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KAHOOLAWE
 

By
Rod Williams
 

Condensed for screenplay
adaptation

Copyright 2003
All rights reserved
 

non indent free form bold type format
 
 
 
 
 
 

CHAPTER ONE
A HELLISH PLACE IN PARADISE

The moon over Maui rose above Haleakala crater, revealing a shadow sculpture of what looked like the dorsal fin of a gigantic tiger shark.
But it was the island of Kahoolawe, ringed by a white necklace of surf crashing on its jagged volcanic shore born by a moaning ocean, undulating in a minuet of evil promise.   It was an island graveyard with no refuge for the doomed. Around Kahoolawe's dark waters, froths of sea foam masked the bones of lost souls fathoms deep.  The only solace, stars silver in the heavens.
This stark mystic island was in sharp contrast to the lush tropical islands of Maui, Lanai and Molokai – all tourist destinations replete with hotels, shopping centers and resorts.
Kahoolawe lies seven miles off the Kihei coast of Maui and is barren except for an occasional Keawe tree and scrub cactus. Unlike the other Hawaiian islands there is little rainfall, no cooling trade winds and humidity, day and night is almost unbearable.
A hellish place in the middle of paradise.

Kahoolawe was named after the Hawaiian God Kanaloa, one of the four major Hawaiian gods, and is part of legends and chants in the history of Hawaii.
In the 13th century, ancient Hawaiians living on the island fled to other islands for better climate conditions and because of a perceived evil that permeated the island. In the 1800s, a penal colony was established on Kahoolawe, where prisoners were subjected in torture and murder that surpassed even the years of sacrifice of Hawaiians by Kahunas (priests).. Finally, King Kamehameha III abolished the penal colony and the island lay abandoned, uninhabited and desolate.

Years went by and then in 1941 the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor and the U.S. Navy confiscated the island for use as a target for its ships and aircraft. Thus this island of human sacrifice, murder and torture now became a cauldron of exploding bombs and cannon fire for more than a half century.
It was in the fall of 1970 when the island's reputation began to escalate with reports of strange lights on the leeward shore, along with fishermen telling of hearing screams coming from the island. Two sailors arriving at Lahaina as part of the Transpac race from the West Coast told authorities that they had heard screaming and a high pitched laughter as they passed Kahoolawe at midnight. With Navy approval, the Coast Guard escorted Maui police to the island twice and nothing was found other than a few dead goats, apparent victims of the regular naval bombardment.
Maui police decided that the reports were unfounded and probably the result of over active imaginations, coupled with being on the ocean at night when perception is often distorted.

From his office in Honolulu, Teddy Uchida could see the Aloha tower and Ala Wai Yacht Harbor, where his thoughts had settled with mental pictures of sailing past Diamond Head on a broad reach. His thoughts were put on hold with the arrival of his secretary Betty Kutzunai with the morning mail. Uchida thanked her and began looking for a letter from the Naval Command Center at Pearl Harbor.
There it was on his desk.
Uchida took a deep breath and opened it. To his surprise, the letter gave him permission for a two day trip to Kahoolawe to conduct a feasibility study in concert with the University of Hawaii, the Bishop Museum and several "Ohana Huis" (groups of native Hawaiians) who wanted an eventual end to the bombing of Kahoolawe.
Uchida's mission would be nonpolitical, with emphasis on the viability of Kahoolawe becoming a tourist destination when and if the Navy decided to stop using the island as a bombing target.
As director of the Hawaii Visitors’ Bureau, this letter would further enhance Uchida's already good standing with the native population, which was generally opposed to the bombing, and to the business community, which wanted an expansion of tourist destinations in an otherwise limited real estate market. The letter of permission gave him two days and one night to survey the coastal areas of Kahoolawe that might be developed for tourism in the future.
The letter concluded with a pointed paragraph advising Uchida that the Navy had no intention of returning Kahoolawe to the state of Hawaii and would not in the foreseeable future stop using the island as a bombing range.
The letter was signed by Arthur Adkins, Admiral, U.S. Navy Pacific Fleet Command.   Adkins was old school Navy who longed for the good old navy tradition of rum, sodomy and the lash. As far as he was concerned Kahoolawe would never be returned to Hawaii.
Uchida placed the letter on his desk and pondering his good fortune, slipped the letter in its envelope and in his attaché case, deciding he would share the letter of permission only with his wife Miho. He would complete the survey on Kahoolawe before calling Gov. Stanley Wo Fat and informing the electronic media as well as the Honolulu Star Bulletin newspaper.
Moving his chair further from his desk for a better view of the Pacific, Uchida sat back, allowing himself a moment of quiet satisfaction in the knowledge that he would be the first person to set foot on the island for many years.
His thoughts also wandered over the island's history as a penal colony, the horrible atrocities committed against prisoners, the human sacrifices by ancient Hawaiians and the more recent reports of fires and sounds alleged by sailors and fishermen.
According to the letter of permission, he would be allowed on the island October 10 and 11, 1972 and would be escorted by Coast Guard launch from Maui to Kahoolawe. He was to be picked up at 0800 on the 11th by the same. launch. Uchida had two days to prepare for the journey.
Leaving his office early, he drove to his home near Kaneohe.

CHAPTER TWO
MAUI BOUND

About 1,000 nautical miles west of Hawaii, lying above the equator at six degrees, is Palmyra Island, discovered in 1798 by Captain Edmond Fanning. Palmyra was actually an atoll rather than an island, but still lush in heavy vegetation, numerous waterfalls and lagoons teeming with fish.
Gently tugging at it's anchor was the trimaran Apollo, a 40 foot Piver designed Lodestar in 20 feet of crystal clear water in Palmyra's main lagoon.

Nick Czar was up early ahead of his companions, the "Maui Mafia," who were still asleep in their bunks in the main salon and V berth. Czar fired the alcohol stove, placing the weathered coffee pot in its binnacle above the fire then unrolled the chart to begin plotting the course back to Maui. Czar marked Palmyra's fix at 5 degrees 52 minutes north and 162 degrees, 6 minutes west. He placed the parallel rulers on the chart with one end on Palmyra and the other on the island of Maui, carefully drawing a pencil line along the edge of the ruler on the chart.
Nick was using a very fine point pencil as a thick line could send a sailor many miles off course.
Adjusting the chart light, Czar waited as a small rogue wave hit Apollo at the stern, then carefully walked the parallel ruler down to the chart's compass rose and made a notation of the "true" compass bearing on the fine pencil line. He then moved the rulers to the inner wheel of the compass rose noting the magnetic bearing which he jotted down in his log book. He finalized the dead reckoning with his dividers, picking off a hundred nautical miles on the chart's border and slowly walking the dividers along that true bearing line, which gave him the nautical miles from Palmyra to Maui, something he already knew. He would deal with set and drift, the vagaries of wind and sun shots with his sextant along the way.

Teddy Uchida arrived on Maui at 7 a.m.. He stood waiting on the dock at Maalea harbor by 7:45 a.m., when he met Captain Ron Phillips U.S. Coast Guard.
Phillips, ever courteous and polite, was nonetheless firm in his warning.
“Mr. Uchida, you must be ready to leave Kahoolawe by six tomorrow night."
Phillips motioned toward the Zodiac inflatable alongside the Coast Guard slip, directing two mates aboard to load Uchida's gear, which consisted of a tent, food, water, a change of clothing, a 16 mm Bolex camera, and a still 35 mm camera loaded with slide film.
Uchida assured Phillips he would be on time for his return trip from Kahoolawe.
The so called "cattle boats," mostly large beach catamarans, were leaving the harbor in the usual processional, filled with mainland tourists heading to the islet of Molokini for a day snorkel cruise.
The Zodiac joined the line of boats. Once clear of the lava rock breakwater, Phillips rammed the throttle forward and the twin Mercs came to life, sending the Zodiac ahead of the day snorkel boats and on a course for Kahoolawe clearly visible five miles away.
Uchida's love for the water was surpassed only for his deep love of his wife Miho and his two year old son Haruo.
Uchida had no way of knowing that his breakfast that morning with his family in Honolulu was to be his last with them.

On Palmyra island.....

Nick began pouring a cup of Kona coffee as Thede Brown rolled out of his bunk. Thede was a charter member of the "Maui Mafia," a term of endearment among its members and not at all in relation with the infamous Italian mob designation. Thede was six-5, weighing close to 300 pounds. But despite his bulk, Brown was agile and surpassingly light on his feet.
Thede donned his shorts as the single side band radio crackled on with a "CQ: Calling Apollo."
Czar lifted the mike from it's hook and answered.
"This is Kilo Hotel 6 Echo Mary. This is Kilo Hotel 6 Echo Mary.”
 The voice on the short wave was Ruth Von Stein at her home in Kula on the slopes of Haleakala volcano.
Ruth had a one kilowatt Collins transmitter that could reach just about any where on the globe with the right weather conditions. She was also Nick Czar's long time love since they were kids on Maui and was the only female member of the Mafia. Ruth's soft voice skipped across Hawaiian waters into the Pacific and to Palmyra  Island.
"Nick, Cameron Collins wants to see you as soon as you get back on Maui regarding his son Lester. He thinks he may be in Anchorage, Alaska, and wants you and your connections to find him.”

Lester Collins left his life of luxury on Maui more than a few times, but this absence was different.
He had not been in contact for two years. Czar knew Lester, considering him a   young man "To the manor perversion born," with a history of sexual molestation, animal cruelty and petty crimes.
Cameron Collins bought Lester a 140MC Jaguar roadster on condition he get a job and cease his deviant ways.
Securing a job as a pizza delivery boy, Lester tooled about Maui with his Jag loaded with pizzas.
His career ended when he stopped in a sugar cane field and got personal with a deluxe medium pizza with anchovies, a coupling that ended in a climax.
He made the mistake of delivering the molested pizza too two  "Poi Packing" Mahus who had a  bitter sweet recognition of the unauthorized condiment causing an interlude of crossfire projectile sputum. They called the police. The Collins name and money got Lester off with probation.

Ron Phillips held the throttles at three quarter speed as the journey to Kahoolawe continued. Two hundred yards from the lee side of the island a humpback breached, fell back with a huge explosion of water, and exhaled a stream of air that appeared to be mixed with red droplets of water.
The whale emitted a moaning sound and dove beneath the waves, leaving the surface of the water crimson.
Phillips commented that the whale had probably been hit by a boat while sleeping on the surface at night and had been severely injured, an occurrence of some regularity worldwide.

The Zodiac crossed through the bloody surface toward a small cove on the island.
Phillips and his crew had heard the stories about Kahoolawe and the bloody sea they passed though was even more reason to deposit Uchida on Kahoolawe quickly and leave.
Uchida had a momentary strange feeling of dread as the Zodiac plowed a trench in the sandy beach.
None of those aboard the Zodiac voiced their trepidation but each man sensed evil afoot.
The Coast Guard mates portaged Uchida's gear onto a slight bluff overlooking the cove and just before leaving, Phillips again reminded Uchida to be ready for pickup the next day. The Zodiac bounded over the surf line, its engines at full throttle on a heading for Maalea.

Aboard Apollo....

Ruth's transmission continued, slightly diminished from sporadic static bursts,
"Dalton Hagler also wants to see you when you get back. Hagler says your application for a slip at Maalea Harbor has been rejected because of a technicality and that you will have to be placed at the end of a five year waiting list."
Hagler, who was the harbor master, had a long time dislike for Czar and the feeling was mutual. There would never be any hate lost between them.

"Do you copy Nick?"
Czar confirmed her transmission through clenched teeth, knowing Hagler was screwing him as a matter of personal animosity. Nick keyed his mike.
"How's Milin's progress coming at Kula Sanitarium?" he asked.
Milin was a nine year old Vietnamese girl whom the Maui Mafia had spirited out of Vietnam.
She was unable to speak and so far the therapist at Kula San and long therapy sessions produced no results.
"Nick, her situation is still the same. There has been no signs of improvement but I know she will be happy when you and her crew of adoptive uncles get back to Maui,” Ruth said.
"Thanks honey,” Nick said, noting that the transmit mode on the short wave was pulling down the battery. "I am going to sign off now.”
"I love you Nick."
“I love you baby."
 Nick ended his transmission with "KH6EM clear."

Uchida had a Robinson Crusoe moment, aware that he was the only person on this uninhabited island, then for a second he had the feeling he was being watched. Dismissing the thought he remembered his father telling him that the human soul needed solitude.
The heat was oppressive, the humidity like a steam bath, as he unrolled his tent, stowing his gear inside. A few feet away was a Keawe tree, which provided an illusion of thorny shade.
Seeing some goat trails on the island, Uchida marveled at their ability to survive such a purgatory of heat and bombardment, not to mention the lack of fresh water on the island. Investigating further, he came across three goats, badly mutilated, one with its head missing, probably blown some distance from its body by the force of a shell.
He followed the trail to a series of intersecting paths, some leading to higher ground and some following the coastline.
Uchida picked a trail after a half hour of walking, but it ended in a thicket of Keawe trees.
Uchida retraced his steps only to find two more goats, one with its head gone, a surprise to Uchida because he had not seen the remains earlier. He took still photos of one carcass and of a shell or bomb crater nearby and continued on the trail.
He noticed he was having difficulty in advancing the film because of the sweat running down his arms and hands.
“This heat and humidity could be a real problem for his photography equipment," Uchida thought as he headed back to his campsite, making the decision to stay in the tent until the sun was lower in the sky. Only then would he continue his survey.
He wanted to protect his cameras above all because the pictures would eventually be given to the media in Honolulu to document his venture. After all, he was the first man to set foot on Kahoolawe in years.

Thede Brown poured himself a coffee and kicked the bunk of Bob Watanabe the third member of the Maui Mafia.
"Get your pathetic Buddha head gook ass up!"
Watanabe sat upright and began searching his bunk for his M15 rifle. It was a search he had a habit of performing when suddenly awakened and was brought on by his time in Vietnam. His confused searching was a source of great amusement to Brown.
Watanabe quickly grabbed the ship's bell off it's gimbals and threw it at Brown's grinning face.
The bell missed Brown, striking the V berth with a clang, awakening Mr. Yoo from a deep, sound sleep.

Yoo was an honorary Maui Mafian because he did not grow up on Maui with Brown, Watanabe, Czar and Von Stein. Mr.Yoo was also spirited out of Vietnam with Milin courtesy of the Maui Mafia and the CIA. Mr. Yoo was just seconds away from death in Vietnam when Brown, Watanabe and Czar decided not to kill him.
Yoo was 22, unlike his mentors, who were all in their 30s. Rubbing his eyes, Yoo directed a stream of invective at Brown and Watanabe, which no one on board Apollo could understand except Watanabe, who was fluent at several languages, including Vietnamese.
Watanabe translated the rant which included the poetic lilting  phrases "shit eating dogs, and round eyed assholes."

Yoo's verbal assault ended with the threat of killing Brown the first chance he got. This sent Thede Brown into a roar of laughter in which all hands joined in, including Yoo.

Nick Czar rolled up  the chart, advising his stalwarts that they would weigh anchor as soon as the trades kicked in, which normally began when the sun reached the 12 o'clock apogee.
Nick slipped the chart in the starboard locker next to the "equalizer," a Colt .45 automatic given to him by his father on his 16th birthday. The weapon was nickel plated with ivory grips made from the tusk of a walrus and carried an inscription scrimshawed in polished silver.
"Any man to large in size, call upon me and I will equalize."
Nick had carried the gun as a side arm in Vietnam and without it, the main salon of Apollo could well be empty of the laughter of his mates Thede, Bob and the lucky Mr. Yoo.
The equalizer had been instrumental in saving Brown and Watanabe and in granting Yoo's life.

The heat was oppressive, the humidity like a steam bath, as he unrolled his tent, stowing his gear inside. A few feet away was a Keawe tree, which provided an illusion of thorny shade.
Seeing some goat trails on the island, Uchida marveled at their ability to survive such a purgatory of heat and bombardment, not to mention the lack of fresh water on the island. Investigating further, he came across three goats, badly mutilated, one with its head missing, probably blown some distance from its body by the force of a shell.
He followed the trail to a series of intersecting paths, some leading to higher ground and some following the coastline.
Uchida picked a trail after a half hour of walking, but it ended in a thicket of Keawe trees.
Uchida retraced his steps only to find two more goats, one with its head gone, a surprise to Uchida because he had not seen the remains earlier. He took still photos of one carcass and of a shell or bomb crater nearby and continued on the trail.
He noticed he was having difficulty in advancing the film because of the sweat running down his arms and hands.
“This heat and humidity could be a real problem for his photography equipment," Uchida thought as he headed back to his campsite, making the decision to stay in the tent until the sun was lower in the sky. Only then would he continue his survey.
He wanted to protect his cameras above all because the pictures would eventually be given to the media in Honolulu to document his venture. After all, he was the first man to set foot on Kahoolawe in years.

As Uchida approached the campsite, he spotted movement in a line of Keawe trees about 100 yards to his left and almost immediately he was overwhelmed by the acrid smell of rotting flesh.. He surmised that the odor was most likely from a dead goat and the movement in the tree line was the result a foraging goat.
Seated in his tent, slightly shaded by a Keawe tree, Uchida looked through the tent door with his binoculars as the day snorkel cattle boats began to weigh anchors for the return trip to Maalea harbor. They would repeat the journey the next day and every day absent small craft warnings – when those blew up, the cattle boats remained in the harbor. 

There would be time for a last swim in Palmyra's main lagoon before the trades arrived. Nick loaded his bang stick, following his crew into the lagoon, which was still filled with fish and several squadrons of white tip sharks known for their aggressive behavior.
All four men had elected not to spear any fish in the lagoon because the blood would likely bring an attack by the sharks, not to mention the fact that the fish in the lagoon were inedible due to the prevalence of highly toxic cigluatera.

Below the surface was a canvas of impossible colors to splendid to contemplate and myriad armies of grazing fish.
The quartet of divers glided over the coral reefs in and around large brain and fan coral as Nick remained ever watchful of the white tips, his bang stick tipped with a .357 caliber slug and 233 grains of powder. The bang stick was a lethal device that when shoved into a shark's body would detonate, rendering the animal stricken and mortally wounded.
After an hour of diving, Thede prepared a breakfast consisting of eggs and bacon from Thede's butcher shop on Maui on the Force 10 grill.

Nick activated the engine room blowers to clear any diesel fumes, then fired the Yanmar as Mr. Yoo began hauling the anchor, carefully flaking the rode and chain into the anchor locker. Czar eased the throttle forward, threading Apollo through the narrow channel leading from the lagoon to the Pacific. The channel, would accommodate a draft of six feet and that gave Nick a few feet of grace.
As Apollo cleared the channel the pinging sound of halyard slap on Apollo's aluminum masts signaled the arrival of the trades. Nick brought the bow directly into the wind as Watanabe and Thede began hauling the main and mizzen halyards while Mr.Yoo unfurled the jib.

At 5:30 in the afternoon, the sun began to set over the West Maui mountains, lending a red tinge to the clouds and casting long ever changing shadows on the red soil of Kahoolawe.
Deciding to take a cooling swim before he resumed his survey, Uchida removed his clothing except for his tennis shoes, running across the hot sand to the surfs edge where he left his shoes. He began swimming out toward the breakers.
Nearby a rogue wave formed and rolled toward Uchida, who saw the wave coming. This wave was not the azure blue of the Pacific but a bright red. Uchida was unable to comprehend the red water, then remembered the injured whale as the bloody wave engulfed him, rolling him over and over toward the beach..
Regaining his feet 20 yards from shore, Uchida ran toward the beach mindful of the real probability of sharks in the bloody wave. In three feet of water a white tip sideswiped Uchida's right thigh, its sand paper like skin grinding Uchida's flesh as the animal slid by gills to tail – the length of his torpedo like structure.
The pain was stunning as Uchida stumbled to the hot sand. He inspected his thigh, which was raw flesh but had no bite marks. He limped to the tent, feeling the drying whale blood in his hair and covering his body. The surf behind him had became a broth of blood. Inside his tent, he managed to pour fresh water from his canteen on the wound, using only half in fear of running out of water. Opening a packet of sulfa he dumped it on the wound, then made a makeshift bandage out of two clean socks.
The whale's blood continued to congeal and dry, encrusting him from head to toe. The rancid smell of blood and the throbbing leg coupled with his semi state of shock erupted in a barrage of cursing as Uchida berated himself for his crisis. He knew he could not return to the beach outside his tent as it was still awash in blood. He would have to follow the goat trail that led along the shore to clean surf and wash his body.
At that moment, he decided to first chronicle his situation. Mounting his still camera on its tripod, he set the timer and and positioned himself in front of the shutter, managing a weak smile.
The shutter "clicked," recording a picture of a naked man covered in blood with two white socks around his thigh and a ball cap obscuring his genitalia.

Apollo was alive and vibrant as the sails at first luffed and then snapped tight. Her forward motion was accompanied with an orchestration of gurgling water, creaking wood and more rapid halyard slap. The crew of Apollo sat silent as the vessel increased speed and brought spray from the bows into the cockpit.
Each man knew that in this liquid blue world this was a spiritual moment in the abyss of time and a celebration of life where the "Voyage" was all that really mattered.
As Palmyra Island fell astern, thousands of sea birds lifted into the air as if to greet the trade winds and say “Aloha" to Apollo and her crew.
Czar brought Apollo onto the magnetic bearing in his log book and threw the taffrail spinner off the stern. The taffrail impeller began turning, recording distance traveled on a meter affixed to the starboard stern rail. The diesel was stopped and Apollo surged toward the island of Maui, 1,000-plus miles ahead. Their next stop was a white mooring ball off Sugar Beach, Kihei Maui.

Czar loved the sea for it's beauty and adventure. He was convinced Life without adventure would be meaningless.
Risk and adventure were his catalyst where moments were split in two. Unlike Marco Polo's " Cipango" and Plato's "Atlantis."  his Nirvana would be real and always present in the way of the wind,  the gull and whale.

It was sunset before the surf cleared. The blood covered creature wearing only shoes limped into the water up to his ankles, only for fear more white tips were lurking about. The salt water in his wound produced a searing pain. He began pulling clumps of congealed blood from his hair, alternately splashing water over his scalp and face to loosen the dried blood. It took an hour to complete the task.
Back in his tent, Uchida applied more water from his canteen to his wound and used the rest of the sulfa powder, completing the makeshift dressing by tying a clean shirt around his thigh.
Donning a fresh pair of shorts and a tank top, he painfully gathered firewood, determining to resume his survey the following day and not that evening. With the fire burning outside his tent door his spirits were improving.
Unrolling his sleeping bag, Uchida lay in a state of exhaustion, quickly falling asleep.
The fire continued for an hour then died down to a few dim embers. All was silent.
Drifting into a fitful sleep, Uchida failed to close the insect netting over the front opening to the tent.
At midnight the moon rose over Haleakala. The dormant volcano cast a dark shadow over Kahoolawe. The shadow changed only slightly as the clouds followed the trade winds across the Hawaiian islands. Every island in the chain wore a Lei of clouds that moonlight night except Kahoolawe.  Across the night sky the luminous river of the Milky Way  flowed unchecked.
Uchida awakened slowly and then sat upright, freezing upon hearing a faint sound of movement close by in the brush outside his tent. Turning on his flashlight, he illuminated the interior of the tent.
 He saw that he had not closed the mosquito netting on the entrance of the tent. He hurriedly closed it as a pathetic barrier to whatever it was out side his tent.
His nostrils filled with a horrific stench, causing him to gag as he scrambled to the rear corner of the tent. Uchida rationalized that the smell was from the carcass of a goat and shifting winds but there were no winds on Kahoolawe that night.
Sweat began to run down his spine, his mouth dry as his body began to shake in fear.
"God almighty, first a goddamn blood bath, a collision with a fucking shark and now this!" he cried aloud.
All his rationalization for the sounds outside and the stench evaporated when a hacking phlegm laden cough erupted from behind the tent.
"I've got a gun, you mother fucker and I'll use it!" Uchida screamed.
Other than the slowly fading flashlight, he of course had no weapon.
The foul air began to clear and the movement in the brush ceased. Uchida sat motionless huddled in the corner of his tent, his heart beating so loud he could hear it.
Something had been outside his canvas and net sanctuary, then silence.
He sat breathless in the tent clutching his flashlight, remaining fully awake until the sun began to crest the peak of Haleakala. The sound of the surf was muted on a deep dark foreboding ocean.

Two hundred nautical miles from Kahoolawe, Apollo began crossing the Pailolo channel. It was living up to its reputation as a dangerous place to be in a small vessel. The winds were topping 30 knots, blasting out of the east while the current was running southwest. These dispirit conditions resulted in a confused sea with spin drift blowing tops off the waves.

Nick Czar was at the wheel steering Apollo through the waves and occasional rollers that hissed as they struck Apollo's tri hulls. Czar had total faith in the designer of Apollo, Arthur Piver, who once declared his trimaran design creations unsinkable, a claim Nick knew was foolhardy.
A few months after that declaration, Piver went missing while sailing one of his trimarans off the coast of California and was never found.
Czar purchased Apollo at Ala Wai Yacht Harbor in Honolulu shortly after he returned to Hawaii from Vietnam.

With the relief of daylight, Uchida began to subscribe to his theory of the night before that the smell was the result of a dead goat and shifting breeze and the coughing sound had to be a sea bird of some sort. In sum, he left his tent self assured that the events of the night had been explained and his survey of Kahoolawe, no matter how elementary, should continue.
He packed his gear, struck the tent and prepared to continue his exploration. Binoculars hung around his neck as he took a goat trail heading toward the upper slopes of Kahoolawe. He ignored his throbbing leg.
Uchida paused to take stills and additional film footage of the island when he found two more dead goats, apparently more victims of naval shelling. As before, one of the goats was headless.
He stopped near the highest point on Kahoolawe and ate the sandwiches Miho had packed for him along with two sushi rolls wrapped in tin foil. She had packed his favorite blue and white aloha shirt that he was wearing on this, his final day on Kahoolawe. Despite his discomfort, Uchida ate ravenously.
He trained his binoculars on the Maalea bay and could see that the cattle boats were beginning their daily procession to Molokini. It was then that Uchida got that Robinson Crusoe feeling again.
"I am one man on an uninhabited island,” he thought. Somehow he didn't feel alone.
Uchida took a soil sample at another shell crater then turned back down the trail toward his campsite, where in a few hours, he would be whisked back to Maui by the Coast Guard, get much needed medical attention for his thigh in Honolulu and of course return to his wife Miho and his ichibon son Haruo.

About a mile from his campsite, Uchida urinated in a thicket of scrub where once again his nostrils were assaulted with a numbing stench. He was so unnerved he urinated on his wound and shoes. Then came the sound of a "whip crack" but with a metallic sound to it.
Sharp pain struck the back of Uchida's neck, his binoculars falling in a spray of red to the ashen soil at his feet.
In quick succession, Uchida saw the front of his blue and white aloha shirt, the sky, then the ground. He found himself in a dreamlike state, lying on the ground, his binoculars a few inches from his right eye, providing him his only field of vision. They had fallen with the large end forward to his face so what he saw was reverse magnification.
Everything appeared very small in the binoculars.
He could see his shoulders, his blue and white aloha shirt but could not comprehend why he could not see his head in that miniature view inside the binoculars.
The view was growing ever dimmer as he saw a hulking figure appear in the lens, bend over and begin pulling off Uchida's shorts.
"Jesus Christ in heaven what is happening to me!" he mouthed, but no sound passed his lips. The last thing he saw was a fire ant as it walked across his left eye ball and paused there. Uchida was powerless to blink. Total blackness engulfed him.

CHAPTER FOUR
TAKING & GRANTING LIFE

As in previous trips to Palmyra, the thoughts of Vietnam would be with them in that vast dark Pacific ocean.
The conversation would, as in past trips, begin with their high school days on Maui and at Punaho school on Oahu in their Junior and senior years.
Czar placed a tape in the stereo unit. A medley of music from the thirties and forties. All piano solos by Eddy Duchin.
Bob Watanabe struck a match on the cabin sole, lighting two gimbaled cabin lanterns that cast a warm golden tone over the honey colored teak interior. Thede Brown opened a port locker, producing a bottle of Bombay gin, Nick's choice of the "hair of the dog that bit you.”
Mr. Yoo opened a bottle of almond stuffed olives and deposited four in each of four glasses, followed by a splash of olive juice and displayed his usual toothy smile.
Nick poured the Bombay until each tumbler was full and in silent tribute they touched the glasses in a toast to one another. There was a moment of silence with only the sound of the ocean as Apollo sped on toward the Hawaiian islands. A freighter, on the horizon, its lights aglow, passed slowly to port and then disappeared.  Above Apollo in the night sky, the moon was a luminous clipper ship on a sea of twinkling stars.
Czar, Watanabe and Brown were childhood pals in grade school, spending much of those early years skin diving the reefs and surfing at Hookipa beach, which produced waves to rival those of the world famous pipeline waves on Oahu.
Their favorite pastime was hunting wild goats in the crater of Haleakala. The goats were fast destroying rare plants in the crater, causing the Park Service to offer a bounty for each set of goats ears delivered to the Park Rangers office.
All three had become skilled at shots exceeding 200 yards.

Following graduation from Punaho, Nick went to West Point; Watanabe, much to his father's dismay, became a cadet in the Maui police department; Brown took over his father's butcher shop in Makawao.
The effects of the Bombay began to take hold as all the glasses were refilled, chased with the remaining olives and olive juice. The martini mix was straight up with no ice. Ice was a luxury not available on Apollo. The axiom being, "one martini is okay, two too many and three not enough."
Brown began reading the label on the bottle of Bombay as Watanabe rolled a joint of Maui Wowie.
"According to the label, Bombay is distilled through racks laden with coriander from Morocco, China licorice, lemon peel from Spain."
Brown paused to inhale a puff of grass and continued.
“Almonds from Spain, angelica root from Saxony, orris root from Italy, cassia bark from Indo China, juniper berries from Italy," adding an ad-lib of "wash cloths from whorehouses of Vietnam."
When Watanabe had finished translating for Mr. Yoo, Brown smiled at Yoo.
"No offense intended toward your ancestors, you little rice rat," Brown said.
Every one laughed, even Yoo, who suspected he had been insulted but knew Brown loved him, as all those at the table were as brothers. Amid the laughter, Brown leaned forward and hugged Yoo, happy that Nick had decided that they would not murder him on a jungle path in Vietnam.

Vietnam had an effect on all four men.
Watanabe had lost the ability to cry.
Czar had trouble sleeping.
Nightmares of Vietnam were a regular part of sleep, when he managed to sleep.
Yoo suffered much the same sleep deprivation, with images of his family, all of whom had died in front of him, killed by the Viet Cong.
Thede suffered no post war trauma because as Watanabe would say, "Thede was already fucked up when he arrived in Vietnam."

Nick moved the hatch forward and stepped into the cockpit where he checked the sails and rigging, then flipped on the compass light, which revealed that Apollo was on course. The trades were down to 15-20 knots and the seas were beginning to subside.  The sails were restless.
Nick advised Watanabe and Yoo that they could take the next three hour deck watch with one rule.
"No more grass or booze as we don't want to ram a whale sleeping on the surface or a freighter," he admonished.
With that, Czar slapped Brown on the shoulder and advised him to get some sleep as they would be on the early morning watch together. To a man they were all true sailors "never intent on making landfall."

Czar stopped at the chart locker, removed the "equalizer" and carried it to his aft cabin where he stowed it in a gear hammock next to his bunk. Sleeping with the Colt nearby was another grim manifestation of his experience in Vietnam.
He lay on his back; the gear hammock was steady as a surveyor's plum on a string.
All else in the cabin matched the motion of the sea out side. Venus shown bright as the whisper of waves rushed past Apollo. Moon light streaming through the starboard port in Nick's cabin bathed a weathered picture frame. Under the frame's glass was a letter from his parents,penned just days before both passed away within hours of one another.

"We'll be there after the echo of our voices recede from the furthest corners of this room, we'll be there.  After you think we are gone,we'll be there, like footsteps of the past, half moons on marble stairs, Our presence will be felt, we'll be there. When the moon melts into the sea, We'll be there.When we are but a shadow of our own shadow, we'll be there. In the wind that's behind a mounting wave, that upturns a leaf, that buffets a storm, and whispers gently in your ear,we'll be there. We'll be there.

Czar finished his martini and closed his eyes in hopes that night would bring sleep without images of Vietnam and its legacy of shame and guilt that seemed to never leave him. He could only thank God for Milin and the spiritual relief she brought him, along with an attendant feeling of absolution. The amber of memories faded became clear in Nick's dreams.

Nick had arrived in Saigon as a second lieutenant fresh from West Point. His father knew the CIA section chief in Saigon, Sam Paris, and that got Czar assigned to the CIA special forces division.
Sam Paris joined the CIA following graduation from Harvard in 1950 with Nick's father. He rose quickly in the agency's ranks and considered Nick Czar the son he never had.
Four months later, Thede Brown and Bob Watanabe joined the Army and Paris managed to get them transferred under Nick's command to a three man team charged with operating deep in Viet Cong territory for the sole purpose of taking prisoners for delivery to various "PIC" centers though out Vietnam.
The "PIC" prisoner interrogation centers were run by individual allied forces with the worst center under the command of Korean ROK troops in Koochi Valley.
The valley was taboo for the allied forces wishing to avoid conflict with the Koreans.
All PIC centers were bad in Nick's estimation, but the Koreans seemed to relish the torture of the Vietcong, including women and children.
They routinely “cranked” prisoners, a term used for the use of field telephones to deliver shock to a bound prisoner. Two wires from the hand crank phone would be applied to a suspect and then the handle of the phone would be cranked. The flow of electric was dependent on the rapidity of the cranking.
The ROK troops also engaged in selective amputations followed by twisting razor wire around the necks of prisoners with lettering declaring "Captured by Republic of Korea troops."

The ROK troops in Koochi valley were hated by the Maui Mafia and they never delivered a prisoner to them.
Nick developed his own scenario for his "snatch and grab" missions that included night time insertions only by chopper behind enemy lines. He led no missions without a guarantee of standby air support in the form of an A10E Warthog in the area of insertion, on call for help.
He further developed hand signals for the Maui Mafia so that once behind enemy lines there were no verbal communications unless the radio had to be used to call in an air strike. Czar always included two Montanyards mountain villagers as point men on his operations.

Paris had promoted Czar to Captain, providing him with a letter signed by the director of the CIA mandating total cooperation of all field commanders with Czar's missions.
With this package, Czar and the Maui Mafia were able to capture prisoners on every insertion they undertook, mostly by ambush followed by extraction by chopper.
Each mission became a simple formula; nighttime insertion, set up of an ambush on a suspected Viet Cong trail and simply wait for the prey to pass by in large or small groups.
Czar would station Watanabe and one "yard" ahead of a sighted V C column.
Then he would assume a half way point nearer the approaching column, and Brown and the second yard would move to the rear of the column and would wait a few feet from the edge of the trail.
As soon as the end of the column passed Brown, he would step out onto the trail and place three "Bouncing Betties" on the path and cover them with leaves. The Bouncing Betties were land mines developed by the Germans in World War II. When stepped on, the mine would detonate at ankle level and send a second charge into the air that would explode at head level. The results would kill or wound two or more men.
The use of the mines at the rear of the advancing group of men held a twofold purpose.
When Nick fired the first shot, followed by Watanabe and the "yards," the targets would instinctively turn and run back down the trail where Thede Brown and the second yard would open up with their M16s. Those who managed to survive that volley would run into the bouncing Betties.
The bouncing Betties also slowed any additional advancing enemy troops.
Prior to the ambush, Nick would signal the target to be taken prisoner by his position in the column. If the individual was third from the front of the line Nick would hold up three fingers. Everyone else was to be shot.  Bottom line, neither side was paid to be nice.
As soon as the firing stopped, Watanabe would call in a chopper and the prisoner would be rushed to it and the extraction completed.
The prisoners were selected according to appearance and demeanor; if the man acted and looked like a leader or if he had any insignia indicating rank, he was in for a violent capture and free chopper ride. Czar would lead these missions as long as death was uncertain.
Captain Nick Czar's snatch and grab missions continued for two years without a single wound sustained by the Maui Mafia. The routine became set at three missions a month with two weeks "R & R" in Saigon a city where neon  flickers and dies, the truth lies and where Nick had an apartment with a maid who did his laundry, did his dishes and did him.
Watanabe stayed at the apartment of a Japanese girl attached to the U.S. embassy and Thede Brown, suffering from a neurohormonal over production of testosterone,  spent his two weeks of momentary utopia between blood and murder  in the whorehouses of Saigon.  His patronage was so prolific he was known to the girls as "Giddy Up." He was also known as "Doctor Diddle."

CHAPTER FIVE
THE LAST MISSION

The Maui mafia was now a seasoned and hardened special forces team with the best record of prisoner capture in Vietnam, a 100 percent success rate. They held the record for "body count" per mission, confirmed by the gross collection of human ears worn necklace style by Thede.
The combination of dangling ears, crossed bandoleers of 5.56 caliber ammo, all topped off with Thede's new Mohawk haircut, left no doubt in anyone's mind that this special forces team was deadly, if not obscene.
Sam Paris usually used the phone with Nick during these rest periods in Saigon, but this time he wanted to meet Czar at the Astor hotel, an old French hangover from when that country was screwing the Vietnamese out of its rich rubber resources and anything else France could think of.

Paris embraced Czar as he entered the Astor's sidewalk cafe.
Ordering an ice tea, Paris took the menus from a striking Vietnamese girl. Nick asked for a Bombay, straight up, with four olives.
Paris began the conversation.
"Nick, this war is going to wind down in the coming months. In fact, we are losing the war. It's just a matter of weeks before we all begin to haul ass back to the states," he said. "The war is now a luxury only a small nation could afford."
Nick sipped his gin before responding.
"Sam, were are not going to lose, we are simply going to leave. This war has been wrong from Day One. We are killing farmers and peasants who just want us the hell out of their country. My only concern now is to get my men out of here in one piece."
Paris nodded in agreement.
"Nick, I want to get you transferred out before everything turns to shit but I have one more mission for you in the area of Koochi valley."
Nick gave Paris his slit eyed thousand yard stare, rolled the martini around, and emptied his glass.
Czar showed no outward reaction to this assignment .
"Sam, this transfer has to include Thede and Watanabe."
Paris paused, thought about it, and after a moments reflection, agreed.

"Nick this won't be the last war we get into. I suspect world war three will be nuclear." Czar pictured that scenario in his mind and said, "Thats probably true Sam but look on the positive side. World War four will be fought with sticks and rocks."
He returned to the subject at hand.
"Colonel Chee runs the camp near the insertion point. Nick, I can tell you he is one sick nasty and very mean son of a bitch. You'll have to be diplomatic as hell with him because Central Command does not want any political problems with ROK headquarters in Saigon."
Paris continued.
"This mission will be the same as all your other missions except this time, you will deliver your prisoner or prisoners to Chee's PIC center.”
"Goddamn it Sam, you know those bastards are animals and we have never given them any prisoners for that reason!"
" I know that Nick, but Central Command wants to keep the Koreans happy, no matter how fucking bad they are!"
Captain Czar realized Paris would give him a direct order to provide prisoners to the Koreans and he couldn't refuse.
Nick ordered another Bombay.
"Why doesn't Colonel Chee send out his own troops on his own snatch and grab?" he asked Paris.
"Chee has his own reasons Nick, for not sending his own troops on this type of mission,” Paris said. “One other thing Nick. Chee is a neat freak, everything has to be spotless in his camp. So you better leave Thede Brown and his costume outside as Chee will not cotton to that ear necklace, Mohawk" and Apache war paint.
Both men decided to skip lunch and get on with the business at hand.
"Nick, be careful. I'll get a mission packet for you delivered to MACV headquarters tomorrow morning and I'll include the usual aerial photos of the trails in the area that will be suitable for an ambush." Paris finished his drink and suggested, " Nick, who knows maybe this war  will end all wars."  Nick responded with, "Only the dead have seen the last war."

Back at his hooch, Nick opened the fridge and dumped a handful of ice in a glass followed by a short Bombay.
The salad drawer at the bottom contained Thede's ear necklace, where Brown kept his gruesome logo between missions, since the hookers of Saigon were to unnerved to do a man with 83 ears strung around his neck.  Czar poured more gin, his madness increasing by the shot glass.
Finishing the Bombay, Nick switched on the ceiling fan, thought longingly of Maui and Ruth Von Stein then slept the rest of the afternoon into the evening. His dreams were his reality until the immergence of dawn.

The sounds of motor scooters and Renaults finally drifted into his apartment at 6:30 that morning, waking him.
Nick met Thede and Watanabe in the officers club above MACV headquarters for breakfast. The bartender knew Nick's companions were not officers, but the Mohawk haircut and the thousand yard stare from all three convinced him it would not be a good idea to suggest they leave.
There was little conversation at the table, with thoughts on returning to the jungle, taking more lives, or losing their own.  Nick was not afraid of death  but he did fear dying.
After breakfast, Nick went downstairs to MACV headquarters and picked up his mission packet as he had done so many times before.

The Maui Mafia returned to Czar's hooch to study the contents of the packet. He did not tell them this would be their last mission. The mission called for a daylight insertion in the ROK camp in Koochi village where they would acquire two Montagnyard mountain men who were familiar with the territory and could act as point men.
Watanabe had information that the Koochi ROKs were not part of the three brigade ROK divisions of 47,000 Korean troops in Vietnam.
Czar narrowed it down from the Korean Whitehorse Division, the Tiger Division or the Blue Dragon Marine Brigade.
"They must be special forces, like us," he said.
Czar was aware of numerous incidents of villagers being slain by the Koochi ROKs. It was all documented in the ARVN archives headquarters but was ignored by Central Command.
The aerial photos provided detail on a main branch of the Ho Chi Min trail where they were to set up their ambush and prisoner snatch. The trail led through thick jungle bordered on one side by the Min River – a tributary of the mighty Mekong River.
They were to be choppered out of Saigon’s Tan Son Hat Airport, where they would pick up their supplies, and then chopper into Koochi Valley.

  Czar was uneasy about this mission because of the daylight insertion, the fact that he would have to turn over his prisoner or prisoners to Chee's PIC center and because this was to be his last mission. It conjured up the law of averages in the wake of a 100 percent success record.
Czar as usual, was going to make sure there would be no fallen heroes among  his trio.
He was glad he had not told his teammates this was to be their last mission since it would have raised the same doubts he was having.
Doubts could get you killed on a mission behind enemy lines.

The next morning the Maui Mafia were driven through the blue smoke of mopeds and Renaults toward Tan Son Hat Air Base, stopping only once in traffic as a U.S. tank rolled though an intersection trailing 40 feet of concertina wire affixed to several bodies of Vietcong enroute to an ignominious mass burial out side the city. The bodies appeared almost lifelike as they danced and tumbled like marionettes on the rough road surface.
They flew north from Saigon sitting atop a pile of flack jackets strewn about the floor of their Huey. The covering provided scant protection from ground fire, giving the passengers feelings of false security about family jewels in harms way.

The chopper made a landing approach, flying just offshore in the South China Sea, then banking into a low level approach over the hospital ship Repose anchored near the port.
They landed in the northern most part of the airstrip of the special forces camp.
The quartermaster had already assembled their food, gear, new high velocity 5.56mm ammo, a new radio for Watanabe and a box with four Bouncing Betties for Thede.

Czar located the pilot who was to fly a "CAP" over this last mission, a mission much different than others.
Beaver Johnson, the pilot of an  A10E, experimental  fighter, forerunner of the A10E Warthog. He looked all of 24 and knew Thede Brown, having met him at various Saigon brothels.
Czar did not ask Beaver where he had earned his nickname, assuming it derived from his night life in Saigon.
Beaver Johnson and Czar retired to the cement revetment where the A10E was berthed. Nick went over the mission with the pilot, who insisted on taking Czar on a tour of what he called "his baby".
Beaver pointed at the cockpit.
"You are sitting in a bath tub made of titanium,” he exclaimed. “It will withstand any projectile up to and including 23 mm caliber.
“She operates at 450 knots!"
Being a sailor, Nick calculated that at 518 miles an hour.
"Check this out Captain," Beaver said as he pointed at the nose of the A10E.
"It's a G.E. avenger 30 mm cannon that will fire 21 hundred or 42 hundred rounds a minute."
Nick shot back back immediately with a quote from a current GE television commercial slogan.
"General Electric: making good things for a better life."
Beaver ended his proud tour.
"Oh yeah. I really get pissed off I can drop a couple of racks of cluster bombs and follow that up with 10 maverick missiles."
At 24, Beaver was like a big kid with a big toy, Nick thought, but then at that age he was a big kid too, choosing not to tell Beaver that this would be the last mission for the Maui Mafia.

Czar and Watanabe spent the early evening hours pondering the mission packet, which revealed that the Navy was operating PBR Mark patrol boats on the Min River near the designated ambush trail. Czar instructed Watanabe to paste tags on the radio with the frequencies used by the boats, in case the A10 or this final mission suddenly went bad.

Darkness began it's fall  on the camp accompanied by the ignition of the camp's powerfull search light.  The search light  began  it's nightly sweep of the surrounding fence line serving two purposes. First, providing security and second, acting as a prearranged  "Bug Light for Bimbos."  

As Czar and Watanabe studied the packet, Beaver Johnson and Thede Brown headed for "The Fence" that surrounded the inner paraimeter of the special forces camp. The fence was 10 foot high and built of chain link topped off with concertina razor wire that not only provided security for the camp but a standing room only, search light prompted, nightly brothel operation. 

At sunset, girls from the nearby village would arrive at the fence to sell their charms to the motivated troops, who stood erect and patient each night on the opposite side of the fence.
Oral sex was the only viable option through the chain link for this ongoing commercial venture. Beaver advised Brown to wait for one particular girl known as "Hanoi Hoover." She charged 40 piasters, 20 more than the other girls lining the fence. Beaver assured Brown the wait and cost would be worth it.  Brown, like a rat didn't rely on just one hole but followed behind Johnson with keen anticipation anyway.
In short order, the lovely Hanoi Hoover, short on intellect, long on curves, appeared. Brown managed to elbow his way to the front of the line.
Thede was an old hand in the cat houses of Saigon, but nothing there, not even the "Chinese ribbon screw," prepared him for the artistry of Miss Hoover. This was a woman who probably smoked more sausages than Oscar Meyer
The event started normally enough, with Brown figuring he could delay a climax as he had in his past encounters.
Abruptly, Hanoi Hoover shifted into high gear, her head movement rivaling that of the downy breasted wood pecker.
Brown hit the point of no return and beyond. Convinced the the top of his skull had gone concave, his knees locked up backwards, leaving him standing immobile at the fence, half in U.S. territory with six or seven inches in Viet Cong country.
Hanoi Hoover had already moved down the fence line to her next conquest when Thede began his stiff legged journey back to his tent, finding it alarmingly impossible to bend his knees to sit. He could only stand pathetically at the foot of his bunk, leaning toward it, until he fell into the bunk like a dead pine tree.
Before falling asleep he uttered three words.
"Jesus, Christ, and Timber!" The event would be long remembered in Brown's never ending search for the preferred alternative for "Tat."

The next morning, before the sun began its tease of the horizon on the south China Sea, the Maui Mafia began outfitting.
Watanabe checked the radio and batteries and noted the frequencies for Beaver Johnson along with the three frequencies used by the PBR patrol boats operating in the target zone.
Thede Brown began inserting the new 5.56 ammo in the loops of his twin bandoliers, waxed his Mohawk and painted his face with Apache style war paint. Carefully removing his ear necklace from the salad drawer of the the refrigerator in the corner of his tent, he noted his countenance in his mirror.
"The perfect warrior," he thought as he walked stiff legged to to the chopper where Czar and Watababe were sitting on flack jackets just in case ground fire might come their way on take-off. The 40 knot breeze from the rotating blades roared through the cabin of the chopper past the open doors, obstructed only by a Spec 4 and his .50 caliber machine gun stationed at each opening.
No one on the chopper spoke. They all had done it before. They did not want to think anything. Each was aware  he could be the unlucky bastard to get his ticket punched. Or it could be just another dark memory to add to the all the bad memories already with them.

From the air, the Korean camp in Koochi valley was laid out pretty much by the book. with trenches arranged for crossing fields of fire. Four rows of deadly razor wire encircled the inner parameter with one row of the wire on the outer parameter, and beyond that was an obvious mine field.
From his position in the chopper, Czar saw a row of barracks to the south, adjacent to a semicircle of thatched huts, which would be the Montangyards camp. In the center of the compound was the command post flanked by a dozen bunkers.
To the right of that a large Quonset hut stood, probably a mess hall and field hospital. Left of that was a stucco structure with a thatched roof, which was likely the camp's PIC center.
On landing, the Maui Mafia were confronted with eight sullen ROK soldiers as the crew of the chopper, already lifting off, kicked their gear onto the landing zone.  Fate was about to take bow.
Departing from the norm, Czar wore his captain's bars in deference to Sam Paris. who implored Nick to show some military decorum when dealing with Colonel Chee.
The "ROKettes" cast scornful looks at Thede's Mohawk, war paint and ear necklace. With an evil smile, Thede overtly slipped the safety on his M16, switching it to full automatic.   Thede released his safety only in circumstances of danger or  when he heard the word "Culture."
Czar, with Watanabe ready to interpret, smiled at the the ROKetts,
“I would like to see your commander, Colonel Chee on the double,” he informed them. “Two of you will gather our gear and proceed with us to your command post now.”
Sensing an unresponsive posture by the Koreans, Czar changed his pleasant tone.
" Are you all so fucking stupid you don't recognize an officer standing before you and too stupid to know you are required to salute me? Perhaps I should inform Central Command of this breach in protocol? Colonel Chee will be interested to know what a bunch of women he has for soldiers."
The ROK 8 snapped to attention and saluted each member of the Maui Mafia and began gathering the gear on the landing zone, leading the way toward the command post.

The path led past the PIC center, continuing on to the bunkers and the house of Chee. Passing the PIC center. an inhuman scream was heard followed by the sound of men laughing.
Nick Czar despised torture and those who would engage in it. He lifted his cap as a signal to Watanabe and Brown to prepare to cover him. Releasing the strap on the equalizer, Czar shoved the door to the PIC center wide. A form could be seen suspended from the ceiling under which sat a semi circle of four ROK officers, two of whom had blood on their mouths. Czar had seen this same scene on the island of Maui, but this one was different.
The four officers were startled to see an American inside their PIC center, especially one with a nickel plated .45 aimed in their direction. Hanging by its hind legs in this semi circle was a large pig with a tourniquet on its right foreleg.
A bottle of Jack Daniels and a large bowl of rice completed the scene. The Filipino tradition of drinking pigs’ blood and liquor had apparently made its way to Koochi Valley. Filipinos would kill the pig and then bleed it, but these assholes were keeping the pig alive so that's its heart would pump the blood like a seltzer bottle into their glasses filled with Jack Daniels.
Czar moved around the screaming animal so that the ROKs were on the opposite side and shot the pig in the head. The bloody cocktail glasses and the four officers were showered with pig brains and skull fragments.
Czar kept his .45 leveled at the PIC house four, backing from the building where he told Watanabe to get Beaver Johnson on the horn and order a low level fly over of the camp.
"If he does not hear from us in the next three minutes, he is to waste the place," Nick ordered.
Watanabe had to confirm the command twice with Johnson as the column continued on to the command post of Colonel Chee.

The grounds surrounding Chee's command post were immaculate, the steps and long porch had been carefully painted and flower baskets hung from the eaves in neat rows. Every thing was sanitized and amenitized.
Two German shepherds on the front porch directed their attention to Brown's necklace of ears before departing the porch, tails between their legs.
Czar now realized his actions in the PIC center could result in the greatest adventure of all,"Death."
But if that happened, the lack of radio contact with the A10E would also prove fatal to most, if not all of the occupants of this hideaway from the war.
Sitting in his office, Colonel Chee had no reaction to the sound of gun fire in his PIC center. It was not out of the ordinary particularly when an interrogation had been completed. Chee did take notice of the three Americans who suddenly appeared in his office, particularly the Apache warrior.
Bob Watanabe hastened the introductions.
"My captain, Nick Czar."
Czar raised his right hand in a crisp salute. Chee did not return the salute, took the team’s mission papers, brushed them aside and with a look of disdain addressed Watanabe.
" Your captain and his team are not welcome in Koochi Valley and I will not provide Montagnards for your mission!"  Chee was confident he held all the cards afterall it was his valley, his troops and his office.  He was unaware that Czar was about to cut the deck and deal him two cards, "a thump and a trump." The wager was death certain for all and  Czar never bluffed.
On hearing Chee's response, Czar told Watanabe what to tell Colonel Chee.
" We fully understand your position and we will leave your camp immediately but we will have two yards in this office now!"
As Watanabe translated this, Czar radioed Beaver Johnson to put a maverick missile into the PIC center just south of the landing zone.
Johnson's response had an incredulous tone.
"Hey captain, are there any people in that building? The Koreans are on our side you know!"
Czar replied coolly.
“Only a pig, and four other animals, and they are not on our side."
Czar instructed Watababe to tell Chee that if two Yards were not in his office in three minutes that Chee and the blood drinking women he calls soldiers and every one else in this camp will be be going home with us in a body bag, "and tell him we like the idea of our own body bags."
Chee was about half way through the translation when the A10E pruned the trees outside the command post and toggled off a single maverick, which crackled through the camp trailing a tail of fire. The impact was dead center and the PIC building lifted off the ground then disintegrated in a blossom of flames and and yellow smoke.
Brown leveled his weapon at Chee figuring if there was going to be an exchange of gunfire he had "dibs" on the Colonel. Chee was a trigger finger spasm away from being promoted to General corpse.

The look of disdain on Chee's face turned to wide eyed fear as the A10E rolled up and out of the valley and slowly came around for another pass, awaiting orders from Czar.
Colonel Chee, veins protruding, vanities stripped away, screamed at the orderly in his waiting room.
"Get two Montagnards in this office now!"
Czar leaned over Chee, placing both hands on his desk, knuckles down, telling Watanabe what to say.
"Colonel Chee is advised that any attempt to send his troops after us once we leave the camp will result in the A10 dumping all its ordinance on the compound."
Chee assured Watanabe that no such attempt would be made and then stood up and saluted each member of the Maui Mafia.

As the boys from Maui walked onto the porch, two "volunteer" Yards arrived to learn they were going with the Americans to a trail along the Min River and they would each be paid 5,000 piasters for the five-day mission.
The Yards were more like walking rib cages but appeared to be energized by their selection for duty.
The money and the chance to get out of Koochi Valley was good news to these mountain tribesmen.
The band of five moved slowly through the camp toward the outer wire and an unmined path leading to the jungle.
Colonel Chee stood on the porch watching the procession, his face contorted with rage at this affront to him and the Republic of South Korea. Chee planned to radio Central Command in Saigon as soon as the special forces team were no longer visible.

As Czar reached the high growth, he radioed Beaver Johnson and ordered him to put a second maverick into the radio tower then directed Brown to place a Bouncing Bettie on the trail behind them. Chee was just keying the microphone when the maverick came in. With the tower now a heap of twisted steel, Chee would not be on the air anytime soon.
Watanabe explained the basics of the mission and its destination to the Yards and then gave them each a bundle of 5,000 piasters, which was more than either had seen in their lives. Walking further into the jungle, these simple men were already thinking of the day they returned to their mountain village rich men.
Neither would see their village or families again. Their new found wealth would float away on the currents of the Min River.

Czar picked a camp site quickly, just far enough off the trail where they could still hear the Bouncing Bettie go off, which would alert them to any treachery by Chee and give them enough time to elude or ambush any pursuers.
On the second night of the mission, rations were distributed to each man providing a measure of survivability if they became separated from the main group. Watanabe went over the basic hand signals to be used once they were close to the Min River trail. Until the mission had been completed, there would be no verbal communications.
From now on the mission would be a union of brains and habits.
Czar required the Yards to wear U.S. issue camouflage jackets compliments of Brown and Watanabe. Once combat was underway, there could be no time for momentary identification of a foe.
If it wasn't wearing camouflage, it was dead.

The third night brought the five to the edge of the ambush trail, where they spent the early morning hours
huddled under panchos in a light but steady rain. They were killing time before killing. "Time would in turn, kill all those on stage in that jungle theater and in all theaters everywhere. The waiting seemed endless, the landscape surreal, the jungle sounds unnerving. It was a profound beauty on the mental razor's edge before battle.  Czar could feel the call of the trail.
 That night hundreds of thousands of meteors fell from the sky witnessed by the huddled assassins and the world.
The morning sunrise was accompanied by the usual chorus of screeching birds as Nick tapped each sleeping man, motioning them to follow him. A site with cover, field of fire and trail proximity was selected three hours later.  Czar was envious of a lone Herron in carefree flight.  "Why this?  Why now? But for God's whim I could be that bird instead of what I've become." He was trapped in a world where death was a way of life.

The ambush was to be set up like all the others. Watanabe and one Yard would move left along the trail no more than 50 yards and take up a position with a good field of fire. Czar would take a center position and Brown and the second Yard would move 50 yards to the right, taking up a position close to the trail for quick access and a good firing position. Once a target column appeared, Czar would indicate by the number of his fingers in the air which targets were to be killed and which was to be taken prisoner.

After four hours of waiting in silence the chorus of birds stopped their chatter and the members of the Maui Mafia had that old gut feeling that they were just minutes away from show time in one more war caused by a weak country with strong wealth.
Czar heard the sounds of music wafting down the trail. He was surprised to hear the voice of Fats Waller, the 1930s jazz and blues singer. The recording was Waller's rendition of "Motherless Child ".
"My God, Fats Waller long dead and now his voice here in the middle of a jungle in Vietnam," Czar thought.
Thede Brown signaled a nine man group of North Vietnamese regulars three minutes away and heading directly to what would be their trip to eternity. Czar relayed the same signal to Watanabe. In unison their weapons were set on full automatic.
Death was near with it's certain finality of extinction. They were playing for keeps and it was not time "to make nice."

The nine man column passed Brown's position. Stepping onto the path behind them, Thede cautiously planted three Bouncing Betties. As the column passed Czar's position he saw the source of the music – a boom box on the shoulder of the only non uniformed man in the column. Mr. Boom Box was number four on the "Hit Parade."
The last man in the group wore a knapsack and  was pushing a bike laden with sacks of supplies.
Czar raised four fingers in the air, signifying Mr. Boom Box as the man to capture.
At the same time, the fate of the rest of the column was decided and final. They would die.
Waiting for the head of the column to reach Watanabe's position, Czar placed two head shots on the targets in front and behind the "Music Man." The two shots brought on three short volleys from Watanabe and Brown's positions and in less than eleven seconds, every man in the column was dead except the apparent noncombatant, whom Czar had by the throat. Watanabe quickly cinched his hands behind him with plastic restraints followed by a blindfold. Czar turned off the music as Brown began adding ears to his necklace. The ace of spades playing card was placed in the mouths of each of the dead, except for Czar's targets, who were without facial features.
Placing the ace of spades cards in or on the bodies of dead Vietcong was standard practice. It was believed the spade card would deny the dead entry into the after life, a centuries old Vietnamese superstition.
One of Brown's bullets had entered the knapsack of the last man and struck a grenade resulting in a blossom of flying bike and human parts and a snowfall of rice.  Brown was spattered with blood and descending rice giving him the appearance of  an arctic explorer with measles and frostbite.

A single Vietcong remained barely alive but lethal managing to pull a pin on his grenade as Brown approached him.  Fate with the help of poor Chinese manufacturing stepped in and the grenade failed to detonate.  Brown removed the grenade and tossed it off the trail.  He unsnapped one of his  grenades, pulled the pin and placed it in the man's hand saying "Try this one, It should work fine." After all, Brown thought it costs nothing to be polite and helpfull even in time of war.  Brown knew the wounded man was unable to move his arm and stepped behind a tree avoiding the blast and pesky shrapnel. While handing the grenade to the wounded man, Brown heard a murmer from the man's  lips and assumed what ever the murmer," It was in truth."

The group of five plus one now moved on the double down the trail in the direction of the Min River, stopping after 15 minutes. Moving 100 yards off the trail to rest, they resumed their run toward the river, dragging their blindfolded and speechless prisoner with them.
At the river's edge, Watanabe put out a call to Beaver Johnson to give him their position, then a call for an extraction chopper "ASAP!"

Watanabe turned to their prisoner to remove his blindfold and began the standard field interrogation.
Czar and Brown were both surprised to hear their prisoner say "Fuck you!" to Watanabe, not once but thrice.
"This guy has a lot of guts saying that to someone who just wiped out his entire group," Thede said, sighting the prisoner in his cross hairs.
"He's either brave or stupid and I am betting on the latter."
Brown approached the prisoner, intent on removing another charm for his necklace for such impudence when Watanabe stopped him.
"No Thede, it's his name! Phuc Yoo!"
Grinning, Brown looked Phuc Yoo in the face.
"Fuck you Phuc Yoo and the horse you rode in on."
Even Czar saw the humor in the whole incident.
Czar thought any one with a name like "fuck you" deserved to live a long life just for laughs. Watanabe discovered that Phuc Yoo was not a soldier but was a forced volunteer for the NVA regulars as a guide. Phuc Yoo went on to tell Watanabe that he had worked as a bookkeeper at the Michelin rubber plantation while the French occupied Vietnam.
Watanabe cut his restraints and at Nick's direction gave Phuc Yoo the choice of going with them back to Danang or Phuc Yoo could "fuck off back down the trail." Their prisoner was visibly relieved at being given a choice between life and death and he quickly chose to continue with his captors.
Czar was now beginning to believe that this last mission was becoming a piece of cake.

The radio sputtered  to life with the voice of Beaver Johnson announcing his arrival overhead. The Maui Mafia was on the verge of keeping its perfect record when the distinctive sounds of Bouncing Betties echoed down the trail.
There was no doubt about it. "It was time to take a hike."
Beaver Johnson could see the smoke from the land mines. Czar directed him to strafe the trail north of the smoke. The Avenger cannon sounded like an enormous chain saw as the A10E swept over the trail, tree top high.
Watanabe again called for an extraction chopper as Thede Brown saw two dozen NVA coming at 200 yards. Czar fired a smoke grenade just ahead of the advancing enemy and directed Johnson to use cluster bombs north of the smoke. The A10E roared in over the canopy of vegetation and placed a full pod of bombs on target, shredding the NVA troops with thousands of ball-bearing-sized shrapnel.
Watanabe could see the extraction chopper coming toward them, approaching from the river.
A shoulder fired rocket struck the chopper head on. Any hope of an extraction disappeared in a fireball of falling debris. The chopper fell in the Min River, its fiery decent extinguished forever.
Johnson knew that someone down there had a missile launcher and his present turkey shoot had become a lot more dangerous.
Johnson radioed Watanabe that he had spotted what looked like a regiment moving toward their position.
"Tell Captain Czar to get the hell out of there!" he shouted.
Johnson made three more strafing runs on the advancing NVA, firing his remaining rockets, which slowed the advance – but only temporarily. He rolled over the NVA, wings horizontal and toggled off his mostly empty wing tanks then shot skyward.
At 9,000 feet he took a ground to air missile in the intake of his starboard engine.
The A10E spread out in a mosaic of shrapnel and flaming pin wheels.
The bulletproof titanium bath tub spiraled to the jungle below still occupied by Beaver Johnson, his severed hand still clutching the ejection seat lanyard.  Brown thought Johnson would always dodge that golden BB in combat and more likely die of whorehouse generated putrification of the genitalia.  He knew his buddy was dead and gone forever.

Their backs to the river, the four men could see Johnson's plane hitting the jungle canopy, setting everything it touched ablaze.
Watanabe began calling on the PBR patrol boat frequencies. To his surprise the voice of Navy Lieutenant Bryce Withers came in loud and clear.
Withers voice sounded calm, almost casual, very similar to an airline pilot telling his passengers to fasten their seat belts.  Thede was overjoyed in that he hated flying and loved boats. His rationale being, "There are more planes in the ocean than boats in the sky."

Withers was a self made man, who by his own estimation went from "street Spade to Afro American, to American" in the time it took him to graduate from the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland.
His early years on the streets of Baltimore included armed robbery, burglaries, muggings and what he described as sexual impositions. He was never caught, despite the arrest of his "posse" members who did their time in typical gang silence.
Withers won a football scholarship to the Naval Academy where he won the hearts but not the minds of his fellow midshipmen, who considered him a few clicks up from a gorilla. Aware of his dual status, he spent much of his time alone or with his roommate, a honky from Alabama named Wesley Cope, who barely talked to or tolerated Withers.
One fateful night, Withers was complaining to his stoic roommate about the evils of Jim Crow in general and racial bias in particular. His normally reserved roommate turned off the television and walked over to the complainant, invading his space with his face inches from Withers’ nose.
Backing Withers to the wall he unleashed a calm but threatening oratory.
"Listen up spook, the reason you're an outcast at this institution is not because your black! The reason you're considered a baboon is because of the way you walk with that shuck and jive stroll you do. It's that fucking jabber shit that comes out of your mouth especially when you refer to police as "poh-leece "or a door as "Tha dough." Your family and your ancestors have been in this country longer than mine and you still can't speak the King’s English. Wise up asshole. No one gives a shit about your black ass being black. They don't want to associate with you because of your inability to talk on a decent level, your in stone, pissed off look and again that step and fetch it stroll you do.
“Lose that black is ‘beautiful shit’ and join the world. Otherwise, you'll be an asterix in the history books, if that.
“I was in Alabama, marching for your right to equality. But Withers, no one can give you equality. You have to earn it.
“In the meantime, until you can learn to speak English, stay the hell out of my way. Slavery wasn't all bad.  If it were not for slavery you would be sitting in front of a thatch hut poking a stick at a dung beetle."
Cope returned to his bunk.
Faced with two decisions, to kill the honky or heed the pep talk, Withers chose the latter and began reading books out loud, recording his verbiage, playing it back and polishing his speech. By the time he graduated, he spoke better English than most of the cadets. He completed the transformation by eliminating his angry young black man look and adopted a “smile at all times” persona. It worked. His promotion was rapid and his friends numerous.

"We are coming up at about a thousand yards from the smoke," Withers radioed. "Fire an orange smoke grenade so we can find you. We should arrive shortly."
Czar gave the command to fire the smoke 50 yards up stream from their position, knowing the NVA would concentrate all their guns on the smoke. He figured the PBR would pass by them enroute to the smoke, where they could hail the boat from shore. Spotting the special forces team, Withers put the bow of the PBR into the river bank while his gunners fore and aft poured a stream of fire into the jungle over the heads of Czar's men.
They stumbled into the water, struggling to get aboard the PBR, which was now absorbing numerous hits.
Most of the bullets continued through the hull of ply glass as Czar and Watanabe rolled into the cockpit. Thede Brown and Yoo came aboard over the transom. The Yards had just gripped the boats stanchions when they were hit with a string of shots. Both dropped from the boat into the Min River. There would be no joyous return to the mountains.
Withers calmly shifted, powering off the bank, wheeling the bow around into the river. He applied full throttle as his gunners trimmed the tree line with streams of lacerating 50 caliber fire. The PBR moved ahead up on a plane over the muddy water, reaching 30 knots. Rounding a bend in the river, out of view, the NVA ceased their barrage.
Lieutenant Withers introduced himself and his crew to his newly acquired passengers and Czar introduced his team except Yoo. Czar waited for the inevitable question.
Withers, turned from the helm, and looking toward Czar, pointed at Yoo.
"What is this man's name?"
As the PBR roared past a small fishing boat anchored in midstream the two fisherman, aboard could hear laughter coming from the patrol boat accompanied by a loud series of "fuck you's."
The PBR's engines began to emit clouds of blue smoke as the fuel tanks ran dry, leaving Withers with just enough momentum to beach the boat at the mouth of a small stream.
Withers ordered his bow gunner to rig a brick of plastique in the bilge's with a 10 minute timer.
Urging the boat’s occupants to follow him off the ship onto a trail, he said would lead to a road that ended at a Green Beret camp. They could chopper back to their individual bases from the camp.
Once on the road, they discovered it was clogged by a mix of refugees and ARVIN troops moving just ahead of advancing NVA regulars armed with tanks and assorted heavy weapons.
Withers and his crew caught a ride on a half track while Watanabe put out a radio call for an extraction chopper to pick them up at the Green Beret camp.

CHAPTER SIX
MILIN

After an hour on the road, the exodus of vehicles and humanity came to a stop just ahead of the Maui Mafia, who continued along the berm to the source of the stoppage.
Standing in the middle of the road was a Vietnamese girl who was about seven or eight. Her hair was singed and matted, her right leg badly burned. She held out both arms as if to be picked up by her mother, who was no where in sight.

Clearly in shock, the child could only stare at the man screaming at her to" Get off the road!"
Nick was unsure of the language but Watanabe recognized it as Korean. Drawing closer, Czar could see Colonel Chee. He was with three officers and a driver sitting in a jeep marked ROK. Chee struck the child across the face with his riding crop, knocking her to the road.
She stumbled to her feet, tears streaming from her eyes, again extended her arms to be picked up.
Czar approached Chee from the side, outside of Chee's peripheral vision. Both Watanabe and Brown knew that Colonel Chee was as good as dead. They raised their M16s toward the men sitting in the jeep, covering their commander.

Czar raised his left hand and saluted Chee, but only as a misdirection to divert Chee's eyes away from the glint of the equalizer, which had already cleared Czar's holster. Czar felt a rage like none he had ever felt in his life, a rage that was matched by spark and fire inside the equalizer's chamber. Bursting with 10,000 pounds per square inch of pressure, the 230 grain slug spun through the grooves in the muzzle, ripping into Chee's stomach at 800 feet a second. Chee, driven over backwards by the 400 pound force of each of four slugs, catapulted onto the jeep. His back arched over the hood and then he pitched forward in front of the bumper.
Watanabe and Brown emptied full clips into the occupants of the jeep as Chee's body twitched for the last time. The pinging, whining sounds of bullets and gunfire ended as suddenly as it had begun.
Chee and his comrades were now nothing more than so much refuse on this road of inhumanities.
Czar gathered the child, who was still standing in the road with her outstretched arms, into his own arms.
Yoo and Brown cleared the jeep of the barely recognizable ROK soldiers. Taking off his jacket , Watanabe gently placed it around the child.

The refugees on the road hurriedly stripped the bodies of their clothing and boots as Brown drove over the former Colonel Chee toward the Green Beret camp a dozen clicks ahead.
Czar sat in the back, holding the little girl, as Watanabe gave her water and applied first aid from his field kit.
Looking at the terrified girl, Czar began to sob. This child was his redemption for all that he had done in Vietnam for the past three years, the assassinations of the guilty and innocent, the kidnappings, everything.
Czar's sobbing spread first to Yoo, then Brown and finally Watanabe. They continued toward the Green Beret camp amid outbursts of sobbing and silence. Clearing through the security forces of the camp they drove onto the landing zone where the extraction chopper waited, blades turning. Czar was first, with the girl still in his arms, followed by Brown, who stepped into a punji pit as he reached for the frame of the chopper's open door. Watanabe boosted him into the cabin and began pulling a seven inch punji stick from his ankle.

Infiltrating the camp a month earlier, the the Viet Cong had dug punji pits and placed Claymore mines inside the camp and on the LZ pad. All had been found following a painstaking search and cleared, except this one with Thede Brown's name on it. The bamboo stick, sharpened at one end, had pierced Brown's boot, severing an artery.
Watanabe removed the boot as a pulsing stream of blood spurted high into the air with each beat of Brown's heart.
The interior of the chopper was soon a fog of red as the prop wash from the rotating blades whipped air through the cabin. To make matters worse, they were picking up ground fire.
Czar ordered the pilot to fly directly to the hospital ship Repose offshore from Danang. Czar wanted the best medical treatment for the child in his arms and for his teammate. The Repose was it. It was a gamble with Brown's life, especially since he was now unconscious. Flying back to the Green Beret camp would have been more of a gamble for the pilot, his side gunners and Czar's entire team.

With the chopper touchdown on the deck of the Repose , its blades swirled rivulets of a bloody red mist onto the Navy corpsmen who rushed to meet them.
Lifting Brown to a waiting stretcher, Czar refused to allow them take the girl, following them instead to the ship's trauma center, never leaving her side until sedatives were administered.
Watanabe and Yoo were dispatched to a state room to wash away the blood.

With the child resting and Brown stabilized, Czar found a phone and put in a call to Sam Paris at the embassy to tell him that this last mission was a failure, that they had not been able to capture any prisoners but had managed to rescue two Vietnamese civilians from the Vietcong. Paris was pleased with the mission anyway, telling Czar the paperwork was ready for them to complete their transfer out of Vietnam.
Czar thanked Paris and asked a favor, something he had never done before,
"Sam I need two passports, one for a man and one for a little girl about seven or eight."
Czar knew Paris could arrange pretty much anything under the umbrella of the CIA. He also knew where all the bodies, dope deals, theft, cover-up and corruption in the agency were buried or filed and that kept Paris in near total power.
Paris paused.
"Consider it done, Nick. I'll have my secretary deliver the documents to MACV headquarters. Bring their photos."
Nick thanked him and headed for the shower, pausing to ask about Brown's condition.
A bearded male nurse assured Nick that Brown would be up on his feet in three to four days. Yoo, Watanabe and Czar choppered to Saigon with photos of the girl and Yoo. Watanabe later picked up the passports while Czar and Yoo stopped at Czar's apartment.

Czar gave his live-in maid 10,000 piasters and told her he would be leaving for Hawaii in the next few days.
With tears flowing, the maid reluctantly accepted the money, realizing what she feared most had come to pass.
She was soon to be without a lover, home and a job. War is not only hell it never determines who's right just who's left. 

Watanabe was waiting outside in a Renault cab that took the three men through the clogged streets to Tan
Son Nhat, where they caught a chopper back to the Repose.
Thede Brown met them hobbling on crutches, grinning widely with spirits high now that he was finally declared fit for travel. His doctor and the staff were glad to see him go as he had caused a minor riot in his ward.
Brown's nurses were atwitter when Thede complained the neck on his urine bottle was "way to small."
Brown was also the unwitting host to several dozen crabs, which between multiplying and jumping from patient to patient and even to the medical staff. It nearly got him and his ear necklace keel hauled. Thede attributed the whole thing to Hanoi Hoover, the fence femme fatale. Leaving the hospital ward, Brown noticed the male nurse with a pronounced lisp scratching his beard and mustache vigorously. Brown knowingly nodded and gave him a wide berth.

The name on the girl's passport was "Milin." Milin and her medical prognosis was excellent. A good start for a new life.
Her doctor pulled Czar aside for a quick caution.
"The child will need therapy. She is unable to speak, probably the result of trauma suffered in the war."
One week later, the four men and Milin Min flew to Hong Kong, the Philippines, Guam and Kahului airport on the verdant valley Isle of Maui, Hawaii.
"Maui No Ka Oi."

CHAPTER SEVEN
THE SLOOP

On Apollo, Czar and Yoo relieved Brown and Watanabe at the wheel as a blush of sunrise appeared on the horizon snared and colored by the sun's rays.
Swells from Asia bore the trimaran forward rushing onward to assault the Hawaiian coastline and shores unknown.
Through  the sun's red tinge, Nick Czar could see the light at McGregor Point on the center hull bow confirming his dead reckoning navigation and series of sun shots beginning at Palmyra Island. Sitting quietly, coffee in hand, the four watched the sun crest Mount Haleakala, bathing Maalea Bay in a red glow. A rainbow formed over the west Maui mountains as Apollo sailed into the bay, Molokini to starboard and Kahoolawe to port. The moment of tranquility was abruptly shattered as a shark swept astern of Apollo, severing the taffrail spinner that had recorded many miles that had passed by Apollo's hulls. It was the second time that a shark had taken a taffrail spinner trailing Apollo.
Nick attributed the incident to the curse of Kahoolawe. Through binoculars, Watanabe spotted a Coast Guard cutter anchored near the lee shore of Kahoolawe along with a Coast Guard Zodiac and rescue boat with "Maui P.D" on it's side. All aboard Apollo suspected a life lost overboard.

None of those aboard Apollo nor anyone on the anchored vessels saw a small sloop with tattered sails, rust stained hull and empty cockpit round the windward side of Kahoolawe and disappear from sight.

With an eye on the top mast fly, Czar made a quarter turn on the wheel, bringing Apollo directly into the trades, luffing the main and mizzen. Yoo slipped the boat hook under the messenger line attached to Apollo's mooring ball. Brown and Watanabe released the halyards, dropping the sails while Czar winched in the roller furling jib.
Apollo slowed, drifting backwards with the wind, to be drawn up short on the mooring line where she tugged at the mooring much like a dancing horse on a lunge line. Yoo inflated the Zodiac, gathering his gear in preparation for the ride through the surf and onto Sugar Beach Kihei. The Tohatsu motor fired on the first pull and the four seamen landed, securing the tender's painter to a palm tree.

Ruth was on the balcony of the Royal Maui Yacht Club restaurant watching their arrival. She wore Nick's favorite muumuu, a carnation Lei, and a single orchid in her hair. The cherubic vision was complete with her tanned body and long flowing blond hair. Ruth was radiant, exquisite and held an unmistakable beauty.  Eventually the four men entered the club and Ruth's warm embrace.

Watanabe used the club phone, informing the Maui Police Department that he would be at his desk in the morning as he had just returned to Maui.
"Anything new going on that I should know about?" he inquired.
"Bob, the Coast Guard found the body of a man on kahoolawe this morning but that's all we have so far,” The desk sergeant replied. “The dumb bastard probably stepped on some unexploded ordinance."
Returning to the restaurant, Watanabe relayed the incident on Kahoolawe as Thede Brown departed for his butcher shop with the realization that he would soon have to face his worst customer, Rose Peabody. Rose was 83 and a validation of the axiom, "not everything in nature has a purpose."

With a “six pack" charter scheduled for the next day, Yoo loaded the inflatable with a deli lunch for six along with several cases of beer and soft drinks for the morning snorkel cruise to the coral gardens of Olawalu, half way between McGregor Point and the old whaling village of Lahaina. Ruth and Nick headed for Ruth's home in Kula, renewing their love for one another in what could only be described as tender joy and fulfillment.
Ruth, a strict Lutheran, was choir director and church organist but her religious persuasion did not dampen her sexual appetite. Nick would often refer to her fondly as "church lady." In his mind, Ruth knew how to get the most from an organ whether it be in church or in bed.
Nick hoped he could avoid ‘Nam dreams, then fell asleep in a bed that did not move with the rhythm of the sea.

Watanabe and Czar met the next morning for breakfast at the yacht club, sharing the latest information on the body found on Kahoolawe.
"This guy got permission from the Navy to conduct some stupid, meaningless survey as a bone to the native Hawaiian "Huis" against the bombing of Kahoolawe. As far as we know, his name is Teddy Uchida, who just happens to be the head of the Hawaii Visitors Bureau.
“Speaking of heads, we can't find his!"
Nick was interested now.
"Bob, you’re telling me you've got his body but no head?"
Watanabe took a sip of his orange juice.
"That's correct, his head is AWOL, its removal very clean cut. Looked like a single stroke with maybe a sword."
Watanabe reached in his shirt pocket and handed Czar a photograph of a man sitting in front of a tent with a shirt tied around one leg, a ball cap on his penis, wearing nothing but shoes and covered with blood. The man was smiling.
Both Czar and Watanabe were stumped as to how a man covered with so much blood could be happily grinning.
Watanabe concluded.
"That's Teddy Uchida with his head. We're checking his background, his wife's and any individual he may have known,  but we need your help because of your "in" with Sam Paris and the CIA."
Czar agreed, paid the check and swam out to Apollo, where passengers were waiting to sail to Olawalu and a day of fun in the sun. As they passed McGregor Point the passengers asked the same questions asked by every previous charter group on Apollo.
"How deep is it here? Are there any sharks where we are going? Where can we buy Maui Wowie?"
The top question of all of course was " What's Mr. Yoo's first name?" The answer being the day's highlight.
With Apollo back on her mooring line, the last of the passengers safely through the surf and on Sugar Beach,
Nick and Ruth drove up country to Kula San to bring little Milin home from her continuing two-day-a-week speech therapy session. There had been no perceptible results. Milin sat on Nick's lap, holding her doll "Minnie," named after the River Min where Milin first encountered the Maui Mafia on that fatal dusty road. Nick and Ruth had been given state custody of Milin. Despite her inability to speak, she was a beautiful, tanned, happy all American girl with a protective loving extended family of "uncles", Bob, Thede and Mr. Yoo.

CHAPTER EIGHT
HEAD

Paul and Dee Smith were in the second day of their two week honeymoon at the Kamole sands near McKenna beach. Walking hand in hand, Dee spotted a glass ball floating past the outer line of surf, perhaps a hundred yards distance.
Fisherman in Japan used glass balls to float their nets, which would suffer storm damage on occasion, freeing the glass buoys to float for months on the ocean, eventually all the way to Hawaiian waters. The balls, mostly jade green, were prized in Hawaii as decorations in beach homes and condos. The Smiths viewed the bobbing glass ball as the perfect souvenir for their home in Nashport, Ohio.
Paul was confident he could swim the distance easily and return to the beach with little effort. Smith's smooth strokes quickly put him past the surf near the floating ball. As he drew near the ball he noticed some of the netting still attached with seaweed and a few barnacles, testimony to it's long months at sea drifting on the currents between the islands of the rising sun to the islands of Aloha. Before reaching for the green globe, Smith removed his T-shirt and while treading water, gently floated the ball into the shirt. As he tied the bottom of his trap the ball inside he spotted another ball, barely floating above the surface of the water. He maneuvered the second ball, still covered with seaweed, into his shirt. He thought how lucky to have found not one but two glass balls to take to his wife who was standing on the beach awaiting his return. Dee Smith was ecstatic to see her husband had two glass balls. Carefully lowering his treasure filled shirt at Dee's feet, he untied the shirt, removing the first ball. Dee began dislodging the seaweed and tattered netting festooned with barnacles from the glass.
Paul noted that the second ball, also covered with seaweed, felt strangely uneven to the touch. Dee Smith, in removing the seaweed from the second ball, suddenly screamed, finding her self face to face with the head of the late Teddy Uchida.

Sergeant Watanabe and two uniformed officers blocked off the area with yellow vinyl ribbon and with the scene secure, he conducted a preliminary interrogation of the agitated honeymooners while awaiting the arrival of the Maui county coroner Seichi Fukugawa. Fukugawa was possibly the most inept coroner in all of Oceania, if not the hemisphere.
He was 80 years old. His eyesight, like his intellect, had dimmed, partly due to growing cataracts and difficulty in focusing both eyes at the same time. He wore a colostomy bag, sported a cane to facilitate his walking and occasionally strike his assistant Talevetti Malufu, a large Samoan with a pronounced lisp and a glass eye that had been set a tad to starboard. Malafu appeared to be always looking out for the unexpected.
Fukugawa dispatched Malafu to the hotel to fetch a chair so he could conduct a preliminary examination of the severed head in comfort. Malafu returned with a beach recliner as Watanabe and Fukugawa stepped under the ribbon approaching the head. Fukugawa settled into the chair, which was stuck in "recline," and directed his assistant to bring him the head and hold it close . Malafu carefully lifted the head and held it close to the reclining coroner, who managed to focus in on the neck portion, which he could not so clearly see, had been neatly severed. Malafu rotated the head to a face to face attitude and Fukugawa determined that both eves had been gouged out or eaten by sea birds or marine life. He discerned that a blackened cylindrical, jointed object was protruding from the right eye socket. Fukugawa thought it looked very much like a very old and rotten human thumb. Fukugawa directed Malafu to bag it and declared the crime scene closed. Back at police headquarters in Wailuku, the chief was meeting with two representatives of the governor's office, one each from the Coast Guard and the Hawaii Visitors’ Bureau. They all agreed that the macabre incident could be bad for the tourist industry. None knew just how bad it could be.

CHAPTER NINE
BUTCHER

Nick Czar greeted Rose Peabody, the queen of decrepitude, with "Aloha" as she leaned over her walker berating Thede Brown for the quality of his meats, his method of cutting and in particular the lack of perceived cleanliness in his butcher shop. As Rose took a breather to fondle the pork chops, Brown whispered to Czar.
" I wish she'd have been in Vietnam. I'd have added her ears and hearing aid to my necklace."
 "Look Thede, to get Peabody out of your shop for good, there are two things you can do."
Czar proceeded to outline twin strategies. Brown was grinning with obvious glee. Thede turned to Rose Peabody.
"Your choice of meat is on me today Mrs. Peabody,” he told her. " Come back in two days and I'll have a surprise cut of meat just for you."
Czar held the door as Rose pushed her walker ahead of her to the sidewalk, clutching her free chops.
Czar bought three steaks, pausing before leaving.
“Let me know how my suggestions turn out Thede," Czar chuckled.

Thede Brown's butcher shop in Makawao and 10 acres were left to him by his father. The land featured a water trough for cattle supplied by a single water pipe. Thede later built a two room cabin around the trough and used it as a bath tub, kitchen sink and a laundry tub once a month. To complete his little chunk of paradise, he constructed an out house over and evenly astride a main flume of the east Maui irrigation network of pipes, tunnels and ditches that provided no less than 450 million gallons of water a day to the vast valley isle pineapple and sugar fields.
In sum; when Thede Brown "laid a loaf," it would travel a distance of seventy four miles, reaching speeds of 25 knots, resulting in considerable dismay for sugar and pineapple field workers, stopping to dip a bandanna in the flowing water to mop a sweating forehead.  Above all,  Thede wanted to be buried on his little plot of ground.  He let it be known that he did not want a ceremonial  burial but did want to be buried face down with his posterior protruding from the ground.  This "Ass above ground" posture would provide a place for his visitors to park a bike.
 
 

CHAPTER TEN
LESTER

Czar phoned Cameron Collins, responding to Collin's plea for help in locating his son Lester. The senior Collins expressed his need to meet with Czar as soon as possible. Czar once returned Lester to Maui when Lester was 18 and hiding out in Mexico.
He had disappeared while a freshman at Punaho school. Lester had a troubled childhood and was well known to Maui police, having accrued a juvenile record of abusing animals and indulging in deviant sexual behavior with classmates. In short, Lester was a very sick little bastard, in Czar's estimation. Nick, with the help of Sam Paris, traced Lester to Guaymas. Czar brought Lester back to his father but now Lester had gone missing again.
Cameron Collins, despite sounding dispirited on the telephone, suggested to Czar that he and Ruth Von Stein join them for a formal dinner at the Collins’ mansion to be attended by the movers and shakers of Maui.
Czar accepted on the provision that Thede, Watanabe and Mr. Yoo be included in the invitation. A grateful Collins agreed. Replacing the phone, Czar picked up his car keys. As his car picked up speed, Czar tried to think of one positive thing Lester Collins had ever done. The only thing Czar could think of was Lester had been a star on the Maui High School basketball team.  A game, Thede Brown always said,  was created to keep chimpanzees off the streets.

Driving to Wailuku, Czar parked in front of the Maui police department. Sergeant Watanabe was on the phone with Coroner Fukugawa as Czar entered Watanabe's office. Fukugawa sat eating sashimi with chop sticks, between sentences dipping the raw fish in green wasabe sauce.
His assistant Malafu sat opposite Fukugawa, engaged in a mostly clumsy unsuccessful attempt to match up the head of Teddy Uchida with the body of Teddy Uchida. Fukugawa, swallowing the fiery fish, explained that "the cause of death was the severance of the larynx, intervertebral disk and fir bro cartilage."
Watanabe motioned Czar to sit down and interrupted the coroner,
" Look doctor, I know the cause of death. His head was chopped off. What I need to know is what can you tell me about that thumb in his eye socket?"
"It looks to me that the thumb belonged to someone suffering from necrotizing fasciittis," Fukugawa replied as he swallowed two chunks of raw fish. Anticipating Watanabe's next question, the coroner continued.
"Necrotizing fasciittis is also known as flesh eating disease. Maui has an average of five cases a year. Chances of getting this disease are two out of a million people. At present, several locals are known to have the disease."
With a sigh, Watanabe asked the coroner to obtain a list of individuals known to have the affliction.
"I have the list for you but it won't do you much good as this bacteria eats one centimeter of flesh per hour or about one inch an hour and is fatal if left untreated."
Fukugawa finished the last of his sashimi and concluded.
"You get this disease from a wound or even as the result of surgery."
Watanabe said good-bye and hung up the phone, relaying the coroner's comments to Czar. Czar suggested at the ablative rate the flesh eating virus traveled the killer would be dead in a few days.
Czar asked Watanabe to tell Thede Brown and Mr. Yoo about the dinner invitation at the Collins estate and drove to the office of Dalton Hagler, Maalea harbor master.
 
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN
MALICE AFORETHOUGHT

Dalton Hagler had disliked Nick Czar for as long as he could remember. Hagler had been against the war in Vietnam, so much so he traveled to Canada to avoid induction. Czar never gave a hint as to his distaste for Hagler, but Hagler could sense the contempt when the two met. Thede Brown had presented Hagler with a white feather, symbolic of cowardice and Hagler guessed Czar was behind the offering.
Today he would even the score by moving Czar to the end of a five year waiting list for a harbor boat slip. Thanks to a technicality in Czar's application, which he had neglected to tell Czar about, the document was void.
Waiting nine years for this day of reckoning, Hagler was dismissive and as contemptuous as possible as he informed Czar that the Coast Guard had listed the former name of his vessel as "Charmisa" instead of "Charisma." Thus Hagler explained, the vessel’s survey and registration are in error, which invalidates the application.
Hagler abruptly rose from behind his desk and retreated to the bathroom outside his office door, leaving a seething Czar.
Czar was aware that Hagler had a long history of urinary problems and was a frequent visitor to the bathroom.
Hagler failed to return. Czar left his office knowing that he had just been screwed on purpose with what he determined to be malice aforethought.
Passing Rick's Place, a lobster shack at the harbor, Czar decided to order a Maine lobster, not at Rick's, but by mail order from Maine. A lobster, he thought, might just be the thing to alleviate his feeling of being had for a total of five years.

Coroner Fukugawa was looking forward to Wednesday and a romantic interlude that occurred every Wednesday for the past seven years. Fukugawa directed his assistant Malafu to re bag the head of Teddy Uchida and return the head and Uchida's torso to the freezer. He then signed the release form that permitted the return of the remains to the Uchida family and to the designated funeral home where an attempt would be made to reattach the head and install two glass eyes for an open casket funeral. Fukugawa then emptied his colostomy bag and told Malafu to lock up. He had forgotten to tell Watanabe about the sperm found on Uchida's buttox. Sperm that tested positive for both syphilis and gonorrhea.
"Not a problem," he thought. "Watanabe will read it in his report."

CHAPTER TWELVE
FROCK LESS FRAUD

Bishop Bernard Joseph arrived at the Paradise Surf resort just as the sun was setting. The bishop's suite of rooms provided a spectacular view of the islands of Molokai and Lanai framed by the boisterous Molokai channel.
He signed the guest book as Bernard Joseph. The desk clerk assumed this guest was very wealthy in that his suite of rooms cost $1,200 per day. The clerk was unaware that this balding fat man was a bishop in the Catholic church, the personification of falsehood and head of a large and very lucrative diocese. Bernard Joseph wore no uniform identifying him as a person of his spiritual standing, absent his St. Christopher's medal attached to a necklace around his neck.
Earlier at Honolulu International Airport, the bishop had changed from the black colorless wardrobe of a priest into a red aloha shirt, shorts and wrap around sunglasses.
Arriving at Kahului airport on Maui, the frock less fraud rented a Ferrari at Maui Imports, completing the transformation from cleric to tourist. Bishop Joseph showered, applying copious amounts of baby powder to his flabby frame. He donned a yellow aloha shirt and flannel shorts. He wore no under shorts. As darkness fell, Bishop Joseph, pina colada in hand, strolled the resorts' lawn onto a path lined with tiki torches to the beach leading toward Pau Hana Park. The bishop made an effort to speak to each person he passed on the beach, particularly to the young men passing by. As the  most reverend walked, he passed momentarily near a luau with the sounds of "My Little Grass Shack in Hawaii" in traditional slack key along with the smell of roasting pig.
Some hundred yards further he detected the acrid smell of rotting flesh and halted, peering into the darkness to determine the source of the odor. He could see a large form lying in the surf. He drew cautiously nearer. The form moved slowly with the rolling surf, making it appear alive. As the form rolled toward him, Bishop Joseph saw what appeared to be a large dorsal fin. He made out the dim outline of a small pilot whale, apparently dead for weeks.
Moving further down the beach, he pondered the mystery of why this wonderful creature had for no apparent reason beached itself, and why this was done sometimes in groups, and why they would eventually die.
About midnight, according to his Rolex, he entered Pau Hana Park, moving in the direction of the public toilets. A light rain began to fall. His anticipation overshadowed his fear of an arrest "in flagrante delicto." That was a phrase used by his Cardinal following his last of three arrests for soliciting undercover park rangers back on the mainland. He felt the trade winds shift, with the breeze now directly on his face resulting in a spinal chill.
He decided to return the next evening. The park seemed devoid of any action. Back on the beach, the trades again shifted. This time he wretched at a more potent stench of rotting flesh, worse than that emanating from the dead pilot whale. Just ahead he perceived a large form wearing what looked like a rain parka and hood, swinging an apparent metal detector back and forth over the sand.
Drawing near he saw the metal detector had no round disk shaped magnetometer. The end of the shaft and handle showed no outline of a meter mount. As Bishop Joseph began to form the word "Mahalo," the large hooded form raised the object in a horizontal arc just clearing the bishop's right shoulder.
Had there been any one else on the beach at that time they would have heard a sound much like the cracking of a bull whip but with a metallic twang, They would have heard sobbing and a high pitched laugh. None of those sounds, however, could be attributed to the Bishop, whose head was now rolling languidly to and fro in the red surf next to the dead pilot whale.  The Bishop had intoned his last Benediction.
A cascade of blood covered the Bishops chest hands and feet much like the stigmata.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KOA WOOD CHEST

Haleakala ,"The House of the Sun," began bathing the valley isle in a warm golden light as Rose Peabody poured hot coffee for her husband Benny. Benny's failing eyesight and arthritis plagued body matched Rose's condition with but one difference; Benny used a cane and Rose a walker.  Both pronounced the word "Marriage" as "Mirage."
Benny was looking forward to his noon walk to the Parrot Cafe to fritter away the hours by dreaming of vigorous yesteryears as he downed bottles of Asahi beer.

Rose anticipated the day as well. This was the day she would engage with county coroner Seichi Fukugawa in a liaison of long standing. Rose's five room apartment was over the Hasegawa barber shop and was filled with antiques from Hawaii's past. She stood polishing her favorite antique, a Koa wood four drawer dresser. when Benny departed, heading for the Parrot.
Fukugawa always arrived before noon for a "light trim" at Hasegawa's tonsorial parlor. Hasegawa was a modest man who had a great deal to be modest about.

Mr. Hasegawa's eyesight was worse than Rose's, Benny's and Fukugawa's combined, thus he would generally snip more air than, hair which was fine with the coroner, who sported a thin thatch of follicles. By prearranged signal, Rose would bang her walker on the floor. The thumping heard in the barber shop alerted Fukugawa that Mr. Peabody, like Elvis, had left the building. Fukugawa, feeling the effects of an early lunch consisting of two bowls of clam chowder and and three bottles of Rolling Rock, paid Hasegawa, retrieved his cane and began the hard climb up the stairway of heaven to his love nest of the best.
Rose met Seichi in a tuneful embrace as cane struck walker. Rose had already opened the drawers of the Koa wood chest in stair step fashion. Since both lovers had arthritis precluding Rose from getting her feet in the air or any where near her ears and with Fukugawa's inability to bend his knees, the Koa chest was key to their making love.

The phone rang at the Parrot Cafe just as Benny Peabody was finishing his fourth beer.
The voice on the phone, muffled by a sock over the mouthpiece, was that of Thede Brown. The bartender was asked to inform Mr. Peabody that he was needed at home immediately.
Reluctantly easing himself off the bar stool, Benny pushed open the door of the Parrot Cafe with his cane, moving slowly toward his apartment home and a date with infamy.

In the Peabody love nest, the coroner had haltingly climbed to the fourth uppermost drawer of the Koa chest where he stood naked except for his colostomy bag. Rose Peabody, her forehead level with the coroner's genitalia, flashed a coquettish smile and fetchingly removed her teeth. She was a beauty from tail to snout.

Entering his apartment and owing his his poor eyesight, Benny surmised that his wife had purchased an antique statue. Benny had never seen a statue with a clear plastic purse strapped around its right thigh.
Leaning forward for a better view, Benny recognized the statue to be the Maui County Coroner, in the flesh.
Benny sensed an almost perceptible twinge of adrenaline as he advanced on the startled couple.
Fukugawa, who was having difficulty getting his feet out of the top drawer, noticed that his colostomy bag had suddenly filled. Rose adroitly stepped aside as Benny, snorting like a bull, tottered past her with his cane in attack mode.
Fukugawa grabbed his cane as he hopped to the hardwood floor. The scene was much like an old pirate movie, Rose thought, as the gyrating geriatrics began to thrust and parry. Benny Peabody was slowly homing in on Fukugawa's testicles, but unfortunately his aim was off and he impaled the newly filled colostomy bag. The combination of two bowls of clam chowder and beer on the hardwood floor caused both combatants to lose their footing as they grappled one another attempting to land a decisive blow.
Benny arthritically managed a swinging miss, the momentum carrying him into what could only be described as a triple axle. The maneuver would have scored a 9 on the ice rink but abruptly ended with Benny's head hitting the Koa chest. The impact left him dazed just long enough for Fukugawa to stick his finger in his colostomy bag, gather his clothes and low tail it out of the love nest at a dead stumble.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WE GOT ANOTHER BODY

Watanabe had just finished reading the coroner's report on the death of Teddy Uchida when the phone rang. It was Bill Snider of the Maui Park Service with some disturbing news.
"Sergeant Watanabe, one of our park employees found a body on the beach at Pau Hana park. It's missing a head."
Watanabe rang the coroner's office to tell Fukugawa to meet him at Pau Hana Park. The coroner sounded distracted, out of breath and much like he had just seen a ghost. Between gasps for air, he promised to meet the sergeant as requested.
Watanabe would have to cancel on the Collins dinner party.

"We got another body, Nick!" he nearly shouted into the phone.
Hearing Watanabe's description of the scene, Czar responded with sobering tones.
"Whoever is doing this has to die damn soon from this flesh eating bacteria."
Nick called Ruth with the disturbing news. In turn, Ruth alerted her friends. Within the hour, most of the residents and tourists on Maui had heard the news. Nick stopped at the Royal Maui Yacht Club for a cold Bombay, knowing that if these murders were not stopped, tourism and the charter boat industry would be down the tubes.

That night, Nick and Ruth gave instructions to Milin's baby sitter, Ethyl Tom.
"Milin is not permitted to watch anything on television that has a war theme or contains violence."
Milin clung to her doll "Minnie," smiling in understanding when Nick and Ruth embraced her.
 "We love you Milin more than anything in the whole world," both adults said in unison.
 Nick reminded Ethyl Tom that Milin should be in bed no later than 9 p.m. as she would be leaving in the morning for Kula San for another series of therapy treatments designed to restore her ability to speak.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE PARTY

The driveway to the Collins mansion was lined with stately Lombardy poplars, the grounds forested with eucalyptus trees that emanated a light scent of mint menthol. The crowning shrub was a Climatis bush heavy with blooms. The impressive bush brought praise from most of the arriving guests, including Thede, who made it a point to mention the bush to his hostess Phoebe Ann Collins, wife of Cameron Collins.
"Your chiamydia bush sure is pungent, Phoebe."  Brown thought Phoebe appeared more ugly than ever probably because of her company of guests.

A musical ensemble from the Honolulu Symphony could be seen on the South Lanai. The music was subdued and very much Wagner.

Phuc Yoo pulled his restored vintage WWII Kaiser jeep into the winding drive, screeching to a stop behind Nick and Ruth. A team of valets took their car keys at the entrance to the Collins front portico where Cameron and wife Phoebe Ann greeted the arriving "A" list of Maui politics and wealth.

Phoebe Ann disliked Ruth Von Stein, feeling inadequate in her company. The Von Stein family was among the first mainland families to settle on Maui, enjoying a history of seafaring captains, U.S. senators and a few first rate charlatans. Phoebe Ann's background was singular in that she had been born in Crooksville, Ohio, the daughter of a poor dirt farmer with very little dirt. Phoebe had vigorously improved her social status by sleeping with her high school principal, followed by the dean of her college, where she met Cameron Collins at a sorority dance. Now, she was the wife of the richest man in Hawaii.  From "Prom Queen" to "Prong Queen," her beauty along the way more and more distitute.
The arriving guests were unaware that the party was nearly canceled as a result of an auto accident at the end of the Collins' drive way two days prior.

The estate gardener, 23-year-old Otis Wong, was driving Phoebe from the compound's  grounds en route to Waikuku when the Bentley strayed into a concrete sculpture of a black lawn jockey. The impact was such that Phoebe sustained a mild concussion when the back of her head struck the brake pedal. Otis suffered penile lacerations that would have matched Phoebe's dental X-rays. The Bentley's grill was demolished by the outreaching arm of the lawn jockey in what looked like a “black power” salute.

Phoebe concealed her feelings regarding Ruth, hugging her and motioning her to the south patio where drinks were provided by a squad of waiters, trays held high by white gloved hands. Ruth was given a white zinfandel, Nick a Bombay martini with four olives. Thede and Phuc drank beer, ignoring the waiters look of disdain at their less than formal attire of sandals, shorts, aloha shirts and two-day-old beards.

The view from the south patio was the most spectacular in all of the Hawaiian islands. Looking east, one could see the tip of Mauna Loa on the big island, to the north, Molokini, Lanai, Molokai and Kahoolawe. Looking westward, the West Maui mountains and Iao Valley all preceded by thousands of acres of pineapples and waving sugar cane seemingly painted against an ocean of blue.

Architecturally, the Cameron home was neoclassicism with a touch of Southern anti bellum, the pool meandering, the tennis courts clay, the Columns Corinthian, the Balustrades Roman, the accents 22 carat gold and the furnishings lavish.  In a word "opulent"
In a phrase, "Fit for a Fin De Siecle ball."

Thede Brown didn't like the Cameron house because there was no place to spit.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AGREEMENT

Cameron Collins took Nick by the arm, asking him to join him in the Library. He closed the door sitting heavily in a wing back chair. Collins’ voice reverberated not because of natural resonance but simply because he had installed directional microphones in the wing backs that fed a reverb unit and omni speaker embedded system.
Nick pretended not to notice the "voice of God” effect, chalking it up to another idiosyncrasy of the self absorbed rich.
Collins began by thanking Czar for returning his son Lester from Mexico, paused and got down to business.
"Nick,I need your help in finding Lester again. He left our home two years ago. We have not heard from him since then. Nick, you know of Lester's troubled childhood, which was brought on by mental illness. You have good cause to despise my son for the things he's done and I don't fault you for that. But Lester is my only son and I need you to find him. You are the only person I know who has the resources and contacts to find him.
“Hell, I had the best investigator in California looking for him. He managed to trace Lester to Alaska but then I never heard from him."Collins voice trembled,"Nick I have everything, this house, thousands of acres of valuable land, a Pieds-A'-Terre in Honolulu for several women of easy virture but my only true value is my son and without him life wouldn't be worth living.  I'm not sure life is worth living in any case. What do you think Nick?"  Nick sipped the Bombay answering," Is life worth living? I'm not sure but I think it depends on your liver." Collins laughed in echo.
Nick interrupted Collins'  "reverberage."
"Cameron, what specifically did the investigator tell you the last time you spoke with him?"
Collins leaned forward, lowering his voice as if someone might be listening.
" Nick, he told me that Lester was living with a man in the bush, had periodically come into Anchorage for supplies and was seen at a roadhouse south of Anchorage called the Bird House."
Collins continued.
"Nick, I'll pay you whatever you want if you'll just find my son."
Czar swirled the remains of his Bombay, pondering the wealth Cameron Collins had inherited, and sipped the Bombay before responding: "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Collins looked shocked and Nick heard him swallow hard in echo.
Czar finished off the Bombay, adding that the check should be made out to Kula Sanitarium and earmarked for the speech therapy unit. Collins breathed a sigh of relief, satisfied that the check would be a tax deduction and in essence cost him nothing.
The two men stood and shook hands as Czar assured Collins he would leave in the morning for Anchorage on the first flight out, if seats were available.
"I've already made the reservations and booked a room at the Captain Cook in Anchorage. There's ten thousand dollars in this envelope to cover your initial expenses."
Collins handed Czar a folder containing a few facts on Lester's last known location and returned to the dining room, leaving Czar alone in the library to finish his drink and study the folder's contents. Despite his wealth,  education and  his Marquis grade of refinement,Collins was unlikely to get in the ring with Tolstoy.

Stopping at the bar, Collins ordered a bourbon and soda and joined his wife in the dining room as she was asking her seated guests to individually stand and introduce themselves, "so that those of you who may not know everyone will become acquainted."
Turning to her left Phoebe asked the first guest to stand and introduce himself.
"Himself," as luck would have it was Mr. Yoo. Thede , who had been grinning since his high noon telephone call to the Parrot Cafe, was now in a state of advanced grin as Yoo rose from his chair, drink in hand, paused and said "Phuc Yoo."
Following a moment of dinner guest paralysis pure bedlam erupted.
In shocked disbelief at what she had heard, Phoebe asked Yoo to repeat his name, “for those who may have missed the pronunciation."
Yoo enunciated his name this time: "Phuc Yoo."
Ruth  managed to restore some semblance of order in informing the stricken guests that indeed "Phuc Yoo" was Yoo's given name. What then ensued was Yoo's celebrity debut, much to the dismay of the hostess.
The staid elite of Maui now engaged in hysterical laughter, punctuated with an avalanche of polite "fuck you's" for the remainder of the evening. "Who is your favorite guest?" "Fuck you!"  "Who is that with the Martini?" "Fuck You!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BARRANCA DEL COBRE

Alone in the library, Czar opened the folder containing two pages of credit card receipts, the last purchase being made at a place called the Bird House in Anchorage, Alaska, two years ago.
Czar sipped his martini, reflecting on the last time he'd brought Lester Collins back to Maui from Mexico.
In Mexico, he had traced Lester's general location from credit card purchases in La Paz, Guaymas and San Carlos on the coast of the Sea of Cortez.
He had flown first to La Paz, where Lester had purchased diesel fuel at the La Paz harbor along with grocery purchases at Tiendas in the same area, indicating to Czar that Lester was probably living on a boat somewhere in the harbor.
Over the next two days, Czar placed flyers around the harbor with a picture of Lester, offering a reward for information leading to his whereabouts. The reward was payable at the Puerto Capitan's office.
In the matter of days, the port captain called.
"Mr. Czar, your man has been living on the Drifter, a cutter rigged sailboat with California documentation. The vessel is registered to a William B. Williams."
According the the harbor master, Williams and Lester had been seen leaving a month earlier on a course for Sonora state and the village of San Carlos.
Czar was unable to book a flight for Guaymas, the only town with an airport near San Carlos. All flights were booked for the next several days in anticipation of the annual San Carlos to Guaymas yacht race. Czar finally booked passage on the La Paz to Guaymas ferry.

Checking in at the Cortez hotel north of Guaymas, Czar called a cab for the half hour trip to San Carlos, a small fishing village turned watering hole for wealthy tourists and yachtees . He asked the cab driver  to wait.
The harbor at the San Carlos Yacht Club was filled with boats for the yacht race. The Drifter was not among the hundreds of boats crowded into the slips and outer anchorage area.
Czar directed the cab driver to take him to the San Carlos dry dock yard about two miles from the harbor.
Still there was no sign of the boat.
As he was preparing to leave the yard, a ship right approached the cab, asking if he could be of help.
The ship right recognized the picture of Lester.
"He's on board the Drifter, which is anchored on the north side of Guaymas bay in front of the Las Playitas resort."
The ship right was pleased with his 200 peso reward.
Arriving at Las Playitas, Czar sensed the resort had seen better days. Las Playitas consisted of a main palapa bar and restaurant surrounded by run down casitas and an almost empty RV park. The resort pool was empty except for broken bottles and bits of debris, the casitas mostly empty.
Juanita, the manager of Las Playitas, did not recognize Lester's photo but did confirm that the Drifter was indeed anchored to the right of the resort's dilapidated wooden jetty.
Standing on the edge of the jetty, Czar located the Drifter riding at anchor. There was no dinghy in the vessel's davits and none tied astern, which told Czar the boat was vacant.
Returning to the bar, Czar noticed an Achilles tender chained to the stump of a palm tree with the word "Drifter" painted on its transom.

Sitting at the far end of the bar where he could see the dinghy, Czar was on his third Bombay when he noted a large man with knapsack and a small black dog in his arms. The man began dragging the Achilles toward the surf.
Leaving the bar, Czar caught the bow of the inflatable as the man prepared to start the outboard motor.
Introducing himself, Czar was greeted with a wide smile and warm handshake, along with an invitation to dinner aboard Drifter. Czar accepted the invitation as William B. Williams confirmed that he knew Lester Collins, having let him stay on his boat while Williams flew to Los Angeles to attend his mother's funeral.
Halfway to the Drifter, Czar observed that the little black dog was not only old but also blind. He curled nose to tail in a nest of towels under the dodger canvas at the bow. On board , Williams stowed his groceries and prepared a meal for the dog, convincing Czar that he had encountered a gentle and kind soul.
Following a dinner of calimari, Williams told Czar Lester had left San Carlos in the company of a priest, who was planning on opening a school for boys in the Barranca Del Cobra (the copper canyon) near the village of Creel. Williams indicated the school was designed for young men who planned on entering the priesthood.
A school for young boys raised a red flag in Czar's mind, especially given Lester Cameron's sexual persuasion of pedophilia. Williams added that the priest left San Carlos after being accused of molesting children in the San Carlos parish.

As the sun set over Guaymas Bay, Williams poured two glasses of "Don Pablo" and lit a Thai stick combined with peyote.
"You know Nick, this little blind dog and this boat are all I have in the world and it's more than enough for me." Czar smiled," Mr. Williams you are truly a free man." "There are no free men Mr. Czar until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last Pope."
Williams placed the sleeping dog in a bunk piled high with clothing and retrieved a clarinet from an adjacent locker.
Seated in the cockpit, Williams began playing hit songs made famous by Benny Goodman .
Czar looked out over the darkened bay reflecting thousands of tiny stars and suspected that Williams just might have the formula for a spiritual and satisfying life. The sounds of "Moon glow" drifted across Guaymas bay.  Beyond the bay the Sea of Cortez, like the explorer was restless,seeking new worlds.
Williams urged Czar to take the dinghy ashore as he was "too twisted" to operate it in the dark and besides, "I have a pal due to arrive tomorrow. He can bring the dingy back out to the boat."

At the Cortez hotel, Czar booked a seat on the Chihuahua Al Pacifico train scheduled to depart Los Mochis at 6:30 the next morning.
The Los Mochis train station was crowded with tourists, one of whom was particularly obnoxious in his verbal mistreatment of the ticket agent, who was having difficulty understanding the man's French accent.
Boarding the train, the same man elbowed his way ahead of the waiting passengers, managing to take Czar's assigned seat. Not wishing to cause a disturbance, Czar said nothing that might bring the Policia or even worse, the Federales, who would likely frown on Czar's traveling companion holstered under his jacket.
Most of the passengers were tourists from America and Canada, with a sprinkling of eurotrash on a budget of cheese, cheap wine and disagreeable attitudes – as so well represented by the Frenchman.
With the train underway and the sun coming up over the Sierra Madre mountains, Czar stood in the swaying vestibule between cars, which provided an open air view of the passing desert lowlands. The landscape was the opposite of the lush tropical island of Maui. The air was a dry cold, in contrast to the humid air of the islands.
From Los Mochis to Chihuahua were 390 miles of tunnels, high bridges, spectacular valleys and canyons, all combined in a series of six massive interconnected gorges four times the size of the Grand Canyon.
About 150 miles ahead was the town of Creel, and hopefully the elusive Lester Collins.
Some hours later, the train began to slow and then stopped at a small siding in front of a village of palapa-roofed huts. The siding was filled with vendors, mostly Indians selling crafts and food. The tourists were given a half hour to shop and stretch their legs. Among the vendors, Czar noticed a frail Indian attempting to sell a single strand of glass beads. Several rejections later the Indian, flanked by his wife carrying a baby, approached the Frenchman, who shoved the man out of his way, breaking the strand and scattering beads across the platform. With a look of despair, the Indian couple began recovering the beads one by one. Czar considered dealing with the Frenchman but knew he could not afford an engagement with the Policia.

The train whistle sounded and as the passengers re boarded, the train slowly began to move forward. Czar sadly witnessed the man and woman still looking for their scattered beads as the siding faded in the distance.
The Frenchman returned to his seat and Czar promised himself that before he left Mexico, with or without Lester Collins, he would have a chat with the Frenchman on the subject of the French history of surrender and cowardice in both world wars.
Of course, Czar also planned on broaching the subject of the Frenchman's mother being a "10 peso whore."

The town of Creel looked like a throwback from the old west with false front buildings, saloons, horses, burros, cheap hotels and a generally ragged,sullen procession of townspeople. A town where sex was their only theater.
Czar checked in at a youth hostel full of back packers and joined the evening commune style dinner service of a very large cauldron of blazing hot soup followed by iced Corona and Modelo beer.
Before turning in for the night, Czar bought a bottle of Rohypnol at the local pharmacy/laundromat/shoe shine parlor.
Rohypnol, a powerful sleep enhancer, was illegal in the United States because it not only caused short term memory loss, it could also be fatal as well as very addictive. The narcotic mixed with alcohol would leave an individual unconscious for at least an hour, followed by several hours of compliant behavior, which was just the thing to gain Lester Collins’ cooperation for the journey back to Maui.

The next morning Czar located the Creel police station, which was a 1957 Chevy station wagon with snow tires on the front wheels. The Creel police force was sitting in the front seat in the form of Police chief Ernesto Medina, who provided Czar with directions to Saint Peter in Chains church and the new annex for young boys wishing to join the priesthood.
 According to Medina, the pastor, known as Padre Nuestra established the new boys’ school with the help of a young "Gringo Norte Americano," whose name Medina did not know.
"The church is tres kilometers on the Malecon past the zona escholar (school zone), senor,” he said.

The parish house door was opened by Consuela the housekeeper, who motioned Czar into a small sacristy adjacent to the church altar.
Czar waited several minutes for Padre Nuestra to make an appearance and then left, walking toward the dormitory building of the school annex. Inside, Czar moved down a long hallway, stopping when he heard a muffled cry coming from a room to his right. Czar opened the door to find a nude boy being held down on a bed by a fat man wearing only a black shirt and white collar without lapels. Czar guessed the half nude man he was kicking was Padre Nuestra. As the child fled the room, Czar locked the door and concentrated on heel kicks to Nuestra's stomach, which not only inflicted pain but the timing was such that each time Nuestra attempted to draw a breath to scream, a kick would deflate the padre's diaphragm. After perhaps a dozen kicks, Czar stepped aside, letting the gasping priest topple to the floor.
Holding Nuestra's hair, Czar pulled the padre to a sitting position and placed the barrel of the equalizer against Nuestra's groin, pausing to let him catch his breath and to feel the cold of the nickel plated gun.
Czar gave Nuestra his thousand yard stare before whispering "if you make a sound you can kiss your balls adios."
Satisfied that Nuestra had fully assimilated the threat, Czar spoke.
"I want Lester Collins and I want you to tell me where I can find him."
Nuestra had difficulty speaking, the result of fear and because his breast bone and two ribs were fractured.
"Lester is at the Mar Lobo, a bar in Creel, and should return late tonight. If it's money you want, I'll give you every thing I have but please don't hurt me any more."
Czar did not reply to the offer of money, ordering the priest into the sacristy and to dress in secular clothing.
At Czar's behest, Nuestra, gasping for breath, began donning street clothes.

Both men walked to Creel and the Mar Lobo, with Czar slightly behind a wincing, mincing Nuestra.
The Mar Lobo was filled with tourists, locals and several Tarahumara Indians, all conversing loudly in a smoky haze of peyote. Peyote was the sacrament of choice during indian religious ceremonies and the smoke of choice at the Mar Lobo, not to mention for most of the population of Creel. The din of voices was punctuated with an occasional loud "snotty" snort, the result of hefty intakes of Mayan Marching Powder.
Despite the smoke, Czar could see Lester the pizza pumping pervert sitting at the end of the bar at the same time Lester Collins spotted Padre Nuestra and Nick Czar. Collins thought of running, but knew he wouldn't get far in this isolated town with only one way out via the railroad.
Grasping Nuestra by the arm, Czar motioned for Collins to join them at a table, where he informed the tentative Lester that "your father wants you back on Maui."
Lester, now a full grown hulk of a man sat heavily at the table, his face scared from acne his hands tightly fisted.
Collins replied.
"Nick I am not going back to Maui under any circumstance. I am working with Father Nuestra in teaching young boys English and preparing them for the priesthood. Nick this is a calling from the Lord and I intend to serve the Lord here in Mexico."
Czar managed a smile, despite his urge to laugh at the bullshit he had just heard from a man he knew was nothing more than a pedophile, whose only interest in life was to participate in the molestation of young boys with Padre Nuestra under the cloak of religion. Czar appeared relaxed and understanding as he ordered drinks for Lester and the priest.
“Okay Lester, I did not know you were involved in the Lord's work and I must tell you I respect that very much. So much so, I will tell your father that I will not seek to bring you back to Maui."
Lester's reaction was one of relief. Czar asked Lester if he would excuse himself from the table while he had a word with Nuestra. Collins headed to the rest room marked "Hombres."  The drinks arrived and Czar shoved a Pacifico in front of the priest while dropping three Rohypnol tabs in Lester's drink.

The mountain air was refreshing outside the Mar Lobo as the three men left the front door, Nuestra straining under the dead weight of Lester Collins' body draped across his shoulders, closely followed by the equalizer and Czar.
Czar locked both men in a closet in the church basement and walked to the parish house where he informed the housekeeper that Padre Nuestra and Mister Collins had been summoned to an audience with the bishop in Mexico City and would be leaving in the morning.
Identifying himself as a liaison for the Vatican, Czar gave the housekeeper 5,000 pesos and told her to see that the students were returned to their homes and close the school.
Returning to the church basement, Czar spread a blanket on the floor in front of the closet door and slept, content in the knowledge that he was probably the only person on the property doing the Lord's work. There were no sounds from the "Sing Sing Closet for Sodomites."

The morning train was on time at the Creel train station as Czar herded his wards aboard. Under a watchful eye, Nuestra lowered the semicomotose Lester into a seat. Placing two more tabs of Rohypnol in Lester's mouth, Czar added a splash of tequila. Czar had directed his companions to seats next to the vestibule between cars and adjacent to the rest room, giving Czar a back-to-the-wall full view of the passengers in the rest of the car, which included the Frenchman.
With Lester in a coma like sleep and Nuestra fearfully compliant, Czar relaxed as the train slowly picked up speed, periodically slowing as it approached high wooden trestles spanning the many gorges of the Barranca Del Cobre.

Two hours into the return journey and moments after the train had slowed to a crawl, Czar saw a familiar figure at the front of the car. It was the young Indian necklace vendor, still shoe less, ragged and fearful.
But this time instead of a necklace, he held a revolver in a very shaky hand. The Indian ordered the passengers to look toward the front of the car and not look behind them as the gunman proceeded up the row of seats.
Only two people in the train car did not know there was a holdup in progress, Lester Collins who was deep in oblivion, and the Frenchman, who was in the rest room at the rear of the car.
The Indian began passing his straw hat from passenger to passenger much like a church usher, slowly making his way to the back of the car toward Czar. The Frenchman suddenly opened the rest room door, startling the Indian and giving Czar just enough time to make his move.
Grasping the revolver, Czar managed to force his forefinger between the hammer and firing pin followed by the rapid presentation of the equalizer.
Czar carefully took the revolver from the Indian, noticing that the cylinder held only three rounds and they were three clicks away from the hammer. Opening the cylinder, Czar dropped the three bullets into the money filled hat followed by the empty gun.
The Frenchman was about to utter a loud protest at Czar's action when the equalizer hit him square in the forehead, dropping him in a heap on the vestibule floor. Reaching inside the Frenchman's jacket, Czar removed his passport and visa, adding them to the straw hat. The Indian looked on in bewilderment.
Czar returned the hat to the Indian and motioned toward the open platform between cars.
"No mas dinero senor, Vomanos, rapido, rapido!”
Clutching his hat full of money the Indian jumped. Czar made note of the passengers in the car.
Satisfied they were unaware of what had just transpired, he rolled the Frenchman off the platform,where he catapulted down an embankment. Czar motioned for Nuestra  to join him in the vestibule where he was met with the equalizer leveled at his zipper. Czar informed Nuestra that he had a choice of jumping off the train like a man or like a woman.
Watching Nuestra pitching and rolling down a boulder strewn gully and into a cactus patch reinforced Czar's feeling that doing the Lord's work was a calling he could get to like. The train continued toward Los Mochis.
After throwing Nuestra's identification papers to the wind he re holstered the equalizer.
Czar stepped back into the main coach where the passengers were still sitting face forward. Czar waited for the train to put some distance between it and his deportees and then announced that the banditos had left the train. Czar assured the confused passengers that the Indian bandito had two partners in the rear of the car and that all had jumped from the train. Advising the passengers not to pull the emergency cord, Czar said he would go to the engine and have the train's crew contact the Policia by radio.
Halfway to the locomotive, Czar encountered an armed Federale, whom he alerted to the robbery while providing a detailed description of Nuestra and the Frenchman and a very misleading description of the Indian.
The Federale who had been assigned to ride shotgun on the train was dismayed at having his train held up. He quickly informed the engineer, who relayed the information to Los Mochis, including the description of the bandits.
Czar returned to his seat where Lester, was quietly snoring mouth agape. Czar dropped two more Rohypnol tablets in Lester's mouth and chased it with a double shot glass of tequila. As Lester descended deeper toward amorphous, Czar smiled, picturing Nuestra and the Frenchman facing authorities without passports or visas nor papers of any sort. Czar was confident the authorities would use distasteful means of interrogation in an attempt to learn the identity of the third bandit. He was equally confident the Indian, a Tarahumara, would far outdistance the Federales and Policia as the Tarahumara’s stamina for long distance running was world renown.
Czar pictured the Indian running free in the Sierra Madre mountains, returning to his palapa home to present his wife with his ill gotten money, more than enough to buy lots of glass beads, food, clothing and maybe even a burro.
In contrast to the Indians' good fortune, the Frenchman and Padre Nuestra were likely headed for a long stretch in a no-star rated Mexican prison.

Leaving the terminal at Los Mochis, Czar steered Lester to a nearby tienda where he ordered a breakfast of frejoles, tacos and a single burrito. Lester's breakfast consisted of a glass of untreated Mexican water and more Rohypnols.  Digesting his breakfast, Lester slumped face first onto the table while Czar called Cameron Collins with the news that his son was in custody. Cameron Collins would be in Guaymas the following day with a charter plane.

Czar and Lester arrived at the Guaymas airport just as the private jet landed, rolling toward the airport departure ramp. Czar hurried Lester toward the gate, stopping to pick up the Guaymas morning paper.
The front page headlines blazed of the news of the previous day’s “robbery.”
"Two of three bandits captured following a train robbery in the Barranca Del Cobre. Both suspects according to the paper were refusing to divulge the identity of the third bandit, described as a heavy-set Indian wearing glasses and a mustache."
Police went on to say that the two captured suspects face long prison terms. Czar placed the paper under his arm and in a barely audible murmur said "Viva La France, Dominus et cum Spiri."
Collins read the newspaper account and offered his assessment that Mexico is a dangerous place for tourists and law abiding travelers.
Czar agreed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN

As Czar returned to the party, the sound of thunder could be heard coming from the direction of Kahoolawe.
A mainland haole couple asked Czar if the weather forecast had included a thunderstorm warning.
"No, unfortunately, it's the U.S. Navy bombing the island of Kahoolawe. Several times a year and generally at night, warships and fighter planes shell and bomb the island for target practice."
With resignation in his voice, Czar assured the couple that there was no danger to the other islands.
"They have been shelling and bombing the island since shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and despite protests by Hawaiian islanders it looks like they will continue their target practice for the foreseeable future."
The thunder, fire and light show excited the guests, who retired to the south patio for after dinner drinks and to watch the shelling. Between salvos from two destroyers and a light cruiser, a momentary lull would occur as a fighter jet dropped parachute flares over the island. While the brilliant burning magnesium slowly drifted onto that tortured island, the fire control officers would stand on the bridge of each vessel with binoculars to assess the accuracy of their gunnery.

The patio porte-cochere of white and red gardenias provided a sweet scent of delicacy and peacefulness in contrast  to the distant scene of mayhem.
The whole scene was underscored with a musical caress of Wagner’s love song from "Tristan and Isolde" as the musicians played on.

Otis the gardener opened the wrought iron gates of the estate as the guests drove off. Otis managed a limp wave to each departing car and then limped back to his quarters above the 10 car garage. He wore three socks that night, one on each foot, with the third sock filled with a dollop of cortisone ointment in a make shift cottony miniature condom-minium.

Next morning, Czar met Watanabe at Kahului airport.
"Nick, the second victim was rolling in the surf at Pau Hana Park right next to a dead pilot whale. He was a bishop for the Catholic church and his head is still missing. From what we can tell, the padre was looking for "Mahus" at the park.
“According to my calculations, the son of a bitch who's doing this should be fairly eaten up by that flesh eating virus by now."
In the airport restaurant, Watanabe handed Czar a copy of the Honolulu papers. Both front pages were emblazoned with "Headless Headlines," describing the murders in lurid detail, devoting most of the space to the rotted thumb found in Uchida's eye socket. The Bulletin included a picture of Maui's county coroner Fukugawa holding a jar containing the thumb. Fukugawa was smiling in the picture despite what appeared to be a large lump on his forehead. The Bulletin carried a long paragraph on the "flesh eating disease," including the fact that on average five people a year contracted the disease on Maui.
The paragraph ended with the fact that the Maui Police Department had interviewed all known persons infected with the bacteria. All had been cured and were cleared as suspects. None were missing a thumb.
Czar paid the check as his flight for Anchorage was ready for boarding.
"Look Bob, I would suggest you tell the coroner to send that thumb to the FBI lab in Washington for a second opinion. Fukugawa's assertion that the thumb was infected with this flesh eating disease could be wrong. On his best day, Fukugawa only rises to the status of inept."
The two men said good bye as Czar boarded Alaska Airlines Flight Seven, which was filled to capacity with oil workers  from Prudoe Bay and the North Slope. Their regular three weeks at the top of the world coupled with two weeks on Maui was the standard regimen designed to keep them from going mad in that sunless frozen north slope tundra.

Arriving in Anchorage after a seemingly endless flight, Czar checked into the Captain Cook hotel, rented a car and drove south on the Turn Again Arm Road to the Bird House. The snow capped mountain peaks looked like their snow lines were receding, to be replaced by blossoming fire weed, the visual yardstick of seasonal change from winter to summer.

The Bird House was half underground with the other half two feet in the air, not by architectural design but as a result of the 1960's earthquake that struck Alaska, causing wide spread damage and death.
To enter the Bird House, Czar was forced to duck under the distorted door frame. Once inside, he could see the place was filled to capacity with oil workers wearing yellow hard hats, trappers and last frontier types with gold dust fever. All were drinking copious amounts of Yukon Jack, except for two Eskimos who had taken up residence on the saw dust floor. The bar followed the angled contour of the structure with a steep slope. The slope of the bar made it possible to order a drink, which would be delivered by gravity similar to a sliding board. For the most part, the method worked flawlessly except for an occasional interception by another patron.

Nick ordered a Bombay with four olives and noticed that at the low end of the bar a pit about 11 feet in diameter with a depth of about two feet was ringed by patrons exchanging money. This was no ordinary pit designed for cockfighting.
This pit was designed for the "chicken drop," a game Czar had seen on Ambergris Cay in Belize and again in the Philippines.
The floor of the pit was covered with an oval shaped piece of linoleum on which equal sized squares had been painted with numbers. The game would start with patrons selecting paper slips with numbers from a hat corresponding to those on the linoleum. Each slip cost $10. When the hat was empty a caged chicken was brought from behind the bar to the pit's edge where the bartender would ceremoniously remove the chicken, stand with his back to the pit and throw the chicken over his head into the pit. The circular throng of sportsmen would then cheer and urge the chicken on with shouts and hoots. The bird circled the pit until it would eventually defecate out of sheer fear.
Whatever square and number the shit hit, the lucky slip holder with his lucky matching number won.
The Bird House kept 10 percent of the game. The winner got the rest. The process was repeated again and again until the chicken could not muster as much as an exhausted emission of gas.

Czar approached the bartender, asking him to announce a $500 cash award was available to any one with information on one Lester Collins. He moved to a table next to a wall covered with various personal articles, including men’s and women's underwear, all with stains of undeterred origin, license plates, pictures, condoms, some of which were pre-owned and other artifacts too numerous to mention. The bartender's announcement prompted no discernible response, but eventually a man approached Czar's table introducing himself as Trapper Dan.
Trapper Dan said he knew a "Skimo" named Dough boy, who knew everyone who ever entered the Bird House and allowed as to how he thought Dough boy could probably be of value.
"Where might I find Dough boy?" Czar asked.
"Mr. Czar, Dough boy's has not been seen for two days, which ain't unusual for him. He is probably at the Anchorage city dump."
"Does Dough boy work there?"
"He don't work nowhere. He stays drunk all day. At night when it gets really cold he climbs into dumpsters to stay warm and at least twice a week, sometimes the garbage trucks lift the dumpster along with Dough boy into their truck, where eventually he is ejected at the dump. You know we lose a dozen or more Skimos every year from dumpster death but Dough boy always survives somehow."
Aware that his informant was likely as reliable as the man named Dough boy, Czar gave Trapper Dan his number at the Captain Cook with a $100 bill as down payment for finding Dough boy. As Czar turned to leave the Bird House, an oil field worker wearing the obligatory hard hat placed a toilet seat tissue cover over the head of a patron at the bar and declared the adornment a "Texas Lei!"
Czar stepped into the parking lot and a cold Alaskan wind in time to hear an enraged Texas drawl and the sound of breaking glass.

Glad to avoid what surely was a pending bar fight, Czar drove toward Anchorage, falling behind a pick up truck with no license plates, a gun rack and rifles in the window. The driver was was throwing kittens one by one out the driver's side window. At the speed of 75 miles an hour. Czar knew stopping was futile. There would be no survivors.
As he passed the pickup he saw a bearded face and fur hat of a typical last frontier type. Czar considered removing the equalizer from his shoulder holster and unloading a full clip into the truck, but warned himself.
"This was not Vietnam, land of death and bad dreams". This was Alaska the "Land of the midnight sun."
Returning to the Captain Cook, Czar entered his room and turned up the thermostat. The mercury was dropping fast. He closed all the blinds against a sun still shining at 2 a.m..

A light snow began falling on the city as Czar slept soundly. The snow turned to rain when at 6:30 a.m., his phone rang. The voice was that of Trapper Dan.
"Mr. Czar, I found Dough boy. He's in back of the Captain Cook hotel. Meet me outside. I'll take you to him."
Czar dressed hastily, left the hotel and turned the corner leading down an alley way to the rear of the hotel.
Trapper Dan stood holding up the lid of the hotel's dumpster. Wrapped in a blanket and sound asleep or perhaps dead lay Dough boy curled up in the fetal position, his trousers at the rear looked like a large misshapen orange confection resulting from a combination of the freezing overnight temperatures and Dough boy's urine.
Czar paid Trapper Dan and called 911.

An hour later, Czar arrived at Anchorage General Hospital, where Dough boy had first been hosed down, given a cold shower and three orders of pancakes and toast. Studying Dough boy, Czar saw a middle aged man who had become a prisoner of Yukon Jack, like so many native Alaskans, but an otherwise a simple man of good intentions.
Dough boy's nurse confirmed his identity, having treated him numerous times before.
The nurse lead Czar into Dough boy's room, which smelled of both medical and retail alcohol.
Nick was straightforward.
"Dough boy, my name's Nick Czar and I need any information you might have regarding a man by the name of Lester Collins, who reportedly lived in the Bush with another man who's name I don't have. The second man may be a prospector, trapper or maybe a musher. Both were regulars at the Bird House."
Dough boy responded immediately.
"He's with a musher by the name of Alvin Durant. They only came into Anchorage to get supplies. They have a cabin on King Salmon Creek. Haven't seen either of them for maybe a year."
Surprised at the quick response, Czar mused that “this is going to be easier than I thought."
Dough boy, after a series of retching coughs, divulged more information.
"Leo Cohen, a bush pilot, knows where the cabin is. He used to fly in supplies and building materials for both of them."
Czar gave Dough boy $500 from the Cameron Collin's unlimited expense fund, hoping Dough boy would not drink up the 500 in one sitting, or worse kill off what was left of his liver.
Dough boy's gnarled hands clasped the money tightly as Czar left the room. The phone book in the hospital lobby provided the number for the Cohen Flying Service.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
DEAD DOGS

Leo Cohen had been a psychiatrist in new Jersey but found that dealing with the mentally disturbed made him feel paranoid, psychotic, and schizoid. Cohen sold his practice and what he described as his "loony list" and headed for the land of the midnight sun to seek his fortune as a bush pilot.
As Cohen warmed up the engines of his twin Otter he told Czar he had not flown to the King Salmon Creek cabin for over a year. Neither Lester nor Durant had called him on the ham radio, so he assumed they had contracted with a bush pilot flying a single engine Cessna. Cohen's twin Otter cost double the going rate of a single engine plane.  Strapped across the Otters' pontoons were several sheets of plywood to be delivered to a fishing resort in the area.
Normally, the Otter would be full of fisherman and gear but the salmon run would not begin for another week. The plywood was a priority shipment, otherwise Cohen wouldn't make the trip. After three hours of up drafts and down drafts, icy rain and snow flurries along with occasional fog, Cohen brought the Otter down to 500 feet over the King Salmon Creek.
A half hour later, the cabin came into view. In a matter of minutes the Otter landed on a shallow lake a half mile away.

Approaching the cabin, Czar suspected that it was abandoned.
Czar called out "anybody here?"
There was only silence. Czar passed a freeze hole in which three sock eye salmon hung from a stringer. They were frozen solid from the surrounding perma frost. On the steps leading to the cabin's front door, the men came upon a large pile of pelts. Czar observed the pelts were worthless.
"Are those dog pelts?" Cohen asked.
 "Yeah, some of them still have their tow straps in place. Worthless they are indeed, looks like husky and malamutes that were skinned, maybe 20 or more."
Cohen felt uneasy at the sight of all the dog pelts but continued onto the front porch where he knocked on the cabin door and repeated, "anyone here?"
Hearing nothing, Czar removed the equalizer from its holster, jacked a single cartridge in the chamber and fired a round into the door's padlock. Cohen was startled by the appearance of a gun and the sudden ear-splitting blast shattering the silence and his equilibrium. The bullet splintered the lock, blowing open the door.
Stepping cautiously inside, they found that it was empty of any human habitation but was strewn with opened cans of food, clothing and excrement on the floor, counter tops, lockers and bunks.  The only departure from the chaos was a pristine long plume of Baleen over the fireplace mantle.
At the rear of the cabin, a double bunk was piled high with animal traps, fishing gear and rotting bait.
Everything was dusted with flour. The only semblance of order in the cabin was a small wooden bookcase with 12 copies of Moby Dick, all like new except one, which appeared to have been repeatedly handled.
Cohen felt paranoia setting in, accompanied by spinal sweating. The back door of the cabin was padlocked from the outside forcing the men to exit the front door and walk around the cabin to the back. There were some 50 dog houses, each with a steel stake and short length of heavy chain. There were no dogs. Following a path though the fire weed leading to a forest of scrub pine, they discovered another pile of dog pelts and nearby a large stack of bones.
 Czar saw that the bones were primarily canine mixed in with some moose and caribou bones.
One particular bone caught his attention. It was a femur. It was human. Now Cohen was anxious to leave.
"The weather's closing in. I don't want to spend the night here! Is that bone a human leg bone?"
"Yes Leo it is. The rest of the remains may be nearby but probably have been scattered by wolves."
Czar took a last long look around. He carried the femur back to the plane. Cohen warmed the engines.
" Leo, I have to fly back to Maui,” Czar muttered. “You will have to take this bone to the Anchorage police. Tell them everything you know about these two men. You'll probably have to fly them back to the cabin so they can do a complete search of the area. I suspect they'll find more human remains. It's likely that wolves and other wild animals have dispersed a lot of the bones making them hard to find."

Czar wrote his telephone number on Cohen's flight manifest, entrusting him to give it to the Anchorage Police Department, "in case they need to talk to me."
Czar removed another bone from his jacket about three and a half feet long ,very smooth, almost ivory like.
" Leo, give this oosik  to the police as I suspect it was used to club the dogs to death. It has blood and dog hair on it."
" What in hell is an oosik ?", Leo exclaimed, eying the bone.  "An oosik is a walrus phallus much prized by the Eskimos and tourists." Czar replied with a grin.

Back at the float plane marina and just before Czar left the plane, Cohen asked Czar not to call him for air service if he returned to Alaska. "It's been a bad day for me, first a guy carrying a gun then a human leg and a fucking walrus dick on my plane."  Czar assured him he would not seek his services again and shook Cohen's hand.

The Anchorage Airport concourse was empty when Nick called Cameron Collins, advising him to touch base with Anchorage police. He described the scene at the King Salmon Creek cabin and suggested Collins send Lester's dental records to Anchorage in the event more human remains were found. Collins could be heard sobbing convulsively as Czar hung up.

Aboard Alaska Air en route to Maui, Czar opened the worn copy of Moby Dick, which he had pocketed from the little wooden bookcase. He had read the book as a teenager at Punaho and liked it but not enough to buy several copies and not enough to read and re-read the book over and over as some one had this book. Some of the passages in the book dealing with the agonies of Moby Dick were dog eared and worn.
Someone had an unusual fascination with these passages. Czar suspected it was Lester the molester.

CHAPTER TWENTY
PARTIAL AND TOTAL AMPUTATION

Phuc Yoo picked up Czar's special order of Maine lobster at Kahului airport and as instructed, high tailed it to Ruth Von Stein's salt water aquarium. Yoo backed off in awe never having seen a lobster with claws before. Lobsters in Hawaii were claw less.

Czar and Ruth  celebrated his return from Alaska. It was their fifth anniversary together.
The two had been lovers shortly before Nick's assignment in Vietnam. They first met in grade school in the village of Kahului. Nick was victim to her blond hair, kindness to others and her heaven sent body, which seemed to be more heaven sent with each passing year. During his tour of duty, Ruth engaged in charitable events on Maui, taught Hula classes and chaired the Maui historical society. The fact that the Von Stein family was the third most prosperous clan in Hawaii didn't hurt any.

The following morning Ruth drove to Kula San to bring Milin home and Nick drove to Thede Brown's butcher shop. Czar hailed his pal.
"Thede, are you all set for step two in the goal to ending Rose Peabody's patronage?"
Smiling widely, Brown stepped into his freezer, withdrawing a single cow's teat from a butchered cow, showing it to Czar.
Czar examined the teat with satisfaction, declaring that it was perfect for the job.
“Speaking of jobs Thede, I need you to deliver a Maine Lobster to Dalton Hagler's office. The delivery has to be made around two in the morning when the harbor's free of activity."
Czar outlined details of the method of delivery. Brown's grin grew even more pronounced.
Czar's final instruction included a cautionary note.
“Thede, you know this plan could result in total or partial amputation, so you may want to consider the risk before you do this."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
IAO VALLEY

With darkness descending on Iao Valley, it appeared foreboding if not downright evil. The tradwinds carried the moisture laden clouds into the valley where the mountain peaks gutted the clouds spilling out the rain and creating an unending curtain of water. The result was scores of ever flowing cascading waterfalls from the green covered cliff walls. The water surged and rushed in a serpentine corridor eventually finding its way to Iao Stream. Iao Stream was Maui's largest stream of fresh water that made its way through the village of Wailuku and into Kahului Bay and the Pacific Ocean.

"Wailuku" translated means "waters of Destruction", so named after Iao Stream ran red with the blood of thousands of Hawaiians for three days and three nights. This perpetual mist shrouded mystical valley was awash in bodies following the massacre of 1791, when King Kamehameha trapped the warrior army of King Kahekili.
The doomed army was slaughtered with the help of two European mercenaries, Isaac Davis and John Young, who provided a single cannon to Kamehameha. For hours, the cannon belched chain bits and ball onto the sheer cliffs of the valley, sending countless warriors to their deaths on the valley floor below.

Iao Valley became a burial ground for the Hawaiian "Alii" (royalty) and the sight of "Pihanakalani" (temple). This night, the rain was steady in the valley but there were no flashes of lightning nor sounds of thunder, just the sounds of waterfalls. The valley floor was slippery with mud, the vegetation, jungle like with thickets of shampoo ginger, uluhe thorn, lantana weeds and stands of palm, Koa and guava trees heavy with fruit.
There was no moon and few rain clouds. The valley was black except for a small campfire barely discernible in the distance. The sky was filled with stars, one for every journey of the human mind.
The fire was at the base of a sheer lava wall in a thicket of lantana weeds. The silhouette of a man sitting near the fire slowly rocked back and forth, ignoring the downpour. There was no tent and no shelter. Beside the man, carefully arranged on a banana leaf, was a St. Christopher's' medal, binoculars with a severed neck strap and a rusty can overflowing with rain water. Near at hand, was a machete stuck in the ground.
The figure continued rhythmically rocking to and fro, cradling something in his arms and close to his chest.
The figure was humming and gently caressing a small wild piglet. The melody was unmistakable. It was Brahms' lullaby.
The humming suddenly stopped and the singular sound of water falls was shattered with the agonizing screams of the piglet now impaled on the machete and roasting alive on the camp fire.
High pitched laughter echoed through the valley.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
REVENGE

At 2:30 a.m. the next day, Thede rounded the breakwater at Maalea harbor, rowing a "borrowed " dinghy. Tying up at the courtesy dock, he paused to see if anyone was about. Satisfied that all was quiet, he lifted a large foam cooler from the dinghy and proceeded to the harbor master's office. The key Czar had given him worked just as Czar said it would.
Brown moved cautiously in the darkened interior and into the bathroom near Hagler's office.
Raising the toilet lid he poured a half cup of salt and ice cubes from his foam container inside, and carefully removed the lobster. He gently placed it in the bowl, removing the rubber bands from its claws. The lobster remained surpassingly content in his salty iced porcelain palace until Brown produced a sock holding two tennis balls.
Lowering the bulging sock onto the lobster's head, the creature's reaction was immediate.
Managing to pry the lobster's claws from the sock, Brown then repeated the process several times. Each time the lobster struck out with its powerful claws. Satisfied that his Pavlovian ritual was successful, Brown crept from the building, locked the door, stepped into the dinghy and rowed out of the harbor for about a hundred yards to the beach where he had parked his jeep and drove off.

Rose Peabody arose early the following morning, looking forward to the promised special cut of meat waiting for her at Thede Brown's butcher shop. Rose had had a bad week with Benny, who was threatening divorce in the wake of the "colostomy caper." Both had decided against it.
"Why bother,” as Benny had said.
Benny Peabody was looking forward to another day of driving to Rick's Lobster Shack to take advantage of the restaurant's two beers for the price of one special.

Dalton Hagler, up earlier than usual, prepared his breakfast of bacon and eggs with a hearty helping of grits, a family tradition in his boyhood home outside Valdosta, Georgia.
Heading for the newspaper rack outside his office, Hagler dropped two quarters in the Star Bulletin coin slot.
He was dismayed to find that his key would not unlock his office door. A marine patrol officer in the building, one Buffy Masuda possessed a master key and let Hagler in. His key looked different,he thought, deciding to have the locks changed before he left for the day, suspecting someone had switched his key during one of his numerous trips to the bathroom.
Raising his blinds, he checked his calendar and appointment book and headed to the bathroom.
The headlines in the newspaper caught his eye as he lifted the toilet lid. Reading the front page, he dropped his trousers.
"Maui County Coroner Fukugawa misdiagnosis of flesh eating malady corrected by FBI.”
According to the article, the FBI analysis indicated the presence of leprosy in the thumb found in the head of Teddy Uchida. Hagler sat down slowly, fully engrossed in the article. He was oblivious to the crustacean just inches below his posterior.
Awakened from his slumber, the Maine lobster was greeted with an expulsion of Dalton Hagler’s "grits gas." To make matters worse, what looked like an angora sock and a pair of hanging tennis balls were invading the lobster's abode. Remembering his harassment at the hands of Thede Brown the previous night, the lobster launched his attack.
Dalton Hagler had never experienced such excruciating pain in his life, but that agony was grandly eclipsed as the lobster clamped his other claw on Hagler's second testicle.
Buffy Masuda could not recall hearing a scream like the one she heard coming from the harbor master's bathroom. Approaching the bathroom door, sidearm drawn, she reached out to knock just as a defecating Hagler burst past her, trousers around his ankles, hopping like a participant in a county fair sack race.
Buffy noted  a bouncing but very determined lobster protruding from Hagler's stern. Between screams Hagler managed a terrified shrill.
"What is it!? What is it!?"
Hopping from his office door out to the docks, he drew the attention of the the cattle boats leaving the harbor for Molokini. Startled passengers crowded the railings. Hagler's morning constitution was dramatically coming to fruition much to the disgust of the half blinded lobster, which elected to let go, dropping grits laden onto the parking lot in a defecatorial heap.
Hagler had been bitten in testicularville before, by his wife, rug mites and a fat boy but this pain was a brand new "ballgame!"

Benny Peabody, just arriving at Rick's parking lot, wondered what all the commotion was about. Benny's poor eyesight failed to alert him to the large lobster blindly skittering in the kitchen door of Rick's Lobster Shack.
The bus boy on duty in the kitchen spotted the lobster and assuming he had escaped from the holding tank, chucked it in with his Hawaiian brothers in waiting.

Rose Peabody was a good hundred yards from Thede Brown's butcher shop and closing in fast. Seeing her approaching, Thede headed for the freezer, where he removed the box with the teat of the butchered cow. Despite the chilling effects, Thede inserted the teat in his fly and stood on a crate behind the counter as Peabody entered.
"I'm here for that special cut of meat you promised me."
Rose noticed Thede seemed to be a bit taller than normal.
"Rose, I have a very fresh cut of meat for you, one that you will want to munch on for hours."
Unzipping his fly, Thede flopped the cow’s teat on the counter and reached for his meat cleaver.
On seeing the teat, Rose experienced a bittersweet moment, her body frozen as if in full rigor mortis.
Brown slowly raised the clever above his head and smartly chopped the teat in half.
For a horrified moment, Rose Peabody did not react. Her eyes now tightly closed opening for a second in time to see the teat roll off the counter coming to a stop against her right open toe shoe.
She began to developed a bad case of "walker wobble," teetering forward then backwards, all the way to the floor.
Brown checked her pulse and decided to err on the side of caution and called an ambulance.

Two ambulances arrived simultaneously at Maui Memorial Hospital emergency admitting, one containing Dalton Hagler, the other a still unconscious Rose Peabody.
Brown knew that what he had done to Peabody and Hagler could have resulted in serious injury but Brown was willing to take the risk. After all a risk free life meant nothing ever happened.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
LEPERS

Deciding to cancel snorkel charters on Apollo for the next 10 days, Nick assembled the Maui Mafia for an overnight cruise to Molokai island.
Ruth Von Stein, Nick and Milin met Brown, Watanabe and Yoo at the Royal Maui Yacht Club for a pre cruise breakfast. Sergeant Watanabe, who was now looking at a killer without an inch an hour death clock as first suspected, brought with him a file on leprosy. The title was "Hansen's disease."

Without need of verbal communication, the Mafia slipped Apollo's mooring, raised the sails and cleated off the sheets in one smooth choreography. Milin excitedly took the wheel under Czar's watchful eye, bringing Apollo to a broad reach. The trimaran surged forward, spray flying past Olawalu, Lahaina and into the Molokai channel bordered by Lanai to port and Molokai at one o'clock to starboard. Everyone aboard felt a joyous rhythm with the wind and sea.
It was a beautiful day in paradise.
Czar carefully checked the weather channel and the "notice to mariners" broadcast from Honolulu, especially with Milin aboard. On occasion, the Molokai channel could rival the tempest tossed most treacherous waters in the world, including the Southern ocean and the infamous Cape Horn. Even with good weather, the Pacific current’s flow went unchecked for thousands of miles before meeting the Hawaiian islands. There it is in part "squeezed" between Maui and Molokai producing a "Venturi" effect. The result of this is confused seas, huge rollers and an occasional rogue wave. Some sailors swear that it was like being in a huge washing machine.
Czar reefed the main sail even with diminishing trades and entered what the locals called the "Molokai Express." The trimaran sliced into the waves, sending water across the cabin and into the cockpit. With each wave, every one aboard again felt an exhilaration with the wind, waves and open blue ocean. Each burst of spray from Apollo's bows combined to cleanse memories of Vietnam.
The wheels' kick, in rhythm with the passing waves, and the shriek of a swooping gull  lulled Czar into thoughts of Molokai's hideous past.

The island lies 2,200 Miles southwest of California. It was first inhabited around 650 AD. The small village of Kalaupapa became a leper colony in 1848 when the disease was spread from China. In 1886, any person in Hawaii, man woman or child, found to have the disease, was banished to Kaulaupapa, Molokai by boat. Sailors charged with the task were so afraid of the disease they refused to land, instead forcing the lepers to leap into the water and swim to shore. Once ashore, the lepers found only caves and shacks already occupied. Many died within days from exposure.
Kalaupapa was a land locked green hell surrounded on three sides by sea cliffs of a thousand feet or more. The only impossible hope of escape was back into the shark infested Molokai channel.

In 1873, Belgian priest Damien Deveuster arrived on Kalaupapa and helped construct houses, arranged for some meager medical supplies and food from Honolulu. He died in 1889 after contracting the disease.

Apollo sailed on through the rolling Pacific and eventually into a cove near Molokai's Banyan Tree Resort, the island's best known watering hole for world travelers and buccaneers like those aboard Apollo. With Apollo's anchor firmly set in the coral, Ruth prepared two Mahi Mahi's caught by Brown in the channel. Milin smiled contentedly with her lemonade in hand as the sun began to drift toward the horizon. The moon began its ascent before the sun disappeared.

As eventide descended, the crew of Apollo could hear the Hawaiian band at the Banyan Tree Resort. Watanabe and Czar remained in the main salon long after the others had gone to bed.
Watanabe placed his files on leprosy on the salon table.
"Nick, I thought leprosy had been cured in the 1940s with sulfa but that's not true. According to this, there are 1.25 cases of leprosy per ten thousand people in the world today. Over 700,000 new cases of leprosy are detected every year, especially in Asia, Africa and Latin America.
“In 24 countries it's still considered a health problem."
Czar began reading the file on the symptoms of this most ancient malady.
"Leprosy primarily affects the peripheral nerves and certain tissues, organs, respiratory tract and the testes. It doesn't affect the central nervous system."
Czar read on aloud.
"Where the sensory nerves are impacted, the leper can not feel pain as the result of injury and can even lose fingers or toes without realizing it.”
He continued.
"Gangrene is not uncommon, causing parts of the body to become deformed and rot."
Czar closed the folder.
"This guy is not only deformed, mad and doesn't feel pain, he may not die anytime soon," he concluded.
Watanabe sighed.
“And the son of a bitch has gonorrhea and syphilis to boot. We found semen on the Bishop and it tested positive. I just wish we could find the bishop's head.The church wants an open casket and a big ceremony. As far as I'm concerned, he's just another Mahu cruising the beaches for young men."

Watanabe, a devout Buddhist, had little regard for the Christian faith, often commenting that church steeples were really lightning rods for the uninformed.
Phuc Yoo entered the salon, only to disappear into the head as Watanabe expanded on his disdain for western religions as well as those Middle Eastern.
“Let's face it Nick. Any one who kneels on a carpet facing Mecca wearing a towel for a hat has got to be stupid."
Watanabe now had the bit firmly in his teeth as he belabored Judaism.
"People who stuff prayer papers in a goddamn wall and then rock back and forth chanting must be demented not to mention the Catholic tradition of incense, candles and general mumbo jumbo."
From the head the voice of Phuc Yoo sounded gleeful.
"You’re right Bob, it's all bullshit. The worst nonsense is any one who spins wooden prayer wheels and worships a big cross-legged fat Jap made out of plaster with gold paint."  Yoo continued, "Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich."
Watanabe and Czar, choking laughter, awakened Thede Brown a self declared "recovering Lutheran having achieved that status the very instant he reached "The age of reason." Brown began snoring a few seconds later.

Czar's persuasion was between agnostic and atheist except during storms at sea when he was known to pray. His doubt of a God was predicated on  man's undeserved atonement for the sins of his fathers.
Yoo returned to his bunk satisfied he had settled Watanabe's oratory for the night.
Both men finished their drinks in silence and retired for the night to the sounds of "Blue Hawaii," accompanied by the sounds of the sea.

Soundly sleeping, Ruth and Milin were unaware of Nick's joining them in the aft cabin.
Nick could sense that he would get little sleep that night. His stomach was tightening. It always happened when his nightmares would come with particular clarity. He could only hope that they would pass quickly.
Tossing and turning, Czar crept from the cabin so as not to arouse Milin and Ruth. In the cockpit he began to sweat.

His head cradled in his arms, his elbows resting on the cockpit table, the sobbing began. He vowed he would stay awake. He would do anything to avoid the flashbacks but despite his best efforts, sleep came quickly followed by a dream scape image of a rice paddy.
Adjacent to the paddy was a stand of bamboo. Crouching in the bamboo was the Maui Mafia and two blindfolded and bound, black pajama Vietcong.
Watanabe was whispering in the radio calling for an extraction chopper.
Except for an occasional grunt from a water buffalo standing in the rice paddy, there was no sound.
"Too goddamn quiet," Czar whispered.
"We got company somewhere close. I can feel it."
Brown tapped his helmet and signaled movement at the far end of the paddy.  They were about to join an unexpected chain of fate and fate loved soldiers.
The quiet was broken with automatic weapons fire. The water buffalo, its body stitched with a string of gaping holes, pitched forward into the paddy water.
A moment later, eight U.S. marines entered the far end of the paddy. The marines were firing single shots in a random sporadic sweep, as if to warn any potential adversary they were coming.
With two fingers on his lips, Czar signaled silence, fearing any movement on their part or attempt to hail the Marines would be unwise in view of their apparent trigger happy posture.
The Maui Mafia held their position, held their fire and held their breath. The squad of marines moved further into the paddy. In seconds they would be "In extremus."
No more than 20 feet behind Czar, the sound of a bolt being rammed home signaled they had company in the bamboo thicket. A heartbeat later, a shot rang out and a Marine went down, his helmet spinning into the air.
The entire squad went full automatic on the bamboo patch. Two marines began dragging the wounded man back toward the spot they entered the paddy when a second shot quickly followed by a third brought down two more marines.
The marines began a full retreat as the slide and click of the bolt action rifle continued followed by a single shot until all but one marine was down.  The last marine made it to high ground only to be hit as he disappeared in the surrounding jungle. The Marines wager of life was lost.
The firing stopped. A farrow Pig bolted from the brush "likely in disgust at his genetic similarity to man,"  Czar thought.
Czar raised his face from the soil attempting to spot the position of the sniper but could see nothing.
Watanabe signaled Czar that he had the sniper's position and signaled a digging motion with his hands indicating the sniper was in a hole or tunnel.
In a flurry of hand signals, Czar directed Brown to stay with the prisoners while he and Watanabe assaulted the sniper.
The final hand signals directed Watanabe to assault the sniper from a flanking position while Czar would assault the position head on, providing suppression fire to keep the sniper in his hole until Watanabe could drop a grenade on the sniper's nest.
On a quick three count, Czar stood up and began firing first one clip and then a second all the while closing the distance between himself and the sniper.
Watanabe attacked from the side, running past the hole, and with a ballet of pin pull and arching grenade, the deed was done.
Both men dropped to the ground as the grenade exploded.
Czar had volunteered as a tunnel rat his first year in Vietnam and knew that training dictated quick entry into holes and tunnels as the occupants would be stunned from the blast, giving the tunnel rat enough of a surprise advantage to dispatch those remaining.
Czar dropped his rifle, drew the equalizer and dropped into the hole, which was actually the mouth of a shallow tunnel.
In the clearing smoke, the scene before him was to become his worst, most vivid nightmare in perpetuity.
A girl, perhaps 15 or 16, lay disemboweled on the tunnel floor, an old single shot Remington rifle still clutched in her hands. Behind her were three children, including an infant, all dead. And in the rear of the tunnel lay an old woman with most of her face blown away. There were bags of rice in the tunnel and a pot boiling over a Primus stove.
It must have been lunch time when the occupants saw their water buffalo shot down by the marines.
Czar fought the urge to scream as he staggered out of the hole.
"Did I get the son of a bitch Nick?" Watanabe said as he approached the hole.
"Yeah, Bob you got him. Looked to me like he may have been a North Vietnamese regular from the looks of his uniform."
Czar motioned Watanabe to stand back as he dropped a satchel charge into the hole to prevent any further use as a sniper den. Mostly he wanted to provide burial for the victims and shield his buddy Watanabe from ever knowing what had been in the hole.
Watanabe called in a second chopper to recover the marines in the rice paddy.

Sitting up in the cockpit of Apollo, head in hands, Czar slowly awakened. The knot in his stomach receded and his worst nightmare faded.
Czar would never tell Watanabe about what he found that day in Vietnam. He would carry that burden for his friend until he died.

Returning to the aft cabin he leaned over Milin, gently kissing her forehead.
With Milin, Czar's life had meaning and an inexplicable feeling of absolution for his time in Vietnam.

Apollo's anchor light atop the main mast swayed back and forth with the gentle waves in the cove. Shortly after 3 a.m., the 360 degree light dimly illuminated a passing sailboat. The vessel carried no port or starboard running lights, no stern light and no sign of a light in its cabin. Its cockpit was empty, its main hatch closed. Had anyone aboard Apollo been on deck they might have seen a shabby little sloop with rusted chain plates, the stains extending down the sides of the scarred hull.
They would have noted the name of the vessel and its home port on the stern before it turned to a compass bearing heading to the island of Kahoolawe.

Apollo rode at anchor in splendid isolation.
Two Aku boats made way from Molokai's harbor at Kanaukakai, passing Apollo and her sleeping crew around 6 a.m., the sound of the heavy diesels throbbing across the water awakening Czar.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
THE HOUSE OF THE SUN

Sunrise was a faint red glow in the east. Czar hauled in the anchor rode and started the Yanmar. He wanted to cross back over the Molokai channel before the sun began to generate the winds which drove the waves, waves that could prove deadly in the channel. He brought Apollo into the lee of the West Maui mountains while his passengers slept. A wind line started to form astern of Apollo. Milin was first into the cockpit rubbing her eyes, taking the helm without supervision as the winds were calm and the sea now flat.
Passing off McGregor Point, the ambient trades were blowing 30 knots, sending Apollo in a flight of spin drift and crashing waves into Maalea Bay.

From Mcgregor Point to the mooring, Czar held the wheel with Milin until the mooring ball was snagged.
The dinghy ride from the mooring to Sugar beach was stimulating. The journey ended as it had begun at the Royal Maui Yacht Club. Before departing for their respective homes, Brown, Watanabe and Czar agreed that it was time to take Yoo goat hunting in the crater of the House of the Sun.. Brown would provide the horses.
Thursday morning early was set as the day of the hunt.

Also planning a trip to Haleakala crater was Philander Newton, all-star running back for the Cincinnati Panthers, and his wife Cindy Lou Vermillion Newton. Philander and Cindy were first time visitors to the islands and both had a pioneering/explorer bent. They planned on a four day hike through the crater, reserving the three cabins in the park, which were evenly spaced on the main trails. Cindy Lou opened the brochure detailing Haleakala.
"Look Philander, it says the top of the volcano is over 10,000 feet high. It's above the clouds. According to this, the crater is big enough to hold the entire city of Philadelphia."
"Man, that's cool babe," Philander responded.
Handing Cindy Lou the three cabin permits, he suggested she keep them in her purse as he packed two back packs for the journey. One back pack contained a bottle of champagne to be opened at the half way mark of the trip in celebration of Philander's signing with the NFL.

The Newtons would be in the money on returning to their home south of Hazard, Kentucky and just east of the coal tipple at Tribbey. Their hotel room was a far cry from their humble childhood homes in the Hazard coal fields.
Philander had been the only black in the high school. He was the school’s star back while Cindy Lou was the school's lead cheerleader, very blonds and very white. In their sophomore year they began dating, which pretty well got the entire community off it's feed. Philander's family, all god fearing missionary Baptists were appalled that their son was dating ‘That white bitch."
Cindy Lou's family, all God fearing Christians affiliated with the Baptist church, were fairly beside themselves at the thought of Cindy Lou marrying "that God damn Coon."
Philannder's father "Dutro" Newton urged his son to cross the color line, an act he often thought of after 30 years of marriage to Philander's mother Moesha whom Dutro referred to as "Black Booty." That was because she reminded him of the story book horse "Black Beauty." That's what he whispered to friends.
Dutro had always counseled his son to marry a woman who was submissive, citing his stock comment: "A good wife is like a good rifle. She should always be kept loaded and standing in a corner.”
Despite the war between the families, Cindy Lou and Philander were eventually married at the most prestigious church in the area, the Evangelical Tabernacle Church of the Nazarene, highly regarded locally because of its construction and erection of numerous highway signs warning " Jesus is coming".

Philander and Cindy Lou finished loading their back packs and as Philander would say hit the hay.
Before falling asleep Cindy Lou set the alarm for 5 a.m. Wednesday morning.
The Newton's alarm clock sounded in concert with Nick Czar's telephone.

The voice on Czar's phone was Sam Paris.
"Nick, I am coming into Maui from Hong Kong. Pick me up at the airport at 8:00 a.m."
Czar, half asleep, was surprised at the sound of the request, more like an order he would get in Vietnam.
"What are you doing in Hawaii?"
Paris' reply was news worthy,
"Nick, I have been assigned as field chief for the CIA in South America. I want to talk to you about helping me out down there."
Czar could hear a woman's voice in the background, then Paris came back on line.
"Don't bother picking me up. Let's have lunch somewhere. You pick it, as long as it's a good seafood restaurant."
Czar suggested Rick's Lobster Shack at the Maalea Bay harbor and Paris agreed.
"Let's make it one o'clock Nick as I have several more calls I need to make."
Czar hung up and went back to sleep just as the sun rose over Mount Haleakala.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
HOLOA CABIN

 Philander and Cindy Lou were standing on the rim of the crater not far from the NASA observatory as the sun lit the crater with a myriad of colors and shadows on the cinder cone pocked crater floor. The couple began their four day journey by descending an ashen path into the clouds below . The first cabin was four miles ahead.
The  crater bowl's scale and scope was sensual, sublime and more of a moonscape than landscape.
The vastness of the crater astonished the young couple. The absence of sound of any kind was unnerving and unexpected. The two high school sweethearts from Hazard walked hand in hand, knowing this part of their vacation would be remembered for the rest of their lives.
"Perhaps more than any vacation ever" Cindy thought.
The young couple began to lose their uneasiness with this strange place now immersed in a spell not easily broken.
The journey through the clouds and into the crater of colors pastel could only have been created by the artistry of nature.
Haleakala, according to their guide book gave birth to the island of Maui when the Grand Canyon was but a creek

About a mile from "Holoa" cabin, the Newton's became aware of the repugnant smell of rotting garbage or perhaps a dead animal. They suspected it was likely a dead goat. Both were aware of the bounty the Park Service placed on goats in the crater that were destroying the rare plant life. The smell soon became unbearable when they came upon the rear portion of a goat in an outcropping of prehistoric lava.
In their haste to put distance between them and the dead animal, they failed to notice that the goat had no head.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
PARIS SEAFOOD TREAT

Rick's Lobster Shack was full of luncheon customers, including Benny Peabody, who was again taking advantage of Rick's two beers for the price of one sale.
Nick was late in arriving, a fact noted by Paris, who was seated at a table, arm around the shoulders of a most stunning young woman. Standing, Paris embraced Czar, introducing his wife Beverly Savilla, a Filipino beauty the likes of which Czar had not seen. On hearing that the couple were newly wed, Czar commented on the bride’s beauty and how lucky "this pathetic old man was to find such a lovely wife."
Beverly sat patiently listening as the two men began recounting their memories of Vietnam punctuated by four olive Bombay's.
"Nick, Just before you left Saigon, Colonel Chee, commander of the ROK troops in Koochi valley was assassinated along with several of his men on the Min River road. You had to be one of the last people to see him.
“Any ideas as to what might have happened to him?"
Nick's reply was short.
"Sam, I was the last person he saw."
Paris smiled and the conversation returned to Vietnam, politics and the new assignment in of all places, South America.
“I'll be working out of the consulate in Columbia but my home base will be in Bogota. The agency has me set up at the Vista Del Sol resort which you and the Mafia may use at any time. I leave Maui this afternoon and start my new assignment in two days. "
Paris motioned to the waiter.
"La quinta por favour senior. As you can see Nick, I'm practicing my Spanish every chance I get."
Paris leaned forward, glass extended. As the glasses met, Paris told Czar, he would be calling him for some "snatch and grab" south of the border. Czar only smiled, having no intention of ever working for the agency again.
The two men embraced. As Paris was leaving he turned to Czar in afterthought.
"I had a big Maine lobster before you arrived Nick. If I were you, I would find another seafood joint because I can tell you that lobster tasted like shit!"

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
LOVE IN A VOLCANO

The Newton's reached Holoa cabin in late afternoon to find that the tourists using the cabin before them had commendably cleaned and swept the cabin, even bringing in a night's supply of firewood for the cooking and heating.
The only negative was the broken door to the outside garbage pit that had been foraged by animals, probably goats. Philander cleaned up the garbage but was unable to secure the bin's door.
Sprawling on a bunk near the cabin door, Philander and Cindy Lou slowly observed the interior and were delighted with the single wall constructed cabin, which reminded them of their "rich" uncle Everest in Hazard, the county's only veterinarian. Everest's cabin had two rooms, this one had only one but with a view of the crater that was much better than Everest's view of the Tribbey coal tipple. Holoa cabin featured two large wooden tables at its center, bordered by bunks on three sides, which would accommodate twelve persons. The kitchen was set to one side in an alcove, its center piece being Koa wood cabinets with modern Corian counter tops. The sink's water was piped in from a wooden water tank that was in turn fed by run off from the cabin's roof. There were large curtain less windows on all four sides of the cabin.
Cindy Lou found a note taped to one of the tables. The note written in lip stick was barely legible.
"Sorry about the garbage problem but a small heard of goats broke the door and spent the night pillaging the garbage bin. If you hear sounds during the night just ignore them, it will probably be the goats back for seconds.
“It scared the hell out of me and my husband until we saw what the cause of the noise was." The note was signed Bill and Joan Andrews – Seattle, Washington.

Cindy placed the two quilts her mother had made for her on a bunk near the fire place and next to a window, laying out two outfits for tomorrow's trek to Kapalaoa cabin  six miles away, their second shelter on the journey.
The Newton's were two happy campers indeed with a feeling of bliss tinged with a sense of being all alone above the clouds in the House of the Sun that gave birth to Maui in a cauldron of fire, rage and fury.
A loud bang like a gunshot rang out inside the cabin sending the Newton's into each other's arms.
Their panic was short lived as the cork from their champagne bottle dropped from the ceiling onto the table where they had been sitting. The altitude had caused the champagne's carbonation to expand, unleashing the cork despite a miniature wire cage over the neck of the bottle. Philander managed to capture enough of the spewing champagne to partially fill two glasses, which the two carried to the front "stoop" of the cabin where they sat admiring the panorama of cinder cones, lava cliffs and the white clouds at their feet. In awe of the sunset above the clouds they toasted one another, the "clink" of glass on glass the only sounds in the volcano.
Darkness arrived early in the House of the Sun with a magnificent display of what looked to the Newton's, as if all the stars in every galaxy in the heavens were twinkling for them. Cindy Lou wistfully allowed as to how they “never will ever see anything this beautiful for as long as we live."
Philander agreed.
"Honey, if I died tonight it would be okay because I have you and all these stars and that's all any one could ever ask for."The whole thing was so deep only intuition could reach it.

A full moon appeared just above the clouds as the two childhood sweethearts turned down the covers to their bunk.
Philander checked all the windows making sure they were locked and drove home a large bolt lock on the front door.
Starting a fire in the wood burning stove, Philander sat back with a smile, satisfaction lighting his face.
It wasn't long before the cabin was warm and the covers were thrown off.
The fire light danced across the cabin as the Newton's made love. Neither bothered to look out the window three feet from their bunk toward the sounds coming from the outside.
 "Probably the fucking goats," Philander suggested.
 Had either paused to look they would have seen a face pressed against the window pane, a thumb less hand resting on the window sill. To their horror, they would have seen that the face was without lips to cover yellowing teeth, protruding from blackened gums. Worse yet, the grotesque creature had only a trace of a nose encrusted with dried mucous.

The face was expressionless. The eyes were focused on the naked bodies amidst a stream of tears. Had the Newton's left the window open, they would have become aware of a hideous stench outside.
Had Philander left the cabin door unbolted they would not only have lost their hearts to Hawaii, but their heads as well.

Early next morning, the Newton's donned new clothing for the the second leg of their trek to Kapalaoa cabin on a path of centuries silent volcanic ash.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
PIGS IN THE PATCH

 The loading of horses for the planned hunting trip into Haleakala crater got underway before sunrise.
Thede Brown was helping neighbor Ollie Cabral load Ollie's horses into his tri axle trailer hitched to Ollie's Dodge Ram 4WD. Ollie was the son of Portuguese immigrants to Hawaii and was referred to as "Portagee" by Thede. Portagee was a devoted friend to Thede, despite the fact Thede had caused Portagee to loose $100,000 the previous year. Portagee's patch of land was in reality a large marijuana farm with only a few acres of legal grass for his horses . Portagee's thriving illegal business produced the islands most potent "Maui Wowie," mostly for Japanese tourists. Locals on Maui could always spot a Japanese tour group who had acquired some of Portagee's product as they tended as a group to take pictures by the roll of mundane subjects such as road signs or a lone coconut even after they had run out of film.  While Cabral was a prolific drug producer he did not like people who took drugs, like the state and local constabulary.
Portagee's devotion to Brown began when the federal drug task force in Honolulu acquired aerial photos of Portagee's horse farm, which indicated some extra verdant pasture alongside some not so green pasture containing four horses. The really green grass was "grass" as was the not so green grass.

Following a detailed plan of attack hatched in the federal building in Honolulu, the feds decided on an early morning helicopter raid on Portagee's property, complete with press coverage and the electronic media.
As luck would have it, Brown's pigs became restless, sensing the chopping block was near at hand. The night before the raid, Brown’s pigs broke through the fence to Portagee's and began consuming the plants with a street value of one thousand dollars each. The pigs were just finishing off the last plant when the "Green Harvest" choppers began to land. With the evidence destroyed and the aerial photos inconclusive and unusable in the courts, Portagee was spared some serious slam time as well as confiscation of his property. The Feds were not happy. In sharp contrast, Portagee was dancing a jig where his one hundred plants once stood. The pigs appeared to be more happy than any one and remained that way for two days. As the choppers began their ascent, Portagee dropped his bib overhauls with their compartmentalized pockets for comb, pencils, pocket knife and tire gauge. He could clearly be seen by those airborne thrusting his bare ass skyward.
As Portagee told Thede, "The bust was a bust! And I owe you big time!"

When it came time to butcher the pigs a week later, Thede noted that it was the first group of pigs he butchered that just didn't seem to care. The pigs he raised were unlike Brown's dog who looked up to him or his cat who looked down on him. The pigs looked at Bown as an equal.

As Czar, Watanabe and Phuc Yoo drove along side a fast flowing irrigation ditch about a mile from Brown’s home, Yoo spotted what he described as a "10 mile an hour turd" making its way toward the pineapple and sugar cane fields in the lowlands of the Valley Isle.
"It appears that Thede had a successful morning constitution."
Yoo's proclamation portended an impending "crap shoot" for field workers near the irrigation flumes that day.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
SPEECHLESS

Nearly half way to Kapalaoa cabin, the Newtons stopped to rest in the shade of a rock ledge spawned from the bowels of the earth in the cataclysmic birth of Haleakala and its creation of the island of Maui. The ledge and its cooling shade had hosted many of the million and half visitors to Maui every year.
After resting, the Newtons returned to the trail, shortly coming upon a solitary silver sword plant with a marker at its base detailing the plant's rarity and warning against taking any of its leaves as souvenirs. Again the young couple became aware of foul air that cleared and then returned two miles later.
"It's like what ever smells is following us first in front of us and then behind us," commented Cindy Lou as she saw Kapalaoa cabin at the base of a large cinder cone.
Opening the door, they were assaulted with a stench the likes of which caused them to gag. Philander told Cindy Lou to remain on the stoop of the cabin "while I go inside. Probably just another dead goat."
With the cabin door open he saw a human head, partially bald, it's neck rimmed in blood with vacant eye sockets facing him from the table top. Philander was rendered speechless at the sight before him as well as the smell. Speechless, because Philander's larynx, and voice box cortex had been sliced completely through.
Paralyzed with terror at the scene before her, Cindy Lou for that instant could neither move nor scream.
Her husband's head cart wheeled down the steps of the stoop spurting an arc of blood. Transfixed at the sight, she beheld her husband's torso, flailing arms and legs tumbling backwards onto the stoop floor at her feet.
The grotesque appearance of the form standing before her revealed a grinning distorted decaying face. The sight of Philander's attacker in the door would have resulted in catatonic shock for most people, but for Cindy Lou, an incredible burst of adrenaline coursed through her blood as she leaped from the stoop, running faster than she had ever run in her life. She soon discovered she could only run a short distance because of the altitude and lack of oxygen. She collapsed on the path, expecting an attack at any second, but none came.
Looking back toward the cabin, she could see the wretched figure kneeling beside her husband's body.
The life-saving adrenaline surge returned, propelling her down the trail as she told herself she would run all night, do anything to escape the evil that was behind her. Unaware that tears were streaming down her checks, she frantically ran with only one shoe. The cinders beneath her unclad foot and the pain she felt were ignored.

The next cabin Paliku was ten miles away. Cindy Lou knew she could not stop and live.

CHAPTER THIRTY
MANHUNT IN THE CLOUDS

The Maui Mafia arrived on the crater rim and saddled up. Brown gave Yoo a single shot Damascus twist 12 gauge shotgun. The Damascus twist had a bad reputation of barrels disintegrating with newer heavier loads. It was made in 1897 and had a distinctive barrel of steel and iron ribbons welded together in short irregular streak like marks.
 Thede Brown, as usual,  was willing to take the risk. Watanabe had a 30/30 lever action Winchester and his service revolver along with his police radio in the event he was summoned back to the police station in Wailuku.
Czar carried the equalizer, while Brown was armed with a .50 caliber sniper rifle complete with a high powered telescopic sight that had been freshly sighted. Brown's method of sighting a rifle was to place the gun in a vice then at 100 yards or whatever distance selected, fire a single shot. He would then carefully adjust the cross hairs to intersect the bullet hole at its center. Portagee assured Brown the horses were not gun shy but then they had never heard a .50 caliber round exit a barrel in a sheet of flame a foot long.
The foursome descended 2,000 feet on the Hale Mau Mau trail when Watanabe got a call on his radio.
It was the chief of police Doug Samashima. He sounded shaken.

"Bob, I just got some bad news, really bad news. I just got off the telephone with park officer Rod Adlawan at the ranger station on Haleakala and he says that two tourists found a woman near Paliku cabin. She is acting incoherent but it sounds like her husband may have been murdered at Kapaolaoa cabin. From what we can tell the incident may have occurred only hours ago. That means the murderer is probably still in the crater.
“I've got every man available heading up country to seal off the roads leading back down from Haleakala and I have three helicopters that normally fly tourists over Haleakala to head up there – probably within the next hour you will see them. They will have your radio frequency and will coordinate with you in the crater. The park rangers also have your frequency and will be taking orders from you.
“Sergeant this has got to be done right, we have got to get this son of a bitch now. This may be our best chance.  Bob, the woman they found said her husband was decapitated. Jesus Christ , is this fucking nightmare ever going to end?"
Watanabe signed off promising his boss that they, the Maui Mafia, would do their best to "kill this goddamn monster!"
A helicopter could now be seen emerging from the misting rain, low over the crater using a PA system warning.
“Urgent! Any one in the crater please leave immediately and report to the ranger station!"
The message was repeated over and over as the four hunters dismounted to plan their strategy.
Watanabe asked Czar to devise a plan. Czar was their natural leader and Watanabe wanted to keep it that way.
"Nick you know this crater better than anyone."

Czar drew a rough outline of Haleakala in the ashen path, carefully outlining the major trails into the crater.
Memories of Vietnam flooded in. Every one knew this would be a "snatch and grab," just like a jungle operation, but this time there would be no prisoner. Czar realized finding a person in the park's 30,000 acres would be more luck than strategy. The strategy was simple. Each man was assigned to one of four main trails leading into the crater. Since Watanabe would be the only one with communication to the Maui police, park police and the helicopters, he would ride directly to the murder site. Czar would continue on the Hale Mau Mau trial to Pailiku.
Thede would take the trail near the observatory, Yoo the trail near the tourist center. One shot would be fired if the subject was spotted; two if near Pailiku; three if near Holoa cabin; and four if near Kapalaoa cabin.
Watanabe gave Yoo his service pistol in case the Damascus failed.
Czar concluded.
"If you meet him face to face on the trail fire six shots.”
He paused.
"Make them all head shots."

As the four parted each felt the old juices flowing that were so familiar in Vietnam. Right or wrong, just as in the jungle, somebody was going to die, no questions asked, no quarter given.

Czar was familiar with the Hale Mau Mau trail, having hunted and camped in the crater with his father before his father's death when Nick was just seventeen. His father had been a division commander in the Korean War, which had soured the senior Czar on all things military. Bertram Czar had urged his young son not to join the military, often saying, "the best disguise for an intelligent man is a uniform."
Bertram Czar's college soul mate had been Sam Paris, who became young Nick's mentor and surrogate father when Bertram Czar died .
Nick, not wanting to know why his father shot himself, did not attend his father's funeral, opting instead for memories of his father alive rather than an image of his father lying in a casket.

A heavy chilling rain began in Haleakala crater, rolling in from the Hana side of the mountain. Czar removed a rain slicker from his saddle bag while entering the clouds. Visibility in heavy cloud cover was limited to no more than a few feet, making Czar's only reference point his horse's ears swaying back and forth like equine radar.
The trail was challenging in good visibility with its numerous sheer cliffs and switch back trails. In poor visibility it was down right suicidal considering what lay ahead, a diseased maniac lurking somewhere in the dense clouds.
Emerging from the clouds ahead of Czar were four people. One was a park ranger followed by two backpackers supporting a woman who was alternately moaning then screaming.
The ranger was able to provide Czar with a partial description of the attacker.
"A large person wearing a black rain slicker, black hood and carrying a sword or possibly a machete."
The four continued the climb to the crater rim, disappearing in the mist as Czar descended further into the crater.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
RELEASED

Dalton Hagler's first day back on the job was going well. The team of doctor's had managed to reattach his right testicle that had been hanging by a centimeter of skin. During his surgery the doctors were able to reconstruct the appendage so that both testicles hung side by side rather than in tandem, as they had prior to the assault.
Hagler's penis had escaped injury but the doctors operated on it anyway, assuming it's peculiar jog to the right was the result of the crustacean's claw. Regretfully, the surgery left Hagler's penis with a jog to the left.
Hagler was assured the timbre of his voice would return in time.
The routine at the harbor master's office returned to normal except for the post traumatic syndrome involving his latrine routine. Hagler could not bring himself to sit on his office toilet seat nor any other toilet seat.
He had adopted a new stance, either in front of the bowl or astride it depending on his needs. His emotional state had also changed along with the thickness of his facial hair. On occasion and for no apparent reason, he would burst into tears.

On the other side of the island, Rose Peabody was released from the hospital later that same day. Her recovery was cautiously declared complete. She arrived back at her apartment to a rousing welcome from the customers of the Hasegawa barber shop. Mr. Hasegawa himself stopped cutting "air" and presented Rose with a bouquet of roses and a certificate for one free haircut for her husband Benny. In her apartment, Rose discovered that Benny had nailed all the drawers shut on her beloved Koa wood dresser. She said nothing to Benny, who was watching "Wheel of Fortune." She went directly to the kitchen. There Rose removed butcher block set and meat cleaver, depositing them in the garbage container.
With some hesitation, she ceremoniously and with a dramatic flourish removed her false teeth and in Benny's full view dropped them into the garbage. Turning to Benny, she asked him if he wanted a divorce.
"At our age and in our condition, Rose, why bother."
 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
THE QUARRY

Watanabe arrived at Kapalaoa cabin where the park rangers had established a perimeter to secure the area and discourage the press who had assembled outside near three television helicopters. Despite the rain and heavy cloud cover, Watanabe could see two white sheeted forms at the front of the cabin. One sheet covered what was obviously a body, the second covered what had to be a head. Walking toward the cabin, Watanabe turned aside, asking the press to be patient, promising he would have a statement for them shortly.
"You are to remain quiet while I conduct a preliminary investigation. When I make my statement there will be no questions. Anyone who breaches this request will have his equipment confiscated and returned by third class mail.
“If you think I am kidding just try me."
The contingent of reporters fell silent while Watanabe approached the shrouded body and asked two park rangers to remove the sheet and hold it in a manner that would block the view of the press. Philander Newton's torso had been stripped naked, on his buttocks was what appeared to be dried semen. Philander Newton's face appeared as it probably was when attacked. The expression of the eyes as well as the the mouth held a frozen surprised look.
"At least the poor bastard died quickly," Watanabe thought, fighting the urge to vomit.
Park ranger Manny Palau beckoned Watanabe toward the cabin. Here Watanabe had a face to face with the eye less head of Bishop Bernard Joseph. Controlling a need to retch again, he heard the voice of the Maui County Coroner, who had choppered in just before Watanabe's arrival on horseback.
The coroner stepped from the helicopter looking a bit like he had come in contact with the blades, his face still bearing signs of his cane duel with Benny Peabody AKA the fourth Musketeer.
"Bob, I need the release of this head as soon as possible so I can FedEx it back to the Bishop's diocese. The faithful want to have a funeral befitting his high office in the church."
Watanabe pictured Gothic church steeples, bells tolling with throngs of the empty headed paying homage to the headless.
"By the way, Bob, the cause of death is the same in this case."
Watanabe's response was sarcastic.
"Let me guess, Seichi, is it because they lost their heads? Because the killer is someone with leprosy and not a flesh eating disease?"
"Don't forget syphilis and gonorrhea," the coroner added.
Watanabe studied Philander Newton's wallet and rental car keys as he walked outside the cabin directly to the huddled and hushed cadre of reporters.
"We have recovered the head of Bishop Bernard Joseph and have identified the body of the man you see beneath the sheet. Like the others, this individual was also decapitated. We also can not release the victim's name until notification of the next of kin. At this time we have no motive for the murders but can tell you that each victim bore evidence of sexual molestation. We are conducting a manhunt at this moment in Haleakala crater and the surrounding area in concert with the park service under the direction of the chief of police Douglas Samashima. Coordinating the manhunt is former CIA special forces Captain Nick Czar."
Immediately, he wished he could take back the reference to Czar but it was to late. He knew Czar disliked publicity of any kind especially in connection with the CIA.

Nick Czar could only approximate his progress on the trail as it lead deeper into the crater. He caught only a sporadic glimpse of a familiar lava wall, a cliff or a jog in the path. With his horse becoming less sure footed and showing signs of spooking, Czar dismounted, taking the reins and leading the nervous animal. If the horse fell, he would be ejected from the saddle and possibly thrown down a slope or worse, off a cliff.
A momentary opening in the clouds gave Czar a fleeting glance of Paliku cabin 1,000 feet below.
At about a mile distance, the clouds again shifted to a thick wet curtain of fog.
Another hundred yards along the trail the horse stopped and snorted. Its ears went sharply forward.
Czar's right hand closed on the butt of the equalizer. Hands sweating, pulse pounding, he thumbed the safety to the fire position. Czar carried the pistol with a round in the chamber as well as a full clip knowing that the sound of a pistol being jacked now might be the sound that got you killed. His finger resting outside the trigger guard, Czar lead the horse slowly forward into a pervasive stench that Czar recognized as the smell of gangrene. He had encountered the smell often among the wounded in Vietnam. The going treatment was surgery and antibiotics or a bullet in the head, depending on which side found you.
The horse was becoming more agitated but Czar held him tight, knowing that on horseback he could cover ground quickly once below the clouds. He did not want the horse to bolt. The fetid odor became stronger as Czar passed a lava tube. Ahead to the right of the trail he saw what appeared to be a large man wearing a white rain slicker or poncho. Czar brought the equalizer on level for a quick head shot. He stopped his trigger pull, realizing he had been a millisecond away from blowing off the top of a silver sword plant.
Now the smell of gangrene intensified, causing the horse to rear.
Wiping the rain from his face, Czar called out.
"Hey asshole! Come out wherever you are!"
Then he added a few phrases from his childhood games.
"Here I come ready or not," and ended with "Red Rover Red Rover come over."
A few feet ahead in the thick clouds he was startled by a gagging cough.
Moving cautiously down the trail the cough sounded again, this time only a few feet away. Czar moved the equalizer in the direction of the cough.
A whip crack sounded close to Czar's ears. The horse screamed in agony. Its neck was split open mane to throat in an explosion of blood. Czar glimpsed the blade of a machete being pulled back by a blackened thimbles hand. Czar fired a single shot at the hand. The .45 caliber slug took off half the hand and three fingers and sent the machete spinning into the clouds. Czar prepared to empty a full clip in the direction of the hand but was pulled off the trail by the dying horse. Czar let go of the reins and heard the sounds of multiple impacts as the animal rolled off the Hale Mau Mau trail into a gorge. Moving to a large lava rock, Czar crouched, his back against the rock, listening for any sounds that might signal the location of his attacker. None came.
Now on foot, Czar waited for the clouds to clear, enabling him to follow what surely would be a blood trail. He felt the sensation of liquid running down his neck and wiped his hand across his throat. It was sweat, a lot of sweat.
The sound of the equalizer had reverberated throughout the crater from rim to rim.
Phuc Yoo heard Czar's single shot and urged his horse into a gallop toward Pailiku cabin. Guessing the shot had came from the trail above the cabin Yoo pulled the Damascus from his saddle scabbard.

Watanabe heard the shot and commandeered a news helicopter, taking two park rangers and the coroner as passengers.
"Make for Pailiku cabin," he barked.

Too far away to hear the shot, Thede Brown arrived above the great lava field, which once flowed from the crater rim in a flood of fire and molten rock all the way to the ocean. The lava field, now frozen in time, was mute testimony to the eruption of the House of the Sun. To Thede Brown the lava field was a maelstrom of razor sharp shards of lava, a no man's land. A place to be avoided since it's birth in a symphony of fire and blood red flowing arteries.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
POLICE CALL

Cameron Collins picked up the ringing phone next to his echo back chair. Captain Charles Bohn of the Anchorage Police Department had some information and questions for the richest man on Maui.
"The good news, Mr. Collins, is that the skeletal remains we found at the King Salmon Creek site were not those of your son. The dental records you sent us were not match for your son Lester. The bad news is the skeleton is that of Alvin Durant, the man your son was staying with at the cabin."
Collins’ voice filled with relief.
"Captain have you had any word at all as to my son's whereabouts?"
Bohn's reply was conciliatory.
"No sir, I am sorry to say we have no information at all regarding your son. Mr. Collins, If you hear from Lester, please call us as we have some questions we'd like to ask him. If I may ask, how does your son support himself? Does he have an occupation?"
Collins hesitated.
"Captain, my son receives support from a blind trust fund which I set up for him when he was 16.
“Stand by a second,” Bohn interrupted as he signed an arrest warrant. "If you would be so kind to please provide us with a list of his withdrawals from that trust fund so we can probably locate him in a reasonable period of time.”
"I am very sorry Captain, I am denied access to that information by the very nature of the blind trust's covenants. Had I that information I likely would have been able to find him myself."
Noting the condescending tone of Collins’ voice, Bohn thanked Collins for his time and then just before hanging up said, "Mr. Collins, in the event your son contacts you, you will call us. Is that correct?"
Collins reply was affirmative. Both replaced the receivers on their phones, one with a feeling of relief and love for his son, the other with an inexplicable feeling of suspicion.

Later that night the Chief was preparing for bed when his wife Mary, asked him about the case.
The couple lay side by side as Bohn recounted the scene at the cabin inhabited by Alvin Durant and Lester Collins, the finding of dead dogs, a human leg bone and the oosik.  " An oosik, what is that?  "It's the penis bone of a Walrus, honey, more than three feet long. We think it was used to kill the dogs found at the cabin.
Bohn recapped the murders on Maui that may be connected to the findings.  Mary shivered at the thought of a killer murdering people by decapitation.
Thinking of the oosik, Mary suggested they make love.
Neither were aware the window of their bedroom  was dripping with a white oozing substance behind which was a face with bulging eyes, foaming mouth and a dreadlock of hanging skin over one eye.
In the midst of their lovemaking, Mary spied the face in the window and disengaged in a leap from the bed.  Her screams catapulting Chief Bohn out of bed where he grabbed his service revolver from the night stand.
Bohn's deflating penis and his 38 special were both aimed at the face in the window which turned out to be a salivating moose with molting antler felt hanging in it's face.
Both of the chief's weapons lowered quickly as he slumped on the bed, joined by his wife and followed by a long convulsive period of laughter for much of the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
WELL DONE AND MOSTLY HAIRLESS

Phuc Yoo held his horse to a steady rack as he passed between two cinder cones and into full view of Pailiku cabin. Through the rain and mist he spied a figure sitting alongside the trail, wearing a black hooded rain slicker.
The dense clouds moved just above the figure.
"This is either a tourist exploring the crater who hasn't heard the helicopter loud speaker warnings or,” he took a deep breath, “this is our killer."
Yoo slowed his horse focusing on the figure, whose back faced Yoo’s approach. Closer, his mouth bone dry, Yoo saw what looked like a large silver sword at one side of the hooded figure. The figure's right hand was wrapped in a bright splotchy red and white rag.
Yoo's horse picked up the man's scent in the shifting air and began trembling . Yoo had experienced that smell too many times in Vietnam. At a distance of about ten yards, Yoo saw what he had thought was a silver sword leaf was actually a machete. He leveled the old Damascus at the back of the rain parka just as the hood fell back.
The exposed head only half turned toward Yoo. Yoo froze at the sight of a head with no ears, a face with only a trace of a nose crusted over with what appeared to be dry phlegm.
A rush of foul air brought Yoo fully alert. He began a slow trigger pull.
Yoo had never killed any one before, certainly never shot anyone in the back. Discarding thoughts of giving the creature the benefit of a warning or even a chance to explain himself, Yoo steadied his horse, taking a careful bead on the back before him.
Phuc thought "Fuck!" as the barrel of the Damascus bulged then exploded. A sheet of flame from the breech incinerated Yoo's eyebrows, eyelashes, nostril hair and much of his forelocks. The force of the recoil sent him over backwards in a puff of smoke onto the ashen path where he lay stunned. The smoking Damascus stock and magazine were near his head.
Eight inches of the barrel of the Damascus shot forward in the explosion embedding in the right buttock cheek of the hooded figure, the barrel’s ramp front sight acting as a barb holding the hot metal in place much like an arrow.
Nick Czar heard the gunshot coming from below the cloud line near Paliku cabin and broke into a run. Despite the poor visibility he quickly descended the switch back trail ahead. Out of the clouds just 200 yards from the cabin, Czar spotted the hooded figure on the trail ahead, Phuc Yoo lying on the ground.

The distance being long, Czar fired five shots over the heads of the two figures ahead of him. He jammed another clip in the equalizer as the hooded figure mounted Yoo's horse, fast out distancing Czar, who collapsed breathless beside Yoo. He brought the sights of the equalizer in line in time to see the fleeing horseman disappear into the rain and mist, but not before Czar discerned what looked like a tail protruding from the posterior of the horseman.
To Czar, the horse and slicker clad rider looked like one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
The rider rode like a jockey, high in the stirrups..
Yoo, Czar discovered with relief, was well done and mostly hairless, but otherwise uninjured.

Despite the heavy cloud cover and rain, Watanabe's commandeered helicopter descended to landing next to Pailiku cabin. Inside, Yoo was still groggy and red in the face but able to provide a detailed description of his encounter.
Czar waited for Watanabe to finish questioning Yoo, then placed a piece of black rain slicker on the cabin table. He unrolled the material, revealing a portion of a right hand, which was stuck to the material. Three fingers were intact except for the little finger and thumb. The thumb socket had festered and was oozing a puss like substance.
Watanabe knew they could not catch the subject on foot, A helicopter search was impossible in the low lying clouds and rain. He radioed Chief Samashima.
"The only hope we have of capturing this person is Thede Brown."
That hope was predicated on the killer heading toward Brown's position.
Yoo spread Vaseline on his face from a first aid kit, managing to speak.
"Thede will be pissed off if he gets this guy and then finds out he hasn't any ears. Bob, I hate to tell you this but I checked and your service pistol is gone. He must have it."
Czar, Watanabe, Yoo and the park rangers sat around the cabin's wooden table as Czar produced a flask of Bombay.
Watanabe and the park rangers, precluded from drinking on the job, decided today would be an exception. It's not every day, they all agreed, that you come across a human torso, two heads, part of a hand with three fingers and a full bore manhunt. The helicopter pilot was the only person who did not join in the libation, refusing to leave his locked cockpit or to shut down the engine. Coroner Fukagawa dabbed his handkerchief in his glass and wiped his facial contusions. His lip was too sore to drink alcohol.
Finishing his Bombay Czar summed up the day's events.
"This guy stinks so bad you can smell him at a distance. How does he travel? How could he go to a store for food? How can this person exist? Maybe the son of a bitch has someone helping him. In any case, if we don't get this monster coming out of the crater or at a road block, maybe Thede will get him."
Thede Brown was sitting high above the great lava flow, unaware of the days events. His horse was rein tied.
Portagee had trained the horse to stay in one place whenever you dropped the reins, eliminating the need to tie the horse to a post or tree.

Thede had been assigned the Fleming trail, which ran for miles along the lava field with stretches of hilly ground bordered by sporadic lava boulders. As he finished his mana pua pastry, he caught sight of a lone horseman approaching from below, heading straight for the lava fields at full gallop. The rider wearing a hooded slicker was whipping his horse with a flat piece of metal.
Thede swiftly removed the sniper rifle from its scabbard, panning along the trail until he picked up the rider in his scope. He decided then and there to kill the bastard for mistreating an animal. Never mind whether he was the killer or not.
Thede chambered a bullet.
Through the scope the riding crop became a large machete, the tail he recognized as his very own Damascus shotgun barrel.
"Where is the rest of my shotgun?” he thought. “The stock and magazine must be up his ass!"
Brown brought the cross hairs to an intersection on the rider's shoulders beginning a slow trigger squeeze that would send a .50 caliber slug on a mission of mercy for the horse and provide a great deal of personal satisfaction for Thede Brown. The firing pin struck the center fire projectile just as the horse stumbled and fell, spoiling his aim.
The roar of the gun shattered the silence of the crater, sending Portagee's "rein trained" horse headlong back up the trail toward the crater rim. The .50 caliber round whined toward the target, striking the protruding barrel of the Damascus, sending it end over end in the air. The sound was that of a ricocheting bullet skipping off steel, a sound Brown had heard countless times in Vietnam.
The rider, screaming in pain, remounted the exhausted horse, goading it into the lava field. Puzzled at the sound of metal on metal ricochet, Brown quickly reloaded again, picking up the fleeing horseman in the cross hairs.
The distance and the motion in combination made for an impossible shot. Brown knew he could hit the horse and despite the fact he was a butcher by profession he loved animals.
He lowered the rifle.
Reaching the path the horseman had taken five minutes earlier, Thede found the lava field impassable with tennis shoes. Even if he'd worn boots, they would have been shredded within a mile of walking.
Lying on the trail was the badly bent Damascus barrel with one bloody end. Brown retrieved the barrel, recognizing the ramp front sight now smeared with muscle tissue and blood. Reluctantly, he began his long walk back up the trail to the crater rim. He concluded that he should not have provided Yoo with the box of Remington Express duck loads. It had stated clearly on the box that the shells were not to be fired in Damascus twist barrel guns. Brown knew that using such high powered loads in the old Damascus was a risk but it was, of course, a risk Brown was willing to take.

The rain and low lying clouds remained in Haleakala crater for the next three days, making helicopters useless .
Despite police, National Guard and now federal agents combing the crater, there was no trace of the mysterious "Horseman of the Apocalypse.”
The failed manhunt resulted in heavy pressure on Maui's chief of police and the department in general. The pressure was such that chief Samashima suspected some heads would roll.
 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
HEADLINES

Press coverage was intense, most of it sensationalized, with interviews of park rangers.
"If it's possible to sensationalize something as sensational as people getting their heads cut off," mused Ruth Von Stein as she read the Bulletin to Nick at the breakfast table. According to the paper, tourism was at an all time low. There were rumors of a shakeup in the Maui Police Department if a suspect was not arrested soon. A feature article listed the clues found in Haleakala crater, including a body, two heads, portion of a hand and a bloody shot gun barrel. The article included the names of those who had actually confronted the killer in the crater, Nick Czar, Phuc Yoo and Thede Brown.

Czar sipped the last of his kona coffee, leaning over the table toward Ruth .
In low tones, so Milin, who was playing in an adjacent room, could not hear, Czar offered his conclusions about the killer.
"This person either had some kind of relationship with the victims or they are random killings. I’m betting on the latter.  The killer has to be using a boat. Any other mode of transportation would result in his immediate arrest.
“He's likely living on garbage and goat meat. That would explain the broken lock on the garbage bin in Haleakala crater, the dead goats on Kahoolawee and the fact that he carried the bishop’s head with him to Haleakala, probably as a lunch box.”
Ruth shuddered at the thought.
"The killer must be a cannibal as well?"
"Yes Ruth, maybe when there's no garbage available or he's run out of goat meat."
Ruth considered for a moment before asking another question.
"What does he do for water? There is no fresh water on Kahoolawe."
"Honey, I think this guy has to have a solar still on his boat, probably gets his fresh water that way. When he is on Kahoolawe, he takes the desalination unit with him and likely converts salt water from one of the hundreds of coves there."
Czar picked up the phone and relayed his theory to Watanabe, who in turn alerted the Coast Guard to conduct a check on all water craft in the Hawaiian islands, a daunting task, considering the thousands of boats in Hawaiian waters and the tens of thousands of coves and lagoons.

Turning to page two of the paper, Ruth read another feature article.
"Listen to this."
The soft all in pink look of her removed Czar momentarily from the grisly account of the headless for a leap to Tinsel town.
Ruth continued reading aloud.
" Hollywood production company will not cancel plans to film the much anticipated motion picture Teeth, based on the best selling book by Hammond North. The book, on the Times best seller list for 48 weeks, deals with a marauding hammer head shark that terrorizes tourists on a fictitious Pacific island.
“The movie's director would be an unknown film maker, Wally Seaberg. It will star Oscar winners Rock Jordan and Bambi Davies with supporting actors, T.J. Thorenson, Amanda Ward and Otter Pickens."
Czar shook his head in disdain as the phone rang.

Cameron Collins came right to the point.
"Nick, were having a little masquerade party out here with some of Maui's leading businessmen, as well as representatives of the tourist industry along with a college buddy of mine who is in the movie business, I'd like you to attend. Seeing as you are in the charter business, I think your input is invaluable."
Collins didn't wait for an answer.
" I have some new information from Alaska I need to discuss with you, as well."
Czar agreed to attend the affair on the standard condition the entire Maui Mafia would be on the guest list.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
MOVIE TIME ON MAUI

Excalibur Movie Studios in Los Angeles was located in a large complex of buildings, once the famous Goodman Pinches studios. Goodman Pinches had for years set the standards for massive profits and chump change salaries, until the unions moved in resulting in more money but drastic lay offs.. Excalibur was on on a fast track to the same Chapter 11 terminus. The only hope of avoiding that fate hung on the success of the company's anticipated new film Teeth. The cast and crew selected for the new film generally despised each other but were of the unanimous opinion that Wally Seaberg would not last past the first day's filming.
Seaberg had been given the job despite strong objections of the film’s leading stars Jordan and Davies.
The book's author Hammond North considered Seaberg uninformed, unimaginative and patently beneath contempt. Supporting actor T.J. Thorenson, when sober, likened Seaberg to a weasel. T.J. was only in the film for the money and thought the entire film was aimed at the mass of idiots making up the "lowest common denominator." He knew that was the audience they were all trying to reach. Air head teenagers and the great unwashed mouth breathers everywhere.
Thorensen needed the job after a two year hiatus from films. The only thing available other than Teeth was a remake of Deep Throat  in which he had been offered the role of the eye ear nose and throat doctor.
Otter Pickens didn't much care who the director of the movie was, confident in the self delusion that his performance would garner critical acclaim no matter the inane character of the film.
Otter was not known for his sensitive delivery of a line but for his body language and perpetual sneer, interrupted by an occasional grunt.

Actress Amanda Ward stood behind Seaberg in every instance. In fact she was not only behind him but under him, on top of him and a devout kneeler at his shrine. Seaberg was her ticket to stardom, perhaps marriage. But of course he had to be employed, otherwise she would find another ticket as fast as you could say "cut."
Seaberg's office at Excalibur had belonged to Israel "Izzy" Wanamaker until his firing following the monumental failure of his epic movie Destiny Divulged, a horror movie that contained animated segments and an ending with a huge dance scene in black and white.

Many of Wanamaker's possessions were still in what was now Seaberg's office, including the blood stains on the brocade wall behind Seaberg's desk. Wanamaker had been the process of packing his personal items in a cardboard box having received his termination notice. Distraught, wishing to avoid the ridicule, humiliation and laughter of his associates, he had reached in his desk drawer, removing a Smith and Wesson snub nose .357 magnum revolver.
Izzy's first plan had been to use the gun to kill the 12 man board of directors at Excalibur, but with just six bullets he knew it would be difficult to catch and choke to death the remaining six. Placing the barrel of he gun in his left ear, he ended his  misery. His friends had stabbed him in the front till he was the only friend he had left. Wannamaker had never lacked a good reason for suicide.

Seaberg remembered Wanamaker's funeral as one of the biggest in the history of Tinsel town.
Every one on the "A" list was present for the proceedings except Wanamaker's wife, who left L.A. on a flight to the south of France, accompanied by Wanamaker's attorney, a briefcase full of insurance claim forms and a thick portfolio of stocks and bonds.
Seaberg finished reading the L.A. Times coverage of the Murders on Maui .
The publicity might be good for the film. "Maybe,’ he thought, “the hammerhead shark would only bite off the heads of surf loving tourists, or maybe, just maybe, we could change the name of the film from Teeth to Hammer headless.”
He'd decided to run his ideas before his screenwriters to get their opinion.
The screenwriters had already formed an opinion that Seaberg wouldn't last a week on the movie. They planned on giving Seaberg a .357 magnum as a going away present but were sure the dumb fuck would miss.

A number of Maui residents were on hand at Kahului airport to witness the arrival of Rock Jordan and Bambi Davies along with Otter Pickens. The crowd was not familiar with the other actors in the film, and none had heard of director Wally Seaberg. Jordan and Davies managed matching "limp" waves before disappearing into a limo.
Pickens checked the crowd for young women who might be interested in a "personal audition." T.J. Thorensen was also scoping the fans for any young man who might want to "act.”
Seaberg and Amanda Ward entered the airport, followed by the rest of the production crew.

A second plane arrived with more crew and tons of gear, followed by a third plane, a large Lear jet containing Coleman Sachs, his secretary, two midget Filipino hookers and his one true friend in the entire world, "Bo," a poodle with a biting personality and mean disposition aimed at any one within reach. Bo also held little regard for rules pertaining to toiletry protocol.
Sachs was a self made man, a New York Jew who subscribed to running a business as lean as humanly possible, pay debts as late a possible.In the industry he was known as a "Man of Steel," not for his acumen but mostly because he had  a stainless steel pacemaker and penile pump implant. He was generally a rule breaker  but  Sachs observed  one absolute unbreakable  rule. Never ever do business with a New York Jew.
A consummate, confident businessman, the movie mogul credited his success to his Polish grandparents, who cared for him two summers in Poland. Those two summers were to mold Sachs into the art of making money, lending money and saving money.
The two years he spent in Poland were the last time he was to see his grandparents. Young Sachs returned home to his parents in New York and a few months later his grandparents were shipped to the infamous Nazi death camp at Treblinka. His grandmother died shortly after arriving at the camp.
His grand father lead a revolt of concentration camp inmates that resulted in hundreds gaining freedom.
He was shot a few days after his capture along with several of the ringleaders.
Sachs learned of the revolt many years later and the fact his grandfather lead the insurrection. Of all the many concentration camps in Nazi occupied territory, Treblinka was the only camp where the Jews revolted rather than marching to the crematoriums without organized protest. His grandfather was, in Sach's mind, "The best Jew since Jesus.

Thoughts of his grandparents were with Coleman Sachs much of his working day and in his night dreams.
He started his business career by establishing schools for janitors, followed by schools for hotel/motel management, electronic repair and correspondence courses for fledgling actors. Sach's knew honesty was for the most part less profitable than dishonesty.
Every one who attended a Sach's school was given a gilt edged certificate emblazoned with the word "Diploma.”
Sachs often told his moneyed associates that his schools graduated the best damn parking lot attendants in the world.
Sachs eventually expanded by purchasing warehouses and warehouse fires torched by none other than Walter Seaberg, father of Wally Seaberg, Sach's accountant and master of double entry financial ledgers.
The elder Seaberg had been caught "torch-handed" after a particularly bad fire in which the fire chief was totally incinerated.
With the promise that Sachs would hire young Wally as director of his next film, the elder Seaberg went to prison without implicating Sachs in the blaze.
If Wally Seaberg was ever fired, it was understood that papa Seaberg would sing like a caged bird.
Sachs best money maker was his private jet travel clubs, which he'd established in every major market in the United States.

Sachs had purchased whole fleets of obsolete jets, mostly Convair 880's in varying states of rust.
Ever mindful of the bottom line, Sach's painted only one side of the planes, emblazoning them with an Eagle logo and fleet name of "Jet Ago Ago."
Clutched in the eagle's talons was a red star of David.
Painting only one side of his planes reduced his cost by one half. This was mirrored by his septic pump out regimen.
Rather than using costly airport pump out services, he had his operations manager rig a system that would activate the pump out while in flight.
On occasion when the sun was just right a rainbow would form just behind an airborne Sachs jet during pump out.
The paint was of course applied on the side of the plane on which the passengers would board and deplane. Had they ever walked to the back side of a Sach's plane and witnessed the missing rivets and rust, there would have been a mass exodus to the nearest criminal court.
Sachs so far had been one lucky mother. Now Coleman Sachs was head of a major motion picture studio and on Maui to keep an eye on his new untried director, to enjoy the pleasures of Lilliputian Filipino tag team sex and to see his old college chum Cameron Collins.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
DOCTOR MORRIS

Arriving at Kula San, Nick, Ruth and Milin were welcomed by Milin's speech pathologist Dr. Robert Morris, clad as usual in his all white clinicians uniform complete with name tag. Morris was the most respected doctor in his field in the U.S. for his treatment, diagnosis and success in curing speech disorder.
With Milin being entertained by a staffer in the recreation room of the hospital, Morris led Nick and Ruth to his office.
The news was not good.
Morris was direct.
"We have concluded all of our testing of Milin for brain injury or deterioration, cerebral palsy, congenital, developmental and emotional damage, possibly relating to her trauma in Vietnam and can find nothing to cause her inability to speak.”
Morris held Ruth's hands and continued.
" We have also used written and instrument tests to diagnose the extent of Milin's impairment and we have tell you otherwise, she seems to be a happy and healthy, but we have come up with nothing. I must tell you Milin is a wonderful young lady with a sweet disposition and personality, which is all that is important.
“With your permission,” Morris continued, “I would like to enroll Milin in sign language school. Her sign language skills are excellent now, but as she grows older, she will need additional training and that should start now.
“The schooling is not only in the class room but involves trips and outings as part of a carefully thought out social agenda designed to help her interact with both speaking and non speaking persons.”
Morris concluded.
“With Milin's understanding of English excellent, she is a well adjusted little girl. If you were not her adoptive parents, I would want her as my own daughter."
Ruth signed the permission form to begin schooling as Nick lifted Milin in his arms. She held her ever present doll Minnie as they joined Ruth in the parking lot confident in Dr. Morris' recommendations. It was a waiting game now, but both were hopeful of a breakthrough.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
HOLLYWOOD TALENT

Wally Seaberg had been given permission to use the old Puunene air strip to complete construction of a sound stage three months prior to the arrival of cast and crew. Luxury trailers and motor homes for the film's stars had arrived a week after construction started. The air strip was used by the U.S. air force during WWII, then was abandoned. A few hangers and a dozen Quonset huts were scattered about the field, all that remained of the desolate facility. The most elaborate trailer was reserved for the films leading female star, Bambi Davies, who was at the peak or just slightly over the peak of her Hollywood career.
Davies enjoyed the lead role in 20 movies in the last seven years thus becoming what was known as bankable. The reason she was a success according to the pundits and insiders, was not her acting skills but the fact that she was double jointed. This attribute had never been displayed on screen and was only known to most of the casting directors, producers and directors in Hollywood.

The second best trailer was assigned to the leading man in Teeth, Rock Jordan, who could not replicate Davies’ ability to place her legs under her arm pits and extend them behind her shoulders. He did possess a willingness to kiss ass or any other body part in order to garner a role.

The crew were given hangers and Quonset huts as living quarters as well as a Coleman Sachs’ personally approved outside "twin holer" with a single "his " or" her" door. Sachs had specified that the privy have a large capacity holding tank to reduce costs associated with, as he put it "hauling Hollywood shit."
Seaberg's meeting with his screenwriters went badly. They disliked his idea of changing the name of the film to Hammer headless and the premise that the shark would bite off only the heads of victims. Their collective response was "What's the shark's motivation?"
Lastly, the thing they really disliked was Wally Seaberg.
Seaberg hadn't a clue as to their feelings or to much else.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHINESE RIBBON SCREW

The U.S. Coast Guard continued to stop and board all manner of boats operating in Hawaiian waters as the manhunt ended in Haleakala crater. The results of the dragnet were one dead horse found in the crater's lava field. The horse belonged to Portagee Cabral and a suspect fishing boat with a defunct freezer full of dead fish.
Tourism continued to drop off as the pressure continued to mount on the Maui Police Department.
Chief Doug Samashima hoped "something would happen soon."

Coleman Sachs, first to arrive at the Collins' estate, came dressed as a tennis player, having just finished a set of tennis.
He was closely followed by his personal midgets dressed as mice, followed by his secretary, who was dressed as usual.
Chief Samashima and Watanabe arrived in striped convict attire, accompanied by Nick and Ruth in tux and formal gown.
Thede Brown stepped into the entry hall of the Collins' mansion to a chorus of screams and laughter. He wore a hooded black rain slicker and carried a machete.
Rock Jordan and T.J. Thorensen debuted with black Armani suits accented with tennis shoes and no socks.
Phuc Yoo was dressed as "Charlie Chan."
Otter Pickens appeared with a mouth breathing female fan in tow. He wore his trademark faded jeans and two day old T-shirt. His wide eyed groupie girl's costume was in sleazy bad taste. The real show stopper was the grand entrance of Bambi Davies arriving as a pretzel, carried by two stunt men, one on each shoulder, her legs firmly in place under her armpits and behind her shoulders. Her provocative appearance soured when she was carried to the edge of the crowded buffet table where it took her forever to make a selection.
Wally Seaberg was disguised as a movie director, complete with megaphone, while Amanda Ward was dressed suitably as a lady of the evening.

The party was meshed with the self absorbed talking past the self absorbed enhanced with the regular intake of cocaine, Maui Wowie and the old standby booze.  Every other word the death of a reputation. All in all a lot of guests to be ignored.
Hammond North came as himself and nearly came again as he sat on the floor directly in front of Bambi Davies, who was "curled up" on the sofa.

Thede Brown's account of his encounter with the Apocalyptic horseman in Haleakala crater had the rapt attention of Coleman Sachs while Brown's attention was mostly on the Sachs' Mouseketeers, which brought their conversation around to the subject of sex. Sachs elaborated on his sexual prowess, laced with acts of degradation and deviation from the norm. Brown, not taking his eyes of the mice, told Sachs about Hanoi Hoover. The only thing comparable to Miss Hoover was the "Chinese Ribbon Screw" he declared.
Sachs directed his midgets to get a Pina Colada for his new pal Thede, urging Brown to “tell me more about this ‘Chinese Ribbon Screw.’ I've never heard of it."
"Well Mr. Sachs, I never heard of it either until I got to Vietnam and I must tell you it sounds pretty gross to describe it but it is an incredible experience."
Thede thought for a moment.
"I better not tell you. It's pretty disgusting."
Sachs was quick to assure Thede.
" Nothing disgusts me anymore after all my years of being in the movie business. Please tell me. I promise not to be  disgusted. Don't leave anything out."
The "mini" drink delivery service arrived.
" Can I talk about this in front of your little pals?" Thede asked.
"Of course Thede, please proceed. They will need to copy the recipe if you know what I mean."
Thede took a drink and began.
"Ok Mr. Sachs, this is how it works. It requires two hookers, a plastic tube filled with ribbon, a plastic rod that fits inside the tube and good timing."
Sachs leaned forward giving Thede his full attention.
"The tube with the ribbon inside it is inserted in your ass and then the rod is inserted in the tube. Next the tube and the rod are removed together leaving about two yards of ribbon in your kazoo with a tassel hanging out."
Brown could see Sachs was getting really excited.
"Now this is where the timing comes in. You climb in the saddle with hooker number one. When you reach that special moment you signal hooker number two to start unraveling the ribbon in a steady pull. The whole withdrawal  process causes multiple special moments – so much so you don't want to think about sex for a month."
Sachs checked to see if his consorts got the picture and it appeared that they did.

Just before the party ended, Collins drew Czar into the library and brought him up to date on the situation in Alaska as well as the fact that Lester was supported by a blind trust.

As the dinner guests departed the estate grounds it was unanimous that the party had been a great success but for an occasional scent of not so fresh tuna that seemed to replace the sweet smell of gardenias so abundant on the grounds.
The aroma of tuna was generally attributed to Bambi Davies' "bearded clam" lacking regular  hygiene.

CHAPTER FORTY
LOW FLYING KITE

 Czar called the embassy in Bogota. Paris was sure he could get any information in connection with the blind trust fund set up for Lester Collins. Paris said he was working on something that may have a personal impact on Czar and indicated he would call in a few weeks, Paris did not divulge further details but did say he expected news from the Amazon basin and would relay the information "good or bad."
Czar hung up thinking it was a ploy to get him back in the agency, something he had no intention of ever doing again.

That same day, Coleman Sachs secretary spent the afternoon looking for a plastic tube and finally found the perfect item in the form of a bean shooter. Discarding the free bag of beans that came with the shooter, she then purchased a set of polished enamel chopsticks pausing to determine if they would fit inside the bean shooter.
Her shopping day ended with the purchase of three yards of blue ribbon.
Coleman Sachs’ luxury suite at the Maui Mirage Sands was now the scene of preparations for the launch of “Operation Chinese Ribbon Screw." The voice of Barbara Streisand wafted from the stereo. Everything was in place; everyone in position.
Sachs’ timing was exact as he yelled "now!!"
Astern of Sachs, midget number two withdrew the ribbon not exactly as instructed but as if she were attempting to start a lawn mower or outboard engine. Sachs' faithful and only true pal, Bo, who had been watching the entire proceedings with keen interest, was miffed to see his master leaping about their luxury suite, looking very much like a low flying kite emitting annoying little screams.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE
WHO'S THERE ?

Wally Seaberg was first to arrive at the airstrip turned sound stage and operations center and began his day by inspecting the recently constructed water tank that would be home to a live hammerhead shark. He checked the accuracy of two latex life size shark heads that would be used in close ups of tourists being mauled.
The SPCA was on the set to make sure the shark was not injured when it attacked stunt men wearing chain mail under their wet suits designed to look like human skin.
Perusing some location footage shot on Maui, Seaberg was informed that Bambi Davies had a sprained hip and would not be able to make an appearance. Seaberg had no choice but to declare an early lunch in order to consult with the script director and camera crew on how to best shoot around Davies until she could walk.
A tank truck arrived with a load of aku to feed the shark as a subdued and tentative Coleman Sachs and his brand new buddy Thede Brown drove onto the airstrip. Stopping in front of Seaberg's group of conferees, Sachs introduced Brown as head of security at the airstrip during and until the conclusion of the Maui phase of the production.
Thede's actual duties consisted of driving up and down the runway a few times in the early morning hours, mostly to check on the crew and their activities. Sachs did not want the crew sodomizing the local Wahines or in Rock Jordan's case, the local Kanes.

The much anticipated arrival of the hammerhead shark went smoothly. The cameramen were pleased with its size and menacing look and the SPCA was pleased with the shark's transfer and handling into his new tank home.
Filming, to everyone's surprise, was going well – despite Wally Seaberg.

Coleman Sachs was satisfied that the film was not only ahead of schedule but right on budget as well. He still had a nagging doubt about the film thinking he would be better off making a movie with a gun and a girl in it.

The highlight of each working day had become the production company's grand buffet. Seaberg had contracted with a local caterer, Lolo Puka, who specialized in island cuisine. The cast and crew spent much of their downtime at the buffet table downing sashimi, sushi, mana pua, poi, raw squid, sweet and sour pork, kalua pig meat, and chasing it all with mango juice, guava juice and coconut milk. The hands down favorite at the buffet table was the Filipino delicacy balut, a nifty recipe calling for the incubation of duck eggs until they reached embryo form. The eggs were then boiled and pickled and served on the half shell. Otter Pickens could be considered the balut baron of the set as he was seldom without a mouth full of almost duck, munching away on beak, body and tiny web feet.
The daily intake of exotic food was having a debilitating effect on the crew, which was taking more and more bathroom breaks, which in turn put a serious strain on the holding capacity of the outhouse that Sachs had built.
Surprisingly, the weather forecast was correct with thunderstorms arriving as predicted, resulting in power outages and suspension of the day's shooting schedule. Seaberg announced the set was closed, giving everyone the day off and, as a bonus, the night off at the Maui Mirage, where he had established a "trade out" of rooms in return for some shots of the Mirage in the movie.

Coleman Sachs was unaware of the day off pronouncement as he drove onto the the air strip at sundown. He was most displeased to find all the trailers, hanger and Quonset huts were locked, preventing him from getting out of the rain, which was having a chilling effect on his spine, which in turn sent him a direct bladder message to pee or else. The urge to piss in concert with being pissed off sent Sachs running to the outside privy he had personally approved.
He cleared the two steps to the out house and was met with a sickening stench. Sachs covered his nose and mouth with his handkerchief and vowed to get rid of the catering service and ban any more consumption of balut. Sachs could not bear to look into the hole for his usual “stand and deliver" posture so dropped his trousers and seated himself like "a goddamn woman," he thought.
In midstream, Sachs noticed two feet in the stall next to him and could hear the nonstop sound of unraveling toilet paper.
"Who's there?" Sachs called out.
There was no answer, just the sound of rain on the privy's tin roof. Sachs’ rain induced chill was now in full shiver mode as he again called out .
"Who's there?"
Again dead silence. The feet next to Sachs shifted as the adjacent stall door banged open. Sachs sat motionless, his handkerchief held tightly over his nose and mouth. His stall door had no lock, something he had nixed as much too expensive.
The door to Sachs stall began to slowly open.
"Thede, you son of a bitch, why didn't you answer me?” Sachs cried out in a loud voice. "And why are you wearing that fucking costume you wore at the party?"
The figure that stood before Sachs wore a black hooded rain slicker and was not Thede Brown. In the seconds that followed, Sachs noticed one hand bandaged in toilet paper and the other hand held a machete. Sachs tried to stand, grasping his trousers, only to be met head on with the full force of a machete. Sachs sagged to his knees as a second blow cut through the remaining portion of skin and tendons holding his head to his neck.

Thede Brown pulled onto the airstrip at 2 a.m. and made a cursory drive-by check of the buildings by spotlight and drove off satisfied that all was well on the set of Teeth.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO
JUST ANOTHER DAY IN PARADISE

The sunrise brought a cloudy sky and a rainbow over the west Maui mountains as the few tourists still on Maui roused from their over priced hotel rooms. It looked like just another day in paradise.

The day was not so sunny for Dalton Hagler, who was sitting in his office at Maalea harbor reading his just delivered divorce papers. The grounds for divorce were listed in detail and included the usual terminology found in such papers but Dalton's papers were unique in that right after "irreconcilable differences" appeared "stress as a result of sexual dysfunction due to a crooked penis."

Rose Peabody, on the other hand, was doing well in the wake of the "colostomy caper." Benny was now almost totally blind and could not see Rose or her activities unless he fell over her or them. She had removed the nails from her beloved Koa dresser and the drawers were positioned perfectly. She had purchased a new chrome plated walker and a new set of "quick draw" teeth. Best of all, she found a new love interest at the Maui County Shelter in the form of Lars North, a large 78-year-old Norwegian with out anything to his name. Lars was penniless, toothless and without hope for any reasonable future. He was also without a colostomy bag, a feature Rose was pleased with. Rose admired Lars for his sense of humor, bright outlook on life and his ability to sustain an erection for long periods at a time.
"This could be a match made in heaven,” Rose thought, “as long as the dresser holds together."
Rose Penman was no longer a near widow living over a barbershop on a rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
She had a new man, and a new outlook on life.

Thirty miles up country from the Peabody apartment about a thousand feet under the cloud line was the old plantation home of Ruth Von Stein.
"Nick, you have a package from the Anchorage Police Department."
Czar took the package along with a glass of guava juice from Ruth then settled into a chaise lounge on the Lanai. A cover letter was attached to the file folder inside, signed by Anchorage police Chief Charlie Bohn.
"Dear Mr. Czar, attached you will find our file on the King Salmon Creek incident. I am sending this file to you as a professional courtesy and ask that you forward this to Mr. Cameron Collins after you finish reading it.
“Sincerely, Charles Bohn Anchorage Police Department."
The file was mostly an overview of the investigation with dates and times of a thorough step-by-step probe.
A few more human bones had been found along with a partial jawbone and enough teeth to identify the remains of Alvin Durant. The cause of death was not determined.

Ruth returned to the Lanai housing her favorite furnishings, books. She poured   more guava juice as Thede Brown appeared on the lawn.
Joining Ruth and Nick and accepting a glass of juice, he informed them that he was en route to Makawao with a delivery of meat to the Collins estate and thought he would stop by to say hello.
Czar asked Brown to include the police report with his delivery.
Every time Thede drove up the Collins winding driveway he was more and more impressed with its grandeur.
Answering the door chimes was Phoebe Collins and upon seeing Brown, she barely concealed her distaste for his stained shirt and working stiff attire. Her breath had a hint of not so fresh tuna.
Brown could hear the sounds of a jackhammer as he followed Phoebe to the basement.
Three men were standing over a floor drain, all looking like ghosts with a fine covering of white concrete dust.
Cameron Collins motioned to his companions to stop the air hammer.
The Samoan and Tahitian stood motionless as Collins accepted the package without as much as a thank you.
Brown had never seen Collins in anything but a suit and tie and never anticipated that he would actually oversee a hard labor job like tearing up a basement drain.
"My God," Brown thought. "What if a bead of sweat were to appear on that moneyed forehead?"
As Collins read the report, Brown thought of all the land and all the money this dust covered person had.
In Brown's estimation, Collins was nothing but a fence. "After all” he thought, "Collins ancestors arrived on the shores of Hawaii as missionaries and they promptly traded trinkets and beads for land. They of course threw in the additional bonus of life in heaven after death through Christianity.
"In simpler terms, stealing."
Collins inherited the land, the money and the faith and it would pass on to all the following generations.
Not waiting for any comments from Collins or his multinational work force, Brown started up the basement stairs, then paused on the landing.
Turning to Collins, he asked "Excuse me Mr. Collins, what happened in your basement here? Did you loose a quarter down the drain?"Brown was pleased with his articulatory prowess.

He closed the door behind him  just in time to see Bambi Davies bid farewell to Phoebe at the front door.
An hour later, Thede passed Ruth's home on the way to his butcher shop.

Ruth's Underwood sounded like a miniature AK47 as she completed another chapter on the history of Maui.
The paper would be added to the records of the Maui Historical Society . This segment was a chronicle of the cycle of mice infestation every few years. The invasion was usually prompted by drought conditions, forcing hordes of mice out of the sugar cane fields to residential areas in search of water and food.
That cycle was in progress as she wrote and would likely end only with the arrival of Kona storms in the fall.
The mice were so concentrated they appeared like waves as they crossed the roadways of Maui.
The Underwood recorded the fact that the early planters on Maui imported mongoose from India to combat the problem of the mice and the steady proliferation of large cane rats. The mongoose went forth and propagated living well on the the abundance of mice and rats.
The import plan worked well with the mice and rats in sharp decline until a few mongoose tasted sugar cane.
The word spread and the mongoose and their former prey put their differences aside and dined heartily at the sugar cane buffet.
Milin joined Ruth and Nick climbing onto the chaise lounge. Pointing at the book My Friend Flicka, she indicated her desire for Nick to resume his almost nightly routine of a bed time story before Milin would bound off to her bedside for nightly prayers.
This was the trio’s cherished time of the day. Nick reading to Milin, Ruth writing, the smell of gardenias on gentle trade winds and the sunset and moon rise.
It truly was another day in paradise.

Thede Brown who considered driving a form of amnesia reached his driveway in the midst of several waves of shoulder to shoulder mice.
Spinning the jeep steering wheel hard right, he slammed on the brakes. The jeep spun two perfect 360-degree revolutions.
There was no tire squeal, just a smooth Teflon like surfing effect as the tires hydroplaned through a horde of squeaking mice.
Thede had taken another risk in spinning the jeep but Thede was no stranger to risks and after all this had been a risk he was willing to take.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE
DOUBLE MURDER

 The crew of Teeth" began arriving at the airstrip turned movie, set fresh from a one day/ one night vacation.
Wally Seaberg yelled "action" and action he got. An assistant director began screaming.
"Somebody has murdered the star!"
T.J. Thorensen assumed the fuss was about Rock Jordan and barely managed to conceal his glee. As the turmoil heightened, Wally Seaberg pushed his way to the shark tank which was now blood red.
The shark was floating belly up on the surface with a long aluminum boom sticking in the shark harpoon style with a microphone dangling from the boom end. The body of the shark had multiple slash marks on it from dorsal to tail.
"Someone is trying to sabotage my film!" screamed Seaberg, who was forced to close the set for another day, which put the filming one day behind schedule and potentially in the red.
The head of the Maui SPCA, Irene Hanover, was convinced that the incident was a sick attempt to garner publicity for the film and called the Maui Police Department. Seaberg announced that no one was to leave the set until the police arrived and conducted a thorough investigation. The buzz on the set was intense and many rumors and innuendos abounded.
Some suspected the wardrobe people "because let's face it, any one who would work in wardrobe would be sick enough to kill a shark."
Others suggested it was likely one of the writers, "who are just frustrated actors who know they will never get in front of the camera because all writers are ugly."
On the whole, it was agreed that it should have been Wally Seaberg in that tank and not the poor shark. All the conjecture vanished with the arrival of the catering truck driven by the balut king, Lolo Puka, whose name in Hawaiian meant "crazy hole".

Two uniformed Maui cops arrived and ordered the tank pumped out and the shark removed, but first they carefully removed the boom and microphone from the shark and wrapped it in plastic. After interviewing a few of the assembled, they bungied the boom to the roof of their black and white and sped through the residue of the tank pump out in a geyser of red heading to Wailuku. The shark was hoisted on a flatbed truck with a block and tackle assembly, jury rigged by two grips.
The buffet tables were a din of speculation as cast and crew began a nervous intake of island goodies. As the day wore on it become obvious that the lines were longer than usual leading to the outdoor privy that Sachs had built.

Apparently, according to a script coordinator, some one had been occupying one of the stalls all morning, leaving only one source of deposit. Otter Pickens, who fancied himself as one of the guys, had been using the outdoor privy as a show of solidarity with the crew and decided to investigate the problem and moved ahead of the line, clearing the two steps leading to the toilets.
On entering, Pickens spied two feet in the problem stall and noted they were wearing expensive patent leather Capezzios. Pickens planned a straightforward confrontation as he opened the stall door, only to discover that there was nothing to confront except a torso sitting upright as if in wait for a bowel movement.
The torso was clad only in an aloha shirt, garters, black socks and the Italian shoes. The stall was splattered with blood. For what seemed a very long time, Pickens stood stone like looking at the movie mogul without a head. In an explosion of fear and energy, Pickens vaulted from the toilet, colliding with a grip emerging from the adjacent stall.
As the two fell, the grip caught sight of the headless torso though the swinging stall door and now both men began screaming as they scrambled out the toilet door. Seaberg could hear the screaming in his trailer and looked out the door in time to see Otter Pickens and the grip ricocheting about the set.
Pickens led Seaberg to the privy, where Seaberg recognized the shoes of Coleman Sachs. Seaberg began vomiting quickly followed by Pickens as both men ran from the building. The news of a body in the john spread throughout the cast and crew, who were now gathered in tight groups near the buffet tables, some crying, some hysterical and some eating. Otter Pickens had regained his composure and began thinking of how he could incorporate this incident into his method acting. Wally Seaberg knew this could have a negative impact on his career but also knew that the publicity that was sure to follow would almost guarantee a big audience of mouth breathers. Every one on the set was on the same thought wave as that of Wally Seaberg.
"What does all this mean for me and my career?"

Two Maui police cars arrived again, one black and white and one black and white and red. Police Chief Samashima emerged from the lead patrol car looking stricken, followed by Sergeant Watanabe and two plain clothes detectives, one of whom was the head of the FBI office in Honolulu.

Chief Sameshima could see the murder would likely result in his losing his job as chief. Watanabe was thinking this murder could end up getting him a promotion. The FBI agent, Brad Stewart, was thinking of ways he could get the FBI in charge of the investigation followed by a quick arrest of a suspect, innocent or guilty.
Maui County Coroner Fukugawa and his assistant Talevetti Malafu were having a difficult time getting Sachs’ torso out of the stall and a worse time of it getting him in a body bag. Rigor mortis had set in and Sachs would stay prone only for a moment before snapping back to his toiletry position.
Police, volunteers, cast and crew all joined in the search for the head of the head of the movie company, a search that lasted well into the evening hours. The search proved futile as a blood red sunset fell on the island of Maui.
With darkness came hushed whispers behind locked doors on the air strip turned studio. The presence of Maui police stationed on the property did little to calm the shattered nerves. Death had shaken Tinsel Town to it's deepest core of more Tinsel.

Thede Brown had taken two days off, unaware of the day’s events until he saw the bulletin on television.
Brown wondered what effect the murder would have on his part time position of head of security and then rationalized with a shrug.
"What ever happens, that's show business."

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
MATERIAL EVIDENCE

Coroner Fukugawa finished his autopsy on Sachs as Chief Samashima and Sergeant Watanabe arrived at his office.
"Gentlemen," said Fukugawa, "the results of this autopsy are similar in all respects to the previous murders with one difference that could have a major bearing on solving the matter."
For Samashima this news was badly needed and could be what might save his job. Fukugawa led the two men into the cooler and prodded his assistant Malafu with his cane. Malafu opened the body tray containing the remains of movie mogul Sachs.
Fukugawa ceremoniously pulled back the sheet and directed the chief and Watanabe to look closely at the base of the body's spine. At first neither man saw what Fukugawa was pointing at and then Watanabe spied about a foot of blue ribbon protruding from the victim's anus. All three agreed this could be an important bit of new evidence.
Chief Samashima directed Watanabe to get this new evidence to the FBI lab in Honolulu pronto.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
THE PERSONALITY

Meanwhile back at the Butcher Shop, Thede was behind his counter vigorously whacking his meat when the phone rang. Thede placed his two pound aluminum mallet meat tenderizer in its drawer and answered the phone.
"Brown's Butcher Shop."
The voice on the phone was richly resonant with precise inflection and clear crisp pronunciation.
"Mr. Brown, this is Paul Westphalenger, News Radio One. I am on Maui now and would like to interview you in connection with your participation in the recent manhunt in Haleakala crater. I would also like to record your comments regarding your service in Vietnam, your employment and relationship with Coleman Sachs and your family background in general."
Brown was not one to shy away from publicity and liked the thought of being interviewed by Paul Westphalenger AKA "The Voice of Hawaii."
"Yes sir, I would love to meet you in person. You can ask me anything you like."
The melodious voice on the phone sounded pleased.
"That's wonderful Mr. Brown. My audio engineer and I will be in your shop in about an hour."
With the phone back on the hook, Brown swabbed his armpits with a wet wash cloth and donned a fresh shirt.

Paul Westphalenger had arrived in Hawaii 15 years prior and managed to gain employment with a radio station (mercy booking) in Honolulu. The station had little ratings, little wattage and little pay checks. Westphalenger was not visually impressed with the beauty of Hawaii and blind to its multi-colored diversity of races. He was blind, period, as in "can't see shit."
His drive to succeed was impressive. He would arrive at the radio station ahead of his coworkers, well before sign on and monitor the newscasts of competing radio stations. He would type that news into his Braille machine, then pull the compression lever, embossing Braille coded dimples onto brown grocery bags. Westphalanger's credo was simple. "Never let the facts stand in the way of a good story."
With his perfect voice, he soon began reading the news in a polished professional manner, skimming his fingers from bag to bag. Soon his newscasts became a news talk show and he moved up to Honolulu's number 1 50,000-watt Clear Channel station. He then developed his very own Mike Wallace-style of ambush journalism, cornering and obliterating his guests in his studio and on the street.  Westphalinger became famous for his sign off "To Be Or Not To be, That is the Question."
Westphalenger suspected Thede Brown would be an easy target to add to his string of humiliated victims.

Kenji Ota, Westphalenger's audio engineer and driver, opened the door of Brown's Butcher shop as the "Voice of Hawaii," cane extended, tapped his way into the shop, colliding with the meat counter in a pronounced "thump."
The introduction of his boss by Ota was most impressive to Thede, a novice to broadcasters in general and radio personalities in particular.
  Ota placed a recorder next to the jar of pig knuckles and an RCA microphone on the counter between Westphalenger and Brown.
Assured the recorder was operating Westphalenger fingered his paper bag and began the interview.
"Mr. Brown, tell our listeners how you first came to Maui?"
Brown responded to that and a series of questions with details tracing his family tree, his high school days, his service in Vietnam, his short association with Excalibur Studios and Coleman Sachs and, of course, his participation in the recent manhunt in Haleakala crater.
"Thede, you were close to Coleman Sachs. What was he really like?"
"He was a blue ribbon kind of guy and I can tell you he loved the little people."
"You served in Vietnam for two years. What if any thing stands out in you memories of that conflict?"
"Well, combat aside, I can say one woman remains in my heart. She was terrific."
"Would you say that you fell in love with her?"
Brown smiled thinking of "Hanoi Hoover."
"I can only say she blew my mind and affected me from head to toe. She also had a head for business.”
 "You were wounded, were you not?"
"Yes, and thanks to the medical staff on the hospital ship Repose I made a full recovery but I can tell you I had a real itch to get off that ship and back to duty."
Westphalenger now launched his attack.
"Mr. Brown, how do you explain your inability to hit a horse with a telescopic rifle during that botched manhunt in the crater. Do you realize you let a killer escape to murder again? Do you feel responsible for this fiasco and what do you have to say to the families of future potential victims?"
There was a period of "dead air" while Thede realized he had been verbally sucker punched by the "Voice of Hawaii."
Thede considered punching Westphalenger's lights out, but that would have been redundant. For a moment he thought he might start a new necklace with Westphalenger's ears.

Thede knew there was a simple solution to the situation, risky but risky meant squat to Thede Brown.
Reaching for his two pound tenderizer, Brown, with a flourish, hammered the right hand finger tips of Paul Westphalenger.
Kenji Ota, who had been in the back of the store, ran to the aid of his boss, who was blindly running amok, colliding with all stationary objects in proximity.
The pain was nearly as bad as when two years earlier Westphalenger's phone rang and he answered his iron.
Amid the din of cursing and yelling, Brown removed both reels from the tape machine and dropped them in his sausage grinder followed by a fist full of pigs lips and two snouts. A few cranks of the grinder handle and the interview was put to a permanent end.  Brown concluded his attack with, "By the way Mr. Westphalenger, "To Be Or Not To Be.".."Is not a fucking Question!"
Westphalenger tapped off to his car vowing to ruin Brown and his business. The car sped off in a contrail of dust toward the central valley and Kahului Airport.
The threat never came to fruition as Westphalenger was unable to read his paper bags and was summarily fired.
Westphalenger even tried to get his old job back at his first "Dollar a Holler" radio station but to no avail.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX
MOTHER AND FATHER

"Mr. Czar, I have a person to person call for you from Mr. Sam Paris in Bogota, Columbia," said the operator in a thick Spanish accent.
"Hi Nick, I have just read the newspaper here. It sounds like you have a real sick prick in paradise."
Czar laughed.
"Watanabe is on the case and says they have some new evidence that they are sending to the FBI."
Paris, in a solemn voice said, "Nick, I think you better sit down and tell Ruth to make you a double Bombay.
“We found Milin's parents."
Czar felt numb as he sank to the bed. Paris waited for a response and then continued.
"Nick, I triple checked and there is no doubt they are Milin's parents."
Anticipating Czar's next question, Paris told Czar that her parents had been air lifted out of Vietnam from the Min River province, where they had been employed by Air America as office staff.
"As you know Nick, Air America is operated by the CIA. Her parents were accepted by the Brazilian government as part of the multi-national repatriation program run by the U.S."
"Sam," Czar whispered, "How can you be sure it's her parents?"
Paris opened a folder on his desk and removed a photograph.
"Nick I am holding a picture of Milin and her parents standing in front of their home on the banks of the Min River. There is no doubt. It's her, Nick."
Czar sat motionless as Paris lowered his voice.
"Nick, if you want me to I can bury this folder and no one would ever know. I knew you would want to know about this and I figured you would want to do the right thing. Nick, take a few days and I will get back to you. I know this is tough news for you so try to hang in there."
Paris hung up. Czar held the receiver in his hand, not hanging up.
Ruth Von Stein entered the bedroom and asked, "who was that on the phone Nick?"
Czar turned away, fighting back tears.
"It was Sam Paris in Bogota, honey. I may have to go down there, depending on what information he may have for me in a few days. Right now, I don't have any details."

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
FBI

FBI headquarters in the federal building in Honolulu was pretty much a pasture for over-the-hill agents and agents who sucked up to their superiors on the mainland. Hawaii was a plum assignment and agents all across the country dreamed of getting a post there. Hawaii had the weather, the exotic beauty, cost of living bonus and little or no crime of a federal nature.

Brad Stewart was one of those agents who had sucked up to his superiors so much so he had earned the nick name "Suck," a moniker his coworkers used in his absence. Stewart could see Hotel Street in Honolulu from his office window in the federal building. The view brought back memories of his days as a naval officer when he spent all of his time and shore leave pay on booze and women, the latter being the commercial variety.
Stewart keyed his intercom and summoned the office profiler Dick Raymond, who was one of the over-the-hill agents.
Stewart handed Raymond the FBI lab report on the blue ribbon. The report indicated the ribbon was likely made in the U.S.
The traces of enamel were likely manufactured in Japan and the feces on the ribbon was produced by Coleman Sachs.
The enamel was of a type used as a finish for dinner ware and formal chopsticks.
As Raymond read the report, Stewart began to outline the bureau's official position on the lab report, which in reality was his take on the report.
"Dick, this office needs the Maui murders case under its sole jurisdiction and control. I have arranged a meeting with the governor and the state's attorney general to show our investigative resources far exceed that of the nips at the Maui police department. I need you to put together a profile of this killer incorporating the blue ribbon evidence and what the motivation was for the killer to shove a blue ribbon up the victim's rectum."
 Raymond produced his notebook and began writing as Stewart outlined his strategy to grab the Maui murders case.
"Dick, I think the killer is probably a male oriental, probably a Jap. I think he probably chopped the head off Coleman Sachs and stuck a ribbon in his ass for some sick, perverted ritualistic reason. He was probably molested by his father or maybe even his entire family.  Put a profile together along the lines I have discussed and make sure you have some really good colorful charts and pointer. That should impress the governor and that hillbilly they have for an attorney general."  The conversation proved both men only gargled at the fountain of knowledge.

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
OVERNIGHTER

Ruth Von Stein drove Milin to the home of Dr. Robert Morris near Olawalu for the annual Morris slumber party for patients at Kula San.
Milin and her doll Minnie were dressed in matching shorts and blouses for the party, which would be attended not only by patients but by staff personnel as well.
The Morris house was one of Maui's oldest homes, having been constructed of black lava rock close to the Olawalu grotto on a hill forested with palm trees.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE
VILE PROFILE

Hawaii Governor Wo Fat and his attorney general Slim Atkins insisted the Maui Police Department be represented at any meeting dealing with the Maui murders and the FBI had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to telegraph their planned strategy. Prior to the meeting, Watanabe had mentioned the new ribbon evidence to Thede Brown, who suggested he talk with the unemployed former employees of Coleman Sachs.
Sach's secretary and the little ladies from Manila identified the blue ribbon as part of a deviant sexual encounter, namely the Chinese ribbon screw.
Watanabe took their affidavits and placed them in his brief case, not knowing how important they would be in keeping the Maui murders where they belonged, on Maui.

Watanabe, Brown and a crew of ner-do goods had worked on Fat's gubernatorial bid by plastering "paper" bumper stickers with super bonding backing on hundreds of cars. The bumper stickers bearing the name of Fat's rival were installed on paint surfaces only causing paint damage and voter rage.
The election had taken place three years prior and many cars still carried the bumper stickers.

The meeting in the governor's office at Iolani Palace began with Dick Raymond setting up an easel to hold his charts.  Brad Stewart launched into the reasons why the FBI should have sole jurisdiction over the Maui murders investigation. Wo Fat noted the reddening face of Chief Sameshima and surprise on the face of Sergeant Watanabe.
Chief Samashima knew that if the FBI took over the investigation he could kiss his job good bye.
Watanabe was thinking along those same lines as Stewart continued his carefully crafted assault. Finally "Suck" Stewart's presentation ended and profiler Dick Raymond took over, waving his pointer at his color coded charts and declaring the ribbon evidence meant that the suspect was probably Japanese in his mid forties who probably had a history of abuse from his family and teachers.
Attorney general Slim Atkins was mostly just a good old boy from Terminal, Texas, the son of a sod buster and a man of a few words.
Atkins could see that the "coon was pretty well treed" and was ready to recommend the governor assign the FBI as the primary investigative agency for the Maui murders. With a dramatic sweep, Dick Raymond held up a clear plastic bag containing the ribbon and alternately waved the plastic bag in one hand while thrusting his pointer with the other.
A faint smile began to appear on the face of Watanabe as he reached in his brief case and handed the three affidavits signed by the Sachs "help" to Slim Atkins. Atkins handed the affidavits to Wo Fat and interrupted the FBI presentation.
"Gentlemen, the Suck n Dick show is sucking wind."
Wo Fat declared the meeting ended and the office emptied except for the two disbelieving FBI agents.
As Watanabe and Samashima approached the door leading to the street, Slim Atkins stopped them.
"Boys I think you ought know that the FBI has been forking manure in your well ever since you started on this case.  You better make some arrests pretty soon cause I know those bastards will not give up."

CHAPTER FIFTY
RED SKY AT NIGHT SAILORS DELIGHT
RED SKY IN MORNING SAILOR TAKE WARNING

The Kihei booking booth signed a group of Japanese tourists for a half day snorkel cruise and awarded the contract to Nick Czar and Apollo – minus its 15 fifteen percent commission.
Ruth Von Stein decided she would join the charter and afterwards stop by Doctor Morris' house and pick up Milin from the slumber party.

Bob Watanabe, fresh from his ambush of the FBI, took the day off in celebration.
Thede Brown, newly fired from his career in show business, decided to join the snorkel cruise as well.
Phuc Yoo would of course be on the cruise in his full time capacity as first mate and entertainment director. The latter title stemmed from his name introduction at just the right time.
The group from Japan were very much like previous Japanese tourists aboard Apollo, very reserved, very polite and armed with ever clicking cameras. It remained to be seen if their demeanor matched that of other citizens from the land of Nippon on the return trip to Apollo's mooring. In the past, Apollo's Japanese passengers, with the aid of the ship's free beer, would become predictably lewd, loud, loose and lascivious.
On this cruise Watanabe acted as "amicus" interpreter, answering all the predictable questions:
"How deep is it here?"
"Are their any sharks here?"
And the old standby: "Where can we buy some Maui Wowie?".
Had they known that Watanabe was a sergeant on the Maui police force they likely would have abandoned ship.

It was unusually hot with variable winds as Apollo made slow progress across Maalea bay toward McGregor Point. Czar knew that the weather was going to change later in the day as the weather radio earlier had issued an advisory predicting a low pressure system approaching the Hawaiian islands.
That morning Czar opened his bedroom window to a red sky.
"Red sky at night sailor's delight. Red sky in morning, sailor take warning."
Czar knew the axiom was accurate and determined to keep an eye out for the day's charter.

The charter business was normally a money maker and a fun way to make an income. That could change if the murders continued. Czar limited his passenger count to eight for both the morning snorkel cruise and the the wine and cheese sunset cruise. Almost every charter was fully booked and at $50 per for the morning cruise and $30 per for the sunset cruise. The gross topped out at $740 a day.
Underwater camera rentals brought in an additional $60 daily. Yoo was paid $100 a day and the deli snorkel lunch with beer and soft drinks along with the wine and cheese menu going for $60.
The monthly net varied around $17,000-18,000 dollars. Not bad for doing what you enjoy.
Czar held a radar endorsed 100 ton master mariners license required by the Coast Guard in order to operate a commercial vessel in U.S. waters.
He was also PADI certified for open ocean diving.

Czar's interest in catching and of course killing the individual responsible for the murders in Hawaii was not only for moral reasons but financial as well.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE
BAD NEWS

The phone rang as Czar finished shaving. Sam Paris had news of Milin's parents and it wasn't good.
In fact, the news was bad.
"Nick, Milin's parents were part of an evangelical group bringing food and clothing to a tribe in the upper Amazon River and the reports I received in my office this morning indicate the entire group may have been kidnapped for ransom. Kidnapping is a cottage industry in this part of the world. Nick, I won't ask you to do a thing but you’re probably one of the few people that might be able to get these people freed."
There was a long silence on the line as Czar considered what Paris had just said. Czar knew that the only honorable thing to do was to tell Milin about her parents and do what he could to help effect their rescue.
He also knew he couldn't do it alone, that he would need the help of the Maui Mafia.
Czar broke the silence.
"Sam, I'll call you back. I have to find a time that is right to talk to Ruth and Milin and see if I can put together the team."
As Paris hung up Czar realized they would all be going to the Amazon sometime soon.

At the same time, Czar hung up the desk clerk and the Tiki Cove hotel in Honolulu received a phone call from the hotel's beach cabana.
The voice on the phone was that of Rabbit Dudoit, long time beach boy and operator of the cabana dive shop, surf board rental and souvenir stand. Rabbit was out of breath and sounded downright terrified in his pigeon English.
"Yah bettah git dah boss to dah Cabana! We got one dead haole washed up on dah beach. I tink he dead."
The apparent corpse expelled gas, sounding like a deflating balloon, prompting Rabbit to grab his Hawaiian sling gun and retreat behind the cash register.
"He ain't dead!" screamed Rabbit as he dropped the phone and headed for the hotel lobby.
Had he investigated the body closely he would have noticed one hand was deformed and missing all but one finger.
The body looked in an advanced state of decay with facial features barely discernible. It had no ears and the stench surrounding the body was intolerable. The most striking thing was the man was breathing but only intermittently.
Next to the prostrate form was a makeshift raft made from a door frame and two inner tubes containing two canvas bags.

Honolulu police, a coroner's investigator and the head of the FBI arrived on the scene, quickly securing the site.
Agent Brad Stewart leaned over the body, which expelled gas again followed by a wheezing sound. Stewart stopped running when the coroner's investigator pronounced the man dead.
Barely concealing his delight, Stewart advised his office to arrange for a press conference. This was his chance at a promotion, increase in salary and an avalanche of accolades.
An hour later at FBI headquarters the canvas bags were opened.
The first item removed was a large Bowie knife with serrated blade and a long deep blood groove milled into the blade.
A knife that could be used to cut off a head.
There was clothing in the bags, including a yellow rain slicker.
Stewart did not wait for the autopsy or completion of the investigation but announced to the media that he had the man responsible for the series of murders in Hawaii.
While holding forth at the press conference, Honolulu police discovered the man's identity from fingerprints. He was one Moses Apana, a Honolulu attorney, who was seen a month ago in Samoa on his sailboat. The same boat was discovered capsized 1,000 miles from the Hawaiian islands on the exact date of the finding of Teddy Uchida on Kahoolawe.

The body's diseased condition was not leprosy but the decease known as necrotizing facillitis.
Bad news for agent Brad Stewart . . . bad news indeed.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO
OLAWALU

At McGregor Point the wind went from light to moderate to dead calm as Apollo's sails fell listless. Czar told Yoo and Brown to leave the sails up as shade for Apollo's paying guests. The heat on deck rose quickly, prompting Yoo to open the anchor chain locker, which also served as a large ice chest filled with soft drinks and beer. Yoo waited for the effects of the alcohol to arrive and then introduced himself.
Ruth called Nick's attention to the barometer which had dropped a full millibar and Nick turned up the volume on the weather radio. The forecast was unchanged.
"Light and variable winds, seas calm with a low pressure system approaching the Hawaiian islands expected to bring cooler temperatures," the radio stated.
Czar scanned the horizon, finding clear skies and fair weather. The surface an endless play of waves.
As Apollo passed the cliff walls along the Pali Highway, Thede spotted a humpback whale and her calf. The port rail of Apollo was alive with clicking cameras punctuated with expressions of awe in Japanese.
The whale breached twice in a geyser of water and slapped it's flukes in rapid succession.
Watching the whale, Czar thought of the book Moby Dick and the significance of all those copies of the book he had discovered in the King Salmon Creek cabin.
"And what of Lester Collins was he still alive and if so where was he?" Nick pondered.
The whale sounded, followed by her calf, leaving ripples on an otherwise glass flat surface.
Below deck, Thede Brown was talking to a mariner anchored in the lagoon at Palmyra Island on Apollo's single side band radio as Apollo came abreast of Olawalu.
Czar reduced the Yanmar to idle speed, lining up the bow sprit directly on the ruins of an old missionary house on shore.
Apollo's tri hulls on mystic blue water, glided cleanly over the coral.
Maintaining idle speed and with an eye on the depth gauge, Czar maneuvered Apollo past large coral heads and into about 10 feet of water, dropping the hook in a coral grotto swarming with fish. The water in the grotto was as clear as a glass of Bombay.

Yoo brought out the snorkel masks and fins and as each tourist descended the stern ladder, Yoo, in very bad Japanese, admonished them to return to the boat if they heard the ship's bell ringing and to stay between shore and Apollo. The sound of the bell was generally a signal for lunch but was also a back up signal in case a shark might elect to cruise through the grotto.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE
TARGET TIME

Less than 100 miles away,under morning twilight, three destroyers slipped out of Pearl Harbor, slowing making way toward Kahoolawe.
The ships carried an array of five- and three inch cannon, as well as 40 and 20 millimeter guns, torpedo launchers and 1.1 anti-aircraft guns.
The only ordinance to be used would be the cannon and that would be the singular responsibility of the "fire director," whose operational abode consisted of a tower above the command bridge that featured bullet proof glass and a 360 degree view. It was the director's job to make visual contact with a threat or potential target using a computer.
The director would determine range to target and electrically send a signal to arm a particular cannon while the computer, in sync with a gyro, would provide corrections to compensate for pitch and roll, line of site, target angle, target speed and heading as well as ballistics and weather.
This electronic mix, coupled with the director’s telescopic cross hairs, made it very much a one man show.
The gun mounts were controlled hydraulically by this system. Fuse settings were applied as the director pressed his "fire" button.
The gun crews had only one responsibility and that was to keep the guns loaded.

Captain Bryce Withers was aboard the lead destroyer as Fire Director, having been promoted from his position as a Captain on a PBR patrol boat in Vietnam.
 Sitting high in his private little steel and glass "crows nest," he had a stunning panoramic view of the ship and 360 degrees of ocean.
As his destroyer increased speed toward Kahoolawe, he thought of his last days in Vietnam and of a group of special forces soldiers, one with a necklace of ears that boarded his PBR during a fire fight on the Min River.
He remembered they were all from the island of Maui, which he could see on his radar scope. He wondered if he would ever see them again.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
SMALL CRAFT WARNING

Aboard Apollo, the weather channel sounded a tone alarm followed by a small craft warning.
"Southerly winds are expected to reach 15 to 30 knots with gusts to 40 knots. Seas are predicted to reach 10 to 15 feet and thundershowers are expected for all Hawaiian waters by late this afternoon."
Czar scanned the horizon, which remained clear, and concluded that the heavy weather was about four hours away,. which would be plenty of time to get Apollo's paying passengers back to Sugar Beach and Apollo secure on her mooring.

Through Apollo's starboard port in the V berth, Ruth saw the top mast of a boat passing a half mile distant. It was a small dirty sloop with stained sails and hull. Bob Watanabe also saw the sloop and commented on its unseaworthy appearance.
Czar centered the vessel in his binoculars. Czar had not seen the vessel before but that was not unusual as many transient vessels sailed in Hawaiian waters.
Hawaii was a jumping off point and a return point for sailors heading to the south Pacific.
Czar also noted the condition of the sloop's rusted chain plates that bled brown stains from the toe rail to the gar board strake.
He could read the vessel's name: Pequod. Czar determined that it was a documented vessel as it has no registration numbers and no state designation. A Coast Guard documented vessel only requires the name of the vessel to be painted on the port and starboard side of the hull and a home port designation is required to be painted on the stern.
Czar could not read the home port because of the rust and increasing distance.
Speculation about the strange little sloop abruptly ended with hysterical screams from one of the Japanese swimmers.

Watanabe heard the word "Mako."
The snorkelers headed for Apollo but the screamer was flailing about in circles. The splashing would be a clarion dinner bell for a hungry shark.
Czar grabbed the bang stick and a mask and dove over the side, followed by Thede, armed only with a boat hook.
Brown managed to reach the terrified young woman and tow her back to Apollo as Czar swam circles trying to spot the denizen. Czar's view was crystal clear with silica gel inside his mask which eliminated condensation or fogging
In the center of the coral grotto, Czar now saw not one shark but four, three white tips and a large tiger.
The white tips had a bad reputation, but the tiger shark was a tried and tested man eater with a very aggressive nature.  The sharks hung motionless behind blizzards of crown and jack fish.
Czar was about to swim quietly back to Apollo when he saw the object of the sharks attention.
At near zero gravity, just a few feet off the coral bed, floated the body of a man.
The body was headless.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
A GREAT DAY FOR SHOW BUSINESS

Filming resumed on the set of Teeth under the continued direction of Wally Seaberg. To his delight, the film was again ahead of schedule and well under budget.
A new shark, a large menacing hammerhead, had been delivered and the set, like the island of Maui in general, was crawling with reporters, all hoping for something to happen preferably, of a gruesome nature.
With all the press there, Seaberg knew the publicity was a rock solid, take it to the bank guarantee that the great mass of "mouth breathers" would line up to see his movie, even if it turned out to be a piece of shit, which at the moment was pretty much a rock solid, take it to the bank guarantee.

Seaburg, flush with confidence, displayed a flash of magnanimity in ordering the Coleman Sachs privy pumped out.
An hour later the honey truck turned off the main Kihei road and entered the tarmac of the airstrip, arriving on the set to rousing cheers from cast, crew and reporters.
More cheers and applause erupted as the "honey man" hooked up the large intake hose and switched on the pump.
About 50 gallons of raw sewage later the pump came to a grinding halt.
Otter Pickens suggested that stoppage was probably all that balut.
The operator dismantled the hose, exposing the intake section of the pump.
There in full view was Coleman Sachs' head, face first and fast to the pump's intake. It was almost as if Sachs were engaged in a prolonged French kiss as part of a meaningful and sensitive movie love scene.

The stunned silence was momentary and then slowly sporadically another round of cheers and applause broke out, led mostly by the press. The press, both electronic and newspaper reporters, were ecstatic. They had their story, sure to advance their careers and capture the lead on the evening network news and front page of every newspaper in the nation, not to mention internationally.
Seaberg could not believe his continuing bonanza of luck.
Seeing the head of Coleman Sachs, T.J. Thorensen commented that his former boss was “a shit head in life and a shithead in death.”
Rock Jordan likened the grisly discovery to "death imitating art." All in all , it was a great day for the fifth estate and show business.
 
 

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
FERRIS WHEEL OF BLOOD

Czar surfaced near Apollo and called to Watanabe to radio for a water taxi at Lahaina to pick up the tourists aboard Apollo and to dispatch a police launch to Olawalu.
The four sharks were circling the body in an ever tightening proximity with the tiger shark periodically bumping the body in an instinctive ritual to determine if the prey was alive and posed a threat.
All four sharks broke off the circle, facing Czar as he swam toward the body.
The tentative white tips hung motionless in the grotto, but the tiger shark with the flick of his tail began closing the distance with Czar.
The tiger shark dropped his pectoral fins down and rigid, following with a head shake.
Czar knew he was about to be attacked and brought the bang stick up and level.
A second powerful tail thrust propelled the tiger forward with mouth agape, eyes opaque behind a thick protective film.
At the moment before impact, Czar rolled to the side, thrusting the bang stick into the shark behind its right eye.
A flash of red followed by a cloud of bubbles and ear-splitting shock wave of sound stunned Czar, knocking his snorkel tube from his mouth.
Kicking to the surface, Czar gulped air and water, all the while anticipating an attack from the tiger just below his feet.
With a deep breath he dove straight down into a surreal scene in the gin clear waters of the Olawalu grotto.
The white tips were gone.
The tiger shark was mortally wounded, its tail convulsing, sending the animal into a large vertical arc of trailing blood and cartilage.
To Czar, it looked like a Ferris wheel of red as the dying shark completed the first loop, tail twitching sporadically.
Swimming through the middle of the ring of red toward the headless body floating just above the seabed, Czar attached the marker buoy to the left ankle of the body and released the line, sending the buoy to the surface.
Gripping the body's white jacket, he reached inside and retrieved a wallet that would contain some identification.
The motion of removing the wallet caused the body to roll over revealing a black name tag embossed in white lettering.
It read "Doctor Robert Morris."

                             CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN
                                  TSUNAMI

The U.S. Coast Guard lighthouse station "Kodiak," located on Unimak Island in the Aleutian chain off the coast of Alaska was manned by seven men whose only job was to maintain and keep operational the flashing beacon of light that served as a point of reference for the tankers and freighters that plied the violent black waters of the Bering Sea. The foul weather of the Bering Sea, mixed with the waters of the Pacific, resulted in sudden and violent Force 10 storms. The men of Kodiak Light only dreamed of anywhere else but there as they countered their loneliness with music tapes and magazines.  In the next few seconds all of them would perish along with their 115 foot high lighthouse, never to be found again.

Ninety miles south of Unimak in the dark waters of the Aleutian trench, the sea floor began to rise slowly, forced up with the grinding of two opposing tectonic plates. The magma beneath was a bright red, sending a steaming writhing mass of water boiling to the surface.
Yeoman Jerry Miller was writing a letter to his wife, thinking of the day he would leave this godforsaken outpost, start a family and a new life, unaware that he had only a moment more of life.
His letter would never be mailed.
The rising sea floor abruptly halted its rise. In one cataclysmic rumble, the mass fell back to the surrounding sea floor, creating a 7.9 magnitude earthquake. Just over 40 minutes later, a tsunami wave 100 feet high obliterated the Kodiak lighthouse and radio transmitter.

Now rolling into the Pacific Ocean, the massive wave would strike the Hawaiian islands in less than four hours. It would strike the West Coast of the United States from Oregon south to Santa Barbara and beyond: Baja, Mexico, and Pacific coasts of central and South America all the way to Chile. Of all the land masses great or small that lay in the path of the tsunami, none was less protected than the island of Kahoolawe. No one would know of this rolling, seething wave for another hour.
The untamed titan would eventually subside in Patagonia.

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT
THE MISSION PACKET

It was raining in Bogota as Sam Paris finished his mission packet outlining the strategy for the rescue of Milin's mother and father. The mission was not only about them but was designed to slow the three thousand kidnappings a year in Columbia, most of which were of American missionaries, American civilians and government officials.
Paris had identified Milin's parents as Nguyen Tan and his wife Le Thi. Both had joined the "Glass Cathedral Evangelical Ministry," operated by the Right Rev. Sturgis Calhoun, a nationally known papal like charismatic television personality known for his command of the Bible, spellbinding oratory and a unique ability to cry real tears at the right time and place in his sermons. Calhoun considered himself to be the Cup Of Christ and if money fell in the cup it was God's will.  Sturgis was addicted to two of the world's greatest narcotics, alcohol and Christianity. His only ponder was "Is man God's blunder of is God man's blunder?" His mission was to surpass the Catholic church with it's mumblings of dead Latin words, sumptuous living and gross income.

Paris extinguished his illegal Cuban cigar, turned on his desk lamp and called the U.S. embassy, requesting that a courier be dispatched to his apartment to pick up the mission packet. The packet would be included in the regular diplomatic pouch to the State Department, where it would be rerouted to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
From there, another courier would travel to Maui and hand deliver the packet to Nick Czar.
It included the area where Milin's parents and six others had been kidnapped near the Colombian village of Leticia, located on the Amazon River bordering Columbia, Brazil and Peru.
The packet also provided a partial list of American kidnap victims believed to be alive from a master list of 1,200 persons, most of whom were being held for ransoms totaling $8 million.

The packet concluded with a list of the names of suspects along with the name of the most notorious leader of the 57th front of the revolutionary armed forces of Columbia known as FARC.
His name was Ureggo Medina. Medina's moniker was "Rigoberto."
For years Rigoberto had led his rebel troops in a program of murder, assassination, torture and kidnapping, with little pursuit by Colombian Federales.
The Federales had suffered devastating defeats in Rigoberto's campaign of ambush and run tactics.
When Paris began compilation of the mission packet a few days earlier, Rigoberto and his FARC rebels struck the village of Kogui, burning Bibles and hymnals, killing three American ministers and kidnapping three American women for rape and ransom. Aside from kidnapping and murder, Rigoberto's main enterprise was the cultivation, production and distribution of cocaine.

Under a separate cover, Paris added a folder containing a background of the Rev. Calhoun.
The minister began his career serving God on the Indian reservations of the western United States. It was there that Calhoun honed his speaking skills and discovered his natural born ability of rousing the natives. It wasn't long before he bought a tent, school bus and a new white suit and launched a tour of Indian reservations in several states. Had he been a missionary in Borneo and taught just one cannibal to eat with a fork he would have considered that a success. His policy of honesty was only good if there was money in it.
As the money began to flow ,he purchased a pump organ, candles, folding chairs and hired an all volunteer staff.
With a bulging bank account and waistline, Calhoun found love in the form of a 14-year-old Indian girl named "Snowflake Two Trees."
Midway through a four month courtship, Snowflake delivered the reverend a baby boy. They named the little bastard, "Running Bear."
Snowflake urged Calhoun to expand his ministry by buying time on radio stations. They began with a few 250-watt rural stations, then moved up to small market stations and then to major market radio stations.
With the money from the radio ministry, Calhoun and Snowflake began buying television time and soon had a national following.
The "Money for Jesus" opened a flood gate, providing financing for the Glass Cathedral in New York City.
Adjacent to the Cathedral, Calhoun and Snowflake commissioned an automated mail center that sorted, collated, recorded and deposited the cash flow in the couple’s warm weather bank in the Bahamas .
The center automatically filed the names of contributors and automatically mailed them again and again, calling for additional money.
The Calhouns now had a gross income of $35 million dollars annually, which was impressive but was far behind  Billy Graham at $40 million and Jerry Falwell at $46 million.
Calhoun's Glass Cathedral ministry had invaded Columbia with a television crew to film impoverished children, using their images to ask for money on 108 U.S television stations. The ad , in the form of infomercials, promised that contributors could correspond with those children they supported. To that end, Snowflake headed an office of the faithful, who sent letters to thousands of supporters that included pictures of poor children and of course a request for additional money.
Snowflake re prised her popular stateside stage performance in Columbia before large crowds of the faithful.
The performance consisted of her appearing on stage with the reverend as a cripple or blind person or both.
Calhoun would lay his hands on her head and in his most dramatic voice shout "heal! "
Snowflake would then bound about the stage like a long distance runner who had stepped in a bed of hot coals, shouting "Praise the Lord!" in an apparent state of good health and 20/20 vision. If the ministry could get one local to eat with a fork that would be progress enough for Calhoun.

Paris inserted a third folder in the mission packet outlining the strategy for the insertion into the interior of Columbia near the Amazon River where Milin's parents were last seen. In this document, Paris suggested the use of Apollo with its Hawaii registration as an ideal cover for the crew of Americans posing as a nature film crew. The strategy called for Czar and the Maui Mafia to sail Apollo across the Pacific to the Colombian coast near the port city of Buenaventura. Paris would fly from Bogota and meet Czar in the city of Cali a few kilometers from Buenaventura to finalize the mission and to deliver equipment, supplies, radios and arms. Once the boys from Maui were ready, a Chinook Sky Hook helicopter would rendezvous offshore between Bueneventura and the village of Tumaco near the border of Ecuador.
An artillery gun harness would be modified to fit Apollo's tri hulls and the vessel and crew would be airlifted to a CIA airstrip at Pasto Columbia. After refueling, Apollo and her crew would be landed on the Amazon River five miles from the mostly abandoned village of Leticia.

Paris sealed the mission packet, knowing that Nick Czar and his team would be coming to Columbia because they would agree that "it would be the right thing to do."

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE
PEQUOD

Czar broke the surface at Olawalu close by Apollo in near shock, grasping the name tag of Milin's doctor, Robert Morris, in whose home she had spent the night with fellow speech challenged patients.
As Czar swam to Apollo, the Maui police launch left Lahaina Harbor.
Czar grabbed the center hull reverse transom and with a double kick launched into the cockpit.
Ruth saw that Czar looked stricken as he removed his mask and fins.
His voice trembled.
"We all have to go below before the police launch arrives along side."
The Maui Mafia had never heard Czar's voice as grave sounding and fearful. From his expression, the news would be bad whatever he had to say.
Below deck Czar placed the name tag on the table. Ruth's eyes began to well with tears.
"The body in the water is probably that of Dr. Morris, Milin's speech therapist," Czar mumbled. "As you know, Ruth was to pick up Milin at the doctor's house following the end of today's charter."
Ruth began sobbing as Nick grasped her hands.
Brown, Watanabe and Yoo sat in stunned disbelief.
Czar's voice was almost inaudible as he continued.
"We must stay calm until the police arrive and then we'll go to the Morris house and get Milin. I am sure she is okay."
Czar gathered Ruth in his arms, stroking her hair, unable to speak further for fear of a flood of his own tears.
He had to appear strong.

The Lahaina water taxi came alongside Apollo as Yoo hurried the group of Japanese on board. On the horizon, on course for Apollo, was the Maui police launch.
Czar kept his arms around Ruth as the police launch deployed fenders and a stern and bow line to Yoo and Brown.
Seated in the bow of the launch was Virginia Morris, appearing distraught. Virginia was first aboard Apollo. She embraced Ruth, leading her below.

Giving the name tag to his fellow officers, Watanabe pointed to the marker buoy indicating the location of the body.
The police launch moved toward the buoy.

Czar slumped in the cockpit and then sat erect as a flash of memory numbed him with fear. The name Pequod burned in his mind. Pequod was the name of the whaling ship commanded by none other than Captain Ahab in the novel Moby Dick.
Czar felt sickened, envisioning Milin aboard that filthy sloop on a course for Kahoolawe.
Below deck, Virginia Morris confirmed Ruth's worst fears by telling her that Milin was missing, last seen walking along the beach with Dr. Morris. She went on to say that a surfer had seen the doctor and Milin in a small dinghy with a man wearing a rain slicker and that the doctor appeared to be arguing with the man.

Ruth was near collapse as the police launch returned along side with a body wrapped in sail cloth.
As Virginia Morris stumbled into the launch, Czar motioned to Watanabe, leading him to the bow of Apollo out of earshot of the others on board.
"Bob, I think I know where Milin is, if she is alive. Don't say anything to the police until I have time to think. Tell the officer in charge to come back aboard Apollo and join us in the main salon."
Addressing the officer in charge, Czar chose his word's carefully.
"We need you to call the Coast Guard on a secure land line when you return to Lahaina and find out whose name is  registered as owner of the vessel Pequod. That name must be transmitted to us on channel 22 marine band and it must be in Japanese, using only the initials of the name of the owner."
The officer agreed on direct order from Watanabe, who confirmed Czar's directive.
Czar continued.
"Bob this officer must turn over all weapons he has on board his launch and cannot, under any circumstances, tell any one of that transfer until he hears from you. We also need any scuba gear he has on board."
Watanabe reinforced the request with another direct order to his subordinate.
Czar opened Apollo's chart locker while Brown and Yoo transferred three scuba tanks, two M16's and a 12 gauge riot gun.
Czar unrolled the chart to the sound of the launch heading to Lahaina and drew a circle around the island of Kahoolawe.
He asked Ruth to fire the Yanmar, Yoo to weigh anchor and Brown to raise the sails.
Czar instructed Ruth to set a course for Kahoolawe, lash the wheel and return to the salon with Brown and Yoo.

A signal tone sounded on the weather channel as all hands gathered around the salon's main table.
The weather bureau was now issuing a severe Kona storm warning for all the Hawaiian islands. The forecast advisory included 25-30 mile an hour winds with gusts to 50 miles an hour.
Czar ignored the forecast and Apollo's falling barometer. Czar, his rage spread thin, fought to hold his composure.
After a moment of thought he began.
"I think Milin is in the hands of Lester Collins, who I suspect is responsible for the series of murders on Maui."
Czar paused again and switched the ship to shore radio to channel 22.
"Bob, you monitor the channel and let me know the translation as soon as it comes in. Ruth, I may be wrong about this and Milin may be safe on Maui and if she is we will be saving another girls' life. But for now we need to get to Kahoolawe with all speed. We stay off the radio with any English language as Collins could be monitoring the marine channels. We don't want to tip him off that we are heading for Kahoolawe. I doubt that he speaks Japanese so Bob will be the only one to use the radio.
The sea was becoming disgruntled with unlikely tricks of wind but the good grace of the sun remained.

CHAPTER SIXTY
THE WAVE

It was 4 a.m. Alaska time when the tsunami struck the coast of Alaska. Within seconds, Valdez Harbor was transformed into a rubble of splintered boats and docks bathed in a molasses of black undulating crude oil spewing from three capsized tankers that had been taking on oil at the Alaska pipe line terminal.

The city of Anchorage, no stranger to loss of life and massive destruction from earthquakes and tsunamis, lost much of its fishing fleets, harbors and waterfront as the tsunami wave roared up Turn Again Arm. The water and wreckage crushed homes and settlements. The surge of water lifted the Bird House from its already twisted foundation, and in a twinkling, the bar began slipping beneath the surface .

As the sea of debris swept onward up Turn Again Basin, a single metal container could be seen surfing just ahead of the onrushing wave. The stenciled marking on the side of the container read "Anchorage Sanitation Department." The lid of the bobbing dumpster slowly began to rise as it plunged forward.
Through the slightly opened lid, Doughboy saw his beloved Bird House refuge sink from sight.
Barely able to comprehend the chaotic scene outside his dumpster, Doughboy knew whatever was happening could be injurious to his health. The dumpster began filling with water as he gulped the last of his Yukon Jack, swearing on all that was holy that if he lived through this horror he would never drink Yukon Jack again. He was white and shaken like a dry Martini.
"But only God, if I live through this nightmare."

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
COMPASS BEARING: KAHOOLAWE

Aboard Apollo, Czar directed Brown and Yoo to rig a jack line from the anchor cleat across the cabin roof of the salon, "figure eight and lock loop the line to a stern cleat."
The fast approaching storm could clear the decks of those topside. The jack line would serve as a stationary lifeline as each crew person attached their safety harness tether with a snatch block.
In the salon, Japanese could be heard on channel 22. The voice used the initials "A.D." identifying the owner of the Pequod with its home port being Juneau, Alaska. The second part of the transmission identified "M." as missing.
Ruth's anguish tore at everyone. They sat motionless, staring at the chart and circle around Kahoolawe.
The moment of despair vanished as a wave struck Apollo athwartships, rolling the trampoline over into the reverse windshield. The force of the water shattered a portion of the glass, swamping Apollo's radios in a burst of sparks and smoke.
Apollo was now without radio communication.
Thede stuffed two sail bags in the hole while Yoo went topside, snapping his tether onto the jack line, carrying a square of plywood and hammer and nails to secure the breach from the outside.
Czar, seemingly oblivious to the increasing wind and waves, studied the chart and the jagged coastline of Kahoolawe.
In the corner of the chart he wrote the initials "A.D." In so doing, he realized it must be the initials of Alvin Durant, Lester Collins’ cabin mate on the King Salmon Creek.
Czar knew Durant's remains were recovered near the cabin on King Salmon Creek. For Czar, this was confirmation of his suspicion that Lester Collins was at the helm of Pequod with Milin his unwilling, terrified captive.
A whip crack sound from the main mast signaled the loss of one of the double head stay wires. Czar bolted through the hatch and into the cockpit, followed by Yoo and Brown, each clipping onto the jack line as they fought to drop the mainsail.
Brown kicked off the brake lock as the sail dropped into the lazy jacks, where the three managed to wrap and tie the whipping sail. Czar loosed the jib sheets while Brown roller furled the head sail tight around the head stay.
Suddenly, the back stay on the mizzen mast parted and the wind popped the starboard remaining standing rigging.
The heavy aluminum  mizzen mast crashed across the cockpit in a maze of canvas and wire.
The starboard railing gave way under the weight of the mast, which slowly slipped over board into the rising waves.
A single wire held the mizzen mast against Apollo's starboard hull. The continuing train of waves began a battering ram effect of slamming the mast into Apollo's starboard hull.
Czar knew it was only a matter of time before the mast rammed through the hull, making Apollo just so much wood and fiberglass debris. Motioning to Brown to take the wheel, Czar grasped a shroud and unclipped from the jack line and started below to be met by Ruth, who had seen the mast fall.
Ruth handed Czar the bolt cutters .
Back on deck, Czar cut away the remaining rigging holding the mizzen mast and watched as it slowly sank from sight. He could see water arcing through the air from the starboard hull and knew the automatic bilge pump had kicked on. That could only mean that the starboard hull was taking on water.
Czar could barely be heard over the roar of crashing waves and howling winds, but with hand signals directed Yoo and Brown to "hank" a storm jib on the remaining head stay and secure the luff to a pad eye at the base of the main mast.
Managing to keep the boat into the wind with a wide open Yanmar and the now board flat storm jib secured in place, Czar eased Apollo back on course for Kahoolawe, lashing the wheel with preventer lines .
With Apollo locked on course, all hands went below and collapsed in exhaustion in the main salon.
Broadcasting from Honolulu, the U.S. Coast Guard issued a "Notice to Mariners" on the standby channel 16, advising all ships in Hawaiian waters to stand clear of Kahoolawe. The Navy was scheduled to shell the island that evening.
With the knot meter reading eight knots, they would be offshore Kahoolawe in about an hour. Czar began to devise a plan to land on the island, realizing it would be impossible to anchor and take the dinghy ashore.
They would individually have to swim from Apollo to the Kahoolawe. The odds of making it were remote.
Czar knew if they did make it ashore, finding Milin would be close to impossible and saving her or finding her alive would be a long shot. No matter what, to a man and one valiant woman, they would give their lives trying.
With Apollo's radios dead, no one aboard the storm tossed boat could know that the U.S. Navy was an hour away and would soon be showering Kahoolawe with high explosives.
No one knew that a record breaking tsunami was only an hour away.

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
MASTER MARINER

As freezing water filled Doughboy's wallowing dumpster, he noticed a large white object 100 yards to his right. At first he thought it was a small iceberg but quickly discerned that it was not an iceberg but a large yacht with shredded dock lines.
He could see the lettering Perini Navi on the side of the vessel and as the stern came into view, the words Puerto Bello. The yacht appeared to be without steerage and looked to be more than 100 feet long and in Bristol condition with fluttering, snapping flags on the radar arch.
Without warning, Doughboy's dumpster and the magnificent yacht went aground in a field of fireweed.
As the water began to recede back into Turn Again Arm, Doughboy vaulted from the dumpster. Dropping to his knees, he thanked God for sparing his life.
Doughboy was shivering and disoriented at his good fortune, which was to get even better.
The motor yacht loomed before him, slightly listing to port but high aground.
Stumbling through the brilliant red fireweed nearer the yacht, Doughboy heard the hum of a diesel engine.
Slogging toward the yacht, he surmised he was about 50 miles from any highway and a very long way from the normal water levels of Turn Again Arm.
Doughboy began to shake, partly because of his incredible "hang ten" dumpster surfing experience but mostly because he had not had a drink in hours.
He knew his only shelter for miles would be the motor yacht, assuming its occupants would allow him to board.
Close to the stern of the yacht, Doughboy noticed a large cleat attached to one of the vessels’ dock lines.
The cleat had been forge stamped with the lettering "Anchorage Docks".
Doughboy suspected the boat had been swept from the Anchorage Shipyards and carried into Turn Again Arm.
He inched up one of two circular steps molded into the stern of the vessel. They led to an open aft deck sporting two fighting chairs flanked by two racks of big game fishing rods and reels.
On the starboard side was a bait well brimming with fish.
Doughboy heard what he decided was the ship's generator running.
He knocked on one of two large teak doors leading to the interior of the vessel. With no response, Doughboy cautiously opened the doors, surprised to find them unlocked, and moved forward into a world of opulence and luxury, at once overwhelming to a man whose previous residence was a garbage dumpster.
Doughboy moved forward in a state of wonder down a lighted spiral staircase toward the sound of the running generator, which he located down a second flight of stairs and into a large aft cabin marked "Engine Room."
Looking aft and to port, Doughboy spied a Caterpillar generator with a large fresh water cooled radiator. The gauges included oil pressure, voltage and a fuel gauge, which read "full." Another large round gauge indicated tankage at 15.000 gallons.
Doughboy's new home was not only elegant and grand it was fully electrified and would probably stay that way for some time.
Doughboy began a methodical, slightly unsteady and increasingly thirsty tour of the yacht, mouth wide as he passed through one luxurious state room after another and into a grand library. Then he went through two salons and a huge fully equipped galley replete with stainless steel appliances and cabinetry.
Inspecting two large refrigerators, Doughboy discovered a lush larder of fine foods and gourmet treats from all over the world.
Most stunning of all was the ship's liquor locker, which was the size of a walk in closet. It contained every conceivable brand of vintage wines, champagne, Russian vodka and case upon case of German and Mexican beer.
Doughboy stood transfixed inside the liquor locker, staring at the seemingly endless supply of spirits. Then he remembered his vow to God. Doughboy could not find one bottle of Yukon Jack in the locker and thus with a tremendous sigh of relief and vindication, concluded that his vow had only mentioned Yukon Jack therefore it was reasonable that he would abstain from that brand while sampling all that was before him.
Reaching for a bottle of Grand Marnier, he filled a crystal tumbler and continued his tour, this time up steps toward the wheel house salon, which contained all the appointments of a small palace along with a myriad of electronic instrumentation.
The wheel house contained two large captain's chairs, which looked like barber chairs, and a horseshoe shaped settee facing a large screen television set. From there, Doughboy climbed another set of stairs onto the vessel's fly bridge, where there was a duplication of all the electronics in the wheel house with a less formal atmosphere. There was a jacuzzi aft that was running, several chaise lounges and a deck that was covered with artificial grass for a small miniature golf course complete with holes. There was a wet bar with another large assortment of spirits.
Doughboy climbed into the helmsman's chair and looked down onto the fore deck and bow and then beyond at his own personal sea of waving fireweed.
Taking a sip of Grand Marnier, his little finger extended, Doughboy, the  Grand Mariner realized that being on a yacht on a hillside plateau in Alaska was confusing as hell. It was at this moment he concluded the lack of money was the root of all evil. He could no longer afford to be poor.
A moose standing in a tree line nearby stared at the yacht and its captain.
If the animal’s intellect would have permitted, it too would have been confused at the scene before it.

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE
SWIMMING

The Kona winds continued to blow from the south gusting to 55 knots, driving a continuous line of waves into Apollo, which was now streaming a constant flow of water from her scuppers and an intermittent stream of water from the starboard bilge pump.
The Kona storm was a marriage of a low pressure system with a cold front and gale force winds were afoot.
The bilge pump cycled on for five minutes and then stopped for 40 seconds before recycling on again.
This on and off sequence told Czar that the volume of water entering the starboard hull was less than the capacity of the pump and that meant the crew of Apollo were in no immediate danger of sinking unless the bilge pump quit, or worse, the batteries failed.

The crew of Apollo could barely hear Czar over the din of crashing waves, howling winds ripping at the rigging and the unnerving creaking and snap of Apollo's hulls as fiberglass and wood bulkheads ground at one another.
A low moan was heard coming from outside Apollo. Opening the hatch in a shower of water, Czar soon determined that the moaning sound was coming from sirens on Maui, Molokai and Lanai. Outside visibility was down to no more than 20 feet and the black sky was ripped by both sheet and bolt lightning. The moaning sound reached a high wail and then sank back to a low moan as Czar dropped back into the main cabin.
Returning to his seat, Czar calmly identified the wailing moan as being a tsunami warning. After a moment he began speaking in unemotional low tones.
"We have to believe that Milin is still alive, that she's on Kahoolawe. It will be impossible for us to anchor Apollo and take the Zodiac on shore in these waves and winds. The only solution I see to is to use the scuba tanks and swim.
“Ruth, you and Yoo are in command of Apollo from now on. Yoo will handle the lines and storm jib and eventually the sea anchor. Ruth, you will have to keep the Yanmar running to maintain steerage when tacking and to keep the batteries charged so the starboard bilge pump continues running."

The sudden hissing sound outside Apollo was the precursor of death most certain, an evil sound dreaded by sailors. A big rogue wave was coming at Apollo but Czar continued talking pausing only to brace himself against a bulkhead.  Apollo rolled broadside, showering the salon with the contents of a port locker full of dishes and silverware.
The Yanmar began sputtering as the wave overwhelmed the scuppers. The weight of the water held Apollo's stern low with little free board left.
The crew sat in dread of the next rogue wave but none came.
The scuppers drained the cockpit and the Yanmar began humming again. The main hatch was partially buckled by the weight of the wave but Watanabe managed to brace the hatch with a fish gaff wedged on the top step and under the center line of the hatch. The center hull bilge pump was now running but only for a few minutes, confirming that the hull had not been penetrated.

Czar moved the parallel ruler across the table and pointed at the chart of Kahoolawe, drawing an X at the tip of the windward side of the island, followed by a second X at the midway point and a third X at the tip of the lee end of the island.
"Ruth, you'll have to make three tacks. On the first tack, you should get in close to a depth of no more than 100 feet or until you can hear the surf. At that point, swing Apollo into the wind and I'll leave Apollo with one of the scuba tanks."
Czar continued.
" It should be calm ten feet under the water, with only the ocean surface being chaos.
“Once I leave Apollo you'll have to make a second tack and hit the second X about the midway point of Kahoolawe. OK, sweetheart?
“Bob, you take the second tank and swim ashore. On the third and final tack, Thede will drop over the side and swim ashore. After the last tack, you must head for deep water at least 2000 feet between Kahoolawe and the Pai Lolo channel. I have no idea when this tsunami will hit Hawaii and no idea how strong it is. In deep water you should be safe as tsunamis are only a threat in shallow water or near a land mass. Once in the deep , Yoo will have to deploy the sea anchor. This will be difficult with the storm but it should hold Apollo not far from Kahoolawe.
“When the storm passes, bring Apollo abreast of Kahoolawe and look for us."
Czar motioned toward the weapons and directed both Bob and Thede to "take an M16, wrap it in plastic, separately wrap the ammunition in plastic and stow it all in two sail bags each.
 “Each bag should be attached to the tether on your safety harness and towed behind you as you swim toward the island."
Czar's words were spoken in a monotone that held the gravity and danger of their course of action.
Ruth and Yoo silently gathered foul weather slickers,taking up their position in the cockpit waiting for Czar to complete his preparation of scuba gear. Wrapping the equalizer in plastic, Czar shoved it inside the zipper front of his wet suit vest. He checked the chart and called up to the cockpit to set a course 10 degrees to port "and hold the course."

Below deck, Watanabe and Brown finished wrapping their weapons in plastic and test blowing the scuba regulators.
Czar placed the bang stick and Apollo's first aid kit inside the remaining sail bag after wrapping the kit in plastic.
Attaching the sail bag to his safety harness tether, he turned to Watanabe and Brown.
" Guys, Kahoolawe is only about eleven miles long. If Ruth can put us near the surf line on each tack we should be about two and a half miles apart once we are on shore. We'll move inland about two miles, then join up at Mount Moaulaiki. At 1,400 feet high it's going to be a rough climb. If we don't make contact with Milin and her abductor, we'll move further inland another two miles and repeat the process. We repeat the process back and forth until we find Milin."

The three men had climbed Mount Moaulaiki as schoolmates years before, trekking to the summit of the north face where they each sat in the "Navigators Chair." The chair was a polished lava rock that resembled a large throne .
According to Hawaiian lore, ancient Hawaiians had gathered on that plateau to learn the art of celestial navigation.
Ruth struck the main hatch with the boat hook as Yoo lowered his head below.
"We can hear the surf,” Yoo announced. “Apollo is in about seventy five feet of water."
Ruth kept moving, telling herself not to think about Milin.
If she thought about Milin she knew she would be useless to her and the operation at hand. Ruth’s mindset was clear and simple. If the men failed to reach the island, she would beach Apollo on Kahoolawe, search out the monster herself and then kill him.

Below deck, Czar embraced Watanabe, Brown and Yoo, held Ruth for minutes, eventually parting. He moved up the steps into the cockpit. Brown passed up the scuba tank while Yoo supported the heavy aluminum cylinder.
Czar strapped in. Attaching the safety harness tether to the sail bag containing the first aid kit and bang stick, he kissed Ruth and said "I love you." He cleared the stern rail, dropping into the waves.
The sound of the howling wind and bone jarring movement on Apollo's deck was replaced with an all encompassing silence except for the sound of the scuba tank regulator releasing periodic infusions of air into Czar's face mask. Czar rose to the surface to get his bearings to the sound of the raging storm and then jack-knifed and dove to 15 feet into a black ocean lighted by the sheet and bolt lightning. With the strobe effect of brilliant lighting, Czar could see clearly to 50 feet. The colors of the coral were crystallized with each flash. He passed ballast stones likely from a long lost square rigged whaler. Czar felt as though he was suspended in the entire universe with no center and no edge.
Czar swam forward trailing the sail bag. Twenty minutes later, he rolled to one side and turned to check on his trailing sail bag when he received a hard bump on his right shoulder delivered with such force his face mask was knocked off, dislodging his air hose.
His eyes stinging from salt water, Czar saw a large distorted face with no ears or hair and worse yet the face had no nose except for two small holes just below the bulging eyes. Czar felt his heart pounding.
In a rush of panic as he frantically dove down into the inky blackness, swallowing salt water as he descended.
Four kicks into the dive he realized he had just made contact with a curious monk seal. Replacing the mask over his face, he blew into it, clearing the water then continued his harrowing swim toward the wave tossed shoreline of Kahoolawe.

The electric sky flashed bright, revealing a long black delta shaped object just ahead of the surf line, which Czar quickly determined was a shoal draft keel. Nearing the keel, Czar made out the outline of the bottom of a sailboat lifting and plunging in the waves.
He swam to the boat's long rusty mooring chain that was attached to a train wheel partially  in concretion with the coral. The chain led to a mooring ball with a messenger line attached to the bullock on the vessel's bow.
A single wave swept Czar past the sailboat toward its stern, where he could see the vessels name: Pequod.
Just before the wave rolled over him, Czar had seen a dim light in the boat’s foreboding cabin.
Under water, Czar swam back to the chain and waited for another wave to lift him even with the boat's handrail. The wave came, catapulting him from the chain like flotsam, depositing him just aft of the bowsprit in the center of the pitching deck. Unsnapping his tether line, he secured the sail bag to the anchor windlass and moved stealthily along the deck toward the cockpit, grasping the cabin roof hand holds, fighting to hold his balance.
Once in the cockpit, Czar unclipped the scuba tank, wedging it between the steering pedestal and cockpit table.
Gently placing the bang stick on the floor of the cockpit, he was aware his entry into the interior of the vessel could be the difference between Milin's death or rescue. He gently moved the hatch forward to determine if it was locked. It was not.
Removing the equalizer from his wet suit, Czar carefully unwrapped the plastic, placing it back inside the suit.
Slipping the safety off, he took a deep breath.
In one movement, Czar shoved the hatch open and dropped into Pequod's main cabin, moving the equalizer quickly fore and aft as he searched for movement of any kind.
Momentarily sickened by the putrid stench of gangrene, rotten garbage and excrement, he fought the urge to vomit as he moved toward the V berth.
An oil lantern swung from its gimbaled base, casting fleeting shadows.
Czar kicked open the door to the head, which obviously had stopped functioning as evidenced by the feces dripping from the commode. The walls were smeared with waste, the floor of the head was piled high with fetid tissues.
Czar now moved toward the closed door of the aft cabin and paused.
Taking a series of deep breaths, he screamed "Milin, get down on the floor!!"
Shouldering the door open, he leveled the .45 head high into the dark interior. The cabin was empty except for two mounds of bloody bandages crawling with maggots and several overflowing garbage bags.
Back in the main cabin, Czar found a torn and stained photo of Cameron Collins held by a thumb tack along with a necklace with a medal, a St. Christopher's' medal. Czar was overwhelmed with despair and fear for Milin.
Trembling, he studied the picture in that foul, wretched cabin. Then he saw two eyes peering at him from behind a louvered hanging locker.
Czar wheeled around and to the side, grasping the locker door, ripping it from its hinges.
The eyes were those of Dr. Robert Morris. The doctor's head had been wedged between two shelves of the locker.
Czar staggered backwards, managing to reach the hatch, gulping air and saltwater blowing across the Pequod.
He remained half in the cockpit for a full minute before he could return to the hideous stench of the main cabin, where he removed the head, carefully placing it in the cockpit.
Lifting the bang stick from the floor of the cockpit, he went below one more time.
Cocking the bang stick, Czar jammed the barrel tip into the side of the starboard hull just below the water line and pulled the trigger.
The blast tore a fist sized hole two strakes up from the keel, which began its gravitational pull to the ocean floor.
Pausing for a last look around the salon, he spotted a manual desalinator lying on the vessel’s chart table.
Czar flung the device out the starboard porthole.
"Lester," he thought, "now you have no means of obtaining fresh water and your boat is sinking fast. If I make it to Kahoolawe and you hurt Milin, you’re a dead man. If you don't hurt Milin, you’re a dead man."
Czar stepped past the geyser of water erupting in the main cabin and returned to the cockpit, where he carried the head of Dr. Morris to the bow.
Once on the bow, he placed the head and bang stick in the sail bag and returned to the cockpit, strapping on his scuba tank.
Before leaving the vessel's interior, Czar removed a pair of binoculars lying on the nav station desk.
Entering the cockpit, he filled his lungs with fresh air, dropped the binoculars in his sail bag in case they might be of use once on Kahoolawe. He noticed the binoculars’ strap had been cut in half.
Pequod was sinking fast as Czar clipped the safety harness tether back on the sail bag and then rode the sinking bowsprit down toward the coral bed below, letting go to resume his swim at 20 feet in depth.
Confident that his quarry would never leave Kahoolawe with his boat on the ocean floor, Czar stopped to surface.
The thunder was deafening as he scanned the rolling surf line some 50 yards away. The lightning revealed rollers topping 30 feet crashing onto the sand beach.
Czar swam to the wave train and waited for the right wave to ride ashore. In 20 minutes, Czar selected the best "curl" and caught the front of the wave just ahead of its crest.
The wave broke as it hit the beach, sending Czar in a bruising, cart wheeling tumble across the sand.
His scuba tank broke free, spinning into a coral outcropping, where the regulator snapped off in a shriek of escaping air.
Releasing his safety harness, Czar swiftly moved into a grove of palm trees almost horizontal from the Kona winds.
He knew he had to reach higher ground as another wave crashed behind him carrying him past the palm trees to a stand of Keawe trees. Sail bag dragging behind, Czar made it onto the slope of a red volcanic hillside.
He was ashore.

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR
LOAD AND STAND BY

Naval officer Bryce Withers, sitting in the fire director's glass crow’s nest on the lead destroyer of a three destroyer flotilla, was advised by the bridge that the gunnery run on Kahoolawe would proceed as scheduled despite the Kona storm and the tsunami warning.
The rationale from Pearl Harbor command was that the heavy weather target practice was necessary and that the three destroyers were in deep enough water to negate any effects of the tsunami, no matter its size.
Withers checked with the gun crews and confirmed that all was ready. He then individually selected the controls for each gun mount, raising and lowering and horizontally rotating each mount.
With each system operating smoothly, Withers made a series of notations in his log then radioed the crews.
"Load and stand by."
Setting the fuses for the first salvo, he raised the starboard cannons ten degrees above level, which would send the first salvo along the beach line of Kahoolawe some 13,000 yards distance.
The first projectiles would strike the beaches as he raised the cannons an additional 10 degrees sending the second salvo a half mile inshore with the third salvo to strike the island half way to the summit of Kahoolawe.
The following destroyers would repeat the sequence as they came abreast within striking distance.
As the third destroyer fired its ordinance, Withers’ destroyer would be halfway through its turn, ready to fire its port cannons on the return pass.
Each run would include five- and three inch cannon and 40 and 20 millimeter guns.
Withers checked the gyro that would compensate for the vessel’s pitch and roll as well as caster and camber, keeping the guns on target.
The repeater radar scope in front of Withers clearly provided a sharp outline of Kahoolawe, despite the blinding rain and ocean spray.

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE
THE SEVERED LEG

Apollo was in 70 feet of water as Ruth spun the wheel to port while holding the throttle wide open. The storm jib snapped over to port. Apollo began clawing her way from the crashing surf astern and starboard 100 yards away.
Watanabe embraced those remaining on board, threw his sail bag off the stern and leaped in after it.
Clenching his rubber mouthpiece in his teeth, he dove down into a black liquid silence punctuated by flashes of light and pounding surf.
In a steady Australian crawl, Watanabe was soon in the trough of waves moving inshore.
Closer in, Watanabe shuddered at the sight before him. The surf was taking him directly toward large lava boulders and exposed coral heads.
Locked in the towering surf, he could do nothing but wait for the impact.
Three waves from the rocks, Watanabe swam toward a second wave, hoping to ride the back of the column of water over the rocks, but the back current between the waves pulled him onto the crest of a following wave, engulfing him in a liquid hell of swirling water.
At the crest of the wave a flash of lightning revealed a jagged lava boulder dead ahead.
There was another flash of lightning followed by searing pain. Then darkness.

Barely able to see in the driving rain, Czar moved inland over the red muddy soil. Coming up short at the sight of dinghy tied to a wind bent palm tree, he drew the equalizer.
Approaching the dinghy, he looked from side to side in anticipation of a movement but none came. The dinghy was half full of water, which told Czar it had been there for about an hour at the rate of rainfall.
The dinghy was of down easter design with heavy lap strake planking.
On its transom sat a Seagull outboard, an ancient motor developed during WWII. The hull of the dinghy bore signs of dry rot; its chines were laden with barnacles.
As Czar kicked the side of the dinghy, the spongy wood gave way. Three more short kicks opened a large hole.
Czar moved to the rear of the boat and ripped the magneto wires from the outboard.
Satisfied, he waited for a flash of lightning to show the interior of Kahoolawe.
With the flash, Czar moved toward the island's slopes
He did not see the small severed leg of a child a few paces to his right as he broke into a crouching run.
The leg was partially covered with mud and the tiny foot bore a black patent leather shoe.

With Apollo approaching Kahoolawe on the final tack, the Yanmar suddenly coughed. Thede Brown, sitting on the transom steps inside the taffrail, could see the Zodiac capsize as its painter became banjo string tight from the stern cleat to beneath Apollo's center hull.
Brown, grasping the taffrail, managed to cut the painter between the cleat and what he knew to be a line wrapped prop. The capsized Zodiac was trailing Apollo with the Tohatsu outboard prop spinning in the raging wind.
The Yanmar sputtered as the prop strangled to an abrupt stop, forcing Apollo's main engine to die.
At the wheel, Ruth was aware the starboard bilge pump would drain the batteries in short order and if that happened, all would be lost.
She screamed over the howling wind for Thede to "go!" and Brown jumped from the stern.
With Yoo's help, Ruth managed to force the jammed gear shift into neutral. Repeated attempts to start the engine failed. Ruth switched off the starboard bilge pump, freeing up 10 amps and held the start button down.
The Yanmar caught on the fourth revolution with a backfire and cloud of smoke. The smoke activated the halon fire extinguisher system in the engine compartment. The intake of halon in the carburetor threatened to stop the engine again.
Yoo opened the engine hatch after the onrushing waves cleared the decks, automatically closing the hatch in anticipation of the next wave.
The faltering engine began to miraculously recover.
With the voltmeter showing a steady charge, Ruth switched on the starboard bilge pump and set a course toward the Pai Lolo Channel and deep water.
With Yoo exhausted and slumped in the cockpit, Ruth's arms and hands ached with fatigue from holding Apollo on course. Her fingers were locked on the steering wheel, her mind locked on Milin somewhere on that cursed island of Kahoolawe.
"Goddamn you, Lester Collins," she screamed, a vengeful fire deep in her heart.

Watanabe became aware of a flashing light and at first thought it was a police car or maybe an ambulance.
As his mind began to clear, he realized it was lightning. Sitting up, he felt a jolting pain in his left ankle and with another bolt of lightning, he could see his foot was at a right angle to his leg.
Choking on a mouthful of rain water, he lay back on the rocks.
His ankle was broken. He knew for a certain he would have to crawl to higher ground or be pulled back into the ocean by the waves.
Screaming in pain, he made his way over the rocks, eventually falling in a grove of nearly horizontal Keawe trees.
The pain was like a whetted knife, so intense he considered remaining among the trees until the storm passed.
Pulling on his safety harness tether, he brought the sail bag into view.
Ensnared in the sail bag handles was a thick Keawe branch. The branch was shaped like a crutch with a fork at one end of the branch. With this omen, Watanabe knew he had to make it to the rendezvous on Mount Moaulaiki.
He would be late but he would be there, he pledged to himself as he struggled to stand.
Waves were more violent smashing into the jagged lava outcroppings of Kahoolawee.  The lava splitting the waves with ease winning the continuous onslaught.  The lava dominated the waves as it had for centuries but in time the victories would be in vain as the waves would eventually win the battle.

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX
THREE HUNDRED SOULS

There were few lights burning on the Hawaiian island of Niihau as not one but three tsunami tidal waves in close procession struck the tiny island, obliterating beach homes, sweeping 300 souls inland, where they perished beneath tons of mud and debris. Ignoring the warning sirens, pleas from worried relatives and officials to leave their homes, they had chosen their fate.
The same waves hit Oahu, inundating Waikiki Beach and flooding much of Honolulu and its suburbs.
Authorities had to force residents in low lying areas to leave their homes. The result was a handful of fatalities but widespread damage.
Large buildings and small were destroyed in Honolulu. One dilapidated little sidewalk stand was the first obliterated in the onslaught. The only thing left was the stand's pathetic hand written sign: "Westphalenger's Papers, Pens & Pencils."
The three waves were now just minutes from Maui, Molokai, Lanai and the chain's lowest lying and least protected island: Kahoolawe.

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN
PAILOLO CHANNEL

With his scuba tank down to a few minutes of remaining air, Thede Brown caught a perfect storm wave rolling toward Kahoolawe and surfed 50 yards to a stand-up landing in soft sand. Turning, he began hauling his tethered sail bag up to the beach when he beheld, in a flash of lightning, the biggest wave of his life.
It was horizon long in a continuous onrushing white line no more than a quarter of a mile away. Two more waves were behind it.
Brown made a head long run toward higher ground, gasping for breath with each inhalation of air and rain.

Aboard Apollo, Phuc Yoo had just deployed the sea anchor, a 32 foot diameter "T" Gore" military parachute, when he saw three gigantic walls of water closing fast on Apollo's battered hulls.
As the chute began to mushroom with water Yoo shackled the anchor chain and rode to the chute's risers and harness, tying off the bitter end to the bow's bullard.
Crawling along the deck he followed the jack line into the cockpit where Ruth was locking and lashing the wheel in order to hold the rudder on Apollo's center line.
Ruth and Yoo slammed the hatch shut and lay on the salon floor as Apollo was pulled up the face of the first wave. Near the crest of the wave, the cantenary of the rode whipped taught, forcing Apollo's bow down. The tri hulls hung for a moment on the wave crest before beginning a free fall down the back of the wave into a trough towered over by the second wave. The strain on the chute, risers, rode and fore deck bullard neared the breaking point. Apollo began lifting up the face of the second wave as the vessel turned broadside, her stern skidding sideways.
The combination of Apollo's position, wind and wave invited a capsize if the wind got under an outer hull.
Ruth and Yoo could feel the water rising from the floor, soaking their clothing as Apollo's starboard hull lifted from the water followed by the center hull. Apollo was now suspended in the air with only the port hull in the water.
Every starboard locker below opened, spilling contents into the main cabin and port side wall in a crescendo of debris.

When Czar purchased Apollo, he had installed four inch fiber glass tubes the full length of the inside chines in both out hulls. He then installed through hull fittings with flopper valves that let sea water into the tubes. The water filled tubes were at zero gravity when the hulls were in the water but if one lifted out of the water, the flopper valves would close, trapping the water. The result was a massive gravitational pull downward with the weight of the water keeping the vessel from capsizing.
That downward force on the outer hull slowly brought Apollo down to an even keel as she spun sickenly across the back of the second wave.
The interior of Apollo's salon was in disarray as Yoo and Ruth braced for the third wave. Apollo began to lift skyward again. Ruth heard the Yanmar still running. A flash of lightning showed the voltmeter was charging. Hearing all three bilge pumps running in the port and starboard hulls and not the center hull, Ruth was elated.
Her elation evaporated when she found the wheel spinning freely with no steerage back in the cockpit.
Yoo went below to discover the steering cables had broken free of the rudder post quadrant. The rudder post was glassed into the bottom of the hull. The top extended up and through the transom at the rear of the cockpit.
Ruth quickly snapped on the emergency tiller on top of the rudder post and slowly brought Apollo back on a return course to Kahoolawe, powered only by the storm sail.
Yoo slumped down in the cockpit only to to freeze at the sight of three torpedoes, trailing tails of luminous plankton, running straight and true in an even spread heading toward Apollo. A second before impact the projectiles rocketed into the air across the bow in gleeful squeaks as three dolphins began surfing  the bow wave as if in escort of this desperate journey.
A good omen Yoo thought.

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT
THE SLOPES OF MOAULAIKI

A mile inland, on the muddy slopes of Moaulaiki, Nick Czar paused in the driving rain to catch his breath.
He sank on the remains of a shattered palm tree, his mind filled with dread for Milin, when he saw a series of red flashes coming from the ocean a mile off Kahoolawe's windward shore.
"What in God's name is that?" he wondered.

In his crow’s nest, Bryce Withers looked through his scope. The sweep of the radar interface provided a clear visual view of Kahoolawe. The ship's cannon responded as Withers pressed down  on the fire button, sending 32 five inch shells toward the island's beaches. The muzzle velocity of the shells were 2,650 per second. The projectiles would strike the island before the smoke cleared the barrels and well before the sound of the cannons reached Kahoolawe.

Czar continued running, puzzled by the strange red flashes he had seen, when inexplicably the shoreline below him seemed to turn into writhing clouds of yellow and red. The ground began to shake.
Sheet lightning flickered across the sky, providing a glimpse of the black clouds and orange smoke rising skyward.
Czar was still confounded by what he was seeing until the sound of the cannon fire made its way up the slopes within his hearing. Seeing more red flashes out to sea, Czar realized the Navy was shelling Kahoolawe.
Vividly aware that the ships involved in the assault would begin walking the shells up the slopes of the island, Czar knew in a few minutes the shells would come raining down on his position.
He resumed his run in what had become a numbing world of sight and sound with the low moan and high pitch wail of the tsunami warning sirens from Maui, Molokai and Lanai, the deafening thunderclaps, bolt and sheet lightning, red flashes on the ocean and exploding shells, all in an envelope of the peppery smell of burnt cordite
.
Thede Brown heard the naval guns but was more concerned about the tsunami waves.
He was getting closer to Navigators Rock, despite the mud and occasional collision with a thorny Keawe tree.
The waves slammed into the shore below him in quick succession, but well below his location.
Bob Watanabe heard the naval guns as he hobbled up the goat trail. He had seen the devastation that followed a naval shelling and could only hope Nick Czar would be lucky enough to make it to their meeting at Navigators Rock.
 
 

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE
THE SECOND RUN

Bryce Withers' destroyer had turned, beginning its second run on Kahoolawe as the remaining two destroyers finished their salvos, preparing to come about. Withers checked his maintenance log, reconfirming his 5.5 and three inch guns were near the end of their barrel life of 3,070 rounds on the last pass and knew at the rate of 17 rounds per minute, the barrels would be removed when he arrived back at Pearl Harbor to be re rifled.
With his destroyer continuing on course, he thought of the nightmare the goat population of Kahoolawe would be subjected to as he raised all cannon an additional 10 degrees.

CHAPTER SEVENTY
CURSING GOD

Czar tripped and fell over a Koa log, rolling forward into a rain filled shell crater created by previous bombardments.
Managing to slog his way up the mud covered sides of the crater, he unzipped his wet suit vest to find the equalizer covered with mud, the barrel jammed full.
Placing the barrel of the gun in his mouth he sucked the mud clear and spat it out.
To his left, partially buried in the mud, to his abject horror, was the body of a small child.
Czar slumped in the mud in anguish, waiting for another flash of lightning to confirm what he had seen.
With a multiple flash of sheet lightning, Czar ran to the lifeless form, which was missing a leg. Dropping beside the form, he recognized the black patent leather shoe. He pulled the form gently from the mud. The head was gone. In the ensuing darkness, Czar screamed toward the flashing sky, cursing God, himself and the universe.
In a wave of primal emotion he placed the barrel of the equalizer in his mouth. He had failed Milin. He had caused her death in pursuing Lester Collins. He deserved to die there and now beside his beloved Milin. The safety off, he squeezed the trigger.

The three tsunami waves continued along both sides of Kahoolawe, sweeping palm and Keawe trees and debris in a rolling morass of flotsam. Watanabe continued his slow agonizing trek along the goat trail. As the rain abated, he spied Thede on a trail above him, sail bag in one hand, M16 in the other.
Between claps of thunder, Watanabe called out, causing Brown to come up short, drop his sail bag and shoulder the rifle. Sweeping the barrel from left to right, Brown found Watanabe dead center in his sights. Lowering the weapon, Brown could see that Watanabe's condition was not good.
Rushing to his side, Brown removed the barrel from Watanabe's rifle stock and strapped it to Watanabe's ankle and leg with his tether line. Satisfied with the makeshift splint, Brown hoisted Watanabe to his shoulders and continued an exhausting and painful canter toward Navigators Rock.

The hammer of the equalizer fell but there was no muzzle blast, no streak of fire, no spinning bullet.
Cursing the weapon for failing him for the first time, Nick cleared the chamber, jacking another round into the magazine when he noticed the tiny body beside him was bloodless and realized that it was not Milin but Milin's doll Minnie, which she had taken with her to Dr. Morris' house.
"Jesus Christ in heaven!" he screamed as he felt coursing relief and mounting resolve.
"I am coming Milin," he thought as he began running up the muddy slopes that lead toward Navigators Rock atop Mount Moaulaiki.

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE
THE FIRST VOLLEY

Bryce Withers rotated the fore and aft gun mounts to the port and adjusted the guns upward 10 degrees, ordered the gun crews to load 15 pounds of propellant per shell and checked the recoil limits of 19 inches per barrel.
The radar sweep on his scope validated his chart overlay. He hit the fire button. The destroyer shuddered as the first volley of shells whistled toward the slopes of Kahoolawe.

Czar didn't see the tell tale red flashes on the ocean surface as he neared the approaches to Navigators Rock.
He didn't hear a 5.5 shell hit at his feet. He was only aware that he was suddenly airborne at an ever increasing height.
Despite his dream-like state, he could feel his body falling back toward the ground and in a vague way knew the fall would kill him if he were not already dead. He wasn't sure. In the next instant, Czar was slowly descending into a brown liquid world.
He instinctively began kicking toward the surface in what seemed to be an endless ascent. Breaking free of the water he gulped for air and found himself in a world of thunder and lightning, cannon fire, wailing sirens and the thick acrid smell of burning cordite.
At first he thought he must have been blown into the ocean, then realized he was in the middle of Sailor’s Hat Crater.
With his ears ringing and a severe headache, Czar suspected that the shell that landed at his feet was probably on a time delay fuse, which went off only after the shell had penetrated deep in the ground. That delay had placed a geyser of dirt and debris between him and the deadly shrapnel.
Czar checked his body to determine if he was missing any limbs while visually searching the surface of the water for any signs of blood. He swam to the crater’s edge, feeling his chest, discovering the equalizer was still wedged in his wet suit. Climbing to just below the crater's rim, he dodged another barrage of flying shrapnel and debris.
The ear splitting sounds lasted another five minutes. Then, except for the sirens, silence ensued.
Sitting atop the rim between flashes of lightning Czar could see the outline of Sailors Hat Crater. He had seen the huge crater years before when he, Brown and Watanabe had sailed to Kahoolawe despite the island's reputation and Navy restrictions.
That was two years after the Central Command at Pearl Harbor decided to detonate the world's largest non nuclear bomb on Kahoolawe. The Navy placed 500 tons of TNT in the ground and the explosion created the mini crater on which Czar groggily rested. The rain stopped and the wind quieted to 20 knots.
Czar resumed his run, knowing the lull in shelling was only temporary.

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO
BACK TO KAHOOLAWE

Ruth Von Stein and Phuc Yoo could just see the outline of Kahoolawe on the horizon and only in flashes of lightning as Apollo fought over the waves, her bilge pumps spewing water from the hulls. The time between the on cycle of the pumps meant that less water was entering Apollo and that was welcome news to Ruth and Yoo, especially with the rain stopped and the wind falling. They looked at each other, exchanging wan smiles of relief.
Apollo's storm jib was partially split and the Yanmar continued a steady hum but with increasing rise in temperature, which could only mean the intake port was clogged or the engine's water pump lost an impeller blade.
If the Yanmar quit, Ruth knew it would be a matter of minutes before the batteries went south, stopping the bilge pumps. She also knew if the storm jib blew out in the periodic high wind gusts, she would have to raise the main to its first reef point and unfurl the jib to where only a handkerchief of sail was exposed to the wind.
Yoo hack sawed through the remaining twisted railing crushed by the falling mizzen mast and shoved it overboard. Apollo was now a sloop, transformed from a ketch with the loss of the mizzen mast.
Apollo's taffrail log indicated a speed of four knots and then, the storm jib blew out with a loud "crack.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE
PETER

The rain completely stopped when Czar reached the plateau of Mount Moaulaiki a half mile from Navigators Rock. He stopped abruptly on seeing a very tall figure approaching the lava rock sculptured Navigators Chair.
The figure carried what looked like a long shaft that could be a machete. The figure seemed to separate in half when a flash of lightning revealed his companions Brown and Watanabe, prompting Czar to return the equalizer to his wet suit vest.
"Did you see anything?" Czar shouted as he joined the two men.
Their response was negative, meaning they would have to advance further toward the far side of Kahoolawe and repeat the same windward to Leeward search.
Czar examined Watanabe's ankle, realizing he could no longer walk and that his weight would slow Brown's progress.
"Bob, you'll have to stay here buddy, while Thede and I continue the search. No matter how this will end, we will come back for you."
Watanabe agreed, embracing Czar and Brown when he noticed the smell of cordite was now intermingled with the sweet sickening smell of decaying flesh.
The three men froze, scanning the area for any movement, silently cursing the seemingly long periods of darkness  between flashes of lightning.
Watanabe was the first to see what remained of Lester Collins, standing on a mound of red volcanic soil just below the three men, some thirty yards away.
With another moment of darkness, Watanabe touched Czar and Brown and whispered "it's him. He's standing about thirty yards from us at 11 o'clock."
In another flash of lightning, all three men could see the lifeless body of Milin lying prone at Lester Collins’ feet.
In the momentary darkness, they heard a hacking cough then a high pitched laugh. In unison, the three men brought their weapons to bear on that hideous figure when again all went dark.
Engulfed in blackness, Czar whispered "we can't miss this son of a bitch. We have to kill him and kill him now".
In another sheet of lightning, Navigators Rock was illuminated as if in a lighted arena.
Brown's M16 was on full automatic when he pulled the trigger simultaneously with Czar and Brown. The .38 police special and the equalizer were on target for a head shot, the M16 was sighted on a mid torso to head volley.
A series of loud cracks echoed across the plateau. The sound was not gunfire but a rapid series of thunderclaps. All three weapons had failed.
Cursing, Czar waited for another flash of lightning. When it came, he fanned the hammer of the .45 but to no avail. In that same flash of light, Watanabe clicked through a complete cylinder rotation on the .38, but it was useless. Brown's M16 was jammed with mud, preventing him from clearing the magazine.
Watanabe sat helpless as Czar and Brown ran toward Collins, who now held his machete high in the air over his head and the prostrate body of little Milin.
In the next flash of light, Czar cleared the final cartridge, jacking another round in the chamber. He pulled the trigger and again like Peter, the equalizer betrayed him yet again.

CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR
FIRE FOR EFFECT

Bryce Withers radioed the gun mount crew abaft the beam and ordered a single tracer shell be loaded before resuming another firing run. With confirmation in his earphones, he placed the palm of his hand over the fire button and prepared to fire for effect.
Looking in his scope, he saw a large wave followed by two smaller ones converge from both sides of Kahoolawe, heading straight for his destroyer. As the waves filled his scope, he braced for the impact, one hand on the console in front of him, the other on the fire button guard. The force of the wave rolled the destroyer 20 degrees to starboard and halfway through that roll, Withers hand hit the fire button, sending the 5.5 tracer shell toward Kahoolawe.
As the second and third waves hit the destroyer, Withers was tossed on the floor in the fire control tower.
Wedged between the base of the console and the chair mount, Withers remembered Pacific Command’s advisory that the destroyers would be in deep enough water to negate any effects of a tidal wave. He thought of that single tracer round he had accidentally fired and guessed it would likely pass over Kahoolawe and land in the ocean or hit the upper most part of the island's spine.
The second and third destroyers in the flotilla were all rolling back and forth, making a second firing run impossible. The intercom in the fire control center came to life with the voice of the captain advising that the target practice was over.

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE
SOLAR PLEXUS PLUME & LOBOTOMY

The lightning over Kahoolawe was now non-stop, providing a shadow less illumination of Mount Moaulaiki and Navigators Rock.
Ten yards from the ravaged body of Lester Collins, Nick Czar again sighted the equalizer on the distorted face before him. The ear less head oozed puss from its mouth. Below the one remaining eye where a nose should have been was a thick overlaying crust of mucous, blood and decaying flesh. The stench was nearly paralyzing.
The machete was falling in an arc toward Milin.
Brown and Czar both screamed "No! NO!"
The hammer fell on the equalizer's firing pin. The .45 caliber slug erupted from the barrel, kicking Czar's right hand in an upward recoil.
In the split second that followed, the torso of Lester Collins erupted at the solar plexus in a horizontal plume of spinning ribs, shredded flesh and blood. In that frozen moment, Czar could look through the gapping hole in that evil form and see in the far distance a destroyer with a wisp of smoke hanging above it. The gaping hole in that monstrous body was 5.5 inches in diameter.
At that same moment, the .45 slug spun out the back of Collins skull in a lobotomy of bone fragments and brain matter.
With the remains of Lester Collins falling to the ground, Czar, Watanabe and Brown screamed in relief, knowing that it was over now and forever.
The 5.5 tracer shell exploded on a hill behind them in a multi colored burst of phosphorus and magnesium as if in celebration of their elation.
Kneeling at Milin's side, Czar held her tiny arm to discover that her pulse was strong. Watanabe could find no serious injury on her body absent minor contusions and abrasions.
Milin did not respond to verbal promptings. Czar suspected she had fainted or was in shock and thanked God for her momentary oblivion.

A ground mist began rising as Brown and Czar lifted Milin from the mud, placing her in Brown's sail bag, carefully zipping the bag to just under her chin. The makeshift sleeping bag was then placed on Watanabe's lap.
As Watanabe held Milin to his chest, Czar and Brown formed a wrist to hand lock creating a seat for Watanabe.
With Watanabe suspended between them, Czar and Brown retraced the path Czar had taken, ignoring the twisted pile of flesh nearby.
For 45 minutes, they continued down the path, stopping only in moments of darkness, then resuming their half walk, half run back toward the beach. They stopped near the wooden dinghy Czar had disabled to rest when the next flash of lightning provided a view of the ocean and a sailboat approaching Kahoolawe. The three recognized the tri hulls of Apollo beating through the waves.
Czar removed the Seagull outboard from the dinghy transom, uncapping the gasoline tank. After emptying the gasoline inside the hull of the dinghy, Czar placed the muzzle of the equalizer inches from the fuel and fired. The flash of flames from the barrel caused the fuel to explode, sending a fireball skyward.
The dinghy began to burn as Brown added branches from a Keawe tree.
Brown recovered Milin's doll from the mud along with it's head and leg. "Ruth will repair it," he thought.

Aboard Apollo, Ruth Von Stein saw the fire and brought Apollo's bowsprit in direct line with the blaze.
Yoo marked the magnetic compass bearing and now, even in periods of darkness or even if the fire went out, Apollo would be on a direct unerring course.
Yoo began a hand-over-hand haul of Apollo's overturned Zodiac until it was alongside. Slipping the boat hook under its transom, Yoo managed to right the inflatable. Dropping inside, he began bailing until the floor boards were clear of water.
Inspecting the gasoline tank, it appeared that no water had invaded it. Yoo removed the cowling on the Tohatsu outboard, preparing to blow the fuel line clear with his mouth. Unable to access the fuel line, he elected to try and start the motor, knowing the odds were slim to none that it would start.
Grasping the starter cord, he spun the magneto housing and to his amazement the engine sputtered.
With a full choke, he whipped the cord a second time. He could not believe his ears and eyes as the outboard came to life in a cloud of blue smoke and began running smoothly.
Satisfied the dinghy was operable, Yoo leaned over its side, groping along Apollo's center hull beneath the water line until he found the intake port for the overheating Yanmar. Removing the obstruction, Yoo discovered a portion of sail from the mizzen mast, probably torn loose when the mast was shoved overboard.

Czar, Brown and Watanabe reached the beach in time to see Apollo turn into the wind, stopping her forward movement. Between Apollo and the still dangerous surf line, they could see Yoo in the Zodiac, surfing on the back of the rolling waves and could hear the whine of the Tohatsu as its propeller cavitated when the dinghy was tossed above the waves.
Yoo negotiated the last of the the waves and shot full throttle onto the beach. Czar and Brown caught the inflatable before it rammed lava rocks at the back of the beach. Waiting for a trough between waves, Brown and Yoo held the Zodiac while Watanabe hobbled onto the floor boards. Czar lifted Milin onto Watanabe's lap as the dinghy was shoved into the water. Yoo opened the throttle catapulting over the waves toward Apollo.
After lifting Milin onboard Apollo into Ruth's arms, Yoo headed back to the surf line. Now on board the dingy with Yoo, Czar and Brown had just cleared the surf line when the Tohatsu cavitated in a loud, high octave roar followed by an explosion.
The Tohatsu red lined into fire and smoke with its cylinders erupting like cannon fire. Yoo still held the tiller in his hand as the dinghy went broadside and then pitch poled, dumping the three men 20 yards from Apollo.
Grasping the dingy painter, Czar swam toward Apollo, followed by Brown and Yoo.
On the last of three attempts to climb aboard Apollo, Czar pulled himself up the reverse transom then turned to help Brown and Yoo aboard.

With all three aboard, Yoo secured the dinghy to a stern cleat and Czar went below to Milin's side. Ruth, overjoyed at the rescue of Milin, had given her a sponge bath and placed her in the aft cabin berth, covering her with blankets.
Milin appeared to be in a deep blissful sleep and would not respond to touch or voice.

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX
THE RAINBOW

Leaving Ruth and Watanabe with Milin, Czar returned to the cockpit with Yoo and Brown where they loosed the mainsail and hauled it to the top of the mast. Yoo and Brown unfurled the jib until the roller drum had one turn of line left.

The winds were now blowing from the northeast, signaling the return of the trades.
The sky was a lead gray over Haleakala in the first signs of sunrise.
Apollo was running on a broad reach as the bright red sun appeared to emerge from Haleakala crater. Only faint sporadic lightning could be seen to the north, disappearing behind the island of Molokai.
Suddenly, Maalea Bay was cast in bright warm sunshine. Behind the wheel and on course for Sugar Beach, Czar could see the procession of cattle boats exiting Maalea Harbor on their way to the snorkel grounds of Molokini. The scene was like an answered prayer.
From the aft cabin came the voice of a child.
"I love Nick."
The cockpit was silent with disbelief as again the voice from below said "I love Nick."
In the aft cabin, the entire crew of Apollo gathered around Milin, who was sitting up as if from a long uneventful sleep. Ruth began to cry as Milin said " I love Ruth and my uncles Woo, Thede and Bob."
To a man the tears flowed unabated, just like that day on that dusty road bordering the Min River in Vietnam.
Milin laid her head on the pillow and fell asleep only to awaken a minute later.
"I talked!"
Then she fell asleep with a faint peaceful smile.
The crew of Apollo sat for a very long time in the aft cabin. The tears would not stop as each realized they were witness to a miracle. Their beloved Milin was unhurt, safe and she could speak.
Following a protracted time of silent tearful joy, Czar motioned all into the cockpit, now drenched in sunlight under a blue sky and white clouds.
Sugar Beach and Apollo's mooring lay straight ahead.
On shore, Czar could see a man standing in front of the Royal Maui Yacht Club holding a briefcase. The briefcase was chained to the man's wrist. Czar knew he carried a mission packet from Sam Paris.
He decided he would tell his companions that Milin's parents were alive as soon as Milin was safely in Maui Memorial Hospital.

On Apollo's port side just abaft the beam a rainbow formed in a wide arch from horizon to horizon directly over the island of Kahoolawe.
 
 

SIXTY DAYS LATER
 
 

Bryce Withers was promoted to captain of a heavy cruiser.

Excalibur studios released the movie Teeth. The target audience of the lowest common denominator, mouth breathers and air heads, made it a record breaking success.

Dalton Hagler was run over by a tree trimmers truck in the parking lot of Maui Memorial Hospital minutes after his release following brain surgery. He was readmitted and listed in critical condition.

Doughboy was still living on his yacht, partially buried in a snow drift on a plateau over the Turn Again Arm in Alaska with six months supply of generator fuel and two weeks supply of alcohol.

Rose Peabody replaced the drawers in her Koa wood chest due to advancing dry rot and mildew. She remains married to Benny but is still entertaining her male associates.

Milin was unable to recall her kidnapping but continues to speak fluent English and Vietnamese.

Padre Nuestra is serving 20 years in a Mexican prison and is kneeling more than he ever did as a priest.

Frenchman is serving 20 years in a Mexican prison and has been given the nickname of "Frenchie" and not because of his nationality.

Apollo is now anchored off the coast of Columbia with the Maui Mafia on board. A Sky hook Chinook helicopter is en route to lift the entire boat and crew into the air for transportation to the Amazon River.

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