John Saul

by The Presence (v5) (epub)

  What if Kioki had one of those new diseases, like ebola, where if you got it, you were dead in a few hours, puking your brains out, and bleeding everywhere?

  What if someone killed Kioki?

  What if …?

  But there were so many “what ifs” that Jack Peters knew there was no way to answer all of them; indeed, until they knew what had happened to Kioki, there was no way to answer any of them. “I guess none of us feels like practice today,” he finally said. “I know I don’t. And I know a lot of people say that when something like this happens, the best thing is to stay busy, to do anything just to keep from thinking about it. But I miss Kioki, and …” His voice trailed off while he tried to clear the lump that had formed in his throat. “I just want to remember him, I guess. So I’m canceling track practice today. Any of you who want to hang around and just talk, I’ll be here. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, too.” Once again his eyes roamed over the team. “I guess that’s all I have to say,” he finished.

  For a few seconds no one moved; it was as if each of them was waiting for someone else to act. But finally Rick Pieper, shoulders slumped, hands in pockets, started back toward the locker room. Kioki, Peters knew, had been Rick’s best friend. A moment later, Jeff Kina and Michael Sundquist followed Rick. As if taking their lead from the three who had been the last to see Kioki alive, the rest of the team began drifting back toward the locker room. The silence that had hung over the dozen boys on the field stayed with them as they stripped off their gym shorts and began pulling on their street clothes.

  Ten minutes later, still together, Michael, Jeff Kina, and Rick Pieper emerged from the gym. Josh Malani was waiting for them.

  “You wanta go get something to eat?” Josh asked, and Michael could tell by the uncertainty in his voice that Josh was wondering if any of them blamed him for Kioki’s death.

  “I’m not very hungry,” Jeff said.

  Josh’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Look, what happened to Kioki wasn’t our fault.”

  “No one said it was,” Jeff replied. “I just wish I knew what happened. I mean—” He fell silent as he saw a police car turning into the school parking lot. “Uh-oh.”

  The other three boys turned to follow Jeff’s gaze.

  “You think they already figured out we broke into Ken’s Dive Shop?” Rick Pieper asked as the squad car pulled to a stop.

  “We didn’t break in,” Josh Malani said quickly. The policeman was out of his car now and coming toward him. “And there’s no way he could know. All we’ll tell him is that we were at the arcade out in Kihei. Okay? Just playing video games.”

  A moment later Cal Olani had ambled up to them, and Michael saw a glint of hostility flare up in Josh Malani’s eyes.

  Cal Olani saw it, too. “Take it easy, Josh,” he said. “I’m not here to hassle you. Just wanted to ask you and your friends a couple of questions about last night.” He studied each boy’s face in turn, his eyes finally coming to rest on Michael. “Don’t think I know you.” He stuck his right hand out. “I’m Cal Olani.”

  “Michael Sundquist,” Michael replied, automatically shaking the officer’s hand.

  “So, were you with Kioki Santoya last night, too?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Michael shrugged.

  “What’d you guys do?”

  Michael felt a knot of fear tightening in his stomach. He was certain the cop would know the moment he told the first lie. But before he could say anything, Josh Malani began talking.

  “Come on, man, all we were doin’ was hangin’ at the arcade over in Kihei.”

  “That true?” Olani asked Michael.

  Michael could feel Josh’s eyes boring into him. Finally, telling himself that if he didn’t actually say anything it wasn’t really a lie, he shrugged noncommittally and did his best to mimic the slightly sullen look that had come over both Jeff Kina’s and Josh Malani’s faces the moment the cop appeared.

  Olani turned to Rick Pieper. “You were the one who dropped the Santoya boy off?”

  Rick nodded. “I offered to drive him all the way home, but he didn’t want my car to wake up his mom. So I dropped him off at his road.”

  “He seem okay?”

  Rick frowned. “You mean like was he sick or something?”

  When the cop nodded, Rick shrugged. “I guess he was okay. I mean, he didn’t say he wasn’t, and he didn’t want me to take him all the way home, so I guess he must have been okay, huh?”

  Cal Olani’s eyes drifted from one boy to another. “How about you guys? You okay?”

  “Since when do you care how we feel?” Josh Malani demanded.

  Before Cal Olani could respond, Rick Pieper cut in. “Is that what happened to Kioki? He was sick?”

  Olani hesitated, knowing any answer he gave would race through the school—and from there through the whole island—faster than an epidemic of flu. And Laura Hatcher hadn’t actually said what had killed Kioki; she’d only been willing to rule certain things out. “Don’t know yet. But he didn’t seem to have any injuries.” His eyes fixed on Josh again. “Look, Malani, I don’t have any axes to grind. I’m just trying to find out what happened to your friend so it doesn’t happen to anyone else. So just take it easy, okay?”

  Josh shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his pants.

  “I’m cool,” he said. “We just don’t know anything.”

  Once more Cal Olani’s eyes scanned the faces of the four boys. There was something, he was sure, that they weren’t telling him. On the other hand, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to any kid on the island when he hadn’t felt the same thing, to one degree or another. And until he knew exactly what had killed Kioki Santoya, there wasn’t any use in trying to lean on them. Another day, maybe, but not now. “All right,” he said. “Stay out of trouble, okay? I don’t come back on shift until tomorrow.”

  “What do you think?” Jeff Kina asked as Olani drove out of the parking lot. “Does he know we borrowed Ken’s stuff?”

  “ ’Course he doesn’t,” Josh insisted. “If he did, he wouldn’t have left.” He turned to Michael. “Want a ride home?”

  Michael hesitated, still not sure they shouldn’t have told the officer exactly what had happened last night. And when the guy had asked them if they were feeling okay, he’d instantly remembered gym class, when—

  But he’d gotten over that!

  Except he hadn’t. At least not quite. Even now he could still feel something in his chest—nothing bad, really, but just not quite right. And if the other guys felt okay, he wasn’t going to be the whiner. “Sure,” he said, finally answering Josh’s question. “Let’s go.”

  But five minutes later, as they were coming into Makawao, he knew Josh had felt his hesitation. “You pissed at me?”

  Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. I just—”

  “You never had the cops hassle you, did you?” Josh asked. Michael looked over at his friend, but Josh was staring straight ahead. “You never had them want to know what you were doin’ on the beach in the middle of the night, and not want to tell them ’cause you didn’t want to admit your dad was drunk and you just didn’t want to go home.”

  Michael bit his lip.

  “You never had to sit in the police station all night because your folks wouldn’t come and get you, did you?”

  Michael shook his head, but still said nothing.

  “Okay, so maybe we should have told him,” Josh finally admitted. “But I just get tired of being hassled, you know? So don’t be pissed off at me, okay?” He paused, then: “Come on, Mike, let’s just go do something!”

  “Like what?” Michael asked warily.

  Josh hesitated. When he spoke, his voice sounded almost shy and he continued to stare straight ahead out the windshield. “ ‘Spose your mom would mind if you showed me what she’s digging up?”

  Michael turned to stare at his friend. “You’re kidding. You
want to see an archaeological site?”

  Josh Malani reddened. “Why wouldn’t I?” he demanded. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

  Michael started laughing. “Well, sometimes you sure act stupid,” he said. Then he spotted a pay phone outside one of the buildings in Makawao. “Pull over there.”

  Josh pulled over. “So are we still friends, or what?”

  “Of course we’re still friends,” Michael assured him. “I’ve just got to call my mom so she can meet us at the gate.”

  “The gate?” Josh echoed. “What gate?”

  “Ever hear of some guy named Takeo Yoshihara?”

  Josh’s eyes widened. “Is that who your mom works for?”

  Michael cocked his head. “Is that some kind of big deal?” he countered.

  Josh nodded. “Around here it doesn’t get any bigger. Nobody ever sees him, and nobody really knows what he does. And hardly anybody’s ever seen where he lives.”

  “Well, get ready,” Michael said. “ ’Cause we’re about to see it all.”

  Not likely, Josh Malani thought as Michael swung out of the truck to call his mother. Not likely at all.

  “Holy shit,” Josh whispered as his truck, following Rob Silver’s Explorer, emerged from the rain forest into the vast garden that was Takeo Yoshihara’s estate. “Will you look at this? What do you think it cost?”

  Even though his mother had described the estate to him, Michael was no more prepared for the reality of it than Josh. As his eyes darted from a pond to a waterfall to a Zen garden, he found himself unable to really look at anything. “Ten million?” he guessed.

  “A lot more’n that,” Josh said. “Look at those buildings. That’s all koa wood, man. Stuff costs a fortune.” He slowed the truck to a crawl, staring first in one direction, then in another. Suddenly an albino peacock appeared from a grove of trees, stopped short, and spread its enormous tail into a huge white fan. “I don’t believe this, man,” Josh breathed. “How many people do you suppose it takes to take care of it?”

  Michael grinned. “Maybe we can get summer jobs as gardeners.”

  “Right,” Josh groaned. “Except I hear you practically have to be a landscape architect just to mow the lawns in here.”

  A minute later they were through the estate and onto the bumpy track that led out to the site two miles farther on.

  Stephen Jameson stared, unseeing, out the window of his office in the long, low-slung building that stood on the far side of the gardens from his employer’s private residence. Though his eyes had unconsciously followed the progress of the Explorer and the ancient pickup that followed it as they wound through the gardens, a minute after they passed he wouldn’t have even been able to say for certain what color either vehicle had been, so focused was his mind on the problem at hand.

  On his desk lay the copy of the autopsy report. Next to it stood the jar containing the specimen of Kioki Santoya’s lung that the orderly had carved out of the corpse. For a moment Jameson considered arranging to have the corpse transferred from the hospital morgue to the estate, but then realized that would only serve to draw more attention to the body than was already being paid. Besides, what would be the point? Jameson was already certain he knew the exact cause of the boy’s death. He had already had a cursory look at the tissue sample through the microscope in his office. The full lab analysis that would be performed on the sample would, he was sure, only confirm his preliminary findings.

  The question was, how had Kioki become exposed? And, just as important, had the three boys mentioned in the memo accompanying the autopsy report also been exposed?

  Stephen Jameson picked up the phone on his desk, dialed a four-digit number, and began speaking the moment the phone at the other end was answered.

  “Dr. Jameson here. I have three names: Jeff Kina, Josh Malani, and Rick Pieper. All three of them sixteen or seventeen years old. All three are to be kept under surveillance. If anything should happen to any of them—if they should get sick—bring them here. Is that clear?”

  The man at the other end read back the three names. Stephen Jameson was about to hang up when another thought occurred to him. “There’s one more name,” he added. “Elvis Dinkins. He just left the estate a few minutes ago. It would be best if he didn’t make it back to Wailuku.”

  By the time they’d gone only a quarter of a mile from the main part of Takeo Yoshihara’s estate, Josh Malani had skidded off the rutted road twice, and the second time Rob Silver had to tow Josh’s truck back onto the track.

  “Maybe we’d better leave your truck here and go the rest of the way in the Explorer,” he suggested as he unfastened the tow rope from Josh’s front bumper.

  “I can make it,” Josh insisted. “I’ve been on lots worse roads than this one.”

  The look in Josh’s eye told Rob that argument would be useless, so he tossed the rope into the back of his Explorer and continued along the road, glancing in his rearview mirror every few seconds to make sure Josh’s rusty pickup was still behind him.

  Miraculously, Josh managed to keep on the track the rest of the way, finally lurching to a stop in the clearing where the canopies had been set up to shelter the worktables. Josh gazed around, his disappointment at finding nothing more interesting than some worn rocks clear on his face. “This isn’t actually the site,” Katharine told the boys, coming out of the shelter of one of the canopies. “It’s up that way. Come on.”

  As she led them along the steep trail into the ravine, Michael once again felt the strange sensation in his chest.

  Not a pain, really.

  Just a funny feeling, as if he were about to run out of breath, even though he was breathing just fine right now.

  Weird.

  Steeling himself against the odd phenomenon, he continued along the trail until at last they came to the ledge on which the fire pit and the skeleton lay.

  “Jeez,” Josh whispered as he gazed down at the remains that still lay in exactly the position in which Katharine had uncovered them. “What is it? A chimpanzee?”

  “Not a chimpanzee, and not a gorilla,” Katharine told him. She knelt down and began explaining the features of the skeleton, but Michael was no longer listening, for the moment he’d seen the skeleton, a feeling even stranger than the one in his chest had come over him.

  A feeling that ran over his spine like fingers of ice.

  A feeling almost like fear, but not quite.

  He stood staring down at the skeleton, transfixed, then slowly forced himself to look away.

  He glanced around.

  Maybe it was just that it reminded him of someplace else—someplace he and his mother had been to years ago, some other dig, somewhere in Africa.

  But most of the places they’d been in Africa hadn’t been anything like this. They’d been in dry, desert areas, places where rain was so scarce that practically nothing grew at all, while here they were surrounded by rain forest, with trees towering overhead, vines climbing up their trunks, ferns sprouting from the vertical faces of the ravine, mosses everywhere.

  Nothing like the part of Africa he’d been to—or anyplace else he could remember, either.

  His eyes returned to the skeleton. He stooped down, and reached out a hand, laying it on the steeply sloping forehead of the skull.

  Why? he thought. Why did I do that?

  “Careful,” he heard his mother say.

  Jerking his hand away almost guiltily, he looked up at her. “What is it?” he asked.

  Katharine’s brows furrowed and her lips twisted into a quizzical half smile. “Haven’t you been listening? I was just telling Josh that so far it doesn’t seem to quite fit with anything I’ve seen before.”

  But Michael’s eyes remained on the skeleton. Again he felt the strange, cold shiver, the tightness in his chest. Involuntarily, he reached out, but before he could touch the skull again, his mother’s voice cut through his reverie.

  “Michael? Honey, are you all right?”

  Michael pulled h
is hand away from the skull and straightened up. How could he tell his mother what he was feeling? How could he tell anyone, since he barely understood it himself? Finally tearing his eyes away from the strange skull, he looked up into his mother’s face.

  “What is it?” she asked again. “What’s wrong?”

  Michael’s mind raced, but before he could reply, he heard Josh answering his mother’s question.

  “One of our friends died last night.”

  Katharine’s mouth dropped open. “One of your friends?” she echoed. Her eyes shifted from Josh to Michael. “You mean one of the boys you were out with last night?”

  Michael nodded, “Kioki Santoya,” he said. “He was on the track team.”

  Katharine sank down onto a large boulder. “How?” she asked. “What happened?”

  Slowly, Michael and Josh told her the little they knew about Kioki’s death.

  “And he just died?” Katharine asked as they finished. “In the middle of a cane field?”

  As Michael and Josh nodded, Katharine instinctively stood and put her arms around her son. “How awful,” she said. “You must feel—”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” Michael said, his face reddening with embarrassment as he pulled himself out of her embrace. “I—I hardly even knew him.” His eyes darted toward Josh, and he was instantly sorry for how the words must have sounded. “I mean—” He floundered for a moment, then: “Oh, Jeez, I don’t know what I mean!” Turning away, he stumbled up the trail toward the deep cleft in the face of the ravine that was the ancient fumarole. A moment later, almost hidden by the dense foliage that surrounded him, he dropped onto a fallen tree.

  Shit!

  What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he said that?

  Suddenly, he saw a movement a few yards down the trail. Great! Now his mother was coming after him, like he was still ten years old.

  Or still had asthma!

  But a second later it was Josh Malani who appeared, and once more Michael felt himself flush with embarrassment. “Look, I didn’t mean that about Kioki. I mean—”

  “It’s okay,” Josh told him, dropping down onto the log next to him. “I say things I don’t mean all the time.”