Chapter 1
I
The Bishop Museum, Wednesday, May 13, 1970
The dusky corridors of the museum were quiet at this time of day. The man in the raincoat walked casually along, stopping to admire a painting or sculpture here and there. When he got the end of the hall and the staircase that led to the next floor, he stopped to look up at the massive flight of steps to make sure no one else was there. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly up them and turned to his left once he got to the landing. He was met in the hallway by another man in a suit and tie. His face was rough and hardened, and the stone cold look in his eyes was enough to stop someone dead in their tracks. The man in the raincoat was not affected. He took a small, black plastic tube with a gray lid out of his pocket and handed it to the man in the suit.
"It's all there," the man in the raincoat told the man in the suit. "The latest message to Moscow."
The man in the suit was Philip Norton, the chief of operations for the Special Division of Intelligence.
Norton smiled for the first time since he met up with the other man. "We go into action tomorrow morning," he said. The man in the raincoat was an agent from the Washington branch of Intelligence.
"I hope your agent is willing to go along?" the Washington man asked.
"She is," the other man replied. "If she has second thoughts, we have another plan – just in case. I don't think we'll need to use it."
"The people were are dealing with are dangerous," the man in the raincoat said. "We have to have to be just as much – even deadlier."
II
The morning sun had yet to cast a wave of heat over the South Pacific, but Det. Jayna Berringer of Hawaii Five-O could feel the heat hit her directly as she walked down the wharf. , were already feeling the heat. She stopped when she got outside of the Marlitza, a cabin cruiser with a blue stripe down the side. It rocked gently in the calm waters of the Pacific, but Jayna felt no calmness. She felt uneasiness, as though she was being watched.
The Marlitza, however, stood out in another way. It was owned by one of Hawaii's most notorious mobsters, Frank Prather, and it was currently being used as a meeting point for Prather to make his drug sales. Jayna was investigating Prather but she needed information, so she arranged for this meeting. She stood on the dock and waited.
The shot rang out and it took several seconds before Jayna realized what it was. She felt a warm sensation in her chest, like hot lead searing through. Clasping her hand to her chest, she looked down at her palm to see the unmistakable crimson stream that was blood. She fell onto the dock, the side of her head hitting the wood with a crash whose resonance got fainter as her consciousness dimmed into darkness.
III
Sunlight glinted into the wide windows from the west, casting streaks of light onto the glass desk and leather armchairs. A rainbow shone in the crystal ash tray at Norton's elbow. The seconds before the voice at the other end spoke seemed like an eternity.
The phone rang in Norton's office. He picked up the receiver and spoke. "Norton," he said.
"This is Geller. Berringer's dead," spoke Patrick Geller.
"Go to the next phase," Norton said, then he heard a click at the other end. He continued to clutch the receiver as he stared out the window at the expansive ocean.