by Philip Dole
“Trust is very important to my family, Mr. Pierce. A solemn oath is held dear by my family. It is a traditional Chinese value.”
“That’s good. We have some common ground.”
“So why did Mr. Hacker laugh at us?”
“You won’t believe it, but it’s a simple case of mistaken identity. They have Niko confused with someone else, someone who is a terrible guy.”
“Niko is not terrible. If they have Niko confused with someone else, can’t you just prove to them who he really is?”
“It’s not that easy, Ms. Chang. I don’t have the entire picture yet, but I know the authorities claim to have found documents that make them suspect Niko is this guy. And don’t ask me what documents because I don’t know yet.”
The line was silent. He waited.
“Are you there?” Tyler asked.
“I’m here.”
“I just know a little about these documents. But I know they don’t have a picture of the guy.”
“Who do they think my brother is?”
“They think your brother is an arms dealer named Wu Peng. They think there are two Pengs, father and son, and they think Niko is the son.” He marveled that Donna had learned so much.
“Oh no. This is what I was afraid of.” Lei’s voice trailed off. Tyler could hardly hear her. “Yes, they’re father and son.”
“What did you say?”
“I said they are father and son.”
“Now how in the world would you know that?”
“Because they are our enemies. They are the reason Niko came to Hawaii.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. Back this train up. You know this Wu Peng guy?” He ran a hand over his head.
“Yes. I have never met him, but his grandfather and my granduncle were once close friends. They come from the same village in China, and Peng Hu was the first person Granduncle Sunny brought to the West to join him in The Netherlands.”
“But why would dry cleaners be involved with arms dealers?”
“Peng Hu, the grandfather, was not always an arms dealer. We are enemies now because Hu broke his word to Sunny. Remember what I said before about solemn oaths? Hu showed he could not be trusted. He betrayed the oath he swore to Sunny years ago. Now the Pengs are trying to drive us out of business.”
He ran a hand over his head a second time. “Wow, you know this Peng family.”
Lei paused before continuing, “Peng Hu and Sunny came from the same Canton village. Before World War II they were partners, bringing men from their village to work on the Rotterdam docks, and during the Nazi occupation they smuggled weapons to the Dutch Résistance. After liberation Sunny kept on providing dock workers and got in other businesses, mainly dry cleaning, but the Pengs left The Netherlands to deal arms and war surplus. And they have kept on doing it all these years.
“We lost track of them for years. Then we learned Hu had died, and Fu had become head of the family. He wants to become legitimate and is buying legal businesses. Sunny figures 9-11 made arms-dealing too dangerous. He bought our biggest competitor and then cut their prices. They are losing a lot of money, but they can fall back on the wealth they have amassed selling weapons. They are driving us out of business. They will succeed if we don’t stop them. It’s just not fair. The Peng clan and the Chang clan were once like family. It is just not right.”
“So what was Niko doing in Hawaii?”
“He was digging into all the Peng corporations, hoping if he dug deep enough into their affairs, we would find things we could use as leverage to get them to back off. They have been laundering dirty money for so long. There must be things we could use.”
“So Niko did have documents about the Pengs?”
“Yes, exactly. He uncovered some Hong Kong companies we had never known about, and there were some interesting leads pointing to Hawaii. So he was just following the paper trail. But Niko should never have been carrying the documents. That was a big mistake. He had already reported to us what he found and did not need to bring back the hard copies.”
“But why would Niko be foolish enough to present a false passport when he had stuff some governments might find interesting?”
“He had to. Interpol has papers out for him. So he couldn’t risk using his real passport.”
“Papers? What kind of papers?” But Tyler knew what Interpol kind of papers meant. “What is Niko wanted for?”
“Assault, resisting arrest, and now he hasn’t been able to go back to Amsterdam, he has missed his court date. So they will add failure to appear in court and fleeing to avoid prosecution.”
“You do realize the U.S. authorities will turn Niko over to the Dutch authorities if he has outstanding charges. He won’t be released from custody.”
Tyler cradled the phone in the crook of his neck and ran both of his hands over his head. “Well, Ms. Chang, it’s still basically a case of mistaken identity. Niko’s only federal crime was using a false passport.” She couldn’t hear it, but he had slapped his desk with finality.
“You have lifted a great burden from me and our family. Let’s get started proving Niko is just Niko right now. Where do we begin?”
An hour ago he’d been humiliated, and now he might have a client. He had managed to pull a rabbit out of his hat like his father had done so many times. He puffed his chest and scanned his modest office. He decided it would serve him just fine.
“May I call you Lei?”
“Of course, Tyler. What can I do?”
Bells rang in his mind, warning him to not surrender to his fantasies. So in a professional tone he laid out their tasks. “First, we need to document Niko’s life. I mean we must compile an unimpeachable record of his life since birth. His true identity must be crystal clear. Then we must prove those documents concern the Pengs’ business, not the Changs’. Can you do that, Lei?”
“We, Tyler, we. Yes, we can. And I will help you all the way.”
“No, Lei, you have to do it. All the proof is in Amsterdam.”
“Of course, it is. We can leave tonight. No time to lose while poor Niko sits in jail.”
“What? I can’t just fly off to Amsterdam.”
“Why not? Do you have a passport?”
“Yes, but I can’t just fly off to Europe. I have other responsibilities. Why can’t you gather up what I’ll need?”
“Tyler, be realistic...”
“I am.” He prided himself on being realistic.
“No, you are not. There are legal rules, are there not, about which documents you can use as evidence?”
“Yes, but…”
“How can I know what you need? You are the only one who knows what you will need. You will not even know what you need until you see what there is, and how can you know that until you see it?”
“But you can get an attorney in Amsterdam, and the two of us can work it out. He can fax me things to look at. That will be easier. The practice of law is international, you know.”
“Easier,” Lei shot back. “Easier. Is that how you handle your cases? Do you just do what is the easiest? You promised me to do your best. Are you telling me that talking with an attorney about documents and witnesses you’ve never seen or met is the best way to defend Niko?
“No, but it’s the most practical. With your help and a Dutch attorney’s assistance I can gather all the necessary evidence and witnesses. Really, I can.”
“Why can’t you give my brother a few days? You promised to turn over every stone, remember? You gave your word to do your best, Tyler. Do you only keep your word if it’s practical?
“It may only be a minor mistaken identity case, but my brother will rot in jail until it’s resolved. Don’t worry. Trust me. We’ll take good care of you. We’ll give you a $10,000 retainer now and pay you another $40,000 when Niko is free. We’ll pick up all the expenses, and you can be
back by next Friday at the latest. One week. I promise. One week. Trust me.”
Tyler relished the prospect of a substantial fee, but he needed to proceed properly. “You’re right to bring up Niko. He’s my client, not you. I must have his permission to even discuss his case further with you. Have him call me. Otherwise I can’t do anything.”
“I shall have him call you. But I am only going to wait until six o’clock for your decision. Then I shall find another attorney.” And she hung up.
This could be the chance I needed. He smiled and clapped his hands.
Chapter Five
In the one-room office above the surf shop
100 Hana Highway,
Paia, Maui, Hawaii
Friday, December 3, 2005
4:05 p.m.
Tyler paced the wooden floor, following a distinct track worn by years of shuffling clerks’ feet behind a now-gone sales counter.
I need the kala for sure. It’ll get Arnold off my back and give me a chance to establish my kind of practice. That’s big money for a week’s effort. Should I take it?
The office air was suffocating him. He couldn’t think. He needed fresh air to clear his head, and the best way to do that was by catching a few waves. There was more than an hour of daylight, plenty enough to get in a short “surf sesh.”
He put on board shorts and a “rashguard.” He headed downstairs to the surf shop where he had just dropped off his big, bulky and stable nine-foot longboard- a board appropriate for a “kook.” Keoni’s hanai sister, a beautiful hapa haole about his age with dark hair and warm, deep brown skin, was tending store.
“Howsit, Lili. May I buy some wax and grab my board? It looks like the waves aren’t too big for me today.”
“Wow. You have the bug, brah. You bring your board in this morning and now taking it out. Surf stoked for sure. Yeah, the break looks like ‘fun kine’ right now. Good for you.” She tossed him a cake of wax. “On the house. Hey, brah, take me with you next time. I know tricks I can show you.” She winked at him. Pretty girls and perfect waves. What a combination.
His stomach grumbled, reminding him he’d had no food since the fresh malasada he’d eaten with his morning coffee. His body was limp, and his shoulders sagged. But the refreshing ocean air revived him as if he had poured a bucket of water over his head. Those trade winds had been cleansed as they blew westward from the mainland across thousands of miles of empty ocean.
The one traffic light, former sugar plantation town of Paia is a convenient location for a surfing lawyer. It is only a few miles from Wailuku, the seat of Maui County’s government where the state courts are located. And Arnold’s fifty acre ranch in upcountry Kula is a breath-taking, twenty-minute drive up the flank of Haleakala, a ten-thousand-foot dormant volcano. The ranch faces the valley stretching between Haleakala and a second dormant volcano in West Maui, and affords a view of the Pacific in two opposite directions.
Ho’okipa Beach, Paia Bay is on the Hana Highway that hugs the island’s mountainous windward shore. Plentiful rainfall nurtures a lowland rain forest all the way to Maui’s eastern end. Paia is an ocean sports mecca and home to the world-renowned surf spot called “Jaws” where a few intrepid watermen take a jet-ski tow offshore to catch monster waves fifty feet tall. And kite surfers and wind surfers frolic in the North Pacific’s dependable wind year-round.
He stopped at the crack seed store next door to Keoni’s shop to buy a teriyaki chicken musubi and some saimin. He took his food across the two-lane road to the park at Ho’okipa Beach. In December the sun sets about six o’clock, and its late afternoon light was painting the park’s tall eucalyptus trees orange. He dug his toes into beach sand as white and soft as confectioner’s sugar. He ate his food and stuffed his trash down far enough in the rubbish can that it wouldn’t blow out. Then he waxed his board and paddled out to get in the surf line.
Lei’s ultimatum unsettled him because he hated making snap decisions. Should I accept the case? Why are they paying so much money for such a minor case unless Hacker was right about who Niko was? Is Lei setting him up? What would I be getting into?
Tyler faced a difficult decision, and it rekindled the remorse he still felt for worst decision he’d ever made. That had been in 2001 on the weekend before Christmas which for St. Louis’ gentry means the Veiled Prophet Ball, a traditional black-tie charity affair run since 1878 by a secret society.
As usual in those days Arnold had drunk too much. Tyler had long recognized Arnold had an alcohol problem, and he felt Arnold shouldn’t be driving that night.
“I’ve lined up a ride for you with the Gilberts. I don’t think you ought to drive, Father.”
“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And since when do you tell me what to do?” An argument would have spoiled the evening. So Tyler didn’t take away Arnold’s keys, and that turned out to be a very bad decision.
Leaving the pre-party at the country club, Arnold ran over Tyler’s best friend in the parking lot. The District Attorney charged Arnold with negligent manslaughter. He pleaded guilty, agreed to enter a substance abuse program, paid an enormous insurance settlement, surrendered his lawyer’s license and gave his second wife a divorce. Then he exiled himself to Maui in social disgrace.
Tyler had remained estranged from Arnold after his friend’s death. Tyler spent his Harvard summer breaks with his mother and blue-blood friends in Southwest Harbor, Mt. Desert Island, Maine and spent the winter breaks with her in Jupiter, Florida or Vail, Colorado. In fact, he had planned his Maui visit to be only a perfunctory courtesy to thank his father for paying his law school expenses. But the Valley Isle had cast its spell over him, and he had decided to settle down there.
Arnold was asking Tyler to work with him on the Q.T., using Tyler’s new law license to get back into business. Arnold didn’t need more money, but Tyler realized his father sorely missed the wheeling-dealing action of international law. Arnold had made clear he saw Tyler as his ticket back into his old world.
Arnold loved the prospect of getting back into business, and Tyler loved the ranch. It lay in an upland rainforest dominated by native ohi’a and koa trees, and with several acres of grassland. His father had courted him since he had arrived in the spring, hoping Tyler could be persuaded to stay there and be his partner.
Arnold had given Tyler a horse, a black and white Appaloosa mare named “Puka” that Tyler loved to ride. And Tyler was definitely getting the surfing “vibe.” He knew he wanted to live on the ranch. But would Arnold respect his decision to be his own kind of lawyer and live his own kind of life? Arnold was a bully by nature, and it remained to be seen if past would be prologue.
Tyler doubted he could tolerate Arnold’s bullying as a housemate, let alone as a partner. And his doubt triggered a disturbing memory.
Tyler had been a fifteen-year-old high school freshman when Arnold had ducked under the awning of their backyard pool cabana. “I hear from your mother you decided not to try out for the football team. Why don’t you want to play football, Son? You know I played rugby at Yale, don’t you?” Tyler had rolled his eyes at Beth, his first real girlfriend, whom he was teaching to play gin rummy. “Believe me, young lady, that’s a rough sport. You only play rugby if you have leather balls.” Arnold had chuckled, and Beth had giggled at the double entendre.
“So, the way I see it,” playing to Beth who was paying rapt attention, Arnold had continued, “there are only two reasons why a big, strapping guy like you wouldn’t want to try out for football.” Tyler had showed no interest in hearing his father’s opinions, and Arnold had jerked him around to face him. “Don’t you want to know what they are? Don’t you?” His tone had turned menacing. “Well, I’ll tell you. It’s either because you’re scared of getting hurt, or it’s because you’re scared you won’t make the team. Either way it means you’re a chicken. Do you hear me? A big fat chicken. No guts. Coward. Don’t you
agree, Beth?” She had had the good manners to keep her opinion to herself.
Despite and in part because of Arnold’s bullying, Tyler never played football. At that young age he vowed to live his life his own way.
So as he sat on his surfboard waiting in line for a wave, Tyler returned to Lei’s unsettling ultimatum. She’d argued he had to collect the evidence for Niko’s defense personally. But he doubted he could speed up the process even if he was there. A Dutch attorney could appreciate the evidentiary requirements. And a Dutch attorney could obtain the documents from the authorities even more easily than he.
But Lei had made one excellent point. An attorney needs to understand his client, and the best way to do that is dig into the client’s life. He realized he could only grasp Niko’s life story by going to Amsterdam. As Donna White had reminded him, his professional duty was to do everything possible to help Niko. The trip would only take a few days, and he didn’t have any scheduling conflicts.
An ordinary false passport case had become an extraordinary case. And to his good fortune extraordinary cases merit extraordinary retainers.
That money could make a big difference. And I gave my word to turn over every stone. Apparently that includes going to Amsterdam. So yes, I shall take the case and go to Amsterdam if Niko consents. I sure hope I’m not making a mistake.
The headlights of Tyler’s Corolla illuminated the lanai surrounding the ranch house as the car swung into the rain-packed earthen driveway. Arnold had left for his golf tournament, and the house was dark. Tyler pulled under the barn’s overhang. He was so preoccupied with this crazy European escapade he forgot to take his shoes and socks into the house. He tossed his smelly shirt onto a pile of laundry on the floor. Then he smiled as he recalled Lei’s lilac fragrance. Much better. Woman triumphs over man again. Before he stepped in the shower, his phone rang.
