“They gave me enough pay for a one-way passage to the mainland, if I want it.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m thinking interisland steamer, Kona to Oahu.” Jock lifted his mug again. “I cool my heels on Oahu a while, make sure I don’t crack up again. Then I reenlist. In Honolulu.”

The busboy got closer, so Kanani ranted about Jock owing her money and whisky, putting on a big act with her hands and bared teeth. Busboy snatched up silverware and scattered.

“Why aren’t you eating your food?” she said, still baring teeth.

“I can’t. I’m a wreck, see.”

“Eat it, Marine.”

He picked up his fork as if he’d never seen one before, cut at the Spam, scooped up a piece along with some rice and gravy, opened his mouth, and dumped it in. He chewed, staring at her.

“Good. Try eating again in one minute. Look natural.”

Jock nodded. “I just can’t leave. Not yet.”

“You thinking what I thinking?” she said.

“They have Lett.”

“So what are we are going do about it?”

“Supposing you tell me.”

“I got a plan,” Kanani said.

“And I’m listening.”

“I’m not talking about some secret sneak-away out the gate, down mountain. He won’t get out that way and I won’t, either.”

“Good. That’s just for yellow bellies anyway.”

“Me, I’m talking about burning down the house.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“You’d be putting plenty on the line,” Kanani said.

“If they don’t know it was me, who’s the wiser outside? No one even knows this place exists. You just let me shove off for Honolulu in one piece when it’s done. Can you do that?”

“You’ll have to leave Hilo Side. Maybe it’s not an official berth on a steamer.”

“A ship is a ship.” Jock shoveled in another forkful, added a lift of his coffee mug. “Like I said—I been holed up on North Shore with my rum ration for all the enlistment office knows.”

“Good, okay.” Kanani eyed the room. “Now. Can you get us below?”

Jock nodded. “I’ve done sentry duty down there.”

“You ever see Wendell down there?”

“Not personally. But he has to be there. They have cells down below. I even have a map.”

“Oh. Even better.”

“They don’t know it, but I do,” Jock added.

A silence crept in. Both listened to the room, and to outside, looking around. Things were just too quiet. They heard taps, then tapping. Kanani peered outside. The first drops of rain were splashing on the dirt, fluttering the grass.

“Hate the fuggin rain,” Jock muttered. “Even when it’s warm.”

Kanani picked up Jock’s fork and took a bite. The meat was tough, the rice mushy, the gravy bitter, all of it overcooked. She made a face. “Folks make this better Hilo Side.”

“So I’ll have to go try it there.”