Shimura Trouble (25 page)

“Oh, yeah? You pulled me out of the bathtub for this, and I was doing my ginseng mask. Now it cracked!”

“Your ginseng mask cracked? I’m so sorry!” As I spoke, I could hear Vang chuckling in the receiver I wore in my ear and fervently hoped the sound wouldn’t pick up.

“Yah, it done crack, and I’m gonna get off now before my face is ruined.”

“Will you tell them I stopped by?” I asked, desperate to come away from the house with something.

“Don’t repeat your name.” Vang’s voice came in my ear.

I spoke again, before she could answer. “Oh, thanks, then! Bye.” I stepped back, and walked back to my car, got in, and started it up, not bothering to take the time to lower my roof before I peeled off.

“If he’s on site, it’s not going to be too improbable for Rei to show up there,” I overheard Michael saying, at his location a block away.

Once I was back in Michael’s car, I asked Vang why he’d told me not to repeat my last name.

“The less information that’s left behind, the better,” he answered. “You don’t want Gerry Liang or Kainoa Stevens to feel stalked, especially as this search is turning out to be ongoing, and there are some things about Liang that could be trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” I asked.

“Well, there are some rumors about gangs,” Vang said. “Gangs and construction go hand in hand in a lot of places.”

“You know, we should try Chinatown,” said Fujioka. “Liang’s got a building on Smith Street.”

“I saw the name on a building, but it was so faded I didn’t think anyone was there anymore,” I said.

“They are still there—I know, because they were cited for a fire code violation last year,” Fujioka replied, as I parked my car behind their Escalade, got out, and went to its driver’s door to talk to them. “It’s a big shop, and they got all kinds of construction odds and ends below, and the office up top.”

“OK, to Chinatown then,” said Vang, ‘Though I think the chances are slim. Liang is probably out working, and Stevens is probably hiding out somewhere.”

“So you guys will be around the corner again, listening?”

“Yah,” Vang said, grinning. “And maybe while we wait, Mike can pick up some manapua from Char Hung Sut.”

I’d thought Michael would flatly refuse to leave the listening station when he thought I might be in danger, but instead, he eagerly started asking about other kinds of char siu pork dumplings sold, and whether they carried half-moon cakes. Perhaps he assumed that this stop would be a failure, like the one before.

But I had a hunch that something would happen. Maybe it was because this section of Smith, once I’d reached it, looked even shabbier than I’d remembered: a succession of attached twenties and thirties storefronts marred by peeling paint and grit. The only people on this particular block were a pair of lost Italian tourists and a veteran panhandler heading determinedly their way.

“What about you, Rei? Are you there?” Michael asked, while I was parking my car in front of the Liang Building.

“I just parked in front of the building. Can’t you guys see me?”

“No, but we can hear you, and that’s good enough,” Michael said. “Before you go in, tell me what I can pick up for your lunch.”

“I don’t know, Michael.” I was too distracted to think about food. “Maybe something with tofu.”

“Tofu, are you kidding?” Vang laughed in the background.

“Hey, if nothing happens here, I want a sit-down lunch at Little Village. OK?”

THE GLASS DOOR
was stamped Liang and Sons, in faded gold print that looked pre-war. I pulled at the grimy door handle, expecting it to be locked, but it opened to a narrow, terrazzo-tiled foyer lit by an exposed light bulb. My eyes passed over a listing of floor numbers and names. Horace Liang, Doctor of Chinese Medicine, was supposedly on the third floor. Liang and Liang real estate was on the second, and Gerald Liang, construction, on the floor where I was standing.

“First floor, construction,” I said aloud, as if I were talking to myself, though of course I wasn’t. The Escalade was parked blocks away, and I wanted Vang and Fujioka to know exactly where, within the building, I planned to be.

The obvious way into the construction office was through a different glass door, which had brown paper, taped over it, the way businesses do before they open to the public. Interesting, this place looked as if it had been around for a long time. I tried the door lightly and found it to be locked.

“Yah?” A rough male voice answered my knock. I thought it sounded like Kainoa, but I couldn’t be sure.

“I can’t hear you,” I called back. “Can you let me in?”

I’d taken a gamble, but the door jerked open. I remained in place, but found myself looking at Kainoa. If he’d looked bad the morning of the fire, he looked worse now, with the kind of facial stubble that reminded me of the villain in old Popeye cartoons.

“Hi, there,” I said, and from the way his eyes studied me, it seemed as if he knew why I had come. Still, he kept the door open. Beyond the bulwark of Kainoa’s massive body I saw the edges of a dusty room packed to overflowing with cardboard boxes, pipes and other construction materials.

“How d’you figure to find me here?” Kainoa’s voice was still borderline unfriendly, but he stepped back into the room, allowing me to enter.

“So how long have you been working here in Chinatown?” I was scanning the room, looking for something, I just didn’t know what.

“Just got here this morning, to help Ger— my boss get some shit together. I need something full-time, and this is going to be it for a while. As I was asking, how did you find me?”

“Your cousin Carrie told me—I spoke to her on the phone this morning,” I added, when I saw Kainoa’s shaggy eyebrows rise slightly. “And she said you were the middleman for Gerald Liang on his construction projects.”

“Might be doing more, now that the shop’s gone.”

“Was it just labor you sub-contracted for him before?” I was trying to phrase my questions carefully, the way the cops had suggested.

“Yah. How you know that?”

I was going to get nowhere, if I didn’t reveal some of my hand. “I know about the rocks you’ve been stockpiling in my family’s old cottage.”

“That what Braden told you?” Kainoa’s voice remained calm, but his expression was deadly.

“No, I drove out and saw the rocks myself. Braden didn’t say anything; he was too scared, said the boss would kill him if he gave him away.”

“He said that about me?” Kainoa’s voice cracked. “What a liar—and you, too. I thought you were here out of compassion, or some bullshit thing like that.”

“Kainoa, just tell me what happened. You could save my cousin, if you’d just admit you sent him to get the rocks that morning.”

“But I didn’t! I mean, not exactly.”

I wondered if ‘not exactly’ was going to be enough to satisfy the cops—somehow, I doubted it. I tried again. “It was a case of bad timing, wasn’t it?”

“Who’s the girl?” A new voice cut through my concentration, and I saw Kainoa was no longer focused on me, but somebody else.

I turned and saw a short, scowling Asian man in his early forties. He wore a baggy green and white print aloha shirt and black shorts that revealed solid, muscular legs with tattoos like Kainoa had. But while Kainoa’s tattoos were geometric Polynesian designs, Liang’s were quite different; one leg was marked by the kanji characters for moon, power, and aggression, and the other bore the emblem of a Sino-Japanese mafia group, the Night Runners, which I recognized from a book of Michael’s.

“My name is Rei Shimura,” I said. “Are you Gerald Liang?”

“See if you can get him on the record,” Vang whispered into my ear.

No way, I said to myself. After reading the fine print on Liang’s legs, I intended to separate from him as fast as possible.

“Yes, I’m Mr. Liang. Has Kainoa been talking about his friends?”

“Not at all, Mr. Liang,” Kainoa said hastily.

My mind was working overtime as the men exchanged tense looks. The cottage with the rocks piled up was still rented by the Liangs, according to Josiah Pierce. Maybe my original assumption that Kainoa had seized a forgotten property for his own purposes was wrong. Gerald Liang might have known about the cottage’s uses for storage of illegally gathered lava rock—in fact, he might have been the one to decide to use the abandoned cottage to warehouse rock.

Belatedly, I realized both men were looking at me. I said, “I was just catching up with Kainoa before I left the island.”

“You know how the mainland chicks are, Gerry.”

I glanced at Kainoa, who seemed to be trying to help with my cover. Why? Was Gerald Liang that dangerous? Yes, I thought, and perhaps he, and not Kainoa, was the actual big boss that Braden feared.

“You work for me a long time, Kainoa. You should understand by now to keep your social life off this jobsite.” Now Liang was scowling at Kainoa.

“Got it, boss. You go, babe. But first, this.” Kainoa grabbed me at an awkward angle for a hug that filled my nose filled with his musky body scent and my ear with his hot breath. As he kissed my mouth, and then moved to my ear, he whispered one word: ‘Careful.”

And as I pulled apart from him, shocked by both the intimate touch and the warning, my earpiece dislodged. It bounced off my shoulder and landed on the floor with a soft click. Kainoa glanced at the earpiece lying between us, but, instead of picking up the tiny, peach-colored piece of plastic, he moved his foot over it. His eyes held mine for a second, as if to intensify his warning.

W
ITHOUT 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.