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CHAPTER VIII
The Police Call

“Did you get a good look at your attacker, Biff?” Tom Brewster asked his son.

“Gee, Dad. He came at me too fast. And it was fairly dark in the room.”

“I was wondering. Perez Soto – you know, the man I pointed out to you at the dinner – well, he wasn’t at the reception afterward. I thought he might have followed you boys.”

“I don’t think so, Dad. Perez Soto is a good-sized man. Husky. This fellow I had the hassle with was smaller, I think.”

“And that Mr. Perez Soto,” Li added, “he was wearing a white dinner jacket. This man wasn’t.”

“He could have changed, son,” Hank Mahenili pointed out.

“Li’s right, though,” Biff said. “I think we both will agree that it wasn’t Perez Soto.”

“All right, boys. Better get to bed. It’s late, and tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

It was a big day, and it ended with a bang.

The engineering conference had wound up the night before with the dinner at which Biff’s father spoke. This day, the day following, Hanale Mahenili had invited a selected group from among those who had attended the conference to a luau at his house. The prospect of going to the luau, the traditional Hawaiian feast, especially one cooked by a native of the island, was exciting.

Hank Mahenili had been up early to get things under way. He was going to supervise the cooking of the luau personally. It took all day to prepare a luau properly, and when Hank Mahenili did something, he did it right.

Biff and Li helped with the early preparations. They dug a deep pit in which a pig would be roasted.

“Anything else we can do, sir?” Biff asked.

“Not now, Biff,” his Hawaiian friend replied.

“Then how about a swim, Li?” Biff inquired.

“Want to try real surfing this morning?” Li asked.

“Do I! Let’s go.”

Since Biff had arrived, the boys had swum before breakfast, after breakfast, and practically all their free time. Li was an expert swimmer, especially under water. At first, Biff became worried when his new friend dived and seemed to remain under water long past the safety point. But always, Li’s laughing face would break the water just when Biff was about to dive for him.

Biff and Li hit the water and swam out into the ocean with powerful strokes. Biff was just a bit faster than Li. They took the plunge first to loosen up their muscles and became accustomed to the water. Next they tackled the surfboards.

Li swam most of the way back under water.

“You still worry me, Li. I don’t know how you can hold your breath that long,” Biff remarked as the boys walked up the beach.

“Just practice, Biff. I’ve been doing it since I could walk, I guess. Dad tells me I could swim before I could walk.”

The boys paused to watch an outrigger come plunging toward the shore atop a long, rolling wave.

The outrigger was being paddled furiously by two Hawaiian boys. On one side of the canoe, its outrigging extended out in two arching arms, connected by a buoyant float of wiliwili wood to give the slender canoe more stability.

The canoe ground ashore, and its laughing passengers scrambled out.

“All set, Biff? Ready to make a real try at it today?”

“By me that’s fine. I think I almost got the knack of it yesterday.”

“When it comes to you, it comes all of a sudden. You just sort of feel it.”

“I hope I feel it today,” Biff said, laughing.

The first day, the boys had swum out to where the long rollers formed, and had ridden them in, their bodies held stiff. Li wanted Biff to become accustomed to the waves. Then they had started with the surfboards.

The two boys walked across the beach to two long, brightly painted surfboards made of wiliwili wood. They carried the boards out into the ocean until they were waist deep. Then, sprawling on the boards, they paddled off shore several hundred yards.

“Okay, we’ll try it here. Head your board toward shore,” Li called.

Biff slowly turned his board until its pointed bow was aimed at the beach.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“Let the first few waves pass until you get the feel and lift. Then, when one comes that feels good – that’s the only way I can explain it – start paddling like crazy.”

Biff followed instructions. He felt himself being lifted by the first wave, then a second. Now came a huge roller, raising both boys high above the trough left by the preceding roller. Biff started paddling furiously, still lying face down on the board. He felt the wave grab it. The board picked up speed, riding right at the crest of the roller. He had made it!

Li was right alongside. The boys were speeding shoreward at nearly thirty miles per hour.

When the roller broke on the shallow shore, Biff was tossed off in the foaming breaker. He grabbed his board and held on until the wave smoothed out.

“Gee! That’s the most thrilling ride I’ve ever had!” he exclaimed.

“You did great, Biff,” Li said. “But just wait. If you think that was a charge, wait till you ride the board standing up. How about it?”

“Let’s go!” Biff agreed promptly.

Out they went again. Again they waited for the right feel of the roller. Biff felt one take his board. He was speeding shoreward. He looked over the water at his friend. He saw Li rise to a knee crouch, then slowly straighten up until he was standing straight, head held high.

Biff tried it. He got to his knees. Carefully feeling for his balance, he started straightening up. “I’ve done it,” he said triumphantly to himself. He looked shoreward just in time to catch a blinding splash of salt spray. He blinked his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was floundering in the water.

Li, seeing what had happened, leaped off his board, turned it, and came paddling back to Biff.

“I meant to tell you. When you get up, hold your head high, and back. Then the salt spray doesn’t hit you in the eyes.”

“Now you tell me,” Biff said, laughing. “I’m going to make it this time.”

They started out even. Li got up first. Biff took seconds longer. He was more careful this time. The tough part was straightening up from a crouching position to an erect one, then placing one foot ahead of the other, and getting a good balance. Biff arose slowly, slowly but surely. He made it. The two boys rode standing up, only a few feet separating their two boards.

Li turned to Biff and grinned. Then he clasped his hands over his head, making a handshake of congratulation. He was so thrilled at seeing Biff make it that he forgot about himself. This time it was the expert who spilled himself into the water.

Biff rode triumphantly into shore alone.

The luau was ready. The guests had arrived. Li burst into Biff’s room.

“Wikiwiki, Biff! Hurry. Everything’s ready.”

“I’m wikiwiki-ing just as fast as I can.”

“Here, put on this aloha shirt – all the kanes wear them. The wahines, the women, wear holukus or muumuus. You call them mother-hubbards, only ours are brightly colored with big flowers printed on them.”

“What do the kids – what do you call them —keikis? What do they wear?”

Li laughed at Biff’s pronunciation. “How many times do I have to tell you that every letter in a Hawaiian word is pronounced? Here’s how you say ‘children’ in Hawaiian: kay-ee-keys, with the accent on the first syllable.”

“Okay, Li-ka-kay.”

“Gee, that’s the first time you’ve said my name right. You stick around long enough, and you’ll be a real Hawaiian!”

“What’s your name in English, Li?” Biff asked.

“Richard.”

“Okay, Dick – let’s go.”

The luau was being held in the garden in the rear of the Mahenilis’ home. Under gaily striped awnings, long tables had been set up. They were decorated with fragrant-smelling ferns, flowers, pineapples and bananas.

At each place setting, there had been placed a niu, a coconut with its top slashed off, still containing the wai niu, or coconut water, which would be sipped with the meal.

Hank Mahenili stood over the lua– the hole Biff and Li had dug earlier in the day – making sure that the puaa was done to a turn. A luau isn’t the real thing without a roast pig.

“All ready, everyone,” Hank called out, and started cutting pieces of the pig. The meat was so tender it fell apart. Hank placed the meat on ti leaves, and servants carried it to the tables.

“What a meal!” Biff said, finding his place beside Li. “Never saw so much food.”

In addition to the puaa, there was a umeke, a small bowl, of poi– taro root pounded to a paste. There was a dish, called pa, of lomilomi– salmon, which didn’t look a bit like salmon, since it had been shredded and kneaded into a salad. There was also a dish of moa, chicken cooked in coconut juice, and another pa of opihi, a small, delicately flavored shell fish.

This wasn’t all. There were pas of i’a, fish, and sweet potatoes, called uwala kalua.

“If I eat all this, I’ll explode,” Biff said.

“Here, have some of this,” Li said.

“What is it?” There was a suspicious look on Biff’s face.

“It’s delicious. Called limu.”

Biff took a small bite. His face lit up. “It’s good. But what is it?”

“Seaweed,” Li said and burst out into laughter.

“Honestly. This is seaweed?”

“That’s right. Not the kind you know, though. This is an edible seaweed.”

“I’ll say it’s edible. Give me more.”

Everywhere one looked, Mahenili’s guests were devouring the food. Strange though some of it looked, no one could deny the food’s succulence. People were falling to as if they hadn’t eaten for days.

Biff took one final bite and sat back.

“Couldn’t eat another thing if I had to. Don’t think I’ll ever want to eat again.” He looked at his friend and smiled. “Mahalo, aikane. Thanks, friend.”

Biff’s attention was attracted by a Hawaiian, not in luau dress, but in business clothes, coming across the garden. He saw the man approach Mr. Mahenili.

“Who’s that?” Biff asked, nudging Li.

Li looked, and his face became serious.

“Golly. That’s Mr. Kapatka. I wonder what he’s doing here.”

“And just who, aikane, is Mr. Kapatka?” Biff asked.

“He’s the chief of the Honolulu police.”

CHAPTER IX
Mysterious Message

“I’m sorry to interrupt your festivities,” Chief of Police Kapatka said to Mr. Mahenili.

“That’s all right, Kioni,” Li’s father replied courteously. “We’re at the end of our luau, and I know you’ve got your job to do. Just what is it? You have word of the missing Dr. Weber?”

“Well, the answer to that has to be both yes and no. Actually, I’m here to see one of your guests. You have a Mr. Thomas Brewster staying with you, do you not?”

“Why, yes, we do.”

“And his son?”

“Yes, Mr. Brewster and his family are staying with me on their visit to the islands.”

“I’d like to speak to them,” the chief requested.

Hank Mahenili excused himself and crossed the garden to where Mr. and Mrs. Brewster stood chatting with other guests.

Biff and Li had watched the police chief talking to Li’s father. Now they saw Mr. Mahenili and Mr. Brewster coming toward them.

“Come along, Biff,” his father said. “Police want to talk to us.”

Li tagged along, the deep brown eyes in his bronze face wide with curiosity.

“I’m Thomas Brewster, Chief. And this is my son, Biff. Has Dr. Weber been found?”

“No, Mr. Brewster, unfortunately not.”

“But it is Dr. Weber you want to see us about?”

“In a way, yes. Let me explain. An hour ago, we had a call from Wailuku, that’s the capital of the Island of Maui. An emergency case had been brought to the hospital there – a man suffering from a deep stab wound. The man was identified as a certain Juan Tokawto. He has a police record. A minor criminal, in and out of several scrapes, but a bad character. A man for hire.”

“Yes. But what has that to do with me, or my son?” Mr. Brewster asked.

“I’m coming to that, sir. Tokawto was found unconscious. At the time the police called from Wailuku, he was still unconscious, so they hadn’t been able to question him. They did find in his wallet, though, a picture, a small photograph – two photographs, in fact. They identified the man in one of the photos from a picture that appeared on the front page of our Honolulu paper yesterday.”

Chief Kioni Kapatka paused. He apparently enjoyed building up suspense.

“The photograph in our paper was one of you, Mr. Brewster. It appeared the day you spoke at the mining engineers’ meeting.”

“I know. But I don’t see – ”

“The small photo found in Tokawto’s pocket was also of you, Mr. Brewster. Of you and a lad whom I presume to be your son. This boy, here.” He looked at Biff.

“Remember, Dad? I told you about that man at the airport snapping pictures of you, of you and me. Ted spotted him first,” Biff reminded his father.

Thomas Brewster nodded his head. “Well, Chief Kapatka, I can’t imagine why any criminal would be carrying a picture of me and my son.”

“But remember, Mr. Brewster, I said that man was carrying two pictures.”

“Yes.”

“The other picture was that of the missing Dr. Weber.”

The police chief’s last statement struck the group like a bombshell. For moments, nothing was said. The chief broke the silence.

“I’m sure that now you will see the connection,” he said.

“Yes,” Thomas Brewster replied. “There must be one. But just what? Have you any ideas?”

“Only this, Mr. Brewster. The man Tokawto must have been hired to keep a close check on your and your son’s movements. I suspect he was in Honolulu yesterday. He must have learned something – something of value to someone.”

“Say, Dad, I wonder if that man could have been the one who – who – ” Biff paused. He didn’t want to reveal to the police chief that he had gone into Dr. Weber’s rooms at the Royal Poinciana without authority. “You know, Dad. The man I had that little scrape with.”

“Could have been, son.”

The police chief looked at Biff with renewed interest. However, he didn’t press Biff for a fuller explanation.

“It is my belief, Mr. Brewster,” Chief Kapatka continued, “that when Tokawto went back to Maui, he thought his information was worth more than he was being paid. His attempts at getting more money were rewarded by a stab in the abdomen.”

“Some reward!” Biff interjected.

“But why the Island of Maui?” his father asked.

The police chief shrugged his shoulders.

Biff touched his father’s arm. “I have an idea on that, Dad,” he said.

“Let’s hear it, son.”

“Wouldn’t you think that perhaps Dr. Weber might be on the island, or on a nearby one? And that whoever kidnaped him must have his headquarters there?”

The three men considered Biff’s idea.

“You could be right, Biff. Do you agree, Chief?”

Chief Kapatka nodded his head in agreement.

“The police on Maui have asked that you come to Wailuku. They want you there when Tokawto has recovered sufficiently for questioning,” the chief said. “If he recovers,” he added.

“We’ll go right away. Can you come along, Hank?”

“Certainly. Let me explain to my guests.”

Biff felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Li.

“How about asking if I can go, too, Biff?”

“Sure. You can help us.” Biff turned to his father. “Dad, Li ought to go along, too. He speaks Hawaiian, and he and I might pick up some valuable information. Would you ask Mr. Mahenili?”

Thomas Brewster nodded his head. “You better go pack a small bag. We may be there for a day or two. Hop to it. We want to get over there quickly.”

Biff and Li went into the house.

“We’ll get there soon, Biff. We’ll take the Inter-Island Street-Car System.”

“Street-car! What are you talking about? Street-cars running across the ocean!”

Li chuckled. “That’s what we call the Hawaiian Airlines. They make so many flights each day, it’s just like standing on a corner waiting for the next street-car.”

And it was. When the boys and their fathers reached the airport, they learned there was a plane taking off within fifteen minutes.

The flight to Kahului, the principal airport on Maui, took only thirty minutes. They arrived just as dusk was spreading over the Valley Island, as Maui is called.

The drive from the airport to the capital of Maui, Wailuku, was a short one. The police were expecting them.

“We’ve just been talking to the police in Hana,” the Wailuku police chief said. “Tokawto is still on the danger list. They haven’t been able to get anything out of him.”

“Then this Tokawto isn’t here?” Tom Brewster asked.

“No. He’s in Hana, a coastal town about sixty miles from here.”

“Shouldn’t we start right down there?”

“You can, of course, Mr. Brewster. However, Tokawto’s been placed under heavy sedation. There’s little chance that he’ll do any talking tonight. I’d suggest you spend the night here, then drive down early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, yes, Tom,” Hank Mahenili said. “You don’t want to miss the drive to Hana. It’s a truly beautiful and thrilling experience.”

The sixty-mile drive was one of continuous curves. The road snaked around cliffs, dived down to sea level, then climbed back up another cliff.

The party checked into the Han-Maui Hotel, then left for the police station.

Tokawto had come out of his sedation, but was still in such serious condition that his words seemed a meaningless jumble during his conscious spells.

“I don’t know if he’s going to make it or not,” Mr. Brewster said in a low voice.

Biff stepped to the wounded man’s bedside for a closer look.

“That is the man who was snapping pictures of us at the airport, Dad,” he declared.

“Do you also think he’s the one you had your tussle with?”

“He could be,” Biff said slowly. “I’d say he’s about the right size. I didn’t get a close look at his face, though.”

Tokawto moaned. He opened his eyes. He looked at Biff, and a frown of recognition crossed his face. He stretched out one hand and spoke.

“Ka Lae,” he said, and repeated the two Hawaiian words: “Ka Lae.”

“What does that mean, Hank?” Mr. Brewster asked.

“Ka Lae is the name of the southern tip of the Big Island-Hawaii.”

“I think he was trying to tell me that,” Biff said. “I’m sure he recognized me, and is trying to tell us that we ought to go to Ka Lae.”

Biff’s father nodded his head. “I think you’re right, Biff. Those words have a meaning for me, too. I’ll tell you about it later. Back at the hotel.”

They walked the short distance back to their quarters.

“Hank, do you think we could charter a boat here for a couple of days?”

“I’m sure we can. You’re going to Hawaii?”

“Yes. To Ka Lae. But, I want it thought that we’re just off on a fishing cruise. No need for anyone but us to know our real reason for going.”

“Do you think Dr. Weber might be being held on the Big Island?” Biff asked.

“I think it quite likely, Biff. But there’s still another reason for us to take a good look around Ka Lae. That I’ll tell you about when we’re on our boat at sea. Would you mind hopping up to my room and getting my sun glasses, Biff? Then we’ll go see about a boat.”

Biff took the stairs to the second floor three at a stride. Li was right behind him. Biff scrambled through his father’s bag, looking for the glasses.

“Hey, Biff. Look at this!” Biff, glasses in hand, turned to see Li pointing to the mirror of the room’s dresser. He walked over for a closer look.

On the mirror, written in soap, was a message:

“JW for Cs”

CHAPTER X
Starting a Search

Biff wasted no time in getting back down to the lobby of the hotel. He told his father about the message written in soap.

“Just the letters, you say —JW for CS?” Mr. Brewster exclaimed. “Let’s go back to my room. I want to see them for myself.”

The Brewsters and the Mahenilis went up the stairs. As they neared Mr. Brewster’s room, they noticed its door was open.

“Now what can that mean? More trouble? That door was closed.” The question flashed through Biff’s mind, but he did not speak.

The door, it developed, had been left ajar by the maid, but it was what she was doing that upset Thomas Brewster.

They entered the room just in time to see the maid wipe the soap message off the mirror.

Thomas Brewster started to speak, but he realized that she was only doing her job. When the maid left the room, Mr. Brewster questioned his son closely.

“Now this is important, Biff,” he said. “Can you remember exactly how those letters were written? I mean, were they all capitals? Or was one or more of them in lower case?”

“Lower case?” Li looked puzzled.

“He means small letters, Li. Now let’s see, Dad. I’m almost positive that the J and the W were capitals. How about you, Li? Is that how you remember it?”

The Hawaiian lad nodded his head.

“And I think I’m sure about the C. It was a capital letter, too. Right, Li?”

“Gee, I think so, Biff.”

“But what about the s, Biff? This is important,” his father said.

Biff frowned. He closed his eyes trying to recreate a mental picture of the soap scrawl. “Dad, I can’t be absolutely sure, but I think the s was a small letter.”

Biff looked at Li. Li could only shrug his shoulders.

“I think your memory is probably right, Biff. You have a pretty good one, and besides, it fits,” Mr. Brewster declared.

“I’m completely mystified,” Hank Mahenili put in. “All this talk about letters, capitals, and small letters. What do they mean, Tom?”

“Well, first, I think – I hope – they mean that Dr. Weber is definitely alive. That’s good news. They must also mean that he’s being held prisoner. Not so good. The doctor is old, you know, and just how much he can stand at his age is doubtful.”

“If he’s alive, we’ll find him,” Biff cut in.

“But the letters, what do they mean?” Hank repeated his question.

“The J and the W, I’m sure, stand for Johann Weber. The C– capital C– and the small s, is the chemical symbol for cesium.”

“Cesium!” Understanding came to Hank Mahenili. Any informed engineer knew the importance of this element.

“Just what is cesium, Dad? And what is it used for?”

“Technically, son, its atomic number is 55, and its atomic weight is 132.91. Its use?” Mr. Brewster smiled. “I’ll tell you this, we’ll never get to the moon without it.”

“You mean it’s used in rocket propulsion?” Biff asked.

“That’s right, Biff. It’s a high-thrust, long-life rocket propulsion fuel. Most costly.”

“More than gold?” Li asked eagerly.

“Much more, Li. If you and Biff had about ten pounds of it between you, you’d have your education paid at any college you wanted to go to – M.I.T., Cal Tech – any of them.”

“Wow! Must be worth more than a thousand dollars a pound, then,” Biff said, his voice filled with amazement.

“It is, Biff. The refining process is what makes it so expensive. Scientists and explorers – like Jim Huntington – have carried on extensive searches to locate a field where the purity of the ore is high – higher than in those fields we now know about.”

“And Mr. Huntington – he thought he had made such a strike?” Biff asked.

Before answering, Tom Brewster went to the door. He opened it cautiously and looked up and down the hall.

“I don’t want any eavesdroppers or spies lurking around.” He had lowered his voice until it was little more than a whisper.

“Now I’ll fill you in so you will all know what we’re up against.” Hank Mahenili, Li, and Biff crowded close to Mr. Brewster. They didn’t want to miss a word.

“That letter you found the other night, boys, is important. Not as important as Dr. Weber’s abductors think it is, but it does tell of a cesium find Huntington made in New Zealand. He felt it to be a sensational discovery.”

“High-grade ore?” Biff asked.

“Yes. In his letter to Dr. Weber, Huntington told of the find, of his belief in its high degree of purity. He was bringing a sample, and a map of the location, to Honolulu. Dr. Weber was to assay it. Then, if it proved out as expected, Ajax Mining was to move in on the deal and exploit the field.”

“And Mr. Huntington never got here,” Biff said.

“That’s right. That call I received from Dr. Weber – you remember, Biff. The doctor had just arrived in Honolulu when word of Huntington’s loss at sea became known. There was an extensive sea and air search, but nothing was found, no sign of the sloop’s wreckage, and, even more unfortunately, no slightest sign of Huntington.”

“How could that be, Mr. Brewster?” Li wanted to know.

“It is thought that Jim Huntington’s sloop must have split its seams open in a heavy squall, Li. Huntington apparently stuck by his boat and went down with it.”

“Isn’t it supposed to have gone down somewhere off Ka Lae, Dad?”

“That’s right. But there’s a lot of ocean off the southern tip of the Island of Hawaii.”

Biff was frowning with concentration. “Ka Lae,” he said. “Those are the two words Tokawto mumbled to us this morning.”

“And that’s where we’re going,” his father said.

“You think Dr. Weber is being held somewhere near there, while somebody tries to locate the sunken sloop?”

“I’m sure of it now, Biff.”

“Who do you think his abductors might be, Dad?”

Thomas Brewster looked at Hank Mahenili. “Any doubt in your mind, Hank?”

“Not one bit,” the Hawaiian answered, shaking his head. “Perez Soto.”

“He’ll make contact with us again,” Biff’s father said. “He doesn’t know exactly what is in this letter Biff found. His message – the one written on that mirror, is telling me that if we want to see Dr. Weber alive again, then I’ll have to tell him where the cesium strike is located.”

“And that information is at the bottom of the sea,” Biff said soberly.

“Yes,” Mr. Brewster said. “We’ve got to do everything we can to try and spot that sunken sloop. Dr. Weber’s life depends on it.”