Death of a Messenger

by Robert McCaw

  “We have metal detectors,” Specialist Carter responded. “They’ll slow the search work, but no one is to move an inch outside the area we sweep. What kind of search pattern do you want us to use?”

  Koa had no idea how far east of the quarry the cave might lie. He did, however, know that Jenkins had laid out parallel lines of sensors about three hundred yards long. He planned to send out teams on radial lines along the eastern slope below the quarry, looking for evidence of disturbed ground. He explained his thinking and asked for suggestions.

  “You might be able to see something from the air,” the chopper pilot, who’d been standing off to the side, volunteered. “The HH-65 is auto-stabilized for search operations. I could run a pattern east of the quarry. An observer with binoculars might be able to spot what you’re looking for.”

  Jimmy volunteered for the job. “I’m useless on the ground, but I can sit in the chopper and my eyes are sharp.”

  “Great, go for it,” Koa encouraged him.

  The pilot helped Jimmy into the copilot’s seat, Specialist Carter handed out radios, and the seamen started searching. Soon the chopper was hovering in the air, zigzagging back and forth east of the quarry. Over the next hour, the hello spiraled slowly outward with remarkable precision while the ground searches moved farther east.

  “Koa!” Jimmy’s shrill radio call sounded excited. The second call came simultaneously. “Detective Kāne, this is search team two.” Both the chopper and search team two were off to the south along the ridgeline that formed the backbone of Kaho‘olawe. The search team had found the remnant of one of the explosive charges, and Jimmy had spotted several points, in a line perpendicular to the ridgeline, where the earth had recently been disturbed.

  Koa called in the other search teams, and they moved their base of operations to the ridgeline. He pointed to a large round boulder in the midst of an area chewed up by the Navy’s target practice. “That rock will be the center of the search area. Let’s see if we can find the other peg lines and the cave.”

  Over the course of the next two hours, the search teams carefully swept the ground for unexploded ordnance. They found four more lines of peg holes parallel to the first line, but no cave. The burning sun rose high in the sky, and the search teams grew tired and frustrated before Koa called them together for a break.

  “According to Reggie,” Koa advised them, “they had a map showing the peg lines and two possible cave locations. They rolled some kind of device over the possible locations, identified something of interest, started digging, and found the cave. We’ve been over every inch of ground inside the peg lines, and we’ve found no indication of digging and no cave. What are we missing?”

  “Maybe the cave is outside the peg lines,” one of the seamen suggested.

  “Maybe,” Koa responded, “but if the pegs were seismic recorders, and I think they were, they record energy reflected from layers in the ground. I don’t think they would record much outside the pattern of pegs.”

  “Maybe,” a voice squeaked, “we’re standing on top of the cave.”

  The men turned in unison toward Jimmy. The archaeologist, who was sitting in his wheelchair, had fixed his gaze off to his left. The men turned to follow his gaze, but saw only the hillside that they’d been combing for the last two hours.

  Koa struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Come on, Jimmy. This is no time for riddles.”

  The archaeologist seemed unperturbed. Slowly, he raised his arm, extended a finger, and pointed toward the boulder that marked their starting point. Once again, the men looked out on the ground they’d already covered.

  Then Koa saw it. “The boulder. They covered the entrance with the boulder!”

  “Dead-on, Detective,” Jimmy squeaked with a smile.

  In that instant Koa knew his instinct to bring Jimmy had been correct. The former marine had an uncanny sixth sense for archaeological sites.

  The heaviest of the seamen put a shoulder to the boulder, but pushed without success. “Give me a hand,” he urged. The other three seamen jumped to his aid, and the four of them rolled the boulder far enough to reveal a man-sized hole.

  “Son of a bitch,” Specialist Carter swore, “we walked right past it twenty times.”

  “Dead-on, Specialist. It’s always hardest to find a thing in plain sight.” Jimmy grinned.

  Using a rope from the helicopter, the seamen lowered Koa down into the hole. He’d repelled out of helicopters and climbed ropes in the military, but this time he had the sailors lower him carefully to minimize the pain in his neck and shoulder. His powerful electric light revealed striated layers of rock as he descended. Five feet down, the shaft widened into an underground cavern. The cave floor was still ten feet below. There, he spotted something sitting in what seemed like a pile. Pieces of wood, something curved … a collapsed rope ladder. Down they lowered him, until he was standing next to it.

  At Koa’s direction, the seamen lowered Jimmy and his cushion down the shaft into the mine. Together they surveyed their surroundings using Koa’s beam of light. A metallic sheen caught Koa’s eye, and he steadied the light on a contraption resembling a lawn mower. There was no doubt now. They had found the trespassers’ cave. Beyond the contraption huge patches of the cave wall glistened, as though they were wet.

  “Obsidian, pitchstone, volcanic glass,” Jimmy said, identifying the thick, shiny black vein. The cave had been dug following the vein, which ran along the wall thirty feet from where they stood. Ancient miners had hacked into the obsidian, leaving pits chipped in the wall. Jagged chunks of black glass lay in piles on the floor, half-buried in dust.

  “What’s this thing that they used to find this place?” Koa asked, stepping over to the lawn-mower-shaped machine. Jimmy hopped after him. “Don’t touch it until we can get it dusted for prints,” Koa warned.

  Jimmy peered at the contraption, which bore the logo “Pathfinder GPR.” “GPR … GPR,” Jimmy repeated the letters. “Ground Penetration Radar. It’s used in mineral exploration, and I’ve seen articles about archaeological uses, but I didn’t know they made portable units. Pretty nifty, and since they found this place, it must work.”

  “So they used seismic testing to get the general lay of the land and then ground penetration radar to find the exact location,” Koa said.

  “Dead-on, Detective.”

  “Wow!” Koa exclaimed. “This is a sophisticated operation. There’s got to be real money behind it.”

  “This little techno-jobby must have cost several grand, and more for the software. I mean, the software would have to be state of the art to locate a cavern in the middle of a barren ridgeline.”

  That meant the machine was relatively rare. “I wonder if we could trace it.”

  “It’s got to have a serial number.” Jimmy started to reach for the machine.

  “Don’t.” Koa stopped him. “I want to bag it and take it back to the lab.”

  Specialist Carter lowered plastic sheeting, and Koa laid it over the machine before tilting it back on its handle. When he moved to fit the plastic around the bottom of the device, he saw a large black canvas backpack concealed underneath. It had to be one of Jenkins’s backpacks, Koa thought, eager to see what was inside.

  “Hold the light,” he instructed Jimmy as he slipped on a pair of evidence gloves and opened the zipper. He pulled out an object wrapped in heavy cloth and slowly peeled away the protective covering. His efforts revealed a thin, gleaming black object pointed at one end. Koa didn’t need an archaeologist to identify an obsidian knife blade.

  “Wow,” Jimmy squeaked, “look at the workmanship. I’ve never seen anything like that in the islands.”

  Jimmy’s exclamations continued as Koa carefully removed and unwrapped three small polished black figurines of a seated god with a wide mouth and a tall headdress. “They’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” Koa said in rapt appreciation.

  “And worth a fortune on the black market.”

  That
reminded Koa of another part of the tale, and he began methodically scanning the space with the electric torch.

  “Missing something?” Jimmy asked.

  “Yes, according to Reggie Hao, they found a big god statue, roughly a foot tall and polished until it glistened.”

  “I’d love to see that,” Jimmy responded.

  “So would I, so would I,” Koa murmured, not finding the relic. “That and the second backpack that Jenkins was carrying. He must have taken it with him. We’ll have to get a search warrant for his place on the Big Island.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  KOA AND BAXTER sat on opposite sides of Maui County prosecutor Iwikua Oliwa’s conference table. Zeke Brown, the Hawai‘i County prosecutor, was participating by phone. A burly man with an easy smile, Iwikua presided from the head of the table. His family, originally from Poland, had come to Hawai‘i to work on irrigation systems for the sugar plantations in the 1800s. He had a reputation as a tough, but fair, prosecutor.

  “Okay, gentlemen,” Iwikua began, “Lieutenant Baxter has proposed that this office prosecute three men—Aikue ‘Ōpua, Reggie Hao, and Garvie Jenkins—for trespassing on Kaho‘olawe. The charge is a misdemeanor, which carries a maximum one-year jail sentence.”

  “It’s a straightforward case based on solid evidence,” Baxter added helpfully.

  “However,” Iwikua said, ignoring the interruption, “we have a rather unusual proffer from Bernie Ponabi, Reggie Hao’s attorney. In exchange for immunity, he would testify that although he and the others trespassed on Kaho‘olawe and used some sophisticated equipment to locate valuable Hawaiian artifacts, he committed this violation to secure archaeological treasures for posterity. He would also testify—and this is the interesting part—that when he learned that Garvie Jenkins planned to sell artifacts for profit, he tried to stop Jenkins. Jenkins pulled a knife. Hao ran for his life, but Jenkins chased him into a target area, where a dud exploded, injuring Hao. Other evidence would further suggest that ‘Ōpua assisted in the rescue of Hao, but that Jenkins fled.” All of them realized how this version of events changed the stakes.

  “If this proffer of testimony were corroborated, Jenkins could be prosecuted for attempted looting and assault in addition to trespass. Those are serious crimes, felonies, for which we would need Hao’s testimony.”

  “Yeah, but the proffered testimony is bullshit. Hao’s lawyer,” Baxter’s inflection showed his disdain for lawyers, “says that Hao remembers what happened out there. He didn’t remember shit when I interviewed him. His lawyer says they used sophisticated equipment. We didn’t find no sophisticated equipment. Did it disappear in thin air? His lawyer says they found a cave. We ain’t seen no cave. He says they found priceless treasures. We found a bunch of fishhooks and junk in a backpack. It’s all just fuckin’ bullshit.”

  “You think Hao fabricated this story?” Iwikua asked, allowing him his say.

  “Damn straight, he fabricated it. Must think we’re a bunch of idiots. Let’s just nail the three of them for trespassing.”

  Iwikua held up his hand. “Whoa. It may not be so easy to convict ‘Ōpua. Do you know his history?”

  “You mean, like he’s a big fuckin’ native Hawaiian activist?”

  “‘Ōpua was one of the Kaho‘olawe Nine, one of the nine Hawaiian men who occupied Kaho‘olawe in 1976 while the Navy was still bombing. A historic event—Hawai‘i’s version of the sit-ins during the civil rights marches. Many Hawaiians regard ‘Ōpua as a hero. And besides, he apparently saved Hao’s life.”

  “He broke the fucking law by going out there without a permit. An’ Hao got hurt ’cause he was trespassing. You can’t let ‘Ōpua off because he did the same thing thirty-plus years ago. He’s a goddamn recidivist!”

  Once again Iwikua held up a hand. “Detective Kāne, you haven’t said a word. What is your take on this?”

  Koa spoke slowly in a controlled voice, deliberately distinguishing his tone from Baxter’s over-the-top bravado. “First, there are two investigations, not just one. We’re investigating a murder and an archaeological looting on the Big Island. Evidence found there suggests that looters located the Pōhakuloa cave using seismic testing. When I first heard that a similar technique might have been used on Kaho‘olawe, I thought there might be a connection. I secured Admiral Cunningham’s help to search the Pu‘u Moiwi site.” Baxter’s head shot up, but Koa pretended not to notice. “What we found plainly proves that my hunch was right. There is a clear connection between the looting on Kaho‘olawe and at Pōhakuloa, and that looting may well be related to the murder. Let me explain.

  “There is an obsidian mine near Pu‘u Moiwi. The trespassers used seismic and ground penetration radar to locate it. We found their equipment, a portable ground penetration radar machine, in the mine. Although we have to do some more checking, I believe the equipment came from the Big Island and was used near our Pōhakuloa murder site. We also found valuable obsidian artifacts in a black backpack that matched Hao’s description of Garvie’s backpack. So there is plenty of corroboration for Hao’s story.”

  “You sorry son of a bitch.” Baxter mouthed the words so that only Koa heard them.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Iwikua began, “that does change the picture.”

  “Yes, and there’s more.” Zeke Brown’s rich baritone voice boomed from the speakerphone. “As you know, Jenkins has a criminal record. We convicted him of selling forged maps to wealthy tourists. Based on his criminal record, evidence of seismic testing on Mauna Kea and Kaho‘olawe, the looting at Pōhakuloa, and the Kaho‘olawe trespassing, we got a search warrant for his home, telephone records, and bank accounts.”

  “What did you find?” Brown had captured Iwikua’s undivided attention.

  “Some interesting stuff.” The voice from the speakerphone blasted so loudly that Iwikua turned the volume down. “We found a black backpack with wrapping materials similar to those found in the cave on Kaho‘olawe. And most significantly, we found unexplained cash deposits to Jenkins’s bank account. We’re talking more than a quarter million dollars. We’re in the process of tracking the deposits, but I’m guessing that many, maybe even most of them, came from sales of the looted items. Jenkins could even be our murderer.”

  Iwikua whistled softly. “We just entered major crimes territory. Jenkins might give us a window into the archaeological black market.”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” the telephone voice shouted. “There is another possible link as well. We didn’t find any expenditure for the ground penetration radar device. The machine that Detective Kāne found in the obsidian cave runs at least twenty grand. If Garvie didn’t buy it, then he had an accomplice.”

  “With all this evidence, we don’t need Hao’s testimony.” Baxter glared at Koa as he spoke. “We can take Hao down on the trespassing rap and still go after Jenkins on the more serious charges.”

  Iwikua held up his hand. “I don’t think so. True, we have a lot of evidence against Jenkins, but Jenkins has hired a top-flight lawyer. Wheeler may be an arrogant bastard, but he’s the best trial lawyer in the islands. We need a live witness to lay things out for the jury. And with his attempt to stop Jenkins and his injury, a jury will sympathize with Hao.”

  “You need him more than you think.” They turned to listen to Koa. “According to Hao’s proffer, they used the machine to find the cave, but set it aside when they began digging. When the dispute erupted, Jenkins chased Hao until the dud exploded. The machine should have been on open ground beside the shaft they dug.” Koa tied the ends together with a logical conclusion.

  “When we got out there, we found the machine and a backpack containing the artifacts hidden inside the carefully concealed cave. Garvie hid the machine and sealed the cave while Hao was unconscious.”

  “Hmmm,” Iwikua thought for a moment. “Are you suggesting that the assault, the chase, the injury, the hiding, and Garvie’s flight might add up to an attempted murder charge?”

  “Yes,
and you need Hao’s testimony to make that case. You might also offer ‘Ōpua immunity for his testimony. He can tell you what happened while Hao was unconscious.”

  “Shit,” Baxter interrupted in an angry tone, “you just want to spring your friend Reggie Hao out of a trespass rap. You haven’t owned up that Hook Hao’s your buddy.”

  “Enough,” roared the speakerphone, “I will not have you impugning Detective Kāne’s integrity!”

  Iwikua’s hand shot up. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please.” When he’d given tempers a few moments to cool, he went on. “On the one hand, we’ve got trespassing, which is a minor offense and one that is hard to prosecute against native activists. On the other hand, we’ve got serious criminal offenses—looting of antiquities, assault with intent to do bodily harm, and perhaps even attempted murder by a known felon. Moreover, by focusing on Jenkins, we’ll be helping the Hawai‘i County police, who’ve helped us in the past. Following up on Jenkins may even lead to the murderer.” By now everyone knew which way he was going to decide.

  “This office needs to focus on serious crimes and known criminals. This office will work out an immunity deal with Hao’s attorney. After we interview him, we will revisit the question of ‘Ōpua. We’ll get our stones lined up, and then we’ll see whether Wheeler wants to fight or play nice. That’s my decision, gentlemen.”

  Koa resisted the temptation to smile as Baxter stormed out. Instead he focused on the next step, and it involved Jenkins. Given the similarities, Jenkins had to be in on the Pōhakuloa looting, and that meant he might be the killer, or at least might provide a break in the Pōhakuloa murder case.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE NEXT DAY Nālani took Koa to a special cocktail party at the Alice headquarters, where Director Masters planned to recognize all those staff members who had assisted in his big discovery. Gunter Nelson attended, as did a noticeably subdued Charlie Harper. Dr. Masters greeted Nālani at the door and thanked her for her aid to Dr. Schlingler in verifying his discovery. He personally welcomed and expressed his appreciation to each of the other guests as they arrived.