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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Help is coming
>> Above Kahuku
As members of the hunt club returned to their base camp at the Rockin' Pikake Ranch, Tets Nakajima explained that the cops were looking for Primitivo and the Japanese beauty he captured, as well as the Aussie and his boy. It was time to go already, and so there was a bustle of activity as members rushed to deposit their dead quarry at the disposal truck, pack up their belongings and get away.
In his hunt command truck, Nakajima clicked off the walkie-talkie conversation with Clive the Aussie. He'd found Primitivo shot in the chest and slashed mortally in the groin, the Arab shot in the shoulder and mortally in the forehead. Their quarry, the Japanese beauty and the Manilla street girl, were gone, as were Fariq's magnificent sword and Primitivo's $100,000 rifle. "Stay with the bodies." he instructed. "Help is coming."
Nakajima checked the GPS screen. Of the 20 hunted, all but two were either accounted for here or moving back toward camp -- Primitivo's and the Saudi's.
Nothing like this had ever happened in the 15 years he'd been running the club. Over the years they'd released hundreds of captives, and had a 100 percent kill rate and zero trouble. And they'd certainly never lost any members, but now two were dead. Law of averages, perhaps? Well, they had a contingency plan for this. He summoned Tex the stablemaster and the one they called Chef, gave them their orders and watched as they raced across the pasture and up into the forested hills to where Clive waited with the bodies.
There! A quick blip on the GPS screen! No. 20! Primitivo's Japanese beauty! Just yards from where Clive and the bodies were!
The blip went away then, but no matter. They had a solid reading. Nakajima called Tex's walkie-talkie, gave him the position.
Peering from the shadows behind a rock outcropping just 35 yards up the slope from where the Aussie waited by his horse, which carried a dead guy in a body bag, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka trained the big hunting rifle on him, ready to fire. Because when the Japanese beauty who'd brought him the gun saw the body, she gasped, hissed "Shoot him!" And the Aussie had turned that way, not certain if he'd heard voices or wind in the trees.
The senator motioned for her and the young Filipina gripping her hand back to the cave. He followed. Crouching at the entrance, he calmly whispered. "There are others coming. Stay inside, stay quiet, no matter what. And open one of those Bud's for me, would you?"
"I'm Shauny," she said, handing him the beer. "This is Imelda."
"Donovan."
Of course, she'd seen him on the news! "You're ...?"
"Yup, a wanted man."
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com