'I never saw it,' he said.
Pitt latched up the trunk, then casually inspected the rest of the car. Overhead, a bank of dark gray clouds began moving in rapidly from the west. The remaining mourners milling about the tomb quickly headed toward their vehicles parked below to avoid the pending deluge.
'I guess we better be on our way,' Gunn said, steering Pitt toward their rented jeep down the hill. 'So, it's back to Washington?'
Pitt stopped and stared at the mausoleum of Genghis Khan one last time. Then he shook his head.
'No, Rudi, you go on ahead. I'll catch up in a few days.'
'You staying here a bit longer?'
'No,' Pitt replied with a faraway twinkle in his eye. 'I'm going to hunt a wolf.'
-66-
The tropical sun beat warmly on the deck of the
'Keliuli Bay,' he announced, turning toward the rear of the bridge.
Seated at a mahogany chart table, Pitt was examining a coastal chart of Hawaii with a magnifying glass.
Unfurled beside the map was the cheetah skin he had retrieved from Leigh Hunt's crashed Fokker in the Gobi Desert. Pitt's children, Dirk and Summer, stood nearby, looking over their father's shoulder with curiosity.
'So, this is the scene of the crime,' the elder Pitt said, rising from the table and peering out the window.
He stretched his arms and yawned, tired from his recent flight from Ulaanbaatar to Honolulu, via Irkutsk and Tokyo. The warm humid air felt refreshing on his skin, after leaving Mongolia during a late-summer cold snap that had snow flurries in the air when he boarded his flight.
Pitt's return to Hawaii brought with it a certain melancholy, which deepened during his layover in Honolulu. With a three-hour wait for his commuter flight to Hilo, he rented a car and drove across the Koolau Mountains to the east shore of Oahu. Off a side road near Kailua Beach, he wandered into a tiny cemetery that overlooked the ocean. It was a small but well-maintained patch of green surrounded by lush foliage. Pitt sauntered methodically through the grounds, examining the assorted tombstones.
Beneath the shadowy branches of a blossoming plumeria tree, he found the grave site of Summer Moran.
His first and deepest love, and the mother of his children, Summer Moran had died only recently. Pitt had not known she was alive and living in seclusion after a disfiguring accident, believing that she had died decades earlier. He had lived the years trying to purge her memory from his mind and heart, until the sudden arrival of his two grown children on his doorstep. A flood of emotions returned, and he painfully wondered how his life would have been different, had he known she was alive and raising their twin children. He had forged a close bond with the kids now, and he had the love of his wife Loren. But the feeling of loss remained, tinged with anger at losing the time he could have spent with her.
With heaviness in his chest, he gathered up a handful of the fragrant plumeria blossoms and sprinkled them gently over her grave. For a long while, he stood wistfully by her side, staring out at the ocean. The gentle rolling waves from his other love, the sea, helped wash away the pain he felt. He finally stepped from the cemetery tired and drained, but with a renewed sense of hopefulness.
Standing on the bridge now with his children, he felt a warm glow, knowing a part of Summer still lived.
The adventuresome spirit rekindled, he refocused on the mystery Chinese shipwreck.
'The marker buoy is where Summer laid waste to the drill ship.' Dirk smiled, pointing out the window.
'The Chinese wreck site is almost in the dead center of the cove,' he said, swinging his arm around to the right.
'The artifacts have all dated to at least the thirteenth century?' Pitt asked.
'Everything has indicated as much,' Summer replied. 'The ceramic pieces recovered date from the late Song to the early Yuan dynasties. The wood samples came up elm and date to approximately 1280. The famed Chinese shipyard of Longjiang used elm and other woods in their ship construction, which is another piece of confirming evidence.'
'The local geological records don't hurt either,' Dirk said. 'Since the wreck was devoured by a lava flow, we checked the known history of volcanic eruptions on the Big Island. Although Kilauea is the best-known and most- active volcano, Hualalai and Mauna Loa also have a recent history of activity. The closest to our spot here, Mauna Loa, has erupted thirty-six times in the last one hundred fifty years. She's had an untold number of lava releases in the centuries prior. Local geologists have been able to radiocarbon-date charcoal samplings recovered from beneath the lava flows. One lava sample study, from neighboring Pohue Bay, dates around eight hundred years old. We don't know for sure if the lava flows that washed into the cove and buried our ship were from that same eruption, but my money says it was. If so, then our ship would have arrived no later than 1300 a.d.'
'Does anything correlate with your cryptic cheetah skin?' Summer asked.
'It is impossible to date, but the voyage depicted shows some interesting similarities,' Pitt replied. 'The lead vessel is a mammoth four-masted junk, which seems to match the size of your wreck, based on the rudder uncovered by Dirk and Jack. Unfortunately, there was no narrative accompanying the images.
Only a few decipherable words appear on the skin, which translates as 'A lasting voyage to paradise.' '
Pitt sat down and studied the two-dimensional artistry on the animal skin again. The series of drawings clearly showed a four-masted junk at sail with two smaller support ships. Several panels depicted a long ocean voyage until the ships arrived at a cluster of islands. Though crudely marked, the islands lay in the same relative position as the largest of Hawaii's eight islands. The large junk was shown landing on the biggest island, anchoring near a cave at the base of a high cliff. The final panel was what most intrigued Pitt. It showed the moored ship near some crates at the base of the cliff. Fire and smoke enveloped the ship and the surrounding landside. Pitt studied a flag burning on the ship's mast with particular interest.
'The volcanic eruption fits like a glove,' he said. 'The flames in the drawing look like a brush fire, but that's the secret. It wasn't a fire at all but a volcanic eruption.'
'Those crates,' Summer said. 'They must contain some sort of treasure or valuables. Tong, or Borjin, as you've said his real name is, knew something about the ship's cargo. That's why they were trying to open up the lava field with a directed earthquake.'
'I guess the laugh is on them,' Dirk said. 'The treasure, or whatever it is, wasn't even on the ship. If the drawing is correct, then the cargo was taken ashore and destroyed by the lava flows.'
'Was it destroyed?' Pitt asked with a wily grin.
'How could it have survived the lava flows?' Summer asked. She picked up the magnifying glass and studied the last panel. Her eyebrows arched just a trace as she studied the crates surrounded by black stone. The image showed no flames on or about the crates.
'They are not on fire in the picture. Do you really think they could have survived?'
'I'd say it is worth a look. Let's go get wet and find out for sure.'
'But would it have to be buried in lava?' Dirk protested.
'Have a little faith in the old man,' Pitt smiled, then headed off the bridge.
With a high degree of skepticism, Dirk and Summer followed their father to the rear of the ship and assembled three sets of dive gear. Loaded into a Zodiac, they were lowered over the side of the ship by Jack Dahlgren.
'I'll have a tequila waiting for the first person who finds a Ming vase,' he joked as he cast off the rubber boat.
'Don't forget the salt and lime,' Summer shouted back.
