Sujata Massey - Shimura Trouble

As I’d feared, the dark garage was filled with poisonous fumes, and lit only by the running lights of the Mercedes, which was parked and running. In the hazy gloom, I could make out saw two men sprawled on the floor, their heads pressed against the crack between the garage door and the floor. I fumbled along the wall in the dark, pressing every button I could find; the light went on finally and then the main door groaned upwards.

As the fresh, life-giving air rushed in, Michael and Kurt’s bodies rolled forward. They had been gagged with socks and had their wrists and ankles bound with sharp plastic ties, the kind the police used now instead of handcuffs.

I grabbed a small pair of sharp Japanese gardening shears that I saw hanging on the garage wall and cut Michael’s ties. As his arms fell free, Michael’s eyelids flickered open. “Getting out,” he rasped.

“Yes, I’m getting you out.” I would have covered him with kisses, if there had been time.

“Getting out…of this…business.”

“I keep saying that too.” I cut Kurt’s ties, but Kurt’s eyes didn’t open quickly like Michael’s had. I pressed my fingers to his pulse, and thought I felt something, although I wasn’t sure.

“How long have you been in here?” I asked Michael, trying to stifle the horror inside me.

“Not as long as him,” he said, getting on his hands and knees and looking at Kurt with sorrow.

It was clear that neither man was well enough to escape on foot. But if I could haul them both into the Mercedes, I could back out of the opened garage door, and get us all to safety. I made the decision quickly and as I opened the rear passenger door, Michael staggered upward.

“Get in the car,” I said, as I heard the sound of the doorknob to the small garage door being twisted. That was locked, but the wide door meant for cars was open. As if he understood what I was thinking, Michael turned from the car and ran a few drunken-looking steps to the switch on the wall which sent the large door creaking down.

As Jiro, dressed in black shorts and matching tank top, came speeding barefoot around the corner, he slowed to get through the decreasing space. The garage door responded to the presence of an obstacle, and stopped.

Jiro seemed stunned, and in the time he paused, as if making sure the door had really halted, I’d grabbed the gardening shears from the floor where they lay beside Kurt and, without stopping to think, drove them into Jiro’s face. This was a day for surprises; I’d never been as rough on anybody before, but when I thought about what Jiro and Calvin had done to Charisse, and almost done to Kurt and Michael, I felt desperate, and justified.

Jiro fell to the ground with a cry, covering his face, and as he did so, the stun gun clattered to the floor. I grabbed it and held it ready to use, although Jiro showed no signs of being able to do anything but cower and cry, the hands covering his face turning red from blood.

Now, for the first time, I felt sick about the violence I’d committed, but Michael had in the meantime pushed Kurt into the car, and was calling for me. I pressed the garage door all the way open, jumped into the driver’s seat and backed straight out, assiduously avoiding running Jiro over, because now a corner of my brain was telling me that I’d seriously messed with the son of a billionaire, and there could be consequences.

Out on the lava rock driveway, I made a three-point turn and headed out to face the property’s gate. To my surprise, the gate didn’t automatically open; nor did any of the buttons set into the driver’s side visor work. Key chain, I thought frantically, and fumbled until I found a device with six buttons. The first one I pressed set the house alarm going, but the next opened the gate.

Out we sped, surprising a shocked-looking mother coaching a toddler on a tricycle, then past a lush grove where my father’s friends were practicing tai chi. I was going so fast that I almost missed Tom, whom Michael pointed out was running behind the car with a baseball bat. I slowed down and he jumped into the unlocked back row.

“Where are you going? Tom asked, between hard breaths.

“To the clinic in Waianae,” I said. “Kurt’s had carbon monoxide exposure…”

“I see that-and Michael doesn’t look good either.” Tom spoke crossly, as he took Kurt’s pulse. “Why didn’t you call me for help earlier? You said you would do that.”

“Sorry. We lost our supply bag with Michael’s phone, our walkie-talkie and other equipment in the ocean.”

“OK then. When I received a telephone call from Calvin, I was confused, but tried to keep calm. Then, when Michael’s friend from the boat telephoned, I realized you must be at the Kikuchi house, despite what Calvin had said, and I was quite worried.”

“Parker called you?” I was stunned.

“You apparently left your mobile telephone aboard, and Parker scanned the numbers stored within and started calling all the ones with Hawaii exchanges. It took a few calls before he tried our landline, and reached me.”

“I told Parker about Tom as a back-up,” Michael said in his slowed-down, weak voice.

“He thought you three were signaling trouble from the house. Some lights!”

“There was no signal,” Michael said ruefully. Calvin knocked me out too fast.”

“I did it when I was upstairs,” I said, then was distracted by the sight of Tom, who had angled Kurt under him and was now performing CPR.

We were fast approaching the Kainani gatehouse, and while I knew it would probably look incriminating for me to stop there in the car everyone knew was the Kikuchis’, I knew that to avoid stopping would be worse. In a few clear sentences, I told the startled teenage attendant to call an ambulance to the guard booth to take Michael and Kurt to the Waianae Clinic.

“Please go with them, Tom,” I said. “And when you get there, please tell my father I’m absolutely fine.”

“Where will you be?” Tom gasped on his up-breath.

“I’m staying here to meet the police. They have to know what happened, before they find two mashed-up guys at the Kikuchi mansion, notice the stolen car, and come to a different conclusion.”

“It could be bad for you, Rei,” Michael said groggily. “Did you get anything good?”

“I hope so, because I kept my wetsuit on and the tape-recorder running the whole time. I found a bit of evidence in the bathroom that’s more than we ever dreamed of, too.”

“The poison?” Michael murmured.

“Maybe. There were plenty of drugs, but also Charisse’s hair band, which I pray to God is still trapped in the bathtub where I saw it.”

I DON’T KNOW if it was because of everyone’s prayers or swift medical care, but Kurt survived, albeit with some changes. His words came more slowly, and what he said was a bit nicer. Still, the military doctors at Tripler, where he was transferred, were sure he was fit enough to stay with the SEALS. I was also relieved that he didn’t resent me for what happened, but rather credited me for sticking around in a dangerous place long enough to save his life.

A number of other good things happened, too. Charisse’s hair band, which I’d worried so much about moving, was still inside the bath drain cover along with a few strands of her hair. The tape-recorder I’d worn had functioned and recorded all the damning words that Calvin had said. As a result, both Jiro and Calvin had been charged in the murder of Charisse. Additionally, Calvin faced charges of arson, and various counts of attempted murder regarding Michael, Kurt, my father, and myself.