Hamlin took a seat at the Aloha Airline gate, and caught the glance of a neatly dressed man in his thirties. Another lawyer, he thought. Where have I met that guy?
The plane was crowded with a tour group and what appeared to be a local high school swim team. Teenagers in matching green warm-ups were having a great time. The only seats left were in row sixteen, at the emergency exit hatches. That was okay with Hamlin. He took the aisle; the man from the lounge smiled at him from the window seat.
“I think we’ve met,” the man said. “It was during the mayor’s campaign. I’m Terry Wu.”
Hamlin put out his hand and gave his name. “You’re with the U.S. Attorney’s office, aren’t you?”
Wu nodded and smiled. “Getting away for the rest of the weekend?”
“Yes, I’m meeting my girlfriend.”
“The beautiful woman who was with you at the mayor’s dinner?”
“Yes,” said Hamlin. Wu had a good memory, a trait Hamlin worked to cultivate. He recalled meeting Wu, but couldn’t remember if he had been with a date, or even with a colleague.
“What’s her name again?” Wu asked. “I know she’s a member of the profession.”
“Storm Kayama. She’s got a few clients on Maui,” Hamlin said, and wondered if he’d imagined the shadow that had fluttered through Wu’s eyes.
Wu’s smile didn’t falter, though, and a second later Hamlin assumed that some idea unrelated to their conversation had distracted Wu for a brief moment. Maybe he forgot to make a call before the announcement to turn off their mobile phones.
“She takes on some women’s causes, doesn’t she?” Wu asked.
“Yes, that’s Storm,” Hamlin said.
“She’s got a good reputation.”
“I agree.”
It was a short half-hour flight from Honolulu to Kahului, and Wu dug into his briefcase for some reading material. Hamlin broke out the local paper, to catch up on whether ‘Iolani or Punahou School was leading in the track season. Hamlin had run track in high school and college, and he still liked to follow the meets. Event times were much faster now; the fact simultaneously thrilled him and made him feel old.
When the plane landed, both Hamlin and Wu gathered their carry-on luggage from the overhead bins, exchanged good-byes, and went their own ways. Hamlin went out front, where drivers waited for disembarking passengers. He’d forgotten to ask Storm what kind of car she had, and he scrutinized every rental sedan that passed. None stopped for him.
After fifteen minutes, he figured she’d been held up in a meeting or traffic, and he called her mobile, but got no answer. He sat down to finish the paper. Fifteen minutes after that, he began to pace. She still didn’t answer her phone. He was one-quarter angry, and three-quarters anxious. He squelched the anger. No, she said she would be here. Something was wrong.
A dark red Chevy Monte Carlo pulled to the curb and Hamlin dashed across the walkway and grabbed the passenger door handle, only to see Terry Wu through the window.
“You need a ride?” Wu asked.
“That would be great. My ride hasn’t come.” Hamlin got into the passenger seat. “Would you mind giving me a ride to the rental car desks?”
“No problem, they’re five minutes away.”
Hamlin was pondering why Wu had driven around the airport loop when Wu’s cell phone, which was attached to his belt, rang.
In the quiet of the air-conditioned car, Hamlin caught a few of the caller’s words. “Trying…voice mail.”
“My phone was off during the flight,” Wu explained. The caller must have spoken his next statement more quietly, because Hamlin couldn’t hear his voice, though Wu’s solemn expression drew his attention.
“Where?” Wu said. “When?” A pause. “I’m leaving the airport now. Should take me about twenty minutes.”
“Problems?” Hamlin asked. “You can let me out here.”
“It’s okay, we’re nearly at the rental lot.”
“There’s a quicker exit from the lot than driving by the passenger pickup,” Hamlin said, and pointed to a sign that gave directions to the highway.
“I know,” Wu said. “I wanted to talk to you.” He pulled between the Budget and Avis huts, then slowly put the car in park before he handed Hamlin his card. “Your friend Storm called me about a case I’m involved in. They’re bad people. Do me a favor and call me when you find her.”
Hamlin stared at him. “Does this have anything to do with the phone call you just got?” His throat was so dry he could barely utter the words.
“No. That was about something else.” Hamlin believed him, but Wu’s concern and the grim set of his mouth chilled him.
“I will.”
Hamlin leaped from Wu’s car. He jogged into the Budget hut, which looked less crowded than the others. In less than ten minutes, he had a car and sat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel at a red light on the road to Kahului. He didn’t know where to begin looking for Storm.
***
Ryan unlocked the door to his apartment and walked in. “Dad?” He called out, though all senses told him that the place was empty. He walked through the apartment and called again, though the bathroom door was open, Tagama’s bed was made and his overnight bag, neatly packed, sat on the taut covers. His dad had reverted to old, disciplined ways. His breakfast plate was washed and in the dish drainer, though when Ryan peered into the rubbish bin, he found the English muffin he’d toasted that morning.
Naturally, Tagama didn’t answer his cell phone. But the minute Ryan disconnected, his own rang.
“Where are you?” a man’s deep voice asked.
“Who’s this?” Ryan didn’t bother to conceal his impatience.
“I’m a friend of your father’s. Please go outside to the street and I’ll call you back.”
Ryan snapped his mobile phone closed, and as he did, he caught sight of a white business-sized envelop on the kitchen counter. His name was written in his father’s hand. A chill of dread came over Ryan, and he jammed the envelope in his pocket. He didn’t want to look. He’d talk to his father’s friend first. Maybe the friend could help stop whatever his father had gone to do.
As soon as Ryan was outside, the man called back. “I’m Major Lekziew with MPD. Your father and I have known each other for years. I’d like to talk to you.”
“Where’s Dad? Is he all right?”
“We’ll talk when we meet. I’m driving a green Ford Taurus.”
Despite the doorman’s offer of a seat in the lobby, Ryan went outside and paced the curb of the busy street. Lekziew drove up within minutes, and Ryan climbed into his car.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Ryan sagged against the passenger door.
Though he’d used denial to get himself out the door that morning, he’d known when Tagama had sent him to meet their clients alone. Yet he couldn’t deny his father, nor could he have shared his fears with him.
When he’d found the apartment empty, his last shreds of hope began to disperse like a battered flag in the wind. Now even his strength left him, and he was alone.
Lekziew couldn’t help him. Nor did he want Lara, oddly enough. Somehow, he had to survive the next few hours, then tomorrow and the day after. He had to face that Tagama had known his path since he received the phone call last night, and they’d gone to the beach to find Yasuko. He’d joined Guan-Gong.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” Lekziew said.