Molokai Reef (28 page)

“
Very
good. What does ‘o ke kai’ mean?”

“
Kai
means ocean or sea,” Gybe beamed, “don’t know the
rest of the words.”

“
Na
wahine O Ke Kai means ‘women of the sea’.”

“
My
kinda women!”

The
canoe teams from around Hawai‘i, the mainland, Canada,
Australia, and other countries raced from Hale O Lono Harbor on
Moloka‘i to a small pier near the Hilton Hawaiian Village in
Waikiki on O‘ahu. The distance was over forty miles, much of
it across the Kaiwi Channel and open ocean.

Lea
never saw the sucker punch of Gybe’s subject change. “So,
Lea, what can you tell me about Dr. Miller and Jean? …about
their personal relationship?”

Caught
off guard, Lea stumbled. “What do you mean – personal
relationship?”

“
Look
Lea, you’ve been with Dr. Miller from the inception of
GeNesRus. You are the second employee. You’re the secretary.
Secretaries always know what is happening within a company,
particularly a company as small as GeNesRus. What are there, twenty
employees?”

“
About
that, nineteen.”

“
I
know that Elizabeth and Jean were once romantically involved.”
Gybe paused for effect. Odds were that Lea would not betray her
boss. That’s why he laid his cards face up.

Lea
stopped chewing. Her eyes darted the room seeking an escape from
this conversation.

“
Whatever
you say stays between us. Have you seen Jean and Elizabeth
together?”

“
Maybe.”

“
And?”

She
told how once, late – maybe seven o’clock - she had
walked into Dr. Miller’s office to leave some papers. She
thought Dr. Miller was back in the lab, but she wasn’t. Jean
and Elizabeth were embracing. Lea retreated to the reception area,
got her things, and left the building.

The
next morning, Dr. Miller had suggested that whatever Lea thought she
saw, it was between Elizabeth and Jean. Lea agreed. She had seen
nothing else.

“
What
about talk? What have you heard?”

“
I
hear rumors sometimes. All sorts of crazy rumors. Some are fun, but
most are bullshit. I never heard anything that I believed about Dr.
Jean and Dr. Miller. I never saw anything except that one time.
Whenever I saw them together, they were talking about business or
research.”

Lea
excused herself and said she had to get back to work. Gybe agreed to
pick up the check and reassured her that he would not repeat anything
she had told him.

Outside
the window, Gybe saw the nervous young woman slide into the silver
Lexus and drive away. Maybe Elizabeth had loaned her the car.

He
dropped a bouffanted Jackson on the table and walked to Flyn’s
table.

52

“
New
woman Gybe? She seems a bit young, even by your standards.”

“
Jealous,
Flyn? Besides, I checked the law. In 2001, the state Legislature
overrode Governor Cayetano’s veto and raised the age of consent
from fourteen to sixteen.” Gybe pulled a spinach leaf from her
salad.

Flyn’s
fork left three red impressions in the back of his hand.

Massaging
his hand, Gybe repeated the details of his discussion with Dr.
Miller. Still toying with her, he omitted any connection to his
lunch guest.

“
So,
Jean developed salsa-hemp?”

“
Yeah.
And Dr. Miller denied any current romantic relationship with Jean.
At least since she moved to Moloka‘i.”

“
Do
you believe her?”

“
I
did. Until lunch.”

The
young lunch date, Gybe explained, was Lea, Dr. Miller’s
secretary. She was the only secretary at GeNesRus. He summarized
his conversation with Lea.

“
Gybe,
are we getting anywhere? One moment, you eliminate Dr. Miller as a
suspect in the lesbian-lover theory, then you have lunch with the
disloyal secretary and she shoots a hole in it.”

“
You’re
right. Did I also mention the secretary was driving Dr. Miller’s
car, a silver Lexus? Or, as the old man across the street from
Jean’s house who described a mystery car as a silver Jap job.”

“
What
have you learned about Les?”

“
Mongoose
has quite an Internet rig on
Makani
. He activated an account
on his server so that I could Wi-Fi from my laptop. Working from my
boat was more comfortable and I wasn’t interfering with him.”

“
Your
buddy is OK, but next time I meet him, I’m wearing one of my
anti-lust T-shirts.” Flyn added.

“
Anti-lust?
Should I ask?”

“
Probably
the one that has an arrow pointing up and the words ‘I’m
up here, needle-dick’ stenciled across my breasts.”

Flyn
unveiled her discoveries regarding SynCorn. As they knew, Dr.
Spooner had founded the company four years ago. He used his own
money for seed capital, which covered the startup costs and the first
year’s operation. When that money ran out, like most
entrepreneurs he sought OPM or other people’s money to continue
the research. Two Midwestern seed companies put up five million
apiece. The ten million carried SynCorn for the next thirty months.

But,
without clear signs of progress, the two benefactors refused to
provide further financing. “This is where the money trail gets
murky.” Flyn added. “About six months ago, a Swiss bank
wired three million dollars into SynCorn’s operating account at
First Hawaiian Bank.”

“
Not
so unusual. Isn’t there a large food conglomerate based in
Switzerland? Nestle?” Gybe asked.

“
There
are both food and pharmaceutical companies with Switzerland as a
base.”

“
So?”

“
There
was no press release. For Nestle or another large foreign company,
three million dollars was chump change. They could take it from the
petty cash drawer.”

“
Maybe
they didn’t want to reveal that they were funding biotech?”

“
Possible.
But, bagging venture money from a large Swiss corporation is
something that Les couldn’t keep quiet. He would strut and
crow from the tallest volcano. But not a word, rumor, nor press
release came from SynCorn.” Flyn said.

They
talked about the source of the money for several minutes. For every
question he asked, Flyn had an answer. Like the results of her reef
investigation at UH, her research was thorough.

The
waitress cleared the table and asked if they wanted anything else.

“
That
salad was excellent.” Flyn replied.

“
Most
of the vegetables are grown here on the island. You can buy them at
the farmer’s market across from the library on Saturday
mornings.”

Gybe
and Flyn walked outside. “We should talk with Mongoose.”
Flyn suggested. “Just before I came in for lunch, he told me
that he had hacked into SynCorn’s server.”

Flyn
had walked to town, so she folded herself in the ’vair’s
shotgun seat.

When
Gybe had parked, he had been unable to find a slot to roll into so
that he could drive out. To Flyn’s surprise, he shifted into
first gear, popped the clutch to lurch the car forward. As the front
tires hit the curb, Gybe clutched again. Like a basketball on a
backboard, the tires propelled the car backward into the street.

Gybe
cranked the wheels to port and drove away.

“
Nice
driving Gybe. You flunk drivers ed before the backing up lesson?”

“
Theft
deterrent. Two days ago I found the car half way into a convenience
store.”

Gybe
rolled off the island and onto the causeway. Up ahead it looked like
someone had yelled “abandon island.” Vehicles and people
clogged the pier and causeway.

He
slowed, cut the wheels hard left, clutched as they hit the opposite
curb, allowed the car to roll back, shifted into first and drove back
towards town.

“
A
perfect K turn, Gybe. That drivers ed teacher would be proud.”

Gybe
steered the car to the shoulder just before a cross street denying
anyone the opportunity to park in front of the ’vair. They got
out and walked towards the pier.

One
hundred yards down the causeway, they met a man resting astride his
bicycle. Behind him, Hong Kong style, rose a pyramid of toilet
paper, paper towels, a huge box of diapers, and at Flyn’s
estimation – a year’s supply of tampons for three to five
women.

To
their questioning looks, the bicyclist pointed towards the pier
saying, “the Big Box Barge is here. Come once a month.”

“
And
the Big Box Barge is what?” Flyn asked.

He
told them that Costco, Home Depot, Best Buy, … displayed
their wares in modified forty-foot shipping containers. The
containers were stacked three high with catwalks at each level.

The
barge cruised among the Hawaiian Islands, stopping in ports where the
stores did not have a land-based presence. It also visited other
islands of the South Pacific – Kiribati, Marquesas, the Cook
Islands.

“
The
barge will be there from noon to eight tonight.” He said. “I
must hurry now so that I can return for another load.”

At
the BBB, Flyn accompanied Gybe as he selected cases of black beans,
diced tomatoes, V-8 juice, bricks of cheese, large loaves of bread,
two cases of wine, and tortilla chips. It wasn’t often that he
could dink to big box stores so he exploited this opportunity. As a
rule, he stowed three to six months of staples aboard
Ferrity
.

Many
experienced cruisers pooh-poohed this idea, commenting that the extra
weight slowed the vessel and made her sluggish.
Ferrity
was a
strong boat and built to carry a certain cargo. Gybe loaded her so
that he never pressed the boat below her design waterline.

To
offset the extra supplies, he had cleared unnecessary clutter –
including a live-in woman. With a woman on board, the waterline
disappeared and expenses rocketed.

Gybe
was not a misogynist. Not at all. He loved women. He loved to
touch them, inhale their scents, feast on their beauty, and seduce
them. For four of the five senses, excluding hearing, they were
wonderful. But, like files on a computer disk or storage boxes in a
garage, they expanded to consume all available space.

When
he wanted one, he could find one. Never lease or buy what you can
rent. As the proverb suggests, if it flies, floats, or fucks –rent
it.
Ferrity
was his exception to the rule.

Alongside
Ferrity
, Flyn lifted the supplies from the dink and handed
them to Gybe in the cockpit. Once the supplies were aboard, Flyn
went to the foredeck, peeled off her sleeveless top and jogging
shorts, then laid down on her front to catch some rays.

Anticipating
Gybe’s juvenile sense of humor, she twitched not a muscle when
he touched her lower back with the sweating glass of ice tea.

“
You’re
no fun. Here’s some tea.”

“
Mahalo.”

To
say that there was no reaction to Flyn’s nude body on his
foredeck would be like saying that the grizzly ignored the spawning
salmon.

Gybe
had explored her body on several occasions and found nothing lacking.
Flyn was comfortable with her body and her sexuality. Like many
women, she knew what she wanted and how to get it. If she wanted
Gybe, she would take him.

Most
important though, Gybe and Flyn were best friends. Friends that were
not destined to romance – they had discovered that
incompatibility early in their relationship. Friends that did not
allow possession or jealousy interfere with the special kinship they
felt.

Yeah,
they still had sex, Gybe thought as he walked aft. But not today.

When
Gybe finished stowing the supplies, he and Flyn burbled the dinghy
over to
Makani
and settled into the cockpit. Ever the
gracious host, the ‘goose set forth a round of drinks, a basket
overflowing with green tortilla chips, and a bowl of red salsa.

“
Man,
I love these chips.” Gybe hoisted a salsa-laden triangular
chip to his mouth. “Got many left? The Hotel Moloka‘i
is almost out of them.”

“
There’s
still one large unopened bag below, and I think I have a line on some
more.”

Gybe
changed the subject. “I heard you cracked SynCorn’s
server. What did you find?”

53

Before
Mongoose discussed what he had found on the SynCorn server, Flyn
repeated her discoveries from the Internet for Mongoose’s
benefit.

“
How
did you get into the server? I thought that you said they had a
tight security system requiring frequent password changes and so
forth.”

“
They
do. It is one of the better ones that I’ve seen.”

“
And?”
Gybe prompted.

“
Let’s
just say that a telecommunications technician was involved.”