Pele's Fire

“I saw that at the Punchbowl,” Polunu said.

“Remember it.”

“I hear you, brah.”

“Okay, then. Unless you have more information on the task at hand…?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, man. It wasn’t like they took me in their confidence for the high-level shit.”

“Then I need someone who would know the details, or at least the broad strokes of the master plan. Someone who’s still accessible.”

“Meaning they haven’t disappeared?” Polunu asked to clarify.

“Meaning exactly that.”

“Okay, let me think,” Polunu said. “The big guys all went underground a while ago, you understand. Warrants and shit were bugging them too much to stay out in the open.”

“But they still have contact points,” Bolan surmised. “Ways they can keep in touch with others who aren’t hiding.”

“Well, sure, man. Lanakila and his number two, Eddie Nahoa, have a list of phone numbers. They can reach out to anyone they know, whenever. Maybe two, three others have the list, but they’re all—”

“Underground,” Bolan said, finishing the sentence for him.

“Right.”

“Turn it around,” Bolan replied. “What happens when somebody needs to get in touch with Lanakila or Nahoa? When it’s vital, and they can’t afford to wait around and hope they get a call tomorrow or next week?”

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