Shimura Trouble

32

WITHOUT MY EARPIECE, I had no idea what Vang and Fujioka and even Michael might be advising me to do. I could only hope they’d shut up, because if voices started coming from the floor, it would surely alert Gerald Liang.

My instinct told me to leave. Fortunately, Gerald Liang seemed to think the same, because he grabbed me by my right elbow and started walking me to the door.

“How kind of you to walk me out, Mr. Liang,” I said as we passed through the papered-over door into the grimy vestibule I’d entered only five minutes earlier.

Hawaii was a place of courtesy, so I thought my words would ease things, but Liang reached for my other arm. Instinctively, I brought one elbow up to free myself, hitting his nose on the way.

“I’m sorry,” I lied, turning toward the grimy glass door that was the only barrier between the building and the street. I was doing my best not to sound scared in front of Gerald Liang.

“You’re not one of Kainoa’s girls.”

I looked toward the brown-papered door and considered raising my voice to call for help. But I doubted Kainoa would be suicidal enough to battle his gang-member boss.

“I heard you, when I came into the room the back way.” Liang’s voice was silky, and dangerous. “You’re trying to incriminate me.”

“What do you mean?” Resolutely, I turned away from the door. Now that it appeared he might say something worthy of the wire, I couldn’t duck out.

“Well, you may not know that the penalty for taking lava rock is maybe a thousand bucks-chump change. I also gotta let you know that kind of charge would never be made.”

“Why?”

“The Pierces and I go way back.”

“Really? I just know one of them-Josiah Pierce, Junior. Is he the one who’s your pal?”

“What’s your interest in me?” His breath, so close to my face I could feel its warmth, smelled of tobacco and booze.

I shrugged, as if none of this was rattling me. “It’s not you; it’s that my teenage cousin Braden was charged with arson, when we both know he was only out in the mountains gathering lava rock for you.”

He shook his head. “You’re not related to that boy. In fact, if you’re not a mainlander, I’m not Chinese.”

“I’m a mainlander, yes, but my relatives live here. My cousin is Braden Shimura, the kid who’s going to be charged with setting the fire, and everything bad that came out of it. Imagine what you’d feel like if your own child was in the wrong place doing a part- time job at the order of adults, and wound up getting railroaded for arson.”

“My kid don’t work. I won’t let him; he’s on honor roll at Punahou.” He shook his head at me. “So, who you thinking should be blamed for the fire?”

Remembering the wire on me, I decided to go for broke, as Uncle Yoshitsune might say. “Well, I suppose some people might think the fire was ordered by you.”

“I go back with the Pierces, remember.” He tapped my forehead with a hard finger. “Why would I set fire to their property?”

“The same reason you’d take rocks from it.”

He shook his head. “You know nothing about this island, the way things work.”

“Tell me then.”

“Nobody gives Gerry Liang orders. But I’m warning you, Rei Shimura, I got a closet in a room upstairs for people who talk too much. It’s kind of like a holding site until two of my boys can swing by, and you know, drop you off at a work site where we might be laying cement…”

“I don’t want to go upstairs,” I said for the benefit of my colleagues, who were feeling awfully distant at that moment. “I have a lunch appointment a few blocks downtown, and I need to get on the road.”

“Three o’clock?” he scoffed. “This is Honolulu. Nobody eats lunch at three.”

“Early dinner?” My back was against the glass door, but unfortunately it wasn’t the kind that simply pushed out. There was no easy escape.

“Get moving.” He slapped my face then, so hard that I was too stunned for a few seconds to do anything. But then, I maneuvered my free hand behind my back to turn the doorknob. To my horror, it didn’t move.

He’d locked me in.

“Did you know the door’s locked?” I asked, for the benefit of my hidden listeners, all the while striving to sound nonchalant.

He laughed and reached his other hand into a pants pocket to extricate a key ring. But instead of opening the door for me to get out, he unlocked the door to the upstairs floors. He fished into his pocket again and pointed a small, black gun straight at my face.

Never go anywhere that the guy with the gun tells you to go. This rule of life, drilled into me ever since I was a child in San Francisco, came to me now. As adrenaline surged, I yelled and I kicked as hard as I could at his groin.

The door to the room where I’d left Kainoa had opened, but through my grappling with Liang, it was pushed shut again. I heard glass shatter behind me, felt shards bounce on my bare shoulders like hail. Now I was being pulled backwards, the left shoulder strap of my sundress breaking. From the crack in the other doorway, Kainoa stared as I tripped backwards out of the opened front door into the muggy, welcoming Chinatown air. And from the familiar smell, and the wiry strength of the arms and body, I knew who’d gotten hold of me: Michael.

“Stay there,” Michael snapped at Kainoa, who stepped back a pace and nodded.

“He’s not the bad guy,” I said to Michael, my heart still jack-hammering under the corselet.

“I know,” Michael said to me, and as Vang and Fujioka crowded into the foyer, he said to his colleagues in a voice as relaxed as if he was continuing the restaurant discussion, “Liang’s gone upstairs, and he’s armed.”

Now that I was safe, I was flooded with feelings: relief at being in Michael’s arms and not upstairs with Liang, anxiety for Kainoa, and some embarrassment that I’d had to be rescued. I said to Michael in a low voice, ‘I didn’t mean to blow my cover. It just sort of happened.”

“Don’t worry about that. What I want to know is why you didn’t follow our instructions to vacate immediately when Liang walked into the room?” Michael demanded.

“I never heard it because my earpiece fell off.” The rest of what Michael was saying became drowned out by the sirens of three arriving police cars. At Michael’s urging, Kainoa explained the layout of the building, including a back exit. Two men headed to the back of the building and the others went up the stairs to join their colleagues.

By now, a curious crowd of people had assembled-a few panhandlers, Asian merchants, and tourists with their camcorders. I tried to ignore the spectacle as best I could, but imagined I was going to wind up in a few home movies, broken dress strap and all.

“But this is so fast. Don’t they need a warrant to go in?” I asked Michael.

“Honey, we all witnessed an attempted armed kidnapping. There’s plenty of reason to go after the bastard.”

“I suppose so. But that’s completely different from the reason I went in there-to get him to say something about Braden.” I turned, and spoke directly to Kainoa. “I just wanted you to tell the truth.”

“If Liang wants the judge to knock a few years off his sentence, he’s going to have to talk about his operation, sending minors out to steal rocks,” Michael said.

“You really think Liang’s going down? He’s got a lot of power behind him, if you catch my meaning,” Kainoa said. He no longer looked shaken; the mask of island cool was back.

“He’ll go down for what just happened to Rei,” Michael said. “Anything else you can help the cops with would be much appreciated. And it would help you, too.”

MICHAEL AND I drove back to the Leeward Side of the island with the Sebring’s top down, a hot, dry wind whipping my hair across my face. I consciously avoided staring at the blackened fields on either side of us, focusing instead on the ocean shimmering in the mid-afternoon sun. My exultation at having completed the operation with success beyond our expectations was fading. I glanced at Michael, silently counting how many hours we had left before he flew to Washington.

I could have a lot more time with him, if we got married. But could it work? I knew what I loved about Michael, but I wasn’t sure if he had a realistic picture of me. Would he wake up one morning, realize I wasn’t going to be around forever, and feel the need to run?

Work was another problem. Michael had blithely mentioned giving up OCI, his life’s passion, to avoid impropriety and give me a chance to continue. On the other hand, I was just a freelance contractor to the Japan Bureau, and while there were things about spy work I enjoyed, I couldn’t see myself growing old taping wires in my lingerie.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said aloud.

“I don’t either,” Michael said. “Do you think we should go to Braden’s family first, or your own?”

“My father was pretty worried about the operation, so I want to see him first,” I said firmly.

“Let’s not forget about Braden, though,” Michael said. “Think how relieved he’ll be to know Liang is in custody. Maybe this is all he needs to step forward and tell the truth about what was happening with the rocks.”

“Braden was scared of retaliation. He still might be, because of Liang’s gang ties.”

Michael was silent for a moment, and then said, “If it’s all right with Edwin and Margaret, and the judge, Braden could come back with me to the mainland. There’s a boys’ boarding school in central Virginia I have in mind.”

“A surfer at an east-coast prep school?” I sputtered. “Braden would hate it, and they’d never admit him anyway!”

“They’re used to wild boys, Rei; it’s their specialty, and I know there are generous scholarships for under-represented minorities.”

“Why do you know so much about this place?”

“I’m a trustee.” Michael shrugged, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“It just might work,” I said, wheels turning. “If he agreed to go, and you did all the paperwork.”

“Everything will work out. I’ve got a gut feeling about this.” Michael slowed the car to stop at the traffic light and turned to me. I put my head on his shoulder for a minute, until the car beyond us honked, letting me know the light had changed.

When we pulled up to the townhouse, we were met by the now familiar sight of Edwin’s car in our driveway. Well, maybe it was all for the better: I could tell them that Braden’s terrible boss was now behind bars.

But when I got inside, nothing was what I expected. Edwin and Margaret were crouched next to the sofa, where someone lay motionless, with a blanket over him.

My father.