by Lakes, Lynde
A family came up the sidewalk toward her. The man carried a chubby, curly-haired baby tenderly in his arms. He glanced down at the young woman at his side; they exchanged looks so loving that Darli felt a tightening in her throat. Babies, romantic movies, and unexpected tenderness always got to her.
She longed to have the love the three of them shared. But nothing on her horizon indicated that she’d have it soon. She wasn’t even dating anyone seriously. Lately she wondered if she really understood men—they would promise to call, and then she’d never hear from them again.
Darli recalled the definition a psychologist on a talk show had given for the differences between men and women—men were from Mars, women, from Venus. Maybe that was her problem, she thought, chuckling to herself, her Mr. Right was still jogging around Mars. Well, he had better get down here soon, because in spite of wanting a family, she was getting quite comfortable living alone. Her friend, Keiko, thought she was getting far too comfortable and was always offering to fix her up. In a weak moment, she had allowed her to play matchmaker. Never again. Keiko’s idea of the perfect guy for her made Darli wonder if her friend really knew her at all. The guy had been an octopus in a sailor’s cap. Then analyzing it, she’d realized it was just that Keiko was eager to help her find a love like her navy man, Anthony.
Darli turned down the poorly lit avenue leading to the Ala Wai Canal. She felt a prickle at the back of her neck and glanced back. No one, thank God. When she crossed the bridge into her own even darker neighborhood, she looked back again. Shadows lurked behind breeze-bowing bushes. The news was full of crimes against women. Trembling, she pulled her keys from her bag and threaded them through her fingers like four steely claws. A crack of a twig or pod and furtive, hushed footfalls alerted her. Someone was back there. An icy shiver slipped down her spine.
She walked faster and rushed up the darkened concrete steps that led to her second floor apartment. She shoved her key into the lock and twisted it. Only after she scurried inside and slid the deadbolt into place did she breathe normally. The lights, set to come on at dusk, welcomed her. The area was open and everything was tidy and spacious. Too spacious. One of the worst things about coming home was the emptiness of the place. Even normal night sounds often made her nervous. Darli jumped at a flapping sound. She scanned the kitchen and the adjacent large room that served as a combo bedroom, living room. Everything looked normal. Oh, God. There it was again, more fluttering. She picked up the baseball bat she kept by the front door for protection and tiptoed across the shiny hardwood floor and yanked open the closet door. Color coordinated hung clothing and neatly stacked, clear plastic boxes of shoes greeted her. Just one other place to check. She inhaled deeply and wielding the bat, she charged the bathroom door. Inside, the window louvers were wide open and the trade wind flapped the curtains against the glass.
She closed the louvers, shaking her head at herself. Getting edgy, aren’t you? Maybe she should eat something. She had no appetite though; her nagging uneasiness had killed it. She grabbed up the remote. Switching through television channels proved to be a disappointment. A horror movie about a sea monster was the last straw. She flicked off the set.
She converted her couch to a bed, stretched out on it, and then picked up her half-completed novel, Other Worlds, from the lamp table. Suddenly a familiar foreboding sent tingles up her spine. What was the link between the meteor-like thing and the silver orb that had charged toward her? And where did it go? What about the guy in the diving suit? Images of the man’s face, framed by curly, dark brown hair darted into her mind. He had an interesting slender nose, rather full lower lip, and a magnificent body. However, what she recalled most vividly were his dark, dark eyes, which even in the night caught mesmerizing ruby glints from shoreline lights. In the abstract, she had always valued intelligence more than good looks—yet, damn, he was a handsome devil.
Why didn’t he speak? She pounded her pillow and shifted positions. She tossed, turned and twisted her sheets into pretzels. She tried to push the vivid pictures of him out of her mind by counting shooting stars. That only made it worse. Her mind had captured his image and branded it into her brain cells. Now what was she going to do? She needed sleep and all she could think about was a silver-garbed man and the mystery surrounding him.
Chapter Two
Sunrays through a partially opened drape flickered across Darli’s face. She covered her head with the pillow. It was too late; she was already awake. The house was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of her antique wall clock. Pulling on a thin wrap, she padded barefoot to the bathroom. She showered, and fifteen minutes later sat on the front steps with the door open, casually listening to the news and combing her hair in the warming sunlight.
She sighed, content to be living under blue Hawaiian skies. Although she had been born in San Diego, this place had captured her soul—she felt like an extension of the land, the sea, the billowy clouds, and the fragrance of plumeria. When the newscaster began talking about the silver object that had reportedly fallen into the ocean, her ears perked up.
“A national security search is in progress,” the newscaster said. “Any persons who observed the object falling into the ocean in the Waikiki area during the early evening on Friday night are requested to call the office of Naval Commander Olsen. All information, regardless how slight, should be reported.”
Oh, wow, this was big. She hurried back into the apartment just in time to see a number flash on the screen. She wrote it down, and dialed it.
“Commander Olsen’s office, Lieutenant Fox speaking.”
“This is Professor Grenlane, head of the Science and Astrophysics Department at the University of Hawaii. I saw the object mentioned in the news report.” She told him what it looked and sounded like, and then gave the time and location. “I hesitated to call,” she said, “I have so little to tell.”
“It’s more than we had before,” Fox said.
“What was it?”
“Probably nothing—maybe cosmic debris or a meteorite. However, it’s our job to check out everything that enters the skies or waters—routine security measure. You’ve nothing to be concerned about, Professor Grenlane, the navy is on the job around-the-clock, protecting our country.”
Darli smiled as she hung up the phone. Lieutenant Fox must have majored in Public Relations. But now, she was really worried. When people in government told her not to worry, that was when she worried the most. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t mentioned the silver-clad diver. Perhaps she feared that no one but an astronomer would have wild speculations and try to connect the two events. She certainly didn’t want him to think that a professor from the university was an alarmist.
****
At Naval Headquarters Commander Olsen paced in front of his desk. He shouted at Lieutenant Commander Ryker. “Look at this phone log; all of these people saw essentially the same thing.” Olsen raked his hand through his gray hair. A crimson flush crept up his neck. He glared at the taller man in the crisp white uniform. “There has to be something out there! I want the location where it submerged pinpointed.”
“Sir, that’s been done,” Ryker said. “My full report will be on your desk before noon. We’ve approximated the spot, but nothing has been found, not even cosmic debris. We’ve identified those people closest to the point of impact and will be re-interviewing them.”
“Tell the investigator to be cautious,” Olsen said.
“It’s Fox, Sir, our Public Relations liaison.”
“Ah, yes. Fox. Good man.” Olsen touched his lips with his index finger. “We have a high security situation here. Have Fox issue a statement to the media that this office has determined the object to be a meteorite. That should defuse media interest. Use personnel with the highest possible security clearance and begin frogmen search-team activity. I want the area combed inch by inch until the team finds something. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, but we have a responsibility not to alarm the public.”
; Chapter Three
Cortz turned slowly in a circle, and then walked backwards a few steps, trying to see everything at once in this fascinating place Earthlings called Waikiki. The sidewalks teemed with people. Many had straps around their necks with little black boxes attached. Others had handheld devices resembling large stun guns. Happily, nothing happened when they aimed them at things. He had learned through the many movies and news reports he’d reviewed that they were video cameras. They were outdated by Uraticean standards, but of course, that was because Earth was eons behind Uraticus in technology.
He spied a man wearing a silver spacesuit much like his own. The man had spray-painted his face and hands in a matching metallic color. Cortz watched his jerky, robot-like movements in amazement. If that man could get away with playing robot on a busy Waikiki avenue, surely he had a chance to blend in.
When a flush faced, round-bellied man shook his fist at him and yelled, “Watch it, Spaceman,” Cortz went back to walking forward. He took notice that people wore all sorts of garbs: shorts, bathing suits, and one passerby wore a costume consisting of a black tunic and wide loose pants.
This planet called Earth was an amusing place. Earthlings came in such varied shades of pigmentation that he understood now why it was so difficult for Taurus to match his skin to a particular individual.
Cortz hefted his gear over his shoulder and lengthened his stride. He had a plan, but he didn’t know exactly how to implement it. He only knew his first order of business was to trade one of his beautiful lazar-cut diamonds for cash. But where would he start? He was relieved when he saw the sign that read: INFORMATION.
He stepped up to the booth and spoke to the darkly-pigmented young woman with a pink flower in her hair. “Can you answer any question?” he asked.
“I’ll try, Sir,” the young woman said with a big smile.
“What establishment buys diamonds?” Cortz asked.
“You mean a diamond ring?” the girl asked.
“Lazar cut diamonds,” Cortz said.
“Never heard of it. Do you mean loose diamonds?”
He nodded. With all the questions, Cortz felt the sign should have read inquisition rather than information. Just as he started to get discouraged, she pulled out a thick book and flipped through the pages.
“Lazar-cut diamond, right?” The girl tucked one side of her shoulder-length brown hair behind an ear.
Cortz nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot.
She scraped a long pink fingernail down one of the pages. “I have a friend who works at a jewelry store. She’ll know where to send you. Ah…here’s her number.”
Cortz watched the girl deftly punch the buttons on her cell phone with the eraser of a pencil.
“This is Shelly over at Tourist Information.” She chewed hard on something as she talked. “There’s a guy here who wants to peddle some lazar-cut diamonds. Where should I send him? No,” she paused to size him up, then continued. “Yeah…I think so…Okay…Okay. I’ll give him all three addresses so as not to slight anyone. Thanks, Brandy.”
The girl wrote the names and addresses of the firms on a slip of paper and handed it to Cortz. Then she gave him a map of Waikiki. She pointed to a red X. “This is where you are now, Sir, and these pencil circles,” she said as she drew them, “are where the three shops are located. Each of these stores have cutters on staff and any one of them should be able to help you.”
“Which is the closest?”
She pointed at the map. “This one.”
“You have been exceptionally kind. Thank you.”
Elated about his success at his first attempt to converse, he headed for the jewelers. Cortz grinned.
He had been apprehensive, but the language and behavior modifier in his spaceship had worked well. Reading and speaking the strange tongue came naturally. And the knowledge he needed to function formed in his mind as he needed it. He could barely wait to speak the strange language again.
Ten minutes later, when he walked into the Waikiki jewelry store, Cortz held out the diamond. “How much money can I get for this?”
The jeweler put the high-powered loupe to his eye, inspected the gem for several minutes, and then studied Cortz. “Where you get this?” he asked in broken English. The skinny braid that hung down the jeweler’s back swished as he moved closer to the light.
“Does it matter?” Cortz asked.
“Not registered, eh?” the jeweler asked, his slanted eyes glistening. “The cuts are unusual. Maybe too unusual.”
“They make up for that with their excellent facets and brilliance,” Cortz said.
“Still, it uniqueness will make it hard to market and drops the value,” the jeweler said. The man’s time-curved shoulders hunched more as he pulled a sheet of paper from behind the register. Squinting, he ran a bony finger down the list of items. When he finished studying each line, he said, “You wait.”
Cortz wiped his damp palms on his pants. Moisture dripped from his forehead onto the counter. He fought the urge to run. He needed the local currency enough to take the risk.
The jeweler got rid of the other customers, turned the closed sign on the door and pulled the blind. Cortz tensed for a fight. “Do you want to buy this or not?”
“I buy…seven hundred.”
Cortz shook his head. He didn’t know the value, but he suspected the man had somehow sensed his desperation and was taking advantage of it.
“Tops…eight,” the jeweler said firmly, “final offer.”
Cortz figured by the way the man acted that the gem was worth a good deal more, but he didn’t dare haggle too much. He needed the cash—and to get out of there before the man decided to call the police. His training had included recognizing the dangers of the police, the FBI and other governmental forces. He must find a better way to handle the sale of his diamonds in the future. For now, he had no choice. He nodded in agreement, shoved the diamonds toward the man and then held out his hand. The man brusquely counted out eight hundred dollar bills.
Minutes later, back out on the street, Cortz decided to ditch his hot spacesuit. It was attracting too much attention. Besides, it seemed a bathing suit, shirt, pants and sandals were all that was required. He purchased the rudimentary attire and asked the clerk where he could put his belongings to protect them while he swam. The clerk directed him to some beach lockers. Cortz had no trouble finding them. He asked a boy to show him how the lock worked.
“As soon as I stow my camera in my locker, I’ll help you,” the boy said.
In seconds, Cortz had stored his gear and clothes safely inside the locker. Things were going well, he thought, as he zipped his key into his bathing suit pocket. Now he would find the golden-haired woman and carry out the rest of his plan.
His feelings of well-being were short-lived. Two police officers strode briskly toward him. Did the jeweler report the sale of the diamond to them? His palms began to sweat. He could not be caught—his mission on Earth must not fail. Cortz ran, fleeing into the heavy throng of tourists.
Chapter Four
It was impossible to resist her unquenchable curiosity. From the center of the floating sundeck, Darli stared out toward where the streak of silver had plunged into the water. She squinted in the brightness. The deep blue of sky and ocean blended so seamlessly that she wasn’t sure where one ended and the other began. One thing she was positive about—there wasn’t anything unusual out there now. Laughter and shouts of frolicking swimmers at the back of the deck diverted her attention. She watched as one of the men came toward her. He was a powerful swimmer and reached the float quickly. He hoisted himself onto the deck and raked his wet hair back from his face. Her heartbeat accelerated. It was him. His black skin-tight Speedos concealed no more of his body than his silver diver’s suit had.
“Our paths converge once more.” His voice was deep and his melodic pronunciation was clear, practiced, like a radio or television announcer.
He sat down next to her and extended his left
hand in greeting. She tried to grasp his hand, but he entwined his fingers through hers and massaged her palm with his thumb. She tried to jerk her hand free, but he held it firmly. It was crazy—his thumb vibrated. The tingling traveled up the inside of her arm, across her chest and into her breasts. She trembled. Good grief, if entwining hands with him could give her such a euphoric feeling what would happen if she kissed him—made love with him? Good grief. What was up with her crazy thoughts? He had ignored her the previous night, and now she was lusting for a man she knew instinctively was dangerous to her emotional health. She cleared her throat to speak, but her mind went blank. What do you say when a stranger seduces you with a handshake?
Suddenly, staring directly into her eyes, he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it; their heartbeats merged and echoed one another, beat for beat. She cleared her throat once more and straightened her shoulders. “You didn’t speak last night.” Deepening the edge of sarcasm, she added, “I thought perhaps you didn’t understand English.”
“I was afraid—afraid the words would come out wrong. I am a shy man.”
She laughed. “Do you expect me to buy that?” He had practically seduced her in broad daylight. She felt as if a dozen butterflies fluttered inside her breast.
“The moment I saw you last night,” he said, smiling, “I knew you were—” He raked his hair. “Someone I could relate to.”