Wave of Death

by Charlie Vogel

  I nodded but had to raise one finger to press my point. “To accomplish that, Sir, I think if you could hold a personnel inspection on the STEVENS, and have Lihua there among the inspection team, we could flush Rhodes out and get a confession within a short period of time.”

  He smiled. “An inspection . . . by me while the ship’s in dry dock? You’re aware that will not make you popular with your shipmates when they find out you asked for it.”

  “Yes, Sir, but the end justifies the means, doesn’t it? That is, if Lihua agrees to help us in this.” I glanced at her watching me with those wide, trusting eyes. “If we can put her in a Yeoman Second Class WAVE uniform, she could be right at your side holding the duty roster. When she identifies Rhodes, she could signal you. At that point, you can order the Shore Patrol to make the arrest.”

  “Coleman, it’s strictly against Navy regulations to have a civilian in a uniform. The answer is no.”

  * * *

  I placed the last filled cardboard box on the desk of my temporary office. My packed sea bag leaned against the wall near the door. Although I hadn’t spent much time there, I knew I would miss the place. The other two empty desks stood like memorial stones in a cemetery, memorials to the wasted lives of Jenny Allison and Andrew Holcomb.

  Sitting in my chair, I leaned back and thought over what had occurred the past few days. Now that Rex had reported back aboard the STEVENS and Brutus accepted a new assignment at Pearl Harbor Base Security, I felt alone. Admiral Collins refused to assign me back to the STEVENS. He reasoned the crew would have a conflict with my presence there. As yet, I had no orders to report anywhere. For the time being I would stay at the in-transit barracks in Pearl.

  A knock at the door interrupted me. I called out, “Yes, come in.”

  Captain Baker crossed the threshold and removed his hat. I jumped to my feet at attention.

  “Coleman, you have a visitor.”

  A woman stepped in. The light blue, striped WAVE uniform had been tailored to her perfect dimensions. Her slim figure snugly filled out the cotton fabric, but not to the point of tight. A genuine smile broke through the life lessons prematurely hardening her lovely face. Her oriental eyes stared directly into mine and she said, “I even got a hair cut. Do you like it?”

  Dumbfounded, I looked from the Captain back to her. “Lihua, you look beautiful. Why are you in that uniform?”

  With a smile and a shrug, the Marine officer closed the door behind him on his way out.

  “The Admiral changed his mind after you left yesterday. He, ah, remembered we had met before.” When my mouth dropped open, she hurried on, “I promised him I wouldn’t tell you, but I . . . it slipped out. I don’t have any secrets from you anyway. And he doesn’t need to know I told you, right?” She pursed her lips and looked around the bare room. “I convinced him it would be nice to visit a Navy boat . . . since I would probably know most of the sailors aboard it.”

  I blinked myself under control “First lesson is don’t call it a boat. It’s a ship. Did he say when he will conduct the inspection?”

  “Yes, this afternoon. He told me to tell you to ‘Prepare yourself.’”

  “Shit, I don’t have a proper uniform ready! My shoes need to be spit-shined. Why didn’t you or the Admiral say something yesterday?”

  “He didn’t want me to. It has something to do with him owing you a pay back, whatever that means. Anyway, I’ve been very busy since our meeting.” She drew herself up as tall as possible, shoulders back, chin up proudly. “I am now the owner of Lo’s Restaurant and Mia’s Coffee Shop.”

  “You took over Wong’s enterprises?”

  “Yes, sort of, the legal ones, that is. I’m breaking all connections with Peking, so I don’t think I’ll be getting any opium for the Poppy Club. Of course, I’ll keep the strip club and the girls. I also have a few of Wong’s men to protect my interests.”

  “You decided not to go to the mainland?”

  “Maybe someday . . . I’ll go on vacation there.”

  She sat in the chair I had recently occupied. The thought made me squirm, so I turned to locate my shoes and polish in the sea bag. Perched on Jenny’s old desk, I focused on my all-important polishing job. My index finger almost cramped as it rotated the shoe rag around the toes. Knowing she intently watched, my mouth dried out.

  “So why, ah,” I cleared my throat for a second try. “Why did you decide to help? I thought the Admiral would have Rhodes arrested and thrown in the brig by now.”

  She rose from the chair and stepped closer to me, placing a hand on my right thigh. Her soft words mesmerized me. “I watched your eyes as you told Admiral Collins about Rhodes being the suspect. You aren’t sure, are you?”

  Spit dribbled from my mouth. “I-I guess not. I just have a hunch he is.”

  She removed the bobby-pins from under her hat and placed her cover on the desk. Her fingers ran through her auburn hair, pulling it from the tidy knot in back. The light from the window reflected a sparkle in her eyes. Her seductive smile and that hair flowing down her neck stimulated a deep, exotic rush like a tidal wave sweeping from my throat downward. Her soft, oriental-accented voice, almost empowered me to ask for a flight jacket.

  Just above a whisper, she asked, “I think you have a special feeling towards me, don’t you Pencils?”

  “What, ah, . . . what?”

  “When you speak to me, you have a soft, almost gentle way of saying things. Do you like me?”

  The oriental curve of the epicanthic fold perfectly outlined her eyes, giving her face an elegance unknown to any other race in the world. A frown wrinkle formed between her dark brows as she waited for me to say something.

  With effort that beaded my forehead, I controlled my voice. “Yes, I care for you and I think I really like you. I . . . Well, maybe I . . . could say I’ve grown to love you.” She didn’t even blink, so I forged ahead. “But you always block my advances. I haven’t been able to say what I’ve really wanted to.”

  She laughed. “Men never say the right things at the right times anyway. That’s the reason girls like me will always have a job. But, I’m happy you do have feelings for me, Pencils. I like that . . . a lot.” She straightened and began to refashion the bun, the uniform top pulling across her breasts at my eye level. “Right now, though, we’ve got to go. The Admiral’s staff car is waiting on us.”

  I shook my head to comprehend what she had said. “You mean . . . the Admiral’s outside?”

  “No, he’ll meet us at the STEVENS. You and I will have to leave now to arrive on time.”

  “But, I can’t go to a goddamn inspection wearing tropical whites. I have to change into the right uniform . . . and my shoes aren’t ready.”

  “The Admiral said to remind you it was your idea. You look fine. Let’s go.” She scooped her hat from the desk.

  “I’m not going to an inspection looking like this!”

  She rolled her eyes and continued through the doorway. I pulled out a folded, starched jumper and trousers from my sea bag, then found a white hat and neckerchief. Placing the shoe polish inside a shoe, I hurried out the door, carefully balancing the armload. I caught up with Lihua at the elevator.

  “What you going to do with all that?” she laughed.

  “I going to change in the goddamn car. You better smooth those wisps of hair and your replace your cap. You have to look regulation to be on an inspection team, you know.”

  Changing clothes in the rear seat of the Admiral’s staff car watched by a beautiful woman dressed like a WAVE proved physically and emotionally awkward, especially after my thoughts of her had shifted beyond friendship. I bent over the rear of the seat and pulled up the board-hard, starched white pants. Lihua did all she could to make matters worst, like choosing that moment to lean across me to roll down the window. She claimed she needed fresh air. I thought she wanted a better look of what I had under my skivvies, which by that time had grown in size.

  * * *

  We arrived
on the construction pier where several ships of different sizes filled in the background in various stages of repair. I noticed the USS STEVENS shored up within the confines of dry dock. Over a period of a few days, water would be completely drained and the ship would rest on planks to allow for hull inspection, repair, and repainting.

  Across a small compound from the pier stood the crew of STEVENS at parade rest. Lihua and I greeted Admiral Collins and a few of the lesser officers, men I would probably never see again.

  The Admiral glared at my chest. “Petty Officer Coleman, where are your medals? You know this is a full service, dress white inspection!”

  “Yes, Sir. I didn’t have time to find them, Sir. Less than half an hour ago Petty Officer Liyi informed me of the inspection.”

  “Petty Officer who?”

  I dropped my voice. “Lihua, Sir.”

  “Oh, right.” He lowered his voice. “Your young woman looks like she was born to be a WAVE. Don’t you think so, Coleman?”

  “Yes, Sir, a good wave, as was recently mentioned to me.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain some time, Sir. Are we ready?”

  I followed behind the inspection team as they approached the waiting ship’s crew. After an exchange of salutes with the USS STEVENS Commanding Officer and the acting Executive Officer, the Chief Master at Arms called out, “Ship’s crew all present and accounted for, Sir!” The CO made a military about face and advised the Admiral that his crew was ready for his inspection.

  Admiral Collins motioned for Lihua to join him. She held a clip board that listed the names of each crew member and stayed at his side. I followed behind. The procession moved slowly as each officer in line studied each man standing at attention.

  Ten minutes passed before the Admiral stood before Teddy Rhodes. Lihua’s expression didn’t change. She gave no indication of recognition. Damn it! She had to identify him, unless she had prearranged orders to give a secret signal, but I didn’t see anything.

  Several minutes later they stood before Commissaryman Tom Flanders, the ship’s Third Class Cook. Lihua broke silence and protocol, announcing, “Admiral Collins, he’s the sailor you want.”

  Flanders remained at attention, but his eyes flicked side to side.

  The Admiral asked, “Sailor, do you know this WAVE?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Well, she thinks she knows you.”

  “I can’t remember her, Sir.”

  “Maybe you don’t recognize her in a WAVE uniform. She was an associate of Mr. Wong before she joined the Navy.”

  Flanders’s complexion pinked up. He yanked the arm of the sailor to his right, stepped around him, and broke into a run. I started after him.

  Behind me, the Chief Master at Arms barked, “All hands remain at attention, damn it! I mean everyone!”

  Flanders slowed down as he turned his head. Seeing me, he increased speed.

  A few yards from the inspection crew, I called out, “Flanders, stop! I want to talk to you!”

  “Kiss my ass!” he screamed.

  The distance between us widened as he ran the length of the pier. Outside the guard shack, he jumped onto a BSA motorcycle. With one kick, it came to life. Seconds later, the bike exited the parking lot and disappeared among the buildings and stacks of cargo. The noise of the exhaust echoed as Flanders shifted gears.

  Catching my breath at the shack, I turned to the Marine guard. “Call the gates and advised them to hold him.”

  He placed the phone receiver down and said, “It’s been taken care of, swabby. I called as soon as the bastard ran past me.”

  I looked around, chewing my lip. What a time for my Kaiser to be in the shop with all its bullet holes. Corkie said I wouldn’t have a car for months. I pounded my thigh in frustration, listening for the motorcycle. Long moments later, I caught the sound coming from the direction of the submarine base. My gaze fell on a captain’s dinghy tied to the pier just below me. I skimmed down the ladder and reached the boat.

  “Hey, Sailor! Get out of there!” the Marine yelled.

  I threw him the finger, pushed the starter button that roared the engine to life, and pulled the mooring lines. The boat created a huge wake as I navigated across the open harbor.

  Eyeing the shore, I saw the bike’s path curving towards the open buildings housing many of the smaller submarines. The dock construction workers used them as a shelter from the sun or rain. I slid the boat into an empty one and quickly tied it to the pier. The sound of the bike came nearer. My guess had been right.

  Running up the wooden steps, I reached the door and cracked it open. Flanders was just parking the motorcycle two buildings away. He ran into a boat house. I followed, hoping I wouldn’t be spotted until I could at least get a hand on him.

  I silently cursed the recurrent stitch in my side and remembered how I hated chasing people. That was the main reason I quit the police department and joined the Navy. And here I was at it again!

  I pressed my back to the wall beside the door. A large diesel motor roared within. I practically sprained my wrist yanking on the doorknob. Flanders had locked the goddamn door. Climbing the corner post, I made my way to the roof, then ran across the peak, trusting the roar of the diesel to cover the elephant thunder of my feet. Dropping to my haunches at the edge, I looked down into the water at the shed’s opening just as the bow of a thirty-foot Coast Guard utility boat cleared the building. Flanders stood at the helm.

  Without thinking of the ten foot distance, I dropped feet first, landing hard on the open steel deck at the stern. Every bone in my lower body felt jarred loose, yet my sea legs moved with the deck motion. His head moving side to side scanning the shoreline, Flanders must have caught sight of me in his peripheral vision. His chin snapped around, surprise written in his expression.

  Across the waterway, the white building of the ARIZONA Memorial rose directly in front of us. Does this insane asshole intend to ram it? Pain shot into my legs as I took a step, but I blocked it as I launched myself forward, grabbing him around the waist. My right hand clamped onto the helm, turning it to port. The scenery in front changed to a roll of cruisers across the harbor.

  A yank of the back flap of Flanders’s jumper pulled him away from the controls. He lost his balance and stumbled backwards. I lowered the engine RPM’s and took the clutch out of gear. The boat went dead in the water.

  Flanders! How could I have been so stupid? Of course, Flanders was the suspect, description and all! He was even present when Lieutenant Barnes bought the Storm of Pearls!

  I turned to glare at him as he rolled and tried to stand. Stepping forward, I one-handed him back to the deck. His body was all skin and bones like a bag of his potatoes. Holding him down on the deck with one hand at his throat, I wanted to punch his ugly face until it turned pretty. But, I resisted. Pity seeped into my conscience.

  I let frustration take over my the words and yelled in his face, “Goddamn you, Flanders! Why did you kill Barnes?”

  He frantically rocked his head side-to-side, his voice filled with desperate tears, “I should’ve dumped him over the side! I knew it! I knew it!”

  Pulling him up by the shoulders, I shook him like a dust rag and screamed, “Why did you kill him?”

  “So I could keep all the money Wong would pay for the documents. Barnes gave me a measly fifty bucks to break into your safe.” He weakly clawed at my arms, trying to get away from the violence boiling up in me. “But-but when I found out he had that necklace, I knew he wasn’t going to share the million dollars.”

  “Why’d you think that?”

  “Because he was going to meet Wong at the Poppy Club. The necklace was his pass. I couldn’t get in without it. I knew he’d get the money and I’d have only that lousy fifty bucks.”

  “So you took Barnes’s dog tag to pass yourself off as him?”

  “Too many people knew the cheap bastard. The goddamn tags didn’t work.”

  “Holcomb! What about him?”
/>
  “After he talked to the five seaman, he called me in his office. Scared the shit out of me! I told him everything to save my ass.”

  “Why the hell did you kill Garretson?”

  His head began to violently shake again. “Mister Holcomb ordered me! He thought Garretson knew too much. He didn’t want you finding out anything more.”

  I shoved his trembling body back to the deck and stepped to the helm. “I’d love to really . . . No, I’m turning you over to Base Security, you ugly little bastard!”

  One vicious pull of the lever and the engine roared to life. I wheeled the helm to starboard and made a heading to the opposite pier at tin-can alley, where most of the pineapple fleet tied up.

  A shot exploded behind me, instantly followed by a burning sensation ripping into my left shoulder. Stunned, I fell to the deck. He walked toward me, the weapon dangling at his side.

  Raising my head, I asked, “Where in hell did you find a gun out here in the middle of the harbor?”

  He laughed maniacally. “I checked a tool box for a knife or screwdriver to kill you with, but instead I found this. Ain’t I lucky?”

  “Shore Patrol is waiting for you. You’re a wanted man. Why make it worse by killing me?”

  “Because you are an asshole,” he enunciated bitterly. “You beat me up in my own galley, and you screwed up my chances of making a million bucks. It would just plain make me feel good to kill you. Goodbye, Pencils.”

  I threw myself, tripping him with my legs. As he fell, the gun came loose from his hand and hit the deck. The out-of-control boat took a sharp turn to port and Flanders slid across the open deck and off the side. His hands tried to grab a hold, but nothing was there. The strong current created by the boat dragged him under. The powerful diesel motor surged to overcome Flanders’s collision with the propeller. I stared at the wake behind the stern. Pieces of skin, cloth, and blood sprayed to the surface.