Motive

by Dustin Stevens

  Again some of the backlash Kalani had heard over the years came to mind, clicking into place with what the doctor was explaining. “Which is why some people are against their usage.”

  “Among other things,” Watari said, nodding in assent. “Some, especially the religious groups, feel like we’re playing God, trying to use stem cells to repair injuries or replenish tissues that can’t regenerate on their own.”

  “You used the pronoun we,” Rip said. “They feel like we’re playing God. Is that what you do here?”

  Watari made a show of raising her wrist and staring at it as if checking her watch. She shook her head and said, “For another, what, two or three months anyway. That’s why I was here this afternoon when you called. I’m always here these days, trying to push out as much research as I can before the project gets shut down.”

  Without even knowing how exactly how the information fit with everything she knew, Kalani could tell a big piece had just been dropped into their lap. A prickly sensation rippled up through stomach and on to her scalp, her body sensing that for the first time all week they were making progress.

  “Is that what you meant when you said you knew it would upset some people?” Kalani asked.

  Again Watari’s focus shifted down to the desk for a long moment before raising itself up to meet Kalani’s. Her lips parted a bit before her head nodded up and down.

  “For the past three years, myself and a small team of researchers have been working exclusively on stem cell research. Set up through discretionary funding out of the governor’s office, we were tasked with trying to determine if there was anything that could be done to battle the growing concern of brain injuries in sports.”

  A puff of air pushed out through Kalani’s lips, a bit of surprise passing over her face. “Wow. I had no idea. I never even heard about such a thing, even though concussions are all the rage in the news these days.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have,” Watari said, shaking her head. “The funding was granted under the conditions of confidentiality, all of us made to sign very strict gag orders before coming aboard.”

  “And so recently it went public?” Rip asked. “Is that what would anger some people?”

  Watari shifted her focus to him and shook her head again, the movement slow and controlled. “No, quite the opposite. This year, the funding was removed from the governor’s budget. When the new fiscal year starts on July 1st, we will go dark, and I will go back to teaching full time in the fall.”

  It was a struggle for Kalani to remain visibly calm as she stared back at Watari, fireworks exploding in her mind. So many questions raced forward, beginning with the secrecy the governor used in convening the group and running through why he had suddenly decide to strip the funding from it.

  “What were you guys working on?” Kalani asked. “Was it something that might have brought down political fire in this election?”

  “And he shut us down out of fear?” Watari asked, sensing where the question was going, finishing the thought for her. “Only insomuch as we existed. As far as our work went, we were making good progress, but we were very careful not to cross any moral lines. As I alluded to earlier, I think a few more people would be angered by knowing we were shut down than that we were conducting research.”

  “What makes you say that?” Rip asked, Kalani sensing he was leaving the question intentionally vague.

  Watari extended a hand towards Kalani. “As you just stated, concussions and head injuries are cause for great concern today. Did you know that former football players are nineteen times more likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease than a regular person? Or that the average thirty-five year old NFL player has the brain composition of a seventy year old man?

  “If we could correct some of those things, or at least figure out a way to minimize the effects, we could potentially be affecting thousands of lives every year, far more than that if you think of all the young boys playing in high school across the country. And that’s just football. Toss in hockey, soccer, boxing, even surfing here in Hawaii. The numbers add up fast.”

  A moment of quiet passed as Kalani and Rip contemplated what she said, running the figures in their mind. Just in her own amateur athletic career Kalani had received a concussion playing field hockey, the result of a stick to the head that left her sensitive to light for days afterward. She couldn’t even bear to imagine what NFL linebackers must endure on a weekly basis.

  “But you mentioned that it was very hush-hush,” Kalani said. “If nobody knew about it, how could they be angry?”

  There was no response from Watari for a long moment, followed by a loud snort that drew the entire right side of her face upward. “I’m sorry, I should have clarified to say there was nothing said publicly about it. As he is prone to doing though, there was no way the governor was going to let something like this go by without making sure some potential donors were aware of his actions.”

  Just like that, Watari had handed them an even bigger piece of information than anything they could have hoped for.

  Motive.

  Kalani’s mind raced as she strung things together, from the targeting of pregnant women to the very precise placement of their bodies once they were stripped of their cargo. Somebody had placed a lot of hopes on the research being conducted and had not taken kindly to the funding being pulled from it.

  “Have any of those donors come forward and tried to resuscitate the program?” Kalani asked.

  “That I don’t know,” Watari said, lifting her hands by her side, the bracelets on her wrist rattling against each other. “That’s above my pay grade. I wouldn’t be surprised though, given some of the grumblings I’ve heard behind closed doors about our being shut down.”

  Kalani and Rip fixed a long stare on each other, both of their faces neutral. Kalani could barely contain herself as she stared back at him, ready to sprint from the room and begin digging on the new lead they’d been given, finally gaining traction once they’d started looking in the right direction.

  Still, she had just a few more things to ask, shoring up the reason they had come there in the first place.

  “Doctor, in your opinion, could the abduction of three fetuses be for the purpose of conducting independent stem cell research?”

  Another veil of horror passed over Watari’s face before receding, her lips pursing in front of her. They could see her visibly wrestling with the moral qualms attached before, after a long moment, focusing on the question.

  “It would be highly, highly unethical,” she began, the words coming out slow and measured, a look comprised of considering the question and simultaneously being repulsed by it. “As of this time, there isn’t a single facility in the country studying human fetal stem cells.”

  “Human?” Rip asked, beating Kalani to it by just a split second.

  Watari nodded, glancing between them. “Here, and in most laboratories, we use mice cells. They are much easier to obtain and work with, free of any moral setbacks. A few years ago the FDA legalized using human cells for research, but the only place in the country that ever tried was in Atlanta, and they shut down last winter.”

  “So that’s it?” Kalani asked. “Nobody is working with them at all now, despite everything we hear in the news?”

  “Pretty much,” Watari said, resignation on her face. “There was talk of a group in Sweden still doing some things, I had heard of a guy in Japan making a run at it, but otherwise, nothing. The court of public opinion had ruled against it.”

  Kalani nodded. If somebody in the state had had a personal interest in the research being conducted by the university, they would take its closure quite seriously, especially given the dearth of any other work on it in the world. It would provide more than enough impetus for the acts that were now going on around the city, especially with the election looming just months away.

  “Let’s just say, hypothetically,” Kalani began, thinking out loud. She knew it was against protocol to do so, especially in the p
resence of a civilian expert, but the circumstances and the heinous nature of the crimes had her far from caring. “That someone was angry that this facility was shut down and wanted to take up the research on their own. How would they go about it?”

  The question raised Watari’s eyebrows as she sat in silence a moment, giving off the impression that she had never seriously considered the prospect. Her face receded to an ashen color as she realized the hypothetical was a legit question, her gaze fixed on Kalani.

  “Depends how hung up they were on the ethics of it. If they wanted to go by the book, they would apply for a permit through the FDA, obtain mice to harvest stem cells, and begin working.”

  “And if they weren’t concerned about that at all?” Kalani asked, leaning forward, realizing the small of her back had grown damp against the chair behind her.

  Watari pressed her lips together for a long moment, as if not wanting to release the words that were just behind them. “Then they would probably start gathering human stem cells from wherever they could. Abortion clinics, baby teeth, and, yes, pregnant women.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  For the second time in as many days, a meeting was called for three of the most unlikely allies in Honolulu.

  Kalani’s first reaction at leaving Watari’s office was to pull out her cell phone and contact Tseng. In one fell swoop they had just been given an entirely new direction, matching motive to both the ritualistic killing of pregnant women and the targeted disposal of placing them where the governor would be implicated. In addition they had also been handed the key to another ongoing investigation, added in on a throwaway comment, something too strong for Kalani or Rip either one to miss.

  Upon pulling her phone out and powering it back to life though, her thoughts of contacting Tseng were cut short, interrupted by a half dozen missed calls from Kimo Mata. The last of the list was time stamped just six minutes earlier, the entire futile attempt at contact punctuated with the text message,Call me ASAP. Very important.

  Blowing through the lobby with only a slight wave of thanks to the front guard, Kalani pressed the phone to her ear, bypassing her voicemail and calling Kimo directly. The line was snatched up halfway through the first ring, the voice on the other side breathless.

  “Where have you been?” he asked, concern more than irritation in his voice.

  “We’ve been in a meeting at JABSOM, what’s going on?” Kalani replied, Rip beside her as they headed for the parking lot.

  “JABSOM?” Kimo asked. “You guys alright?”

  A hint of a smile pulled at Kalani’s face. “More than alright. We just got some big information.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Kimo replied. “I’m near the capitol now. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  It only took him seven.

  Sliding into the lot, he parked at an angle in front of the van and Kalani’s Jeep, forming a misshapen triangle in the open lot. He hopped out and ran both hands back over his buzzed-down hair, stretching up onto his toes, a few low pops sounding out from his spine.

  “Wow,” he said in greeting. “What a day.”

  “Yeah?” Kalani asked.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Rip said, back to leaning against his van, the sun dropping golden rays directly onto his face. The skin folded in tight around his eyes to shield itself from them, but otherwise he made no attempt to block it from view.

  Kimo looked at each of them in turn, a slow smile growing on his face as he stared across at Rip. “You first, then I’ll fill in what I know.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kalani hooked her thumbs into the rear pockets of her jeans and began. “Earlier today I went back to Tripler to meet with the ME. Pretty much exactly what we figured last night. Girl was very clean, and very pregnant.”

  “So no connection to the previous two at all?” Kimo inserted.

  “None,” Kalani said, shaking her head. “So, taking our conversation from last night into account, I flipped the script, asked the ME what she thought three unborn babies would represent to someone.

  “Her response? Stem cells.”

  Rotating at the waist, Kimo looked back at the buildings behind him, nodding. “JABSOM. Got it.”

  “Yep,” Kalani said, glancing over as well. “Chief Tseng got on the phone and put us in touch with a Dr. Watari in there, leading stem cell expert in the state.”

  A moment passed as Kimo pursed his lips, trying to place the name, before shaking his head. “Never heard of him.”

  “Her,” Kalani corrected, “and the reason for that is for the last three years she’s been working on a very secret project looking at stem cells. She didn’t get into too much detail about the nature of it, but I do know it was tasked with examining brain injuries. Right, Rip?”

  “Right,” Rip confirmed, his fingers laced behind his head, pulling it forward to follow every word of the conversation.

  Kalani opened her mouth to continue but paused, seeing a look of realization flash over Kimo’s features. His smile and eyes both opened wider, his body rocking back at the waist to look up at the sky.

  “What?” Kalani asked.

  “Nothing,” Kimo said, bringing both hands up and passing them over his face, a loud breath echoing off of his palm. “Please, continue, we’ll get to it in a minute.”

  “Oh-kay,” Kalani said, letting her surprise at his reaction show in her voice. “Anyway, this thing was kept way off the books per direct orders of the governor. Ironclad non-competes, no talking to anybody, you name it.”

  “The governor?” Kimo asked, his smile fading a bit, confusion flooding in. He leaned forward a bit and cocked his head to the side, asking, “What’s his angle in this?”

  “Controlling the purse strings,” Rip said, jumping into the narrative for the first time. “He set the whole thing up using discretionary funding, but this year didn’t feel the need to put it into his budget.”

  “Whole thing goes up in smoke on July 1st,” Kalani finished.

  “Oh, shit,” Kimo said, his eyebrows tracking up his forehead, his lips forming into a perfect circle. “Bet that pissed some people off.”

  “Sure did,” Kalani said. “Who those people might be we’re not sure, but now we at least know to start looking for them.”

  “Also,” Rip said, drawing their attention towards him, “care to guess what else she mentioned as another suitable source of stem cells? Besides just fetuses?”

  Kimo’s face fell blank as he glanced to Kalani and back to Rip. “What’s that?”

  “Baby teeth,” Rip said, Kalani noticing for the first time a hint of triumph on his features. Things were beginning to fall into place, and like her he was starting to get enthused, no longer being forced to play catch up.

  “Baby teeth?” Kimo said, his face twisting up in confusion a moment before a slow dawning hit me, a smirk forming. “Baby teeth. The thing Sturgis is working on.”

  “Very same,” Kalani said, nodding her confirmation. She could have done without the mention of Sturgis’s name, though she wasn’t about to let that show. Odds were she would soon need his help, as he was one of the few people aware of what was going on. Conceited ass or not, he was numbers, something they might desperately need later on.

  Beside her Rip pushed himself up from the hood of the car, his shirt stuck to the hot metal, remaining affixed until his forward momentum tugged it free. “Alright, your turn. What have you got?”

  Kalani shifted her attention back to Kimo. The meeting with Watari had been so exciting, so full of new information, she had almost forgotten that Kimo had spent the day digging from the opposite angle. Since seeing his missed calls she’d been replaying the conversation from the night before in her head, going over what it was he had been taxed with finding.

  Judging by his behavior, whatever he had was good. She only hoped it was strong enough to buttress what they had just found, giving them something clear to pursue.

  “After we talked last night,” Kimo said, “I lay awak
e and thought about your point that this has to be political. After rolling it around for a while, I came to two conclusions. One, you were right. Two, political motivations usually started and ended with financing.”

  Rip, his fingers still laced, raised his hands above his head and lowered them down to his hair, standing just a few feet from Kalani, both staring at Kimo, waiting for him to continue.

  “I first went through and pulled the official campaign contributions for both candidates, quite honestly not expecting to find much. I started with Harris, went through and flagged everybody that had maxed out, then crossed over and did the same thing for Randle. Care to guess what I found?”

  “A lot of people with too much money on their hands?” Rip asked.

  “Besides that,” Kimo said, brushing aside the comment, acknowledging without condemning. “Four different entities all maxed out contributions to both candidates.”

  Kalani ventured a glance over to Rip, who looked just as confused as she did. In her time on the force she had had very little contact with political campaigns, but what she was being told seemed odd, even to her. People tended to support one candidate or another. If they didn’t like either one, they waited until the general election and supported the party itself. Maxing out to both sides in a competitive race made little sense.

  “But why would companies do that?” she asked. “To curry favor with whoever wins?”

  “Eh,” Kimo said, holding up a finger, “you didn’t let me get to the best part.” He paused a moment as if waiting for his big reveal, before saying, “All four companies are shell corporations owned by the same guy.”

  The information was unusual for sure. Even to the untrained political ear of someone like Kalani, she could tell that someone going through such extensive measures just to donate to a primary election seemed a bit excessive. Still, she could sense that from Kimo’s demeanor there was more that wasn’t being shared.

  “You’re sure of this?” she asked.