Hawaiian Thunder (Coastal Fury Book 4)

by Matt Lincoln

  True. First responders had to know the streets better than anyone.

  “Okay. You might have to call off work,” I ventured.

  “You were right last night. I need a day away from the station.” Her smile was a little fragile but better than the night before. She grabbed a ponytail holder and pulled her hair back from her face. “Let’s roll.”

  We were en route less than five minutes later. By the time we got to Davis’s house, I was convinced the woman would kick ass at road rallies. Give her something with more bite than a Prius, and she’d be a star.

  “We can’t get ahold of him,” Davis called from his front door as I jumped out of Sadie’s car. She got halfway out and hesitated, but Davis waved her in. “You’ve been around for days. May as well know why you almost ate lead the other night.”

  I looked over in concern. After two traumatic days, we had no business letting her in on this. And yet, one look at the eagerness written all over her face was enough to keep me from protesting. Maybe watching another line of service from the sidelines would do her some good.

  She must have vibed off my worries because she looked over and smiled as she got out of the car.

  “I’m fine,” she told me. “I want to be here.”

  We went into Davis’s house. The rooms we entered were of generous size but mostly empty. Unopened boxes lined the walls in the living and dining rooms. The kitchen appeared to have been the first space he unpacked, and it had the warm scent of honey. He offered us seats at the plain-cut hardwood dining table.

  “I’ll bring my laptop out so we can video chat with the others,” Davis said. “Marston, we’re lucky you brought those clothes over yesterday. We don’t have time for going back to the hotel.”

  I nodded. “Happy we’ve had at least one bit of luck. I’ll get those out of the car while you get your laptop.”

  Sadie followed me through Davis’s kitchen to his garage. I’d left the top and windows down. Sadie ran her fingers along the hood and up to the windshield. While I got my back out of the passenger seat, she went around to the other side and hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t set the alarm.” I pulled the key from my pocket and waved it. “I’d let you drive the car if I could. On the other hand, that was a pretty wild ride you took me on with that Prius. I hate to think what you’d do with this thing.” I winked.

  “Confession time,” she said with a wry laugh. “I can’t drive a manual shift. I never learned, but I want to someday. Nobody I ever hung with had a five-speed they were willing to teach me on.”

  “Did they ride with you driving an automatic first?”

  She stuck her tongue out. I had to admit her free spirit was appealing in more ways than I could say. If a person didn’t know her, they’d probably guess she was in her first year or two of college, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t mature when it counted. What I liked was that she didn’t give two shits what other people thought.

  “I drive just fine,” she protested. “We were in a hurry, and I got you here. Now, we’re dinking around.” She turned toward me and draped her arm over the back of the seat. “Why is your partner off the grid?”

  “He’s trying to find his sister,” I told her. The heaviness I’d escaped for a few hours returned. “We are trying to find her, but it’s taking time. He’s not wrong about wasting time, but he’s wrong for going out on his own.”

  I gave her the nutshell version as we went back into the house and to the dining room. Davis had his laptop out and a secure video chat window open. I moved a chair closer to Davis so I could be in the range of the built-in camera. Sadie stayed to the side of the table.

  “I have to let them know you’re here,” I said to her as the others joined the chat session. “You’re not cleared for sensitive information, but at this point, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t hear.”

  Davis nodded. “Agreed.” He glanced at her with a thoughtful expression. I wondered what that was about. “Meisha wants to talk with you today anyway, Sadie. Nothing bad, I promise.”

  “Um, okay.” She shrugged and put her elbows on the table. “I’m here for moral support and if you need a gopher while you deal with things.”

  “I like your attitude.” Davis laughed as he positioned the laptop so she couldn’t see what he typed. I’ll explain later. He erased the message as soon as I got it. “By the way, I got word back on that bowl that we got off of Colin Maloney. It’s valuable, but not four hundred thousand dollars of valuable. More like five grand.”

  “That’s a hell of a markup.” I tapped the table with my forefinger. “I wonder how much of that came from the Russian versus his clients.”

  “Can you guys see me?” Warner’s voice piped out of the laptop speakers. His face appeared a second later in one of the pop-out windows. “Okay, I can see you. I got Sadie’s clearance if you need it.”

  “Yeah, she’s here,” Davis affirmed. “I’ll have Marston put her on his phone.”

  “Wait, what?” Sadie exclaimed. “Why am I getting a security clearance?”

  “I’m hiring you,” Meisha said from the speakers. “You’ll get to help a lot of people by being our support medic, and you’ll get paid more than you are now.”

  This was news to me. Then again, Meisha didn’t need my permission to make her hires. I fumbled with my phone to get a video chat window set up for Sadie while the news sunk in. Her jaw was still on the table when I handed her the phone.

  “Say hi to the boss,” I told her. “She’s cool, but she’ll make you work your ass off.”

  “But… I never…” Sadie stammered in disbelief.

  “Consider the way you handled yourself the other night your interview,” Meisha’s tinny voice said over the speakers. “I wanted to tell you in a better way, but we have a lot to do right now. For now, I want you to listen and learn.”

  “Okay, yes, ma’am.”

  Sadie looked shellshocked. I understood the feeling, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Yeah, she lacked self-confidence, but so did Warner. With these people, Sadie would do fine. Meisha’s higher-ups would probably want to know why she hired a medic before other positions, but I’d stand up for her any day.

  “I’m here,” Stark announced. “What’d I miss?”

  “Meisha just informed Sadie that she’s your new medic,” I said in a droll voice. “I’m wondering how much of the job description involves a makeover of the old firehouse.”

  Sadie made a funny little squeaking sound. I looked over to make sure she was okay, and it turned out she was trying not to laugh.

  “Sorry, I laugh when I get nervous,” she said. “I’m totally not in your guys’ league.”

  “We’ll argue that later,” Meisha said in a curt tone. “Let’s figure out where to find Robbie.”

  “I think he kept the list of Jones’s buyers and sellers that he conned me into sending him the other day,” Warner confessed. “I should’ve made a bigger deal about it, but this is Agent Holm, you know?”

  “Not your fault, TJ,” I told him. “We all knew he had that list. Even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to get his hands on it.” I turned to Davis. “Is Maloney still locked up?”

  “Already checked on that,” Davis answered. “They found morphine when they booked him. He posted bail and went straight to a rehab facility. They’re keeping an eye out for unexpected visitors.”

  “What about Jones?” I asked everyone.

  “We have someone on the way to check on him,” Meisha reported. “Ethan, we’ll look for Robbie. You have to focus on the job. We’ll look for him while you and Kyle go meet the unsub.”

  She was right that I had to focus, but I worried that my focus on finding Ronnie Holm could mean losing Robbie instead.

  CHAPTER 25

  My meet with the Russian was scheduled for four and a half hours earlier than Davis’s. I timed my arrival on the top level of the children’s hospital parking
garage to three minutes before nine. That was as close to pushing it as I felt safe.

  I had the Ferrari’s roof up because a rainstorm was blowing through at the time. I kept the windows cracked because the smell of rain always eased my mind. Maybe it reminded me of days in my grandparents’ orange grove.

  At precisely nine, my burner phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Dalton, proceed to address I text to you,” the Russian stated. “Guard at gate will allow you in. Follow rules, and we will have good dealings.”

  “Got it. See you soon.”

  I ended the call, and the text came in within seconds. When I pulled it up on GPS, I saw that it was in an exclusive area on the other side of the Waiahole Forest Reserve. Thanks to the tunnels under the mountains, it was only a twenty-minute drive, although I didn’t get to see any of the reserve’s tropical sights. The entrance to the gated community was off of a busy road, and the guard was ready for me.

  “ID,” he demanded.

  “Morning,” I said as I pulled the license out. He took a quick look, checked his list, and then opened the gate. I took my license back. “Thanks, man. Have a good one.”

  The guard’s half-wave was less than friendly, so in my cover’s persona, I flipped a dismissive wave as I put the car into gear. Maybe it was my imagination, but I had the feeling that the gate came down a hair sooner than necessary.

  My route to the Russian’s address wound around some pretty damned elite homes, which is saying something for Hawaii, since everything was expensive. The extinct volcano loomed as I followed the directions to its foot and to a driveway at the end of a long, winding road. Rows of trees blocked my view from the street, but according to the map, I was in the right place.

  This undercover mission was close to the heart, and I had to play it just right, even knowing that Ronnie could be somewhere under the same roof. Hell, it would be good if she just showed up, but that would be too easy.

  I steeled myself and drove up the sloping driveway, which went over a creek. The house was two stories and had a wide footprint. Sienna tiles made up the rooftop over the tan stucco walls. Brick pavers were laid out in a circle that led to the front door. A four-car garage with an open door was attached by a covered breezeway.

  A tall, slim man in a suit gestured to me from the garage space. I was inclined to park outside in case I needed to get out of there, but that apparently wasn’t in the Russian’s rules. It would be easy to suppose they were being considerate of the Ferrari in the rain, but I knew better.

  I pulled in as directed and took my phone out. The notification bar showed that the GPS signal was lost. I clenched my jaw and set my phone on the seat in plain view. That’s why they had me park in the garage. Something was jamming that signal so I couldn’t be found. They had to assume that, if I were on a sting, my GPS would’ve shown me at their location.

  “Mr. Dalton,” the slender man acknowledged. He produced a handheld metal detector. “Arms out to the sides.” He ran the wand up and down to each side of my body and seemed satisfied. “Follow me.”

  This was not the Russian, as he had an American accent and a higher voice. A slight bulge at his hip told me he was armed. As I trailed in his wake, I looked for signs of other weapons. There looked to be something strapped to his ankle. By the movement of his pants over the area, I guessed it was a knife. Slim was a fighter. Good to know.

  I followed him to the house through the breezeway. Although the wind blew, the open sides allowed no more than a light mist to touch us. We entered the house through a door that was left open.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” I observed in my rich-boy tone. “It’s okay, man. You seem like good people.”

  Slim looked down his nose at me as if to say, “If only you knew.” He picked up his pace, which made me have to quick-step to keep up. We passed a doorway that led to a kitchen with glowing koa floors, white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. It opened to a large area, and I got a glimpse of the outdoors beyond that.

  The hall we went down had the same flooring with koa trim that matched the floor. Both windows had tikis with roaring mouths, and several colorful Polynesian masks adorned the wall. At the end of the hall was a simple door to the left. Slim knocked twice and waited.

  The door was answered by a man on the short side of average and salt-and-pepper hair in a sharp cut. His gray suit and red pocket square proclaimed him to be all business. I couldn’t peg a color to his eyes as the color shifted from brown to green to grey depending on where he faced.

  “Alec Dalton.” His was the voice from the phone, and he spoke with as little welcome as I expected.

  “Yes, sir,” I said as I extended a hand. He did not take the offer to shake.

  “You may call me Mister V,” he instructed. “Come in. We have much to discuss.”

  We left Slim in the hall and entered a treasure trove. Cedar shelves and glass cases lined the walls and formed three aisles, much like a library. Every square inch of the displays had antiques. Some looked like they could’ve been actual relics from holy sites throughout the world. There were few blank spaces on his walls. Where there weren’t cases or shelves, there were paintings and other hanging art. Large statuary was stashed in corners and nooks throughout.

  This guy wasn’t just a money launderer. He had to be a black-market antiquities dealer. Mister V was a bigger target than we expected.

  Normally, I’d act unimpressed, but in my cover persona, it was more than appropriate.

  “Wow, this is amazing,” I gushed.

  “It is good collection,” he agreed. “Have a seat, Alec.”

  He showed me to a table with a smattering of figurines, vases, and whatnot. In the middle of the table was a medium-sized whiteboard with red and black markers.

  “I understand you owe Timothy Letts money for services provided by his associates.” Those shifting eyes had turned colorless. I’d rarely seen the effect, and it was unsettling each time. “How do you plan to repay those services?”

  “Well, um, I need a little help with that,” I told him. “I hear you can make it happen without getting me into trouble.”

  “Transferring that amount of money attracts attention,” he told me. “I have solution, as you heard. Choose item you wish to purchase. I appraise for what you owe plus incidentals. Timothy brings item to sale with papers I provide, you buy, he gets money.”

  “That means I pay more than I owe,” I complained.

  “Consider this interest for late payment.” Mister V regarded me with those eerie eyes. “Is penalty for running tab.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned back. “I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “You wish to see alternatives?” he asked with a raised brow. “Men like Timothy get their way. I do not know him, but I know his type. Do not cross him again. Do not cross me.”

  I dropped my shoulders to show compliance. Mister V was in charge, not Alec Dalton.

  “You owe Timothy three hundred thousand dollars.” He tsked and shook his head. “You have refined tastes, this is clear. How he let you get that far into his debt is beyond me, and I do not care.”

  “I said ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ like my nanny taught me.”

  “Hmph.” Mister V used the red marker to write the number on the whiteboard. He added more numbers. “I add ten thousand for one of these items. Five thousand more for papers to make sale legal. Thirty for commission to Herman. Five thousand late fee to Timothy.” After the last number, he shook the red marker at me. “You are lucky. Timothy should have charged you fifty thousand.”

  “I bought my car in cash,” I lamented. “It was a mistake. If I’d paid him upfront instead of in IOUs, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  Mister V chuckled. “Ah, challenges of youth. This is mistake I understand. I have love of cars, too.” Using the black marker, he wrote the total of three hundred and fifty dollars on the board. “You have this liquid, yes?”

  “I do
.” I nodded. “Do I pay you for the antique now?”

  Mister V made a slashing motion with his hand. “Item will be delivered to Herman’s office. Seller pays from proceeds. I have special agreement to guarantee my fees are paid.”

  That didn’t sound ominous at all, but I decided that making the comment aloud might be too much. Alec Dalton wasn’t supposed to be savvy.

  “Which antique are we using?” I asked out of genuine curiosity.

  “Seller will choose when we meet later today, and he will send photo as is normal for such sales.” Mister V’s wide smile showed his perfectly straight but lightly stained teeth. “You will love whatever Timothy chooses.”

  I grimaced. “I’m sure he’ll choose something lovely, and I will be delighted.”

  The choices on the table included a gorgeous porcelain Madonna gilt with gold and silver and vibrant colors. Next to that was a weathered tiki that was about a foot and a half high. Despite the weathering, the detailing was exquisite. I wasn’t familiar enough with Hawaiian deities to know which one the totem represented, but it exuded fierceness in the god’s extensive tattoos and warrior expression. The other choice was a bronze casting of nude figures engaging in seriously carnal acts. I had a feeling I knew what “Timothy” would choose for the transaction.

  “Good. You may leave now.” He waved toward the door. “Wait for my call tonight.”

  “Thanks, Mister V,” I told him as I got up. “See you around.”

  “I hope not.” He cleaned the whiteboard off with an eraser he produced seemingly from thin air. “Stay out of trouble, Alec Dalton. You would not last long in our business.”

  With that, I was dismissed. Slim took me back to my car and opened the garage door. I didn’t bother saying goodbye to him as he seemed no more communicative than his boss. They were both all business and no sense of humor. If I were a criminal and had to work with them, I would’ve been bored to death.

  As I drove away, I tried not to imagine Ronnie captive somewhere in that house. If we didn’t get her back alive, and it turned out she was that close, I’d never forgive myself.