Murder on Easter Island (20 page)

Mahina!

Daniel waved at her, watched as she waved back, and then began to work his way down the stony cliff. His fear hadn’t left completely, but at least now it was manageable. He looked at the sky and discovered it was already late in the afternoon. He had sat longer in meditation than he had realized.

Daniel picked up the pace and before long caught up with a straggler. They were both several hundred feet from the bottom of the cliff face when the other man prepared to leap from a rocky outcropping into the ocean, presumably, Daniel guessed, to save precious time.

The man first threw his pora into the ocean and then dived headfirst into the water. Daniel heard a squishing sound like that of a watermelon dropped to the floor, and the next moment he saw the man floating face-down, motionless, on top of the water. What appeared to be his brains — and his pora — floated beside him.

Daniel grimaced and concluded: rock just below the surface.

Daniel eventually reached the beach and, the minute he arrived, he sprinted to the water, leaped onto his pora and began swimming out to sea. Sure, he was scared of sharks, but this paled in comparison to his fear of heights. Daniel guessed the basis of the fear of sharks had originated as a little boy. Perhaps, he reasoned, he had seen one too many shark movies. Whatever — it also was in the past.

The realization made Daniel grin for a brief moment as he paddled on in the chilly, deep-blue ocean.

The sun was just beginning to set as Daniel dragged himself onto the slippery surface of Motu Nui, exhausted, cold and hungry. When he ascended, he discovered the surface of the islet was larger than he had guessed from a distance, probably around five acres in size. He looked across the choppy ocean at Orongo, which soared high above him. The flames from a blazing fire reached high into the sky.

Before long he heard the muffled sound of voices and discovered a narrow
entrance to a cave, nearly covered by grass. Daniel crawled inside and found the remainder of the contestants huddled around a small grass fire, eating their meager provisions.

Daniel sat in silence next to his friend Ropata, pulled out a water-filled gourd from his pora and drank sparingly. There was no water source on Motu Nui and he had to ration carefully, no matter how thirsty he was. Of course he could drink rainwater — if it came — but he couldn’t count on that.

He grabbed a portion of his dried fish — now soaked with ocean water — and as he ate he sensed pure hate being directed at him. Daniel didn’t have to look at the source to know where it came from.

The man with the skeleton tattoo on his face.

Atamu.

D
aniel awoke drenched in sweat.

He was miserable; his forehead felt as hot as a bed of coals, and he was coughing and aching all over. He’d give just about anything for a couple of aspirin, some hot chicken soup and a soft bed to lie in. Instead here he was lying on the cold rock floor of a cave with only a loincloth to cover him.

It was early morning, and the sun was just starting to peep through the narrow entrance, bathing the interior with a dim light. Daniel knew a number of caves were on the islet, and this was likely one of the larger ones, measuring somewhere around twenty feet long by twelve feet wide. When he entered the previous night, Daniel had found he couldn’t stand to his full height in the cave and guessed it was around five feet tall. Close to the entrance, a primitive painting of a large red face, with black eyes and a white outline, stared blankly at him.

Daniel did a silent head count and discovered all of the seventeen remaining contestants were in the cave, most asleep, some coughing as Daniel was. He wanted to get up and walk outside, but was too weak. He sipped on his water and lay in silence. Soon he fell back asleep, and after a period of fitful, restless slumber, he began to dream . . .

Daniel felt strong hands shaking him.

“Dan-iel? Dan-iel? Are you okay?”

As he opened his eyes, he saw Ropata observing him with a concerned look on his face. Daniel glanced around the cave — no one else was there.

“Ropata,” Daniel said, feeling a little disoriented, “I’m fine. I guess I was having a nightmare.”

Ropata said, “Dan-iel, you are very flushed. I believe you have a fever. When I heard your screams from outside the cave, I came to check on you.”

“I’ll be okay,” Daniel lied. Truthfully, he felt like he’d been beaten with a sledgehammer.

“Whatever you say, but if I were you I’d stay here and rest. All of us have fish-hooks and are trying our hand at catching something to eat. I’m sure I’ll hook some extras, and I’ll be happy to bring some for you.”

“Thanks Ropata.”

Ropata smiled at him, then walked to the cave opening and lifted himself up and out into the bright sunlight.

Daniel lay for a few seconds before he suddenly realized:

I’m alone.

It was a golden opportunity.

He sat up, looked around and noted all the poras were unattended. Maybe he would find something that would help him solve this case. Daniel looked again at the cave opening.

No one there.

He had to act fast. First he decided to check out Atamu’s pora, and as quickly as he was able, crawled over to it and began pulling out objects from the inside. First he removed several articles of food — all soaked. There was an obsidian knife — no surprise.

Suddenly Daniel heard conversation and footsteps coming close to the cave entrance. He had to act fast. In a last desperate thrust, he reached inside one final time. All the objects felt familiar — except one. It was small, rectangular and smooth.

What is it?

He heard footsteps just outside the opening as he pulled the unknown article out. In his hand was a silver cigarette lighter, with the initials
AG
on it. Daniel quickly stuffed it and the other objects back into the pora and made it back to his place just before three others walked into the cave.

AG
— Alejandro Gomez.

Daniel had all the evidence he needed. As he had suspected —

Atamu was his man.

The sky was just beginning to darken, and all the contestants were back in the cave sitting around a smoldering grass fire. Daniel had nibbled at the cooked fish Ropata had given him, but he just didn’t have much of an appetite.

All in the cave snapped to attention when distinctive screeching sounds were heard from the outside. Manutara birds were landing on the islet. During the night some would lay their eggs.

Tomorrow was the day they’d waited for, and once an egg was the first to be delivered to Orongo, the Birdman would be declared. But Daniel had a lot more on his mind.

Can I make it back to Orongo?

Alive?

How do I deal with Atamu?

For now, Daniel closed his eyes and tried to sleep. In the morning he would face the greatest challenge of his life. Meanwhile, his dream was nagging him, haunting him, pushing him to a point of nausea.

He couldn’t imagine life without Mahina.

A
t the first light of dawn Daniel, who felt at least as bad as he did the day before, was up and out of the cave along with all the other contestants. Hundreds of screeching black and white birds dotted the island — manutaras. Everyone scurried from bird to bird, brushing aside any that were sitting on the ground, hoping to find an egg underneath. Over his shoulder, Daniel heard a shout.

“I’ve got one!”

An excited man held out a small white, speckled egg for all to see, then hustled back down to the cave to grab his pora. When he emerged a few moments later, the egg was secured in a small reed basket tied around his forehead. He jumped into the water and began swimming away as fast as he could.

Daniel frantically searched everywhere — no luck. Then another contestant found an egg, then another. Ropata found one and yelled at Daniel before he jumped into the sea, “Hurry my friend, before it’s too late.”

Before long, many — even Atamu — had found eggs and were swimming toward Orongo.

With a sense of desperation, Daniel scoured the area — over and over again — and finally found an egg on a steep slope, which dropped sharply off into the ocean. He precariously reached over the edge and grabbed it before rushing back into the cave.

Once inside, he discovered his pora had been slashed into pieces. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out who had done the deed. Fortunately, the little reed basket was unharmed, and he placed his egg in it, strapped it to his head, ran out of the cave and jumped into the sea, chasing after the others and swimming without the support of his damaged pora.

Daniel was determined. Not only did he hate losing, but more importantly he wanted Mahina —
and
the Miru — to be proud of him.

Fortunately the seas were calm that morning, and he swam with determination and strength. He gradually crept up on the pack that once had been well ahead of him. Soon he was in the middle of it, advancing toward the front. Hope began to well up in him.

The encouragement didn’t last long. Daniel heard a loud crunching sound and a shriek from someone to his left.

“Shark! A shark has me . . . Help!”

A pool of blood surrounded the man as Daniel reached for him. The man lurched and let out one last sputter before he disappeared into the water.

Daniel’s fear of sharks once again rose up to meet him, and he found himself near panic.

What can I do?

Not a damn thing . . .

The sharks were in a feeding frenzy. Soon a second, a third and a fourth went down, and Daniel felt like he was swimming more in blood than he was in water. Then it came to him — he quickly swam away from the bloody water to clear seas. Daniel reasoned that, if he could set himself apart, he would have less chance of being attacked.

Even more went under, screaming and gurgling as they vanished beneath the water. Daniel lost track of how many. Soon Ropata swam to his side, and together they made a beeline for the shore.

Many anxious moments later they set foot on the beach. Daniel looked back; no remaining swimmers were there — they had been wiped out. Anyone left would be far behind — maybe still on Motu Nui.

Daniel eyed the sheer cliff and counted three contestants ahead. Climbing near each other, they were about a hundred feet up.

Atamu was one of them.

Daniel grimaced as he watched Atamu grab the man next to him by the hair and yank him off the wall. The screaming man fell to the beach and was impaled through the chest by a sharp rock. Daniel paused for a moment to help him, but after a few jerking motions the man died.

What else would you expect from a murderer? thought Daniel.

Daniel and Ropata both leaped onto the cliff wall, chasing after those above.

“I can still do it this,” Daniel told himself as he fought back fatigue. In spite of the speed he was ascending, Ropata was faster and began to edge ahead, closing in on the others.

From above, Daniel heard Atamu announce, “I have a present for you.”

All at once a shower of rocks rained down on him, a heavy one striking his head and causing him to see stars. Thankfully the rocks had missed the egg so carefully cradled on his forehead, and stars or no stars, Daniel was grateful.

Then he felt something dripping on his arm. When he looked up, he realized the blood was streaming from a large cut on Ropata’s back.

“You okay?” Daniel yelled up to Ropata.

“I’m fine,” Ropata said, “nothing that beating the shit out of Atamu would not take care of.”

Daniel smiled briefly. He felt the same way.

Suddenly another man fell, whizzing past Daniel, screaming all the way to the bottom. While Daniel couldn’t see what had happened, he was certain Atamu had also pulled him off.

About halfway up, Daniel felt like he was about to pass out. No doubt he was dehydrated, still had a fever, and the exertion was beyond anything he had ever experienced. But he had to keep moving — he had to . . .

Minutes passed into hours, and as Daniel thought of Mahina he picked up the pace. Daniel began to hear the buzz of the crowd from Orongo and knew he must be getting close to the top. He pressed harder and soon found himself just below Atamu and Ropata, who were standing on a thin rock ledge and shoving at each other.

Atamu said to Ropata, “Marama warrior, are you ready to die?”

Ropata responded, “You first,” and hit Atamu in the chin with his fist, nearly knocking Atamu off the edge.

Then Atamu unexpectedly kicked Ropata’s legs out from under him, and Ropata fell and clung by his fingers to the thin rim of rock he once stood on.

“No!” Daniel screamed from below.

“Oh, yes,” Atamu said as he looked down and scowled at Daniel.

Atamu pulled his obsidian knife from his pora, and with one deep cut sliced off the fingers of Ropata’s left hand. Ropata defiantly grunted and held on with his right hand, sweat pouring down his face.

Daniel quickly moved up to secure his friend. Before he could get there, Atamu once again brandished his knife and sliced off the fingers of Ropata’s other hand. Ropata yelled out “D – a – n — i — — e — — — l” as he plummeted to his death.