Robert Walker - Primal Instinct

She awoke to his warmth beside her and the rich sounds of Hawaii greeting the sun. At the open floor-length balcony window here on the sixteenth floor, little island birds had come begging for morning crumbs, one of them inching into the room, cocking its head in her direction-a silent appeal for attention.

“ Will you look at those beggars?” she asked. “I'll call room service,” she suggested.

“ For the birds?”

“ For all of us!”

“ Sounds good.”

“ Any preferences?”

“ I trust you implicitly, but I'm not sure the 'elapaio do.”

“ 'Elapay-o'.'“

“ That's what your new guests are called. Honeycreepers who've been spoiled by tourists on balconies everywhere feeding 'em Cheerios and potato chips and pizza crumbs.”

“ You certainly know a lot about the islands.”

“ Can't live here as long as I have and not pick up a few things.”

“ It's really become home for you, hasn't it?”

He'd disappeared, nude, into the bathroom, and in a moment she heard him call back, “What? Oh, yeah… well, I read a lot, too.” His voice was replaced by the shower spray. She ordered scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee, and then she joined him in the shower.

After repeated raps on the door without answer, room service left the tray outside.

Outside the hotel, Jim Parry parted with Jessica, taking himself on a morning walk to the nearby hospital, where he'd look in on Sergeant Nathan Ivers. But just before they'd left the room, Parry had called into headquarters and been pleased with the news that a confession had been obtained from George Oniiwah's roommate, a story of betrayal which fully corroborated their deepest suspicions regarding Hal “Paniolo” Ewelo. Jim was ecstatic, hungry for Paniolo's head, and close enough to taste it as it was skewered over the pit. Somehow, the thought of avenging George Oniiwah made Jessica, too, feel there might be justice yet in the world, and that perhaps with the noose tightening around Ewelo's ugly neck, he might just have something to share with them about what he knew of the real Trade Winds Killer, for they'd both become convinced that Ewelo knew more than anyone had at first suspected, especially since the tenuous link between Terri Reno's john on the street and the cowboy-turned-pimp bar owner had been made.

Jessica had checked for any messages left her from the previous evening, and now she was alone outside the hotel, intending to return to the FBI crime lab via cab to see if there'd been any new developments there. Suddenly she was stopped by Joseph Kaniola.

“ What do you want, sir?” she asked coldly.

“ I want you to come with me.”

She shook her head. “I'm not going anywhere with you, Mr. Kaniola.”

“ I swear on my son's grave, I had nothing to do with the Oniiwah boy's death.”

“ I have no intention of going off with you, Mr. Kaniola. I have no reason to trust your motives, not since our last meeting.”

He dropped his gaze and said, “I'm sorry if you have felt used. Dr. Coran, but now you see that we are on the same side.”

She said nothing, flagging down a cab.

Kaniola persisted. “You have been long enough here now to know that everyone uses everyone in Hawaii, and that none of us are spared such… indignity.”

“ What do you want of me, Mr. Kaniola?”

“ My great-granduncle is a shaman and-”

“ Shaman?”

“ He is a priest among the traditionals and has sent word to me…”

“ And so?”

“ He has the gift, and he has seen this Trade Winds Killer, this man who killed my son. He tells me so, and he says he has seen you with him. He says it is not Ewelo.”

“ Has seen me? With the Trade Winds Killer? Just how?”

“ In a trance. Through here,” he replied, pointing to his temple. “My great-granduncle is what your culture calls a… a psychic.”

“ Really? Look, Mr. Kaniola-”

“ Will you come?”

“ No.”

“ But he can tell you facts not presently in evidence, facts you can use against this maniac you hunt.”

She shook her head. “This is still the U.S., and in a U.S. court the word of a prophet or seer isn't of any… use, but you know that, so why're you even pursuing this, Mr. Kaniola?”

“ I do as my great-granduncle requests, without question.”

She glowered at him. “What're you suggesting? That if I don't come voluntarily-”

“ No, no, no, please, Dr. Coran. I only say it is imperative you meet with my great-granduncle.”

“ Bring him round to the Federal building then, this afternoon if you like.” She tried sidestepping him, the cabbie honking his horn, becoming irate.

He blocked her way. “No, you don't understand.”

“ Take it or leave it, but get out of my way or so help me, sir, you will see my training firsthand.”

“ Great Uncle cannot make such a journey.”

“ What's that supposed to mean?”

“ He is ancient and stubborn, like you, and… and he will not… cannot leave the shrine.”

“ The shrine?”

“ The family shrine, where he lives in the mountains, there…” He pointed to the imposing array of mountains over his shoulder and looming over Honolulu. They appeared so unreal as to be painted onto the sky, the most breathtaking mountains Jessica had ever seen anywhere on earth. Kaniola continued, saying, “Great Uncle has seen you in here”-he again pointed to his cranium — “and now pleads to see you in the flesh.”

She took a deep breath. “Seen me? On the six o'clock news maybe, or in your paper?”

“ In his trance, and he wishes to tell you face-to-face of the… of an impending danger.”

“ Like I don't know the risks?” She almost laughed.

“ No… you don't… no one knows as Lomelea knows. He is a hemolele.”

“ Would you mind? I don't have an Hawaiian dictionary on me and-”

“ 'Ole, pono loa, a perfect, a priest.”

“ Look, Kaniola, I'm already late and-”

“ It is an honor to be asked to come before the perfect.”

She stared at the waiting cab and then back at Kaniola. “Do you really think this old man can tell me anything I don't already know about the case?”

“ This old man has lived for generations. He is over a hundred years old.”

She dropped her gaze now. “This… this just better be legitimate and not a waste of my time, Mr. Kaniola, do you understand me?”

“ I do, and it won't be.”

“ Where?”

“ I will take you to him personally.”

Waving off the angry cab driver, Jessica reluctantly followed Kaniola to his waiting car, knowing Jim would be furious with her when he found out what she'd done. Maybe this was why she gave in to Kaniola's less-than-persuasive plea. If she could back Jim off to arm's length, keep him guessing, keep him upset with her, then maybe she had a chance of keeping the relationship under her control-a thing that was going to be doubly hard now that they'd been intimate.

9 A.M., July 17, somewhere in the Koolau Mountains

Jessica found herself at an ancient Polynesian shrine built into the mountainside of Oahu's Koolau Range, away from the bustling city of Honolulu. The shrine was multi-tiered and draped with flowers and ceremonial leis far more beautiful and intricate than any she'd seen at the various tourist traps of either Maui or Honolulu. Kaniola led the way through a labyrinthine garden that connected with the shrine nestled here among trees. It was a shrine of light and life, of wind and bird, of water and greenery, a monument to all that seemed good in the islands. She found a sense of enormous peace and equanimity here, a feeling she'd never completely had before.