Pacific Poison

by David Liscio

  Sadashi let out a wail of grief, unable to digest what he’d just witnessed. His face registered a mix of anger and fear. He reached for the switchblade in his front pocket.

  Whirly Man set a course straight for the airport. Despite thousands of hours of flying time, he felt jittery at the controls, the fuel gauge causing a lump in his throat.

  45

  LZ Hot

  Saipan

  Northern Mariana Islands

  April 1990

  Hannah spoke softly into the microphone. “Tanaka is gone. We can get all of this straightened out at the airport.”

  “I’m all for that, but I’ve got a very unhappy customer here who is poking me with a knife.”

  “What does he want you to do?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. Apparently he’s upset by whatever is happening back there. Maybe you can fill me in.”

  “Tanaka-san had to leave.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s just say he’ll be on the ground long before we land.”

  Sadashi bellowed and wailed in Japanese as he repeatedly jabbed the switchblade into the steel mesh until the tip broke off.

  Hannah spoke matter-of-factly into her microphone, instructing the pilot to hand his headset to Sadashi.

  “Mr. Sadashi, do you hear me?”

  Hannah saw him nod. It sounded as though he was whimpering.

  “When we land, you’re probably going to be charged with kidnapping – which is a federal crime — unless the police are offered a different story. If you want to save your ass, Mr. Sadashi, and not spend the rest of your days as a sex slave to some mass-murderer in a U.S. prison, put down that stupid knife and listen to me.”

  Sadashi momentarily felt a gush of fury, but it was soon replaced by an understanding that he was in no position to barter. “No more knife.”

  “That’s good. Now you need to calm down. Tanaka is dead, unless he figured out how to grow wings before hitting the ground. As for you, except for waving your gun and knife at people, you haven’t broken the law in a big way. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut when we touch down. Now give the headset back to the pilot.”

  Whirly Man wriggled the headset back on. “Did you two have a nice chat?”

  “I think he understands the situation. Now let’s get ready to land this bird.”

  46

  Cave Dwellers

  Saipan

  Northern Mariana Islands

  April 1990

  Mashima extended a hand and Hiraku groggily accepted it. He led her along a trail to where he had parked the police truck.

  Hiraku was understandably distraught. She snuggled against the passenger cab door as they drove toward Marpi Point and the rugged, northern reaches of the island. She didn’t say a word during the drive and Mashima respected her silence.

  When they arrived, Mashima ditched the truck beneath a grove of mature tangan-tangan trees and chopped some fronds to help cover it. He didn’t want anyone to know his whereabouts, not the yakuza or the CNMI Police Department. He was seriously contemplating leaving police work forever.

  “Are you sure there are no ghosts?”

  Mashima smiled warmly with his eyes. “No ghosts, Hiraku.” He felt elated uttering her name aloud and liked the way the three syllables sounded as they left his lips. In some ways, it was a new feeling. It lightened his heart. Mashima’s police career had consumed much of his life, and only a few key people had interfered or distracted him from it, until now.

  “Bats?” Hiraku gripped Mashima’s hand tightly, which filled him with joy.

  “Maybe a few. But they’ll be sleeping and we won’t wake them.”

  “Snakes?”

  “No snakes.”

  Hiraku made a whimpering sound. Mashima put an arm around her shoulders. He assumed they had much in common but never had been given opportunity to talk. He had researched the young woman’s background as part of his police work, attempting to learn more about her connection to Tanaka. In doing so, he had found both he and she were native Saipanese, born within a few miles of each other, albeit nearly twenty years apart in age. Their fathers were Japanese who had married Chamorro women.

  Separate life paths had taken them to Tokyo numerous times, he on police business and she with her Uncle Yoshi whenever they stayed at their small apartment in the city.

  Mashima sensed Hiraku loved her uncle, just as he revered his parents who had left Saipan two years earlier for a new life on Japan’s remote Hahajima Island. Family was important. And then there was the intriguing fact that, as far as he could ascertain, neither he nor Hiraku was bound to a romantic relationship or a particular religion. The police detective felt the path of his love life open wide.

  Mashima slung a military-style canvas satchel over his shoulder and switched on the battery-operated spotlight as they entered the gaping Kalabera Cave. For nearly thirty feet, the limestone walls on both sides were covered with prehistoric drawings, mostly done in white pigment, which Mashima had been told was slaked lime. He had counted them as a boy. There were more than fifty cave art images. He shined the spotlight on one depicting a gecko lizard.

  “No monsters. You see. Only a happy gecko.”

  Hiraku giggled, feeling light-hearted for the first time in weeks. She paused to study it and asked him to illuminate other parts of the wall, pointing enthusiastically to the different designs. Above and below the gecko were human figures, many of them headless. The figures were standing or in burial positions. A few were engaged in maritime activities such as paddling small boats or fishing.

  Mashima purposely didn’t mention what cave explorers had discovered in the 1920s. The interiors were littered ankle-deep with ash and bone. Countless skulls suggested the caves had been used as burial or cremation sites. The skulls and bones remained undisturbed until the 1940s when Japanese soldiers stumbled upon them. Japanese army engineers soon transformed many of the caves into defensive bunkers, storage facilities and a hospital, a process that increased in speed as the Battle of Saipan drew near.

  “I have heard so many stories about these caves. Even my Uncle Yoshi stayed away from them, especially at night.”

  “What did you hear?”

  Hiraku seemed momentarily embarrassed, as though her willingness to believe in superstition made her somehow less intelligent in Mashima’s eyes.

  “The caves in the north part of the island are haunted. People say voices can be heard coming from the caves, crying voices. The voices are filled with suffering and pain. Some are lost and trying to find their way.”

  “I don’t hear them.”

  Hiraku playfully punched Mashima in the arm. “You think I’m simple.”

  Mashima clamped her arms gently and gazed into her eyes. “Not at all. Anything but simple. Complicated, yes. Not simple.”

  Hiraku avoided his eyes. “It’s just creepy. I know Japanese families who still light candles on certain nights atop the cliffs. Old women come here and bow before the wooden markers, the ones with kanji messages written in black ink. They summon the kami and call to their dead sons, the ones taken by the war. So many Japanese soldiers were killed by the Americans.”

  “War is a horrible thing for all sides involved. Many American Marines also died here. I’ve met some of their families and they, too, feel the suffering.”

  Hiraku stepped backward, causing Mashima to release his hold on her arms. “Certainly. But being half Japanese, I can’t help feeling sorry for our soldiers who died defending this island for the Emperor. I once heard my uncle talking about the flamethrowers used by the Marines. Fire was blown into caves filled with our soldiers who were hiding or had refused to surrender. I can only imagine the screaming. Perhaps it’s these voices that are heard. The pain of their being burned to death.”

  Mashima crossed his arms, not knowing what else to do with them now that Hiraku had made it evident she wanted no embrace. “Thankfully neither of us was born yet when that tragedy unfolded. I hope we never
see anything like it in our lifetimes.”

  “My school teachers often said 1944 was a very bad year in Japanese history because of the Battle of Saipan, followed quickly by 1945, which may rank as the worst.”

  “That’s probably true. Until Hiroshima, no one had witnessed the horror of atomic warfare.”

  The cave narrowed as they walked. Mashima shined the spotlight on two flat stones that appeared to have been used as seats, perhaps by prehistoric cave dwellers. The stones were smoothed on the surface and flanked a larger monolith that, positioned as it was, might have been used as a table.

  “Let’s sit. I’ll light a candle so that we don’t waste the battery.”

  Mashima opened the satchel and pulled out a candle and a cigarette lighter. He lit the candle and set it on the stone table.

  “I’ll bet you’re hungry. I have all sorts of treats.”

  Hiraku smiled. “You think of everything.”

  Mashima pulled a water canteen from the satchel and set it before Hiraku, along with a package of Pocky biscuit sticks.

  Hiraku’s eyes welled with tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Pocky biscuit sticks were my uncle’s favorite.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I would have brought along something else.”

  Hiraku opened the package and bit into one of the sticks. “Maybe this will bring him back to me, at least in spirit.”

  After eating two biscuits and drinking some water, Hiraku shivered. The cave interior temperature was in the mid-50s.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a blanket or jacket to drape over your shoulders. I should have been more prepared.”

  “You’ve done more than enough. I could never have found my way here by myself.”

  “Hopefully we won’t be here long. The American in charge seems very capable.”

  “I hope so, too. I want this whole thing to be over with.”

  “I know this has been an ordeal for you, but it would help immensely if you could tell me what you know about the heroin smuggling operation.”

  “I honestly don’t know much. Sometimes I listened when my uncle would talk on the phone to Tanaka or Asaki. I realized they were using code words, but it was obvious the conversations were about drugs.”

  “Did they ever discuss how the heroin was being transported?”

  “No. Not specifically. They would mention planes and once they talked about landing on Tinian. I think they also hired local fishermen in different locations, including here on Saipan, but I don’t know who they were.”

  “Can you recall any names of places or people that might have been involved?”

  “I heard them talk about Thailand, the Philippines, Hawaii, and a man who owns a warehouse in San Francisco, though I never heard his name. Sometimes I tried not to listen.”

  “Did your uncle have any close friends who might be still involved?”

  “My uncle spent most of his days and nights overseeing the Lucky Carp, both the casino and the bar. He used to refer to it as the washing machine. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was off to meet one of his tattoo customers.”

  “So he had no close friends?”

  “I heard him mention Krill many times. I got the feeling Tanaka didn’t like her, but I know my Uncle Yoshi thought she was a good person.”

  “Did Krill help you escape?

  “Yes. I believe she poisoned the guards with fugu.”

  “Ah. Curse of the blowfish.”

  “When she came to free me, the guards were already dead or dying.”

  “Do you know what happened to her?”

  “No. Only that she remained in the house as I fled. I thought she was planning to escape with me, but when I turned around to face her, she had already gone back inside and locked the door.”

  “And what about the blonde woman? Did you talk to her?”

  “I never saw a blonde woman. Who would she be?”

  “An associate of the three American men you met earlier today.”

  “I see. Is she CIA?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can they bring me to America?

  “For your sake, I pray they can. I’d like to go there myself.”

  Hiraku seemed puzzled by Mashima’s words. “But your job and your life are here on Saipan.”

  “Though I’m sure it may seem that way, I’m far more drawn to a certain person who will soon be living in America.”

  “Who?”

  “You.”

  Hiraku blushed, suddenly uncomfortable. “You are a kind man, and very brave. I hope we can be friends.”

  “Once this mess is over, the yakuza will come looking for me. They’ll be angry that I helped you hide, and that I assisted the Americans in their investigation. Both the U.S. Justice Department and the CNMI authorities will also make my life miserable if they find out I allowed the CIA to kill two yakuza on my watch.”

  “You mean the bodyguards who were chasing me?”

  “Yes. They were given no warning or chance to surrender.”

  “But they were trying to kill me.”

  “That’s true, but my boss, Chief Napuna, may not see it that way. He has friends among the yakuza.”

  Hiraku gazed up at Mashima. Her eyes were glued to the left side of his face. “Tell me about your scar.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Oh no. But I want to understand it, to know how it became part of you.”

  Mashima turned his head so that Hiraku could only see the right side of his face. “An explosion. We were investigating a suspected meth lab here on Saipan. We should have been more careful.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was our own fault. We should have anticipated a booby trap, but we were young and eager to prove ourselves as police officers.”

  “A bomb?”

  “Not exactly. Not with explosives. It was more like a shower and it burned our skin.”

  “So others were hurt as well?”

  “Yes. Three of us. My injuries were the most serious.”

  Hiraku pressed a hand against his chest. “You’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever known. You were very courageous to enter that drug lab.”

  “It was all a long time ago – fifteen years, maybe more.”

  “And now we’re here, entering a cave to escape from yakuza who would prefer us both dead.”

  “Unfortunately they’re more interested in you than me. They think you have information about their operations and would like nothing more than to prevent you from sharing it with the police or the CIA.”

  Hiraku suddenly remembered how Krill had been so emphatic about giving her a 3.5-inch square computer disk moments before they were separated. She reached into the pockets of the men’s cargo shorts she was wearing. Her fingers found the folding knife and then the plastic disk.

  “Krill gave me this. She stuffed it into my pocket at the very last moment before I left Tanaka’s house and told me to be sure not to lose it, that it was very valuable and might be my ticket to a secret life in the United States.”

  Mashima held the floppy disk as though it was a rare diamond. He tucked the disk into his satchel.

  “For safe keeping.”

  Hiraku didn’t object. She feared the disk might fall from her baggy pockets if they were forced to run or climb.

  “We won’t know what’s on the disk until we get access to a computer, but I have the feeling it contains the information our CIA acquaintances are looking for.”

  Hiraku nodded. “At Tanaka’s house everything was happening quickly, so we only had a few moments to talk, but Krill assured me the disk contains information about the drug smuggling. She told me there are bank account numbers, names and homeports of boats being used in the operation, the names of boat captains, though she doubted they were real. She even mentioned there is an old plane that they use regularly to bring the heroin to Saipan.”

  47

  A Difficult Touch Down

  Saipanr />
  Northern Mariana Islands

  April 1990

  Unable to penetrate Tanaka’s defenses, Carrington and Reb had rigged a makeshift stretcher and carried Decker more than a mile over rough terrain to their compact rental car. The explosion had left Decker disoriented and unable to walk without stumbling or falling.

  Once at the car, they carefully settled him in the back seat before Carrington slipped behind the wheel and raced over the bumpy highway toward the airport, thinking mostly of Hannah and hoping she was still alive.

  Inside the helicopter, Hannah swept her hands beneath the pilot’s seat until she felt the Nambu pistol. When the aircraft landed, she was the first one out and quickly trained the gun on Sadashi.

  “Get out!”

  Sadashi’s eyes widened. “Please, no!”

  “I’m not going to shoot you unless you don’t do what I say. Remember, you were only a passenger. Except for threatening people with a gun and knife, you didn’t commit any crime. Understand?”

  “You say I commit no crime. I will obey.”

  “Good. Now just shut up and put your hands over your head. There may be a dozen rifles pointed at you right now and it won’t take much for one of those folks to open fire. Let’s not give them a reason.”

  “Hai. Yes, yes, I agree. No reason to shoot. No shoot Sadashi.”

  Hannah drew a straight hand across her throat, a signal to the pilot to shut down the engine. She grabbed Sadashi by his shirt and pulled him out of the helicopter’s front seat.

  “Keep your head down or it might get lopped off!”

  Sadashi bent at the waist and stayed close to Hannah. Whirly Man exited the helicopter as the blades slowed and drooped. He joined Hannah and Sadashi on the landing pad. “It’s your show, lady.”

  “As I just explained to Sadashi here, don’t do anything stupid because if it’s interpreted as a threat, somebody we can’t even see right now might decide to eliminate it.”