“Ah, I’m familiar with the project but not the term. How long were you there for?”
“Three seasons,” she said.
Shark seasons. September through November.
This seemed to impress him. “Damn, you must have seen some rad shit.”
What went on underwater at the Farallones was wilder and rawer and fiercer than anyone could ever imagine, but she had to laugh. “‘Rad shit’ is a good way to put it.”
It felt good to release the tension twisting through her body as she’d listened about the incidents and studied the photographs. No doubt she would have dreams tonight. They always grew more violent in times like these.
“Speaking of rad shit, I just want you to be prepared for the media circus that’s going to descend on this island once people find out about Angela. And even more so, if they get wind that Zach Santopolo was with her. Are you sure you’re okay to be here without much backup?” he asked, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze.
No backupwas probably closer to the truth.
“I came here to find out what I can about the shark—or sharks—so nothing has really changed in that regard. Everything I learn can help us understand their movements and motives better, and therefore our future conservation strategies,” she said.
“Spoken like a true scientist. I knew I was making the right call by asking you here. Now, let me get packed and you can drop me at the airport on your way up the coast.”
“What about meeting your intern, Nalu?” Minnow asked.
“We’ll pick him up on the way,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Where exactly are you staying?”
“With Woody Kaupiko. His family has a place called Hale Niuhi, on the coast near the Kiawe.”
His eyes widened. “Woody Kaupiko, huh. How’d you get an invite there?”
“My uncle knows him from way back. Why?”
He shrugged. “Just that it seems you would need a connection to get in with that family. They aren’t known for being warm and fuzzy,especially the older brother, Cliff. Word is, he’s shot at a few boats that came too close into the bay there.”
In her line of work, Minnow was used to outlaws and outliers, so the news hardly fazed her.
“My uncle never mentioned that. Just that Woody is a well-respected waterman and that the house is pretty rustic, at best.”
“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
They pulled into Honokohau Harbor and were greeted by a giant white anchor and rows of struggling coconut trees, alongside a dry dock. Boats in different states of disrepair littered the sidewalk. Boat harbors always felt like home to Minnow, and this one was no different.
When they reached the water, Joe pointed toward the harbor mouth. “We have a whole shiver of sharks living out here. They came for the discarded fish parts and never left. As far as tigers go, they’re quite tame, though. I’ve done a few dives with them.” He paused as if he were lost in a memory. “Some of the local fisherman refer to them as ‘the kittens of Honokohau.’”
Minnow smiled. “There’s a misnomer if there ever was one. But I like it. How big are they?”
“The biggest one I’ve seen is Laverne. Fourteen feet and thick. Man, when you see those stripes it stirs something deep inside. Never gets old though, does it?”
She had to agree. “Never.”
Joe honked when they pulled up in front of a restaurant on the water’s edge, a greasy-looking joint. A minute later, a dark-skinned, long-haired young man with a ponytail came out. He looked all of twenty.
“Here’s Nalu, my main man. Don’t let his good looks fool you, or his laid-back attitude. The kid has more going on upstairs than most of the professors in my department.”
Minnow was being left here with a boat, a truck, and a kid.
Nalu cruised on over to the truck, obviously in no hurry. “Dude, I thought you forgot about me.”
Joe and Minnow both climbed out and introductions were made.
“Howzit,” Nalu said.
