Honolulu, October 16th, 8:01 a.m.

Mr. Chen sat on his penthouse balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Honolulu had many high-rises, and Chen’s had a panoramic, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the ocean, city, and mountains. Although he had been born in Gansu Province in China, he hated living there and rarely visited. He seized the opportunity to leave when he was a teenager. The Hawaiian Islands had been home for most of his adult life.

He checked the numbers for his local operations. In recent months, the police were cracking down on most of Chen’s business fronts, particularly his drug and money laundering operations. The raids on Tonga and Samoa had cost him dearly.

Cash flow is going to be a problem if I don’t act soon.

Ezekiel, Mr. Chen’s lieutenant, set his breakfast atop the table. Mr. Chen opened the lid, and to his delight he smelled his favorite breakfast of two over-easy eggs, one strip of bacon, and three pineapple strips. His smile faded when he saw the bowl of poi.

Why does he insist on serving that purple slop? It’s made from that disgusting taro root.

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Mr. Chen shot Ezekiel a glance. “Why do your people like this purple slop so much?”

“The poi? It’s a staple in all the Pacific Islands,” he answered. “I have fond memories of poi growing up in Samoa. My nana had a garden that contained a special section where her roots were cultivated. She made the best poi I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I don’t wish to insult your mother, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should eat your poi—it’s good for your digestion. It’s a superfood, you know.”

“I don’t trust anything that will kill me if I eat it raw.”

Ezekiel poured another cup of the Kona blend that Mr. Chen enjoyed so much.

“Is everything set for our Newport visit?” Mr. Chen asked.

“Yes. You leave on tonight’s red-eye direct to Newport. And I got you a first-class ticket, so you will have a full bed, as requested,” Ezekiel said.

“Excellent. I need to tie up some loose ends before departing. I’ve invested much in a new business venture.”

“The one involving the data?”

“It’s not just any data—it’s the cache of data that Jeremiah Mason collected. Its significance should not be underestimated.”

“The one to expose the scumbags and pedophiles?”

“Yes, and if Mr. Mason had done his job, I wouldn’t be in this financial predicament. That is one of the many reasons we’re traveling. We need to get that plan back into motion,” Mr. Chen said.

I was set to profit handsomely from all the protective services I was to provide the guilty. Mr. Chen grew bitter.

“The video uplink to the principal members of the Cabal is scheduled within the hour,” Ezekiel told him.

“Excellent. I wish to get set up as soon as I’m finished with breakfast.”