Trifecta (98 page)

Nakamura took out a business card and his drivers license 
and handed them to the man.

Guy, who had been studying the picture on the credit card,
smiled, "In that case, Mr. Nakamura, you have just ransomed your first born
son.  But we're on our way."

M
ichelle didn't think she was heading toward the
island of Oahu as she slowly got closer to shore.  It looked too small.  Maybe Omar
had taken her and Vincent to another island entirely, Molokai, Kauai or even Maui,
because all she could see were cliffs ahead of her, with waves crashing into the
face of huge, high volcanic rocks. 

The Hawaiian chain has 132 small isles and atolls, but
the fact that she had seen lights made her think this island was populated.  She
didn't recognize the area at all. 

Maybe Omar had never intended for her to survive this Trial-by-Water. 
It looked impossible.  They would be irrevocably dashed into the rocks by the strong
tide, which was even now drawing them nearer.  After all this incredible effort,
to be smashed into volcanic cliffs was totally unacceptable.  There had to be a
way to survive.

The whole island was dark.  The lights she had seen earlier
were gone.  The smaller islands, like Kauai, did not have the night life of Oahu. 
She and Vincent had been in the water for more than four hours.  It was close to
midnight.

Volcanic rock naturally has nooks and crannies that are
possible to climb, but Michelle knew she would be too weak to make the effort after
this grueling swim, even if she were not battered to death against the rocks.  The
wall appeared hundreds of feet high and covered the whole side of the island facing
them.  She didn't think she could swim around the island, she was beat.  Even clinging
to the rocks above the waterline until morning came, when someone might spot them,
seemed more than her tortured body could endure.

As she drew closer, the nearly full moon lit the cliffs
ahead, illuminating enormous and ferocious waves splattering high up as they hit
the rocks explosively, but there was another source of dim light.  A glow just a
little to the right, at a seam between two of the cliffs.  She pulled the belt in
her teeth in that direction as she turned her head sharply to see what it was.

A gurgling sound, then a cough, stopped her.

Michelle spit the belt into the water and turned around. 

"I'm okay.  Just got a little water up my
nose," Vincent said.  He coughed a few times and Michelle grabbed his chin
and held his face out of the water.  The ordeal seemed to have aged Vincent,
his face appeared small and wizened, although he smiled at her tiredly and
revealed his yellow rodent-like teeth.  His appearance did not reflect his
character at all, which Michelle considered gallant and very brave.  He had
been talking almost non-stop for the last hour to keep her spirits up, and had
never complained once, although he had certainly been in the wrong place at the
wrong time when Omar had decided to abduct her.  Vincent was the added bonus. 
The means to kill two birds with one stone.

Michelle put the belt back into her mouth and started swimming
again.

During his monologue Vincent told her all about the witch's
ritual that Omar conducted, and that he had clandestinely watched at Three Tables
Beach a few nights ago.  He described the beautiful young woman who had been covered
with sword wounds and finally murdered on that night.  He also told Michelle about
the old woman with her dire predictions at the occult store. 

To keep her spirits up, Vincent earlier had reflected upon
his travels in India, England, Scotland, Africa, Russia and the island of Haiti,
where he had studied manifestations of occult and paranormal phenomena.  He repeatedly
told Michelle to believe in herself and in the powers she possessed.

Now, Michelle let out a little joyful yell of relief. 
It was more like a horse’s happy snigger, with the belt between her teeth.  She
had been angling toward the dull glow she had seen.  Now she saw a small beach,
like a little shelf of sand between two of the forbidding rock faces. 

Vincent, lying on his back, could see nothing.  "What?"

Michelle spit the belt out of her mouth again.  "A
beach!  A tiny, beautiful beach.  Oh, Vincent, you have to look."

Vincent let go of the belt and started his ineffectual
dog paddling.  He was so tired that he could keep only his eyes above the waterline. 
The waves were moving him up and down, and he finally saw the minuscule spit of
sand. 

"And a beacon.  A fire, I believe," Vincent said,
making a tremendous effort to get his mouth above the waterline so that he could
speak.  He finally allowed some gloom into his voice, now that Michelle was so thrilled. 
"I fear it's our nemesis."

"I don't care.  I just want to get out of the damn
ocean." Michelle knew she sounded like a petulant child almost ready to cry. 

"Of course you do," Vincent said soothingly.

"We'll go in together.  He can't do anything to us
if we're both there.  And we must be out in the boondocks.  A road or even a house
would be impossible for you to find this time of night.  You'd have to go over the
cliffs to get help."

"Still, it's better if we stick to the original plan. 
Omar had to get to the beach on a road."

"Maybe he took the helicopter."

"Not over those cliffs.  He would have had to approach
by sea in the helicopter, and I would have spotted him."  Vincent bobbed under
the water and came up again, spitting water, only his eyes visible.  He angled his
head back so he could talk.  "I've been on my back.  I would have seen him. 
He couldn't go straight down the cliff side in a helicopter at night."

"Maybe he flew directly there, after he dropped us."

"I can't see him sitting on a small beach for hours,"
Vincent objected.  "It's not in his nature to be that patient."

"Or that uncomfortable," Michelle agreed with
a tired smile.  "I think this is Kauai.  He probably has some sort of luxurious
home here, and waited out the hours in comfort."

Michelle looked at the waves crashing against the cliffs. 
If she was surfing, she would never even attempt to go out in these conditions. 
Even about half mile away, as they were now, the water was getting rougher.  She
had been swallowing more water and it had become almost impossible for Vincent to
speak.

"It's too dangerous for you, Vincent," Michelle
pleaded.  "You can't attempt the swim to shore by yourself.  That beach is
tiny.  You'll crash right into the rocks if you don't head straight in.  Unless
you catch the exact right wave, the surf will propel you right into the cliffs."

"I promise I'll be careful," Vincent said.  "You'll
have to keep Omar faced away from the ocean.  I will come to shore on that beach."

"You better promise me," Michelle warned.  She
was scared he wouldn't be able to make it.  Vincent had never experienced how powerful
the ocean could be in a really high surf; he didn't understand how dangerous it
was.

"I know.  You worked too hard to save me.  I won't
throw your wonderful gift away," Vincent said, smiling gently.

"You better not," Michelle answered sternly,
but she could feel tears, real tears, not salt water on her face. 

G
uy Thorner was as good as his word, swiftly preparing
a flight plan and readying a small two engine Piper.  Now Nakamura and Heather were
in the air, only about fifteen minutes behind the plane carrying Omar's thug and
the two witches.  They were swiftly catching up, as their quarry had taken off in
a one engine Beechcraft.

"You aren't planning to do anything illegal?"
Guy asked.  He glanced at Nakamura, who was sitting behind him.  Heather was in
the co-pilot seat. 

They had to speak loudly over the noise of the engines. 
Guy had opened the hand operated air vents situated on either side of the cockpit,
and the incoming wind made the noise level even louder.  Heather's long hair blew
back and brushed Nakamura's face.

"What ever gave you that idea?" Nakamura asked.

"You really didn't know where your friends were going,
did you?"

"Not really.  And they aren't friends." Nakamura
admitted.  "But we aren't planning anything illegal.  More like a search and
rescue."

"For my best friend," Heather said, nodding,
leaning forward so Guy could hear her.  "She disappeared and we think they're
heading to the place she was taken."

"Strange people," Guy commented.  "All those
beautiful woman, with that grisly monster always accompanying them.  They do pay
right on time, though.  You don't really think they kidnaped her?  Against her will?"

"Yes, we do," Heather said.

Guy turned his head sharply and looked at her in surprise.

"Why?  Is there a ransom?"

"We don't know why.  Another man, Omar Satinov, is
the one who seems to have the hidden agenda."

"Maybe he just wants another beauty to add to his
harem," Guy said, smiling.  "I know Omar.  He does like the ladies, but
he didn't fly out from my field tonight."

"He didn't use one of your planes?" Nakamura
asked

Guy shook his head.  "No.  He probably took her in
the helicopter."

"What!"  Both Heather and Nakamura yelled almost
simultaneously.

"He's a helicopter pilot.  Keeps it at my place most
of the time, but there's space to tie up where he lives.  On the roof.  He's had
it there for the last few days."

Nakamura had believed they could very possibly be going
off on a wild-goose chase.  Now he had the rather grim satisfaction of thinking
that they weren't.

"Can you call ahead and get a rental car?" Nakamura
asked.  "We're going to follow them."

Guy nodded and used his radio.  He seemed to have many
friends on the small island because he called several places, it being late at night,
and finally arranged for a Jeep to be waiting at the airport.

"I'm going to get you in about ten minutes before
Satinov's people arrive," Guy said.  "You'll have time to get in the Jeep
and wait for them.  I'd like to go with you, if you don't mind.  Waiting in the
plane is pretty boring.  And you have no idea when you're coming back."

Nakamura and Heather exchanged glances and nodded at each
other. 

"Okay.  Fine.  We might need a witness," Nakamura
said.

As they got closer to the island, Guy went into his regular
tourist mode and informed them that Kauai, called the Garden Island, was the most
ancient of all the islands in the chain, formed by one large volcano.  Kauai was
the wettest place on earth, with an average of 444 inches of rain in a normal year. 
It boasted the first sugar cane plantation, with land rented from King Kamehamaha. 
Captain James Cook had landed on the island in 1778.

Guy was flying low, for speed, and Heather started growing
nauseous.  The small plane would hit down-drafts and the plane would lose altitude
unexpectedly.  It felt like her stomach landed in the ocean every time it happened. 
She still had painkillers working in her body and the combination of the unpredictably
rough movement of the plane and her weakened condition made her feel quite ill,
not even considering that the pain itself was becoming more severe as time went
by.  She concentrated on the stars and the moon, which looked like a giant had taken
a bite out of it, so bright from the vantage of this height.  She didn't look down
at the ocean, far below, as it made her dizzy.

While Guy talked about the Waimea Canyon, which was 3,000
feet deep, Nakamura was having fantasies of revenge.  The daydreams involved clever
and brutal beatings of the monster, Samson Stoker.  The only limiting factor in
his imagination was the fact that he couldn't make the guy any uglier.

When they finally arrived at the airport, there were no
lights on the runways, but there was enough ambient illumination from the moon and
stars for an easy landing.  Several cars were parked near the office building, including
the black Jeep waiting for them.

Guy had been off in his estimate of the relative arrival
times for their flight and that of their prey.  They could hear another plane engine
as they deplaned.  They headed for the jeep at a run, hoping to get inside without
being seen as another of Guy's fleet circled in preparation for a landing.

Nakamura dove into the drivers seat, with Heather beside
him.  Guy hopped in the small back seat.  They crouched down low and peeked through
the windshield as Samson and the witches got off the plane and unloaded the suitcases. 
Even at this distance they could hear Lucifer's screaming protest as the three people
walked to an off-road truck near their Jeep.  They slipped even lower in their seats. 
Nakamura had the uncomfortable feeling that the monster, Samson, who paused and
looked around, could smell them with his big smashed nose.

They hardly breathed as Samson Stoker loaded the luggage
in the back of the truck and the two women got inside.  The truck took off down
the only road leading away from the airfield. 

Nakamura waited for a couple of minutes before he turned
the engine over and began following.  He didn't use his headlights and the going
was rough when they got out of the airfield itself.

The road was paved, but had been abraded by the rains and
was riddled with large rocks.  They were surrounded with lush vegetation like a
jungle.  Nakamura could imagine crocodiles crossing the road and brightly plumed
parrots sleeping in the trees above them.  Bushes crowded the roadway and the tropical
trees made a canopy above, tall banana and palms blotting out the moonlight, making
it hard to follow the truck in the shadowy darkness.  Nakamura strained his eyes
as the miles continued on for what seemed like hours.  There were many curves and
they frequently lost sight of the vehicle ahead.  Nakamura's worry was that he would
go too fast and suddenly find himself right on the other vehicle's bumper rounding
a sharp curve.  At times he didn't know if the truck had gone off on one of the
almost invisible trails that frequently bisected their road.  He couldn't drive
very fast, which was extremely frustrating for him.

Guy, possessing the excellent eyesight of a flyer and having
frequently flown over the area himself, knew the terrain intimately, and was a big
help in navigating.  He and Heather changed places, climbing over the seats, so
he could help track the truck and tell Nakamura what to anticipate next.

The road eventually began climbing to the coast and along
the edge of cliffs that dropped directly down to the sea.  Guy told them that the
road was now about a thousand feet above the ocean.  It was sickening to look down
on their right.  One inadvertent movement of the wheel would send them crashing
down hundreds of feet into the rough sea frothing against the rocks below.

Nakamura was trundling along mindlessly, occupied entirely
with keeping the Jeep on the road and the truck in sight, when Guy suddenly shouted,
Stop.  It sounded urgent.  Nakamura hit the brakes so quickly that the Jeep began
to slide, heading right toward the edge of the cliffs.  In Kauai there are frequent
and violent tropical downpours.  He had hit a muddy spot.  All his expertise with
the four wheel drive was necessary to prevent them from sliding over the edge. 
Heather almost threw up and Guy made a hoarse, strangled cry as they stopped inches
from the edge.

"Close one," Nakamura said, laughing.  He downshifted
to get a low gear, rocking the Jeep a little bit back and forth in the mud, scaring
his passengers even more, and they backed away from certain death.

"You thought that was funny?" Guy asked, the
skin around his tight mouth almost white. 

"You're the one who yelled to stop," Nakamura
commented, still smiling.  "Where'd they go?"

"I promise not to yell any more.  Just be more careful,"
Guy said very slowly, obviously still shaken.  "I think they took a dirt path
that leads down through the cliffs.  It's very steep.  Even a four wheeler can't
make it, so they'll probably park somewhere along here and walk the rest of the
way."

"You know where they're going?" Heather asked.

"Looks like the beach."