"I will make a call, Hagura-san." Matsukawa's mind was racing. "You did the right thing, and I appreciate the information."
The warm sun was high in the sky when Susan parked the Bureau's sedan near the First Hawaiian Bank. She and Steve locked the doors and walked down Kapiolani Boulevard to the studios of KGMB Television. After they entered the building and identified themselves, the startled receptionist escorted them to a conference room.
"Let's take her to lunch," Susan suggested while they waited, "so she won't feel so intimidated."
"I was about to suggest lunch," Steve said with an innocent smile. "Honestly."
"Sure," she teased with a doubting look.
Theresa Garney quietly entered the room before he could respond. She was dressed in white slacks with a blue and pale yellow aloha shirt. The former tomboy had blossomed into a blue-eyed beauty as well as a top-flight aerobatic instructor and helicopter pilot. Theresa was about to sit down when Steve suggested lunch.
"Sure," she replied with a nervous laugh. "I'd feel more comfortable if we had some privacy."
"We understand," Susan interjected smoothly.
While the trio drove to an out-of-the-way restaurant frequented mainly by local residents, Steve noticed a car following them. Constantly aware of his surroundings, he watched their "tail" as the driver maintained a set distance behind their sedan and made every turn they made. Steve started to say something to Susan, but decided against doing anything that might frighten Theresa.
When they reached the restaurant, Wickham casually glanced at the Chevrolet Corsica as the rental car made a right turn at the next intersection. He tried to see the license number of the dark-blue car, but his view was obstructed by a high hedge and other automobiles. He kept his secret to himself as they entered the restaurant and sat down.
The small, manicured lawn by the outdoor dining area was awash in colorful anthuriums, hibiscus, orchids, and red ginger. A mixture of furniture, including Filipino country antiques, carved Asian tables, and rattan chairs dotted the wooden floor.
After their fresh seafood lunches and iced tea were served, Susan turned to the pilot. "Theresa, you left an urgent message with our office. Is there something you forgot to add to the initial interviews?"
"No," she replied cautiously, "but there has been another development since I first talked with the local authorities and the FBI."
Theresa quietly cleared her throat and placed her fork on her plate. "It was by coincidence that you requested to talk with me a short time later."
Steve and Susan stopped and looked directly into her eyes. "Just take your time," Wickham assured her, "and tell us exactly what happened."
"I had a call from an elderly lady," Theresa explained with a renewed confidence in her voice, "who watches Channel Nine and knows what our helo looks like. To make a long story short," she continued in a hushed tone, "quite a few people saw the helicopter after the attack — as I'm sure you've seen in your reports. By most accounts, the helo passed west of Aloha Stadium, continued toward Camp Smith Marine Corps facility, then was last seen over the Ewa Forest Reservation."
She glanced down at the table, then looked at Susan. "The woman who called me said that she and her granddaughter saw the Sky Nine helicopter after the attack, but on the windward side of the island. She is the only person to my knowledge who has reported seeing the helo after it went over Ewa Forest.), "Did she give you an exact location?" Steve calmly asked.
"And the time of the sighting?" Susan added, feeling the tingle that she always experienced when an important piece of the puzzle was falling into place.
"Mrs. Sakoguchi said they saw my helicopter flying close to the ridgeline of the Koolau Range."
"Where did they first see it?" Susan asked while she formulated a plan.
"The windward side, as I mentioned, near Kahana Bay. She said the helo was hugging the ridge, ducking in and out of the rain clouds." Theresa looked to Susan. "The ones that often settle along the top."
"I know," Susan replied. "The sun can be shining over Waikiki while torrential rains are falling on the tops of the mountains."
"What about the time?" Steve asked.
"She thinks it was about nine or ten minutes after the time of the attack — the time that was reported by the media."
Susan and Steve exchanged curious glances before he looked at Theresa. "Which way was the helicopter headed when they saw it?"
She looked slightly offended, but understood why he had asked the question. If Mrs. Sakoguchi was off on her time of sighting, the helicopter could have been on the way to Pearl Harbor.
"It was headed northwest, barely skimming the side of the mountains." Theresa took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "Mrs. Sakoguchi is certain about the time. They left their home at a quarter to seven, and it was exactly eight when they saw the helo."
Susan lost interest in her meal. "Why didn't she go to the police or talk to us?"
Theresa glanced at Steve, then fixed her gaze on Susan. "Mrs. Sakoguchi, who is extremely shy, is of Filipino-Japanese ancestry and speaks only pidgin English. She was afraid that I might get in trouble or that she would somehow become involved in the investigation and have to go to jail."
Steve raised his hand slightly. "Theresa, we'll be happy to talk with Mrs. Sakoguchi and assure her that nothing will happen to her."
Theresa nodded and gave him a faint smile. "I would appreciate that, Steve. She's a nervous wreck, and I don't blame her for feeling insecure. It took a lot of courage to come forth with her information."
"What's your schedule for the afternoon?" Susan asked, thinking the same thing as Steve: a drive to see Mrs. Sakoguchi and reassure her that no harm would come to her could provide some useful information.
"I'm scheduled to fly during drive time, but we've got a contract pilot who could fill in for me." She looked at Wickham. "I'll have to check with our manager."
"After lunch," Steve suggested to Theresa, "let's go talk to your boss about borrowing you for a while."
"Good idea," Susan acknowledged and reached for her glass, then glanced at the pilot. "It would be nice if you would call Mrs. Sakoguchi and let her know that we'll stop in for a short visit this afternoon. We need to have her show us the exact point where she saw the helicopter."
Theresa openly smiled for the first time. "She'll be thrilled to know that she isn't in some kind of trouble."
"Quite the contrary," Steve responded, trying not to stare at the blue-eyed beauty. "We owe her a debt of gratitude."
After the final guests had left the moored yacht, Tadashi Matsukawa went to the communications center and sat down at the control station. He ground out his cigarette and flipped on the power switch for the Magnavox satellite terminal, then punched in the ship's latitude and longitude to align the large antenna mounted over the wheelhouse.
The terminal was certified to interface with the Inmarsat satellite network to provide telephone, fax, data, and telex communications from remote areas around the world.
Checking his wall-mounted brass clocks, Matsukawa noted the time in Tokyo. The Prime Minister would be preparing to have his usual light lunch of rice patties with fish, or broiled rice with slices of beef and fish. Genshiro Koyama was a regimented man who never varied from his strict diet.
Matsukawa looked at the signal-strength meter and tweaked a small lever to optimize the antenna elevation. He grabbed the secure-voice handset and tapped a special code into the sophisticated keyboard.
Waiting for his call to go through, Matsukawa lighted another cigarette and listened to the clicks and tones emitting from the handset. When the switchboard operator answered his call, he gave her his identification number.