The Storm (NUMA Files 10)

“Captain Pickett and Sergeant First Class Arthur Watkins of the United States Marine Corps. They taught us the drills, how to fight, how to hide, how to spot the enemy.”

“Who was the Yankees fan?” Kurt asked.

“Captain Pickett loved the Yankees. He called them the Bronx Bombers.”

Kurt nodded. “And what happened when they left?”

Tautog looked as if he didn’t understand the question. “They did not leave,” he said. “Both men are buried here along with their crew.”

“They died here?”

“Captain Pickett died from his injuries eight months after the John Bury ran aground. The sergeant was badly injured as well. He could not walk, but he survived for eleven months and taught us how to fight.”

Kurt found the story amazing and intriguing. He’d never heard of a cargo cult where the Americans had

stayed behind. He only wished he could reach St. Julien Perlmutter and access his extensive history of naval warfare. The cargo ship had to be listed somewhere, probably labeled missing and presumed sunk, just another footnote to the huge war.

“I don’t understand,” Leilani said. “Why would you need to fight? I understand about the war and the Japanese, but this island is so small. It’s so far out of the way. I don’t think the Japanese were—I mean are—interested in taking it over.”

“It is not the island itself that we protect,” Tautog said. “It is the machine Captain Pickett entrusted to us.”

Kurt’s eyebrows went up. “The machine?”

“Yes,” Tautog said. “The great machine. The Pain Maker.”

CHAPTER 48

KURT AUSTIN HAD NO IDEA WHAT THE PAIN MAKER WAS, but with a name like that he had to find out. But first he had to deal with being a celebrity.

In a far cry from their initial reception, he and Leilani had become honored guests on Pickett’s Island. The fact that he was their first American visitor in seventy years was one thing, the fact that he knew the current Harry Truman had the tribesmen in their military fatigues treating him like MacArthur returning to the Philippines.

After giving Leilani and him fresh water to drink and allowing them to shower and change into fatigues like the other islanders wore, the men of Pickett’s Island treated them to a meal of fresh-caught fish along with mangoes, bananas and coconut milk from the trees that grew in abundance on the island.

While they ate, Tautog and three others regaled them with stories, explaining how all that they had and all that they knew had come from Captain Pickett and Sergeant Watkins. They didn’t say it in so many words, but it seemed like Pickett and Watkins had created their civilization out of thin air and were regarded almost like mythical spirits.

With dinner finished, Kurt and Leilani were taken on a tour of the island.

Kurt saw remarkable ingenuity in the setup. Structures built of rusting steel plate hid everywhere among the trees. Trenches and tunnels linked the supply-filled cave, lookout posts and areas with cisterns dug to catch rainwater. He saw material from every part of the ship in use somewhere: old boilers, piping and steel beams. Even the John Bury’s bell had been moved to a high point on the island where it could be rung to warn others of an emergency or in case of attack by the Japanese.

“I can’t believe no one’s told them,” Leilani whispered as they walked beneath the palm trees a few paces behind their guides.

“I don’t think they get a lot of visitors,” Kurt said.

“Shouldn’t we say something?”

Kurt shook his head. “I think they don’t want to know.”

“How could they not want to know?”

“They’re hiding from the world,” Kurt said. “It must have been part of Pickett’s strategy to keep this Pain Maker machine safe.”

She nodded, seeming to understand that. “How about we get out of here and let them keep hiding,” she said. “This is an island, after all. These people have to have boats. Maybe we could borrow one.”

Kurt knew they had boats because Tautog had said the camp actually included two other islands, which could be seen only from the high point of the central peak. He figured that meant a range of at least fifteen, maybe twenty miles. If a boat could handle that, it could get to the shipping lanes. If that’s where one planned to go.

“They do have boats,” Kurt said. “But we’re not going anywhere, just me.”

Leilani looked as though she’d been jabbed with a pin or something, her eyebrows shot up, her posture stiffened, she stopped in her tracks. “Excuse me?”