Ocean: The Awakening

by Brian Herbert

  He said nothing more and walked away abruptly, making his way up the gentle slope of the beach toward the road. He looked back once, but continued on his way.

  ***

  Chapter 8

  By the time Alicia returned to the ranch hotel, the staff was abuzz from the beach attack. In the open-air lobby, filled with lush plants and colorful flowers, one of the hotel musicians, Uki Mikaho, said her grandfather wanted to see her right away.

  The dark-skinned man looked at her with concern, and walked alongside her. They passed a sign with a pen-and-ink drawing of a volcano and a strict warning that guests should not take lava rocks off the islands, because of the superstition that this would cause the volcano goddess Madam Pele to bring revenge upon them and their families. Alicia, with artistic talent, had drawn the sign according to her grandfather’s specifications.

  Uki asked, in broken English, “You all right? Jellyfish no sting bad?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Alicia smiled, and hurried on her way. Uki was one of the nicest employees of the hotel, an excellent guitar player and singer, and a favorite of the staff and the guests.

  Foregoing a shower and a change of clothing, she hurried through a flower-draped portico. The door to her grandfather’s office was open, and inside the large, expensively appointed room she found her blond, stocky brother already there, sitting on a side couch with the elderly patriarch of the Ellsworth family.

  The old man motioned her over, and she sat in a chair that was part of a conversation circle around a coffee table. Cold, non-alcoholic drinks in tall glasses were already there and she selected one, a frosty glass of tropical fruit punch. Her grandfather, an avowed teetotaler, never consumed alcohol himself, and expected the same of his employees, though the hotel did serve wine, beer, and liquor to guests. He was tall and slender, with a patrician nose and light blue, penetrating eyes. Despite his advanced age, he had a full head of thick gray hair, combed straight back. She noticed his characteristic aviator sunglasses sitting on a table beside him.

  “I hear you had quite a time this morning,” he said.

  “Box jellyfish and stonefish were at Olamai,” Alicia said. “They’re supposed to be deadly, but no one died, and our wounds were only minor. Mine have healed already.” She narrowed her gaze. “I wonder if it could be part of something larger—linked to training problems we’re having with dolphins and porpoises at the aquatic park. One of the handlers thinks it could be a virus, affecting sea creatures.”

  Preston Ellsworth III scratched his head. “It is peculiar, most peculiar.” He waited while a female servant brought a tray of sandwiches and set it on the table, a pretty young woman named Mina who was also one of the Hawaiian dancers in the troupe of locals who put on shows for tourists in the hotel lobby. She smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

  “Who told you they were box jellyfish and stonefish?” Grandfather asked.

  Alicia hesitated, and for several moments looked out a window at the golf course and the carts that were rolling along a side road. “Several people said it, and they seemed to know. One of them told me his name was Kimo … Kimo Pohaku.”

  Rage stormed across the creased face. “Pohaku? A Pohaku was on my land, on my beach?”

  “He saved me, Grandfather. Almost everyone in the water was panicking, and I was hit on the head. He got me out of the water, said he had been swimming beyond the shark net when he saw the commotion and came to help.”

  “Stay away from that crazy family.”

  “He acted upset when he found out who I was.”

  Her grandfather cursed under his breath, but some of the expletives got out. He took several deep breaths, and said, “More than a century ago, my great-great grandfather purchased hundreds of native Hawaiian land parcels, and put them together to form this ranch. After seeing what a commercial success he and his sons were making of the cattle business here, and the hotel, a number of the Hawaiian families tried to reverse the deals and get their land back. The Ellsworths fought them in court and won, but some of the troublemakers didn’t give up for a long time, and charged that there had been fraudulent land transfers. It wasn’t true, of course, but Kimo’s father has proved to be the most stubborn of them all; he’s vowed to never give up the fight, and has been fomenting trouble for years, making unfounded charges against our family.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Alicia said, surprised that she hadn’t heard anything about it before. “Kimo did seem nice, though—until he found out my name.”

  “He’s as nutty as his father,” Jeff said. “People say he spends more time in the sea than on the land. Kimo Pohaku is always in the water; he’s been seen swimming with fish and turtles around him, and he talks to them.”

  “That doesn’t sound nutty to me,” Alicia insisted. “It sounds wonderful.”

  Preston Ellsworth scowled. “His crazy father has been trying to ruin my reputation around Wanaao Town for years. The bastard is tenacious, keeps finding free legal help and filing frivolous legal actions. Eight years ago I sued Tiny Pohaku for slander and won, but he doesn’t have a nickel to his name, lives in a rented shack and his only source of income now is from his son, who sells fruit on the Wanaao Road. I hear the old man is very ill, and some people in town are even saying he got that way over the stress of his family losing their land. Preposterous! Those Pohakus are all insane. Even his wife is wacko, some kind of oddball native healer who goes into houses to rid them of evil spirits.”

  “Who’s renting to the Pohakus?” Jeff asked, sitting forward. His face was even redder than usual.

  “That’s the spirit, boy! Find out who’s helping them and get them thrown out, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Forget it. I already tried, and it only made me look worse in the eyes of the townspeople. It’s better to just let my lawyers deal with his nuisance claims; they have my power of attorney for such matters, and I don’t have to hear the details.”

  “I’m sorry to upset you by telling you what his son did,” Alicia said, “but I didn’t know.”

  “That’s all right, but stay away from Kimo Pohaku.”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” she said. “Obviously he hates us.”

  “Good.”

  The old man thought for several moments, then said, “I’m very disturbed about what happened at Olamai Beach, because that kind of thing will frighten guests away. It’s a very serious matter, so I called this family meeting to obtain your opinions. How do you think we should handle it?”

  “It must have been a freak occurrence,” Jeff said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “But what if it does?” He looked at both of them with his intense blue-eyed gaze. “Any suggestions?”

  Alicia recognized what the old man was doing; he’d done it before, pitting them against each other in a competition to see who could come up with the best idea. She didn’t want to play the game this time, and just sat silently for several moments, giving her brother the opportunity to speak first. She would let him look good in their grandfather’s eyes, if it was so important to him. She saw a look of desperation and determination on Jeff’s face; his thoughts were churning.

  Finally he said, “Publicize that it was a freak occurrence, and to play it safe, find out how the jellyfish got through the shark netting. It sounds like a different kind of netting might be needed.”

  “Small jellyfish could probably get through any netting,” Grandfather said.

  “We should find out,” Jeff said.

  “What else?” He looked at Alicia, waited.

  She did have an idea, and when her brother failed to suggest it, she said, “I think we should bring in an expert on sea life, an ichthyologist.” She doubted if Jeff knew what the word meant.

  “I know an oceanographer in Honolulu,” the old man said, nodding. “I can reach her through an old naval school classmate.”

  Governor Heinz Churchill heard the buzzer on his desk, followed by his sec
retary’s voice. “I have Mr. Ellsworth on the line, sir. He sounds upset.”

  A retired admiral who was now the Governor of Hawaii, the bespectacled man was exceedingly busy, but he had an informal pact with his classmates from Annapolis, wherever they were—and to the extent possible they kept each other on a priority list.

  “Preston?” Governor Churchill said, into a desk microphone. “I can only talk to you for a few minutes, before I leave for a staff meeting.”

  “About the naval exercises west of the islands? I hear you’re still keeping your oars in the water.”

  Adjusting his eyeglasses, Admiral Churchill said, “Not so much these days, though I do prefer my old office here at Pearl Harbor to the governor’s office downtown. What can I do for you?”

  “I need a favor, Heinz.”

  “What is it?”

  The Governor listened while Preston Ellsworth described the jellyfish and stonefish attacks at Olamai Beach, and the other unusual events that had been occurring with sea life.

  “That all sounds very strange.”

  “I know that,” Preston said. “Can you get your wife to come out and investigate?” He was referring to Fuji Namoto, who ran the Tamoa Oceanography Institute in Honolulu. She’d kept her maiden name, despite being the first lady of the state.

  Later that day, following an exchange of e-mail messages among the Governor, Ellsworth, and Namoto, she agreed to visit Wanaao Town in two days. It seems that she had already been alerted to the situation by the U.S. Navy, with whom she often worked as a consultant.

  ***

  Chapter 9

  In the waning light of dusk, a helicopter flew over one of Loa’kai’s lush jungle valleys, with steep, deep-green hillsides on either side, and waterfall ribbons emptying into a winding creek bed that flowed down the mountain to the sea. Although the sky was clear now, it had rained heavily earlier in the day, and water was still running off the hillsides.

  The aircraft, owned by the Ellsworth Ranch, had no side windows or doors, allowing tourists to take the clearest possible photographs of the scenery. The tour-guide pilot had no passengers aboard now, no one strapped into the seat beside him or in the rear seats. He wore no seatbelt when he flew alone because he liked the feeling that if he made the slightest mistake, if he let go of the controls and leaned the ‘copter the wrong way, he could tumble out.

  That would solve a lot of his problems. But Jeff Ellsworth wasn’t ready for that, not yet, though there were days when he felt dejected, and needed an extra dose of his anti-depressant medication.

  Beside him, the front passenger seat had been folded back, so that he had space on the floor beside him for the cargo of illegal drugs he was about to pick up. This was the newest of two helicopters operated by the ranch, both of which could set down on the land or on the sea. The other craft had a history of mechanical problems that had supposedly been taken care of by the ranch mechanic, but little things kept cropping up, so Jeff tried to avoid using that ‘copter whenever he could, letting an older tour guide take it out while Jeff used his pull as an Ellsworth to get the better one for his own use.

  Because of his extracurricular activities, Jeff had an important reason for this. The older craft had a ranch sign painted on both sides, but this newer aircraft had an electronic sign system above the cabin that could show ELLSWORTH RANCH TOURS on each side, but for what he had in mind he didn’t want to advertise who he was. Now he flipped off the sign system, leaving only the FAA markings painted on the fuselage. He’d rather not have those visible, either, but had not been able to figure out how to temporarily conceal them—and had not felt comfortable making a permanent alteration, because it might be noticed by someone, especially the mechanic, or the other tour pilot.

  Today he selected a route on which he normally took tourists, flying over a picturesque backcountry region that was still essentially natural in its appearance, a part of the island that was hardly touched by human hands. Sculpted by what he called “God’s tools” of wind, rain, and sun over hundreds of thousands of years, this area was verdant and beautiful but was by no means as “natural” as some people believed. In fact, a number of the tree species below had not even originated in the Hawaiian Islands.

  Many plants had been brought in from other regions of the Pacific—sometimes as seeds carried by birds, or trees that floated in with storms, or plants brought in by Polynesians centuries ago when they settled here, such as coconut palms, breadfruit trees, sugar cane, and bananas. Even more foreign species were brought in by Americans, Europeans, and Asians when they arrived with their own broad spectrum of changes. On tours Jeff liked to list flower species that were not native to Hawaii at all, such as the plumerias in the leis his passengers were wearing, as well as the spectacular torch ginger, and heliconia. On one occasion, this caused a woman from the state of Georgia to toss her lei overboard—which resulted in his admonishment to her that it was illegal to throw anything out of the helicopter, even though he didn’t care, himself.

  No land mammals, amphibians, or reptiles were native to Hawaii, with the exception of the hoary bat. Pigs and other mammals had been brought in by Polynesian settlers, and what they didn’t bring in, other immigrants did, including cats, dogs, rats, chickens, and cattle. As just one example of the foolishness of immigrants, when they found that Loa’kai was overrun by rats, they brought in mongooses from India, which were successful in getting rid of almost all of the rats, along with some snakes that found their way onto the island. When those food sources diminished, however, the mongooses turned to eating chickens and other small animals (along with chicken eggs), and became pests themselves, because they had no natural predators to keep them under control. Finally it was discovered that certain species of domestic cats did hunt down and kill the mongooses, but that resulted in the island being overrun by feral cats—a condition that remained to this day.

  Jeff liked to tell such stories to tourists to surprise and intrigue them, and considered himself a knowledgeable tour guide. He’d done his research, and had always been a quick learner. Gradually, though, he’d grown bored and irritated with the job and the turnover of passengers, and began telling them whatever he felt like, claiming that famous movie stars lived in certain houses, or that a battle of ancient Hawaiians had occurred in a particular place, when in fact none of that was true at all. He just liked to see how gullible the tourists were, and some of them were really dumb.

  Half an hour ago, he’d flown his last daily load of tourists back to the ranch. Those five women from Philadelphia were probably in the hotel lobby now, filling their plump bellies with food from the sumptuous luau buffet that his grandfather put on three times a week. Now Jeff was using the solo flying privileges granted to him by the old man, which supposedly relaxed him and allowed him to wind down, an escape from the rigors of dealing with demanding passengers—but he really had other reasons. He took these private flights at least once a week.

  As soon as possible he wanted to get away from this job that had become an anchor holding him down. If only his grandfather would die and pass the ranch and other businesses on to him and Alicia in his will. Jeff had no interest in continuing to operate those enterprises, so he intended to sell his share and do whatever he pleased with his life afterward. There were other things he wanted to do, bigger fortunes to be had.

  Though he still had drug-dealer connections in California, Jeff had no plans to return there and get involved in the west-coast narcotics trade. Whatever he did, it would be here in the Hawaiian Islands. The beauty amazed him each morning when he awoke and looked out the window, or went outside. He liked the native Hawaiians, too, and there were more beautiful women here than he’d ever seen anywhere else, even on California’s surfing beaches. Yes, he would remain in this tropical paradise, maybe continuing in the drug business and maybe not.

  While biding his time, waiting for his grandfather to pass on, he’d been using a connection with the biggest drug lord in the Hawaiian Islands, Pauly
Tahina, who purchased supplies from the U.S. mainland and the Philippines, and assumed the risks of long-range transport and customs inspections. Here in the Hawaiian Islands illegal pot-growing operations existed, but were run mostly by backcountry hippies for their own consumption, and for passing on to their circle of friends. Neither Jeff nor Pauly wanted to consort with such unprofessional people, considering them unreliable and untrustworthy.

  Extra careful, Jeff had his own distribution network of discreet native Hawaiians who sold drugs to tourists on Loa’kai. He was making a lot of money on the side, but he needed to, because of his lavish lifestyle. Whenever possible, he went to the more developed side of the island and enjoyed the night life, taking women out for expensive dinners and the best wine, and to the most exclusive clubs. Secretly, he owned a large oceanfront condominium there and a $600,000 Ferrari, and he was making payments on them out of his drug earnings. With Pauly’s permission, he’d put the condo and sports car in the drug lord’s name, because Jeff didn’t want his grandfather to know he had a significant source of outside income—and if it ever got back to the old man that he was seen in the car or the condo, he could just say a friend was loaning them to him.

  The condominium had a spectacular view of the water and of two volcanoes on the Big Island (Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea), across the straight from Loa’kai. This month, a wealthy friend of Pauly’s was staying in the place, and he had access to the Ferrari as well, so Pauly was making the payments during that time, and giving Jeff a bonus. Jeff didn’t particularly like the arrangement, but when Pauly asked for a “favor” (as he did this time) it was more in the nature of a demand. He was not the sort of person to argue with, and Jeff didn’t make a practice of it.

  Another concern: Jeff was not especially good at managing his money, and he had received a personal loan of $750,000 from Pauly—who was gradually getting his loan paid back out of the deals they continued to do together. He was also refusing to loan Jeff any more until it was all paid back.