Treasured Dreams (2 page)

She glanced at Jimmy. He grinned like a drunken teenager. ‘Sounds like you boys have thought this through.'

‘Not me.' Archer palmed his chest, feigning horror at her suggestion. ‘I'm thinking something much more sophisticated would be appropriate.'

‘Really?' She said it sarcastically. She and Jimmy both knew how much Archer enjoyed a drink after a day of scuba diving. Rosalina hadn't put any thought into what they could do with the sundeck. Now that it was almost completely destroyed, they had an opportunity to do anything they wanted. Maybe this was exactly the distraction she needed.

‘You know what we could do? We could set up one of those amazing outdoor kitchens. With a teppanyaki barbeque or something similar.'

Archer snapped his fingers. ‘Great idea. It could go here, right alongside the bar.'

‘We could have a nice table setting up here too so we can eat outside for a change.' She could already picture it brimming with food.

‘We'll need a decent beer fridge.' Jimmy added, in all seriousness.

She laughed. ‘Of course we will.'

‘Hey guys.'

Rosalina couldn't see her yet, but Ginger's Australian accent was unmistakable. The younger woman stepped into view. Her tiny white shorts showed off her long tanned legs as she strode towards Rosalina.

‘
Buongiorno
. How is everyone?' Alessandro strode across the sundeck behind Ginger, carrying a manila folder.

Archer's eyes shot to the folder and by the look in his eyes, Rosalina figured half of his excitement was because of whatever it contained. Ginger clutched her blonde braid in her hand and bent down to kiss Rosalina's cheek.

Alessandro placed the folder on the sun lounge at Rosalina's left and then he too bent to kiss both her cheeks. For the first time since she'd met Alessandro, he seemed to be wearing a different aftershave. She had no doubt Ginger would've been the influence behind that.

‘
Come ti senti
?' His eyes were the picture of concern.

‘I'm fine, just sick of these crutches. And tired of sitting on my bottom, despite what Archer and Jimmy think.'

All of them gathered around her now and she felt both the weight of their concern and the prickle of anticipation. Their concern probably wasn't about her injuries. They would heal. It was because she hadn't been herself lately. Nearly losing the man she loved had consumed her every waking thought and some of her dreams, as did nearly being killed herself. It had been five weeks and she really was struggling to snap out of the gloom that gripped her.

Whatever was in the folder had both Archer and Jimmy falling over each other with excitement, and knowing them, it probably had something to do with ancient relics. She prepared herself, because she wasn't sure she could handle anything to do with treasure hunting yet.

‘Did they tell you what I found?' Alessandro indicated at Archer and Jimmy.

‘No. They wanted to wait till you were here.'

Alessandro nodded. ‘
Grazie, signori
.' The sun bounced off his slicked black hair as he bent over to open the folder and reached in. Archer sat on the edge of Rosalina's sun lounge and carefully lifted her legs onto his. His eyes, however, remained on the paperwork Alessandro lifted out.

‘Ginger and I made five copies.' As a university professor, Alessandro was accustomed to making presentations to large crowds, but right now, as he bounced from one foot to the other, Rosalina couldn't decide if he was excited or nervous.

The pages were held together with gold clips, and Alessandro handed one set to each of them, starting with Rosalina.

‘I've done some digging on the
Awa Maru
. Because it's been some time since we've discussed it, I took the liberty of summarising what we already knew about her.'

Rosalina scanned down the list as Alessandro read out their findings so far.

‘As we all know, the
Awa Maru
was a passenger ship that was requisitioned by the Japanese during the war, and in 1945 she was deployed by the Red Cross to carry supplies to American and allied prisoners of war held in Japanese custody. After delivering those supplies to Singapore, she was boarded with stranded marines, military personnel, and civilians.'

‘And treasure.' Jimmy's voice was that of an excited child.

‘Yes. Treasure.' The word treasure was highlighted and underlined on the page. ‘Billions of dollars apparently.'

‘Apparently.' Rosalina emphasised, and she shrugged one shoulder when Archer glanced at her.

Alessandro cleared his throat. ‘She is also rumoured to have carried the priceless Peking Man skulls.'

Rosalina couldn't fathom what someone would do with the 500,000-year-old skulls. Yes, they were priceless, but surely they'd be too creepy to put on display. And how someone could ever expect to sell them without revealing their identity was a mystery she couldn't piece together either.

‘Near midnight on the thirty first day of March 1945,' Alessandro continued, ‘the
Awa Maru
was torpedoed by an American submarine.'

‘And there was only one survivor,' Ginger said.

‘Yes,' Alessandro agreed. ‘The captain's steward, who is reported to have been the sole survivor of three torpedoed ships.'

‘That's one lucky bastard.' Jimmy shook his head.

‘Or unlucky,' Archer said, ‘depending on which way you look at it.'

Jimmy screwed up his face. ‘True.'

‘In 1980, China located the wreck of the
Awa Maru
, but no treasure was found.' Alessandro folded a slice of Culatello cured meat around a semi-ripened tomato, popped the appetiser in his mouth and watched Ginger scroll her finger down the page as she read. He waited until she was near the bottom before he spoke again. ‘So you all knew this up to this point.'

Ginger looked at him and grinned a silly, childish grin. Sometimes Rosalina forgot Ginger was only twenty-one years old.

Alessandro rubbed his hands together. ‘I've spent
significativo
time with my associates in the war museum, and I'm quite
certo
I have something.'

‘So spit it out, numbnuts.' Jimmy was an impatient man sometimes.

Ginger slapped Jimmy in the arm as Alessandro reached back into the folder and removed an A4-sized black-and-white photo.

The photo was of ten Japanese men. They were in uniform and positioned in two rows with the men at the front seated and the five men at the back standing behind them. None of them smiled. The man centred at the front held what looked like a Japanese samurai sword. A banner to the left of the picture had Japanese writing on it.

‘Are you going to tell us what it means, or should we start guessing?' Jimmy scowled at Alessandro.

Jimmy and Alessandro were both as bad as each other and had made it practically a hobby to needle each other at every opportunity. Before he'd taken up the offer to come treasure hunting with her and Archer, Alessandro was a professor of ancient history and architecture at Accadamia di Belle Arti in Florence, and had spent a significant portion of his day lecturing to disinterested students in a packed auditorium. Out here, he only had one naughty student to contend with—Jimmy. As usual, though, Alessandro appeared to take it in his stride.

‘This photo was taken in the Solomon Islands on a small island called Munda,' Alessandro said.

Rosalina examined the background of the photo and noticed dense jungle behind the men, and possibly a wooden hut with a thatched roof hiding within the vegetation.

‘These men were World War Two Pacific soldiers. See this
signore
?' Alessandro pointed at the man seated at the far left. ‘That's Kimoda Yukimura.'

Archer snapped his fingers. ‘The only guy to survive the sinking of the
Awa Maru
.'

‘
Correcto
. See this
signore?
' Alessandro pointed at the man standing directly behind Kimoda Yukimura. ‘That's Hiro Yukimura. Kimoda's identical twin brother.'

Chapter Two

For five weeks, Nox had tried to make his way back to where it had all begun. It hadn't been easy with no money, food or clothing, and no idea where he was to start. Every day, hell, nearly every hour, had presented him with another problem. But finally, he was here—outside the church he'd lived in from the age of twelve until the day he'd killed his father and ran off in search of the Calimala treasure.

He didn't have a plan. Nothing he did seemed planned these days. He only had a mission. The same mission he'd had since he discovered the ancient scroll hidden in the trumpet statue when he was ten years old. His mission was to find the Calimala treasure that had been stolen from the Church of St Apostoli seven hundred years ago.

That treasure was his.

His
death
would be the only thing that could stop him from succeeding. They'd tried. In the last year, he'd nearly died several times.

And yet here he was … a dead man walking.

He stood at the edge of the Piazza Del Limbo. The large concrete expanse did little to respect the hundreds of babies buried beneath it centuries ago. Nox had always thought it a little ironic given that the priests he grew up with were constantly worshipping the dead.

The church at the far edge of the plaza looked vacant, but then, it always had. Unlike all the other magnificent churches in Florence, the Church of St Apostoli was insignificant in grandeur. It stood amongst rows of homes that had been built and rebuilt continually over the centuries to the point where a cursory glance made it impossible to establish what era they belonged to.

The church, on the other hand, still showed off many of the original large stone blocks it had been built with in the eleventh century, which wasn't that unusual in an ancient city like Florence.

Nox scanned the area. Nobody was around. He didn't expect anyone to be. At this time of night, most people were filling their bellies with food. That thought made his stomach growl. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a decent meal. Over the last couple of weeks, he'd had to fight for nearly every feed. He'd stolen food from gardens, stalls, and the odd café table when no one was looking. He'd rummaged through garbage bins, hoping for something of substance. He'd begged for food from complete strangers and he'd feasted on oranges that he'd plucked from an overburdened tree until he threw up.

Standing outside the church, the smells of garlic and herbs wafting from the abundant cafés nearby made his stomach twist with hunger. He needed to eat.

The back kitchen in the church's underground was where he'd cooked his last meal. It was also the room where he'd killed his father. He suddenly wondered whether Father Benedici's death had been recorded as an accident as he'd planned, or was Nox's name at the top of the suspect list?

He didn't care. They wouldn't catch him. Everyone thought he was dead.

He ran his hand over his hair and for the hundredth time was surprised at its length. For decades, he'd been shaving his head. The last time he'd set foot in this church he'd been bald and overweight. Now his hair was shoulder-length and he was thin.
Very
thin. The chances of anyone recognising him were miniscule.

This epiphany had Nox conclude that returning to his old bedroom was going to be much easier than he'd anticipated.

With that notion, he strode towards the front door of the church, stepped over the landing and entered the peaceful space. A quick glance around confirmed he was alone. Nox walked up the black-and-white tiled mosaic floor and went straight for the statue of the woman with the eagle on her arm. Behind her, hidden beneath a heavy black curtain, was a small door. His only hope was that it was unlocked. It usually was.

His wish was granted and Nox ducked his head as he entered the darkened space.

Nox had been crawling the tunnels of this church for decades. He knew every passage, every secret doorway, every room. He even knew where he could stand that allowed sounds to travel from a significant distance away. It was one of these very spots that had blessed him with the information about the treasure. For that he would be forever grateful.

Nox didn't have too many things to be grateful for.

He pushed off from the wall, glided down the steps and navigated the tunnels to his bedroom without running into a single soul. Nox pushed open his bedroom door, stepped in, and closed the door behind him.

The smell of disinfectant invaded his nostrils. The room had been cleaned. He clenched his fist at that.

One of the things about this room he'd loved was the musty old smell of the mushrooms he'd grown in here. That pungent scent had almost masked his own distinct body odour. Almost. Having lived with Trimethylaminuria all his life, Nox rarely smelt his apparently offensive stench. Fish Odour syndrome was something he'd learnt to live with.

Actually, as far as he was concerned, the disease had helped shape him into the man he was today. A man he was proud to be. He was a survivor. He'd survived a spear through his belly, near drowning and falling from a lighthouse, not to mention starvation and dehydration. All of these experiences had made him stronger.

As had the years of torment he'd suffered at the hands of all those around him.

The only person Nox needed to be accountable to was himself.

His bed was still there, but the mattress was gone. He suspected the tapes he'd hidden in the base of the bed were gone too. He lifted one of the wooden slats on the bed and peered inside. Empty. His mind flicked over the numerous people who had featured on the tapes as he contemplated who could've found them. He wondered also what they did with all the incriminating evidence he'd collated on them.

Probably nothing.

Whoever found the tapes most likely featured on one or two of them. Nox had gathered evidence for years, recording anything he could use as blackmail.