Dangerous Minds by Janet Evanovich
A diesel engine rumbled from the direction of the compound.
“It’s the transport,” Emerson said. “They’re heading out.”
Emerson and Riley ran for cover, flattening themselves under a clump of scrub brush. Lights flashed onto the road and the Humvee appeared, followed by the transport. Tin Man was standing in the back cargo bed of the Humvee methodically shining a spotlight into the woods, first to one side then the other.
“They’re looking for us,” Riley whispered to Emerson. “We must have been spotted leaving the compound.”
“They’re looking for something,” Emerson said. “Whether it is us or not is unclear at this time.”
Tin Man played the light across their bush. Riley held her breath, and the light moved on. The Humvee and transport slowly drove another hundred feet down the road before Tin Man said something into a walkie-talkie and the convoy abruptly stopped. Tin Man hopped off the Humvee, opened the rear passenger door, and dragged Spiro out of the vehicle and onto the road.
Spiro was babbling, and when he passed in front of the transport headlights Riley could see that he was shaking. He stumbled and fell to his knees, but Tin Man yanked him to his feet and shoved him toward the woods. Spiro resisted, and Tin Man hit him hard on the side of his face. Spiro sobbed once and went silent. They disappeared into the woods, and Emerson moved out from under cover.
“Stay here,” he said to Riley.
Riley grabbed Emerson by his shirtsleeve. “Telling me to ‘stay here’ implies that you’re not.”
“They’re going to kill him,” Emerson said. “I have to try to do something.”
The sound of a brief struggle carried out of the woods. There was a SPLOOSH, and then bloodcurdling screaming. Tin Man reappeared, got back into the Humvee, and the convoy disappeared down the road.
Emerson and Riley ran down the Jeep trail, toward the screaming. By the time they turned into the woods, the screams had turned into whimpers. The smell of rotten eggs hung heavy in the air. Directly in front of them, lit by moonlight, was a large, nasty-looking, steaming, bubbling mud pot.
“Spiro,” Emerson shouted. “Where are you?”
A mud-covered hand lifted in response. It was Spiro, lying half in and half out of the boiling, sulfuric mud hole. He was covered with the scorching brown sludge, making him almost indistinguishable from the surrounding dirt.
Emerson knelt beside him. “Hang on. We’re going to get you out.”
Spiro looked up and blinked. His skin was sloughing off his face, and his blood was mingling with the mud. “Emerson Knight and Riley Moon? Why are you here?”
“I told my friend I would find his island,” Emerson said. “I have to know what happened.”
“Mauna Kea,” Spiro said.
“What’s at Mauna Kea?” Riley asked. “What will we find there?”
Spiro closed his eyes and blew out his final breath of air. “Armageddon.”
—
It was two in the morning by the time Emerson and Riley got back to the gatehouse. The two guards were still half naked and handcuffed to the woodstove. Vernon and Wayan Bagus still looked ridiculous in their ill-fitting uniforms and were playing cards.
Vernon looked up. “Boy, am I glad to see you. Little Buddy cheats something fierce.”
“I win only through my superior skills,” Wayan Bagus said. “Vernon cannot concentrate.”
They walked outside so they could talk without the guards hearing.
“Did the Humvee and military transport come through here a couple hours ago?” Emerson asked.
Vernon nodded. “Yup. Didn’t even stop to say howdy-do. Little Buddy and I just stayed in the hut. What’d you two find out? Did you bring me back a cheeseburger?”
“For starters, we’re wanted fugitives,” Riley said. “That’s the good news. The bad news is that the insane director of the National Park Service is tapping into the earth’s core to gather materials for making some sort of super-weapon.”
“I’ll just blow this whole thing wide open on the blog,” Vernon said. “It’ll get sorted out lickety-split once it’s all over the Internet.”
“I guess I forgot to mention the hostages,” Riley said.
“There is a hostage?” Wayan Bagus asked.
“Try a million. Tin Man’s going to blow up Yellowstone if we say even a word to anybody about it.”
“I don’t see where that’s a problem,” Vernon said. “We evacuate all the people, and all’s left to blow up are the stupid Bigfoots and stink-hole mud pots. I say good riddance.”
“The park is a national treasure,” Riley said.
“Treasure shmeasure,” Vernon said.
Everyone was silent for a beat, thinking about it.
“Off the table,” Riley said. “We are not going to blow up Yellowstone.”
“Of course not,” Emerson said.
“Very, very bad karma,” Wayan Bagus said. “The thought gives me a severe pain behind my eye.”
“First things first,” Emerson said. “We need to get out of the park.”
He walked back inside the gatehouse and knelt down to talk with the guards.
“What do you say we make a bargain?” Emerson asked them.
Four hours of being chained to a woodstove in their underwear had knocked a lot of the fight from the two guards.
“What kind of a bargain?” a guard asked.
“The best kind,” Emerson said. “One that is mutually beneficial to both sides. We’ll let you go and give you back your clothes.”
Wayan Bagus tapped Emerson on the shoulder. “I’m a little attached to the hat.”
“Except for the hat,” Emerson said.
They looked interested.
“Okay. What do we have to do?”
“You drive us out of the park to the Bozeman airport and forget you ever saw us.”
“Why would we agree to that?” the first guard asked.
“What do you think Tin Man would do to you if he knew you let us waltz into a top-secret government installation and steal national secrets?”
The guards exchanged glances.
“Good point,” one said. “Will you be needing an SUV or a sedan for your ride to the airport?”
—
Riley settled into the plush leather seat of the Gulfstream G550 for the seven-hour flight to Kona, Hawaii. “Didn’t you have to file a flight plan with the FAA that includes all our names? Aren’t you worried the police will be on the tarmac in Hawaii waiting for us when we land?”
Emerson handed Vernon a breadbasket and a tray of meats and cheeses from the cabin’s refrigerator.
“This isn’t my personal plane,” Emerson said. “This is a private charter. I called the owner of the company, and he agreed to help us travel incognito. It took some time for him to get the plane to Bozeman, but it was worth the wait.”
“Are you talking about Warren Buffett?” Riley asked.
Emerson selected a piece of cheese from the tray. “Do you know Warren?”
“No,” Riley said. “Do you?”
“Of course,” Emerson said. “He’s a super nice guy. Goes to bed at night and gets up in the morning just like everyone else. Of course, then he hops into his solid gold helicopter and goes to work in a zeppelin made entirely from hundred-dollar bills.”
Vernon nodded. “Well, personally, I don’t much care for him what with his, quote unquote, ‘relaxed island style’ and that song ‘Margaritaville’ playing nonstop in every restaurant in Florida.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “That would be Jimmy Buffett. Warren Buffett’s the businessman.”
Vernon paused. “Huh. No kidding? Does he have a relaxed island style?”
“Not that I know of,” Emerson said.
“Okay. Great. Then I don’t have a problem with him,” Vernon said, and he made himself a sandwich.
Riley closed her eyes just for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were flying over the Pacific Ocean. Vernon and Wayan Bagus
“So, how are you planning on finding Tin Man and Bart Young once we’re in Hawaii?” Riley asked Emerson.
Emerson looked up from his laptop. “The director said he had a parallel program to Yellowstone in Hawaii. It has to be at one of the national parks—either Volcanoes National Park on the Big Island or Haleakala National Park on Maui.”
“And you think it’s on the Big Island?”
“Spiro’s last words were ‘Mauna Kea.’ It’s one of five volcanoes that formed the Big Island. The others are Mauna Loa, Kilauea, Hualalai, and Kohala.”
“What’s special about Mauna Kea?” Riley asked.
“It’s the biggest mountain in Hawaii at more than thirteen thousand feet above sea level. Measured from the ocean floor, it’s more than thirty-three thousand feet high. That’s bigger than Mount Everest. It’s so massive that it depresses the ocean floor beneath the island by six kilometers. One day, eons from now, Hawaii will likely collapse under its own weight.”
“Is there a government installation on Mauna Kea?”
“Several,” Emerson said. “There’s a complex of huge telescopes and observatories on the summit originally built by the U.S. Air Force, although today they’re run by an international consortium. The lower elevations of the mountain are home to the hundred-thousand-acre Pohakuloa Training Area, the largest military training ground in the Pacific.”
“And that’s where you think Tin Man and the director are headed?”
Emerson nodded. “Pohakuloa is extremely remote. Access is restricted by the army. It also has a small military airstrip called Bradshaw Army Airfield. It would be a perfect place to hide an R&D facility.”
“I assume you have a plan for what to do if and when we find them,” Riley said.
Emerson checked the flight computer. “One hour until we land in Kona.”
“You don’t have a plan, do you?”
“Of course,” Emerson said. “Break into the army base. Steal the super-weapon. Save the world from destruction. Kiss the girl, and live happily ever after. As far as the details go, I thought we would just wu wei wing it.”
“Would you like to elaborate on the ‘kiss the girl’ part?”
“It’s traditional to get a kiss when you save the world,” Emerson said.
Riley smiled. “Tell you what. You save the world, and I’ll give you a kiss that will knock your socks off.”
“I get a blister if I don’t wear socks,” Emerson said.
Riley reclined her seat and closed her eyes. She was too tired to roll them. “Wu wei wake me up when we land.”
TWENTY
Riley stepped off the plane onto the private runway at Kona International Airport. She’d pictured lush tropical rain forests set against a backdrop of white sandy beaches and blue ocean. The ocean was a brilliant, shimmering blue, but that’s where her mental image ended. The paved runway was set in the middle of a huge lava desert that looked a lot like a massive torn-up parking lot. The beach was composed mostly of jagged black rocks. In the distance, a dull haze of volcanic gasses hung over the mountains.
“It looks kind of desolate,” Riley said. “I didn’t expect to see so much lava.”
“This is the dry side of the island. Kona gets very little rain every year. The only green you’ll see is what the resorts irrigate. The other side of the island is beyond wet. Around 150 inches of rain per year and nothing but waterfalls and rain forests.”
“You know a lot about Hawaii,” Riley said. “Have you spent a lot of time here?”
“My father owned a three-hundred-acre ranch in North Kohala. Vernon and I spent a month there every summer when we were kids. Since I now own the ranch, and we can’t risk staying at a hotel without being recognized, I thought we’d stay on my property.”
Vernon stepped off the plane with Wayan Bagus and stretched. He looked at Emerson. “Did you say we’re going to the ranch?”
Riley thought she heard some hesitation in Vernon’s voice. “What’s wrong with the ranch?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Vernon said. “You’re going to love it. It’s real pretty. It’s only that some of the people in the community are a mite eccentric. By the way, you like cows, don’t you?”
“Let me get this straight,” Riley said. “Where we’re heading, you and Emerson are the normal ones?”
Wayan Bagus took a deep breath and smiled. “I am happy to be back in the Pacific. It has been my experience that the only normal people are those you don’t know very well. In any event, I am quite fond of cows. The ranch sounds very nice.”
A car was waiting for them on the tarmac. The keys were in the car, and four flower leis were on the dash.
It was an hour’s drive to the sleepy little town of Hawi in North Kohala. Riley headed out of the airport, turning left onto Route 19, the belt road that hugged the coastline and encircled the island. Twenty minutes of lava fields later, they passed the Four Seasons Resort Hualalai, a man-made green oasis of golf courses, luxury homes, and bungalow-style thousand-dollar-per-night hotel rooms.
Vernon groaned as they passed. “I don’t suppose the ranch has a hot tub, all-day room service, and somebody to bring you ice cream sundaes while you sit by the pool?”
“I don’t suppose so, unless there have been some upgrades since we were there last. It does, however, have a tidal pool and a fruit orchard that’s open twenty-four hours a day,” Emerson said. “Riley will probably be particularly interested in the tidal pool. She’s a swimming enthusiast.”
Riley cut her eyes to Emerson. “Your time will come.”
“Are we almost there?” Wayan Bagus asked. “I would like to have some fruit and swim in the tidal pool and see the cows.”
“Not far now,” Emerson said.
Riley continued north on Route 19, passing a number of other four- and five-star resorts. As she drove, the lava fields were slowly replaced with scrubby brown grass, arid patches of dirt, and the occasional tree. She turned onto Akoni Pule Highway and passed through Kawaihae Harbor into North Kohala. As she rounded the northern tip of the island, the scrubby brown grass became progressively greener and more lush. Tall guinea grasses swayed in the trade winds.
“This is absolutely beautiful,” Riley said as she drove through the little town of Hawi, with its art galleries, restaurants, and little shops.
Emerson pointed at an unmarked dirt road to their left. “It’s about half a mile down this road.”
Riley bumped down the road, avoiding potholes as best she could. After a couple minutes, the woods and brush opened up into open pastureland. A herd of Black Angus cows looked up in a lazy greeting as their car passed under a sign reading MYSTERIOSO RANCH.
“Oh man,” Vernon said, “I hope we don’t run into Alani.”
“Alani was Vernon’s first girlfriend,” Emerson said to Riley. “She still lives in Hawi and works as an astronomer at the Keck Observatory. She and Vernon had a small difference of opinion, and Vernon hasn’t been back here since.”
“She ran me over with an ATV,” Vernon said. “She’s got anger issues.”
“Is she one of the eccentrics?” Riley asked.
“She’s the eccentric,” Vernon said.
Emerson looked at Vernon. “In fairness to her, that was preceded by the Unspeakable Incident.”
Vernon leaned over the front seat and clapped his hand over Emerson’s mouth. “Hello. It’s called ‘the Unspeakable Incident’ for a reason. Anyway, I’m sure she’s forgotten all about it by now. It’s been years, right?”
Wayan Bagus rolled down his window to get a better look at the cows. “It is written by the Sage that never by hatred is hatred conquered, but by readiness to love. That is the eternal law.”
“I reckon the Sage might feel differently if he had a girlfriend who ran him over with an ATV,” Vernon said.
Riley parked the car in front of a small one-story Bali-style house. It sat at the edge of a one-hundred-
Everyone got out of the car and stood in awe at the sight and sound of the ten-foot swells crashing into the cliffs below.
“It’s almost sunset,” Emerson said to Vernon. “Why don’t you and Wayan Bagus walk into town and buy us some food for dinner. I’ll show Riley around the ranch.”
—
Riley watched Vernon and Wayan Bagus disappear down the driveway.
“Is this the only house on the property?” she asked Emerson.
“The ranch manager has a house here, and there’s a larger house that my father preferred. This was built as a guesthouse, but I find the scale more comfortable than the main house. Vernon and Wayan Bagus won’t be gone long, but we can do a little exploring. Would you like to walk the perimeter of the property or would you rather see the tidal pool?”
“The tidal pool.”
“Good choice,” Emerson said. “The tidal pool has always been my favorite spot.”
They walked along the cliff for a quarter of a mile in silence before coming to a deep gulch. Seabirds flew overhead, trying to find their roosts before dark, and the occasional humpback whale breached just offshore.
“There’s a trail to the bottom,” Emerson said. “It’s a little rough, but it’s worth the effort. It’s also the reason for the cowboy boots. That and the cows.”
Riley followed Emerson down the muddy, slippery trail, and the pastures gave way to a lush rain forest that smelled of mango trees and freshly cut grass. Behind her, a hundred-foot waterfall plunged down a green cliff into a stream hidden by the thick jungle. In front of her, the jungle opened up onto a rocky beach with a large pool, fed half by the stream coming from the direction of the waterfall and half by the warmer ocean waves.
“We used to swim here every day,” Emerson said.
Riley put her hand into the pool. It was a perfect temperature.