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  “What if she’s not working at the club on Monday?” Marcus asked. “Then we ask around,” Maggie replied. “Someone there will surely know what hours she works. Or perhaps we can find out where she’s living. Either way it’s a good start.”

  "Perfect," Marcus replied, clinking glasses with Maggie. "Let's go back to the hotel and go online to search for the route the run takes across the island.”

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Marcus checked out of the Hiwakulani early Saturday morning to take up residence at Maggie's condo. With Maggie following in her car, he dropped the Camaro off at an Avis outlet on Ala Moana absentmindedly leaving the satchel Robert gave him under the front passenger seat. Next stop was the mall to pick out running gear. He dropped Maggie at work with a promise to pick her up when her shift ended at six.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Maggie's cell rang as she was taking an afternoon break from her duties. "It's me, Maggie," Holly said. "Is Marcus there with you?" "No. He should be moving his things into the condo about now." "That's what I want to talk to you about." "Sure, Holly, but I thought you were OK with him moving in?"

  "I am sweetie. I just want to make sure you're not making another mistake like you did with the last guy." "Marcus isn't like that," Maggie replied. "And you know that how?” Holly blurted. “You just met him, Maggie."

  "Are you my mother now?" Maggie said angrily. "Someone has to be the way you choose boyfriends like you do a pair of shoes," Holly exclaimed. "All right, so Steven was a mistake," Maggie replied. "Marcus is different. He's very sweet, and I trust him. He's not going to run off with my jewelry."

  "No, he'll probably take mine!" Holly said. "If you'd rather he not move in, just say so." "No, it's fine Maggie. I'll trust your judgment. I just don't want to see you get hurt again." "Thanks, Holly. I'll be careful."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Maggie's condo was in the hills, in the Makiki area, overlooking the Punchbowl. Makiki, located northeast of downtown Honolulu, was a fifteen-minute drive from the Hiwakulani. The condo, a two bedroom two bath affair with a pool and live-in property manager, was out of Maggie's price range but with Holly popping for half the rent, it was affordable.

  Marcus parked her car in the lot and walked down an avenue of palm trees to the entrance. A deeply tanned young man in a tight Hawaiian shirt appeared before him in the lobby. "Yes?" he questioned. Marcus gave his name and explained that he would be staying with Marjorie and Holly.

  "You have a key then?" the young man asked. "Right here," Marcus responded, pulling the condo key from his pocket. "Feel free to call Marjorie if you like." "Not necessary," the manager responded, "She phoned this morning to say you'd be coming. Name's Chet," he continued, shaking Marcus' hand. "I keep an eye on things around here. Any problems, I'm in unit 101."

  "Thanks, Chet, I'll just go up now." "Sure thing. Welcome to the Somerset." With Maggie at work until six Marcus had ample time to move in and get situated. He ordered a pizza from a local joint off a magnet he found on the fridge and sat down at Maggie's computer. Firing up Google, he searched for Virginia McCracken of Pearl City, Hawaii. Nothing popped up. No links appeared for Facebook, Twitter or LinkedIn or any other social media site.

  Switching to Google Earth, he compared the satellite map of Ford Island with the race layout Maggie found online. The first leg of the race appeared to pass close to the Northern tip of the Island. Judging from the distance, Marcus calculated that they would have about thirty minutes to contact Cracker once they eased off from the group. Rejoining the stragglers at the end of the run might be tricky but the Eastern section of the base looked desolate and devoid of any other military structures. "With a little luck this should work just fine," Marcus said aloud.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  DeWayne Jessup, most recently of Los Angeles, was in Honolulu on business. He rented a sleek new Camaro from Avis and was motoring on route 93 for an afternoon meeting in Waianae. Looking for a map in the glove compartment, he noticed a leather handle sticking out from under the passenger seat. Arriving early for his meeting, he parked in the lot and yanked the handle out from under the seat.

  "Sweet, a briefcase," he said aloud, "much nicer than the one I carry." Moving the contents of his battered, vinyl briefcase to the leather satchel, DeWayne left the car and strolled confidently towards the building.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Maggie and Marcus spent their Sunday sunning at the pool, dining out and planning for the Ford Island race. "Listen, Maggie," Marcus said taking her hand. "Are you sure you want to get involved with me in all this?" "I'm already involved with you, Marcus." "Yes, but we actually just met and you don't know that much about me."

  "I'll learn as I go," she replied. "My God, but you sound like Holly." "Holly?" Marcus replied. "She called yesterday while I was at work. She was checking to make sure I knew what I was doing with you."

  "And do you?" "I know that I'm quite fond of you. I know that we're good in bed. I know that we seem to want the same things." "Adventure?" he asked. "Yes, adventure. A sense of the unknown. I need that in my life right now. Besides, third time's the charm."

  "Hmmm?"

  "My last two relationships ended badly. That's why Holly's concerned." "Were the last two guy's guests at the Hiwakulani?"

  "Steven was. Martin wasn't. Both were vacationing on the islands. Martin wined and dined me for a week with a promise of moving to Oahu. He left unexpectedly. Haven't seen or heard from him since. Steven was a bit more sinister. A commodities broker from New York. Or so he said. Anthony didn't like him and warned me to watch out."

  "Anthony?"

  "The hotel director. Holly's boss. Fraternizing with the guests is a huge no-no. Naively, I thought that was why Anthony was warning me. Turns out security had an eye on Steven after watching him snooping around the hallways and ballrooms. I found out too late that they were right. He stole my jewelry one evening while we were at the condo. He checked out of the hotel the next day."

  "Did you file a report with the police?" "No, I was too embarrassed. I didn't tell anyone at work except Holly." "No wonder she doesn't trust me," Marcus said. "It's me she doesn't trust," Maggie replied. "I think she likes you. But what about you, Marcus? You don't know that much about me either."

  "I know all I need to. The rest I'll learn as we go."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Monday morning dawned bright and sunny with a warm trade wind blowing in from the West. Marcus and Maggie were at Richardson Field waiting in line to receive their marathon packets and instructions. "Keep an eye out for Holly," Maggie said.

  "Will do," Marcus replied, "but it might be hard spotting her in this crowd." Reaching the sign-in table, Maggie was given numbers 264 and 265 with a promise of receiving free "I Ran Ford Island" tee shirts when they completed the run. They took their places towards the end of the line of runners.

  A gunshot signaled the start of the race, and the first runners took off at a sprint towards the Clarey Bridge. Maggie and Marcus fell in near the end of the pack just ahead of a group of participants in wheelchairs. Jogging at a moderate pace, they kept their eye out for any sign of Holly.

  The queue of runners began to thin out as they reached the middle of the bridge. Looking behind and slowing to a trot, they let the last quarter of the serious runners pass. They hung back and joined the ranks of the leisure walkers as they crossed the end of the bridge and turned right on Ford Island Boulevard.

  The main gate was open, and they jogged in unchallenged. Security was not tight. The runners were expected. The run continued North on Saratoga Boulevard towards the Northwest side of the island. They let most of the leisure walkers and stragglers pass them as they approached the turn onto Wasp Boulevard. Rounding the corner of the street Marcus guessed they were in the vicinity of the club where Cracker worked.

  Maggie sidled over to him and whispered that they were approaching the transit barracks on Kingfisher Street. "Up ahead," she said. "The Enlisted Men�
��s club is just west of the barracks on the right. Let's wait until the last person passes. I'll hang outside while you go in and take a quick look around."

  The Enlisted Men's club was a small, one-story, windowless building painted in a bleak Navy gray. A few cars were parked out front. Inside, the place was gloomy and chilly. A TV set over the bar showed a soap opera, but the sound was turned down. Around the bar were several young men wearing gym shoes, blue jeans, and western style shirts. Military types. You could spot them by their haircuts and their clothes. Off-duty sailors always try to look like everyone else, and they fail.

  The bartender, a stunning woman in her thirties, shoulder length black hair, eyes the color of emeralds, medium height, and voluptuous build with exotic clothing carefully selected to attract attention gave a bored look and said:

  "Can I help you, Sir?"

  "Just looking for some bottled water," Marcus replied, closing the door behind him. "Sorry, no civilians allowed. There's a soda machine outside on the left if you like."

  "Come on, Cracker," one of the sailors said. "Give the guy some water. Who’s gonna know?" "Sure," she replied, "all I need is for that prick Ensign Tolliver to find out." "He's off base," the guy answered. "Along with everybody else. Trying to stay out of the way of this goofy marathon."

  "Have a seat and relax for a while, Mister," he said, motioning to a stool. "Thanks, but I'd better get going," Marcus replied. "Just stopped to get some water. Forgot mine. Better catch up with the rest of the pack."

  "Here you go, honey," Cracker said, tossing him a plastic bottle of water. "On the house." "Thanks," he replied with a smile. "Catch you later," he said as he pushed the door open.

  "What do you think?" Maggie asked, reaching for a swig from Marcus' water bottle. "No problem. Just a few sailors drinking beer and passing the time. Cracker's there alright. Working behind the bar."

  "What's the best way to approach her?" Maggie asked anxiously. "She knows you from the hotel. Why don't you go in and surprise her? Give her a head's up on why you're here then I'll walk in." “OK, I’ll give it a shot,” Maggie replied,

  "Hello again, Cracker," Maggie exclaimed walking in the door. "Remember me?"

  "Marjorie," Cracker replied, sounding amused. "What are you doing here and how did you get on the base? Out slumming?" "Nice to see you too, Cracker," she replied as she took a seat at the bar. "I was running in the marathon with a friend of mine. I believe you just met him. He was in here a moment ago."

  "The water guy?" Cracker asked.

  "Yes, that's him. He and I have a proposition for you. Oh, here he is now," Maggie replied as Marcus walked in the door. "Sorry to deceive you," Marcus said as he approached the bar. "We just wanted to make sure you were here and on duty today."

  "What can I get for you?" Cracker responded casting a wary eye at the sailors across the room. "It's what we can do for you, Cracker," Marcus replied. "Remember Doctor Robert Albrecht?"

  "That quack? Is he still practicing his voodoo?" "More or less. He's retired now." "What about him?" "We have a proposition for you that's related to your prior visits with Albrecht. A proposition that could be quite profitable."

  "Hey Cracker, how about another round," one of the sailors hollered. "I can't talk to you now Marcus. Not here. Meet me tomorrow night at The Glade. It's a club in downtown Honolulu. I'm there most weekday evenings. We'll talk then."

  "The Glade? Isn't that a sleaze bar on Hotel Street?" Maggie asked. "Call it what you like dear. The Hiwakulani it isn't. If you want to talk to me, that's where I'll be. And I mean you, Marcus. Leave little Miss Priss here behind."

  "Well, you haven't changed a bit Cracker," Maggie said with a smile. "Neither have you, Marjorie. I want nothing further to do with the Hiwakulani or anyone who works there. Particularly you." Cracker responded with a sneer.

  "Now Marcus, on the other hand, I'd like to get to know much, much better," she said with a flip of her hair. "My shift ends at six, sweetie. Stick around, and I'll give you a private tour of the Island." "Thanks, Cracker, not today. But I will meet you tomorrow night at the Glade." "Suit yourself," she responded with a shrug. "See you then."

  "Don't fall for her sweet talk Marcus," Maggie stated once they were back outside the building. "She'll chew you up and spit you back out again."

  "I’ll be careful. Now keep your eye out for any sign of Holly," he advised Maggie. "And remember your sprained ankle. Limp a bit if we're spotted." They walked hand in hand, South on Wasp Boulevard back towards the main gate. Marcus' alarm bell sounded as he saw an officer on a golf cart up ahead. He forced himself to think: it was easy being deceptive. Part of his nature. Take it one step at a time, he told himself.

  "Can I help you?" the officer asked, approaching Marcus and Maggie.

  "We were in the run, Lieutenant," Marcus replied. "My girlfriend sprained her ankle. We're just making our way back to the main gate now." "I'll give you a lift," he responded. "I'm on the way there myself. Hop aboard. I've got the duty and was just out looking for stragglers. You former Navy?" he asked Marcus.

  "Nope, just out for a run." "Thought you might be since you knew my rank. How about you miss? Navy girl?" "No, sir," Maggie replied," Just a working girl."

  "While you're in Pearl, you two should see the Arizona Memorial. Tours leave every fifteen minutes during the day. Admission's free. It's a sobering experience." "Good idea," Maggie replied. “We'll do that as soon as my ankle feels better."

  "Here you go," the Lieutenant said as they reached the main gate. "I'd take you back over the bridge, but the cart has to stay on the base." "No problem, Sir," Marcus responded. "We can make it from here. Thanks very much." "Yes, thanks, Lieutenant," Maggie chimed in, leaning on Marcus' shoulder and limping towards the bridge.

  It was half an hour before they arrived back at the starting line to sign out and collect their tee shirts. Back in the car Maggie sat quietly staring out the window while Marcus drove. "What's wrong?" he asked, "You seem upset."

  "I'm just peeved that I can't go with you to The Glade tomorrow night," she replied. "I'll tell you all about it afterward." "It's not that. I know how Cracker operates, and she has her eye on you that's for sure." "Don't worry," he replied. "I can handle Cracker."

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  The Somerset

  WILLY WENT OUT in the early evening. His room at the Pagoda had come to seem claustrophobic after he'd spent the last two days staying out of sight; so he donned his ball cap and cane and went out into the sunshine. He hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to 404 Wilder Street. It was time he dealt himself back into the game.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Monday evening, his business in Honolulu completed, DeWayne Jessup dropped off the rental car and boarded a flight to LA. He had two bags. One he checked at the counter and the other, a brown leather satchel, he carried on the plane. It had been a successful trip. DeWayne had a new briefcase and a signed contract to supply sausage casings to a meat packing plant in Waianae.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Holly was cooking dinner when Marcus and Maggie arrived back at the apartment. "Hey, you two," Holly said, stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. "Didn't see you today at the run." "We were there," Maggie replied. "Sprained my ankle a bit so we quit early. I'm okay now though."

  "How about you, Marcus? Enjoy your tour of Ford Island?" "Sure did. We're planning on going back for a tour of the battleship Arizona." "Maybe I'll tag along," Holly replied. "Lived here for fifteen years and I've never seen it. Had dinner yet?" "We had a late lunch," Maggie replied. "We'll get a bite later on."

  A light knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Opening the door, Maggie was greeted by an older gentleman, wearing a worn sports jacket and frayed ball cap, leaning on a cane. "Hello, my dear," he said. "I'm Professor William Boggs. Friends call me Willy. Is Marcus Reno about?" "Willy," Marcus exclaimed, walking over and holding the door for him. "What are you doing here?"

  "It's nice to se
e you again too, my boy," Willy responded. "And who are these two beautiful young ladies?" "I'm Marjorie, and this is Holly," Maggie said. "You're a friend of Marcus's apparently?" "Why yes, my dear. Hasn't he told you about me?"

  "Afraid not."

  "Hi Willy, I'm Holly," she said extending her hand. "Please come in and sit down. Seems like my friends have forgotten their manners. Can I get you anything?" "Thank you, no," Willy responded, taking a seat in an armchair by the fireplace.

  "I'll explain everything shortly, Marcus, but first I need to know if you've been in contact with Cracker." "Yes, I have. I'm meeting her tonight downtown," Marcus replied. "How did you get here, Willy?"

  "In a taxi, my boy." "Where are you staying?" Marcus asked. "Quaint little hotel called The Pagoda. A bit off the beaten path but nice nonetheless. Arrived a few days after you did." "Does Albrecht know you're here?"

  "Not a clue," Willy answered. "Thinks I'm on holiday in Mexico." "How on earth did you find me?" Marcus asked. “A friendly chap downstairs named Chet, I think, told me what unit you were in. I mentioned that I was a friend of yours just arrived from the mainland."

  "That's not what I mean, Willy. How did you know I was staying here with Maggie and Holly?" "Still have the books from Albrecht's library, my boy?" "Yes they're in my suitcase," Marcus replied. "Why?"

  "I'm glad you decided to bring them or I would have had a devil of a time keeping tabs on you. I placed a small tracking device in the spine of one of the books while we were at Albrecht's home. I've been following your progress since you left San Diego. Isn't technology marvelous?"

  "I'll be damned," Marcus exclaimed. "How many more of these things were planted on me?" "Just one more actually,” Willy responded. Robert placed one in the satchel he gave you. He was afraid you might vanish with his cash. Where is the satchel now?"

  "I'm not sure. With all the moving around, I misplaced it. I may have left it at the hotel or in the rental car I dropped off at Avis. It was empty, so no harm done." "I feel like I just walked into a mystery movie," Holly said. "Fill me in, Maggie. What in the world is going on?" "I'm not sure I know," Maggie replied. "Perhaps Willy can enlighten us."