Restless Waters (26 page)

However, rather than the sting of the blade, a loud scuffle ensued, as Leung seemed to sprout wings and fly over me. I scrambled up to find him desperately clinging to the railing, where Vinnie had hold of his legs.

“Don’t throw me overboard! Please, I’m begging you! I’ll pay whatever you want!” Leung cried out, pleading with Bertucci to spare his life.

“Put him down, Vinnie,” I seconded. “I’ll take him back to Honolulu, where he’ll be prosecuted.”

“What, are you crazy?” Vinnie growled, and glared at me as though I’d lost my mind. “Don’t you know how
scum like this works? Leung’s got enough connections to walk out of jail scot free in under two hours and come gunning for us. That is, if he doesn’t make a deal and hand me over to the Feds first.”

“Sure, but you were going to let him kill
me
,” I angrily snapped.

“Aw, come on, kiddo. I wasn’t ever gonna let him do anything. You know I’ve got a soft spot for you. I was just testing the water, so to speak.”

I didn’t have any idea whether or not that was true, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. Instead I picked up Vinnie’s gun between my bound hands and aimed it at him.

“Just do as I say,” I instructed.

“Unbelievable. You mean, I saved your ass and now you’re turning on me?” he asked in amazement.

“It’s not a matter of loyalty, but of doing what’s right,” I responded, not all that convinced of it myself.

Vinnie released Leung, never taking his eyes off me. That was a fatal mistake, as Leung twisted around with the shark-tooth knife still in his hand. I didn’t give him the chance to plunge it into Vinnie, but quickly pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit its mark, nicking Leung in the arm, so that the knife skittered across the deck, madly clattering like a prototype for shark-tooth dentures. I glanced back up to find two angry men now glaring at me. As if that weren’t bad enough, none of us any longer trusted one another.

“Nice work, New Yawk. What do you plan to do next?” Vinnie asked sarcastically.

I could hear the tinge of rage simmering in his voice. That was a good question. Who knew where Vinnie’s loyalty might now swerve?

“Get some rope and tie him up,” I said, nodding toward a mound of braided cord on the opposite side of the deck.

I expected Vinnie to drag Leung along with him, and was surprised when he released his hold. Great. I’d never felt more like a mouse trapped by a couple of wily cats. I swung the gun back and forth while trying to run every possible scenario through my head. Even worse, I stood dangerously close to the edge, suddenly finding myself caught between the two men.

“Damn it!” Vinnie muttered, bending down for the rope.

I turned to see what he was up to when Leung made his move. He slammed head first into my side, so that I flew against the railing and the gun was knocked out of my hands. I desperately fought to hold on as I felt myself being roughly pushed overboard.

“No!” I screamed, catching sight of the sharks below.

Vinnie must have started toward us, because Leung suddenly let go. I fell back down in time to see him scramble for the knife and start to slash at Bertucci once more.

I frantically searched for the gun, knowing that Vinnie didn’t stand a chance against him. I cried out in relief upon spotting it. That was enough to snag Leung’s attention so that he now came racing toward me. Flinging myself across the deck, I grabbed hold of the gun. Then rolling onto my back, I pulled the trigger as Leung loomed directly above me.

The 9mm shrieked, but even a bullet couldn’t deter Leung from his mission as he swayed and then came crashing down, holding the knife so that it would slit my throat. I tried to shift onto my side, only to realize that I was held in place by his legs. Instead, I twisted my head as the knife angrily raced past, grazing my cheek and slicing into my shoulder.

Leung lay like a dead weight, his warm breath slithering across my neck, when he took a last rasping gasp and whispered something into my ear. But I couldn’t make out
the words as Bertucci roughly jerked the man off me. I no longer fought but instead watched as Vinnie lifted Leung up and flung him overboard like a sack of unwanted garbage.

The water burst to life, intensified by the thrashing of shark fins, and teeth, until nothing was left other than blood and silence.

“C
ome on, chere! You can do it,” Santou yelled encouragingly from the beach.

I took a deep breath, aligned my hands by my ribs, and pushed up. Then I planted my feet in a wide stance, as a magical swell lifted my heart on the crest of a wave, and I was carried toward shore. For the first time, I now understood what Kevin and Santou were talking about. I’d never felt this free in all my life. It was a rush of supercharged energy and power, provided gratis of Mother Nature.

I laughed in pure delight, partly out of exhilaration and partly out of fear. Perhaps what everyone said was true. Maybe surfing really did capture a person’s soul. For me, facing down a wave had become akin to confronting a predatory shark. It forced me to defy my limitations and, at the same time, accept just how vulnerable I really could be.

I jumped off the board and paddled the last few feet into shore.

“Cool bananas,” Santou said, giving me a hug as Kevin flashed the hang-loose sign.

Both men realized what an important step this had been
for me. I continued to be plagued by nightmares of what might be lurking in the water below.

“I think you’re well on the way to becoming a hot surfer babe,” Kevin said with a wink.

“What do you mean on her way? She already is one,” Jake replied, and I rewarded him with a kiss.

But I still couldn’t forget what had happened only a few weeks ago. Probably because I dreamt about it every single night.

Vinnie and I had bound our wounds as best we could and then steered the boat back to shore. Once there, he’d jumped into his car and driven straight to Doc No Name’s house. Vinnie had gone alone, insisting he’d be all right and didn’t need any help.

“Just don’t forget that you owe me big-time, New Yawk,” were his parting words.

As if that was something I didn’t already knew.

The last I heard, Vinnie had caught the first plane back to New York, where he said the streets were safe and he didn’t have to worry about looking over his shoulder or getting whacked.

I’d stayed behind and cleaned all telltale blood off the boat, disposing of any evidence as I’d seen Vinnie do once before. Only then did I call Santou and the police, in that order.

I still wasn’t sure what happened next. What I did know was that only after Kevin stepped in was my tale of abduction by Leung, and the ensuing battle, accepted without question. It was a valuable lesson. I learned that it paid to have good connections.

That prompted an investigation into Leung’s illegal activities. Funny how justice sways with the prevailing wind. It was now believed Leung had been responsible for the deaths of Charlie Hong, Stas Yakimov, and Sammy
Kalahiki. In addition, a few low-level scapegoats within the Honolulu Police Department were accused of covering up evidence and receiving payoffs. But that’s where the buck stopped.

Most upsetting was that the incriminating photos of Senator Shirley Chang had been taken from my Ford. I’d returned from Leung’s boat to discover the Explorer had been broken into, and the documentation from Yakimov’s was missing. I could only assume who the guilty party had been. Without those, there was nothing with which to tie Senator Chang to the ensuing scandal. Equally frustrating was that S. M. Ting could have been nearly any one of thousands living in Hong Kong.

Much to my surprise, I wasn’t promptly shipped off to Guam, but rather asked to stay and continue my work on Oahu. Things grew even stranger than that. Norm Pryor actually suggested I investigate a few cases that he’d formerly refused to let me work on. I even had my fifteen minutes of fame when lauded by both Fish and Wildlife and the National Marine Fisheries Service for having uncovered “an isolated and highly unusual case of illegal shark finning.”

The cherry on top of the poisonously sweet cake came when I received an official letter of commendation from the Hawaii state legislature. The letter was boldly signed by none other than Senator Shirley Chang herself. I was sorely tempted to return it to the sender, but dissuaded from doing so by both Kevin and Jake. I now view it as a reminder of the frustrating role that politics continues to play in my career.

I walked back to the house, leaving Santou and Kevin to surf the waves alone. Heading inside, I gave Spam and Tag-along each a treat, showered and changed, and then left a note that I’d be home in time for dinner. There was
a task that I’d put it off until now, wanting to make certain of the final outcome.

Jumping in my Explorer, I drove down through the heart of Oahu and cut over to the West Coast. I didn’t stop until I spotted the mountain that was deeply gouged with a skid mark. Then I turned onto the road that led to Auntie Ellen’s house.

Her powder puff of a pooch materialized to yip and guide the way, much as it had before. However, there was a marked difference in its barking this time. It felt almost as if the dog had come to welcome me home.

The other disparity was that I no longer was tempted to turn and run. There was now a positive purpose for my visit.

Auntie Ellen opened the door as I pulled up, as if she had been waiting for me to arrive all along. A lavender orchid nestled in her hair, delicate as a butterfly, and a brilliant blue muumuu covered her sturdy figure. She waited in silence as I reached into my purse and pulled out a small wooden carving.

“I found this inside Sammy’s box and thought you might want it,” I said, and handed her the sculpted image.

Auntie Ellen clasped the wooden shark to her breast, and her eyes crinkled into a beatific smile.

“Sammy’s grandfather made this for him when he was just a young boy. It represents our family’s
aumakua
.”

“That’s why I came today. I wanted to let you know that part of the aloha has been repaid,” I said, and suddenly felt painfully awkward.

“I already know,” Auntie Ellen calmly told me. “I heard about what happened, and of how Michael Leung died. It was his fate for what he did to my Sammy boy.”

I shifted my weight and bent down to pet the dog, hoping it would help ease my discomfort.

“The sharks would never have hurt you, you know. They’d have proteced you the same as they would have my Sammy,” she staunchly insisted.

I wasn’t so sure of that myself. On the other hand, I hoped I’d never have to find out.

“I just wanted to let you know that Michael Leung paid for his crime. Also that the police officially declared Sammy’s death to be a homicide, rather than an accident,” I divulged, wondering why I continued to remain so damned uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because I still didn’t believe that I’d done quite enough.

Auntie Ellen looked at me without a word.

“Well, good-bye then,” I uttered, and started to walk down the steps.

“It’s not good-bye, but aloha. You do remember what that means, don’t you?” she asked, by way of stopping me.

“Yes,” I answered, hoping I wasn’t in for another lecture.

“It’s also the traditional way in which we Hawaiians part. Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

I waited as Auntie Ellen made her way down the steps and stood in front of me.

“First we look into each other’s eyes, for that’s where the soul resides. Then we lean forward until our foreheads and noses touch like this.”

Auntie Ellen’s skin felt cool against my own, and I finally began to relax.

“Now inhale deeply,” she instructed.

I followed her lead, and unexpectedly found myself filled with an overwhelming sense of peace.

“That is what is known as sharing the
ha
, or the breath of life,” she said softly. “It’s the true meaning of
aloha
. Now you are one of us.”

Auntie Ellen pressed the wooden shark into my hands and firmly closed my fingers around it. Then she silently walked back up the steps and into the house.

I remained standing where I was for a moment. Finally, I slipped into my Ford and started to drive home. But I could still feel Auntie Ellen’s breath lingering inside me. And I instinctively knew that aloha was so much more, its meaning resonating deep in my soul.

Everything shares the breath of life in this world, and each has a purpose for its existence. Be it a culture, sharks, or little blue butterflies, nothing must ever be allowed simply to vanish.

Thanks to Fred Kraus of the Bishop Museum and Fern Duval of Land and Natural Resources for their insight on invasive species. Thanks to harbormaster William Aila for bringing local issues and Hawaiian legends to life. I’m grateful to Bob Endreson, Steve Hoffman, and Linda Paul for their help. I am also indebted to Peter Knights and Susie Watts of WildAid, Marie Levine of The Shark Research Institute, and Sonja Fordham of The Ocean Conservancy for being so generous with their time and information. Many thanks to Karen Sheehan for her tireless support, to Dave Vaughn for his help on Oahu, and to Carol Fuca.

Most of all, thanks to Carroll Cox, whose devotion and passion for protecting Hawaii’s environment and endangered species is nothing less than inspirational.