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In spite of the general sluggish economy, and the overspending of nations, 2013 had ended up being a decent year for investors. The savvy hoarders and gold collectors, who realized the future, that the clean energy source that Mohonri, Luke, Smokey Joe and Moose were installing, was the money maker of the new age, were quickly placing every bit of gold available in the hands of MJD Magnetics. This company was responsible for a change in the way all green type energy alternatives were viewed. The wind turbines, solar battery panels, and corn ethanol fueled ideas had run into tough competition. Petroleum based energy sources were almost a thing of the past, gone with Hula hoops and Twinkies.
The tech war for sustainable energy resource was underway. It was inevitable that the formation of almost free and universally plentiful electricity and energy systems would send shock waves through these warring factions. Those who did not diversify and participate in the new technology, offered exclusively by MJD Magnetics, were left behind or simply forced into bankruptcy. The natural trend of greed and corporate avarice was now looking for ways to claim, distribute, or disrupt the efficient new power source. By 2014, many of the forward industrial nations had installed the new electric systems or were in contact with the company holding all patents on the new power generators. MJD Magnetics was busy collecting the gold and mining, shipping and installing the base crystals to set up the Black Mariachi Miracle. In 2015, China decided to allow western power bases into the country. It was to be understood, as it always is with China, permission was on a temporary, experimental basis.
The enigmatic CEO of MJD, Captain McCaw, Mohonri Tanner, had turned most of the hectic day to day operation of the Corporation over to the Board, which consisted of Luke Jensen, who managed most of the business, with Katrina as receptionist and the public website voice. Moose and Annie Amerok were the superintendent crew who traveled to new construction sites and oversaw the installations of power grids in countries the world over. They would sometimes manage different sites, if the work orders demanded splitting, but they much preferred to hang together and lived in the outlying areas of many exotic places. All of them were required, periodically, to listen to Ambrose, the colorful bird that Mohonri brought back with him from Venezuela.
The world, through the efforts of the UN and progressives had run a campaign of ending dependence on fuel; coal, natural gas, and coal, especially, were now on the blacklist of energy. So much information and deliberate misinformation about global warming, now euphemistically titled ‘climate change’ had gripped international concern about man-made CO2 that the growing hysteria played right into the sales efforts of MJD but also attracted the greedy fringe element, the power sharks.
Smokey Joe took on the responsibility of system maintenance. If problems arose he would be the trouble shooter to travel, assess and make changes or repairs. Makaewalani was the front person—the charming rep who convinced government of all sizes to retro-fit their power and energy needs with the Mariachi model of clean, sustainable, healthy energy. The small cost was always a closer. She was kept busy steering the actual transformation idea. As a result, she was away much of the time and always had plans for Mohonri when she returned to the Island. They had never married, in spite of Hack and his wife insisting that they were living in sin.
The Mormon couple were insistent and always cajoling their friends to join the faith, get married and have kids. It was the way the Mormon Church did things...and it would make them happier. Mohonri and Makaewalani were happy, except when Katrina belabored the “Family is forever” point and chided them about their eternal standing. She was sure they would lose each other, eventually, unless they got sealed in one of the temples. Ho and Lonnie just wanted to be together and wished they could be inseparable but they headed a system of energy and co-operation that needed to be taught and sold to save the planet. It was their second love; following the love they had for each other but, many times, lately, had seemed as if it were the first love...it drained their time and forced them to be apart.
They had moved to a nice plantation estate close to Diamond Head and Ho participated whenever he felt his friends were overwhelmed. He still insisted on being addressed as Captain McCaw and he actually took his crazy bird, Ambrose, with him on some of the journeys. Some corporate officials and traditional “suits” were surprised and occasionally offended by the presence of a bright colored parrot on his shoulder or perched on the back of an extra chair in conference rooms. Ambrose occasionally squawked his opinion in board meetings but it was unlikely any members but Ho had any idea how he felt about the proceedings.
Katrina was appalled Ho would actually arrange meetings with heads of state and large municipalities, without having his dental work repaired. The mostly toothless gaps that had been Dirty’s infectious smile were not understood at business meetings or in political arenas. Kat had begged Makaewalani to use some feminine persuasion on the leader of the new company to “clean up his act”. It had been brought up so many times that Ho neglected getting new teeth just to bug Katrina. His personality was as that...if you demanded something, he didn’t act interested; in fact, he would drag the change out or purposely ignore the suggestions, however well-intentioned they might have been.
Naturally, Makaewalani thought of a more tactful way to convince Mohonri the missing teeth problem was pretty unusual and unnecessary, considering the wealth they now possessed and the high-profile life they all enjoyed. Ho had been so preoccupied with the events leading up to the discovery of the galactic pattern of the Ursa Major and Polaris, as well as the assault on the empire of Carlos Xolotl, he never had taken time to find a good orthodontist. He claimed his teeth were buried with a bum and, short of exhuming him and reclaiming his natural teeth, he wasn’t too interested in dentistry. Perhaps the horrific night of planning his demise and being his own dentist had some traumatic imprint.
Lonnie, as she was called by their closest friends, finally coaxed him into an appointment. It was at a nice evening restaurant meal they shared in commemorating Valentine’s Day. Ho was trying to be charming and as romantic as his personality would allow. Taking advantage of his attempts to please her on this special night seemed the best chance for Lonnie to broach the subject of teeth. She claimed she could hardly bring herself to kiss him, because the gaps in his teeth seemed lacking in hygiene and made her feel as if she were making out with a caveman or worse—an old, disgusting fart.
Her disapproval that evening had jarred his attention to the point of scheduling some time to have bridges and new crowns attached. Ho and Lonnie researched the best orthodontic business they could find on the island. Katrina was relieved to hear he was finally taking the time to get his mouth ‘resurrected”, as she called it. Ho Tanner had been through several near-death experiences because of Xolotl and his friends and his reasoning was he had absorbed enough pain. Having his jaws and mouth worked on brought back memories he had pushed into some dark crevice and he was now wishing he had stayed with his mechanism for coping—just ignore it. Yet, with Makaewalani around him, things didn’t just get ignored. Her style was ‘meet things head on’—she had never hidden from a problem or skirted an issue; she had tracked down this man—the one who interrupted her sleep and refused to go away, even when he was dead. Mohonri could be Captain McCaw, or agent Ramos or Ho but he was not going to be DRT. Dirty was done and the cleanup crew was a drop dead gorgeous Hawaiian girl.
So, the orthodontic schedule was met; but the new teeth left pain, pain in his jaws and his gums—enough that even Ho complained. That set up the next thing he couldn’t dodge. They were attending a Palm Spa where some friends of Makaewalani planned to do a karmic thing; they were going to find his chakras and they were going to subject him to a Tibetan sound bowl healing ceremony. Whining about it to Lonnie just got a little explanation that a series of sound bowls would take the pain out of his jaw and heal the sensitive nerves the dental work had exposed.
“My new teeth hurt so bad Lonnie is making me go bowlin’ with her,” was how Katrina got the second-hand word. She naturally thought her husband was slacking and made Hack take her to the Starlight Lanes for an evening together, even though she was about to pop out a second child. Hack had a pretty good time rolling gutter balls but couldn’t believe Ho had decided going bowling was a therapy for sore gums.
Chapter 3
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While lying in the middle of a group of caring ladies, each one rubbing a stick around the top of what looked like several brass spittoon bowls from a good Gary Grant western, the spas sublime sound healing power was jarringly interrupted when a different, more strident sound joined in. It was not Tibetan, it was the jangle of Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” on the phone Ho had forgotten to put on vibrate and the oversight earned a scowl of disapproval from Lonnie and the other ladies, as well.
It was Hack, as most intimate friends now called him, who said he and Smokey had been talkin’ and Smokey had decided for Ho his charade as DRT was a moot point—as if Smokey used words such as ‘charade’ and ‘moot point’. Luke begged his friend to come back to Utah and take his old life back. With their enemies dead and their lives safe, there was no need to keep his family mourning. Even the Bishop was missing Ho, according to the Mormon couple, who had visited with him for a few minutes at the LDS General Conference last October. Hack, probably with Katrina in his ear, said the only manly thing to do was to come clean with his mom and sister, Chloe, and, of course, Bishop Whatisname. It won’t be as hard as you think, Hack promised.
“Dammit Dyno,” groaned Ho, “I mean Hack. Crap, dude, this ain’t Mortal Combat, where you push a joystick and get new life. I put those people through so much I can’t come marching in the door, with some kind of April Fools announcement. We’re big boys, gotta live with some decisions or don’t live, in this case.”
The humming tones were dying from the resonating bowls as the healers realized Ho was not into the sound waves enough. The main tone Ho was hearing was Hack’s nagging voice and it wasn’t healing, quite the opposite, it was reminding Ho he should address the problem of being dead now that Xolotl, Eddie and partners of Black Panther Holdings were no longer a threat.
Ho was irritated this promise seemed to pop up every time Luke communicated with him. The truth was—Ho wasn’t ready for truth. He was still involved with undercover work with Victor and was still exposed; he knew his enemies didn’t know him as Ho Tanner. Any reminder that he had left his mother, sister and step dad, well, basically everybody outside the boardroom, thinking he had died in a bombing at Saratoga, usually put him in a bad mood. There was no way out. What bugged him the worst was the final comment from Hack; nerdy, freakin’ Lucas Jensen was calling him out. He just said it and left it hanging.
“There is no way I’m telling you what to do or how to do it—I’ve learned that never works but thinking about the last high, inside pitch is not you. It’s past time to step up to the plate, Ray Gun.” Then he just hung up. Hack freakin’ Jensen, old buddy Dynomite, just hung up on me, thought Ho. Really? Damn, what is eating on Hack? It had to be Katrina’s influence on him, thought Ho, staring at his smart phone. Luke never used to be so aggressive. He hasn’t called me Ray Gun since our senior year. What was really pissing Ho off was his nerdy buddy had hit the nail—it was time to quit worrying about the next pitch and stand in there. Between the taunt, the hanging up and the guilt, Ho was in a less than gallant mood. His jaw and a couple new teeth hurt like hell, too. He cleared the phone and announced to the group conducting the sound wave therapy the session was over.
“Appreciate you tryin’ to help me and all but it ain’t workin’,” Ho stated abruptly. “Maybe some other time. You comin’, Lonnie?” Without another word or gesture he walked out. By the time Makaewalani had apologized for his behavior and arrived at the car, there was a defiant stare from each of them. Then the passenger door slammed, at least it sounded pretty loud to Ho.
“Well, bound to be an issue—did you think you could hide from people forever?” asked Lonnie, quietly.
“As long as it takes, yeah, and don’t tell me you’re mad by slamming the Audi.”
Makaewalani looked at Ho a moment. “You tricked a lot of people; did you seriously think it would never come out?”
“Probably. Only my close friends know. Why should it ever come out?”
“Hummph, Katrina knows. How long do you think that will last?” Ho tried to hide a smile—he wasn’t the only one who knew what Katrina would do.
“I still have to keep up the façade—it ain’t a trick, it was life and death, a circumstance that maybe if I had a lot of time to ponder what to do, I might have done things different. I had a dead guy on top of me and they would think it was me; I just had to “wing it”.
“So now you can “wing it” some more and come clean to your family and friends. It is the right thing to do now—even if Luke thinks so.”
Ho was scowling. He turned and loudly claimed, “What you guys don’t get is I am undercover, still...there are other criminals in Mexico and South America who would love to know who Esteban Ramos is and where to find him.”
“That might be true but you are still chicken—you are going to have to change your ridiculous McCaw yell into a henhouse sound.”
Makaewalani made a cackling sound as if a hen had just laid her egg. Ho was seething but decided to laugh it off; Lonnie was cracking him up and he couldn’t be mad at someone that funny...and cute.
“You know what, Lonnie, that is what women do, cackle about their achievements; they can’t even lay a simple egg without telling the world.” Ho commented, trying to avert a fight about announcing the fake death and, maybe he could distract her and start a whole different fight. He wasn’t prepared for her rebuttal.
“—and all you roosters crow to the world and the morning sun when you lay a hen. Big difference, we have an egg to show for it...Mohonri.”
She added his given name like a sarcastic afterthought but it was not a subtle challenge he should tell his mom and sister he was still the same “man of the family”. Normally, Ho would have lost his temper but this Hawaiian chick was always ahead of him and it was pretty damn funny, so he started to laugh. So, did Lonnie; still, the discussion was far from over, he could tell by the look in her eyes. It was the octagon cage look he had come to recognize and for which to plan. Silence was the only refuge. She was a serious competitor in the fight clubs—Ho wouldn’t have wanted to mix it up with her.
Makaewalani announced matter-of-factly, “There is no reason to argue or to have a sulk. I know you, mister. We are not going to get all macho and clam up or just pout. Let’s be big enough for change.”
“I’ve changed—a lot, Lonnie.”
“Seriously? How have you changed? Name a few.”
“Well...uh...I leave Ambrose home most of the time, I went and got these shiny pearly teeth...I, uh...uh, just went to the spa thing and got sound waved—didn’t bitch and moan about it. Having all those women around me with their sticks, I felt like a puppy learning ‘roll over and sit’. I was damn afraid it might get sexual.”
Lonnie snorted, “Hah, I’m glad you enjoyed it that much—might have to last you a while.”
“Oh, I get it now, the feminine blackmail. Sooo...if I don’t pull a zombie...come back from the dead—no more lovin’?”
“That wasn’t exactly where I was going with that but you think that would work?”
Ho chuckled and looked over at Makaewalani. “Sounds like something Katrina would do to poor ol’ Hack.”
Her quick glance and the line of her jaw made Ho wish he could just shut the hell up.
“That was low, mister.” Makaewalani said, reproachfully. “We are not them. You are still going to make some adjustments.” Aw crap, thought Ho, she’s going to bring out the big guns now. The guns will start belching fire in about two miles. He was off about a hundred yards. He drove silently, waiting for the bomb he was sure would hit soon.
“All right, big fella,” Lonnie said turning and staring at him, “I know chakras and touchy, feely is more me, then you. But you are hiding—hiding behind undercover excuses; just like a kid under the covers—afraid of his monster...you are hiding from dealing with your step dad, from allowing your mother to see you vulnerable, from being the big bro that Chloe needs right now. This is pure selfishness; what is real is your family’s loss, not your safety. You are too self-centered to realize you must give them the greatest gift back—a gift of Mohonri Reagan Tanner.”
She was glaring at Ho with big dark angry eyes, the eyes that he fell into at Cabo San Lucas. Ho felt suffocated. She was right, he was a big baby, afraid to cry and afraid of comfort, for fear of exposing his emotions.
So naturally, he didn’t this time, either. He fired back at her with his best shot on short notice.
“The things I have done were not self-serving. I have proven myself, to you, to my friends and to the world. I don’t think you are being fair, Lonnie.”
“Fair or not, it is the truth. Can you just let the truth be?” There was a long silence between them as they drove up the lane to the estate they shared. She broke the silence.
“Prove it one more time; they need you, Ho.”
They went to bed in silence. She pulled the bedding around her shoulders and turned her back to him.
Why are my friends, Ho thought, accusing me of no compassion? His old ball coach’s words came haunting him, ‘If you expect to be a leader, control yourself, and you will control the situation.’ The old codger had been as a father to him and he was always right. Somewhere in the middle of trying to sleep, he let go; looked right at his feelings about losing his dad and facing his surrogate parent, a Step Dad, who had never really accepted him as he was, only as he conformed to the expectations of a little Mormon town. Somewhere in the long night he decided the extreme conditions would warrant forgiveness...somewhere in the night, he found his courage—the determination to face his buried past, regardless of the fall out. The next morning things were still chilly...it had never been chilly here in Hawaii, not the temperature or the domestic environment.
Ho’s teeth hurt...he was on edge, blaming the healing bowls and the women at the spa for making things worse. After his morning shower, he stood looking at the reflection of himself, realizing he was ‘buying his own bullshit’. His life was his—only he was to blame and here he was trying to blame some women actually trying to help him. This situation needed to be fixed; so, naturally, Ho took the bull by the horns and brought waffles and several kinds of fruit, he even included hand ground coffee. Lonnie was lounging, reading a brochure about the commerce in Iceland. She looked at him curiously. It was as, Oh sure, treat me nice and I will change my mind.
Clearing his throat, Ho began an explanation.
“Got a call from Annie Amerok.” His attempt at conversation met a wall of silence.
“Umm...Moose is trying to locate some guy who is cramming a new dam down the throats of the people in upper Thailand. He an’ Annie are busy in China, so they need me and Smokey...”
“...runnin’ from it is still no place to hide,” she interrupted. The tough little lady was not giving an inch, not even for waffles. This is damn serious stuff, Ho was thinking.
“OK, you are right...here’s the deal. We have a problem on the Pacific Rim. Moose and Annie are up to their necks in negotiations with the Asians about power resources. It turns out the Mekong River Commission in Thailand and...crap...I can’t think of the modern name...you know, Burma...”
“Myanmar?” asked Makaewalani, a little too sweetly for Ho to be comfortable.
“Yeah, that’s it. You remember the Golden Triangle work we did?”
Lonnie nodded. “...where China, Myanmar and Thailand all meet along the Mekong, just before the lands head up onto the Tibetan Plateau.”
“Moose and I installed a mariachi generator at the Thom Muen Temple ruins there about three months ago. Annie claimed last night it has quit working. We have never had one do that. I am taking the Black Mariachi with me, joining Smokey in the morning at the airport and flying over there to trouble shoot the place and start up the power center again.”
“Smokey is on the Reservation, he can’t be here tomorrow,” Makaewalani commented.
“Smokey is actually in Vegas waiting for his flight.” There was a long pause, the silent, but loud, kind of awkward interval where neither of them spoke—Makaewalani because of the waffles and Ho because he was waffling.
“I have decided when we get back, I will go with him to Utah and see the folks.”
“See them or let them see you?” She left the implication hanging in the air that he would still not take his life of Ho Tanner back. “You mean come out?”
“Jeesh, you make me sound like Channing Tatum; I’m not in a closet—I ain’t comin’ out”
“You know what I mean, dummy...come clean, tell them the truth.”
“Yeah, I’ll put my cards on the table.” he grinned.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you fly to Vegas, with me? You and Smokey could hire a chopper to Orderville, tell your family the whole story then you could take the corporate jet to Southeast Asia. It is just sitting in Saint George, Utah...it would augment your travel plan and give you more flexibility. You should do this while you are committed to it. You know, brand while the iron is hot kind of thing. I’m on my way to Iceland; we could fly to the mainland together. Doable?”
“I’m not flying east, I’m going west,” Ho stated, firmly.