Karyn Kane: Conspiracy of Fire Part 13

28.

Oahu, Hawaii The crowds at the cemetery thronged to the graveside of Governor Geryon. In life, the governor might have been a bl.u.s.tering loudmouthed boor whose questionable s.e.xual antics and endless capacity for graft had tainted his governors.h.i.+p with disgrace, but in death, very many of the people he had held in such high contempt turned out to bear witness to his final interment in the dry volcanic soil of the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. It would have been a spectacular send off for any man. The great and the good from the very highest echelons of society had turned out to pay their respects. There were so many floral tributes, that it seemed as though every florist in the district had been stripped bare. Then there was the marching band of the United States Navy Pacific Fleet Band, in their full dress uniforms, playing somber tribute. They stood immaculate, as though they were paying a final farewell to a great hero of the nation. The governor had seen service, in Indio- China mostly, but his reputation as a parade ground petty officer was well known, and the chest full of medals he had picked up as thanks for his service was a tribute to his skills as a great political manipulator, rather than a mark of his contribution to the world of frontline service.

The eulogies from local dignitaries and family members were in turn both somber and perfunctory. Karyn watched from the periphery of the crowd. She paid close attention, noting every face she saw. All the local bigwigs were in attendance, including Chief of Police Donald Mlama.

The widow Geryon it turned out, looked very far from upset. In fact, judging by her chi-chi funeral outfit, a hot little number that looked like it had been s.h.i.+pped in from Milan or Paris; the former Mrs. Geryon appeared to have been preparing for this, the most somber of occasions for some time. Sure, she dabbed crocodile tears with a Kleenex tissue, and let her voice waver half an octave when she was paying tribute to her husband's stellar record as an all-singing all- dancing man of the people. But Karyn could tell, even from a thousand paces, that this greedy little socialite was lapping up every minute of her new found widowhood. Probably counting the seconds until she could break into the inheritance most likely. And if the numbers in the HPD file Donald Mlama had pa.s.sed on were anything to go by, Widow Geryon would have several fortunes to spend her way through, once the grieving process was over.

Melding into the background, Karyn watched as the very genuine grief of the governor's adult children was directed center stage. No way these poor souls were related to the widow-they were a product of one of the other marriages for sure. Karyn struggled to call up the details from the file. Geryon had been married how many times, three or four? Did that include the current Mrs. Geryon or exclude her? On balance Karyn figured the chi-chi blonde in the low-cut designer number, just had to be number four. She wasn't much older than the kids for Christ's sake. And she looked like she had never done anything more strenuous than swimsuit modeling. But that was a good thing thought Karyn-a real good thing-because it made Priscilla Geryon the weak link in the Tex Johnston murder suicide case. There was no doubt at all in Karyn's mind, that this super-manicured gold-digger would have the inside dirt on her poor dead husband's business dealings. Biographical leverage was stock-in-trade to the trophy wife community. Poor little Priscilla probably had a team of corporate lawyers riding her bench already. Just waiting to leap forward onto the field of play and screw every last dime out of this tragedy, and make sure that the other living relatives were financially sidelined. On the other hand, there was always a chance that young blondie could be a cat-cuddling charity freak, with a taste for magnanimous gestures. Outside chances were always a possibility, thought Karyn, but she wasn't going to throw money against the idea of Priscilla being a big-hearted philanthropist, any time soon.

When it came to making big plays, Karyn was an old hand too. She had the strategy down. So when Priscilla Geryon climbed inside her limousine, expecting to be ferried off for a reviving round of c.o.c.ktails and a sumptuous lunch at Oahu's most fas.h.i.+onable restaurant, there was a surprise waiting for her.

At first Priscilla Geryon was lost for words. When she found them again the words that crawled out of her mouth were as unpleasant as anything a warf-rat sailor could utter after a full night of rum and debauchery.

Karyn looked up at her from the backseat and gave her a pleasant smile. "Get inside the car."

"I don't know who you are but you are making a big mistake."

A mans face peered inside the limousine, "This is a private vehicle, have you no respect? You d.a.m.n press people are all the same."

"Take a hike bozo."

"How dare you, talk to me like that, I am Mrs. Geryron's Lawyer. Either you get out now, or I will have you dragged out and thrown in jail."

Karyn nodded. "Impressive speech Poindexter. Now bug off and find another corpse to feed on. I got things I want to say to the lady."

"You aren't the press?"

Karyn looked over the top of her designer sungla.s.ses, "Let me ask you something Sparky. Do I look like the press?"

Priscilla Geryon threw an uncertain glance at her lawyer.

"Whoever you are, you are not welcome. Now, I will ask you to leave one more time. If you refuse, I will have an injunction for hara.s.sment slapped on you."

"An Injunction? You must really know people huh? Unfortunately you are speaking to the living embodiment of the United States Government, so put those cute little guns of yours into reverse, or I will have a whole team of Federal investigators tramping all over your personal s.p.a.ce, before you can say billable hours."

The lawyer turned to Priscilla Geryon. "This is bulls.h.i.+t hara.s.sment. You don't have to speak to her, you know that don't you?"

Priscilla Geryon looked doubtful. "I don't want any trouble Thurston."

Karyn sniffed. "You hear that Thurston? The lady doesn't want any trouble. Now back up and close the door would you? There's a good boy."

"Any statements will be inadmissible, you know that don't you?" choked Thurston, his face red with anger."

"If that's the case, you have got nothing to get all twisted up about do you?" said Karyn.

As the door finally closed, and the Limousine inched forwards Priscilla Geryon said, "You are from the Government?"

Karyn nodded, made a brief introduction, then said, "But that is the least of your problems isn't it?"

My husband was murdered, what would you know of my problems?"

"I know plenty. Take your husband for example, he got just a little too greedy for his own good didn't he?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come, come. Let's not get defensive. I know everything about your husband's sordid little business dealings-the exact nature of his relations.h.i.+p with Tex Johnston for example, all I need is for you to fill in a few details."

"I'm not telling you a d.a.m.n thing. I'm used to people making insinuations about my marriage and I am not going to take it anymore, not from anyone."

"Uh-huh. The only reason you are talking to me at all Priscilla is you are scared witless that if you fail to cooperate with the Federal Government they will take a magnifying gla.s.s to your financial affairs. Well, guess what honey. The magnifying gla.s.s is all ready out and a whole bunch of bug- eyed men in suits are poised to rifle through every private part of your life. And trust me when I say, they are going to want receipts for everything. You do have receipts, don't you Priscilla?"

The widow Geryon pouted. Up close her face was troweled heavy with make up, like she was getting ready to attend a cosmetics counter convention. She gave Karyn a recalcitrant look.

"Yeah? I am taking that as a no," said Karyn. "Screw you. I haven't done anything wrong."

"You don't have to do anything to hook yourself up with a murder rap Priscilla. You ever hear of a little word called conspiracy?"

Priscilla Geryon pulled an unpleasant face. "You think you are pretty smart don't you Kane. But Tex Johnston didn't kill my husband, or that nasty little hooker either."

"How do you know?"

"That spineless little creep didn't have the b.a.l.l.s."

"You don't need b.a.l.l.s to kill people. All you need is a gun and a motive-some folks don't even need that. Something you would do well to remember."

"Tex Johnston was a degenerate, he deserved everything he got."

"If you got some kind of const.i.tuency on seeing political degenerates get what they got coming, you got your work cut out. There are a hundred more like that in Was.h.i.+ngton, every one of them dirtier than the last. But it isn't the boys in Was.h.i.+ngton you are really worried about is it Priscilla?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"That money your precious husband was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g out of Johnston wasn't political money, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. Tex Johnston was in the pay of the Tao Corporation, but you knew that didn't you Priscilla?"

"You got no evidence."

"You got the evidence written all over you face. But that isn't your real problem, not by a long way. Your husband was on the take too, wasn't he? Filling his pockets with the Tao Corporation's money, then rubberstamping every rotten little planning application and permit they needed for that power-station project they are working on. Am I right?"

"I have no idea. I never got involved with my husbands business dealings."

"You don't have to tell me that."

"I don't?"

"Of course not. But you will have to tell it to Deng Tao's people when they come to get his money back. Only you might want to work on your delivery, because I am guessing from what they did to the senator and your husband they don't take too kindly to getting screwed over."

"On the contrary, Mr. Tao is a very generous friend, which is more than can be said of the Federal Government, Miss Kane."

Karyn nodded. "I can understand why you would say that right now. You are sitting on a fat pile of cash and a hall pa.s.s to do whatever the h.e.l.l you want. But that won't last forever. By the time the congressional investigation into this little affair is over, you will be the subject of an IRS audit so far reaching you will be lucky if you have the bus fare back to town from the penitentiary, after they are through jailing your manicured little a.s.s. Now, I ask you, are you going to wait around for Deng Tao's people to pay you are a visit, or do you want to play hardball with the Justice system?'

"I might know some things, but if I told you anything, it would get back to them-they are everywhere. You have no idea how powerful they are."

"I could get you out of here, protect you," said Karyn.

"What, in the witness protection program? You have got to be kidding, they would find me in two days at the most."

"They?"

Priscilla Geryon paused, gave Karyn a quizzical look. "You thought this was about Deng Tao didn't you? You thought it was all about him? And here you are saying you will protect me. You have no idea do you?" Then she laughed, but it was a cold, unsettling laugh, edged with contempt.

Karyn looked into Priscilla Geryon's eyes, but there was no bravado, just the lonely flicker of pure, unadulterated fear.

29.

Big Island, Hawaii Keo stood looking out over the rock promontory that had been mangled in to a twisted and alien form, by unimaginable and h.e.l.lish forces from the very center of the earth. "The Moku`aweoweo caldera. See how the ripples of magma glisten like a black ocean. Is it not a beautiful sight?"

Ted Congo held his collar closed against the onslaught of the merciless wind and nodded, as though in agreement. "These cliffs are pretty high- like the grand-canyon or something."

"They are four-maybe five hundred feet, even higher in places."

"You don't say," said Congo, trying to sound like he gave a d.a.m.n.

Stay away from the edge, it is dangerous up here, especially with this wind, the rocks can be icy any time of year, so slippery you could go skating on your a.s.s and be over into h.e.l.l's Kitchen before you even know it."

Congo took a step backwards, then another. The view was certainly impressive-mile after mile of blackened lava rippling away almost as far as the eye could see, hemmed in on all sides, by perilous, cliffs rising vertically towards the sky. This wasn't a place for sightseers. This was a h.e.l.lish, broken place, balanced dangerously on the very edge nature. Congo surveyed the scene. There was something about this crater that invoked a chilling and unnatural sensation that curdled the blood. Staring at this hideous Martian landscape, it was easy to imagine they had been transported back in time a million years, or blasted to some distant planet, where the only means of governance was an icy and remorseless wind that blew eternal.

"They say that the wind is a sign of the G.o.ddesses displeasure," said Keo "What has she got to be displeased about?" asked Congo, "You ask me these Islands have had things pretty easy, anyone ever tell your G.o.ddess that huh?"

"The Haole come-the breathless outsiders-and they suck the living mana from the G.o.ddesses homeland-such a misfortune will bring down a terrible curse upon us all."

"A curse huh?"

"You doubt the power of the G.o.ddess?"

"You can think and talk any kind of hoola- skirted hoopla you want Professor. As long as it keeps those tourists buying souvenirs, it doesn't make a d.a.m.ned bit of difference to me.

"You have no soul Congo, perhaps the spirits of the mountain have stolen it from you already?"

"Now why in the wide world would they want to go and do a thing like that?" sneered Congo, his eyes drawing thin and contemptuous.

"You are a conspirator, friend to the Haole-the spirits feed off energy Congo just as the parasite complex of Deng Tao feeds on the energy of these Islands."

"It's too bad you were never on board with the project Professor." Congo unb.u.t.toned his jacket and reached out his Glock. He always kept a round in the chamber, so he had no need to pump the slide He simply pointed it at Professor Keo and said, "All that tribal mumbo-jumbo doesn't fool me for a second Professor. I had you down as a Government man from the get go. I knew you wouldn't be able to leave your precious observatory, no matter what the price."

"There are things that are beyond the world of money Congo."

"Too bad you will never live to see them then, isn't it? If you had played along, you could have been a part of something big, something beyond the limits of your pathetic world of subservience to the G.o.ds of government."

"Death holds no fear for me Congo, my spirit lives eternal. You may commit your act of sacrilege upon the slopes of this sacred place, but your malfeasance will carry a price that your world of money will be unable to meet."

Congo nodded. "Nice speech, now back up. You are going to take a tumble and it is not going to be pretty, so you better save that hot air you are pumping out for the journey down."

Keo looked slowly left and right then back at Congo, there was no fear in his eyes, just the quiet acceptance that death was close. Knowing he had no options, he said, "You aren't going to shoot me. You would never get away with it. The authorities will come looking, and when they find out what you have done, you will be ruined and d.a.m.ned."

"I am the authorities," said Congo. "There won't be anyone to find you, save that cute little G.o.ddess you keep talking about. But, I am guessing she is going to have other things on her mind these next few days, if you know what I mean."

"It is never too late to turn back the tide of evil Congo, there is still time for your soul to be saved," Keo paused then said, "I have seen the white dog of Pele stalking the lower slopes, it is an omen Congo, a warning to all of mankind." "You are just too smart for your own good aren't you Professor, and that is why you are going to have to die." Congo raised the gun and fired. The wind carried the sound of the gunshots far to the south. Panicked, the Professor stumbled backwards, examining his chest, puzzled that he could see no sign of damage, frightened that in these, his last moments of life, his spiritual a.s.suredness might be taking flight, heading south over the unending waters of the Pacific. Strength!

He must stay resolute, or his weakness would condemn his soul to an eternity on the mountain. So be it.

If the G.o.ds deserted him, science would reach in with the black hand of finality. No matter how it ended, everything would be all right. Except things weren't all right.

In these, his last tortured moments, professor Keo lost his footing, and tumbled backwards, falling awkwardly on the mangled rocks. Winded, he turned to face Congo with accusing eyes. "-You didn't shoot me," he managed at last.

Standing squat and menacing, Ted Congo had a thin smile on his face. "Of course I didn't shoot you, I was just throwing a scare in you." "But why, why would you do such a thing?" "For a man who has the answer to everything, you are not too smart are you Professor?" Congo moved fast now, striking out with a vicious kick to the professor's stomach. As his victim curled into the punis.h.i.+ng impact, Congo moved in, stamping furiously on the most vulnerable parts of his victims body, with a fusillade of manic blows. Finally, as the Professor lay stunned and choking blood, Congo grabbed him by the legs and half dragged, half rolled his victim to the precipitous edge of the Moku crater. Congo stood admiring his handiwork, then said, "In answer to your question Professor, I am making sure that in the very unlikely event anyone ever finds you, the terrible accident you are about to have will look just like that-an accident."

The professor's eyes filled with horror. Congo smiled. "That's right, if your corpse is riddled with bullet holes it will spoil everything, and we don't want that, do we Professor? On the plus side, you will get a close up and personal look at this precious crater of yours-all the way to the bottom. Congo craned his neck, peering over the edge, a sudden look of distaste twisting at the corners of his mouth. "You were right Professor, it is a long way down-four hundred feet at least."

Professor Keo moved his lips in a silent invocation, but Ted Congo never noticed. He was too busy rolling his victim towards the yawning lip of the crater. Then, with a last brutal kick, Congo launched the still living body of the man he had just brutalized out and over the edge of the giant crater, letting it freefall outwards and away, into the pitiless wind-falling down, like a broken, spiraling bird, battered by the jagged cliff face-then, as the eternal seconds flashed by, Congo stared, emotionless, as the broken body of a once great man was smashed beyond repair against the icy rocks below.

30.