The cab ride from the Tokyo Dome back to the docks seemed like the longest drive of Neil’s life. Nakamura had texted him after the duel to say that Jones was taking “the ingredient” for another shopping trip for “bay leaves.” Neil felt low and confused. He knew he hadn’t brought his best to the baseball duel, but a unanimous loss? Was he squandering his talent, putting it at risk? Cooking excellent food was a habit, a kind of repetitive excellence. He had now cooked below his abilities twice. Kong was getting better. Could Neil kick-start himself back to his own high standards in time?
He wanted to be home, in his own kitchen, practicing dishes, practicing techniques, keeping his nose and taste buds limber. Instead, he was going to meet Isabella and Nakamura at the docks for another wild-squid chase on the water.
Neil could tell right away that something was wrong. Nakamura and Isabella were nervously pacing up and down the dock. Neil threw some money at the cabdriver and ran over. “What is it?”
“We lost radio contact with them about ten minutes ago,” Isabella said.
Nakamura started walking toward the docks. “I’ve hired another boat to take us out to the last coordinates we have. C’mon.”
Just as they stepped onto the deck of the boat, Neil smelled cherry blossoms. He looked around but didn’t see any sign of Koko. He kept looking as they pulled away, and the aroma seemed to linger. It was quite breezy, though, so Neil couldn’t be sure. Had Koko been on the boat before them? That was not a cheerful thought. As they pulled farther and farther into the bay, Neil did a quick search of the boat. No holes or ticking bombs that he could see. The pilot was an old man. Neil decided not to worry Nakamura or Isabella.
“We’re getting close,” Nakamura said. All three of them gathered up against the railing and began searching the horizon for any sign of Larry’s boat.
“I don’t see anything but ships and fishing trawlers,” Isabella said. “And the waves from the boats are so high out here it’s very hard to see anything but glimpses in between.”
“I don’t see anything either. Maybe they pulled up on shore somewh—” Neil was interrupted by a loud thunk as their boat hit something. The impact jostled Neil and he fell over the railing and into the water. He splashed to keep his head above the waves, the salt water stinging his nose. Nakamura called out and the pilot stopped the boat.
“Neil!” Isabella yelled, reaching a hand out to him. Neil caught it, and Isabella and Nakamura pulled him back inside.
“What was that, Larry’s shark?” Nakamura asked.
Neil shook his head and coughed out the seawater from his lungs. “No,” he croaked. “Larry’s boat.” He opened his hand and held out a cell phone.
“That’s Jones’s phone,” Isabella gasped.
Neil nodded. “It was floating on top of the waves. I guess his cover is designed to protect it in case he drops it in water.”
“That’s not what we hit, though,” Nakamura said, looking back over the edge. “We hit a big chunk of the hull.” He pointed to a large section of wood that was bobbing up and down in the waves. Surrounding it were floating bits of wood, cloth, and shirts and jeans.
“They’re not dead,” Neil said, pointing to the ratty-looking jeans.
“How do you know?” Isabella said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I don’t. But part of the debris is made up of their clothes. Jones and Larry probably weren’t hanging out on the boat naked, which means they took off their clothes after the boat sank.”
“Why?” Isabella asked.
“So they could swim,” Neil said. He sheltered his eyes and scanned the horizon. “But where did they go?”
Nakamura pointed to a trail of more clothing that seemed to be heading back toward shore. “That way, I’ll bet,” he said.
“Andiamo! Let’s hurry and start looking!” Isabella yelled.
Nakamura called out to the captain and the boat took off, cutting through the waves and following the debris path.
“It was a good thing we pulled you back in when we did,” Isabella said. “I’m sure I saw that shark swimming around down there.”
I hope it didn’t show up until after Larry and Jones got away, Neil thought, but he kept it to himself and just said, “Thanks.”
The boat soon passed the last bits of floating wood, some of it still smoking. “An explosion for sure,” Nakamura said. “Let’s hope Larry and Jones are close.”
“How are we going to find anyone in this water?” Isabella cried.
Just then the breeze shifted. “Turn that way!” Neil yelled above the engine, grabbing Nakamura’s shoulder and pointing toward their right.
Nakamura yelled and the driver made a quick turn.
Neil ran to the bow of the boat and stuck his nose in the air. Every few seconds he would point in a slightly different direction, and finally he turned around and held his hands up. “Stop!” he called.
Nakamura noticed that he was smiling.
“Larry, you are a genius!” Neil called over the bow. Nakamura and Isabella ran to join Neil. Larry and Jones were floating in the water. Larry was taking sips from a giant thermos of coffee and spitting the liquid high into the air. The hot liquid hitting the cool air created little clouds of mist—coffee-scented mist.
Larry smiled. “I figured it was worth a shot, although what a waste of really good coffee. Now could you get us on board? We’re freezing!”
“And your cousin hasn’t shut up since we started swimming!” Jones snarled.
Both of the men were dressed in only underwear and lifejackets. “It was way easier to swim away from the fire this way,” Larry explained as Neil and Isabella wrapped him and Jones in towels and handed them some hot tea.
“I hate tea,” Larry said shivering. “But in this case I’ll make an exception.”
Neil waited until they’d warmed up, then started asking questions. “Was it another explosion? I’m sure I smelled Koko on the dock and I suspect that tackle box she gave her brother was what sank your boat last time. I think it had a bomb hidden inside.”
Larry sipped his tea and shook his head. “It might have been, but this time there was no warning, ticking, nothing like that. Something hit us from outside. At first I thought it was a big fish or a log. But then another one hit us and we started burning and sinking fast.”
“Armor-piercing torpedoes,” Jones said, staring straight ahead.
“Torpedoes?” Nakamura said, incredulous. “You’re kidding me.”
Jones shook his head slowly. “If not torpedoes, then something pretty close. They hit the hull and we started sinking.”
Larry smiled. “Yeah, but they didn’t sink us. I’ll tell you one other thing; this makes me absolutely sure that the treasure isn’t on an island or anywhere in Tokyo.”
“What do you mean?” Neil said.
Larry sipped his tea and looked up, grinning. “Our map coordinates are perfect. The treasure is underwater. We were right over the coordinates when we got attacked.”
“Great. So then we’ve got a zero percent chance of getting to it first,” Nakamura said. “Unless you know how to swim down a thousand feet.”
“Well, maybe not zero percent,” Neil said. Everyone turned to look at him. “I have an idea.”