“ You saying leave the collar to others? Your sure you can live with that?”
“ I can. So long's he's caught. That's what matters, after all. To see him brought to justice, right?”
“ You want to give Scanlon more rope to hang himself, right?”
“ Maybe.”
She smiled in response, feeling she understood now.
“ So, Jess”-he tried diversionary tactics-”what about your superiors?”
She laughed lightly and then looked him in the eye. “They really owe me!”
“ All right!” He gave a little cheer and a high-five sign.
21
Somewhere the Sky touches the Earth, and the name of that place is the End.
6:15 P.M., July 19, over Maui
The chartered helicopter flight was stupendous and breathtaking and spectacular all at once, revealing areas of the majestic islands that could only be reached by the eye of God or modem technology, the hovering craft. She and Jim flew over the ocean and around the island of Maui at breakneck speed, slowing and stopping at places he and the pilot alternately wished to point out to her. Jim, speaking to her through the requisite headphone set, was enjoying himself tremendously, she realized.
It was coming on dusk, and it was lovely just to watch the sun slowly dip from sight, painting the western sky with an array of lavenders and purples. Jim had been right. Tlie helicopter trip alone had completely freed them of the hideous and offensive events left behind them in Oahu. Although they could not fully escape the horrors of Kowona's bungalow or the case, they had managed to come damned close, she felt. In fact she had all but forgotten everything during the moments they hovered beelike above an enormous, foamy waterfall on the mountainous side of Maui where there were no roads or access. Here was perhaps one of the few untouched and unspoiled areas on the face of the globe.
Maui's volcanic valleys and conical peaks were barren on one side, a lunar landscape of treacherous ridges and pitted earth where no life survived. In stark contrast, the rich and lush life of the valleys on the lee side of the island was thick with the foliage of ginger, kamani, ti, hau, coconut and breadfruit trees. Behind each valley they discovered a slender ribbon of silver in fluid motion, waterfalls everywhere, many so isolated they could only be seen from the air.
They moved on, the helicopter like a voracious bird of prey, anxious to slide away from the face of the cascading waters. Soon they were passing an occasional pastureland with roaming livestock, open-range-fed cattle and horses, and the occasional barn or ranch house. They next passed over a tiny church in the middle of nowhere, tucked among the rain forest, a small graveyard alongside it.
Jim pointed at the graveyard and said, “That's Kipahulu Congregational Church, where Charles Lindbergh had himself buried facing the Pacific.”
“ Lindbergh? The first solo flight across the Atlantic?”
“ One and the same… Lucky Lindy, yes.”
“ The pride of St. Louis, way out here?”
“ He was a resident of Hana, which is coming in view now. Was buried here in 1974. Downright murder to get to his burial site even with four-wheel drive, and it's an even bet he wanted it that way.”
They swept by a series of cascading pools bounded by huge, strewn boulders. The pools and rocks had people in brightly colored clothes and bathing suits all around them.
“ Tourists up from Kahului, almost sixty miles off. The place is called the Wailua Falls on the maps but the travel agencies call it the Seven Sacred Pools to lure people here,” explained Jim. “Most of those fools'll be sorry if they don't get back across the Hana Highway before nightfall.”
“ The Hana Highway. I've heard of it.”
“ Hana Tarmac's a better name for it. See how narrowly the road hugs the coastline cliffs, darts and twists around blind corners, disappears and reappears?”
“ So that's the infamous Highway to Hana I heard so much about while I was on the island earlier. In the shops they sport T-shirts that say, 'I survived the Hana Highway.'”
“ Believe me, not everyone does. Every year or so someone goes off the edge, usually a tourist couple trying to find their way in the dark. Hell, it takes the locals two and a half hours at top speeds, which amounts to thirty- five to forty, to traverse the fifty miles between Hana and Kahului, thanks to the sheer number of hairpin and blind curves.”
Each mountain valley from up here appeared to be feeding the ocean with fresh water. Here on the far windward side of the island, the great Mt. Haleakala meant for an early sunset, and nestled among the valley floor and along the quickly descending cliffs below, a small village of modem construction emerged, some homes fantastic in both size and architecture as well as location. A steeple rose from the center of the small settlement, but church and grocery stores and all other structures were dwarfed by a spectacular resort hotel.
Jim leaned into her, nudged her and pointed, saying over the noise of the chopper, through the headphone set, “Hana Town and that's the Hana-Maui, one of the world's most unique hotels.”
“ By virtue of its location alone,” she imagined aloud.
“ Have their own stable of horses for their guests, two outdoor heated pools, each room with its own sunken bath that looks out on a private garden.”
“ Imagine that. You've stayed there?”
“ On my paycheck? Hell, no.”
From above they could also see what passed for an airport here, a single strip for take off and landing, not large enough to accept any but the smallest of jets, and the pilots would have to be either crazy or extremely adept.
“ Aloha Airlines has only recently gotten the okay to fly in here, Lear jets only, four and six passengers at a time, but they're restricted to one flight every three days in and out. The tower is that Quonset hut on the field.”
The pilot cut into their conversation, a little static and a buzz alerting them to the fact. “Been to Hasegawa's lately, Mr. Parry?”
Parry laughed. “Not lately, no.”
“ Hasegawa's?” asked a curious Jessica. “Something of a famous general store down there,” he said, continuing to point.
“ What's so famous about it? They got VCRs, videos, Playboy Magazine? L.L. Bean wear, what?”
“ No, nothing like that. No TV reception this side of the island, thanks to Mt. Haleakala.”
“ What's with the grocery store then?”
“ It's just that it's sorta become the standard by which all other island general stores must measure up, and when the original bumed up in 1990, there was some suspicion that it was torched by rivals.”
“ I see… I think.”
“ It's just a big, quaint old, wooden small-town grocery store that sells items you wouldn't expect to find here.”
“ Like condoms?”
“ Yeah, along with wooden airplanes, Yoo-Hoo pop, crackseeds, Jack Daniel's, Harlequin romances, and B.C. headache powders… you name it.”
Jessica spied a simple harbor with boats. From the air she could see that each valley path, once the trek of lava flows, now supported green carpets of life which stretched fingerlike to the ocean. The shoreline had been carved out in many places by the lava flows of an ancient time, creating jagged, fantastic images.
Jim leaned over, tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to a series of monstrous driblets of the jagged rock
