dinner and opened up again, just like he was supposed to.
He’d even sold a couple of bathing suits, and a snorkel set.
Then, around seven, he’d closed up for the night, but not until he’d inspected the equipment for this morning’s dive, just like Ken had told him to.
But had he actually checked every one of them, or — His thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging on the front door.
“That’ll be the bunch Yoshihara set up. Go let ’em in, and see if you can stall ’em for a little while. Maybe sell ’em some sunglasses or something, while Al and I take care of these tanks.”
“I can do it—” Nick protested, but Ken cut him off.
“Yeah, right. That’s what you said yesterday, but it didn’t happen, did it?”
As Nick Grieco went into the front of the shop, Al Kalama swung one of the tanks off the shelf and took it over to the air compressor. “You know,” he said cautiously, not certain quite how angry Ken was, “it might not be Grieco’s fault. If the tanks are faulty—”
“Four faulty tanks?” Richter cut in. “Get real, Al. One maybe, or even two. But not four. Not from Yoshihara. Everything he’s ever sent down has always been perfect. Face it — Grieco screwed up.”
“But—”
“Can it, Al,” Ken said. “Let’s just get these tanks filled and checked, and get these kids going. The last thing I need is having them go whine to their folks that they had to wait around for an hour because there was something wrong with the equipment.” When the first one was filled, Ken nodded toward the barrel of water that stood just outside the back door. “Sink it in there for a minute, just in case. I’ve never sent a leaky tank out yet, and I’m not about to start now.”
Taking the newly filled air tank to the barrel, Al Kalama lowered it into the water, then searched for any sign of air bubbles that would betray a leak.
Nothing.
He repeated the process with the other three tanks after Ken had finished filling them. All four tanks checked out perfectly.
There were no signs of leakage, and all the gauges now read full.
“Take them,” he said. “Who knows? The guys up at Yoshihara’s probably sent them over empty, and Nick just didn’t notice.”
The tanks were packed into the van, the van departed for the beach, and Kihei Ken proceeded with the business of the day. But he’d still have it out with Nick Grieco later on, because whatever else he’d done last night — or not done — he should have made damned sure of the condition of those tanks.
Faulty tanks could kill people.
Michael knew something was wrong the minute he got on the school bus that morning. “What’s going on?” he asked, sliding into the seat next to Jeff Kina.
Jeff glanced around uneasily, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low enough that only Michael could hear him. “Kioki didn’t make it home last night.”
“What do you mean? Wasn’t Rick going to drop him off?”
Jeff shrugged. “Didn’t happen. Rick said it was gettin’ so late, Kioki didn’t want to wake up his ma. So Rick dropped him at the corner instead of taking him all the way home.”
“When did you talk to Rick?”
“Just before I left for the bus stop. Kioki’s ma called his ma, and he called me right after they hung up.”
“What happened to Kioki?”
“Don’t know,” Jeff replied. “But it’s only like half a mile from where Rick dropped him to his house, and there’s nothin’ out there.”
“Maybe he got caught doing a drug deal,” a voice from the seat behind them said.
Jeff Kina turned and glared angrily at the boy in the seat behind them. “Kioki? No way.”
“What if he ran into some other people doing a deal?” the other boy pressed.
Jeff scowled. “Get off it, Jimmy. Just because you’re always out there doesn’t mean everybody else is.”
“I never did—” Jimmy began, but Jeff stopped him.
“Don’t give me that crap. Everybody knows you’re the biggest dealer in the school. But you never sold anything to Kioki, did you?” Jimmy glowered angrily, and Jeff rose out of his seat, turning around to tower over the boy behind him. “Did you?” Jeff demanded.
“Sit down back there,” the bus driver called, glaring at Jeff in the rearview mirror. As the bus slowed, Michael pulled Jeff back into his seat.
“Forget it. He’s not even as big as Josh!” Jeff sank reluctantly back into his seat, and the bus sped up again. “Maybe Kioki was going to meet someone,” Michael suggested. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
Jeff shook his head. “Never had one. He’s always real shy around girls.”
As the bus pulled into the parking lot, Michael and Jeff saw Rick Pieper waiting for them, his face ashen. A crowd of kids had gathered around him. Michael could see them whispering nervously among themselves.
“Shit,” Jeff said quietly. “Come on.” Rising from his seat, he wriggled past Michael and surged down the aisle, with Michael right behind him. “What happened?” he asked Rick as he stepped out of the bus.
Rick seemed dazed as he looked at Michael and Jeff. “His mom found him,” he said. He hesitated a moment, then spoke again, his voice breaking. “He’s dead.”
Michael and Jeff stared blankly at Rick.
Though neither of them spoke a word, both of them were experiencing exactly the same thing: an oddly sick feeling, which spread through them, numbing their bodies as well as their minds.
It wasn’t possible — they’d been with Kioki only a few hours ago, and he’d been fine.
And now he was dead?
Instinctively, Jeff, Rick, and Michael drew closer together as they began moving slowly toward the school. The whispering voices of their classmates swirled around them, and though nearly every person who whispered the news to someone else had an explanation for Kioki’s death, none of them knew the truth.
Michael walked to his locker as if in a trance, and stared stupidly at the lock, its combination having vanished from his head. Then, from behind him, he heard Josh Malani’s voice.
“We gotta talk,” Josh said. “All of us.”
Michael turned and gazed at his friend. “What happened?” he said. “What happened to Kioki?”
Josh Malani’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know,” he said. Then he quickly looked around, as if checking for anyone who might be listening. When he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “But it’s got nothing to do with us,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
Michael stared at his friend for a long time, wishing he could believe him.
Deep down inside, though, he couldn’t.
CHAPTER 10
Katharine was genuinely annoyed with herself. The bones of the skeleton, fully exposed now, were laid out in precisely the position in which they’d been found. She’d had to move a few of them as she’d cleaned away the sediment that covered them, but in addition to the endless rolls of 35mm film she’d shot, there were dozens of Polaroids as well — a complete photographic record of the excavation and an essential aid to reconstructing the skeleton in situ. Now, as she stared down at the skeleton, her impatience with herself grew.
She should know what she was looking at.
In fact, she should have known what she was looking at yesterday, right after the skull and mandible had been fully excavated. But no matter what came to mind — chimpanzee, gorilla, gibbon, or any of a dozen other apes and primates — there was always something wrong: the skull not prognathic enough, or the mandible too wide, or the teeth showing the wrong configuration. The devil, she decided, was definitely in the details on this one, because it was the details that didn’t add up.
“So, have you decided what it is?” Rob Silver asked, emerging from the rain forest to stand next to her.
