by Meryl Sawyer
A tinkling sound told them Devon’s cell phone in her purse was ringing. She always kept two in her purse, but only gave out one number. She’d turned it off when she’d left Honolulu, and she hadn’t turned it on again until they’d climbed into Chad’s Porsche a short time ago. In Florida, she’d needed to stay totally focused. Chad’s sister had called several times and left voice messages asking about Chad. Warren had called also. She pulled the cell phone out of her purse. She flipped it open and checked the caller ID.
“It’s Warren,” she told Chad.
“Stick with our story. We were in Kauai. Cell reception there is iffy.”
She checked her watch. Nearly six in the morning. “Why would he call at this hour?”
“He’s tried to get you before. Now he’s worried.”
She was still furious that WITSEC and Warren in particular had concealed the seriousness of Tina’s condition. But no matter how deceptive WITSEC was, they were some protection. Her experience in Florida had told her just how vicious—and conniving—these killers could be.
“Hello?” Devon tried to sound groggy as if the call had awakened her.
“I’ve been trying to reach you. Where—”
“I was in Kauai. The service is iffy there. What’s happening?”
“I’ve got news for you.”
“Really?” She already knew what he was going to say. Rutherford and Ames were dead.
“Rutherford and Ames were killed in a plane crash.”
“Oh, my God!” She hoped she sounded shocked. “How did it happen?”
“Mechanical failure. You know how small planes are.”
Her only experience with small planes was the Citation they’d hired to fly them back to Honolulu. It had been sleek and streamlined, the captain a professional. She hadn’t worried about it going down.
Rutherford and Ames often traveled in private planes, which were common in Texas. Ames even had a Bell Ranger jet helicopter. Chad suspected the jet had been sabotaged to get rid of the men. She didn’t doubt his assessment.
“What does this mean for me?” she asked.
“That’s part of the reason I called. Masterson said to tell you to hold tight for a week.”
“Then what happens?”
“With Rutherford and Ames out of the picture, there won’t be a trial. Masterson wants to talk to you, then you’ll be free to return to Houston.”
“I’ll be out of WITSEC.”
“Right. You won’t need our protection.”
She’d already known WITSEC had no idea about the threat from Obelisk. Or maybe they did and didn’t care. Unless she was a government witness, she wasn’t valuable to them.
KEKE DROPPED THE KIDS off at school and went by Chad’s home, but no one answered the bell. She used the key he’d given her to get in. She’d had the key for nearly two years—for emergencies. This was the second time she’d used it. The first time Chad had sent her for the money. Then Rory had been down at the beach with Devon’s retriever.
Rory was gone now, the house eerily silent. She tiptoed up the stairs to see if Chad’s bed had been slept in. It hadn’t. There wasn’t a crumb on the kitchen counters. Chad was back in Honolulu, but he hadn’t come home. Disturbed, yet feeling guilty for entering his house without permission, Keke quickly left.
She drove to Chad’s office. Since he was back, he would come here or at least check in with Ane.
“Have you heard from my brother?” Keke asked as she sailed into the office.
“No, but he doesn’t have any appointments scheduled.”
Keke sank into the chair next to Ane’s desk. “I’m really worried.”
“Hakina matata.” Not to worry. “Chad can take care of himself.”
Keke wanted to tell Ane about the strange request for money and the missing Porsche, but she’d promised Chad she wouldn’t discuss this with anyone. An unexpected thought popped into her mind. Maybe Chad hadn’t returned. Someone could have stolen his Porsche. It happened all the time and expensive sports cars were particularly vulnerable.
“Have you seen Devon this morning?” she asked, knowing Ane could spot everyone going into Aloha from her desk.
“No, but they’re closed today. Remember?”
“That’s right. I—”
A noise behind Keke made her turn. Two men were walking into the office. One was older with dark hair and slightly bulbous brown eyes. The other man was younger with spiked hair slathered with gel. Both were wearing lightweight sports jackets, an oddity in Honolulu even in a business setting. The heat and humidity called for shirtsleeves.
“Mornin’,” said the older man. “We’re looking for Chad Langston.”
“He’s not in right now,” Ane responded.
“Are you expecting him soon? This is important.”
There was an arrogant air about the man that annoyed Keke, and she didn’t care for the way the younger guy was looking around, sizing up the office. Chad drove a Porsche and had a home in the pricey Kahala area, but his office wasn’t impressive. She suspected Chad hadn’t moved to more luxurious quarters in order to stay close to his best friend. Eddie couldn’t afford a swank building.
Ane picked up her pen and poised it over a message pad. “He’ll be checking in. If you’ll leave your name and—”
“I’m Brock Hardesty.” He pulled a well-worn leather wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a shiny badge and a photo ID. “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
FBI? What could they want with Chad? More than a little uneasy, Keke wondered what was bothering her. Brock Hardesty or the feeling she’d had all weekend that her brother was in real trouble.
Hardesty nodded toward the younger man. “This is Special Agent Kramer.”
“I’m going to need to take a closer look at your identification,” Ane said.
Hardesty handed her the wallet. The photograph was superimposed with a hologram and looked official to Keke.
Hardesty handed Ane a business card. “There’s an 800 number for the Bureau. Call them. They’ll verify that we’re here on official business.”
“What type of business?” Keke asked while Ane picked up the telephone and began punching numbers.
“Who are you?” Agent Kramer asked.
“Keke Nakamura. Chad is my brother.”
Agent Kramer’s eyes shifted just slightly to the older man. Obviously he was in charge.
Hardesty asked, “Do you work for your brother?”
“No. I just dropped by to see him.”
“Then you are expecting him?”
Keke hesitated, torn about how much to say. If Chad had gotten into trouble the FBI might be able to help him. On the other hand, he could be involved in something that would get him into trouble with the FBI. Loyalty kept her from blurting out anything.
Ane put down the telephone, and said to Keke, “FBI headquarters transferred me to the verification department. The number on his ID matches their description of Mr. Hardesty. They confirm he’s here on official business, but they wouldn’t say what exactly.”
Hardesty reached for his wallet. “Headquarters can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”
“When are you expecting your brother?” Agent Kramer asked.
“I wasn’t expecting him exactly. I dropped by, thinking he would be here.”
Hardesty’s eyes narrowed, and he was silent for a moment. “When was the last time either of you spoke to or saw Chad Langston?”
“Thursday afternoon,” Ane responded immediately, and Keke nodded.
“Has anyone heard from him since then?” Kramer asked.
Keke felt her throat closing up. She honestly didn’t know what to say except Chad had told her to tell people he was working on a case. “He called me and said he was working on an underwater forensics case.”
Ane didn’t know this. When they’d last spoken, Keke hadn’t heard from Chad, but the older woman’s expression didn’t give anything away.
“What d
ay did he call?” Kramer asked just a little too quickly.
“Saturday, I think.”
“You don’t know?” Kramer asked.
“There’s a lot going on at my house. I have two little ones and my husband is out of town. Chad called to explain why he missed a family luau. I only spoke to him for a moment.”
Hardesty quirked one brow. “Where was he?”
“I’m not sure,” she hedged. “We hardly talked.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Hardesty stared hard at her, his eyes bulging even more.
Keke glared back at him. She didn’t like this man and had no intention of telling him more until she knew it was the right thing to do. “What do you mean?”
Hardesty tilted his head almost imperceptibly toward Kramer. The younger man reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a palm-sized photograph. “We have reason to believe your brother is with this woman.”
Keke and Ane examined the small photograph. A suffocating sensation gripped Keke’s throat. It was a grainy picture and the woman’s features were slightly different, but there was no mistaking Devon Summers. Her reaction must have showed on her face.
“I see you recognize her,” Hardesty said with a triumphant smile.
“Pele’s ghost,” Ane said with uncharacteristic bitterness.
The woman had been trouble from the get-go, but Keke kept silent, not knowing if what she might say would help or hurt her brother.
“Ghost?” Hardesty said. “I beg your pardon.”
“It’s an island superstition,” Keke replied. “A woman appears out of nowhere with a dog at her side. She’s supposed to be the reincarnation of the island goddess, Pele.”
“Yeah? Well, Samantha Robbins is no goddess,” Kramer informed them, his tone bordering on hostile. “She’s murdered two men.”
“Slit one man’s throat,” Hardesty added. “Stabbed the other in the heart. Her latest victim was killed Saturday night in Miami.”
“Lani.” Heavens. Ane slowly shook her head, suddenly looking much older.
Miami, Keke thought, how far was that from Naples? She wasn’t sure.
“We have reason to believe your brother is with this woman,” Agent Kramer said.
Hardesty quickly added, “Under her influence.”
Chad? Under someone’s influence. Keke almost laughed in his face. But then she remembered the strange way Chad had acted since Devon had come into his life. The bigger they are; the harder they fall.
Suddenly Keke remembered Devon’s retriever. He hadn’t been at the house this morning. She supposed Rory could have left him with a surfing buddy before he took off, but considering Chad’s Porsche had been moved, Keke decided Devon had been with him. They’d taken the dog.
“Anything you can tell us will help your brother.” Hardesty said, his soothing tone not quite ringing true.
“You’ve seen this woman, haven’t you?” Kramer asked.
Ane looked at Keke, who didn’t say a word, then at Hardesty. The older woman slowly nodded. “It’s Devon Summers.”
Hardesty barked a laugh. “Her real name is Samantha Robbins. She was wanted for questioning in the death of an FBI agent in Houston. She disappeared and turned up in Santa Fe as Lindsay Wallace.”
Kramer added, “That’s where she slit the throat of an innocent gallery owner. The guy lived long enough to write in his own blood that Lindsay had killed him.”
Keke’s stomach did a back flip. It was all she could do to keep from gasping. It was impossible for her to believe that Chad could have fallen for a cold-blooded killer. Not only was he too smart, but her brother was an honorable man. He’d never condone ruthless murder.
“You said this ghost-woman appeared with a dog,” Hardesty directed his question to Ane. “A golden retriever?”
Ane jerked her head to nod. Keke could see Ane was breaking into sobs. Chad was like a son to her. She thought he hung the moon, but Keke knew better. He had a dark side honed by his years in Delta Force.
Hardesty’s eyes locked on Keke’s. “That dog’s bloody paw prints were all around the body in Santa Fe. He was with her when she killed the art dealer.”
Zach’s sweet face flashed across Keke’s mind. She saw him in Chad’s Porsche at the soccer field not so long ago. Along with the memory came the image of her daughter, petting the retriever. Nice Zash. Nice Zash. Mei’s words echoed in her brain.
Keke knew she’d been silent long enough. She had to consider her children, her husband, and even Mother Nakamura. By concealing the truth, the authorities might charge her with “aiding and abetting” or something. She loved her brother, but she had to tell the truth. She owed it to her family.
“Chad called me late Saturday night. He asked me to wire him money.”
“So he did contact you.”
The cold edge of irony chilled Hardesty’s voice. Keke honestly wanted to slap him. Couldn’t he imagine how difficult it was to turn on someone who loved and trusted you?
“Where did you send the money?” Kramer asked.
Keke told them the details of the wire transfer. They asked if Chad had called her since returning, and she could truthfully say she hadn’t heard from him.
“His Porsche isn’t at the airport. He didn’t go home. I checked.”
“Do you know where Devon Summers lives?” Kramer asked.
Keke shook her head. “No, but she works across the way at Aloha Yachts and Weddings. Her address should be in the personnel file. They’re closed—”
“I have a key to the office,” Ane volunteered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
BROCK STOOD on the sidewalk, sweat pouring from beneath his armpits, dripping down his back and running through the hair on his chest. Seeping from his balls. His entire body itched from perspiration. He glanced at the punk kid, gratified to see he was miserable, too.
What choice did they have?
Their weapons were jammed into the waistbands of their trousers at their backs and concealed by the lightweight sports coats. Taking them off wasn’t an option. Honolulu was loaded with tourists who would freak at seeing men wearing guns. Besides it had taken some doing to arrange for an Obelisk operative to have guns waiting on short notice when the company’s private jet had deposited them on the humid island.
“Are you sure you wrote down the correct address?” Brock battled to keep his voice level.
Kyle Kramer stared up at the sign Mailboxes in Paradise. “Positive.”
Brock thought about it for a minute, then laughed.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
Brock lifted the back of his collar to release some heat. “The Robbins bitch. She’s smarter than anyone gave her credit for. We have a cell phone number that can’t be traced and an address that leads nowhere.”
Suddenly he was reminded of Jordan Walsh. She’d set him up for the fall of his career. If he didn’t pull this off, he could kiss his ass goodbye.
Negative thinking wasn’t his style, he reminded himself. He was clever and cunning. He had a plan to outsmart everyone, including General Olofson. To set his plan in motion, he first had to get the disk and kill Samantha Robbins.
“I don’t think Keke Nakamura was lying,” Brock added. “She told us all she knew. We read the personnel file. This is the address she wrote down.”
“What about the Porsche?” Kyle replied. “We could uplink to the satellite and do a grid search for the car.”
One of the many satellites in geosynchronous orbits above the earth could zero in on Honolulu. It could scan block by block in a grid pattern and magnify everything within the area to search for the vehicle. There couldn’t be that many black Porsches around. Trouble was, the more populated an area, the more difficult a space-based search became. With so many indoor parking structures where the Porsche could be, it might waste valuable time.
Brock said, “It’s a long shot. Let’s check Langston’s home first.”
They climbed into the L
exus they’d rented. Kramer drove them through Waikiki along Kalakaua Avenue. The area had undergone a revitalization project since Brock had last been here in ninety-nine. High end stores like Gucci and Chanel had replaced T-shirt shops. Dramatic Hawaiian art—from murals to bronzes—were prominently displayed. An improvement, but Brock barely noticed.
Where was the bitch?
One of his local operatives had arranged for him to use a yacht moored in the harbor. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best that could be done on short notice. He assumed they would have to interrogate the woman. She’d fought too hard to give up the disk easily. He anticipated torturing her to see if there were any copies of the disk floating around.
He mulled over the situation for a moment. Maybe the boat was a great idea. Killing was fun but dead bodies were problematic. They would take her out to sea and dump her. If they weighted down the body, she might never be found.
The thought gave him the first rush he’d had in days. He relished the opportunity to look the bitch in the eye. To make her pay for all the trouble she’d caused him.
CHAD WALKED into his office with Devon at his side. It was midmorning, and they’d picked up Zach at his house, switched from the Porsche to his Grand Cherokee, and had taken Zach to be groomed. Chad had insisted to going to breakfast after dropping off the dog. Ke Iki Hale was a little out-of-the-way, but he thought the spectacular view of the sugary sand beach and the rolling waves would ease a bit of the tension.
It worked; Devon seemed more relaxed. There was nothing to be done now. He had the disk tucked inside the case of the DoD device he was still testing. The copy was in his safe at home. He’d contacted Danson who said his agent was already on a DoD jet and would be in Honolulu by late afternoon. He assumed the agent would bring the improved gadget to test.
“How’s it going?” Chad greeted Ane.
The older woman stared at him as if she’d never seen him before.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She bobbed her head. “Kupono.” Fine.
