He pulled the car over to the curb in front of a charming hotel constructed of red and white coral. Just to the left of the entrance to the hotel’s palm-studded grounds, sat an old woman surrounded by flowers of every color and species. The woman was seated in a high-backed chair, made of coconut fronds, with her feet in a tub filled with pink, red, and yellow buds. A flame-red hibiscus was stabbed in her topknot. She was a plump Hawaiian woman, dressed in a flowered muumuu the island adaptation of the mother-hubbard dress introduced many years ago by New England missionaries.
The old woman’s brown, deeply lined face cracked into a smile as the Brewsters got out of the car.
Mr. Mahenili spoke to her in the musical words of the native Hawaiian. The old woman’s deft hands grasped a long, slender lei needle, and her hands seemed to fly as she swiftly threaded at least a hundred flowers into a beautiful garland.
“This lei,” Mr. Mahenili explained, “is being made of the plumeria. You see,” he picked up one of the flowers, “it has five petals. Smell it.”
Mrs. Brewster took the flower. “My, that’s lovely! It seems to me I’ve been smelling this lovely scent ever since we’ve been here.”
“You have. This blossom is highly perfumed. It makes our island the sweetest smelling place in the world.”
The old woman had finished. She arose and draped the newly made lei around Monica’s neck. “For the nani keiki,” she said.
“That means for the ‘beautiful child.’”
Monica blushed, but her smile showed her pleasure.
“Thank you,” she said, dipping her head.
Mr. Mahenili handed the woman some money.
“Mahalo, mahalo,” she said.
“And now she’s saying, ‘Thank you,’ to us,” Hank Mahenili explained.
Half an hour later, following a thrilling ride up the twisting road running over the pali, the cliffs, of the Koolau Mountain range, they dropped swiftly down to sea level again on the north side of the island. A short run along broad, curving beaches, and they arrived at the Mahenilis’ beach-front home on Waimanalo Bay.
The warmth and gracious hospitality of the Mahenili family made the Brewsters feel at home immediately. The Mahenilis’ son, Likake, fifteen, and Biff were old friends within an hour of their meeting. Little Wikolia Mahenili was just Monica and Ted’s age, but quite a bit smaller. She considered the twins her personal property and showed them around with great pride.
There was only one cloud to mar the Brewsters’ sky-high happiness. Dr. Johann Weber was still missing.
Late in the second afternoon of the Brewsters’ stay in Honolulu, Biff and Likake were swimming when Biff saw his father come down to the beach and hail him.
“Let’s go, Li!” Biff called, and the boys rode a breaker back to the shore.
“Hi, Dad. You want me?” Water dripped off Biff’s tanned body. Likake, his round brown face with its usual eager expression, stood beside him.
“I want you to get dressed, now, son. I’d like you to come to the dinner and evening session of our meeting,” Mr. Brewster said.
“You bet, Dad. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. This is the night you speak, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Tom Brewster smiled. “But that isn’t the main reason for my wanting you there. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Okay, Dad. May Likake come along?”
“Surely. Mr. and Mrs. Mahenili are coming. The little ones will stay at home.”
Likake had gone on ahead.
“What’s it all about, Dad? Something to do with Dr. Weber?” Biff asked.
“Not exactly, Biff. But I think there’s going to be a man at the dinner tonight I want you to get a look at. There could be a connection between him and Dr. Weber’s disappearance.”
“Is it that man, Perez Something-or-other—the one you mentioned when you got that phone call at home?”
“He’s the man, Biff.”
Biff’s brows were knitted in thought.
“Dad, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” Biff interrupted. “Is it all right if I do a little snooping after you speak? You’ll be at the reception and dance. I’ve got an idea. And Likake said he’d help me.”
“Snooping, son? When trained detectives are on the job? This is a vacation, and I want you to enjoy it. But there’s no reason why you and Likake can’t nose about a bit. Don’t do anything foolish, though.”
The dinner was over. Biff had tried not to stare too hard nor too long at the husky, shifty-eyed man at the next table. Perez Soto! Biff sensed the sheer physical power of the man, and he shuddered involuntarily. This was no opponent to treat lightly. He couldn’t help thinking: Biff Brewster, take warning!
The chairman rapped for order. Guests at the head table were introduced, then the chairman turned to Thomas Brewster.
“We are very happy tonight,” the chairman said, “to have so distinguished a speaker with us. You all know him. You all know of the many contributions he has made in our field. I refer, of course, to the chief field engineer of the Ajax Mining Company, Mr. Thomas Brewster.”
Mrs. Brewster smiled proudly at her husband.
Tom Brewster arose. His talk was short, direct, and crisply delivered. He received an ovation when he concluded.
Biff looked at Likake and winked. The two boys slipped away from the table unnoticed.
Outside the hotel, Biff asked, “Which way?”
“The Poinciana’s just a short walk from here. We’ll go in the back way—through the garden.”
“You’re sure it’s all right? This bellboy is a good friend of yours?” Biff inquired.
“Sure. I know Hale real well. His brother, Kioni, and I go to Kamehameha School. That’s a school only for boys and girls of Hawaiian ancestry. We’re almost like blood brothers.”
The night was moonlit. Palm leaves rustled under a gentle breeze. The steady murmur of the surf was clear in the night air.
Biff and Likake reached the garden of the Royal Poinciana.
“Hale told me he would fix it so the deck door of Dr. Weber’s room would be open. Come on,” Li said.
The boys walked boldly through the hotel’s garden. Biff knew better than to try to hide their presence. To do so would attract attention, and that was just what he didn’t want to do.
They mounted the stairs to the hotel’s second floor, and walked along the deck until they reached Dr. Weber’s room.
Hale had done his job. The door was open. Biff entered the room. Likake, his heart pounding, was right on his heels.
The room was faintly lighted by the moonlight from outside. Biff paused in the middle of the room to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light.
Then he started his search. Ever since the call to Indianapolis, Biff had wondered about the letter mentioned during the conversation. His father had said, “Forget it,” but Biff hadn’t been able to. The letter had to mean something. Where would a man like Dr. Weber hide a letter? Biff asked himself. He felt certain that Dr. Weber had been kidnaped, but he didn’t think the abductors had the letter. If they did, then why were they holding the doctor?
“Course, I could be all wrong,” Biff told himself. But he didn’t think he was.
“Likake. Li. Come here,” Biff whispered and was startled to hear Li’s voice right back of him.
“I am here. Right with you.” Li sounded scared, Biff thought.
“Okay. You take the bathroom. It’s a letter we’re looking for. I’ll take the bedroom, then we’ll both search this room.”
The boys made a swift, but thorough search. Nothing in the bathroom. Nothing in the bedroom.
“Now where do we look?” Li asked.
“You take that side of the room. I’ll start by the hall door.”
Biff’s search started at the telephone table. Nothing in the drawers. But there wouldn’t be, Biff told himself. Too obvious a place. He started to leave the table, and, glancing down, saw that the table must have been left in the same condition it had been in on the day of the call. Crumbs of tobacco were scattered on the tabletop. Several burned matches were in an ash-tray. The doctor’s tobacco pouch lay at the base of the lamp. Biff picked it up idly, looking about the room for the next spot to search.
Standing there, swinging the pouch by its draw-string, he thought he heard paper crackle. He stood motionless, halting the swing of the pouch. He strained his ears. Nothing. He tossed the pouch back on the table. Again he heard the slight sound of paper crinkling.
Biff snatched the pouch up again. He opened the pouch. His hand darted in it and dug deeply in the tobacco. Paper! His fingers weren’t wrong. He withdrew the paper and held it close to his eyes. It was a letter, all right.
“Biff! Biff! Look out!” Li shouted.
Biff turned just in time to see a figure leap at him.
Biff sidestepped quickly. His attacker’s charge struck him a glancing blow, spinning him around. He stumbled backward, almost losing his footing.
In the dim light, Biff saw the man turn and crouch, ready to charge again. This time, Biff met charge with charge. The man came at him low. Biff hurled his body at the attacker even lower. He threw a bone-crushing football block at the man’s knees. The attacker was upended, his head striking the floor, his legs flying upward as if he were diving.
Biff leaped to his feet.
“Come on, Biff!” Li called from the open doorway.
Biff sprang for the door, hurdling over his attacker lying on the floor. He felt sure he had cleared him when a hand snaked up and grabbed Biff by one ankle. Biff crashed to the floor, stretched out, his head pointing toward Li, who was standing in the doorway in dismay.
Rising on one knee, Biff tried to jerk his ankle free. The man held on with a viselike grip. Biff thought fast.
“Here, Li! Catch!” He tossed Dr. Weber’s tobacco pouch to his friend. It fell at Li’s feet. “Grab it, Li! Grab it, and scram. I’ll be all right.”
Li bent over and snatched up the tobacco pouch. He stood in the doorway, hesitating.
“Don’t wait!” Biff called fiercely. “Get out of here fast.”
Li, shocked by the sudden violence, was confused. He felt he should stay and help his friend. But Biff had ordered him out. Apparently the important thing was to escape with the tobacco pouch. He turned, shot through the door, and ran swiftly, silently, along the porch.
Biff now turned his full attention to freeing himself. He knew he would have to make his getaway fast. Someone in the hotel was certain to have heard the sounds of violence coming from the room. This was no time for an investigation. Biff knew that he was as much of a prowler as his attacker.
The attacker changed his tactics. Now he wanted to get free of Biff.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Biff muttered, and threw his arms around the man’s legs. He knew that Li was now the attacker’s prey. Li and the tobacco pouch.
Biff held on. The man, struggling to remain upright, struck down savagely at the base of Biff’s skull. Biff rolled, avoiding the paralyzing blow.
The attacker, freed of Biff’s grasp, leaped for the door. Biff was on his feet, right behind him. Reaching the door, Biff saw the man dash for the steps. Instead of following immediately, Biff decided to wait a moment. Surely Li had gotten clear. Li knew the grounds of the hotel well. He’d be able to avoid capture, make a clean getaway with the pouch and its valuable letter.
When the attacker was out of sight, down the stairs, Biff stepped out onto the porch. He straightened his jacket. He wanted to look like a guest of the hotel if anyone stopped him. From behind he heard the sounds of someone banging on the corridor door.
“The time has come,” he said to himself, “for me to make my departure from this charming hostelry.” He walked unhurriedly toward the stairs. Once there, though, he dashed down them, taking three steps at a time. In moments, he was concealed behind a spreading poinciana shrub.
Biff stood silently. He strained his ears for any sound, the sound of either Li or his attacker. Only the soft rustling of palm fronds came to his ears. He decided to move out. Taking great care to remain in the cover of trees and shrubs—the moonlight was brilliant—Biff moved cautiously through the garden. He decided against returning the same way he and Li had come. He felt sure that his attacker had followed them from the hotel where his father had spoken. The man might figure the boys would return to the hotel. He’d be waiting for them there, Biff reasoned.
“Sure hope Li figures it the way I have,” Biff told himself.
Biff walked in the opposite direction. He came to the edge of the garden. The street was only a few feet away. A few feet, but those few feet were open space, no cover, unprotected from the view of others.
“I’ll just have to chance it,” Biff said softly. He planned to dash across the opening, run down the street, and hope to find a cruising taxicab.
Biff tensed. He thought he heard a noise behind him. It sounded like a small twig snapping. He turned his head slowly. He didn’t want a second attack from behind that night. Now he felt positive that someone was moving in the shrubbery nearby.
Then he heard it, softly, barely audible above the noise of the rustling leaves and nearby surf.
“Biff!”
Biff let out his held breath in a deep sigh of relief.
“Right here, Li,” he called.
His Hawaiian friend emerged from behind a tree and joined him.
“You all right, Biff? You hurt?” Li asked anxiously.
“Me? No. Not even shaken up. But how about you? And the tobacco pouch. You’ve still got it?”
Li nodded his head, extending a hand with the pouch in it.
“Swell, Li. Great. How did you get away? Did that guy try to follow you?”
“He tried to follow all right. But I fooled him. I kept just far enough ahead of him so he could hear me. I made little noises.” Biff could see Li’s grin in the moonlight. “So I could lead him away. I wanted to be sure you got away okay.”
“Pretty smart, Li. But how did you finally shake him off?”
“I led him way to the rear of the garden. Then I quit making any noise. I moved like a cat, circled around, and headed for here. I sort of figured you wouldn’t try to get back to the other hotel.”
“Good figuring. You and I are going to make a great team. But I think we’d better get out of here fast before ‘Nosy’ figures the same way we did. Where would be the best place to get a cab?”
“Just follow me.” Li turned, and instead of heading for the street, he plunged back into the garden. He led Biff along the edge of the garden, until they came to a low hedge fence, the rear boundary of the Poinciana’s grounds. Li leaped over it, Biff following. Then the Hawaiian boy cut to his right, and in a few moments, they jumped another hedge into another formal garden.
“Where are we now?” Biff asked in a whisper.
“This is the garden of the Aloha Hale—that means Aloha House. It’s a small hotel. We can find a taxi right out front. Come on.”
They moved noiselessly through the garden, and emerged on the lighted street just to the left of the hotel’s entrance. They were lucky. A taxicab was waiting at its stand. The boys quickly hopped in.
Biff sat back. Relief came to him, and he suddenly realized how much his recent exertions had taken out of him.
“Wowie! Am I ever glad to get out of that.”
“Me, too, Biff. Where do we go? Back to the hotel, or home?”
“To your house. I told Dad we’d take a cab back.”
Li gave the driver instructions.
Biff looked at the luminous dial of his watch.
“Jeepers! Do you know it’s been two hours since we left the hotel! Seems like only minutes.”
Tom Brewster and Hank Mahenili were still up when the boys reached home.
“Well, we were beginning to wonder what had happened to you two,” Tom Brewster said.
“Plenty, Dad,” Biff said, smiling.
“It looks like it.” His father was looking at Biff’s rumpled white jacket. One shoulder of it bore a smudge where he had landed on the green carpet of Dr. Weber’s room.
“We had a little adventure,” Biff said. “More than we expected.”
“You’re all right, Li?” Hank Mahenili asked, a worried look on his face.
“Sure, Dad. It was Biff who had the fight.”
“Fight?” Tom Brewster stood up. “Just what happened, son?”
Biff gave his father and Hank Mahenili a fast fill-in on the night’s adventure.
“But we got what we were looking for,” he concluded. Biff reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out Dr. Weber’s tobacco pouch. He took out the crumpled letter.
“This has a New Zealand postmark on it. I think it’s that letter you talked to Dr. Weber about when he called you back in Indianapolis. I haven’t read it, though. Thought you might not want me to know what’s in it.”
Thomas Brewster took the letter. He read it rapidly, then reread it. His frown showed how deep his concentration was. Without a word, he handed the letter to Mahenili. The Hawaiian read it.
The two boys watched their parents. Finally Biff spoke.
“Is it important, Dad? I thought it might be.”
“Very important, Biff. Wouldn’t you say so, Hank?”
“Unbelievably so.”
Biff looked questioningly at his father.
“This is the letter Dr. Weber mentioned; the letter he received from Jim Huntington. It tells of a find Jim made in New Zealand—a fabulous mining discovery.”
“And that’s why he was coming here to meet you and Dr. Weber?” Biff asked.
“That’s right, son.”
“Then whoever it was attacked me tonight, or kidnaped Dr. Weber, would know where the find was, too?”
“Not exactly, Biff. They’d know of it, but not where it was. Huntington was bringing samples of the ore, and details of its location, with him.”
“That information, then, must still be in his sunken sloop,” Biff said.
Tom Brewster nodded his head.
“We’ll have to find it, won’t we, Dad?” the boy asked eagerly.
“We’re surely going to try.”
There was silence for several minutes. Everyone’s mind was filled with thoughts.
“Dad.” It was Biff who broke the silence. “Don’t you think we can read good news in my finding this letter?”
“How do you mean, Biff?”
“Well, wouldn’t you think from this that Dr. Weber must still be alive?”
“Why do you say that, Biff?” Hank Mahenili asked.
“Well, sir, whoever grabbed him, since they didn’t find the letter, must figure Dr. Weber knows what Mr. Huntington discovered, and they’re holding him until he tells them about it, or tells them where the letter is. They couldn’t know that the location isn’t described in the letter.”
“But how would they know anything about it if they hadn’t seen the letter?” Li piped up.
“They have their ways,” Tom Brewster replied. “The doctor probably told someone else about Huntington’s coming here. Not that he would have said why. But Huntington’s explorations are well known. Whoever kidnapped Dr. Weber would know that a meeting between Dr. Weber, Huntington, and me could lead to something of tremendous value.”
“And what is that, Dad? Can you tell me?”
“I could, Biff, but I don’t think I will—not yet. The fewer people who know what Huntington discovered, the better. And it would be safer for you, too, not to know.”
“You mean, Dad....” Biff paused.
“Yes, Biff, you’re in this now right up to your young neck. It could easily be figured that you now know as much as Dr. Weber, since you found the letter. That makes you a target, too.”
Biff found it difficult to swallow the lump which had suddenly come into his throat.
“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.
Biff got to his knees, carefully feeling for his balance
“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.”
“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.