Where There's a Will

Once in the kitchen, he pointed at one of the magnet-laden refrigerators. “Take a look at that.”

“Look at what?” a puzzled John asked. “What’s so—”

When he realized which one Gideon was pointing to, it stopped him in his tracks. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered and plucked it from the metal surface. “Holy cow, am I nuts, or is this the same...”

“I think it’s exactly the same.”

“I think so, too.”

“John, do you realize what this means? It must—”

“I know,” John said, running his hand over the irregular surface. “It’s almost too fantastic, but—”

“I know.”

“I can’t tell you what a thrill it is to observe great minds in action,” Julie said dryly, “but if one of you could manage a coherent sentence, I would be endlessly grateful.”

“This thing is a ceramic map of the Big Island,” John said, offering it for her inspection.

“Ah. Well, as a matter of fact, I did manage to grasp that much on my own.”

“It’s also a magnet, Julie,” Gideon said. “A big one, for a refrigerator magnet.”

“Uh-huh. And...?”

“You remember that box of stuff from the plane that nobody could find? One of these was in it.”

“We figured it was a coaster,” John said, “or a... what do you call it?”

“A trivet,” Gideon supplied, shaking his head. “We should have realized.”

“How could we realize?” John protested. “We had no idea what was going on.”

“Well, I guess those would have to qualify as coherent sentences,” Julie said, “but I still don’t—”

“Julie,” Gideon said, “what would a magnet be doing in the cockpit of a small plane? Think what it’d do if it got anywhere near the compass.”

“Are you saying—” Suddenly aware that she was nearly shouting, she looked quickly around and dropped her voice. The three of them moved their heads closer together. “Are you saying that someone purposely tried to make the plane go off-course—”

“Tried and succeeded,” John amended. “Maravovo’s a long way from Tarabao. And there isn’t much other land out there.”

Julie jerked her head as if to clear it. “But wouldn’t that be murder? Doesn’t it mean that someone murdered Torkel?”

“And the pilot, Claudia,” Gideon said, nodding.

“But why would anyone—”

“And, hey, remember,” John said, “it was all tangled up in a wad of duct tape. It must have been stuck somewhere where they wouldn’t see it—under the console, I bet, right near the compass. The compass would have been all screwed up and they’d never know it. And they were flying in the dark, so they wouldn’t have been able to tell from—”

“Stuck by whom?” Julie demanded, her voice rising again as her frustration increased. “And why?”

John and Gideon looked at each other. It was Gideon who answered. “I can’t vouch for the why, but I think we can make a pretty good guess as to whom.”

“More than a guess,” John said grimly. “Only one guy went to the airport with Torkel. Only one guy got the plane out of the hangar and waited around till the pilot showed up. Only one guy was there. And he used to be a pilot himself, don’t forget that. He knew all about compasses and planes.” His eyes, narrowed now, roved the room and focused. Julie followed the direction of his gaze. Her hand went to her mouth.

“Axel,” she breathed.

“The miserable sonofabitch,” John said.

JOHN wanted to go over to him right then, put him under citizen’s arrest, and drag him off, preferably forcibly, to the Kona PD, but Gideon convinced him things would go more smoothly all around if he called Fukida instead and let him make the arrest. John, sagging a little after the first wave of anger passed, agreed, but suggested that Gideon make the call. “It’ll go over better if he thinks you figured it out for him, not me.”

“Besides,” he added with a half-smile, “you did figure it out.”

“It sure took me long enough. Okay, I’ll call from out in the hall. Julie, keep this guy”—he gestured with his chin at John—“in check. Don’t let him get his hands on Axel. It’d be better if he’s still alive when the police get here.”

USING one of the pay phones in the hallway, Gideon called the CIS only to learn that Fukida was out on a call.

“This is pretty important, Sarah. Isn’t there any way I can get hold of him?”

“I’ll have him radioed,” Sarah said. “He’ll call you right back. What’s your number?”

It took less than a minute for Fukida’s call to come through. “How ya doin’, sport?” he practically chirped. “What’s so important?”

Gideon had never heard him so upbeat. “Where are you?” he asked. “What happened, Ted?”