by Robert McCaw
“Don’t those chemical things take time to work, especially in a man?”
“Some do, but others are fast-acting. You hit Leffler with one of these darts”—Corwin pointed to a package of darts at one end of the case—“and he’ll be down in less than five seconds.”
“What’s the range of that thing?”
“In the hands of a marksman, it’ll hit a four-inch circle at 150 yards 95 percent of the time.”
Boggs was still doubtful. “Where do you aim?”
“Buttocks first, upper thighs second, biceps third. Not the head, neck, chest, or extremities. But you don’t get a second shot. Takes too long to reload.”
“Okay, Doc,” Olson began, “are you the shooter?”
“No, I am,” Koa responded.
Olson’s thick black eyebrows shot up almost touching across his forehead. “You? Are you a shooter? You ever use a tranquilizer gun?”
“Did my time in Army Special Forces. Qualified expert on twenty different weapons,” Koa responded. “With a little practice, I can handle Dr. Corwin’s dart gun.” Koa pointed to the cartridges in the gun case. “That’s why we have a couple of hundred practice darts.”
“And what if he spots us or you miss or he doesn’t go down? I mean, you got a highly trained dude with a sniper rifle, M16 assault weapons, and God only knows how many handguns,” Boggs said.
Based on his own military service, Koa guessed that Boggs wanted a shot at Leffler whom he almost certainly regarded as a disgrace to the armed forces. “I know who he is and how he’s armed, and I want to take him alive.”
“But just in case there’s a problem,” Zeigler interrupted, “you’ve got weapons release. We’re not sending you on a suicide mission, but your orders are to get Koa into position, and let him take his shot. We want Leffler alive, if possible.”
“What about backup?” Olson asked.
“Sergeant Basa will bring one team in from the Waimea side, and hold here on the Keanakolu Road”—Koa tapped the map—“just north of the active zone. Detective Sergeant Bane will lead a team from the Saddle Road and hold south of the active zone.” Koa again marked the spot on the map. “They’ll be in civilian clothes on ATVs. Although the forest service tries to discourage it, there’s a lot of ATV activity in the area. They’re unlikely to spook Leffler.”
Boggs looked at Olson who nodded. “When do we jump off ?”
“The three of you move out at five o’clock this afternoon and you jump off from the trailhead atop the mountain at six. You should have three hours before it gets too dark to move. If you’re moving again at first light, you should be in the target area a little after dawn.”
Olson turned to Koa. “Want to head out to the range?”
“You bet.”
Koa practiced all afternoon until he had the feel of the tranquilizer gun and could put a dart inside a four-inch ring nineteen times out of twenty at 150 yards.
At 5:50 p.m., a military truck dropped Koa, Olson, and Boggs at the trailhead near the telescopes atop Mauna Kea. For Koa, it was familiar terrain. One of his first big murder cases had ended atop Mauna Kea. All were dressed in boots and civilian hiking gear with packs and weapons. Koa carried Dr. Corwin’s dart gun in addition to his Glock. At 6:00, they began making their way down the mountain. Heavy mist blew in at the higher elevations so they didn’t have to worry about being spotted and made excellent time down the gulches and ravines radiating from the summit of the 14,000-foot extinct volcano. At 9:15, they encamped for the night.
Koa’s teams were in place before dawn broke over the ocean to the east. One group, led by Sergeant Basa, traversed the Mana Road from Waimea around the north side of the mountain to the Keanakolu Road. The other, under the command of Detective Sergeant Bane, picked up Lieutenant Zeigler and Dr. Corwin before driving in from the Saddle Road on the south side of Mauna Kea.
At 6:30 a.m., Koa, Olson, and Boggs were about two thousand yards from the cabin. They caught the faint smell of wood smoke in the air, and Koa’s adrenalin ramped up. Someone occupied the cabin or camped nearby. Good chance it was Leffler. Olson broke off to circle around the cabin and approach from the back. Koa and Boggs moved cautiously, avoiding noise or abrupt movements, until just past 9:00 a.m. when they had eyes on the cabin. The smell of wood smoke had disappeared. They saw no one, and Koa’s miniaturized infrared detector revealed no sign of life within the cabin.
A small, freshly chopped stack of wood outside the door suggested a recent visitor, who planned to return. They spent another hour getting into position, Koa in the forest about 75 yards from a stump used to chop wood and Boggs slightly uphill. Olson reported from his concealed position 150 yards behind the cabin. Then everyone waited—an hour, two hours, three hours.
Koa heard a rifle shot off to the northwest and estimated the distance at four thousand yards. Koa told everyone to hold position and wait. If Leffler was in the area, they might ultimately have to track him down, but it would be much easier to wait for him to return to the cabin.
At 1:15 p.m., Olson reported movement in the trees to the northwest of the cabin. Then Koa’s infrared scanner detected a man-shaped heat source in the forest. It remained still for nearly ten minutes. Koa grew hopeful. Leffler would be cautious, whereas an ordinary hunter would have no reason to check out the cabin before approaching.
Olson then reported the man had retreated into the forest, and Koa’s optimism faded. If it was Leffler, he’d seen something to arouse his suspicions. After another four minutes, the heat source reappeared. The man had stopped, reversed course, and headed back toward the cabin. Next, Olson had eyes on the man. It was Leffler. Then Koa saw Leffler emerge from the woods with a hunting rifle in one hand and a wild pig slung over his shoulder. He approached the cabin warily. Placing the pig on a tree stump, Leffler turned back to the cabin and went inside.
Koa instructed Basa and Bane to move their forces along the Keanakolu Road toward the cabin, and then adjusted his own position for the best shot toward the stump where the pig lay waiting to be butchered. Minutes ticked away. If Leffler came out of the cabin to butcher the wild pig, Koa would have a clean shot from fifty yards—well within the range of the dart gun.
“Something’s going on,” Boggs whispered over the radio. “Leffler’s moving from one window to the other. He’s checking. Something’s made him nervous.”
Shit. Koa couldn’t believe they’d gotten this close only to blow it.
Leffler came out of the cabin with his rifle in hand. He moved into the forest toward Boggs. Koa tensed, figuring Boggs had blown his cover, but two small trees deprived Koa of a shot with the tranquilizer gun. Then Koa realized that Leffler wasn’t looking at Boggs, but at something else in the forest.
Suddenly, Leffler raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired. Koa heard a grunt deep in the trees, and Leffler moved in that direction, about fifteen degrees west of Boggs’s position. Five minutes elapsed before Leffler came out of the forest and headed back toward the cabin carrying a dead goat. Leffler put the goat next to the stump and again retreated to the cabin.
Basa reported being in position. Bane followed two minutes later.
They waited.
Leffler came out of the cabin carrying a large knife along with an M16 and headed toward the pig on the stump.
Boggs’s voice sounded in Koa’s earpiece. “I’ve got him in my gun sights if you don’t take him down with Corwin’s toy rifle.”
Koa waited as Leffler parked his M16 against the stump and began to butcher the pig. At first, Koa had only a profile view, but as Leffler hacked away at the pig, he moved slowly around the stump, exposing his back. Leffler turned … turned … and swore. Maybe he’d cut himself. Koa had him in three-quarter profile, offering a decent, but not perfect, opportunity. Koa had only one shot. He had to make it count, so he held his breath and waited.
After half a minute, Leffler changed position, and Koa finally had the shot he wanted. With the rifle braced against his shoulder
and his cheek against the stock, he sighted, let out half a breath, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The gun hissed. Leffler jumped as the dart hit his left buttock. A perfect strike. He lunged for his M16. His hand touched the weapon just before he sank to his knees. Then he was on the ground. Both Koa and Boggs rushed him with handguns drawn, but they needn’t have bothered. Leffler was out cold. Koa checked his pulse. Slow and regular. Corwin had calculated the right dose. Koa handcuffed the rogue soldier.
“Show’s over. Leffler’s in custody outside the cabin,” Koa reported over the radio net. Both Basa and Bane pulled up to the cabin a few minutes later. Koa sent them to inventory Leffler’s stuff. They came out with a dozen pistols, several M-16 rifles, and a single DesertTech, SRS A-1 sniper rifle, along with several boxes of ammunition.
“That it?” Koa asked.
“Yeah,” Basa responded. “Looks like we’ve recovered nearly everything the bastard stole from Pōhakuloa.”
Dr. Corwin extracted the dart from the center of Leffler’s left buttock, checked his vitals, and gave him an antidote for the knockout drug.
“Too bad the Army ain’t offering an expert badge for blowgun shooters.” Olson grinned. “I’m sure you could use another shiny medal.”
“I’m just sorry,” Koa said turning to Corwin, “your darts don’t contain truth serum. I’d love to get the truth from this bastard.”
Corwin spread his arms in a helpless gesture. “Can’t help you there. You’ll have to talk to the CIA’s medics, and from all their talk about torture, I’d guess their truth serum doesn’t work too well.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
KOA AND ALEXIA Sheppard shared plates of dim sum at the Chinese hole-in-the-wall in the 1920s strip that housed her law office. They ate shrimp, pork, and vegetable dumplings made the traditional way with sweet, sticky rice flour and salty fillings, Chinese barbecued pork, and buns filled with sweet bean paste. They finished, licked their fingers, and drank steaming cups of green tea before Koa turned to the business at hand. “So where do we stand?”
“There’s going to be an administrative hearing at Hilo courthouse next week. I submitted Ikaika’s request for a revision of his minimum sentence and attached Dr. Kepler’s letter.”
“Kepler’s letter’s great, isn’t it?” Koa said. “Everything he promised and more.”
“You’re right. It’s even better than the way he laid it out when we met in LA, and what he told us was powerful.”
“Were you able to talk to any of the parole board members?”
She nodded. “In Honolulu, I dropped in on Benny Koi. He’s a parole commissioner and an old friend. I refreshed him on Ikaika’s story, gave him a copy of the letter, and told him what we were trying to do.”
Koa leaned forward. “His reaction?”
She took a sip of her tea. “I’ve known Benny for a long time. He was pretty skeptical but promised to read Dr. Kepler’s letter.”
“What are our chances? And don’t sugarcoat it.”
“Not good. I’d give it one in ten of working. Better if we try again in a year. Ikaika’s record cuts against him, and he hasn’t served long enough. Not at all since his surgery.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I’d give it even less of a chance if the governor and the legislature weren’t trying to cut costs. The governor’s experiment in closing Kūlani prison and moving prisoners to Arizona failed to save money. Instead, it’s costing the state a fortune, and there’s a lot of flak from families about having their jailed spouses and children far away. I hear they’re planning to reopen Kūlani.”
Koa hadn’t heard that. “Really.”
“The fact they’re serious about cutting the prison population gives us a glimmer of hope. Still, it would take a leap of faith for the board to give Ikaika a parole hearing this early.”
“Is there anything more we can do, Alexia?”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “I also stopped in to see our state senator Tommy Orfo. He used to be a buddy of my dad’s, and he’s a leading advocate of reducing the prison population and reopening Kūlani. He might give another of the parole board members a call. Could help if it happens.”
Koa wasn’t happy about the prospects, but he understood the difficulties and appreciated Alexia’s efforts. “Thanks for everything you’ve done.”
“Keep your fingers crossed, Koa. We’ll know next week.”
They took no chances with Leffler. He sat across the table from Koa, his legs in irons, and his hands chained to a bolt in the center of the table. An armed guard stood just outside the door.
Koa read him his Miranda rights two times and put them before Leffler in written form. The man hadn’t asked for an attorney and had said nothing other than to ask for water.
Koa laid a cell phone on the table. They’d searched the cabin and Leffler’s personal effects, finding nothing of interest except the guns and his cellphone, a prepaid model from Walmart. The phone’s log showed calls to and from only one number—a number belonging to another prepaid cellphone. Koa had no way of knowing who carried the second cellphone. “This yours?”
“What if it is?” The scar across Leffler’s right cheek, even uglier in person than in his photograph, moved when he talked.
“Who’d you call?”
“I ain’t no rotten snitch.”
“You’re going down for the Witherspoon murder. You could help yourself by telling us who hired you.”
“I said I ain’t no snitch.”
Koa tried another tact. “Where’d you get forty thousand dollars in new bills?”
Koa detected a quick flicker in Leffler’s eyes. The man hadn’t known they’d raided his girlfriend’s apartment and opened the safe in her closet, but the knowledge didn’t shake him.
Koa was considering his next move when the door opened and a policeman handed him a note. It read, “The mayor is on the phone.”
Puzzled, Koa left the interrogation room to take the call. He wondered why the mayor was calling and doubted it’d be good news. After a moment, an assistant put Tanaka on the line.
“Detective Kāne?”
“Yes, Mayor.”
“Congratulations, Detective. I hear you caught Witherspoon’s killer, and the guy responsible for Boyle’s death.”
“Yes, sir. We have Leffler in custody.”
“What’s he saying?”
Why was the mayor taking such an active interest? “Nothing yet, sir. And I doubt he’s going to talk, at least not until he’s closer to looking at multiple life sentences.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, Detective. You’ve solved the case. Damn fine detective work.”
Koa felt a cold shiver run through him. The case wouldn’t be solved until he learned who hired Leffler.
“It’s an important step, Mayor, but we still don’t know who hired Leffler or why.”
“You’ve got your man, Detective. That’s what counts. It’ll satisfy this media clamor.”
Suddenly, Koa understood. The mayor was shutting down the investigation. He didn’t care who hired Leffler nor did he seem to care about the KonaWili part of the investigation. Then he remembered Watanabe’s suggestion—he’d wanted to drop the KonaWili investigation and have the police “treat the Boyle thing as a separate matter.” Koa thought the mayor had rejected the idea, but he’d been wrong.
“But, Mayor—” Koa started to protest, but the mayor cut him off.
“Damn fine detective work,” the mayor repeated, “just the kind of action we needed to put a damper on bad publicity. I assume you’ll be making a press announcement this afternoon or first thing in the morning.”
Koa made one more try. “Mayor—”
But the telephone went dead in his hand. He had his marching orders.
The call shocked him. He hadn’t expected the mayor to order an end to the investigation. Koa could think of only two reasons. Maybe the mayor himself was somehow involved—perhaps as an undisclosed investor in the KonaWili projec
t. Or maybe he was trying to protect someone like Cheryl Makela.
Whatever the reason, Koa wasn’t about to close the book on the case. He’d quit before he surrendered his integrity to a politician. But he’d have to be careful, and he’d have to talk to Zeke. They could get some cover and maybe buy a little time by putting out a press release announcing the arrest of Army Sergeant Leffler for the murder of Arthur Witherspoon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
KOA WRACKED HIS brain. Five wealthy, successful people—Gommes, Makela, Boyle, Witherspoon, and Na‘auao—conspired to put elementary school kids at risk. Why? Koa had seen dozens of cases where money corrupted people, propelling them to awful deeds. He could see Gommes, and maybe Makela, doing almost anything for a buck, but the other three, that was hard to figure.
Koa could imagine Gommes hiring Leffler to cover up his crimes, but Leffler had tried to kill Gommes, nailing Dante, his Rottweiler, in the process. If Gommes hadn’t hired Leffler, that left the others. Koa had a hard time believing either Makela or Na‘auao hired the rogue soldier. Koa had accused Watanabe of paying Leffler, but he didn’t really believe Watanabe had the stomach for killing, and his name on Leffler’s kill list made it unlikely. Too bad Leffler wasn’t talking.
Koa found himself stumped, but he’d been there before and knew what he had to do. Go back to the beginning. Something besides KonaWili linked the five key players, six if he included Watanabe, and he had to find that thing. He called Piki and explained what he wanted. The young detective appeared an hour later, carrying a thick stack of internet printouts—every bio, news story, Facebook page, Instagram pic, LinkedIn reference, and website he’d been able to find about the six actors.
Together they separated the data into piles, one for each suspect, and began to construct a chart. Piki would have used a computer spreadsheet program, but Koa trusted the old-fashioned legal pads he’d taken from Zeke’s office. Six columns with names across the top and various personal characteristics in rows down the page—birthplace, age, high school, college, profession, military service, political party, job history, etcetera.
