Off the Grid, page 18
Koa thought about his office. People who’d violate Hawai‘i law by bugging the home of a police officer had the balls to plant listening devices in the police headquarters. He had to figure out where to look. “Can you do the police headquarters now?”
“The whole friggin’ building?” Joe asked.
Koa pondered Joe’s question. Whoever planted the devices had targeted him, and they’d expect anything important to be funneled through him. “No, just my office and phone lines.” He hesitated. “Maybe Basa’s, too.”
“Y’all got access to the telephone closet?”
“I know how to get access.”
“Then I can do it.”
They found bugs in Koa’s office and on his telephone line. After establishing the devices couldn’t overhear activities in other parts of the department, they left the bugs in place. Koa wondered just how the culprits had secured access to police headquarters. A phony janitor could have entered his office, but the telephone closet had been locked and the keys kept in a safe. Had it been an inside job? Had someone bribed their way into the restricted space? Was some police officer on the take?
* * *
Koa and Nālani only rarely met for lunch, and he cherished those moments. Not so this time. He approached their meeting with concern bordering on dread because he’d have to tell her that his job had gotten their life hacked by a pair of brutal killers. He’d rather fight with the chief than deliver such news to Nālani.
He got meals to go—a plate lunch for himself and a fish taco, with extra salsa, for Nālani. They met at the picnic area off the Mauna Loa strip road in the national park. Full of old koa trees and all variety of native birds, it was one of their favorite spots. But it might not remain so after this lunch. She’d already settled at a table when he arrived. His stomach churned as he parked the car and joined her.
He couldn’t find the right moment to raise the awful subject until Nālani finally said, “Something’s bothering you. Out with it.”
He told her everything, and then added, “I’m so sorry my job has invaded our life together.”
She was quiet for a time, and he watched her experience the same reactions he’d felt when Joe first revealed the existence of the bug. Her silence drove him close to despair as he feared the worst. Then, she looked straight into his eyes. “You’ve got to stop these bastards.”
He’d expected her to be angry at him and fearful for her own privacy and safety, but he was wrong. “You’re not angry with me?”
“No, of course not. I’m angry at the people who did this, and I want them to pay.”
A huge wave of relief washed over him, giving him the fortitude to forge ahead. “Could you live with the bugging device for a few more days?”
Confusion clouded Nālani’s face until it registered. “So we can beat these bastards at their own game?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KOA WALKED OUT of the police station around noon to find a paper folded under the windshield wiper of his Explorer. He read: “I need to speak to you in private about AC and GC. Today, 3 pm, Martha’s dress shop. Come alone.” The note was signed “A.”
A hoax? Not likely. A trap set by the DIA spooks? Koa studied the note. No, the spooks would be more sophisticated. And he couldn’t see Christopher, the obnoxious federal agent, setting up a rendezvous in a dress shop.
In times past, he might have gone alone, but Nālani’s words and the near miss at the bobby-trapped farmhouse made him more cautious. Besides, he couldn’t take his Explorer with the tracker still attached. He decided to take Piki and have him wait nearby. They took Piki’s wheels and drove around Hilo, making sure they weren’t followed before heading to Martha’s. It stood at the end of a 1920s shopping arcade with a covered sidewalk. They watched the place, checking both front and back, for an hour before he entered, alone. An old Chinese woman sat by herself behind the counter reading Vogue China. He looked around, wondering who’d asked to meet him.
“Detective Kāne?”
He turned to face the old woman. “Yes.”
“In the back.” The woman’s eyes flicked to a curtained doorway before returning to her magazine.
Koa stepped through a beaded curtain to find an attractive, professionally dressed woman in her late thirties or early forties with long lustrous black hair sitting at a small round table. An open law book lay facedown on the table beside a giant black cat with phosphorescent green eyes. He noted a rear exit he’d seen from the outside, but nothing to cause him alarm.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in a musical cadence blessed with the tiniest of smiles. “You must think my invite bizarre.”
“A bit … Ms.?”
“Alexia Sheppard.” Her green eyes, matching those of the cat, seemed to twinkle at the prospect of sharing her story. She was pretty—that was his first impression—and her intelligent expression drew him in, intensifying his interest. “You’ll find my tale more than a bit strange.”
He took the chair across the table from her. “I’m listening.”
“I’m a lawyer here in Hilo,” she began. That, Koa knew, meant she had a general practice, doing everything from wills to criminal cases. It was the only way to earn a living in the local legal community. “I’ve been in practice here in Hilo since 1999. When I first hung out my shingle, Arthur Campbell—I’ll call him Arthur, but that’s not his real name—came to my office. He asked me to do three things—incorporate a flower business, handle certain financial transactions, and maintain custody of an envelope.” She gently stroked the black cat as her words poured out in a lyrical, almost hypnotic, cadence.
Her voice captivated Koa. He imagined her charming a jury with those musical tones and huge green eyes.
“I sensed something peculiar about my visitor, but a newbie lawyer needs clients. I wouldn’t accept such a client today, but back then I agreed to represent Arthur with some reservations.” She tilted her head as if gathering her thoughts.
“I set up his flower business, although I don’t think he had many customers. The financial transactions gave me pause. I sought advice from my father.”
Her words flipped a switch in Koa’s mind. Alexia was Samuel Sheppard’s daughter. Everyone in Hilo knew the Sheppard name. Her old man, a lawyer, real estate mogul, and leading local philanthropist, had been a legend in the community. So Sam Sheppard had set his daughter up in a law practice in Hilo.
“Ultimately, I declined to handle his financial transactions, telling him no reputable lawyer would do as he requested.” Koa felt an urge to interrupt with questions but restrained himself. Let her tell her story in her own manner. He almost always got more out of a witness by letting them speak freely. He never ceased to be amazed by the things some people let slip. There’d always be time for questions.
“Custody of his envelope presented no ethical issue, but to protect myself against competing claimants, I insisted upon proof of his true identity. He resisted, but, after swearing me to secrecy, ultimately agreed.” The black cat rubbed its face against her arm.
“He told me to keep the envelope in a safe deposit box. Initially, I was to give it to his girlfriend, Gwendolyn, in case of his death. Then, about a month ago, he came to my office upset, agitated, and I’d say, fearful. He’d had a premonition of disaster. He said nothing specific, but I think he feared for his life. I urged him to go to the police, but he refused.”
Alexia stared off into space, and Koa guessed she was remembering Arthur. “He changed my instructions. He planned to leave a coded message on an answering machine in my office every day. If he failed to call or provided the wrong code, I was to give the envelope to Gwendolyn immediately.
“The coded messages came every day, like the Hilo rains. But then the messages stopped.” The music in Alexia’s voice faded. “Gwendolyn contacted me. I gave her the envelope.”
“Who—”
“I’m not quite finished,” she interrupted. “My legal representation has ended. I’ve done everything according to my agreements with Arthur Campbell. Then I heard about Gwendolyn’s accident. I saw the news stories about the burned body. I got nervous.” The cat meowed for attention, and then resumed purring as she stroked its fur.
“Under the code of ethics, I’m duty bound to protect client secrets even after death, unless disclosure is necessary to prevent a crime. Arthur and Gwendolyn are dead. Nothing I might disclose could prevent what’s already happened, but then there were other crimes—”
“What crimes?”
“Two men vandalized my office searching my files. I guessed they’d been looking for files on Arthur Campbell. I thought they might also search Arthur’s flower business. It, too, was ransacked. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I believe I’m justified in telling you what I know about Arthur Campbell.”
Koa felt a rush. Most investigations had a moment like this. He’d been sorting through possibilities, guessing at what might have happened, but now he was about to get answers. “That is quite a story. You made the right decision.”
“Thank you. I hope my father, if he were still alive, would agree.”
Koa made a short nod of acknowledgment toward the famous man. “So tell me, who was Arthur Campbell? What was his real name?”
“Ernesto Sapada, a former captain in Army Delta Force with expertise in counterintelligence. I’ve a copy of his military identification card.” She handed him a Xerox copy.
The face in the picture matched Arthur Campbell’s.
“Tell me about Sapada.”
“A peculiar man, intense with eyes like black diamonds, always darting, searching for danger. Physically powerful, but astonishingly quick, a man who might break your neck with a flick of his hand. I don’t much believe in stereotypes, but Sapada was everyman’s idea of a soldier of fortune. He was of second- or third-generation Albanian descent. Not a man to be underestimated.”
“How do you know he was Albanian?”
“I asked him. I’ve always been interested in genealogy. I find it useful in dealing with people, given the diversity of ethnicities in the islands.”
“What’d you talk about, other than the legal stuff?”
“Nothing, and very little about legal stuff. I’ve never met a man of fewer words.”
“What about his wife?”
Her mouth twisted. “I’m not sure they were married. I met Gwendolyn twice, once at the beginning so I could identify her in case I had to deliver the envelope. He introduced her as his girlfriend. Then I met her again when she came for the letter. Something had frightened her, scared her to the point of panic.”
“You have the envelope?” Koa couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.
“No.” She gave him a tiny smile. “I gave it to Gwendolyn and never knew its contents.”
“Any guesses?”
“I’ve often wondered. I’d guess Sapada learned a dangerous secret, and—and this is nothing more than speculation—I’d guess he used that secret for extortion or blackmail.”
“You think the letter contained the secret?”
“Maybe, but the envelope was quite thin—only a sheet or two of paper. Most likely, it provided the location of the secret, not the material itself. Or maybe the paper documented the codes for a foreign bank account.”
“Anything support your blackmail guess?”
She looked like she’d expected his question. “I told you Sapada wanted me to handle certain financial transactions.”
“Yes.”
“He wanted me to accept checks payable to my lawyer’s trust account and disburse the funds to him in cash.”
“But you refused?”
“Yes. There are lawyers who will launder money, but I’m not one of them.”
“The name of the flower business?”
“AC Flowers Ltd. The office is on Pōā Street.”
“Does it have a bank account?”
“I don’t know. I recommended Sam Naupaka at First Hawaiian.”
Koa asked a question he’d been holding back. “Not to be rude, Miss Sheppard, but why would Sapada hire a new lawyer, especially one who refused to handle cash for him?”
“A good question I asked myself. I’d guess he cared more about proper handling of the envelope than anything else, and my family is known for its reliability.” She favored him with a tiny smile.
Koa reviewed what he’d learned. Arthur Campbell had tried to enlist Alexia in a money laundering scheme. One part of him was disappointed that she hadn’t agreed. Then he might have learned where Arthur had stashed his bankroll and maybe even how he got it. Yet another part of Alexia’s story left him puzzled. The envelope to be delivered only upon his disappearance or death meant that Arthur had a secret he’d never shared with Gwendolyn. What might he have been hiding even from his ex-CIA girlfriend?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PIKI DROVE KOA to Zeke Brown’s office, left his car with his boss, and walked back to police headquarters. The county prosecutor helped Koa draw up a grand jury subpoena for AC Flowers’s bank records. Zeke greased the way with Sam Naupaka, a senior vice president of First Hawaiian bank. The banker confirmed the existence of an account in the name of AC Flowers Ltd. and agreed to meet Koa.
Driving Piki’s car to avoid being tracked in his own vehicle, Koa headed for the main Hilo branch of First Hawaiian. Sam, a bald-headed Hawaiian in a white button-down shirt, led Koa to his private office. Koa handed him the grand jury subpoena, and Sam pointed to a stack of papers on the conference table. “That’s a printout of all the transactions since the account first opened in 1999.”
Koa scanned the pages. The debit transactions appeared to be payments for orchid-growing equipment—tens of thousands of dollars, stretching back to late 1999. The credit transactions were cash deposits, typically in amounts of $5,000 at a time, but the number of such deposits caught Koa’s attention. Arthur Campbell made a lot of deposits, all less than the $10,000 threshold for reporting transactions to the Treasury. Everything about Campbell was cloak and dagger. “Is this the only account?”
“Well, there’s a safe deposit box,” Sam responded slowly.
“I need access to that box, Sam.”
“We’ll have to get a mechanic in here to drill through the client lock.”
An hour later, a mechanic drilled the client lock on the AC Flowers safe deposit box. Sam inserted the bank key and slid a long box from its place in the vault.
Three small cases held Army medals: a meritorious conduct medal, a Purple Heart, and a Distinguished Service Cross. Koa’s own military service told him anyone who could walk eventually qualified for a meritorious conduct medal. Purple Hearts often signified only minor injuries. The Distinguished Service Cross, however, ranked just below the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Ernesto Sapada, aka Arthur Campbell, must have performed an extraordinary act of heroism under hostile fire to earn a DSC. Such medals usually recognized the recipient for risking his or her life to save fellow soldiers. Koa’s commanding officer in the Fifth Special Forces Group had worn the Distinguished Service Cross, and Koa had greatly admired his commander as a giant of a man and an inspiring leader. The military medal changed Koa’s opinion of Ernesto Sapada.
He thought again of the severed hand in the blacked-out torture room and the horribly burned body in Pele’s playground. A military hero had died a horrible death, suffering a tortured end like Koa’s buddy Jerry who’d died in his arms outside the Olympic Hotel in Mogadishu. No man—least of all a DSC recipient—should die like that. Anger flared in Koa’s gut.
In addition to the decorations, the safe deposit box also contained multiple false identities—passports, government-issued ID cards, credit cards—each in a different name and nationality. All featured pictures of Ernesto Sapada. Koa claimed no expertise in phony documentation, but the papers appeared to be highly professional.
Accompanying the papers, Koa found bundles of hundred-dollar bills held together by rubber bands. The banker put the cash, at least $100,000, aside to be counted before it was turned over to the prosecutor.
Koa also found a Chinese government–issued card with an electronic stripe, depicting Sapada as a Bulgarian national named Biserka Jugoslav, employed by the Chinese embassy in Belgrade. Koa had been skeptical of Professor Kalo’s story that the U.S. had deliberately bombed a Chinese embassy. Not anymore. A Delta Force operative with a DSC was a rarity, but one with false identity papers granting access to a Chinese embassy was one of a kind. The U.S. clandestine services had obviously planned to penetrate the embassy.
Finally, Koa removed the last item, a single sheet of paper folded in thirds. Unfolding it, he stared at the TOP SECRET—SPECIAL ACCESS—EYES ONLY—DESTROY AFTER READING designation stamped across the top and bottom of the page. He knew the import of the warning. He’d found classified military orders, dated May 6, 1999, issued by the U.S.-led NATO Operation Allied Force Command. Simple and straightforward, the document ordered Captain Ernesto Sapada, USA, SN 34287621, to proceed forthwith to execute Operation Golden Sting.
The false passports and the money added little to Koa’s knowledge of Arthur Campbell. Koa had long pegged him as a chameleon, moving from alias to alias. The safety deposit box contained his escape kit—the identities and money he’d need to disappear once again if he was forced to evade his pursuers. Only he’d never had the chance.
The military orders, on the other hand, put Arthur inside NATO’s Operation Allied Force in Yugoslavia, shortly before his arrival in Hawai‘i. The words “Special Access” designated tightly controlled, highly sensitive information. Koa knew the designation from his time in Somalia; it usually covered clandestine intelligence gathering or high-value target snatch-and-kill operations. Equally significant, the date on the orders coincided closely with the May 8–9, 1999, U.S. bombing of the Chinese Belgrade embassy.
According to Professor Kalo, the CIA, not regular NATO forward air controllers, had ordered the bombing of the Chinese embassy. According to CIA agent Alderson, Gwendolyn—or Lan Zwang—a CIA agent in Kosovo, had disappeared in 1999 with sensitive documents, written in Chinese. Sapada’s Chinese identity card suggested his involvement in a covert mission to penetrate the Chinese embassy. Koa guessed Arthur and Lan Zwang worked together in Operation Golden Sting to raid the Chinese embassy.
