Fright Wave (5 page)

***

It was past noon by the time they rolled into Lahaina, a small town perched on the western coast of the island. A hundred years earlier it had been a major seaport for the islands, and it still had the look of an old-fashioned sailing port. Weathered clapboard buildings hung out over the bay, suspended a few feet above the waterline by sturdy wooden beams.

Frank noticed that instead of seedy dockside bars and musty tackle shops, the port was now home to expensive boutiques and custom T-shirt stores. Outside one of the stores, Frank spotted a public phone.

"Pull over for a minute," he said. "I'd better let Dad know where we are."

After he made the call, they drove along the coast. Beyond the small town on the bay, the beach took over again. Swimmers, surfers, and strollers dotted the shoreline.

"Just stop wherever it looks good," Jade said. "All the beaches in Hawaii are public."

Joe saw something floating in the air over the water. "Is that a guy in a parachute?"

Jade looked where he was pointing. "He's para-sailing. See that motorboat out there? The parachute is attached to the boat by a long line. It's the closest thing to a roller coaster you'll see in Hawaii. I've heard it's a lot of fun, but I've never tried it."

Joe steered the car onto the sandy shoulder. "Well, let's find out."

Frank studied the billowing, rainbow-colored shape being towed across the sky. "I think I'll sit this one out. Parachutes are great if you're in a burning airplane. I don't feel like putting one on when I'm already on the ground. You two go ahead and try if you want."

Joe and Jade walked across the sand to the water. They watched the motorboat make a wide turn, slowing down as it headed toward the beach. As its speed dropped, the parachute in the air behind it glided down. The boat turned again. Now it was barely coasting, just a few feet from the shoreline. The parachute swung over the beach as it dipped down, and the man strapped into it landed lightly on his feet.

Joe could see two men in the boat. They both looked like native Hawaiians - dark skin and thick black hair. The skipper was standing, holding the wheel with his left hand. He worked the throttle with his right hand, easing it back slowly. Without throwing out an anchor, it was tricky to hold the boat steady in one place. It looked like he had had a lot of practice at it, though.

The other man jumped overboard into the waist-deep water and waded ashore. He gathered up the flapping parachute and helped the rider out of the harness.

Joe grabbed Jade's hand. "Come on, here's your chance."

"My chance?" she said. "What about you? This was your idea!"

"Ladies first," Joe insisted. "Besides, you were the one who said it was fun."

The smiling Hawaiian from the boat held out the parachute harness. "You want to give it a try? Only ten bucks."

Joe shook his head. "Two for fifteen," he haggled. "First her, then me."

The man's grin widened. "Okay. You hold the chute while I get her strapped in."

Joe wrapped his arms around the bundle of multicolored nylon, making sure not to tangle the lines leading to the harness. Jade stepped into the harness and put her arms through the shoulder straps. The Hawaiian checked the straps that crisscrossed her hips and chest, making sure they were all snug and secure. He patted her on the back and flashed another big grin.

"All set," he called to Joe. "Just wait until I'm back in the boat, and then let go." He ran into the water and splashed his way back to the motorboat.

Jade tugged at the harness. "I'm not sure this is such a hot idea."

"It's too late now," Joe replied. "I already paid him - and I don't think I could get you out of that thing, anyway."

Joe saw the Hawaiian climb back in the boat, and he got ready to let go of the parachute. But then he saw another boat pull up next to it. This one was a flat, sleek white speedboat. Painted on the side was a red lightning bolt. On the stern, Joe could see the name Big Deal.

Two men were on the speedboat. They shouted something across to the other boat. Joe couldn't make out the words, but he could see that the newcomers were backing up their argument with a pistol. Then the long, thick line that ran between the boat and the parachute was untied and tossed over to the more powerful speedboat.

Jade glanced nervously at him. "Joe? What's going on?"

Joe dropped the parachute and ran toward her. He heard the deep growl of the diesel engine as it roared away. He saw the slack go out of the line. The parachute billowed and rose upward.

Just as Jade was jerked off her feet and into the air, Joe leapt up and grabbed the harness. The parachute dipped slightly from the extra weight. Joe's feet brushed the sand.

"Let go!" Jade screamed. "You'll be killed!"

Joe clutched tighter. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew Jade was in danger and needed his help. Suddenly there was no ground beneath his feet. The parachute started to gain altitude rapidly.

After catching his breath, Joe looked down. The Pacific Ocean sparkled far below him already. How high had they soared? Fifty feet? A hundred? It was impossible to tell. Either way, it was too late to change his mind now.

He'd never survive the fall.

***

Frank had seen the speedboat pull up next to the Hawaiians' boat, but he was too far away to see what was going on. He didn't know anything was wrong until he saw Joe lunge at the parachute harness just as it lifted Jade into the air.

He ran down to the water, but the boat was already far out to sea. He watched the brightly colored parachute grow smaller in the distance. Just like that, Joe was gone as the rumble of the big diesel engine faded away. All Frank could hear then was the high-pitched whine of jet-skis, droning along the shoreline.

The two Hawaiians in the small motorboat watched in silence as the speedboat raced away. Frank waded out into the ocean, waving frantically to get their attention, but they didn't notice.

Frank swam out to the boat, grabbed hold of the gunwale, and hauled himself out of the water.

That got their attention. "What do you think you're doing?" the man clutching the wheel asked sharply, twisting to face him.

The other man moved toward Frank, fists clenched. "Crazy haoles. First you steal our para-sail ride. Now you think you can steal our boat, too?"

Frank held out his hands. Both men were stocky and muscular. Although Frank was taller than they were, he doubted that he had a weight advantage over either of them. Even if he could take them out, he didn't want to start a fight.

"You've got it all wrong, guys," Frank quickly said. "When they stole your parachute, they kidnapped my brother and a friend of ours. So crank up the engine and let's get going."

"Go where?" the skipper replied. His anger had subsided, and now he looked at Frank with mild curiosity. "You can't take a boat like this into the interisland channel. It's too rough out there."

"Yeah," the other man agreed. "Besides, what would we do even if we could catch up with them? They had guns, man. Big guns."

"You can't just sit here and do nothing!" Frank yelled. "How about the coast guard - or the navy?"

"Good luck," the skipper said. "By the time you get to a phone and cut through all the red tape, that boat will be long gone."

"Terrific," Frank muttered.

He spun around to dive back in the water and saw something lashed to the side of the boat. He had climbed in from the other side, so he hadn't noticed it before. It looked like a cross between a motorcycle and a snowmobile - except it didn't have any wheels or treads.

Frank turned back to the two Hawaiians. He pulled a soggy wallet out of his soaking wet pants. "How much do you want for the jet-ski?' he asked.

"You'll never make it on that thing," the skipper said. "We just have it in case the engine breaks down and we have to ferry people back to shore. You can't take it out in the channel."

"That's my problem," Frank snapped. "How much do you want?"

The man shrugged. "Take it. Who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky and catch those jerks. If you do, just remember to bring back our parachute."

"I'll bring it back," Frank promised. "But how will I find you?"

"We'll be here," came the reply. "If we're not, just ask around for Freddie or Mike Ahina. All the locals know us."

Frank bent over the side and untied the lines that secured the jet-ski. He climbed down onto it, holding the side of the boat with one hand to keep steady. He pressed the starter and twisted the throttle on the end of the handlebar. The small engine sounded like an angry swarm of bees.

"Oh, well," Frank told himself. "It sure beats swimming in wet clothes."

Even though the engine wasn't very big, Frank discovered the jet-ski was pretty quick. It was made of lightweight materials and designed to skip across the surface of the water. That was exactly what it did. Every time Frank hit a small wave, the jet-ski flew into the air.

It took some getting used to. It was like waterskiing and motorcycle motocross racing jumbled together. Frank almost lost it a couple times, coming down hard and wobbly on the front ski. But after a while he started shifting his weight whenever the jet-ski took off, keeping the front end up and forcing the back end down.

The water started to get choppy farther out from shore, and it was harder to control the machine. Frank knew it would get a lot worse before it got any better. The volcanic mountains of the islands acted as giant windbreaks, keeping the ocean calm along the coastline. The winds whipped the water into whitecaps out in the interisland channel, though, and that was where the speedboat had gone. So that's where Frank was going, too.

A wave smacked the jet-ski broadside. Frank fought for control. Saltwater sprayed over his face and shoulders. He couldn't jump these waves as he had the smaller ones near shore. They were too big - and getting bigger.

He tried to weave between them. This is like running a marathon in a minefield, Frank thought. Except these mines are moving.

He began to think the Hawaiians had been right - he'd never make it across the channel on the jet-ski. Dodging one wave after another meant he had to swerve off in one direction, then cut back to get on course again, only to veer off again to skirt another whitecap. His chances of catching the speedboat had been slim when he was moving in a straight line. Threading a twisted path through the rolling hills of water didn't exactly improve the odds.

Frank knew he'd never catch them this way. He was about to give up and try to make it back to Maui when he saw a bright shape flashing across the waves. It was a white speedboat, with a ragged streak of crimson on the side.

Frank looked at the red lightning bolt. He couldn't believe his luck. They were almost headed right at him. But where was the parachute? Where was Joe?

Frank pushed those questions out of his mind. One thing at a time. And the first thing, he told himself, is to get on that boat.

He aimed the jet-ski at the oncoming speedboat. Frank held his breath, waiting for them to change course to avoid him, but the speedboat cut a straight line through the water. Frank closed the gap between them. Still no reaction.

Why don't they do something? Frank wondered. Can't they see me? He glanced down at the blue-and-white jet-ski and chuckled. He was wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans. Perfect camouflage against the blue ocean and the white wave crests.

It suddenly occurred to Frank that he had no idea how he was going to get on the speedboat.

they sure weren't going to stop and offer him an invitation. "I'll just have to wing it," he muttered to himself.

A wave started to rise up between Frank and his target. Frank saw his chance. He twisted the knob on the handlebar and hit the swell at full throttle. The jet-ski soared over the crest and became airborne. It hurtled toward the speedboat, but Frank could tell it was going to fall short. The combined weight of Frank and the jet-ski was too much.

So he let go of the handlebars and kicked off with his feet. The jet-ski dropped away, and Frank sailed right above the boat and thudded onto the deck, landing on his side.

There was a sharp pain in his hip, but Frank ignored it. He jumped to his feet and whirled around to face two hulking brutes. Both were wearing dark suits and sunglasses. They definitely didn't look like sailors.

They definitely didn't look Hawaiian, either. The one holding the wheel had short, light brown hair with a small bald spot in the back. He turned and gave Frank a cold, hard stare. "Get rid of him," he growled to his partner.

The second man nodded and reached into his coat, but Frank slammed his foot into the man's stomach before the gun had cleared the shoulder holster. He doubled over from the blow, and Frank's hand came down on the back of his neck with blurring speed. The man slumped to the deck.

Frank didn't stop to admire his work. The thug behind the wheel was turning, starting to make his move. Frank spun around, swinging his left leg up for a roundhouse kick. The side of Frank's foot smashed into the man's jaw. The thug's sunglasses flew off, and his head smacked the steering wheel.

Frank didn't give him a chance to fall. He pushed him up against the side rail and reached inside the man's coat. He felt cold steel and leather and pulled out a .45 automatic pistol. Frank thumbed off the safety and shoved the gun in the man's face.

"Where's my brother?" Frank rasped.

The thug sneered. "You mean the jerk with the girl?"

Frank pressed the gun against the man's skin. "The only jerk I see is the one with the barrel of a forty-five up his nose. Now, where are they? I won't ask again."

The man shrugged. "It don't make no difference anyway. There's nothing you can do. They're on Kahoolawe."