SEQUEL
TO:
CHECK
AND CHECKMATE
October 1974
POISON PAWN
BY
GM
and
BARBARA
HUFF
“Come
on, Doc, I’m fine!”
Looking
across the exam room at his ally, Danny Williams was surprised that Steve
McGarrett offered no words of support, but continued in the silent, concerned
pacing he had engaged in since Williams arrived at the hospital. Usually the first to nix any extended,
unnecessary or time-wasting medical procedures (notably for himself, although
Steve often came to his defense to extricate Dan from the clutches of medical
tedium), this time the boss was pensively reticent. In fact, Steve had been sullenly anxious
since their emotional reunion on the beach.
Admittedly,
Williams was still experiencing his own roller-coaster feelings of narrowly
escaping death at Wo Fat’s seaside cabin where he had
been nearly executed by fire when his captors left him to burn up in the
shack. Steve’s poignant and tearful
greeting was as astounding as Dan’s good fortune to be alive.
During
the helo ride to the hospital, Dan had briefly
questioned the reticent boss, but found out little about what had happened in
his absence. That someone had been
killed in his place (everyone -- including Steve believed the corpse to be
Williams), had been confirmed by a shaken McGarrett. There had been little else said, despite
Dan’s curiosity.
Steve’s
reluctance to discuss the matter caused Williams further speculation -- that it
had been a nasty and emotional misconception McGarrett and others had believed. Wo Fat was a master at deception and
pain. No surprise he had hit the target
when planning to distract Five-0 by making it look like Williams was dead. As a diversion, it was brilliant. That it had worked far too well was evident
in McGarrett’s grimly sober attitude; his fatigued
appearance, his overly protective nature since their reunion. Most telling of all, the refusal to discuss
what had happened since Dan’s disappearance.
“Danny,
you’ve got a concussion --“
“You
said it was slight --“
“And
I’m still the doctor!” Bergman snapped back in a tough bark.
Hiding
a smile, Dan knew the gruff nip was worse than his bite. The physician’s initial reaction at seeing
him had been almost as shocking as Steve’s
crying. When he walked into the hospital,
Bergman had actually hugged him! And the tough coroner’s eyes watered with barely-restrained
tears. Danny would have never expected
that in a million years.
After
the exam, Bergman concluded Williams suffered from fatigue, a slight
concussion, bruised ribs and a few small, superficial burns on his hands and
arms. Dan was ready to leave, but
Bergman insisted on studying the x-rays just to make sure there was no more
serious head trauma. Overcompensation. He was used to it from Steve but never Bergman.
Imploringly,
Williams gave an exasperated look to McGarrett.
“Steve --“
“He’s
the doc,” was the boss’ firm counter comment.
It
was enough to silence Williams into concerned speculation. Things must have been really
bad if Steve was now agreeing with Bergman! Up until now all he
wanted was to leave and sleep in his own bed.
Thinking tomorrow he could deal with things
with a clear head and a little less soreness.
But the attitude worried him. Again he pondered
that it must have been a pretty bad experience if his colleagues were acting
like this.
A short rap at the door was instantly followed by Chin Ho
Kelly and Ben Kokua plunging into the room.
Without invitation and before Bergman could protest, both detectives
surged forward and embraced Williams in strangling hugs. They were talking at once and sniffing back
tears and once more Williams was stunned at the reaction. In the doorway, he spotted Duke Lukela, who
hung back, but was smiling, wiping away moisture at the side of his face.
He
grew a little uncomfortable about sitting on the examination table, shirtless
as he realized that his colleagues had all taken distressed glances at the
massive dark bruises on his torso that were a clear indication to them that
he’d been repeatedly kicked.
They
asked questions and commented and teased, but it was
all a buzz of activity on a sub-level.
Dazed, Dan accepted it all in a blur of astonishment. His mind -- maybe due to the concussion --
was whirling with confusion. The
perplexity slowly turned to disturbance.
The
rest of the room seemed to fade away in a wash of fuzzy vision and sound. He looked up and watched McGarrett, who had
paused in his pacing. Steve stared at
him -- a somber, level, penetrating gaze.
On a deep level that they sometimes seemed to mutually
touch, Dan understood what had transpired. He needed no details or blow-by-blow
report. He needed only to look into
those intense blue eyes for a sounding of pain and a measure of the depth of
trauma suffered by his friend.
His
friends -- apparently all of them -- were completely
convinced he had died. Until then, he
had no comprehension of the depth of that erroneous misconception.
The
realization nearly took his breath away and left him
chilled and weary with the clutching evil still lingering from Wo Fat’s
oh-so-effective machinations.
Bergman
quickly took command of the deteriorating situation and demanded everyone
leave. Somehow someone -- probably Steve
-- had communicated the need for some clothing and Ben handed him a shirt (his
had been taken by Wo Fat and company), and whispered
something about an escape plan, then was hustled away. Dan shouldered into the shirt,
that must have been Ben’s because it was three sizes too big, then
stepped off the table and moved toward the door. Bergman headed him off.
“Danny
--“
“Doc,
please, just let me go home and eat some real food and shower and get some
rest,” he implored in his most sincere tone.
“Please. After living on a floor
for days, I just want to sleep in my own bed.”
In
a show of support, McGarrett moved to Williams’ side. With a glance, Bergman surrendered. Issuing orders, promising to drop by a
prescription of mild pain-relievers, Bergman allowed the detective to leave.
Out
in the corridor, Williams noted McGarrett walking tensely beside him. Although the emotional purge was outwardly
over, there was a lingering strain that may not
diminish for some time. Wo Fat, the
master player at maneuvering men and events like pawns on a chessboard, had hit
the heart of Five-0 this time. He had
removed a key player and while not toppling the king, had effectively wrecked
havoc among his opponents. That he had
been that sacrificial pawn was a wounding point in his heart. He had been used to
endanger his friends and truly hurt McGarrett.
Wo Fat had told him as much, but he never understood the level of
anguish inflicted until now.
McGarrett
moved ahead to punch the elevator button.
Unable to contain his distress, he touched McGarrett’s sleeve and
motioned him into a nearby corner. This
was probably not the right time or place, but nasty speculations and deep
emotions were surfacing and he had to give them some attention.
“Steve,
Wo Fat made you think I was dead. He really did a good job I take it?”
“Yeah,”
McGarrett tightly confirmed.
They
had covered as much in the chopper ride here, but Dan now needed to know more.
“So
there was a body—”
Irritated,
McGarrett moved back to punch again at the elevator button. “Yeah. Look, Danno, it’s
over. You’re
back in one piece. Wo Fat is gone. The ambassador is safe. Let’s just leave it at that.”
The
doors opened and McGarrett stepped in.
Williams followed, unsettled and unsure how to tackle the
interrogation. Steve could be the most
stubborn guy around when he did not want to do
something. And
an argument would never sway him. Dan
could sometimes persuade him with logic and charm, but he was too tired and
Steve too keyed up over the whole affair to be receptive even if Dan could
summon the energy to try.
‘Okay, round one
to you, Steve. But
I’m not going to let this drop. I can’t. In a manner of
speaking, I died. You can’t
just leave me hanging on something like this.
Not after what it did to you and all my other friends.’
*****
With
a final glance into the apartment, McGarrett stood at the door, reluctant to
leave. On the way back from the
hospital, they stopped for food and came right to Danno’s place. Starved, Williams had eaten in the car -- a
precedent Steve allowed only this once -- and by the time they reached his
home, he was showing the fatigue shadowing his demeanor since their reunion on
the beach.
Dan
had slumped onto the couch as soon as they entered while McGarrett opened the
lanai doors to let in some fresh air.
When he looked back, Williams was already asleep. For a while, Steve stayed there, studying
his friend and trying not to think back to the last few days of horror. Instead, he strove to focus on the tangible
-- the present -- the real.
Danno
was alive.
The
evil plot was behind them and it was time to move on. How could he?
As solid as it was to see Dan before him; hear
his steady breathing, feel the warm breeze, smell the salt air and odor of
French fries, it was hard to trust this was real. As substantial as it had felt to hold onto
Danno on that beach and on the chopper ride back, Steve was still finding it so
difficult to believe this was true. Too good to be true.
Shying
away from the doubts, he knew they lingered because the death had been so
soul-deep agonizing. It had scarred him
so profoundly he was not sure how long it would take for the horrific grief and
residual agony to leave. It had
diminished, of course, when he spotted Williams on that beach. But, it was a wraith
in his heart that would not be soon forgotten.
Forcing
himself out the door, he softly closed it and leaned there, summoning reason to
vanquish the phobia -- a fear-based superstition that nearly paralyzed him.
This common barrier was a separation from his officer. It broke the visual certainty he had when in
the same room with his friend -- that the past was a
terrible nightmare and the present was secure.
*****
Feeling
self-indulgent when he finally woke up after nine in the morning, Danny didn’t consider himself physically up to his usual morning
swim. A persistent headache from the
concussion, and general lingering aches and pains from his ordeal effortlessly
convinced him to follow the doctor’s orders and take life easy.
Walking
down to a classy beach restaurant at one of the major hotels, he impulsively
dipped into the hair salon there and had his hair trimmed short to even out the
singed areas. They charged triple what his usual barber would, but this morning he felt a
little extravagant. He had basically risen from the tomb -- figuratively for his
friends and almost literally for himself.
Imprisoned
with little food and water and plenty of rough
treatment for three days, he didn’t have a problem absorbing the beautiful day
or treating himself to a sumptuous breakfast of macadamia nut pancakes while he
watched surfers glide on the sun-glistening morning waves of
Simple,
ordinary things took on a new importance this morning -- when he brushed his
teeth for the first time in four days, showered, wore clean clothes. Surf, rainbows, palm trees in the morning
sun. Mundane, everyday things he took for granted before.
Walking
back to his condo via the beach, he squished his toes
in the sand and waded in the warm surf, watching the tourists and surfers. He contemplated his options for the day and
by the time he returned home, he’d come up with a
satisfying plan. Last night after dropping
him at home, Steve promised to come by with lunch at some point. Before then, Dan needed to have some
answers. The disturbing events
surrounding his kidnapping did not seem any less pressing in the warm and
glittering sunshine of the tropical morning.
He needed to know what happened, but knew Steve would not be willing to
say much more than he did the day before.
At
the risk of censure, he cruised in his Mustang (convinced his mild concussion
was no barrier to driving) to HPD.
Walking through the main squad room, he was
overwhelmed by the joyous reaction he received from many of his
friends. It was an emotional reunion and
another clear indication that his reported death had affected many. Touched and a bit disconcerted, he was
psychologically off balance as he came to a stop at Sergeant Duke Lukela’s
desk.
The
older Hawaiian officer stared at him evenly, obvious disapproval on his clearly
readable face. He gave the detective a
steady glare.
“Shouldn’t
you be resting?”
Once
again, Williams was reminded of his unusual role in
the universe. Although he carried
incredible responsibility, authority and experience as the second-in-command of
“I’m
doing fine, thanks,” he wryly assured. “Nothing strenuous in visiting my friends.” He grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and sat
down opposite Lukela. “I wanted to ask
you about what happened while I was gone.”
Studying
the younger man, Duke seemed to close down and become distant and unreadable at
once. “What did Steve say?”
Count
on Duke to come right to the point. Now knowing this was going to be a tough
session, he responded, “I didn’t ask him.”
A
grimace of distaste rippled on the strong Polynesian features, and Lukela momentarily seemed to age in an instant. “Don’t,” was the curt response. Ever protective of his long-time colleague,
McGarrett, Duke‘s purposes rarely conflicted with Williams’ goal of watching
out for their mutual friend. “Steve
doesn’t need to be reminded.”
Not
to be put off from his goal, Danny firmly assured, “I know. But I need some answers, Duke.”
Now
annoyed, the Hawaiian shook his head.
“We thought you were dead, Danny.
What more do you need to know?”
Leaning close, intensity colored his tone.
“It was tough for me, too, you know.
Coming back to realize you guys thought I was dead!” On some level, he
needed to share that. On another level,
he needed answers for his own satisfaction.
The
dark eyes that no longer studied him seemed distant and pained. There was a murky and deep story here and Dan
knew Duke was not going to help. It was
too much to ask and again, he felt conflicted by the shielding attitude that
sometimes turned restricting. Was it
Steve, or him, or Duke himself that Lukela was protecting this time?
“Just
drop it, Danny.” Duke refused to look at
him.
Knowing
the interview was over, Dan mumbled some comments of farewell and left. A little flustered at the scene he sat in his
car and soaked up the warm and soothing Hawaiian sunshine. The questions had disturbed the sergeant and
Dan was uncomfortable pressing his friends. Especially since Duke was walking a tightrope of trying to protect all parties
involved.
Should
he try questioning Chin or Ben? They
were probably at the office and he did not want to confront Steve. Irked at feeling like a wayward kid about to
be caught for some infraction, he powered up the Mustang and drove to talk to
someone he could always count on for frank honesty.
*****
Walking
in the familiar hospital grounds in his casual wear reminded him this was completely unofficial and he had to ready himself mentally
for the next interview. Standing outside
the doors to the morgue, he took a moment to appreciate the liquid sunshine
misting on his skin and the warm sun shining through the gentle drizzle blown
over the city from off shore clouds. The
moisture and Trades caught the scent of the plumeria surrounding the grounds
and he closed his eyes, breathing in the humidity and
Over
one of the old downtown buildings part of a rainbow arced in the dazzling blue
sky. He hadn’t
thought about it much while a prisoner, but now it seemed another small renewal
of life that he was back here in the bustling city; amid the rain and rainbows
and freedom.
Long
accustomed to visiting the morgue, Dan sailed through the doors and was
nonetheless relieved to find Bergman in his crowded and cluttered office. Their usual meets were over dead bodies or in
hospital rooms and Dan was grateful for this diversion. Being among dead bodies, or watching
autopsies was not a problem for the seasoned cop, but if they didn’t have to have discussion in the same room with a
corpse that was fine with him.
“Hi, Doc.”
Bergman’s
looked up, a glare of irritation already on his features. “Danny, you remind me how grateful I am to be
a coroner. My usual patients never disobey my orders.
Only my Five-0 patients take that prize.
Frequently.”
“I’m
fine --“
“You
are supposed to be resting. And I will
be the judge on whether you are fine or not!”
Flinching,
the younger man tried to regain control of the moment and plunged in with his
question before the Doc could sidetrack the conversation. “Doc, this has been bugging me. What happened while I was -- gone? No one wants to talk about it. There was a body,” he quickly moved ahead,
coming to another source of trouble and guilt for him. “Somebody died in my place.”
Bergman
stopped scribbling on a form and stabbed the pencil at the detective. “Don’t go feeling responsible, Danny.”
“I
need to know what happened, Doc.”
“You
didn’t pester Steve with --“
“No,”
Dan assured flatly. “He won’t say --“
“You
did!” That seemed to anger the crusty
physician. “Just drop it, Danny!”
“That’s
what Duke told me. Can’t
you--“
“Duke!
You asked Duke?”
These
harsh reactions were all wrong and Williams was startled at the vociferous
passion from the coroner. As if he had
committed some unspeakable sin, Bergman was acting like
he was completely out of line. Not being protective at all, but combative. What was going on? Deciding he could no longer read the man, not
wanting to be on the defensive any more, he rushed ahead to his primary
goal.
“Doc,
this concerns me, too. Don’t push me
away.”
The
crusty face turned hard. “All right,
detective, what do you want to know?
Shall I begin when Duke called me the other morning warning me that you
were missing and it was possible your corpse could end up on my slab at some
point during the day?”
Williams
gulped down a knot of distress and anguish, struck hard at the emotional
intensity from the Coroner.
“Let’s
start with finding the body. Duke went
up there to Laie Point to check it out for himself. The patrolmen who found the shark-attacked,
decapitated body thought it was a little unusual that a handcuff was on one
mangled wrist.”
Shark attack.
Dan’s stomach twisted at the thought.
As the insensitive and severe explanation unfolded, Dan sank into a
nearby chair, heedless of the papers and folders he was smashing. His body felt limp as Bergman callously spoke
of Duke finding a Five-0 badge on the victim.
As
clearly as if he stood there, Dan could feel the warm
wind off the
Bergman
detailed how the torn and piecemeal body had been delivered
to the morgue, accompanied by Lukela.
The grief-stricken sergeant had stood by while Bergman made preliminary
findings, concluding well after
It was Lukela who demanded he be the one to tell
McGarrett. And
not long after, Steve showed up at the morgue, already broken and bleeding
inside, but insisting he personally go over every article recovered with the
body.
“That
was a black day for Five-0, Danny, and all of us connected with you. No one who knows you wants to go back to that
dark place. It was like a -- a hole. A deep, dank cave inside
us. And don’t you dare even think
about asking Jenny about any of this!” he was back to shouting. “She was in tears every time I called over
there after you were missing. It was a
blessing she was not there when I delivered the report about the body!”
Dan
could only shake his head in agreement.
Jenny was the mother hen of the unit -- held them together like glue in
every crisis. Many times, she had been
the one there to console and support him when Steve was out of action or when
some other dramatic tragedy struck. He wouldn’t dream of making her hurt anymore, just as he was
sorry all his friends -- mostly Steve -- suffered.
“Do
you want to see the body now?”
Dan
already felt sick. “No.” A new horror gripped him. “Steve didn’t --“
“No,
I wouldn’t let him.” Bergman continued
with heartless honesty. “Imagine,
though, when I had to report that the grisly shark attack was pre-mortem. That the head and hands had been severed
while the victim -- you -- were still alive.”
The
cruelty brought tears to his eyes. “How
could you do that to Steve?”
“Because I accepted circumstantial evidence! Your ID, your build,
your blood type. I had to decide to tell
Steve that his best friend had just been murdered and then fed to the
sharks! And I
had to do it before the press found out, but before I had time to do an
autopsy. Your captives had this very
well planned, Danny. It was the personal
angle that tripped them up.”
Still
stunned, feeling appalled, Williams just stared at the doctor.
“That
Duke and I and HPD would take this personally.
We wanted to protect Steve and Chin and
Ben. And ourselves.” The gruffness dissolved and his voice was
thick, his eyes watery. “We moved
quickly and the false victim was discovered quickly. That’s probably what saved your life, young
man,” he nearly accused. The anger was
flaring back. “You know you had my
assistants in tears! You have quite an
impact on this little corner of the world, Officer Williams!”
Danny
could only shake his head, stunned and hurting from the horrors inflicted on
his friends.
“You
can only imagine what we all felt. And I don’t know that any of us can really comprehend what
Steve felt when he left this office. He was just destroyed,” he whispered. The
doctor’s eyes grew sorrowful and distant at the recollection. “I never thought
I’d see Steve McGarrett crumble. It was
heartbreaking.”
Wiping
tears of anguish from his face, Danny could almost imagine the level of horror
and mourning McGarrett had reached. He
himself felt shadowed fragments of those dreads whenever Steve was injured, hospitalized and his life threatened. What kind of devastation was it for Steve to really believe he was dead? The desolation was unimaginable, yes, but
Danny thought he could come close -- had come close -- on too many occasions.
Next
came the lecture, and Bergman cautioned Williams about future dealings. When friends and acquaintances approached him
with tears of relief and joy, unable to put their feelings into words or
describe what happened, that he could go a long way in helping them heal if he
just accepted that fact without pressing them to dig any deeper into a painful
situation. AND that his very demeanor could help put
everyone on the road to healing.
Nodding,
Dan thanked the coroner -- although he did not quite know WHY he was thanking
the man who had made him feel so horrible.
He stumbled out of the room, grateful for the brilliant sunshine and
fresh air of his
Head
throbbing and feeling ill and depressed, he rounded a hedge of plumeria in the
parking lot. He was rocked
to spot Steve McGarrett -- pensive, subdued, grim -- leaning on the Mustang.
Astounded,
he stopped and stared. Knowing now what
had happened in his absence, for the first time in many years
he was uncertain of what to say or how to approach his friend. Their eyes seemed to read everything under
the skin clearly, and McGarrett gave a little nod. As if he understood
everything; every thought, every horror, every guilt.
“Let’s
go for a walk.”
*****
When
Lukela had called him to report Williams’ investigation, McGarrett was
naturally irritated. Typically,
his officer refused to recuperate properly and was satisfying his stubborn
nature.
Steve
couldn’t condemn him for being curious and wanting resolution
-- that was what made him a good cop and that was part of being a
cop. They had to finish this, but Steve
could not bring himself to be the one to provide that resolution.
Without
realizing their path as they strolled, Steve was a little disconcerted to find
he brought them to the Palace bandstand.
Just a few nights ago, he had wept himself empty walking to these steps,
believing the man beside him was dead and lost forever. This was a nearly surreal moment and
McGarrett moved to lean a hand on the wooden rail of the old stand. A firm and tangible
placement in the reality of this morning and not a slip into the tragic past.
“You
want to know what happened,” he started quietly.
Dropping
heavily onto the steps, Williams held his head in his hands. “I know enough,” he quietly responded. “I’m sorry I pressed you yesterday. I had no idea . . . .” he trailed off to a
whisper, the terror clearly imprinted in his shaky voice, and in his strained
expression and pale face when he raised his head.
“You
didn’t need to know,” Steve shot back.
“No,
I think I did,” Dan replied shakily. “I
asked for it and -- now I understand.”
A
little angry at Bergman for spilling details that
Williams shouldn’t be burdened with, he was sharper than necessary. In retrospect, Steve first considered the
younger detective got the easy end of things, but then realized it was unfair to even compare the experiences. Studying the bruises and barely concealed
cuts, considering the wan and fatigued pallor of his usually energetic
detective, Steve tempered his rash judgment.
It was tough on all of them for varying emotional and physical reasons
and no one had come away unscathed.
What
happened on this side of the abduction was tragically horrific. Danno, though, had been brutalized,
threatened with death and held captive -- the uncertainty of his fate and the
fate of others gnawing at him -- for three days. It was a plan geared for maximum pain and the
master spy from
A
number of people strolling across the lawns of the Palace recalled McGarrett
from his deep reverie and back to reality.
Tourists and locals walked nearby, appreciating the historic building
and the calm-within-the-city of the huge, spacious grounds and the peace
settled here. How the bright morning sun
streamed through the massive trees and the morning Trades kissed the air with sea-mist and plumeria.
Amazing how unaware he had been of all around him when lost in the
deeply emotional past.
Again,
Steve was struck with the un-reality of the moment -- the luster of paradise
and the normalcy of common lives swirling around him when he was only hours
away and geographically at ground-zero from when his world had been destroyed.
McGarrett
sat down and put an arm around Danno’s shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re back,” he declared with
more emotion in his cracked voice than he wanted to reveal. “When you were -- missing -- I couldn’t think
of much else but getting you back,” he confessed with difficulty, slowly
beginning what needed to be revealed. He
didn’t mention how hampered he was by responsibilities
to the Governor or the ambassador. He
had diverted manpower and attention away from the
search to do his duty. But his own energies and concerns were always with
Williams. “Now that you’re safe, there
is nothing more important than getting Wo Fat.”
“I
know. I want him, too.”
The
two friends sat there for another few minutes, not speaking, and as the silence
extended, it calmed their mutually raw nerves.
McGarrett could almost guess what was coming next. Danno had learned some of the awful truth
from Bergman, but it was not enough to stunt the curiosity and the need to act
like a cop.
“I
want to work on this with you, Steve.”
Although
he expected the request, anticipated it coming at any moment, the denial was
instant and without thought. “There’s
nothing to work on.”
“Wo Fat. IDing the
dead body that was supposed to be --“
“We
can do that without you --“
“Steve,
let me be part of this. Please. This is personal and important for you, but
it applies for me, too.”
He
could still feel the emptiness when he had wondered over Williams’
absence. When the mystery of the
abduction robbed him of a valued ally and detective and more than anything he wished Danno back to the banalities of police
work. Now he was pushing his officer away.
Why? To keep him safe? To help him recover?
To protect him from the brutal anguish suffered during this ordeal?
He
had to stop cloistering his friend, but it was not so easy to give in. The terrible and sharp fears were only a
breath away; only a thought distant from the bright
and positive reality he lived within now.
*****
Almost
reaching the front steps of
Ben
Kokua paused next to him and peered in the direction indicated. On the steps of the bandstand were their
colleagues. Danny’s bright blue and
white aloha shirt was unmistakable and Ben thought of a similar shirt that had
been part of the mis-identification of the deceased. It could be a long time before he looked at
those colors on a shirt again and did not think of a shark-attacked body.
“Yeah,
that’s Danny.”
“Good,”
Chin sighed with a smile. “Things are
getting back to normal now.” He started
up the stairs.
“You think the boss is going to let Danny come back so soon?”
“You
think Steve will refuse him?” Kelly laughed at the incongruity of that
thought. “Like I said,
back to normal.”
*****
“Now,
why don’t you go home and take it easy,” Steve suggested as he came to his
feet.
Williams
joined him as they walked toward the Palace and Williams did not divert toward
the ME’s office where his car was parked.
“Danno
--“
“Steve
--“
“You
are not back on the payroll yet, Danno.”
“I
can help, Steve.”
Rolling
his eyes, Steve surrendered reluctantly and told him he could come up to the
office briefly and get an update on the case.
He was to conserve his energy at all times. And don’t expect to
stay all day, either.
Complying
without protest, Williams kept up with the boss as they walked -- at a placid,
reserved pace for Steve -- up to the Five-0 offices.
The
staff here also greeted him like the proverbial Prodigal Son and he was warmly welcomed by secretaries and officers. Jenny
was out of the office -- a fact that made Dan secretly grateful. These emotional reunions were wearing on him
and it made him remember how sick he felt at Bergman’s lecture. Mindful of the harsh words, he asked no
questions of anyone and returned their comments with positive assurances that
he didn’t completely feel, but managed to convey
convincingly.
McGarrett
observed the reactions with a knot in his throat. He could not focus on the words, he was only
aware that he was again experiencing a cherished, treasured moment that before
this week he took for granted. Several
days ago, he was certain these insignificant little scenes were gone for
good. Now, he was learning to appreciate
them completely.
Dan
finally drifted into the big office and closed the door. Since Danno’s return, he had wondered when
there would be an appropriate time for this.
It almost deserved a little ceremony.
Resurrections did not happen every day.
There would be no fanfare, of course, but in his heart, as he opened one
of his side drawers, he felt joy exploding like fireworks. He withdrew an envelope and walked around the
desk. Tipping out the contents, a
leather badge case, Dan’s .22 automatic, and a wallet fell out.
“These
are yours,” he thickly offered, pushing the items toward the officer. “Welcome back.” He patted Dan’s shoulder, hoping the gesture
and the symbolic return of these important icons served to cover the full
meanings he meant to express without the words that would be
cracked with deep emotion.
Reclaiming
the possessions, Dan nodded, his eyes moist. “Thanks.
You don’t know how good it is to be back.”
“I
think I do,” McGarrett breathed out in an unsteady voice. “I think I do.”
Considering
how secure it felt to return to near-normal, McGarrett
deemed it unfair to exclude Williams from the investigation. As adequately proven today -- and frequently
in the past -- Danno had a mind and will of his own and frequently put it into
use with or without McGarrett’s permission.
In
Danno’s opinion, banning him from the case was akin to punishment and Steve did
not want to give that impression at all.
He was, in fact, too overjoyed at Dan’s return to think of much else and
had done little today in the way of progress in the investigation. It was time to have his balance back and make
his team complete again.
“Okay,
Danno, you’re back on the case,” he announced without preamble.
“I
am?”
Steve
surrendered a smile at the way the younger detective’s countenance lit up. It was like clouds
had been swept away and the sun was shining again. Appreciating the warm brightness after the
darkest of days, he nodded. “Yeah. But you have to take it easy, Danno. You’ve got a concussion, don’t forget.”
Shade
gloomed his expression and snuffed out the buoyancy almost instantly. “I’ll take it easy, I promise.” Williams sat
down in one of the white chairs in front of the desk. He seemed a bit strained -- it had been an
emotionally trying morning already and Steve had to remind himself that Danno
was still on the sick list. “Just don’t
tell Bergman I’m back to work.”
Wondering
what had put the fear of God in him like that, McGarrett felt he better make
contact with the Coroner and find out what had transpired with his favored
detective and the crusty medico.
Steve
sat down in the chair next to his friend.
“Deal. As long as you behave yourself.”
“Promise.”
It
was a solemn pledge and Steve lightly pondered that he might need to use
Bergman’s techniques in the future to control his officer.
“What
have you got so far?”
“Not
much. Chin started investigating the --
body -- but handed it over to HPD yesterday.
No one at Five-0 had time to complete the investigation. Presumably Chin is checking on that, but
we’ve been wrapping things with the Governor and the Russians.”
“And
tracking Wo Fat?”
“Not
much luck there.” He shook his head,
slipping into the darkness again -- the evil the consummate chess master had
perpetrated on them. “If nothing else, Wo Fat is still as skilled as ever.” The frustrated irritation was clear. “Do you know the number one rule in chess,
Danno?”
“To win?”
Smirking,
Steve shook his head. “Before
that. To never play the opponent’s game. Play
your own game. Don’t let the enemy
control the board.” He shook his
head. “I let Wo
Fat play his game.”
Grimly,
Williams reminded, “He had all the aces.”
“Despite
mixing metaphors, you’re right,” was the somber agreement.
There
was no more effective ploy than what Wo Fat had
engineered as a distraction. Removing
Williams from the field had been a cruel and cutting ploy.
“Danno, do you know what a poison pawn is?”
“No.”
“A chess term.
A poison pawn is a pawn that seems undefended and vulnerable, thus
permitting the master of this “bait” pawn to engage in a strong attack on some
other front or to win the piece that captured the pawn. Think of the poison pawn as
a fish hook.”
“Bait.”
The grimace on his face said it all.
“I’m the poison pawn?”
“You
were in a manner of speaking. Wo Fat
used you to be the bait. Hoping not to
capture me, but in this case, foil my plans with the ambassador.”
“Wicked.”
“Yeah.”
“‘King takes knight,’ Wo
Fat told me. Check and checkmate. He
thought it was checkmate.”
McGarrett
flexed his fists in angered frustration at what Wo Fat
did to them. It was almost checkmate for
good and he had never had control over any part of the game. Good luck and Danno’s will
to survive brought them out of this -- turning the table and upsetting the
chessboard the Chinese spy had so carefully constructed. The anger and hate still inside burned hot
for his enemy.
A
light touch on his arm brought him out of the intent reverie. Williams’ eyes bore into his. “You won, Steve. Wo Fat lost.
Again.”
He was sobered. “He’s got to be
really mad at you.”
A
chill slithered across his shoulder blades.
“I know. And that worries me.”
“You
think he’s got something planned . . . .” it was as if his total concentration
just dropped off a cliff and Dan was in another world.
“Danno?”
“I
-- uh -- just remembered something.
Something I overheard at the beach shack.”
McGarrett
realized how sloppy this emotional roller coast had made him. Completely forgetting police procedure, he
had never debriefed Williams about his side of the traumatizing
experience. Did not
want to debrief him, more specifically.
As an emotional friend and not a cop, he wanted them all to move on and
forget the pain. But
that was a mistake. Danno, as he had speculated
before, had his own experiences from the captivity and for the first time Steve
realized they might be useful -- even vital.
“What,
Danno?”
“That
this was part one -- no -- phase one.
Killing the ambassador was phase one.”
Despite
the warmth of the tropical breeze from the open lanai doors, Steve was
chilled. “That implies there is a phase
two.”
“Yeah,
it does.”
Hoping
he was not making a mistake -- hoping he was not pushing his friend too much --
McGarrett was now eager to learn more about Dan’s side of the
misadventure. Maybe it would hold the
clues they needed to track down Wo Fat. He would start easy and go for the verbal
report. Williams shined with the
one-on-one dialog.
Hating
the inquiry even as the words left his mouth, McGarrett knew he needed answers
from his friend. “You ready to tell me what happened?”
Dan’s
grimace of extreme distaste was clearly a visceral response to the idea. “No.”
He ran his fingers through his shortened hair. “I --" He shook his head. “There’s been so much pain already . . . .”
Touched
deeply, Steve knew his friend was protecting him. Whatever Bergman had told
the younger officer had scalded him against talking about the incident at all
and that was not good. They
needed to work this out even if there was no need for an official de-briefing at the moment. But there was need for that, too. It seemed cruel, but it was probably best for
them all.
This was territory where Danny did not want to take his
friend. Even before Bergman’s lecture, he was sensitive
to what Steve had been through. Knowing Dan’s pain and humiliation and ill
treatment would not help anything he was sure.
It would only further anger and injure McGarrett. But there was no
getting around it, so he accepted it as a necessary evil -- promising himself
to gloss over as much as possible.
“Danno,
it’s okay. I need to know what happened,
just like you needed to know. What you experienced wasn’t
any better than what we felt here, I’ll bet.
But we made it through. Wo Fat did not win.” He patted Dan’s shoulder. “You are living proof that we came out okay.”
With
a nod, Williams slowly, quietly, reluctantly began. “When I got home from shopping someone hit me
from behind. I tried to fight . . .” he
trailed off.
Not
looking at Steve, he shrugged and the boss did not interrupt or interfere with
the tough beginnings. Williams was
obviously going to leave out some of the worst, most graphic details, and
McGarrett would not press him. He had
the sense of being protected and sheltered and it was
a common position for Williams. One that
Steve sometimes did not like, but this time accepted with humble silence.
“I
was bound and dumped in a trunk. I was
in and out of consciousness a lot of the time.
They didn’t let me sleep much . . . At first, I was blindfolded and roughed up by
the hired help. I didn’t get a lot of
sleep . . . I didn’t know what they wanted . . . Then Wo Fat arrived on the scene and that’s
when he let me know his plan was to kill the ambassador and get to you by
killing me. He always has a plan, our
fat friend. Good thing you’re still
better than him, Steve.”
Grinding
his teeth to keep out of the flow of information, McGarrett’s anger escalated
as he imagined his mortal enemy threatening and intimidating his closest
friend. There was a lot Dan was leaving
out and McGarrett did not press him any more.
The younger man was worn out and suffering the physical and emotional
feedback of the ordeal.
“Yeah.”
“I
must know more than I’m remembering, Steve,” he snapped out, completely
frustrated, rubbing at his temples.”
“Take
it easy,” McGarrett reassured, gripping onto the back of his neck in a show of
support. “It will come. Be patient.”
He could advise it, but not practice such counsel -- burning with rage at
his enemy and frustration at Dan’s physical limitations. “This will just take a little time.”
Chin
Ho and Ben Kokua arrived. McGarrett
urged his officer to continue and reluctantly, a little self-conscious with the
growing audience, Williams elucidated.
“There
were three thugs with him. Mostly two of
them stayed with me and one went out with Wo Fat. I remember the two thugs arguing about that.”
“Did
they converse in English?”
“Mostly.”
Slowly, it was coming, he could see the
excitement of unraveling mystery glitter in Dan’s eyes. “They knew the
islands. They talked about ordering
food. Maybe they were locals.”
While in captivity, Dan overheard numerous conversations,
some Chinese, some English.
It was more than McGarrett hoped for actually, and he was anxious to
learn it all, but tempered his eagerness.
It had taken him long enough to ask for this debriefing and although the
information might be vital, his officer’s health was more important. Dan was still working with
a concussion and supposed to be off duty, but here he was -- only one
day post-resurrection -- helping Five-0.
“I
don’t suppose any of the Chinese conversations stick in your mind.” It wasn’t a question from McGarrett so much as a lamentation.
Dan
frowned and gazed down for a moment before he glanced up and spoke to Chin. “More details
about phase two? I don’t know. Nee how shin wa.” The younger man looked down
in concentration again and closed his eyes as Steve and Ben looked with a
little surprise and bounced glances expectantly from Dan to the Chinese
detective, who remained focused on the words he was hearing. “Hai…hai dook na liang—” The frown on Dan’s face
deepened for a moment before he looked back up at Chin in frustration and
shrugged.
Chin
was undaunted however. “You heard ‘Nee how shin wa’ or
did you hear ‘Nee how shin wa?’”
Dan
looked blankly at his colleague. “What’s the difference?”
“Emphasis. Listen again and tell me – did you
hear ‘Nee how shin wa’ or did you hear ‘Nee how shin
wa?’”
Another
several seconds of silence ensued while Dan replayed the scene in his mind’s
eye. He looked up suddenly then. “Nee how shin wa! The first
one!”
“You sure?” Chin asked.
Dan
smiled. “Yeah – so what does it mean?”
The
Oriental detective rubbed his chin. “If it’s Cantonese, it means ‘How spicy do
you want the dish?’” Everyone was instantly deflated,
and McGarrett turned away slowly.
Ben
had to chuckle. “So you remember what
kind of carryout they ordered?”
Dan
shot a mildly annoyed, but sheepish expression at the detective before Chin
finished his thought.
“BUT
if it’s Mandarin, then the question turns into, ‘How big do you wish the
explosion to be?’”
McGarrett
snapped his focus back to Chin. “Wo Fat speaks both,
but I’m betting that he didn’t invite guests over to entertain! What about the
other phrase?” McGarrett stepped closer
to Williams as he addressed Chin, who shook his head apologetically.
“Not
sure, boss – Liang is a name.”
Steve
turned his focus back to his second-in-command. “Danno, can you remember
ANYTHING else?” He barely paused. “Think back, Danno. What were you doing? Where were you? What were they doing? Put yourself back in that place in your
mind.”
It
was an emotional place to which Danny did not want to
return -- nor did he think it was a spot McGarrett was going to like hearing
about. But seeing the intent expression in his boss’s
eyes, he tried to dig deeper into his memory for a few moments before he
admitted. “My head was under Wo Fat’s foot at the time – I
think I might’ve blacked out – I don’t remember anything else until somebody
kicked me and took my shirt.”
Was his shirt used for the double? He wasn’t going to
ask. The second-in-command could see the effect the report of his mistreatment had on McGarrett as the man’s expression darkened. Dan knew it would be hard to prevent his
friend from going there, but he wanted to do his part to help keep it in
perspective. He had after all survived.
“Relax,
Steve,” he shrugged, striving for a lighter tone and the hint of a grin. “Wo Fat isn’t half bad at throwing his weight
around, but he hits like a girl,” Williams teased with a tip of his head,
trying his best to lighten the downward turn of the mood in the room.
His
friends were all certainly very sensitive about any pain or suffering that had been inflicted upon him right now, he mused (Come to
think of it, maybe they were sensitive all the time…). Ben and Chin exchanged
wide grins before they looked to their boss to gauge his reaction.
Steve,
caught off guard by the injection of humor, studied his protégé for a few
moments as the young man looked back at him. Leave it to Danno to instantly
sense his mood and bring him out of an angry spiral.
McGarrett
couldn’t help but remember the horrible brainstorming
session he’d endured when they thought their kaikaina was dead. The incredible
anguish – he could not recall pain like that before. How he’d
missed just this – the mind that frequently served as a mirror to his own –
someone against which his own thoughts could play and come back to him
transformed into something more meaningful -- and then simultaneously put the
words into perspective through humor or some other turn of phrase.
“I
don’t know why that makes me feel better, but it does.” McGarrett had to
chuckle.
Relieved
that the words had helped, Dan smiled, and the other two detectives snickered
and then laughed out loud. The Five-0 men had their
hands full with a sinister, new scheme from the Chinese master spy, but more
felt right with the world.
There
was a knock at the door and Duke entered after McGarrett called him in. “Find out about those Chinese agents?”
“Not
yet,” Duke greeted them all hurriedly, but was too excited to pause with
amenities. Waving a report file, he
triumphantly stated, “We did get a hot lead on who the DB might be that we
mistook for Danny.” He laid a form on
Steve’s desk. “A native of
Steve’s
face lit up and looked to the others, notably his second-in-command for
confirmation that this was a real possibility.
“Wo
Fat’s likes local talent,” Danny suggested.
“I’ve
sent the file to Doc Bergman and his office will follow up on getting
confirmation of physical characteristics from medical records.”
“Good,”
Steve snapped out, catching the excitement of the chase about to begin. “You have an address on him?”
“Sure
do. Out by the
university.”
“Good
work, Duke. We’ll
take three cars. Silent
approach. We don’t want to alert
his friends.” McGarrett grabbed his coat
and was out the door when he realized Williams was right on his heels. He came to an abrupt stop. “You’re not coming, Danno.”
“Steve
--“
“This
could be dangerous --“
“And
maybe he has some friends there that I could identify.”
The
new angle was not a welcome theory. It
was valid and as usual, Williams was hard to argue with. The detective’s safety and health, though,
were more important. McGarrett shook his
head, denying the request.
Williams
jumped in again. “Steve, please let me
be part of this. Whoever that poor
sucker was, he died in my place. Let me
go with you.”
The
reasonable argument, the passion of Danno’s desire to stay in touch with what
had affected them all so deeply was undeniable.
Again, as usual, he did not like this one bit, but found -- as a cop --
he could not argue with the logic. One
of these days, he was going to choose to do the right thing not as a cop, but
as a friend. It was not today,
however.
“Okay. But you stay in the
car until we give you the all clear.
That’s an order,” he finished with unnecessary sharpness.
Dan’s
raised eyebrows indicated he got the message.
“Check.”
*****
As
the group emerged from the Palace, a knot of reporters surged forward. McGarrett directed Williams away from the
crowd and made it to the Mercury before they were barricaded
by the zealous rabble.
Student
housing by the university consisted of large apartment buildings. Fraternities had their Greek letters on the
front proclaiming their allegiance.
Glancing over at Williams, who had his head back against the seat, McGarrett regretted bringing the younger officer
along. This was really too much for
Williams and he was going to push himself into illness or collapse if Steve didn’t put on the brakes over his involvement. After this he was
taking Danno home and making sure he stayed on rest and recovery for the
remainder of the week. As nice as it was
to be working side by side with his friend again, he would not allow Williams
to be damaged because of his selfishness.
McGarrett
pulled the Mercury to a stop in front of a complex with various Chinese
characters. Williams perked up.
A
quandary momentarily struck the older detective. Was
the greater risk to his protégé to bring him into the building into an unknown,
possibly dangerous situation OR to leave him unattended in the car? He mentally
kicked himself for giving in to Williams’ pressure to bring him. He should have
him under lock and key – probably hospitalized – until this was all over.
He
glanced out his side window and spotted the answer to his problem. An HPD unit, with two patrolmen
he recognized (not by name – that was Williams’ specialty), was sitting just up
the street. In a matter of seconds, he decided that it would be easier on the
detective to remain tucked away in the vehicle, where he could at least rest
for a few minutes. He would have the officers keep an eye on his vehicle while
he made the trip inside with his other detectives. Besides, the area was
crowded with students making their way to and from classes, not a likely spot
for a kidnapping or murder.
“You’re
staying in the car, Danno.”
Grimacing,
Williams gave a dejected acknowledgement.
Chin and Ben joined them and Williams asked about the symbols.
Chin
looked towards the façade of the building as he spoke. “Zhongyuan
yin yun. It’s the Chinese
equivalent of a fraternity, but it has more of a – a political agenda than a
social one.”
“Zhong—zhongyuan… Steve, I know -- something
-- it’s familiar.” Dan once again had his eyes closed in concentration.
“Okay,”
he quietly pondered, wondering if it could be this easy.
Could
they really find a connection with Wo Fat just by
coming to this place? The fat spy was
not careless. He would know they would
eventually ID the dead body correctly.
They would come here. Was this
part of his plan or was he so confident that he expected to have his plots --
phases one and two -- completed before Five-0 connected all the dots?
Finally,
Williams shook his head in frustration.
“Sorry. I just can’t
grab onto it. Maybe if I --“
“Forget
it. You still stay here.” He waited
until Dan gave a silent, unhappy nod of acquiescence, then he exited the car.
*****
The
resident advisor of the building met the detectives at the door, and after
insisting on studying each detective’s badge, he identified himself as Wen
Shih. Initially objecting to unlocking Matthew Chang’s room, he quickly
relented as McGarrett informed him that they would stand there with him and
wait for the court order to be processed.
“When
was the last time you saw Matthew Chang?” McGarrett asked Shih distractedly as
he studied the small, cluttered room, which obviously served as a bedroom,
study, and kitchen. Ben and Chin methodically and cautiously opened drawers and
closets in their search.
The
young man sniffed, “It’s not my job to keep track of the comings and goings of
our student population, but I do recall that Matthew has not been around for
the last few days.”
“Steve!”
The
Chinese detective looked up at his boss, the expression on his face made it
clear that he’d found something significant. The head
of Five-0 joined Chin at the desk where he stood holding a small, weathered spiral
notebook.
Before
any further conversation took place, McGarrett turned to the now-curious
resident advisor and dismissed him with a thank-you-we-may-be-in-touch line.
Annoyed, he left, eyeing the detectives suspiciously
as he closed the door behind him.
The
second they heard the door latch click, the three pairs of eyes snapped to the
page Chin was holding open for his boss, who looked briefly at the page before
he looked up at his detective. The page contained several Chinese characters.
Under them, scratched in sloppy English, was a downtown
“Zhu
Liang Imports, Limited,” Chin offered, waiting for his boss to understand. McGarrett frowned, but did not see the
significance of what the Chinese detective had said. So, Chin continued.
“Liang, boss. That’s the name Danny mentioned!”
The
memory flooded back, and the lead detective was instantly more animated.
“That’s right, Chin! He didn’t say Zhu Liang though, did he?”
“No
– he said, ‘hai dook na Liang’ -- I think it’s a
Mandarin – Minnan mix, the kind they speak around
“Hmm,
well Chin, you get down to this Zhu Liang Imports, and take some backup with
you. The people we’re dealing with are not above
decapitating somebody and feeding him to the fish! Ben, help him out.”
Both
Ben and Chin acknowledged the order as the three men left the room. Duke was
busy questioning students in the hallway outside and the Five-0 men stopped
there to assist him for a few minutes as several of the students had
observations, some potentially useful, to report.
*****
Worn
out, Danny still felt cheated by being excluded from
the investigation. He could be in there
helping if he was better. Or if Steve would stop being so protective. The only thing
he could do at this point was use his brain, so he strained to remember more
about his captivity. No details came to
mind, but frustration flared when he was reminded how
he had been used as a pawn. A poison pawn. Bait.
He
stared at the symbols on the walls of the complex, running the words over and over again in his mind. Bait. If only they could turn the tables on Wo Fat. As usual,
that nasty spy knew where all the pieces were in this giant chess game.
Hearing
a commotion, Dan sat up and opened his eyes, surprised to see a news van pulled
up beside the Mercury and one of
“Detective
Williams!” she shouted as she trailed behind with a microphone stabbing in his
face. “You’ve made no comments since
your kidnapping.”
Dan
dodged them, managing to reach the front steps of the building until he was
physically blocked by the cameraman.
“There
are reports the KGB was involved --“
Two
students emerged from the front doors.
They were speaking in Mandarin and one of the words clicked. There was no other phrase or imagery for it. Like opening up a mental floodgate, it
brought back a setting and moment in his captivity.
“Ichoh,”
he repeated, lost in the shadows of an episode already past in his life.
“What?”
Vernor squawked.
“You’re speaking Chinese, Detective Williams? Was this a Chinese plot? Were you kidnapped by the Chinese?”
With
impeccable timing, McGarrett sailed out of the building and pushed Vernor out
of the way. “No comment,” he barked and
grabbed Williams’ arm, forging a path toward the car.
McGarrett
couldn’t get the door open fast enough and at the
Mercury they were effectively pinned by the maneuvering cameraman and the
aggressive reporter.
Literally on the spot, the idea came to Danny in
a near flash of inspiration. Turn the
tables on Wo Fat.
Poison pawn. If he was going to be used, going to be the bait, then it should be their idea,
not their enemy’s. Bait.
In the past he had been used and badgered by the
press. He had been used by Wo Fat against his friend.
This was a chance to throw the whole game off.
‘Never play
the opponent’s game. Play your own
game.’
“Zha xiang ichoh!”
Shoving
the press forcefully out of the way, McGarrett pushed Williams into the car and
made a quick escape. He raced down the
street, hands strangling the steering wheel as he tried to get a grip on his
livid temper.
“What
the hell was that all about? What were
you doing? What were you thinking?”
Wincing,
Dan laid back on the head rest. He shook his head.
“Are
you all right?” Concern instantly
mitigated the ire. Then the wrath flared
again. Fury at his officer transferred
to himself. “You shouldn’t even be out
here! You have no business working on
this case! And
I have no right letting you! What the
hell were you doing back there?”
Flinching,
Dan sat up and looked levelly at him. “Being a poison pawn.”
“What?”
“Wo
Fat used me, Steve. He set me up as his
poison pawn against you,” he heavily sighed.
“Standing there, hearing some familiar phrases, it suddenly came to me
that we could pull one over on Wo Fat for once. So far, you’re the
only one who HASN’T used me! Turn the
tables! YOU could use me as your poison
pawn to bait --“
Appalled,
Steve slammed on the brakes and skidded to the curb. The car rocked to a stop with a jarring
screech. McGarrett’s full attention was focused on his officer.
“You
want me to use you?” Hardly able to speak the repugnant thought, his voice
grated with livid harshness. “As bait to
draw out Wo Fat?”
Dan
looked him straight in the eyes. “Yeah.”
“No!”
Steve countered hotly. “No way!”
Sizzling,
incensed, outraged, he jerked the wheel and jammed the accelerator, throwing
the big vehicle into the lane again.
“Not
a chance!”
“Steve,
this is how we can get him --“
“You
think a shot at capturing Wo Fat is worth risking your
life?”
“Yes,”
came the quiet, but steady reply.
His
chest tightened with anguish and Steve coughed out a near-sob that shot into
his throat at the raw memories of agony that were still far to close to the
surface after their recent tragedy.
Emotions were too vulnerably hovering at the surface still to have this
kind of conversation.
“How
can you even suggest that?” he shouted and again stopped the car, throwing his
full wrath on his detective. “What are
you thinking?”
“Steve,
you said it yourself. There is nothing
more important than catching Wo Fat. He used us.
He’s still out there and he’s dangerous. There’s something planned and we don’t know
what it is.” His voice was firm, but
quiet, filled with anxiety. “You need to get him.”
Too
many emotions played through his system to even define,
but the rare shadow of guilt brushed through past the anger and the flash of
humility. Danno did this in a quest for
justice -- that was expected -- that was in his nature. To bait himself for Steve’s sake -- so
McGarrett could get the long-sought prize of Wo Fat --
that was unconscionable. It brought back
pain and fury in nearly equal, confusing proportions.
He
had been as responsible as Wo Fat for this pinnacle at
the top of the convoluted web of intrigue.
His conflict with Wo Fat was personal --
personalized. And now
it had drawn in his colleague. He would
like to blame Wo Fat for that -- for being the one
responsible for forcing Danno into the center of the battle. But Steve was afraid
his attitude -- his passion to capture Wo Fat -- had drawn in his friend a long
time ago. It brought out the full rage and passion and frustration that he held for no other
opponent. The Chinese spy had made it
personal in their first encounter -- in the torture chamber. Steve could never let that go and the
emotions escalated every time he had seen Wo Fat walk
away from him. He had allowed this
monster to roam free, always hoping the next conflict would be his victory.
This
time, Wo Fat had leveled him with the most insidiously
evil plot ever. It was a kind of torture
almost completely opposite of his encounter in the null chamber. This time the torment was
filled with staggering emotional pain that elevated to a physical level
of anguish. The still visceral memory of
that angst rocked him.
“Nothing,”
he breathed out between clenched teeth, “Nothing is worth the risk of your
life. I will not allow you to do
anything to put yourself in jeopardy. Do
you think I would let that happen?” His
voice shook as much as his trembling body.
“I just lost you once and I won’t go through that again!”
Color
washed away from Dan’s face and his eyes filled with moisture. “I -- didn’t -- the last thing I wanted was
to hurt you . . . .” He looked away,
shaking his head.
The
contrition bathed Steve with an understanding that washed out the lava-heat of
the anger and hurt. It reminded him they
were mutually miserable over the situation and in different ways, had suffered
from being on separate ends of this untenable, agonizing ordeal. His friend’s familiar pattern of guilt served
to bring him back to reason.
Still,
he found it difficult to separate the rage, helplessness, residual sorrow
swirling within. For what they had both
endured and felt, they were yet suffering.
This was far from over. Even with Danno’s miraculous return, the
aftermath was still painful.
“You
are not expendable,” he sternly lectured.
With difficultly, he forced himself to move on, touched by the stricken,
abject remorse of his friend. “If Wo Fat is still around to execute phase two, then he will
know -- he will think -- that you know Mandarin and are onto him in some
way.” Quietly, he sighed, a strain of
admiration flickered to life. “It’s
dangerous, but akamai. A good plan.”
Looking
back, Dan’s face brightened. “Then we
need to use it to our full advantage, Steve.
Remember the first rule of chess.”
He
was exasperated that beyond all the deep wounds and emotions, Danno was right
about this as he was about so much. This
was, after all, what he had so missed -- the plotting;
the think sessions, the quirky flashes of brilliance that distinguished
Williams from all the other detectives.
Not to mention flinging his own words back at him with accuracy as sharp
as his shooting skills.
McGarrett
ruefully nodded. “Yeah.”
“Wo
Fat controlled the first game, Steve.
This is where we change the game, or make a new one, maybe. We control the board this time. He doesn’t play us, we play him.”
“Okay,”
McGarrett agreed, still not liking the scenario, but determined to be the one calling the shots this time.
“First then, we set you up at a safe location.” Trepidation filling his heart, he concluded,
“Then we let Wo Fat know where you are.”
*****
Driving
back to the heart of the city, McGarrett related to Williams what they had
learned at Chang’s room. Excited,
Williams struggled to piece together phrases or clues in his mind.
McGarrett
regretted the strain this was putting on his friend, but was
equally energized that they were making progress.
”I’m
going to drop you off at your place,” he began, casting worried glances at the
fatigued officer leaning against the seat, eyes closed. “Then I think I’ll go
over to HPD lock up and find out more about those two Chinese that worked with Wo Fat.”
What
he really would like was to pay them back a little for their obvious rough treatment
of his friend. That would not happen, of
course, but he could imagine it.
“You
mean WE are going to interview them.”
“You’re
going home, Danno, you’re beat.”
“Steve, just over to lock up then home. I could help you.”
McGarrett
shook his head.
“And
they’ll get a nasty shock when they see me alive and well. It could be just what you need to give you
the edge.”
Muttering
under his breath, McGarrett again shook his head in mock irritation. “You are on sick leave, officer,” he
reminded, the sternness in the tone falling flat when accompanied by the smirk
he could not conceal. “Behave.”
Knowing
he had won, Williams just smiled.
*****
At
HPD, Williams was again greeted by some HPD personnel
in a surprisingly warm and sometimes even effusive manner concerning his
resurrection. He even got a few kisses
on the cheek from some female officers and that was pleasant, but a bit
embarrassing with McGarrett as a witness.
“Never
lose your touch, do you?” Steve teased as they processed through to the
interrogation room.
McGarrett
paced while they waited, casting amused glances as his friend, who was slumped
in a chair and leaning an elbow on the table and his head in his hand. It was probably a mistake to be so lenient
with Dan’s recovery, but Williams was persistent and Steve admitted only
mentally that he relished being back on track again. This was what he missed most a few days ago
-- the everyday interaction with his friend.
Now he had it back and in a strange reversal of roles, he would have to
watch his own tendencies to push Dan when the detective should be recuperating.
The
cell-side door opened and an HPD officer rushed in. “The prisoners!” he nearly shouted at
McGarrett. “They’re dead!”
McGarrett
and Williams moved instantly to their door and banged on it. Explaining as he ran through the corridors,
the officers were allowed into the lock up with a few
others who were now gathering. The
Chinese agents had been locked up next to each other
and each cell door was open. Both men were
on the floor, bodies twisted in a frozen pose of anguish, foam bubbled around
their mouths.
“Poison,”
McGarrett diagnosed instantly. “Get the
Coroner.” Duke Lukela had emerged at his
elbow -- back from the excursion to the university -- and Steve immediately
issued more orders. “Duke, seal this
off. Get every officer that was in
contact with these men. I want them in
separate rooms to be interviewed by my staff only.”
“On it.”
“Danno,
get Chin and Ben down here and get them cracking on interrogations. That includes meal prep people and janitors
and booking officers!”
“You
mean --“
“I
mean them!” he nearly barked, his stern order not to be
misinterpreted. “You’ve had
enough for one day. I’ll let you know
what happens.”
The
look in McGarrett’s unswerving expression was enough to convince the detective
this was not the time to argue. “Right,”
he agreed reluctantly.
Williams
followed Lukela to a nearby desk with several phones and each started making
calls. During a pause in the frenzied activity,
Dan took the opportunity to move close and sit next to the sergeant.
“Duke,
I want to apologize for this morning. I
shouldn’t have pressed you about what happened.”
Clearly
focused on other projects, Duke was a bit startled at the confession. His face softened quickly. “No need, Danny. I shouldn’t have
been so harsh --“
“I
didn’t know --“
“I
know. I didn’t
think about that either until after you left.
Nobody wanted to relive those hard times, but we were keeping you in the
dark. You couldn’t
know what happened to us here unless Wo Fat told you or something. And who would believe him?”
The
from-the-heart, homespun candor was soothing to Williams and he smiled his
thanks. “Mahalo.”
“So,
I guess Steve told you what you needed to know?”
“No,”
Dan shook his head, still wary of making Steve think about it too much. “Bergman.”
Lukela’s
grimace was so dramatic it made Dan laugh.
“Ouch,”
the Hawaiian flinched. “I think you
suffered enough. Why don’t you go home
now and when he comes I won’t tell Bergman you were ever here.”
“Mahalo,”
Dan smiled, glad to be back on track with his friends.
Lingering,
Williams couldn’t avoid another lecture from the
furious McGarrett, who was in no mood for anyone to cross him at this point.
“I
thought I sent you home.”
“On my way.
As soon as I find someone to take me to my car.”
McGarrett
tossed him a set of keys. “Take mine and
leave now. Don’t
forget to eat. I’ll bring yours by
later.”
The
younger officer seemed to consider that for a moment. “I guess I can trust you with my car,” he
admitted as he handed over his keychain.
“I
trust you with mine,” McGarrett smirked and gave Dan a gentle shove on the
shoulder. “Now get lost. I’ll come by later.”
*****
Although
he would never admit it to Steve, Danny was dragging, really
ready to go home and go to bed.
The emotionally packed excursions had been more trying and draining than
he had anticipated. His head throbbed
and he felt completely weakened, ready to admit he had
done enough for one day. Pretty productive for the first twenty-four hours after
returning from the dead.
After
parking the big Mercury at the curb, he stopped to check his mail, but realized
his mail key was on his key ring, which was with McGarrett. Sighing tiredly, not really
caring, he moved over to the elevators.
Someone rushed around the corner and he glanced up, then his head
exploded in black pain.
*****
It
was well into the late afternoon before McGarrett disentangled himself from
HPD. It had been such a long, productive, straining day, and there was no end
in sight. They progressed by inches with
the Chinese phrases, but slid back with the murder of two live thugs of Wo Fat’s. Right
inside HPD the fat spy had bested him!
Frustrated
that the investigation into the murder of the Chinese agents was stalled,
irritated at Internal Affairs for embroiling him in their inquiries, he felt a
great deal of his time had been wasted.
Starving,
he had already decided he felt like indulging in Ono BBQ for a late lunch/early
dinner. He could swing by the favored
eatery on Kuhio and grab something extra for Williams. That would give him an excuse to check on his
detective -- make sure he was resting.
Not that he didn’t trust his friend, but Danno
was -- well, Danno.
Skipping
outside, he momentarily basked in the warm, bright
Hawaiian sunlight. At the curb, he came
to an abrupt, frozen halt.
“Danno!”
he muttered under his breath.
Stranded!
He had given the Mercury to Danno and the Mustang was back at the ME’s office!
Annoyance and impatience escalating, he went back inside and rousted
Duke, who gave him a ride over to the Coroner’s. By the time he collected the Mustang it was
late. Too late to
indulge in a frivolous trip to
“Danno,”
he again muttered as he quickly exited with food and revved the Ford before
screeching into traffic.
Driving
with the sun baking his skin and the fresh air blowing in his face, he
relaxed. Although he would never admit
it to anyone, he secretly enjoyed finishing off the few errands he needed to
complete while borrowing his friend’s car.
The secretaries in Manicote’s office teased him about driving the hot
sports car. Several patrolmen
stopped to chat and were disconcerted to find McGarrett and not Williams
driving. Two good
looking girls on the corner of
*****
Dizzy
and disoriented with agony even before he opened his eyes, Dan groaned in
misery. Someone was speaking to
him. The blurry voice echoed strangely
in his ears. Filtering through the
headache and nausea, he could barely understand the words. Shifting, he felt restrained.
The
first glimmer of fear set in. Blinking
his eyes open, panic rose into his throat when he could not bring anything into
focus. Captured again! No! Controlling his breathing with effort, he
blinked and concentrated. It was
dark. Slowly, images -- fuzzy forms --
approached. Swallowing stark alarm, he
bit his lip and tried to show no other outward reaction to facing Wo Fat again.
“Good
afternoon, Mr. Williams.”
Not
Wo Fat. Not a
voice he knew. Cultured. Well phrased, too-perfect
English -- possibly as a second-language? Looking down, he focused on subtly working on
his bonds -- ropes tightly tied but sloppy he guessed, because already he was
loosening them. He wouldn’t
look at his captor until he conquered the fear that was still rippling through
his system.
“Mr.
Williams, we have some questions to which we must have answers. Then we will be done.”
The
man grabbed his chin and forced his face up, increasing his queasiness with
disorienting vertigo. He looked into the
hard gaze of a Chinese man of medium height and a long, thin face. There was a distinctive scar on his cheek and
a jade ring on his right hand. The
others -- he felt more people in the room -- stayed in the shadows. Dan took in the details automatically, trying
to absorb as much as he could. He didn’t know why. They
were not going to let him live, so what did it matter.
Mingled
with the dread of capture and death was the knowledge that this was so
unfair. Why were they doing this
again? Because Wo
Fat needed something. And
after he got what he wanted he would have the added bonus of knowing how much
McGarrett was going to suffer. Because
Dan was afraid there would be no double this
time. He was going to be the one
killed. After this interrogation
they would have no reason to keep him alive.
“Mr.
Williams, I just need to know why Wo Fat had my man
killed. I must assume that your law
enforcement did not. Therefore, Wo Fat did. Why?”
Instantly
reevaluating, Danny tried to think straight, but it was so hard through the
ringing headache and illness. Not Wo Fat? Why did Wo Fat have the men killed?
“Who
are you?” he finally asked, irritated at the confusing puzzle he was unwillingly thrust into.
“You don’t work for Wo Fat?”
“No. You were recently his guest. You must know why Wo
Fat had my man killed.”
Dan
shook his head, regretted it, and closed his eyes. “I don’t have any idea what you are talking
about. If Wo
Fat is your enemy then we have a lot in common.”
The
man grunted. “It doesn’t work that way,
Mr. Williams. Just tell me what I need
to know.”
No offer to free him.
No prize at the end. Just give over information he didn’t know. The fear
of imminent death was still there, but the abject ridiculousness of the whole intolerable situation angered him.
“Look,
if you want to get Wo Fat just talk to Steve
McGarrett. He’d be happy –”
The
man with the jade ring backhanded Dan, taking his
breath away and sweeping vertigo through his senses. Blinking, gasping, he had no time to recover
before he was hit two more times. A deep echo hurt his head and he realized he
was moaning. Blood trickled down his
cheek. His hair was
grabbed and he groaned as his head was yanked up.
“How
did Wo Fat discover my man and why was he killed? Did he fail in his duty to Wo
Fat or did my enemy discover my plant?
Answer me!” he screamed, making Dan’s head throb even more. “Now!”
Williams
wasn’t certain how many slaps, slugs, and questions
later it happened, but at last one of the hits sent him into dark oblivion.
*****
McGarrett
stretched and took in a breath of plumeria scent that danced on the breeze
drifting from outside his office lanai. Even the air was sweeter than it had
been only two days earlier now that Danno was back safe and
sound. It was dusk, but he could still make out the Mustang in the
parking lot, where he’d taken great pains to make sure
it could not be touched by other car doors or offensive hands.
Meticulously
neat and orderly with his own property, he was especially careful of Danno’s
car. After the harrowing experience of
really believing he had lost Danno, everything was
accentuated now -- amplified in proportion to what it used to be. What he looked on as his colleague’s
eccentricity was now a property to be respected. It was important to Danno and therefore
increased in value to McGarrett. While
the sports car was in his charge he would make certain it was
well taken care of. Just as --
when Williams was missing -- he had given strict orders for the police garage
to clean up the Mustang and bring it back in mint condition after the
investigation. They had done his bidding
exactly, and when Danno came back from the dead and characteristically drove
his prized car, Steve was pleased he had seen to that little detail.
In
some strangely, deeply psychological manner, the care of the car reflected his
desire to take care of Williams. He recalled the respectful, near-reverent
attitude of the HPD personnel in the garage towards the sports car that was
famous in local law enforcement circles. Danno was well-liked
amongst his colleagues and his favored status with the chief law enforcement
officer on the islands was no secret. These men knew that McGarrett had to be
suffering tremendously and therefore accorded Dan’s car the same respect they
would have if it were his body.
He
had at least another couple of hours worth of things to do before he could
break away to return the Mustang to its owner, who was hopefully sleeping off
the effects of his concussion. It was
past dinnertime and his original plan was to grab some food and take it out to
The
ring of McGarrett’s private line broke into the detective’s wandering thoughts
and yanked him back into the moment. Was this Danno calling wondering when he
was delivering the Ford and dinner?
“McGarrett!” His voice was a little softer than its
usual startling quality.
The
voice on the other end of the line made Steve’s temperature instantly drop a
few degrees despite its pleasant, even jovial, tenor. “Ahh, like an old friend,
how good to hear your voice, Stephen.”
McGarrett
could feel the anger welling up, prepared to consume him, if he weren’t careful. Remembering the deadly game of chess in
which they were engaged, he did his level best to
prevent his voice from relinquishing any secrets as he responded coolly.
“You’re no friend, Wo Fat.”
The
voice chuckled as he answered. “I said LIKE an old friend. So, tell me, how is
our mutual friend?”
White-hot
rage filled McGarrett to hear the cause of all the misery of late speak of
Danno, but he WOULD NOT reveal his feelings and give this fiend another weapon
to use against him. “Clearly much better than you would have him be.”
“A
good little soldier – that one – following faithfully in your footsteps – a
little lacking in the manners department, but with time—”
“Now
I know you can’t be calling to gloat,” McGarrett interrupted. He crafted the statement to subtly draw attention to the fact
that the spy had not succeeded in his objectives – the ones he knew about
anyway. A measure of satisfaction crept into him as he sensed the statement had
the desired effect – Wo Fat’s fluid tone tensed ever
so slightly.
“In
polite circles, one would be thought discourteous to mention that, but no
matter – I forgive you. The game is not over. You think you have spoiled my
plans, but you have only delayed them. Tell me – how did it feel when you
thought your knight was vanquished? Do you think it will feel worse when he
can’t rise from the ashes – literally in this case – like the proverbial
It
was clear to McGarrett that his adversary was trying to regain the upper hand
in the conversation by pushing the one button Wo Fat
unfortunately KNEW was painful to him. It was now clear that the man was
calling because he was angry at being thwarted, something which did not happen frequently
to the master spy.
“I
will get you, Wo Fat – maybe
not today – maybe not tomorrow, but it will happen – whatever deadly game
you’re playing here on my turf – you will not win!” And
with that conviction voiced to the evil being on the other side of the line (Oh
to be able to travel through the copper and get his hands around this man’s fat
throat!), McGarrett slammed the phone handset back onto its cradle. It was a
good feeling to be the one who ended the communication – he felt he’d regained a little control over the situation.
Stepping
out onto the lanai and taking in a few deep breaths to slow his heart rate and
regain the composure he felt on the verge of losing, he decided that – as
difficult as it would be to get Danno to cooperate – he would have to have
protection until this was over.
*****
As
the sound of the abrupt disconnect snapped in his ear, Wo
Fat jumped almost imperceptibly. It was his turn to feel the
fury his worthy opponent had felt moments earlier. His eyes narrowed as
he looked out across the tropical vista, not seeing the beauty.
“McGarrett has truly brought destruction upon his own house
now.”
The
man could not help but grin at his own joke as he knew
he’d selected the perfect target for phase two of his operation.
*****
Panic
-- choking -- met his subconscious, then his conscious
mind as Dan sputtered to breathe through a mouth full of water. Gasping for air, he blinked water out of his
eyes. The tormentors were still here
with him. He was in a different location
now. He could feel the wind in his face
and the roar in his ears was not his headache, but the close brush of
surf. His knees hurt and as he slowly focused he saw he was crouched on a lip of rough lava
rocks. To the right was a house of some
kind. In the distance
the sun was close to dipping to the horizon.
He had been captured for hours! He was somewhere on the windward coast. Not far from Makapuu,
he was thinking, but it was hard to reason clearly through the pain and
disorientation.
Soaking
wet, he drew in deep breaths of air and tried to figure out what was
happening. Surf rolled in and soaked his
legs -- he could hear the water gurgling through crevices and craggy tubes next
to him. Then the mighty crashes of heavy surf just beyond him. He could feel the occasional lap of the tide
soaking his deck shoes. Just a little
farther away it sounded like big waves smashing against a cliff or big
rocks. He was close to the cliffs at Makapuu, he was almost certain.
Before
his vision and other senses could assess the situation, the spokesman
leaned into his face.
“Mr.
Williams, we don’t have much time. How
did Wo Fat learn of my agent?”
“Are
you nuts? I keep telling you I don’t know! I wasn’t his guest – I was a prisoner!” Dan
choked through precious breaths of air. He could smell his captor’s ginger-tainted
breath as he drew even closer to his face and squeezed the back of his neck.
“You
spent many hours in a two-room shack in the company of Wo
Fat and his men. You heard many things. I NEED to know only a few of them!” The
man now spoke with a tone of angry desperation, and Dan knew it didn’t matter what he said or didn’t say. His murder was
fast approaching.
“Okay,
you’re right,” the detective spoke slowly to stall for time
while he considered his options. “I – I did hear some things, but NOT in a
language I understand!”
“Come,
come, Mr. Williams. Do not play games! You were quoted quite clearly in
Mandarin on the television news.”
Dan fleetingly wondered how many times he would have to learn the
lesson that he usually ended up regretting his impulsive actions. Clearly now,
parroting the words of one of his captors had had the desired effect of
flushing out another player in this bizarre and deadly game, but it wasn’t
anyone he’d known was even on the board.
“Nee hau shee gai jen? Hai!” The
ginger-man shouted despite his close proximity to Dan’s face. The nonplussed
detective spent a few moments under the impression that the battering he’d just received had affected his ability to grasp the
man’s words.
“Jen hua shen McGarrett?”
Dan reacted visibly to his boss’s name in the jumble of words being spat at him. In that instant, he knew the
interrogation had shifted to Chinese.
Ginger-man’s face lit up as he saw cognizance sweep across his
disheveled prisoner’s face – his prisoner did understand what he was saying!
“You ARE withholding information! Sha nee hau
shee gai jen?” Another brutal smack fell on Williams’ face
before he could muster a response.
More questions – epithets followed in the language foreign to the
hapless prisoner – Dan tried once to respond with an
I-don’t-understand, but the second the words left his lips, his hair was
grabbed at the back of his head and his chest smashed to the rocks, his face
plunging into water. Tidal pool, he
realized as he coughed out the water that had entered his unprepared lungs.
His head was dunked for long periods
until it felt like his lungs would burst.
Then he was brought back up to greedily gulp
for air. When he told them he had no
idea about Wo Fat and their
man, he was pushed down again. They
wanted to drown him -- one of the worst possible ways to die – suffocating and conscious and unable to breathe!
Dan knew it was this fiend’s intention to kill him no matter what
he told him. The detective knew too much – possibly more than he realized. The
anger – frustration – at being at death’s doorstep again so soon from a
situation he did not understand helped to block out his suffering. Somewhere in
the back of his mind, he was already anguishing for the pain that would slam
into Steve with the force of a tsunami when his death came to
light.
Numerous times he had wiped out while
surfing and swallowed a hunk of the ocean.
Many times he had been smashed by a powerful
wave and pounded to the bottom of the sea, scraping the sand and being pushed
down by the tremendous force of the waves.
This time, unlike those other experiences, he felt the
panic of knowing these people wanted to torture him until he talked.
Denial of knowledge was not working – and he knew would never work
– these unknown adversaries were going to kill him whether he was cooperative
or not. A feeling gnawed at the back of his mind that he would pay for this
impulsive action in short order, but if he was going
to die, at least he would have the hollow satisfaction of leaving his murderers
believing he had died without relinquishing to them what they so desperately
wanted to know. He lashed out angrily.
“Okay, smart guy! Maybe I do know something, but YOU will never
know what it is!”
Not surprisingly, the ginger-man’s retribution was instant. He
squeezed the back of Dan’s neck until the detective thought he would black out
from the pressure alone. He gritted he teeth and
twisted his face in a grimace and cried out, “I won’t tell you anything!”
His
captor’s rage translated into a heightened violence in the dunkings.
His mind drifted back to thoughts of what was happening with McGarrett. This
was going to kill Steve. To happen again -- no -- he had to stop this. The
harsh treatment helped to revive his waning survival instincts. He wanted to
live – he didn’t want to be the cause of more pain to
his friends.
Struggling
to make his battered, aching mind work, the next time he came up for air he put
his survival skills on automatic.
Breathing was not concentrated on so much as
his surroundings. He did sense there was
a cliff close by and familiar ocean below.
The
next time he went down he directed concentration to
his bound hands, which were slippery, wet and almost loose. When they pulled him up at last, Dan allowed
their momentum to carry him back and he shoved with all his strength into his
handler. Both of them toppled back and
Dan kept rolling over the jagged, painfully sharp lava rocks. Momentarily, he felt
the free fall of air space as he plunged away from the land. Taking a deep breath, he was almost prepared
when his body slammed into the violent surf.
*****
The
empty rings of the phone echoed in his ear and with each unanswered moment
Steve’s anxiety grew. Danno was
undoubtedly asleep. Wo Fat’s call should
mean nothing. But
his instincts were telling him something completely different. He gave it another minute, then hung up and
dialed HPD. Lukela was still there, bless him, and Steve got him onto assigning a patrol car to
Danno’s place until they could arrange something more substantial in the way of
security.
Closing
up his desk, he was not going to wait around here anymore. Danno would feel hemmed in by the extra
guards and the overt concern, but Wo Fat was up to
something. The atypical, unnerving call
had set Steve’s alerts at full strength.
Why call? To
taunt. He could not gloat --
Five-0 had won this round. Or was that just a false deception? If they really got to Wo
Fat this time -- and the call seemed to indicate a personal vendetta not a
strategic move -- then he better keep his guard up.
*****
He
had done this before -- knocked nearly senseless by a wave and dragged under by
the powerful ocean. Keeping his wits
about him and moving his body in an automatic response of survival Dan sought
the saving oxygen of the surface.
Swimming up, he popped above the waves and drew in deep breaths,
oriented himself as best he could, then dove back under the surface to swim
laterally with the shore, using the current as his propellant and conserving
his waning energy. Too close to the rocky cliffs and he would be pounded to death in a
riptide. Too close to the
surface and he would be spotted by his captors.
Losing
strength quickly, he angled toward the shore and relied on his senses and
knowledge of the surf glide with the current and guide
him to the beach. Fatigued beyond
feeling, he crawled up rocks to a stretch of sand. It was almost dark and hard to see clearly because his vision was so blurred, but the place
felt deserted. No bad guys. No help, either.
He
had to get to Steve. Let Steve know he
was okay. Warn Steve about the other
agents. So tired. He had to do this. Had to contact Steve.
Not
allowing himself to collapse yet, he crawled across a wide beach and peered
over an outcropping of rocks. Not far
away he could see beach fires. He could
smell the scent of smoke and grilled fish and heard
happy voices drifting on the breeze. A beach party. Moving
closer, he noted there were a few houses up away from the water. Staggering toward the welcoming civilization,
he called out for aid.
Some
accommodating people came over and laughingly commented on how drunk he
was. Closer to the fire, they noted his
cuts and scrapes and wondered what was wrong.
He
didn’t have the concentration to explain it all. He just repeated for them to call the police
and get someone out here immediately.
There were Chinese agents on the loose.
No one volunteered to make the call, but someone took him by the arm and
led him into the beach house to one of the bedrooms. He did not look or sound
coherent enough to be taken seriously.
There,
left on his own to ‘sober up’, he reached a phone and dialed the operator. She connected him to HPD and he identified
himself, asking for back up to search for the Chinese agents. Tell McGarrett, he tried to mumble, but he
was aware enough to hear his words as a jumbled mess of slurred sounds. He had slipped to the floor and through
unclear eyes watched the receiver dangle, swinging back and forth above him as
it swayed and he closed his eyes to sleep.
*****
Grabbing
his shoulder holster and jacket, he determined to call his other detectives
once he reached Danno’s condo. They would increase their guard for all
members of the staff until they could get a handle on the situation.
He
was walking away from the desk when the phone rang. Expecting it to be Duke, he was not surprised
at Lukela’s voice on the other end. But the tone set his teeth on edge.
“Steve,
we just got a wild call through dispatch.
Someone claiming to be Danny. He didn’t sound too
coherent, but said something about Chinese agents and mentioned your name. The line is still open and they traced it to
a house up by Makapuu. I’ve got a unit rolling now.”
Too late!
He was too late! Wo Fat did not
call to torment; it was a warning of what he had already done!
Steve
pushed past his raw fears and stabbed at the most relevant issues. “Was he hurt?”
“Unknown. Ah, hold on, Steve.”
He
heard a muffled voice in the distance and could make out none of the
words. Pacing within the range of the
cord, he rapped his knuckles on the desk and nervously bit his lip waiting for
more information. He had just called
Danno’s place and there was no answer.
They had sent a patrol car over. Chinese agents. Makapuu. Could it be for real?
“Steve,
the patrol unit just checked in. They
found Danny and he’s on his way to Castle
hospital. They said he’s
not conscious --“
No! This could not be happening again! “How bad?”
“They
said he’s alive and seemed banged up and wet, like he was swimming or surfing.”
“I’m
on my way.”
Danno
had not been out, far from home, swimming or surfing! He assured himself as he raced through the
Palace at record speed. Exhausted and
heading for his condo at last check, the recovering
officer would not have just taken off -- no -- he had been grabbed again by Wo
Fat and -- what? He didn’t
know. All he knew now was that through
some divine intervention there was a second miracle occurring in his life. Danno had escaped again and
was still alive.
Flying
down the front steps he nearly skidded to a halt when he spotted the Mustang,
now remembering he didn’t have his own car. Irritated at the foul-up, he felt isolated
without a radio and endured the furious drive through the
An
abstract part of his brain wondered why he hadn’t been
stopped several times already for speeding on the freeway. Flying through the intersection near the
hospital he raced onto the hospital grounds, and it dawned on him that squad
cars in
When
asking directions at the ER reception, he was surprised to hear Williams was already assigned a room and Bergman was there. Jogging down the hall, he ignored the calls
from the nurses as he punched an elevator button to take him upstairs.
Danno
was in a room. Bergman was with
him. He was still alive. But Bergman was the
Coroner . . . His speed increased.
Stopping
at the nurse’s station only long enough to find out where Williams was, he
rushed to the appropriate room and swept inside. Bergman was standing over a still and
unconscious Williams. At a glance, Steve
could see there were various abrasions on the pale face. Approaching, he noted scrapes and cuts on the
arms. Disturbingly, one wrist was
bandaged and the other red and swollen.
“Danno?”
he called quietly, approaching with a less frantic pace.
“He’s
out, Steve.”
Bergman
looked upset and grave.
McGarrett
stood next to the bed and tentatively took hold of Dan’s wrist, checking for a
pulse, which confirmed -- assured him with a steady beat -- that his friend was
alive. Obviously, though, not in good
shape. He swallowed hard. “How is he?”
“Possible skull fracture, most definitely a concussion. Another one. Some
assorted cuts and scrapes and cracked ribs.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know
what’s going on, Steve, but he’s not going to survive this kind of treatment
long.” He gently picked up one of
Williams’ arms and McGarrett grimaced when he examined the red burns on the
wrist. “Rope burns. He was bound and fought
hard to get free.”
A prisoner again.
How did he escape Wo Fat a second time? It seemed unaccountably sloppy of the fat
villain to allow that, but he wasn’t going to question
it too deeply now.
“He’ll
be all right?”
“We’ll
know more when we get the x-rays, but I think he’s just going to need some
rest. And I mean it this time!” he
nearly shouted. “A head injury -- wait
till you see the laceration and knot on the side of his head -- this is not to
be trifled with, Steve!”
“I
agree,” McGarrett complied instantly. As
difficult as it was to hear this, at least this time Danno was alive. He couldn’t help but
think back to that bleak night at the Coroner’s office when he went there to
identify remains. Shivering, he stared
at the patient, assured his friend was still here and alive. “What else?”
“Badly scraped knees and ribcage and hands.” The voice hardened with wrath. “Some lacerations and
bruising on the face consistent with a good pummeling. They really hurt him.” Seeing the pain – the mask which
usually hid what he called bleeding not present -- of the man standing before
him, Bergman took a few deep breaths to calm his own emotions before he patted
McGarrett on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,
Steve, he’ll be fine. Whatever’s
going on isn’t very healthy for him. But I know you’ll take care of him.”
After
Bergman left, McGarrett paced, almost never taking his eyes off the
patient.
‘Yeah, I was
taking care of him just fine, wasn’t I?’
How could he be so careless after losing Danno once already only days
ago? ‘Not
again, Danno, I promise.’
How
could he have left Danno alone? He
suspected Wo Fat was angry. That his job here in
Did
Wo Fat intend for Williams to die in the fire? When he didn’t, did that somehow threaten future plans? Did
Danno hear and see more than he should have and now it worried Wo Fat? Especially after Danno’s bold and risky revelation in front of the
TV cameras? And
why kill the two captured Chinese thugs?
They also knew too much?
After
a time Bergman returned with coffee and x-rays.
To McGarrett’s great relief, no skull fracture had
been detected, but the concussion was serious, and the doctor emphasized
more than once that the patient would need to be closely watched for signs of
any brain hemorrhaging for the next several days. From the determined
expression on McGarrett’s face, Bergman knew that this was
one time Dan Williams would not be able get around his medical orders.
He insisted that the injured young man was to stay here for observation for at
least a day. More if possible, but he
growled that that was unlikely considering the history of his Five-0 patients.
The
coffee was ignored while McGarrett paced. Every few minutes he would stop and sit on
the side of the bed, holding onto to Dan’s wrist, keeping a tangible grounding
that his friend was alive. Then, in
agitation, he would pace again.
He
checked outside and was warmed to find Duke quietly
instructing two burley HPD guards. Chin
rounded the corner and McGarrett stepped out to confer with him, assure him
Danno was going to be all right, and tell him to make
arrangements for securing the hospital.
When Danno was better they would have to find a
secure location for him until they could get Wo Fat.
When
he went back in the room, Williams was groaning and shifting in the bed. He went to the bed and placed a gentle hand
on his arm.
“It’s okay, Danno, you’re safe.”
“Steve.” Dan blinked his eyes. “Hi.”
His
voice was rough and hoarse. His throat
was probably raw from salt water. How
long had he been in the water? Steve
restrained the questions bursting in his thoughts.
“Hi,”
Steve smiled. “You
doing okay?”
“Head.”
“Yeah,
you got another concussion and some nasty scrapes. What happened? Wo Fat?”
“No. His enemies.”
Intrigued,
McGarrett sat down on the side of the bed.
“His enemies?”
Slowly,
not quite coherently, Williams started an unlikely tale of capture by Chinese
thugs -- one of whom smelled like ginger and wore a jade ring. They were ready to kill him to find out why Wo Fat killed their implanted double agent. One of the Chinese thugs in
HPD lock-up.
McGarrett
absorbed it all silently, allowing the confused, disjointed thoughts to tumble
out on their own. While it seemed
fantastic, Steve believed it. The proof
was Dan’s condition. So,
they were playing a double game again with the Chinese. Factions within the government -- or others
-- opposed to Wo Fat.
And they had to take it out on Hawaiian soil
using his friend!
Ready
to rush out and start combing the island, he knew that would be useless. They had yet to find Wo
Fat. How were they going to find Asians
-- no description yet -- that might have captured Williams? And, any personal
efforts at solving the case would mean he would have to leave here. Mentally, he was stuck like glue, afraid to even let go of his friend right now. He doubted he would leave this room much at
all until Williams was released.
There
was a shadowy dread that leaving him again would mean the end. That without his personal protection Williams
was marked for death and the plan would succeed unless Steve was here to stop
it. The notion was possibly close to true,
fed by paranoia and pain. He would do
anything to avoid what he had gone through with Dan’s faked death. He had a whole police force to investigate
and work a case. Only he could protect
his friend appropriately.
While
he recognized that view as being paranoid, also, he had no problem acting as
personal bodyguard.
“Beach.”
“You
were held at the beach? That explains
why you were soaked when you were picked up.”
“Wo
Fat is still here. Planning something –“ Frustrated, he shook his head, then held onto it with both
hands. “Can’t remember . . . . “
McGarrett
gently touched his arms. “It’s okay, Danno. It’ll come back to you.
Right now all you have to do is rest and get
better. Got that?”
“Wo Fat –“
“Is not your concern.
I know he’s still here, but he’s not getting near you, don’t worry.”
There
was a shadow of a smile on Dan’s wan face and it made Steve realize what a bear
he must seem. Overprotective
and commanding as usual. It
seemed to set things right with the universe and right now Williams didn’t mind. That made him feel a little better -- more certain that
things really would be fine now.
Wryly,
he revealed, “He gave me a call tonight.”
The
hands went down and Williams stared at him.
“What?”
“Yeah.
Wanted to twist the knife a little bit, but I reminded him he wasn’t the one who could gloat this time around. Then I hung up on him.”
“You
hung up on Wo Fat?” The young man’s eyes grew larger
and he smiled slightly, admiration of his boss too apparent. “I bet he knocked
some chairs over after that!” The thought of Steve gaining the upper hand on
the man who had hurt and humiliated him so was somehow energizing.
“Now
rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Williams
closed his eyes and accepted the advice with no resistance.
*****
“Steve,
you could go home. You should go home.”
Exasperated
at the tenacity of his officer, he breathed out a stubborn rebuttal. “No, I can’t.
You are not leaving my sight,” he firmly added, just to make his point,
again, completely clear.
Laying in the bed, Williams was waking more
than sleeping now and in his conscious periods, he was determined -- too
determined -- to get back in the action. Bergman was not ready to release him
yet and Dan was pushing at the restrictions, feeling just well enough to be a
nuisance to staff and boss.
“There
are guards outside the door.” Pausing
only briefly, seeing he was not swaying the boss, he continued. “Steve, I know what it’s like to not sleep in
your own bed. You are giving me a guilt
trip. You don’t need to be here all the
time.”
“Yes,
I do,” McGarrett sternly reiterated. He
put aside the paper he was scribbling on and stared at his colleague. “You don’t know what it was like.”
When
his father died he had learned to sublimate the hurt,
to close it away and withdraw the pain from the sight of others. He had honed that trait. And until the last
few years, had a sterling success rate. He could almost trace the cracks in his
armor to when Williams came on board the unit.
Noticeably, the largest tear in his defensive shields had been the raw
and emotional night he had opened his heart to his friend and wept over the
death of his nephew.
After
that, it seemed less important to hide things from Danno and more important to
include him, no matter how difficult, in what he was thinking and feeling. It was an ongoing process. Not something that
yet came easily. But
over the years he had learned the truth of the old cliché that shared burdens
are lighter to bear.
He
wasn’t sure what he had intended to say, but with the
firm resolve turned to mush a cascade of thinly separated emotions renewed his
memory and feelings.
“When
you went missing . . . .” He shook his
head, unable to go on.
How
could he articulate the dread and desperation engulfing him at Dan’s sudden
disappearance? Throughout that terrible,
long day, he had constant reminders of the lack of support, input and the
knowledge that there was always an ally at his side. Chin, Ben and Duke were there to help, of
course, but it was not the same.
Then that horrific moment when Duke entered the office. In that silent instant, Steve’s world
shattered and altered forever. In that
heartbeat of eternity, he knew that Danno was dead and the fear and emptiness
turned suddenly, replaced by an unbelievable pain and mourning. A hurt that would never
stop.
Then
the miracle -- Danno’s return to life -- and Steve’s different world that was glued back together, but the cracks would remain for a
long time.
“Yesterday,”
he quietly started again, ”I made the mistake of
thinking now that you were back everything was all right. Then you were nabbed
again. And again,
only your skill and good fortune averted a terrible . . . . “
his voice was so thick he had to stop, clear it, calm his nerves, then
after several moments proceed. “I am not
going to let anything -- anything -- happen to you again. You are not moving out of my sight until this
is over.”
Obviously
moved by the open confession, Williams just nodded, his eyes watery
*****
“This
would go a lot better at the office.
Shouldn’t we be on our way?”
McGarrett
glanced up from the report he was reading, spread on a table he had
commandeered from the hospital. Setting
up an office while recovering was common for him, but this was
the first time he had indulged in the practice with one of his men as
the patient.
“Doc
won’t release you till he checks on you again.”
“I
can think better at the office.”
“And
you can rest better here.”
The
situation was frustrating and McGarrett forced himself not to grind his teeth
as an outward show of irritation. Being hampered by Bergman was expected. The doctor had been deeply
affected by Williams’ “death” and resulting return and his second
capture. The injuries bothered Bergman
and Steve felt they shared a common concern there. Danno was vulnerable. But how to protect
the officer when they didn’t know who threatened him or why he was at
risk? So
McGarrett stubbornly remained here as the highest level security guard in the
state, and Bergman fussed and demanded, refusing to let Williams go too early.
Groaning,
Williams closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple. “I wish I could remember more!”
“You
will,” Steve assured confidently.
This
was tough on Williams, too, knowing there was something locked in his head and
being unable to produce the clues. They
were under pressure -- Wo Fat was poised to strike
again in some way and Danno might have the key to stopping him. And never far from
his thoughts -- Wo Fat’s promise -- that Williams would die for real this
time. He had not revealed that bit of
conversation to his friend. No need to add more stress to the already distraught officer. Steve remembered enough for both of
them.
Perhaps,
the head of Five-0 would be more productive out working the case on the streets
like his men. But
he could not move away from Williams yet.
Too soon.
Even with assigned HPD guards, McGarrett could not trust Dan’s safety to
anyone else.
“You
don’t have to stay,” Dan insisted for the third or fourth time that day. He sat up and made a credible showing of a
healthy person. “You’ve got guards in
the hall.”
“I’m
staying till Doc comes.”
“He’s
taking his time.”
“Gives
him the impression he’s in charge,” Steve wryly returned.
Williams
smirked. “And we all know who’s really the boss.”
“You’re
pretty cocky for someone at my mercy and Bergman’s.”
The
Coroner sailed in at that point and claimed that he had no mercy. He did, however, have
a low tolerance for complaining Five-0 officers and that he was releasing
Williams. He exchanged a glance with
McGarrett, and the head of Five-0 understood it was a silent transfer of sober
responsibility. Bergman did not want to
see a damaged or dead Williams back under his care. It was Steve’s job to
prevent that. From the physician’s
expression, he read Steve’s agreement to the silent pact -- his stern resolve
-- easily.
As
Williams dressed, Bergman motioned for McGarrett to join him in the hall. The
two men stepped past the now ever-present HPD security detail that blocked the
patient’s door and moved far enough down the hallway to have a private
conversation.
“Steve,
I know you’re going to do whatever it takes to keep that boy safe from the bad
guys, but you need to keep him safe from himself as well.” The doctor’s tone
was grave, and McGarrett listened with a determined intensity as the physician
instructed. “NO running, NO driving, NO surfing. NO rough
stuff! His head cannot afford to be jostled for the next several days. If he tells you he’s feeling fine, take this to the bank – he’s lying. And
the fact that he’s in there right now getting dressed, tells me that he wants
to keep a stiff upper lip for you.”
“I’ll
use kid gloves, Doc, and you can take THAT to the bank!” McGarrett promised
solemnly.
*****
With
more alacrity than Steve expected, Williams was dressed and released in short
order. Wryly eyeing the guards on the
way out, Williams did not comment, but rolled his eyes.
Resting
on the drive back to the city, Dan sat up when he noted they were traveling
down
“You’re
not going home.”
“Steve
-- “
“Danno,
they got to you twice at your condo.
You’re not going back there until this is resolved.”
“We
know about the double threat now,” he weakly protested. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah.
With some help.”
When
they pulled into the driveway of McGarrett’s apartment, Williams loudly
sighed. Prepared for more arguments,
McGarrett was pleased when none came and his officer seemed accepting of his
fate. Short of stowing Dan in a corner
at the office, this was psychologically Steve’s first choice. Again, it gave him the illusion that he was
commanding the situation while Wo Fat really held the
high ground. If nothing else, Steve was
going to protect Danno. He might ultimately
fail in foiling phase two, or fail to capture Wo
Fat. But he was
not going to lose at the most important issue.
Once
settled in the guest room, Dan ambled back to the living room and lounged on
the sofa facing
Dan
rambled about details that were slowly coming back to him about the second
captivity. Within moments
he dozed off and McGarrett sat down to study his detective, occasionally
staring out the window in an unfocused gaze at
Again,
he was in a familiar dilemma. Protect
Williams, keep his health and safety first, or call him back to work, pry out
the vital information that could save lives and stop Wo
Fat. Danno was right, thinking and
working at the office was the most productive and logical step. It was at the heart of Five-0 where the staff
could gather, think, brainstorm and talk out clues until they found a
solution. To demand that of Williams now
though was unfair and probably dangerous to his recovery. Thus his decision
was made.
Steve
called the office for a conference with Chin and Ben. Then he spread notes and reports on the
dining table. It was distracting to work
here. His mind was still preoccupied
with Dan. The sun was bright and warm
and the toasty Trades blowing through the open lanai doors made him pause to
appreciate the splendor. This was a nice place -- a big open apartment with
lots of windows, natural lighting, two lanai and two fantastic views; of the mountains, also of
“You
could go to the office without me.”
Glancing
over at the slowly waking officer, McGarrett shrugged. “I like it here.”
“Wo
Fat is busy and we’re spinning out wheels, Steve.” Dan sat up, looking a little more
energized. “Don’t waste time on my
account. What if he
has something big and deadly in mind?
You can’t let me drag you down.”
However
unwell Williams was feeling, it seemed he had not lost his ability to sense his
boss’s distraction, no matter how well he felt it was
disguised, the older detective considered. Today, this observation
pleased him as it was a positive sign that his friend
was recovering.
“I
won’t,” McGarrett assured seriously.
“I’ll check in at the Palace tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I’m going over your statements and
some other HPD reports trying to piece things together. If you rest and get better, I think you’ll
probably remember what we need.”
Nodding,
the younger officer accepted the advice.
“When I’m feeling up to it you’re going to let me back on this, right?”
The
little strain of defiant independence was typical and Steve worked hard at not
smiling at the predictability of his friend.
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you away.”
*****
“My, my. McGarrett’s knight has had a very
difficult week. Clearly, our suspicions about Wang’s loyalty to me were
correct. And now,
I think it is safe to assume that the Xin Hua are very interested in what Mr.
Williams knows about the death of their man.
In light of the possibility that he has some remedial understanding of
Mandarin – I too am interested in what he may remember from his stay with us.
Should the opportunity arise, I shall have to make a point of asking him.”
The
plate of sliced, fresh pineapple was placed with a bow by Wo
Fat’s faithful servant.
Wo
Fat gave a slight nod and smile. “There is just nothing like the pineapple of
The
tall man remained silent, but nodded and smiled at his boss.
The
Chinese spy picked up a slice of the fruit, but paused before it could reach
his mouth. “We must take steps to prevent the Xin Hua from spoiling my gift to
McGarrett.”
*****
Danny
should have been prepared for the emotional purge of
what was hopefully the last homecoming. But clear brain processes were not cooperating much right
now. It was hard to think beyond the
aching muscles of his scraped body and the swimming throbs of pain in his
battered head. Not to
mention the disgusting vertigo-induced nausea accompanying a concussion.
He
had hardly made it half-way through the big common
room of the main office when Jenny Sherman spotted him. She was crying by the time her slight form
raced around her desk and she was openly sobbing when she hugged him in a
numbing embrace far exceeding her stature. The secretary had known Dan was
alive and well, but she’d been out of the office when
he dropped in a few days before. Jenny
would never mention this to Steve – or anyone for that matter – but she was not
certain she would have been able to return to the office if Dan really had been killed. So, she was
fortunately spared the worst of the dark hours when the detectives were certain
than their younger colleague had been brutally murdered and fed to the sharks.
The
attack took his breath away. Her enthusiasm pounded his ribs that had
cracked when the ginger-man repeatedly slammed him into the tidal pool. Dizzy, unable to respond verbally, he closed
his eyes and was too disoriented to pull away from the
short woman who now, ironically, kept him on his feet with her support.
*****
Steve
saw the emotional entrance from his office and did not disturb the reunion
between the secretary and probably her favorite detective. He felt a little choked up seeing the deep
relief Jenny did not bother to hide. The rest of the detectives had been
subdued in their reunions with Danno in comparison, but there had been a lot of profound feelings bouncing around here the last
week. Desperation, fear, desolation,
grief, joy -- in levels rarely experienced and some at murky places he hoped
never to visit again.
McGarrett
stepped to the door and cast a stern eye out at the main office. Good, at least the HPD escort had stuck with
Danno. He was pleased to see that they were diligently interrogating a man with
a hard hat who’d stepped into the office. He wore a
work shirt that bore the name and familiar logo of the phone company. As the
man nervously handed one of the officers what looked to be a work order, he
seemed a little startled at the two very large, suspicious HPD men who
scrutinized him very closely.
Not Chinese
anyway,
the head of Five-0 noted.
This
was McGarrett’s first day back at the office since Danno’s second abduction. It
was a difficult decision to leave Dan’s protection in the hands of others, but
he had several meetings that could not be cancelled,
and work that could only done here. Why
was he not surprised that Williams had failed to remain at the condo and ended up here at the Palace?
Moving into the main office, he placed a
gentle hand on the secretary. “All
right, Jenny. We don’t want Danno to think we missed him too much.”
Williams
opened his eyes and thanked his boss with a nod. Steve winked back -- the
mutual understanding clear as he smoothly pulled his officer away.
“When
you get a chance, Jenny, maybe you can bring in some coffee?”
With
a last sniff, Jenny said she would and moved away as McGarrett took his
detective in to join the other officers in his office.
“You
are not back on the payroll yet, Danno,” he quietly admonished as they stood by
the door.
“I
can help, Steve.” His voice still sounded husky from the thrashing seawater he
had swallowed, from the sore throat that was still swollen. Dan did his best to not
sway, to sound normal and confident as he looked up at his boss, but
could clearly detect concern in the blue eyes that pierced him. “Please… I’ll
take it easy.”
Not
convinced, McGarrett gently pressed, “What is Dan Williams’ idea of take it
easy? Does that mean no more publicly daring our enemies to take a swing at you
in ANY language?”
Williams
shrugged sheepishly and swallowed a grimace (even that hurt!) as he weakly
defended himself. “It worked.”
“It
worked too fast – and with a fish we didn’t even know was in the pond! And
curse that Vernor woman for airing that segment as a bulletin instead of
waiting till the regularly scheduled news time!” McGarrett replied firmly.
Noticing
his friend seemed to be listing a bit, he took him by
the elbow and walked with him to one of the white leather chairs angled in
front of the big desk.
“I’m
fine,” Williams responded to his boss’s assistance, but didn’t
fight it as he gently lowered himself into the chair, only too conscious of the
concerned eyes of Chin, Ben, and Duke. The room was spinning, amplifying the
persistent nausea. Great – that was all
he needed – to throw up in front of the guys.
Determined to see this through, he inhaled slowly, gently leaned his head back
on the chair and closed his eyes as he changed the subject. “So, what’ve we
got?”
The
head of Five-0, recognizing his own words, smiled as he took up Dan’s usual
position on the corner of his desk only a few feet from the detective. “Good
question, Danno. At this point, we know
that Wo Fat is plotting something that I think we can safely assume dovetails
with his failed phase one plot to sabotage US-Soviet relations.”
“So
we’re still looking for a Russian connection.” Dan mused out
loud, eyes still closed.
Steve
nodded and continued. “Yeah. If Wo
Fat intends to make sure the finger points at the Russians, he needs a patsy.
We all need to be on the lookout for that.” His brow furled slightly in concern
as he studied his second-in-command, and he wondered whether Dan was able to
pay attention. Another stab of guilt coursed through him as his friend’s
demeanor drove home the fact that he should probably still be at the condo – possibly in the hospital – in bed. He said nothing
though. Instead, he nodded at Chin, Ben, and Duke, who were all three standing
around the unoccupied white chair. “And
now, thanks to Chin’s cousin—”
“Nephew,”
Williams injected softly.
“Who
runs the fish market—what?” McGarrett was almost surprised at the interruption.
“Uh,
Danny’s right – he’s my nephew – my wife’s sister’s son actually, boss,” Chin
corrected, and smiled.
Steve
paused a moment to smirk – his second-in-command had obviously been more
attentive to what McGarrett would secretly call irrelevant details than he had
been when the detectives had their status meeting the previous day at Steve’s
condo.
Correcting
the statement, McGarrett plunged on with his train of thought. “Thanks to
Chin’s nephew, we were able to get some leads on Zhu Liang Imports and the fact
it supplies Anderson Catering with a variety of food stuffs.”
It was Ben’s turn to jump in. “And Anderson Catering is the
company that has the contract to supply meals to the HPD prisoners. I interviewed
the owner the day Wo Fat’s thugs were murdered. He was
clean, but it turns out that his assistant, who came with him that day to serve up the chow, also works part-time for Zhu Liang!”
Dan
spoke slowly, considering the data points. “So, we have a connection between
Matthew Chang – my dead ringer – and Zhu Liang – the company which Wo Fat and his thugs mentioned, AND which probably had a
hand in killing the Chinese prisoners.”
“Yeah,”
McGarrett acknowledged. “I suspect we’ll be able to charge that Zhu Liang
employee for murder one sooner rather than later. Now, Matthew Chang’s part in
this over, so do we know that Zhu Liang is involved in phase two?” A few
seconds of silence ensued as the detectives pondered the answer.
“Yes,”
Dan responded. He lifted his head from the chair and looked up at his boss,
certainty expressed with his eyes. “Wo Fat was discussing phase two in English
with somebody, and somebody else in the room said whatever it is they said in
whatever language they said it—” The detective paused and looked to the Chin
for assistance.
“Mandarin – maybe Mandarin-Minnan.” The Chinese
detective supplied.
Dan
nodded gingerly. “Anyway, that was when the guy said the ‘hai dook na liang’ thing.”
“Okay
then, until we can determine otherwise, we’ll assume Zhu Liang is somehow
involved in Wo Fat’s next move.” McGarrett stood and
began pacing as he divided up the list of tasks. “I’m
going to work on this from an intelligence angle – I’ve got a call in to
Jonathon Kaye to see if we can get a bead on what Wo
Fat is up to through classified sources. Ben, you stay on the trail of the
poisonings – if you need to tap Chin for help from any of his relatives, do
it! Duke, get back over to the
university, and finish the work up on Chang’s known friends and
associates.” The head of Five-0 stopped
directly in front of his second-in-command and paused in indecision.
Williams
didn’t move his head, but drew his eyes up slowly to
meet those of his boss. He knew what the man was considering
and did his best to sound confident as he cleared his throat, then spoke.
“Steve, I’m okay – really.”
McGarrett
sighed as he remembered Bergman’s words. “Danno, you will stay here with Chin,
who will do his best to try to help you recall any more Mandarin words or
phrases that you heard. That might mean a Chinese language lesson.” Dan and
Chin nodded in unison as their boss added, “And Danno – if you don’t behave, I will turn you back over to Bergman.”
Dan
knew that Steve’s warning was no idle threat. His friend had truly been
traumatized and he was determined that he would not be the cause of any more
suffering again. “I’ll be good – I promise.”
Steve
mentally patted himself on the back. That Chin, in addition to the official
dedicated HPD team, would be with Danno most of the time for a reason that was
valid from an investigative perspective would insure that his detective did not
start to feel smothered. McGarrett knew all too well from experience that
Williams was fiercely independent, and tended to balk very quickly at
protection no matter how much it was needed.
Jenny
came in with a tray loaded with cups of coffee and plates of rolls. Dan smiled at the delicacy -- King’s famous
Hawaiian rolls. A
delightful local treat. He was
surprised and pleased when she left a whole plate next to him on the side of
the desk near where he was slouched.
On
her way past, the secretary smiled kindly at him, touched his cheek with her
hand, and whispered, “Let me know if you need anything, sweetie.”
Sure
he was blushing, Dan was grateful the meeting was breaking up, and so his
colleagues had begun coordinating logistics with each other. That meant their
attention to the coddling scene was probably minimal. But
as he glanced in their direction, he saw all four men had paused explicitly to
observe what transpired. The teasing grins stamped on their faces told him he
would not hear the end of this for quite some time.
*****
Fog… he felt
like he was swimming in something less substantial than water and so could not
make any kind of progress by kicking or paddling. Suddenly, out of the
whiteness, the sneering face of the vicious ginger-man rushed at him and a hand
slowly balled into a fist to strike him. He could feel the pain before the fist
could drop.
Dan
cried out and tried to sit, but that action snapped him to a fully awakened
state as his muscles instantly told him they were injured, and the room tipped
sideways and spun for almost a minute before he could take stock of his
situation.
When
he’d grown too tired to respond to Chin’s questions,
the older detective insisted that he retreat to the boss’s office for a little
while and rest. Discouraged that he had been unable to remember anything else
substantive, he was too exhausted to even be embarrassed
by the show of frailty, and so Dan lay himself down on the sofa and almost
instantly drifted off into a fitful sleep. The result had not been restful as
he was barraged by a hodge podge of images, most of
them disturbing memories of his captivity – except this time he knew that Steve
was enduring a torture far worse than what he was experiencing. His shirt was
damp and he could feel his heart rate slowing from racing speed as he
recognized that he was safe as the gold in
Williams
stood and stretched carefully, and then made his way out of the office. He
obviously had been sleeping longer than he thought. Jenny was gone for the day,
and somebody had had enough time to eat all of the King’s rolls that had been left on the secretary’s desk. Maybe Pono or Keoni ate the rolls, he considered as he unhappily observed
the bodyguards in place.
“I
need a shower,” Dan mumbled hoarsely. And a half dozen
aspirin…
“Sorry,
Danny, you’re not going ANYWHERE that one of us can’t see you. Mr. McGarrett
told us that if anything bad happened to you that the same thing would happen
to us.”
Dan
rolled his eyes in frustration at his boss’s understandable, but paralyzing
protective attitude. “He was just joking, Pono!”
The
burly officer smiled, but did not blink as he responded levelly. “No – I don’t
think he was.”
Keoni,
who was leaning on the wall cleaning under his fingernails with a pocketknife,
grumbled, “It didn’t sound to me like he was joking either – and I don’t want
to spend the rest of my career walking the fish market beat.”
Despite
his annoyance, Dan was also touched by Steve’s
concern, and he had to muster a smile at the impression his very imposing boss
frequently left with the rank-and-file. “Hmm, well, I would say that his bark
is worse than his bite, but…”
Chin
glanced up from the file he was perusing and snickered.
“Yeah,”
Pono finished the thought. “I heard.”
As the officer’s words ran through his
head, Dan could hear another phrase – said by someone else… where was he? On a cool floor… Wo Fat had snapped instructions to one of
his men and then looked down at him and smiled a
toothy grin...
“Chin!” Dan turned a
little too suddenly, and gasped as the wave of vertigo peaked and washed over
him. Chin didn’t reach Williams before the two
officers steadied him. “Sit,” he breathed as he tried to recover.
“Here, Danny, here’s a chair!” Pono
quickly yanked the spare chair from beside Jenny’s desk and situated it behind
the detective. All three men physically assisted Dan into the chair.
He tried quickly to assure them
verbally – he knew his appearance did not instill any measure of confidence is
his condition. “It’s okay – just a little dizzy.”
“Danny, take it easy,” Chin berated
gently.
But Dan
remembered something and he needed to say it before it was lost to him
again. “Ya hai shee!”
He said the phrase carefully, doing his best to repeat it just as he had heard
it said, remembering Chin’s lesson about accents and emphasis. With the words
flung from his mouth, he desperately looked at the Chinese detective, praying
he could make sense of it.
Chin considered the words for only a
moment before a grin broke across his face.
*****
“It
means fireworks in some parts of
As
the head of Five-0 paced in his office, glancing from Kelly to Williams, he
sensed that Chin found significance in the phrase, and he could not keep the
excitement from coloring his tone, “And in other parts of
“Explosion!” Chin pronounced.
“A bombing! That fiend is planning to bomb
something!” McGarrett exclaimed, dread gripping him side-by-side with the
excitement of a breakthrough on the case. “Chin, he MAY be importing the
explosive, but let’s check out the possibility that he’s picked it up locally!”
The
Chinese detective nodded, and then his attention focused on his colleague on
the sofa. With a glance exchanged between he and his boss, Chin responded as he
headed out the door. “I’ll get right on it.”
He
remembered clearly what Wo Fat said to him in that
phone call. The game was not over. He hadn’t spoiled plans, but delayed them. Then
-- the strike to the heart. Wo
Fat asked how it felt when he thought Danno was dead.
‘Do you think
it will feel worse when he can’t rise from the ashes – literally in this case –
like the proverbial
Did
he intend that Danno was going to be killed in a
bombing? Not a chance, he vowed.
As
energized as he was to have a clue about Wo Fat’s plan, he was instantly
concerned as he saw Williams slouched on the couch, apparently not listening,
or at least not reacting to the exchange between his colleagues. McGarrett
moved and gently settled on the sofa next to his detective.
This
was really taking too much out of the officer, he considered, assessing the
worn Williams. He kept promising himself
he would know when he had pushed Danno too far, and now was that time.
The
slight jostling prompted Dan to speak. “I’m sorry I can’t remember more.”
“You
did great. Come on, Danno – It’s well after
dinnertime. Let’s get outta here.”
Helping
Williams to his feet, he kept close but did not further aid the detective as they slowly made their way to
the outer office. Only the two HPD
officers were left, the rest of the staff had gone
home long before. Steve reminded himself
he had to do a better job of keeping an eye on little things like meal times
and low-pressure work. Danno was
providing important intelligence, yes, but it would defeat the purpose if he was driven into serious illness from overwork.
Again
came the little whisper of doubt that this was the
right course of action. But as long as Danno was here, literally in his sight, in
his grip, he felt like his friend’s protector.
That he could handle any problems -- bar medical ones -- because he was
overseeing this personally.
They
both shared the impression of being more centered at
the office. Here, Williams was
safest. Taking his big brother role
literally, Steve saw that Danno rested and, thanks to Jenny, got enough to
eat. Bergman would NOT approve, but
Bergman did not understand what Steve and Dan shared as a higher purpose. While Danno convalesced, he offered
information when he remembered -- and that was valuable to all of them,
including Williams. Their jobs were
their lives, and for Steve to prevent Dan from doing his job, would be too
painful for both of them now.
Steve
selfishly – acknowledging the thought in passing -- admitted to himself that HE
could concentrate better when Danno was in the office. When here, Williams was not threatened by
mysterious and lethal Chinese, and Steve was not so
haunted by the memories of the kidnappings and faked death.
Cruising
through the office, he was pleased that Pono and Keoni
instantly came to their feet.
“We’ll
use route three tonight, boys.”
“Yes,
sir,” Keoni snapped and took off to offer lead
support.
The
routes and times had been selected to make sure Wo Fat
detected a pattern. A
subtle one. Too easy and the old
pro would know it was a trap. But nothing too hard.
They had to bring this nasty game to a conclusion
soon.
The
trip to the condo was made without incident. The man at the door officially took over the
shift for Pono and Keoni. He also mentioned the neighbor had some kau
kau for the detectives whenever they came in.
“
“I’ll
go get it.” He was about to advise Dan
to relax, but Dan had already settled and closed his eyes.
Steve
refrained from commenting about shoes on the sofa and went next door to his
kind and culinary-skilled neighbor,
When
McGarrett returned he put the fresh sashimi and lau lau on the table and turned
to find Dan asleep. For a moment, he
just watched the officer, wondering if the price of catching Wo
Fat was worth this risk -- to Dan’s health as well as his life. To Steve’s life as he knew it. Confident he knew when to put down limits, he
decided, for now, they would continue to give this their best shot. If the risk escalated, though, he was pulling
Williams out and throwing him somewhere remote and safe -- like in a cell in
Maui PD. There would not be a repeat of
what he went through last week.
*****
The
next day at the office seemed to crawl by.
No progress was made with recovering more from
Dan’s memory. Chin’s Chinese phrases all
turned to mush inside his head. At least
Steve and Ben were out doing productive work.
They were out at
Trying
to feel a little useful, he went to his much-neglected office and attempted to
sign off some old case files. Soon he
realized he possessed no concentration, and returned to McGarrett’s office to
stare at the files they had amassed.
This
whole case was so frustrating. There
were lives are at stake. He didn’t know specifics, but anything Wo Fat was planning
would probably be deadly for somebody.
It was their job -- his job -- to remember the details. If only he could put it all together. The progress was so slow -- but it was
progress, he reminded, salvaging a little of his usual optimism. He was the key player here and had managed to
recall vital clues that had inched them forward. There was a deep need for him to contribute
to this -- to catch Wo Fat. By using him, Wo Fat
had damaged Steve and the only way to fix that was to catch the spy master.
He
heard the office door slam and he slowly moved to the side table to sit down
and hoped he made a credible appearance at productivity. A lot of his energy now was used up in
casting the illusion that he was feeling better than he really was --
concealing the vertigo and nausea and fatigue that
plagued him daily. The masquerade was
something he had to do as much as he had to work on the case. To keep further trauma from
weighing on Steve.
Chin
joined him, opening a paper bag filled with egg rolls. The Five-0 staff was going to put on pounds
at this point. They were catering to
him, plying him with plenty of food and they all seemed to love it a lot more
than he did.
“Got some new files from Interpol. Want to look at these?”
Jenny
came in with fresh cups of coffee.
Sipping
slowly, Dan stared at the files without really taking in their contents. With
all of the Five-0 detectives so distracted by recent events, the mundane tasks
had slipped by the wayside, even by the boss. McGarrett usually kept a pretty tight watch on the Interpol sweeps. Due to its
geographical situation,
Slowly,
what Dan’s eyes had scanned three times registered with his brain. Vladimir
Hayduk, the Russian terrorist was stopped while
attempting to board a flight to
Vladimir
Hayduk…Russian terrorist…
Dan
jumped, knocking over his coffee in the process, and was instantly sorry he’d made the sudden move. Pain from several pulled muscles
rocketed through his body. He grimaced and cried out. Chin and Jenny nearly
knocked their chairs over getting to him.
“What’s
wrong, Danny?”
Chin
wore the expression of a concerned father as he inspected his younger colleague
for further trauma. Jenny stood nearby and immediately began soaking up coffee
with a handful of nearby napkins. Oblivious to the mess he’d
made, he looked triumphant and panicked at the same time.
“Chin! Hai dook is a name! It’s Russian – the
creep was pronouncing it wrong!! It’s Hayduk – as in
Vladimir Hayduk!” Dan excitedly pushed the file in the Chinese detective’s
direction, grimacing again as his muscles objected.
McGarrett
and Kokua entered, immediately taking in the charged
atmosphere.
“What’s
going on?” Steve snapped out, concerned at the strained and messy appearance of
his youngest officer.
“Danny’s
come up with a good one,” Chin smiled.
Dan
repeated what he remembered.
“Russians, Chinese, how does it all fit?” Ben wondered.
Jenny
finished her clean up and paused near the door.
“I don’t know about this case, but if you don’t get Danny to rest he’s
not going to remember anything else.”
“I’m
fine,” Williams quickly returned before anyone had a chance to comment. “First Wo Fat, then
the second string of Chinese agents. Now Vladimir Hayduk.
How are they connected?”
Not
answering the rhetorical question, silently agreeing with the secretary’s
assessment, McGarrett levelly eyed his protégé while the others debated. It was time to call this quits, but he
allowed the talk session to continue briefly.
This was where they were at their best -- the four detectives putting
their minds together and solving puzzles from this room.
Ben chimed in, “We ALL need Chinese
lessons for this case!”
Chin chuckled. “Nee
hau ma?”
The Hawaiian detective responded with a
grin. “Yes, but I’ll take poi with mine, bruddah!”
Remaining focused on the subject,
McGarrett related the newest intelligence. “Let us tell you what we found out
at
“That confirms why these guys grabbed
Danny.”
McGarrett nodded. “Yeah – to find out
whether Wo Fat had their agent killed because he
discovered he had a leak.”
“Or because he was just tying up loose
ends from phase one.” Dan was back on the couch, where
he’d been spending a lot of time lately.
The
officer was fading -- no -- done in -- the coffee stain on the shirt spoke of
some kind of sloppy incident that underscored the shaky health. McGarrett reminded himself of his promise to
be mindful of Dan’s physical condition not just his protection and safety.
“I
think you better call it a day, Danno.”
Williams
instantly straightened. “I’m fine. Really. Besides, Wo Fat
expects me here until after supper --“
“And
we decided he is not controlling this game, remember?” McGarrett firmly
countered.
Steve
had arranged three routes that they take between the condo
and the Palace, and they varied those.
Dan was supposed to leave everyday around or just after dinnertime,
shifting the exact time every evening so it did not look like a pattern, but
was if observed close enough. Which
Steve was sure was what Wo Fat and maybe the other
Chinese -- Xin Hua -- were
doing. The most vulnerable spot for Dan
was en route to or from the Palace or at the condo. At his apartment there were police hidden
away within the building as well as outside.
The safest spot -- where Steve kept Williams most of the time -- too
much apparently -- was the Palace that was nearly barricaded
by the police.
“But
we want to catch him, Steve, and I’m fine.”
Kelly
called him over to take a call from Interpol regarding Hayduk. Lukela arrived to add to the manpower. Before he
picked up the phone, McGarrett ordered Kokua to head out as point man to the condo. Duke came over
and sat on the arm of the sofa. Williams
put his head back and closed his eyes.
“You
don’t have to keep this up, Danny,” Lukela whispered.
Dan
opened his eyes but did not bother to respond.
“You
know it’s okay, Danny, we know you’re not in the best
of shape. Those creeps left you
hurting. We’re
tough. We’ll get through this together. Steve can handle it if you need to take some
time off. Don’t kill yourself trying to
protect him.”
Visibly
relaxing, Dan surrendered a little smile.
“Mahalo.
But I’m okay.”
“Sure
you are.”
“I’m
fine,” he insisted with a glare.
Lukela
shook his head. “You keep up with this
you’re going to collapse. Then what is Steve going to do?”
A
loud curse and the slamming of the phone startled everyone in the room. Without using the intercom, or moving from
his desk, McGarrett yelled, “Jenny, what is the problem with the phone? That is the second time I’ve been cut off!”
“I
have a memo from maintenance,” she calmly reported from the doorway, not
lowering her standards to yell back at the boss. “Rats eating the phone lines. They are working on it.”
“Lean
on them!” he snapped back.
He
remembered the phone company technician that had been in the office off and on
for the past couple of days and now the phone company truck outside the Palace
when he pulled up. He had one of the HPD
officers checking on it, in fact. No
detail, no random or mundane element would be overlooked in this deadly
game. Danno’s life depended on their
speed in solving this investigation and the level of security they could throw
around him. Steve was not going to lose
this time.
He
leveled Williams with a stern glare. “Time for you to go home.”
Dan
sat up pretty straight, giving a good impression of normalcy. “I’m okay,” he gamely argued.
In
no mood for heroics, insubordination or arguments, McGarrett stepped over to
the sofa. “Home.”
To the others, he ordered, “Route two, as discussed this morning.”
Williams
slowly came to his feet. In a show of
support and emphasis of his point, McGarrett held onto his arm. “Chin is with you tonight. When you feel up to it you can learn more
Chinese.”
“You’re
just trying to put me to sleep,” Dan retorted.
McGarrett
stopped at the door to his office. It
was difficult to watch Williams leave without his personal protection. Even with the escort of a Five-0 detective
and three HPD officers. Even though the Palace grounds at this time of the evening was
packed with plainclothes and uniformed officers. Every few nights Steve would let someone else
be in charge -- just to change the pattern -- and he regretted it even as he
hoped this would be the night that something happened. That Wo Fat made his
move and this deadly chess game with his friend’s life in the balance would be
over.
He
crossed to the lanai doors and waited for the entourage to emerge on the old
stone steps in front. The phone truck was still there, blocking the Ewa corner. He would have them park somewhere else as
soon as Williams was away.
The
five men, Williams in the center, descended the steps. As they reached the asphalt parking area, a car
screeched around the corner. The quick
thinking HPD men grabbed Danny and threw him into the basement walkway
alongside the steps. When gunfire exploded
from the car, Lukela and Kelly were crouched on the ground and already
returning fire.
In
a unique position above it all, McGarrett quickly drew his revolver, aimed and
fired for the top of the driver’s side of the vehicle. The car lurched and cruised slowly into a
palm tree. McGarrett raced out of the
office, ordering Jenny to get more troops to the front. Running down the steps, Steve glanced toward
the car, assured that situation was under control with the number of officers
already there. His first priority was
Williams.
Jumping
down to the sub-level, he saw Pono and Keoni were helping Williams up.
“You
okay, Danno?”
“Yeah.”
“Let
me see,” he demanded, knowing his officer was not all right.
Clutching
onto his ribs, he leaned against the old building. McGarrett was worried, assessing new scrapes
and distressed at Williams’ pained expression and silent heroics. Maybe he should call Doc? Checking to make sure the area was clear,
Steve helped Williams out and steered him over to his car. That Dan was offering no more protests,
leaning heavily on him, and moans had escaped his pale lips, McGarrett knew the
saving of his life had been painful, possibly even costly. They were heading for the condo
right now.
“We
got him out of the way as soon as we could,” Pono assured, anxiously trailing
behind.
“You
did very well.”
Duke
stopped them before they reached the Mercury.
“We got a live guy that Chin is talking to. Maybe Danny could ID the guy?”
It
was asked of McGarrett, but Williams jumped in at the
question. “Is he talking?” He started
slowly walking toward the wrecked vehicle.
Holding
onto his arm, McGarrett accompanied him.
“Anyone else?”
“One other.
Driver’s dead, the other guy in the front seat is hurting.”
Stopping
at the side of the car, Steve did not interrupt the stream of Mandarin flowing
between Chin and the semi-coherent man.
In the flow of dialog, McGarrett heard Chin mention Wo
Fat and his pulse raced.
“Check
him for cyanide,” he ordered Duke. “One
of Wo Fat’s tricks with the hired help.”
Dan, unaware that he was leaning on McGarrett, focused on
the driver. His bony face was now streaked
with rivulets of blood from a severe gash on his forehead. A choppy memory
struggled to climb to the detective’s conscious. He recalled a series of
stinging slaps that made his nose bleed. The vision suddenly became so real
that he reached up and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He remembered
another hand reaching down into his pocket – he’d been
too weak to struggle as the hand pulled two errant dollar bills out and paused
only briefly before pocketing them.
“Show
me his hands,” Dan suddenly commanded shakily.
Chin
obliged and McGarrett led Williams closer to get a better look. He gasped
slightly as he recognized the man’s distinctive crooked fingers, with the nail
on his right pinky being a half inch long.
“He’s
one of the guys that grabbed me the second time!” Dan’s eyes were large as
errant, painful images flooded his mind.
Chin’s
eyes narrowed and he looked up at McGarrett and confirmed, “He’s Xin Hua all
right. I doubt he would’ve admitted it normally, but he’s pretty out of it
right now – needs a doc pretty bad.”
McGarrett eyed the man angrily and grit his teeth. While
McGarrett longed to stay and give this thug a vicious grilling, his priorities
were clear. As he guided a shaking Williams away and to the Mercury, he called
over his shoulder. “An ambulance is on the way. Stay with him, Chin.”
Once
in the car, he hesitated, wondering if he should head right over to the
hospital. Breathing slowly, as if just
sitting there hurt, Dan’s eyes were closed and his
face crunched from the massive aches that must be radiating throughout his
whole body.
“Anything
broken?” he quietly asked.
“No. Still in the same piece,” Dan tried to
smile. “I’ll be okay.” The silence was thick and Dan opened his eyes
to look at the boss without moving his head.
“Steve, it’s all right. Just some
bruises on bruises.”
“How’s
your head?”
“I’m
just pretending this was from a bad day at the Pipe.”
McGarrett
started the car and backed out, noting a squad car was following close
behind. “I’m taking you to Bergman.”
“No,”
Dan almost shouted, slowly sitting up.
“Steve, he’ll want you to wrap me away in a cocoon and lock me in a
box. We’ll
never find out about Wo Fat’s plan then.
I can’t help you if I’m not part of the case.”
McGarrett
started to shake his head.
“Steve,
he’s going to blow up something. Kill
people. We have to do everything we can
to stop him.”
Thoughts
pounding in his own brain, warring with cautions that shouted it was too dangerous for Williams to continue. Too risky here on the front
lines. But
this was how they unraveled mysteries, caught bad guys, and solved crimes.
At
the front gates of the Palace McGarrett stopped for traffic, pondering the
right choice for this dilemma. He turned
left when the lane was clear and cruised straight, not turning left at the
intersection to go to
Dan
audibly sighed and he sensed the officer relax. “Mahalo.”
Vowing
he would increase security everywhere and keep an eagle eye on the officer the
rest of the night, McGarrett snarled quietly, “You better not get any worse, or
Doc will have both our heads.”
*****
“Bumbling oafs!” Wo Fat chuckled. “The Xin Hua is no
match for McGarrett. If only they knew how their distractions are helping my
cause!”
*****
Before
the attempt on Williams’ life, it had been Chin that was on
the hook to stay with Dan, but now, to Steve’s secret relief, it made
more sense that the Chinese detective follow through with the prisoner. So it gave McGarrett a good excuse to have the duty with Dan
for a second consecutive night.
Before
Williams finished his dinner, he was dozing off in a big, comfortable easy
chair and McGarrett stealthily took his plate.
Deeply concerned with Dan’s condition, he evaluated that not finishing
the Ono Barbeque was an admission in itself of how much Dan was silently
hurting but refused to admit it. He recalled with an involuntary shiver how
Officer Pono had literally flung the much smaller detective down the steps
during the attempt on his life. Again, McGarrett considered calling in Bergman.
The
doorbell rang three times in quick succession.
The signal from the man at the door that it was an
ally coming. Cautious, McGarrett
stood on the side of the door, hand resting on his revolver.
“Yes.”
“Ben
here, Steve.”
McGarrett
unlocked the door and cautiously peered out, hand still within reach of his firearm
– just in case. The two men exchanged slight nods as the Hawaiian detective
entered the room.
Ben
updated his boss on the latest information from the captured agent. From the
injured man’s confused confession, Chin had managed to glean that they had been sent to kill Dan. The man rambled in a dialect,
with which Chin was not entirely familiar, but Chin believed he was saying that
the Xin Hua had another source within Wo Fat’s
organization that was in danger of being found out. Chin had been unable to get
the man to reveal much about the phase two plot except that it would be
happening very soon – in the next day or so maybe.
McGarrett
frowned and paced, snapping his fingers in concentration. “So, the Xin Hua put
the bag on Danno to try to find out what he knows about what Wo
Fat knows. When Danno won’t talk, they try to kill him
because they don’t want Wo Fat to be able to grab him AGAIN and make him spill
the beans about the Xin Hua plant. Which they have unwittingly told him about
– in his organization – just in case he doesn’t already know. Danno thwarts
them by escaping--” McGarrett paused and looked up at Ben with an almost proud
expression. “They tried to do him in too close to his own briar patch.”
Ben
frowned as he smiled. “His what?”
“The
ocean – even injured and confused, Danno did what came naturally to him, and
made it through the pounding surf to safety. The Xin Hua creep didn’t last more
than a few seconds after he fell into the water – clearly not his briar patch.”
“No
wonder Danny’s head is spinning!” Ben breathed as he looked in the direction of
the completely unconscious detective in the easy
chair.
McGarrett
walked over and gently dropped a blanket on his friend. Then he looked back at
Ben, who was always secretly amazed at the uncharacteristic gentle nurturing
that could come from his stern, frequently distant boss when it came to his
second-in-command.
McGarrett
continued emphatically. “Ah, Ben, the plot is more twisted than that! The Xin
Hua, having failed the first time, tried to kill Danno again this evening. Now
you KNOW that Wo Fat is watching this situation very closely and – IF he doesn’t already know – will
have to be wondering why the Xin Hua want Danno dead. That fat spy would LOVE
to get his hands on Danno again for more than one reason. Now HE wants to know
whether Danno revealed anything about his captivity to the Xin Hua. Remember that he may be concerned that Danno
understands Mandarin and overheard more than was intended for his ears. After
all, if Wo Fat had his way, Danno would have been dead by now anyway. Our
poison pawn is still poison. I strongly suspect that because there was some
uncertainty about what Danno was able to tell us, that Wo
Fat kept his phase two plan intact, but changed the target.”
The
breeze picked up and filled the drape behind the sleeping detective with a cool
ocean wind, and as Steve moved to close the sliding door, he added quietly, “We
know who – we know what – we know when – all we need now is where.”
*****
The
day began with good news from Duke. Customs logs revealed the arrival of a
George Malenkov, an importer employed by Zhu LIang
Imports. He declared a special shipment of Chinese Herbs and roots that would be sold wholesale to several restaurants in the
islands. The shipment had been opened and checked.
According to the customs agent whom Duke questioned, there was nothing remotely
suspicious about the boxes. He did remember, however, thinking that the roots
must be very dense, because they were so heavy. The declaration was memorable
to the agent only because the man was obviously not Asian. He had inquired in
passing about how he had come to work for the Chinese company, and the man
replied that his new wife was the owner’s daughter. The explanation seemed
reasonable, and so the packages and the man were cleared
for entry.
Duke
reported excitedly that the agent positively identified a photo of Vladimir
Hayduk as George Malenkov. There it was – the Russian patsy, who would do Wo Fat’s bidding and then take the fall for it, had made his
way into the country through a company that was clearly in Wo Fat’s pocket!
With
information, albeit sketchy, that Wo Fat’s phase two
would culminate within the next day or so, McGarrett felt forced to allow
Williams to return to the Palace. Williams had proved, as usual – even in his
less-than-healthy state, to be invaluable – probably crucial – to the
investigation. Well, allowed was too
strong of a verb. Williams showed up in
the late morning with his bodyguards in tow and persuasively pointed out that
their plan had no chance of succeeding unless he stuck his neck out so Wo Fat could try and nab him.
Aggravated
that they had captured the second string Xin Hua bad guys,
Steve was eager for their ploy to proceed, but now strongly suspected that Wo
Fat had somehow mitigated the risk Williams posed to him by doing something –
the question was what . . . .
The
head of Five-0 made the rules surrounding the care and protection of his
second-in-command known to everyone in the office. He was to take it easy, no
field trips and stay right in the office until it was time to go home. Under heavy guard.
“Jenny!
The phone line is dead again!” McGarrett shouted as he slammed the dead phone
back onto its cradle for the fourth or fifth time that day.
The
secretary calmly opened the door and pointed behind her. “The phone technician
is working on it right now.” McGarrett could see the back of the phone company
worker as he hunched over what appeared to be a box of tools almost under
Jenny’s desk. The man glanced over his shoulder and nervously eyed the
impatient man who obviously ran the show around this office.
McGarrett
focused on the technician. “I need an estimate – an accurate one – as to when
you will have this problem fixed!”
The
man almost looked frightened. He stood quickly, collected a couple of his tools
from the nearby desktop. “Soon, sir, very soon. I have
to go to my truck, but I’ll be right back.” Before his angry customer could
vent any further on him, he rushed out the door.
Jenny
watched as the door closed behind the man, and then she turned to her boss and
berated him. “Now if you don’t stop shouting, you’re going to scare that phone
technician off for good!”
Recognizing
his impatience, but still indignant over the thought that rats were causing
such an inconvenience to him, he continued to misdirect his ire. “Well, find
out what ‘soon’ means to that guy when he gets back!”
“I
already did! He promised he’d have everything back together within the hour!”
She spoke to him with her hands on her hips and eye brows
raised.
Recognizing
the situation as beyond his control and impatient to get back to his detectives
in the field, he switched to the police radio in a direct link to Kokua and
Lukela.
“I
read you fine now, Ben. Go ahead.”
“We
were able to track down Hayduk – alias George Malenkov – through the taxi he
took from the airport, Steve and we’re at the Palm Tree Motel checking it
out. That’s a little place off of Ala
Moana.”
“Okay. Is he there?”
“Desk
clerk says he’s registered here, but left a few hours ago. Do you want us to take a look at the room?”
“I’m
coming over with a warrant as soon as I can get one,” McGarrett snapped back,
excitement coursing through his nerves.
At last, a break – maybe a solid one.
“Keep an eye on the place. If
Hayduk shows, don’t nab him. Wait for me.
Got that?”
“Got it.”
McGarrett
switched off the mic and shouldered into his coat, noting Williams was slowly
coming to his feet.
“You’re
not coming.”
“I
could –“
“You’ll
rest better and be more productive here helping Chin.” Steve slowed only enough to pause at his
friend’s side. “With a little luck this
could be over soon. I’ll be in touch.”
Disappointed,
Williams nodded and McGarrett rushed out, ordering Jenny to call Manicote’s
office and get a search warrant started.
Racing out, he felt the thrill of the chase and the possible end of the
dangerous game. Wo Fat’s main mercenary
in their possession! This could be the beginning of the end of his enemy.
*****
The
little motel was on as small side street, down the block from the Ala Wai canal
where it snaked it’s way under
Steve
parked his car around the corner, and cautiously joined Ben in his vehicle. The
two men didn’t say much as they watched the street and
the door to Hayduk’s room. Stakeouts with the boss were never particularly
pleasant for any of the detectives, especially Ben, who did not know the man as
well as his colleagues.
Fortunately,
they did not have to wait long. Less than one hour after McGarrett arrived on
the scene, a car pulled into the motel’s small parking lot. They did not have a
clear view of the man because he parked behind an overgrown hyacinth bush. They
could see the man’s head as he stepped to the door, paused for a moment, and
then entered the room.
As
soon as the door to the room shut, Steve and Ben jumped out of the car and
trotted to the room. Weapons drawn, they stood on either side of the door as
McGarrett knocked.
“Hayduk!
Open up!
The
door suddenly exploded out, the walls reverberating. The policemen were
knocked to the ground. It took them
several moments to get to their feet.
Shaken, ears ringing, Steve looked to be sure that Ben was all right,
and then he shouted to a stunned passerby to call for an ambulance and a fire
crew. Both men carefully stepped a few feet into the room.
Fires
smoldered in a few spots in the room, but the blast seemed localized near a
small desk. The devastated body of someone was slumped at a chair near the
desk. Ben moved quickly and began to tamp out the small fires with his foot as
his boss was already completely focused on the
evidence of crime.
With
growing alarm, it came to him. As he
stared at the grisly evidence he knew. Wo Fat had just
murdered his mercenary bomber. That meant that Hayduk had completed his mission
– the bomb or bombs were in place. The fall guy was dead, and the evidence
here, McGarrett knew, would indicate that Hayduk had inadvertently blown
himself up after planting bombs ordered by the Soviet Government!
The
head of Five-0, in an act his second-in-command called McGarrett clairvoyance,
knew that Wo Fat did not hire mercenaries that were
anything less than completely efficient.
Hayduk was a pro. He would not make a mistake like this. Wo Fat had left no one behind to betray
him.
McGarrett
could feel a panic welling up inside him as he knew it wasn’t
just the clock that was ticking somewhere in
A
box on the floor had been protected from the brunt of
the blast by the bed. He stepped closer and peered in. Numerous tools – needle
nose pliers, a small hammer, wire cutters, tweezers were loose in the bottom,
but the item that caught Steve’s eye was a hard hat with the phone company logo
stamped on the front.
Phone company.
Phone truck!
The Palace!
*****
Dozing
on the sofa, a noise awoke Williams. He watched with drowsy curiosity as Jenny
tried to dial out on Steve’s phone. She hung up with frustration.
“What’s
up?”
“Danny.
Sorry. The repairman left and the phones still aren’t working.”
Noting
with only mild embarrassment that Jenny had covered him with an Afghan blanket
she had crocheted, he rubbed his face to instill some circulation and wake up.
Williams went through some simple checklists in his head.
“Where’s
Chin?”
“He’s
down at the lab.”
“My watchdogs?”
“Officers
Pono and Keoni are in the outside hallway.”
“Steve?”
“Hasn’t checked in yet.”
“I
shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”
“You
shouldn’t even be here,” she sternly reminded.
“I’m
still on the payroll,” he weakly argued.
Coffee.
He needed a solid shot of caffeine to get him going again. He walked out to the main office and poured a
cup of coffee, spilling a little on the table.
Irritated he was not very steady yet, he leaned against the desk. While sipping the hot, strong brew, he
watched Jenny trying to pull a sturdy wood-slat box out from under her desk,
where it had been resting, in the way of only the secretary.
“They
didn’t even take all their tools!” she complained.
When
she was unsuccessful pulling it, she tried to give it a shove with her foot,
but it was too heavy to move easily.
Without thinking, Dan started to reach down and grab it, but a wave of
lightheadedness swept over him with his too-sudden movement. She scolded him for the chivalrous, but
foolhardy action when his ribs were damaged and he was
still shaky.
Jenny
moved to help steady him and then reassured him as he leaned against her desk,
annoyed and frustrated with his condition. As she tugged the lid off the box,
she gave a determined grimace.
“Not
to worry – I’m going to see if there’s a name in here and report him to his
supervisor. He promised the phones were
fixed!” Her frown deepened as she lifted
the strange contraption and stood upright again. “What on earth?”
Dan’s
heart skipped a couple beats, yet he had the presence of mind to move gently,
but quickly to place his hands on the device just below the secretary’s.
“Honey,
do not move a muscle.”
The
detective’s voice wavered only slightly as he whispered the command. She did
her level best to follow his deadly serious instruction, but her brow furled in
fright, and her hands began to shake.
“Oh, Danny!”
He
gave himself a few seconds to re-stabilize himself before he spoke. “It’s okay.
I want you to very slowly lift your fingers and then move your hands back –
I’ve got it.”
She threw a quick glance up at him before she licked her lips and
slowly followed his instructions. While she was doing that, Dan took a few moments to focus on what he could see
without disturbing his own equilibrium or the bomb’s. Two glass plumb bubbles
were clearly visible nestled into the side of the device one that would detect
side-to-side motion and one for back-and-forth movement. He tensed slightly as
he saw that the both bubbles had traveled almost completely out of their cross-hairs! Williams, a demolitions specialist by training,
knew that the plumb bubbles were being used as an
anti-tamper mechanism – at the point either bubble left its level position, the
bomb would explode.
Jenny
slowly let out a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m done”
“Good
girl. Now I need you to tell me something. There are wires leading from this
thing back down to the box. There’s probably something that looks like modeling
clay still down there, and the wires run right into it.”
She
carefully stepped back and tipped her head to examine the bomb from her
side. Nodding, she looked back up at
him. “Yes—uh, yes. It’s gray.”
The
detective bit his lip for a second before he could bring himself to ask the
next question. “How much clay is in the box? I mean, has the box got an inch or
two stuck to the bottom of it?”
Jenny
frowned again as she bent over slightly to get a better look. She stood up
again after several very long seconds. “There’s much more than an inch or two
in the bottom of the box. I would say
the box is more than half full.”
A
chill slipped down Dan’s spine as he mumbled. “Twenty five pounds of C4 – no
wonder it’s so heavy.” He allowed himself only the briefest hesitation before
he spoke again to Jenny. “And how many wires are there?”
She
diligently bent down again. “Well, let’s see.” That fact that the woman could
not immediately tell did not bode well, Williams knew.
“Jenny,
never mind. If there are more than four, then it has tamper decoys.”
She
righted herself quickly and furled her brow as their eyes met. “There look to
be nine or ten.”
“Get
out,” he quietly ordered.
“Danny,
set it down and come with me!” She cried, even as she whispered.
“I
can’t set it down – it has a hair-trigger motion sensor that’s already a little
too out of plumb.” And clearly, he couldn’t walk with
the bomb – he was on a leash -- the length of the wires which ran into in the
explosive-filled box.
“Get
out!” he demanded sternly. “Pull the fire alarm and get Pono and Keoni to help you! Tell them to get the whole building
cleared and call the bomb squad. Tell
them we have a motion-sensitive bomb and it’s live.
Go!”
Teary,
but resolved to fulfill her mission, she backed away from the detective until
she was certain she could turn and run without disturbing Williams in his
precarious situation. And then she rushed out the
door, careful not to slam it on her way out.
The last thing Danny needed was to hear a loud noise.
*****
“Ben!
The target is the Palace!” McGarrett’s sudden shout almost made the detective
jump out of his skin.
Racing
from the room it all fell into place in Steve’s mind as he ran to his car. Frame the Russians for a strike against an
important symbol -- the only royal palace on
Reaching
the car, he breathlessly called for an emergency patch to his office. There was no answer. The lines down. Was he too late? Had it already happened? He ordered a bomb squad and emergency units,
then jumped in the car and sped away. He
called dispatch to link him to a squad car of someone at the Palace. It was a
long time and he was screaming through the signal at
*****
Within
a minute, Dan could hear the bells of the fire alarm sounding in the outer
hallway. Grateful there were no such alarms in the Five-0 office to further
aggravate the pounding in his head, he concentrated on relaxing his breathing
and steadying his hands. Dan had lied to Jenny – he knew he could probably have
moved carefully enough to avoid further upsetting the plumb bubbles. He told
her to get the bomb squad up here – but HE was a bomb guy.
This was HIS specialty – one at which he was pretty good.
To have fled the building with his secretary would
have been something he could not do. Besides, it was best that Jenny was away
safely before he tried anything. He might be able to figure out enough about
this device to help the bomb squad deactivate it before it took out this side
of the building.
He
did his best to mentally center himself and will the delicateness he felt to
the back of his mind – he focused completely on the device in his hands. The
two-way plumb bubble, Dan admitted with a grudging admiration, was very well done. It made him wonder though whether
Hayduk’s plan called for some innocent soul to set off the explosion by
jostling the box a little too much OR whether the elegant anti-tamper mechanism
was just a backup for the intended primary trigger. Somehow, he could not
picture Wo Fat leaving the timing of the detonation to
chance. That meant that the device either had a timer or a remote control
receiver contained somewhere within it.
Taking
in a slow steady breath and holding it, the detective lowered his whole body by
bending his knees. His target resting spot was not the desk, but Jenny’s chair
with the wheels. That way, he would be able to sit on the floor to examine it.
His damaged ribcage had begun to cause waves of first pressure-like discomfort,
and then sharp pain as he sank to the floor. His left wrist, still bandaged
from the rope abrasion and mild sprain, began to throb as the pain worked its
way up his arm. Controlling the speed of his descent was too important though
to let pain get in the way, and so he continued, not breathing as he progressed
smoothly downward until his forearms were resting on the chair with the device.
Releasing
the breath he’d held for almost a minute, he cried out
in agony as his knees touched the floor and began to support his weight. The
wounds from his adventure on the craggy shoreline with the Xin Hua had caused
gashes, scrapes, and deep bruising all along his shins
and knees. He’d almost forgotten about those injuries because his ohana had
coddled him so much that he’d barely had the need to bend his knees, much less
crawl. He leaned his head for a full half minute on the desk before he could
push the pain behind the wall of self-control where he knew it had to remain if
he were to concentrate on the workings of the bomb.
Finally,
he moved his hands away and used his right hand to reposition himself to sit
flat on the floor. His face was damp and before he focused on the device, which
rested on the seat not twelve inches from his face, he wiped his face with his
right forearm. He expected the pain that came from his injured shoulder that
time and so it did not give him pause.
*****
So
caught up in the workings of the bomb was he that Williams did not hear the
door to the outer office creak open. It had been almost ten minutes since Jenny
had scurried out the door and found Dan’s two body guards just outside. They
hesitated about leaving the building without their charge, but the urgency of
Dan’s command came through clearly in Jenny’s voice, so they rushed off to get
the evacuation under way and call for backup.
“Danny?”
Chin
peered past the ajar door to assess the situation
before he stepped in to the office. He could not see the detective upon first
glance, but Jenny, as terrified as she had been, was able to accurately report
the situation – what had transpired and what Five-0’s second-in-command had
told her. So he focused on the area near the
secretary’s desk. The Chinese detective had been returning from the lab when he
saw the commotion in front of the Palace. Immediately alarmed when he saw Pono
and Keoni, along with several other officers
cordoning off the area, he had rushed up to learn from them that Williams was
still in the office – apparently connected to a large explosive device. It took
the detective another two minutes to get the details from Jenny, who’d bolted from the squad where she’d been hastily stuffed
by Keoni when she caught sight of Chin.
“Chin.”
The Chinese detective followed the beacon of Williams’ quiet voice to Jenny’s
desk.
Dan
did not look up -- the fingers of his right hand were manipulating something
within the mechanism on the chair in front of him. “Is the place completely evacuated?” Dan
asked.
“Yeah
– what do you need?”
Chin
knew the second-in-command well enough to realize that it was pointless to
waste time arguing with him about the wisdom of attempting to do what he was
doing. Besides, Danny was well-schooled in bomb
technology – He might well be the best person on the islands for this job – if
only he weren’t in such weakened physical condition.
“Chin,
that phone guy—” Dan started. “The last time I remember seeing him, he left in
quite a hurry. Did he come back after that?” He looked up slowly into his
colleague’s eyes to confess. “I – uh, wasn’t paying much attention.”
A
smile flickered across the older detective’s face as he squatted near the desk
and frowned. “I don’t remember seeing him after that either.”
“Well,
he was fixing more than the phones. I think Steve might’ve scared him off
before he was done.” Williams smiled, but tension was the predominant emotion
visible on his face as he continued. “I think he was trying to get the
anti-tamper mechanism rigged, but decided that he’d rather escape and take his
chances that nobody would discover it before the primary trigger caused it to
go off.”
“What’s
the primary trigger? A timer?”
“I
don’t think it’s a timer.”
“That
means that somebody’s got to be outside somewhere ready to push a button.”
“Chin—”
Dan locked his gaze on his colleague. “Think of your family – get out now,
bruddah.” The younger man lightened the warning with a slight grin, doing his
best to sound confident. “I’ll be okay.”
The
Chinese detective truly appreciated the depth of concern his friend had for him
and the welfare of his family. Thoughts of the days recently passed though, the
heart-rending memories when everyone thought the second-in-command was dead,
slipped into his mind, renewing the pain that seemed slow to dull. It suddenly
seemed so unfair that they were but a push of a button so near tragedy again.
“Danny,
this old building isn’t worth anybody’s life.” Chin urgently pressed.
“You’re
right, Chin, and that includes the lives of the bomb squad guys who’re gonna
have to come in here if I give up. Now go – and make sure everybody’s out. I
think I can disarm it in about two seconds if I’m right about how this is thing
is set up.”
“And
if you’re wrong?”
“I’d
rather go trying to help than how I almost went a few days ago. Now hurry and
get out! I’m gonna wait two minutes before I start tugging this thing apart!”
Dan’s voice became more firm as he took on the mantle of command – there was no
time left for arguments.
Chin
understood, and nodded. With a gentle squeeze on his friend’s shoulder, he
trotted out, leaving a very scared, un-mended Dan Williams to do what he had to
do.
*****
McGarrett
nearly stood his LTD on its nose stopping as close to the Palace as he could
drive without smashing through the line of squad cars that blocked the approach
to the building. Only through years of experience could he see the organized
effort that was transpiring amidst the chaos. People were
being pushed back further into the park so that fire equipment could
move in. The Palace itself looked to be undamaged – so far.
A
quick scan of the people in the immediate area and he did not see Williams. His
anxiety escalated.
This was a conversation that Chin Ho Kelly did NOT want to
have with Steve McGarrett. He knew that as soon as his boss found
out that Williams was still inside, he would rush headlong into the building
after him. The intensity of the man’s expression was almost frightening even to
the seasoned detective who’d worked for him for many
years. There was no choice, but to plunge ahead as quickly as possible with the
story.
“Steve,
they found a bomb – a pretty big one – in the office.” Chin did not have to say
more before he was interrupted.
“Where’s
Danno?” McGarrett demanded. He already knew where he would find his resident
bomb expert – certainly not outside milling around – no matter how weak his
condition! The Chinese detective’s pained expression confirmed it. “NO!! Danno!” He started to move
around Kelly, who grabbed him forcefully.
“Steve!
Listen to me! Danny thinks he knows how to deactivate it! He’s getting ready to
try it right now!”
“Let
go of me!”
His
tone was vicious. Terror engulfed him as he realized that his second-in-command
was getting ready to play Russian roulette with the bomb. He roughly pushed
away from the man clinging to him, and Chin did not give chase. When the HPD
officers with them moved to prevent the obviously distraught head of Five-0
from heading into the now off-limits building, Chin waved them back.
“Let
him go.”
Kelly
knew before he tried to stop his boss how it would turn out. He had seen the face wash of color and the
terror that filled his eyes. Nothing was
going to stop McGarrett. Not if Danny
was in danger. And
not after what Steve lost, regained, and might lose again.
*****
“Stubborn…pupule...”
The
words slipped through clenched teeth as abject dread drove McGarrett into the
building at a full sprint. He leaped up the Koa wood staircase, taking the
steps by three’s. To have Danno be so cruelly ripped
from him after the indescribable emotional lows and highs of the week would
just be too much. He made it to the outer doorway of the Five-0 suite as fast
as he’d ever covered any ground in his adult life. He
stopped quickly at the door, which was ajar. He pushed it open gently, taking great care to not startle the Palace’s only
other occupant. At least there had been no explosions . . . .
“Danno.’ McGarrett spoke softly as he entered
and approached Jenny’s desk.
Dan
did not look up. He sighed and closed his eyes. Somehow, he knew his friend
would choose to endanger himself to join him – and that nothing anyone said or
did would stop him. Dan’s only hope had been that this would be over before he
arrived.
“Steve,
go away -- please. I’m almost done.”
Williams
looked exhausted. McGarrett squatted
slowly next to his detective, who’d apparently managed
to dismantle enough of the explosive device to be able to see the inner
workings of it.
“I’m
not going anywhere without you.” The tone was firm and final.
“You
are pupule! This thing could blow us to kingdom come any second!” Dan looked up
at the man, his eyes pleading.
There
was no time for debate, but there had to be enough time for a brief explanation
that he hoped would end the argument.
There was no option for either of them, it seemed, but Danno had to know
why before he made the next crucial step for both their fates.
The
two men, there together on the floor, did not break eye contact. Dan could only
imagine… put himself in his friend’s shoes… but he understood. A tear escaped
and rolled down his cheek. “God help me, I don’t want you to . . . .”
Steve’s
lip quivered as he nodded and replied with determination. “Then if we don’t
disarm this thing, we buy the farm together.”
Williams
nodded. It was better to die together than to survive alone? Steve uttering such a comment was
numbing. It was an emotional theory of
one for all and all for one that he could not think about now. All he knew was that it was more important
than ever that he succeed with this so they could ponder the philosophical complexities
in the future.
With
one last meaningful visual confirmation of their agreement, the two men looked
back down into the guts of the deadly device.
With
a slow, deep breath, McGarrett focused. “So what’s the deal?”
Dan
studied the bomb and, despite the incongruous tear still on his cheek,
responded with a clinical composure. “The primary trigger is a remote control
somewhere outside the Palace.” Dan pointed delicately as he spoke. “This
assembly here is the remote control receiver – it’s a pretty powerful one too –
makes up most of the weight of this thing.”
Steve
spoke slowly as he absorbed the information. “So, whoever plans to detonate
this thing can be pretty far away.”
“Pretty far as in a thousand feet.”
Dan
continued. “Hayduk checked the range by testing it with this little penlight
here. To get a bead on the maximum range, somebody had to be here in the office
with a partner on the outside, pushing the button every ten feet or so. Each
time the button is pressed, the light goes on. That’s the only reason this
light’s here at all.”
Wo
Fat? The mastermind could be only yards
away from them right now. There was a
flash of a thought that Steve could run outside and possibly even find him. Then what? Wo Fat would not hesitate to
instantly trigger the bomb if he felt threatened. Should he alert his officers on the
grounds? Then he would have to leave
here. The superstition overwhelmed him
in that moment. He was too afraid to
leave. Abandoning Danno might be the
unlucky stroke that ended in doom for all of them. As long as he sat here in silent support, he
believed they would get out of this alive.
Both of them.
Steve
was momentarily startled by his friend’s sudden groan.
Instantly concerned, he gently grabbed the detective’s shoulders. “Danno? You all right?”
“Yeah,”
Williams responded shakily. “I – I’m okay. Just a little
dizzy.” He swallowed and left the subject of his health behind. “I think
all I need to do to put the kibosh on this thing is to clip these two wires --
or these two wires . . . .”
Nonplussed,
McGarrett looked briefly at his second-in-command, and then sighed. “Okay then,
which pair is it?”
Dan
responded by moving the wire cutters to the pair of wires on the left. “I’m
betting it’s this pair – I can tell he connected them after this pair by how
the wires are overlapping.”
Steve
gave Dan’s shoulder a slight squeeze of encouragement. “Good logic.”
The
wire cutters kissed the wires as Dan squeezed them closed. The wires both snapped and Dan fell backward
against his boss. Releasing nervous tension, Dan laughed and moaned. McGarrett breathed out a heavy sigh.
Both
men gasped as the little pen bulb suddenly lit up! They both sat there as the
bulb glowed for a few seconds and then stopped, and then lit up again a few
seconds later. This time when it turned off, it did not come back on. The head
of Five-0 released the air he’d been holding and
dropped unceremoniously to the floor to sit immediately behind Dan.
“I
think somebody just tried to blow us up, Danno.” McGarrett’s eyes narrowed and
he looked distant for a few seconds before he smiled at his second-in-command who’d managed to turn enough to look his boss in the eye.
“There
is nothing so exhilarating as to be fired at without result.” Dan breathed and
smiled, settling, exhausted, against McGarrett.
The
man wrapped his arm around his friend’s chest, and holding him, nodded.
“Winston Churchill – he was right.”
*****
Dan
could not contain the cry as his friend tried as gently as he could to help him
to his feet. They’d sat there on the floor for only a
minute before agreeing that they’d better get the bomb squad into the office to
begin the removal of the dangerous C4 clay explosive, which packed the box
still under the desk.
Once
they were both standing, McGarrett held Dan up with his left arm and leaned
slightly to pick up Jenny’s phone receiver – still no dial tone. He wondered
idly what Hayduk had done to disable the phones, but didn’t
waste too much time. He needed to get his detective out of here. Where Dan had
found the reserves he needed to do what he did today Steve did not know, but
they were clearly dwindling as much of his weight was now on his boss’s arm.
Williams, his head resting on McGarrett’s chest, had his arms close in to his
body now, clutching his rib cage.
“Danno,
let’s get you outta here.” McGarrett was talking more to himself than the man
he was supporting.
“Uhh, yeah.” Williams was concentrating now on not
fainting. He thought he might’ve pushed one of his
cracked ribs out of alignment – the pain was worse now than when Bergman had
first checked him out at the hospital. Vertigo and exhaustion though were his
worst enemies. The memory of Duke’s admonition that he should confess his
weakness to his boss hovered in his thoughts for a moment. He let go of his
ribs and clutched McGarrett’s sleeve as they started out of the office.
“Steve?” He looked up into the concerned eyes, which pierced him in
examination.
“Yeah, Danno? You doin’ okay?”
“I
uh… I think I might need to take a few days off.”
The
drained, fretful look on the face of his second-in-command made a new wave of
guilt bubble over Steve as he felt that he’d done a
less-than-stellar job of making sure Williams was able to recuperate. While he
had not exactly dragged him into the office – Danno was after all incredibly
determined to do his part to help on this case with no outside encouragement --
he had not been his usual, forceful self on this issue. He recognized that it
was because he himself felt better with his detective safe (Hah!) in the
office. That his friend seemed oblivious to this, that he was distressed
because he recognized that he was on the brink of physical collapse not because
he blamed anyone else, but because he could do no more to help, was a testament
to his tolerant and unassuming character. The head of Five-0 knew he was so
very fortunate to have a friend that could overlook his flaws.
To
Steve McGarrett’s great relief, he would have a chance to make amends on all
fronts, and swore to himself that he would not let this opportunity fall on the
wayside. Grinning, he responded. “Only a few days?
Don’t worry, aikane – you’ll get as much time as you
need.”
Despite
Dan’s condition, it only took the two men a couple minutes to make it outside,
where Chin and Ben rushed up to help transport their second-in-command to
McGarrett’s car as the head of Five-0 barked instructions at the waiting bomb
squad. He paused for a moment to scan the crowd of onlookers in the distance.
Somewhere, not more than a thousand feet from where he stood, Wo Fat or one of his minions had attempted to bring the
Palace roof down on his office. Wo Fat, he would bet. The spy would want to personally push the
button and destroy McGarrett. Fulfilling
the threat that Wo Fat had leveled in that phone
call. But the
villain failed to destroy McGarrett or his center today. Satisfied though that he’d
played out the deadly game and come out on top, he didn’t feel any particular
frustration that the Chinese spy would probably be able to escape his purview
once again.
He
trotted to catch up with his men as he noted they had already managed to get
Williams situated in his car.
“Chin,
as soon as the building is clear, make sure you get
the real phone company over here! Ben, find Pono and Keoni
and tell them to get over to the condo!” McGarrett spoke across the roof of his
vehicle.
Chin
nodded. “Right, boss!”
Kokua grinned,
“Right!” He gave Dan, who was already slouched in the passenger seat of Steve’s
car, a gentle muss of his hair. Williams didn’t open
his eyes, but gave his nose a slight wrinkle in acknowledgement of the
farewell.
*****
He
prided himself on what many people called an almost supernatural intuition – it
had kept him alive where most men would have fallen prey to their enemies. On
this day, he did not listen to the little voice deep within him when it warned
him that something had gone awry. He could have instructed that fool Hayduk to
equip the bomb with a timing device instead of a manual remotely controlled
receiver. That, however, would not have given him the flexibility he needed in
an operation against an adversary as admittedly worthy as Steve McGarrett. It
was a simple, elegant plan. Under normal circumstances, he might have relegated
the task to a trusted subordinate, but this time was special. McGarrett had
already thrown a wrench into his brilliantly-conceived,
two-phase operation, and he’d made it personal in the process. The failure
would have repercussions at the highest levels in
He
wanted to be the one to push the button – to destroy the offices and people of
His
man, Win Lo, had been unable to contact him immediately after the trap had been planted in Hayduk’s room. When he did finally call,
he warned that he was being followed. That meant that
McGarrett had been able to discern who Hayduk was a little sooner than he
had planned, but the news offered no reason to change the plan. After all,
Vladimir Hayduk was renowned for his ability to devise impenetrable,
anti-tamper systems. This meant that because he, Wo
Fat, had the foresight to insist on a manual detonator, the fact that he would
be a little late to the Palace was of no consequence. Win Lo agreed he would
call Wo Fat at the pre-arranged phone booth not far from the Iolani Palace
again in exactly one hour.
Another
sign that something was amiss presented itself to him as he arrived at the
Palace. The building had been evacuated!! It was clear
that the bomb had been discovered! Hayduk may have
been an expert in demolitions, but he was not very good at hide-and-seek. For
that reason alone, he deserved to die.
Luck
had not been with him concerning the presence of his enemy on the scene either.
He could see McGarrett’s car parked near the police blockade, and he knew it
was likely that the man was inside his office attempting to direct the
deactivation of the device. Of course, they would not be able to get around
Hayduk’s brilliant anti-tamper mechanism before it was too late. No matter – it
would’ve been nice to have had the opportunity – not
to gloat, but to point out to McGarrett that the game had ultimately gone to
him – Wo Fat. No matter though – in the end, dead is dead.
The
remote control fit perfectly into the palm of his hand and he had the perfect
vantage point amongst the throng of people – well within the active range of
the remote control. He savored the moment as he pushed the button.
Checkmate!......Nothing happened! Perhaps a slight change
of position. He walked few yards closer and pushed the button again. Checkmate!... Nothing again! Hayduk failed! If he weren’t
already dead, he would’ve killed him!
Wo
Fat stood there for a few minutes and watched until he saw McGarrett bring a
nearly limp Williams from the building. McGarrett! He did it
again! He was too angry now to concede defeat. He let the remote control
drop to the ground as he saw the bomb squad trot up the stone steps and into
the building. With his foot, he crushed the device as his lip quivered with a
feeling that he rarely felt.
It
was almost time to go to the phone booth to receive Win Lo’s call. Perhaps
there would be one more chance to turn the tables and topple his opponent’s
king. There was only one thing he could think of that might provide adequate
bait to lure the head of Five-0 into a trap – himself. He slipped off quickly and
was almost immediately swallowed by the crowd of
curious onlookers. There would be no explosion here today, but he knew he
needed to take one last stab at the heart of Steve McGarrett before he left
these islands, possibly to never return.
*****
McGarrett
glanced at his passenger and noted that he didn’t stir
when the radio crackled to life with a patch from Duke. Uncharacteristically, the head of Five-0 had
not given a thought to the fact that, when last he’d
heard from Lukela, he’d been tailing the two men – Wo Fat’s henchmen – who’d no
doubt planted the evidence in Hayduk’s room that would implicate the Soviet
government. Not to
mention the booby trap that ultimately killed the terrorist in a fitting twist
of fate.
After
being reassured that everyone and everything was okay at the Palace, Duke
relayed that he’d been able to stick with the two men.
They’d stopped at a pay phone twice before they drove
to a large warehouse at the
“Somebody
else just got out of a taxi and went into the same building. Steve, it’s Wo Fat or his twin!” The excitement in the HPD
sergeant’s voice would only be apparent to one who knew him and his low-key
manner.
Re-energized
at the news, McGarrett immediately turned his car around in the middle of the
street and headed towards the waterfront as he spoke. Wo
Fat. There was still a chance to catch
him! The master spy had slipped up with
his complex plotting, and now was on the run.
And Steve saw this as his golden opportunity --
his last move to close in and turn this game from another frustrating
stalemate, to a checkmate from his side.
“When did he arrive, Duke?”
“About
four minutes ago.”
“In a taxi?”
“Yeah,
I got the cab number when it left. The dispatcher says the cabbie picked up one
fat Asian guy at the intersection of Punch Bowl and
Queen Streets. They made one stop at Zhu Liang Imports on
“Stay
there, Duke! Get a hold of Ben and have him join us – and call for HPD backup –
silent approach! I’m on my way! McGarrett
out!” As he slipped the radio receiver back onto its hook on the dash,
he did a double-take and cursed to himself. Danno! His friend had not reacted to the animated exchange
and continued to sleep. He reached over
and gently squeezed his arm. “Danno? Are you with me?”
“Hmmm,”
came the soft groan. The detective did not move except
to pull his arm a little closer to him.
If that didn’t wake him up, nothing will, McGarrett
considered.
He
decided that he would leave his detective locked in the car while he quickly
checked on the possibility that he could actually get his hands on the evil
fiend that had put him and his ohana through such torment. It seemed amazing to him that Wo Fat would be so careless.
McGarrett
spotted four HPD cruisers strategically positioned one block over as he pulled
up behind Duke’s vehicle. Ben, already on the scene with six uniformed
officers, stood nearby with Lukela. He took one last look at his napping – no –
dead to the world – passenger. He locked the car doors and motioned for Lukela
to come with him.
*****
The
sound of a wave smashing against the rocks woke him… Wait… It wasn’t a wave. Dan Williams was sitting in a car. He didn’t lift his head right away… so tired. The noise though
– he replayed it and realized it had been the car door shutting. Steve was
taking him… not home… He was sitting in Steve’s car in front of one of the dock
warehouses.
“What the?” Dan said out loud.
It
was painful, but he pulled himself to an upright position, and cleared his
throat. Collecting the radio mic, the detective called the dispatcher and
learned that McGarrett and a team were now at the scene of one of the bombing
suspects. If he could only clear the fog from his thoughts.
Something was wrong. The last thing he remembered was Ben helping him into the
car. They’d managed to deactivate the bomb and save
the Palace – with no good guys lost in the process. Score another one for the guys in the white hats. Or perhaps
he should say no checkmate. The only thing that might have stuck in his boss’s
craw was the fact that the instigator of this now-over nightmare had gotten
away.
Dan
smiled at the thought of a volcanic Wo Fat as he
pushed the remote control button only to watch nothing happen. Slowly, the
pleased expression evaporated as he considered what he was doing sitting –
locked, he noted – in Steve’s car, at a dock. The Chinese spy had limited moves
left in the deadly game that had been played out on
Hawaiian soil. He was a man who, if there was a move
left to him on the board, he would take it. What move could he possibly have
left? The detective pondered the question for a few moments before the answer
pushed its way through the irrelevant thoughts of discomfort and dizziness.
“My God! Steve!”
Panic
overrode pain for the third or forth time this day as he struggled to
disentangle himself from the seat belt and unlock the car door!
He
ran… stumbled and fell… pushed the agony in his knees away… staggered to his
feet again… ran through the open chain link gate and around the corner of the
warehouse. Vision blurred and the world tipping, he could see the forms wearing
HPD uniforms… He could see two men in suits and knew one of them had to be his
friend.
He
screamed hoarsely. “Steve!”
The
shock of the voice coming from behind the men caused all of them to turn
quickly. McGarrett was instantly appalled to see his bedraggled,
not-completely-coherent second-in-command endangering all of them by alerting
the suspects to their presence. He took a couple of steps towards the
detective.
“Danno!’ McGarrett’s voice was tense, but not
much louder than a whisper.
“Who’s
poison now, Steve?”
The
question was insane on the surface, but McGarrett stared, taken aback, at
Williams, who swayed slightly as if the breeze were going to carry him off. The
answer to the detective’s question hit him in the face with the force of a
rogue wave. Wo Fat!! The wily spy was trying to draw
them in!! The prescience that he’d
felt he lacked earlier slammed into his mind – something very bad was getting
ready to happen!
No
longer bothering with stealth, he shouted to his officers. “Everybody get back
– run – now!” He and Ben ran towards Dan who had not moved when everyone else
began to race away from the warehouse. The two men literally carried Williams
as they sprinted back with the others away from the warehouse.
They
were slammed against the chain mail fence as the
building behind them exploded. The heat and shock wave passed over the officers
as they all covered their faces. McGarrett protected Williams, pressed against
the fence, with his body. His ears rang as if he were standing inside Big Ben
during a coronation. It was a good ten seconds before the heat died down enough
for him to look back at the destruction into which they’d
almost entered.
Duke,
who’d been closest to the gate, was already running
for the nearest squad car, no doubt to call the fire department. As far as
McGarrett could tell, all of the officers, barring minor scrapes and cuts, were unharmed. Everyone slowly came to their feet and
moved back outside the fence to take stock of themselves and their colleagues.
The head of Five-0 pulled himself off of his unmoving
second-in-command.
“Danno!” McGarrett gently turned him, and was
relieved to see Dan trying to help move himself away from the fence.
He
cradled the detective’s face. He needed eye contact with his friend. “Are you
okay? Danno, look at me!”
Slowly,
Dan raised his line of sight to meet his boss’s eyes. His lip twitched upward
slightly in a smile, but he didn’t – couldn’t speak
out loud. He managed to mouth the word, “Okay.” Anything else that happened to
him today, including moving any muscle in his body another inch, would happen
at the hands of others.
McGarrett
leaned in and rested his head against Dan’s. Wo Fat
had escaped again, but he’d been unable to topple the
king. And McGarrett and his favorite pawn had survived
to play another day. That was all he cared about in the world at this moment.
*****
After
assessing the men were safe and the scene in good hands
with Ben and Duke, McGarrett had Williams carried to his car. Siren on, flashing light on the dash, he
headed straight for the hospital.
Radioing ahead, the ER would be ready for the patient.
It
was a short drive, but McGarrett felt every minute of it on his wracked
nerves. The past few hours had elapsed
with crisis after crisis and he was just now getting the time to assess it all. Even with the intense concern for his
colleague, the introspection was lancing through his thoughts, it was all too much even for his skilled
abilities at analysis, and he finally settled on a final thought as he pulled
into the hospital driveway. The week had
been rife with high emotion and terror.
He had the vile Wo Fat to thank for the pain,
the lapsed judgments and the mistakes. But the game was over now and Wo Fat had lost. The proof was the battered man beside him.
A
gurney was ready and waiting as he pulled up and he jogged along with the
speedy nurses as they raced to an ER room.
To his surprise, almost on his heels came Doctor Bergman.
“What
the hell happened?” he snapped out in a bellow.
“Never mind!”
He tossed a narrowed glare at the Five-0 chief. “I thought you were going to take care of
him.”
Steve
flinched at the accusation and it opened countless little fissures of guilt
that he had refused to acknowledge over the course of the last few days. Willingly, he had played a dangerous game
with his poison pawn. Against his weak
protests, he had agreed to allow Dan to be the bait to maneuver Wo Fat into capture and defeat. Now left with nothing to do but hover, to
watch Bergman examine the unconscious patient, Steve reflected on how he had
vowed to protect his friend and yet failed to nearly the ultimate degree.
They
had saved the Palace. They would
probably salvage rocky Soviet-American relations. They had seriously damaged his officer and
could have easily lost him. Adding up
the score, the sense of victory rang hollowly in his heart as he stared at this
injured, still officer. He couldn’t take his eyes off the friend who seemed even more
duty-driven than himself sometimes.
Every new wound and fresh abrasion was a testament to Danno’s stubborn
resolve to succeed, and McGarrett’s indulgence to allow whatever it took --
from any of them on the team -- no matter what -- to achieve their goals.
‘You were
supposed to protect him.’ But
I didn’t. Not good
enough.
Bergman
concluded his exam by ordering x-rays and for Williams to be
admitted to a room. When he
turned to McGarrett, his face was flushed, his eyes angry. In an instant, his demeanor changed, and
Steve felt the heat that was about to be blasted at him diminish. There was sympathy in the older man’s eyes
and that irritated the cop. He didn’t like sympathy from anyone especially when he didn’t
deserve it. Then it sank in that
Bergman’s reaction was due to Danno’s condition and a chill of dread swept
through him.
“How
bad is it?”
Sighing,
the gray-haired doctor’s face brightened a bit.
“Well, I suppose not as bad as I expected the way he looks.” Drawing McGarrett away from the patient, who was being prepped to leave, he explained. “Don’t tell me
what he’s been getting into, I don’t want to know. His concussion is the worst of the new
injuries. It’s
much worse. Other than that, no broken
bones, but he looks like he displaced a rib or two and has new abrasions that
will have to be seen to.”
McGarrett
swallowed hard. Bergman had explicitly
warned -- threatened him -- days ago how serious Danno’s two concussions were
then. Now it was worse.
“He
hasn’t regained consciousness for -- I don’t know how long,” he fumbled,
uncharacteristically losing all sense of time beyond this place and this
timeless harbor where his sole focus was his wounded detective.
Whatever
anger had been about to bubble out in Bergman’s usual flashpoint ire, was
moderated. “I think he’ll be fine,
Steve. The x-rays will tell us more, but I think it will be all right.” He cleared his throat and looked away,
shaking his head. “But he is confined to
this hospital until I say his sentence is mitigated! Consider it for parole violation.”
Bergman’s
comment was meant to lighten the mood, but it fell
flat on the head of Five-0. He sighed
and said he would return and for McGarrett to try and stay out of the way of
the staff while he took up his usual sentinel post.
Guilt
was not something that plagued him often.
Long ago, McGarrett had learned to accept defeat and move on, more
determined next time to do things right.
Williams had a harder time with that lesson and guilt settled into him
with amazing depth. After the last
several days -- after today -- Steve felt a rising tide of regret that was
powerful. He could have -- should have
prevented this. But his desire to get Wo
Fat -- to save the day, do his duty -- overpowered caution and sense and what he
felt inside but would not allow to cloud his obligations.
Following
the gurney along the hall, Steve walked slowly, hoping to see Dan show signs of
waking, but he remained still the entire trip to
x-ray. While Bergman attended his
officer, McGarrett circled back to the nurse’s station where he found Chin.
“What’s
the situation at the warehouse?”
Kelly
took only a moment to take in what seemed to be a surprising question. He must have understood Steve needed to work
now, to fill his mind with something other than the status here.
“No,
I didn’t expect to find him,” he snarled.
“He’s the master gamester. He was
far away when he set that trap. At least
far enough to keep clear of any danger,” he snapped out acidly.
Momentarily, he was caught up in the old, twisted
snare of justice. How he never achieved
it with Wo Fat, and how it rankled to consistently fail
against his most cunning adversary. He
thought back to the last time he had seen -- actually confronted the fat
spy. Right in his
office! He had arrested Wo Fat in the complex spy caper
involving the death of Chin’s relatives and the stealing of a top secret
government device. He had thwarted the
plan, out-smarted Wo Fat,
and had him in his hands until Jonathon Kaye ruined everything by using Wo Fat in a prisoner exchange. {episode -- THE JINN WHO CLEARS THE WAY}
“We see now your
imperfections, Mr. McGarrett. Had I been
in your place, I would not have taken you alive.”
“That
I can be sure of.”
“Given the option,
however, you would always preserve my life.”
Steve
wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Given the option, he thought right now he
would personally strangle the life out of his mortal enemy with his bare
hands. Wo Fat
won some of these games, or escaped, even when he lost. This last escapade -- Steve would not forget
the effectiveness of Wo
Fat’s power over him. And
the ultimate loss he had almost cost McGarrett.
But this was not a failure, came the clarifying, cleansing
notion almost instantly. In the scheme
of things great and small, compared to the haunting grief of earlier this week,
he had won this time. Overwhelmingly, he
had won. Danno had won.
The
reality brought him full circle and his focus was again
centered on the moment. “Get some
HPD men over here, Chin. I want a guard
on Danno until the dust settles on this.”
“Right.”
Kelly
moved away and McGarrett went back to pace outside the x-ray room. It could be a while before the assigned
guards were dismissed.
Much longer before Steve could drop the belated
sense of protection that now insulated his resolve concerning Williams.
He
had tried to balance Dan’s vital inclusion in the operation with his concern
over Dan’s health, and with his anxiety to stop Wo Fat
from whatever diabolical plan he had plotted.
It had come so close to complete disaster.
Once
Williams was settled in his room, McGarrett hovered in serious worry, not
liking the unconsciousness lasting this long.
Bergman was not overly concerned, but Steve certainly couldn’t
dispel the cloying reminders of how many close escapes Dan had made in the last
few days, and how there was always the possibility he might not beat this last
trial.
He
had stubbornly remained and that reckless act had offered a strange
comfort. Knowing they could die together
held less terror than walking away and letting Dan face death alone. Or, perhaps it was
turning his back and facing life alone without Danno was more terrifying than
death? At that apex in time, they had
stepped into a deeper level of indescribable bonding.
To
Steve, it felt like he had survived some kind of rite of passage in intense
emotions. Starting when Danno had
disappeared, hitting a crisis point when he stood in the morgue just a few days
ago staring at the few possessions left of his murdered friend. The levels of feelings shifted and altered
when Danno reappeared alive, then faced danger on various levels. Until the unfathomable in
the office when they seemed to share a destiny within a heartbeat and a breath
of life or death. In that moment,
he found a strange plane beyond fear or courage. It was a place he hoped
never to revisit, but it left him altered, touched and enriched on the
inside.
The
patient started to stir, and McGarrett stopped his pacing and approached the
bed. “Danno?” Too anxious to wait for Williams to surface
on his own, he needed reassurance now that his friend was really
all right. He gently pushed on
Dan’s arm. “Danno?”
The
eyes tiredly, slowly, opened. “Hi.”
“You all right?”
“Headache.
Can you turn off the bells?”
“No,”
he smiled, releasing a tense breath.
“They’ll stop in little while.”
Dan
closed his eyes. “If
you say so. Did you get him?”
“No.”
The
eyes opened again and squinted. “Stalemate. You don’t
sound too upset.”
“We’ll
get another chance at him, I’m sure.
Besides, I think we won.” His
voice thickened and he cleared his throat.
“We didn’t lose anyone on our side of the board.”
Assessing
him carefully, the younger man taking in the torn suit jacket and ending with an amazingly
penetrating gaze considering Dan’s concussion.
“You okay?”
It
was an inquiry focused on the physical, even psychological well
being, but McGarrett took it as an all inclusive statement of what he
had survived -- how they had come through everything. “Never better.”
“Good.” The eyes closed again. “I’m going to sleep.”
Steve
patted his arm. “For as long as you need
to.”
*****
As
the jet ascended, Wo Fat looked out the window as