Pulse Point

by Don Pendleton

  “You messin’ with my head, Kalikani? I ain’t called you in weeks. And you damn well know I don’t go near that place. Wiseman’s is only for crackheads and low-life asswipes. You go there, those strung-out dopers will cut you open just for breathin’ the same air they do.” Mojo paused. “What is this all about, Kalikani?”

  “Nothing, Mojo. You’ve just cleared something up for me. You can go back to your stool now. Hey, put Andy back on.”

  Mojo, obviously not clear on what had just happened, handed the phone to the bartender.

  Kalikani heard his last words as Mojo wandered to his bar stool.

  “Why’d he call me? He doesn’t call me.”

  “Give Mojo a twenty-dollar tab, Andy. I’ll settle up next time I’m passing by. Do that for me, huh?”

  “Sure thing, Kalikani. Just don’t forget to drop by.”

  Kalikani laughed. “Would I mess you about, Andy?”

  After he had put the phone down, Kalikani sat in silence. He had received the answer he needed, but it did nothing to make him feel better.

  Tasker had openly lied about the supposed call from Mojo.

  Tasker had taken his most recent call and, whatever he had been told, had forced him to leave the office quickly.

  Kalikani had the feeling Rudy Tasker was getting ready to run.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ABLE TEAM

  With Chi secure in the rear of Lopaka’s police cruiser, Able Team was able to wind up the incident.

  As HPD cars arrived, Lopaka marshaled a couple to block off the jet. Someone had added a med unit to follow the HPD convoy. Lopaka sent the medics to attend to Blancanales and take over from Schwarz, who was kneeling beside his partner. Blancanales had a deep flesh wound, the bullet still embedded in his hip. He had lost a great deal of blood. They did what they could before loading him into the ambulance, and despite his protests, hit the sirens as they sped back to the city.

  With Lopaka at his side Lyons opened up the panel truck, and they took their first look at the piece of equipment that had been the prime cause of all the problems.

  The unit of metal, a configuration neither of them could fully understand, was strapped down to the bed of the truck. It was heat seared from the power discharge and looked almost like some sculpture designed by a hyped-up artist.

  “What are all the gizmos for?” Lopaka asked, hands on her hips as she studied the unit.

  “How the hell would I know?” Lyons said. “I’m just a simple grunt. I leave the science to the smart guys.”

  “This thing... It caused all that damage at the Coast Guard station? Shut off all the electric power?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now that is scary. What happens if a larger one goes off?”

  Lyons watched a U.S. Air Force vehicle roll across the concrete and stop behind them. Armed figures exited the vehicle and came up to Lyons and Lopaka.

  “You can step aside now,” a uniformed captain snapped. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “They teach you that in training?” Lopaka asked.

  The captain stared at her. “What?”

  “The bad manners and lack of respect.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you...”

  “Try me, flyboy,” Lyons said, planting himself in front of the man. “You’re a little late in the game. Where were you when all this was going down?”

  The captain reddened. “This matter comes under my jurisdiction. My orders come from Air Force Command.”

  Lyons actually grinned. “Mine come from way above that, so call your boss and check if you don’t believe me.”

  Lopaka gripped his arm. “Hey, Matthews, let the Boy Scout play soldiers. Just take me away before I shoot him.”

  They walked away to join Schwarz.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Now we’ve pulled their chestnuts out of the fire, we’re out of the loop,” Lyons said.

  “Let’s get out of here before they realize we have Chi sitting in the back of Lopaka’s cruiser,” Schwarz said. “We can turn him over to HPD, then go check on our wounded hero.”

  Lopaka commandeered one of the HPD 4x4s for the trip back to the city. Schwarz drove, while Lyons sat in the rear with Lopaka. A silent Xian Chi sat between them. Lopaka had her Benelli shotgun in her hands, the muzzle never far from Chi.

  Lyons called Stony Man and had a conversation with Brognola.

  “Mission accomplished,” he said. “We recovered the package. The Air Force took control and made it clear we were no longer needed.”

  “Any casualties?”

  “Comer took a shot in the hip. We’re on our way to check him out at the hospital after we hand over our other prize. Chinese guy called Xian Chi. He was the one running interference for the North Koreans. He doesn’t want to go home because he already asked for a deal. He could be useful.”

  “Nice bonus,” Brognola said. “Our people will want a long chat with him. The way this all worked out, everyone is going to want a piece of this guy. A lot of questions will need answering.”

  “I don’t envy anyone that job,” Lyons said. “And I’m guessing there are going to be red faces in Pyongyang and Beijing, as well.”

  “We can debrief when you guys get back. But no rush. Hawaii should be nice this time of year. Take some R & R.”

  “Yeah? On your dime, of course.”

  Brognola chuckled. “I don’t suppose I can make too much fuss about that, can I?”

  “Not really,” Lyons agreed and shut off his cell.

  “That was a pretty smart backup play you made back there, Jenny,” Schwarz said. “HPD always respond so fast?”

  “No mystery,” Lopaka said. “I called Kalikani, and he gave me the same coordinates you had. So I borrowed a cruiser and took off after you.”

  “A good move.” Schwarz glanced at Lyons. “Right, boss?”

  After a moment Lyons nodded. “Not bad.”

  “He always so generous with his praise?” Lopaka asked.

  “Only on a good day.”

  When they arrived at the precinct, Xian Chi was escorted inside. While Lyons and Schwarz stayed with Chi during booking him, Lopaka climbed the stairs to the next floor to speak to Kalikani.

  She was back in a couple minutes, a frown on her face.

  “Something wrong?” Schwarz asked.

  “O isn’t here. I spoke to one of his detectives. O left some time ago. Didn’t tell anyone where he was going, and that isn’t like O. I tried his cell but he isn’t answering.”

  “You learn anything else?”

  “Just one thing. You might find it odd.”

  “After everything that has happened since we stepped off our plane, nothing on this island would surprise me,” Schwarz said.

  “Detective Larch mentioned that Rudy Tasker, the head detective, upped and left the department some time before O did. One minute Tasker was in his office, the next he simply left. No word to anyone.”

  “Anything happen that could have made him leave?”

  “There was a bank heist going down in the city. Local cops were handling the scene, including detectives from Tasker’s department.”

  “Maybe Tasker decided to check it out, as well,” Schwarz said.

  The expression on Lopaka’s face told Lyons and Schwarz there was more behind the reason for Kalikani leaving the office.

  “O was convinced the department had a leak,” she said. “The way things have been happening, it was just a suspicion. He didn’t have any proof. Just a cop thing.”

  “But now he’s taken it further,” Schwarz said. “He thinks this Tasker might be involved?”

  “Maybe I’m seeing something that isn’t there,” Lopaka said.

 
; “And maybe not,” Lyons said.

  “So what do we do?”

  “We drop Hartz at the hospital,” Lyons said. “He can stay with Comer. Let us know how he’s doing.” Lyons stared hard at Schwarz as he spoke.

  “Okay,” Schwarz said. “No problem.”

  “If Kalikani calls in, tell Larch to find out where he is,” Lyons said to Lopaka. “He knows how to contact us.”

  They made their way outside. Lyons took the wheel, Schwarz beside him. Lopaka guided them across town to the hospital. It took no more than ten minutes. Lyons swung into the grounds and dropped Schwarz near the main entrance. He stepped out of the 4x4 and joined Schwarz for a quick word, before getting back in and driving off.

  “Where do we go from here?” Lyons asked.

  “What did you say to Hartz?” Lopaka asked. “Something you didn’t want me to hear? I worked that out for myself.”

  “Our people back home have the best computer technology available. They can check into Tasker’s profile. We might come up with something useful.”

  Lopaka folded her arms and stared out the windshield. Lyons could see the set of her jaw and understood she was not too happy at being sidelined.

  “Should I just drive around in circles, or do you have somewhere in mind?” he asked.

  “You can be a bastard, Matthews.”

  “At last a compliment. So while you’re in a friendly mood, tell me you know where Tasker lives.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  KALIKANI AND TASKER

  Kalikani gave thanks to whoever came up with the idea for automatic transmissions. If his unmarked Crown Vic had been cursed with a manual transmission, he would not have been able to check out his theory. In case he was mistaken, this particular HPD cop did not want any witnesses. So being able to drive solo meant he could follow up on his, admittedly, unproven idea without having anyone with him embarrassed. He could accept that for himself; it wouldn’t be the first time Kalikani had laid himself open to ending up with a red face, so that part didn’t faze him.

  He heard his cell vibrate in his shirt pocket. He was pretty certain it would be Lopaka again. She had been calling every twenty minutes. Kalikani grinned. That girl’s persistence was off the charts. Get something fixed in her mind and she hung on like a stray dog with a juicy bone. As he had done before, Kalikani ignored the call. He had something to do and refused to be diverted.

  He had a fleeting thought it might even be Tasker himself. Trying to get through to Kalikani with police business. Somehow Kalikani decided that wasn’t it. He focused on the road ahead, hoping that whoever was calling would get tired eventually.

  Traffic thinned as Kalikani drove out of the city and picked up the highway that rose into the wooded hills above Honolulu. He cruised steadily, working on the theory Tasker might have driven to his home. If someone had questioned him as to why he was following up on his suspicions, Oscar Kalikani would have been hard put to give a clear explanation. He was still having a difficult time convincing himself fully.

  Experienced cops developed an instinct. It came through years of dealing with lawbreakers, with duplicitous individuals who spent their lives lying and cheating, and in the extreme, using violence to get what they wanted. Contact with these people gave a cop the ability to sense when matters were less than genuine.

  It was Kalikani’s ingrained cop sense that keyed on Tasker’s attempt to conceal his nervousness during that call about the Mojo meet. And now his sudden departure from the office. His eagerness to get out of the department, according to Larch. It was so unlike Rudy Tasker’s usual demeanor. It had prompted Kalikani’s need to look further into the man’s behavior. And the more he allowed his suspicion to grow, the stronger became his desire to bring the matter to a head.

  When Kalikani took the curve and saw Tasker’s home standing back from the road, the next thing he saw was a second vehicle standing alongside the detective’s. Kalikani turned the cruiser off the road, into the shadow of trees and foliage. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a compact monocular. He zeroed in on the car and checked the rear plate.

  For the first time since leaving the department, Kalikani took out his cell and hit the speed-dial number for the station. He identified himself when his call was answered and asked to be put through to the vehicle division. The man who answered recognized Kalikani’s voice.

  “I need a quick check on a plate,” Kalikani said, giving the registration number.

  He heard the soft tap of keys as the number was fed into the system.

  “It’s a rental,” the cop said. “A city company.”

  “We have a make on the renter?”

  “Let me check.”

  A name came up in Kalikani’s mind, and he was not surprised when it matched the one he was given over the phone.

  The same name as the one the invoices went to for the panel van and truck used by the hijackers who hit the police convoy. A Chinese-owned company was being used as a front for car rentals to cover the real hirer.

  “Thanks, Eddie. You just made my day.”

  “Clint Eastwood. Dirty Harry. 1971,” Eddie quoted.

  “You never cease to impress me,” Kalikani said as he ended the call.

  His cell rang instantly. Kalikani looked at the screen.

  Lopaka calling again. He checked previous calls, and saw she had dialed him over a dozen times during the past hour.

  “Don’t you ever give up?” Kalikani said as he answered and heard Lopaka’s voice.

  “Not when it’s important, O. You should realize that by now. So what the hell is going on, and where are you? Larch told me you took off in a hurry. Something bugging you, O?”

  “Right now I’m sitting at the side of the road near Rudy Tasker’s home.”

  “Tasker? You think Tasker is involved? He’s the department leak?”

  “You catch on fast, Jenny Lopaka. Answer this. I just identified a rented car, sitting alongside Tasker’s. Came from the same rental company who provided the vehicles involved in the recent hijack. And the rental agreement was billed to the same company as the one that footed the bill for the trucks.”

  “Matthews and I are minutes out. O, don’t you go doing anything crazy until we get there.”

  * * *

  RUDY TASKER HAD thought his life was mapped out for him the day he had joined the police force. He was young, and he was eager for advancement. It all seemed to go well. He sailed through the early years, passing promotion exams with ease. He persevered through the years when he wore the HPD uniform. Did his street time. Made sergeant. As soon as the opportunity came, he applied for a detective’s badge.

  No one was more surprised than Tasker himself when he was accepted. He moved into plainclothes and started to make his way through the ranks. His career was steady but not spectacular. Tasker applied himself, watched and listened to the senior officers, and played the waiting game. He made lieutenant in a reasonable time, took his share of knocks. He survived three shooting incidents, and took down two armed perps in separate incidents that earned him credits and a step up the promotion ladder.

  Life, though, had a few nasty surprises in store for Rudy Tasker. The woman he loved—beautiful and full of life—who he was going to marry, went behind his back and found herself another lover. To her credit she faced him with the facts and told him their relationship was over.

  It knocked Tasker back.

  Another man might have hit the bottle and taken the slide down to obscurity. Rudy Tasker did not. He grieved for his loss but kept it inside. The experience soured his attitude toward women. He found he was happy enough with his solo life. He had his work, and he plunged into it.

  He became obsessed with his career. The problem now was, no matter the heights he might rise to, it was little more than a way to get
through the days. He saw the years stretching ahead, with only a lonely retirement at the end, and even when he became a captain, the rise in salary wasn’t going to keep him in a style he desired.

  So he had looked around, had used his contacts and found ways to supplement his income. Call it what you want. Bribes. Payoffs. His retirement fund. Tasker began to build his future. He was smart enough to salt away his side money, as he called it, in a number of accounts, under false identities scattered throughout the islands. As a high-ranking cop he understood the ways to do this without raising suspicions. And he was clever. Never showing any outward signs of his accumulating wealth. Never letting loose talk reveal what he was doing.

  Five years later as his side money grew, Tasker began to lose interest in his work. Maybe it was because he had seen too many years of the underside of life. The criminals. The violence. The bureaucracy that was slowly strangling police work. He spent days out of each week behind his desk, simply filling out paperwork. Tasker had begun to hate it. He wanted out. All he needed was the final big score that would bring his retirement fund to the top level.

  And it was around that time he was approached by Kai Yeung. The quiet, soft-spoken Chinese had come recommended by one of Tasker’s longtime clients, another Chinese man who he had done business with in the past.

  In a private club Yeung had introduced Tasker to his principal, the urbane Chinese man called Xian Chi. By the time they parted company that evening, Rudy Tasker had his future sewn up. The money he would earn by assisting Chi was far beyond anything he had been offered before.

  In reality the services were easily achieved. Chi needed to be informed of police activities regarding certain matters. Tasker had his own informants within the force, people in a position to offer the kind of information Tasker needed and could pass to Yeung on Chi’s behalf. As well as his own fee, Tasker was given substantial cash amounts to satisfy his in-house informers, enough money to ensure they would not be tempted to talk about their clandestine efforts.

  It all seemed to be going smoothly.