Wave of Death

by Charlie Vogel

  Near my chosen exit, a large man with bandages around the lower section of his face, called out as I passed, “Where you going?”

  “Brutus, is that you?”

  “Yeah, how did you recognize me?”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “The goddamn HASP ran me over with half their truck, the part I left ‘em.”

  “I’m on my way out . . . again. Is there something I can get for you?”

  “Yeah, a key for these goddamn log chains.” His ankles had been anchored to the foot of the bed.

  “Sorry, Brutus. I don’t have time to search. You’ll just have to stay and let the doctors get you healed. But I do owe you, buddy, and I won’t forget.”

  I jumped the short distance from the window to a clearing behind high shrubbery. In a crouching run, I followed the building towards the parking lot.

  The morning sun remained hidden behind Koolau Mountains, streaking the rain-promising gray skies with orange. Crossing a stretch of dew-wet lawn, I trotted over the curb and moved down the lines of parked cars. A slight ache pulled at the base of my skull as I opened the door instead of jumping over it, my usual method of getting into the driver’s seat of the Kaiser. A glance at the hospital’s front steps assured me the cavalry hadn’t noticed me missing.

  I scanned the floor board, then ran my hand under the seat. No laundry bag. Why in hell did I leave it in the car? Shit, I had left a lot of expensive things in the open car over the years, even my goddamn keys. Never before had anything been taken from me on a military base.

  I marked the exit with twin tire smudges as I drove onto the road leading to CenPacFleet.

  * * *

  The sun’s dull light broke through the clouds just above the green, round-crested mountains as I parked the Roadster in my reserved space. Signing my name in the book, I side-stepped the jar-head guards and continued to my office. Closing and locking the door of the empty room, I went to my desk and pulled a blanket from under it. The wool scratched my skin, but I felt nothing else once I curled into the shape of a sleeping cat, pressed against the wall and hidden by the desk. The two and an half hours of sleep seemed like just a few minutes. At 0800, I looked up into the face of Petty Officer Allison.

  “Get up, Pencils. I’ve been shaking you for the past five minutes.”

  Checking my watch, I rubbed my eyes. “Has Mister Holcomb been here?” I stood and stretched, cautiously moving my stiff, but not painful back.

  “No, he has a meeting with Captain Baker. He should be here at nine, so you’ve got time to clean up and get into uniform. Why are you sleeping here? Don’t you have a bed at the barracks?”

  “Yeah, but I got in a little late, Jenny, so I came here. You know how the MAA’s are, if you aren’t up at six. They write you up. I have to meet someone at ten this morning over by Koko Head. I’ll sneak in at my cubicle and change, then be on my way. Tell Mister Holcomb I’ll call him before lunch.”

  “Wait Pencils! You can’t go. You better cancel your appointment.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Mister Holcomb specifically said he wants you here. He needs to go over a few policies and regulations with you. He said it’s important.”

  “Well he can’t talk to me if I’m not here. Tell him to put it on hold until this afternoon.”

  The phone interrupted her come-back. She turned to grab up the receiver. “DISC, Petty Officer Allison speaking. Yes, Sir, he’s right here. No, wait! Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Sir, but he just went out . . .”

  I heard no more of her explanation. In a matter of seconds, I stepped onto the marble floor of the front entrance. Giving the Marine guards a finger salute, I pushed open the glass doors. Strolling past the MAA office next door, I stepped into my room and quickly changed.

  Forty-five minutes later I turned off Nimitz highway and cruised onto Maunakea Street until reaching Hotel Street. After a few blocks I turned off Hotel and located Mia’s Coffee Shop. From the street, the business appeared dark inside. A “Closed” sign hung in the window.

  I continued to a place I had patronized since the day I discovered Waikiki, a little restaurant that served excellent waffles. As I enjoyed my hearty breakfast I kept thinking about why a coffee shop would be closed during the morning hours.

  Arriving at Halona Blow Hole a few minutes before ten, I stepped up to the metal railing at the edge of the parking lot. Since the tourists had not arrived, I stood alone looking out over the choppy seas beyond the rough, uneven rocks. The water rose and fell within the underground caverns of the lava flow, causing a whistle sound as the air escaped through vents. Soon a deep gargle developed deep within the bowels of the volcanic rock. Without warning, a jet of sea water sprouted into a high fountain, coming from a narrow hole concealed by the black volcanic boulders. I watched the salty spray reach at least fifty feet above me, then, as if! someone turned off the faucet, the fountain ceased.

  The blow hole repeated the performance twice before I heard her voice. I turned and looked into a face I didn’t recognized. Very little make-up covered her light brown skin. Gently curling, light auburn hair flowed over her shoulders. The sun shone brightly behind her. I became fascinated with the tricks of light as fine strands of blonde hair flowed with the breeze, separating from the natural curls of reddish brown. Her thin lips smiled across a set of even, white teeth.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Your parents must have been beautiful to create someone as pretty as you.”

  She laughed, “I haven’t heard that line before, but it works.”

  “I didn’t hear you drive up. Where’s your car? How did you get here?”

  “I parked off the road about a quarter mile away. I walked to make sure no one followed. You mentioned my parents.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t know what my father looked like, but my mother was blonde and, like you said, beautiful.”

  “You care to tell me about them?” God, I was going to get sucked into another whore’s story, but couldn’t help myself.

  “I don’t mind. I was two months old when the Japanese killed my father near Yingkow in 1936. He was Chinese. My mother’s an American. She was in Mukden with a missionary group during the war between China and Japan. A year after my father was killed, my mother hid me as we escaped to Peking. There she located my father’s sister and left me with her. My aunt raised me until I turned twelve. I was sold to some people who moved to Honolulu,” she shrugged, “and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “What do you mean, you were sold?”

  She shrugged again. “My aunt needed money. My mother had disappeared. Before I came here, people in China said my mother had been killed.”

  “Do you still see your slave owners?”

  “No, I got tired of being raped by the old man. I ran away when I turned sixteen.”

  “You’ve been selling yourself for ten years?” I couldn’t hide my reaction.

  She looked out at the scenery rather than my face. “More like eleven years, but who’s counting. Like I told you it’s the only way I know how to survive on this rock. You sound concerned. Why?”

  I searched for a reasonable explanation, when I really didn’t have one. “I guess I’m just surprised to see someone as pretty as you working on the street.”

  “I’ve been lucky. I haven’t been mistreated and I haven’t caught any disease yet. Some girls I know caught some shit that really makes them look old. And I don’t hang out at the dens. That sure as hell ages you.”

  “The what?”

  Raising the lei she wore around her neck, she placed a flower to her nose. Letting it drop, I noticed the yellow orchid contrasted perfectly with the blue printed flowers of her long mu’umu’u. Her big eyes examined my face as if she were looking for some trick. She watched my eyes as she spoke carefully, “The opium dens. A few girls take their johns to the dens and make extra money. You’ve never heard of them?”

  “Oh, those! I thought the Honolulu police got rid of them.”

 
“Most are gone, but the cops can’t find them all. That’s why only a few people know about the Storm of Pearls.”

  I stared hard into her eyes. “The necklace?”

  “Yeah. You really don’t know, do you. A customer wears it as a free ticket to the best opium den in Honolulu.”

  Light bulbs began to flash in my mind. “Can you take me there?”

  “I could, but you will have to wear the necklace. I refuse to take anyone there without it, because these people don’t mess around. It would be instant death.”

  I cleared my throat and mumbled, “I lost the necklace.”

  She leaned her head to one side, prettily blinking in disbelief. “You lost it? How did this happen?”

  “Ah, well, someone stole it. I left it in the car while I was at the hospital getting treated for my run-in at Lo’s.” I tried to hurry on, “Can you tell me the address of the opium den?”

  “No. I want to live for a few more years.” She shook her head at my stupidity. “Once I save enough money, I’m off this rock. I plan on having a future on the mainland. So don’t ask me anything more about the Poppy Club.”

  “Is that the name of the den, the Poppy Club?”

  “Well, sailor boy, you’ll never find it.”

  In silence, we watched the blow hole shoot water into the air. A small group of tourists gathered on the rail a few feet away.

  After the spray flew past us, I lowered my voice and said, “Lihua, tell me what you know about Larry Barnes.”

  “He was up to something. He was very secret about it. Before his ship went to sea last month, he met Mr. Wong and they went to the Poppy Club together.”

  “You mentioned this Wong before. Who is he?”

  “He owns Lo’s Restaurant. He’s also assistant manager of the NCO club on base. He has spies all over. I would guess one of his men probably stole the Storm of Pearls from your car.”

  “Does he have a lot of people working for him?”

  “Yes. I am only one of his fifty girls.”

  “How did Barnes get into the Poppy Club?”

  “Mr. Wong’s a member. He took Larry in as a visitor, but Larry was supposed to pick up something at Subic Bay in return for the favor. And Mr. Wong was to pay him a lot of money for it.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Larry told me during our love making.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing. He didn’t say what it was, but it sounded important. Oh, yes, one more thing. There were two others on Larry’s ship who wanted to split the money.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know their names, but I have seen them twice since Larry’s ship has been back in port.”

  “Where?”

  “Each time they were with Mr. Wong.”

  “Do you remember what they look like?”

  “The one in the sailor’s uniform is skinny. He’s the one who gave me the laundry bag. The other one is an officer like Larry, because he wears civilian clothing.”

  “Is that all you can tell me about them?” Frustration clawed at my gut again.

  “Pencils, I see so many sailors, I don’t pay much attention. Besides, the less I know about Mr. Wong’s contacts, the longer I will live.” She dropped her head back to take a deep breath of the clean sea air. Staring at her lovely throat I took a deep breath with her. “Well, Pencils, I’m afraid I will have to go back. There’s more tourists showing up and I don’t want someone to remember I was talking to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Mr. Wong doesn’t like you. You’ve got something he wants.”

  “Me?” I had to digest what that meant and how it effected my movements, especially if the man had spies everywhere. I found Lihua’s eyes watching me with true concern.

  I softly asked, “Why does that worry you? Do you know what I have he wants?”

  “It concerns me because he collects sixty percent of what I make.” She turned and lifted her mu’umu’u a few inches as she hurried away.

  I rushed after her. “Wait, Lihua, tell me what I have that he wants.”

  “Leave me alone, Pencils. I just spotted his people watching us.”

  I continued to follow a few feet behind her. She broke into a run, following a path from the parking lot. The well-worn trail snaked around the rocky cliff then gradually descended toward the highway. I stopped when she quickly removed her sandals and ran across a flat sandy area. Moments later, she disappeared within the trees near the edge of the road.

  Crossing back over the parking lot, I saw two large Hawaiian men standing at my car. Despite the glare of the sunlight, I recognized them. Arms folded, the one who had stretched my back stepped in front of me preventing access to the Kaiser.

  Looking up, I once again tried, “Excuse me.”

  His broken nose matched his scarred and cratered face. His lips barely moved as he responded, “You wait here. Mr. Wong wants to see you.”

  I stiffened with sheer stubbornness. “Tell him to make an appointment.”

  His hand, the size of a coconut, took hold of my shirt front. A bus load of tourist stopped a few feet away. His beady eyes flicked toward the gawking faces before his grip slowly lowered me to the ground. Moving his head towards his partner, he stared directly into my eyes. “You wait here.”

  I glanced at his twin whose one hand rested on a small hand gun tucked in his waist band. The wind allowed his Hawaiian shirt to settled back over the weapon. He patted his waist, a wide, menacing grin on his face.

  Deciding to take advantage of the delay-due-to-spectators, I pressed, “What does Wong want with me?”

  The stony silence scared me more than their strength. If I could keep them talking, maybe they wouldn’t hurt me. I edged toward to the bus. The first brute took hold of my shoulder. As his fingers pressed together, I didn’t have to hear his voice to understand his meaning.

  How long are they going to use me as a sadistic toy for last night’s stupidity? Should I try going through them like I had at Lo’s? That didn’t work. Maybe the better part of valor . . . .

  With a quick cork screw twist, I slipped away from the hand and leaped toward the bus. Feet pounded behind me. The strain of increasing my speed sent recurrent pain down my back and legs. I slid to a stop near the tour guide. People moved in a line from the bus. The pretty guide turned and smiled.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” I said, “but I couldn’t hear you from the back.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she responded, still smiling.

  Over my shoulder, I noticed the two goons leaning against the bus, watching me. Staying on the guide’s heels, I followed to the blow hole lookout point. Once everyone crowded at the railing, I crawled between the bars and stepped down onto the rocks. Within arm’s length of the concrete, I rushed to the path Lihua had taken. Peeking over rocks blocking me from the tourists, I located the twins, mingling within the crowd, obviously searching for me.

  I rolled under the rail then ran across the pavement to my car. The Kaiser protested. On the second turn of the key, the engine whined. Shit! Don’t fail me now! I pressed down on the gas pedal and tried again. The muscle spotted me. Like a typhoon wall of water, the pair swept toward me. I turned the key, cursing the car I loved. Black exhaust smoke blew past me on the wind. Popping the clutch, the tires pasted two black lines across the pavement pointing directly to the highway. I took a sharp left into oncoming traffic, causing a car to plow into the shoulder and continue up the footing of the cliff.

  Anxiously scanning the roadside for Lihua, I missed the small fact that traffic had slowed. Without hesitation, I drove onto the shoulder, creating a red dust storm as I passed traffic on the right. Up ahead, a slow-moving Cushman motor scooter had tied up traffic. The approaching guard rail prevented me from passing it, so I either had to brake or push someone off the road. Knowing what was behind me, I decided I didn’t have much choice. The squealing of tires and the honking of horns added to the confusion of cars avoiding each o
ther in both lanes and me going down the middle. When I found myself directly behind the scooter, I glanced in my mirror at the vehicles pointed in several different directions.

  The girl driving the scooter had the same color mu’umu’u as Lihua and her auburn hair fluttered in the wind. When I laid on my horn, she looked over her shoulder. I motioned for her to pull over onto a scenic drive-off a quarter mile ahead. Stopping behind her on the dusty shoulder, I pushed myself up to look over the Kaiser’s windshield.

  She straddled the bike and glared at me. A hateful frown hardened her youthful appearance. She screamed, “Pencils, leave me alone! Get your goddamn ass away from me!”

  “I want to talk to you. Get in the car. I’ll pick up your scooter later.”

  “No! Damn you! Don’t you understand? I can’t talk to you!”

  She revved the scooter’s puttering motor and sped away, leaving a small cloud of red dust. I looked after her. Traffic moved by me, several vehicle occupants offering opinions of my driving. I decided to move, too, before the goons caught up with me. An older man allowed me in ahead of him. When I waved my appreciation, he threw me the finger.

  During the drive to Honolulu, I thought over what Lihua had told me. She must have said too much about Wong’s operation with the opium dens, otherwise, she wouldn’t have been frightened when she spotted the goons. I hoped I hadn’t put her in more danger by chasing after her, but, for some reason, I felt I could protect her. I decided I’d try to find her later, possibly on the streets in front of Lo’s Restaurant.

  My mind started to work on the identities of the officer and the enlisted man involved with Barnes, the two suspects.

  * * *

  I pushed a dime into the slot of the pay phone as I watched the bikinis pass me on the sidewalk. Flying sand had settled in the corners and groves of the phone booth. Across the beach, the five-foot waves pounded the submerged coral in an endless roar. I waited for the dial tone. Not hearing it, I slammed the back of my hand on the black phone box. The dime dropped down the channel and the buzz indicated I could dial.