It had gone down only a couple hundred yards from the rocky shore, but the sea was still a deep cobalt blue.
“We have to help her!” Lei reached over and hit the door opener, and the side of the JetRanger shot open.
“Coast Guard’s on the way,” Ken said, and indeed they could see a cutter in the distance—but Lei could also see that the little aircraft, while it had landed upright and seemed miraculously undamaged, was sinking.
The Plexi top flipped open, and the girl pulled herself up to standing even as the front of the Hummel made a sudden lurching dive nose-first. Water poured into the little craft.
“Get closer!” Lei screamed. The helicopter lowered. “Let’s throw her a rope or something!”
The girl unzipped her jacket and took out the little dog. She pitched the Chihuahua into the waves, pointing the animal toward shore.
Then, even as the water swirled up around her knees, she pulled the Walther and aimed at the helicopter. She pulled the trigger, and the report knocked her backward. Lei heard the
ping
of a bullet hitting metal. The pilot spun the craft away, even as Marcella and Rogers, in a better position near the door, cocked their rifles and took aim at the defiant figure.
Lei spotted the little dog, confused, swimming back toward the sinking aircraft.
“Angel!” Lei cried. “She’s turned around!” She opened the small cockpit side door, flung off her helmet and harness, ignoring the cries of the pilot and her fellow agents.
Lei felt the force of her will connecting with that of the girl as she pointed to the dog in the water, catching the girl’s eye. She was fully exposed to the Bandit’s gunfire, a ripe target—and somehow she knew the kid wouldn’t take the shot. The Bandit seemed to have heard Lei’s frantic message, and the girl turned away from the helicopter, scanning the water. She spotted the dog’s tiny head, struggling in the surging waves and about to be sucked down.
“What’re you doing?” Marcella yelled, even as Lei crouched in the door of the helicopter, holding on to the door frame. The Bandit flung the pistol away and dove away from the doomed ultralight, swimming toward Angel, but Lei could see she wouldn’t reach the animal in time—the tiny dog’s head disappeared under the waves even as the Hummel gurgled it’s last moments.
Lei pumped her lungs full of air and jumped out of the helicopter, aiming as best she could for where she’d last seen the Chihuahua. She lost sight of that spot on the water as she flew through the air, keeping her arms tight against her sides and feet together—but the water still felt like concrete as she hit, the shock of it slamming from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, buckling her knees and stealing her breath.
Lei opened her arms, kicking and swimming toward the surface, opening her eyes underwater. The salt water stung, and it was blurry—but she thought she saw a dark blotch straight ahead. She kicked hard, swimming toward it, her now-empty lungs screaming for air.
Lei scooped the Chihuahua into her arms and powered up through the water with her legs. Even weighted by the Kevlar vest, clothes, and athletic shoes, she was in shape, a strong swimmer, and she bore the dog to the surface, thrusting them both into air with a giant gasp. A wave promptly smacked her in the face as she treaded water, the Kevlar vest filling and weighting her down, her shoes heavy as iron.
Angel wasn’t moving.
The girl splashed over to reach her, dark eyes frantic. “Is she alive?”
“Take her,” Lei choked, thrusting the tiny dog into the girl’s hands. “Swim hard for shore.”
Without another word, the girl struck out for shore, holding Angel up above the waves with one hand.
Lei could see the helicopter still circling overhead, but her attention was now fully occupied with staying afloat. She was in trouble, weighted by the vest, her firearm, and accoutrements. She leaned over underwater and pulled off her shoes. That helped her kick, and she swam awkwardly after the Bandit, sinking a little lower with each stroke. Lei shed the Kevlar next, not sad to see the hated vest spiral into the depths. She was pretty sure she could make it now, her eyes on the seal-dark head of the girl swimming in front of her.
Lei staggered up into the shallows behind the Bandit, bare feet scraped by the rocky bottom, her legs rubbery, lungs burning, and eyes stinging with salt. The girl turned to her, and the little dog, cradled in her arms, still wasn’t moving.
“Help her!” the Bandit cried, face white and dark eyes wide.
Chapter 19
“Turn her upside down,” Lei said. “Let’s try giving her chest compressions.” Surely the basics for drowning used on a human would be the same for a dog. She was dimly aware of the helicopter spiraling down to land on the slope behind them.
The Bandit upended the Chihuahua by her hind legs and held her against her body as Lei pried open the dog’s jaws, pushing the tongue out of the way with one finger as she compressed the dog’s side with the other. Foamy water pumped out of the dog’s mouth.
Lei kept going, compressing the lungs manually with one hand and holding the tongue out of the way with the other until suddenly the tiny body jerked. Angel thrashed and vomited water over Lei as she knelt on the rocks.
“Oh, thank God!” the girl exclaimed, hugging the tiny dog. “And thank
you
,” she said to Lei.
“You’re welcome,” Lei said, grinning. “Thank God is right.” The tiny Chihuahua twisted around to lick the Bandit’s face just as Ken arrived, cuffs in hand.
“You’re under arrest,” he said. “Put your hands behind your back.”
“Take care of Angel,” the Smiley Bandit said, and handed the tiny, shivering Chihuahua to Lei.
“I will.” Lei hated the defeat in the girl’s eyes, the way they slid away as she turned around and put her hands behind her back. Ken moved in and cuffed her, leading her up the rocks onto the rocky red dirt of Molokai.
Kaunakakai Police Station was a rustic building in the middle of a Western-themed town dressed in the false fronts and bright paint of that style. Wrapped in a striped beach towel, handcuffed, and seated at a battered interview table, the Smiley Bandit looked even more unlikely than she had when Lei had first spotted her.
The other agents, seemingly unanimously, let Lei be the first to interview her. Lei set a portable video camera on the table, pointed in the girl’s direction
“I’m Special Agent Lei Texeira with the FBI. What’s your name?” Lei’s clothes were still soaked with ocean water, as were the girl’s, but Lei held the tiny, trembling Chihuahua on her lap, and the girl’s dark eyes were on the dog as she answered.
“Consuelo Aguilar.”
“And…How did this happen? All this?” Lei knew she should ask better questions, but she found herself tongue-tied, unsure how to start.
“It’s a long story.” The heavy metal handcuff looked obscene on the delicately fashioned wrist that Consuelo reached toward the dog. Angel whined and wriggled, straining toward the girl, and Lei finally set the tiny dog on the table. The Chihuahua trotted over and jumped into Consuelo’s lap.
Lei’s earbud crackled. “Running her. No priors, aged sixteen, attended McKinley High until she dropped out this year. Work fast. Wendy Watanabe’s on the way, and she’s organized a fund to hire Bennie Fernandez. He’s sending representation.”
Lei cursed inwardly, but a larger part of her was relieved. Consuelo would have the best defense lawyer in Hawaii. Bennie Fernandez was a cherubic little man with a Santa-like beard who wooed juries. He had been a thorn in Marcella’s side in several cases in the past.
“I’ll let you hold the dog, but you have to give us a statement.”
The girl’s long lashes dropped over remarkable dark eyes as she petted the dog in her lap. “It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.”
Consuelo’s father, Constantino Aguilar, had been an airplane mechanic working for Paradise Air for twenty years. He’d been a stickler for detail and quality, and he’d come down with colon cancer, diagnosed too late. Max Smiley had taken that opportunity to let him go, refusing his application for health-related leave and terminating his employment for absenteeism when the cancer got too bad for him to come to work.
He’d gone home to his sister’s house and taken four months to die, during which Consuelo had nursed him.
“And where’s your mother?” Lei asked, wondering who the girl’s guardian was.
“She died. Hit by a drunk driver,” Consuelo said. She petted Angel rather hard, but the tiny dog’s eyes just shut in bliss. Lei’s earbud crackled, and this time Ang’s voice filled her ear. They must be piping her in from Oahu to run background.
“Mother is Victoria Aguilar, killed in vehicular hit-and-run two years ago. Was walking with Consuelo when a drunk driver came up on the curb and ran her down.”
Lei sucked in her breath in a little gasp, her mind filling in the details of the horror that fourteen-year-old Consuelo must have gone through.
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” Consuelo looked up at Lei, and her eyes had gone hard and narrowed. “I knew exactly what I was doing. Max Smiley and the rest of the one percent, people who exploit others—they deserve what they’ve got coming.”
“So you think that chip on your shoulder justifies ripping people off.”
“I wasn’t ripping people off. I was practicing wealth redistribution.”
“Fancy words,” Lei said. “You took a shot at federal officers. Who else have you been working with? Who is the guy in the videos?”
The door opened, and a dapper, dark-skinned man in an aloha shirt and chinos entered. “I’m Frank Reza, Consuelo Aguilar’s temporary counsel, and she’s a minor. Please refrain from any further questions.”
Marcella had followed him in. “We can question her, and you can be present,” she argued, hands on shapely hips.
“Then at least let the girl get a shower, some food, and change into dry clothes. This is not humane treatment, and she’s a child.”
“Some child! We have a right to question this fugitive until we’re satisfied we know at least the extent of her plot and network and that it’s been disabled,” Marcella said.
“Network! Plot! You make the girl sound like a terrorist,” Reza said indignantly. Only Lei saw the way the girl’s eyes flared wide at the mention of “terrorist” before she lowered them, focusing on petting the little dog. Reza touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him. “Bennie Fernandez is on his way—I’m his Molokai associate. You’re in good hands now.”
Lei experienced a shiver of unease as Consuelo slanted a glance over at Lei. “I’m done talking,” she said.
And, with Reza planted at her side, it appeared she was. Marcella came in and had a crack at her, and so did Ken and Rogers. Lei finally wrestled the dog out of her arms and went outside the office, hoping that would help get her to talk—but Ken came out a few minutes later, shaking his head. “She won’t give up Rezents, where he is, what he’s doing, or even if he’s her partner.”
“We should just check in with Wendy Watanabe; she’s probably got better intel,” Lei said a little bitterly, setting Angel down in front of a saucer of water a kindly officer had poured. The outer office door opened and Watanabe, bright as a parakeet, walked in trailing her cameraman. “Speak of the devil.”
Watanabe spotted Lei and made a beeline across the office to her. “I hear you have the Bandit in custody.”
“No comment,” Lei said. Ken looked inscrutable beside her, his arms folded.
Watanabe looked down at the tiny Chihuahua, lapping water. “This is Angel, Max Smiley’s dog!” She gestured to the cameraman. “Get a shot of it!”
The man hoisted up the camera to his shoulder and zeroed in on Angel, who scuttled up against Lei’s soaked black pants, trembling. Lei scooped the dog up and the camera turned on her, Watanabe’s microphone appearing in her face. “Agent Texeira, this dog is Angel, the Chihuahua the Smileys have reported missing. What’s the status of the Smiley Bandit? We know from Coast Guard transmissions that the Hummel went down close to shore here on Molokai.”
“No comment.” Lei pushed the microphone away as Angel, terrified, tried to burrow into her neck. Ken turned the reporter by force and pushed her and the cameraman toward the door, gesturing with his head to a couple of officers, who assisted.
“This is a police station and this is an active investigation. Get outside.” They forcibly put the intrepid reporter outside the building, the cameraman recording the whole thing.
Lei could hear Watanabe monologuing on the steps. Adrenaline aftermath from the chase was setting in, and Lei sat abruptly on one of the metal chairs as Ken returned. “Did you ever line up Dr. Wilson? Because I think we should do a psych eval on Consuelo. I have a bad feeling about what’s going on with her.”
“Yeah, soon as we transport her. We’ll take the helicopter back to Oahu and get that rolling.”
Marcella stuck her head out of the interview room. “We’re done here for now. Let’s get her on the chopper and into a holding cell. We can have another go tomorrow.”
Reza followed her out. “I’ll ride with her on the helicopter.”
“No, you won’t. The chopper is not rated for civilian transport.” Marcella’s voice was crisp. “You can arrange for representation to meet us at the helipad. I’m sure Bennie can work it into his schedule.”
Rogers led Consuelo out by the elbow, looking impossibly young and small in a set of borrowed sweats. “Pilot says the chopper is refueled and ready to go.”
Ken ended up staying behind on Molokai to wait for a civilian flight out and oversee the retrieval of the Hummel. It was being hauled in by the Coast Guard, and Ken was to take possession of whatever Consuelo had stolen from the stone castle on Lanai.
Lei climbed into the helicopter last, carrying Angel. Consuelo sat in the farthest seat back from the pilot against the side window. Marcella and Rogers had left the seat beside her open for Lei, and she took it, checking the girl’s four-point seat belt and setting a protective helmet on her head, adjusting the strap under her chin.
Consuelo’s head lolled apathetically, and even Angel’s excited licks failed to rouse the girl.
The chopper lifted, weaving a little in the wind, and after climbing, drew a line for Oahu.