The Mystery of Yamashita's Map by James McKenzie Read Free Book Online

Reaching down, he felt, on the floor, something hard, something brittle – it snapped as he picked it up and fell into shards in his hands.
     
    He guessed it was bone he was touching and he guessed that this was a place where death had happened, where death had been invited. Gradually, his eyes began to become accustomed to the light and he groped about and felt the artefacts of the dead, shoes, clothing, hats, hair. He was glad that he could barely see, as his fingers drifted over partially recognisable objects that had been left by those who had perished here.
     
    Suddenly he felt a wind on his cheek and turned, expecting to see light, but caught only a glimpse of a bright blue smoke that seemed to contain its own luminescence as it flitted through the black air of the cave. He thought to follow where it was going, hoping that it would lead to the outside, assuming that it was the smoke of some cigarette or camp fire that burned in the open air. He found that he was in a tunnel. Feeling with his hands he made out the distinct rounded construction of a military design. Still he followed the blue smoke; he felt by now as though it were leading him somewhere, although where he didn’t know. Then he heard a ringing. He turned his head. The ringing was incessant, constant. He placed his hands over his ears to stop it but it carried on. It got louder and louder until he thought he could bear it no longer. He closed his eyes and held them shut for minutes.
     
    When he opened them again he was in bed. The sun was streaming in through the window. The professor looked at the alarm clock with disgust, reached an arm out and flicked the small switch on its side. Mornings were the worst part of the day. He got out of bed and remembered suddenly the events of the night before. Ignoring the chaos in his apartment he pulled on his trousers and shirt, took the book from his jacket and headed out of the front door. He had decided the night before that he would visit the University library and research the name Amichi as it related to cartography or Chinese Buddhist temples. He knew he didn’t have much to go on but libraries were his place, they were his territory and he knew he would be safe there, at least.
     
    By the time he got there Lisa was already at one of the tables surrounded by books and opened newspapers. The professor sat down beside her and whispered, ‘How are you getting on?’
     
    Lisa shook her head. ‘Not very well. Not one mention of Amichi in any of these books on Chinese Buddhist temples.’
     
    She pointed to a stack of books a metre high. The professor laughed. ‘Have you left any books for anyone else?’
     
    Lisa continued: ‘There is an Amichi mentioned in this volume by someone called Carter, but it’s far too early, probably two hundred years off, no way would this Amichi be our one.’
     
    The professor sat back and thought a while. He pressed his hands together in a manner that suggested prayer; Lisa thought perhaps he was praying, but for what she did not know. Slowly, he began to speak.
     
    ‘What if . . . what if he is not connected with Buddhist temples at all, what if the book was merely a way of hiding the map? Wouldn’t that make sense, to hide a map inside a book that has little relevance to it? Perhaps the Buddhist temples were just a red herring to take us, and anyone, off the scent.’
     
    ‘But uncle, that takes us further away from finding an answer. How do we even start to look for someone called Amichi?’
     
    The professor thought. ‘The girl,’ he said finally. ‘The television said that the girl was from a small island off the mainland. We have to find out which island. Perhaps she was related to this Amichi. Perhaps she is Amichi.’
     
    ‘Uncle, how do we even go about finding which of the islands we are looking for? There could be dozens of possibilities.’
     
    The professor smiled. ‘The television also said that they were driving her body back