“ I see; understood. Then maybe the Ohana were right, their intentions good.”
“ The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he countered. “I don't know. I'm just a cop when it comes down to it, way out of navigable waters here. The PKO did force the Navy to make a comprehensive study of the environmental impact of the shelling and bombing, and a thorough survey of the archaeological sites and conditions of each. Amazingly, the shrines survived all the hits. The Ohana also managed in '81 to gain the historic site status which made the Navy's continued policy of obliterating the place appear downright un-American.”
“ Not to mention stupid.” She laughed lightly at this. “Cunning move for the kanakas, heh, Joe? Chalk one up.”
“ Right, the beginning of the checkmate, if you ask me, because next the Ohana won the right for natives to visit the island four days a month for ten months each year. While at the same time the U.S. military stubbornly held onto its bombing schedule, at least in the abstract, since they seldom fired again on the island after this.”
“ Damned fools had to know that if some fool scheduled a bomb run on a day when natives were visiting shrines, well, all hell would've broken loose,” she said, laughing. He smiled at the image before continuing. “The northeast shore, where we're landing, a place called Ule Point, is where most of the visitors over the years have made pilgrimages to shrines. It's the area that gets most rainfall and has best survived the U.S. Navy assaults. Nowadays, Polynesians the islands over gather here to 'go native,' to dress in ancient clothing, celebrate ancient ritual and legends, to talk story, their phrase for oral histories. Some of the celebrations have been filmed and can be seen at the Bishop Museum by haoles, but none are invited here.”
“ So the Ohana won in the end.”
“ I don't believe that even the Ohana could've foreseen the actual return of a permanent population to the island.”
“ I see.”
“ It just happened. Pockets of pilgrims who came for the celebrations started slowly to trickle back to stay, most of them booking passage on boats like this one, refugees out of time, you might say, living anachronisms, like this Chief Kowona.”
She sensed a confusion in Parry, a sense of profound sadness for these people he spoke of in such analytical terms. She asked, “Before the Navy controlled the island, it held a permanent population?”
“ Yes, the diehards who from the first contact with the white man resisted becoming assimilated, and before World War II there were some flourishing ranches on the island, owned by whites who'd come in the 1870s. For a time before the cattle ranchers, King Kamehameha III had turned the island into a penal colony, which failed miserably. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Kahoolawe fell into the control of the military, the ranchers on the island suddenly finding themselves as disenfranchised as the natives.”
“ Can the island support a permanent population now?”
“ Doubtful, really…”
“ Oh? Why?” The breeze lifted her auburn hair, tying it in knots.
“ The island's been used traditionally as a fishing base.”
“ The soil no good for agriculture?” she asked.
'The soil has been determined to be excellent for modem agriculture, but for hoe and rake subsistence farming, who knows.” Jim stretched, yawning, obviously tired. “Most Hawaiians are, or have been, unable to cope with Kahoolawe's changing weather, you know, cold nights and treacherous summers, so they've naturally opted for the larger, more fertile islands.”
“ The other native islanders still use Kahoolawe as a fishing base, then,” she remarked.
Frowning now, he added, “It's going to be hell reclaiming the fragile ground cover destroyed by the wild goats and the scraff- ings. Soil erosion's on an enormous scale here. And without the U.S. military's help and proper management of water resources, the island's just going to continue to be parched. Much of it is a no-man's-land, like I said.”
“ Sounds to me like it took some courage to return here,” she told him.
“ No doubt of it,” he nearly shouted, his voice traveling over the waters of the channel. Toning himself down, he continued. “Meanwhile, Maui County would like to control and manage the island.”
“ Maui County covers the island of Maui?”
“ And neighboring Lanai, there in the distance.” He pointed out the dark, sleeping giant in the northern sky. “Maui County also wants to return the island to human habitation; has for years, and many Hawaiians working within the system have fought for county control. They want a major reforestation effort, irrigation canals built, but-”
“ But the Ohana wants control in the hands of the people.”
“ Exactly. They don't trust any governmental intrusion, and they've amassed a lot of native clout to push their beliefs on the rest of the Hawaiian population.”
“ Well, Jim, realistically speaking, if the PKO hadn't forced the issue, do you think anyone could have wrested the island from military control?”
Parry frowned, considering this, and without a word spoken she knew he had to agree.
“ So, we're dealing with what, a feudal system, a native law and a local chieftain?”
“ They've got their own way of doing things, now that the government has relinquished all claims to the land, setting it up as protectorate in a sense, like Puerto Rico, like the Indian Nation of Oklahoma Territory before the Civil War. The U.S. will only intervene in their affairs at the request of their elected officials.”
“ Is the chief elected?”
“ Not on your life.”
“ Power by family name, Kowona?”
“ Exactly, and we might assume that he doles out his own kind of justice as freely as a Hell's Angels biker king.”
“ Hmmmmm, I see.” She considered this. “And given that Lopaka is the son of the chief, it follows that-”
“ I wouldn't look for too much in the way of justice. They don't give a damn about our ways or our laws; in fact, they pretty much despise our way of life, and like I've said, they've harbored fugitives in the past.”
“ Really?”
“ No one quite of Lopaka Kowona's caliber, I grant you. Thieves, crooks, scoundrels of various stripe, the occasional tax dodger, pickpocket and the like. No one's ever quite sure, because no one seeking asylum on Kahoolawe has ever been extradited or returned of his own accord, or so they say.”
“ They just don't play by our rules. So if Kowona has gone home, he knows this.”
“ Exactly.”
“ And if we can't return him to Maui County, we'll never see justice done. He can never be tried for his grisly crimes,” she said, finishing his thoughts.
“ Any wonder Ivers pointed me to Awai when I called him?”
“ Ivers? How'd-”
“ The ol' fool wanted us to wait for him to fly over. He's still in hospital, half blind, but he's going to fly over. I convinced him we could get the job done.”
“ How'd you know Ivers would have such contacts here?”
“ Ivers used to be a Maui cop for many years before going to the HPD, and he frequently visits the island both for pleasure and on manhunt. He does bail bondsman's work on the side.”
The boat now moved swiftly ahead of the current in the open waters of the Alalakeiki Channel, the depths here shallow and glassy. The ship's master at the wheel wore a grim look now, the smiling eyes flat, straight-lined, revealing nothing. Jessica got the sensation of a trap being laid, a web being spun by the Jolly Roger of Hawaii and his leering crew, but maybe she was just jumpy, she told herself.
“ Jim, just how well does Ivers know these guys?” she asked, her eyes going once again from crew member to crew member.
“ It doesn't matter, Jess.”
“ It matters to me.”
He deeply breathed in the Hawaiian night. “Okay, if you must know. Ivers actually suggested a boat captain named Kaupau, but his boat's in for repairs and his crew was nowhere to be found. Kaupau put me onto Ben Awai.”