My Kind of Town
>> H-1, Ewa-bound
Driving Shauny's red VW bug, Lt. Col Chuck Ryan was amazed, so much traffic for a holiday. The new Hawaii is certainly not the one he remembered from his first trip as a young man on his way to Vietnam or a tour at CINCPAC office headquarters at Camp Smith. In the passenger seat of her twin sister Fawn's white Camry just ahead, Shauny seemed to be passed out. He wondered about their friend, Lily Ah Sun, whose idea it was to get drunk for lunch because her father had rejected her proposal to reorganize the family business and instead turned over the company to her soon-to-graduate baby brother. Well, Ryan understood the need to get a little bent. He'd had a few such moments during a lifetime of service to his country -- not often, usually involving a comrade lost. The last time was barely a year ago when a drunk driver ran a stop sign and killed his wife Mary.
Lily, meanwhile, was getting a lift home from her long-lost cousin, a cop, on whom she had on obvious crush. This was quite a scene Ryan had walked into. Soon, he and Fawn would be alone. That's what he'd wanted from the moment he saw her. His encrypted secure line cell chirped with the opening of "Rhapsody in Blue."
"Chuck, hi, Sheila." Jackson at their D.C. office. "We just got a message from Sandy." Code name. "She pecked it out in text: 'Remember Pearl Harbor.'"
Remember Pearl Harbor. What did that mean? Catch the movie, it's better than the reviews? It couldn't mean what he suddenly realized it could mean. That would be too horrible, too depraved, too inhuman.
Which is exactly why it could happen. When it comes to crime, never believe anything is impossible. And that particular comment would make the history books.
So would the U.S. retaliation. Which would have huge international repercussions. Ryan could smell World War III from here. His real job was to make sure it didn't get that far.
Mickey liked this woman Lily's taste. He'd liked her look from the moment he saw he jogging along Lunalilo Home Road yesterday and from a distance followed her home. Today, he tailed her to work. And now he was waiting for her to come home to him. This chardonnay stuff he found in the fridge wasn't bad and he took another slug. Then a quick puff on the ice pipe. He loved this part, the anticipation, even more than what he was going to do later.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at firstname.lastname@example.org