“I’m Mike Kane, lead investigator here in Hollywood,” I say with my hand extended.
“I’ve heard of you. You’re the California’s Charlie Chan.” He takes my hand. “I was hoping to meet you. Can we get copies of your photos, if that is all right with you?”
“I don’t see why not,” I say as we walk towards the main section.
“Are you through with the site?” he asks.
“No, my medical examiner needs several more hours to finish up,” I say.
“Where is she?” came the response.
“Taking a much-needed break.” I point over to the Coachmen Encore motor home.
“There have been times I wished we had one of those,” he said.
Susan and Phil get up and finish the inside of the plane sooner than expected. “Now all we need is to see if anyone is underneath the aircraft,” Susan passes onto the NTSB.
“All right, we have all the small pieces picked up and documented. Now all we need is to get the mainframe to be moved over to the hanger.”
“All right, let’s get it up so we can see what’s underneath.”
As they raise the bulk of the plane up with the assistance of the large crane, Susan, Phil, and the some of the NTSB team walk over to see if any remaining bodies were under it. None is found, thank God. That portion is placed ever so gently onto a waiting trailer to move it to the hanger with all of the other pieces so they can reconstruct what actually happened. They did ask for our version of the account of what had happened, as we were eyewitnesses. Sharon and I both agree to document what we saw, as we have to do the same for the reports we have to turn in. We will also add the patrol’s video of the plane hitting the top of the squad car along with the report.
Chapter 69
After a short but better night’s sleep than the evening before, Susan is back in her lab, along with Phil and Charles Woodard, the medical examiner out of L.A.
“Charles, you start with that table over there, and I’ll take this one,” Susan instructs him on where to go.
Charles is not used to following instructions, much less from a woman examiner.
“I know what to do,” he says with discontent.
“Okay, then do it.” She adds with a bit of a snap.
Charred bodies and the smell that goes with them is one of the times medical examiners wished they weren’t one. They must cut through the organs and hear the crackling of the crusted skin as the surgical blade makes a fine line into the stiff and crispy corpse. One could hear that sound from both sides of the room as it bounces off the white ceramic walls, and it's a sound that will be heard for days to come.
Over the next several days, not too many words are spoken between those two. I stop down on several occasions, just to find if all of the ones we are hoping were on board actually were. Each day it seems I can cross off one of the names from the list, but not all of them. The last body is now on Charles' table. I come down to see if it is Mr. Tan. There are three names still on the list, and that is not good when there is only one body left. Who is missing? Who’s on the table? And where is he? These are the questions I would love to have answered.
“Susan, is that Mr. Tan or Commander Purepot?”
“I could wait to answer you until after he finishes with the autopsy, but I don’t need to. No, it’s not either one of them,” she says, knowing I want it to be Mr. Tan.
“Then who is it?” I say, already believing I know the answer. “It must be Sergeant O’Reilly. Damn. But where is he, where is Mr. Tan? Why wasn’t he on that plane?” I turn around and look over at the L. A. Examiner “Charles, are you one hundred percent positive with all the ID’s that you worked on?”
“Yes, sir. One hundred percent.” He gave me a bit of a snide answer.
I give him a bit of a cold look, then turn to Susan. “Are you also positive?”
“Mike, one hundred percent. Everyone that we worked on is who we said they were, or will be as soon as he gets done with Sergeant O’Reilly.”
“Okay, I guess that’s the way it is.” I look back over to Charles. “Thank you for your service. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Thank you” was the reply. “Thank you to Susan, beautiful work. And I too will give in a good word with your supervisor.” She gives me a smile and a wink. She is finishing up with her last body, one of the golfers who was sadly on the wrong course, at the wrong hole, at the wrong time.
I head back upstairs to my office, dejected by the news that Mr. Tan wasn’t the last one scratched off the list, as I had hoped for. So two are missing. Where can they be?
Chapter 70
I walk into my office and pick up the phone. “Martin, you won’t believe it, but Mr. Tan has escaped. He wasn’t on the plane that went down. Everyone else was, except the police commander,” I say almost dumbfounded. “What I need from you is for your people to find out where Mr. Tan’s plane flew to probably last Friday. Can you do that for me?”
“I’ll get on it right away. Do what you can on your side, and I’ll work this side and between the two of us, we should be able to track them,” he announces.
“Mahalo buddy, I owe you big time, again.”
“Yes, I know, and I will take you up on that trip to Alaska, of course, all expenses paid.” He laughs.
“All right, I know I owe you. Take care, talk to you later. Aloha, brother.”
I look over to Paul. “Did you start a search for him?” I wait for an answer.
“As soon as you two left, I got on it right away. Nothing yet, but I have several calls out and hopefully they should get back with me soon.”
“Don’t wait for them, follow up again, now,” I say, raising my voice and putting a scare into him.
Paul turns around, flushed in the face. He had never heard me raise my voice in that way.
After checking, he comes back and says, “Mike, sorry, everyone I contacted still haven’t heard anything about him.”
“Paul, I’m sorry I raised my voice, but this is getting me upset,” I say in an apologetic tone.
The phone rings and Sharon picks it up. “Mike, it’s for you. It’s Martin.”
“You found out something already?” I say, almost in a joking manner.
“You asked me to let you know if I find out anything, didn’t you?” he also responds in a joking manner.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“Well, don’t you want to know?”
“Okay, what did you find out?”
“He had only one airplane in California. The one you know of was the one that crashed at Santa Monica Airport, but first, he had that one fly him out Friday afternoon from Van Nuys Airport. He then sent it back for the rest of them to board in Santa Monica.”
“That’s only sixteen miles from here.” I raised my voice. “Paul, didn’t you check all the airports in the area?”
“Mike, don’t blame him. He could never have found out that it was Mr. Tan’s plane, as he had the tail number changed from Van Nuys and put back on when he sent it back to Santa Monica.”
“How did you find that out?” I ask, surprised on what he knew and had learned.
“Remember Mina Keone?” Martin asks me.
“Yes, she was in our class at Punahou,” I say. “Don’t tell me she is working there and contacted you.”
“Well, now that you mention it, yes. She is the airport manager and just happened to notice him getting onto his plane last Friday and recognized him from some tabloids she follows. I just happened to make some calls around to people I know in the area.”
“I know a lot of people, but I need a copy of your list of 'our' hoapili and acquaintances,” I say with a smile.
“Don’t worry, Mike. If I gave you my list, you wouldn’t need me and then I wouldn’t have a free vacation in Alaska.” He laughs.
“You know you would have had that anyhow,” I reply. “Well, where did he go? Out of the country where there is no extradition, I expect.”
“You are going to be surprised. He flew up to Anchorage, Alaska.” With a chuckle, he adds,“Looks like maybe I will be getting my vacation sooner than I had thought.”
“Why would he fly up there?” I ask, stunned.
“One, it’s a large place to get lost in. Two, he has already found out even if he goes to a country with no extradition, he still ends back in the old USA. Third, he probably never thought we would look for him up there. And last but not least, he owns several properties and companies up there.”
“How are you going to get away from the CIA to come up to Alaska for this?” I ask, hoping for his assistance. We’ve always made a good team.
“I have been assigned to Alaska,” he announced.
“But you hate the cold.”
“It’s not cold up there now. And besides, it’s only for a couple of weeks.”
“Glad to have you. When are you going to be here?”
“I’m already headed there. Meet you in Alaska,” he says.
Chapter 71
I meet up with Martin at the Elmendorf Air Force Base. I didn’t bring Sharon along on this trip. He is waiting for me to depart the plane as we approach where ours will be housed next to his, in the southernmost structure on the base. All state and government planes use this hanger. He beat me up there by two days. Martin has already been looking around, asking questions, trying to find out where Mr. Tan might have gone. We go inside the hangar and slide over to the conference room to have a cup of Kona coffee, as he briefs me on what he has found out so far.
"Mike, what we know right now is he came here but is now gone. One pilot told me he got into a float plane and took off to an unknown destination," Martin says as he takes another sip of coffee. "I asked whose plane it was he took off in, the individual told me he wasn't sure or didn't know. I also asked him what kind of plane it was, and he said it was a floatplane, a De Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter. He did catch the last few numbers off the tail section, and I had it run through the system.”
"At least we know he is up here. It's just too damn bad Alaska is so large." I say in an un-reassuring way.
“Well, we did find out which plane he used, and we notified the park rangers and local departments that when they see that one, they are going to notify us immediately. As you know, about one in every fifteen individuals has their pilot's license up here. So trying to find out who flew it is going to be difficult. And more than likely, it's one of his own people who flew him out of here," he adds.
“Or he flew himself since he is a pilot,” I point out. “How many places of business does he have?”
"He owns three companies outright, and owns part of or a controlling interest in four others."
I take a sip of my coffee. "Where are all these companies located?" I ask, hoping to find out they were all close by.
Martin looks up at me, shaking his head. "From one end of the state to the other and two across the middle."
“You are aware there are thousands of lakes and rivers he could be at right now? We don’t have a clue about where he is,” I say disparagingly. "How long did you say you had?" I ask in a joking manner.
Martin looks back at me. "Two weeks. I know; maybe not long enough. If I need to, I might be able to get an extension."
I raise my coffee cup and toast to that.
“Where are you staying?” I ask.
“We have a safe house close by. Do you want to stay there?”
“How is it?” I inquire.
“Wait 'til you see it. You might just want to use it when you come up here for your vacations.”
We drive over to the safe house, just north of Hillberg Lake, about five miles north of Elmendorf Air Force Base. “Mike, how’s that view?” Martin points to the top of several mountains.
“Almost as good as my cabins,” I say jokingly. “This is beautiful. You’re sure this is a safe house?”
“Well, yes and no. We acquired it after a Colombian drug lord didn’t quite need it anymore.”
“So that is why the décor is how it is.”
“You can have the room at the top and to the left.”
The next morning I smell bacon and coffee penetrating my bedroom upstairs, making me hungry. I throw on a robe and go downstairs.
“God, that smells good, you’re cooking,” I say before I make it to the kitchen. When I arrive, I notice Martin sitting at the table and a very attractive local preparing the meal. “Ah, and here I thought you were the one.”
“Mike, this is agent Samantha, which means 'listener,' just call her Sam. She came here with some interesting news,” he says as he takes another bite of his pancakes. “We found the pilot who flew Mr. Tan to a cabin down the way. After a little persuasion and some threats, he told us where Mr. Tan was and what he is planning on doing.”
I sit and have a big plate of delicious food, consisting of fresh fish, pancakes, rice, and eggs placed in front of me, along with a nice hot cup of strong Hawaiian Kona coffee.
“So when are we going up to get him?” I ask, after taking another bite of eggs.
“As soon as you’re done eating and get ready.”
I finish eating and enjoy the home-grown coffee. I go back upstairs and get ready to go with Martin and Samantha. We get to the bay where she is going to fly us up to Chisik Island Salmon Cannery on the west side of Chisik Island.
After flying down close to the cannery, she lands in the bay southeast of it and taxis up to the shore. We get out of the seaplane and walk about a mile northwest to the plant. We follow the shoreline. We are not sure which building he might be in. We first come to a home that is on the east side of the row of buildings. Samantha draws her pistol and goes up on the steps of the home. Looking through the windows, she looks to see if anyone is inside. She sees on the porch that no one has gone into the house, at least for several days, as the dust in front of the screen wasn’t disturbed. She motions to us that all is okay. We all walk to the next building. Martin takes the lead point on this one. He comes across a few workers and asks them where Mr. Tan is, really not expecting them to tell him anything. I take the south point, and Samantha takes the northern point, with Martin now going in the middle areas of the buildings. As we approach the fifth of the cannery buildings, Martin glances in the side windows and sees Mr. Tan standing there speaking with what seems to be two employees. They are standing in the middle of some long rows of stainless steel tables. He is yelling at them, as Martin motions to Samantha and I that he is inside. He walks in the front door and startles Mr. Tan since he had never seen Martin. “Who are you and what do you want?” Mr. Tan snaps out. “And how did you get here?”
“I am a buyer from Martin House Foods and want to speak with the person in charge,” Martin says.
The face doesn’t look familiar, but the voice does. Mr. Tan’s eyes open wide and Martin knows that he recognized him. Mr. Tan pulls a pistol out from underneath his coat and shoves one of the employees towards Martin. He fires a shot at Martin and runs down the row of tables and out the back door. I hear the shot and also Martin yelling that he was running out the back. Both Sam and I run around to the back, she from the north and I from the south. Just then, another shot rings out, and I look towards Sam only to see her fall. I raise my gun and fire two quick shots. The first shot misses, but the second shot hits him in his left arm. He wheels around and throws three shots at me and runs into the forests that are close by. Martin comes through the back door and runs towards the direction in which Mr. Tan ran. I rush up to check on Sam. Luckily she isn’t injured too badly, a flesh wound. I ask her if she feels all right, she says she is fine, and I rush off to try to catch up with Martin.
I finally see him, and he notices me. He motions for me to go to a section of ground and to meet with him further down. We search for about two hours. The blood trail runs cold. He and I walk back to the Cannery and find Samantha wrapped with a bandage and speaking with the two employees who Mr. Tan was arguing with. She had called in for some dogs to be brought in
for tracking, even before she knew we hadn’t caught up with him. “They won’t arrive until tomorrow morning, but they will be here.”We get the sleeping bags out of our plane and sleep on the metal tables meant for cutting fish.
The next day, two floatplanes fly in with two dogs each, along with three more agents and three forest rangers. It doesn’t take long for the Rangers to give the dogs a scent of Mr. Tan. They start following the blood trail up to where we had lost it but thank God the dogs keep on following the trail. The trek is hard going, as steep terrain and fallen trees litter the path. With the dogs on a long leash, they get tangled up with so many branches from fallen logs. It’s very slow going. At some points, it's an abrupt climb.
I mention to one of the rangers, as we are following one of the dogs, “This man is lucky he is on this island and not 25 miles south of Juneau.”
“Why is that?”
“Although there are brown bears here, that area has the most brown bear population of any place here in Alaska, around 1500 of them.”
Just then, his dog bolts forward, wanting to run somewhere. He starts barking wildly. Josh, the ranger, pulls him back, and undoes the leash from the collar and lets his dog go. We follow the sound and hear that the other dog has joined in the hunt. Soon we hear angry barking and growling; we come up where the noise was coming from and find a big brown bear being barked at by the dogs. The Ranger calls off his dog as the other Ranger arrives on the other side to call his off. The bear runs off, retreating into the woods after I raise my pistol and fire off two shots. The dogs don’t follow but go over to where the bear had just left.
We find Mr. Tan mauled pretty badly, but still alive. Luckily the dogs stopped the bear from finishing him off, but in his condition, he may still not make it. He is barely conscious, going in and out, trying to speak.
Martin, I and one of the agents stay with him; the rest go back to the cannery where the planes are to bring back a litter to carry him out. As we wait, he comes to long enough to answer some questions that I want to be answered.
The Hollywood Serial Killers: A Mike Kane Mystery Series Page 19
