Date:         Thu, 5 Jan 1995 00:35:34 -0500
Reply-To:     NancySSCH@AOL.COM
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         "N.L. Cleveland" <NancySSCH@AOL.COM>
Subject:      Final Repost Aloha Ch 1.p 29-35

c 1994 N.L. Cleveland  Aloha Ch 1 p 29-35

It would be easy to sell. Real estate on Oahu was always at a premium,
especially prime beach front property like this. He felt a flicker of regret.
It had been home, for a while. He'd felt at ease here, with the simple, spare
lines of the design, with the few but fine quality pieces of furniture and
Asian art he'd brought in. It had felt like home. Like Japan.

He'd bought the house and grounds from a Japanese speculator, who'd had it
built as a corporate hideaway for his mistress, and then had been forced to
unload the property at a loss when the Tokyo stock market had crashed and all
his margin buys had been called in.  Jonathan knew he would profit from the
sale. Not that it mattered. His financial situation was still very secure.
Murder had been good to him, in some ways. He would never want for money. He
just might not live long enough to spend it all, though.

Mentally, he started packing. Not much to carry. Just his Laptop computer, a
few changes of clothes. The katana? He'd decide about that later.  The rest
could go in storage. He'd draw from his Swiss account as he traveled. Look
for a place to settle down, far away from people for a while. Somewhere
different. Maybe in the Italian Alps? Or the Pyrennes. Mountains, anyhow.
Somewhere on the Continent.

Somewhere with fewer guns, fewer drugs, less crime. Somewhere where lost kids
prostituting themselves on the streets didn't stumble into his house and his
heart every other week. Somewhere the Black Dragons wouldn't think to find
him. Or the Agency.

Since Vulcan had come out to the Islands on that last, fatal, failed
contract, he hadn't heard a peep from the Director. Jonathan still kept tabs
on the Director's house, and his security. Just in case. He wondered idly how
Vulcan was enjoying his  retirement.  He hadn't heard from him, lately. Maybe
it was time to pay him a visit.

A shadow passed across the edge of his vision. Jari was up. Good. He hadn't
wanted to wake the boy, or force him to admit he was only pretending to be
asleep, when he'd arrived back this morning.  <I have to give him some room,
some trust. But how much is too much? >

Jonathan stepped out of the shower, toweled off the water and wrapped his
black cotton kimono around himself. He picked up another towel and rubbed it
briskly through his hair as he walked towards the kitchen. The boy was
sitting at the table, looking pensively out the window at the ocean,  a half
finished glass of orange juice in front of him, still in the swim trunks from
yesterday.

"Good morning."  Jonathan poured a glass of juice for himself, then took down
his cutting board and pulled some vegetables out of the refrigerator.  <Take
it slow, see where he's coming from.  >

"Hi."  The response was muted, but there. <Great, he can still talk. >

"Want some breakfast?" Jonathan expertly diced the green peppers, added a
handful of shallots, some mushrooms and a baby zucchini, then set a small wok
on the gas stove. There was no response from the boy this time. Jonathan
poured some rice oil into the wok, tossed in the vegetables, stirred them
briskly, then neatly separated them, still crisp and steaming, onto two
ceramic plates.

He pulled two sets of chopsticks from his rack, walked over to the table, put
one plate in front of the boy, pulled a chair out and sat down opposite him.
He started eating, savoring the subtle flavors of the meal. The boy turned
away from the window and poked at the food, toying with it, but not eating.

"How are you feeling, Jari? Not hungry?"

"I'm fine. Just  tired."  <Ah, an opening. >  Jonathan plunged after it,
without thinking.

"I'd expect to be tired too, considering how late you were out last night.
Where did you go?" Appalled, he listened to himself giving the kid a lecture.
<I sound like someone's father! Damn, there had to be better ways to ask.
I'll never say parenting is easy again. Well there it is. Let's see what
happens.  >

"I had to go see a friend. Let him know I was o.k."  The boy's voice was low,
sullen.
<At least he's not denying it. >

"Why didn't you tell me you had to go?"  Jonathan tried to keep the anger
hidden, or at least out of his voice.

 "I didn't think it was any of your business."  The boy looked defiant, and a
bit scared.

"Jari, if you are staying with me, where you go is my business.Those are the
rules, remember?" He spoke calmly, reasonably, trying to break through the
shell he could feel between them. Jari stared down at his juice, tracing
patterns on the moist beaded glass with his finger. <Gently now. >  "Who was
this friend? The one you went to see?"  <His connection? His pimp? >

"He's my buddy. We hang out together. I didn't want him to think I'd
disappeared. He'd get worried. Kids do that, sometimes. Just disappear.  And
sometimes they wash up on the beach, later."  Jari lifted his chin, stared
determinedly at Jonathan. "We look out for each other. Nobody else cares."

"I care." Jonathan let out an exasperated breath. <Another complication. How
many friends was Jari going to trot out, now? And were they all going to need
a place to stay? >  "Is your friend living on the streets, too? How old is
he?" <How many spare bedrooms do I have?   Do I really want to open a crash
pad for straying  youth? > The devil's advocate in his conscience stirred and
prodded at him. <Well why not? What else have you got to do?  >

"Hikari's like me."  The boy was opening up, finally. Then Jonathan realized
what he'd just said.  What name. <Hikari? > Jonathan stiffened, listening
intently, hardly breathing, wiling the boy to continue.

"I guess he's  my age. I never asked. Sometimes we'd crash together, but
mostly we wouldn't. He pimped, see. I wasn't into that, but he'd go off with
these old guys all the time." Jari paused, thoughtfully.  "I couldn't handle
that. Running is safer. "

Tamping down the wild hope that surged in his heart, Jonathan kept his voice
steady and a tried for a casual tone. "What does this Hikari look like? Is he
a runaway too, like you?"

"Are you gonna get him in trouble?" Jari's glance was suspicious, his voice
querulous. Jonathan could almost feel him closing up. His fingers dug into
the tabletop as he fought not to try and shake the information physically out
of the boy.  "I don't want you sending the cops after him. I shouldn't have
told you his name. He told me not to trust anybody." Jari's bright eyes gazed
up at him, their gleam hard  and empty as black wet pebbles from the beach.

"You can trust me, Jari. I'm not going to send the police after your friend.
Just tell me, what does he look like?"  Jonathan forced himself to patience.
It was probably nothing, another false lead. But the name....was it just a
coincidence?

The boy paused, then took a deep breath. "O.K., you've been pretty cool so
far. Hikari and me, people called us the twins. He's just like me, almost.
 He's a little taller, I guess.  He never said anything about having any
parents. He told me he ran away from some people. They weren't his family. He
said that at least on the streets he'd get paid to put out."

<Aki? Hikari? Could this be the one?  What  are you doing, my possible son?
What has been done to you?   >

"Could you take me to meet....Hikari?" Jonathan savored the name, rolling it
over on his tongue, in his mind. Putting aside his doubts, for the moment.

"Why do you want to see him? You're not looking for a lay, are you?" Jari
edged away, shifting in his seat to put more distance between them, crossing
his arms defensively. "I didn't think you were like that. I don't do that,
you know."

<What does he think of adults? Dealers, pimps, customers for sex or drugs.
Those are his only role models.  How do these kids ever learn to trust again?
Maybe they never do. >

"It's nothing like that, Jari. I just thought maybe he'd like to quit living
on the streets, too." Jonathan stood and took his plate to the sink,
submerging his eagerness in the mundane kitchen routine. Inside, the mocking
voice of his conscience murmured at him.

<So now you've found your son, and he's a street prostitute.  Probably pimps
the little ones on the side, too. Welcome home, son. Just leave your
customers at the door. > He thrust away the vision, and looked for hope
instead.

"Eat some breakfast, why don't you. I'll  clean up." He soaped his plate and
rinsed out the wok, giving the boy room to relax.

Jari uncrossed his arms and picked up the chopsticks awkwardly. He took a
tentative bite of the food, and grimaced. "Zucchini? For breakfast? Yuck!"

"It's good for you." Jonathan grinned, relieved to have this superficial
banter to take his mind out of the dark paths he had been following. "I have
a friend who will agree with you totally about zucchini,  though. You just
have to change your perspective. Think of it as an early dinner. Breakfast
should be the largest meal of your day."

Jonathan turned off the water, wiped his plate dry and put it on the shelf.
He leaned on the counter, casually, watching the boy. Jari was still poking
at his plate, dropping more than he managed to get to his mouth, but trying
determinedly to eat.  "Would it help if you used a fork?"  Jonathan held one
out, a peace offering.

Jari flashed a quick smile, put down the chopsticks and took the fork. He
wolfed the food down, grimacing occasionally at the zucchini, but finishing
it all. Jonathan took the plate from him, and rinsed it off.  Time to build
more bridges."Tonight, you can do the dishes. And I'll teach you how to cook
with a wok. Have you ever tried?"

Jari shook his head, looking intrigued.  "I never cooked anything. We just
get fast food, or cans, when we're broke. I remember my mom, though. She
spent all her time at the stove, when she wasn't fighting with her latest
boyfriend. But she never cooked anything like this. Not when I was there,
anyhow."

"How old were you when she died, Jari?" <How close is this boy to what I was?
 Could he have been me, in another life? >

"I'm not really sure. Maybe 10. All I know is how old my birth certificate
says I am. That's all I've got left. All that's mine."

"You've got more than that, Jari. You have yourself. You have your future. It
can be anything you want it to be. You can be. Never forget that."  The heat
in his words surprised even himself. This mattered. Jari had to see, had to
understand. But the boy was looking away, his face hidden. <Is he even
listening? >

"Sure. You can say that. Look at this place." The words exploded in the room
as boy turned back, his eyes flashing, flung his arm out, gestured at the
kitchen , the window, the view.  "You're rich. You can do anything. Go
anywhere. You don't know what life's about."

<You'll never know, boy. You'll never know.  And I'll not be the one to tell
you.  But  we need to establish some rapport here. Some trust.  Do I want to
expose myself to this child?  If we are ever to get beyond  the surface, it
has to be done. >

Jonathan tensed, inside. This was never pleasant, reliving his past. "You
 are not the only  kid who's lost his parents, Jari. Mine died when I was
about your age. They were  killed, actually." Jonathan willed the boy to look
at him, to meet his eyes. "Everything you see here, I earned myself, later".
 <Just don't tell him how, right?   Blood money.  Death gelt. >

Jari turned, incredulous. "You're just making that up. Why should I believe
you?"

"Why should I bother to make something up? Have I ever lied to you?" Jonathan
walked to the dining room and opened his cabinet. The clippings were there.
<Maybe this could win the boy's trust. >

He pulled out one yellowed piece of newsprint. The International Herald
Tribune had reported the story in English. All the other coverage had been
local, in Japan. He smoothed down the flimsy rice papers, closed the box, and
took the yellowed clipping to the kitchen.

"Here." He held it out to the boy. Jari took the paper and squinted at it,
laboriously forming the words with his lips as he slowly read the caption
under the photo.

"That was your dad?" Jari looked at the picture, looked at Jonathan.

"Yes."

The boy silently handed the clipping back. Jonathan returned it to the box,
and carefully put it away. He walked woodenly, holding his feelings in check.
<Until next time, mother, father. Sleep in peace.>

Jari  stood in the kitchen doorway, watching. Jonathan closed the cabinet
drawer, then moved to the sliding screen door that led to the side driveway.
"I'm going out now. To a sale. Antiques. Old weapons. You might find it
interesting. You can come with me if you want, or stay here, or leave. Take
your pick." He spoke harshly. It still hurt, to look at their faces. Still.

"I'd like to come with you. If it's o.k." Jari had a new tone in his voice.

<He understands. Or at least he thinks he does.>. He jeered at himself, at
his pain.  At his weakness, that could not let the dead lie, but kept digging
them up again and again, seeking  forgiveness, seeking absolution....seeking
 peace...the kind that only came with death.

Jonathan held the door open. Jari followed him out.  Jonathan climbed into
the Jeep, the boy settled into the passenger's seat beside him. The muscles
in Jonathan's  back contracted. <I feel like a naked target.  Someone is out
there. >   He reached into his jacket and pulled out his mobile phone, hit
the auto dial button and listened. He started the Jeep and backed down the
driveway, one handed.

"Yeah?" A tinny voice came over the air.

 "Ski, is that you?" He was at the street now, and maneuvered into the light
suburban traffic.

"Jonathan, what's up buddy? And why so early? I need my beauty sleep." In the
background Jonathan could hear at least one giggle. So Ski had company.  Good
for him.

"Could you come over to my place and check it out. I think someone has a
stake out on it, but I haven't seen them. Just sort of be here, you know,
until I get back. Bring your friend, make it a party if you want."  He was
merging onto the highway now, traffic still light, appropriate for a Saturday
morning in early May. If there was ever a lull time in the tourist season, it
was now, when the weather in the harsh northern climates was actually turning
pleasant. The snowbirds had all headed home.

"OK, Jonathan, but this will cost you."

"Anything you want, Ski. Just name your price."

"Two T-bone steaks, for starters."

"That will be fine, Ski. See you around 5." Ski didn't know it yet, but he'd
be settling in for a longer stay. <I'll have to call a realtor on the way
home. Someone should be open by then.  >  Jonathan grinned, his sprit lighter
just from chatting with his old friend, and checked the rearview mirror.
Still no obvious tail, still that sense of being followed.  <Let's take a
shortcut.   And find out.>

He merged abruptly into the exit lane and sped down the ramp, hit a string of
yellow lights and nipped through a changing red, then sedately continued down
the main urban boulevard.

"Wow, I didn't know you could drive like that," Jari let go of the dashboard
and grinned broadly.  "That was fun. Can we do it again?"

"Only on weekends." Jonathan winked at him, and glanced in the rear view
again. Nothing had flushed, but he still felt watched. Could there be a
mobile tracer on the Jeep? He'd sweep for bugs when he got back. The phone
was digital, and scrambled, so it was secure. But anything else, was up for
grabs. He frowned.

<Maybe I've gotten sloppy.  But  I'm leaving. Tomorrow. After I  check out
this new  kid.  This WILL be the last one. >

"Have you thought about what I asked, about meeting your friend?" Jonathan
noticed he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly.  <Breathe. In. Out.
>  He glanced sideways  at Jari. The boy's grin had faded. He looked somber,
his faced pinched and suspicious once again. "What's the matter, Jari? Cat
got your tongue?" Jonathan reached over to ruffle the boy's hair.

Jari ducked and batted his hand away. "I like you. Why do you want to meet
Hikari too? You don't have room for two of us at your place. Do you want to
take him instead of me? Aren't I good enough?"
 "
Whoa now." This was far different than what he'd expected. First the kid
didn't want to come, now the kid didn't want to share him?  "First of all,
how do you even know that Hikari will want to come, or that he and I will get
along, or that we'll be staying in that house? I'm planning on doing some
traveling. You , and he, if he wants, can both come with me." Jonathan
glanced sideways again. Jari's expression had lightened a bit.

"Traveling? Where?" There was real excitement in the boy's voice now.

"I haven't decided, but we'll be leaving tomorrow, after I've had a chance to
meet your friend." Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of the Royal Hilton.
A uniformed car hop waited to take his keys. Jonathan turned to the boy, laid
a restraining hand on his arm as he half rose to get out of the jeep. "What
about Hikari?"

"I'll go find him, tonight, and ask him if he wants to come see you, ok?"
 Jari jumped down and stood on the sidewalk, looking scruffy and out of place
among the elegantly dressed stream of pedestrians who moved in and out of the
smoked, double glass doors.

Jonathan nodded. <It's a start.  I can always track him down on my own, now
that I know a name.  Another name, another  dead end. Just this last time,
I'll hope.  >

He tossed his keys to the waiting carhop, and pulled a windbreaker out from
under his seat, then headed into the hotel. Jari was already inside the
lobby, standing casually near a large potted palm, calmly surveying the flow
of guests. A hotel detective was moving towards him, grim purpose in his
eyes.
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