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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Helluva puzzle
>> Maui
While Lei the bartender at Pili's in Maalaea poured the wine, Cruz MacKenzie phoned Chez Paul and told Lucien he was running late.
Then he phoned Tom Hauptman. Cruz had met him while covering the crash of a chopper into Pu'u O'o crater on the Big Island. The chopper was carrying a Hollywood film crew. The weather turned dicey and local chopper pilots couldn't get close to where the crew was. So Hauptman flew over from Maui, rescued the pilot and two crewmen in zero-visibility fog and heavy winds.
Cruz did a column on him then and had flown with him a couple of times since. Hauptman answered on the second ring.
"Tom, hey, Cruz MacKenzie. You heard about Ohara?"
"On my way up there now."
"I need a ride.
The bright red two-seat Bell dropped into the parking lot, hovering an inch off the ground. Hauptman was in a hurry and, besides, lessons learned in Vietnam don't die easily, especially under stress. The chopper never actually touched the ground and the instant Cruz was aboard, it leaped again into the sky and swept up a ridge into the West Maui Mountains. The lush valleys and ridges were dramatic, beautiful, misty, majestic.
"Pat used to ride with me, contract basis," Hauptman said, "but then the County Council cut his budget and he went with a new company to save money and ... damn! You see it?"
Off to the left, Cruz saw a burned patch just down from a ridge. Hauptman dropped in and hovered over the wreckage. From 200 feet, it was obvious that two helicopters and countless bodies lay tangled and charred together.
"They went down right on top of the first crash site. That's going to a helluva puzzle, and Pat was the best there is at that game. Let's get a closer look."
Cruz wanted to say "Don't bad things usually happen in threes?" but kept his fears to himself. Hauptman was the best at his game, too.
The ridge here was no more than 20 feet wide and dropped off hundreds of feet on either side. A wind shot violently up the eastern side of the ridge, then whipped down the lee. The chopper bumped and bounced around the sky, but Hauptman found a quiet seam and put the chopper down like a baby in a crib, kept the motor idling. The crash sites were 70 feet down a nearly sheer face that a few hours ago had been lush rain forest but now was blackened.
Hauptman looped a nylon rope around a big ohia tree and lowered himself down the slope. "Wait here."
"Ohara was carrying a plastic bag with green fabric in it. If you see it ..."
"Don't hold your breath."
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com
