On their Own: Book #9

ON THEIR OWN

By Barbara E Sharp

Published by Barbara E Sharp at Smashwords.

Copyright: 2014 Barbara E Sharp

The Lahaina Mysteries Series

by Barbara E. Sharp

THE LAST SMYTHE

THE THIRD SPY

THE RIGHT TIME

THE WIND MISTS

THE FIFTH BOOK

RELATIVE CHAOS

OUT OF SIGHT

THE SEAWALL

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to Steve, my son and Graphics Designer,

for creating the beautiful cover and for morphing the

manuscript into a book. Amazing work!

To Martha Roberts: again, my sincere thanks for

diligently hunting down typos and other errors in the

manuscript. Excellent job, Martha!

And last, but certainly not least, thanks to my

readers, who always encourage me to write yet another

Lahaina Mystery.

PROLOGUE

Three weeks ago in Lahaina:

As Helen and Ben sat quietly contemplating the strangeness of life, darkness settled in and soft moon shadows crept across the lanai. Just as Ben was about to break the peaceful stillness to say something profound, Helen heard the phone ringing. Ben, I think the phone's ringing.

Don't we have a cell out here?

Reluctantly Ben hefted himself out of his comfortable chair and went in the house to answer the call. Ben Anderson here. - - - Yes, I'll wait."

Helen slid the screen door open, tripped over Windy, recovered her balance and asked: Who's on the phone, Ben?

Oh. . . . Uh, it's the president, I think.

The president of what?

Ben came to attention. Sir. - - - Yes, sir, I do. - - - Yes, we did. - - - England? - - - Do we have time to think about this?

England? Helen parroted.

I believe we know him as Shadow, sir. - - - Yes sir, he is. - - - - - - - - - I see. I don't see how we can refuse. - - - Yes, sir, I'll be waiting for his call.

Helen was way beyond curious. She very nearly shouted at Ben. I repeat, the president of what? America?

Yes. He, well, he and Shadow, they want us to go on a mission.

"Mission? Us?'

You, me, Justin and Nacho. Shadow will contact us with the details.

Helen stood there staring at Ben in disbelief. Is there anymore wine?

CHAPTER ONE

Present day, 40,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean:

Ben sat beside Helen with his arm around her shoulder. Here we are, flying into the unknown. How do you feel about that, my dear?

Excited . . . scared . . . puzzled. How about you, Ben?

Same as you. I also find it difficult to believe that our home, our friends and Maui are so far behind us. It's really an odd feeling for an ex-pilot who constantly left home and never felt this way. Disconnected, that's how I feel right now.

Nacho reached across the aisle and poked Ben's arm. Okay, it's time you fill me in on what the heck we're doing. You phoned Justin and me and spit out only the bare facts. He and I are here on faith alone, my man. What's with the fancy jet? What's going on?

Right, Nacho, you certainly deserve an explanation. said Ben. I'll do my best. Here goes.

Helen interrupted. Sorry to interrupt Ben, but isn't this the most amazing plane?

I have to agree with that! Lear Jets are remarkable, and this one is top of the line. The black helicopter that flew us to Hickam field on Oahu was no slouch, either!

Ben, my man, you just got way off topic.

Justin returned to his seat after exploring every inch of the superbly appointed aircraft. He was smiling from ear to ear and sipping from a mug of fresh brewed coffee. What are you guys so deep in conversation about?

Nacho sighed, grabbed Justin's mug of coffee out of his hand and took a gulp. "Nothing, my man, we were not deep in conversation. Ben got way off point about an hour ago when I asked him: what the heck are we doing here?"

Before Ben could reply, Helen asked the steward for a cup of that delicious smelling coffee. Addressing Nacho, she said: Really Nacho it hasn't been anywhere near an hour.

Quickly Ben began explaining: It all started when the president phoned and asked us to go on a secret mission - all four of us. How could I refuse him? I knew you guys would agree.

Okay so far. said Nacho. Continue.

"The next day Shadow phoned with instructions: Make up some believable story about where you four will be for the next two weeks. Get your passports updated. Get the shots required for international travel. Be at Kahului airport at 9 p.m .on the 10th. Tell no one!"

Justin looked puzzled. So, that's it? What mission? Why us?

Probably some black ops mess we have to straighten out. Nacho guessed.

Or, Helen added, it could be related to history.

In what way, my dear?

How would I know, Ben, it's a secret!

I got it! exclaimed Justin. Since the president is involved, it must have something to do with international terrorism. You know, a matter of national security. By the way, Ben, how did you know Nacho and I would agree to come on this mission with you?

"Need you ask? After all the thefts, murders, and forgeries the four of us have solved ? Let's just say I know you both very well. I knew that if I told the president no, you would never forgive me. Nacho and Justin smiled and nodded. Ben continued: As for the reason we were chosen for this mission, my guess is that it cannot successfully be handled by the CIA, black ops, FBI, or any other government agency."

My, aren't we smug. It's 2 a.m., guys, let's get some sleep before we save the world.

Six hours later the flight attendant woke them. The four sleuths took turns refreshing themselves in the head, then returned to their seats, setting the seat backs from reclining, to sitting position. Mugs of steaming hot coffee were served by the attendant who explained that brunch was nearly ready.

It came in courses starting with a small bowl of hot soup. What is this? Justin asked the attendant, who informed them that his name was Edmund. New England calm chowder, sir.

Delicious soup!

Course two was served five minutes after the soup bowls were removed: thick Reuben sandwiches hot off the grill. Everyone dug in.

I wonder how Edmund, or whoever's cooking, knew that Reuben's are my favorite sandwich.

I don't know, Justin. I might ask the same about the New England Chowder, which is mine. said Nacho.

Edmond returned with a bowl of Greek olives and refilled their water glasses.

Excuse me, Ed my man, I just have to ask: how did you know what our favorite foods are?

That would be classified, sir.

What do you want to bet we have lemon sherbet for desert!

Helen barely finished her statement when Edmund returned carrying a silver tray with four crystal sherbet bowls. Lemon sherbet for you ma'am, and guava for the gentlemen. I'll bring coffee in a few minutes. With that, he vanished.

I knew it - lemon sherbet! This way too weird. I wonder just what we're getting into.

CHAPTER TWO

Same day, back in Lahaina:

Helen and Ben's cottage, located on the island of Maui, is just a mile south of Lahaina, right on the beach. Their lanai faces the ocean and has a clear view of the island of Lanai, 10 miles west across the Roadstead. It's hard to decide which is the most beautiful to watch from their lanai, the sunset or the early morning sunrise that morphs Lanai into a pink island.

This early morning, Mambo and Windy were sitting side by side on the beach looking like cat silhouettes cut from black construction paper. They were either enjoying the transformation of the pink island, or watching a flight of birds - probably the birds.

Reva, the lady who lives next-door, had let them out of the house early. She was turning out to be an excellent cat-sitter. She always had meals served on time, the swinging cat door accessible during the day, she did very little excessive petting, and she offered a choice of staying in or out at night. Another good thing was her granddaughter, Max, who often read to them.

Following their early morning routine, Mambo, a big black cat and Windy, a petite tiger stripe, climbed up the old mango tree at the side of the house and hopped onto the roof of the gazebo, the best place to scope birds.

When bird-surveillance was finished, the cats climbed back down the tree branches to sea level and continued strolling mauka. Arriving at the end of the driveway, they paused to observe the traffic cruising by on Front Street. It seemed normal, no noisy sanitation trucks, no motorcycles, just a string of fairly quiet cars and SUVs. As they turned to head next-door for a visit with Max, their sensitive noses detected an unusual scent in the air. Something fetid and unpleasant.

-----------------------------------------

Approaching D.C:

Justin stared out through the Lear jet's window at the countryside below, trying to determine their destination. The Potomac . . . must be Washington DC. What time is it?

I believe that's the White House. Almost noon.

And the Washington monument! Helen added with excitement. None of us has ever been here before . . . what a thrill! Are we landing at Andrews, Ben?

Seems logical. Let's get our gear together.

A black SUV was parked on the tarmac when they disembarked the plane. Two men in black suits, black ties and shiny shoes, loaded their luggage and Nacho's high-tech wheel chair into the back. The four sleuths settled into the soft leather seats of the silent vehicle and gazed out the window in awe as the familiar sites of their country's capitol turned into the real thing.

Waiting for them at their final destination, which was way beyond even their imaginations, was a familiar face. Ops-man! It's actually good to see you. said Nacho, as he extended his hand. Shadow shook it vigorously, hugged Helen, and greeted Justin and Ben with more hearty handshakes.

Is this where you work?

This is the White House, Helen, the place where the president works. I work under.

Justin, at the risk of sounding like a country hick, asked: Under what? Under cover?

Jeez, Justin, he probably works under the ground in a maze of dark tunnels and caves with bats.

I think you've been reading those spy novels again, Nacho, but you are close. We managed to turn the tunnels into nice wide hallways and the caves into offices, conference rooms and labs, many years ago.

Helen's curiosity erased her concern with protocol. What kind of labs?

By the time Shadow listened to all their questions, most of which were classified and went unanswered, they were descending on a fast elevator to his office eleven floors down and at the end of, what seemed to be, a mile long corridor. They were surprised to find that an agent so close to the president had such a cubbyhole office, but since Shadow probably wasn't there more than a couple of weeks out of the year, it seemed to suit him. Small though it was, it had one redeeming feature: privacy. It would be an excellent place to talk - to finally get more information about the mysterious mission.

Once they were all seated at a small round table wedged into the corner of the closet-like space, a secretary brought five cups of Starbucks coffee, packets of sugar and a pitcher of real cream. Shadow began: "This mission is one that is better suited to civilians than government agents. I am not inferring that as civilians you are smarter than government agents, or better trained in espionage or the use of fire arms, but you do have one advantage that agents do