PHOTO above - Clint

**

"I just don't get it," Clint complained as he and Brad hoofed it up Causarina Avenue back out in the heat of the sun and the busy Rabaul traffic. "That Chinese man was just too damn informative. We walked right in there and found out everything we wanted to know. It was way too fuckin' easy."

Brad punched him playfully on the arm. "Relax, Max. We can't be distrustful of all the Chinese people we run into."

"Why not? They all act suspiciously. For all we know, that Mr. Wong could be a member of the tong."

"Come on now," Brad kidded him. "They're not all bad. Jimmy's part Chinese."

Clint glowered at him. "Right. From his grandfather. And he was the leader of the tong!"

"Don't be so paranoid. As long as we're on my dad's trail, that's all that matters. We'll handle complications as they come."

Clint snorted and forced a grin. "Yah, like we always do!"

They turned west on Papua Street and walked down toward Chinatown. The government offices and commercial establishments gave way to more utilitarian-looking buildings as they approached the Chinese neighborhood.

There were only a few of the dark-skinned natives here. Most of those milling around were young men dressed fashionably in white tropical suits, dark hair slicked back and eyes slanted, and only a few of their female counterparts were visible. There were white men too, from all over the globe, rough-looking characters, unshaven, with holstered guns swagging their hips and brimmed pith helmets and Panama hats shading their eyes. They moved up and down the sidewalks in front of the shops where windows were filled with displays of goods from all over Asia and the islands. Brad couldn't help wondering where they were all going and what they were all doing.

"Those guys must be the gold seekers and adventurers," Clint said as if in answer to Brad's thoughts. He chuckled. "They probably all come here to Chinatown because the food is so good."

"And the rates cheaper." Brad pointed to a wood-frame hotel on the next corner. "There's Ho Wah's. Big place, huh? I bet rooms there are a lot lower priced than at the European Hotel."

"And there's Jimmy." Clint jerked his chin ahead. "He's got a Jeep. Sure looks like it's been through a war."

"Right. The same one you went through."

"But I don't look that bad."

Brad hooted. "If you'd had to carry around all the soldiers that thing did, you'd look every bit as beat up."

Brad was watching Jimmy as they crossed the street. He was leaning against the vehicle looking  as handsome and sexy as possible. His t-shirt was pulling against his broad chest and his shorts were hugging his muscular thighs. With his dark good looks, the curly blond hair and slanted blue eyes, he was the perfect composite of the people all around him.

Brad felt a stirring in his pulse as he watched the boy, and he took a sidelong glance at Clint to see if he was looking too. Which he was. Hungrily. Brad couldn't help smiling. Clint wanted Jimmy really bad. And it didn't even make him jealous. He was happy Clint was in touch with his real feelings again.

Hell, Clint could have Jimmy as much and as often as he wanted, Brad was thinking, as long as he was in on it too.

The boys walked over to the Jeep which was parked by the curb in front of the hotel.

"It's a war relic," Jimmy told them, as if they'd had no idea.

The vehicle was painted a drab military green, had no top or windshield, and the seats were covered with worn upholstery that obviously would provide no comfort for driving on bumpy mountain roads.

Jimmy handed Brad some bills and a receipt. He pointed across the street. "I got it at that garage there. Doesn't look like much, but it drives good. I just took it for a spin around town. We can drop it off at an associate garage up in Storms End."

"Looks great. Just so it gets us around." Brad went on to tell him what they'd learned at the European Hotel.

"What?" Jimmy's eyes widened with excitement. "The madman of Coastwatchers Hill? Are you kidding me? I've always wanted to see those caves up there and I guess that's where we're going, huh? You have any idea what your dad wants with this crazy Chinese man?"

"Not any more than I knew why he wanted to find your grandmother." Brad paused and shrugged. "But we found out the reason for that, didn't we? And I'm supposing we'll find out the reason behind this, too."

"It's part of the mystery," Clint said. "Just like your Granny Sal. An old American lady on Lateela Island, now it's an old Chinese man here at Rabaul. Maybe they're connected somehow. Could be someone she knew back then. Somebody she ..."

Clint's words had faltered, and he clamped his mouth shut as their three sets of eyes locked together with anxious expressions. For a full half-minute they were speechless.

Then Jimmy blurted, "No, it can't be. He's dead!"

Brad let out an excited breath. "Jeez! Johnny Fang! What if it's him, Jimmy? It'd sure make sense. My dad and Dr. Pullman were looking for your grandmother, why not your grandfather too?"

"Nahh ... no way," Clint butt in before Jimmy could answer. "He died on Palua Pae, down in the cavern of light under the City of Death."

"Did he?" Brad wondered aloud, his heart suddenly beginning to thump in beat to the jungle drums up in the hills. "Jimmy, did Granny Sal actually see Johnny Fang die?"

Jimmy was standing there with his mouth agape, and Brad and Clint saw a shudder run through him. He drew in a deep breath. "Man, this is so weird. Granny Sal saw him disappear. Like into thin air by the glaring light in the middle of that cavern. Jeez, fellas, do you think ...?"

He looked at Brad and Clint with an agonizing wonder. "Do you think maybe he didn't die?"

"And somehow ended up here in those Japanese caves ... a madman?" Brad concluded for him. "You bet I do, Jimmy. What other old Chinese man could it be, connected with your grandmother and the mystery of Palua Pae? And isn't this port the first stop after that lost island?"

Clint nodded. "Right. It's where the boat that picked up Granny Sal first put in. It could be that Johnny Fang survived whatever happened down in the cavern and got off the island too. And got picked up, Jimmy, like your grandma did, and taken here. Then he went up to live in the caves, a madman because of what happened to him in that cave of light."

Jimmy leaned against the Jeep. "I don't believe it! All these years I thought he was dead. If it is him, Brad, how would your dad know to look for him? And to look for him here in Rabaul?"

"How did he know to look for your grandmother on Lateela Island?" Brad countered. "My dad and Dr. Pullman have information we can only guess at. Somebody else knows what happened on Palua Pae when Shanghai Sal and Johnny Fang were there. A mystery person. Somebody we don't even know about. And whoever it is, he told the United Nations about it because they've got my dad and Dr. Pullman out here tracking it all down."

Clint grunted. "And told us they were checking out coconuts."

Jimmy turned away from them and the boys could see he was deeply moved and a little bit frightened as he gazed up at the hills beyond Vulcan.

The native boy sighed. "And what the hell is it they're tracking down? Fuck! The United Nations. And scientists? And right after the biggest war the world has ever known? It's got to be something huge. I can't believe that my family's involved in something like this, so big and ... international ... and mysterious!"

Just then a swelling of the murmur of the crowd rose up around them and a buzz in the sky above caused them to turn their heads and look up.

"Hey, it's Pocka." Brad pointed up in the sky at the familiar onrushing Dragon, which seemed to be bearing right down on Chinatown.

"Oh no," Clint blurted. "I thought we left that crazy mother fucker behind."

"Ha!" Jimmy laughed. "No way behind us. He'll be on top of us in a second."

As the people on the street all stopped to look up at the approaching biplane, its pilot pulled up short and roared straight up into the sky in a twisting spiral directly above Ho Wah's Hotel. The noise of the crowd swelled and cheers broke out in appreciation of the daredevil stunt.

Brad shot a clenched fist up into the air, shouting, "Go, Pocka! Sock it to 'em!"

A Chinese woman who had stopped next to the Jeep to watch the airplane looked at them with an excited smile.

"You know Pocka Poco?" she asked with a laughing lilt.

"Darn right we do," Clint said. "We were just on that airplane. Got off about an hour ago."

"Oh, I never go up there," the woman said, gaping back up into the sky. "I afraid! But he always do tricks for Chinatown when he fly away."

"Sounds like Pocka," Jimmy grinned, watching the Dragon as it shot up so high it seemed like it would be out of sight in a moment or two.

But just in time, while they could still see it, the plane leveled off into a quick rollover and then shot back down straight at them, whirling in a hurricane-speed death spiral right at the center of Chinatown.

"Whoaaa ... oaaa, Pocka!" Brad hissed out, as the excited crowd clapped and cheered.

"Yow! He's gonna crash right into the hotel," Jimmy groaned. "How the fuck can he do these crazy stunts with those floats on the plane?"

"He'll level out right at the psychological moment," Clint told them. "You wait. Just when we can't stand it anymore."

Some of the crowd were shouting and screaming now, afraid the pilot might not be able to stop. Others were pointing and laughing, for they'd seen this done before and knew it would come to no harm.

When it seemed the pilot could go no farther in the spinning spiral, he did go farther, and the crowd sucked in a collective "Oooh!" and held its breath. Brad was clenching his fists so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palms.

"Come on, Pocka," he groaned. "Level off, man. You'll crash!"

Clint slapped the hood of the Jeep. "Ho, Jack! Stop it. Straighten out all-fucking-ready!"

And then, with a huge whoosh, when it seemed like there wasn't a second left and that the Dragon would surely crash right into the hotel, the pilot swooped straight and did a series of zigzags and hops while the crowd applauded and cheered until the plane disappeared into the distance.

"He crazy man!" the Chinese woman said to the boys after letting go a long breath she'd been holding. Then she bowed slightly and, with a smile, walked on.

"Crazy as a mad kangaroo," Jimmy grunted in agreement. "Remind me never to go on a flight with that wack-job again."

Clint nodded eagerly. "You bet. Once was enough for me too."

Brad watched as the crowd began to move on as the people went back to what they'd been doing. "He wouldn't be able to do that back home in the States. There must be little aviation regulations here."

"Probably none, not yet," Jimmy said, leaning back against the Jeep. "We've only had planes around here in New Guinea on a regular basis since the war." Then his mouth set in a firm straight line as his face grew serious. "So what do you guys say? Shall we eat lunch and clean up, or should we go right on up to Coastwatchers Hill? We can get food and a shower-bath here at Ho Wah's."

Brad shrugged his shoulders. Of course, he certainly wanted to go into a shower room with Clint and Jimmy. Real bad. But he didn't trust himself. He knew he'd get the biggest boner of his life being naked with the two of them. No way he'd be able to control himself. So he said, "We sure could use a clean-up, and food sounds good. But I'm really anxious to get up into those caves."

"Do you think your dad and Dr. Pullman could still be there?" Clint asked.

"Maybe. But how can we even make a guess at it? We're totally in the dark about all of this. I think it's best to follow up this lead as quick as possible."

"We can get food-to-go at Ho Wah's," Jimmy suggested, "and catch up with cleaning up as we go along."

"Good idea," Clint agreed. "Especially that food-to-go!"

The boys swung into action and went into the hotel where they ordered the food and freshened up in the rest room as best they could. They brushed their teeth, took their quinine pills for the day, and gazed longingly at the shower-bath room. Brad almost snorted aloud at the idea of it. They'd all had their eyes on each other way too much for them to take a shower together in a public place!

On the way out, after picking up the food order, Jimmy bought an Australian newspaper and they went a few doors down the street to an outfitter where they bought a couple lanterns and some oil, and an extra flashlight to use in the caves.

They stopped at a filling station on the way out of town for instructions, and Brad got a map and a tourist brochure as Jimmy filled the tank and Clint pretended to wash the front windshield that wasn't there.

A few minutes later, Jimmy turned off the outer road and drove up Tunnel Hill Road. The jungle foliage closed in around them as they zigzagged along the switchbacks to the higher elevations. Here and there open areas offered views of nearby Vulcan, smoking away and looking close enough to touch. The volcano was barren, covered with ash and having only patches of the jungle growth. Beyond it were glimpses of the harbor and the other volcanoes, the wide cloudless blue sky, and the sparkling waters of the Bismarck Sea.

Signs in English and the native language pointed the way upward to Coastwatchers Hill. The Jeep bounced along the bumpy dirt road. Soon they were up to the high ridges and the road ended at a large level area, a ragged field overlooking the massive cone of Vulcan with its gushing plume of smoke and ash.

"Nice view," Clint grunted, as Jimmy pulled the Jeep to a stop next to two big artillery guns near the cliff edge of the clearing.

"This is the coastwatchers lookout," Brad said, reading from the brochure. "It was the headquarters area for the Japanese military and the entrance way into the tunnels."

He pointed ahead out past the harbor. "Those islands out there in the straits are the Duke of York Islands. On a clear day sometimes, you can see the shores of New Ireland across the way."

Clint grimaced, squinting his eyes to look at the islands ahead and search for a distant shore beyond. "That's another thing about this whole place New Guinea that's so damn weird. It's a tropical jungle filled with natives, and some of them pretty darn primitive. But all the important place names are European - British and Dutch and German. And the Europeans and Australians control everything. Why aren't these people in control of their own land?"

"It's 'imperialism and empire', Clint." Jimmy turned off the engine. "The Germans and Dutch and British came out this way for conquest and colonization. The Portuguese, too, and the French in many places, the Spanish up in the Philippines. Hell, it was easy for them to beat down the unarmed natives and take over.

"But it's getting better," he went on, standing up to peer out at the vista and get a better view. The breeze began to ruffle through his hair. "Someday New Guinea will be free and its people their own masters. Australia will let us go. But the way it is now, we still need her. Papuans have a long way to go yet before they can control their own destiny in today's world."

"And maybe you'll be president one day," Brad suggested with a chuckle. "Clint and I will come out here twenty years from now and visit you at the presidential mansion."

Jimmy looked thoughtful as he scrutinized the smoldering cone of Vulcan. "Give me thirty years," he laughed. "If I decide to go into politics, I want to have some fun first."

Brad climbed out and was inspecting the big guns, glancing back and forth at the brochure in his hand. "This is a pair of Japanese anti-aircraft guns," he told the others. "Seventy-five millimeter ones. And there's another." He pointed down the cliff edge about fifty feet away. "That one there, it's twenty-five millimeter. And some others ... those!" He gestured behind where two big guns rested right at the edge of the ascending hillside. "Those must be the anti-tank guns. They're different."

"There's supposed to be a lot of munitions around here," Jimmy said, jumping to the ground. "The caves are loaded with all kinds of stuff."

Clint swung his legs over the side and joined them on the mud-packed grass. "Good. Maybe we can find some arms to take with us on the way to Storms End."

He cocked his head to listen to the sound of the drums coming from the hills behind. "This is starting to spook me out, boys. Here we are in New Britain listening to jungle drums, gazing into a volcano while on our way to Japanese caves! It's totally fucking weirdsville. We sure the hell need some guns!"

Brad laughed and punched him on the arm. "What you need is some food, buster. You really get grumpy when you're hungry." He reached into the Jeep and pulled out the big paper sack holding the Chinese food from Ho Wah's. "Here. Eat! You'll feel better."

Clint took the bag from Brad. "Damn right I will. Man, this stuff smells great." He grinned, sniffing at it. "Good enough to make us all turn Chinese." He chuckled, glancing quickly at Jimmy. "Cripes, you're already halfway there, bud."

Jimmy grinned back. "One quarter, Clint. Not half. I'm half kanaka from my dad. One quarter Caucasian from Granny Sal, and one quarter Chinese from Johnny Fang."

Brad turned to look at the hillside where the entrances to the caves were hidden behind the jungle growth.

"Johnny Fang?" he grunted. "Let's eat, boys. Then we can go into those caves and see if we can find that mad old Chinaman. He may be the key to this whole crazy mystery."

The boys sat down at the edge of the cliff and attacked the containers of food. They hadn't eaten since early morning and it was already past lunchtime. They admired the view and discussed all the strange aspects of their journey as they devoured egg rolls, fried rice, lemon chicken, pepper steak, and paper cups of tea that was contained nicely for them in a bottle.

A few minutes into the meal and they were already feeling better. The rich seasoned food was just what they needed to charge them up from the stress of the long night, the escape from the pirates, and the wild daredevil flight to Rabaul.

Presently Brad noticed a couple native boys watching them from the bush. All he could see was their dark faces and wide eyes, and he suspected they were far more interested in the food than he and Clint and Jimmy themselves.

He gestured toward the boys. "Jimmy, tell those kids to come over. Maybe we can learn something from them."

"Yeah, they might know the madman if they hang around up here," Clint figured.

Jimmy stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled at the boys across the clearing. Then he gestured for them to come over. They edged out of the foliage into the sunlight and looked over at the boys warily. They were dressed only in ragged short pants, with no shirts and no shoes. One was tall and appeared to be a teenager. The other was short and younger, maybe nine or ten years old.

"Brotha! Brotha!" Jimmy called, gesturing again with his arm. "Cumalong dis place. Dis fellas heah hokay!"

The two boys smiled tentatively after hearing that and began to run across the clearing.

"They seem to understand that jive," Clint grinned.

"All the kids know Pidgin now," Jimmy explained. "Even kids from the jungle villages. It's been around forever and was used a lot in the years between the two great wars."

The native boys ran up and stopped at the cliff edge near the boys, grinning eagerly as they looked hungrily at the food. They both had mops of curly dark hair and the taller one was skinny, but they both looked well-fed.

Brad told Jimmy, "Ask them if they're hungry."

Jimmy grinned back at the smiling boys. "Brotha! Brotha!" he addressed them again, then rattled off a chain of words in the local kanaka tongue.

The tall one responded and the younger boy looked on eagerly and a conversation ensued with lightning quick dialogue that sounded like a lot of mumbo-jumbo to Brad and Clint.

"Yeah, they're hungry all right," Jimmy explained at length. "They live in a village beyond this mountain and come up here to play in the caves. They smelled the food and were spying on us, hungry for some."

"They can have the rest of it," Clint said. "We've had our fill. There's plenty left over."

"Right," Brad agreed. "Tell them to sit down and eat. We can ask them about the caves. If they play in there, they ought to know a lot about them."

Jimmy translated and the boys sat down excitedly and assaulted the cartons of food as Brad and Clint passed them over. They ate with their hands, fast and neat, and they gulped down the tea that Clint poured for them in the paper cups.

Brad grinned as he watched them. "Barefoot and hungry," he laughed. "Ask them what they know about the caves, Jimmy. And the madman, too."

Jimmy rattled off another barrage of expressive syllables and both boys nodded and laughed in high-pitched cackles. Then the older boy pointed back to the hillside and said, "You betch'um! Cuckoo nut Chinaman dem Jap caves belongem!" Then he reverted to kanaka to tell Jimmy even more.

When the boy stopped speaking, Jimmy turned to Brad and Clint. "They play in the caves all the time and know them pretty good. The madman lives in there and has his own little cave. Some of the older folks say he's been around forever, but the boys don't remember him being here before the Japanese came and took over..

"But," Jimmy went on, frowning a little, "they haven't seen him in a few days and were in the caves just now looking for him. They're brothers and sometimes their mother sends them over with food for the old Chinese man. Seems the village people kind of look after him."

Brad's brows began to furrow. "Ask when they saw him last."

The question was fielded and Jimmy translated the energetic response. "They saw him five days ago, after bringing him a bowl of optaki their mother made. He was happy to receive the food, and as a reward showed the boys a trolley system in the caves and pushed them for a ride in a car. But since then they haven't seen him anywhere in the tunnels."

Brad looked at Clint, slowly shaking his head. "He's been gone since the day my dad and Dr. Pullman came up here. What do you make of that?"

Clint pondered for a minute, tossing a stone over the cliff. Then he shrugged. "Hopefully it means they found the old man and took him along with them wherever they were headed. Either that or the tong got them all." He turned to Jimmy, his lips pressed tightly together. "Ask them if they saw two white men around here."

Both boys jibber-jabbered in length in answer to the question. Afterward, Jimmy looked at Brad and Clint with a grim expression.

"They didn't see them. They weren't here that day. But other boys from the village had come up to play and they saw the two white men go into the caves. Not long after, several vehicles drove into the field here and parked. Small trucks and a Jeep. A bunch of Chinese guys jumped out and ran into the caves, all of them bearing guns. The boys were so frightened they ran back to the village."

Brad looked at the two dark-skinned boys still happily eating the Chinese food. He groaned. "That sure doesn't sound good. My dad and Dr. Pullman came up here and then a band of Chinese mercenaries followed them?"

"Sounds like pirates, tong members, those thugs on the Mirandu," Clint huffed. He looked angrily back at the road they'd come up on. "Mr. Wong from the European Hotel sent your dad and Dr. Pullman up here, and then maybe he called the chink gunmen to go up after them? I didn't trust that guy from the moment I first saw him. And now he sent us up here! Those slant-eyed eggheads might be on their way up here right now to get us."

He shut his mouth abruptly, looking at Jimmy. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to offend you about the chinks and slanted eyes."

Jimmy grunted a laugh as if to dismiss the thought. "You overgrown bigot. It takes a lot more than that to offend me."

Clint looked outraged. "Hey! Don't call me a bigot. Man, those are just words."

"Yah, words that offend people," Jimmy shot back. "And denigrate them. Keep them submissive and hold them down."

"So what the hell, I grew up in America," Clint defended himself. "That's what we learn there. Sometimes I forget."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it," he growled. "It's not like I haven't dealt with it before. I'm used to it. And you couldn't offend me if you tried. Because if you did, I'd have to beat the crap outta you. And I like you too much to mess up that pretty face of yours."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Oh yeah? Don't push your luck, Jimmy Tomato. Beat me up? That'd be the day. Talk that shit some more and I'll pick you up and throw you over the cliff right into Vulcan's cone."

Jimmy sneered at him. "A wimp like you couldn't pick me up if your life depended on it."

"You think so, jungle boy?" Clint sneered right back. "If you don't watch out, like I warned you before, I'll come over there and kiss you."

"Ha! You kiss me, big white B'wana, and I'll flip you right down on the ground, jump on you, rip your pants down and fu.... "

"Whoa!" Brad scrambled to his feet and got between the two of them. "Knock it off, you two! Dammit, Jimmy, shut the heck up. We got little boys here."

Jimmy was still scowling at Clint. "Screw 'em. They don't understand English anyway. I'm not gonna let Bozo here push me around."

Clint grunted a laugh. "You'd love it if I started pushing you around. And if I stopped, you'd beg for more."

"Oh jeez you guys, stop it!" Brad stood there, the smoking cone of Vulcan behind him. His hands were on his hips as he looked from one boy to the other. He knew what was going on. They were so freaking hot for each other they couldn't stand it, and they were ready to beat the crap out of each other because at least then they'd be touching. But he knew that just one touch and they'd end up in each other's arms making out instead. No way would they be fighting.

He shot a quick glance at Jimmy. "Ask those kids if anything's changed at the old man's cave since he's been gone. Anything missing? Maybe signs of a struggle?"

Jimmy gave Clint one more threatening glance then struggled to control himself. He questioned the boys, and they chatted noisily, shaking their heads in the universal sign of No.

"Everything's the same," Jimmy explained. "His supplies and clothes are still there, and his guns and ammunition."

"Guns? Ammo?" Clint's eyes widened at that. "We'd better vamanoose to that cave and arm ourselves before the tong boys come up here after us. I had more then enough of those sons-of-bitches on the freighter last night."

"Exactly what I'm thinking," Brad agreed. "The madman will have done us at least some good if we can get his guns."

Clint pushed himself to his feet. "What I don't get," he was saying, "is why the madman is just a legend down in town. But up here in the hills everyone seems to know him and they even bring him food, as if he was just the old man next door."

"It's two different worlds," Jimmy said as he got up, looking at Clint now with a rueful expression. "The people down in Rabaul are far more civilized than the tribal people in these mountains. Naturally they don't believe a lot of the strange tales they hear from them."

The kanaka boys had finished up the food and Brad began picking up the cartons and wrappings and placing them in the paper sack Clint held open for him.

Brad said, "Ask these boys if they'll show us the way to the old man's cave."

After being questioned, the boys readily agreed and got to their feet with happy faces, having taken part in a food feast they'd never known the likes of before. After they cleaned up the site, Clint put the refuse in the back of the Jeep.

"Should we hide this vehicle in case our tong buds come looking for us?" he asked.

"Good idea. We'd better," Brad agreed.

Watching them closely, the older native boy started jabbering excitedly.

"Smart kid," Jimmy said. "He understood that. He says there's a small cave right up in the bush we can park it in. Come on. Let's get going!"

"You bet!" Brad jumped into the Jeep to drive it across the field as Clint and Jimmy and the boys hoofed it over to the bush. He followed closely behind them, an eager thrill coursing through him in anticipation of what lay ahead.

PHOTO - anti-aircraft guns on Coastwatchers Hill

***

NEXT! Don't miss the horrors awaiting inside the caves of war!

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