by Robert McCaw
“I’m not really sure. It must have been after January 17. That’s the day my mother—she lives with me—came back from Maui. I definitely remember telling her about it. Something about young men just running off on short notice. And I think he called a day or two before the verification team started on January 22, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”
“That puts the call on or after January 18 and no later than January 21?”
Julie nodded.
Koa produced a calendar. “January 18 was a Sunday. You don’t work weekends, do you?”
Julie shook her head no.
“Then it must have been Monday, January 19; Tuesday, January 20; or Wednesday, January 21. Does that seem right?”
“Yes, definitely. It must have been one of those days.”
“Is there any way you could pin the date down—maybe telephone records or something?” She paused. “I don’t think so.”
Too bad, he thought, she couldn’t pin down the date, especially since those days overlapped the date-of-death window he’d gotten from Dr. Cater. “Who supervised Mr. Nakano?”
“The staff astronomers work independently. The director has overall charge of the observatories and the whole staff. Deputy Director Nelson and Assistant Director Harper help Director Masters, but the professional staff really doesn’t have supervisors.”
“I’d like to talk with …” Koa paused. “Nelson and Harper after I see Mr. Masters.”
“Dr. Masters,” Julie corrected him again. “Deputy Director Nelson and Assistant Director Harper are usually here or on the mountain, but right now they’re down at the hotel, helping set up for the NAAS meeting.”
“The NAAS meeting?” Koa asked.
“The North American Astronomical Society. Dr. Masters is the keynote speaker announcing his big discovery.” She bubbled with pride. Koa remembered his conversation with Nālani. Masters was making some big announcement.
“Oh. When is the big announcement?”
“Monday. Definitely the highlight of his career.” She lowered her voice. “There’s talk about a Nobel Prize. And there’s a party Monday night after the speech. The whole observatory staff will be there.”
That, Koa thought, would give him an opportunity to meet the staff, but Julie Benson wasn’t the person to ask for an invitation. “Could you give me addresses and telephone numbers for Mr. Nelson and Mr. Harper?”
She picked up a memo pad and wrote the information in a precise, calligraphic hand.
“Thanks.” Koa slipped the paper into his pocket. “Isn’t it odd that nobody here at Alice checked on Mr. Nakano for over two weeks?”
She had an easy answer for that. “Things have been crazy here, what with Director Masters’ big discovery. We’ve had media people calling from all over the world. The phone rang constantly for ten days. I guess nobody thought much about Mr. Nakano.”
“Did Mr. Nakano have an office?”
“He has … had … a cubicle in one of our two workrooms here.”
“What about a computer? Did Mr. Nakano have a laptop computer?”
“Definitely. The Alice Foundation provides laptop computers for all the staff astronomers.”
“Do you know where we can find Mr. Nakano’s computer?”
“I imagine he had it with him. Most astronomers carry them around like security blankets.”
That explained the lack of a computer in his home. “I’d like to see his cubicle.”
“Definitely.” She stood and led him out into the corridor where they paused in front of three large photographs. “Dr. Masters is in the center; that’s Gunter Nelson on the right and Charlie Harper on the left.”
“Thanks,” Koa said, studying each face to find a detail he would remember—Masters’ square jaw, Nelson’s shaggy facial hair, and Harper’s almost cherubic round face. He rejoined Ms. Benson, and they entered a large workroom with eight small, partially enclosed carrels.
Julie pointed to the third one on the left side. “Mr. Nakano occupied that one.” Only slightly larger than a library research desk, the space had an electrical outlet, but no personal computer. An autographed snapshot of Soo Lin Hun and a calendar hung from the corkboard above the desk. Five dates—January 4–5, 13, 20, and 22—had been highlighted with a yellow marker.
“You know the significance of the highlighted dates?”
“Those are observing dates, dates when Mr. Nakano had telescope time scheduled. It’s more precious than gold.”
“Isn’t it odd for him to leave when he had observing time scheduled?”
“Definitely very odd. But it was also odd for him to leave without clearing his absence with the director.”
As they walked back through the atrium, a silver Land Rover pulled into the parking spot reserved for the director. “That’s Dr. Masters,” Julie said, pointing. A tall, black-haired man with a strikingly square jaw emerged from the driver’s door, followed by a boy, perhaps fifteen years old, who bounced out of the passenger side. Masters said something Koa couldn’t hear and the boy broke out laughing. Masters smiled as the two shared the lighthearted moment.
“Who’s the boy?” Koa asked.
“That’s Danny, Dr. Masters’ son. He spends a lot of time here when he’s not in school on O‘ahu. If you’ll have a seat here in the atrium, I’ll come get you as soon as Dr. Masters is ready.”
Minutes later, Julie Benson returned to inform Koa that Director Masters was on an important NAAS conference call. “I’m afraid he’ll be at least an hour. I’m so sorry. Let me show you to our kitchenette, where at least you can get some coffee.”
Koa bristled. He didn’t like to be put off, especially not for an hour. The chief had pegged this Masters guy—arrogant enough to put his own business ahead of an appointment with the police. Still, he needed to talk to Masters, so he had no choice other than wait. He followed Julie into the kitchen and got a cup of coffee. His shoulder hurt and he wanted to lie flat on the floor, but he settled for standing with his back pressed against the wall.
Hoping to see Nālani, he called her cell, only to learn that she was once again in the mirror room at the observatories on the summit of Mauna Kea. Like many Alice technicians, she split her time between the headquarters in Waimea and the actual telescopes on the summit of Mauna Kea. She’d astounded Koa by explaining that the giant telescopes could be operated remotely and that most astronomers never had to deal with the hostile conditions on the summit. Alice technicians, on the other hand, performed dozens of maintenance tasks that could only be done on the mountain.
A voice at the door abruptly caught his attention. “Greetings, earthling. I bring you tidings from the furthest reaches of the universe.” The deep, computerized speech emanated from a contraption nearly three feet tall, including a cubical head supported by a round pipe on a box-like upper body. A large glass eye protruded from the gadget’s forehead. Stubby mechanical arms on each side ended in pincer-like crab claws. The robot’s lower torso, a round corrugated canister, stood on four complex, multi-jointed metal legs.
Koa watched as the robot stutter-stepped toward him with tiny movements of its metallic feet. “Who are you?” the machine asked in a gravelly voice.
“Koa Kāne. And you are …?”
“Cepheid. My name is Cepheid, after the star Delta Cepheid in the constellation Cepheus, discovered by John Goodricke in 1784.”
“And who is controlling you, Mr. Cep—Cepheid?”
“That is beyond understanding,” replied the droid-like creature. Koa shook his head. “Really?”
“Yes, earthling. You can neither see nor understand as Cepheid sees. Why are you here, earthling?”
Koa guessed the robot was Danny Masters’ toy. “To talk to Director Masters,” he responded.
“Are you a real cop?” the robot asked.
“How did you know that I was a policeman?”
The robot switched to a godlike voice. “Cepheid is all-knowing, earthling.”
“Do you carr
y a gun?” With lightning speed, the robot extended one arm, pointing a crab claw toward Koa. “Zap … zap … zap,” the robot intoned. “I beat you to the draw, earthling.” It made a clucking sound as though trying to laugh.
Koa broke into a laugh of his own. “You are indeed quick on the draw. How do you manage such lifelike actions?”
“My circuits have 64-bit microprocessors with SIMD extensions, AI software, digital mapping, transistorized servo circuits, 256-bit telemetry, CCD lenses, and 64-channel audio.” The robot cocked his head, inviting a compliment.
“Very nice. We could use you in police work … when my officers might otherwise be in danger.”
“Cepheid arrests Keneke’s murderer. That would make a nice headline.” A line of LED lights across the robot’s forehead flashed green as though the machine were pleased with itself.
“That’s enough, Danny,” Thurston Masters interrupted from the doorway. “I need to talk with Detective Kāne.”
The robot released a long, hissing sigh. “Cepheid was helping the earthling solve Keneke’s murder.”
“That’s enough, Danny.” Masters’ tone brooked no argument.
“You always say that just when it’s getting fun.” A string of flashing red lights across the robot’s forehead signaled its irritation. It rotated and retreated from the room.
Koa faced the director of the Alice Observatories, once again noting his unusually chiseled jaw, black hair tinged with gray, and bright blue eyes. “That’s quite a toy,” Koa said, gesturing after the robot.
“It’s not a toy,” Masters responded coldly. “It’s actually a test platform. We use a lot of robotics to control the telescopes and change the detectors that record what the telescopes see. What you call a toy was built with the aid of one of the experts who built NASA’s moon rovers, Spirit and Curiosity.” He paused. “Let’s go back to my office where we can talk in private.” Masters pointed Koa toward the hallway.
Still thinking about the robot, Koa asked, “What kind of test platform?”
“We use it to develop and test software we’re going to install in the machines on the summit. It’s also used to test artificial intelligence concepts. We generate so much astronomical data we’re literally years behind in analyzing what we’ve already collected. We’re using Cepheid to test ways of computerizing that process.”
They entered a spacious office, and the scientist lowered his tall, lanky frame into a black leather chair behind his massive desk while waving Koa to a nearby chair. Koa scanned the office. The walls were covered with certificates—Harvard, MIT, and Stanford—as well as plaques, including an air force commendation for outstanding performance and a presidential citation, signed by Ronald Reagan. Koa immediately recognized Masters’ “type”—a man defined by the plaudits of his admiring fans.
“We both want to find Keneke Nakano’s killer. So sit down and let’s get started,” Masters said abruptly.
After having made Koa wait almost an hour, Masters was now all business. He hadn’t even referred to Nālani, although he had to be aware of her relationship with Koa. Strange.
Koa squinted, noting one immediate disadvantage. The wall behind Masters was all glass, and looked out toward the sunlit mounds of the Kohala Mountains. Against the bright background, Koa couldn’t read the man’s eyes.
“‘Grisly murder scene,’ that’s how Chief Lannua described it. I gather that the body was pretty badly decomposed?”
“Yes.” Koa spoke slowly, organizing his questions in his mind. “There was substantial decomposition.”
“You were able to determine the time and cause of death?”
Masters’ interest in the details intrigued Koa. The players in this case were either uninterested in the murder, like the prince, or overly interested, like this man. But at least Masters had a legitimate interest. His employee had been murdered. “We’re working on it.”
“The murder of a staff astronomer is an outrage. It couldn’t have come at a worse time with the NAAS people here. I want this crime solved. Fast.” Suddenly, Koa understood Masters’ interest in the details. He didn’t want the murder to spoil his big party. Koa recalled Chief Lannua’s words: pathological need for control. Keneke’s murder was an annoyance this obsessive man couldn’t control.
Masters paused, glaring at Koa. “Quite frankly, Detective, I question whether the Hawai‘i County police are capable of solving such a crime. Shouldn’t you bring in outside help?”
Koa met the director’s gaze and chose his words carefully. “We have expert forensic help and have engaged certain resources of the FBI.”
“Who’s your forensic guy? Some GP from Hilo?”
Koa wondered briefly whether Masters knew about Shizuo or was simply disparaging the local medical community. “No, we brought in a forensic expert from the US Army Central Identification Facility on O‘ahu.”
“Oh.” Masters leaned slightly forward. “And has he been able to tell you anything?”
“He’s running tests.” Irritated by his sun-shot vantage point, Koa rose and moved to another chair. Masters raised his eyebrows as though seeking an explanation, but Koa didn’t answer the implied question. From his new position, he had a good view of the director’s face. The man’s striking blue eyes were piercing and conveyed a directness that inspired trust despite his aggressive assertiveness.
Koa mentally reviewed his objectives: learn more about Keneke, get the lay of the land in this unfamiliar world of stargazers, and finally, to evaluate Masters as a potential suspect, although that was a long shot. The key with most witnesses, even the top 1 percent, was to get them a little off balance and then engage them in a conversation, minimizing their time to formulate answers.
“Dr. Masters, have you ever been in the Pōhakuloa Training Area?”
Masters hesitated, and Koa wasn’t sure he was going to respond. “Not other than as Colonel Trippet’s guest at a live-fire demonstration.”
“Are you aware of any archaeological sites in the PTA?”
“Archaeological sites, no. What do archaeological sites have to do with this murder?” Masters’ annoyance couldn’t have been more obvious if the word had been stenciled on his forehead.
Koa ignored the question. “Did Mr. Nakano discuss archaeology with you?”
“No, not that I recall. What are you getting at?” Masters’ annoyance clearly registered in his voice.
“Tell me about Keneke Nakano.” For a moment Koa thought Masters might continue the tug-of-war for control of the interview, but then the director seemed to relax, sitting back in his chair.
“Nice young astronomer. Full of spark and energy. Not terribly strong scientifically, but extraordinarily cheerful. I liked him. Nearly everyone did.”
“Explain what you mean by not terribly strong scientifically.”
“Mr. Nakano earned his undergraduate degree at UH. He lacked the benefit of a scientific grounding of an MIT or Stanford. The University of California, of course, rounded out his scientific education, but, quite frankly, I didn’t expect Mr. Nakano to develop any significant reputation as an astronomer.”
Koa recognized the academic arrogance so openly displayed. If you weren’t from Harvard, you were stupid. Funny, he didn’t yet know much about Keneke, but the young astronomer hadn’t won an assignment to the Alice Telescope Project by being stupid. “You could make that judgment so quickly?”
“Oh, yes. Résumés and interviews are worthless, but after working with a scientist for six months, I have a pretty fair idea of his or her talents.”
Chief Lannua, Koa thought, should have added judgmental and conceited to his description of this man. “And you worked closely with Mr. Nakano?”
“Reasonably so. I assigned him a number of projects and reviewed his conclusions. He wrote a speech for me, but quite frankly, I don’t assign speechwriting duties to the ablest astronomers.”
“What kinds of observations did Mr. Nakano make?”
“Mr. Nakano was a staff
astronomer.” Masters leaned forward, focusing his bright eyes on Koa. “The staff concentrates on maintaining and upgrading the facility. Mr. Nakano was assigned to our adaptive optics team—”
“Adaptive optics?” Koa interrupted.
“Sophisticated computer-controlled mirror systems designed to correct the distortions caused by the earth’s atmosphere,” Masters responded, as though he were explaining things to a child.
“So Mr. Nakano worked on those systems?”
“Yes, but ‘struggled’ would be a better word. The mathematics involved is exceedingly complex. Unfortunately, Mr. Nakano hadn’t mastered the intricacies of the requisite calculations.”
Odd, Koa mused. Nālani described Keneke as one of Masters’ special protégés, while Masters himself paints a less flattering view of the relationship. Yet that might just be a difference in perception. “Why did you select Keneke Nakano to join the Alice staff given your view of his education and mathematical weaknesses?”
“The world is not yet a meritocracy, Detective Kāne. We must still accommodate local prejudices.”
Koa added “insensitive” to his description of the director, but he didn’t let the slur slide. “Are you saying that Alice hired Keneke Nakano because of his Hawaiian ancestry?”
“We are in a conflict, a fight for survival with certain primitive Hawaiian forces, the so-called sovereignty groups. They would return the islands to the seventeenth century.” Masters’ face became rigid and his voice hardened. “Because of Mauna Kea’s supposed religious significance to the early Hawaiians, these modern zealots would curtail or even shut down the observatories. In the face of this onslaught, Mr. Nakano’s ethnicity worked to his—and our—advantage.”
“Did he interact with the sovereignty groups?”
“We have public relations professionals for that. Mr. Nakano, like our many women astronomers, simply improved our demographics.”
Koa wanted to laugh. Masters’ insensitivity was nothing short of stunning. He had to know that Koa and Nālani were an item, yet he didn’t hesitate to suggest she’d been hired to improve the observatory’s demographics. At least, Koa thought, he’s transparent about it. Koa took that as a mark of honesty. “I see.” He kept his voice even. “Was Mr. Nakano under any particular stress?”
