“The Gates of Pele must have kindled some major excitement for Cook to take such a risk,” Karin pointed out.
“Well, Pele was the god of fire, lightning, wind and volcanoes. Arguably the most popular Hawaiian deity. She was big news. Much of her legend centered round her controlling the oceans. The way the Hawaiians must have talked about her probably peaked Cook’s interest. And, allegedly, he was an arrogant man on a great voyage of discovery. He wouldn’t have balked over worrying a local king.”
“A man like Cook wouldn’t fear much.”
“Exactly. According to Hawksworth, the natives led them through a dark passage beneath the deep heart of the volcano. Once lights had been struck and, as Gollum would say, a few tricksy bends had been negotiated, they all stopped and stared in wonder at the Gates of Pele.”
“Geek. Is there a drawing?”
“No. The artist was left behind for this trip. But Hawksworth does describe what they saw. A great arch that soared so high it peaked above the topmost range of our flames. A craftsman’s frame inlaid with tiny symbols. Notches at each side, missing two smaller items. The wonder of it stole our breath away and we did stare, until the dark centre began to draw our eye.”
“So, in the spirit of all men, he means that they had found what they were seeking, but then realized that they wanted more.” Karin shook her head.
Ben rolled his eyes at her. “I think you mean — in the spirit of all adventurers, they wanted more. But you’re correct. The Gates of Pele were just that. A gate. It had to lead somewhere.”
Karin pulled her chair over. “Now I’m interested. Where did it lead?”
At that moment Ben’s cell-phone began to ring. He checked the screen and rolled his eyes. “Mum and Dad.”
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.”