“What are you doing?” asked Kelso, watching Chan hand over his revolver to the monk who’d swung open the 12-foot high monastery gate.
“No guns allowed on the grounds,” said Chan.
“What? Why not?”
“Because they don’t want them on the premises,” said Chan. “Why else?”
“All right,” said Kelso, settling for the obvious explanation. He handed over his gun as well. “But I’ll be po’d if those guys come at us now when we’re unarmed.”
Chan laughed. “Chen, there are maybe thirty monks in this compound. Trust me, if the guys can even manage to get in here, they better bring an army. The people here may be Daoist monks, but don’t let that fool you.”
“Fool me how?”
“They spend a serious chunk of the day training in martial arts. These people can be dangerous.”
“So that’s why you brought Daniel here?”
Chan nodded. “This place is a well-protected fortress, Chen.”
Kelso said, “Hey what’s with all the tortoises wandering around here?”
“I’ve never asked,” said Chan, “but my guess is that they at least serve as models of a long and peaceful life. Daoists, I understand, aim for long lives. I always thought they were trying to live forever.”
“That’s a lotta shibai,” said Kelso.
“Yeah, that is wrong. I guess they really think that one hundred twenty-five is a decent target.”
“And tortoises keep them on track for that, then. Like model examples.”
“Yes, said Chan. “They do live a long time.”
“But there must be a hundred of ‘um,” said Kelso. “That’s a lotta mouths to feed.”
Chan laughed again. “The grass in here looks like you could putt on it.”
“Right,” agreed Kelso. “Saves on tortoise chow or whatever.”
The two men approached the dorms. They were two long buildings, two stories tall. All of the monks as well as any temporary guests were housed here.
In the clearing past the two buildings, maybe 15 or so monks were practicing kung fu. Some of them were brandishing weapons. Kelso could see what Chan had been talking about.
Chan knocked on number 17 and entered. Kelso followed.
“Aloha to you from the land of the living,” said Daniel, raising his head a bit to acknowledge the two men.
“Hello, Sean,” said Chan, “I was happy to hear from my son that you were conscious and getting stronger.”
Daniel nodded. “Thanks to all the generations of Chans for keeping my other foot from following my one foot into the grave. Any good news of the world?”
“On the fake news front,” said Chan, he and Kelso taking seats “we have you recuperating in Queen’s Hospital. The place is swarming with uniformed officers to add authenticity to the scene.”
Daniel nodded. “I’m glad to hear I’m doing well there, too.”
Chan Continued. “My son Dave says if all goes well, you should be up and about by this time next week. When you’re ambulatory, how do you want to play it?”
“I’d still like to get home, David. I think I stand a better chance of dealing with these people if I’m on familiar turf.”
“Okay,” said Chan, “we’re working on that. Governor Henricksen tossed around the possibility of flying out on a military transport plane. That way you’d leave from Hickam Air Force Base instead of Honolulu International.”
“That sounds like a clever way to go, if you all can swing it,” said Daniel. “It would throw in an additional layer of smoke.”
“Yes,” said Chan. “They could be watching the airport, but it would be hard for them to get onto Hickam, even if they guessed we might try something like that.”
“Unless they already have someone planted there,” said Kelso.
Chan nodded. “True. So we’ll work on a Plan B and a Plan C if we need to.”
“That’s it, said the Englishman, laughing heartily. “We’ll throw the entire bloody alphabet at them and see how well they juggle it. I’m glad I’m in your hands, gentlemen. My deep appreciation to all of you. I have no doubt we’ll pull off my disappearing act thanks to the ingenuity of you men of Four-9.”
“We’ll do our best for you, Sean,” said Chan.
“You work on getting healthy,” said Kelso.
The two detectives exited the room. As they made their way back to the front gate, they passed a smallish monk who sat in the grass playing a large bamboo flute. Stopping, she said, “Hello, Lieutenant Chan, I hope your sister is doing well.”
“She is. Thank you so much for asking,” said Chan.
The two men continued out.
“She knows your sister?” asked Kelso.
“Yes, Denise had to stay here a few years back. This place is a great refuge for people who need to disappear for a while.”
Kelso nodded. Laughing, he said, “That flute, it was almost as big as that tiny woman.”
“It’s got two purposes,” said Chan as they reached the gate and retrieved their guns. “One is to make music, the other is to crack bones.”
Kelso looked surprised. “So it’s a weapon?”
“Yes,” said Chan. “Woe be it to the one who would insult her playing.”
The two jumped in the car.
A voice came over the radio. “David, Chen, are you there, over?”
“Captain,” said Chan, hearing the urgency in Del’s voice, “we’re here. Is something happening, over?” “David, get to the morgue as fast as you can,” said Kauhane. “We have a really strange situation brewing. Out.”
Lanning Lee 