Ocean: The Sea Warriors (4 page)

“It’s all a trick,” he insisted, shaking his head. “A sleight of hand pulled off by you and your cohorts.” He motioned toward the water. “They’re concealed out there beneath the surface, operating some sort of a hidden platform that you ride around on. And I don’t believe that gill nonsense, either. Your friends are wearing scuba gear.”

Scowling as she put her sandals back on, she said, “You’re wrong, Grandfather, as wrong as you can be.”

But he turned his back on her and strode toward the hotel, saying something to Toshio as he strode away.

For a long while, the gardener remained where he was, watching Alicia, as if guarding her against doing something rash to herself, or against going after the old man.

Finally, exasperated, she marched past him and got in her car.

***

Chapter 6

After a stint as an Army pilot in which he received medals for valor, Jeff had found himself out of work, and had gone into business with some old friends, selling marijuana, cocaine, and designer drugs. He never consumed any of the substances himself, only profited from them. It was a business he secretly continued on his own when his grandfather offered him and Alicia jobs at the ranch.

Now as he hurried along the driveway from the helicopter landing pad to the main hotel building, he wore blue jeans and a long-sleeve white shirt, with no gold jewelry. He had a lot on his mind, going over and over what he would say to the cops. They were in his grandfather’s office awaiting him now; he’d received a call from the old man only minutes ago. For days, since learning of the first two deaths from tainted drugs, Jeff had been getting ready for this, in case he was ever questioned. It had been like preparing for an examination.

Except this was not school, and the consequences for failure were much bigger than blowing a test and getting a bad grade. If he failed this he would at least go to prison, and it could be worse than that. Depending upon the ultimate jurisdiction and charges, and the fact that people had died from the product, he could receive the death penalty.

Two police officers looked up from a couch as he entered his grandfather’s office. One of the officers, long-boned and leathery-faced, spoke first. “You’re Jeff Ellsworth?” he asked.

Nervously, Jeff nodded. He slipped into one of the plush, cushioned chairs fronting the desk where Preston Ellsworth III sat. The old man had a scowl on his face.

“We got a tip that drugs are being transported by helicopter on Loa’kai,” the officer said. “Do you know anything about that?”

Jeff shook his head, decided to push back to cover his fear. “Just because I’m a ‘copter pilot, you think I know who the bad guys are? The only thing I know about ‘copters and pilots around here involves the flights we run for tourists.”

“You’ve never been asked to transport illegal cargoes?” the other officer asked, a small, dark-skinned man.

Jeff shook his head. “Passengers only. Tourists on sightseeing and snorkeling trips.”

“You’ve never seen any suspicious activity that could be drug dealing? Think hard. We have nine dead so far from bad dope, and more in hospitals.”

“No suspicious activity of any kind.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing around here—not like I used to see in California when I lived there, before I went in the Army and flew combat missions. I don’t think there’s any drug dealing on the Wanaao side—at least, none that I’ve heard about.”

“What about the beaches?” the taller officer asked. “You’ve never noticed anything funny going on there?”

Feigning outrage, Jeff said, “You keep asking the same question over and over, in different ways. My answer is no to everything. I don’t know anything about drugs, period.”

The two cops exchanged glances, and rose to their feet. One of them handed a business card to Jeff and said, “You’ve seen enough movies, so you know what this is for.”

Jeff smiled stiffly, tucked the card into a pocket of his jeans.

When the police were gone, his grandfather scowled at him and said, “You’d better
not
be involved. The feds could confiscate this entire ranch if you’re dirty.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong, Grandfather.”

“I’d better not find out otherwise.”

When Jeff was finally outside the office, he was disturbed that the old man seemed to suspect something, and was afraid the cops would return with drug-sniffing dogs.

When he saw the police drive away, Jeff went to the helipad and washed out the front passenger seat area of the newer helicopter that he’d been using for his deliveries. He always kept it clean anyway, but he was going to a deeper level now. Then he washed and disinfected the rest of the cabin, and the inside of the other ‘copter, too—so that one aircraft did not look suspiciously much cleaner than the other.

In his room afterward, Jeff had an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wished he’d never gotten into dealing drugs, but told himself that the three deaths on Loa’kai were not his fault, nor any of the others in the islands. He hadn’t known the drugs were toxic when he distributed them.

***

Chapter 7

At midday, Alicia saw Kimo swimming off Ha’ini Beach, where he’d told her he would be training sea creatures to follow his beach-attack commands, attempting to improve on his abilities. Moanna had said that some of the future recruits would be able to lead certain species of sea life, and in preparation for that, Kimo wanted to be able to teach the newcomers the best methods of getting their animals to assault the major Hawaiian beaches, under his overall tactical command.

Thus far, Alicia had not shown any ability to lead marine animals—just the ability to generate small waves and stand on top of them, something that did not seem to be of any use in the beach operation. She intended to practice with waves anyway today, to see if she could improve her skills. She also wanted to see if she could generate tubular surfing waves, and for that she’d brought along her board, which lay on the sand near her.

Alicia wore a waterproof backpack, containing the list of potential volunteers in a sealed plastic bag. Kimo had told her to bring it along, in case they wanted to look at it for any reason and discuss it. With additional research they had two hundred fifty-three people on the list to recruit now, with only thirty-four additional names unverified.

Standing on the shore in a two-piece swimsuit, she used binoculars to identify schools of large fish around Kimo, including yellowfin tuna, swordfish, blue marlin, and bonito sharks. The young Hawaiian man was swimming in the midst of the fish, going in a small circle, motioning them into formation and calling out to them with some of the aquatic sounds she’d heard him use. Moments later, the tuna and swordfish spread to the right and left and gathered behind Kimo, keeping their species together, and the blue marlins reformed behind him, too, but at the center—thus forming a line of large fish in the rear of Kimo. Then, in front of him, between him and the beach, the bonito sharks took a central position. It looked like an ancient precision military maneuver, of Roman soldiers shifting on a field of combat before a battle, except this was in the water.

At a signal from Kimo, the entire assemblage went into a vee-formation and began to swim toward the shore, and pick up speed. At the last possible moment, the sharks veered off to each side, while behind them came the other three species, a mass of large and powerful creatures with Kimo in their midst. As the formation rushed toward her, Alicia found the display impressive, an operation that would surely send any human swimmers fleeing in terror.

When all of the creatures finally changed direction and sped back out into deeper water, Alicia left her pack and binoculars on the beach, then dove in the water and swam out to join Kimo. “Are you sure that maneuver won’t hurt anyone?” she asked. “It looked pretty frightening to me.”

“Exactly as it’s supposed to,” he said, swimming in place. “Sure, there could be a few minor injuries, maybe even a heart attack or two among older people—but it’s necessary, don’t you see? A small price to pay for the terrible damage humans have inflicted on the ocean.”

“We can discuss it later,” she said, not entirely convinced. “Come into shore with me. I want to talk about what we should do next.”

“Is your grandfather going to help us with the finances?” Kimo asked, as they swam on gentle waves that lapped toward the beach.

“No,” she said. “We’re on our own.”

“That’s exactly what I expected.”

Reaching shallow water they waded, and then stepped onto the beach and sat on the sun-warmed white sand.

“Grandfather was very upset by what I told him,” she said. “He doesn’t believe we can dive deep in the ocean, or anything I told him about Moanna. He says it’s all an elaborate trick to separate him from his money.”

“A trick? That’s ridiculous!”

“I know it, and you know it, but you have to admit, what’s happened to us is quite fantastic, and difficult to explain.”

He nodded somberly.

“We still haven’t figured out how to contact the people on our list,” Alicia said, “or what to say to them to keep from sounding like kooks.”

She noticed that some of the sea creatures Kimo had been leading were gathered just offshore now, along with a number of smaller, colorful species, as if guarding him, and perhaps Alicia as well.

“We don’t need the old man’s money to travel across the world,” he said, presently. “We’ll use jetfish—long, sleek creatures that can amalgamate and form an oxygen-rich enclosure for us to ride inside—a pod to transport us far away, at very high speeds. We’ll collect volunteers and bring them back the same way. Conventional transport would have been more comfortable and less disturbing to recruits, but we needed your grandfather’s help for that. Don’t worry, though, this will still work.”

“Jetfish? You haven’t mentioned them to me before.”

He laughed. “In the short time we’ve known each other, do you really think I could possibly have provided you with a catalogue of everything in my experience? The seas are vast, and even I know only a small part of what there is to know about them. It’s only in the past few years that I’ve discovered bubblefish and jetfish, and a number of other extremely unusual species. Even some species thought to be extinct are still swimming in the ocean.”

“I see,” she said, feeling chagrined. And she thought of the fish that had encased her in a bubble and taken her deep in the ocean to visit Moanna for the first time—something Kimo had called a “bubble tube”. Now she asked him if the jetfish pod was like that.

“Exactly the same, but totally different,” he said with an impish smile. “Jetfish do not dive deep, and bubblefish do not go fast.”

Alicia nodded. “But are we going to go see everyone on the list unannounced and try to make our case to them—proving we have gills and can swim underwater without external breathing gear? Also, some of the potential recruits are not near the ocean, so we’ll need to go overland to get to them.”

“Maybe there’s a good way to get the word out in advance, calling for any interested volunteers to make themselves accessible for pickup at designated places on the seashore. My mother and father have thousands of cousins in the islands, and even though I’m adopted, they’ve become my cousins, too. One of them, Jimmy Waimea, operates a newspaper in Honolulu and teaches journalism at a local high school.”

“He could help us?”

“I took the liberty of phoning him to discuss the situation, and he’s very interested, though he made no promises. He wants to meet with us personally to verify our special powers, and he wants to see our list of names. It’s another reason I had you bring it with you. We could go see him today.”

“All right.”

“I must inform you, though, that your grandfather dislikes Jimmy and once tried, unsuccessfully, to put him out of business.”

“That’s all right,” she said. “Do you think he could publicize our recruitment campaign, and give us some credibility?”

“Possibly, without us having to prove ourselves to each potential volunteer. We can just prove ourselves to Cousin Jimmy, get him to write a story that is transmitted around the world, and then go pick up the recruits.”

“With publicity, we could even receive donations,” she said.

“True, but that would take time, and the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that we should travel across the world in our own high-speed jetfish pod, without the aid of money, which really is an artificial, human concoction, isn’t it? Something we’re trying to get away from.”

“You’re right, but what about food for all the passengers we pick up, and toilets, and details like that? What about places to sleep? Will it be warm enough inside the jetfish pod? Will we need multiple pods, or–“

“So many questions!” he exclaimed. “Jetfish can amalgamate into small or very large pods—as long as an ocean liner, if we wish, although we will not need one that big for our list. One pod is preferable, so that I can guide it. Don’t worry, it will be nice and warm inside, with plenty of oxygen and places to lie down on the soft skin of the jetfish.” He laughed. “It’s not smelly inside, either. It’s not exactly first-class, but is quite tolerable, really.”

“I’m looking forward to the experience.”

“And for food, I have a well-to-do cousin, Danny Ho, who provides packaged meals for the military in the Pacific region, and for expeditions into remote areas. I’ll talk to him about donating supplies for our expedition, which is a worthy cause. I think I can talk him into it. He’s not filthy rich like your grandfather, but providing a few days of food is something he might be able to do for us. And I have a couple of contractors in mind who might be able to donate portable toilets—sealed units with holding tanks.” He thought for a moment. “And backup holding tanks. We’ll have a lot of people onboard, if this goes according to plan.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” she said, laughing. “I’m the one from a wealthy family, and you’re coming up with all of this?”

“Lots of cousins,” he said with a grin. “But if you want to ask your grandfather again, be my guest.”

“No, he’s hopeless. We’ll do it your way.”

Kimo moved his bare feet in the sand, then said, “For the short trip to Honolulu, we could swim, but it might be faster if you could arrange a wave that carries both of us. Could you do that?”

“Maybe, but why not ride your jetfish?”

“It will take around three or four hours to assemble them and have them generate a pod.”

“OK, I’ll try the wave method. Shall we depart now?”

He gave the go-ahead. Alicia donned the backpack, and in the water she generated a new wave. After several attempts, she found that only she could stand on it, but Kimo couldn’t. So, setting a wave at a moderate speed, she rode atop it, and towed Kimo behind her on a surfboard. On the way to Honolulu, Kimo arranged for a spectacular escort of leaping fish on both sides, some of the largest blue marlins Alicia had ever seen, each of them at least fifteen feet long and half a ton in weight.

Soon, Waikiki, Diamond Head, and the buildings of Honolulu came into view. Shouting to her, Kimo told her to land at Ala Moana Beach on the south shore. As they trudged across the hot, sun-bright sand (with Kimo carrying the surfboard), Alicia saw a dark-skinned Hawaiian man waving to them from the road. Jimmy Waimea stood by a battered old pickup truck, grinning. A small man in his sixties, he had a creased, deeply tanned face and intense brown eyes that seemed to dance with life.

“Hey, Cousin,” Kimo said, hugging him.

They completed introductions, and then Jimmy said to Alicia, “I’ve heard about your interesting talent, young lady, but I was uncertain of its authenticity until I saw you riding in on that wave, towing Kimo behind you. Kimo also tells me that he can heal sea creatures, and that you both have gills, enabling you to swim long distances underwater.”

“It’s all true,” she said. “And a lot more.”

“Jimmy,” said Kimo, “we know that you must have more proof before doing any publicity.”

He smiled. “You are very astute, Cousin. The responsibility of the press is at the core of my being. It is what I teach to my students; it is what I think about every day.”

“OK, now we’re going for another swim,” Kimo said, pointing toward the water.

Alicia stowed her surfboard and pack in the back of the pickup and followed Kimo back into the water. “We’ll show you some of our skills now,” Kimo said. “Jimmy, please note that we have no breathing equipment. Are you wearing a watch?”

“I am.”

“Will twenty minutes underwater without breathing equipment impress you?”

“If you remain close to shore where I can observe you continuously, confirming for myself—and for my subscribers—that there are no tricks. I’ll document it.” He grabbed a video recorder out of his truck.

Alicia and Kimo submerged themselves in the warm, shallow water and remained in the shallows, keeping their heads under. She wore a diving watch, enabling her to see the minutes and seconds ticking away.

Finally, after the allotted time passed, she tapped Kimo on the shoulder, and they resurfaced.

“You passed that test,” Waimea said.

“I’ll take the time to prove something else as well,” Kimo said, “my ability to heal wounded and sick sea creatures. Unfortunately, I do not see any nearby.”

“There’ll be time enough for that,” Jimmy said. “Now, let’s go to my office for a chat.”

During the drive to Waimea’s office at the high school, Alicia sat in the middle of the pickup’s front seat, holding her backpack on her lap and listening while Kimo and Jimmy talked.

“I am very impressed by the cause you wish to promote,” Waimea said, “the welfare of the ocean. I have long thought that people were abusing the waters of the world. To a large extent we don’t see it in our beautiful paradise here, but there have long been troublesome signs, and I have not been alone in noticing them.”

“We brought our list of names,” Kimo said.

“Yes, the names that came to you in dreams,” Jimmy said. “It appears that some extraordinary, paranormal, events have been occurring around the two of you.”

Waimea’s office was in the journalism shack between the main high school building and the football field. As they entered the one-story, metal-roofed shack, two young female students looked up from their computers and smiled, before resuming their work.