“Maybe Ku was looking for the treasure,” Malia said.
Koma’s hand stilled on Eva’s head. “He was in the wrong place. The treasure isn’t by the fishpond. It is in my ‘ohi’a tree. It’s the original one, you know. Pele herself turned ‘Ohi’a into a tree when he refused to marry her. That’s why it’s the largest in the forest. ‘Ohi’a guards the treasure now.”
Leia had heard the story many times. She knew which tree he meant. The big canopy tree dwarfed the others in the forest. “Can you show me the treasure?”
Koma’s forehead wrinkled, and he shook his head. “My father told me something terrible would happen if anyone dug up the treasure. I’m the caretaker.”
“What happens when you die then?” Ipo put in. “You have no children. The treasure will be lost forever.”
Koma’s crooked smile faded. “I don’t know. My father said to pass it on to my own son someday. I have no son to tell.” He looked like he might cry, then his gaze lingered on Leia. His smile came again. “I will show you,” he said. He rose and beckoned to Leia. “Come. This won’t take long.”
“I want to come too,” Eva said, scrambling to her feet.
Malia grabbed Eva’s arm. “Hush, Eva, you have to stay with me. T?t? needs someone to turn the crank on the ice-cream churn.”
Eva’s eyes widened. “You said I’m too slow. Can I really?” She turned to ask her grandmother.
“‘Ae,” her grandmother said. “But you must follow my instructions.” She waved off Leia and Koma.
Leia followed the old man through the jungle of vines tangled with morning glory. She matched her steps to his, but he didn’t seem disposed to carry on a conversation. He muttered to himself and stared into the recess of the trees. Leia started to ask him more questions about the treasure, then decided she’d better not push her luck. If he got upset, he’d order her back to her grandmother’s.
They came to a clearing filled with wild ginger and the spicy scent of turmeric. Koma paused and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He turned to her with his mouth open as though he were about to speak. Leia heard a muffled whump, then saw his mouth go slack. His eyes rolled back in his head, and one clublike hand pawed at her arm.
She grabbed his forearm. “Koma, what’s wrong?” His mouth worked, and then he sagged against her. She smelled a familiar coppery odor, and her hand swiped something warm and sticky on his back. She eased him to the ground and rolled him over. A tiny hole spurting blood bloomed in his back. She leaned forward and put the heel of her hand against the wound to slow down the flow of blood.
“No time, no time. Talk to your t?t?,” he gasped. His body went limp.
Leia touched his neck and felt for a pulse. Nothing. She ran her hand over his forehead and touched his thin hair. The back of her neck prickled, and she craned her neck to scan the clearing. He’d been shot, and the killer was probably watching her now.
Eight
Prespiration dripped down Bane’s forehead, and he wiped it with his forearm. When they’d discovered traces of powder and the remains of a small bomb under the landing gear, he knew he was right—someone had sabotaged his plane. It was only by God’s grace that he was still alive. Ron needed to know about this. With Ajax following him, he went in search of his boss, and found Ron poring over printouts of the last magnetic scan of the seafloor.
Ron’s smile was full of satisfaction. “I still can’t quite believe we’ve found it. The cannonballs mean the rest of the ship is down there somewhere. When news hits about what we’ve found, we’re going to have every treasure hunter in the world breathing down our necks. Good job hiring Tony’s divers to help us look.”
“We’ll have salvage rights,” Bane pointed out. “I assume you’ve already applied.”
Ron nodded. “Like pirates care. We’ll post a guard, but they’ll try to sneak in underwater. You and I both know there’s no keeping a lid on this once the media get wind of it. I’d like to make as much progress as we can before Westerfield Salvage moves in. Sam Westerfield is a blight on the earth. It’s like he has some kind of inner radar that can detect whatever I’ve found.”
Bane eyed his boss’s face. “The plane was sabotaged,” he said quietly. “I found what was left of the bomb.”
Ron’s smile faded, and his lips thinned. “Westerfield,” he spat.
“Maybe. There’s no way to know for sure. The bomb components are pretty generic. Gunpowder, steel pipe.”
“Of course it’s Westerfield. No one else is trying to horn in on my missions. Well, this time I beat him anyway.” Ron huffed.