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  What alarmed me was how easily I had adapted to the almost motionless state I’d been forced to accept.

  Accept, hell.

  I started to jog, an approximation of a jog, more of a shuffle, tossing one foot in front of another, making about twelve inches per stride. But I lifted my whole body off the ground, and it felt like a run. It felt good.

  “Hey!” Felix shouted. “You’re not supposed to do that!”

  I could hear his feet pounding the sand behind me.

  I ignored him.

  “Hey! You’re not supposed to run,” he shouted, coming abreast of me.

  “This isn’t running. This is jogging.” That’s what I tried to say. What I actually said was, “This … pant, pant, pant … isn’t … pant, pant, pant … running … pant, pant, pant …”

  “Hey, man, what are you doing?”

  I stepped up the pace and he stopped talking and started running in earnest, easily pacing me and then, after a moment’s hesitation, and with a sly grin on his face, he really tore it open, leaving me in the dust, actually kicking sand in my face as he sprinted toward the Royal Hawaiian’s wrought iron gate.

  I caught up with him as he stood panting, his hands on his knees, staring at the sand.

  “Damn you, Caine,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’re going to kill me.”

  “Why? A little run like that?”

  “No, you’re going to get a heart attack, or your kidney thing is going to pop out, and then you’ll be dead, and then Chawlie will send those goons of his after me because I’m supposed to protect you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t do that. The doctors all said you weren’t to exercise.”

  I looked down the beach. “What were we doing?”

  “That’s different. You just walked.”

  “I’m still breathing.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Actually, I felt wonderful. Nothing came loose, nothing fell out, and no great pains ravaged my body. I actually felt terrific. For the first time in weeks I could hear my heart beating.

  “Then we’re both lucky. Please, Mr. Caine. Please try to hold it in for a little while. I don’t want Mrs. Chen’s little boy to go home to California in a piney wood box.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Grasshopper,” I said, slapping him on the back. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “You want to get a grapefruit juice?”

  “Or something,” I said. “We can rest down here before we head on up to the room.”

  We trudged across the manicured lawns of the Royal Hawaiian, leaving a dripping trail behind. I was only wet from the thighs down, but Felix was soaked.

  The Mai Tai Bar is one of my favorite watering holes in Honolulu. I’ve spent many afternoons and evenings there, sitting at the bar or taking possession of one of the white-painted iron tables, drinking and talking with friends, and watching the sun go down. We were too early for the sunset, and too early for the nightly show of song and hula. The bar was sparsely populated, the tourists almost equally divided between young Japanese honeymoon couples and seasoned citizen Midwestern American. I wondered about the relative demographics, but only until the waitress came and asked for our order.

  “Two grapefruit juices,” said Felix.

  I frowned at him.

  “Doctor’s orders,” he said to me.

  “Where did I read that a glass of wine was good for you?”

  “I have no idea,” he said with an innocent expression. “Where would you hear such a thing?”

  “What is it about you and alcohol?”

  “My body is a temple. I take care of it. Stimulants are completely unnecessary. Even for you.”

  “Even?”

  “You’ve got to get in touch with your body.”

  “Careful, pal.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t eat meat, either.” I hadn’t seen him eat anything but fruit and vegetables since I’d met him. Of course, he could be sneaking a Big Mac when nobody was looking, but I tended to doubt it.

  “Of course not. Nor eggs nor fish.”

  “Because it’s good for you?”

  “It’s the worst thing you can do to your body.”

  “See these things?” I lifted my lip and showed him my upper teeth. “Those sharp pointy ones? They’re canines. We humans are meat eaters. Omnivores, actually, but meat is an important part of our diet. It isn’t a sin to shovel down a cheeseburger once in awhile, especially in paradise. It tastes good, too.”

  “All those calories? All that fat? Not to mention that before the cow was slaughtered it consumed huge quantities of Earth’s precious resources. And it’s bad for you. There’s no upside to it at all.”

  “You wear shoes.”

  He grinned and pointed to a sodden pair of Eco-Sneaks. “Pure hemp.”

  “You swat mosquitoes? You step on cockroaches?”

  He nodded. “They’re pests.”

  “What’s the difference? Pigs are cute, bugs aren’t?”

  “There’s hierarchy. But I don’t eat mosquitoes or cockroaches, either.”

  “You’re what, twenty-five, twenty-six?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “I’m nearly twice your age. I’ve been doing this since before you were an impure thought. I’ve been stabbed, shot, blown up, survived a plane crash, a helicopter crash, had my boat sink from under me, I’ve been in more fights than I can remember, and I’m still standing. I’m the world champion at getting my health back after injuries.”

  Felix assumed a look of smug superiority. “You misunderstand.”

  “I understand that I don’t need to be baby-sat by a kid who’s still wet behind the ears.”

  “Now there’s an expression! Was that original?”

  “You know what I mean,” I said, starting to get angry, but, interrupted by the waitress bringing our juices, I didn’t have the pleasure of a full-blown tantrum. Felix signed the chit and she smiled and left us alone again. I decided to forget my temper. I didn’t have the steam for it.

  Felix took a sip from the tall glass, looked at it and set it down on the table. “We’re just chemicals, you know.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t want to put the wrong chemicals in your body. Meat, especially red meat, is full of chemicals these days. They stuff hormones and drugs and all kinds of nasty stuff into those poor creatures before they slaughter them.”

  “Give me British beef and a Hong Kong chicken any day.”

  “That is beneath you,” he said.

  “So you’re a vegetarian.”

  “A vegan. I eat no animal products whatsoever. Scientists are finding out that we’re just chemicals. Our bodies, our minds, it’s all just a chemical reaction. If you have the wrong kind of chemical reactions, you have problems. But if you have the right kinds of chemicals you can cure the problem.”

  “Excuse me, John?”

  I looked up. David Klein stood next to my chair. I hadn’t seen him approach. “David! It’s good to see you! Pull up a chair.”

  When he sat down he looked at Felix and Felix looked at him, but didn’t say anything. “David, this is Felix Chen. Felix, this is David Klein. He’s an old friend and diving companion.”

  David smiled.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Felix. His voice was soft, but he was guarded, as if he resented David’s presence.

  “Felix has been body surfing.”

  That earned me a nasty look.

  “The front desk told me you weren’t in your suite,” said David. “They told me to check in the bar.”

  Felix smiled over the top of his grapefruit juice.

  “You’re here for R&R?”

  “Yeah. Finals were a bitch, but they’re over.”

  “David is a graduate student at Berkeley. When he gets his advanced degree in something or other, he gets to wear a neon sign on his forehead that says, ‘BERKELEY’ in
red capital letters. Then people will think he’s smart.”

  David laughed. Mom says hello.”

  Felix did not look happy. I wondered if he had taken an instant dislike to David, or if he felt as if he had to compete with him. The more I thought about it, the more that seemed likely.

  “She still up in Telluride?” I asked.

  “She flies up there every other week. The contractor finally understands that she means business.”

  “You met David’s mother,” I said to Felix.

  Felix nodded. “She said you were a Disneyland ride.”

  David looked confused.

  “She was expressing her deep disappointment with my inability to grow up,” I said. When his confusion seemed to grow, I changed the subject. “You’re here for how long?”

  “A month or so. I decided to just hang out here for the summer.”

  “And you were hoping to stay on the boat?”

  “I was hoping to. Mom said you offered.”

  “She was right. I’ll give you the keys. I’m feeling better and we’ll probably get out of here pretty soon. Then we can go diving.”

  Felix looked even more unhappy.

  “Here you are!”

  I looked up. My old friend, Lieutenant Kimo Kahanamoku of the Honolulu Police Department, stood at the table beaming down at me, Tutu Mae, his tiny grandmother, standing quietly off to the side. Kimo wore a pink Aloha shirt covered with startling green pineapples. He looked like a David Hockney painting, one of those larger-than-life, more-colorful-than-nature kind of canvases that he does. I made the introductions, while David and Felix stood to offer their seats.

  “Sit! Felix, can you see about getting us a bigger table?”

  “They told us you would be in the bar,” said Kimo.

  Felix smiled to himself as he hurried off to find the waitress.

  “We must talk with you, Mr. Caine,” said Tutu Mae, her voice a quiet rasp. “I have a student with a problem.” For the first time I noticed an attractive young Chinese woman hovering at the edge of the group, a part of the group but detached, alone.

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “I cannot say anything here in public,” said Tutu Mae. “It is really very, very private.”

  “Then let’s go upstairs.” There wasn’t anything I could do but listen politely. If Tutu Mae thought I could help the young lady, then it was possible that I could help her. Tutu Mae was a kupuna, one of Hawaii’s greatest living assets, one of her culture’s living legends. If she wanted help from me, then help was what I would offer.

  Felix returned with our server. I held up my hand. “We’re going to the suite. Anybody want anything? They can send it up.”

  “Coffee will be fine,” said Tutu Mae. She didn’t smile, but then, I rarely saw her smile. Kimo had once told me that she liked me, but I’d never seen any evidence of it.

  “Yeah, coffee,” Kimo nodded, taking the lead from his grandmother, even though I knew he wanted beer.

  I looked at Tutu Mae, who smiled graciously. “Why don’t we have a couple of pots sent up?”

  The waitress nodded.

  “Teetotalers,” I said to the waitress.

  “I’ll have another grapefruit juice,” Felix told her.

  “If there’s anything worse than teetotalers,” I said, “it’s vegans.”

  10

  Who is the kid?” Kimo waited to whisper his question until we reached the suite.

  “Son of an old friend. He’s over for the summer.”

  “Get rid of him.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Your pet bulldog, too. Get rid of them both.”

  “Why?”

  Kimo just stared.

  “Okay.” I called Felix over and he joined us, still dripping from his swim, dropping sand and salt water on an ancient silk carpet. “After you change you can drive David over to the boat. You remember where it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here are the dock and boat keys. Tell him the bottom needs cleaning. You can help him. I’d be most appreciative.”

  “You want to get rid of us.”

  I pointed to Kimo. “Give David the keys to the Jeep, too. He’ll take good care of it.”

  “Yo.”

  “Yo?”

  “As in yo-ho, mi capitán.” He pronounced each syllable with equal emphasis, giving it just a taste of Caribbean island spice mixed with the sarcasm.

  “You know, Kimo,” I said, “if I didn’t know any better I’d swear I was being mocked. And in a really bad accent.”

  Kimo shrugged, uninterested. “Could be.” He looked around the suite. “Where are your nursemaids? I hear they’re something to see.”

  “Not my day to watch ‘em,” I said, annoyed by the questions. Since I had improved, the nurse force had been reduced to two, Angel and a night nurse. Angel had taken some personal time when I went walking with Felix, disappearing into the urban sprawl of Honolulu.

  Kimo’s eyes wandered around the suite. He must have felt alien here, a policeman in the den of the island’s greatest criminals.

  The two women settled in the parlor, sitting quietly, like poor relatives come to visit a rich uncle. Tutu Mae seemed to be lost somewhere in the huge overstuffed chair. The young woman I had guessed to be the student sat at the end of the couch next to Tutu Mae’s big chair, as if protected from harm by proximity.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” I said to Tutu Mae.

  “I was told that you were ill,” she said, inspecting my bare feet and damp shorts. She waited imperiously, expecting a defense.

  “I’m pushing the envelope, ma’am,” I finally replied. “Doctors said six weeks.”

  “You think you’re smarter than your doctors?”

  “It’s not a matter of smarter. I just know my own body. It made demands on me for activity.”

  She nodded, her mouth a thin line. “Following your body’s demands. That is the problem with too many men.”

  I didn’t know if I was supposed to smile or not, but I couldn’t help it.

  “This is Miss Wong,” she said, indicating the young woman, who smiled tentatively at me when I glanced her way. “She is a double doctoral candidate in archeology and anthropology at the university.” She paused and stared at Felix, who had just entered the room pulling a clean white tee shirt down over his chest.

  David, who had been standing quietly near the door, gazed at the young woman who had just been introduced. He looked stunned.

  “Oh,” said Felix, finding that everyone in the room had followed Tutu Mae’s example. “We’re just leaving. Come on, David.”

  He pushed David out the door and followed him.

  When he had closed the door, Tutu Mae looked at me with her dark, autocratic eyes. “I have worked with Miss Wong for several years. She is intelligent. She is kama’aina, and she knows what is important and what is not. She is an honest person. She is a good person.”

  The young woman blushed at the compliment, apparently unfamiliar with receiving praise from Tutu Mae.

  “Miss Wong’s faculty adviser is not so honest.” Tutu Mae looked at the door, as if expecting Felix and David to burst in on us. When they didn’t, she continued.

  “Do you know much about the history of our Hawai’i?” She pronounced it with the added glottal stop, in the way of the original inhabitants. When I hear it pronounced that way, I remember that it meant the place where we go when we die. Even then, to the ancient ones, Hawaii was heaven.

  “I have read The Shoal of Time, The Fatal Impact, The Kumulipo. Other books.”

  She nodded. “A good start. Every Honolulu bookshop sells those. But there is much more.” She looked at Kimo, studying his face in silent argument. After a moment she shook her head and looked at me. “You are a good man, John Caine. You know what is right and what is wrong, as does Miss Wong. What we are about to tell you must not leave this room. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “It
is important that you believe what you just said.”

  “I can keep a secret.”

  She nodded. “Kimo tells me so.”

  Miss Wong stared through the thick lenses of her glasses, peering intently at me.

  Tutu Mae reached over and touched the young student’s arm, flicking her fingers toward me. She had evidently made her decision.

  Miss Wong continued studying my face for a long moment, as if trying to draw out vestiges of my character. Finally she seemed satisfied that I would not run out and shout everything I knew to everybody I met. “What do you know about the Spanish influence in Hawaii?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know there was any.”

  She nodded to herself and leaned forward, a posture of intimacy. “Officially, Spain never had contact with the Hawaiian Islands, although their treasure ships sailed back and forth across the Pacific for 223 years. For some reason they never found it, or if they did, they didn’t think much of it. There are no records of any European reaching these shores until Captain Cook in 1778.”

  She paused as if deciding the direction of her next comment.

  “You are a sailor, Mr. Caine?”

  “Was. I live aboard my boat because I like the sense of it. If things don’t work out here I can up anchor and drift off to another port.”

  She nodded to herself, taking my comment seriously. I reminded myself that her sense of humor was subordinated to her problem. Whatever it was involved sailors. I sympathized. A lot of young women over the centuries have had the same problem.

  “Have you heard the treasure stories?”

  “Not about Hawaii.”

  “Not one?”

  “No. I didn’t suppose treasure ships ever reached here, not like they did in the Caribbean.”

  “Written history says that the first European ships the Hawaiians ever saw were in Cook’s fleet. The Hawaiians thought Cook was the god Lono when they saw him. Not only because he sailed into Kealakekua Bay at the height of the Makahiki celebration, but also because he was white, hairless, and sailed aboard a great ship with square sails, exactly like those of the god Lono-i-ka-makahiki. It was a tragic coincidence that this British explorer blundered into Hawaii at the exact time and place promised by Lono, and sailing a square-rigged vessel so large it looked to the Hawaiians like a floating island, complete with trees and the thunder of cannon. Anyone with that much power just had to be a god.”