4
Ava stepped off the elevator into the biting cold pervading KCA Headquarters. She’d left Mike Ching to wait for HPD’s hazmat team, while she returned to the administrative suite, a floor below the operations center.
The sprawling room hosted a fleet of six desks and two large tables, all unoccupied at this hour. Ceiling lights were off, but light leaked from behind a room divider that walled off KCA Security’s small lobby and its reception desk. Across the room, more light spilled from a hallway that curved out of sight as it followed the Sea Tower’s oval foot print.
As Ava crossed the room, Akasha appeared at the mouth of the hallway. “I watched,” she said, her voice low, and skeptical. “It was a weird scene. Strange currents there.”
“Agreed.” Ava joined her under the soft white light. “Robert Bell had to be following a mapped route, to move that quickly through the ghost blocks. And he believed he could get away.”
Akasha cocked her head, chin up, lips pursed, eyes cold. A brawler’s pugnacious pose. One hand rested on her holstered shockgun. “Not a map he charted or it wouldn’t have dead-ended like that.” A slight cold smile. “Joke’s on him.”
Ava exhaled a long breath, imagining tainted black smoke swirling into the hallway’s cold clean air. She felt shaken by what had happened to Robert Bell. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because she didn’t like what the manner of his death implied.
She echoed Bell’s words, remembering his triumphant grin. “I’ve got a ticket out of here. You won’t see me again.”
Akasha snorted in cold amusement. “He got that right. I didn’t know an unsigned strain of Angel Dust could put someone down that fast.”
A strange thing to say. True, it was standard practice to embed signatures and copyright notices in the genomes of genetically modified, aka, CRISPRed lifeforms—but not if the product represented an unlicensed and ill-conceived liability.
“You know Angel Dust has never carried a signature.”
The stuff was a mystery. No one knew how it got started—or anyway, no one would admit to knowing. Popular theory deemed it the failed product of a low-skill CRISPR hobbyist. A backroom-biohacker chasing a solution to the overwhelming stench of death that had hung over the city in the months after Nolo. In a twist of ironic justice, Ava imagined that hobbyist as the first victim of his own monstrous creation.
From Akasha, a moment of hesitation, followed by a slight, mocking smile. “Sure. We’re supposed to believe Angel Dust was an accidental catastrophe.”
Ava didn’t miss the political undercurrent. A second theory on Angel Dust, devoid of evidence but popular with separatists, suggested it originated with the military. Was that what Akasha was implying?
Ava pushed her glasses up on top of her head, deactivating their sensors. “You know something different?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Given that the Chinese had financed the island’s recovery, a small but significant portion of the population looked forward to official Chinese oversight. After all, they reasoned, the handover treaty included a bill of rights . . .
But a strong and rapidly growing separatist element existed, too. The 2,500-mile water gap separating Hawai‘i from the mainland United States had helped the island hold on to a unique culture—one forged from a fusion of diverse ethnic groups and shaped by the isolation and essential fragility of island life. People here valued community. They had to, because when things went south, they only had each other. The aftermath of Nolo had proven that.
No one counted on the federal government anymore. It had failed Hawai‘i, just like it had failed Puerto Rico years before when that island had been devastated by hurricanes. But people resented China, too—the way they’d used charity as part of a carefully orchestrated play to take control of the ravaged island.
Easy to believe, under such circumstances, that Hawai‘i would be better off as an independent nation. Given the travesty of the handover treaty, Ava found it hard to disagree. And she’d seen hints enough to suspect Akasha had traveled farther along that road.
As if to confirm it, the young officer said, “Don’t you think, sooner or later, some radical is gonna rise up and use Angel Dust to make a play?”
Ava rejected this with a shake of her head. “No. That’s not who we are. That’s not a path we want to walk.”
“We don’t,” Akasha agreed. “But some might.”
Ava pondered this. Had Akasha heard something? Was the revolution more serious than she had thought?
No. Ava kept track of her officers. She checked their profiles every week. If Akasha had any real connections with a separatist group, HADAFA would have noted it—and Akasha would have lost her job.
Time to remind the young officer of her obligations—and end this dangerous conversation. “Akasha, if you’ve heard any whispers, any rumors—”
Akasha’s eyes flared. “It’s not like that.”
“Or if you’ve got names—”
“No. Nothing like that. I’m just thinking what you’re thinking, okay? Robert Bell was set up. Someone gave him a map that led him into that laundry room. Maybe they didn’t know it was contaminated or maybe they were testing the dust. Either way, he was done. Because he had no way out.”
Right. And who in this city was clever enough to run a setup like that?
◇
Akasha had left Ye Xiaoxiao seated at a rectangular table in a windowless interview room, with a cup of green tea and a blanket around her shoulders. In an adjacent room, wall monitors showed the young woman from multiple angles as she waited with a composed expression.
“She looks calm,” Ava observed.
“She’s a tiger,” Akasha answered with an admiring grin. “She’ll be angry you didn’t bring her Robert Bell’s head.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t take mine.”
Ava left Akasha to watch remotely, entering the interview room alone. Ye Xiaoxiao raised a manicured eyebrow. In excellent English, she asked, “You are Officer Arnette?”
“I am. Thank you for agreeing to stay.”
A bruise darkened under Ye Xiaoxiao’s left eye, and on her shoulder an abrasion glimmered with antibiotic sealant, but she sat straight and proud, her makeup nearly perfect. A beautiful woman, one clearly accustomed to authority.
Ava sat down across from her. Met her skeptical gaze. “I have just a few questions for you.”
“I have a question for you,” she responded, pushing her empty teacup aside and letting the blanket Akasha had given her fall away from her shoulders. “Have you arrested the criminal who pushed me to the ground?”
“I was not able to arrest Mr. Robert Bell. But he will never again be a threat. He met with an accident, and did not survive.”
At this news, Ye Xiaoxiao leaned forward. “You are saying he’s dead?”
“Yes. He is dead.”
She leaned back again, lips turned in a hint of a smile. “You are very good at your job, Officer Arnette.”
Sarcasm?
No, a compliment. Undeserved. Ava had not caused Robert Bell’s death. “Tell me what happened out there,” she urged.
“You were there. You saw what happened.” For the first time, a quaver marred her voice. But the moment passed. “You saw what the monster tried to do to me.” A scowl transformed her lovely face, giving her the appearance of a vengeful goddess. “You saw what I did to him.”
Ava flashed on Robert Bell holding a hand to his split lip.
“Tell me anyway,” she urged. “What inspired you to be out walking so late at night?”
Ye lifted her chin and, as if granting a favor to an annoying minion, she said, “I did not want to sleep. My flight to Shanghai leaves in—” She looked at her phone, lying face-up on the table and it reacted to her gaze by flashing the time and a queue of messages. “In six hours. Why should I sleep? This night, beautiful, before the great storm. No. Better to walk in the park. It is safe. The guidebook said so.”
Ava felt a sting of guilt. She could have had Akasha intervene before Robert Bell entered the unsurveilled area. A murmured warning, and he would have aborted his hunt, just like the other two EP4s. Ye Xiaoxiao could have flown home without the memory of this assault.
But Ava had wanted cause to make an arrest. She’d wanted Robert Bell out of circulation, and she’d wanted the opportunity to question him. For that, she’d gambled this woman’s safety—and she’d almost lost.
Pressing her lips together, she spoke a stock phrase, knowing that tonight, it was a lie, “We do all we can.”
“You do not do enough,” Ye Xiaoxiao snapped.
Ava did not try to deny it. Instead, keeping her expression carefully neutral, she asked, “Why did you go into the unsurveilled area?”
Ye tsked and rolled her eyes to the right. “Always, everywhere, electronic eyes are watching. But not there. It is . . .” Her brow wrinkled as she groped for the right word. “Relaxing. Yes. Soothing, not to be observed. Not to be on display at every moment.”
“Did you tell him you’d be there?”
She drew back with a snarl of contempt. “Not him.”
“You didn’t know him.”
“No. I would not talk to him.”
“You expected someone else.”
Beneath her makeup, a rosy flush. Her brows pinched. Anger glinted in her eyes. “Yes.” She pronounced the word with a hiss of contempt. “He sent a text. I answered. He was a beautiful man—and I enjoy such men.” She glared at Ava, as if daring her to speak some criticism.
Ava had none. Ye Xiaoxiao possessed a bold and fiery spirit that she could only admire.
“You arranged to meet him?” Ava asked. “In the unsurveilled area?”
A contemptuous shrug.
“Did you?” Ava pressed.
“Yes, I thought he would come. But it seems I was not worthy of his time.”
Ava’s brows rose. Ye seemed more irate at being stood up than by being the target of Robert Bell’s assault.
“Do you still have his text messages?” Ava asked.
Ye tapped at the glass face of her phone, then turned the device, showing Ava a sequence of flirtatious messages. The sender: Ben Kanaele. A familiar name. He worked as a late-shift bartender in the Sandalwood Lounge at the Hotel Taipingyang—and he was a beautiful man. Good humored and well-liked, too. What connection could Ben possibly have with Robert Bell?
Ava took out her tablet, subvoking a request to HADAFA to send an image of Ben. The AI provided a crisp, clear shot of him smiling from behind the bar where he worked. From the angle of the image, Ava knew it came from a surveillance camera.
She showed it to Ye, who confirmed, “That is him.” Her dark eyes flashed. “You will speak to him,” she said imperiously. “You will question his motive. I want to know why he toyed with me.”
Ava nodded, stone-faced as she suppressed an astonished laugh. Given Ye Xiaoxiao’s commanding persona, she strongly suspected Ben had simply lost his nerve.
◇
Ava assigned Akasha the task of escorting Ms. Ye back to her hotel, while she walked to the end of the hall, where KCA Security Chief Ivan Ishikawa waited for her at the door of his glass-walled office. Ivan must have arrived while Ava was still in the interview room.
A big man, six feet tall, he had the muscular build of a veteran cop and the discipline of a good commanding officer. Even at 4:00 AM, the thick gray hair that topped his sun-bronzed face was neatly combed, and he wore a fresh-looking uniform, down to the green duty belt.
“You let this one get away from you,” he said.
She started to speak, but hesitated when a text message popped up on her display: New boss is here. Tread carefully.
Saying nothing, she followed Ivan into the office to find the Chinese liaison, Shao Hua, seated in a guest chair in front of Ivan’s desk. Rumor had it that after the handover, he would be appointed as the first governor to oversee the ninety-nine year lease.
A relatively young man, no more than forty years old, Shao Hua wore gray slacks and an aloha shirt featuring cranes and swirling clouds in subdued blue and gray hues. His thick hair sported a fashionable tousled look. And though his face was round and his features soft, Ava wasn’t fooled. The truth of his personality lay in the sharp gaze that evaluated her from behind the clear lens of his smart glasses.
Without waiting for an invitation, she sat in the second guest chair while Ivan took his seat behind the desk. “So what happened?” he asked.
She addressed her answer to him. “We recently experienced two earlier incidents that developed exactly like this one—”
“But in this case, you allowed the assault to occur,” Shao interrupted. “It is understandable. Present law forbids an arrest despite the certainty of an intended crime. But your actions must always take into account the reputation of Waikīkī. Even in the face of the oncoming storm, the bizarre nature of this incident is sure to make the news.”
“Yes, sir,” Ava said, aware that bad press was an unforgivable sin. She’d been hired to help ensure visitor safety, but like everyone who worked in the resort, her position came with the collateral duty of helping to preserve the illusion of Waikīkī as an idyllic paradise. Even now, as Hurricane Huko threatened landfall.
And it was an illusion.
Waikīkī had first earned its international reputation well over a hundred years ago, when the weather had been cooler and less humid, the trade winds had been constant, the natural beach had been wide, and the palm trees had not been imported. Since then, the average temperature had climbed by several degrees. Now, nearly every day was hot and heavy with humidity, and the cooling trade winds were almost forgotten. Air-conditioning and alluring advertising could make up for that, could make visitors believe they’d truly bought a ticket to paradise—but any crack in the façade could cause the illusion to fail.
Ava said, “You’re right, sir, that this incident is likely to be a blip in the news cycle. But it’s part of a series of attempted assaults—and if we’re still here after Hurricane Huko, you’ll want these incidents stopped. Tonight I was able to interview the victim. She’s a cooperative witness who provided a lead that may help to reveal the connection between all three incidents.”
Shao’s expression remained fixed and stern. “You believe there is a connection, though these incidents each involve a different Expected Perpetrator.”
“Yes, I do, because each followed an identical pattern—entering the coastal park and then immediately proceeding to an unsurveilled area where they knew a victim waited. I need to know where they got their information. Once we identify the source, we can stop these potential assaults before our reputation is permanently damaged.”
Shao Hua observed dryly, “You do not have much time before the game pieces are shuffled by the oncoming storm.”
“You’re right, sir,” Ava agreed in terse syllables that left an unspoken implication drifting in the air: Get out of my way, mister, and let me get on with it.
“I will expect your report,” Shao said, standing up.
Ivan stood too, and came around the desk. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”
They started to leave, but at the office door, Shao turned back. “Be assured, Officer Arnett, that we will still be here after the storm.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “Then do you plan to ride it out, sir? I mean, if the hurricane does turn our way?” Would he stay here to oversee his pending fiefdom? Or would he flee?
His eyes narrowed, recognizing the challenge. “I will be leaving for Kona later today. Negotiations are underway to move the signing ceremony there, to avoid any delay, given the storm’s predicted path. When I return in three days, it will be done.”
She remained seated as the two men walked away down the hall, filled with bitterness, knowing her country had done this to itself. A self-righteous refusal to cooperate with global standards for carbon emissions had brought on the international sanctions and the embargoes that had ravaged an already fragile economy. Meanwhile, national debt compounded as successive environmental disasters far exceeded the country’s resources.
Operating in the style of corporate raiders, the Venturists had demanded the sacrifice of assets to improve the country’s cash position, backing their play with skilled propaganda aimed at convincing the mainland citizenry that Hawai‘i wasn’t “real America” anyway. Visitors had lately begun to revive the old, exclusionary phrase “back in the States” to refer to the mainland USA.
On a different level of psychological warfare, people feared conflict with China. The Mischief Reef incident had involved Britain, not the USA, but the radioactive debris drifting throughout the Pacific served as a stern warning. Appeasement was popular, though it was never called that.
She looked up as Ivan returned. “What the hell are we doing here, participating in this?” she asked him.
He took his seat behind the desk, looking grim. “It hasn’t happened yet.”
“You think there’s a way the handover can be stopped?”
He leaned back, his gaze faraway. “I won’t be surprised if the separatists give it a try. And that was bullshit, about moving the signing ceremony to Kona. The security apparatus is here. Propaganda too. Shao’s just going to have to wait a few more days.”
“We should all be separatists,” Ava said softly.
This drew a long, searching look, before Ivan said, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. By the time you’re back on-shift tonight, we’ll be feeling the first effects of Huko. I want you to learn what you can before then. If the separatists are behind these serial incidents, I want to know it. And I want to know what else they have in mind.”
As soon as Akasha returned, Ava sent her off again. “HPD is sending a crime scene unit to Robert Bell’s residence. I want you to go out there too. His social rating was in the dumpster, so his neighbors are going to be happy to talk stink. See what you can turn up. Call me with anything significant.”
“What about Kanaele?”
“Ivan’s agreed to take over the end of my shift, while I go talk to Ben.”