The old chief's hair, like Lopaka's, was rust-red and about the coal-black eyes she read a resemblance. And this place of red-earth paths recalled to her mind what old Lomelea, the prophet, had seen in his vision, that she'd find the killer in a land of raw earth, scarred not only by the foolishness of human folly, but the tears of a chief over the loss of both his son and his lineage.
“ The old chief feels responsible,” continued Joe Kaniola. “And whether you believe it or not, I also came here from Oahu because I knew you two were getting in over your heads.”
The chief spoke in Hawaiian, Kaniola translating. “So, you now know I and my son have been sufficiently punished for our crimes… Eye for an eye, as the missionaries used to say…”
“ This is awful, Kaniola,” she sternly said, pointing to where Lopaka's twitching body continued to feed the insects that swarmed about so many wounds they could not be counted. “How long has he been made to suffer?”
“ What is this, mock indignation?” asked Kaniola.
“ There's nothing mock about it!”
“ I know the feeling among the authorities, you two included. In a state where they put people like Lopaka into a hospital for the criminally insane, you two were hoping to catch him in the Koolau Range and set the dogs on him and pump your bullets into him. So spare me your canned outrage, Dr. Coran. You see, I know about your previous cases, about Matthew Matisak, Simon Archer and others you've personally seen to eternity or wished to.”
Now the veins in Kaniola's neck told of his anger with her. The chief placed a hand on Kaniola's shoulder and spoke in Hawaiian to him. Kaniola replied in his native tongue before turning back to them and saying, “The old chief wishes to answer your question, Dr. Coran, as to the duration of Lopaka's punishment.”
“ How many days and nights?” asked Jim.
“ Shorter, I assure you, than the suffering he caused when his many victims agonized in their restraints.” Kaniola's reply was a translation of the chief's words, but then he began speaking from his own heart. “Enough of your false outrage. You will take word back with you, Parry. And no one will come behind you to Kahoolawe to make reprisals on these people here. Do you understand this and agree?”
Parry exchanged a look with Jessica. His eyes and the way his teeth were grinding together told her they'd better take the offer as it might be the only one they were likely to receive here.
Jessica helplessly stared anew at the suffering Lopaka, studying closely the features beneath the bloody, pulpy mask his face had become.
“ Ho'okahe wai!” shouted Ben Awai at another of the Hawaiian men, who responded by rushing forward with a leather bucket of water.
“ Waiele,” shouted Ben, and the other man sent the water cascading over the tortured man's face, reviving him but barely.
The water cleaned his features enough to tell both Parry and Jessica that the suffering man on the rack did indeed resemble the photos they'd seen of Lopaka Kowona.
The aged chief, barely able to straighten his spine, stood before them now in full regalia and headdress and began a river of native words which Kaniola translated.
“ My son who is not my son was sought out by the Ohana and told that he would be given refuge on Kahoolawe if he came to us. The people guiding him were relatives he trusted.”
Ben Awai interrupted, saying, “I myself am the boy's paternal cousin. The chief is my uncle. Returning him to his homeland of Maui and finally to here was a simple matter. He believed me when I told him that his father, now very ill and weak of mind, would welcome him back.”
“ So I welcomed Lopaka home…” The powerful but croaking voice of the ancient man came out in English haltingly. He had patches of white hair and a broad, strong Hawaiian face below the headdress. Jessica imagined him to be in his late sixties or early seventies, but he was as rigid as wood, powerful in both size and dress. Not so spry as Kaniola's great-grand uncle, she thought. He knew enough English to get by, but apparently preferred the ancient tongue. There was a glassy stare and a tear in Chief Kowona's eye, and at his hip, as part of his ceremonial garb, was a powerful sword now caked with blood.
“ You can't let this go on a moment longer, Chief Kowona,” Jessica dared shout. “Lopaka is beaten. End his torment. Turn him over to us. We will see that he-”
“ Men talk this talk!” shouted the chief, his eyes now darting among Kaniola, Awai and Parry. “Now quiet, wahine”She had obviously treaded on one of their many taboos, one she cared little for. Kaniola said, “Here, women do not speak directly to a chief.”
“ Jess,” cautioned Parry, “let me. How long's this torture gone on here, Kaniola? How long?”
“ 'Elua la noa,” replied the haughty old man.
“ Two days,” Kaniola translated.
“ Crippling your son is not just retribution for his crimes, Chief Kowona,” Parry contested.
“ He will soon be beyond any misery,” Kaniola countered.
Parry shouted, “He must be returned to Oahu to stand trial in the deaths of-”
Jessica felt faint at the wretched sight, unable to bear the spectacle of the dying man a moment longer, unable to close her hearing to the animal keening which welled up from deep within his frame, wracking his body to get out in a garbled plea for mercy, his eyes fixed and dilated. She suddenly dropped to one knee, and pretending her own plea for Lopaka, she slapped for the gun strapped to her ankle, brought it up and was about to end Lopaka Kowona's suffering here and now when Chief Kowona's regal hand flew into her line of fire, his huge sword leaping into his other hand as if it were alive, and in the fluid motion expected of a much younger man, he sliced off his son's head, sending shards of the wooden rack in all directions.
The head tumbled to the dogs, who at first, frightened by the old man's sudden action, crept back slowly to sniff curiously at Lopaka's decapitated and bloody head.
“ Suffers my son no more,” declared the old man, dropping his sword into the red earth before the malevolent son he had dispatched and going to his knees. The old man wailed, his own pain escaping openly before his followers, a punished king. At the same time Jessica and Parry were frozen in place by the display of swift, sure justice that had come with the stroke of the enormous blade, a guillotine of finality descended over them when tribal followers wrested the gun from Jessica's hand, one of them pushing her roughly to the ground. Parry, coming to her aid, fearful the gun would go off, decked her attacker with a single blow, but this was met with a heavy war club to his back and a second to his jaw, knocking him off his feet.
Jessica crawled to Parry, clutching him, certain now they, too, would be killed by the savage justice of this cruel place. “Jim, Jim, are you all right?” Tears came of their own accord.
“ Justice is served, Parry, Dr. Coran,” said Joe Kaniola.
“ Everything settled,” agreed Ben Awai while both men stood over them.
Kaniola seemed to be acting as a bishop of sorts here. “Take them to their quarters, Awai, and then return here. We have much to discuss.”
Jessica and Parry were led away to a guarded hut and told to remain peaceable and silent, and that any attempt at escape would cost them dearly.
The threat of Lopaka Kowona to the islands was at an end, but now Jessica and James Parry faced a new kind of threat. Surrounded, with no visible way out, no weapons to protect themselves with, they were witnesses to an execution-style murder here on Kahoolawe. It seemed unlikely that they would be allowed to leave with such knowledge.
At daybreak the old chief, Awai and Kaniola came into their prison. They'd obviously counseled with one another on the situation, but for now Kaniola, sitting on the old chief's right-hand side, began. “No white courts, no white law, no loopholes and no life terms, no appeals or paroles, nor endless denial of justice here, Parry.”
“ No hard to know tribal justice,” croaked a defeated chief.
“ You can both understand the pain and suffering all in this village, the shame and humiliation which these people have endured, not to mention Chief Kowona's personal loss and shame,” continued Kaniola. “Can't you?”
Parry exchanged a look with Jessica. “Of course we can,” he said matter-of-factly.
“ And you. Dr. Coran?” She firmly agreed with a slowly building nod, recalling that the chief liked his women silent.
