Chapter 6
The evening had been uneventful. Sitting over their orange juice and cereal in the morning, Lehua said, “Maybe whoever it is has just given up.”
“Who're you trying to kid? There's a Number One behind all this, and he's not about to give up. Thugs are cheap, and that acid wasn't meant to just scare you. He's gonna to do his damnedest to keep you from writing any more articles. Which reminds me; did you get the next one finished last night? I could still hear you shuffling papers after the eleven o'clock news.”
“Just about. I'll need to go into the office to get some figures, but there shouldn't be more than an hour-or-so's work left on it.”
“OK. Let me know when you want to go. I'll check in at the station on the way, and we can pick up stuff for dinner on the way back.”
Lehua giggled. “If we don't find Number One pretty soon, I may die from overeating.”
Millie grinned in reply. “There are worse ways to go.”
Lehua turned serious, thinking of the fates of the would-be rapist and the acid thrower. “I know.”
* * *
They found Captain Silva in his usual relaxed position behind the big army-surplus desk. “Anything to report?” he asked, nodding toward the chairs opposite him.
“No, Captain,” Millie answered, “not even a rock through the window.”
“What are your plans for today?”
Millie looked over at Lehua, who said, “I have to go by the office for an hour or two, and Millie wants to do some shopping. I have plenty of work waiting for me at home, so I imagine we'll be back to my apartment by noon. Anything else you want to do, Millie?”
“Uh-uh, except to get started on that soup.”
A smile spread over Sam Silva's broad face. “I've eaten some of Millie's bean soup. You're getting an extra bonus out of police protection, Lehua.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. Has the acid thrower given you any hints about who hired him?”
Silva gave a snort. “The doctors are keeping us at arm's length, but I doubt we could get much from him right now anyway. He's developed pneumonia, and they have him in an oxygen tent. I have someone standing nearby. As soon as we can, we'll start questioning him again. At least, we know who he is now.” As he spoke, he slid a file folder across the desk.
Lehua checked the tab, which read “Chen Loo-Ying.” Inside, the typed fax from the Honolulu PD was the biography of a Taiwanese who had been naturalized in the US, and who had then proceeded to accumulate a long criminal record. “That copy's for your files,” Sam said. “We haven't been able to connect him to anyone on the Big Island, but maybe you can. Incidentally, we checked back on where the near-rape happened. We found the tire iron and⦔
He paused, looking Lehua in the eyes. “There was one hell of a lot of blood there, almost as much as if he'd been stomped there rather than where we found him. Any idea how that could have happened?”
Lehua shook her head.
“The pathologist says he was hit a hell of a blow on his arm. It was a compound fracture, and a splinter of bone ruptured an arteryâplus the whole arm was dislocated and practically torn from its socket. Doc Murakama says a sledge hammer couldn't have done a better job, and a gorilla couldn't have smashed up his face any more thoroughly.”
“He was running awfully fast when he came at me and stumbled.” Lehua wondered if her statement sounded as lame to Sam and Millie as it did to her.
Silva shrugged. “I guess it just wasn't his lucky day.”
As the two women left the station, Millie said, “Sounds like the Captain thinks there was someone else in the alley, someone damn powerful, who cleaned that rapist's clock. Was there someone?”
Lehua shook her head emphatically. Millie looked down at her companion who was almost a foot shorter than herself, shook her head, then changed the subject to what she intended to buy at the market.
* * *
Cy MacLeish, with the customary worried expression on his lean, bespectacled face, met them at the elevator. At his suggestion, they went off to his office. “For God's sake, be careful Lehua. It's nice to be emptying out all our paper boxes, but I'd rather cancel those articles than have something happen to you.”
“Do you really think my articles are increasing sales?”
“You bet they are. We've even boosted our sales off island. Now with a front page story about that acid thrower, I'm already upping today's press run by ten percent.”
Lehua smiled. “It's nice to think I'm earning my keep without being here much. And don't worry; Millie's taking good care of me. Maybe one or two more articles will flush out Number One.”
“I hope so,” Cy said, as the women rose to leave, “but it will be a relief when the most dangerous thing in the paper is an editorial about the incompetence of His Honor, the mayor.”
* * *
Millie was duly appreciative of Lehua's private office, and particularly of the view.
“You should have been here the night of the big lightning storm out on the ocean last month,” Lehua said. “It looked like some of those TV shots of Baghdad during the Gulf War.”
Millie passed a hand over the surface of the window. “Too bad it isn't cleaner, though.”
“I know. It's all on the outside, and it's sealed because of the air conditioning. I told maintenance about it, but they have a lot to do already keeping this old building together. Maybe I'll give them another call today. It's so nice to sit back and look out when I lose inspiration, that it's a shame not to get the full benefit of the view. Speaking of inspiration, I'm going to shoo you out while I finish this column. Nothing can happen to me here.”
Millie looked dubious. “I suppose I could play the movie cop role and sit in a chair outside in the hall, chewing gum and leaning back on two legs against the wall.”
“Don't be silly. Go out and explore. If you've never been in the press room, it's worth seeing that million-dollar jobby our generous publisher just invested in. I'm sure one of the pressmen will be happy to give you a tour. Besides, this floor is full of reporters going back and forth this time of day. No one would be stupid enough to try to come in here unnoticed, with that mob milling around outside.”
“Maybe I will, but not until I'm damn sure you can lock this door securely.” Millie inspected the lock as she spoke.
“Then that means you can go and breathe easy. These were old hotel rooms with deadbolts on the inside.”
“How long do you expect to be working?”
“Not much more than an hour.” “I guess I can leave you that long. Be sure to lock the door after I leave, and don't open it for anyone else until I get back.”
Lehua saluted. “Yes ma'm.”
Millie grinned a “see you” as Lehua closed the door behind her and shot the bolt.
Sitting down at her desk, she turned on the computer, tapped a few keys, and brought up her article. She had barely started giving it her full attention when the phone rang.
“Hello. Could I speak to Sergeant De Rego, please?”
“She's not here, but I can take a message for her.”
“No. That's OK. I can catch her later.”
“It's really no problem. Who shall I say called.”
“It's patrolman Sing, but⦔
“She is in the building someplace. Try information. They should be able to run her down. If you'll hold on, I can transfer you.”
“No, thanks. That's OK. Don't bother. I'll give them a ring.”
Mildly annoyed at the interruption and wondering why the station had not called Millie on her beeper, Lehua went back to her article and slowly scrolled it up the screen. She decided it needed strengthening, less speculation, stronger positive statements, and more of them. Running quickly through it, she spotted the “maybes” and “perhapses,” dropped a sizable fraction of them, then searched for the XXX's she had been planning to replace with data.
The first one was a Taiwanese newspaper referring to a suburb of Taipei as the location of the Angel Tong headquarters. Lehua knew the reference was somewhere in her files. She pushed away from her desk, got up and went over to the cabinet. As she riffled through the manila folders, she suddenly became aware something had blocked out the afternoon sun coming through the window.
Assuming the cloud cover from Hualalai was making an early afternoon move down the mountain, she turned and did a double-take at the window washer strapped to the outside of the building. He smiled and waved at her. She waved back, thinking how surprised Millie would be to find a clean window and a clear view when she returned.
Lehua watched as the man reached into his canvas bucket, leaned back on the safety strap and came up with a pistol equipped with a silencer. The ping of the bullet piercing a hole in the window was the first sound she heard, followed by two more in rapid succession. In mid-air, inches from her chest, she saw the three of them flatten out and slowly slide down an invisible wall.
Before the bullets reached the floor, the window exploded outwards with a roar. There was no scream, no suggestion of response from the window washer except for a change of expression, from something akin to smugness, to surprise, to horror. His whole body seemed to flatten out against the blue expanse behind him. The two eye-bolts holding the safety belt to the concrete casing tore out simultaneously. His limp, scarecrow figure flipped over backwards and tumbled to the street below.
She had no idea how long someone had been pounding on the door. Millie's voice finally penetrated her consciousness. “Lehua! Lehua! Open up! Are you in there?”
Tearing her attention away from the gaping expanse of the missing window, she slid back the bolt and barely stood back in time as Millie came crashing through with her service revolver drawn. Behind her, two reporters peered into the office, but neither made a move to come in.
Chapter 7
For the fourth time, Millie said, “I never should have left you alone.”
The two women were sitting in Captain Silva's office awaiting his return from the Kona News Building. Lehua had point-blank refused to go over to where the body was lying. It was surrounded by a curious crowd, held back by a patrolman who had come by within moments of the accident. Millie and Lehua circled around the crowd to get to Millie's car.
On the way to the station, Lehua had tried to reassure the disconsolate officer. “There was no way anyone could tell someone would come down from the roof. Besides, I was the one who insisted you leave.”
Millie was still showing no signs of being mollified. “If Captain Silva doesn't lift my badge for this, I swear I won't let you out of my sight, not even to go to the
lua
.”
Sam Silva did not lift her badge. In fact, he said nothing at all about her role in the incident as he lumbered in, face expressionless, and plopped down into his chair. “O.K., Lehua, give me the storyâ¦from the beginning.”
Lehua hesitated, gathered her thoughts, and said, “I was standing at the file cabinet and turned around to see the window washer, or rather the fake window washer. He grinned, took a gun out of his bucket, aimed it at me and pulled the trigger. Three times. The window exploded and blew him loose from the casing.”
Silva shifted in his chair, reached into his pocket and dropped three flattened steel-jacketed bullets onto the desk in front of him. “Those were on the floor of your office. Any idea how they got that way?”
Lehua shook her head, then said, “I suppose the window did it.”
Silva's eyes narrowed. “I checked. Those windows are a heavy laminated glass, double paned. Both of them were plenty tough, but no way could they have done that to those bullets. And that's something else. What made the window explode? Bullets could go through them, all right, but it would have taken a sledgehammer to smash them out like that, something like the sledgehammer it would have taken to break Reveille's arm.”
Lehua's lips tightened. “I just can't explain it.”
Ignoring her, Silva continued his description of the preliminary pm. “The Doc says that about every bone in that guy's body is broken. He says he's never seen anything like it since the first Gulf War, when they found the body of an Iraqi who'd been run over by a dozen tanks trying to get away from an air attack. It's kind of hard to understand how a six-floor fall could account for something like that.” Sam rubbed his chin and looked steadily at Lehua, before adding, “I checked with Building Maintenance. They say those steel eyes the gunman was hooked to passed a 5000-pound test when they were installed, and there's no sign of corrosion on them.”
Millie could no longer hold back. “I'm really sorry about what happened, Captain. I know I should have stayed with her.”
Without moving his head, Silva's eyes shifted to her. “Would it have made any difference if you had been there?”
Before Millie could answer, Lehua decided to talk about something else, partly to get her own mind off of the rag-doll figure she had seen on the sidewalk beneath her shattered window, and partly to spare Millie a reprimand, though now it seemed unlikely there would be any. “What about the acid thrower? Has he told you anything yet?”
Silva's eyes shifted back to her. “He's fading fast, and can't even write now. He did scribble one last sentence before he lapsed into unconsciousness.”
“What did it say?”
“âShe did throw that acid at me.'”
* * *
By the time they were leaving the station, Millie had partially recovered from her dismay. “What I can't figure out, is how he found out you were in the office alone? Since he knew you were in the building, he must have seen me with you, and he must have known I wouldn't just have stood there waving at him.”
“Is there an officer named Sing in the department?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Well, there's your explanation,” Lehua said. “I got a call for you, and I should have been suspicious at the time. It was someone who said he wanted to talk to you and who finally identified himself as patrolman Sing. Now, it's obvious it was the fake window washer just checking to make sure you weren't there.”
“And I'm sure he had some fancy story ready for me if I had been there, something to get me out of your office. Dumb as I am, I'd have probably fallen for it too.”
Lehua started to protest, but Millie went on without listening.
“Number One seems to think of everything. His only problem is he's been unluckyâ¦so far.” Millie paused. As she slid behind the wheel of her car and Lehua closed the passenger door, she added, “The Captain's right, you know. There's more to all this than meets the eye, and I'm beginning to think the way he's thinking.” As she spoke she cramped the wheel and pulled out of the parking place,
Lehua stared straight ahead and said nothing. Once out in the traffic stream, she turned to the now silent Millie and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“That there's a lot more going on than just Number One's bad luck, and you know what it is. Captain Silva's got a point. Why don't you level with him?”
Lehua sighed and looked at her watch. “I'm not sure I can explain what's happening, not even to you, never mind to Sam. But I'm willing to give it a try. I'll need some help, though. Tessa Kaholakula, head of Hawaiian Studies on the West Hawai'i campus, should be free around noon. Let's go out there now and see if she's in her office.”
In response, Millie made an illegal U-turn in the middle of the block and headed out of town toward the University. Lehua expected questions, but Millie was again silent. Turning to look at her, she saw the Sergeant peering up into the rear view mirror.
“We're being followed,” Millie said. “Don't turn around. Just move your side mirror so you can see it. It's a big car. Black. Looks like a hotel limo. It pulled into a parking lot when I turned, then came out behind me.” As she spoke, she unhooked the radio mike from the dashboard. By the time she had gotten the message to the station and they had alerted a patrol car to pick up the tail, they were approaching the entrance to the campus.
“Damn!” Millie said. Lehua could see the reason for the expletive. The black vehicle had fallen back and turned up into the Palisades. “They'll never find him in that maze of roads,” Millie added.
“Maybe it wasn't following us. Maybe it was just someone who suddenly remembered they'd left a stove burner on.”
Millie's response was heavy with sarcasm, “Yeah, and maybe no one really wants to kill you. Dream on!”
* * *
This time, Tessa cleared off two seats herself as she walked through her paper-strewn office on the way to her own chair. “Make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “Excuse me while I find my calendar and make a note about a meeting I've got tomorrow. If I don't write it down right away, I'll forget for sure.”
The search wasn't an easy one. The missing calendar was finally found in one of the piles of paper Tessa had removed from the chairs. Having been introduced to Millie and told of her role as protector, Tessa asked, “More threats?”
It was then Lehua realized Tessa was unaware of the acid throwing. The professor's face darkened as she heard of the previous day's incident. She shook her head in horror at the even more recent attempt on Lehua's life. Lehua did not try to detail how she had escaped harm, knowing Tessa needed no such details.
“Does the sergeant know?”
“No. That's partly why I'm here. I know she's not about to believe me, but she might be convinced by both of us.”
“Why don't you try your pencil trick again?”
Lehua shook her head. “I told you I was uneasy about that when I tried it on you. I just don't want to take any more chances.”
Tessa looked over at the puzzled Millie, grinned, shrugged and turned to Lehua. “I suppose the rest of the reason you're here is to find out if I've learned anything more about mana.”
“Right.”
“One thing I've learned from all of my years studying folklore is contradictions are the rule and not the exception. The legends on mana are typical. There is a common core running through all of them, though, and that's the notion this force is independent of everyone, gods and humans alike. It can be controlled, but only in part. The chief who possesses this gift is only a transmitter of the power, a kind of temporary guardian.
“The problem is the word is used in so many different ways. Famous athletes are said to have mana. So are exceptional dancers, artists and other people with outstanding skills. Kahuna claim it. But, independently of all that, there's constant reference to mana as a special force giving whoever has it a quality of untouchability.”
Millie still looked puzzled, as Tessa continued. “As for the talking board, I had a long talk with Cy Walton. Before I was through, we were having a telephone conference call, with half the department over there taking part. They're all excited about the board. I faxed them a copy of the rubbing, and the consensus is it's the real thing. It would take someone really knowledgeable to have faked it.”
“Could anyone there read it?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. It's just that it has a lot of the elements of other boards they know are genuine.”
“Did you tell them about me?”
“No. There wouldn't have been much point to telling them.” An amused Tessa looked over at Millie who was shaking her head. “They'd have just reacted the way your friend is reacting right now.”
“Did they know of any connection between the boards and mana?”
Tessa's eyes lit up. “I see you've been giving this a lot of thought. There's one possible connection. One of the graduate students is doing her dissertation on early European contacts with Polynesians. She's found a reference to a Portuguese priest who was taken captive by the Tongans back in the sixteenth century. When he was finally rescued by a Spanish ship, he was in pretty bad shape, but the story he told was copied down by one of the crew before the priest died. According to the student, the Spaniard had a poor grasp of Portuguese, and the priest's Spanish probably wasn't any better, so the story is badly garbled. The part we're interested in deals with how the chiefs acquired mana.”
Lehua sat forward in her chair. Millie simply looked even more puzzled. Tessa went on with her story. “When the great chief died, the oldest of the Tongan kahuna would take one of the chief's sons aside, normally the eldest, and talk to him. Afterwards, no one could touch the son, and he became the new chief.”
“No board?”
“No mention of it in the chronicle.”
“That's all there was?”
“There was one more thing. The kahuna told whatever he told the son three times.”
“That's something.”
“I did find out something more about mana itself from a couple of the faculty over there.”
Lehua leaned forward again. “What?”
Tessa paused, then said, “I should warn you ahead of time a lot of this is speculation. I guess the best that can be said for it is it's educated speculation.”
“Whatever you found out is more than I know now.”
“To begin with, it probably isn't as impersonal as I pictured it to be. Somehow it seems to be like a reactive force, with intent to harm resulting in harm to the doer. Evil intent leads to a resulting evil.”
“So the basketball was interpreted as being not harmful.”
“Exactly. But mana works by a different set of logic than you and I are familiar with. Evil as we know it is a human construct, even a cultural construct. Mana doesn't necessarily share our views concerning the nature of evil. There's a lot of evidence those serving a chief who possessed mana had to be extremely careful, no matter how friendly their intentions.”
Millie was about to say something, but Lehua broke in first. “What's that mean?”
“The one consistent thing is that abrupt movements were taboo. If the chief stumbled, you could get yourself into serious trouble if you made a quick move to keep him from falling, however well-intentioned your motives. Any touching of the chief, however benign or even necessary, had to be done carefully. His attendants always had to be walking on eggs.”
“That takes me back to square one,” sighed Lehua. “I have no way of knowing for sure how it would react to a handshake. There might be something I'm totally unaware of that's important in determining how it's going to react.”
“Right. You have to know something about electricity's peculiarities to be aware standing in water when you put your finger into a live socket is just not a good idea. On the other hand you might be able to get away with the same act if you were standing on a rubber mat. One other item of information I picked up that could help is that there's an expert on the mana legend who's got an important paper in the works.”
Lehua's eyes lit up. “Who is it? Can we get in touch with whoever it is?”
“Maybe. The department chairman is trying to run him down. His name's Stanley Toa, a Tongan. He's someplace in Europe right now, searching through the archives for written narratives going back to the early Pacific voyages. Cy insists if there's anyone in the world who knows more about mana than Toa does, he's never heard of them.”
“All right; all right,” Millie said, the exasperation clearly apparent in her voice. She was no longer able to contain herself. “You two are talking in riddles. What's going on?”
Lehua sighed, then began her story with the discovery of the whale bladder and its contents. Millie's exasperation changed to complete skepticism as Lehua described the actual events of the attempted rape, the acid-throwing episode and that day's disaster at her office.
“All of this came from that board with some kind of writing on it?” Millie asked, shaking her head incredulously.