to the motel for a change of clothes and moving on to the Governor’s mansion for some goodwill shots with the governor in his flower garden.

Doug spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to locate Steve Blush. He searched restaurants and a couple bars, but failed to find him; so he called Bill on his ST. “I can’t locate this joker, Blush, anywhere. He must be in a hotel, possibly getting some shuteye.”

“Where are you,” Bill asked.

“I walked up the beach looking in restaurants, around the Duty Free store, two bars and ended up at Joe Tens Store. Can someone come and get me?”

“We’ve made a lot of headway on the Orphans. We delivered one load, and we’re about ready for another one.”

“Swing by Joe Tens on your way to the airport, and I’ll go with you.”

“Okay, bro., see you soon.”

Doug walked into the store and purchased a coke; then he walked outside to sit on a wooden bench and wait for Bill.

Bill arrived with Hatchet Jack as dusk was beginning to settle over the island. Doug met him in the middle of the parking lot and stated, as he squeezed inside the cab of the truck, “I’ve been thinking how fortunate we are that you guys worked all night to get the Orphans from Tinian. It was a life saver.”

Bill agreed and drove out of the parking lot toward the airport. In a tired and heavy voice added, “We talked about that, but we are beat to a pulp.”

“How many more Orphans need to be packed and loaded?”

Bill answered with a forced upbeat attitude, “We can make it in one more large load.”

They continued to the airport and spent the next forty-five minutes unloading the crates from the truck to the plane. The lax of security at the airport was surprising and appreciated. Nobody checked with them as they freely drove in and out of the airport loading area.

Doug offered to drive the truck back to the bunker, which was quickly accepted by Bill. The warm tropical breeze flowed through an open window of the truck, making the environment pleasant, but the internal mental frustration caused by that Steve character pushed the pleasantness out the other window before it could be noticed.

Unknown to the Goodwin Brothers and their team, Steve Blush continued creating an extremely dangerous situation. Steve wanted information about gold but couldn’t find anyone who would give it to him. Not realizing how quickly stories travel and become distorted on a small island, his careless mention of gold started a ripple effect throughout the island—first through the tourists, next through the workers of the bars, and then into the main hotels.

Later that evening, a bellhop working at the Nikko Hotel told his girlfriend that some Americans had found a treasure of gold on the island. The gist of this false information was overheard by a Yakz informant who passed it up the chain of command.

Within a few minutes, two young Japanese tourist-looking men slid next to Steve at the Nikko Hotel bar. They were wired, and Steve was caught on tape mentioning the possibility of Americans finding buried treasure on Saipan.

From that moment on, Steve would be pampered by Japanese girls and followed by Yakz men. He registered into the hotel and spent the night with a girl who pretended to be enchanted with his amorous advances, but who was, in reality, a plant by the Yakz to keep him under their control.

The remaining Orphans were transferred by two o’clock in the morning, and Hatchet Jack remained at the bunker to sleep and police the area, being certain that all evidence that could link them with this location was eliminated. The rest of the team returned to the rented house for a few hours shut-eye.

Early the next morning, Doug and Bill slipped away at daybreak to check out the latest gossip, hoping to keep ahead of any damage that Steve Blush could create. They proceeded to their favorite veggie-omelette restaurant through which they knew that all island gossip passed.

Their hopes were soon realized, for the restaurant was packed with all types of people—from tourists to locals. Doug asked the waitress who came to their table, “I hear some American asking about discovering gold around here.”

Nearly everyone in the restaurant tuned into the conversation, and several offered comments. “Hey man, some slick looking guy must know something about a buried treasure. He sure was talking a lot about it.”

Doug turned toward the voice and commented, “I heard about that too. Where’d you hear it?”

“Over at the Nikko last night,” came the reply.

Both Bill and Doug cringed at the word Nikko. They looked at each other and in unison began to leave. “We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Doug told the waitress, and they hurried to the truck and rushed back to their rented house.

‘Big O’ met them at the doorway, “What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing trouble.

“That Steve Blush has been all over town asking about gold. He even talked about it at the Nikko.”

‘Big O’ needed to hear no further words. He turned and shouted, “Okay men it’s time to pack up and move out.”

Capt. Scott and Ken, who were sitting at the kitchen table, sprang to their feet and responded with action. Everyone began gathering all his possessions. ‘Big O’ directed the action by continuing to give instructions. “There’s no doubt that the Yakz have been alerted, and we must leave the island immediately. Ken, you and Capt. Scott with Bill take the jeep and retrieve the Infants from the bank and meet us at the plane. Doug and I will police this place and pick up Hatchet Jack. Doug, can you pay the girls and make commercial airline reservations for them. They need to leave today too. Tell them we have an emergency in the States and have to be in LA by tomorrow. They can lay over in Hawaii as long as they want. Give them plenty of money. We’ll wait in Guam to make sure they make their flight. Tell them that it isn’t safe to stay here without our protection—scare them a little.”

Everyone continued working while ‘Big O’ gave instructions. Doug called the airlines and made reservations for the girls on the 9:00 a.m. flight, paying for them with his Bank of America debit card, which gave him complete security.

After making the reservations Doug walked over to Capt. Scott and commented, “So much for three purposes of our filming project. “We have to create a new gap in our trail in case anyone or organization has traced our activities through Steve Blushes carelessness. We’ll have to say “goodbye” to our film documentary.”

Capt. Scott accepted the new decisions without question and continued packing his personal gear..

Ken, Capt. Scott, and Bill left with a loaded jeep; while Doug and ‘Big O’ swept the house clean of any linking evidence—they had both been through that type of exit before. Traveling down Capital Hill Rd., they discussed all the ramifications of their security leak. The Yakz now had a lead to work on, and a smoke screen must be created.

The girls were still in bed when Doug knocked on their door. He heard a muffled, “Who is it?” and answered, “It’s Doug Goodwin. I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”

The door opened a crack and Audrey peeked through it, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t need to come in, but I have to tell you some urgent news; so you girls can start getting ready to leave the island.”

That comment brought six wide, sleepy eyes to the crack in the doorway. Doug continued, “Our company has had an unexpected emergency in Los Angeles, and we have to fly the company jet back as soon as possible.” Without a break in his explanation, Doug layed out the fabricated details as carefully as possible in a few minutes. “Here’s an envelope with your pay for a full two weeks and expenses for a stay in Hawaii, if you decide to stay for a vacation. I even added fifteen percent of Kim’s pay for her agent. You’ll find that I was more than generous. I have made airline reservations for you on Continental Airlines for this morning at 9 o’clock to travel to Guam, and then on to Hawaii. Use the Chamarro taxi to get to the airport. We’ll be in Hawaii to check on you—stay at the Hilton. Do you understand everything?”

The pairs of eyes looked at one another then back through the crack and nodded affirmatively. “We really must rush now,” Doug said hurriedly, “So good luck. We appreciated your help and we’ll do it again sometime.” With that, Doug left the startled girls to work out their own problems. He was sure that they would have no difficulty getting to Guam, and he would wait for them there to make sure they arrived safely.

‘Big O’ and Doug drove the truck to pick up Hatchet Jack at the bunker; then met the rest of the team at the airport parking lot. After leaving the truck and the jeep in the lot, all six men ran around the end terminal to their jet. ‘Big O’ spoke under his breath, “Thank the good Lord that security is lax and the guards are probably asleep.”

Doug smiled as he thought of the jeep and truck rusting in the lot for the next several years. “Nobody would think of moving them.” He remained on the ground while the others climbed the portable stairs and positioned themselves in the seats for rapid take-off. Doug rolled the stairs away from the plane, and Bill lowered a rope ladder. He then assisted Doug as he climbed into the jet.

Hatchet Jack moved immediately to the cockpit and began clicking switches. He quickly declared a flight plan to Guam and prepared for take off. The entire process required no big fanfare—just like they say…up, up, and away. They were headed for Guam with the Infants and Orphans securely stashed. Everyone aboard the jet breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that they had avoided the Yakz.

The three blondes scurried around the motel room in a state of bewilderment, cramming their clothes into bags and brushing their hair and chattering at the same time.

Carla was the first to speak rationally, “Why are we hurrying so fast? We still have over three hours.”

“I’m just so confused.” Audrey said.

Kim trying to console her, only made things worse, “I wonder if Blush had anything to do with this.”

“Steve Blush?” Carla asked with a bewildered expression.

Kim continued her thoughts, “I tried to tell him to stay away, but all he could talk about was commissions and buried treasure.”

Audrey added her two cents, “You always want to include that creep. I’ve never trusted him since day one.”

They bantered back and forth in a semi friendly way about Steve Blush. Suddenly the phone rang. As if by mental telepathy, it was Steve Blush on the line. “I’m just checking on your shooting schedule today,” he stated.

Kim, unable to hold back the tears of disappointment, blurted out, “There is no more schedule. We are leaving Saipan today and returning to the States.”

Steve was startled at the unexpected news. He pumped them for answers. “What’s going on? I thought you were here for one or two weeks.”

“That was the plan, but they had some kind of a company problem and had to leave early.”

“They’ve left already?” Steve shouted in disbelief.

“That’s right, gone bye-bye. We have airline tickets on Continental at nine o’clock this morning.”

“I knew there was something fishy about those guys. Who’s going to pay my expenses?” Steve greedily cried.

“They left money for your commission on my income. They paid me for two weeks plus expenses and left fifteen percent for you.”

Steve dropped his hand holding the phone to his side and shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that his dreams of finding buried treasure and becoming rich had burst within a few seconds. Returning to his conversation with Kim, he stated in matter-of-fact terms, “I’m going to keep track of this outfit. Do you know where they’re headed?”

“They said that they’d meet us in Hawaii.”

“Okay, I’ll be on your flight to Hawaii. I’m coming to your motel to stick with you guys—see you in a few minutes. I’ll get a taxi,” Steve said with clenched teeth. He called the airport right away and made reservations on the same flight to Hawaii through Guam.

Hatchet Jack landed the jet at 7:00 a.m. on the smooth runway at Guam International. The runway was maintained by the US government and served as a cross-link for international travel. He maneuvered the jet into refueling position and checked with his passengers. “Is anybody alive back here?”

Each person stirred from his sleeping position, then relaxed back into dreamland. Fatigue had overcome them, and nothing demanded their immediate attention; so they refused to move. ‘Big O’ quietly commented under his breath, “Everyone stay on the plane except Jack. Can you handle the refueling, Jack?”

“No problem, you guys can stay put.”

Hatchet Jack contacted traffic controller in the flight tower and made connections with the refueling depot. This allowed him to order the fuel without leaving the jet. He relaxed back in his seat planning to catch some shut-eye until Doug asked him to go into the terminal and watch for the arrival of Continental Airlines flight number 1. The three girls should be on that flight and transferring to Flight 956.

“You’ll be the least recognizable in our crew, and we need to be sure that they left the island safely,” Doug explained.

“How much time do I have?” Hatchet Jack asked.

“About three hours.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Hatchet Jack replied without hesitation. Pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes and pressing the timer alarm on his wristwatch, he closed his eyes.

The three girls were still hurrying around when the taxi arrived at 8 o’clock. Their main concern at this point was making sure their personal possessions were carefully packed.

“I checked everything twice,” Audrey said after they left the motel room. She dashed back into the room and returned holding a hair dryer. “See what I mean. My mother always told me to double check, even under the bed.”

Her wide-eyed roommates merely moved their heads from side to side, mouthing the words, “Whatever.”

The taxi pulled up to the motel. Steve Blush was in the front seat with the driver. Steve leaped out of the taxi and helped the driver load their luggage. Steve wanted to get to the airport, but the girls all insisted on stopping for breakfast.

“Okay take us to the nearest restaurant for breakfast,” he told the driver, acting as though he were in charge.

The driver drove to a restaurant near the Duty Free Store and parked near the entrance. He agreed to wait—this, most likely, being his only fare for the day,

A black Toyota sedan pulled into the parking lot right behind them, and three well-dressed Japanese men climbed out and followed the girls into the restaurant. The men positioned themselves at a table near the exit and ordered coffee and donuts.

Dark sunglasses hid their glances as they studied the actions of the girls. Steve Blush had been followed from the Nikko to the Starlight Motel and the Japanese men planned to stay with them if they left the Marianas; traveling with them to their far-reaching destinations. They looked harmless, but the Goodwin Brothers would have felt their evil aura.

Knowing that they had extra time, none of the girls hurried with their meal. Steve Blush talked continuously, trying to extrapolate knowledge about the group that hired his client, adding new details to the sketchy information that he had gained earlier from the girls. Kim had heard them mention gold, Los Angeles, Mexico and the Philippines. The other girls couldn’t add anything. “What were their names?” Steve asked.

“Well, we knew them all quite well,” Kim commented.

“Well, not that well,” Audrey was quick to add.

Steve interrupted, “I don’t care how well you knew them. What were their names?”

Kim began filling in the blanks while Steve made notes on a napkin. “There were the Goodwin brothers, Doug and Bill, Ken, ‘Big O’, and Capt. Scott.”

“Don’t forget Hatchet Jack.” Audrey interjected.

“Sounds like a fictitious crew to me,” Steve stated. “Where do you think they are going now?”

Carla, wanting to get in on the conversation, added her two-cents, “I think Los Angeles. Doug said that he would contact us in Hawaii.”

“We’re going to vacation in Hawaii,” Kim commented, bringing giggles from the other girls.

Steve was in no mood for fun or vacations. He refused to give up on the idea that he might be able to get in on a treasure recovery. “When we get to Hawaii, I want to meet all these guys.”

“You’re with us; so you’ll be able to meet them,” Kim said, reaching into her purse and retrieving an envelope containing money for Steve. “Doug asked me to give this to you. It’s your commission.”

Steve snatched the envelope and fanned through the bills. It looked like a significant amount; so he shoved it in his pocket. He still wanted more.

After a full hour, Steve insisted on leaving the restaurant and going to the airport. Their driver came to life as they exited the restaurant and picked them up at the front entrance.

The Japanese men followed closely behind in their Toyota. Driving to the front of the airport terminal, they still didn’t know the final destination of the people being tailed. They followed them into the terminal and stood as they watched the four American travelers acquire their boarding passes on Flight 1 to Guam with connecting Flight 956 to Hawaii.

Flight 956 was the earliest flight to Honolulu from Guam, but also the least direct. It would land on five different islands before reaching its final destination: the exotic sounding islands of Truk, Pohnpei, Kosrae, Kwajalein, and Majuro. Audrey, Carla, and Kim were delighted with the unique experience of seeing several tropical islands, but Steve was irritated with the delay caused by a total of three and a half hours of layovers. He wanted to get to Hawaii as quickly as possib