Robert Walker - Primal Instinct

Having enjoyed the victim's pain and blood, which “turned him on,” blinded by a mad desire for more, the final raining blows and cuts-which Jessica postulated from the Kahala arm must number in forties and fifties-filled the killer with a mystical and religious release from this plane of existence.

Not everyone could comfortably contemplate or fully comprehend such a religion; it wasn't everyone who had to examine such diabolical acts to make sense-however twisted-of sexually motivated mutilation murders. But she and Parry had to do exactly that. Tenderness, caresses, kisses, soft touches, all that love meant for normal, God-fearing human beings who found a healthy lust in mutual respect, care and fondling, were turned to their opposite extremes by the sado-masochistic Cane Cutter and others of his kind. The Cane Cutter preferred brutality to tenderness, punches and knife wounds to caresses, a disgorged tongue to a kiss, a clawing, tearing rake of nails to a soft touch, madness to a healthy lust, tearing and rending to fondling, humiliation to respect. He wanted total domination over life, to completely bond with and take another life. Ironically, he preferred pain to pleasure, death to life. Subconsciously wanting death for himself, but too cowardly to destroy himself, he instead becomes the carrier, the reaper.

The more Jessica thought about him, the more she both recognized and despised the Trade Winds Killer, and the more she believed him still out there, despite the Claxtons and Paniolos of the island or other deviants behind bars at the moment. For not only was he a psychopath, the Cane Cutter was quite cunning, planning out his every move, cautious to a fault and invisible even when seen.

It still remained true that Officers Thom Hilani and Alan Kaniola were the only two lawmen who'd come even remotely close to ending the terror of the Trade Winds Killer.

4 P.M., July 16. FBI Crime Lab, Honolulu

Back at Lau's labs, as they'd come to be known since Dr. Shore's extended departure, Jessica prepared Oniiwah's blood to be tested against that found at Paniolo's. Each specimen was carefully processed, but it would take time to know for certain if they had a match or not. In the meantime, she had to know whether she could or could not trust Lau, who would be overseeing the tests.

Lau had not been present when she'd arrived with the samples she had taken from Oniiwah's corpse. It was 6 P.M. and Lau had gone home, but now his sudden return surprised her.

“ You've heard the news?” she asked.

“ The Japanese-Hawaiian boy, George Oniiwah, yes,” he admitted.

'Then you knew of him?”

“ Only what I have read in the papers.”

She knew he was lying and from the speed of his darting black eyes, and the pretense with his hands over a rack of test tubes and slide trays he fiddled with, Jessica knew that he knew she'd just assessed his body language.

“ You are closely related to Joseph Kaniola?” she asked.

“ Closely? No, not closely.”

“ But you are related?”

“ By blood, no.”

“ Marriage then?”

“ Yes.”

“ You know your work here must remain confidential at all costs; you know that, and yet you told Kaniola details that should not have left this office.”

Lau's brow creased and he found a stool to sit on. Shaking his head as if to say no, he replied. “I only told what was already public record.”

“ No, you told him about our cane-cutter theory.”

“ And you told him more than that,” he said defensively.

She stared back at the impenetrable black eyes of the small man. “I am an investigative member of this team as well as a forensic expert, Mr. Lau. You are the manager of a lab. Are we clear on that?”

His jaw tightened, but he said, “Yes, of course.”

“ Chief Parry knows that it was you who divulged the fact the killer uses a cane cutter.”

“ Kaniola promised me it was off the record, that he would not use such information.”

“ Right,” she said, but she could believe the little man, too. “So what're you saying, that Joseph Kaniola was forced into printing all that he knew?”

“ Who do you think funds his paper? You know business? Politics?” A little shrug of the shoulders and Lau felt he had explained all.

She nodded. “All right, so far, so good. Kaniola is pressured by the nationalist party members to tell all to the people. Who's twisting Kaniola's arm?”

“ The Honorable Provisional Government of our people, the PKOs, those who will take over power of the islands when your government has lost our many standing suits in your courts.”

She could almost forgive Lau his idealistic and naive dream that the U.S. Government would one day benevolently return all native lands and properties to the Hawaiians. It was about as likely as one day seeing Arizona returned to its native population there. With the capital invested in Oahu alone, in the Waikiki strip alone, the islands of Hawaii were inextricably bound to the economic and social fabric of the U.S., and nothing would ever change that, despite the agreement to return Hong Kong to China by Great Britain in 1977-or perhaps because of it.

Jessica could almost forgive Joseph Kaniola now, knowing that his own “provisional government” ties could make life hell for him and the rest of his extended family, and that such a government wasn't above using a man like Halole Ewelo anymore than her own might. As for Ewelo's part, he must've been promised much for the role he'd played in the drama-his attempt to lead the investigation to a white male suspect, namely Professor Claxton, knowing that hanging a white teacher for the murders of island girls would spell out a victory for the nationalist party. But perhaps no one could know just how far Paniolo Ewelo might take his deadly interrogation techniques.

“ Who are the PKOs?” she curiously asked.

“ Kahoolawe preservation society. They want everything to return to traditional ways.”

Jim had mumbled something about this PKO group in the car on their way back. She had to get Jim on the line, explain her newfound knowledge to him. See if he did not concur that both Kaniola and Lau were being squeezed, and that these men were both in an impossible position. But for now she had Lau to deal with.

“ Now we have another dead Hawaiian, Mr. Lau, thanks to politics. Do you really think the deaths of all these young women have anything to do with political matters on the island?”

“ No, of course not, but your government-whom you work for-is desperate to use the killings, to point to the heathens living here-”

“ I've got no such orders!”

“- to bring home the fact we can't conduct our own affairs-”

“ I've had no such instructions, Mr. Lau, and neither has Parry,” she scolded.

“- that we are little more than pagan children still to be Christianized and colonized and Westernized and homogenized.”

“ You can't believe this, Mr. Lau.”

“ If your government can show this, then they take back Kahoolawe and all lands and titles we have fought to regain over the years.” A kind of native islander's paranoia had infiltrated the man's voice.

“ Damnit all, Mr. Lau, we-people such as you and me-we have an obligation to the truth first and foremost. In the laboratory there are no bloody politics, only science… only fact. That's true in every state of the Union, including this one!”

“ Noble words, sister American,” he said calmly, “but all we do, all we say, they wait to pounce upon and twist to whatever expediency may suit them. Read the Congressional Record.”

Christ, she silently admitted, he did understand the Great White Way. “You can trust Parry.”

“ Can I?”

“ Yes, damnit, and you can trust me. The only question remaining is, can either of us trust you?”