THE CHRISTMAS OF
SECOND CHANCES
by
gm
pg-13 for violence and intensity
December 1978
The office was
unusually quiet, and in December, that would instantly spike Steve McGarrett’s
suspicions. The annual Five-0 staff
compulsion of surprising him with a birthday party at the end of the month was
notorious for occupying far too much time -- taking away from serious
work. McGarrett tolerated the attention
stoically. In truth, he had no way of
stopping the conspiracies that swirled around the Palace to make sure he had an
embarrassing and publicly celebrated birthday.
As the head of the state police, wielding power and impact in various
influential places in
Impelled from curiosity, and an unusual lack of desk-work to occupy his
attention, McGarrett finally decided to find out what was going on beyond his
closed door. Expecting to startle his
staff in the midst of conspiratorial conferences, he opened the door and was
surprised only to find the secretary, Luana, hard at
work. No secret meeting. No abrupt end to conversations. No suspicious gatherings in the common
area. Deciding he was entirely too
paranoid about these trivial parties, he helped himself to some coffee and
casually scanned the large, main office.
The three cubicles to
his right, assigned to his detectives, were empty. His eyes lingered at the far desk. For seven months, that area had been
empty. This would be the first Christmas
since Chin Ho’s death. Steve could hardly
imagine a holiday season without the jovial detective, without at least a few
of his children dropping into the office to deliver homemade goodies.
Since Kelly’s murder,
life for the Five-0 staff had been tough.
Personally, he wasn’t sure he had stopped hurting, yet, and knew many of
the others had not, although all of them made a good show of pretending to have
the regret and pain well in the past.
Fleetingly, he was reminded of Williams’ subtle efforts to request a
replacement for Kelly and Steve balked at even thinking in those terms yet. Just as he inwardly flinched at the
approaching holiday season and it’s sentiment.
Instead of throwing
so much energy into his birthday, he decided with a lance of exasperation, the
staff should be helping out the Kelly family.
There were still a few kids at home.
Maybe if he diverted Dan Williams’ abundant energies into that channel
his birthday party would be skipped this year.
Unlikely, he sighed, but at least this was an alternate, worthy goal for
his personnel to focus on.
“Luana,
when Danno gets here send him in, please.”
“Sure, Steve.”
“Where did he go, anyway?”
“Security for
the Governor’s Christmas Charity Ball.”
Right. He had foisted that
tedious assignment onto Williams. Steve
found it mind-numbing dealing with the committee meetings revolving around
celebrities and dignitaries. He had
spent his morning reviewing case notes for a trial he would be testifying at
tomorrow. He considered that a much
worthier goal than committee discussions, but acknowledged the importance of
Five-0’s function as a security force for the state. So the gregarious Williams got the task Steve
disliked; the responsibilities for the day fulfilled.
“Where’s Duke?” he
asked Luana.
“He went out to
When the detectives
had reviewed the morning HPD reports and stumbled on that one, they had laughed
at the official request for Five-0 help on such a ridiculous
investigation. Lukela claimed no one who
had seen Night Walkers would still be alive.
The comment earned him the assignment to join the HPD investigation.
Luana turned off the electric typewriter and covered it,
reporting she was going to lunch, then grabbed her purse and left. Noting that the desk clock read 12:07, he was
surprised. How did time fly by so
quickly? The day was slipping quickly away.
The month -- the season . . . . It was already December . . . the year seemed a blur of time and loss.
On Luana’s desk, there was a small Christmas tree with tiny
decorations. Several of the other
secretaries had various holiday ornamentation, but it
was a subdued expression of holiday spirit.
This was the state police unit, after all, and he never encouraged
frivolity. Glancing again at Chin’s
former office, he wondered if he should loosen up a little this year. Maybe they all needed a bit of extra cheer.
The front door
slammed and Williams, carrying a paper bag, gave a nod to Steve as he briskly tread across the room.
Looking into Duke’s office, he smiled.
“Still not back from the mystery disappearance?” He hefted the bag. “Lunch. Poke and sushi.”
“How did the meeting
go?” McGarrett asked as he took a pair of chopsticks from his friend and
entered his office.
“Long,” Williams
commented as he flopped into a chair opposite McGarrett. “Sam Ookala wants to
make the Charity Ball a costume event,” he reported after chewing a mouthful of
raw fish chunks mixed with seaweed. His
eyes lit up with humor. “Better get your
Santa suit out, Steve.”
McGarrett was not
amused. “You better not have volunteered
me.” He stabbed at his friend with
chopsticks pinching an ahi roll. “I’ll assign you to go.”
Williams
laughed. “I nixed the idea. Told them it would be too much of a security
problem. What with the Malaysian
troubles, it’s just too dangerous,” he finished seriously.
“Good.”
For the past few months a Malaysian radical group – The
Sumatra Tigers a gang representing a Golden Triangle warlord
-- had bombed, kidnapped or
assassinated officials in the Pacific/Asian region. Their goal was to tie up control of the drug
trades and lucrative gem smuggling of the Eastern operations for their
home-grown mob. The Five-0 staff knew little about the Asian/Pacific island
unrest, or the value of Burmese rubies until recently, but they were making up
for it with a crash course in regional politics and the resulting violence.
Five-0 had worked
with both the FBI and the CIA on a few of the investigations, but so far there
was no specific
“Any
more news from your informant on the Burmese rubies?”
“Not
yet. I’ll see if I can track him down
this afternoon.”
“Good. Now, what about Christmas?”
The
question startled Williams and he nearly choked on his poke. They had conversed about Christmas -- as they usually did -- during
Thanksgiving -- casually discussing plans.
This year Clara was coming in for the holiday and Steve had volunteered
to cook something simple. Then they were
going golfing at McGarrett’s club.
Usually, once the plans were set that was the last Steve mentioned
anything about the holiday until December twenty-forth. Sensing McGarrett was focusing on a serious
matter, he could almost guess the subject.
“What
about it?”
“I mean
about the Kelly kids.”
Swallowing
his fish with a gulp of soda, Williams nodded, completely in tune with the fragmented
mental complexities and moods of his boss.
“You mean what are we doing? Luana’s got a list of what she thinks they might be needing. Duke’s
been collecting funds. Didn’t he talk to
you?”
McGarrett was slightly
miffed about being the last to know this important familial obligation in his
own office. “No.”
“Plenty of
time. Suzi and her friend Kelly are organizing it,
but the other kids don’t know. I think
Duke and his boys were taking the younger kids out to buy a tree on Saturday.”
Again, McGarrett felt
displaced. These events were happening
under his nose and he knew nothing about them.
It was his own fault. All these years running Five-0, he made an
effort to not become too personally involved in the lives of his staff. He was close to his detectives -- ohana --
but such intimate things as presents and Christmas trees were foreign to
him. As a bachelor who liked doing
things his own way, he allowed the staff to have an annual, low-key party. And indulged Williams in
the birthday surprises. But that
was his limit. He cared about these
people and considered them closer than his own blood relations, but he rarely
penetrated the intimate sphere of their lives.
After losing Chin and
seeing a chance to be of some help to the orphaned Kelly children, he was
realizing how many gaps there were in his personal life. Maybe now was his second chance to rectify
the deficiencies and make a difference to the people he loved. How was he going to accomplish that? It was certainly not his style to go out with
a bunch of kids and buy presents or a tree.
Were there five Kelly kids still at home? He wasn’t even sure. Steve donated heavily to children’s
charities, but did not spend much time actually with children. Duke could handle that one-on-one much better
since he was a family man. And the party
organization – that was Williams’ forte.
Well, Steve would think of something to contribute besides money this
year. It was crucial -- to Chin's memory
-- that he be part of this on a more intimate level.
A knock at the
partially opened door brought his attention back and he bid the person to
enter. A square-jawed man in casual
clothes poked his head around. There was
more gray hair than brown; the face bore a deep, weather-aged tan on the fifty-ish-aged man.
McGarrett came to his
feet, amazed at the unexpected visitor.
“Pete?”
“Hey, Steve!”
The athletic, muscled
stranger rushed over and enthusiastically pumped McGarrett’s hand, then slapped
him on the back. Williams, now on his
feet, looked on in wonder at the unexpected and unusually effusively excited
greeting to his normally reserved boss.
“What are you doing
here?” McGarrett wondered incredulously.
“Working. Couldn’t come to
your island paradise again and not drop in and say hi.”
Delighted beyond
words, McGarrett made the introductions.
“Dan Williams, Pete Shay.”
Pete shook Williams’
hand. “Heard about
you, Williams. Nice
to finally meet the guy who’s keeping an eye on my old buddy.”
“Pete and I were in
NI together in Japan,” McGarrett reminded.
“I think last time he dropped by I had sent you over to Maui or
somewhere.” Fondly studying his old
friend, too many memories flooded in and he patted Shay on the shoulder. “We went through a lot together.”
Williams’ eyes
widened and he stared at the newcomer.
“You’re the Pete that saved Steve’s life in
“Hey, you’ve got a
good memory.” He narrowed a glance at
McGarrett. “Or Steve’s been telling too
many tales.”
“A little of both,”
McGarrett compromised.
Shay’s
dark eyes, framed by distinct crow’s feet, flickered -- as if some subterranean
concern flitted through his mind -- then it was gone. “Not like Steve to be a loose-lipped gossip
about the old days.”
“Steve
a gossip?” Dan
laughed at the thought. “Never.” Williams sat
on the edge of the nearby table.
“Danno
knows my secrets,” Steve joked as he ushered Shay over to the sofa. “How long are you here? Can you tell me about your assignment?”
“Not
long, not much,” Shay shrugged. “The usual stuff. A trail led me here
to
“Ah,” McGarrett
smiled. He had been waiting for the
explanation. For a spy, Pete had trouble
keeping secrets from him. “So this isn’t
just a social visit,” he kidded, satisfied that his old friend had not changed
after all these years.
Shay seemed a little
hesitant. “Well, yes and no. I’ve got a little bit of a mystery to solve
with some Malaysian radicals that might be hanging out around your turf. But,” he paused, almost -- embarrassed? “I was hoping, if you don’t mind, that I
could spend Christmas here. With you, Steve.”
The request was
surprising to say the least. Pete had
never been sentimental. And coming after
Steve’s mental analysis about his own life and the holiday season, it was a
stunning coincidence.
McGarrett automatically glanced
at Williams, who seemed to be reading his mind about the situation -- even as
he analyzed the request and the knowledge of their standing arrangement. Williams gave a nod. Steve inclined his head slightly. The silent conversation routinely, mutually
understood. When Steve looked back to
Shay, he noted his old colleague scrutinizing Williams carefully -- quizzically
-- curiously.
“Sounds
like you’ll enjoy yourselves,” Williams offered first, giving his boss an easy
out with the holiday plans. “Aunt Clara
will understand,” he assured, able to keep track, as always, of Steve’s mental
thought-trail.
About to
object, Steve relied on his ability to read a situation instantly and assessed
the options at play here. Shay’s
behavior was atypical. There was
plotting going on under the surface and part of it included this surprise
Christmas reunion. It seemed important
to indulge that first, and then arrange something else with the Williams’
later. After all, he saw Danno all the
time and Clara more than he ever expected.
Shay, though, seemed in need of his old pal and McGarrett wanted, for
old time’s sake, to see what Pete had in mind.
A phone in the other
office rang and Williams excused himself to answer it. Steve asked Shay for more details on the
Malaysian connection. Leaning in at the
doorway a moment later, Williams reported he had to leave to cover a follow up
on their fraud case at the University.
McGarrett stood. “I’ll go –“
“No, you stay here
and catch up on old times,” Williams offered quickly. “Maybe we can meet up at dinner,” he directed
at Shay. “I’d like to hear more of these
adventures in the Far East with Commander McGarrett,” he joked. With a wave, he was gone.
“Seems like a good
kid,” Shay commented, staring where Williams had been. “That was some kind of mind reading act
between you two.”
It seemed weird to
have Williams, a forty-year-old, referred to as a kid. But, Shay was older than McGarrett and
certainly looked his fifty-odd years.
Rough living on the constant edge of danger; life in uncivilized
quarters of the world, did that to a spy.
McGarrett simply
admitted, “We’ve come to read each other very well over the years. I couldn’t get by without him.”
Shay gave a
thoughtful nod. “Christmas
with the family. You have a tight
little operation going here, Steve. Sure
I’m not intruding?”
“Never. Now are you going to
tell me about the case or not?”
“Still the same
Steve. Too dedicated to the job.” Staring at him, Shay shook his head. “No, not the same. The old Steve I knew would never let anyone
get that close. Not for a personal
connection.” His smile was almost
suspicious. “You’ve turned soft,
Steve.”
The jibe
hit home on a number of levels that McGarrett did not appreciate, but could not
deny. As an NI officer, McGarrett had
been tough -- necessarily hard in his profession. He had carried that in part to his
organization of Five-0. So many years
and experiences later, he WAS soft. He
did have personal connections. Thinking
momentarily of Chin, he knew the intimacy of familial relationships came with it’s own set of pros and cons. And yes, he was still married to his job, but
it was a different career and he was a different man.
Steering to a lighter
vein, he jokingly reminded Shay was just as dedicated; married to the Navy,
then NSA, never taking time for a normal life.
A common theme for the old NI colleagues Steve had known since his service
in Korea and Japan. It seemed an odd
kind of Kismet that his old friend would show up at this auspicious time in his
life, when he was reevaluating his place in his close-knit society;
contemplating the sentiments and complexities of relationships and time lost
forever with those who were no longer here.
Maybe this WAS a Christmas of
second chances for him.
*****
Driving up to Manoa, Dan’s thoughts were not on the fraud case, but on
McGarrett and Pete Shay. Only a few of
the exploits of Steve’s NI career ever surfaced. Those were usually told by his old colleagues
in the spy trade, rarely by McGarrett. Occasionally, in sporadic, introspective
moments, Steve would reveal elements from his very private past. In the years he had been with Five-0, Dan
felt those interludes were few, and shared only with him. It was part of their mutual bond – that Steve
divulged personal information or emotions to him almost exclusively. McGarrett’s tough-guy image seldom cracked,
and when it did, it was usually with Williams.
Shay would be an
interesting source of information, but Dan already felt the subliminal prickle
of wariness slide over his nerves. Spies
-- they made his skin chill when he recollected his recent encounter with a Red
Chinese spy named Jin Wu. {episode
-- DEADLY COURIER}
Like the other old
spy colleagues of Steve’s, Shay might also bring some nasty surprises to
them. He already indicated he was here
on business. Undoubtedly, he would ask
Steve to help out with some intrigue.
That was never a good thing, he sighed to himself, hoping this Christmas
did not turn into a disaster. Old NI
buddies dropped in on Steve occasionally, and the results sometimes did not
work out well.
*****
As Williams surveyed the
bomb scene in the glittering tropical, early-December morning sun, he felt an
edge of dread creep into his system. It
lent a subliminal chill under the skin that was toasted warm by the tropical
humidity. Terrorist activities
apparently now preyed in
The familiar screech
of brakes brought him out of the unpleasant reverie and he turned to watch
McGarrett weave through the debris. The
expressions on McGarrett’s face; revulsion – fury – were reflections of his own
emotions.
“Do we have any
indication that this was terrorist related,” McGarrett asked when he drew close
to his colleague.
“No proof yet, but
that’s what I would go with initially.”
He pointed to a burned out car at the curb. “Car bomb. No witnesses admit to seeing anyone park here
or leave the car.”
McGarrett stared at
him with keen eyes. “Meaning what? You think there are witnesses, but they’re
concealing something?”
“If they’re alive,
after just being caught in a bomb attack, they might keep quiet out of fear,”
he offered.
“Reprisals,”
McGarrett clarified.
“This is an insular
community like a lot of the Asian neighborhoods,” Dan reminded. “Just like Little Saigon and Chinatown. They stick close together. And testifying against terrorists, drug lords
or gem smugglers will not be healthy for them or their families.” Frustration
at their lack of contacts and progress in the smuggling investigation
surfaced. "Not like when we had Chin to help."
McGarrett
grunted. After a moment, he responded, “Well,
we’re going to move faster on this than we have on the gem smuggling,
Danno. We will find out about this,” his voice hardened with
determination. “We’re not going to allow
this mindless violence to get a foothold here.”
Walking into the
charred entrance of the market, McGarrett surveyed the scene with sad
repulsion. Missing Chin and his inside
talent for culling informants more than ever, Williams walked over to check on
Lukela, who was taking a statement from a timid witness.
From the corner of
his eye, Dan spotted something that snagged his attention, and he turned,
surprised to see Pete Shay slipping through the crowd of spectators across the
street. What was the spy doing
here? Curious about
the bombing? Why didn’t he come
over and talk with them? So he wouldn’t
be seen by others who were observing the aftermath?
Stepping over to one
of the lab men, Dan asked that the tech photograph not just the crime scene,
but the people in the crowd. An unusual
request, the officer agreed nonetheless and immediately started snapping
pictures of those observing from the sidelines.
*****
Studying the lab reports
and photos on the long table in his office, Steve impatiently commented the lab
should hurry up and finish developing all the film rolls. He liked the good idea of getting shots of
the crowd and wanted the information now.
Terrorists wouldn’t normally stick around to check on their work, but
psychos might. They weren’t sure whom
they were dealing with – too early in the investigation to jump to conclusions
– but they had to cover all angles on this.
The governor and the Malaysian consulate were already up in arms about
the incident and demanding Five-0 get results immediately.
“Pete Shay gave me
the idea,” Williams admitted modestly as he studied the first batch of
pictures. Tie loosened, wearing short
sleeves in the humid, warm December afternoon, he fought off a yawn and gulped
down more coffee. He opened the lanai
doors wider to allow in more of the tropical breeze. “I saw him skulking around at the edge of the
crowd.”
“Pete was there?”
“Yeah, I figured he
didn’t want to be seen by the wrong people so he didn’t come over and say
anything.”
Puzzled, McGarrett
gazed at the reports and files, but was preoccupied. Why hadn’t Shay come over by now – hours
after the crime – to share information? Probably because Pete was off searching his own leads. But he should disclose what he knew. This was no longer an academic exercise in
trading information. The crime had
happened on Hawaiian -- McGarrett’s -- turf and the NSA would have to disclose
whatever information they had.
“Hey, did you see the
victim list, Steve?” Williams asked as he pushed a piece of paper over. “Tommy Malang. We arrested him last year for smuggling.”
“Hot gems,” McGarrett
added. “He was the
“Yeah. I didn’t know he was
out on parole.”
Checking the time,
Steve buttoned his top shirt button, straightened his tie and grabbed his
jacket. “What have we got, a smuggling
operation gone wrong or a terrorist bombing?”
“Not sure.”
“I’ve got the press
conference with the governor. You go
talk to Pete. He’s staying at The Waikikian.”
“Swell,” he snidely
commented. “Next time he comes, you
should talk to him about accommodations, Steve.
Get him a deal at the Ilikai. They
like you there.”
“Yeah, yeah,”
McGarrett smiled as he sailed out of the door.
“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.
Bring dinner.”
*****
On Ala Moana, just down from the swank Ilikai and Hilton’s
“Pete, it’s Dan Williams.”
A moment later the
door was opened, his arm grabbed and he was yanked into the room.
“You just want to
announce my presence here?” Shay snarled lividly. “You think I’m using my own name here?”
Miffed at the harsh
reception, Dan was again reminded why he hated mingling business ventures with
Steve’s old cloak-and-dagger pals.
“Well, you didn’t tell us your code name this trip, or the secret
password, did you?”
Gradually,
the defensive-wariness dissipated and Shay gave a quirky, lopsided grin. It etched the weathered face into cool planes
of wary scrutiny. “Okay, score one for
you, Williams. Just so you know I’m here
under the name of Sands.” He moved
farther into the room and grabbed two beers out of the small fridge in a tiny
kitchenette. “Where’s Steve?” He sat in one of the two chairs at a tiny
table next to the bed, handing a bottle to the detective.
Dan
refused the drink. That earned him a
glare from the spy.
Pacing opposite the
man, Dan replied, “Had a press conference about the bombing.” He nodded to the TV in the corner. “If you turn on the news you can catch him
and the governor.” The suggestion was
not taken up and he continued. “So what
do you know about the bombing? Are they
the guys you’re after?”
“Why would I know
anything?”
The attitude, maybe
the bland tone alerted Dan. He had
learned to hone his own level of sixth sense abilities under the tutelage of
McGarrett over the years. Pete was
hiding something. It was his nature and
profession, of course, but right now Dan didn’t like it. He never liked these spy games and decided to
set things straight immediately. He
didn’t care if this was Steve’s old friend or not, Five-0 was not getting
entangled with more mysterious spook intrigue than necessary.
“I saw you observing
the scene. You were looking for
someone? Or you know something?” Shay was silent. “Come on, help us out here. We don’t want terrorists coming to
Shay laughed. “Are you really that naive in this tropical
paradise, Charlie Chan? This is part of
the Pacific rim!
Of course they’re already here.
The Sumatra Tigers are everywhere around and in this part of the
world. You’re just lucky they haven’t
hit your islands. Yet.”
“Then this was the
work of the Tigers?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You know something,
though.”
“No.”
Dan strove not to
show his irritation at the run around.
“Did you know Tommy Malang? He
was one of the victims.” There was no
visible reaction except a barely perceivable darkening of the brown eyes. “
“No,” Shay denied blandly. “And I wasn’t there today.”
Not allowing his
incredulity to surface, Dan countered with the same level non-tone as the
spy. “I saw you.”
“I wasn’t there. You’re mistaken.”
Chills traveling
along a sub-sensory level of instinct caused his temperature to drop. So, Shay was playing a double game. No surprise, most of these spooks and
former-spooks couldn’t help it. What
disturbed him was the high level of the serious crime this involved. And the personal aspect of
Steve’s relationship with his old friend. Shay was hiding what he knew about the
bombing -- lying about his involvement and maybe more. When Steve found out it was going to be both
personally wounding and professionally irksome.
“Steve
McGarrett keeps a tight watch on this rock, Shay. He’s going to know what you’re doing and know
what you’re up to. When he finds out
you’re concealing important information from him, he’ll want an accounting.”
“I told
you. I don’t know anything about the
bombing, Williams.” His eyes were as flint-cold
as his tone. “Why are you implying that
I do?”
The
accusation shocked him into silence.
Furiously he tried to figure the game Shay was playing. Was there someone listening? A person hiding in the
other room? His skin crawled with
thoughts about his recent, nasty brush with spies and brainwashing. {episode -- DEADLY
COURIER} Part of him would like nothing more than to get as far away as
possible from spook games. The
conscientious part urged him to delve deeper for the truth.
“You were
there. Just tell me why. You knew
The chill
smile reflected the frosty demeanor.
“Maybe we just shouldn’t mention any of this,” Shay continued with
narrowed eyes. “Steve would be
disappointed to hear his star detective was imagining things. Trying to weave conspiracies out of this
bombing that aren’t true.” Shay came to his feet. Dan squared off with him, holding his
ground. “Be a shame for Steve to think
his boy wonder was inventing clues to cover for his sloppy police work. Trying to create a
short-cut through me. Fabricating clues.”
He stabbed the much shorter detective’s arm with his finger. “Get my drift, officer?”
Dan
couldn’t believe it. The guy was
threatening him! Was he really intruding
on some clandestine operation with Shay?
Or was this something else that he couldn’t quite fathom? Yet. Why didn’t he trust the guy like Steve
did?
His suspicions
of spies carried the weight of his wariness.
“Steve is going to see through you in a minute.”
Shay just
smiled. It was an expression seemingly carved in marble -- the same flexibility
and warmth -- that sent an equal chill to the dark eyes that assessed him with
near-contempt. “I think you’re on the
wrong track. I think you have no
evidence to support your theory and Steve will be easy to convince you’re being
over-zealous. Maybe
even jealous of me showing up here and working with my old pal.”
Dan
swallowed the amazement, the trepidation that crept into his nerves. Shay was not only willing to lie to protect himself, he was ready to engineer a wedge within Five-0 to
keep his secrecy in this operation. Because Shay was deliberately trying – what? Personal attacks –
diminishing Dan’s skills and attempts to do his job. Why?
Almost as if he was trying to cast doubt on his abilities. Why?
To drive a block between the Five-0 team members? Why? Spy business undoubtedly.
Nothing, however, that he could prove or even solidly
formulate into a theory. All he
knew now was that for some reason Shay was lying.
Feeling a
little defensive about everything concerning Five-0 since Chin’s death, he
searched for a flash of insecurity that would validate Shay. Could the spy possibly do or say anything to
crumble the solidarity of Five-0? He
found no trace of doubt within. Duke,
Steve and he were ohana. That defined
more than any of them could ever explain.
The certainty of his bond with McGarrett and Five-0 intensified his
resentment and suspicion.
The idea
that this was a conspiracy against him or Five-0 did flash in his mind as
paranoia. Redefining this man as a
dangerous uncertainty, he gripped onto his control with icy detachment. Confidence returned. “Okay,” Williams responded tightly, knowing
for now he had to agree to the terms. For now. “If that’s
the way you want to play it.”
“It’s the
only way to play it.”
After Dan
left, he went to his car and sat there for a few minutes, ruminating over the
conversation. No doubt -- Shay was
involved with this. Why lie? And how was he going to break this to Steve? Straight out and to the
point. There would be no other
way with McGarrett.
*****
The lights were on in
the office when Williams returned with cartons of Chinese food. He was surprised Duke was there so late and
at a glance, noted McGarrett’s office was empty.
“What are you still
doing here?” Williams asked as he joined Lukela.
“Going over
the lab reports. That last set of pictures came in a while
ago. They’re on
your desk. I didn’t have
time to get to them.”
“You know all of us
don’t have to stay till midnight,” he only half joked.
“Just what I
was thinking.” Lukela glanced at the food containers. “By the way, Steve took off with that Shay
guy. You don’t mind if I take his
dinner, do you?”
“No.”
Williams took his
food to his cubicle, wondering if Shay was going to come clean with Steve. Probably. That need-to-know garbage
between spies and ex-spies. That was
fine with him. As long as Steve knew the
straight story, it didn’t matter where he got the information.
Dipping into his
sweet and sour pineapple chicken, Williams sorted through the pictures from the
crime scene. This batch included the
assorted photos of the crowd. Dan found
two that clearly showed Shay. He put one
in the stack he would show Steve later, and another in his drawer. It was an instinctive measure and he
questioned the motivation even as he followed through with the actions.
What validation did
he have for being suspicious of Steve’s old friend? Only that Shay had given him a hard time
about the bomb scene and Dan didn’t trust him completely. Was that enough to doubt the man’s -- what --
loyalty to country -- to Steve -- commitment to cooperation with Five-0? All of the above? Dan didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t trust
Shay. Not because he was jealous, nor
because of the attempt at intimidation. Something else. His feelings ran deeper than logic.
Duke stepped into the
cubicle and sat in a chair. “So, did you
get the reservations for Chen’s?”
The
question startled Williams into recollecting responsibilities he had not
thought about -- uncharacteristically -- for a few days. Chen was a kindly old gentleman who owned a
great restaurant in Chinatown. He’d been
favorable to Five-0 since they helped him root out a tong problem in the
neighborhood and he was one of the conspirators of the legendary birthday
surprise party.
Still
disturbed about Shay, distracted, Williams mumbled, “Uh, yeah. Chen is on board. At SixPM on the
Thirtieth, Chen will call Steve to the restaurant to have him chase away some
tong punks giving him a hard time. We’ll
all seem devastated that this is ruining the surprise party. Then we race over, show up in the back room
of the Golden Dragon, and surprise Steve.”
Duke shook his
head. “He’ll figure it out. This isn’t as good as last year --“
“Last year we had
Aunt Clara and Suzi helping out. They
don’t have time this year. And besides,
Steve would be on guard for that.” He
could see Lukela was not impressed. It
was not one of his best ideas, he freely admitted, but there was just too much
going on this year. “We can always fall
back on the hula girls.”
Duke stared at him
until he finally broke into a chuckle.
“I think Chen’s will work out okay.”
Dan
nodded, still troubled about Steve’s old friend. “How’re things going with the Kellys?” he asked, studying the crime scene photos.
“The Saturday before
Christmas we’ll have a luau there.
Truck’s going to dress up as Santa.”
Dan nodded, smiling, then the amusement faded.
“You know Truck wants me to put in a good word for him to join Five-0.”
Lukela’s expression darkened.
“Have you talked to Steve?”
“About Truck? Yeah. And Kevin Wilson, too.”
“Not Yoshi?”
“Not Yoshi. He’d try and
push me out of the way!”
Yoshi Nakamura was an over-eager young, zealous
patrolman who had desperately lobbied to be part of Five-0 for years and openly
campaigned for Dan’s job. It had become
a joke, but in these serious times of looking for new officers, it fell
flat. Even kidding about taking
Williams’ place, it was only a slightly amusing element of an otherwise sober
task.
The
argument to add another detective to take Chin’s empty spot was an old
one. Dan had been after Steve for months
to bring in another officer. McGarrett
couldn’t bring himself to do it yet. He
sadly shook his head, heavyhearted that his friend had such a hard time
overcoming the mourning for Chin.
“So, I guess Steve
didn’t take the idea too well.”
“No. Not yet.”
“You’ll wear him
down,” Lukela assured. He glanced at the
crime scene photos. “Any
ideas?”
“A few,” Williams
admitted, his mind traveling back to the unpleasant mystery of Shay and the
terrorists. “I’ll let you know. Any idea where Steve went
for dinner?”
“No. Why?”
“I just need to run a
few things by him.”
“Knowing
his reunions with past old friends, he’ll be out pretty late.”
Reluctantly,
Williams silently agreed. Steve’s old
pals loved to wax loquacious on the good old days. No telling where they went or how long they’d
be out.
“So, you
want to tell me what’s bugging you?”
Looking
into Lukela’s eyes, Dan knew better than to try and
deny what must have been obvious to one who knew him so well. “Shay.”
“What
about him?”
“I’m not
sure,” Williams shrugged. “He’s
concealing -- something. Playing his own game.”
Lukela
continued to stare steadily at him. “Are
you sure this isn’t about your Christmas plans being bumped aside for the old
buddy?”
“It’s
not.” The dark eyes continued their
intent scrutiny without the facial expression changing. “Really.”
“What are
you bothered about, then? Steve’s old pal moving in and taking over? Disturbing --“
“Well, I
hope I’m not that petty, Duke!”
Lukela’s manner was easy. “I’m not blaming you. Everybody was looking forward to an ohana
Christmas. Helping the Kelly kids and
staying close. Then this outsider
appears and disrupts things. It would be
natural to feel --“
“I do not
resent Steve’s old friend dropping in.
What I don’t like is -- he’s lying, Duke.”
This
surprised the officer. “About what?”
“He was
at the bombing. He denies it. I just confronted him about it. He flat out lied to me.” Dan shoved the photo of Shay toward his
friend and Lukela studied it in a glance.
Duke was
thoughtful. “He IS a spy, Danny. He lies as part of his nature.”
“Yeah.”
The next
words were spoken with clear caution.
“Maybe you’re a little sensitive about spies --“
“You
think I’m imagining this?”
“No. I think you’re a little -- touchy -- about
spook games after Jin Wu.”
“There is
something up with Shay, Duke!” he nearly shouted. His reaction was obvious evidence that Duke
had hit the bulls-eye on that speculation about spies. Dan still denied he was upset about Shay
moving in at this sensitive time for Five-0.
What mattered was he knew he was right.
“I know it!”
“That
wasn’t an accusation, Dan” he countered mildly.
"It's been a rough year, for real."
Still on edge, Williams sighed to release some tension. “I know. Sorry for snapping at you."
Duke gave him a shaka sign. "It's okay. We're all going through some tough emotions right now.
"Yeah.
But, I’m going to find out
what Shay’s up to.”
“Just
watch your step,” Duke sagely warned.
“You know first hand how dangerous these things can get.” He seemed to weight his words
judiciously. “And Steve seemed pretty
pleased at Shay’s arrival. Maybe you
should let Steve have his time with the old pal and any of your suspicions
should be investigated -- carefully.”
Lukela
returned to his own cubicle and Williams stewed on the sagacious advice. Not relishing staying up all night waiting
for McGarrett, Williams finished his paperwork and went home, deciding to catch
his boss early in the morning.
The drive
to his condo was fraught with irritated self-doubt. Was he really disturbed about Shay moving
into a Christmas that was so important to them all? Christmas Eve was going to be spent with the
Kelly kids. Christmas
Day with Aunt Clara and Steve.
Then New Year’s Eve all of them out at the Kulani
estate for the big end of year luau. The
holidays were all planned. Important celebrations
in the shadow of losing Chin. They all wanted to reaffirm the significance
of their ohana. Did he resent Shay for
coming in and disrupting it?
Or did he really feel, deep down, through his
sixth sense, that Pete was up to something?
His answer to both questions -- yes. He was distrustful of Shay and thought the
spy was up to no good. And yes, he did
resent the old friend for coming back and disrupting ohana plans for Christmas
and probably Steve’s birthday and New Year’s.
Of course paradise would
attract serpents. Why did it have to be
this Christmas?
Aware of his priorities, he knew the most
important thing was to covertly discover what duplicity Shay was up to. Then, he would worry about the trivialities
of the holidays. Despite the sharp loss
of Chin Ho, it was a serious business to run at Five-0 and their personal lives
should not factor into it. Shay and
terrorists had to be taken care of first.
*****
Steve chose Nick’s at
the wharf for their impromptu dinner. At
short notice, it would not be easy to get into a good restaurant in
Recommending a
specialty, grilled opakapaka, then
they ordered beverages. Steve’s
insistence on drinking just coffee earned him some teasing from the old
friend. After a time, he zeroed in on
the crux of the meet.
“This is more about
just dinner, isn’t it, Pete?”
“You know me pretty
well, Steve,” Shay admitted with the shadow of a smile curling the tips of his
lips. “I wanted you to know the bombing
today was not part of my operation. Random violence. You
need to look into the local mob on this one.
The terrorists I’m after don’t have a fingerprint like this.”
Shay had a lot of
experience behind him, but Steve still did not accept gifts easily, even from
friends. “Thanks. But I prefer to find the facts on my own.”
The brown eyes
flicked slightly. “I’m saving you some
time, Steve.”
“That’s what I have
detectives for. Just
to cover all the bases.”
Buzzing his lips in a
deep exhale of exasperation, Shay shook his head. “Stubborn as always.” Their appetizers arrived along with refills
on Shay’s beer and after the waitress left he continued. “Teaching it to your
protégé, too.”
McGarrett’s eyebrows raised. “Danno?”
“Too
eager. One of those dangerous achievers. His youth makes him ambitious.”
“He’s not
as young as he looks. A
helpful deception.”
Shay
thoughtfully sipped his beer. “Nice to know. He has
a lot of responsibility. Maybe too much freedom?
Not like the old McGarrett I used to know. You and I were top dogs. A subordinate knew his place.” He stared hard at his old colleague. “You losing your
grip, Steve?”
McGarrett
was not so amused at the line of interrogation.
“Times have changed, Pete. This
isn’t the Navy. I need to work with colleagues,
not command them, in Five-0.”
The spy
shrugged. “Never hurts to let the staff
know who’s in charge. But you must do
that -- the old Steve I knew couldn’t help himself.”
“My detectives
have no problem distinguishing who’s in charge,” was McGarrett’s crisp
retort. “And their loyalty is
absolute.” He thought of Chin with a
frequent stab of regret. Being part of
Five-0 cost him his life. “And Danno is
loyal to a fault.”
“Loyal
to a fault. Quaint.” Shay slowly nodded, studying the liquor in
his glass. “I’ll remember that.”
The
expression on Shay’s face was an odd one and Steve couldn’t quite read it. Calculated scrutiny or confusion? He couldn’t be sure. Nor could he read his old friend’s mood. What he did know was that Pete was
fishing. For what? How well they could work together again? How much resistance the spy would encounter
from Dan and Duke? Or was it more?
“What is
all this about?”
“Williams
came to see me about the bombing.”
“I hope you didn’t
try this subterfuge on him.”
Shay shrugged. “Over-eager. Reminds me of a young NI guy I knew named
McGarrett. Never knew when to give up.”
With
amused pride, Steve admitted that sounded like his officer. “Don’t underestimate him. He’s my right-hand.”
Shay
slowly nodded, studying the liquor in his glass. “I’ll remember that, too.” He shifted his penetrating eyes to study
McGarrett. “You’re close. He takes things -- personal. So do you.
He’s protective about you.”
The
observations were meant to be casual, but Steve found them too probing,
intimate and odd. “What does he have to
be protective about? What’s going on? What did you tell him about the bombing?”
“Nothing
to tell,” Shay shrugged, but his eyes were sharp with the look of a quest. “No terrorists hiding behind your palm
trees. Williams concerns me. He’s defining his territory. Maybe he’s jealous I moved into your life
suddenly. Or he’s threatened.”
The
unfavorable traits were so opposite Williams’ personality Steve laughed. “I’m worried that you’re paranoid, Pete. Whatever went on between you two, you didn’t
get his measure at all.”
“Maybe,”
Shay shrugged, but he looked away, distracted by a waitress. When he looked back, his expression altered
from predatory to sober. “Before we get
any further, maybe you should let me know if Williams calls the shots or you,
Steve. Not like you to let the hired
help run things. You’ve never been the
figurehead type.”
The
accusation stung and McGarrett took a moment to ponder his reply instead of
hotly, sharply flinging back an angry denial.
Shay was playing some kind of game -- almost maneuvering him. He had seen it -- done it -- enough times to
know what it was. Why was his old
colleague trying the ploy on him?
“You’re
out of line, Pete. Tell me what this is
all about. You know me very well. You know how I handle my job. Aside from that, it’s none of your business
how I run my department.”
The spy held
up his hands in surrender and replied in an unruffled tone. “Okay, Steve, I’ll level with you. I’ve been observing you, testing out the
operation here. I need your resources
elsewhere. Drop this bombing,
let your police department handle it. I
wanted to ask you to help out with this investigation I’m doing. I found a lead on a terrorist and I need some
manpower to assist. But we have to keep
it low-key and professional.”
Instantly
on guard at the request, Steve studied his old friend. “There was no need for testing,” he snapped
back, miffed that his abilities and skills were questioned.
“Don’t
get huffy, Steve. I know you. I trust you.
I don’t know your staff. And
Williams has -- well -- he acts like he’s got a lot of power.”
His
voice as flinty as his resentment. “He’s my
second-in-command. He can run Five-0 as
well as I can.”
“Okay,”
the spook sighed. “But this is
important, Steve. And
secret. I can’t have any errant
cops out for glory here.”
“You can
trust everyone on the staff of Five-0,” the detective assured tightly. “If I even agreed to whatever it is you want. Which I haven’t.”
“I’ll
explain it all, Steve. But know that
this is really important. National Security stuff.
Not a gang fight in Koreatown
or a bombing in Chinatown, Steve. This
is about international terrorism and I’m afraid it’s coming right here on your
doorstep.”
McGarrett
stiffened automatically. “If you have
information --“
“I want
to help you stop it. And you will help
me stop it.”
McGarrett
was both wary and anxious to work with his old friend again. “But we
would need full disclosure, Pete. Total cooperation. I
don’t work in the dark. And I won’t drop
important cases on your say-so unless I have a good reason.”
Shay laughed. “Territorial just like always, Steve. You never did like the need-to-know jazz.”
“I still don’t.”
“Then you’ll come
aboard?”
“Tell me more,” Steve
cautiously countered.
“These are dangerous
radicals. You’ll get the full
background, I promise. I know Five-0 is the
best and so I’ll need all the help you can give me. I can’t afford to have you diverting
important assets that I need. Trust me,
Steve.”
McGarrett
wanted to, but his natural inclination to skepticism prevented his complete
acceptance of the proposal. He outlined
that Shay would have to take him in to the operation completely, leaving out no
details. He and his men would be on the
line for Shay’s secret project and none of them were expendable like the NSA
men. He thought about Chin’s undercover
debacle and wondered if entering into a clandestine activity was wise. He trusted Shay only so far. Pete saved his life years ago, but he was a
professional spook. Could he be trusted
now? To a qualified
degree, yes. With
the lives of Danno and Duke? Not
completely.
Shay agreed to the
terms. Over dinner, he outlined the two
people he needed shadowed. And he gave
McGarrett the name of a contact for the terrorists that he could not find with
his limited means. By the time dessert
arrived, they laid out a plan for stake-outs and Steve had a good idea of where
to look for this mystery contact named McBride.
“This is going to be
like old times, Steve. It’s nice working
with someone I can trust.”
Pete had never been
one for team efforts, but they had gotten on well together. The profession was not one that encouraged
trust or close relationships.
“Are you happy you
got out?”
“Never been happier,”
McGarrett admitted. He wouldn’t trade
his life for anything. Certainly not for the back-stabbing spy game. When McGarrett was transferred to Pearl
Harbor, he remembered that Shay was terribly upset, then doubly aggravated when
Steve retired NI to head up Five-0. He
wondered if this was a probe to see if he felt he had made the right
choice. There was no question in his
mind that he had chosen correctly. “I
was meant to do this, Pete.”
Shay nodded. “I think so.
I didn’t think so all those years ago, but I do now. Seeing how you’re thriving here. There are times I would like to give it all
up, too. Maybe I should retire and come
live in your paradise. It’s worked out
well for you.”
“It has.” He would have never dreamed what a paradise
could be until he took over Five-0.
Aside from the hard work and danger and frequent stressful conflicts, it
was a great life. He had the beauty of
“And do what?” he
scoffed. “You don’t have any openings,
do you?”
It was a joke, but
Pete didn’t know how serious it was.
McGarrett flinched. “Yes, I do.”
Shay’s eyes narrowed. “Really. You lost someone the hard way? Recently. It's still a sore spot."
McGarrett stared at the dark coffee in his cup. "Yeah, a few months ago one of my officers . . . ." He just shook his head, not wanting to go into detail. Already, in his mind';s eye he saw Chin's body on the pavement . . . .
"Something I
might consider," Pete was saying. "But I don’t think I qualify
for a cop shop, do I?”
“I don’t know,”
McGarrett honestly returned, not sure where this was all leading. “I came out of NI, remember?”
Thoughtfully, the spy
nodded. “Maybe we should look on this
joint operation as an audition, then?”
The spark in Shay’s eyes was undeniable.
Steve could not
refuse the question. “Maybe,” he neutrally
responded.
“What a kick it would
be working together again,” Shay smiled.
“Yeah,” he agreed,
remembering some wild times in Japan.
And the sterling successes they racked up catching foreign agents. “Yeah, it would.”
Easy to think back on
the old days as sentimental good times, he quickly remembered the hard
times. The reasons he finally retired
for a better career. There had been
betrayals and horrible lies; some dangers -- some moments when it was an
unbelievable comfort to have a solid ally at his side. He had that now, though, with Danno and
Lukela. Maybe this time it was Shay who
needed that stability and trust in someone.
*****
Calling McGarrett’s
apartment just after SixAM proved futile. Suspecting Steve was already out jogging, Dan
dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and ran down to Waikiki to try and catch his
friend. He made a few circuits of the
area and never spotted McGarrett.
Returning home, he prepared for work, trying once more before he left to
make contact -- without luck.
In the car, he
received a radio alert from HPD on the fraud case. That investigation took him to the university
until late morning. By the time Williams
arrived at the Palace, McGarrett and Shay were already sorting out the joint
operation; assigning Five-0 to tracking two Malaysian terrorists. Dan was mildly surprised at the new case –
following a suspected terrorist and finding a guy known as McBride (no first
name) ID’d by NSA as a Pacific/Asian smuggler with
possible terrorist links. Dan went along
with his part of the assignment; chasing down McBride. This mysterious McBride would be hard to miss
-- red haired, red mustache and strongly built.
People would remember him.
Shay gave away no
expression or comment that indicated they had experienced a confrontation the
day before. They were jumping into a
united effort without question. There
was no opportunity to speak privately with Steve, and Dan decided to report his
conflict with Shay. Perhaps the spy had
already covered that ground with Steve. Maybe not. So Dan was
determined to settle the score now.
“Before we get too
far into this, maybe Pete would like to explain what he was doing at the scene
of the bombing yesterday.”
McGarrett glanced at
Williams, then at Shay, then back at Dan.
“Pete said he was running an operation with an informant connected with
Tommy Malang.”
“Coincidence,” Pete
supplied easily.
”And Pete says it was
not terrorists. I have HPD
double-checking just to be sure.”
Dan was alerted. “Tommy Malang. Then it’s gem smuggling --“
“My operation,” Pete
emphasized clearly, “has nothing do to with your gem smuggling case. Steve and I already covered that. Shall we get on with the briefing?”
It could
be the truth. Then why hadn’t Pete said
so yesterday? Dan looked to McGarrett,
who simply watched him with impassive silence.
“Anything
else, Danno?”
Any
interrogation now might seem like petty territorial sniping. Dan didn’t want to be unfavorably compared to
Steve’s old friend. Deep inside he recognized the insecurities leaping momentarily to the
surface. It was ridiculous. He was the second-in-command of Five-0. He had been Steve’s closest friend and
confidant for years -- closer than brothers.
An old spy pal moving in on an assignment was not going to change
that. Looking at the passive, mask-like
expression of Shay’s, Dan wondered what was really churning behind those dark
eyes.
“No.” Dan
restrained from saying more.
Shay’s manner was
brisk. “Look, Dan, you were not on a
need to know basis until last night.
Things changed. I need your help
now. Satisfied?”
Dan stared at him,
unable to discern if that was the truth or not.
He looked to McGarrett. “Are
you?”
Steve smirked. “I think we can trust him.”
Williams gave a
slight nod. If it was cool with Steve
then he had to go along. Reluctantly. He still
didn’t like Shay’s secrecy. Supposedly,
though, he would have to get used to it.
By the looks of
things, Shay and McGarrett had ironed out all snags in working a case with
NSA. While it made Williams wary, still,
he had to admit it was easy work and exactly like any other Five-0 case, so he
found no problem in it. Except working with Shay. Mollifying his unease with a promise to talk
to Steve privately about it all later, he listened to an outline of
assignments. Shay suggested they push
other cases onto Duke, who would juggle several Five-0 investigations to free
up Dan and Steve for the NSA work.
It brought to mind
again that they needed another detective or two on staff, but he was not going
to mention that sore subject now.
Holidays were not the time to try and replace Chin. He had mentioned it often enough. Steve continued to resist. Impasse.
Checking out a paper
trail first, Dan found no trace of a McBride fitting the description of this
suspect who had distinctive red hair and a bushy red mustache. Thinking it was an alias (although Shay had
not mentioned that), he ran it through the HPD computer and found seven hits
for a McBride working with suspected smuggling operations, but in different
spots on the globe besides the Pacific.
Then he tried occupations. One of
this guy’s main covers was as an art dealer.
Knowing many of the art dealers in
*****
Following a lead on a Singapore terrorist, McGarrett also wanted
to take some time with Shay so they did a little leg work together. It had been years since they had really
visited and Steve sensed something in the old spy that he couldn’t define. Perhaps, it was some longing in himself to
help an old friend who seemed strung out and at loose ends.
SALLY’S
was the hot spot in Waikiki this year and Steve had a permanent “in” with the
owner. McGarrett was not one for
attending the place at the peak hours of the night, but Pete indicated his
snitch might frequent such a spot and they could get some information
here.
While
absorbing the loud music and exciting atmosphere, Steve was still trying to
delve into Shay’s deeper motives because he sensed a hidden agenda. Or perhaps had not
correctly defined the spy’s priorities.
Maybe the joint operation was secondary to Pete’s need for this personal
reunion.
Driving
back to The Waikikian, Steve cut through the silence
with a probing question. “I’m curious,
Pete. The Sumatra Tigers are not your
sole focus this trip, are they?”
In the
dark, McGarrett couldn’t read the face very well, and could not shift his
concentration long from the clogged traffic of Waikiki. He sensed, however, Shay tense at the
question.
“The
threat from the Tigers is real, Steve,” came the careful reply.
“But?”
He could
hear Pete’s smile in the tone. “You’re
right again, Steve. I’m worn out. I’m tired of fighting against a tide that
always overwhelms the forces of good.”
He sighed. “You know me, I’ve always been a loner.”
“Yeah.”
“Like
you used to be. Now, I just feel alone.”
The
description was apt for his Naval career. McGarrett was never a joiner. Football, yes. Service, yes.
Clubs, crowds of friends, lots of social activities -- no. The life of an NI officer seemed to suit him
perfectly. Aloof,
distant, removed from the common camaraderie of the ranks. He never thought he had changed much after
signing on to organize and leading Five-0, but at the slanted comment, he understood
Shay’s meaning. He was definitely a part
of a tight team now.
“I have a
good life,” he assured. “I never knew
what I was missing.” His staff was his
ohana. “That confuse
you?”
“No. I’m just surprised. I never expected it from you. And I -- I just wonder if -- nah, nevermind.”
“If
you could make the change, too?”
Steve had
seen disillusionment and weariness from his other old NI colleagues who were
still in the spy trade. He had seen it
in Pete even while they were working together in Japan many years ago.
“I don’t
see why not, Pete. You could always give
it a try.”
Shay nodded. The rest of the trip was completed in silence. McGarrett felt perhaps the next move was his to make. What would that move be concerning Shay’s future?
*****
When Williams entered
the office all the detectives were out.
He filled out some reports and cleared up paperwork. Several phone calls
needed to be made about the finalized security for the upcoming charity ball.
The bombing forced the governor to reconsider the scope of the event and things
were thankfully scaled down and precautions strengthened. That meant more
work for HPD and Five-0, but it had to be done. The train of thought led
to his concerns about Shay and the bombing scene and he soon grew dissatisfied
with the busy work. Needing to do
something positive to advance their case, he pulled out the picture in his desk
drawer. Studying it, his perception was
that Shay seemed to be leaning close to a man in the crowd. Talking with the man? A shorter, Asian-looking
man.
Just to satisfy his
curiosity, he took the picture down to the lab and had the photo enlarged. Then he sent it over the wires to the various
computer databases around the world. The
man could be an informant or just someone asking the time of day. Dan had to be sure. He still felt Shay was acting funny, although
he appeared completely on track to Steve.
*****
It was nearly dark
when Williams’ phone rang. It was
Sergeant Artie Kahana at the computer lab at
HPD. A hit came in on the picture Dan
sent out. The man was known by several
aliases but mostly by the name of Jakarta Sunda through Interpol and MI-6. A Sumatra-born Malaysian, Sunda was suspected
of smuggling gems out of Asia and acting as a middle-man for the money to
finance drug and gun running.
Thanking Officer Kahana, Dan hung up. Totally confused, he took out the picture and studied it. It really did look like Shay was talking to this guy who’s international nickname was Jakarta Sunda. It was beyond coincidence that Shay was just passing the time of day with a known criminal -- a contact for smugglers and spies centered in Malaysia. Especially when Shay was here about these Pacific-Asian terrorists. And Five-0 had been working a case on gem smuggling in the Pacific.
Why didn’t Shay just
tell them the truth? And would not
knowing the real motives behind everything be a danger to Five-0? That, Dan realized with a stab of fear, was
his real concern. Danger
to Steve or Duke while they helped out the spies. Dan had every reason to harbor anxiety about
such possibilities.
Flowing with a
current of his own intuition, Dan shifted his focus. Assuming Shay had some kind of secret motive,
he took what facts he knew and tried to work them into a theory. He scribbled notes on a pad of paper.
FIVE-0 WORKING ON MALAYSIAN GEM SMUGGLING
SHAY SHOWS UP
SHAY WANTS US TO DROP
EVERYTHING
HELP HIM WITH TRACKING TERRORISTS
FIND AN ELUSIVE AND
MYSTERIOUS PERSON NAMED MCBRIDE.
SHAY IS SEEN AT THE BOMBING
-- DENIES VEHEMENTLY --
SAYS BOMBING IS NOT
TERRORIST RELATED,
BUT AT THE SCENE TALKS WITH KNOWN SMUGGLER
WHO IS MALAYSIAN.
TOMMY
Random pieces
that separately meant little. Together, they wove a list of
coincidences. Sinister
or random?
If Steve were here
instead of out chasing around with Shay, he would probably agree the
coincidences were overwhelming. Shay was
playing them, using them. Using Steve.
Why? That was a daring and
impudent leap when talking about an old friend of Steve’s. Or was it?
What was Shay really doing? Was
Shay using them to cover up something NSA was doing here in
When Steve returned
he was going to hear about all of this.
He should not trust Shay too far.
The front door slammed and Dan came to his feet, grabbing the list and pocketing it, expecting the arrival to be McGarrett. When the cheery voices of children loudly and exuberantly singing Kani Kani Pele -- Jingle Bells in Hawaiian -- he was completely taken off guard. Then he saw it was Suzi Kelly and four of her young siblings. The office was suddenly filled with noise, decorations and a party atmosphere. Mele Kalikimaka and The Twelve Days of Christmas -- Hawaiian style -- rang through the old walls.
Duke let the kids string ornaments and garland on the desks. While munching on cookies, Dan warned Suzi
that McGarrett would probably be removing this when he saw it. Refusing to be thwarted, she promised she
could talk him into keeping the festive decorations. And Dan believed it.
As if on cue,
McGarrett and Shay entered amid the confusion.
Shay left almost immediately, not acknowledging Williams or the
others. Dan tried to get Steve aside,
but with the Kellys there it was impossible. Suzi and clan had also brought homemade
eggrolls, manapua bread and cookies. The impromptu ho’o’laulea
filled the rooms with laughter and fun, and Dan was reluctant to mention his
suspicions to Steve now.
When he had a minute,
he drew Steve aside and quietly told him they needed to talk.
Picking
up on the serious tone, McGarrett wondered, “Is this about Shay’s business?”
Accustomed
to McGarrett’s near-clairvoyant abilities, Dan was not surprised. “Yeah.”
“You don’t trust
him.”
It was not a
question. As he so often was, Dan again
felt impressed with Steve’s astute perspicacity and intelligence. Or perhaps it was just Steve could read him
so well.
“Yeah. I think he’s got an
operation on the side he’s not telling us.”
“That wouldn’t
surprise me --“
Three of the Kelly
children surrounded McGarrett and insisted he try the
cookies they had baked. And sing
Christmas carols with them. He promised
to finish the discussion later as Suzi tried to talk him into hanging garland
over his door.
As soon as politely possible, Williams slipped away from the festivities -- the incomprehensible image and sound of Steve McGarrett singing Jingle Bells! (in English) -- he laughed at that cherished memory -- burned in his mind. And Steve wasn't a bad singer, either!
Anxious to get to HPD
for that computer report, he did not want to make Suzi mad, so he left as
unobtrusively as he could.
Before he reached the
landing of the staircase, he heard Shay’s voice drifting up from the
lobby. Many did not appreciate the
tremendous acoustics of the old Palace.
Being a malihini, Shay had no idea his phone conversation could be heard
all over the open area in the center of the old Royal residence. Dan stood back in the shadows of a doorway by
the landing and listened.
“ . . . . by the end of next week.” Pause. “I told
you I would take care of that angle. By
Christmas my position will be secure.
You won’t have to worry again.”
The meaning seemed obscure,
with Dan reading between the lines. All
kinds of suspicions and deep intrigues came to mind.
Shay hung up and
left. Dan wondered if he should follow
the spy. Trailing Shay might be
dangerous. The man could easily catch
him and then realize he was still suspicious.
No sense letting Shay know about his serious doubts. Yet.
Using the lobby phone
to call the operator, Dan identified himself and asked to know the numbers
dialed from that phone in the last few minutes. Shortly the operator returned, informing two calls were made from the Palace lobby that
evening, both in the last six minutes.
Dan jotted down the numbers and next called HPD. His friend Nephi Hilton was watch commander
tonight and he asked the officer to track down all the information possible on
who owned the numbers in question.
On the short drive
over to HPD, Hilton called him back. The
first number was for the Koko Marina grocery store. The second to a Ryan McDowell, a jeweler/ gem
cutter whose residence/shop was on
Pondering the
information, Williams went on with his original mission and drove to HPD. In the basement computer rooms, he consulted
with Officer Kahana.
He looked through the compiled file on Jakarta Sunda,
the man seen with Shay. Various pictures
from Interpol, lists of aliases, address of contacts in the East were in the
file. There were a few ties here in
He nearly gasped when
he read an arrest report on Sunda. Last arrest – customs -- Taiwan. Smuggling precious gems. Detained but not arrested at the same time
was Sunda’s business partner Ryan McDowell!
Sunda, gem smuggler. McDowell,
gem cutter and contact of Shay’s.
Tommy Malang, dead smuggler.
Five-0 had been working on the gem smuggling out of Malaysia before Shay
showed up. Coincidence again or all tied
together?
Dan had Kahana check into McDowell’s past. While waiting, he considered his next
options. Should he call Steve and let
him know? What? This could all be completely innocent – well
– not innocent when dealing with the NSA.
But this could all be part of Shay’s legitimate operations to find the
terrorists. What if Dan interfered and
messed it all up by his unauthorized suspicions? No one would be happy about that kind of a
blunder, least of all McGarrett.
“Hey, you got a live
one here, Danny,” Kahana commented as he read the
computer print out. “McDowell. Arrested four times in
Asian Pacific countries. Gem
smuggling, drug smuggling. One count of fraud and one of kidnapping. Suspected involvement with
the terrorists. Nothing proven. The
Sumatra Tigers he has a supposed connection with but again, no proof. Isn’t that the group that likes to blow
things up?”
“That’s the one.”
“You guys working on
that?”
“Not directly.”
“Wow, a real erratic
guy. Anyway, here’s the funny bit. No convictions.”
“What?”
“Yeah. All cases
dismissed. Witnesses failed to come to
the trials.” Kahana
wiggled his eyebrows. “Sounds like
intimidation to me.”
“Sounds like,” Dan agreed.
It was an old song
and dance favored by criminals. No
witness – no case. Leaving HPD, he again
pondered his options. Should he bring
Steve in on this? Should he just
interview McDowell himself?
*****
Normally Steve
discouraged anything so blatant as gaudy decorations
and partying in the office. He could
hardly refuse Suzi and the kids and soon warmed to their joy. It was touching to see the orphaned children
forget the pain they must be feeling under the surface and remember the gayety
of the holidays.
“I hope you don’t
mind,” Suzi mentioned as she offered him a plate of food.
“No. I’m glad you came. How are you and the kids doing?”
Against his wishes,
Suzi Kelly had come home from a mainland university and joined HPD after
graduation this summer. {fanfic --
FAMILY REUNION} She was a rookie
cop now and it was hard for him to reconcile the dangerous profession with the
little girl he had known most of her life.
Hard to accept she was in the same perilous profession that killed her father. Would Chin have wanted this?
Steve did not have
enough influence with her to sway the headstrong girl from her conviction to
join HPD. Maybe if he had been more
involved with the kids? It probably
wouldn’t have worked, but he thought there was room for improvement in that
area. Another
direction for second chances in his life.
“We’re good,” she
assured with a smile. “We miss dad
terribly, just like we miss mom, still, but we’re getting through this
okay. Duke’s been great.”
“Yeah, I’m glad he’s
helping.”
“And I still think
you gave me way too much money for my graduation present. So please don’t break your bank account on
these menehune for Christmas, Steve. Okay?”
He had heard the
complaint before and sternly ordered her not to even think about giving any or
all of his very substantial funds back.
“You needed it. You deserved
it. Third in your
class at the
“We’re going to be
all right, Steve. Dad left a good
insurance policy. And my income is
steady. David and Tim are helping.”
“Young doctor’s and barely graduated accountants just starting out
don’t make that much money. Neither do rookie cops.”
“We’ll do fine,” she
insisted firmly. “Mom and dad managed
all toese years on only one income and raising eight of us. Now there’s only a few left at home. Stop worrying, Steve.”
“I can’t.”
“Then stop feeling
guilty.”
Steve looked away, sure his grim expression would momentarily reveal she
had hit him right in the heart. He could
not even respond.
He wasn’t guilty, he
told himself. Was that the truth? No.
After all these months, he DID still feel the guilt of leaving his
officer out too long on the undercover assignment. His lack of protection and loose operation
against a deadly foe cost Chin his life.
The wounds of remorse and loss were still there. Diminished, yes, but still
hurting.
“Please.”
He nodded, but was spared a reply by the young children
demanding his attention. Grateful for
the distraction, he tried to avoid Suzi’s probing questions the rest of the
evening.
*****
Deciding
he needed to talk this out for his own clarity, Williams found an empty desk
and called the Palace. No answer. Checking the time, he was surprised more than
an hour had elapsed since he left.
Should he disturb Steve over this?
Did it really mean anything important about the gem smuggling? This must be Shay’s parallel operation. He should leave it alone. His suspicions, however, would not die.
Knowing
he was being over-zealous, he drove by
Impulsively deciding
on a course of action, Dan walked to the store's door and knocked. They had not known about this connection with
Malaysia when investigating their smuggling case. Maybe Shay’s friend of a friend could shed
some light on the gem thieves. Was he
going to blow Shay’s parallel case?
Maybe this would force the spy to take them into the complete operation
instead of keeping secrets. But Steve
already sanctioned the sideline activities of Shay. Was he courting his boss’s displeasure at his
actions? Too late now
to worry about that.
A well-built,
salt-and-pepper-haired man of middle age came to the door. Dan displayed his badge and ID through the
glass. Reluctantly he was admitted and
the man closed and locked the door behind him.
“Williams,
Five-0. Are you Ryan McDowell?”
The man looked up from
the badge and sharply studied him. “Yeah.
Williams.” He blinked, then the uncertainty vanished instantly, replaced with a
shrewd, guarded stare. “What can I do
for you?” The accent was British. The tone and glare
unfriendly. He led the way to the
counter.
Noting the area in
back, divided by a partially opened curtain, Dan could see little in the
ill-lit work room. There were benches,
jeweler’s lights, a metal table bolted to the floor, numerous cutting tools, cabbing and grinding machines.
Play it coy or go for
the throat in true McGarrett-fashion?
Frontal assault style, he decided.
“Tell me what you know about a man known as Jakarta Sunda.” The eyes flickered. Dan felt satisfied the go-for-the-jugular
approach had been correct. “And about smuggling Burmese rubies out of Malaysia.”
The following
microcosms of time were destiny-moments of decision and fate experienced by
enforcement officers many times over.
The suspect poised on the brink of action -- resistance or compliance. Depending on the reaction, the critical
seconds could mean injury or death for either party. Tensed, sensing the other’s indecision, Dan
waited to see which way McDowell would jump.
“I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”
“You and Sunda were arrested together in Taiwan last year –“
The man lunged back,
dipping into the rear room. Dan was
immediately on top of him, shoving him against a workbench. The bigger man spun, throwing the heel of his
palm toward Dan’s face. Reactions quick
and instinctive, he shifted an instant before impact. The defensive move enabled him to avoid a
fatal blow of a smashed nose bone driven up into his skull.
Reaching for his
revolver as he elbowed McDowell to the wall, his opponent threw fine, dusty
powder from the bench into his face. His
eyes burned horribly, instantly tearing against the gritty intrusion. Barely able to see more than a flickering
shadow/shape of a figure from one bleary eye, Dan tried to aim his weapon, but
McDowell fought to pry the .38 loose.
They smashed into the work station, McDowell slamming Dan’s right hand
against the metal table in an attempt to free the weapon. Then he slipped one hand away and Dan’s hazy
vision recognized he was reaching for a cutting tool.
Shoving his shoulder
into McDowell’s chest, he won leverage of the revolver and fired. The groan and crash confirmed he had hit his
mark. The man came at him again and
wrestled for the gun. Two more shots
rang in the little shop, echoing loudly, hovering
cordite stinging the air. McDowell
lurched back.
Staggering, eyes
watering, Dan wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. Feeling and hearing a swish of movement from
the curtain he was afraid his man was escaping.
Then a blow struck him on the side of the head and he reeled to the
floor, dizzily spiraling to blackness.
*****
The impromptu
Christmas party should have left Steve McGarrett pleased at the familial
festivity. The subsequent disturbing
emotions, though, were natural for some, but foreign to him. Normally he was not one to dwell on the past.
This year was different. Chin's death. Danno's scary kidnapping and
brainwashing just a few months ago -- those scaring events left deep anxieties
that were still unresolved.
Now, holiday
time. A normal setting for
reflection. For
missing those not here anymore.
While it was delightful and fun to interact with the Kelly children, it
underscored the reason why they had dropped in en mass. They needed to be part of something different
for Christmas this year because they could not bear the standard traditions
without their father.
Months ago, he had
fought to resolve the guilt and personal culpability over Chin’s death. It had taken the intervention of good friends
to help him. And the
forgiveness of Suzi and her clan.
Now, he mostly felt the loss, but the lingering guilt might never
completely go away.
Again, he was
reminded he needed to do something to involve himself with these children this
Christmas. Out of obligation to those
left behind. Out of
his love for his extended ohana.
There had to be something he could do – as Steve – their friend – to
make a difference this year. It was not
something he pondered much in the past.
But this was his holiday for second chances, he reminded. And he would make good with his personal vow.
Many years ago
Christmas stopped being a religious holiday for him. It was just another day for a long time -- a
pretense to make his sister happy. Then
in the Navy, drifting from place to place around the world, it was easy to
ignore the festivities and the deeper meanings many found in the holiday.
When he finally
rooted himself in
At the core of the new
found home was the deep and lasting bond of friendship cultivated here with
people he considered family. Ohana. Work, play,
holidays became centered around the new meanings in
his life.
Real
friendship and connecting to something bigger than self was what Pete Shay was
missing. Steve sympathized. He had been there once. Then Steve formed Five-0 and worked closely
within a unit -- a specific set of people. Gradually, he was adopted by
them as part of a loose family. It wasn't until Williams came on the
scene that the whole staff seemed to bond together in a truly ohana setting --
a large and caring group family. They
had taken some tough hits -- injuries, death, torture and trials -- but they
had come out on top. Together.
In this season of forgiveness
and bonding and warmth, Steve now clearly defined one of his second
chances. This year was not just for
himself, but for Shay, too.
Driving home, his
mind drifted as easily as the warm, tropical breeze blew through the open car
window. It was late and traffic would
normally be light as he approached the Ala Moana
Mall. Except it was December. Holiday shoppers. He should remember to completely avoid this
part of town around Christmas!
Routine HPD radio calls supplied a background as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, muttering under his breath about the inconvenience of the Season. Sirens sounded far away. Then red lights blinked in his rearview mirror -- the sirens louder in a steady advancement.
He listened with more
attention to the radio and learned there was an alert for
“This is McGarrett!”
he snapped into the radio mic. “What’s
happening?”
“We’ve got Officer
Williams down.
Steve’s temperature
plummeted. “I’m on my way!”
He threw down the mic
and wrenched the steering wheel with both hands, illegally driving over the
median and into the mall parking lot -- speeding through the lane around the
parking slots and to the back to come out at
McGarrett leaped from
his car and raced into the gem shop.
Three patrolmen were surrounding Williams, who was on his back; eyes
covered with a cloth and a red-soaked towel was on the back of his head. Several cuts and scrapes blotched
his face. A rip in the arm of his jacket
showed a red stain.
“Danno!”
“Steve?” His voice was thick and slow -- dazed. “What are you doing here?”
“What happened?” His
throat was so tight he could hardly speak as he knelt down next to his friend.
Danno was bleeding,
his face covered. Eye
injury? Head injury? He didn’t want to speculate on the damage --
better to wait for the doctors to evaluate.
He could only hope for the best.
At least his friend was alive and seemed semi-alert.
“Are you all right?”
“Long story. Whacked -- some -- dust
-- something -- in my eyes.”
One of the officers
explained Williams had a scalp laceration from an injury on the back of the
head. Plus the foreign
substance in the eyes. They gave
him an emergency eye wash already with the first aid kit, but they thought he
better keep the eyes covered and closed until he went to the hospital.
Steve crouched low to
be close to Williams. “Can you see at
all?”
Dan shook his head, then winced. “Not
really after the dust.”
Steve gulped down a
lump in his throat. “How
about after the eye wash?
Better?”
“Not really.”
The officer behind
Williams shook his head. Steve’s heart
felt like lead. “It’ll be okay,” he
assured, patting Dan’s shoulder.
The scene around him
settled on his senses finally and he realized this was a jewel cutter’s
shop. The equipment was in disarray; the
place a mess. From the scrapes and rips
in Dan’s face and clothing, Steve could imagine what went on. As he waited for the ambulance medics, one of
the officers showed Steve the red spots on the floor. At least one suspect was wounded -- not too
severely by the looks of the sparse drops, Steve concluded.
The attendants arrived with a stretcher and under protest, Williams was loaded on. As he waited to board the ambulance, one of the officers showed Steve the blood trail left. And the trail ended abruptly, indicating a get-away car. So one suspect was wounded. A neat escape. Two suspects.
Then McGarrett
climbed into the back of the ambulance, impatient to hear about what had happened. Why had Williams been out here at a jewelry
shop? More importantly, was Danno going
to be okay? On the short trip to Queens,
he received a few answers to his impatient questions, but from the strained
responses knew his officer was hurting and finally fell into a strained
silence.
*****
McGarrett hovered in
the exam room while the doctor checked the patient and assessed the
damage. The initial report on Williams
was encouraging. Mineral dust in the
eyes was more serious than the mild concussion.
The eyes were cleaned again and would need to be closed to rest for a
few hours. Bruised facial bones, tissue
and minor lacerations would make him sore, as with the hit on the head -- which
needed a few stitches -- but all injuries would mend.
While the doctor finished up, McGarrett slipped out into the hall to talk to the officers first on scene. An HPD patrol circling the Mall -- part of the extra patrols for the holidays -- heard gunshots from the jewelry shop and stopped to investigate. Inside the shop, they found Williams. One officer called an ambulance and the other chased who he thought were the assailants out the back, but never caught anyone. He wasn’t even sure if there were one or two perpetrators and did not get a good look at anybody, or the car driving away from the scene. It was too dark for a description.
Disturbing. What was Danno doing
here in this potentially deadly situation?
Why didn’t he call? Fortunately,
he was alive to answer those questions.
When Steve entered the hospital room again, he pressed his lip together, not completely subduing his sharp intake of sympathetic breath at the sight of his friend. He had been through this harrowing experience himself -- this injury to the eyes -- blindness -- and it had been a horrifying trial.
The bandages covering
Dan’s eyes gave bright contrast to the scrapes and bruising abrasions on the
rest of the face and increased Steve’s concerns. Intellectually, he knew Danno was going to
see again, but the evidence of the injury was startling.
*****
Hurting everywhere
above the neck, Williams flinched and moaned as full awareness gradually
surfaced and he woke from a nap. A
strong grip held onto his shoulder.
“No sudden
moves. You have a slight concussion.”
Steve. That was comforting. He sighed and settled down. “Why is it so dark?”
“Your eyes are
bandaged. You’ll be all right. Just a precaution.” Again, that incredible,
reassuring touch and strong, determined voice. “Don’t you remember what happened?” There was a scrape of fear in the tone.
“Yeah. Dust,
right?”
“Gem dust.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” A long sigh. Relief? “Nothing serious. The doctor said the nasty grit in your eyes
has been washed out. You’re bandaged and
will be fine in a few hours. The concussion
isn’t supposed to be too bad. Are you
sure you’re okay?” His shoulder was
patted, but the firm hold was still on his arm.
“Can you remember what happened?”
The
disapproval, the twinge of irritation, the anxiety, all so clear in the tone. He did not need
visual confirmation of the emotions.
Thoughts were slow,
but he could grasp them. “I got a lead
on the gem smuggling operation. I went
to check it out –“
“Alone? At night? No back up?
You didn’t call me!”
“I tried. And I wasn’t even sure this McDowell was
involved. It was a long shot.”
“We are dealing with
killers and ruthless smugglers and you didn’t think you needed help? What do you mean you weren’t sure if he was
involved?”
Dan hesitated in
silence, unsure how much he should disclose.
All, of course -- no half-measures with Steve. This was harder without sight. He couldn’t read Steve’s expressions and body
language – always very clear and crisp from McGarrett. He could only rely on instinct and
familiarity with his boss, and the tone of the disapproving, stern voice.
“I was playing a
hunch. I --” He bit his lip, knowing this was only
going to get worse. “I overheard Shay
talking to someone. I connected the dots
and they lead me to McDowell. Oh, I shot
him, wounded him. Is he alive? How did you find me?”
“I didn’t.” McGarrett tersely explained the events. “Your suspect had help. He escaped.
Doesn’t look like he was seriously wounded.”
Steve almost sounded
disappointed at that. The tightening of
the fist on his arm related the irritation from McGarrett as Dan told his side
of the story. Then he demanded Williams
continue to give over his explanation of events.
After Dan relayed all he could remember, Steve
continued to interrogate. “What do you
mean you overheard Shay?”
“At the
Palace. He called someone from the lobby. You know how easy it is -- the acoustics --
and I happened to -- overhear it. And it
sounded kind of -- suspicious.”
He stopped, not
wanting to prattle on revealing his nervousness. He was still worried about receiving gem dust
in his eyes, but more concerned about McGarrett's disapproval of his
actions. Silence was probably his best
course. Steve would rail at him --
deservedly -- and then the blast would be over.
“How are you feeling?”
McGarrett almost sighed.
The quiet, soft
concern surprised Dan. Not the angry
censure he expected. That worried him,
too. “Okay. “ The continued apprehension started to trouble
him. “Are you sure my eyes will be all
right?”
Steve patted his arm
and assured him all would be fine. No
scratching of the eyes. Then he asked
Dan to continue his story. After he
completed the loose series of clues, he stopped, not sure if Steve was still
angry at him or Shay or both.
“So, you’re mad. I don’t blame you.”
Again, the
strong squeeze on the shoulder. “At you, no. I think you’ve paid the price for neglecting
to call back up. I’m not too pleased at
Shay.”
Finding wicked satisfaction in that, Dan boldly explained a little more of his ideas. Shay was running his own operation, but was it a parallel or even an obstruction to their own gem smuggling case? If so, why did he not tell them? Steve must have wondered the same thing.
Fishing in his pocket, Williams was glad the note was still there. He handed it over to McGarrett. "This will explain -- well -- it's just kind of my mental tally of that's going on, Steve. There's more than coincidence about Shay's activities."
Sitting on the bed,
McGarrett released his hold on Dan’s arm, but kept a light touch on him
throughout the conversation. Dan could
hear the crunch of paper, deducing his boss was reading the notes. Intrigued, curiosity coming through his
voice, McGarrett commented, expounded on a few theories, but it was clear from
his curt, subdued tone he was not impressed with the random listing of points,
and still unhappy with the night’s events on several levels.
“You both kept
information from me.”
McGarrett’s voice
held such disappointment, Dan flinched.
“Sorry. I wanted to know more
before I said anything.
There was an edge to
the retort. “I don’t need protection,
Danno! I need the truth. You have suspicions listed here, but no
conclusions. No proof. What do you think is going on with Shay?”
Dan hedged, not wanting
to cause his friend more disappointment -- not wanting him to be disenchanted
in Shay unnecessarily. Steve gave his
loyalty completely and profoundly to a favored few. If Shay deserved it once, then maybe he still
deserved it and Dan was being overly suspicious of the spy games. Duke WAS right, the spook stuff scared him
after his run in with brainwashing and Jin Wu.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m going to
find out.”
*****
Simmering with anger
over Williams’ encounter with the criminal McDowell -- who had not yet been
captured -- Steve pondered the events, believing there had been an
accomplice. Someone else in the shop had
probably delivered the sucker blow to the back of Danno’s head, although Dan
couldn’t clearly remember that part of the fight.
McDowell and someone
else -- possibly -- were suspected of running from HPD at the scene. Also disturbing was Shay’s secrecy. Danno's list of happenings -- coincidence or
solid leads? Subterfuge was what he
expected from the NSA, but it was a personal betrayal from one he considered a
friend. Shay HAD warned he had his own
operation running, but the spy also knew that Five-0 had been working on the
gem smuggling case and specifically denied involvement.
When the doctor arrived,
the bandages came off and Steve nearly held his breath. Having experienced his own brief tryst with
blindness, he felt apprehensive now at this moment of crisis. The doctor assured him Danno’s sight would
return, but there was still that little element of doubt until he knew for
certain -- had Williams look him in the eyes.
When Dan squinted in
the dimly lit room, immediately seeking out Steve, McGarrett smiled. “Okay?” he wondered, his voice thick with
worry.
“A little
bleary, but fine.”
Releasing a nervous,
shaky laugh, Steve patted his friend’s shoulders.
“So I can go home?”
Williams asked in more of a statement than a question.
The doctor gave his
permission for the patient to leave as long as he rested for a few days. He issued some prescriptions and left. Williams prepared to leave. Then the door suddenly burst open and Shay,
his expression dark and foreboding, momentarily glared at McGarrett.
Instantly he shifted
his focus and snarled at Williams. “You
blew my whole operation, hot shot!” The
spy advanced on the patient who was just shouldering into his jacket. “You lousy -- “
McGarrett bodily
stopped the intruder. “That’s enough,
Pete!”
“Do you know what
your ambitious detective did?”
“I’ve heard. Now you better cool down and tell me –“
“His playing cop
games blew my informant for the terrorists!”
He nearly spit at Williams, jabbing a finger toward him. “You killed McDowell!”
Williams sharply
gasped.
Shay lunged
forward. “I told you he was out for his
own glory!”
McGarrett shoved
back, pushing his old friend to the wall.
Steve had his attention on Williams’ reaction to Pete’s news, then redirected his energies on the raging Shay. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow in my
office. There’s nothing that can be done
tonight.”
The spy’s eyes blazed
at the younger detective. “You murdered
my informant!”
“It was
self-defense,” Dan countered.
“You can see what he
did to Danno,” McGarrett defended harshly.
“If he had nothing to hide why did he put up such a fight against a
state police officer? It didn’t look
like he was too badly hurt. Where’s the
body?”
“Where the
terrorists can’t find it. I’ve got to salvage my operation thanks to --“ Shay made a move again toward Williams.
“Pete!” Steve’s teeth clenched with anger. “You are
going to leave my detective alone. He
had a legitimate right to interview a suspect in one of OUR cases. A suspect that you kept
secret from us!”
Pushing McGarrett
away, Shay sullenly, lividly, hovered near the door, his fists balled, his glare still staring murder at the younger
detective. “I told you I had an
operation running! Did you forget how
much that means? The asset is invaluable
as an operative! McDowell is gone and
the terrorists are probably onto me! My
usefulness here in the Pacific arena is ruined!”
McGarrett sighed,
glancing briefly at Williams who was still wary and upset. “Pete, let’s discuss this tomorrow. You need a chance to cool down.”
Shay shoved out the
door without a reply. Steve sighed at
Williams, saying he would be right back.
Joining Pete in the hall, he again tried to sooth the spy. Nervous now, Shay lit a cigarette and
paced.
“I can’t go back to
my hotel. I can’t contact my
people. My whole network is
compromised. Thanks to –“
“Pete –“
The spy blew smoke
through his teeth. “Okay, okay. I’m in the secrecy business, Steve. I don’t share. I’m not part of a team. I am the team. Until I know what is going on I have to go
into hiding. The whole terrorist case is
in jeopardy until I find out who I can trust again.” He stared at McGarrett. “Can I trust you?”
“You know you can.”
“Then find me a safe
place.”
“I will.” He scribbled out the address of his beach
house on a piece of paper.
Shay nodded. “Okay.
Maybe we can salvage something.
But from now on you keep Williams out of this operation.”
Bristling at the
savagely adamant command, McGarrett's anger returned. He had momentarily sympathized with his old
friend, but now his attitude cooled. “He
was doing his job and I need him on this.
This is MY team, Pete. I dictate
personnel assignments, not you!” His
temper cooled as a reality reminder hit him again when he thought of Chin Ho. “And we’re a man short.”
Snorting, Pete blew
smoke rings in the air. “Yeah. Okay. Well, if I can’t put this back together, I’ll
apply for the job cause NSA will have my hide.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
Knowing he had to
help, he handed Shay the address to his beach house in Aina
Haina and told him to meet there in an hour. He returned to the hospital room to find
Williams leaning on the bed. His face
was scraped, and he blinked a lot, but otherwise seemed fine. No, he was not fine, he was extremely tense, anxious and pale.
“Steve, I’m really
sorry --“
“Danno, I don’t blame
you. Not for defending yourself. And not for doing your job. I’m not very happy about your methods,
though. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gone with you!”
Dan squinted at him,
as if it hurt his eyes even in the low light of the exam room. “I thought there was --“ he
shrugged uncertainly. “Something
-- going on with Shay. I didn't want you -- if he had something up
his sleeve you might get burned -- I didn’t mean to blow his operation
-–“
He sharply interrupted, “Danno, let’s sort it out later.”
Temper simmering, McGarrett could not fault his friend -- this friend -- for the instinctive loyalty. Danno would do anything for him and frequently went out of his way to protect Steve. What a mess. Stuck between Shay and his crumbling operation and Danno and his over-extended loyalty.
“Steve --“ He paused, biting his lip, his brow scrunched with
concern. “I think Shay is hiding the
whole gem smuggling connection from us.”
In theory, Steve had
to agree, but Shay was also in trouble now,
thanks to Danno’s investigative efforts -- thanks to Five-0. So he was going to have to fix it. He told Williams not to worry, but could see
the advice did not help.
As he drove his
detective to Williams’ condo, McGarrett thought through the last few days,
examined his feelings and the opportunities that came and went in their
lives. On a bigger scale, he pondered
the strange collision of past and present with the arrival of Shay at this
auspicious time. Shay’s career was
teetering, just as Five-0 had been rocked six months ago.
“I’ll get Shay to
give me the whole picture tomorrow.”
Dan was guarded. “You think he will?”
“Yeah. Pete is going to be
in trouble over this, Danno. I think
he’ll be a team player now. If he gets
ousted from the NSA I’m going to offer him a place with Five-0.”
The gasp was a clear
indication of Williams’ idea of that proposal.
“I guess I don’t have to ask if that’s a joke.”
“No. I know things aren’t smooth between you two,
but once this blows over I don’t think there will be a problem.” He could almost hear his colleague’s
brain-wheels turning.
“He’s a spy, Steve,
not a cop,” Williams carefully commented.
“So was I.”
“That’s different.”
“Not a lot.” He didn’t have to glance across the front
seat to sense the disapproval. “You didn’t know me then.”
“I know
you now. And I bet you were never like
Shay.”
Steve had no comment
for that observation. “You don’t like
the idea, I know. Eventually, I think
you can work together. Just give him a
chance.”
“I don’t trust him,”
Dan countered honestly. “I still think
he’s up to something. Steve, before you
give him the offer, let me check out this operation –“
“Oh, no, not a
chance. You are going to take tomorrow off. The doc said to rest –“
“I can’t just be
beached –“
“As of now you are! I’ll deal with
Pete. You get well. I’m meeting with him later. I’ll drop by tomorrow and let you know what’s
going on.”
“Steve, I know he’s
your old friend, but watch it, please.”
The
sincere, dire warning sent chills along his spine. As usual, Williams was watching his back and
this time he knew there was a reason for it that he couldn’t quite
discern. A legitimate
one? He would bet yes. Danno was not the type to be swayed by
jealousy. Insecurity,
yes. Self-doubt,
yes. But his intuition was as
good and as trusted as Steve’s own. Now,
in this difficult situation, he had to just lean on Danno’s instincts as much
as he relied in himself and his hunches.
“Okay,
Danno. I’ll go slowly. I’ll do some checking tomorrow myself. You take it easy. I’m going to need you later.”
Reluctantly,
Williams gave an unenthusiastic agreement.
*****
When McGarrett arrived
at the beach house, he was surprised at how readily Pete made himself at
home. But then, he was a man who landed
on his feet as a matter of survival. The
anger displayed at the hospital was gone, smoothed over by a confident coolness
that seemed second nature to the covert operative.
They sat on the back
lanai and Steve asked for more details about the terrorist cell Shay was
tracking. Only giving over generalized,
vague comments, the spy offered nothing definitively new or concrete. Asked about the gem smuggling connection,
Shay flatly denied any link between terrorists, his case, and Five-0’s
case. Steve sensed there was something
not shared. The continued secrecy irked
he and he again demanded his old friend be completely honest or he could not
help him.
"What did you do with McDowell's body?"
"It's a big ocean, Steve. Sharks will take care of evidence so my enemies can't find it."
The answer heartily displeased the cop. "You are concealing --"
"I'm covering your cop's murderous rage!" he snapped back. "You should be thanking me!"
Irritated, Steve knew nothing could be done now about the body. "I need your full disclosure, Pete."
“You’re asking me to
violate what’s kept me alive for twenty-five years.”
“Maybe it’s time you
let go of the suspicions.”
Shay could not
dismiss it that easily. “I should have been more guarded with your
man. He was sharper than I gave him
credit for.”
“That happens a
lot. His value is constantly
underestimated.”
Shay smirked. “Clever, Steve. Let the kid do the dirty work and you sit
back and watch. Old
ploy. I shouldn’t have fallen for
it.”
“Danno was working on his own, not under my direction. But he was right. You should have leveled with us. You know about our gem smuggling case. You put my man and yours in a dangerous
position.”
“Williams did by
investigating on his own. He’s imagining
a connection with your case and my operation. I keep telling you they’re not
related. Now you’re
believing his fantasies instead of my word?”
Staring down the hard glare, McGarrett momentarily wondered who was right -- who was telling the truth? Danno could be mistaken. Shay seemed so certain. Reason dictated the experience was on Pete’s side. On the other side, Steve was inclined to rely on the solid foundation of Williams’ skill. Danno could be wrong, but McGarrett's instincts and the knowledge of his officer's character lead him to believe otherwise.
Steve didn’t address
the rancor in the jab. “He’s following
his instincts and I support him in that.
He was doing his job with his usual assertive energy. Can you prove him wrong?”
Pete looked away and
shook his head, not surrendering, just assessing with a smirk. “He’s got a real hold on you, Steve. You’re making me wonder again who’s running
the show.”
The aggravating
challenges annoyed McGarrett. It
reminded him of the early days of Five-0; his long-gone former
second-in-command Nohea. Sometimes the
constant competition and abrasive disagreements were good to keep a cop on the
edge. Now, Shay’s harping grated on his
nerves.
“If you have any
doubts then you’ve lost all your observation skills.”
Laughing, Shay
glanced back, amused. “Okay. Sorry.
You know I get sharp when I’m mad.
I still don’t forgive your cop for blowing my operations. But, I have to admit, he’s determined. You know, with some decent training, he could
make a pretty good spook.”
“He’s just fine as a
cop. The best I have.” Steve still felt a little resentful of the
digs against Five-0, his friend, himself.
But Pete deserved to be bitter, his operation
had fallen apart because of Danno.
“Steve McGarrett’s
best, huh?”
“Almost sounds like
you’re jealous, Pete,” he countered, trying to lighten the edge to the
conversation.
Pete silently pulled
out a packet of smokes and started to light up, but Steve snatched away the
cigarette and handed it back. “No
smoking in my house.”
Shay smirked. “Things have changed.”
“Change is good
sometimes.” Darkly, Steve flashed to a
memory of Chin and twinged at the acrid taste of the
forced alterations in his life in the last six months. “Sometimes,” he sighed.
Shay stood beyond the edge of the deck, lit up and blew wafting rings into the fluttering breeze off the lanai. He never acknowledged the comment about jealousy.
“Change. Maybe. Maybe that’s what I’m looking for is
change. Remember, though, it’s hard for
me to be a team player.”
“You can learn,”
Steve tested, not sure where they were headed with this conversation.
“I don’t know if I
believe in second chances.”
“I do,” McGarrett
countered quickly, with certainty. He
was counting on it this season. Maybe it
could help Pete, too. “Maybe you can give
it a try.”
The muteness gained a
measure of sympathy from Steve. Maybe
Shay really did long for the amazing life Steve had built here in
There was, however, a reluctance within McGarrett to be too open with his old
friend. Why? Danno’s warning and overt
distrust of the man? Some sixth
sense premonition that Shay WAS concealing more? A reluctance to put Dan and
Duke’s lives at stake for a spy game?
All of those reasons, he decided.
He wanted to trust Pete – and would – to a point. Always in the back of Steve’s mind, however,
was the loss of Chin. He could not do
anything to unnecessarily risk the lives of his two detectives.
*****
Appalled that Steve would
consider bringing Pete into Five-0, Dan sympathized with the position of his
boss. After losing Chin, McGarrett was
hit hard. It took months of slow
recovery for him to really get back on track.
Now an old friend shows up and needs help. Worse, through Dan’s own precipitous actions
he had pushed Shay into the desperation of needing an escape from the spy
business! Sometimes Dan hated irony.
In a unique position
to help, McGarrett felt this might be the solution to two problems. Dan still didn’t trust the spy. Despite his error in judgment at going to the
gem shop and accidentally killing McDowell, there was something wrong here and
Dan had to know what. To counter the
addition of Shay, Dan had to have real proof that Shay was still using Five-0
and McGarrett for his own ends.
Williams went back to
the beginning and worked the Jakarta Sunda angle of
the terrorist link most of the day. His
eyesight, after resting overnight, was pretty good. Wearing his darkest sunglasses helped enough
for him to drive. He spent time
searching out haunts of Sunda and McDowell; tracking down
informants. Even calling Hong Kong and
Taiwan PDs – at his own expense – to dig up more
details on either McDowell or Sunda, whom he felt
were the key to Shay.
Evening brought him
no more information. Frustrated, he
decided to check out a nearly forgotten lead, so he drove out to Hawaii Kai to
investigate Shay’s phone call to the marina.
The night clerk at the small grocery store was questioned. Thinking ahead, Dan had brought the photo of
Shay and
Okay, they already
knew that, right? This was proof,
however, that Shay was lying to them.
Again, he could justify it, saying it was part of his covert
mission. While Dan felt this confirmed
his suspicions, it proved nothing about duplicity or Shay having a counter
agenda to Five-0.
“Also, a guy with red
hair comes in with this grey-haired guy.
Stays on his boat. Red mustache, red hair,
hard to miss. One of those
foreign guys. Always buys cigarettes and
beer.”
Dan felt numb. He was dismayed to hear this red-haired man also frequented Shay’s boat. The clerk remembered taking a phone order from someone on Shay’s boat the night before.
"It was a sizable order to be delivered to slip
one-forty-one. Like in
preparation for a trip. A white cabin cruiser with blue trim at the far end of the docks. A boat rented by the red-haired man, Mr.
McBride."
“McBride? Are you sure?”
“Yeah,
friendly guy. Always buys smokes and beer. Bought groceries last night. Says he’s going on a trip.”
Chilled inside,
Williams decided he better contact Steve.
How to tell his friend that Shay was running a side game that was
incredibly complex and deceiving -- one Dan hadn’t figured out yet. Was Shay in league with a gem smuggler and
terrorists? Why have
Five-0 chasing McBride when Shay knew him?
Had him in hiding? And where did
*****
Changed into casual
clothes, Steve sat on his lanai watching the lights glitter in the dark ribbon
of the canal, unsettled at the day's events.
His joint operation with Pete was not what he expected. As usual, NSA had attempted to take over,
dictating terms to Five-0 just as every other agency of the Federal government
tried. With a twist, Danno had botched
Shay’s operation and now Five-0 was in the unique position of mending an NSA
operation.
Grimacing, he
distastefully ruminated on Danno’s natural curiosity to find out the
truth. This time it nearly got him
killed. Because Pete
was hiding elements of the case from them. The rift, purely business, was disturbing,
because Steve was enjoying working with Pete again and feeling like the reunion
was an omen. Of
healing and renewal. Second chances. He
started to believe maybe Five-0 -- he -- could finally move in a new direction
again after Chin’s death.
What about bringing
Pete into the fold? Danno certainly
opposed it and that gave Steve serious pause in his plans. Williams wasn’t seeing the whole picture, was
he? This little mess had not been much
of a success. Not as smooth as working
with his other old colleagues: Oscar, Napoleon, Jonathan.
Shay, though, was
interested in a place in Five-0. Maybe
it would be a good idea to put someone he knew on the team -- fill Chin’s old
spot with a known commodity. Could Shay
fit into the mold of a cop, though, after the tough life of a spy? Steve had, but he was not so entrenched then
in the nasty business as Pete was now.
From the small table on the lanai he picked up the note Danno had scribbled. A list of supposedly incriminating coincidences. Given any other case, Steve would accept this as overwhelming cause to distrust Shay, but he could not bring himself to do that.
The phone rang and he
sighed deeply, knowing it had to be work related. Feeling a little old and somber, he wanted
nothing more than to relax at home tonight.
He still planned on going over to check on Danno and bring dinner. A late dinner. After he had a chance to relax. The phone rang for a third time and he
crossed the room to answer it, still thinking about Shay and what it would be
like to bring his old friend into the mix of Five-0.
“McGarrett.”
“Steve, Dan. I’ve
found something . . .” The voice of
his colleague was strained and unsettled.
It immediately put Steve on edge.
“I think it’s a connection between
the terrorists and the jewel smuggling.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I -- well -- you better join me -- I’m at Koko
Marina. I’ll meet you at the grocery
store -- I’ve found a few things that are going to surprise you. Not in a
good way.”
Concerned at the
cryptic message and the strain in Danno’s voice, McGarrett was instantly
worried. His trepidation caused him to
lash out at his friend. “What are you doing working? You’re supposed to be at home resting! Are you on your own again?”
“I couldn’t just sit around, Steve after how I blew
everything yesterday.”
“Danno, I don’t blame
you --“
“But I do. Listen,
Steve, just get down here. I need to
explain this all in person.”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
Steve grabbed his
keys and raced out. So Danno had been
right. Hunting on his
own and found – what? His younger
colleague’s voice sounded tight with apprehension. Anxiously, McGarrett sped toward Hawaii Kai.
*****
Knowing he was
finally onto something, Dan could not stand idly by and do nothing while
waiting for Steve. If he had real, solid
proof linking Shay with
He formulated a
theory while he walked out to the last dock.
Was McBride involved with McDowell, Sunda and
Shay – or was he pretending to be either of the two men? An alias. A disguise? If so, Shay had been leading Five-0 on a wild
chase for days. Why? The theories grew more absurd with each step
into the twilight-lit dock. McDowell was
dead. McBride seemed alive and well in
Shay’s pocket.
Again, it all came
back to his original hunch, that Shay was using them. To protect terrorists? To protect smugglers? That seemed more likely. It wouldn’t be the first time an undercover
spy got too close to his work and melded in with the bad guys. That would also explain his attempts to
distract Five-0 from the smuggling case and have them chase terrorists that
didn’t exist.
In the last, hinted
glow of twilight, Dan found the cabin cruiser and approached with caution. No lights were on inside. Not sure what he expected, he drew his
revolver and carefully scanned the area.
There were no slip neighbors nearby.
Most of the other boats were on docks closer to the shops. This one -- the Moana
Hale -- was isolated. He jumped
aboard.
From this point on,
no matter what he found, it would be inadmissible in court. That legality seemed insignificant. He felt they were playing in a different
ocean this time with no rules except survival.
He wasn’t even sure who the players were, except that inadvertently or
purposely, McGarrett and Five-0 had been drawn into the fray.
Boats were small
places with few spots to conceal secrets.
Still, the hidden compartment behind the table and bench was almost
missed. Only his knocking on the wood
looking for hollow spots revealed it.
In an awkward place
that discouraged casual searches, Dan pried loose a false front of wood with
his fingernails. Inside the small
cubby-hole was a velvet pouch. It was
heavy, and opening it, he brought it into the light of the cabin. Gems. About a pound worth of
glittering baubles that he couldn’t totally identify in the dim light from the
twilight-exposed window. Nor
could he guess at the monetary value.
Slipping a few gems into his pocket, Dan replaced the sack.
Stepping out onto the
deck, he was suddenly slugged in the face and sent sprawling back into a soft
barrier. Strong and unyielding arms held
him tight as his head rang and throbbed, his vision blurred to nearly black. Shay came into near-focus and slugged him in
the stomach, driving out his air.
Another blow to the stomach left him gasping for the next breath,
cringing in pain.
“So you found what
you were looking for, Dick Tracy.”
“You’re part of the
smuggling operation,” Dan gasped.
“Yeah. But you’re not going
to live to tell anyone.”
Arms suddenly,
cruelly, twisted tight behind him, he groaned.
“He was on the
elimination list anyway,” a near-familiar British-accented voice from behind
commented.
"McDowell?" Dan wondered.
“Yeah,” Shay
growled. “And you're too competent at
your job, detective. You’re a
threat. Too bad poor Steve is going to
lose two cops in the same year. Guess
he’ll have to hire old pal Pete to make up for it.”
“No!”
Dan fought to free
himself, but the grip holding him was too tight, the strength and leverage of
his opponent too formidable. His weapon
was confiscated. In his struggle, he
managed to wriggle to his knees, only to be grabbed and pulled up again. In that brief glimpse, he confirmed his
captor was McDowell.
“I thought you were
dead!”
“You hurt me,”
McDowell admitted and viciously twisted Dan’s arms again. “Your turn now. “You’re the one who’s dead.”
Moaning from the
pain, Dan maintained his defiance.
“Steve is going to see right through you!” he yelled, hoping his shout
would attract some attention, but the dock seemed empty at this end. “He won’t let you get away with this!”
“Like I got away with
the bombing at the market?”
Dan suppressed
another wheezed surprise. Shay had been
playing them along even worse than he suspected. He had never guessed it was this evil -- and
now it was too late to save his life or to warn Steve.
Shay almost laughed with delight. "I am actually looking forward to getting rid of you, Williams. You are a real pain. And just as satisfying, I am going to prove you so wrong. Contrary to what you keep telling me, Steve has not seen through me. He won't. Your exclusive little Five-0 is not a private club anymore." The spy was filled with amusement. "Steve described you as being loyal to a fault. Guess you are, Williams. Cause the fault is that you got caught and you'll pay for that with your life."
Anger, fear and frustration boiled inside. Furiously trying to think of a way to save himself, Dan was livid at the threats, at the betrayal. Unquestionably loyal to McGarrett, he could not understand how an old colleague could stab his friend in the back like this. The irony was bitter -- he would do anything for Steve -- die for him -- and ultimately, he guessed, WOULD die now because of that loyalty. He was about to be replaced by a murderous traitor.
Angrily, he fought to
free himself, frustrated rage burning inside. "Why? Why betray
Steve? Why the bombing?”
“Tying up
loose ends. Making it appear the Sumatra Tigers were here
so Steve would give me more influence. And that's what I need from my old
pal is his power. Rather, the power of Five-0.”
"With Pete on the inside," McDowell muttered viciously, yanking back on Dan's arms, "we have an inside track. Smuggling operations will have a free track.
"Steve won't be fooled," he assured
"He already is," Pete smiled.
From just in back of
his ear, the malevolent McDowell spat, “Five-0 is a thorn in our side. Bombs are always good at getting someone’s attention
and easy to copy a style. Tommy Malang
was a problem. Just like you. You
know what we do with problems.”
“And you killed all
those innocent people just to cover his murder?”
“Yeah, life’s tough,”
Pete shrugged.
“Steve will get you
--“
McDowell punched him
until he was limp, then they maneuvered him to the back of the boat. “Not this time, cop.”
Seeing his own
revolver in Shay’s hand, Dan knew what was coming next -- the greatest ignominy
for a cop -- killed by his own weapon.
Dan was not going to let that happen!
He elbowed McDowell, wrestling to get free. He managed to pry out of the grasp and
stumbling to the deck, scrambled to reach the edge. At the same instant, he heard the gunshots --
hot strikes singe his back. Pain burning
inside, he crawled to the side and managed to hitch over the edge of the boat
to drop into the water.
More bullets sang
around him as he let his body drop. When
he was too deep for the projectiles to touch him, he swam across toward the
dock. With the pain now resonating all
over and affecting his strength, he sank, his chest
hurting with an almost debilitating ache.
As much as he tried -- fought -- to push more power into his limbs, he
could feel the energy drain from him quickly as a chill filled him with almost
numbing slowness. It felt like he was
choking and no longer had the power to hold his breath.
The boat’s propellers
started up as he plunged deeper and farther out of the way, avoiding a
collision with the deadly blades. Now,
though, he kept dropping despite his efforts to swim straight. Holding his breath, his chest seemed about to
burst -- mind having trouble focusing on his goal. It seemed all he could do was keep treading,
yet it did not stop from sinking deeper into the dark water.
The effort of
avoiding his captors cost him and he felt faint and dizzy, vision clouding, his
air spent. Fighting to stay conscious,
he struggled toward the surface, his right arm no longer expending much power. Drifting down, he battled against the darkness,
the water, the fading energy, to ascend.
Then his shoulder collided with something solid.
Able to hang onto a
support, he laboriously raised himself up to the surface with the aid of the
ladder attached to the dock. Gasping for
air, weak from the effort, he tried to call out but could not make a sound
except a hacking, choking cough. It felt
like he was being strangled. Unable to
coax any more energy from his limbs, his grip on the ladder slackened and he
felt himself floating away in the gentle, lapping waves, wondering why the
tropical Pacific had suddenly turned so cold.
*****
Walking around the
corner of the set of shops ringing the marina, McGarrett heard shouting several
docks away. It was dark, difficult to
see details at this distance with a lack of strong dock lights, but he did note
that several people were talking -- yelling.
Flashlights were strafing the water.
Was that somebody lying on the dock?
A man came running his way and Steve briskly moved toward him.
“What’s going on?”
“A guy’s been
shot! They just pulled him out of the
water! I’ve got to find a phone! Can you call the police?”
“I am the
police.”
McGarrett
broke into a dead run, trying to close out the dread that clutched at his
throat. Why did he immediately think --
fear -- the worst? He was supposed to be
meeting Danno at the grocery store! Terrorists. Gem smugglers. It
could mean extreme danger and the report of a body on the dock instantly threw
him into a surge of anxiety. Did he
suspect something had gone wrong with Shay?
With chasing a suspect? With Danno? He didn’t know, except that a twisted feeling
in his stomach told him to expect terrible events from this case. As he raced up to the scene, he knew Danno’s
disquiet added to this grim event surged him into instant concern.
Two people crouched
by the downed man. Steve pushed his way
through, gasping when his worst fears were confirmed and he saw the wet body on
the deck was Danno!
Falling to his knees next
to his unconscious friend, he immediately noted blood bubbling out of a bullet
hole in the chest. Sucking chest
wound. Covering the wound with his hand,
he demanded Dan talk to him, but the labored breathing proved he was probably
not getting enough oxygen to stay conscious. Blood seeped around his palm and trickled
from Dan’s mouth.
“Danno!” He had
to stay with him -- had to. “Come on,
Danno!”
The
severity of the wound was terrifying to Steve.
The crisis numbed reason, logical thought and cop procedure. It drove out the instincts of action and
necessity. Emotions ran riot with panic,
as he felt the tepid, viscid blood flow through his fingers; shivered from the
sense of shock that clouded out everything but the extreme horror of stunning
tragedy.
Steve
wanted to say something to encourage his friend to keep breathing, to not
panic, to assure that everything would be fine.
The empty platitudes jumbled in his mouth. Inside he was torn with agony.
“Come on,
Danno!” He repeatedly pleaded. “Danno!”
Williams’
eyes barely opened. His hand reached up
and weakly gripped McGarrett’s arm. “Ste
-- ve,” he rasped, then coughed as the blood gurgled
in his throat.
McGarrett
covered the cold hand with his, ignoring Dan’s sticky blood bonding them together
in a tacky grip. Was Danno trying to
keep him there -- afraid he would not be close by? Afraid he would leave?
“I’m
here,” he whispered, his voice quavering thickly.
Dan’s
eyes seemed distant; not quite focused.
In obvious, tremendous pain, Steve didn’t want his friend to waste air
on conversation.
“Don’t
talk, Danno. Ambulance is on the
way. Just breathe.” Just stay alive, please, he silently
pleaded.
It was
his worst nightmare materialized. Grave, grievous wounds plunging his friend to the brink --
desperately clinging to consciousness -- maybe life.
Dan’s
grip weakened and McGarrett held on tighter, afraid to let go. “Who did this, Danno?” he hoarsely
asked. It didn’t seem so important in
the anguish that pooled in his heart, but he felt perhaps Danno wanted to tell
him. Tell him something. Dan’s lips parted, but he coughed out blood
instead of words.
“Ste -- Ste -- ve,” he rasped, coughed, blood gurgling.
The
moment was a torturous twist in slow motion.
He knew his friend so well and understood that Dan comprehended it all
perfectly -- thought he was dying. Steve
could not utter a word to refute the fear because he shared it, too.
Dan
fought to get enough air and McGarrett tried to calm him, staving off the terrifying
helplessness of watching his friend dying -- choking -- a heartbeat at a
time. He could see in Dan’s eyes he knew
what was happening -- he couldn’t draw in enough air to breathe! Williams understood that a wound this serious
could be quickly fatal; that he could suffocate on his own blood before the
ambulance arrived. The edge of dread
washed across his wan face. Panic was
the last thing Dan needed.
Fighting
to be controlled and the example of calm stability,
Steve swallowed his own alarm and kept his voice level and smooth.
“Help’s
on the way,” he barely managed to mumble.
“Hold on.”
There was
every chance Danno would not live through this he knew, chilled at the
terrifying reality of the moment. What
if these were the last few minutes he would spend with his friend? He could not accept or even comprehend such
an ultimatum, but the possibility was too valid. What did he want Danno to know? How could he offer comfort? Did he want some final piece of wisdom to
depart with his friend? He couldn’t
stand the thought that this was the end!
He could not give up!
What if
that was what Danno was asking in his strained struggle to speak?
There had
never been a chance to say aloha to Chin. No gratitude for loyalty and friendship and service. Was that how he wanted to spend his last
moments with Danno? He had the chance to
change that. Would he now?
“Danno
--“
Williams' eyes seemed to no focus on him anymore.
No -- he
could not surrender. He could not admit
defeat -- that Death could take him now. Steve was not ready to let go. He would not say good-bye -- could not. Not even if Danno wanted him to.
Williams’
eyes closed. McGarrett gripped onto him,
whispering encouragement, desperate to assure both of them that he would not
leave -- would not let go. Dan drifted
in and out of awareness in an agonizing stasis of non-time. It seemed that everything around him had
stopped, and McGarrett’s world folded down to the rattling breaths laboring to
escape Williams’ ripped chest -- or the hold on the chill hand limply gripped
in his own.
Where was
the ambulance? Steve noted two -- what
looked like exit wounds? -- one in the chest, one
closer to the shoulder. Shot in the
back? He wasn’t going to move Dan to
find out. The exit wounds
were the most dangerous -- the biggest and heaviest bleeding . . . .
They had
to hurry. Danno was already in shock and
bleeding out. With this kind of injury
the shock alone could be fatal. With the
collapsed, torn lung, things were bad enough.
Reduced intake of oxygen into the body, less oxygen getting to the
brain, blood loss into the sac around the heart -- he knew the medical
details. Had
experienced a collapsed lung before, even. He couldn’t stop imagining how hard Dan’s
heart had to be pumping to just keep the body going. Steve’s heart was beating as hard as he was
visualizing Dan’s, but Steve’s beat rapidly in horror.
When the
ambulance attendants finally arrived, McGarrett hovered, relinquishing control
of his friend’s life to others with the fervent prayer they would do their jobs
right. Peripherally he noted some
uniformed officers were there and he thought he might have issued orders to
them but wasn’t even sure as he jogged alongside the patient, then climbed in
the back of the vehicle, detachedly watching the efforts of the professionals
to save Williams.
As the
ambulance jetted through the streets to the hospital, Steve stared at his
friend, only partially aware of his own daze from the tragic events. He quelled the sick fear in the pit of his
stomach.
He had
been brooding about Chin’s death.
Wondering how he was going to handle Christmas this year without a
valued old comrade. Now a new horror
gripped him, reminding him things could be much worse because of this dangerous
profession. At any moment, he might lose
more than Chin and that scared him beyond belief. Tonight, the earlier death could be eclipsed
by the loss of his closest friend. He
was not ready for that. He could not
allow that to happen -- yet this monumental moment was not under his control
and the helplessness was as frightening as the surging anguish shuddering
through his nerves.
*****
McGarrett
paced at the nurse’s station of ER. From
the other side of the staff workstation, Dr. Matzu,
the Chief of Internal Medicine for
One of
the calmest men McGarrett had ever met, Matzu was a
skilled physician and an excellent person.
As tall as Steve, his placid aspect never seemed ruffled. Perhaps a tribute to his Polynesian heritage -- the son of a Kahuna who entered the modern medical arts? His bedside manner was the best Steve had
ever seen, but his true value was in his completely tranquil nature. Always composed, always serene, Steve had
never seen him lose his cool -- either here in a crisis at the hospital,
delivering horrible news to grieving loved ones -- or when his par went far too
high on the links. Whatever the
situation, Matzu never lost his temper, never raised
his voice.
As the
doctor steadily advanced toward him, Steve felt gripped by a new dread. Richard Matzu, a
friend, never wore the “physician’s mask” of complete non-emotion unless there
was serious news on the horizon. He was
wearing the mask now and it sent chills along Steve’s spine. Steeling himself, McGarrett walked up to face
the situation head on, even while his nerves danced with fear.
“How is
Danno?”
Matzu took him gently by the arm. “He’s still in surgery. Let’s find somewhere to talk.”
It was
not a request and Steve allowed himself to be guided to the waiting room. There were three people in there already and Matzu suggested the doctor’s lounge for a private
conversation.
There
should have been impatient anger sizzling from within, but Steve found the
uncertain rage that he usually felt when Danno was hurt and he needed answers,
was buried by a cold lid of advancing alarm.
Privacy.
Seclusion.
Sober tone; words and looks. Danno was in surgery. He was still alive. The news he was about to hear was not going
to be good, he knew that by Matzu’s manner. He used his energies for defensive shielding.
The
lounge was empty and Matzu asked him to sit. Steve pulled away from the touch on his arm
instead.
“How is
he?”
Forthright,
direct, knowing whom he was talking to, Matzu did not
try any false and vain attempts at comfort.
“His condition is extremely grave, Steve. As you know, one bullet collapsed a
lung. He lost a great deal of
blood. It’s very serious.”
Feeling
his own chest implode at his correct diagnosis, McGarrett hissed in a breath,
trapping a moan of anguish. “He’s going
to make it.”
Matzu’s somber expression did not falter at the
statement of hope. “Dr. Okuza is handling the operation. He’s the head of surgery, remember. He’ll do everything he can . . . . “ Almost subconsciously, he shook his head, as if visibly
correcting himself. “Steve, I can’t
emphasize enough how grave this situation is.”
McGarrett
bit his lip, but could not contain the groan of misery.
“Yes. As you can imagine, there is a great deal of
damage. His blood loss, before he even
reached the hospital, though, is our main concern. Before he entered surgery his condition was
already critical.”
Matzu relayed medical information Steve already
knew. Dan needed high concentrations of
oxygen. The surgeon needed to repair the
wound and drain the chest cavity of everything, then apply an antibacterial
rinse into the chest because of the threat of severe infection due to the
exposure to the marina water. The trick
was to keep the heart and other lung functioning while treating the
injuries. When foreign bacteria came in
that shouldn’t be there -- blood, air and water in the chest cavity -- those
elements could displace the heart and non-injured lung resulting in death.
“I’m
trying to help you, Steve." He seemed at a loss for words.
"This is very serious,” he finally repeated.
“I
know.” He still felt the sticky, dried
blood on his hands. How could he forget
trying to stay the bubbling red ooze seeping from Dan’s chest? “But he’ll be okay,” he hollowly reminded.
Again, Matzu underscored the gravity of the injuries, obviously
not wanting Steve to think Danno was going to survive this. It was the physician’s way of cushioning the
loss, but Steve detested the weakness -- the typical reaction. Because Danno was not going
to die.
“Steve,
you can’t count --“
“He is
going to live.”
Wrapping
his arms around his stomach, McGarrett backed away until his legs hit a
chair. The room was unnaturally cold and
close and he tightened his fists to keep from shaking. The trembling came from the inside and he
clenched his teeth to stay an outward reaction.
He would not look at the doctor.
He stared at the floor, denying what he heard. Critical. Two wounds. Shot in the back. Blood loss. Infection.
“He’s
going to be okay.”
“Steve,
why don’t you wait here? As soon as we
know anything I’ll let you know.”
“He’s
going to come out of this okay,” Steve adamantly repeated,
his voice harsh.
“I’m very
sorry, Steve -- “ he stopped as if keeping himself
from saying something.
“What?”
Steve barked.
“The
blood loss was too extreme, Steve. I
think -- you should be prepared -- it’s unlikely he will survive surgery.”
“No,” he
violently denied, but the shout came out only as a croaking hiss.
He needed
the doctor to understand . . . . No --
he needed the professional to confirm that he did not need to fear. That he would not, again,
after only a few months, enter into that dark pit of despair where only death
became his companion. Where blackness robbed him of someone too precious to lose.
“He will
be fine.” He needed Danno to be
okay.
Delivering
a funereal, silent nod, Matzu left. McGarrett paced, keeping his arms tight
around him, trying to ward off the cold generating internally. He tried to think about external and
periphery matters: Duke and HPD mobilizing to gather evidence -- find the criminals
who did this. Wondering what Danno had
been doing at the marina. Questioning
how a seasoned Five-0 cop could get caught so unawares as to be shot in the
back.
It had
happened before to a Five-0 detective.
Why did he deny it could happen again?
What was
Danno doing out there anyway?
Investigating a terrorist link? The smuggling? It was all so insignificant now. Steve wasn’t even clear on why Danno called
him out to the marina. He walked into
the danger to compensate for his mistakes yesterday? He wasn’t even supposed to be working! Why couldn’t he obey simple orders and stay
out of the way?
Steve
wanted to find an excuse for all this and could not even use Williams as a
scapegoat. Danno was behaving with
typical diligence. A trait Steve not
only admired, but demanded -- one which Danno emulated in Steve from the very
beginning of their relationship. Steve
could not fault him for it now.
Briefly,
he thought of the motives, trying to stretch his mind beyond the grim corridors
of the hospital. There had been a --
what -- a -- subtle -- tension -- between them lately. An imbalance that he could
not define. An
unsettled -- something -- about Danno lately. Since? Since Shay showed up?
The
questions were muted shadows in the far reaches of his thoughts. The only true focus was the dark mass of
grief centered in his mind, heart and soul.
Matzu believed they were going to lose
Danno. No, that could not happen. That would not happen, Steve repeated in his
mind. Danno would not do that to
him. He would not leave Steve alone to
suffer.
He almost
laughed at his own brush of emotional hysteria.
He was projecting emotions of desolation to an unconscious gunshot
victim! It didn’t matter. Danno was conscious at the marina and tried to
reach out to McGarrett. Why? What was that desperate message? Would Steve ever find out? In that brief, distraught conversation, Danno
would have picked up on his panic and would never abandon his friend. Could their wills overcome the seriousness of
the wounds? Was Steve being so blindly
frantic that he would not admit what was already accepted by doctors?
Unable to
stand the confining, bleak room, McGarrett swept out. He went to the nearest restroom and washed
his hands of the dried blood. The white
sink filled with pink wash and his hands shook.
Ill and despondent, he closed his eyes and tried to close out the
sharpness of the pain. The memories of
those shocking, panicked moments at the marina would not fade. In his last conscious moments, Danno wanted
something from him and Steve would not accept that as their last message. Would not -- could not -- give Danno what he
had possibly been asking for in a final moment.
Disturbed at the perspective, he opened his eyes to find the blood
cleaned off. He dried his hands and
left, realizing as he stalked down the hall he had never once looked in the
mirror
Finally,
McGarrett gravitated to the surgical corridor.
He paced, stopped, stared at the OR
doors, then paced again. Vaguely aware of nurses trying to coax him to
the waiting room, or give him coffee, or whisper words of solace and
encouragement, he brushed away the distracting swirls of interruption. His mind focused only on the will that Danno
was going to live.
“Steve?”
The familiar voice
penetrated his mental fog and he looked up, relieved to see an ally coming his
way.
“How is Danny?”
Lukela asked.
Steve found he had no
voice. He shook his head, unable to
offer any details, share the dire prognosis, speculate or commiserate. Heavily falling back against the wall, he
looked away from his friend’s earnest brown eyes. How could he deny Matzu’s
predictions? With
what? His stubborn refusal to
believe he could lose another friend within a few months of Chin’s death?
“Critical,” he
whispered, his eyes burning as he verbalized only in the vaguest terms what
they faced. Then anger heated through
his veins enough to share the insult, the cowardice of the attack. “Shot twice in the back.”
Lukela hissed
sharply. “Auwe.”
He knew they were
both thinking of just a few short months ago.
Chin’s dead body on the asphalt under his window at
the Palace. Chin cut down during
an undercover investigation. Executed --
shot in the back of the head.
The rage inside
wanted voice -- he longed to vent it against the merciless criminal who had
shot his friend. Against
the wall or the doctors or anything within reach. This could not happen again! Not after Chin. He could not lose Danno!
“He’ll be okay,
Steve.”
Lukela’s tone was thin and shaken.
Words. Empty words. Duke
sounded like he didn’t believe them. He
wanted to, just as he wanted Steve to have the faith that they would come
true. Perhaps the spectre of Chin’s
death was too great for the Hawaiian to recover his faith.
Falling back on the
comfort of routine, Lukela quietly outlined the steps taken in the
investigation. A boat owner had pulled
Danny from the water and called an ambulance.
The witness reported a cabin cruiser had just been leaving the
dock. He didn’t see a name, but gave a
description. HPD was checking with other
witnesses and the dock authority to discover what boats went with the slips in
that area. Several people heard raised
voices and up to five or six gunshots.
They might have some decent leads, Duke finished with subdued gravity.
“Steve?”
“McGarrett
nodded.
“I said we had some
leads.”
Having trouble
focusing on the case, McGarrett forced his concentration to follow Lukela’s commentary.
“Yes?”
Duke listed
a few details of the investigation, but Steve couldn't focus on the
report. Asked if he wanted anything repeated, Steve negatively shook his head, coming up with only a blank
void. Whatever Lukela had was lost on
the leader of Five-0, who was too numb with grief and shock to think about the
case. There was an underlying streak of
hatred for whoever had done this to Danno.
A hot current of vengeance ready to strike back at the perpetrators, but
it was too removed right now from the harsh reality he lived with in these
sterile, doomed walls.
Lukela seemed so sad
Steve had to stare at the floor when asked, “Do you want me to stay with you?”
He shook
his head.
“What can
I do for you?”
Finding
he could not care about cause and effect, justice and punishment right now,
Steve quietly declined interest in anything. He ordered Duke to keep
working on the case. McGarrett went back
to pacing and the next time he looked around he realized Duke had left.
When the
OR doors opened, Steve stopped. Matzu and a shorter man in bloodied hospital greens approached. Fists balled at his side, McGarrett stood
stiffly, grinding his teeth, ready to deny bad news or argue weak
diagnoses.
“Steve,
this is Doctor Okuza.”
”How is he?” Steve narrowed his eyes on
the surgeon. This was the man who would
determine if his world collapsed or was merely shaken.
“He
barely survived surgery,” the thin, shorter physician responded in a deep,
sharp voice. “It is unlikely he can live
more than a few hours. I don’t know what
has kept him alive. He lost more blood
than is normally survivable. I am sorry, there was nothing more I could do.”
No, that was not good
enough, Steve denied. Shaking his head,
he wanted to argue, but couldn’t. No
words came out past the clogged panic strangling his throat and chest. This could not be right.
Okuza walked away and Matzu took
McGarrett by the arm. “He’s going into
recovery. They’ll let you in once
they’ve got everything set up in there, Steve.
Do you want me to call Duke or someone else to -- is there anyone else
you want to stay with you?”
“No. Just -- just leave . . . .”
McGarrett shrugged
away from the messenger of devastation and wandered. He had to keep moving or he would fold into
the floor; collapse and disappear from the pressing grief.
They had to be
wrong. As soon as he got into that room
he was going to yell and scream and do whatever he could to keep Danno
here. He was not going to make it easy
for his younger friend. No giving up --
never submit to death.
Reaching
the end of the corridor, Steve entered a room with subdued lighting and
realized it was a chapel. Various
Christmas and religious ornaments made for sparse adornment. It seemed jarring that it was a holiday, a time
for celebration, while he was suffering so profoundly. He stood there for a moment staring in a daze
at the altar and the padded benches that reminded him of the kneeling platforms
he had used so often when he went to
He tried
to remember the last time he had been inside a church. A funeral? Not many people he knew got married, but a
lot seemed to die. He thought back to
his mother’s funeral. After that, he
stopped attending
Staring at the
Christmas trappings now, for the first time he missed that rock of faith that so
many people felt at this time of year.
The solace and peace they found here in a place of worship. More people believed and wanted to believe
than despaired during the holiday season.
Although suicides went up this time of year, so did church attendance
and charity donations and cheerfulness.
He never let any of it affect him.
Crime also increased at this time of year and he was focused on the job
-- maybe some little bit of time off for the holiday depending on the criminal
activities.
In the last
decade, that also meant enduring the annual birthday surprise, he recalled with
a stab of anguish. And last year it
included the new element of Aunt Clara on the scene to liven up Christmas.
His heart
twisted as he realized he needed to call her -- no -- not yet. Long ago, he and Danno had made a pact to
personally inform their close relatives if the worst happened. Now he had a face and a personality to match
the name of the elderly aunt who lived on the East Coast. He would have to call and tell her Danno was
critically wounded. He had let them
down. Steve had not been able to stop
the bullets or turn back time and the worst might yet happen.
Staring
at the altar candles, he forced his mind away from the immediate pain of this
situation. Yet, the ghost of Christmas
past held no warmth and few cheerful memories.
Happiness had been hard won in the Navy and in
The
thoughts of his friend and why he was here plunged him to despair. Weakly he folded down to the kneeling bench
and leaned his head on clasped hands. No
longer accustomed to fervent
prayer, in this dark and solitary void, surrounded by symbols of faith and
permeated with anguish, he prayed like never before. Ripped from his heart, his battered and
faltering soul begged for mercy – not for himself initially – for Danno. That Danno would come out of this alive. And yes -- for himself – that he would not
have to suffer the loneliness he feared at losing another friend – his closest
friend.
Feeling moisture on
his face, he was surprised that his inner turmoil had erupted in a tangible,
outward release. There was so much pain
and confusion – memories and distress – was it a collective release? For a lost past? A lost faith? A fearful future? For the devastation he had lived through and
the ones he was too scared to admit might be before him?
No. Whatever happened in the past was gone. He needed to live in the present. Place his beliefs in the present -- in the
solidity of what he had here and forget about leaning on vaporous icons of the
symbols he had formerly used to see him through trials. He believed in God but felt men made their
own destinies. In the losses and gains
of life, he had some valuable assets that could not yet be dismissed. Danno was going to live. Danno would not desert him, not now, not
after this tough year.
Wiping away the
tears, he drew in a steadying breath.
This was not defying Deity or Fate -- this was trusting in his own
faith. He was stronger than this
faltering doubt. Believing in himself,
and his will, he always thought he could do anything he set his mind to
accomplish. It was a trait he tried to
instill in Danno. Had the lessons taken
root? Could Williams beat this?
By sheer will power,
Steve had faith he would overcome whatever awaited him in the next hours or
days. There was too much to live for to
feel defeated or depressed. He felt that
and he knew Danno had to feel that, too.
Turning away, he
paced back, determined and purposeful.
Before he reached the ICU ward, he ran into a grim Lukela. More bad news? How was that possible? Lukela’s expression
read something dreadful about to surface.
“I thought you would
want to know as soon as I got the report from ballistics.” Lukela hesitated. “The lab work was quick because -- well --
the ballistics were easy to trace. Danny was shot with a .38. His -- his own revolver.”
Steve’s stomach
flipped over and he sagged against the wall, feeling repulsed and ill. “His own piece?”
“Yeah. Someone --
well -- used his own piece -- and -- got him in the back.” He cringed, looking disgusted and sick. “Then they must have dumped him in the
marina.”
Tears close,
McGarrett felt too drained to react overtly, but the news sent waves of nausea
through him and his skin shivered with revulsion. There were few easy or clean ways to die for
a cop -- a murdered cop. This was just
too much, though -- the dishonor -- he wanted to crawl away and hide. That was not an option, though.
“Find whoever did
this,” he implored his friend. “We have
to get them,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
“I will,” Duke
promised. “Let me handle it. Don’t worry about it now.” Holding onto McGarrett’s shoulder, he glanced
nervously down the hall, biting his lip.
“Steve, when you think you’re ready, Doctor Matzu
wants -- he needs to talk to you. I
think you better see him.”
“Danno?”
Lukela grimly
nodded. The message was enough. More bad news. What if Danno had died while he was away
trying to sort out his emotions? While
he had wandered in a dazed fog of self-pity he had let his friend die
alone? He gave a quick nod to Duke and
hurried to the ICU unit.
Matzu was standing near the recovery rooms and he pulled the Five-0
boss aside.
“Steve, Danny’s vital
signs are dropping. There’s nothing more
we can do. Okuza
isn’t sure why he is still alive. It
defies the nature of his injuries –“
“Because he’s
fighting to live!” Steve snapped
impatiently. “He doesn’t want to die and
he’s going to make it! He is going to
make it!” He stared at the door of the
room he was about to enter. Danno knew
how this would destroy him. His friend
would not fail – never had failed McGarrett and would not start now. “He is going to beat this.”
Matzu sadly shook his head.
“Steve, you need to face reality.
He’s not going to survive the night. I’m sorry.”
McGarrett moved over
to bump the door with his shoulder. He
refused to accept the threat. “You’re
wrong. We’re going to prove you
wrong. Danno is not going to die.”
He entered the
recovery room and momentarily his resolve was rocked back a step figuratively
and literally as he came to an abrupt halt.
Williams was attached
to various tubes and IVs and looked gray with death. Not wanting to make that comparison, it was
still inevitable. Slowly approaching, he
touched his friend’s arm and nearly recoiled at the clammy, cool skin. The grave reality of the doctor’s prognosis
filtered past his adamant denials. His
friend was at death’s door. Shadowed by
fear again, Steve sat on the bed, hanging on to Dan’s arm, afraid to let
go. In some faith-oriented moment, he
hoped the physical touch would provide a miracle. That his energy and intensity to succeed
would transfer to the unconscious patient.
Only after a long while could he speak, whisperingly imploring his
friend to fight, to remember all he had to live for. To not give up.
*****
When Duke entered, he
almost held his breath to maintain the silent, sepulchral tone of the
room. McGarrett was motionless, sitting
on the hospital bed, lightly touching Dan’s arm. Lukela flinched when he studied Williams, who
seemed lifeless -- colorlessly still on the bed, hooked up to frightening
equipment that made it all seem more grim than he had
imagined. He knew Dan was critical, but
being in this room slammed it into perspective like nothing else could. Allowing the door to close, he stayed near
the wall, uncertain if he should disturb the tableau.
Steve glanced over
then and gave a slight nod. The officer
took that as his cue to bother the boss.
He would make this short. Steve
was pale, his hand, Duke now noted, was trembling. His eyes were red and there was a look of
fear on his face that Duke could not ever remember seeing before. Not when Danny was kidnapped. Not when Danny had been brainwashed,
even. Lukela stopped short, his legs
suddenly too weak to keep moving. The
information he had seemed so meaningless in the shadow of this tragedy.
“I’ve been doing some
digging at the marina,” he whispered, afraid to speak and somehow change the
subtlety charged atmosphere of the room.
As if an errant breath or strange movement would unbalance the delicate
karma here and cause Dan to lose energy and slip away into another plane.
No interest sparked
in the sober face. “What did you find
out?”
Empty. Steve was washed out of anything but
anxiety.
“I can come back . .
. .”
“No, go ahead.”
Duke focused on the
boss, avoiding any more glances at the patient.
“Danny was there asking about the people in a cabin cruiser at a slip on
the far end of the dock. At the store
Danny showed a picture of a couple of men, one looked Malaysian, one a
haole. The grocery store owner knew them
both and a third man from the boat. Danny
got real excited when he heard the description -- a red haired man with a red
beard.” He paused, letting Steve catch
up. When it was clear it was not ringing
any bells with the chief he continued.
“McBride. The guy Shay wanted us
to find.”
McGarrett
nodded. “Right.”
This was not good
timing, Duke knew. It was not helping
get Steve’s mind off of Danny’s condition.
It was only serving to distract him from what he wanted -- peace and
concentration on Williams.
“I’ll keep working on
it, Steve.”
McGarrett turned back
to Williams. “Keep me informed.”
“I will.” Lukela stepped to the door.
“We’ll get them for
this,” Steve quietly vowed.
“Yeah, we will,” Duke
agreed.
Just as they
had gotten the scum who murdered Chin. Justice. They would have it, but he would rather have
Chin back. He hoped they were not going
to lose Danny the same way.
*****
A loud knock at the
door startled him. Irritated, Steve
opened it and found Shay and two tense HPD guards squaring off in the
corridor. The situation was odd but he
felt so detached and numb it didn’t really register.
“What is it?” he
asked, his mouth dry, muscles stiff, reminding him he had been sitting still
for a long time.
“Mr. McGarrett,” one
officer started. “This guy says --“
“These bozos won’t
let me in!” Shay nearly snarled.
“He’s okay, boys,
he’s with me,” McGarrett clarified.
After the officers left, Pete moved farther into the room. “Williams scared away McBride. That's who Lukela said was at the marina. That's who tried to kill Williams. There was no reason for me to keep hiding out. Thought I would come by and see what I could do."
McGarrett nodded, not really caring about the reasons anymore. At some point it would all be important again, but not now.
"You look awful, Steve.” Shay studied the patient for a
moment. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
The Five-0 chief
shook his head and retreated back to the center of the room. He took up his sentinel-post sitting on the
bed. The interruption faded away and he
focused again on his intent mission to mentally urge his friend to wake up and
firmly rejoin the living.
“Hey, Steve? You okay?”
The voice seemed far
away and melted quickly into silence -- his cocoon of refuge. McGarrett felt it could not be in his same
dimension, but knew it was. In the same room. Fatigue and sorrow combined to place him in a
drifting hollow where time floated him into a separate existence. Memories, speculations, dread misted together
with weariness. Nothing mattered beyond
this quiet cavern of semi-darkness where monitors quietly hummed, lights
blipped and he held onto the cool arm of the person he was too afraid to
release. Occasionally he had broken the
silence with pleas or demands, but after a time he fell into mute, stubborn
resistance. As long as he held on,
became a literal anchor for Danno, things could not get worse. They could beat this.
“Steve?”
Staring at Williams’
pale face, he knew it was not Danno talking.
No, it wasn’t his voice. And he smelled coffee. He looked over his shoulder and Shay’s
presence there seemed so out of place he took a moment to think it
through.
“Oh. Pete.”
“Yeah. I came back with
some coffee for you.” He approached the
bed and studied the patient for a moment.
“Did he come around at all?”
He shook his head, mildly surprised Shay had come and gone without
notice. Then he turned back to stare at
Williams.
“Don’t you think you
should get some rest?”
Silently McGarrett
refuted the advice.
“You can’t stay here
all night. It’s after two in the
morning.”
“I can’t leave
him.”
The thought was so
repulsive he shivered. Abandon
Danno? When the weak and damaged body
was fighting to survive -- maybe searching for the will to hang on? Perhaps struggling for the energy to keep the
spirit going when the body was spent.
Steve secured himself to Williams believing if he stayed here and kept
the dialogue going he could coax his friend back. It was willpower that would work now. Medical science had done all it could. Steve had prayed all he could. It was up to Danno – and Danno had to know he
was here demanding Williams not leave him.
“Listen, let me stay
with him – “
“No.”
“Don’t you want to
take a break or get some food?”
“No.”
“I talked to the
nurse. She said you’ve been here for
hours. They don’t think he has much
longer –“
“He’s going to live!”
Shay came into his
view and stood behind some of the equipment.
“This kid really got under your skin, didn’t he?”
The flippant remark
was almost funny. How could he possibly
relate to the hardened and cynical spy that there was comfort and value in
human relationships? There could be
trust and connections between people who existed in a violent and distrusting
world. He could not even begin to
articulate what Danno meant to him or how desperately he needed his friend to
recover. Only one word even came close.
“Ohana.”
“What?”
“Hawaiian. It means family.”
Shay snorted. “Who’d have guessed you’d get all sentimental
in your old age, Steve. I can’t believe
the tough Commander of NI that I knew has anything – anyone – in his life that
could mean so much.”
“Maybe,” McGarrett
snapped back, irritated at the attitude and the intrusion. His old friend was encroaching on privacy
that Steve valued. These were desperate,
stolen moments he was afraid would be his last with his newer aikane. Time he had to use to urge Williams to expend
every last bit of energy to live. “Maybe
I finally found something worthy of the sentiment.”
At this, Shay
laughed. “So you’ve become the father
figure of this little band of detectives in paradise?” he derisively
scoffed. “And you find out that they are
mortal after all, Steve. They bleed and
die and disappoint and desert you just like everybody else we’ve ever known.”
“Not him,” McGarrett countered adamantly.
“Whatever you
say, Steve. But I’ll tell you this. It’s dangerous to feel too much. It hurt you when you lost your last man and
it will hurt you when you lose this one.
Don’t worry, you’ll still have me around. I still don’t go in for this desperate
emotional stuff, Steve. I’ll help you
get back there. Life is so much easier
when you don’t feel anything anymore.”
After Shay
left McGarrett stared at Williams. “He’s wrong, Danno. We’re going to prove him wrong. If he can’t feel anymore then he’s dead. But you’re not. You are coming back. You know how much I need you here.” If only he could coherently communicate that
to his still friend.
The hand
holding onto Williams shook, and Steve’s heart leaped, certain his friend was
waking. Then he realized with sinking
despair HE was trembling. As if emotions
were bursting to release from their captivity within, he felt coldness course
through him. He should have done
something more at the marina. It could
have been his last moments with Danno and he didn’t reveal what was in his
heart. As with so many other times in
his life, he closed away the emotions and worked through the crisis with stoic
resolve. If this was the end then he had
blown his last chance to let his friend know how important he was. If Danno heard that from him maybe there
would be a greater will to live.
This was
his Christmas of second chances, he kept telling himself. Make up for Chin’s loss. Help Pete.
Now, don’t let it be his last opportunity to make things right with
Danno. He couldn’t think that. He had to.
In the next breath, this moment might be lost to him. How could he live with himself if he let this
pass? If he did not
push at every opening to reach his friend?
“You know,”
he roughly whispered. “Danno, you know
how important you are. You -- you ARE
important. You have to live. Please.”
Despite his
irritation at Shay, and his dedication to talk to and encourage Williams, the
emotional shock and natural weariness caught up with him and he felt close to
collapse. He drew over a chair next to
the bed and slumped into a comfortable position. Closing his eyes, leaning his head against
the bed, he kept a hold on Williams’ arm.
Drifting quickly to slumber, on a subconscious level, he knew nurses
came and went checking the patient. He
also believed if there was any change he would sense it.
*****
Floating through a luau and walking through rainbows, Steve
knew he was dreaming. In reality, the Palace
did not glint on the beach like a sand castle, and stars did not sparkle
through rainbows. And his world did not
possess bright sunlight and tropical paradise in the middle, and then fade out
to be ringed with dark clouds that swirled like a black vortex. Did his world look like that? No, his mind refuted. He was alone and that felt wrong. The
tropical/nightmare-edged vision seemed wrong, and nothing made sense. And an unseen power was sucking the vision
away. Or was a force grabbing his attention
so he would leave this dream state? He
was so tired. But – yes – a noise
alerted him – Danno?
Eyes blinking open,
he assessed several varying elements in the instant he awoke. Danno’s arm remained still under his
hand. No change in the cool temperature
or the lack of motion.
What had awoken him?
There was a presence
in the room. A nurse? He saw someone drive a needle into an IV
tube. The hands did not belong to a
nurse. Without moving his head he
scanned up to see Pete Shay plunge down on the end of the syringe stabbing into
Dan’s IV feed.
In a flash of
instinctive alarm, McGarrett ripped the IV line out of Williams’ arm and shoved
Shay back against the wall. Moving on
impulse alone, he acted before logic could catch up to the violent opposition.
In the next movement, he drew his revolver and pushed it into his old friend’s
stomach.
“What are you
doing?” Backing up, he grabbed for the
nurse call button as he kept the weapon trained on the spy. “You were tying to kill him!" He
checked for a pulse on Williams and found one. Immediate concern
relieved, he glared at Shay. "What was in the syringe? Why did you try to murder him?”
Shay was
annoyed. “Come off it, Steve. You’re not going to shoot me. Okay, you caught me. I was trying to make things easier for
everyone. So you wouldn’t suffer –“
Pushing Shay around,
he pressed the man against the wall in a punishing arm lock. “Stop it!
Stop lying! You were going to
kill him! What do you have in the
syringe?”
A nurse rushed in and
McGarrett explained what happened.
Keeping a tight restraint on Shay, he watched anxiously as the nurse
checked the patient. A new IV feed was
set up and a doctor arrived, getting a quick recap of the excitement. After checking the patient, the young physician
reported there was no change in Williams.
The attack apparently had not injured him. For the first time Steve
noticed two HPD guards with drawn weapons next to him and was thankful there
was back up close by.
Shoving Shay out the
door, Steve leaned the man against the wall and pressed the revolver to his
throat. Too bad they never suspected
an assault from an ally. “What were you doing?”
“I told you—“
“Don’t lie!”
“All right. The kid stumbled
onto something he shouldn’t have. I
needed to cover my bases. Consider me
the avenger of Christmas Past, old buddy," he remarked flippantly. "We didn’t get him the first time at the
marina, so I had to come back and finish off the job.”
Shaking with rage, Steve
coughed past the cry welling in his throat.
“You – he caught you? Then – you
– you shot Danno?” He grabbed Pete at
the collar and bounced him on the wall.
“You shot him?”
“Stop the
self-righteous act,” the agent demanded, shoving McGarrett’s hand off him. “It was an operational necessity. Your over-eager moralist cop got in the
way. Did you think I would let him blow
my whole operation?”
“Your
operation? You tried to kill Danno -- shot him in the
back -- for your operation?”
“He was in the way,
Steve.”
Steve grabbed him by
the shirt and shoved him toward the officers.
“Read him his rights. He’s under
arrest for attempted murder and that’s just for starters!” Staring at Pete, he wondered at the animal
his old friend had become. At what HE must have been those long years ago in NI. What he had almost allowed to happen here
because of his blindness to an old loyalty.
“You disgust me. You’re lucky
Danno is going to live.”
“Or what?” Pete asked as he was cuffed. “You’d kill me, Steve? You’re too soft. All that sentiment has clouded your
judgment. You don’t live on the edge
anymore. You’ve forgotten what this game
is all about.”
“Get him out of
here!”
“Merry
Christmas, Steve. Welcome back to reality.”
Revulsion shivering
along his nerves, he returned to the room where he half expected to find his
friend dead. Williams was still
breathing shallowly and his pallor had not improved. Steve caught the tail end of a conversation
between the physician and the nurse and the young doctor motioned him out of
the room again.
“There was nothing in
that syringe.”
“Air,” McGarrett
flatly returned. “An
air bubble in the line. Air in the vein. Untraceable.”
The doctor’s eyes
widened. “That would have been fatal.”
“That was the
idea. It’s an old trick.”
The young man lowered
his voice. “The patient isn’t going to
last much longer.”
“That’s what I’ve
heard all night and I don’t want to hear it again!” Steve irately
countered.
Shrugging, the
physician stepped aside. “Call when his condition
changes.”
Standing by the door,
McGarrett stared at Williams, unable to approach. He could only imagine what had happened out
there in the marina. Williams had
discovered some clue and Shay shot him in the back to cover his tracks.
“Danno, I am so
sorry.” His broken whisper seemed to
fill the room. “I let Pete manipulate
me. And you warned me not to trust him.” Throat tight around a sob, he allowed the hot
tears to score his cheeks. “Don’t let
him win, Danno.”
Moving to the bed, he
leaned on the rail. Pounding it with his
fists, he swallowed a scream of anger and anguish. Crushed that he was blind to what had been
happening around him. Ignoring his
closest friend, he had tried to make room for the old friend who needed
help. So caught up in his desire to make
up for Chin’s loss, he had nearly lost Danno.
He struck the metal
again. “I need you, Danno! Get back here! Give me a second chance!!”
*****
“Shay’s not talking,”
Lukela bleakly related as he shared a typical lunch -- Chinese take out -- with
McGarrett in the corner of Williams’ room.
It was the farthest he could coax the Five-0 boss to straying from
Williams’ side. “No surprise.”
“No.” McGarrett listlessly pushed noodles around
with his chopsticks. “What could you find
out?”
“No sightings of his
accomplice, the guy who was described as the mysterious McBride. I figure the red hair is a disguise, but we
don’t have enough of a description to track down anyone. No sign of the cabin cruiser yet, either.”
“Gems. Danno thought it was
connected to our gem smuggling case.” He dully stared at the still
patient. "Danno had emeralds and rubies in his pocket. He must
have picked them up from Shay."
“Yeah. We can’t
trace Shay’s movements so we’re working on the other end. The Jakarta Sunda angle.
He had a few contacts we’re tracing.”
“We?”
“A few
detectives from HPD.”
McGarrett studied his
friend with fond sadness. He hated
putting more pressure onto the only remaining staff detective of Five-0. Steve should be out there working on this,
too, but couldn’t bring himself to do anything but spend every possible moment
here. Superstitiously, he was afraid to
turn his back -- afraid without his presence Danno would not wake up. Lukela seemed to understand that and never
mentioned the obsession to stay.
Now would be a good
time to bring in another officer or two to help. He couldn’t do it with Dan’s fate still
undetermined. Although he knew he had to
replace Chin -- needed to for months -- adding someone new now might seem, in
some symbolic, cosmic plane, as if he was giving up on Dan. It made sense in his muddled and emotionally
ravaged mind, but he doubted it would if he ever voiced it -- which he would
not.
“Mahalo. For
everything.”
Lukela modestly
nodded. “Danny will make up for all this
overtime after he’s out of here.”
McGarrett forced a
grin he didn’t feel. “Yeah.”
*****
When the morning sun
shone through the slats of the window blinds, there was no change in Williams’
condition. McGarrett dozed, paced and
made phone calls from the ICU through the course of the pre-noon hours. Matzu warned the
staff about his behavior. The nurses
were tolerant of Steve’s persistent presence.
Then Williams’ condition slowly and steadily improved -- as he had
confidently predicted -- and so did McGarrett’s confidence and
temperament.
Guardedly
anticipating Dan would live, Matzu warned that
Williams was still weak and the lung damage could lead to pneumonia,
particularly considered the dip in the bacteria-laden marina. To combat the lung injuries high oxygen was
being pumped into him through nasal tubes.
Even if he lived, Matzu continually warned,
his recovery would be slow. Not
discounting the seriousness of the damage, Steve still felt optimistic and
shifted from the mentally defensive posture of fear to the forced assertion of
hope.
Evening gradually
slipped over the tropical paradise and Steve returned to pacing. The continued unconsciousness from his friend
created fluctuating anxieties threatening to erode the positive attitude thinly
constructed against his overwhelming anxiety.
Doggedly, stubbornly, he maintained his insistence that Williams would
soon regain consciousness.
McGarrett was
explaining to a dedicated nurse that he was not interested in having her send
up dinner for him, when he noted Williams’ eyes flickering open.
“Danno?” He quickly moved to
the bedside and gently touched Dan’s arm.
“Hi." The blue eyes stared
steadily at him. "How are you
doing?”
Williams gave a nod.
“You’re going to hurt
for a while.” Steve’s voice thickened at
the memory of why his friend was here.
“You got hit pretty hard. Twice. One slug hit a
lung.”
Dan’s eye’s
widened. “Shay,” he croaked.
Biting his lip,
McGarrett nodded. “I know,” he admitted
with difficulty. “We’ve got him in
custody.”
Visibly relieved, Dan
quietly whispered, “Sorry.”
“You have nothing to feel sorry about. He shot you!”
"Tried to -- tell . . . ."
McGarrett gripped tight to his arm. "Okay. Don't talk. That's what you were trying to tell me?" he barely whispered. "Don't worry now. It's all right."
"Sorry --"
"You have nothing to be sorry about."
“He’s -- your --
friend,” came the subdued reply.
“WAS my
friend. I’m sorry you had to find out the hard way
what a traitor he is.” Easily, he could
get lost in the melancholy of the whole jumble of betrayals, loyalties, pain
and confusion. Instead, he focused on
the most important aspect of the moment – Williams’ recovery. “You got hurt pretty bad, Danno, but you’re
going to be fine. Just take a little
time to recover from this one.”
Again, Williams
nodded. “You -- okay?”
Touched at the
concern, McGarrett offered a sad smile.
“I’m okay now.”
After Williams
drifted back to sleep, for the first time in many long hours, Steve left the
hospital. He would sleep in his own bed
again and be back first thing in the morning.
Dan required a lot of rest, but he would be waking more and more,
gradually regaining his strength, and McGarrett planned on being there for him
as much as possible.
*****
As he drove along
“Shay escaped,
Steve.”
“What?”
“Yeah, a transfer
that no one knew anything about it seems.
He had a few accomplices and some sophisticated paperwork faked. I’ve got an APB –“
McGarrett pounded his
fist on the steering wheel. “How could
this happen?” The flash-anger quickly
subsided when he allowed logic to filter in through the frustrated rage. Shay was an old pro. He should have expected this, but he was far
too preoccupied with Danno’s crisis to think much about Shay. “Go ahead and run though the steps, but he’s
long gone, Duke. He’s a pro at this,
remember?”
“Yeah, so I’m finding
out. We’ll do our best, Steve.”
“I know.”
*****
Daily visits to the
hospital improved both patient and visitor attitudes for Williams and
McGarrett. Now that the crisis had
passed, they were able to connect the various threads of the investigation.
Williams reported the
man who pinned him on the boat was McDowell, who also disguised himself as
McBride. The gems in his pocket -- that
he had recovered from the boat -- were Burmese rubies and two emeralds. Worth some tidy change, they were probably
part of a smuggling operation, but that could not be proved. It only served to underscore their suspicions
that Shay, McBride and Sunda were all involved in the
smuggling they had originally investigated. Dan revealed Shay's
confession about being responsible for the market bombing murder of Tommy
Malang.
“So do I get to keep
the gems?” Dan smiled with a twinkle in his eye.
“They’re locked up as
evidence now,” McGarrett replied, shaking his head. “After a while, if we don’t have a case, I
guess they’re yours. Although
you did obtain them from an illegal search.”
“I don’t think Shay
will be pressing charges.”
“No.”
As his health
improved, Williams grew increasingly anxious to leave. Matzu refused to
release him for at least a week due to the lung injury. To speed the process, the nasal tubes were
kept in, much to Dan’s annoyance. A nurse had been hovering, checking vital
signs. She warned that McGarrett should
not stay long. Standard
warning -- standard ignoring of the order. As soon as she left the room
on this evening preceding Christmas Eve, Williams
pulled out the nasal candula. Steve
frowned at the action.
“You know you can’t
communicate normally with this things,” Williams
explained with a grimace. “So, you’re
going to spring me, right?”
“Not today,” Steve
admitted with mixed irritation and amusement at the typical impatience of his
friend. “And Matzu
won’t even talk to me unless you do as you are told.”
Glumly, Dan
nodded. “Yeah, he’s sure not as easy to
get around as Bergman.”
Chuckling, Steve
ruefully agreed they had met their match in Matzu and
both detectives voiced how much they missed the former ME/Five-0 physician who
had recently retired. He laughed aloud
when Dan asked him to stand between him and the door so if the nurse popped in
he could quickly reinsert the tubes.
“You mean your usual
charm is not working with the nursing staff?”
Dan scowled. “Most of them are married and we all have a
mutual antagonism event going.”
“No wonder you want
out so bad.” Sobering, he sat on the
side of the bed. “I have some bad
news.” There was no easy way to say
this, so he decided it was finally time to plunge ahead. “Pete escaped.” Dan’s eyes grew wide and McGarrett quickly
assured, “I have extra guards out in the hall.”
“You think he’ll come
after me again? Why? I’m not a threat anymore.”
“No, probably not,”
McGarrett tentatively agreed. “But I
want to keep the guards just the same.”
Grimacing, McGarrett
was irritated anew at the coconut wireless that was all too efficient. HPD guards visiting Williams had revealed to
him the dramatic attempt in the hospital room to kill Dan. Steve was not pleased with the leak of
information -- he had wanted to break it to his friend in his own way.
In his frequent
visits, they had discussed Shay often.
The whole episode with the spy bothered Williams, but Steve refrained
from admitting how much it bothered him.
Pete Shay was a dangerous professional.
He had no reason to come after Williams, but Steve couldn’t rule out the
threat completely. The motives for
killing Danno were gone now that Shay’s duplicity was exposed, but there was
always revenge.
“There’s not much
chance you’re going to find him,” Dan sighed, clearly frustrated and angry
about the escape. “Or his pal McDowell
or McBride or whatever his name was.”
His eyes grew distant. “They’re
very professional.”
Although they had
already discussed the gruesome details of the shooting at the marina, McGarrett
was again enraged at the attack on his officer.
Disgruntled, Steve wanted to throw something or punch something just
thinking about the despicable ambush -- the cold-blooded attempt to murder his
friend. Not to mention the whole spy
mess that was now unresolved. Between
Shay and Jin Wu it had been a bad year for their involvement with spooks.
“Don’t worry about
it,” McGarrett sternly admonished, sublimating his ire. “Just use your energies to recover.”
The door opened and Dan
quickly popped the tube in his nose before the suspicious, glaring nurse
descended. She fussed and lectured
briefly, then left. As soon as the door
closed, the tube was out again.
Smiling, Steve shook
his head. “Behave, Danno, or Matzu won’t spring you tomorrow.”
Williams
smirked. “Come on, Steve, you must have
some influence with him. You losing your usual domineering touch?”
McGarrett raised his
eyebrows, amused and piqued at the challenge.
“Oh ye of little faith. We’ll see about that.” He handed the tube to his detective. “You work on getting better. Let me worry about an escape.”
Dan grinned. “Great.
I have no doubt in your abilities, Steve.”
*****
With Christmas Eve
usually came the annual office party for Five-0. In keeping with the tone of the organization,
it was subdued and alcohol-free in deference to the chief. This December Twenty-fourth found the state
police unit quiet, without celebration; the staff altering the holiday routine
along with the head of the unit. No one was in the mood for the usual party
with the second-in-command still in the hospital.
To get everyone
through the harrowing ordeal of the shooting and the pressing memory of Chin’s
death, Lukela had suggested Steve play Santa to the Kelly children. Instead, he had taken them all out on his
boat that morning and returned them to the house in time for a surprise
lunch-time luau with the Five-0 staff and friends. It had been a gesture
appreciated by all and McGarrett was still glowing with the enjoyment of the
experience. Events served to accentuate his need to carry through with
his resolutions for second chances. It
had been a worthy effort that would be a happy memory for all. Maybe even an annual activity and
celebration, he thought. And next year Williams would not be a casualty
in the hospital, he vowed. Next year -- he had a whole mental list of
resolutions -- something he normally never indulged in -- and near the top of
the list was better safety procedures for his friends. He didn't want to
ever go through this again.
*****
Crime was usually
quiet for the top cops of the state on this day, and McGarrett took advantage
of the lull and presented himself at the hospital early in the afternoon to
retrieve Williams. After much coercion, Matzu agreed the mending detective could go home provided
he got plenty of rest, kept up on antibiotics and did not over-exert himself.
Williams readily
leaped at the chance of escape and McGarrett adamantly promised he would hold
his detective to the vow. The grievous
wounds – the near loss of his second-in-command -- had scared him and he was
not going to let anything happen to his friend if he could help it.
"What about the charity ball?" Williams asked with a grin. "I don't see you in your Santa suit."
"And you won't," McGarrett assured. "HPD is covering security. "I had more important duty."
"Mahalo."
Grimly, McGarrett clearly recalled the fear that moments like this with his friend were gone forever. Not only did he value little opportunities like this, he sought them out. "No problem," he casually admitted, leaving unsaid the deep motivations he would never forget.
"What about Aunt Clara?"
"Taken care of,
Danno, don't worry. She's due in on a morning flight." He went
on to outline plans for a subdued Christmas dinner at the Williams condo. No golf, no activities, just a quiet
day. At least it would be a holiday
spent together with Dan alive. Steve
could not ask for more.
On the short trip to Williams’ condo they spotted crowds of party-goers already ambling along Waikiki’s busiest street. Dan regretfully mentioned he did not get any holiday shopping done. He should know better than to procrastinate. What he did not mention was that at least he had planned Steve’s surprise party for the following week.
"Too bad I don't believe in Santa anymore."
“You want me to help
out with the shopping?”
It was a facetious
offer since Steve either used gift certificates, or catalogs as his shopping
sources. And he would never volunteer to
make a list for presents on Christmas or his birthday. Birthday. He
hadn't shopped for anything for that, either! Dare he send Aunt Clara out
on that errand? Maybe he should be content that he at least had a
surprise party arranged at Chen's. This year, Steve WOULD be
surprised. He would not expect Williams to pull anything off after the
recent events. At least he hoped that was what Steve thought. And
regardless of injuries, the birthday party would go on. It was a
tradition around here, just like Christmas. The two now went together in
Williams' mind and he refused to relinquish celebrating either one. It
was the time of year when their little ohana could openly appreciate each
other. This year, that seemed more important than usual. With
Chin's loss and Shay's appearance, he felt more sentimental about his ohana --
his big brother -- than usual.
“You do the shopping
for me? Not with YOUR taste in ties!” Dan joked back.
“Who are you buying a
tie for?”
“Maybe you.”
*****
As they sat on the
lanai listening to the surf far below washing against the reef, Steve hated to
break the tranquil moment. It had to be
done, however. He had apologized
numerous times for Shay (he would probably never think he had covered that
enough) – for his misjudgment of the old spy colleague – for the cautions he
had ignored that would have saved Williams from a lot of misery. He could keep this latest irritation a
secret, but his conscience would not allow that.
“I got this in the
mail today.” He handed an envelope to
Williams.
Dan removed a
Christmas card depicting a snowy scene.
Dan opened it, read it, then sighed.
“He loves playing games.” He
checked the postmark. “
“We’re trying, but I
don’t hold out any luck. If he doesn’t
want to be found, Shay won’t be.”
“I wish I would have
figured it out –“
“I wish I had,
too.”
Steve restrained from
another admission of guilt and regret.
He stared at the card, reading the handwritten scribble at the bottom,
wondering if he could ever put this behind him.
Or feel that Dan’s safety was secure.
“Think he’ll come
back?”
“I hope not.” He glanced once more at the card. “It’s a veiled threat. Just be on your guard for a while, Danno.”
“You too. Shay can’t be too
happy about how things went down between you two.”
“Not any more unsettled than I am.”
"Great, a real Mele Kalikimaka."
McGarrett frowned at the sour comment -- unusual bitterness from Williams -- who deserved the sentiment more than anyone after this harrowing incident. In a way, he agreed with the sarcasm -- Shay had nearly killed Danno -- which would have and ruined Steve's life in a monumental way. On the other hand, he agreed with the literal idea of a Merry Christmas -- pushing away the possibilities, he was left with the much better reality. Danno had survived and that was the best Christmas fulfillment he could wish for.
"Yeah, Mele Kalikimaka," he responded with more enthusiasm. "It's seemed like a pretty good one to me," he countered, patting Dan's shoulder.
The younger detective offered a grin. "Yeah, guess so."
All except for one
serpent in paradise, Steve inwardly sighed. He read over the card again,
his lip curling with distaste and fury.
Merry Christmas, Steve.
Thanks for nothing. Next time I’ll tidy up better before I leave
your island.
Pete
McGarrett took the
card and ripped it up, placing the pieces in his pocket. But the threat burned in his mind, assuring
he would have an unsettled Christmas.
All because of his misguided efforts and muddled emotions -- trying to
let go of the past -- Chin’s death – embracing the old-past -- Shay. Now he only sought to preserve what he had in
the present.