Inner Truth

by Philip Dole

  “It didn’t start off that way, but things sort of snowballed.” He was jet-lagged and still sore from those “escapades.” His batteries were running low.

  “I want you to know how proud we are of your heroics.” Tyler decided he didn’t like Hacker any more than he’d liked Gleeson. He wondered if being a government functionary made people unpleasant or whether only unpleasant people became government functionaries. “I understand the President intends to call you to express our country’s appreciation.”

  What a pompous ass. Tyler glanced at Donna who seemed to agree with him. “Thank you for meeting me. But I’m exhausted and just want to get back to Maui. When’s the next plane?”

  “We’ve arranged for a chartered flight. It’s ready as soon as you are.”

  “I need to call my father.”

  Donna looked at Hacker and reached over to touch Hacker’s sleeve.

  “He’s not there, Tyler.” Something in Donna’s voice set off alarm bells in his head.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because he’s under arrest.”

  “What? Arrested?”

  Donna simply nodded.

  “Why would they arrest my father?”

  “He’s in custody under suspicion for money laundering or more precisely wire fraud.”

  “What? I don’t understand.” But he knew it had to be something to do with the Pengs.

  Hacker explained, “We traced the notarizations on the documents Niko had and came up with the notary who implicated your father. At this point we’re not sure, but we’re investigating it. We took your father into custody based on the probable cause we established from the information we’ve dug up already tying your father to the Pengs.”

  Tyler wobbled to a row of seats before he collapsed. Donna hurried to his side and put an arm around him. “I asked to speak to your father as soon as I heard. I’m his attorney for the time being. Only until he can choose someone he wants. I want you to know he’s worried about you.”

  Tyler was dumbstruck. “Worried about me? Why would he be worried about me? He had no idea what was going on in Morocco.”

  “Are you sure?” Donna asked. “Give us some privacy.” Donna shooed Hacker away. She leaned in close to Tyler. “I’ve talked to your father as his attorney. He knew it was trouble after he thought about your call from Amsterdam. So he put two and two together and contacted the Peng father. He asked him to protect you. It was all he could think to do. He knew those people were very dangerous.”

  Tyler sat back and looked into Donna’s eyes. She said nothing and just stroked his arm. He was a million miles away. Then he shuddered. “That’s why.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That’s why.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s why Wu didn’t kill us. Wu must have gotten word from Fu I was the only son of someone who knew the Peng dirt.” He had wondered why Wu had stopped Abdul from killing them. “Wu said he wanted us alive so Lei could tell Sunny to cooperate. But that never made any sense to me. Wouldn’t have killing Lei sent an unmistakable message to Sunny? And killing her friends would have cleaned up any loose ends, wouldn’t it have? Like I said it didn’t make sense.

  “The Pengs must have figured out that if they killed me, Arnold could have given the government incriminating documents, plenty enough to cook their goose.” He looked at Donna, shaking his head. ”Wu didn’t kill us because I was Arnold’s son. He saved us. Talk about stranger than fiction. What should I do, Donna? Love him for saving me, or hate him for doing business with such scum?”

  “Perhaps you don’t have a choice. It seems like you’ll have to do a bit of both.”

  Epilogue

  In a one-room office above the surf shop

  100 Hana Highway

  Paia, Maui

  Monday, September 18, 2006

  9:00 a.m.

  Tyler shuffled through the mail his letter carrier had just dropped off. He had spent the fee he’d earned from the Changs and was still pinching pennies by not hiring a secretary. As Arnold had insisted, do-gooder attorneys who have poor clients earn no more money than heroic do-gooder attorneys who have poor clients.

  Then one letter captured his attention. When he saw the tissue-like paper of an international airmail letter, he recognized the precise hand of a Moroccan schoolboy and knew it was from Little Bo. He sliced it open eagerly.

  He read of thanks for the Oakland Raider memorabilia he’d sent Little Bo. Tyler had insisted the U.S. government pressure the Moroccan government to relocate Little Bo and his family for their safety, and now they were settled in at Agadir, a prosperous city with a thriving tourist trade on the Atlantic Coast south of Casablanca. With financial help from Lei, Little Bo had bought and now ran a small guesthouse right on the beach. And Tyler had set up modest trust funds for each of Little Bo’s daughters. He figured it was the only way to keep Little Bo’s daughters’ dowries from driving their father into the poor house. No one had bothered to fetch the Fiat, and so Little Bo had given his Mercedes to his brother-in-law. In its place Lei bought Little Bo a new Peugeot 807 station wagon.

  Little Bo saved the best news for last when he announced proudly his wife was expecting. They had thought she couldn’t have more children. And humda’llah, the baby would be a boy, the son Little Bo wanted so much. Tyler whooped for joy.

  He also learned a bit about what Lei and the Chang clan had been doing. Sunny had disowned Hung Ho and given the reins of their business to Niko. Apparently Niko’s brief time in jail had scared the Chang clan straight. They were finished with any human trafficking. No more immigration scams. Niko and Lei were busy investing the family’s wealth in legitimate ways that didn’t include involuntary servitude.

  And Lei had settled down with a Frenchman. Tyler couldn’t help but wonder how much she had told him of their escapade, and how much of what she had told him was true. But her lies weren’t his problem any longer.

  Arnold had cooperated with the feds and pled guilty to one count of money laundering. He had gotten five years confinement and fifteen years’ supervised release. He was doing his time at the minimum security Lompoc Federal Correction Facility in Santa Barbara County, generally considered a country club without a golf course. It turned out Arnold was as good at cards as he had been at golf. So like a falling cat, Arnold had landed on his feet. Tyler had grown closer to him in his absence and had learned the best way to co-exist with Arnold was to stash him in a federal prison and keep in touch on Skype.

  As for Tyler, he had partnered up with Donna White. They had set up a small civil rights firm. She did most of the work while he chased rainbows. Luckily for him Maui had a lot of rainbows.

  The End

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and foremost I acknowledge my dear wife, Gunnel. This project would not have happened without her support. No doubt at all about that.

  My editor, Kristina from Fictionary, gave crucial guidance for which I thank her. And I acknowledge two schoolmates and life-long friends: Ignatius [law school] and Rick [prep school]. They beta-read several drafts of the manuscript and made important suggestions. I also acknowledge retired judge, Marie, before whom I appeared many times, for proofreading the manuscript with the attention to detail she had always applied to my legal submissions. I thank my former clients, Chris and Jill, who spent hours scrubbing my draft although I lost their case. And I acknowledge my neighbors, Fritz, Michael and Alison, who constantly encouraged me to finish the manuscript.

  I want to give my fellow vagabond traveler, Naldo, a special acknowledgement who shared his photo of Azila in Ketama that I have used on the back cover. We shared a lot of very good times.

  I hope all who read this book are blessed and filled with grace. And please remember the I Ching insists that “perseverance furthers.” I acknowledge that this advice is a
s wise today as it was in ancient China.

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

  Aloha! My pen name is Philip Dole derived from my full legal name- Lunsford Dole Phillips. I have been married to a wonderful Swedish woman for 45 years. I broke my neck 42 years ago, skiing at Sugarloaf in the beautiful state of Maine. I’ve been a quadriplegic ever since.

  But my life is full. I have five siblings and am smack in the middle. So I’ve been little brother and big brother. My father was career military; so we moved every few years. Always being the new kid meant learning how to leave old friends and how to make new ones.

  I’m an Eagle Scout. I went to a prestigious prep school until I was expelled just short of graduation. I was an athlete and played football freshman year at University of Michigan as a scout team quarterback and defensive back. But my teammates were way better than I. I was never going to see the field. So I joined the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity and became a 70’s non-violent anti-war activist. After graduation in 1972 I couldn’t stomach more school. I wanted to see the world. So off I was.

  I outfitted myself for any opportunity- tent, sleeping bag, hammock, frisbee, rubber ball, harmonica, spyglass and even a full dress outfit- dark blue suit, white shirt, red tie and black loafers. I explained it was my “meet the queen” clothes. My aim was to be prepared for whatever might come my way.

  I bought a $125 student fare steerage ticket on the Cristoforo Colombo of Italy’s national transatlantic line and started my journey to wherever life would take me. I left New York, waved goodbye to Lady Liberty from the aft deck and disembarked in Lisbon. My vague destination was sub-Sahara Africa to see animals before they were gone. I walked from Lisbon to Gibraltar. I stayed in Morocco a year. Then I spent another year seeing Europe. I lived another year in Switzerland and then two more years in Sweden where I wooed and married my wonderful wife.

  We settled in Maine, skied the mountains in winter and sailed the coast in summer. But my catastrophic injury ended our vagabond life. I rehabilitated in Portland by going to law school. However snow-covered sidewalks and wheelchairs are not compatible.

  So after a year as a prosecutor in York County, we moved to Hawaii. I joined an insurance defense firm and learned I’m a bad employee. It seems I insist on doing things my way. I quit and started my own firm. I hired an associate. That taught me I’m also a bad employer for the very same reason. I guess I’m only fit to be on my own. So I’ve been a sole practitioner concentrating on civil rights plaintiffs’ litigation for 20 years.

  I started this novel long ago, but it languished in a drawer until the pandemic kept me inside for a year. It’s been the perfect chance to get serious about finishing this fast-paced, exciting yarn about appearances and reality that’s full of unexpected twists and turns. Viola! I hope you like it.