Dawn Patrol

83

Red Eddie sits in the back of the Hummer and watches the guys move up the pier toward Boone's cottage. He checks out the two others lingering around the base of the pier and knows that for every one he sees, there are probably two he can't.

Large respect for the Samoans guarding Boone Dawg from harm. They're good at what they do.

Respect to Josiah Pamavatuu also.

The guy went the other way. Bad for his icehead cousin, to be sure, but good for him. Gonna be rough on the big man, though; Samoans are huge on family.

And Boone Daniels is a cockroach-you just can't kill the kanaka.

Eddie had actually been very relieved when he got the word that Boone wasn't charcoal. It's a blessing. What is a curse is Dan Silver, who is gripping.

“She testifies tomorrow,” Dan says. “She saw everything-she'll kill us.”

Red Eddie draws the herb smoke deep into his lungs, holds it for the count of three, then exhales. He passes the blunt to Dan as he sings, “Oh, Danny Boy, the lights, the lights are shining… Relax, Daniel Spaniel.”

“You relax,” Dan snaps, shaking his head to refuse the smoke.

Red Eddie shrugs. “I will.”

Relax and think.

Relaxation, Red Eddie knows, is the prerequisite for efficient thought. No sense in getting all geeked up-you just cut off the flow of blood to your brain exactly when you need it the most. So he takes another hit of the weed to boost his intellectual capability, and then comes to a conclusion.

Eddie turns to Dan Silver and says, “Sorry, chief. You're out of luck.”

Danny doesn't want to accept it. “You telling me your guys can't take a bunch of Sammy gang bangers?”

The Hummer is full of very moke hui boys and another car, also packed with muscle, waits just a block away. Doubtless they could do some serious damage to the Sammies and blow their way into Boone Dawg's crib, Eddie knows, but that's the problem-the last thing in the world Eddie wants is to trigger a transoceanic war.

And that's what it would be, too. Let one of these Sammy guys get scratched, it would start a blood feud, with obligations for revenge. So the Sammies would crack a Hawaiian, then Eddie would have to crack back, and it would never end. And not just here, either; it would speed back to Honolulu in a heartbeat, and there'd be aggro there and in freaking Pago Pago, too. It would get out of freaking control, cause a lot of heartache, and interfere with business.

And Eddie's all about the business.

No, the High Tide dude was smart, Eddie thinks. He figured all this out and put a screen around his boy Boone. A screen of ohana that he knew I would never attack.

Round to you, Tide.

“Sorry,” he says to Dan. “It just ain't on, man.”

“That cunt's going to testify in the morning,” Dan says. “God knows what's going to come out of her stupid fucking mouth.”

“You better hope,” Eddie says, “she confines her remarks to the little pig roast at your dumb-ass warehouse.”

Because Dan has dumped him in the shit, letting this wahine see things she shouldn't have seen. And the timing couldn't be worse-he has a shipment due to come in tomorrow night, and he doesn't want Dan's sloppy business practices shining a spotlight on that part of his business.

“That's why I'm saying,” Dan says. “Let's go in and take her now.”

Eddie shakes his head. Ain't gonna happen. Not only are the Samoans standing in the way, but there's Boone to consider. No way is Boone going to stand aside and let Danny cancel that girl's reservation. Eddie's already told his boys: If they have a clean shot at the wahine, take it, but nothing, nothing, better happen to Boone Daniels.

Now nothing's going to happen at all.

Not right now anyway.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Dan asks.

“Try using your head for a change,” Eddie says. His cellie goes off. “What?”

“Five-oh rolling up,” one of his guys in the other car says. “One cop, a Jap.”

“Time to take the party someplace other,” Eddie says.

The Hummer rolls out.