RATED PG-14 for violence and intensity
Two Sides of a Coin
--
TAILS --
Written
by
With editing by gm
and as
“We have GOT to work
on your press mask, Danno!”
“The guy was an
annoying Hűpô!” The irritation in the voice was
apparent.
“Yes, you’re correct,
he was an ‘annoying Hűpô,’ – if that means
inconsiderate idiot -- and your face certainly captured your knowledge of that
fact for all of
“I have to WHAT?” Dan
Williams’ question, filled with incredulous expression, was preceded by a short
burst of out loud laughter and an exaggerated, almost cartoon-like, startle
response.
“I mean it. I don’t
EVER want to open my morning paper again and find you with anything but an inscrutable
expression on your face,” Steve McGarrett pointed his finger at his newest
detective.
His two more senior
detectives, Kono Kalakaua and Chin Ho Kelly, were seated in the two high-back,
white leather chairs before him. The chief of
“One press mask
coming up.”
Dan relented, but
couldn’t hide the humor he found in the situation even as he stood before his
boss’s desk and accepted the chastisement for a public display of irritation at
a reporter and his photographer who accosted him while on a date the previous
evening. The other two detectives nearby were having similar difficulties while
the owner of the office sighed. It was difficult even for a practiced figure,
such as McGarrett, to maintain a stern façade in the face of such fresh
exuberance, but he succeeded.
“Get on up to Kahuku, and get what statements
you can. Oh, and I have another job for you, so don’t be back too late! Oh, and
be careful with my car!” McGarrett warned. The young man nodded earnestly,
“Right – Don’t be back late and be careful with your car!” He started for the
door before remembering, “I need your keys.”
His boss picked up
the set of keys from desk and tossed them across to the young man whose curly
hair was the color of the beach he loved so.
“Thanks, Dad,” the
officer paused for a very deliberate breath, and then with the slightest wink
corrected, “Oh – I mean Steve!”
The almost-amused
puzzlement at the stream of admonitions in the new detective’s expression was
visible for only a second before the door closed behind him. The
“slip-of-tongue” was Dan’s not-so-subtle way of trying to get across to the
boss that he could figure this stuff out on his own.
McGarrett snapped his
head up just in time to catch Dan’s wink. He continued studying the door with a
tight-eyed grimace for a several seconds, before he noticed his two detectives
seemed to be in pain from stifling their guffaws. Only the steely-eyed glare
from their boss facilitated the process.
As McGarrett looked
back down at his notebook, he snapped, “Hűpô!”
Both Kono and Chin
knew that the “statement” from their boss was actually a question. They’d come
to know that, if there was a Hawai’ian or Chinese word or phrase that the boss
did not understand, he would usually repeat the phrase surreptitiously,
expecting an immediate translation or interpretation. In this case, the
Hawai’ian detective knew that this word fell into his bailiwick.
“Idiot – fool – boob
– any of those are good,” Kono shrugged, thinking back to the context in which
Dan had slung the epithet.
“Where were we?”
McGarrett looked down at his notepad, and then looked up slowly and directed
his most penetrating gaze at his Hawai’ian detective. “Oh, yes – the great
demolition derby caper. You were the one in charge of that situation, were you
not?”
Kono shifted
uncomfortably in chair and rubbed his neck, suddenly having the sense that his
tie was too tight.
“Yeah, boss, but it
turned out okay,” Kono replied weakly. “We collared all five of ‘em.” He could
see McGarrett shaking his head before he finished the sentence.
Before the
punctuation dried on Kono’s response, his boss was speaking, “Danno was almost
crushed to death along with his car, which by the way is a complete loss right
down to the radio!”
Both of the
detectives grimaced.
“Danny’s fast, Steve
– he made it out of that car with at least two, maybe three seconds to spare,”
Kono offered despite the knowledge that his boss wanted no excuses. “He
managed—”
McGarrett interrupted
angrily, eyebrows arching for emphasis, “I
know he managed, but what if he’d decided that discretion was not the better
part of valor in that case? He can be a righteously indignant hot head and you
know I’m right!” The Hawai’ian detective started to argue that Danny wouldn’t
do anything rash or stupid in the name of justice, but then decided that he
honestly wasn’t sure that was the case. So, he sat there stoically as his
boss’s ire ran its course. “You shouldn’t have put him in a situation where he
had to make a judgment call that, frankly, I’m not sure he was ready to make.”
There were a few
seconds of silence before McGarrett said in a more conciliatory tone, “In a
nutshell, I’d like to see him make it to his 30th birthday,
gentlemen,” McGarrett said, his point made by tapping his pencil on his desk.
“When’s that?” Chin
asked.
Kono groaned, “Not
this year.”
Both veteran
detectives, over the past few weeks, began to realize that their boss had a new
strategic plan for his unit – a plan which, in order to be successful, must
have the cooperation and commitment of his entire staff.
McGarrett was an
investigator of world renown, and he cared very deeply for the welfare of his
detectives. To the outside world, he wore a hard shell that was frequently
mistaken for callousness. The “shell” approach worked well, some would say even
superlatively, during his tenure as a commander in the Navy, but when he took
on the civilian position with the very different task of building a small team,
a more intimate approach to leadership would have been more advantageous and
productive. He recognized this fact, but found it very difficult to change.
The staff of
McGarrett, while
recognizing that his own shortcomings contributed in some measure, attributed
this noticeable aura of strain primarily to the discord between him and his
recently retired second-in-command, Ray Kaimano.
Steve and Ray were
constantly at odds, not only as a result of different investigative
philosophies, but also because of what can only be called a personality clash.
The head of the unit was uncompromising and relentless in his mission to
enforce the laws of
Chin Ho and Kono,
along with May Peterson, official executive secretary to Steve McGarrett,
observed how their disciplined, rigid, often-harsh boss had taken Dan Williams
under his wing. The staff wasn’t sure whether the new detective always felt
this was a good thing. Almost daily, McGarrett called him into his office to instruct,
to lecture, and occasionally to berate the man, who looked younger than his 28
years. His self-deprecating charm, clean-cut, beach boy good looks, and sense
of humor made him a very welcome edition to the Five-0 ohana. The head of
Five-0 recognized, amongst Dan’s numerous talents, a rare gift – the ability to
apply a perspective not his own to a situation. McGarrett knew that, with the
proper guidance, this brilliant young man would blossom into an unrivaled
investigator.
Chin Ho Kelly had
been with Steve longer than anyone else at Five-0. Of Chinese descent, the 5’9”
barrel-chested detective was almost fifty. He and his wife, Mai, had their
hands full raising eight children. Quiet and stable as a rock, McGarrett
appreciated his loyalty and tenacity. Chin had stuck it out at Five-0 through
the difficult times. Admittedly, the pay was somewhat better with the unit, but
Chin long ago saw the potential for him to make a bigger difference in his
community by throwing in his lot with McGarrett. Nobody else on the team had
more practical experience on the beat than Chin Ho.
Kono Kalakaua was
another excellent choice for a Five-0 slot. At six feet, one inch and 260
pounds, the ample Hawaiian had the laid-back personality, sense of humor, and
patience to be an excellent field investigator. His physical strength, which
was legend in the HPD ranks, often came in handy in this line of work. Many
people underestimated Kono because of the pigeon English that peppered his
speech. In reality, it disguised an intelligent man with wisdom beyond his
years. Perhaps more than any other member of the unit, this detective actively
tried to keep his work in perspective as just part of his life in paradise.
It seemed to
McGarrett that Kono had a cousin or two everywhere on all the islands. Both
Kelly’s and Kalakaua’s extended family connections came in handy on more than
one occasion when Five-0 detectives needed eyes and ears around the islands.
Now, here they were –
this mix of individuals with different personalities, strengths, and
weaknesses, with a single task before them – to grow together, to capitalize on
individual talent for the ultimate benefit of the unit. The chief of the
operation was realistic enough to know that there would be the growing pains
that usually come with change.
McGarrett hated to
give the impression that he didn’t have confidence in his new man, but as much
as he knew that Dan was the right choice for the position, he also couldn’t
seem to shake the feeling that the young man needed a measure of protection.
Faltering self-confidence sometimes countered with occasional, dangerous
headlong impulsive actions – the mixture sprinkled with examples of patience
and elegant diplomacy – it was a perplexing combination to McGarrett, who was
certain that time would settle him down.
But in the meantime, Steve mused, we might be in for a wild ride.
Admittedly, Dan was
settling in nicely, more relaxed, and yet still excited about his contributions
in any form to the efforts. A little unpolished – at times. A little too reactive – at times. A little more stubborn than McGarrett
realized -- at times. A willing and
dedicated team player – all the time.
**********
Get a haircut – Don’t be late – Watch the paint on the car! Dan shook his head.
“Like I haven’t been dressing myself for the past twenty-some years,” a
frustrated Dan said to himself as he marched out to McGarrett’s Ford.
It seemed that his
new boss was forgetting that he was a very capable detective and
self-sufficient adult. Hadn’t he proved to his new boss that he had talent?
That he was dedicated? That he could get the job done? Wasn’t that why he was
here when so many other more experienced police officers were not? His youthful
face was occasionally a disadvantage in a profession that required a
figure-of-authority presence, so for his entire adult life, he’d always had to
go the extra mile to prove himself. But he had to wonder what he was going to
have to do to give his new boss faith in him.
On the drive up to
Kahuku, Dan pondered the situation with McGarrett. On the one hand, it was kind
of nice that he was concerned, but the situation had potential to become
downright smothering. The wound he sustained to his leg in the bomb blast in
McGarrett’s office had not helped the situation, of that he was certain. He had
been on bed rest for three days after he left the hospital. The boss had
berated him subsequently for unnecessarily jumping into harm’s way when a
simple shout would have sufficed. [fanfic -- Two
Sides of a Coin -Heads] Dan
argued vehemently that there hadn’t been time to form a coherent thought to
yell, but finally secretly decided that the head of Five-0 might have a blind
spot with regard to his own safety.
After that, McGarrett
seemed reluctant to allow him out of the office for several days. “Doctor’s orders,” Steve said, ignoring
his new employee’s protestations that he was fit for duty. Dan had the distinct
impression that McGarrett was not generally a man to heed a doctor’s warnings.
Perhaps it was the
breeze that he let blow through the car that cleared his head, allowed him to
analyze the symptoms and arrive at a diagnosis, but it struck him suddenly that
he was being treated as if he were unreliable – unpredictable. A single piece
of evidence pointing to irresponsibility – the most recent case in point being
the destruction of his “company” car – negated ten pieces of evidence to the
contrary. Maybe what Dan had called proof was merely refutable evidence of his
dedication – in the eyes of a man like Steve McGarrett – a man that wanted – no
needed – substantiation
His business card
described him as “Lead Detective”, but, to Dan’s way of thinking, the two words
hardly described the phenomenal man behind them. The only son of Irish
immigrant parents, Steve McGarrett had to grow up young, as a fleeing suspect
killed his police officer father when he was thirteen. That left young Stephen
to take on the mantle of responsibility for his mother, who had to take up
sewing to make ends meet, and for his baby sister, Mary Ann. It was a heavy
burden that he carried with determination, and it laid the foundation for the
tenacious, disciplined man that McGarrett was to become. Dan Williams could not
imagine a better teacher or mentor, a man whom Williams admired, respected and,
as other members of the Five-0 staff teased, very nearly worshipped. But with
all of the good, came the baggage that made him that way.
Definitely a tough nut to crack, Dan mused as he foresaw what he must do. He slapped the
steering will as his plan solidified. Okay,
Williams, that’s the answer. You are gonna bury him in your get-it-done
competence. You are gonna lay the PROOF of your reliability at his feet! The solution to his quandary now in hand, Dan
felt resurgence in his optimism and commitment.
**********
“When Five-0 is at a
crime scene, the charter – signed by the Governor of this state – says Five-0
is in charge. If YOU are the Five-0 detective on the scene, I don’t care if
Chief Dann is standing there barking orders. You have the authority and
responsibility to take over and manage the situation!”
McGarrett leaned on
the corner of his desk, his arms crossed as he lectured his new detective, who
stood within arms reach of his boss and nodded.
“I understand.”
The acknowledgment
was diffident, so Steve pressed the issue, “You did the right thing out there.
I know that you reported to Gary Benson before you reported to Beauprez, so it
couldn’t have been easy stepping in and overruling him. That aside, you were
right, and he was wrong.” McGarrett could see that his words were swaying the
detective as he leaned out and put his hand on Dan’s shoulder, “Woe be to the
cop who doesn’t respect your authority, my friend.”
The two men locked
gazes, and Dan felt himself infused with confidence. This time when Dan spoke,
it was with certainty, “Thanks, Steve!”
**********
“You are what you
eat, gentlemen!” McGarrett lectured as he declined Kono’s offer of the last
macadamia nut cookie from their carry out meal.
“Steve, I think in
this case, the only one that applies to is Chin,” Dan quipped glancing at the
empty Chinese carryout boxes still scattered around the room.
Chin snickered and
chimed in, “Oh, I don’t know, Danny. Kono IS hard to digest sometimes.”
McGarrett chuckled
and responded, “I rest my case! It’s getting late. Go home!”
The head of the unit
stretched and briefly massaged his neck before re-seating himself at his desk.
Chin and Kono each collected a couple of the leftover food containers, and said
their goodnights, while Dan collected the trash and dropped it into the
wastebasket.
“Night, Steve!” Dan
shot his boss a quick smile, and not unexpectedly, came the reply, “G’night,
Danno.”
The team had
discussed theories on why McGarrett had started calling Williams by this
nickname, but nobody had ever inquired of the head of the unit as to his
reason. Nobody on the team ever seemed willing to ask more than superficial
personal questions of the boss, Dan had noticed, but he’d been thinking that
maybe it was time for a change on that front.
Maybe he wants to be asked.
“Umm, Steve?” Almost
surprised that the detective was still there, he looked up expectantly. Dan
gauged his mood to receptive to a personal question, so he plunged ahead, “Why
do you call me that? Danno, I mean?”
The young man’s
question caught Steve off guard, so he took a moment to study the detective,
who stood with his hand on the doorknob, as if he expected that the answer
would be a short one.
“Umm, does it bother
you?” Steve asked.
A question answered with a question, Williams mused. That
does not bode well for receiving the answer. Okay, so, I was wrong – he doesn’t
want to be asked.
“No,” Williams came
back, his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “I kind of like it. I was just
curious.” One of the things that Steve found so refreshing about working with
Dan was that he was willing to ask when he wanted an answer. There was no guile
– just non-threatening interest.
McGarrett debated for
another few moments, Short answer – long
answer. Finally, he sighed, and said, “Sit down.” As the officer took a
seat in one of the white chairs, McGarrett rose from his desk, and came to sit
in the twin.
“Well, I guess you
have a right to know, “Steve responded with a wistful smile, “I had a friend –
a good friend – when I was growing up. His name was Dan O’Reilly. Every night
at dinnertime, Dan’s mother would cry out from the family stoop, ‘Dan-Oh!
Dan-Oh, me boy! Come home to your mother!’” Dan had to smile as Steve mimicked
the mother’s voice and Irish brogue. “For the longest time, I thought his name
was Danno.” Steve had to smile had the memory of the curly, redheaded boy with
pink freckles that had been his chum and co-conspirator for several years. As
the recollection brought back feelings about his friend, McGarrett debated
momentarily whether it was prudent to share some thoughts with Williams, and
finally decided that it was worth the risk.
“The first time I
called you that—” Steve looked up.
Dan jumped in, “On
the beach – when Beauprez was busting my chops for speaking out of turn.”
Steve nodded, “Yeah,
that’s right. It just popped out – a name I hadn’t said in a million years.” Here goes, McGarrett committed himself.
“But after I said it, and you looked back at me like— like I’d called you that
your entire life, it— it felt right.”
The admission made
McGarrett feel vaguely vulnerable, and he tensed almost imperceptibly while
waiting for the young man’s reaction to his admission. What he couldn’t quite
bring himself to say to Dan was that when then-HPD Detective Williams
responded, a feeling that he’d had as a child – knowing his friend was there in
his corner, that they would take on the world together, sharing reward and
punishment alike – flooded into him.
“Thanks for telling
me, Steve,” Dan said genuinely. “It’s a special name, and I’m glad you call me
that.” Dan’s pleasure at the revelation was obvious on his face, and in turn,
the sharing of the tale brought to McGarrett a comforting realization that the
“Danno” feelings could put him in a more secure state of mind lo these many
years later.
“Thank you for
asking, Danno,” Steve replied softly.
**********
“Because you’re the
boss, and you’re always right,” Dan said, nodding with the most blank-eyed
stare he could manage as the two men emerged from McGarrett’s office and
quickly stepped past May’s desk on their way out the door.
McGarrett knew his
protégé was joking, but he still liked the tone, and the thought, behind the
statement. “Good man!” the boss
exclaimed, patting his detective on the back.
May shook her head,
and said to Chin and Kono as they emerged from their boss’s office five seconds
later, “I think we got a whole lotta brain washing going on here!”
Chin smiled as the
two detectives brushed by in pursuit of their colleagues, “What we got is a
little battle of wills here!”
The secretary’s gasp
made the two men stop, “You don’t think that this will turn into another
McGarrett-Kaimano situation, do you?” The memory of the tense office made the
attractive, brunette with the Petula-Clark doo cringe.
Kono wrinkled his
nose at the memory, but shook his head.
“I doubt it. Danny’s not like Ray was. He seems to know how to work the
boss.”
Chin nodded in
agreement, “Steve’s been pushing, and Danny’s starting to push back a little. I
think we’ll be okay.”
They all truly hoped
that was the case. The new cheer made the heavy workload and stress of the
daily crises inherent to criminal investigations more bearable. They all agreed
that it was well worth the trade-off of trying to keep Dan out of trouble. Chin
and Kono knew all too well that Dan’s natural investigative skills probably
exceeded their own – not a fact he seemed to recognize – but that did not make
him any less the kid brother that seemed to fit his personality.
“Danno! Why do I get
the feeling that I don’t have your undivided attention?”
McGarrett’s voice was
tinged with impatience obvious even through the intercom, which sat on
Williams’ desk. The week had been a long one for both him and his newest
detective. In conjunction with the
attorney general’s office, they worked on the investigation-related paperwork
for the indictment against three of the Ali’i gang members who had had a hand
in the bomb that arrived in the Five-0 offices a couple months earlier [fanfic -- Two Sides of a Coin -Heads].
Fortunately, there were only minor injuries, so attempted murder was the
maximum charge that would be filed against the trio.
Not bothering to
reply over the intercom, Williams stepped into his boss’s office and quickly
spoke, “Sorry, Steve. You have it now.”
The head of Five-0
regarded the young man approaching his desk. Having abandoned his suit jacket
and rolled up his sleeves, he looked a little pale and tired the head of Five-0
noted.
“Is everything okay?
You’re looking a little haggard.”
Before Williams could
answer, McGarrett’s phone line rang, and his attention was immediately diverted
to the conversation with the governor’s secretary. Dan removed a handkerchief
from his pocket and surreptitiously wiped the beads of sweat from his face, and
slipped into one of the chairs in front of McGarrett’s desk. His boss, who was currently consumed with the
details of two ongoing investigations and the Ali’i paperwork, was still perceptive
enough to notice his detective’s pallor.
Dan had felt ill for
the past few days, and in fact, had developed pain in his lower right abdomen.
It had progressed from a mere stitch in his side to a sharp stabbing pain. That
morning, to the detective’s relief, the pain began to mutate again into more of
a dull ache. He knew he was probably running a fever and should see a doctor.
But he still carried with him the concern that confessing an inability to
complete what he started might negate all of his efforts of the past month –
everything that he’d been working so diligently to prove to his new boss – his
mentor – that he could be relied upon – consistently – to see a job through to
the end with all of the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed.
Reliability aside,
bowing out of work this week would have, Dan felt, left McGarrett with an
untenably heavy workload. Steve, had, after all selected him rather than either
of his other two detectives to share the load, not that either Chin or Kono
were complaining one bit. Both men had
extremely busy family lives that occupied all the time they could spare from
work. No, Dan decided, he would gut it out until the weekend. He was not on
call, and would be able to spend the weekend resting.
His inquiry about his
protégé’s health all but buried in the raft of details that had come to him
during the call, McGarrett hung up the phone and started immediately
questioning his officer on the status of the various tasks that he had been
assigned.
“Witness statements?”
“Verified for
accuracy, typed in triplicate.”
“Event Timeline?”
“Done.”
“Background reports
on the accused men?”
“Organized with
relevant information highlighted, and included in the file delivered to the
AG.”
“The attorney general
is in possession of the file now?”
“As of one hour ago –
I just called and checked to make sure that they don’t need anything else from
us.”
“Did you have it
couriered?”
“No, Jenny – one of
the part-time secretary’s – also works in Walter Stuart’s office, and she
hand-carried it over there.”
The boss took the luxury
to lean back in his chair for a moment, a feeling of satisfaction passing over
him. His new detective had made remarkable progress in just a few short weeks
on learning the ins and outs of the red-tape-filled world of criminal
prosecution. The head of Five-0 knew that part of the secret to his very high
conviction rate was proper follow-up with the prosecuting attorneys and
attention to detail in the paperwork.
Yes, the decision to
bring Danno on board was proving to be one of the best strategic moves he’d
made in years. Williams has consistently
and methodically structured his cases. He’s starting to think through problems
less – well, a little less -- emotionally. And yet, he’s managing to hang on to
that what-if-the-sun-rose-in-the-west perspective He thought back to the
casual note that Dan had left taped to his chalkboard a few short months ago.
“STEVE –
WHAT IF LYNNE YATES WAS INVOLVED IN THE FRAUDULENT
ACTIVITY, AND DIDN’T EXPECT TO BE KILLED WHEN BOGGS DID IN MARIE APUNA?? JUST A
THOUGHT.
D”
It turned out to be exactly the case.
Lynne Yates, who had initially been thought to be an innocent victim, along
with Marie Apuna, was subsequently identified as a co-conspirator with her boss
/ lover in a plot that stole upwards of a hundred thousand dollars from the
Pacific Rim Foundation. Yates’ partner, Luther Boggs, murdered her along with
his secretary, Marie Apuna, truly an innocent victim who unwittingly stumbled
onto incriminating evidence.
McGarrett’s vision saw an office that was more balanced in its gifts, and Dan Williams, especially in the past few weeks, seemed to be shaping up to be Steve McGarrett’s near-perfect complement, just as Steve had foreseen. Steve detested the mandated paperwork that seemed to grow with each passing year in complexity and absurdity. While Dan clearly did not care for the duty either, he had so far proven to be willing and able to step up to the plate and help his boss get the job done.
Steve pulled his thoughts back to the present moment.
“Very good, Danno.
This was a tedious and detail-oriented job, but you got it done.”
Normally, any sort of
praise, or hint of praise, from Steve McGarrett would fill Dan Williams with
euphoria, but on this particular Friday evening, it was all he could do to
smile and say thanks. The occasional waves of nausea were coming closer
together. Just then, a short knock turned McGarrett’s attention to his
secretary as she entered his office.
“Steve, everything’s
typed up, just like you asked. I’m getting out of here before you find another
project for me!”
Steve stood and as he
stretched, he replied, “Thanks, May. See you Monday!”
“Oh, Danny! I almost
forgot – I canceled your date with Corinne as you requested, but I have to tell
you she wasn’t too happy.”
May’s words seemed
distant, as if she was speaking to him from the other end of a tunnel, and he
struggled to stay focused on the conversation.
“Oh, yeah, thanks, May. I’ll square it with her.”
The woman nodded and
closed the door behind her. The secretary gone, McGarrett’s attention turned
back to Williams.
“Why did you cancel
your date? Did you think I was going to keep you prisoner here -- again?” Steve
flashed a quick smile at the young man, who definitely seemed tired.
Dan, once again as
casually as possible, wiped the dampness that had appeared on his forehead with
the back of his hand. He hesitated. Tell
him! The small voice in Williams’ head screamed, and he started to confess,
“Actually – Steve—” He winced as an arc of pain shot through his side. Suddenly
he had the urge to unburden himself and reveal that he thought he might need to
be taken to the hospital. But the phone rang again, and as McGarrett dealt with
the call, Dan reconsidered, Williams – He
doesn’t need to hear this! Suck it up and get out before you faint on him!
The detective’s
internal struggle lasted the length of the 30-second phone conversation. When
the imposing figure sitting there hung up and turned his attention back to his
detective, it seemed to Dan that his boss also looked tired.
“Danno, you were
saying?”
The detective had
slowly taken in a deep breath and released it just before his boss hung up the
phone. Dan mustered the best smile he could under the circumstances, and stood
up, keeping a casual hand on the back of the chair, primarily to keep from
tipping over from the dizziness.
“I was saying that if
you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll head out.”
“Just remember that
we’ve got to be in Stuart’s office by
“Got it,” Dan managed
a reply that was more confident that he felt. I guess that rules out dropping dead in front of him, Dan mused to
himself, and then said out loud, “See you Monday.” Before his boss could get
out a reply, the phone spoke again.
“McGarrett! Yes,
Governor. Yes, sir. I can arrange for that to happen early next week….”
McGarrett nodded distractedly at his detective, who accepted the nod as a
dismissal.
The young man nodded
back and slipped from the office and closed the door behind him. He leaned for
a few moments on the door with his eyes closed, trying to acquire enough
equilibrium to make it to his car. He could hear strains of the conversation as
he staggered into his own office, collected his jacket, and turned off the desk
lamp.
**********
By the time he parked
his car in the parking garage, Dan realized that he needed to go to a hospital
and get checked. The pain in his side was once again becoming unbearable, and
it was all he could do to unlock the door to his apartment and drag himself in.
He lay on the floor by the door for several minutes before he could muster the
energy to make it to the phone. He dialed Steve’s private line, but hung up
before he heard a ring. This’ll impress
him with your self-sufficiency and dependability. The inclination and
desire to call his boss were overridden by his own stubborn determination to
manage by himself.
Sitting on the floor
and leaning on the couch, with the phone in his lap, he pressed the switchhook.
For a few seconds, he considered calling Kono or Chin, but then decided that
there was no real need to bother them. While he knew that either of them would
have dropped whatever they were doing to help him, he decided they both needed
the time with their families. Besides Kono was on call, and would no doubt be
dealing with some incident before the weekend was over anyway. He called for a
cab, which the dispatcher promised would be there within ten minutes. As
quickly as he could manage, he slipped out of his work clothes and into a pair
of shorts, a luau shirt, and sandals.
Now, Williams, all you’ve got to do is crawl to the
elevator… He slipped a
twenty-dollar bill into his pocket and left his wallet and .38 revolver on the
nightstand before he left his apartment.
**********
“Next of kin?”
“I have no next of
kin,” the patient replied softly. Except
an elderly aunt on the other side of the universe, he finished the sentence
silently.
“Who can we notify
that you’ve been hospitalized?”
“Nobody. There’s
nobody.”
“There must be
somebody—”
“I said there’s
nobody!” The reply was sharper than he had intended, but the medication that
had been started intravenously didn’t seem to be helping his pain. It only
seemed to be making him groggy. He added a little more softly, “Now please,
leave me alone.” As his eyes closed, saving him from further interrogation by
the well-meaning hospital clerk, a nurse and her attendant slipped into the
emergency room bay.
“Mr. Williams?” When no
response was forthcoming, the nurse compared the patient ID number on her
clipboard with the number on the hospital bracelet that had been secured to the
patient’s wrist. Just in case the patient could hear her, she said aloud, “Mr.
Williams, per Doctor Hansen’s instructions, we are taking you up to the
operating room. He thinks it may be your appendix, and we need to take care of
this right away.” The dozing man on the gurney, mumbled something
unintelligible, but never opened his eyes.
**********
“What a mess!” The
surgeon mumbled to nobody in particular.
“How he managed to avoid an emergency room visit days ago is beyond me.
He must have been doubled over in pain for days!” The doctor, a tall, slender
man in his early-sixties, boxy glasses resting beneath huge salt-and-pepper,
caterpillar eyebrows, released the final retractor on the incision, and
continued, “Well, I’ve cleaned it out as best I could. Joe, close it up!” He
was speaking to the resident surgeon who had assisted during the procedure.
“Lacey, who do I need
to speak with in the waiting room?” The two nurses in the room exchanged
glances before the senior nurse replied, “There’s nobody in the waiting room,
Doctor.” William Hansen looked up at the nurse, but before he could reply, she
continued, “He refused to provide any next of kin or emergency contact
information.” He grumbled, “So there’s nobody to blame but the patient for his
condition.” The nurse shrugged, “I guess so, Doctor.”
“Well, I guess I’ll
have to wait until Mr. Williams regains consciousness to vent my frustrations.”
**********
The very ill Five-0
detective remained in the ICU until Saturday morning, when the hospital staff
noted that his fever had diminished slightly.
“Mr. Williams, how
are you feeling this morning?” Doctor Hansen stood at his patient’s bedside
reviewing the chart of the night’s vital signs and observations. The young man
was pale and gaunt, but the pain he had been enduring for the past few days was
no longer present.
“Like I might live,
Doc. Thanks.” His voice was thick with sedation.
The doctor looked up
from the chart to study his patient. It was very apparent to the physician that
his patient’s clarity of thought was not completely there, but he hoped he
could get some information from the young man, perhaps especially in his
not-all-there condition.
“I gather you live
alone?” Dan nodded slightly, with eyes closed.
“Well,
you single-handedly almost managed to kill yourself by not coming in sooner.”
“Yeah, I kind of
figured that out,” was Dan’s sheepish reply, but the doctor was not satisfied.
“Do you know how
quickly peritonitis can kill you after something like a burst appendix?
Probably not. Well, let me tell you. If you’d waited another thirty minutes,
you’d probably be wearing a toe tag in the morgue right now.” The patient
lifted his heavy eyelids to attempt eye contact with the physician.
“I was just busy at
work.” The excuse sounded absurd even to Dan as he was saying it.
The older man stared
down disapprovingly at Williams, “And I see that there would be nobody to even
notify if you were in the morgue right now.”
Unable to will his
eyes to remain open, the patient sighed, “I guess that’s right…”
The doctor let out a
humph, and responded, “You’re a Five-0 detective. Please don’t tell me that
Steve McGarrett has no interest in your whereabouts this weekend.”
Dan blinked and tried
to focus on the doctor’s expression. “How do you know that?”
“I read the papers.
There was quite a hubbub several weeks ago when McGarrett brought you on board
if I recall.” The patient grimaced and closed his eyes again, “Damn reporters…”
“Hmm, yes, well that
said, I’d like to place a call to Mr. McGarrett—”
Before the doctor
could finish, Dan, somehow in his diminished mental state, envisioned that his
boss would be angry with him, so with his last words of the exchange said
softly, but adamantly, “No—please – don’t bother him.” Even through his concern
about the doctor possibly embarrassing him by calling Steve, Dan could no
longer keep his eyes open.
Hansen frowned, made
some notes on the clipboard, and as he left his sleeping patient, he said to
himself, “We’ll discuss this again.”
**********
“So, Danny Boy, another year under your belt, and
you’re still there and I’m still here.”
The patient knew the familiar voice, but couldn’t open his
eyes. Dan breathed a little faster as he mumbled a response, “Pop, I’m sorry…”
Suddenly, Dan was standing near a rocky shore. He could almost feel the spray from the
wave exploding nearby. Then, he felt an
icy hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see the visage of a long-dead uncle
staring at him with an angry glare.
His eyes popped open,
only to be filled with the darkness of the room. As his room was on the west
side of the hospital, light was not yet peaking through the blinds of Dan’s
room. The dream left him a little shaky and disoriented.
Is it Sunday?
He asked himself. He ran his hand along the stitched wound on his abdomen. Sore, but not agonizing, he thought,
recollecting the fiery pain he had lived with earlier that week. With any luck,
he could make it through his on-call stint that night with a minimal
expenditure of energy. He lay there in the bed, trying to organize his thoughts
and orient himself to his circumstance for several minutes before a nurse
slipped into the room to take his pulse, blood pressure, and temperature.
The young Polynesian
woman smiled, and as she gently slipped a thermometer into his mouth and took
hold of his wrist, she said, “Good morning, Mr. Williams. I’m just taking your
vital signs. Please hold this under your tongue.”
Dan closed his eyes
again while waiting for the thermometer to be removed.
“Still a fever,” she
commented as she studied the mercury. “Not to worry though – that IV will take
care of that in just a few days. You’ll be out of here and feeling much
better.”
The detective opened
his eyes and turned his head towards the nurse. “A few days? You mean a few
minutes. I’m leaving now.”
An alarmed expression
came over her. “Oh, no, you’re too weak to leave today.”
“Look, I’m getting
up, getting dressed and getting out of here. If there is something you want me
to sign that says I left against medical advice, I’ll sign. If not, then that’s
okay with me. Either way, I’m leaving.” His tone was resolute.
“I’m calling the
doctor!” The woman replied and rushed from the room without waiting for a
response.
As his first order of
business, he pulled the IV from the back of his hand. Blood began to drizzle
from the puncture wound and Dan stopped for a moment to apply pressure to the
area with a corner of his hospital gown. By the time he was satisfied that the
wound had sufficiently clotted, a doctor whom Dan did not recognize, an older
woman who was probably the young nurse’s supervisor, and the young nurse
herself had burst into the room ready to do battle with their patient.
“Just where do you
think you’re going, Mr. Williams? You need to be on IV antibiotics for a few
more days.” The doctor stated authoritatively.
The detective
grimaced as he slowly turned on his side to roll from the bed. The nurse
supervisor and the doctor physically blocked Williams’ progress from the bed.
Impatient and still
not well, Dan snapped, “Look, Doc, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.
I already told the nurse that I’d be happy to sign whatever form lets the
hospital off the hook. Last time I checked,
The doctor, taking in
a slow deliberate breath, nodded at the older nurse, who tugged the arm of her
subordinate, and they both slipped out of the room quickly. “On the contrary,
Mr. Williams, you are a post-surgical patient who signed a consent form to be
treated at this facility. As such, I can detain you here for as long as
ninety-six hours! So, let me tell you what’s going to happen. You are going to
stay put right here in this bed until at least Tuesday evening. At that time, if
you so choose, you may sign out – against medical advice – that’s AMA!”
Dan, incensed at the
thought that he could be legally held against his will opened his mouth to
speak, but the head nurse re-entered the room as if on queue. Her superior
expression told Dan that the syringe she held in her hand was the weapon that
would be used against him.
“Wait just a minute!”
Dan breathed, the dismay at his predicament obvious in his tone. “You can’t
just—”
The doctor
interrupted, “I CAN, and I will!”
Suddenly, the patient
realized another tack was in order. Fighting a narcotic was not a battle he
could win. His tone softened and became more pleading, “Wait, please don’t.” He
gingerly lay himself back down on the bed. “No drugs please. I’ll behave.” The
two medical people in the room exchanged suspicious glances at the dramatic
change in their patient’s demeanor. Seeing his captors were skeptical, Dan
pressed on, “I – I guess I can’t go home with these tubes and stuff dangling,
huh?” With the most disarming kid face he could pull together, he glanced down
uncertainly at the catheter bag that hung cock-eyed on the side of the bed.
Another silent
exchange between the doctor and nurse told Dan they were swayed. The nurse, her
body language losing its fighting posture, spoke gently as she held the
hypodermic up for his inspection, “This would make you rest much easier.”
Still in his innocent
disguise, he responded with a question, “Can I take you up on it a little later
if I get uncomfortable?” He let a flicker of a smile brush across his face, and
with that final touch, the nurse was properly melted.
She smiled and
adjusted his pillow, “Of course you can. All you have to do is press the buzzer
right here.”
“Thank you,” Dan
intoned, genuinely grateful for the compassion this woman was revealing.
The doctor observed
the patient for a couple more minutes as the nurse re-inserted his IV and
adjusted the flow of medicine. He stepped forward and pulled back the dressing
that covered about eight square inches of the patient’s lower right abdomen.
The doctor grimaced and continued his examination. By the time they were
finished, the young man’s eyes had closed and his breathing had slowed.
“Make a note in his
chart,” the physician instructed as they stepped out of the room. “There’s
localized swelling, and his temperature is still elevated. We may have to
insert a drainage tube later today.” He shook his head and continued a little
more quietly, “Whew, I thought we were gonna have to call security!” The woman
nodded as she glanced back at the door, “I’m amazed he had so much fight in him
after a burst appendix.”
Seconds after the
door closed behind the healers, Dan’s eyes popped open. He glanced cautiously
about the room as he removed the newly inserted IV. Still under the sheets, he
delicately slid the catheter tube out, a wave of queasiness washing over him.
He then rolled over and made it to an almost upright standing position, leaning
against the bed for a moment to stabilize himself. His battle with the medical
people made him all the more determined to make a break for freedom. Who do they think they are? Williams
wondered as he gathered the strength to continue his escape.
Making it to the
closet was a slow process, and ten minutes had passed by the time he retrieved
his clothes and got dressed. Finally, the detective sat down in the chair by
his bed as he used the phone to call for a cab.
Dan made it down the
stairs to the hospital lobby only with great difficulty. The stairwell seemed
endless. At one point, he found himself clinging to the railing to keep from
tumbling down what seemed to Dan to be a flight of cliff-like stairs. He wished
the elevator had been a viable option, but he would have had to pass right by
the nurses’ station. A security guard gave him a bored glance, indicating to
the detective that his absence had not been noticed, and he managed to saunter
casually out the door to the waiting cab.
*********
“Bruddah! Here we
are!” The cab driver, who appeared to have some Asian ancestry, leaned into the
back seat and shook his fare, who was slouching against the back passenger
door. “Hey, Bruddah! Wake up! You home!” Dan stirred, and opened his eyes to
stare at the pair of concerned eyes staring back.
“Here,” Dan said
softly as he pulled the wad of cash that was left over from his cab ride to the
hospital out of his pocket and handed it to the driver.
After a cursory
inspection, the driver looked up at his fare, who was staggering out of the
vehicle. “Hey! This is too much!” The heavyset man jumped from his car a rushed
around to Dan, who swayed and grabbed the cabbie’s arm. “Dey made you leave da
hospital too soon I think! Let me help you!”
The Good Samaritan
cab driver virtually dragged Dan to his apartment and helped him with his key
before wishing him a quick recovery. The relief at making it home was enormous
for Williams, as he maneuvered his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. He
pulled a bottle of aspirin from the cabinet, and swallowed three of them.
Without bothering to replace the lid on the bottle, he staggered to his bed,
kicked off his sandals, and gingerly lay himself down. The exhausting trip home
from the hospital gave Dan pause about not telling his boss about his
condition.
I guess this won’t be the best week to complain about being
chained to my desk, he thought, and within minutes, he was
sleeping a black, dreamless sleep.
**********
The ringing sounded
so distant. Why doesn’t somebody answer
that phone, Williams thought. As he gradually ascended from the pit of
unconsciousness where he’d spent the better part of twelve hours, the young man
swallowed and inhaled. The phone… It’s
your phone… your phone…Suddenly, the cacophony in his bedroom grew
unbearable, and he started awake and rolled his head in the direction of the
nightstand. Almost panicky to stop the noise, Dan collected the phone handset,
and spoke thickly, “Williams.”
“Danny, it’s Kouko in Dispatch!” boomed the
energetic voice.
“Uhh, yeah, Kouko,
what’s up?”
“We’ve got a report
of a kidnapping at the Halekulani Hotel!”
The detective
mentally snapped himself to a more alert state at the alarming news. “What?
Who?” Dan interrogated as he tried desperately to shake off the disorientation.
“The owner of the
Halekulani, Thomas Brock, called. He says his wife was kidnapped from their
suite.” Within the space of about 30 seconds, Dan managed to pull himself to an
upright position and look at the clock by his bed. It was just after
“Danny?”
Hearing the question
in the dispatcher’s voice, he responded, hoping he sounded more together than
he felt, “I’ll be right there. Roll a marked unit as well, no lights.” Dan had
the presence of mind to consider that, until the details were known, it was
best for the police to keep a low profile. Still unaccustomed to being the one
in charge, he knew it was going to take all the concentration he could muster
to make it through the night.
**********
Dan, while
recognizing that he was weak, was relieved that he felt an order of magnitude
better than he had when he arrived home from the hospital thirteen hours
earlier. He was able to gingerly get dressed and run a toothbrush through his
mouth before he left. En route, he called McGarrett and his two colleagues,
suspecting that the boss would want to bring all possible resources to bear on
any crime of such a violating nature.
Now, he stood in the
lavish, koa-wood paneled Kamehameha Suite of the Halekulani Hotel with its
night manager, John Akama, and an apparently very distraught Thomas Brock. The
man, in his mid-seventies, had a shock of gray hair that had receded almost to
the top of his head, revealing a shiny pink forehead. The lava orange luau
shirt he wore, the detective noted, was buttoned unevenly so that there was an
extra hole at the top and an extra button at the bottom.
“Mr. Brock, has
anyone else touched the note?” Dan asked as he reviewed the content as well as
the condition of the paper, which he gently pushed all the way open with the
eraser end of his pencil on the large koa wood desk.
It looked to be a
sheet of standard typing paper that had been folded into fourths. The message
was typed, so there would at least be a typewriter that might link the
perpetrator to the crime. It did seem to Dan that the note had been wet in the
not too distant past. Through his handkerchief, he picked up the note and
sniffed. Expecting a hint of brine or perhaps some alcoholic beverage, he
yanked the paper away from his face to save himself further exposure to the
vile, organic smell. It stirred, but did not completely awaken, an uneasy
memory.
“I’m sorry, I did
pick up the note as well,” the response came from night manager Akama, a man,
perhaps in his late forties. His northern European features did not match his
Japanese name, Dan observed. “As soon as Mr. Brock called, I rushed right up.
I’m the one that contacted the police.”
Turning his attention
back to the people in the room, he listened as Brock related that his wife,
Marie, was fatigued and had left the annual employee luau around
By the time McGarrett
strode into the room about fifteen minutes later, a tipsy Brock had wept
himself into near exhaustion, and was sitting quietly on the couch, nursing
seltzer water.
Dan filled his boss
in as quickly as possible, and then added a thought, “It doesn’t look like she
made it to the room.”
The head of Five-0
gazed around the room intently and then took a quick tour of the other two
rooms in the suite, before replying, “I think you’re right, Danno. No sign of a
purse or a turned down bed. What was she wearing?”
“A muu muu that
matches Mr. Brock’s shirt,” replied the junior officer.
McGarrett glanced in
Brock’s direction, and said, “Get Chin and Kono outta bed.”
“I did – they’re on
their way,” Dan said, and McGarrett nodded in approval at his new officer’s
initiative, and then proceeded to reassure Brock that Five-0 would do
everything in its power to affect the rescue of his wife.
The man was willing
to pay – the amount did not seem to phase the multi-millionaire. He was anxious
about the possibility of something going wrong. Akama spoke up and did his best
to let Brock, a visitor to the islands, know that he was in the best possible
hands with the Five-0 team.
Brock, the original
sole owner of the Halekulani and several other hotels around the world, had
been bought out as a majority stockholder and was now merely a beloved icon of
the company. With the exception of their annual tour of the hotel chains, he
and his wife lived for most of the year at their estate home in
By
“How did these guys
know where Mrs. Brock would be?” he inquired of the audience, his three
detectives. Kono and Chin, who were perched on the sofa, and Dan, who was
slouched down in the matching easy chair as the boss paced back and forth a few
feet away.
“Inside job maybe,”
Chin chimed in. Kono nodded and added, “Boss, there is one employee who worked
the luau, but didn’t finish his shift – a Raymond Kurcher.”
McGarrett turned and
directed his question at the Hawai’ian, “Didn’t finish? Did anybody see him
leave? Did he tell anyone where he was going?” The questions came at Kono like
machine gun fire.
“The last time the
shift supervisor noticed him was around
McGarrett, the
consummate detective, had a sense they were on the right track, and with that
knowledge came the reward of a renewed measure of energy. “Okay, so maybe this guy Kurcher knows
something! Danno, I want you to—” the boss didn’t finish his sentence as he
looked over at his newest member, who appeared to be sleeping soundly.
McGarrett took a few steps closer, and then gently, shook Dan’s shoulder.
“Danno?”
When no response was
forthcoming, he looked at his other two detectives, who did not seem overly
concerned. After all, their colleague tended to spend his time off in
high-energy pursuits, such as surfing and hiking. That he would be tired after
a weekend of Williams’ kind of fun, and then working all night did not seem
unreasonable to them.
Something, a small
voice in the back of Steve McGarrett’s head, said there was more to it. What he
could not tell. He shook a little harder and repeated, “Danno? You all right?”
The young man stirred
and moaned before he opened his eyes slowly and noticed the three sets of eyes
staring at him. He moved to straighten up quickly in the chair, and couldn’t
contain a wince before he regained what he hoped was a little more neutral
mask.
“Uh, sorry,” he
intoned sheepishly, and swallowed.
“Wild weekend,
bruddah?’ A grinning Kono asked as if he already knew.
“You have no idea…”
was all Dan could bring himself to say.
“More importantly,
any lessons learned?” came the question from the slightly impatient lead
detective.
Dan swallowed, and
glanced up at his boss, “I’ll never do it again.” Yep, thank God they don’t grow back…
“You’re looking a
little pale. Everything okay?” McGarrett softened a little after the young
man’s discomfited reply and studied Dan, whose movements harkened an image in
Steve’s mind of someone with a bad case of sunburn.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Dan
responded as energetically as he could muster because he could feel his boss
studying him. If the workload wasn’t bad enough without a kidnapping
pre-empting everything, there was just no way Dan could see bowing out on
Steve.
After a few more
seconds of suspicious evaluation, Steve turned away and said, “Hmm, I hate to
have you miss out on your beauty rest, but do you think you can get the audio
recording equipment set up on Brock’s phone?”
As the two veteran
detectives smirked at their boss’s remark, Dan knew that the question was no
request. As he rose from the chair, he replied, “Sure, Steve. Did you want me
to contact the phone company?”
McGarrett evaluated
the detective, who now stood with his hand on the doorknob awaiting a reply.
“Yeah, do that, and arrange with HPD to have somebody monitor Brock’s phone. I
don’t want him taking that phone call alone.”
Dan nodded and
smiled, “Right.” With that he was out the door.
McGarrett’s thoughts
were once again consumed with the crime at hand, and he set about assigning the
next round of tasks to his other detectives.
“Chin, see if you can
get a better handle on Kurcher. Any arrests, outstanding warrants – family – friends – enemies – you know the
drill.”
“Right, boss,” the
Oriental detective nodded and left.
“Kono, I want you to
get what help you need, and give this hotel another good, hard look.”
“On it, boss,” the
Hawaiian responded as he stood, stretched, and left.
**********
McGarrett had another
meeting with Brock to explain that he would need to keep the kidnapper on the
phone for as long as possible when the call came. Nearby, as Dan finished
setting up the recording equipment, he noticed that his boss was so focused on
his objective that he did not seem to be aware of the terse manner in which he
managed the conversation with the distraught spouse of the victim. His
brilliant, goal-oriented boss did frequently leave something to be desired in
the sensitivity department. He knew McGarrett was a man of deep passion, and Dan
could never doubt for a second the man’s commitment to truth and justice, but
his mannerisms frequently belied what must be going on under the surface.
Kind of like a rip tide,
Dan mused. The more he considered Steve McGarrett’s personality, the value he
placed on honesty and trust, the greater the feeling in his gut that he had
made a mistake in not coming clean about his illness. Better late than never, he decided as he noticed McGarrett ending
his conversation with Brock.
“Uh, Steve!” Dan set
down the spare reel of tape he held, and approached the man, who did seem to be
– as usual – in a hurry and a little remote. Already with his hand on the door
knob, and glancing at his watch, McGarrett turned to look in Dan’s direction.
Determined, Dan tried plunge ahead, “I need to talk to you about something.”
“About the case?”
“Uh, no, it’s—”
“Is it more important
than what you’re doing?” The lead
detective remembered as he spoke with Brock that he had not yet called in to
the office to re-arrange the detectives’ day, and his distraction about this
was not to be put off.
Dan blinked for a
moment considering the proper response. Breaking eye contact, he gave one side
of his forehead a self-conscious rub, and then knew what his boss needed to
hear at that moment, “No, I guess it’s not.”
McGarrett nodded, and
as he opened the door, there was the intellectual knowledge that he needed to
give his officer the opportunity to change his mind, so he threw back over his
shoulder. “Cause if it is, I can order
up some coffee and kau kau, and we can go sit out on the lanai
and discuss it.”
The door was closed
before Dan managed a soft response, “Maybe later.”
We’ve got to get that diffidence under control, McGarrett shook his head as he stepped back into the command
post. He phoned May, who’d just arrived in the office to find nobody there.
“Boss, what’s up? I’m
making the first pot of coffee this morning!” The secretary usually arrived to
find the head of the office already entrenched in his office deep in the bowels
of the work that was his life.
“Believe me when I
tell you that we’re all well past our first pot this morning, Honey. You’re
gonna need to cancel all of our meetings today. We’ve got a kidnapping at the
Halekulani,” McGarrett responded. “Anything on fire there?”
“Just the usual stuff
– two messages so far, one from the attorney general about pushing back your
meeting an hour. The other message is from a Doctor Hansen at
McGarrett frowned,
“Hmm, no, save it. I’ll try to get back to him tomorrow.” Probably somebody stealing penicillin, he thought.
After a couple more
instructions, he cut the call short as Kono burst into the suite an order of magnitude
more animated than usual.
“We found him, Steve
– in a backroom of the maintenance office down by the garage! He’s dead!”
Steve moved quickly
and followed Kono down the hallway, and as they passed Brock’s suite, he opened
the door and called, “Danno! We’ve found Kurcher!”
Dan had been briefing
HPD Sergeant Doug Field, who was assigned to monitor and record the call. Upon
hearing McGarrett’s news, he patted Field on the shoulder and trotted after his
boss. While exhausted and uncomfortable, the detective now felt that he could –
no, must -- will his discomfort away. Steve was right – what could be more
important that a woman’s life?
As the trio made
their way to the basement, Dan silently chanted his mantra, Focus…Focus…
A large toolbox was locked
in what reminded the officers of a jail cell. In the neighboring cell, were a
filing cabinet and a small desk bearing only a typewriter and a desk lamp. The
typewriter had a slightly cock-eyed equipment requisition form sitting in it.
The incongruous and disturbing aspect of this scene was the blood that trailed
off of the keys to the body face down on the floor beneath the desk.
McGarrett squatted
beside the body and leaned so that he could see the face, which now seemed to
be frozen in annoyance; the glassy eyes looked to a distant horizon not visible
to the living.
“Are we sure it’s
Kurcher?” McGarrett asked.
Kono nodded, “That’s
what his ID says.”
Dan had glanced in
the direction of the body, but his attention was focused on the desk and the state
of the objects on it. He leaned a little closer to the typewriter, and read the
last thing that had been typed:
gzp killdc md
“It looks like
Kurcher was trying to tell us something,” Dan mused. His boss stood and read
the cryptic message.
“Hmmm, well he had to
be trying to point the finger at the guy who double-crossed him,” McGarrett
added. “And he definitely didn’t have much time to do it.” With that he pulled
the chain dangling from the small banker’s lamp. The light illuminated the old
Dan didn’t respond as
he guided his fingers to hover over the home keys. “Okay, yeah,” the detective spoke softly.
“Yeah, look, Steve. If we start with the assumption that Kurcher wanted us to
know who did him in, then when he typed K – I – L – L – D – C, he might have
been trying to type K – I – L – L- E
–D.” The young man paused, concentrating on his hands, as Steve grunted
agreement. Dan continued thinking out loud, “To type K – I – L – L – without
looking – I only need to have my right
hand properly positioned over the home keys – J – K – L – semi-colon, but to
type K – I – L – L – E – D, I have to have my left hand properly positioned
over its home keys as well – F – D – S – A.”
McGarrett knew they
were on the right track, and he gently tugged the requisition form from the
typewriter and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper from the top of a nearby file
cabinet.
As his boss rolled a
new sheet into the strike zone, Dan continued working through the puzzle, “So,
to type D – C when I want to type E – D my left hand would have to be using V –
C – X – Z as my home keys.”
Chin Ho had stepped
into the cage with Doctor Bergman, the medical examiner, during the course of
the exercise. They exchanged nods with Kono, but McGarrett and Williams were
focused on the task at hand. So intense was their concentration on what
transpired several hours ago in the little cell that they did not seem to
notice the presence of anyone else.
“Yeah, okay, he can’t
get his left hand all the way up, so he brings it up as far as he can – which
is the bottom row of keys – and starts typing a message that will finger his
killer. It’s dark and he can’t reach the light, so he just has to hope that his
hands will leave the right message,” McGarrett intoned.
Dan continued the
exercise, “M I type with my right hand, so the M is really an M, and we know
the D maps to an E, so the last two words are ‘KILLED ME.’”
The two men looked at
each other, each truly sensing that he was in lockstep with the other. In
tandem, they looked back down at the keyboard, and Dan repositioned his hands,
and began the exercise again.
“So, the fingering
from V to G correlates with the correct fingering from F to T, and Z maps to A,
and the P is a P,” Dan typed the letters as he spoke. Then he pulled his hands away from the
typewriter to study the word as the buried memory clawed its way to the top of
his thoughts.
Memories of a man
from two different times in his life coalesced, came into and out of focus. He
had put the horrible recollections into a back pocket of his mind, and hoped he
would never hear the name that would pull them out into the light of day again.
It disturbed him that he still felt a combination of rage and irrational fear
towards the unpalatable specimen of a man. Dan did his best to shove his
emotions into the background, as he wiped the dampness from his upper lip, and
focused his thoughts on the evidence before him. If there was any doubt in his
mind about his physical capacity to stick it out on the case, it vanished with
his cognizance of the meaning in the typed message from the dead man.
“T – A – P,”
McGarrett spelled. “Tap killed me.” Suddenly, back in the present, the head of
Five-0 turned to the three men who’d been observing the exercise, and asked,
“Ring any bells?”
Dan stepped from
behind him to make eye contact with Chin and responded, “Yeah…Tap… Tap Bates.”
The Oriental
detective cocked his head, and replied doubtfully, “Danny – Tap Bates is dead.
You should know that better than anybody.”
The young detective’s
expression hardened as he responded, “I know that’s what Ray Kaimano’s report
said, Chin.”
Ray’s name brought a
flash of annoyance to Steve. Growing impatient to know the details behind what
his two detectives were discussing, McGarrett passed glances from man to man as
he demanded, “What’s this? Who’s Tap Bates?”
“Tap Bates was the
prime suspect in the Cox kidnapping last year, Steve,” the Oriental detective
reminded his boss.
In an action so
typical to the man, McGarrett began to snap his fingers quickly in
concentration. “The Cox Case! I remember reading the file, but the name doesn’t
sound familiar.”
“The name in the file
was probably Arthur Ronald Bates,” Dan explained.
As Dan spoke, more
recollections of the events surrounding the crime revealed themselves to
McGarrett. “Yeah, if I recall, one of
the suspects was found dead shortly before the money was dropped, and the other
one – Arthur Bates – fell overboard from his getaway boat, and drowned.”
McGarrett looked in Chin’s direction. “No body was recovered though.”
“Right, Steve. Ray
and I were on the Coast Guard UTB that overtook the boat, and Danny was in the
HPD chopper tracking the scene from the air,” Chin responded and nodded in
Dan’s direction.
Before Chin could
continue, Bergman intervened, “Do you think you boys could chat about this
somewhere else besides on top of my DB?”
The head of Five-0
glanced down as he remembered the dead suspect on the floor. “Sorry, Doc.
We’ll be upstairs in the Aloha Suite. Let me know what you find,”
McGarrett said, as he stepped over the lifeless form and gently pushed Dan in
front of him and out of the cage. Kono and Chin brought up the rear as the Five-0
detectives returned to the command post.
Once in the suite,
McGarrett demanded to have his memory refreshed about the details of the Cox
case and what his detectives knew about Tap Bates. Dan was a little more
reserved than usual, Steve noted, and sat quietly in the large chair in which
he’d fallen asleep a few hours earlier, sipping orange juice from a tall,
frosted glass. The hotel management had sent up some soft drinks, coffee, and
pastries, of which Chin and Kono eagerly partook. As his younger colleague did
not seem inclined to speak, Chin began to relate the facts as best he could
recall them.
Arthur Bates was a
clever, but basically seedy low life, who along with a partner, was suspected
of kidnapping the son of the president of Hawaiian National Bank (Lawrence
Cox). Steve was on active duty on a special assignment for the Navy at the
time, so Ray Kaimano and Chin Ho Kelly worked the case. Ray instructed Chin to
get some HPD support, and so Chin tapped then-HPD Detective Dan Williams to assist
him.
The three men worked
tirelessly to run down leads until they uncovered a witness that had spotted
Bates’ car the night of the kidnapping near the Cox residence. Once Bates was a
suspect, they zeroed in on the marina where Bates kept a boat moored. Their big
break came when they were able to link a boat docked nearby to a ransom-related
phone call through the marine operator. Ray and Chin arrived at the marina not
more than fifteen minutes after the cabin cruiser, Wailing Mary, left her birth. So they had to enlist the aid
of the Coast Guard. Ray directed Dan to take to the sea via helicopter to
reconnoiter the area. Within minutes of taking to the air, Williams radioed in
that he had spotted the boat.
As the Coast Guard
UTB closed in on the cabin cruiser, one suspect, who was visible via
binoculars, picked up the boy, and wrapped the anchor chain around his neck and
upper torso. Chin grew animated as he described how Dan, from his airborne
perch, could see that the boy’s life was in immediate danger, and with the
man’s close proximity to the child, there was no good opportunity to try to use
his service revolver. So, in a daring and acrobatic move, he jumped about ten
feet from the low-hovering helicopter onto the roof of the Wailing Mary.
The fiend, let go of
the child, whom he had heaped upon the starboard walkway in clear preparation
for dropping him overboard. From the roof, Dan leaped onto the suspect, and the
pair struggled, Dan having the advantage of agility and youth, and the suspect
the advantage in size. The detective finally was able to get a good punch to
the gut, and then a kick to the suspect’s chest, and just as Dan pulled his
gun, he heard the boy scream and slip the length of the walkway into the ocean.
There was no time to waste, with the child burdened by at least fifty pounds of
steel. Dan dove overboard after the rapidly sinking victim, and managed to grab
the chain.
“I tell you, I
couldn’t tell for the longest time whether either of them had come back up,”
Chin related.
Dan nodded,
remembering the rough sea on that rainy day.
“If you think it felt like a long time from above water, you should have
been on the other side of the waves. That creep had wrapped a chain around the
kid’s neck and I had to get under him before I could lift it off. I don’t know
how far we sank, but it ruptured the poor little guy’s ear drums.” The
detective paused remembering that he himself couldn’t hear out of his right ear
for a week after the horrifying incident.
McGarrett almost
shuddered at the terrifying image of Dan and the boy struggling to unburden
themselves of the anchor as they plunged deeper toward the cooler, darker
high-pressure recesses of the ocean. Shaking off the chill, he spoke up.
“But he lived to tell
the tale, Danno. You know, I read Ray’s report, but I don’t remember that any
of these details were included.”
Chin shrugged,
“Anyway, as soon as the guy saw that Danny and the Cox boy had made it back to
the surface, he turned his boat around and made a beeline to run over them. The
only thing the Coast Guard commander could see to do was to cut him off. We
ended up ramming the boat.”
“It was hard to see
too much – it was real choppy and I was trying to keep the kid’s head out of
the water – but I saw somebody fly out of the boat and slam into the side of
the UTB,” Dan added.
Chin picked up the
thread again. “The cabin cruiser sank
like a rock, and we did a thorough search of the area, but we never turned up a
body. Since Arthur Bates was the registered owner of the Wailing Mary, the Coast Guard listed him as missing,
presumed dead,” the Oriental detective wound down his tale.
Dan said nothing, as
he pulled two of the hotel’s courtesy aspirin packets out of his pocket, tore
them open and popped the pills into his mouth.
McGarrett made a
mental note to pull the Cox file, and review it again. Either a lot had been
left out or he had not paid very close attention. “So,” he started as he began
to pace, “Kurcher either fingered a dead guy OR maybe we figured the keyboard
fingering wrong.” A little put out at the setback, he sighed and continued, “I
think we might need to have another look at that typewriter and what it typed.
Danno, do you want to have another look at that?”
“Do you want my
opinion, or do you want me to agree with you?”
The bravado of the
young detective caused Kono and Chin to stop breathing momentarily to gauge the
reaction of their boss, who was most definitely not accustomed to subordinates
speaking out too loudly. Dan, who had been looking at the floor, got up the
nerve to look at the man who had frozen in mid-pace to digest the question. For
a few seconds, the motor on the bar’s refrigerator seemed unusually loud. Then
Steve suddenly cocked his head and turned to meet his new detective’s gaze. The
two men stared at each other.
Steve found himself
impressed that the young man would not be stared down. He wanted an answer.
Tell me how it’s gonna be, Boss Man, Dan thought, his jaw tightening and his head throbbing as
he awaited the reply. Did Steve hire him because he thought he would bend to
his will even when he felt otherwise? The
time to find out is now, Dan decided. If he couldn’t contribute honestly,
then he was better off as a detective with HPD.
McGarrett’s lips
turned upward in a thin smile as he responded, “Yes to both –” He took in a
deep breath before he continued, not breaking eye contact with Dan, “But if I
can’t have both, I’d rather have the opinion.”
Dan slowly let out
the breath that he’d been holding as his estimation of Steve McGarrett jumped
yet again, but both the other two detectives let out loud breaths of
relief. Steve noted the reactions of his
two veteran detectives and flashed a glance in their direction.
He walked over to the
edge of the desk and sat down. “What is your opinion, Danno?”
All eyes turned to
the newest member of the team as McGarrett folded his arms across his chest.
Dan took one more sip of the orange juice he’d been holding and then stood. Focus…
“You picked your
second theory – I pick your first. Kurcher fingered a dead guy – because he’s
NOT dead. I told Detective Kaimano that I did not believe the guy that I got up
close and personal with on that boat was Arthur Bates. He – in turn – informed
me that, IF the fact that Bates owned the getaway boat wasn’t good enough for
me, a confirmed partial of Bates’ thumbprint had been recovered from the duct
tape off of the Cox boy’s ankles.”
The young man stopped
and walked behind the big chair, primarily so that he could turn away from his
audience and close his eyes for a moment to concentrate on dominating his
physical discomfort. The pause allowed an entry for his boss, who – Dan
gratefully noticed – had been focused on his detective’s words, not his
demeanor.
“And how, Detective
Williams, do you refute this evidence?” McGarrett did not move from his
position as he cocked his head in the opposite direction from whence it had
been angled. While this young detective had been with Five-0 but a short while,
McGarrett did not want to make the mistake— as numerous other senior detectives
in HPD had done— of assuming that an inexperienced face meant no skill.
“That evidence tells
me that Bates was involved – it does NOT tell me definitively that the suspect
that went into the drink was Bates. These two kidnappings smell like the same
brain hatched them. And speaking of smell, did you happen to get a whiff of
ransom note?” The detective circled back around the chair and sat on its
cushioned arm.
“Did I smell the
note? No,” replied McGarrett, his nose wrinkling, “Did you?”
“Yes, I did,” Dan’s
answer was very matter-of-fact as he continued, “And the smell was identical to
the note in the Cox case. It was a – sweaty – sickly sweet – organic smell.”
McGarrett furled his
brow and continued concentrating on Dan as he responded, “So, not your typical
scented stationery, eh?”
Chin, who’d been
sitting quietly, swallowed the last bite of pastry that he’d been holding, and
frowned, “Danny, I don’t remember anything about the smell of the Cox note.”
Dan shrugged, “I mentioned
it to you and Ray during our first evidence re-cap meeting.”
Chin ran his hand
over his mouth in concentration for just a couple of seconds before he looked
up suddenly, “That’s right, Danny! I remember now, because you were holding the
note like it was a day-old dead conch.”
The young detective
flashed a flicker of a smile at Chin’s perception of the incident, but quickly
turned dark as Dan also recollected that Ray had rolled his eyes and seemed
annoyed at what he took to be an irrelevant observation. He hesitated for a
moment before plunging ahead.
“It was also in the
addendum to Ray’s report which I submitted to Pete Beauprez. Pete got real
ticked with me, and didn’t want to file it on the grounds that the conclusion
contradicted the report of the second-in-command of Hawai’i Five-0,” Dan said
quietly, and then added, “I don’t know whether he ever filed the report or
not.” The detective didn’t say that he never asked the Chief of Detectives
about the report because he secretly hoped that Beauprez had thrown it away.
Pete Beauprez was, up
until a couple months ago, HPD’s Chief of Detectives. In the space of one
shocking hour, the Five-0 detectives learned that Beauprez was on the payroll
of one of the islands’ growing crime syndicate leaders, who desperately wanted
to have a man on the inside of Five-0. Had it not been for Steve’s
serendipitous phone call to check in on his new Five-0 detective, Beauprez and
his two thugs would have seen to Dan’s permanent removal from the coveted
Five-0 detective slot, which Beauprez hoped (erroneously McGarrett knew) would
then become his own.
Steve could only
shake his head in disgust at Beauprez’ actions. There was a man so consumed
with himself and his own financial betterment that he didn’t care what wrongs
went unpunished, what innocents were trampled or brought down. There was a man
who had schemed and connived to get the Five-0 position that Ray Kaimano had
vacated – a man who was the diametric opposite of the honest, unassuming,
wholesome persona of Dan Williams. McGarrett’s thoughts came back to his
detective in the here-and-now as Dan spoke again with a tired conviction in his
tone.
“The guy on the boat
– that was not Tap Bates. I remember his eyes – his smell – how he moved… This
was in my report…” Dan couldn’t keep the tension from seeping into his voice.
All of the effort Dan
had made in the past few weeks to prove that he was an independent operator –
that he was self-sufficient and deserving of Steve’s trust and confidence. He
could see it all flying out the window.
This anxiety was not
lost on the other three detectives, who didn’t take their eyes off of the young
man’s troubled features
“Danno,” McGarrett
started softly, “What is it?” As he moved over and directed his officer to sit
down in the easy chair, he sensed that the officer moved reluctantly.
Dan looked up and met
Steve’s concerned gaze. What do I tell
him? Do I hold back on something that backs up what I’m saying just so my ego
doesn’t get bruised? Am I THAT delicate?
The detective
suddenly decided. Whatever his associates’ reactions were, he would be faithful
to the truth. He owed that to Steve McGarrett. He glanced up into Steve’s
penetrating blue eyes and breathed more easily, now at least having a measure
of peace with his decision.
“My first encounter with Tap Bates happened
when I was sixteen,” Dan quietly intoned as he stared down at his lap.
The gripping
revelation made McGarrett feel like a small jolt of electricity had suddenly
coursed through his body. The thought that Danno could have had any exposure to
a creep like Bates, especially something that the young man would term ‘an
encounter’ – and at such a tender age – gave him pause. Steve pulled the desk
chair to within an arm’s reach of the easy chair.
The detective ran a
hand over his sandy locks and took in a slow breath and then let it out before
speaking. While the pain was not sharp and focused as it had been before the
surgery, there was a dull, persistent ache that seemed to radiate out to his
extremities, making movement a little uncomfortable. The pain didn’t matter
though right now. He was about to resurrect a memory that had become little
more than a dark shadow in his past.
The other detectives
were anxious to know the story, but pushing now seemed to be an intrusion, so
the trio sat there and waited, hoping there would be no need to ask. Their
patience was rewarded as Dan finally continued in the most neutral,
traffic-citation tone he could pull together.
“It was the first
semester of my senior year of high school, and I’d gotten a job at Dewey’s
Service Station in Kahala, pumping’ gas, changing oil, stuff like that. I
worked there a few days a week after school.”
The detective
recounted how there had been a man that worked there full-time. He was in his
early twenties, but seemed to Dan to be younger since he was mildly retarded.
He was a large, ungainly young man, with homely features. Fine, wispy hair
seemed to grow haphazardly and sporadically on his head. One of his ears was
mildly deformed and the other one had never developed at all, so there was just
a hole leading into the ear canal. The few people who called him anything
called him Lolo. Dan didn’t mind pulling shifts with him, because he was a
tireless worker. People picked on him though, and whether it bothered him or
not, Dan never could tell that he was angry or bitter.
“I brought him with
me to the beach a few times, because I felt sorry for him,” the detective lost
some of his clinical reporting tone as he continued.
Dan stopped speaking
and just sat there for ten seconds until McGarrett gently pushed, “Go on.”
Dan nodded, but did
not look up as he pressed on. “Anyway,
there was this guy that would come around sometimes and have Lolo do odd jobs
for him. One day, the guy –” Dan looked up at Steve and indicated, “Tap – comes
into the station, and says he has some things for Lolo to do. Like always, Lolo
says sure, and then Tap says bring your friend along ‘cause you’re gonna need
help on this job.”
It was apparent to
the three observant detectives that their new colleague’s revelation of the
memory was taking him far from his current circumstance. It seemed as he spoke
that his eyes were watching the scene unfold before him.
“So, Tap picks us up
after work the next day, and drives us out to this junk yard off
This time Dan stopped
and held onto his stomach. McGarrett waited for his protégé to continue for a
full thirty seconds, before he leaned forward, and touched Dan’s arm. Dan
glanced up at the faces sitting on the sofa. Their expressions were masks to
the uninitiated, but to him, they spoke of concern and shock for the youngest
member of their team.
The dread was
building up in McGarrett’s gut for fear of what dark event was causing his
detective such physical discomfort just in the retelling so many years later.
Dan continued his tale, determined to accurately and as neutrally as possible
relay the sequence of events.
“Was Tap there?”
Steve softly probed.
Dan nodded, “Yeah, he
was there, and he paid us – five bucks a piece. Then he said he’d give us a
ride back to Kahala, but first he wanted Lolo to go to the garage and put all
of his tools back where they belonged. I guess Lolo had been out there quite a
few times. Anyway, as soon as Lolo stepped out the door, Tap slapped me to the
floor.” Dan shook his head as if trying to clear his head, and continued, “I
was so surprised for a few seconds that I just looked at him as he smiled this
horrible toothy grin. And then he just fell onto me. I struggled to get him off
of me, but he was like a big heavy— fetid — reeking blanket. He hit me a couple
more times.”
Dan leaned his head
back and closed his eyes. Steve sat there squeezing his friend’s arm, his pulse
quickening and rage growing at the slimy character that would harm a child. He
listened, with a rare feeling of helplessness...
“I tried to crawl
away, but he grabbed me and dragged me back towards him. He told me that I’d
hold still for him one way the other. He picked up something – I don’t remember
what – and slammed it down onto my head. Then, he raised his fist to hit me
again, but Lolo burst into the room, and started shouting and punching and
kicking Tap. He kicked him until Tap curled up in a ball and didn’t move. I
barely remember getting out of there. I think Lolo might have carried me. We
took the pick up and – I don’t know how I did it through two black eyes – but
somehow I drove us back to Dewey’s. We called the police, but Tap had already
called them and reported that I’d stolen his truck. We tried to tell them that
I hadn’t – that he’d hit me – but the police said that the evidence was in his
favor. After all, I had his truck, and he looked worse than I did after the
pounding Lolo gave him. They told me I’d be lucky if Bates dropped the
charges.”
The injustice that
had been carried out that day was almost mind-boggling to the three detectives.
Kono and Chin exchanged appalled glances, but McGarrett could not take his eyes
off Williams.
“The Kulanis believed
me when I told them what happened, but Tutu flipped and wouldn’t let me go back
and file a complaint. She said it would be worse for me in the long run.
Instead, she took me to the clinic and had my head sewn up. And then she
grounded me for a month for going anywhere with a stranger,” Dan let out a
single, short sarcastic laugh at the irony.
The indignation – the
fury – McGarrett’s anger was barely confinable, “Did the bastard drop the
charges?” Throughout Dan’s recounting of the horrific tale, he’d managed to come
across in, more or less, a conversational tone.
All three of his
colleagues noticed the detective draw up as he responded.
“I never heard all of
the details, but I know that Tutu went to HPD Headquarters, and got my uncle’s
former boss to make some calls, and somehow the charges went away—” Dan ran his
hand through his sandy curls.
His eyes burned
suddenly with unshed tears, and his voice, trembled, McGarrett thought, with
anger more than sadness, “That Pop had to be dragged into this….” His voice trailed
off for a moment, but he recovered quickly and the pain in his face was
replaced by Dan’s best approximation of his new “press mask.
“I tried to find Lolo
after that, but I never did. Dewey at the service station told me that Lolo’s
brother called and said that he was leaving the islands to live with him. But I
knew that wasn’t true. Lolo told me once that he had no brothers or sisters. I
could only imagine that something sinister had happened to him because he’d
helped me. But there was nobody that wanted to hear it. And Lolo – this kind,
decent human being was gone, and nobody cared.” The retelling seemed to leave
Dan drained.
“Somebody cared, my
friend. Somebody cared,” Steve reassured as he gave one last squeeze of his
friend’s arm.
Okay, Dan decided,
the man’s reputation for insensitivity was certainly not completely deserved. He feared the
touchy-feely-less-than-John-Wayne-would’ve-done facts of the incident would
make his colleagues think less of him, but McGarrett’s supportive words seemed
to be more than just lip service to a victim.
“Did you ever try to
find Lolo again after that?” Now Steve was intrigued with the missing man.
Dan reached his hand
up and nodded as he wiped his face, “Oh yeah. When I first joined HPD, I tried
to look up the records on the incident, but I couldn’t find anything. The clerk
told me that it was possible that what I was seeking were documents that were
casualties in the 1959 HPD reorganization and precinct shutdown. There were
several boxes of case histories that were misplaced in the move. Plus, I didn’t
even know Lolo’s real name – not a last name – a first name. Just Lolo.”
Chin shook his head
in outrage, “What kind of animal does that to a baby?” The Chinese detective
had eight children of his own, and the thought that anyone could commit the
kind of heinous act that Bates clearly intended to perpetrate on a child
appalled him.
Equally incensed,
Kono slammed his fist into his palm, “The kind that don’t need to keep their
teeth.”
Dan had wished desperately
that he hadn’t had to share such an embarrassing and degrading memory. But it
was strange – now that he’d spoken the unspeakable in the clear light of day,
he had to admit that, while it was definitely unpleasant, he felt relieved.
“Danno,” Steve paused
until the detective looked up at him. “You only need to tell me this one time,
but I need for you to say it. Your run-in with that scumbag, Bates, was what –
twelve years ago. You were very young and scared. And yet you’re certain that
the guy you grappled with on that boat was NOT the same man?”
McGarrett wanted –
needed – to trust his new man. If he could hear the certainty in his voice, he
thought now that he could be certain too.
Dan saw this was
true. Truly not wanting to be wrong – McGarrett was getting ready to stake his
own reputation on Dan’s word – the detective replayed the scene from that
fateful day on the Wailing Mary.
His combatant was
big, like Bates, but didn’t seem quite as tall. He considered whether he was
just looking at Bates through a scared kid’s eyes, but then he focused on the
desperate face that struggled with him. His mouth was small, his teeth crowded,
and his eyes – the eyes… He decided. They were not the eyes of his attacker
those many years ago.
He replied with finality,
“It was not Arthur Bates on the boat that day.”
McGarrett, seeing
that the statement was made with careful consideration, nodded at the
detective. So be it. His conviction was now as strong as Dan’s that a mistake
had been made.
“So, where does a
dead guy hang out for a year and a half?”
The lead detective drew the discussion back to the current case.
Chin rose from his
spot on the sofa, and casually moved to sit on the big arm of Dan’s easy chair.
As he plopped his hand down on the younger man’s shoulder – the Oriental
gentleman’s way of reassuring his young colleague— he responded, “How’s about
at the real dead guy’s place?”
McGarrett spun and
snapped his fingers in the Oriental detective’s direction, “That’s right, Chin,
we’ve got a real dead guy and a pretender!”
Still angry, Kono
growled, “Well, the pretender’s gonna wish he was the dead guy when I get my
hands on him.”
The boss acknowledged
the sentiment, “You’re gonna have to get in line, bruddah.” Steve massaged his
shoulder briefly, the tension of the past hour having settled there. He
wondered out loud, “Who was the real dead guy, and why didn’t he turn up as
missing?”
Dan spoke up, “Maybe
he did. Missing persons reports get filed all the time, but eighteen months
ago, there was no reason to connect the Cox case with somebody that never
showed up for work.”
McGarrett nodded and
snapped his fingers, “Yeah, Danno, yeah.” With that, he instantly formulated
the plan of action, “Kono, I want you on the missing persons angle. Chin – I
want you on the history angle. Dig up everything you can on this lowlife.
Arrests, addresses, associations – “He paused.
“His DEATH. I’m going back to the office. I’ll dig up Ray’s file on the
Cox case. Let’s see if we can’t find who’s sleeping with the fishes.”
“Right, Steve,” the
two detectives said in unison.
McGarrett then turned
to face Dan in the easy chair, “And Danno…”
McGarrett seemed even
taller suddenly to Dan as he stepped over to the easy chair and studied the
tight, sandy curls on Dan’s head. Dan knew that his boss was now concerned not
only about his self-sufficiency, but about his state of mind, and worry was the
last thing he wished for McGarrett. He looked up and did his best to exude
confidence as he answered the as-yet-to-be-spoken question.
“I’m not a kid
anymore, Steve. I didn’t even understand what had happened for a couple years –
I was pretty naďve,” he added.
McGarrett jumped in,
and emphatically asked, “Do you understand that you had a RIGHT to be naďve?
You had a RIGHT to not understand the violence? You and Lolo were victims of
this monster!”
The head of Five-0
had been privy to many stories and reports of assault and abuse in his career.
But this one, despite the fact that it happened years before, made Steve feel
somehow violated right there and then, as if someone had stepped into his house
and done harm to someone under his roof. The words he spoke were as much as for
himself as for his young colleague. They both needed to put the incident into
perspective.
“I understand now,
and I know I’m lucky to have lived to tell the tale, but I’m not traumatized –
I’m angry! Angry on behalf of the kid I was – angry that the memory of my dead
uncle had to be invoked to get me out of that jam – angry for Lolo.” He paused,
realizing that the volume of his voice was increasing, but he needed to be sure
that Steve understood. “I’m okay, and
I’ll be even more okay when we put that creep away.”
The young man’s voice
was sure and resolute, and it bolstered McGarrett’s confidence about Williams’
fitness to continue working on the case.
“I won’t lie to you,
Danno, I need you on this,” McGarrett admitted.
Before his boss could
continue, Dan encouraged, “Then tell me what you want me to do, Steve.”
McGarrett smiled and
said, “I want you to stay with Brock, and wait for the phone call.”
**********
Dan assisted Akama
and Brock with the preparation of the ransom money according to the
instructions in the note. The night manager then left, letting Brock know that
he needed to get a little rest in preparation for his next shift that night.
His departure left Dan and Brock alone on the spacious lanai of the Kamehameha
Suite for nearly two hours. The multi-millionaire spoke almost non-stop about
his beloved wife of forty years and their life together. Normally, Dan might’ve
balked at “baby-sitting,” but today, he had to admit, to himself anyway, that
it was a relief to be sitting still in such a luxurious atmosphere, sipping a
soft drink. At one point, it occurred to him to ask whether Marie had any
health problems or took any medication on a regular basis.
“Marie is healthy as
an ox, but she’s an incredible hypochondriac. I’m always teasing her that we
need a separate porter for her vitamins and seaweed extract and all manner of
bizarre potions.”
Both men jumped and
rushed inside to the desk when the phone rang. Dan instructed the sergeant to
signal the phone company as he prepared to pick up the phone in concert with a
shaking Brock.
With the tape now
rolling, the detective nodded at the older man, who collected the handset and
spoke, “Hello?”
“Thomas Brock, that
you?” The voice was gravely and sounded thick with phlegm.
“Yes, this is Thomas
Brock. My wife – please don’t harm her. I’ll pay.”
“Have you got the
money?”
“It will be here,
just as you demanded in your note, by noon. Please may I speak to my wife?”
“Talk to me, cop!”
The voice growled.
Brock hesitated,
“What?”
“I know you’re
listening! Speak to me NOW!”
Dan responded in a
clear, evenly paced tone, “This is Detective Williams. With whom am I
speaking?”
A short laugh was
audible before the reply came, “Just call me Pat! I don’t want no funny
business from you, cop, or Lady Brock dies. I’ll call back later and let you
know what you’re gonna do.”
Just then, McGarrett
and Chin, laden with a thick folder, slipped into the room, and took in the
scene.
“Wait!” Dan struggled
to keep the kidnapper on the line. “We need to take care of this soon. Mrs.
Brock isn’t well. There’s a lot of medication she needs to be taking before the
day’s out. If she dies, you will never see a dime of that money.”
There was a silence
at the other end of the line such that Dan thought that “Pat” had hung up.
“I’ll call back,” came the response from the
caller before he hung up. Clearly, he was getting nervous about a trace.
Dan spun to check
with the officer, who shook his head, “Not on long enough, Danny.” Not
surprised at the news, the detective looked to his boss, “It’s him. I know it’s
him. He didn’t even try to disguise his voice.”
McGarrett patted Dan
on the shoulder, “And why should he? As far as the world’s concerned, he’s
dead.”
“What’s this? You
know who did this?” Brock stepped closer to the detectives.
Dan turned and put
his arm around the man’s shoulder, “We have a suspect, Mr. Brock, and we’re
working very hard to track him down right now.”
The old man had
cleaned up and changed his clothes early that morning, but still looked
exhausted, the lines etched in his face seemed as chasms to Dan, who gently
guided the man toward the bedroom.
“Why don’t you try to
get a little rest? We can take it from here, sir.”
Brock allowed himself
to be escorted to the bedroom door, and then looked at Dan, “I’m never going to
see Marie again, am I?”
The man desperately
needed to hold onto something, Dan knew, as he responded with a quiet
determination, “Mark my words, Mr. Brock, you’ll see her.”
“You’ve dealt with
this kind of thing before?”
“Yes, sir,” he
replied softly, a melancholy smile underscored the ring of confidence in his
tone.
Brock nodded,
returned the smile, and patted Dan on the shoulder as he opened the door and
entered, “Good boy.”
The detective, with
the boyish face, flinched slightly at the kudo, but decided almost instantly
that a seventy-five-year-old man had the right to call anyone under sixty a
boy.
Steve observed the
scene from his position by the recorder, and as Dan approached the desk,
McGarrett considered what a fine quality it was to be able to relate to people
on an empathetic basis. To connect with
another human being in such a way that they knew, not from cold, hard facts
that you were on their side, but from a touch at an emotional level.
‘Perhaps,’ McGarrett
mused, ‘therein lies the foundation of
faith. What a gift to be a faith
giver.’
“I –“Dan started, but
stopped at the ring of the phone. Steve and Dan exchanged looks, and each
reached over and collected a handset. Glancing at the recorder to make sure it
was on, Steve nodded at Dan, who then spoke, “This is Detective Williams.”
“Okay, cop, you’re
on. Today at
“He’s old, ‘Pat’.
Don’t do anything too dramatic out there, or it’ll be another case of you not
ending up with your money,” Dan warned.
Steve nodded at his
detective, who was clearly giving this offender pause as the hesitation on the
other end of the line was obvious.
“Okay, wise guy, it
won’t matter,” the voice said through a clenched jaw. It almost seemed like he
was talking to himself. He continued, “YOU come instead. Wear a Halekulani
housekeeping shirt.”
“You want ME to do
the drop?” Dan confirmed, as his boss cocked his head at this unexpected
development.
“You afraid?” The
voice challenged in such a way that Dan could almost see the sneer. His earlier revelation to his
co-workers about Bates made him feel somehow purged. Now, all Dan felt was
concern for the poor victims in the present.
“Three o’clock, no tricks. How do we get Mrs. Brock back?”
“You’ll see.” The
sound of the broken connection was loud, almost shocking, like breaking glass.
McGarrett slammed the
headset down, and both men looked back at Sergeant Field, who shook his head,
indicating that the trace was once again not successful.
“Good job, Danno!”
McGarrett exclaimed as he slapped his detective on the back hard enough to
cause him to grab the desk for support.
Before the detective
could reply, Kono burst into the room carrying a file.
“I only got a couple
missing people that have fishy stories,” he announced.
“Let’s have it,”
commanded the head of Five-0. The big Hawaiian grabbed a slice of papaya from
the fruit tray as he passed and slapped the file into McGarrett’s hand as he
spoke, “Frank DeSalvo was reported missing by his girlfriend on February 8th
of last year. About a week later, the girlfriend comes into the station and
says never mind. She says she found out that he moved out and was livin’ with
some other wahine. They closed the file and DeSalvo was officially unmissing.”
McGarrett frowned,
“Okaaay, so he’s missing for a week, and then he turns up. How does that make
DeSalvo a suspect? And this report you just handed me—”
Kono smiled and
completed the sentence, “Is the missing persons report filed by Mrs. Winnifred
Russell on her daughter – Jennifer Russell –” Kono arched his eye brows, “The
same Jennifer Russell who filed the MPR on Frank DeSalvo two weeks earlier!”
Dan recapped, “So,
Jennifer Russell files an MPR on her boyfriend, and then comes back a week
later and recants…”
Steve picked up the
thread, “And AFTER she says it was a mistake, Jennifer Russell vanishes. That’s
suspicious, but can we connect DeSalvo or Russell back to Bates?”
“Yes, I think so,
“Dan replied, a tinge of excitement dusting his voice, as he struggled to
clarify the memory. “I did a title
search on the Wailing Mary
when I was trying to sort it all out for my supplemental report, and Bates
purchased the boat from a—” The detective paused as he almost appeared to be
reading an invisible document, and then looked up suddenly, “Francis DeSalvo!”
McGarrett snapped his
fingers, “That’s it! Tap Bates is now Frank DeSalvo, and the one person who
might’ve cared about the switch is mysteriously no longer around! Is it my
imagination or are there an awful lot of missing people swirling around this
case?”
Chin grunted
agreement, and added, “To be honest, boss, I’m more worried about the future
dead Mrs. Brock. They got the money, but they still tried to kill the Cox boy.”
“Yeah, Chin, as soon
as we lose control of the money, Mrs. Brock’s life won’t be worth the price of
a bullet,” his boss agreed. “I think the only way to get Marie Brock back
safely is to carefully stomp each cockroach as it steps out from the shadows.
That means that we grab the first one to touch the money, and then put the
squeeze on that link to show us the next link.” McGarrett, satisfied, leaned
back on the desk and folded his arms. Suddenly, he looked at Dan, who’d taken a
seat near the desk, and asked, “Do you agree, Detective Williams?”
That query elicited a
shy, but knowing grin from the detective, as he nodded, “I concur with your
conclusion, Detective McGarrett.”
Steve had sent Kono
and Chin home for a couple hours of rest before the team had to meet again. He
had Dan remain in Brock’s suite because he had the sense that the old man would
feel better if he knew the young faith giver was nearby. As for himself,
McGarrett grabbed all the case papers, and retired to his “command post” next
door. He needed to review the facts of the Cox case as the officers involved
had recorded them.
McGarrett put his
feet up on the sofa and carefully correlated the dry report of the kidnapping
and subsequent rescue of little Matthew Cox with the dramatic verbal
reenactment from his two officers. The words on the paper did not do the
situation justice. The description of Dan’s dramatic jump from the helicopter –
the struggle with the suspect – and subsequent dive into the water to save the
sinking child was summed up in just two sentences:
Det. W effected rescue of vic by boarding suspect boat &
subduing one male, Arthur Cox. Det W pulled Vic from water after fall from
boat.
McGarrett shook his
head. How about; ‘Det W affected rescue
of vic by leaping ten feet from a helicopter? How about; vic and Det W plunged probably a hundred
feet toward the abyss – and nearly to their deaths – before Det W was able to
free the vic from the anchor that the UNIDENTIFIED suspect wrapped around the
vic’s torso?
The report was
technically complete, but McGarrett now understood why he had not paid a whole
lot of attention to it. By the time he’d returned from his two-week active duty
stint, the press fanfare over the kidnapping had died down, and all he had left
to go by was the report – one of many – that had been dropped into what May
called his “While-You-Were-Gone” box. This was where anything that did not
require action on his part was dropped in his absence.
The detective was
pleased to see a supplemental report submitted by Chin, which was CC’d to HPD’s
Chief Dann and Chief of Detectives Pete Beauprez. The carefully typed, dated,
and signed note praised Detective Danny Williams for what Detective Kelly
described as: “acts of extreme bravery,
which saved the life of little Matthew Cox.”
Another addendum of
particular interest to Steve was the one filed by “Detective Dan Williams.” The
brief, typed document merely presented that Dan had turned over all evidence
pertaining to the case to Five-0 personnel, and that he concurred with
Detective Kaimano’s conclusions. The paper, interestingly, was signed in
Williams’ stead by his boss, Beauprez, with a short note that his subordinate
had neglected to sign the report prior to a temporary re-assignment to Lihue on
a case.
McGarrett bristled
all over again at the situation with Beauprez. If Beauprez weren’t already in
jail awaiting trial for, amongst other things, the attempted murder of
Williams, he would certainly be in for some time on suspension for falsifying a
report. What a threat a bright, young detective like Dan must have presented to
a manipulative, conniving bad apple like Pete Beauprez. McGarrett wondered how
many times that Dan had been exiled to another island to keep him from
upsetting his boss’s pineapple cart.
McGarrett set the
file down on the coffee table, closed his eyes, and chuckled, “Do you want my
opinion or do you want me to agree with you?” THAT took guts…
**********
With his arm wrapped
tightly around the valuable laundry bag, Dan stood near the designated phones
in the bustling International Marketplace, where tourists congregated to snack
on local treats and purchase souvenirs of their island experience. He’d had the
opportunity to take a short fitful nap in the Kamehameha guestroom, but didn’t
feel like he’d gotten any sleep at all. His angry uncle joined him in his dream
state again, making the hour of rest less-than-fruitful. Plus – he was fairly
certain at this point that he was still feverish. He knew he was probably under
surveillance by good and bad alike at that moment, and prayed that the whole
thing would lead to the recovery of Marie Brock.
“Please, sir, excuse
me,” a small, Oriental man tugged at Dan’s sleeve. The detective looked over
the frail older man, who had two plumeria leis draped over his arm, and
assessed any potential threat as the man continued, “You shirt please – take it
off.”
“What?” Dan wasn’t
certain he’d understood.
“Pat request that you
remove you shirt,” the man looked apologetic. “And please to remove you shoes
as well.”
Dan rolled his eyes
as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped his shoes from his feet. The activity
attracted little attention as he removed his shirt, and held out it out
dramatically. The little man bent over picked up the empty shoes and snatched
the clothing from Dan’s hand. The man bowed slightly then draped the leis over
the detective’s head, and made no attempt to leave. Dan had already decided
that if the little guy tried to take off with his shoes, he was going to have
to stop him.
The other Five-0
detectives watched from their respective vantage points, as McGarrett warned
over the walkie-talkie, “Be alert! Whatever happens, it has to be a diversion
for the payoff.”
“Now what?” Dan was
annoyed as he stood there, lei’d and nude from the waist up in the crowded
pavilion. As if on queue, one of the phones rang. Dan moved quickly and jumped
around a tourist to answer the phone before anyone else did.
“Hello?” The
detective inquired, but he could hear the laughter even before he put his ear
to the receiver.
“Isn’t it your turn
to spin the bottle, Pat?” Dan asked acidly.
“That’s a good one,
Williams, but I’ve got a better game for ya – Simon says take your belt off!”
“My belt?”
“And hold it up in
the air! DO IT!” The voice commanded.
Angrily, Dan
unbuckled his belt, and then pulled it out of the loops in one smooth motion.
He held the belt
unenthusiastically away from his body at shoulder level for a couple moments
before “Pat” spoke again, “I wouldn’t call that high, but you get my point,
don’t cha, boy? I’m watchin’ you so you’d better do just like I say.”
For a moment, Dan
felt gripped with fear.
“You know how ta drive, don’t cha, boy?” Bates had asked as
he tossed a young Dan the keys to his pick up that horrible day. Dan inhaled
deeply, and replaced the fear with anger again, “Can we get on with this?”
“It’s MY bottle!” The
voice was suddenly vicious, and then continued, “Raise your hands all the way
in the air, and don’t put ‘em down. If you screw this up for me, that old lady
will die and it ain’t gonna be pretty! Drop the phone and do it NOW!”
A loud click in Dan’s
ear signaled him that the conversation was over. The detective dropped the
receiver and gingerly raised his hands into the air with the bag resting
between his legs. The sutured incision on his abdomen was not visible above his
waistband, but he could feel a throbbing pain from over-extending the unhealed
muscles. A wave of dizziness passed over him. Focus…
Almost immediately,
three young Hawaiian men, all probably teenagers, rapidly maneuvered toward
Dan, and each dropped a Halekulani laundry bag at his feet, and then each
picked up a different one, and ran in different directions. The detective,
although startled, was virtually certain that none of the boys managed to grab
his original bag.
McGarrett, witnessing
the action from his vantage point deeper in the recesses of the market place,
spoke into his walkie-talkie as he launched himself from behind a cart of
carved Hawai’ian gods.
“GO! Kono – go for
the guy heading out toward Kalakaua! Chin – take the one coming toward you!”
Dan looked
desperately back to see his fellow officers racing after the three
laundry-bagged runners. He waited only until Steve jumped and toppled the boy
that ran in his direction before picking up “his” laundry bag and quickly
untying the knot. Tugging to loosen the drawstring, he peered into the canvas
and saw, with horror, that there were only stacks of bound newspapers. Somehow,
one of the thugs had managed to switch bags! Dan was aghast, and he scanned the
crowd for signs of the others. Immediately visible was Chin wrestling with
runner number two. Dan started in that direction in a trot to help the Chinese
detective subdue his suspect, but the found the pain of bouncing such that he
almost felt like he might black out. He stopped and swayed for a moment,
finally grabbing hold of the trunk of a palm tree. The detective clung to the
tree for a few moments, trying to regain his equilibrium.
“Wait! He could see
me!” Dan realized he was speaking out loud, as a middle-aged man in a blue
aloha shirt and sunhat stopped to stare at him.
“Maybe if you crouch
down…” the man offered, perplexed at the young man standing there in his socks,
hugging the tree.
“Uh, yeah,” with that
the detective gave an uncomfortable smile, and pushed away from the tree toward
Kalakaua.
The only clear
visibility of the phone booths from a “safe” distance – and where another phone
would be available was… He panned the length of the street, and then his eyes
settled on the bank of phones on the long verandah of the Moana Hotel across
the street. There were a hundred windows facing “his” Marketplace phone booths,
but if he wanted to keep an eye on somebody at these booths, that’s where he
would go.
As he started to make
his way across the street, Kono, breathing hard caught up with him, “Danny! He
gave me the slip somewhere on Duke’s Lane!”
“Someone got the
money,” Dan breathed as if he’d been running as well. The detective still
clenched the duplicate bag in his fist, tense with nearly overwhelming
frustration at loosing the bag in the crowd.
“Where we goin’?”
Kono asked, not wanting to leave his colleague alone after his recent scolding
for that offense.
“I think Bates was on
the Moana lanai,” he said with determination.
Kono radioed in to
let the other detectives know their status. McGarrett and Chin turned their
prisoners over to HPD officers for safekeeping, and joined Dan and Kono as they
reached the large columnar portico of the impressive front entrance of the
Moana. As they stopped on the top step for a moment to regroup, McGarrett
quickly assessed his officers. All were a little disheveled from the action,
and Dan in particular, was a sight – no shirt, no shoes, but two lovely leis
still intact around his neck. Dan was agitated and continued to search the
faces of strangers as they passed by, hoping to catch a glimpse of something
that would guide them in the right direction.
McGarrett grabbed the
youngest detective’s shoulder, but before he could say anything, Dan jumped in,
“Steve, they made the switch! I don’t have the money bag!”
“Damn!” McGarrett’s
anger was not directed at Dan, but the epithet blasted from his boss’s mouth
right into his face, “My guy was holding newspapers!”
“Mine too,” chimed in
Chin.
“I let them take the
money right out from under my nose!” Dan cursed himself. “I don’t understand…”
He let the thought trail off. He’d been so certain that the original bag had
not been grabbed. But standing there now, he knew he was wrong. He’d messed up,
and might cost Marie Brock her life.
“So, it must have
been with the one that got away,” McGarrett spoke through clenched teeth.
Suddenly, a trade
wind picked up and swirled around the men. The scent of the leis on Dan’s neck
resonated in his nostrils, but like an ice cube down a shirt, another smell
invaded Dan’s senses – a sickly-sweet organic order. The detective instantly
tensed up to a near panic as he spun to see who was near to him.
He grabbed his
startled boss’s arm, and breathed, “He’s here! Bates – he’s—” Dan stopped in
mid-sentence to observe a tall, bulky figure in khaki shorts and a gray and
white aloha shirt sauntering down the steps upwind about ten feet from the
group of detectives. Large rings of dampness circled the armpits of the man’s
shirt. As the breeze picked up, the Panama hat was lifted from the figure’s
head and hit the steps only a few feet from the detectives’ position.
Without taking his
eyes off the man, Dan took a few steps, collected the hat, and proffered it
toward the man. The detective noticed that each of the hairs on his head
emanated from what appeared to be small X-shaped scars. Their eyes met
momentarily before he looked away.
“Sir—” Dan said
softly. Hesitating for a moment before accepting the lost article, the man, in
his mid-fifties, glanced uncomfortably at Dan, and could see that the young
officer was very interested in his face. The situation grew awkward momentarily
before Dan stated with conviction, “I know you.”
Avoiding further eye
contact with the detective, his eyes darted over to the other two men, and he
gave a surly reply, “Well, I don’t know you.” He stepped away suddenly, nearly
falling down the steps. He managed to recover without a mishap and began to
make progress on down the steps.
The other detectives
moved to collect their colleague, who was still watching the tall figure move
down the stairway.
Kono started, “What
was with that guy’s hair?” Dan took a step toward the rapidly retreating figure
as everything clicked into place – the man’s height – his eyes – his movement –
the smell.
“Simon says STOP and
keep your hands where I can see them!” Dan almost shouted.
The pronouncement
drew the attention of all within earshot. McGarrett noticed the man cringe
before he broke into a run. Dan was the only detective who made no move to
chase the suspect. The others, with McGarrett in the lead, burst into sprints.
The team easily caught up with the lumbering man, and McGarrett grabbed him by
the back of his shirt and yanked him back.
“Stop right now –
Police Officer—” McGarrett shouted.
The man fell backward
to the ground and screamed, “Easy, hey easy – I ain’t dun nuttin!”
The head of Five-0
ignored the words and rolled the man from his back onto his stomach. “Hands
flat on the ground where I can see them!! NOW! NOW!” With his knee, he pushed
the man flat onto his stomach.
The prone figure
complied, complaining, “Hey, you’re hurting me. What are you? Some kinda
nut?”
The officer, who had
unsnapped his holster but not drawn his weapon, quickly patted down the prone
man. Steve could now clearly detect the odor which his detective had found so
memorable. It was unpleasant and distinctive.
As he reached for his
handcuffs, he glanced up and noticed that a city bus had come to a stop on the
avenue, the driver fearing that the chase would take people into his path. A
bus full of people was staring down at the spectacle. Kono helped McGarrett
with the captured suspect, and Chin reached for his wallet and dropped it open
to reveal his badge to the passengers and driver. “Police business!” He
shouted, and then to the driver, “Move on!!” The driver quickly closed the door
of the bus, and proceeded on down the road.
“Take him to my
office, Gentlemen.” Steve commanded. The angry prisoner glared at the head of
Five-0, but the stare was met with an even, steady gaze. “You can’t treat me
like this. I’m a law-abiding citizen. Where do you get off –”
“Shut uuup,” Kono
said threateningly, his face two inches from the complainant’s face. The man
decided to hold his tongue for the time being as the two detectives guided him
away.
Steve turned to see
his half-clad detective still under the portico staring after the suspect as he
was led off. McGarrett retraced his steps and stopped beside Dan, who met his
gaze.
“Okay?” McGarrett
inquired gently of his upset detective.
Dan nodded, “I only
hope Mrs. Brock will be as okay.”
Steve squeezed Dan’s
shoulder, and responded, “Let’s go have a chat with Mr. Bates.”
**********
“You look awful,
Danny! And where are your shoes?”
May was aghast at the
state of the newest Five-0 employee as her boss and the young man entered the
Five-0 office space. Not only did he look exhausted, his features were gaunt,
his skin did not have its usual, healthy surfer’s glow, and he appeared to be
upset.
Dan removed his
socks, now torn from his shoeless escapade, and tossed them into the trash can
by May’s desk, as he responded to the secretary’s interrogation, “Some little
Chinese guy is wearing them, I guess.” Somehow, in the fray, the old man had
managed to slip away with the Halekulani shirt and Dan’s shoes.
Chin slipped out of
McGarrett’s office long enough to relay to McGarrett that the two laundry bag
runners they’d captured knew nothing except that they were each paid to accost
the shirtless man as soon as he held his hands over his head. They were to drop
their laundry bags at his feet and then pick up a different one. There was an
extra ten dollars in it for the one that was able to grab the bag that had been
at Dan’s feet. Then they were to do their best to evade capture, and drop the
laundry bags into a box near a large trash container just off of Duke’s Lane.
Neither had seen the man before, nor were they certain they could identify him,
but both were willing to try in order to get themselves extricated from a
situation that seemed far more serious than they understood originally.
McGarrett studied Dan
for a moment, and decided that he agreed with May’s assessment – he did look
rung out – but somehow Steve knew that his new man was undaunted in his goal.
Dan was tired,
insides throbbing with pain, dizzy, too hot one minute, too cold the next, but
fixated on putting Bates behind bars and safely returning Mrs. Brock to her
worried husband.
The man could be
heard complaining loudly well before they entered the office. Just before he
opened his office door, Steve said over his shoulder to the young man behind
him, “Hang tough, Danno.”
Dan understood,
“Right.” He closed the door behind him.
Chin was standing
with his arms folded across his chest about ten feet in front of the seated
suspect. With grim amusement, Steve noted that Kono had not seated him in one
of Steve’s cushioned guest chairs. Rather, he had stuck him on an old wooden
desk chair that had made its way into the chief’s office the previous week to
support an extra chalkboard that Steve had requested. Kono had turned one of
the guest chairs to face the man, and was seated with his elbows resting on his
knees, and his hands folded. If Dan saw any humor in the situation, he gave no
indication of it. He leaned against Steve’s desk, and put his hands in his
pockets, his eyes trained on the man.
“Well, Mr. Bates, is
it?” McGarrett’s tone was now cold and ominous. The suspect eyed the imposing
figure standing over him, and snapped, “That’s not my name! My name’s Frank –
Frank DeSalvo. Your thug here has my ID. And I don’t know what kind of mad
house you’re running here, but you can’t jump innocent citizens on the street
and drag them into your layer for interrogation.”
“Ahh, but we CAN drag
in individuals who are wanted for questioning on kidnapping cases!!” The man
paused glancing at McGarrett, and then his eyes rested on Williams, who was
staring at him intently with a cool gaze. He shifted nervously on the chair.
“Look at my driver’s license! I don’t know any Arthur Bates.”
McGarrett smiled,
“Did I say I was looking for an Arthur Bates?”
Bates caught his
breath, but didn’t shift his gaze from Dan. He finally cracked under the
watching eyes. “What are you lookin’ at?”
A pillar of icy,
self-control, Dan moved from his perch on the desk and circled around closer to
Bates. Almost whispering, he stood behind the unnerved man and said, “You may
not remember me, but I remember you. I remember your eyes…… that shiny head
that you’ve had sodded…… that wheezy clicking noise you make….. that sickly,
sweet odor that leaks from you……” None of the other officers moved as Dan
painted the unsavory image that he carried in his head. Dan was not finished.
“I remember your sweaty hands, and your—” He stopped abruptly and glanced
around at the other detectives. He noticed that the room was suddenly
unbearably hot, and that beads of sweat were resting on his forehead and upper
lip. He turned back to Bates, who suddenly craned his neck to study his
accuser’s face.
Williams circled back
around the chair and leaned back on the desk again before asking Bates, “Where
is Marie Brock?”
“Who? How should I
know?” Bates inquired politely.
Seeing the game was
still afoot, McGarrett turned to face Dan, who looked up at him neutrally.
McGarrett had to admit that he was surprised – and impressed -- at his young
detective’s self-control.
With the slightest
flick of his head, Dan knew that McGarrett was signaling him to take a seat.
The detective paused just long enough to make a disgusted face at Bates, who
was sweating profusely, and then he moved around the desk and sat down in
Steve’s big chair. Noticing that the file on Bates was there and open, he
picked it up and began to peruse the pages.
Now McGarrett turned
his attention to their prisoner. “You
ARE Arthur Ronald Bates, AKA Tap Bates – and unless you’ve had your
fingerprints changed, we’re gonna positively ID you within the hour. Let me
tell you what we know – what we can take to the bank right now! We know that
you were one of the participants in the kidnapping of the Cox boy. We know that
both of your partners in crime, Wayne Simpson and Frank DeSalvo, are dead. We know
that Frank’s girlfriend, Jennifer Russell, is dead. We know that you are
involved in the kidnapping of Marie Brock. We know that Ray Kurcher is dead.”
McGarrett’s voice slowly became more angry and vicious, “We KNOW that you are
up to your seedy eyeballs in dead bodies! Now where is Marie Brock?”
Bates seemed to be
considering his options for a few moments before he looked up at McGarrett and
cocked his head. “What’s in it for me if
I did HAPPEN to know something about the old lady’s whereabouts?”
McGarrett snapped,
“The best you can hope to negotiate is a little extra time in the exercise
yard, or maybe a cell with a view.”
Bates sneered
defiantly, “Life sentences – after the first one, it doesn’t much matter, now
does it, McGarrett?” The man’s smugness was irritating, but there was truth in
what he said.
“It was here all the
time,” Dan spoke softly again, still looking down at a page in the file.” His
gaze moved slowly up to meet the eyes of the accused man. He stood to say the
words, “You murdered Lolo – Timothy Bates was Lolo – You murdered your son.”
The mere mention of the name made Bates recoil slightly. He squinted at his
accuser, grinding his teeth.
“Lolo was a freak of
nature! He’s lucky he lived as long as he did!” exploded Bates, the anger
welling up in his eyes.
McGarrett moved
around his desk to take a glance at the page that offered Dan his epiphany.
Arthur Bates had been married briefly, but his very young wife died in
childbirth. The child, Timothy Bates, who was born mentally retarded with mild
deformations noted, was left in the custody of his father. With some perverse
satisfaction, McGarrett noted that they’d found a sore spot with this creep,
and sadly, it was not that he’d murdered his son – it was the fact that his son
was born deformed and mentally retarded.
Then his eyes grew
large as a wave of recognition washed over the man’s face, “You’re that – that
kid that hung around with Lolo!” Bates let out a deep guttural laugh. “Oh, God,
talk about a small world! Why, when was the last time I saw you? You musta
been, what, sweet 16?”
Dan was holding the
back of the tall desk chair that he’d just vacated staring towards the seated
figure without really seeing him. About fed up with the seamy undercurrent in
this man’s words, Kono stood up and moved closer to Bates, his large hands
balled up into fists.
Steve placed his hand
on Dan’s still-bare shoulder.
Before he could
silence him, Bates pressed on, “Why are you so sure Lolo did you a favor, boy?”
“Shut up! That’s
enough!” McGarrett shouted.
Dan had not
acknowledged Steve’s touch, and the absent, unfocused look on the young man’s
face was enough for Steve to physically pull Dan out of his office. A river of
heat rushing through his body, the officer offered no resistance. To Kono and
Chin, who had both moved toward Dan when they noticed his unresponsiveness,
Steve called, “I’ll be right back.”
“May, get me some
water!” Steve snapped, as he guided Danno to the chair in his own office.
“Danno!” Steve was squatting in front of the chair where Dan sat looking down
towards his face, but not quite focusing. The head of Five-0 touched Dan’s
forearm, and observed, “You are hot!”
The emphatic remark
by his boss made Dan react glumly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t feel so good for a
minute.” Williams, fight back, focus.
May rushed in with
the water, and looked concerned. She could see that the young man’s face was
pale and damp, and the ringlets in his sandy hair were moist as well.
The ill detective
continued his efforts to back-pedal on his earlier admission of illness,
“Really, Steve, I just need a couple of aspirin.”
Momentarily sated,
but not convinced, McGarrett replied skeptically as Dan took a sip of the
water, “Yeah, I see – you’re fine.”
Dan changed the
subject, “Steve, we’re not gonna get anywhere with Bates. We’ve got nothing to
trade to get Mrs. Brock back.”
Steve’s attention
snapped back to the scum in his office. He could feel the rage bubbling inside
him as he responded, “Yeah, Danno, you’re right. We need to think of something
else.” He stood and continued, “Just stay here and cool off for a few minutes
while I go wrap it up with that scum ball.” He started to leave Dan, but
instead turned and said, “Oh, and when I return, I expect one of those flashes
of investigative brilliance that occasionally pop into your head.”
Dan bit his lower lip
at the tremendous backhanded compliment, and nodded.
As Steve opened the
door to his office, he knew he would do anything he could to protect his new
officer, but he wondered, how do I
protect him from a ghost in his past? He put on his mask, and stepped back
into his office. Kono and Chin both exchanged looks with Steve, who could see
their concern on their faces. Steve gave them both a nod of reassurance.
Then Kono said
sarcastically, “Steve, I think this guy needs a little air. Let me take him out
onto the lanai…”
The boss gave a grim
smile, and replied, “Maybe next time, Kono.”
Not fully recognizing
that he was releasing a genie from its bottle, Bates inquired, “Did I rattle
your boy?”
Suddenly, Steve
lunged towards Bates, grabbing his shoulders, “Listen to me and listen to me
good, you slimy lowlife! You are going down, and my associates and I will be
there for your farewell party. Five years from now, ten years from now, you’ll
still be rotting in some jail cell, and for all of us on the outside, you will
be nothing more than a vague, fetid memory!”
While Kono and Chin
moved a little closer, just in case they needed to pry their boss’s hands from
Bates’ neck, they didn’t make any rash moves to assist the suspect. McGarrett
recognized when he’d had enough, and he knew there was no time to waste in
coming up with a new plan of attack. Besides, this man’s odor was
unbearable.
“Get him to the
lock-up!” McGarrett commanded. His two detectives literally snatched Bates from
his chair.
Passing Dan, Bates
shouted over his shoulder, “You just signed that old lady’s death warrant,
cop!”
McGarrett moved to
stand in his doorway, and was surprised to see Dan sitting on May’s desk with
her bottle of aspirin in his hand.
He looked coolly at
Bates, and replied, “I don’t think so, Bates.”
Their eyes locked for
a moment, and Dan half-smiled as Bates returned the expression with a hateful
glare. Chin escorted the prisoner as far as the door, and then left Kono to
finish the job.
Already out of sight,
they heard Bates’ threat, “I’m gonna get you, cop! Just wait! I’ll find
a—YAHH!” The sound that came from Bates reminded McGarrett of a chicken who’d
just been grabbed by the neck.
Chin rejoined the
others just in time to hear McGarrett snap to Dan, “Okay, let’s have it!”
“I got to thinking
about the laundry bag,” Dan started as he gingerly resituated himself in May’s desk
chair. “After we put the money into the bag, I tied a knot in the drawstring.
It was a simple sailor’s bowline knot. Then I rolled it up into a ball and set
it under the desk in Brock’s suite until I left.” Dan’s voice was distant and
his words had a leisurely meter as if he were mulling over a move in a chess
game. “Now the decoy laundry bags were all tied with the same bowline knot. So
I’m thinking, how did Bates know that the bags were gonna be tied with that
knot?”
McGarrett exclaimed,
“That’s right, Danno! Kurcher was already dead. So somebody else had to have
seen the knot in advance.” Now snapping his fingers furiously, McGarrett paced
down the aisle a few steps, and then spun to face Dan, “Who saw the bag before
you rolled it up?”
Dan considered for a
moment and replied, “Brock…Me…Akama…nobody else.”
“That’s it?”
McGarrett, now focused on the thread of logic, did not wait for a response
before continuing, “Akama fits! Kurcher AND Akama were in on it! The laundry
bags had to be identical enough to confuse you during the switch.”
“Right, Steve, except
what if –”
Oh, here we go,
thought McGarrett as his young detective continued.
“What if the switch
happened at the hotel?”
The head of Five-0
already knew where the detective was going, and his mind raced ahead to the
conclusion even before Dan completed the thought, “That was the other thing
that was bothering me. It REALLY didn’t seem like the bag had been switched –
so I was surprised to see that the money was not in my bag.”
“Yes! Yes!” McGarrett
exclaimed. “Akama had the perfect window of opportunity to swap the bags after
the last call from Bates! You walked out of the hotel with a decoy bag! They had to make us think there was a switch
at the Marketplace so that no suspicion would fall on anyone at the hotel
besides Kurcher!”
Steve’s mind now
raced through the probable sequence of events. Akama was the perfect
accomplice. He was in a position to have inside information about the
investigation, and he could bear witness to Mrs. Brock’s extensive medicinal
“requirements.”
Another idea sparked
in Steve’s head, “Wait a minute – wait a minute!” The boss began his pacing and
finger-snapping exercise for almost half a minute before he turned excitedly
and exclaimed, “Akama’s involvement may also explain why nobody noticed Mrs.
Brock’s removal from the well-trafficked hotel garage. The lei on the steps was
a pretty darned convenient clue.” He paused as he pondered again, eyes
narrowing, “Too convenient.”
Chin spoke up, “You
think they wanted us to believe that’s how they took her. But if they didn’t
take her out that way, then how?”
McGarrett announced,
“They DIDN’T! The safest thing for Akama to do was to stuff her in a room with
a do-not-disturb sign, and wait for the hubbub to die down before…”
His words trailed
off, and Dan finished the thought, “Before he gets rid of her body.”
McGarrett snapped a
look in Dan’s direction and replied, “He’s not gonna have a body to lose! Chin!
Come with me! Danno—” he paused for only a second. “You stay here! I think
you’ve had enough on this one.” Before Dan could object, his boss and the
Oriental detective were trotting out the door. McGarrett called over his
shoulder, “May, have Kono get over to the Halekulani wikiwiki!”
Nonplused at what he
took to be punishment, Dan slowly rose from May’s chair.
May placed her hand
on the detective’s back as she slipped around him to get to her phone and
gently goaded, “Honey, I think you need a doctor. You are burning up!”
“I’ll take care of
it,” he responded vacantly as he leaned on the wall by his office. “Not to
worry…”
He’d done all he
could -- would be allowed – to do for Mrs. Brock. Whether it was enough he
would know soon. The rational part of his brain, as it slipped away, told him
that Steve had been right to leave him behind. He could hear the secretary’s
voice off in the distance as she spoke to the HPD dispatcher.
Wild thoughts and
images churned through his mind. He was intensely cold for a few moments, and
then the heat caught up with him again. Danny Boy… The voice startled
him and he looked to the end of pathway. Near the door that led to the palace’s
grand staircase, his uncle stood, in his police sergeant’s uniform, dripping
wet. He let out a frightened cry, knowing that what he saw could not be real.
He looked back at May, but her attention was invested in the phone call.
How could you do it? Didn’t I always do right by
you? Didn’t I sacrifice enough?
The indictment filled
Dan with regret.
“You’re dead…You
can’t be here...” Dan blinked as he spoke to the figure.
May glanced up, and
saw that Dan was moving toward the door. She covered the phone’s mouthpiece,
and whispered loudly, “Danny! Where are you going?” He continued moving toward
the door, so she increased her volume, “Danny!”
He leaned on the door
before he opened it, and replied, “One akua down, one to go…”
“What?” Just then,
her ear pressed to the phone was filled with the dispatcher’s voice, “Kalakaua
– you’re patched through to Five-0.” One
of May’s other lines rang, and she knocked her coffee cup on the floor. She
quickly answered the outside line and put that call on hold, and then relayed
McGarrett’s message to Kono. Knowing the spill could wait, she scurried to the
door through which the ill detective had just departed to get him back into the
office. Steve would be furious with him for not following instructions! She
rushed to the top of the staircase, but he was nowhere to be seen. The restroom! She ran headlong around
the corner to the door of the nearest men’s room. No Danny! Realizing that
she’d left the Five-0 offices unattended, she reluctantly gave up her search
for the errant detective, groaning. “Steve is going to be very unhappy.”
**********
McGarrett’s LTD
partially blocked the circular drive of the Halekulani as the vehicle’s
occupants jumped from the car and rushed into the front desk. John Akama had
just handed a new guest their key, and pointed toward the elevators. McGarrett
and Chin stood there for a moment and waited for the man to notice their presence.
It didn’t take but a few seconds before he glanced up, and did a double take to
fix on the two detectives. Their posture indicated to the paranoid man that
something had gone very wrong with the plan. He made a weak attempt to feign
innocence, just in case his mind was playing tricks on him, but it became
apparent as the two detectives, who began to move toward him, both unsnapped
their gun holsters in concert.
“Where is she,
Akama?” McGarrett demanded in a harsh clip. The man looked confused for a
second, but suddenly bared his teeth as he pulled up a small caliber revolver
from his belt. McGarrett’s tone was ominous, “If you fire that weapon, there’ll
be no way out for you.” As McGarrett spoke, Chin maneuvered sideways about ten
feet.
The suspect, his
pitch raising as his panic increased, screamed, “Don’t move – I just want out
of here” He aimed the gun wildly back and forth between the two detectives, as
hotel guests and employees alike screamed and headed for safety.
Suddenly, Akama
fired, first at McGarrett and then at Chin and barely a moment later both
detectives opened fire on the suspect, his danger to them and the general
public confirmed. None of his bullets hit any humans, but a four-foot-wide,
tropical wall sconce on the pillar behind Chin’s position was struck and came
crashing down on top of the Chinese detective. McGarrett dove toward the front
desk as Akama had disappeared from view. He carefully moved around the desk and
peeked around the corner to find the man lying in a rapidly spreading pool of
blood. He rushed to the man, but could see before he touched him that he was no
longer among the living. Cursing, he stood upright and raced to his fallen
colleague. Two of the bellboys helped the head of Five-0 lift the object d’art
up.
“Chin! Bruddah, talk
to me! Are you okay?” The question elicited a groan, and then a pain-filled
answer, “I’m not with my ancestors – yet – ahhh, my wrist. I think it’s
broken.”
Relieved, McGarrett
replied, “Thank God! I though it might be your neck.”
Kono came trotting up
and, before he made it all the way there, McGarrett told him to call an
ambulance, and take care of Akama.
“Who’s in charge
here?” McGarrett asked loudly of the four hotel personnel who’d been brave
enough to come out of the woodwork after the excitement.
An older woman
stepped forward and identified herself as the assistant manager. After making
sure that someone would stay with his injured detective, McGarrett pulled her
aside and asked if there were any rooms in the hotel that Akama had blocked off
from guests. She didn’t think so, but said she would check. While she did that,
McGarrett perused the concierge’s current guest list. It didn’t take more than
ten seconds for the head of Five-0 to almost shout, “Frank DeSalvo!” Two rooms
on the tenth floor were occupied by DeSalvo! Obtaining the keys, he sprinted
off.
There were
“DO-NOT-DISTURB” signs on both doors, which would have prevented maid service,
McGarrett noted as he turned the key in the first door. He was rewarded almost
instantly. An older woman in an orange muu muu was bound and gagged, either
sleeping or unconscious on the bed. He rushed in headlong, and removed the gag
from her mouth.
Relief flooded him as
she moaned, “Thomas. Please let me see Thomas.”
McGarrett gently
reassured her that she would be reunited with her husband shortly, and picked
up the phone to call for an ambulance. As he gently pulled the tape from her
ankles and wrists, he marveled at the successful outcomes and the mysteries
solved during the past sixteen hours. Exhaustion was suddenly weighing heavily
on him, but it was not yet time for the head of
**********
Kono arrived at the
hospital to check in on Chin, and let his boss know that Akama’s body had been
picked up by the ME’s office, but there would be no paperwork until tomorrow
because Doc Bergman was here.
Now satisfied that
Chin was not seriously injured, McGarrett’s thoughts turned back to the sick
detective he left in the office, “Kono, you all did a great job today. You can
punch out for the night.”
“Thanks, boss,” Kono
nodded as the pair headed down the corridor past the nurse’s station. “How
‘bout you?”
“I’m going back to
collect Danno,” Steve responded. “I’m not clear yet on what ails him unless he
caught malaria over the weekend.”
Kono grunted an
acknowledgment and frowned, “Yeah, I guess whatever he had last week musta
caught up with him.”
McGarrett looked at
his detective out of the corner of his eyes, not eager to reveal his lack of
attentiveness to the condition of his staff members. He quickly waded through
what recollections he could bring forth about his new detective in the past
week. Dan had put in at least twelve hours each day, some of the time out in
the field, but most of the time was spent assisting his boss with his
administrative workload. McGarrett could honestly not recall any signs that Dan
had been under the weather – EXCEPT for his Friday date cancellation.
Kono continued,
unaware of his boss’s deliberations, “I thought maybe that whole thing with his
pop was buggin’ him again, but that wouldn’t cause no fever.”
With that remark,
McGarrett blew out a breath in exasperation, and stopped walking to face the
ample Hawaiian, “His uncle’s been dead for years. What could possibly be
bugging him now?”
Kono regretted
mentioning it, but now it was too late, and he sensed that he’d just handed his
tenacious, bulldog boss the corner of a piece of information about which he
would insist on having the entire story. As he considered the path of least
resistance, the acquiescent detective replied, “Well, I’m not really sure
exactly. Do you remember last week when the fan belt broke on Danny’s car, and
Chin and I went to pick him up on our way back from Koko Head?”
“Yes, yes,” McGarrett
responded impatiently.
“Well, his car was
parked at Pi’ikoi, right there by
“There’s no fence
around Makiki!” McGarrett exclaimed.
Kono shrugged, “I
know – I’m just sayin’ that’s what it looked like. He stood there lookin’ in
like he wished he could get a better view of whatever he was tryin’ to see.
When we pulled up, I asked him what he was doin’, and he didn’t really wanna
talk about it. But by the time we got back to the office, he was jokin’ around
– said he was afraid of ghosts.” Kono, anxious to wrap up the story, spoke
faster, “And that’s it – that’s all that happened.” Steve frowned and slowed to
a snail’s pace as he pondered the possible significance of the perplexing
incident, but his concentration was interrupted.
“Mr. McGarrett!” The
head of Five-0 turned to see a doctor, an older man, walking briskly to catch
up with him. Before the doctor came to a stop, he began speaking, “Dr. Hansen.”
The physician
introduced himself and extended his hand to McGarrett, who reciprocated and
replied, “Doctor.” The name rang a bell, but the head of Five-0 couldn’t quite
place it.
“How’s your man?” The
physician inquired. The detective nodded and, with a slight hint of a smile,
responded, “He’s going to be fine. They’re going to let his wife take him home
this evening.”
“His wife?”
The head of Five-0
was in a hurry to get back to the office and check up on Dan, and this doctor’s
odd, confused manner made McGarrett all the more impatient to get out of there
as he sighed and answered, “Yes. Detective Kelly’s wife will be collecting him
after he’s had his arm x-rayed. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Mr. McGarrett, I’m
not talking about Detective Kelly. I was asking about Dan Williams.”
Now it was Steve’s
turn to be confused. He shook his head slightly and responded, “Dan Williams?
What are you talking about?”
“Detective Williams
was admitted to the hospital through the emergency room last Friday evening. I
operated on him for a burst appendix late that night.”
Tightness began to
well up in McGarrett’s chest as he heard the doctor’s tale.
“If he’d come in just
a few minutes later, I’m not sure he’d be alive. He left early yesterday
morning. The staff folks thought they had convinced him that he needed to be in
the hospital while the peritonitis worked its way out of his system.”
A stunned McGarrett
asked, “Why didn’t somebody call me?” Even as he said the words, the memory of
the message from Hansen jumped to the forefront of his thoughts.
The physician shook
his head, “As I understand it, he has no next-of-kin here, and he seemed… well…
very concerned that you were too busy to be bothered. I didn’t learn that he’d
– for lack of a better word – escaped until this morning. At that point, I did
attempt to contact you. As a matter of fact, I thought you were probably here
because his fever spiked…” Hansen’s voice trailed off.
Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he make me listen? We
spent 60 hours together last week. Why didn’t I notice there was something
wrong? Alternating between
anger and fear, Steve tried to push the speculation to the back of his mind as
he spoke a thought out loud, “That explains a lot.” He blinked at Kono, who
stood there nonplused as well.
“How’s he doing
then?” The physician asked tentatively.
“He’s sick!”
McGarrett answered tersely, and then interrogated, “Exactly, how sick might he
be from this - this peritonitis?”
As if on queue, Doc
Bergman trudged around the corner, his stethoscope still draped around his
neck, and approached the two men.
“Danno had an
emergency appendectomy here on Friday night!” The statement was still shocking
to McGarrett as he said it.
“Why didn’t someone
call me?” Bergman’s scratchy voice revealed annoyance when McGarrett outlined
the story of Dan’s brief hospital stay over the weekend. “I’m his physician of
record, for God’s sake.”
He shot an angry
glance at Hansen, who responded that he was only doing his best to balance the
patient’s wishes with his best interests.
“If it makes you feel
any better, I just found out,” McGarrett added guilt over his inattentive
behavior over the past week beginning to sink in. He put his hand to his
forehead for a few seconds, “He’s been on duty since
“What the Hell is he
doing out of the hospital? If he had a burst appendix, they should have him on
IV antibiotics—Wait!” Bergman held up in hand and looked down in mock
concentration. “Let me guess! In true Five-0 tradition, he signed himself out
AMA! I’m right, aren’t I?” His head snapped back up to observe the head of
Five-0 sigh and rub the back of his neck.
“Yeah, Doc, you’re
right. He seemed fine, and then he didn’t seem so fine, and then he seemed fine
again, and now…” McGarrett didn’t finish the sentence.
Hansen looked at the
Bergman, and made the diagnosis, “Sudden onset peritonitis.”
Bergman nodded
slightly, but he wasn’t finished venting his frustrations. “I KNEW he’d be following in your footsteps!
Doctors and Five-0 cops! I swear to God! Do you guys sign some document that
says you’ll be difficult patients when you come on board?” Bergman muttered
something else under his breath.
Steve couldn’t quite
make it out. McGarrett felt himself becoming defensive, but ignored the cutting
truths the doctor was spitting at him. There were more important things on his
mind right now.
“Let’s get back to my
question. Exactly how sick might this make him?”
Hansen spoke with
more urgency, “Mr. McGarrett, we need to get him back in here immediately for
treatment.” He attempted to explain the problem in an academic manner, “Sudden
onset peritonitis usually begins with a few cautionary spikes in fever. This is
a symptom that the body is fighting invaders. As bacteria are found, the battle
begins, and the fever goes up. If the fever is lowered through external
measures – such as aspirin or a cold shower – the body will temporarily
re-regulate itself to a lower, less-dangerous temperature.
“Less dangerous? Less
dangerous?” McGarrett spoke quickly, uneasiness building.
“Delirium – brain
damage – death, Steve!” Bergman, impatient with his colleague’s more cautious,
diplomatic demeanor, jumped in emphatically. “That IS what will happen if the
cause of the peritonitis is not managed – which it OBVIOUSLY IS NOT in this case.”
The physician hated
to sound accusing, because he suspected that it truly hurt the head of Five-0
to hear the frightening prognosis for untreated peritonitis, but he himself was
very concerned that Five-0’s newest officer was in danger of succumbing to his
sickness.
“Aspirin…oh my God,”
McGarrett said through clenched jaws, remembering that he’d seen Dan at least
twice that day gulping the tablets. “I left him at the office.” Without waiting
for any further terrifying revelations from the medical men, Steve took a few
steps to the nearby nurses’ station, picked up the phone, and dialed his
office. May answered on the first ring and sounded relieved that it was her
boss.
“Steve, I tried to
catch him, but then I noticed he’d left his keys here. His car is still here. I
don’t think he could’ve gone too terribly far. I think he’s very sick. I’m
sorry –” May started.
Her boss spoke over
her, “It’s not your fault, honey – it’s mine. I’ll find him.” He remembered
before he hung up, “Oh, did he say ANYTHING that might give me a clue about
where he was headed?”
She answered slowly,
as if she wasn’t certain the answer was good enough, “Well, he did say
something about an akua, if that makes any sense.”
“Akua!” McGarrett
snapped at his Hawai’ian detective.
Knowing the drill,
Kono responded, “Akua – spirit – ghost – could be a dead body.
“A dead body…” the
medical examiner repeated slowly.
A picture began to
crystallize for the two Five-0 detectives, and McGarrett said slowly, “Noooo.”
His eyes met Kono’s and, in unison, the said, “A ghost!”
“You’re coming with
me, Doc!” McGarrett almost shouted to Bergman. The tone of the forceful man
left no choice for the physician, so he answered, “Let me grab my bag!”
**********
The sun was still
above the horizon, the breeze carried a mixture of brine and tropical flowers
as McGarrett’s LTD pulled onto
“Danno!” He shouted.
“Danno!” He turned to see that Bergman and Kono had fanned out into the
cemetery at a forty-five-degree angle from him.
“Kono, do you know
where his uncle is buried?”
Shaking his head, the
Hawaiian replied, “No – I never been here before.”
McGarrett stopped
moving for a moment and listened. He could hear the sounds of the nearby
highway and the sound of the trees rustling in the breeze.
“STEVE!”
The scream made
McGarrett’s heart try to leap out of his chest. No doubt, the other two men had
the same reaction as they all turned to look back in the direction of the car
they’d left behind. The site momentarily paralyzed the men. Supported by the
hood of the LTD, a bedraggled Dan was reaching out one hand towards his boss.
The leis were gone, but he still wore no shirt or shoes.
Glistening with
sweat, the young man cried out a little weaker, “Steve! Get out of there!” Dan
pushed away from the car and staggered toward McGarrett, who was mobilized by
the sight of his detective.
“Danno!” McGarrett
shouted as he sprinted toward the man.
As Dan’s legs gave
out, he made only a token attempt to catch himself on some invisible object to
his side before he fell forward. With an extra burst of speed, Steve managed to
leap forward and catch the detective in his arms, both men gently sinking to
the ground.
“My God!” The words
slipped out under his breath as he touched Dan’s moist face. He looked up
quickly to see Bergman and Kono drawing near. “He’s burning up!” The doctor
squatted and pressed two fingers onto Dan’s neck to check his carotid pulse.
Eyes rolling back in
his head, Dan moaned softly, ““I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”
The doctor did not
take his eyes from his patient as he said quickly, “Danny! It’s Doctor Bergman.
We’re gonna take you to the hospital now.” For a brief moment, there seemed to
be a measure of clarity in Dan’s eyes.
“Hmmmm... no, no…on
call tonight… and Steve needs…” His eyes closed.
Bergman took a
sideways glance at the man kneeling next to him, and, almost whispering, asked,
“What kind of sweat shop are you running over there?”
McGarrett ignored the
snide remark, and nodded at Kono, who moved in and plucked his friend, easily a
hundred pounds lighter, from his boss’s arms and the trio trotted back to the
LTD-cum-ambulance.
**********
It was just before
Dan’s hands had been
gently, but firmly secured to the metal rails with wrapping gauze to prevent
the delirious patient from attempting to get out of bed or trying to remove IV
line, which was inserted directly into his neck, in what Bergman called a
central line. Lifesaving antibiotics were coursing through the young man’s
veins now, and McGarrett could only pray that they’d made it in time.
Hansen had attempted
to tell McGarrett that he couldn’t remain overnight with his detective, but
Bergman told him to give it up. Remembering the fondness which McGarrett had
revealed for Dan while Bergman sutured his leg wound after the bomb blast
nearly eight weeks ago, he suspected there was nothing short of his own
incapacitation that would prevent the head of Five-0 from staying near Williams
that night.
Between fitful dreams
and tossing, Dan would speak, sometimes to Steve, sometimes to someone only the
patient could see. One incoherent conversation would be angry, and then as
suddenly as the anger rose, it vanished and was replaced by poignant sadness.
Delirium had to be
one of the most disconcerting conditions McGarrett had ever seen. To lose
control of what comes out of one’s mouth was an uncomfortable thought at best
for a man that valued self-control so highly.
But here he was, determined to stick it out with this man, with whom he
already felt a kinship, a man whose past tragedies left him stronger and more
able to cope in many ways. Yet, McGarrett could see that some of his friend’s
insecurities also had their roots in the events of his past.
During the moments of
silence, McGarrett replayed the events of Friday evening in his mind. His
hindsight was perfect. He could see it all so clearly – his detective’s
tentative attempts to tell him how he was feeling. Of course, Dan would assume
he was too busy to be bothered.
I couldn’t break away from the phone long enough for him to
collapse, Steve thought
bitterly.
And then, there was
the incident in the Kamehameha Suite. Steve sarcastically suggested that
whatever little problem Dan wanted to discuss couldn’t possibly be important
enough for him to take a moment and listen. He wasn’t sure that Danno would
forgive him – he only prayed that Danno would live long enough to not forgive
him.
Finally, the patient
seemed to be settling down, his body physically spent. His outbursts were
softer, his movements weaker. To McGarrett, he almost seemed conscious
occasionally, although Bergman assured him that this was not likely.
“I don’t think I’d be
missed…” These were the first words out of the patient’s mouth after fifteen
minutes of silence.
Steve had almost
dozed off, but the words brought him back to alertness. “What kind of crazy talk is that?” McGarrett
couldn’t help but speak up.
“Steve?”
“I’m here, Danno,”
McGarrett said, and hesitated for only a moment before continuing in a little
softer tone. “I’m here with you.”
The words did seem to
have a quieting effect on the patient, whose eyes opened and his breathing
slowed. There was no clarity of thought in the blue eyes that seemed to look
through McGarrett, but there did seem to be an attempt to understand.
“Steve?”
The mere fact of
recognition pleased the man who’d been sitting at Dan’s bedside for the past
two hours, listening to wild tales about things that might have happened and
things that could not have happened.
“Are you here, Steve?”
“I’m here, Danno,”
the voice repeated patiently.
“Why are we here?”
“Your burst appendix
has made you very sick, my friend.”
“Again?”
“No – still.”
“Are you going to
leave me here?”
Steve thought he
caught a tinge of anxiety in the voice, and he responded quickly. “No, I will
not leave until you want me to leave.”
McGarrett hesitated before he asked, “Do you want me to leave?”
“Please don’t leave
me… He’ll come back if you leave.”
“Who’ll come back?”
Steve asked.
“You won’t leave?”
“Danno, I will NOT
leave you,” McGarrett’s tone became as emphatic. He continued, “I’m your
friend, and I’m going to stay here to be sure that you’re all right.”
“I’m your friend too,
Steve. You know that, right?” Dan’s tired, blue eyes seemed to study McGarrett
expectantly.
“Yes, Danno, I think
I knew that.”
“You’re like a super
hero, you know?”
”I’m not perfect.”
Steve could feel himself choking up a little at the pedestal upon which Dan had
apparently placed him.
“I know that. No
super hero is perfect. You should read the comics,” Dan chided softly. “Super
heroes don’t have to be perfect – they only have to do their best – to use
their special gift – all super heroes have a special gift…”
“Special gift? What’s
my gift?” Steve was now truly enjoying the intimate repartee despite, or
possibly because, of the slim probability that Dan would have any memory of the
conversation.
“You only have to use
your special gift to serve justice.” Dan wasn’t done explaining the rules of
“super-hero-dom.”
“You didn’t answer my
question. What’s my gift?”
“Your will – you’re
haole hao.”
McGarrett felt his
eyes begin to burn. He’d heard the nickname, “Man of iron -- or force,” applied
to himself before, but it did not seem so flattering as it did at this moment.
He did not believe
this was delirium speaking. The fever had merely lowered his defenses, OR…
perhaps Dan’s defenses had never been up. Perhaps, right now in these gentle
moments with his – his friend – yes, his friend, Steve McGarrett’s defenses
were down. His officer did not have him on a pedestal. Rather, Danno placed him
out in front of himself, as a guide – as an example of his own principles in
action, as a reassuring force in a world that had taken much from him.
“I wish I were more
worthy of such high esteem, Danno.” It was gut wrenching to the
haole hao to think
that he ignored the warning signs that could cost his friend his life.
“You’re my friend,
Steve.…” the next sound Steve heard a soft snore.
He took a dry cloth,
and wiped the beads of sweat from Dan’s face, and then felt his cheek with the
back of his hand. Cooler, definitely cooler.
**********
Black, dreamless,
total-loss-of-awareness sleep was always disturbing to McGarrett, but he knew
he must have needed it, as he awoke suddenly and found himself still propped
exactly as he last remembered the night before. Someone had obviously entered
the room as he slept to change the patient’s IV and thoughtfully dropped a
blanket onto the sleeping sentinel.
It was almost
After beginning the
paperwork on the Brock case, Steve had reviewed the Ali’i case documentation,
which Dan had so meticulously prepared for his boss the previous week. Small
notes carefully paper-clipped to the pages highlighted items that Dan felt
might be particularly relevant. McGarrett had to admit he was impressed. The
day passed quickly, and McGarrett didn’t get back to the hospital until after
*********
“Hey, where’d these
comic books come from?” Kono bellowed from inside his boss’s office.
McGarrett shouted
over his shoulder from May’s desk, “Leave ‘em alone!” He finished helping May
prioritize her list of tasks, and started to return to his desk, when the phone
rang. Upon hearing the voice at the other end of the line, a smiling May just
handed the receiver to her boss without so much as a word.
Perplexed, he
accepted the phone and barked, “McGarrett!”
“Steve,” came the
weak response. From the expression on his face, May knew that there was no
voice on earth that her boss would’ve rather heard.
“Danno,” he said,
emotion rippling through him. “Thank God! Are you okay?”
“I just wanted to
hear your voice.”
The sentiment touched
McGarrett, but he replied gruffly, “You can hear it in person – I’ll be right
over – Danno? Danno?”
“Mr. McGarrett?”
He was a little
surprised at the different voice, but he thought he recognized it, “Hansen, is
that you?”
“Yes, Mr. McGarrett.
As promised, I wanted to let you know that he woke up, but he’s already asleep
again.” The news deflated McGarrett a bit, but just to have heard Danno’s voice
was bolstering. Hansen continued, “I’d have to say that he’s turned a corner in
the night, and I’m feeling very optimistic about a full recovery at this
point.”
Feeling relieved and
generous, McGarrett replied, “Call me Steve, Doc! Thanks for taking such good
care of my man.”
“It’s been – an
experience – Steve.” Hansen replied diplomatically. “I only regret that I
didn’t tie him to the bed on Saturday!”
*********
Gradually, Dan became
aware that someone was pushing on him, moving his arm, gently lifting his head.
He had tried to open his eyes, but his lids were just too heavy. He tried to
speak, to say hello, to ask where he was, but all that came out was a soft
groan.
“Mr. Williams, just
relax – we’re changing your bedding and getting you situated a little more comfortably.”
Even after the kind
words had been spoken, it took him a few more minutes to realize that he was in
a hospital. Over the course of the next hour, he was able to reassemble his
circumstance enough to realize that he somehow ended up back in the hospital
after falling ill in the office while they were interrogating Bates on what day
was that – Monday. What day is it now?
Before he could
consider further, a memory that almost brought bile to his throat sharpened. He
had followed his uncle out of the office and down the back steps of the Palace.
His dead uncle! What insane thing had he done? He tried to focus on the
sequence of events, but was not successful. He could only see snippets of
scenes, as if he were watching a badly edited film. A car – no two cars –
almost struck him, their horns blaring angrily as they each managed to avert
collisions… A lady in a muu muu stared at him as if he had sprouted a tail…His
pop glared angrily, but beckoned for him to join him in the cemetery…Pop
started toward Steve…What was Steve doing there?…Pop wanted to hurt him…Why
would Pop want to hurt Steve?
Dan shook himself out
of the reverie, and said aloud, “Pop’s dead! He doesn’t want to hurt anybody.” Even me, he added silently.
If Steve really was
there, he has to think I’m a nut case! Frustrated at being too weak to lift his
head all the way off the pillow, he closed his eyes and slept again.
A doctor Williams did
not know stopped in, checked his vital signs, poked and pushed on him for a few
minutes. He learned from this man that it was Wednesday evening, and that it
appeared as though he would recover from the peritonitis that had almost killed
him a couple days earlier.
Dan thought of Mrs.
Brock and panicked as he inquired about her. The doctor, who did not remember
any of the details, reported distractedly that the newspapers said that the
kidnap victim had been rescued by Five-0, and that the perpetrators had been
captured – or was it killed? The doctor wasn’t sure. That news relieved the very weak detective,
who – even without all of his mental faculties present – had felt the burden of
the kidnapping pressing down on him. The patient had questions, but the young
physician had rounds to do and put him off.
“I’m sure your watch
dog will be in shortly, and he’ll have all the answers for you,” the doctor
draped his stethoscope around his neck.
“My – my watch dog?”
Dan asked.
As the man reached
the door, he looked back and replied, “Yep – he sleeps here – and I have it on
good authority that he bites.”
With that cryptic
comment, the doctor vanished from view. Dan frowned as he slowly moved his hand
up to feel the large bandage with an IV line protruding from it just above his
collar bone.
“My watch dog,” Dan
said out loud, “that bites.”
The image of his boss
popped into his head, and somehow he knew that it had to be McGarrett. The
thought of Steve being so concerned touched him, but concern wasn’t the emotion
that Dan believed his boss would be feeling when he saw that Dan was going to
live. He’d let Steve down. Somehow – he would have to think through exactly how
it had happened – he had never been able to be forthcoming about his illness.
And then, when he finally couldn’t hack it anymore, he didn’t even remember how
he got here. He needed a little time to sort it all out, but he was tired
again. What a wimp… he thought as he
dozed off.
As McGarrett moved
down the hallway to Dan’s room, the hospital had taken on the spooky nighttime
aura that sterile institutions seem to project in the dark. As he pushed the
door open, he prepared himself to see the patient still sleeping, as he had
been for his lunch time visit earlier that day. To his pleased surprise, Dan
was slightly propped up by a couple of strategically placed pillows. His eyes
were closed, but Steve had the sense that the patient was not deep in slumber.
McGarrett wondered whether Dan’s reaction to a man that had almost killed him
would be cool. He leaned in the doorway, crossed his arms, and cleared his
throat. No startled reaction was forthcoming, but the patient did slowly open
his eyes to gaze at his visitor. A tentative smile was the invitation McGarrett
needed to enter, so he pulled up “his” chair to sit no more than two feet from
his colleague.
“I don’t suppose that
you… uh… let a pigheaded boss talk you into something that wasn’t true, did
you?” Steve inquired gently as he grabbed the patient’s arm.
Dan looked down and
laughed softly as a wave of relief washed over him. His new boss was not
volcanically angry at him.
“Uh… no, I didn’t.
One of the smartest guys I know warned me about that.” Dan said softly,
remembering McGarrett’s lecture on the beach many months ago.
While his voice still
sounded weak to the man listening intently in his search for clues to the
patient’s condition, the young man’s blue eyes reflected a better – not
complete, but better – measure of awareness as he looked up to meet his
mentor’s eyes.
“I did something
worse,” the patient continued. “I think I might’ve let a ghost talk me into
believing something that wasn’t true.”
McGarrett grunted and
nodded as he studied his friend. He finally said, “I see. This ghost – your
pop?”
Dan swallowed and
nodded without looking up. There was silence in the room for almost a minute.
Dan was only now beginning to realize the time and effort this man was willing
to invest in him – as a cop – as a – as a friend. With that realization,
another memory – or maybe a dream? – of a conversation with McGarrett. At least
that dream-memory was not mortifyingly embarrassing.
“Well, we’ve all got
an akua or two to deal with,” Steve conceded with a smile, but then noted that
the turn of phrase was perplexing to the patient. McGarrett shook his head
slightly and brushed the comment aside, “Never mind. We can talk more about
that once we spring you from here.”
Dan looked away, “I’m
surprised you wouldn’t rather just transfer me to the psych ward after how I
acted.”
Now it was
McGarrett’s turn to be confused, “How you acted? You were life-threateningly
SICK, and every time you tried to tell me, I stood you on your head.” Now Steve
looked down, and Dan felt compelled to study him. “I pushed you on a tough case until you
literally dropped. I don’t know whether you can forgive me for that,” McGarrett
admitted his pain. To have driven Williams to a point where the young man saw
no way out, but to finish the job – or die trying – was not what the head of
Five-0 had in mind, but that was how it turned out.
“No, Steve, you have
it all wrong,” Williams objected to the amazing twisted view of his boss. “I
had something to prove. I wanted you to see that you could trust me…” Despite
the passion he felt about the subject, he had to lay his head back on the
pillow and close his eyes. McGarrett leaned forward, instantly concerned, but
Dan continued speaking, “I wanted you to have faith…” The patient could speak
no more, partially from the overwhelming emotion he felt at the thought of
failing in that goal, partially from exhaustion.
“Danno, if you hear
nothing else tonight, hear this and know that it’s true. I do have faith in
you, and that faith can only grow at this point, my friend. Do you understand?”
McGarrett’s tone was stern and business-like.
Dan smiled slightly
but he didn’t / couldn’t open his eyes as he responded, “Yes.”
“I have faith in you.
Do you copy that?” McGarrett asked. The point was too important for Dan to
sleep again and not know.
“I – I copy that…”
Dan visibly relaxed as his head drooped slightly to one side.
Tight control and
micro-managing had been the name of the game for most of Steve McGarrett’s
life, but he now saw that he was going to have to put a little more effort into
letting go, and trusting that his bidding would be done. Definitely not an easy
job, but the haole hao could – no, would – find a way.
**********
McGarrett noticed
that Dan seemed uneasy as they got out of the car, but after hearing Kono’s
recounting of his detectives’ visit a few weeks ago, he was not entirely
surprised.
Outfitted in an
uncharacteristically loud, long-sleeved teal and orange aloha shirt and straw
hat, the head of Five-0 walked casually ten feet onto the cemetery grounds,
scanning the names on nearby headstones, before asking, “Okay, so where’s your
uncle buried?”
After a few seconds
of silence, Steve turned to look back at Dan, who was leaning on the car with
his arms folded. The young man, in a traditional, blue and white short-sleeved
aloha shirt, avoided eye contact for a few moments as he scanned the horizon.
Finally, when he did decide to look at his boss, he saw that McGarrett was
standing there, his arms now crossed.
The tall, striking
figure’s gaze was positively piercing, and inescapable, Dan decided as he
spoke, “I’m not exactly sure where it is.”
That news DID
surprise McGarrett, and he uncrossed his arms. He stood there for a moment just
studying Dan, who felt ashamed at the admission, and then he walked over and
leaned on the hood of his car next to his detective.
“The memorial service
was at a church in Kahala. He was interred here a little later – I’m not sure
when.” Dan stopped speaking as if that
explained it, but McGarrett was not going to let this drop.
“And you just haven’t
had a spare second since 1953 to pay your respects?” McGarrett knew – from just
the few things Dan had said in passing – that Williams had loved his uncle
deeply.
“I – I guess I’ve had
it in my head that Pop wouldn’t want me to come,” Dan admitted, and then said,
“It sounds pretty dumb.” The silence from his boss told Dan that he was waiting
for a better answer. Finally, Dan relented and spoke, almost breaking into a
smile as he started, “Pop was—just the best. He was real strict about a lot of
stuff, like homework and chores. When the work was done, nobody loved a fast
car better than Pop. He loved cars. He’d rebuild engines for guys on the force,
and I’d help him. When he was off duty, I pretty much went where he went – a
couple of bachelors living the good life, I thought.” Dan glanced toward his
attentive audience.
“Let’s walk,”
McGarrett suggested, and the pair started slowly around the perimeter of
Makiki.
Dan continued, “Until
January of 1953. I was fourteen, and Pop got a girlfriend. He dated a lot, but
I think it was pretty casual with most of them. This one though – she was
different. This one – Carol – didn’t really see having me in the picture. I
watched as he let her take apart our – my world. I just couldn’t imagine how he
could see her as anything other than excess baggage. He was so wrapped around
her snotty little finger.” Dan frowned in concentration, but kept walking,
“First, I was no longer allowed at the weekend beach parties. Then, it came to
pass that if she showed up at the garage, I was told to get lost. All of that
hurt, but one day – one day, I came home from school and Pop told me to grab
the toolbox and get in the truck – my Dodge,” he added. “I did and we ended up
out at Makpu’u Point. There sat Carol on the trunk of this brand new, 1953
Aztek Red Cadillac Eldorado convertible,” Dan was angry as he interjected, “I
don’t think they rolled more than five hundred of them off the line, because
they cost around eight thousand bucks.”
McGarrett whistled,
“That was a lot of money back then.”
Dan nodded, and
mumbled, “It’s a lot of money now.” Dan took a breath and plunged ahead.
“It turned out that
Pop had spent all of our trip-around-the-world money – I don’t know whether we
would’ve ever done it or not – on this unbelievable new car for Carol. I guess
that’s what he thought he had to do to hang on to her, and she sure as heck
didn’t do anything to rid him of that impression. Well, she’d managed to get a
flat tire clear out on the point, and unless you had the special lug nut key —
which Pop had forgotten to leave in the glove box – that fit only that car, the tire would not
come off to be changed. Some kids that happened to be out on the point called
Pop and gave him the message.” Dan looked up, but was not seeing, “I was sooo
angry. I don’t remember ever being that – angry.”
Dan stopped walking
and looked up at Steve, who responded, “Or hurt.”
Dan looked away,
“Yeah, or hurt.”
“If you think I’m
impulsive now, you should have been there that day. While Pop was digging
around in his pockets for the lug nut key, with ol’ Carol rubbing up against
him, I walked right over, and hopped into the driver’s seat.” The young man
looked up into Steve’s eyes and said defiantly, “I turned on the ignition,
revved that baby up, and gunned it – right off the point onto the rocks! It was high tide, and the waves were smashing
into the car before I could get out. It took me a couple sets before I was able
to drag myself away. By that time, Pop had scrambled down and managed to grab
me, and get us high enough up on the rocks so that we wouldn’t be destroyed along
with the Eldorado. I could see Carol at the top of the point cursing not only
me, but Pop! She was flinging words I’d never heard at me AND at him.”
“By the time we’d
made it back to the top of the point, Carol was gone. Pop turned on me and
asked me if I understood what I’d done. I didn’t have an answer, but he did. He
let loose what was probably years of frustration about how he’d sacrificed and
put his life on hold to raise me. He looked at me with such – pain and rage –
it hit me – right then – during my whole life with him -- It was ME – I was the
excess baggage!” Tears rolled down his cheeks, and didn’t stop to wipe them
away. He needed to finish, “I thought he was gonna hit me – and I wish he
would’ve – but instead – he just stopped shouting. He told me to go to the
Kulanis – and if he never saw me again that would be just fine with him.”
Steve could feel his
own eyes burning – his own heart breaking, as his friend’s broke all over
again.
“I ran off up the
road, and caught a ride up to the
A tear escaped down
McGarrett’s cheek, as he grabbed Dan’s shoulders and squeezed as he commanded,
“Take what you know NOW and apply it to THEN! Remember how angry you were! Was
he any less angry? Everybody thinks there’ll be a tomorrow. Even as he said it,
he KNEW there’d be a tomorrow to take it all back. I KNOW he loved you more
than anything on this earth – I know that as certainly as we’re standing here.”
Steve looked down at
the headstone a mere seven feet away from the pair, and Dan pulled his hand
away from his eyes slowly and looked for the first time at his uncle’s epitaph:
James
Dawson Williams
Okay
Cop – Loving Pop
1917
– 1953
Dan stifled a gasp,
and slowly approached to simple grave marker. He touched it like he thought it
might burn him, and then he got down on one knee to touch the words.
“Oh, Pop! I’m so
sorry…And you were sorry too…” He laid his head on the stone and sobbed for a
few minutes, while Steve, on one knee as well behind his man, kept a hand on
Dan’s heaving shoulder.
Eventually, Dan
raised his head, feeling completely spent, relieved of a heavy burden he
carried for years. He looked up at a clear blue sky through the trees, and took
in a deep breath. Steve had remained behind him, quietly supportive.
“You sure know how to
show a guy a good time, Steve,” Dan quipped weakly as he pulled a handkerchief
from his pocket and wiped his eyes.
Steve squeezed his
friend’s shoulder one last time before he stood, and surreptitiously wiped his
own as he replied, “It’s kind of peaceful here, isn’t it?”
Dan smiled as he
stood to look at Steve, “It is now.” He
paused to look back down at the stone, “Thanks, Steve. You just don’t know how
much I appreciate it.”
“I think I do,” Steve
intoned softly.
**********
Dan’s first day back
on the job called for a celebration – a short one – as the Five-0 men met for
an early breakfast at Cici’s, a little diner off of Queen Street near the
Palace. McGarrett spent the time productively dividing up assignments for the
day. The joking and teasing that went on between his three detectives made the
head of the team feel like all was right with the world. The Five-0 universe
was back on track and heading toward a promising future.
As the four men
stepped out of the restaurant, someone a little too close to McGarrett’s face
made the mistake of calling out a little too loudly, “Hey McGarrett! Havin’
breakfast on the state?”
The lead detective
almost instinctively pushed the offender away from him and his men, just as a
flash bulb popped. Craig Willis, a freelance journalist, flew backward and
literally landed in the large city trash can behind him.
“A little warning
before you slither out of your basket into my face, Willis!” McGarrett
cautioned as the detectives moved on past him toward their cars.
Dan smiled as he
glanced back to see the photographer trying to help his associate out of his
predicament.
“I’m pretty sure I
had my press mask on,” Dan said, very satisfied with himself.
“Me too!” Chimed in
Kono.
“Mine was on!” Chin
added with a single nod of his head.
Their leader, on the
other hand, sighed and intoned, “I’m, uh, not certain that mine was completely
in place.”
Dan’s head snapped
over to look at a rare site – a chagrined Steve McGarrett. He couldn’t contain
the laughter as he said, “I might need to buy more than one copy of the paper
tomorrow!”
Ignoring what was
probably deserved chiding, the head of
PAU