Dark Lava: Lei Crime Book 7 (Lei Crime Series) (6 page)

She watched, feeling herself stiffen in remembe
red shock as the IED “exploded.” She was grateful the camera, not wired for audio, missed the expletives both she and Torufu had let fly.

“
So.” Lieutenant Guttierez from the Oahu Police Department, lean and dark as a whippet, picked up the thread of critique. “Why do you think the device detonated?”

Neither of them answered until finally Lei said, “
It was on a motion sensor. We set it off when we approached it. There was no time to deactivate it.”

“
Bingo.” There was a long moment of silence. Lei shut her eyes, remembering the moment the device had gone off. Thank God there had been only one device with a motion-sensor trigger mechanism; they’d neglected to use the laser detector at all.

“
Did you identify what type of device it was? Why don’t you answer this one, Lieutenant Texeira,” Gutierrez said.

“
It appeared to be a pipe bomb. Had a clock timer trigger mechanism. Sergeant Torufu engaged with the device. I was handing him tools…” Lei’s voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to proceed. Torufu had been working, and she’d just been providing backup, listening to Torufu’s muttered commentary under his breath. That had been their version of teamwork on projects up until now, and it suited them.

“
That’s what we’re most concerned with in reviewing your tape,” Guttierez said. “Texeira, you seem to have an eye for identifying and finding devices, but it’s Torufu here who has the skills—sometimes—for deactivating them. Torufu, were you aware of the guidelines of the training, that Texeira was supposed to work on fifty percent of discovered devices?”

“
Yes,” Torufu said. He shrugged massive shoulders. “She has an eye. I’ve been doing it longer. I thought we did pretty well, considering she’s hardly had any training.”

“
Be that as it may,” Master-Sergeant Kent said. “You were given some guidelines and didn’t follow them. That was actually impacting your low score more than failing on this particular IED. But remember—even though there was a timer on this training, in real life haste is never worth it. Take all the time you need, and use all the risk-reducing technology you can when locating a device.”

“
Having a device ‘explode’ is an important part of training. It keeps you alert to the very real possibility of being blown to kingdom come,” Guttierez concluded. Lei and Torufu exchanged a rueful glance.

“
Texeira, we’re sending over a selection of trigger mechanisms to your station. Take some time every day to work on them. You need more hands-on practice recognizing and deactivating the many kinds of devices,” Kent continued. “Have you read your electronics manual?”

“
Yes, sir,” Lei said.

“
Well, read it again. And, Torufu, if you’re going to work with a partner, you need to treat her like one. Give her a job to do, then get out of the way and let her do it. Many times, being small is going to be an advantage,” Lieutenant Guttierez said. “Often devices are hidden in small spaces, making them both harder to find and harder to neutralize. If you two get in that situation and Texeira isn’t ready, you’ll both be singing with the angels before you know it.”

Torufu clapped her on the shoulder as they left, making her stagger. “
It’s all you from here on out with the wire snips and screwdriver, Mrs. Stevens,” he said. “I got no great love of angel choirs.”

“
Oh, great,” Lei said, her throat tight, and she touched the pendant at her throat.

Stevens had gone straight in to Kahului Station in the morning to speak to Omura. She
’d gathered four detectives for the response team. Stevens looked around at the circle of concerned faces: Veterans all, they would not be able to infiltrate the Heiau Hui without being identified.

“
I think we should have a man inside the vigilante group,” Stevens said, when they’d been through preliminary briefing. “I’m looking at my new recruit, Brandon Mahoe. He’s formed a nice connection with our witness Manuel Okapa, the
heiau
guardian. If Okapa won’t buy bringing him into the Hui, maybe he can at least use Okapa or someone close to the group as a confidential informant.”

“
I agree we need someone on the inside,” Gerry Bunuelos, a little rat terrier of a man with a quick smile, spoke up. “I’m just worried if Mahoe’s unseasoned, he won’t handle the pressure well.”

“
Does anyone have a better idea? We need someone not widely known as a police officer, but with Hawaiian community connections,” Omura said. “Is that an oxymoron?”

“
Yes,” Pono Kaihale said, and Stevens snorted a laugh. It was true—to be Hawaiian was to be connected with your community, your family, your
ohana
.

Omura inclined her head. “
Ask your officer. Inform him of the risks. We don’t know enough about this group to assess how dangerous they are, though I hope to have a better idea after this afternoon. I’ve got a meeting set up on Skype with the Heiau Hui leader on Oahu and a man here in Maui who’s supposedly in charge. I asked for the conversation so I could offer to supplement their efforts with foot patrols and quick police response to alarm calls. Stevens, I’d like you there as lead on this case.”

Stevens inclined his head in agree
ment and held up his battered notepad. “Wanted to tell you the response of the publisher of
Maui’s Secrets
to my request to pull the book down: It was a four-letter word, followed by, ‘This is a free country with free speech.’”

“
Too bad,” Gerry said, frowning. “I don’t know what that book has to do with the case, though.”

“
Nothing, that I can tell,” Stevens said. “But Okapa said the Hui blames the book for exposing the sacred sites and making them vulnerable to looting, so the group has, according to Okapa on the news last night, decided to focus on pulling down the book as a way to protect the
heiaus
long-term.”

“
This could get ugly, fast,” Gerry said, echoing Lei’s comment last night. Simmering below the paradise surface, a current of resentment against outsiders occasionally erupted into race- or class-oriented violence or property damage, as had happened last year with the Smiley Bandit case and the brief but deadly anarchy movement that it had sparked.

“
It’s on us to keep it from going that way,” Omura said briskly. “Stevens, meet me back here in three hours for the conference call with the Hui, and let me know what your young man says about going undercover.”

Back at Haiku Station, Stevens fired up a second pot of coffee to give himself time to think of how to approach Brandon Mahoe. What he was doing was essentially asking a young, green recruit to spy on his people. It was for a good reason—to keep everyone in the movement safe and to keep the community safe. But still, it was a lot to ask and he knew it.

On the other hand, it could turn out to be a group of retirees walking around with walkie-talkies, not the militant or vengeful dynamic he was worried about.

He sat, sipped a fresh cup of coffee, and let his mind wander for a moment to Lei, to the incredible night they’d had. He was tired this morning, but in a good way. Maybe last night was the night she got pregnant. He didn’t want to keep wondering that but couldn’t seem to help it.

Mahoe was knocking on the doorframe, interrupting his thoughts. “
You sent for me, sir?”

Stevens pulled himself together and set the coffee mug aside. “
Come in and shut the door, please. I have a special assignment I need to discuss with you.”

Mahoe sat on the chair in front of Stevens
’s desk, the door shut behind him. Stevens spotted a tiny patch of toilet paper adhered to a shaving nick on the handsome young man’s square jaw. His dark navy uniform was neat and pressed, and he sat attentively, his head up with unconscious pride. Stevens steeled himself for what he was about to ask.

“
Brandon.” Stevens took out Mahoe’s file and opened it. Very thin, because there wasn’t much more than his application to the police academy and proof of graduation only a few months before. “May I call you Brandon?”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
We have an assignment I want to talk to you about. Remember Mr. Okapa?”

“
Who could forget, sir? I saw him on the news last night.”

“
Well, you seemed to have made a bit of a connection with him, though my guess is he’s a tough old bird for anyone to get to know. So kudos on how you handled him yesterday.”

“
He’s my mama’s cousin, two times removed, so I call him Uncle Manuel. That always helps.”

Stevens couldn
’t help grinning. He tried a little pidgin. “As how, brah.”

Now Mahoe grinned. “
You get ’em, boss.”

“
Okay. All joking aside.” Stevens leaned forward as he made eye contact with the young man. “We need someone on the inside of the Heiau Hui to keep us informed on the mood and activities of the group. I wonder if you’d consider volunteering for this assignment.”

Mahoe sat back, the eager light fading from his eyes. “
Sir. You’re asking me to be a snitch.”

Stevens kept eye contact, though it was almost painful. “
That’s not how I’d put it. You would be helping the group, keeping them safe, keeping them from getting in trouble with the law. Helping us help them. Captain Omura has agreed we need someone on the inside so we can coordinate our efforts. She approved me asking you.”

Mahoe
’s jaw bunched and his eyes narrowed. “Why me?”

“
Because you’re new and relatively unknown as a police officer. Most of our detectives are easily recognized and well connected with family and friends on the island, which can be a good thing most of the time but not when going undercover. You won’t deny being a police officer, since Okapa already knows that—but you’ll join the Hui to participate with them not as a police officer but as a Hawaiian passionate to protect the sites and artifacts.”

“
I am passionate about that,” Mahoe said. “But if they find out I’m reporting to you, it will ruin my reputation. Trust will be broken.”

“
So that’s why we have to be very careful. We don’t even know if the group is going to be a problem, so maybe there’s no need for all this concern. In which case, you can be just another volunteer to help guard the sites. No big deal.” Stevens outlined some safety and communication measures for them to follow, including a burner phone where he could call or text Stevens directly and a rendezvous point for check-ins.

“
You’ll report to me only, well outside any contact within the station, where you’ll go on reduced shifts to allow you time to work with the Hui. Why don’t you think about it, let me know tomorrow? I’ll have a little more of a temperature check about the attitude of the Hui after today’s teleconference with Captain Omura.”

“
Okay.” Mahoe stood, straightened his uniform, smoothing the brass buttons and adjusting his duty belt. He rubbed his chin and dislodged the toilet paper. He already looked older to Stevens, with this weighty decision before him. “Yes, sir. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“
And no talking to anyone about this, no matter what you decide,” Stevens said. “This conversation can’t go any further than this office.”

Maho
e frowned, looking offended. “Of course, sir.” He stepped out and closed the door. Stevens sighed, his shoulders slumping. What he disliked most about being a commanding officer was sending men and women into danger.

He remembered his first assignment und
ercover in LA. He’d joined a white supremacist gang, trying to identify the main management and drug distribution channels of the gang. He’d ridden a Harley and done some things he’d rather not remember, and in the end had barely escaped with his life. He’d grown up more in a year on that detail than he had in his entire twenty-five before, and looking down, remembered the knife fight that had left a scar across his side as a souvenir. Even now, nine years later, it itched as a reminder.

He rubbed the tiny
purple tattoo on the inside of his forearm—a heart surrounding
lei
that he’d had done on Kaua`i after drinking too much with Lei’s partner, Jack Jenkins, back when it seemed they’d never be together. He often found himself touching it, a superstitious gesture, when he was troubled.

As he was now.

He got up and gathered his materials to head back into Kahului for the teleconference with Omura.

On the road to Kahului, his cell rang on the seat beside him
—a distinct ringtone he hadn’t heard in a year: a bit of birdsong that had reminded him of Anchara Mookjai, his ex-wife.

She never called. It was part of the unspoken agreement they had. Feeling the pang of guilt and regret that accompanied that ringtone, Stevens violated the Maui ban on cell phones and picke
d up while driving. “Hello?”