My Kind of Town
>> Ala Moana Beach Park The ghost sub returns
Stepping into the water, Sherlock Gomes was filled with two very different emotions: Excitement at the thought of interviewing Dr. Laurie Tang in that great electric blue swimsuit. And total fear of drowning.
It was a very realistic fear, and not just because of his lack of swimming skills.
>> In chest-deep water at the Diamond Head end of the park, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka concentrated on keeping water out of the shotgun snorkel. No sense getting a taste of the poison intended for Sherlock Gomes.
He watched Gomes step stiffly into the water, taking deep, nervous breaths. Did this guy even know how to swim? It's not easy to smile with a snorkel in your mouth, but Donovan did. When he got hit, Gomes could drown in just a couple of feet of water.
>> Out on the sea wall, fisherman Jimmy Ahuna was keeping an eye on the channel inside the reef for another sign of the mystery sub.
Jimmy had gotten down to Ala Moana when it was still dark and set up his pole brackets close to a park bench that faced ewa.
And then it appeared, the same mini-submarine he'd seen a few weeks ago out at Queen's Beach.
Jimmy was preparing to cast, had his eye on the spot he wanted his lure to splash down, and suddenly that spot was filled with the mini-sub as it glided past, silent, spectral. Even in the dark he knew it was the same sub he'd seen before. Same mottled colors. Same faded red circle painted on top of the hull.
Jimmy dropped his pole in its bracket, walked quickly along the sea wall, watching the submarine clear the reef and then submerge out of sight.
A shiver ran down his back. Was the sub following him? Was it a ghost ship? Jimmy, retired from the Pearl Harbor shipyard, knew what he'd seen. But it didn't make sense.
>> Dr. Laurie Tang loved Ala Moana. It was convenient, protected inside the reef and you can swim for 500 meters without turning. But the term "water quality" was a euphemism. That's why she wore a mask and snorkel, not just goggles, to keep her from swallowing the murky water. There were days you could be swimming 10 feet from someone and not see them.
There were also mornings you could be swimming 15 feet above a WWII Japanese submarine and not know it.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com