Pacific Creed Read online

Page 16


  Koa nodded soberly. “I have two regrets. I spent far too many years on the mainland and away from my people.”

  “The other?” Nui prompted.

  “The American government taught me to be a soldier. The warrior skills I know are Japanese.” Koa met Jalalud­din’s piercing stare. “I regret that I will never get to train with the kahuna.”

  Bolan knew that “kahuna” had multiple meanings. In ancient days it could often mean shaman or sorcerer, but it was always a term of tremendous respect, and in any context it meant the man was at the pinnacle of ability and power. The men around the table muttered in low tones of approval and nodded. Koa had acknowledged Musa Jalaluddin as a kahuna. He had also acknowledged this was a suicide mission, and that he knew he was going to die.

  Jalaluddin nodded very slowly. “Koa, our people will know our names forever. Our people’s enemies will know our names, and all will speak them in the same sentence.”

  The assembled suicide warriors pounded the table boards and roared.

  Bolan shook his head. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  Laughter and mostly good-natured insults flew from all corners of the table. Koa turned to Aikane. “Uncle, what’s the Hawaiian name for good with a golf club?”

  More roars met this. Bolan was getting the feeling that Rasul hadn’t been particularly popular with the troops. The men laughed and talked but terrible purpose lurked behind the levity. By mutual agreement it wasn’t spoken of. Koa was accorded demigod status. Marwin was taking a lot of ribbing but fitting right in. Bolan caught Jalaluddin’s eye. The giant nodded and the two of them rose and moved back into the trees.

  “What troubles you, Makaha?”

  Bolan spoke the truth. “You know I am not afraid to die.”

  “I know.”

  “Tino looks like shit.”

  Jalaluddin grunted and nodded.

  “And where is my uncle Lau Lau? I heard a whisper he was going to train us in Lua. Now no one has seen him.”

  Jalaluddin locked eyes with Bolan. “Your uncle Lau Lau looks like shit, too.”

  Bolan’s worst suspicions were confirmed. Radioactive horror was on the way. “So it’s one way, all the way.”

  “The results will be beyond expectation. Survival will be slim. I promise you nothing save that the glory will be forever.”

  Bolan met the man’s gaze. The Hawaiian mystic’s personality was nearly as powerful as his own. Jalaluddin suddenly quirked his eyebrow. “Do you know how to drive a truck?”

  Bolan scratched his head. “Jeez, it’s been years. I had a city job for a while back east, working for the corp yard. I drove the cherry picker and the hauler. Nothing bigger than a deuce and a half.”

  “Good, very good.”

  Bolan put a little disappointment in his voice. “You want me to drive a truck? I thought you wanted me shooting.”

  “Well, Makaha—” Jalaluddin gave Bolan a smirk “—you did kill one of our drivers.”

  The soldier grimaced as if he was being dressed down.

  Jalaluddin laughed. “Not that I blame you, but you have left a few gaps in our ranks.”

  “Well, shit.” Bolan squared his shoulders. “You want me on the trigger? I’m on it. You want me behind the wheel? I’m your wheelman.”

  “That is good.” Jalaluddin turned back toward the feast and paused. “Do not worry, Makaha. Once you park the truck—if you are still alive—your shooting will be very important.”

  * * *

  Bolan shot the rifle. It might have been the kava talking but he was becoming rather fond of the little 600. The muzzle blast from the magnum round was Fourth-of-July worthy, and Bolan hoped he wouldn’t have to fire at night. One shot would flash blind him and announce his presence to the entire planet.

  Koa sat in the shade sipping kava and enjoying the show. “I hear you’re driving tomorrow.”

  Bolan loaded five more shells. “That is the rumor.”

  “They got some huts back in the woods. Rumor is Tino and Uncle Lau Lau are lying in hammocks. Rumor is they’re never going to get out of them.”

  “I believe it.” Bolan aimed at one of the white fuel drums beneath the ledge three hundred meters away. After the feast, Koa had spent the early afternoon teaching fundamentals. The terrorists weren’t up to Farm standard but they were a lot more accurate than they had been an hour ago—most of the fuel drums now looked like Swiss cheese. Bolan squeezed the trigger. The 600 slammed back into his shoulder. The ragged hole his bullet tore in the drum was pleasingly larger than the ones the M-16s had printed.

  “So we’re hauling something radioactive?”

  “It looks that way. The radiation meter wondered why Tino wasn’t glowing this morning. He’s taken an LD 100.”

  “What’s that?”

  “LD is lethal dose. One hundred stands for one hundred percent fatal. I’m thinking Tino got exposed to at least a thousand rads. Whatever Musa has—” Bolan shook his head “—it is not properly contained.”

  “Great! So we die bleeding out our eyes and crapping out our insides! Why don’t you seem all that worried about it?”

  “Actually I’m very worried.” Bolan fired again and punched another hole in his vertical line.

  “You don’t look it!”

  “Musa said I shot one of his drivers. That implies there are more than one. He’s had you training up the boys and me practicing my marksmanship. He’s keeping us away from it. He doesn’t want his killers showing up at the target site coughing up blood. I’d bet there are two trucks. One will be hauling the merchandise and one hauling the shooters. We’re shooters. We won’t be exposed until it’s time to make the magic happen, whatever that may be. Our job is to stop it before it happens, and with luck no one else gets exposed at all.”

  “Oh, well, I feel all better now.”

  “I live to serve.” Bolan fired another shot. “This string could be lined up with a ruler.”

  “Well—” Koa sighed fatalistically “—watching you shoot actually does make me feel a little hopeful.”

  Bolan fired a final practice shot. He had deliberately raised his aim slightly and dotted the “i.” “Talk like that will get you a date to prom.”

  Koa laughed. “Oh, Keo is your date. That kid worships you.”

  “I know.” Bolan picked up his spent brass. Keo was like Ahmed—young, dumb and full of fervor, except without any of the young bodybuilder’s malignance. He’d bet Keo was a decent kid, and probably had it very rough growing up. Then he’d met Musa Jalaluddin. He’d been starstruck and heard the Good Word. Jalaluddin had given Keo a community and a purpose. Now Keo was a true believer. Like all young people he thought he was immortal, and by the same token he was ready to die for glory and the cause.

  Koa had spent the day shaping these mostly young warriors into soldiers. Bolan and Koa had broken bread with these men and accepted their adulation.

  Tomorrow it was very likely they would have to kill them all or die trying.

  Koa read Bolan’s mind and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

  Bolan had five more practice rounds. He rolled them between his fingers and slid them into his pocket.

  Aikane came through the trees and held up his hands. “Cease fire!” Bolan opened the action on his rifle and leaned it against a tree. Aikane was nearly always friendly and quietly smiling but he looked positively grim as he approached. “Koa, Makaha.”

  Bolan and Koa nodded. “Uncle.”

  “Your uncle Lau Lau would like to see you.” Aikane looked at Bolan. “Tino asked for you specifically, Makaha.”

  * * *

  Bolan gazed down upon the living dead. Most people had never seen an LD 100 case. Tino looked like an Auschwitz victim with Ebola.

  It was a sight Bolan had seen far too many
times, and given the current situation, there was a very good chance the radiation-ravaged thing that had once been a man was Bolan’s future.

  Koa was making a mighty attempt not to throw up.

  Bolan spoke. “Tino.”

  Tino slowly opened his crusted and scabbed eyelids. He turned bleeding eyes up at Bolan. It took him a moment for recognition to glint through the broken blood vessels. “Makaha…”

  “Yeah.”

  “You still think you can take me?”

  “I told you, I only want your best.”

  “Told you, brah, my best is behind me.”

  “And thank God for that,” Bolan muttered. “Damn gigantic son of a bitch. Nearly broke both my hands on your thick skull.”

  Tino’s throat rattled and he winced as blood leaked from the corners of his mouth. “Aw, brah, don’t make me laugh…it hurts.”

  “You need anything?”

  “Nah. Glad you came.”

  “No problem.”

  Tino’s eyes were already closed again. Aikane gestured and Bolan and Koa followed him to another hut. A middle-aged woman Bolan hadn’t met tended Uncle Lau Lau. He looked as though the zombie apocalypse had happened and he’d been turned about a week ago. Bolan wondered if the radiation had fried the RFID in his hand. Lau Lau was awake. He was clearly blind, and yet there was still a spark of vitality in the Lua master. “Koa…Makaha…that you?”

  Koa took the ball. “Yes, Uncle.”

  “Promise me, Koa…”

  “What, Uncle?”

  “Do what you must do.”

  Koa stared at the dying man and spoke solemnly. “I will do what I have to do. I swear it.”

  Lau Lau nodded and groaned. “Makaha…”

  “Yes, Uncle. I am here.”

  “You are new to the ohana, but defend it, fight for it.”

  Bolan considered the Hawaiians he had known in his life, the people he’d met at the luau, Melika, Koa, the inhabitants of the fiftieth state of the United States of America. He thought about the two men in their hammocks and what the word ohana really meant. “I will defend the ohana to the death.”

  Chapter 18

  Honolulu International Airport

  The suicide squad disembarked. Bolan ran his hand over his head and felt where Hu’s hair extensions and his own black locks used to be. It had been some time since he’d sported a military high-and-tight. The squad wore Army combat uniforms, and their flashes and badges showed they were the 299th Cavalry Regiment of the Hawaiian Army National Guard. Bolan had risked a great deal smuggling the razor in his boot but TSA had ushered them right through from their puddle jumper flight from the other side of the island with hardly a glance at their papers. They were soldiers on active duty, and everyone in the airport was happy to see them.

  People waiting behind the gates for friends and loved ones actually cheered. A group of vets, some in wheelchairs and wearing the caps and even the uniforms of their service, saluted. Bolan knew these men, like other vets around the country, came once a week, some every day, to greet returning service men and women. Bolan and Koa saluted back and the rest of the squad followed suit. A little girl wearing a Girl Scout uniform charged the gate and pressed a tiny teddy bear into Bolan’s hand. “Thank you for your service!”

  Bolan’s throat tightened just a little. “What’s his name?”

  “She’s a girl, silly!”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Yukiko!”

  Bolan nodded very seriously at the little brown bear in his palm. “Her name is Kiko-Bear, and I will keep her forever.”

  Yukiko’s smile lit up the terminal. “Yay!”

  “Thank you very much, Yukiko.”

  “Daddy says you fight to keep us safe!”

  “I try.” Bolan nodded. “And I always will.”

  “Okay ’bye!” The little scout ran giggling back to her friends and chaperones.

  Koa stage whispered, “Makaha, you’re so handsome and strong. You’re my hero…”

  The squad laughed. Bolan tucked Kiko-Bear into one of his cargo pockets. “Screw you, Koa. I got a bear. You didn’t get shit.”

  The squad marched out to the parking lot. A shuttle bus was waiting for them with Uncle Nui in the driver’s seat. Rifle bags occupied most of the seats. Bolan found his 600 near the front and sat. Nui and their weapons had taken a different route into Honolulu. Jalaluddin and Aikane were nowhere to be seen. Bolan wondered at the risk of sending the squad through the terminal. The only explanation was that Jalaluddin and his people wanted the squad seen, and once whatever horror they intended to perpetrate was enacted, he wanted everyone to know who had done it. Nui drove them through town and toward the hills. The squad was quiet. They still had no idea what their mission was but they knew this was it.

  The shuttle stopped at a light. Bolan glanced around Honolulu and his gaze locked on the newsstand at the corner. The situation went to worst-case scenario as Bolan read the full-page headline on the Waikiki News: President’s Surprise Visit! Bolan elbowed Koa and jerked his head. Koa’s eyes went wide. Bolan just caught a sub-header about the President dining with the troops as the shuttle pulled away. The squad had been kept incommunicado for the past forty-eight hours and now Bolan knew why. Koa shot Bolan a “Now what?” look.

  Bolan was very tempted to hit the emergency beacon on his tracking device, but he still had no idea where Jalaluddin or the radioactive material might be.

  Nui took the shuttle through the suburbs and out of town. They headed into the hills. More of Bolan’s suspicions were confirmed when they pulled up to a fire road entrance. Two military trucks sat parked in the shade. Jalaluddin and Uncle Aikane stood under the trees and both were in uniform. “Everybody arm up and move out,” Nui ordered.

  Bolan hit his emergency beacon. The jungle camp had been in the middle of the forest hours from Happy Valley. Bolan was hoping Agent Rind had moved the team to Honolulu so he could marshal his resources and move in any direction when Bolan emerged. The bad part was that the strike team would be coming in blind, but there was nothing to be done about that. The squad unzipped their rifle bags and strapped into their web gear. Bolan checked the loads in his rifle. The five practice rounds he had stolen were still secreted in the rifle bag’s padding. He stowed his ammunition and tucked his knives away.

  Marwin squeezed his bulk past Bolan and the soldier felt a pistol press against his back. “Take this, bro. I got a bad feeling.”

  Bolan took one of Hu’s .38s and tucked it into the small of his back. “How’d you manage that?”

  “No one expects the fat guy to be smart, and no one expects him to be light-fingered.”

  “You’re a good man, Marwin.” They climbed down and joined the squad.

  Jalaluddin inspected them. “Good, very good. Koa, you will ride in the lead truck with me and Makaha. Everyone else in the back. Your uncle Aikane will drive the second truck. Go!”

  Bolan clambered up into the cab and got the old girl in gear. Koa and Jalaluddin climbed in and the big Hawaiian handed him a map with a route highlighted in red. “Follow this.”

  Bolan nodded. Their destination did not seem very far away. They dipped into a little valley and drove up to a chain-link fence. The fence surrounded a facility consisting of a small blockhouse with some very large pipes and vales coming in and out of the ground. It all looked very new.

  Bolan read the sign on the fence: Honolulu Water District Pearl Pumping Station.

  According to the sign, the new station proudly served the service men and women at Pearl Harbor. A potbellied man in a guard uniform came up to the gate. His nametag read Mahoe. He grinned up at Jalaluddin. “What’s happening, fellas?”

  “Security.”

  Mahoe blinked. “But I’m security.”


  Jalaluddin grinned conspiratorially and nodded at Pearl Harbor below. “Do you know who’s down there today?”

  Mahoe grinned back. “The Prez!”

  “You’re supposed to officially start pumping in…what? Two hours?”

  “An hour,” Mahoe corrected.

  “Well, some reporters and dignitaries are going to show up and take pictures. The big kahunas at Pearl want a few of the guardsmen standing around and looking sharp for the cameras. Me and mine will stay out of your way, unless you need something, and don’t be afraid to ask.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, and I hear they’re sending up a catering truck. Make sure you grab some grind.”

  “Thanks!” Mahoe happily opened the gate. Bolan and Aikane drove in and parked in the tiny parking lot by the blockhouse. A dozen workers in orange vests and safety helmets were standing around but they weren’t working. They mostly smoked and drank sodas and appeared to be waiting. Other than flipping the switches, they were here for the cameras, as well.

  “Everybody out!” Jalaluddin ordered. “No killing. Not yet. Follow my lead.”

  The squad jumped out, rifles in hand. Some of the workers looked askance at the armed squad. Mahoe walked over from the gate. “Jeez, brah. You going to give the pump a twenty-one-gun salute or something?”

  Jalaluddin cracked his rifle butt across Mahoe’s jaw and dropped him, then ripped a full auto burst into the air. “Down! Down! Down! Everyone down!” Workers shouted and screamed but nearly all dropped. All they saw were Hawaiian soldiers. The squad gleefully clubbed the few who didn’t drop until they were on the ground. “Get their phones! Koa, take Keo and two men. Clear the blockhouse! Makaha, stick with me. Everyone else, start tying them up!”

  Nui produced rope and the squad started immobilizing prisoners.

  Koa swept the blockhouse like a pro. “No one inside! They got a yellow ribbon that ain’t cut yet!”

  “Good! Watch the perimeter!” Jalaluddin smiled at Bolan. “Would you like to see something?”

  “Well, since it’s my last day on earth, sure.”

  “Follow me.” The big Hawaiian walked back to the second truck. Uncle Aikane stood by it. Aikane wasn’t looking very well. Bolan’s skin prickled at the rads he imagined were coming off the truck. Jalaluddin walked to the rear of the truck bed and threw back the canvas curtain.

 

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