The Gates of Hell

CHAPTER TWENTY

Mano Kinimaka loved the heart of Waikiki. Born and raised Hawaiian, he had spent his early childhood on Kuhio beach before his family upped sticks and moved to the quieter north shore. The surf there was world class, the food authentic even when you ate out, the life as loose as you were ever going to get.

But his enduring early memories were of Kuhio: the great beach and the free luau’s, the Sunday beach barbecues, the effortless surf and the easy-going locals and the nightly glory of the setting sun.

Now, as he drove down Kuhio Avenue and then Kalakaua, he noticed the old, poignant things. Not the fresh-faced tourists. Not the locals carrying their morning helping of Jamba Juice. Not even the shaved ice vendor outside the Royal Hawaiian. It was the long black torches they lit every night, the now mostly empty shopping complex where he’d once cried laughing at a simple A-frame warning sign blocking off one of the walkways that read: Unless you’re Spiderman, the bridge is out. So simple. So Hawaiian.

He passed the old Lassen store where he’d once gawped at their magnificent paintings and fantastic cars. It was gone now. His early childhood, moved on. He passed the King’s Village shopping center, which his mother had once told him used to be the residence of King Kalakaua. He passed the most auspicious police station in the world — the one situated right on Waikiki Beach in the shadow of a hundred surfboards. And he passed the enduring statue of Duke Kahanamoku, covered as always in fresh lei’s, the same one he’d stared up at as a young boy with a million dreams bouncing around his head.

His family was now being guarded around the clock. Crack members of the US Marshall Service and select marines were watching over them. The family home was empty, being used as bait for hired killers. He himself was a marked man.

Hayden Jaye, his best friend and boss, sat next to him in the passenger seat, perhaps seeing something in the set of his face, for she said nothing. She had been stabbed, but was almost recovered now. People around him had been murdered. Colleagues. New friends.

Now here he was, returned to his home, the place of his childhood. Memories crowded him like long lost friends, eager to reclaim his acquaintance. Reminiscences tugged at him from every street corner.

The beauty of Hawaii was that it lived in you forever. It didn’t matter if you spent a week there or twenty years. Its character was eternal.

Hayden at last broke the mood. “This guy, this Kapua. Does he really sell shaved ice from a van?”

“It’s a good business over here. Everybody loves shaved ice.”

“Fair enough.”

Mano smiled. “You’ll see.”

As they drove the beauty of Kuhio and Waikiki, beaches opened up intermittently to the right. The sea glistened and the white-tops rolled invitingly. Mano saw a few Outriggers being prepared on the beach. Once upon a time, he’d been part of an outrigger team that had won trophies.

“We’re here.” He pulled in to a curving parking area with railings at one end that looked upon the Pacific. Kapua’s van was situated right at the end, a prime spot. Mano spotted his old friend straight away, but paused for a moment.

Hayden smiled at him. “Old memories?”

“Great memories. The kind of thing you don’t want to spoil by reimagining something new, ya know?”

“I know.”

She didn’t sound certain. Mano took a long look at his boss. She was a good person— straight, fair, tough. You knew where you stood with Hayden Jaye and what employee could ask for more from his boss? Since they’d first met, he had gotten to know her well. Her father, James Jaye, had been a star of the force, a true legend and worthily so. Hayden’s goal had always been to live up to his promise, to his legacy. It was her driving force.

So much so that Mano had been stunned when she had announced how serious she was about the young geek, Ben Blake. He had thought it would be a long, long time before Hayden stopped making herself step up, to live up to a legacy that, in Mano’s eyes, she had already surpassed. At first, he’d thought the long-distance thing would kill the flame, but then the pair were thrown back together again. And now they seemed tighter than ever. Would the geek give her a new purpose, a new direction in life? Only the next few months would tell.

“Let’s go.” Hayden nodded toward the van. Mano cracked the door open and took a deep breath of pure local air. Diamond Head rose to his left, a striking shape imposing itself upon the skyline, always present.

For Mano, it had always been there. It didn’t take him aback that it might sit atop some great wonder.

Together, they approached the shaved ice van. Kapua was leaning out, staring at them. His face creased in surprise and then in genuine delight.

“Mano? Mano! Hey!”

Kapua disappeared. After a second, he came running around the side of the van. He was a broad, fit individual with dark hair and a swarthy complexion. Even at first glance, Hayden could tell he spent at least two hours every day on a surfboard.

“Kapua.” Mano embraced his old friend. “Been a few, brah.”

Kapua stepped back. “What you been doing? Say, how’s the Hard Rock shot glass collection coming?”

Mano shook his head and shrugged. “Ah, some blah-blah, and more. You know. You?”

“True. Who da howlie?”

“The haole…” Mano switched back to comprehensible American, much to Hayden’s relief. “…is my boss. Meet Hayden Jaye.”

The local straightened himself up. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “You are Mano’s boss? Wow. Lucky Mano, I say.”

“You got no woman, Kapua?” Mano tried hard to deflect the slight affront.

“I got me a poi-dog. She one hot Hawaiian-Chinese-Phillipino, haole, Got me pitching tent all night long, dude.” Most Hawaiian’s were of mixed race.

Mano drew a breath. A poi-dog was a person of mixed race. A haole was a visitor, and not necessarily a derogatory term.

Before he could say anything, Hayden had turned to him and said sweetly, “Pitching tent?”

Mano cringed. Hayden knew perfectly well what Kapua meant and it had nothing to do with camping. “That’s… great. She sounds lovely. Look, Kapua, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Shootz.”

“Ever hear of a big shot underworld figure who goes by the name of Kovalenko? Or the Blood King?”

“All I hear is what’s in the news, brah. He on Oahu?”

“Maybe. How about Claude?”

“Nah. Howlie name like that, I’d remember.” Kapua hesitated.

Hayden saw it. “But you do know something.”

“Maybe, boss. Maybe I do. But your friends over there”—he bobbed his head in the direction of the Waikiki Beach Police Station—“they don’t wanna know. I told them already. They done nothin’.’”

“Try me.” Hayden held the man’s eyes.

“I hear things, boss. That’s why Mano came to see me, right? Well, new money been handing out some fat wads lately, man. New players, all over the scene, partying like they ain’t never gonna see next week.”

“New money?” Mano echoed. “From where?”

“Nowhere,” Kapua said seriously. “I mean, right here, man. Right here. They always been fringe people, but now they rich people.”

Hayden ran a hand through her hair. “What does that say to you?”

“I ain’t plugged into that scene, but I know this. Something’s going down or about to. A lot of people have been paid a lot of money. When that happens, you learn to keep your head down ‘til the bad blows over.”

Mano stared at the sparkling ocean. “You sure you know nothin’, Kapua?”

“On my poi-dog, I swear.”

Kapua took his poi seriously. Hayden indicated the van. “Why don’t you fix us a couple, Kapua.”

“Sure.”

Hayden made a face at Mano as Kapua moved away. “Worth a shot, I guess. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“I don’t like the sound of something about to go down in my home town,” Mano said and held out a hand for his shave ice. “Kapua. Give me a name, brah. Who would know something?”

“There’s this local boy, Danny, lives over on the hill.” His eyes flicked toward Diamond Head. “Rich. His folks, they bring him up like a howlie.” He smiled at Hayden. “Say, like an American. Nothin’ wrong with that, I guess. But he more serious with the lowlife. He gets off on knowing shit, you get me?”

Mano used his spoon and dug out a great hunk of rainbow colored ice. “Guy likes to pretend he’s a big shot?”

Kapua nodded. “But he ain’t. He just a boy playin’ a man’s game.”

Hayden touched Mano’s arm. “We’ll pay this Danny a visit. If there’s some kind of new threat around, we need to know that too.”

Kapua nodded at the ice cones. “They on the house. But you don’t know me. You never came to see me.”

Mano nodded at his old friend. “Goes without saying, brah.”

Kapua gave them an address, which they programmed into the car’s nav. Within fifteen minutes, they were pulling up just beyond a set of black, wrought iron gates. The property sloped down back toward the ocean so they could only make out the upstairs windows of a big house.

They got out of the car, springs squealing on Mano’s side. Mano put a hand on the big gates and pushed. The front garden made Hayden stop and stare.

A surf board rack. A brand new open-back truck. A hammock slung between two palm trees.

“Oh my God, Mano. Are all Hawaiian gardens like this?”

Mano grimaced. “Not exactly, no.”

As they were about to ring the bell, they heard noises coming from the back. They walked around the house, hands close to their weapons. When they came around the last corner, they saw a young man cavorting in the pool with an older woman.

“Excuse me!” Hayden shouted. “We’re with the Honolulu PD. Quick word?” Under her breath she whispered, “I hope that’s not his mother.”

Mano choked. He wasn’t used to his boss cracking jokes. Then he saw her face. She was deadly serious. “Why would you—?”

“What the hell do you want?” The young man was striding toward them, gesticulating wildly. As he came closer, Mano saw his eyes.

“We got a problem,” Mano said. “He’s strung out.”

Mano let the guy swing wildly. A few big haymakers and he was panting, shorts starting to slide. He showed no awareness of his predicament.

Then the older woman was running at them. Hayden blinked in disbelief. The woman launched herself onto Kinimaka’s back and began to ride him like a stallion.

What on earth had they walked into here?

Hayden let Kinimaka take care of himself. She surveyed the house and the grounds. There was no sign anyone else was home.

At last, Mano managed to shrug the she-beast off. She landed with a wet slap on the gravel that surrounded the pool and began to wail like a banshee.

Danny, if it was Danny, gawped at her open-mouthed, shorts now sliding past his knees.

Hayden had had enough. “Danny!” she shouted in his face. “We need to speak to you!”

She pushed him back into a lounge chair. Jeez, if only her father could see her now. She turned around and emptied the couples’ cocktail glasses and then filled them both with water from the pool.

She flung the water into Danny’s face and slapped him lightly. He immediately started to grin. “Hey, baby, you know I like—”

Hayden stepped back. If handled right, this could be turned to their advantage. “You alone, Danny?” She smiled a little.

“Tina’s here. Somewhere.” He spoke in short breathy sentences as if his heart was working to support a man five times his size. “My girl.”

Hayden breathed an inner sigh of relief. “Good. Now, I hear you’re the man to see if I want information.”

“That I am.” Danny’s ego shone through the haze for a second. “I am that man.”

“Tell me about Claude.”

The stupor took him again, making his eyes appear heavy. “Claude? The black guy who works at Crazy Shirts?”

“No.” Hayden gritted her teeth. “Claude, the guy who owns clubs and ranches all over Oahu.”

“I don’t know that Claude.” Honesty was probably not one of Danny’s strong points, but Hayden doubted he was faking it now.

“How about Kovalenko? Heard of him?”

Nothing leapt in Danny’s eyes. No signs or tells of awareness.

Behind her Hayden could hear Mano trying to sooth Danny’s girl, Tina. She decided it couldn’t hurt to try a different tack. “Alright, let’s try something else. There’s fresh money in Honolulu. Lots of it. Where’s it coming from, Danny, and why?”

The kid’s eyes opened wide, suddenly lit with so much horror Hayden almost reached for her gun.

“It could happen any time!” he cried. “D’you see? Anytime! Just… just stay at home. Stay right at home, boy.” He sounded disturbingly like he was repeating something that had been said to him.

Hayden felt a deep chill creep the length of her spine even as the heat of paradise warmed her back. “What might happen soon, Danny. C’mon, you can tell me.”

“The attack,” Danny said dully. “It can’t be called off because it’s been bought and paid for.” Danny grabbed her arm, suddenly looking frighteningly sober.

“Terrorists are coming, Miss HPD. Just do your damn job and stop the bastards from coming here.”