Restless Waters (15 page)

“I’m serious, Vinnie. I know you mean well, but stay out of this,” I firmly advised.

Vinnie shrugged and put away his nail file. “Whatever you say. It’s your neck. Besides, I’ve got my own problems to handle.”

We walked back to the Royal Hawaiian, where I picked up my Ford.

“I plan to be around a few more days. What say we get
together one night and take in Don Ho’s show? I love that
Tiny Bubbles
crap,” Vinnie said with a straight face.

“Sure. That would be fine,” I replied, gambling that he’d probably never call.

Then I got in my vehicle and Vinnie closed the door.

“Take care of yourself, Porter. I’d hate to see you end up as dog chow.”

I drove off thinking about Vinnie, how to get even with Rasta Boy, and the black-market trade in Viagra.

I heard the sound of talking and laughter as I walked through the door. For once, Spam didn’t come running to the kitchen to greet me. Neither did Tag-along sashay in to rub against my legs and beg for food. Things were bad when even the damn cat couldn’t be bothered.

I headed into the living room, where Kevin and Santou were drinking a few beers and reminiscing about old times together. Funny how my radar instantly flew into action, hoping to pick up any juicy bits of gossip.

Half the time, I wondered if it would have been any easier if Kevin were a woman. At least then I’d have known what I was up against and how best to deal with it. As things were, I simply felt left out. What can I say? It sucked having to compete with a man for Santou’s attention.

“Hey, chere. You didn’t come home for dinner tonight,” Jake said with a smile.

I took that as a good sign. It could have been worse. He might not even have noticed that I hadn’t been here. As for Kevin, he was back to being his old self again.

“You look a little worse for wear. Hot date tonight?” he asked with a smirk, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I got together with your old girlfriend and she filled me in on all the dirt,” I countered, slipping back into our familiar roles. “Actually, I bumped into Vinnie Bertucci. Remember him?”

Both men instantly perked up.

“You’re kidding. Bertucci’s on Oahu?” Santou asked, with more interest than he’d shown in a while. “That can only mean one thing: trouble. Any idea what he’s up to?”

I hesitated, not all that eager to share information with them.

“Not really. Maybe he’s just here on vacation,” I replied.

“Sure. I hear the guy’s really big into whacking fish.” Kevin sneered. “Only instead of using a rod and reel, he’s partial to a nine-millimeter Uzi. If Vinnie the Vault is in town, then you can bet something’s going down.”

“Vinnie the Vault?” I dubiously inquired, never having heard the nickname before.

“Yeah, it’s because of his size,” Kevin retorted.

“I hope you don’t plan on spending any time with the guy,” Santou added. “Bertucci’s moved up the ladder since his days in New Orleans and, trust me, it’s not the kind of company you want to keep.”

“I don’t see why there should be a problem,” I responded. “It’s not as if he’s involved in the wildlife trade. Vinnie even said he’d never harm a living, breathing thing, as long as it wasn’t a human being.”

Santou looked at me in amusement, “Now that’s an interesting comment. And just what category do you suppose you fall under, chere?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Damn it. I hate when I don’t have a good comeback.

“Jake’s right,” Kevin said, unexpectedly turning serious. “The guy’s bad news. Nothing but trouble follows wherever he goes.”

Or maybe he follows trouble
, I thought. In which case, we have the trait in common.

I decided to play it smart, and not argue the matter any further.

“Why don’t I let you two finish your beers? I’m beat. I’m going to call it a night and head into bed,” I said.

Jake gave me a kiss. “I’ll join you in a little while, chere.”

Spam didn’t follow, but remained where he was, with his chin solidly planted on Santou’s foot.

I’d apparently been telling the truth. No sooner did I hit the pillow than I instantly fell asleep. Neither Spam nor Santou roused me as they entered the room.

I continued to sleep the sleep of the dead, until a strange chirping worked its way into my head. I awoke in the dark, unable to determine what the odd noise was, or where it was coming from. I strained to listen as the sound morphed into what seemed to be the smacking of lips, along with the rapid pitter-patter of tiny feet. Quickly looking around, I spied a bizarre sight silhouetted in a shaft of moonlight. There on the wall were a small gecko and a cockroach, of nearly equal size, engaged in a deadly stand-off.

I stared, transfixed, as the two now entered into battle. The cockroach lunged, as if hoping to fake out its attacker, and then began to swiftly scuttle away. But the lizard held the definite advantage. Its long tongue lashed out with the speed of a whip, its sticky tip latching onto its prey. The bug’s horror was so palpable that it conjoined with the pounding of my blood upon slowly being reeled back into the lizard’s waiting jaws. With the bug firmly in grip, the gecko then turned its graceful neck and proceeded to bash the roach, over and over, against the wall.

The cockroach flailed its legs in a desperate attempt to escape. Its wings scraped against the cracked paint with the herky-jerky movement of defective window wipers, fluttering frantically until they were torn. Though the bug did all it could to cling to life, it finally gave up, unable to
fight anymore. The last of its energy ebbed, along with the thrum of my blood. The struggle ended, and to the victor went the spoils.

Then the lizard turned its head and held me captive with its eerie eyes while clutching the corpse in its mouth. My stomach tightened in a virulent knot as the lizard now began to devour its prey, with its pupils still glued to mine.

Rolling over, I pressed myself against Santou, no longer able to watch. It wasn’t the life and death battle that bothered me. But rather the uneasy premonition that I was also about to fall victim to the ruthless law of the jungle. I somehow knew I’d already been strapped into a roller coaster ride from which there was no breaking loose.

The noxious
crunch, crunch, crunch
of the bug’s shell being consumed echoed in the room as I slowly fell back into a restless sleep.

T
he lizard was gone by the time I awoke the next morning. All that remained were a few tiny legs to confirm what had taken place the night before. A chill sped through me, even though the air was already heating up. Grabbing my clothes, I started for the bathroom, only to feel Santou reach out and grab me. The next thing I knew, I’d been pulled back into bed.

“How about a proper hello? You were already fast asleep when I came into the room last night,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“It’s not my fault that you prefer Kevin’s company to mine,” I lightly retorted, letting my feelings show.

Santou propped up his head and looked at me. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you, chere?” he asked, with a note of concern in his voice.

Even now, Santou had the salty aroma of the ocean, and the sharp, clean smell of the beach, about him. I took a deep whiff and reveled in the scent while running my fingers along his bare skin, its hue as golden brown as finely burnished leather.

“Maybe I just don’t like having to share you,” I whispered in his ear.

But I knew it was far more than that. I worried that Kevin might be closer to Jake than I would ever be. It was something that bothered me as much as any physical betrayal.

Maybe Santou wondered the same thing as he rolled me onto my back and pinned my hands near my head. I didn’t fight, but steeled myself to hear whatever he had to say.

“Let’s get one thing straight, chere. You’ll always be the most important person in my life, no matter what. But Kevin and I have a history together. That doesn’t take anything away from you and me. In fact, I want to make sure that we both stay around for a good, long time. So much that I’ll make you a deal. I won’t surf the big waves until I get more experience. However, you have to promise me something in kind.”

“What’s that?” I asked, already dreading his request.

“You keep me in the loop concerning whatever it is that you’re doing. I don’t like to think of you being on your own out there, high and dry. I know you’re not crazy about Kevin. But believe me, both of us can help you more than you realize. Take advantage of what we’re offering here. It’ll make me feel better, and will give you an edge that others working alone in the field don’t have.”

I could feel my resistance begin to crumble as easily as a castle made of sand.

“Do I have your word on that?” he asked, slowly lowering his body against mine.

“You’ve got my word,” I promised, and closed my eyes, seduced by Santou, the smell of the ocean, and the sound of the tide.

Sometimes, while stuck in my seventh-floor office, it was hard to believe that I was actually in Hawaii. I could have been anywhere, doing the same mind-numbing paperwork, the same tedious dumb-ass reports. Even the low
hum of the planes ferrying tourists back and forth added to the growing sense of monotony.

I’d heard the problem described as the downward spiral of tropical entropy. The work speed is barely moving, and all plans tend to fall apart. Most blithely let it flow over them like a tidal wash. Blame for it is placed on the constant state of humidity that eats away and causes everything to rot. Maybe so. But from what I could tell, most federal agents stationed here were routinely deballed and broken by their superiors until they reported in to work each day as zombies. That wasn’t true in my case. It came from feeling that time was speeding by without me.

Revving my engine this morning was the knowledge that I’d soon be meeting with Sammy Kalahiki. I was anxious to see what sort of hard-core evidence he’d produce. Kalahiki had done a superb job of snagging me on his hook. Now all he had to do was come up with the goods tonight in order to reel me in.

Truth be told, anticipation had gotten the better of me hours ago. I could already tell that his story had all the earmarks of a big case. Some people are good at reading tarot cards, others at unmasking stock-market fraud, while there are those who excel at diagnosing disease. As for me, simply point toward corruption and let me go. Unfortunately, I had Norm Pryor trying to hang on to my reins.

He walked in that morning dressed in his usual attire: white leather mocs and a pair of camo pants that could have doubled as pajama bottoms. Today’s shirt was decorated with palm trees, surfboards, and antique “woody” station wagons. Pryor glanced in as he strolled past my office, reminding me of the gecko on my wall last night.

“Good morning, Porter. Glad to see that you made it in to work today.”

Good morning, teacher,
I silently responded, waiting
until he’d settled at his desk and begun to open the bag that held his breakfast pastry.

Then I got up, walked into his office, and plunked my own bag of goodies in front of him.

“Here. I thought you might enjoy this with your coffee,” I offered.

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously, pursing his lips into a perfectly round
O
. “Don’t tell me it’s another one of those damn lizards.”

“No lizards in there,” I promised. “Remember the deal we made?”

Pryor’s expression remained as blank as an unpainted canvas.

“Deal? What sort of deal?” he questioned, his apprehension beginning to grow.

“You said if I could prove that a cougar was running around in the mountains, you’d gladly eat its scat.”

Pryor glared at me, his lips compressing into a thin, straight line.

“Well, I hope you’re hungry, because here’s your proof,” I responded, barely able to keep the grin off my face.

Pryor cautiously opened the bag and peered inside.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, and pushed the sack aside.

“Exactly,” I confirmed.

“And what makes you so certain that it comes from a mountain lion?” he scornfully questioned, as if hoping to trump bureaucratic muscle over science.

“Because I saw the cat for myself,” I replied. “Those lizards that I brought you the other day? I tracked down the person responsible for breeding them. There’s a guy on Oahu that’s in cahoots with pet store chains on the mainland. Stas Yakimov is being sent a wide variety of reptiles. In return, he’s establishing colonies in the wild
and then pipelining them back to those stores to be sold. That’s where I got the scat from. I paid Yakimov a visit. He also has plans to start breeding mountain lions for profit.”

“In other words, this thing’s living in a cage at his house. That’s not exactly the same as a cat running wild in the mountains,” Pryor said, looking relieved.

“Sorry, but you’re wrong about that. Yes, this one’s in a pen. But his first cougar got loose. That’s the one that people are seeing. We’ve got to bust this guy. Only I don’t want to do it immediately. Instead, I’d like to work him undercover for a while. That way, I can discover which wholesalers are sneaking reptiles in to be illegally bred. I’m also hoping to get evidence on all the pet stores that are involved,” I revealed, figuring my plan amounted to a major coup.

I had expected Pryor to be ecstatic. It could very well mean a gold star from D.C. for him, too. Which was why I was surprised by his reaction.

“Whoa! Hold on there a minute.” Pryor balked. “You’re not going to do a damn thing until I’ve had time to think this thing through.”

“Why? What’s the problem?” I asked, my insides beginning to do flip-flops.

“This could prove to be a real Pandora’s box,” he replied, nervously licking his lips and tapping his fingers together. “After all, how much do we really want to hurt pet stores on the mainland? Especially in this economy? And then of course, there’s this fellow, Yakimov, that you keep talking about. I need to find out exactly who he is, and his connections. For all we know, he has the tacit approval of the state.”

“What are you talking about?” I nearly howled. “This is a state law that’s being broken.”

“Listen, Porter. There’s something that you still don’t seem to understand. Everything in Hawaii runs according to who you know. That being the case, there’s not a hell of a lot of reason to enforce things,” he snapped. “Which means that I’m not about to jump into this without first studying the problem. We don’t need to go and embarrass ourselves.”

“And just how would we do that? By carrying out our job?” I retorted angrily.

“No. By stepping into a matter that we shouldn’t,” Pryor countered.

There was no question that it was business as usual with Pryor in charge. The big boys in D.C. had again seen fit to tie me to a boss who believed if you ignore a problem long enough, it would just go away. Putting the two of us together was as good as placing TNT and nitroglycerin in the same room. All they had to do was chuck in a rabid mongoose with a lit match.

I turned, ready to storm out of his office, unable to believe I’d been stupid enough to reveal anything about Yakimov in the first place. However, Pryor’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“By the way, Porter. I hear that you’re trying to stick your nose into that other bit of business we discussed.”

A chill wrapped itself around me, tight as a wetsuit. How could Pryor possibly have known? Secrecy was the entire reason that Kalahiki had decided to meet me at Ka’ena Point.

I turned back to face him, wondering if this might be about something else.

“What business is that?” I asked, working hard to keep my tone neutral.

“Those shark finning rumors that you told me about.”

Pryor’s normally bland gaze now sharpened into steely
determination, driving the point home that the matter was serious. “I’m going to tell you one more time, and I expect you to listen. We don’t need that kind of trouble.”

“Why should there be any trouble?” I questioned, equally determined to dive headlong into whatever was going on.

“You know damn well why. I’ve already told you that sharks aren’t under our jurisdiction,” he barked in frustration.

Enough of this crap. It was time to discover where Pryor’s loyalty really lay.

“But what if it turns out that NMFS actually knows shark finning is still going on and yet refuses to do anything about it? Who’s responsible for what happens to sharks then?” I queried, refusing to hold my tongue.

Only good sense kept me from revealing the equally tantalizing rumor that finning led all the way up to a powerful government official.

Pryor’s eyes narrowed to two sharp pincers, and his hands scuttled across his desk, his limp thumb dragging behind like a useless claw.

“And why would you think that?” he asked.

His voice no longer held its usual bluster, but had become soft and low, reminding me of a snake that was about to attack.

“It just strikes me as odd that an agency responsible for the well-being of the fishing industry should also be solely in charge of marine species whose numbers keep dwindling. Doesn’t that bother you, as well?” I challenged.

If Pryor had rattles attached to his rear, I would have heard them shaking by now.

“Be careful what you accuse NMFS of. That kind of slur can bury someone,” he warned. “Your transfer to Hawaii is a double-edged sword. This is the land of start
ing over again. But fuck up, and your career can very well die here. It’s your choice. Just remember that you can’t sneeze on this island without me knowing about it.”

Pryor’s threat made me absolutely furious, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. Arguing any further would lead nowhere. It was little wonder so few people realized that Fish and Wildlife agents had been stationed in Hawaii before me. Those agents had played by Pryor’s rules and never made a ripple. Their reward was to be promoted up. As for Pryor, he’d never voluntarily leave this job. And the man wouldn’t be fired unless caught selling crack cocaine in the governor’s mansion, or was found to be sleeping with one of bin Laden’s wives.

Know thine enemy
, was the phrase that flit through my mind, as I slipped back into my office.

As of now, I’d identified Norm Pryor as my number-one nemesis.

I passed the time typing out reports and listening to the overhead drone of planes. But my thoughts were on other matters.

How had Pryor managed to learn that I’d gone against his advice and plunged feetfirst into investigating the shark-finning trade? Had he been tipped off, or just made an educated guess? And, if so, had I been tricked into foolishly revealing my hand? Thoughts such as this kept tumbling around in my brain, driving me crazy.

Fortunately, Pryor remained in his room all day and stayed far away from me. Not that it really mattered. All I wanted to do was ask Kalahiki who else knew about our meeting. But the sun wouldn’t be setting for hours.

By the time 4:30 rolled around, I was nearly climbing the walls and had begun to identify with my poster of the shell-shocked duck probably a little more than was healthy.

True to form, Pryor walked out the door at 4:34. I waited five minutes more and then quickly followed.

Rush hour traffic seemed benign compared to the proverbial prison I’d been stuck in all day. For once, I didn’t even curse at the other cars around me. Instead, I spent the time daydreaming about the possible results that could come from breaking out of my cage.

What if I were able to bring down Yakimov and make a dent in the invasion of alien species? What if I were allowed to shut down the shark-finning trade? What if I were given leeway to actually make a difference when it came to the decimation of Hawaii? What if, what if, what if? Who’d ever have guessed those two little words would so completely rule my life?

There had been plenty of time when I’d left the office, but it was quickly eaten away. I dismissed the burger and fries that were beckoning to me, and headed straight for Ka’ena Point.

Soon I was shaking, rattling, and rolling across ground that was as pockmarked and potholed as any New York City street. I once again went as far a I could along the rugged jeep trail before finally abandoning my vehicle. This time I opted to take two bottles of water, instead of just one, as I struck out on my own.

Even at this time of day, Ka’ena Point was hot as hell. But then, I suppose it only made sense considering that
ka’ena
was Hawaiian for “the heat.”