This arti­cle is part 2 of 9 in the series The Honolulu Retribution

As soon as the car rental agen­cies opened, I secured a vehi­cle and drove into Kahului, which is only a short dis­tance from the air­port, and sought out some men’s cloth­ing stores where I could expand my wardrobe.  It’s amaz­ing how dif­fi­cult it is to find plain old men’s cloth­ing.  It seems that vir­tu­al­ly all the shops on the island tend to cater to “island wear” — which is far too casu­al to be used on flights and business. 

Fortunately, I found a Macy’s in the Queen Ka’ahumanu Center where I could pur­chase some trousers and plain shirts as well as sev­er­al changes of under­wear and socks.  I would make do with the shoes I was cur­rent­ly wear­ing, at least for the time being.  I also pur­chased a piece of lug­gage at the Sears store in the same shop­ping mall since I felt rea­son­ably sure I would soon be traveling.

I was some­what reluc­tant to use my cell phone since intel­li­gence agen­cies have the capa­bil­i­ty of track­ing one’s loca­tion and activ­i­ties by mon­i­tor­ing them, but since I was prob­a­bly assumed to be dead in the flight 2620 crash, I felt that inten­tion­al mon­i­tor­ing of my phone was high­ly unlikely.

So I called Hawaiian Air to check their sched­ule for flights to Oahu.  Even if L.T. was still on Maui, I could eas­i­ly return, but I had some con­tacts that I could make use of on the main island, and doing so would be eas­i­er in per­son.  Also, I would be less like­ly to run into L.T. or some­one else who might rec­og­nize me if I were mov­ing around in the larg­er pop­u­la­tion of Oahu.

I found a small local restau­rant in Kahului where I could have lunch.  When the wait­ress deliv­ered my meal I asked if she might have a local phone direc­to­ry in which I could look up some places I need­ed to vis­it.  She was very accom­mo­dat­ing and returned to my table in a few min­utes with the request­ed phone book which I browsed through as I ate.  I found that the Kahului Public Library was locat­ed at 90 School Street and the Bank of Hawaii was at 170 Kamehameha Avenue, both facil­i­ties which I would be using in the next few hours.

Finishing lunch, I head­ed to the library where I would make use of their Internet facil­i­ties to con­tact my bank in the Caymans.  I was going to need ready access to funds.  I want­ed to lim­it my use of cred­it cards as much as pos­si­ble.  Maybe it’s just para­noia on my part, but trans­act­ing busi­ness through a media that can be so eas­i­ly tracked just does­n’t appeal to me — espe­cial­ly now that my life appears to be in danger.

I instruct­ed the Cayman bank to open an account for me at the Bank of Hawaii and to wire mon­ey into that account.  It’s impor­tant to keep trans­ferred amounts pret­ty low because an exces­sive amount trig­gers an auto­mat­ic noti­fi­ca­tion to fed­er­al bank­ing author­i­ties and I cer­tain­ly did­n’t need that kind of scruti­ny right now.

I then head­ed over to the bank to ensure the account had been opened and with­draw some of the funds and make sure that I could access those funds while on Oahu.  Of course, the Bank of Hawaii has offices through­out the islands.

By the time I left the bank, it was mid-after­noon.  I drove back to the air­port, turned in the car, and head­ed to the Hawaiian Air desk.  I was tak­ing a chance on catch­ing a flight up to Oahu on short notice, but there are so many flights each day between the islands that the planes are nev­er full to capac­i­ty.  Luck was with me.  The next sched­uled flight was only an hour and a half off.  Once there, I could begin to track the where­abouts of Mr. Trane.

After deplan­ing at Honolulu International Airport, I sought out a pub­lic tele­phone and rang up the Vive Hotel to see if I could secure a room on short notice.  The Vive is three blocks from Waikiki beach, mak­ing it some­what out of the way and less like­ly to be ful­ly booked because most peo­ple come to Hawaii to be on the beach.  The Vive had received high rat­ings as a place to stay, and it’s a mod­ern hotel with all the nec­es­sary ameni­ties except a restau­rant.  It was cer­tain­ly con­ve­nient for me, as I had no plans to be spend­ing much time at the beach anyway.

I was for­tu­nate that the hotel was not ful­ly booked so I arranged for an open-end­ed stay.

I col­lect­ed my bag and hailed a taxi at the air­port entrance. I did­n’t feel much like dri­ving right then and I could always book a rental car through the hotel concierge when I felt the need.

It was near­ly dusk when the cab dropped me off at the hotel entrance and I have to admit that I was some­what thank­ful to be head­ed for a clean room, a show­er, and a soft bed.  Today had been pret­ty hec­tic and I would def­i­nite­ly be busy tomor­row as I began try­ing to track Trane.

The hotel has no restau­rant and only offers a con­ti­nen­tal break­fast, so after check­ing in, I asked that my bag be tak­en to my room. Then I wan­dered out onto the street to find some­thing near­by where I could get a bite to eat before call­ing it a day.

Restaurants abound in this area of Honolulu and I set­tled on the Seaside Bar and Grill where I could get a grilled Mahimahi and a glass of Chardonnay.  Actually, two glass­es of Chardonnay.  As I said, it had been a hec­tic day.

When I final­ly fell into bed after a hot show­er I was asleep with­in min­utes despite all the ideas bounc­ing around in my mind about find­ing Trane and what I would do when I did find him.

  • Chuck Witt

    Chuck is a retired archi­tect, a for­mer news­pa­per colum­nist, and a life­long res­i­dent of Winchester.

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