Page 42 of Deadly Sacrifice

“And meanwhile, I can tell you that no one’s seen or heard from David Steinbrenner,” Captain Omura said. “Let’s treat his situation as an abduction going forward.”

“Only there won’t be a ransom call on this one, most likely,” Lei said. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

27

MU

Night air clungto Mu like a damp and heavy skin, thick with the scent of the ocean and rotting vegetation from the jungle near the coast as he watched the moon rise over the water.

Behind him, theheiau, an ancient stone temple hidden within the dense foliage, was a silent sentinel to a forgotten past. Its stones, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain, verged on being swallowed by the encroaching jungle.

Yet even as the vines and roots threatened to consume it, the place seemed to pulse with a latent energy, a power that Mu could feel thrumming beneath his feet—themanaheld in all things.

Mu understood theheiau’ssignificance and its history, but he felt no connection to the gods that were once worshipped here. In truth, he didn’t believe. Mu was a man of the present, shaped by the harsh realities of life more than by any ancient spirituality; nevertheless, tonight he would use the power of this place to accomplish his mission.

Jealousy burned in Mu’s chest. That searing heat had festered for years, long before the idea of sacrifice had crossed his mind. Steinbrenner had all that Mu wanted.

No longer, after today.

Bound and gagged, from his position on the stones, David Steinbrenner groaned softly. His bare body was dirtied and bruised from the transition from the van to theheiau. He was dressed for sacrifice in themaloMu had prepared. Mu had forced him to walk to the altar they were headed for, then bound his legs once they arrived.

Mu had taken Steinbrenner after he exited his sprawling, luxurious estate in Kapalua—a monument to the man’s wealth and success, things that had escaped Mu’s deserving grasp. He’d intercepted the arrogant developer by pulling his van over and raising its hood, as if broken down, then stepping into the road and waving.

Mu had been able to grab the man and drug him with an injection when he opened his car door. He’d loaded the developer into the van, pulled it out of view, and then hid Steinbrenner’s car to delay discovery of the kidnapping.

Steinbrenner had spent a day in the van in Mu’s garage, waiting without food, water, or a bathroom for his appointed hour. The drugs Mu had used to subdue him had mostly worn off. Though he’d drugged the others to ease their deaths, Steinbrenner would get no such mercy.

Mu would give the police a story as old as the island itself, wrapped in the trappings of ancient rituals and blood sacrifices to gods that no longer mattered. Mu would appear to be a man driven mad by the spirits of his ancestors, so much so that he’d turned to the old ways in a twisted attempt to restore balance to the land.

Mu turned from the ocean’s restless waves, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Steinbrenner’s bound form.

The developer, once so confident, lay on theheiau’saltar, his arms twisted behind his back, his legs bound, a gag in his mouth. Pitiful whimpers demanding release escaped the muffling cloth. His eyes gleamed, wide, and terrified, in the moonlight.

Mu could almost taste the man’s fear, a bitter tang on the back of his tongue that fueled his resolve and brought a heady satisfaction. Steinbrenner had everything Mu had ever wanted, and tonight, he would pay for it.

A gentle night wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees that surrounded theheiau, carrying with it the distant roar of the ocean. Mu inhaled deeply, letting the briny air fill his lungs, steadying his nerves. He took great drafts of indrawn breath, and they filled him with powerful excitement.

The gods would not be watching what came next. But the police would believe he thought they were, and that was all that mattered.

Mu set up the camera on its tripod and pointed it at the altar. He then took off his clothing, bound his hair back, and donned amaloand a carved wooden mask, the grimacing fierce face of a tiki. Finally, he pulled on a pair of clear latex gloves.

He would be dim in the video, a shadowy figure poised to strike terror into the viewers—and into Steinbrenner.

Mu picked up the weapon he had obtained for this kill: a traditional Hawaiian club with a heavy stone head. The club was a relic of another time, a tool of war turned into a symbol of ritual—that tonight, would serve its true purpose.

Mu activated the video camera, then walked around to the back of the altar. He stood over Steinbrenner, looking down at the writhing man.

David Steinbrenner’s eyes found his behind the mask in the dim light, then locked onto the club Mu slowly raised. Steinbrenner’s eyes widened with frenzied fear. He tried to thrash away, but the ropes held him fast, his struggles only emphasizing that he was a trapped animal prepared for slaughter.

“This land is not yours,” Mu said, his voice low and measured, each word carefully chosen for the recording. “You took what didn’t belong to you, what belonged to the people. Tonight, you’ll pay the ultimate price.”

The words were for the police, for the story he would leave behind, but the rage in his voice was real.

All around him, the ancientheiauseemed to pulse with energy—withmana—but that was probably Mu’s adrenaline, the thrill of finally having this man at his mercy. The wind swirled over them, and the waves crashed, a distant echo, as if nature and the gods themselves were bearing witness to the ritual.

But for Mu this was no divine act, no offering to appease them. This was justice, Mu’s justice, born of years of envy and bitterness.

“For the land,” Mu bellowed. “For the gods—and forme.”

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