Dark Lava: Lei Crime Book 7 (Lei Crime Series) (8 page)

“
Will do. I plan to pick up a copy of
Maui’s Secrets
on the way back to the station, in any case. Find out what all the buzz is about,” Stevens said.

Half an
hour later, Stevens pressed down Anchara’s speed-dial button on his way out of the nearby ABC Store, a copy of the brightly colored
Maui’s Secrets
book tucked under his arm.

“
Michael.” If possible, Anchara’s voice sounded even more strained when she answered the phone. “I’m at the Valley Isle Motel, room 256. Please come quickly.”

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with alarm. The C-grade motel in the middle of Kahului was a known haunt for hookers and trysts. Meeting her there wasn
’t a good idea at any time of day. “No. Meet me at Marco’s.” He named the nearby Italian-themed restaurant they used to breakfast at regularly.

“
I can’t. I’m—injured.”

He
’d unconsciously pressed harder on the accelerator. “Call nine-one-one.”

“
Michael, please.” He could tell she was crying. “I just need you to come.” And she hung up.

Stevens was only two blocks away.

“Sonofabitch,” he muttered, considering his options even as he headed to the motel. He could call an ambulance and saddle Anchara with an expense she could hardly afford that might not be merited. He could call Lei, preemptively tell her he was meeting Anchara and that she had some undisclosed problem—but on the other hand, what if the problem had to do with him and was something better off handled alone? He should get there, assess first, and make his calls after.

“
Sonofabitch,” he said again, even as he pulled into the parking lot. The main building was pale aqua with crudely painted humpback whale murals frolicking along a two-story structure. Two threadbare palms held down the cracked asphalt parking lot.

He parked the Bronco in one of the stalls and got his emergency first-aid kit from under the seat, feeling his heartbeat accelerate as he remembered the last time he
’d seen his ex-wife. They’d made love early in the morning before work. He’d been back in touch with Lei because of one of her FBI cases, and he’d been distracted ever since, feeling trapped, trying to hide it, and eaten with regret. Anchara had come in with a cup of coffee for him, rubbed his shoulders, and seduced him. He’d let her.

When he
’d returned to their pretty house in Wailuku Heights later that day, Anchara was gone. She’d left a letter on the nightstand—a letter that set him free, later followed by the divorce papers.

Stevens stepped
away from the Bronco, locked it, and looked up at the second floor of the motel.

Room 256 looked like all the rest, closed with the drapes pulled
—the kind of room cheap affairs and lonely old man suicides happened in. He took the exterior stairs on the side of the building at a jog, his rubber-soled work boots ringing on the metal treads.

One of those rubber mats impressed with
aloha
marked the door’s entrance. He knocked.

“
Anchara?”

No answer. No footsteps. Maybe she was in the bathroom.

Stevens pounded, his anxiety spiking. “Anchara!”

He tried the handle, and it turned.

He pushed the door open, his weapon in one hand and the first-aid kit in the other.

The metallic reek of fresh blood hit him at the same time as a tableau so visually horrific he couldn
’t process it.

Anchara was still alive. Her face was so pale he didn
’t recognize her for a second, those huge brown eyes glassy and staring. Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. One hand reached toward him, fingers trembling. The mountain of her naked, distended pregnant belly looked like an island in a sea of blood.

Answering a threat call, Lei and Torufu pulled up at a police barrier made of sawhorses blocking off the road. They’d got the report of a possible bomb in a parked car at the Maui Mall. The busy downtown area had been immediately evacuated, causing a ruckus with traffic and a sense of anxiety and pressure that squeezed Lei’s chest like a steel band.

They jumped out of the explosive ordnance disposal van, already in full gear. Lei opened the back of the vehicle, and Torufu lowered the corrugated metal ramp to deploy the surveillance and deactivation device, a small, heavy robot on six wheels
capable of going in any direction. The witness reporting the explosive was escorted over to them by two burly officers.

“
I’m sure it’s safe,” the young man babbled. “I was bringing it in to the station myself when I hit a bump and thought it might go off. It’s something from my uncle’s collection—a missile shell or something. I don’t even know if it’s live.”

Lei, already boiling in the heavy fire- and flak-proof suit, gave the young man a once-over. He had the soft belly and pallid complexion of a video gam
er, and his eyes were so wide that white showed entirely around the irises.

“
Describe the explosive.”

“
I-it’s like a giant bullet. Pointed on one end, f-flat on the other. M-made out of metal. G-green,” the man stuttered.

Torufu had the robot, nicknamed W
hiz-Bang, lined up. Using the remote control, he steered the device down the metal ramp into the parking lot. “Sounds like a missile of some sort,” Torufu said. “What’s the origin?”

“
My uncle collected World War II memorabilia. I inherited it, all in a storage locker. Today I finally went to sort it out, see if there was anything worth selling. I found the shell in a box. I thought I’d take it to the police station, give it to you folks—but then when I hit that bump, I thought I better just stop where I was and let you deal with it.” He seemed to be calming down, his speech flowing better. Lei resisted an impulse to pat him on the arm.

“
I wish you’d called us from the storage locker,” Lei said, gesturing to the snarled traffic and evacuated mall.

“
It is what it is,” Torufu said. “Texeira, let’s get a look at what we’ve got. Officers, hold that man until we can verify his story.”

Lei squatted with Torufu in the back of the van as her partner steered Whiz-Bang. She
’d never driven the device, which had a large and unwieldy-looking hand-held control panel.

“
Never directly approach a possible reported explosive if you can help it,” Torufu said. “Use the robot or an optical lead.”

“
I know,” Lei said with a touch of impatience. She felt herself getting hotter by the minute in the protective coverall, and the interior of the van was already an oven.

“
And don’t believe witnesses. At least sixty percent of the time, the person who reports a bomb is the one who set it.”

“
You told me that already,” Lei said.

Torufu shru
gged. The heat and pressure were making both of them irritable. The red Ford Focus containing the device was directly ahead. Lei put her large, heavy helmet on, looking out through the faceplate and activating the built-in interior communication unit. “Comm check.”

“
Whiz-Bang on the move. Let’s get this mall back to normal.” Torufu’s voice sounded tinny and distorted in the hollow of the helmet.

Lei crouched beside him in the van as he pushed the lever steering the robot forward, and the little tank-like ve
hicle picked up speed. Torufu stopped it at the red Ford. “We need to check for wires and trip lines first. Witness said the explosive was in the backseat, right?”

“
I don’t think he said.” Lei felt like her voice was echoing in her own ears—her breathing, and the heavy thud of her heart, were amplified inside the protective gear.

She wondered where Stevens was at this minute, and hoped it was somewhere more comfortable than here, in this claustrophobic suit, the eyes of the entire town and the news media on
them. No, she definitely didn’t like this aspect of the job.

“
Deploying visual,” Torufu said.

“
Roger that,” Lei acknowledged.

“
Observe and we’ll discuss later.” Torufu held the control panel lower so she could watch him flick a switch and take hold of a small joystick. Looking over at Whiz-Bang, she saw a telescoping sight, like a periscope, rise up out of the top of the robot. When it got to the height of the car window, Torufu pushed a button and a flexible head, somewhat like a headlamp, lifted up into position, close to the window but not touching it. He activated the camera and a bright spotlight beneath it. Suddenly, the digital screen in front of them was filled with a grainy image of the car.

Torufu moved the joystick. “
No trip wires, motion detectors, or pressure plates visible.” Lei could see all around the door handles, inside the windows. Inside the car, Big Gulp cups, McDonalds bags, sandy towels, and other detritus filled the screen.

“
Where’s the missile?” Lei hissed. She felt a trickle of sweat beading along her spine and traveling down into the waistband of the Lycra shorts she wore under the coverall.

“
I’m looking.”

They ended up having to reposition the robot and peer into the front seat, where the large artillery shell, still in its wood
en box surrounded by shavings, rested. “Looks like the witness’s story checks out,” Lei said.

“
We can put this in the containment chamber. Let’s get Whiz-Bang back to the van and prep the containment vessel. You drive him back.” Torufu handed her the controller. Lei smiled at Torufu’s paternal tone.

The control panel was heavier than it looked, and Lei felt her muscles tense as she held her arms at a ninety-degree angle. Her hands, covered in heavy gauntlets, were clumsy at the controls, but with Torufu di
recting, she managed to get the robot turned around and headed back to the van in a relatively straight line, its camera stowed. Torufu took over to steer the robot back up the ramp and park it in the vehicle. They each took off their helmets. Lei’s hair was plastered to her head with sweat, and the beads of moisture on her spine had become a trickle.

“
What now, partner?” she asked.

“
Prep the transport container.” They climbed out of the van’s roasting-hot interior, and Lei felt a wave of dizziness as she and Torufu rolled the bombproof containment safe down the ramp. Torufu was talking to the army on his headset. Lei glanced over at her backpack, slung over the back of the seat, and could see it vibrating as her phone went off—but with her hands gloved, there was no way to answer it.

Torufu ended his call. “
They’ll take it in at the armory. An ordnance specialist is on their way over to assist.”

“
Do we need to wait for them? I’m feeling pretty dizzy,” Lei said, crumpling suddenly to lean on the bumper of the van.

“
Hydrate.” Torufu reached back into the van to a flat of water bottles on the metal floor. He tossed her one, twisted the top off his, and guzzled. Lei drank as fast as she could. Torufu tossed his empty bottle back into the van. “No, we won’t wait. Let’s get the device out of the car and contained so the mall can reopen.”

The two of them put their helmets back on and pushed the heavy containment safe across the parking lot. Lei was grateful for Torufu
’s brawn as they finally reached the car with the extremely heavy metal container. Working carefully, they opened the door and, careful not to jostle the missile, lowered it, wooden box and all, into the safe and closed the lid, latching it.

“
This safe is rated to contain the equivalent of two hundred pounds of dynamite going off,” Torufu said. “I think we should be fine.”

Several officers helped push the heavy safe up the ramp and clamp it down in the van. Lei drank another bottle of water, sitting in the driv
er’s seat, as Torufu secured the container and finalized the plans to hand off the missile to the army.

Lei checked her phone
—Stevens had called but had not left a message. She’d get back to him when she could get out of the heavy gear and have a conversation.

Torufu got in beside her. “
To the armory, stat. I can’t wait to get out of this gear.”

“
You’re telling me. Turn up the AC,” Lei said, putting the van in gear. “Can’t say I enjoyed that.”

Torufu frowned. “
That was about as easy as these calls get.”

Le
i said nothing, stewing in doubts and sweat in the bombproof suit.

Stevens slid his phone back into his pocket. Lei still wasn
’t picking up. He sat on the top step of the building’s exterior staircase as personnel came and went from the room.

Someone to
uched his shoulder. “Mike.” It was Gerry Bunuelos, a crease between his brows as he looked at Stevens. “You’re covered with blood, man.”