Numb and expressionless he walked alone, his fist tightening on the suitcase handle. Again the old anger boiled inside him as he remembered for the 7,301st time the events that ruined his life and destroyed his family. The hatred was all he had left now. His mind drifted back to that deadly evening, when the nightmare had begun.
"You want something here, McGarrett?"
"Yeah, I wanted to arrest your son for attempted homicide and armed robbery, but maybe I'd better call in for an ambulance first."
Cold fear turned into cold fury. "An ambulance won't help. He's dead! My son is dead, McGarrett--dead and you killed him!"
"No, Vashon, no...I shot him." He jabbed an accusing finger at him. "You killed him--you and his grandfather a long time ago."
The cabby nodded, pulling away from the curb as Vashon stared out the scratched window. Soon he'd see Tosaki, the only one from the old organization who'd remained loyal to him. Hopefully his right-hand man had not encountered any snags in getting everything set up. Because once he was established, then he would fully pursue the one purpose left in his life; to see Steve McGarrett dead.
###
Damned budget! The submission deadline was this coming Friday and here it was already Tuesday. The House Appropriations Committee could be so aggravating sometimes--more than the Governor these days! He glanced at the desk-clock, seeing the hands indicate five minutes to five, almost quitting time.
He gave a mental sarcastic laugh at the thought of the words "quitting time" for in exactly three weeks and one day, he would officially retire from the position as head of Hawaii Five-O.
A mix of emotions filled him. Nope! No more records, no more budgets, no more late hours, no more sweating-out the court-battles. But then there would also be no more mysteries to solve, no more thrill of the hunt and mostly, no more satisfaction of locking away the criminal scum he'd spent most of his life tracking down. He stared at the office he'd occupied at the Iolani Palace for the last 30 years. This place was more home than his own home.
A crack of light fell across the carpet as the large mahogany door creaked open and Dan Williams poked his head inside. "What? You're still here!"
"Old habits die hard, Danno."
"I'll say," he replied, stepping into the office like he had so many times before in the past. "Just couldn't let one more budget get by. What'sa matter? You don't trust me?"
McGarrett allowed a slight crooked grin. It was hard to believe Danny had ever been away from Five-O. Except for some grayness creeping into his sandy colored hair, he looked the same as when he left for Florida ten years ago; boyish and young.
"You know me better than that," Steve replied. He took a deep breath, pushing away from the big desk to stand and stretch the kinks from his back and neck. "I was trying to clean up some of this mess so the next guy who sits here won't have to deal with it."
Danny shook his head. "You're amazing. You know that?"
"That's what Governor Waihee tells me," he said. "I hope he's easier on you. It's getting harder and harder to be a cop these days."
"Yeah, but we manage somehow, don't we? Actually, I'm glad you're still around. I thought that since it's quitting time, we could get a bite to eat and discuss some of the outstanding cases. Um--hopefully without any interruption."
"We could send out--"
"No! No interruptions."
"Sure," McGarrett nodded, grabbing his blue jacket from the coat tree and put it on, then pulled his tie snug. "Where?"
"I know just the place. Come on. I'll drive."
Ten minutes later Danny pulled into the parking lot of a friendly-looking establishment and parked his car. The name "Tahitian Lanai" sounded like some haole tourist trap but the smell of steak and seafood filled the air, making you think twice.
Steve looked at the number of HPD blue-and-whites amongst the vehicles. It had to be a good place. After all, cops ate only at the best, most affordable diners. "And you said I was amazing. You're back barely three weeks and you've found a new spot. How'd you find this place?"
Danny grinned. "When your belongings are still in numerous boxes you go out to eat a lot."
The two got out and headed for the entrance. Shortly they were seated at a table, menus in hand. Steve studied the fare, quickly deciding on the house special, the broiled mahi-mahi.
"Hey! I can't believe it!" came a familiar voice, making both men turn and look. "My God! Danno! Tell me it ain't true!"
"Well, I'll be damned!" Danny said.
Metal crutches aiding his steps, a deeply tanned Hawaiian man maneuvered his way over to their table.
Danny stood, grinning broadly, grabbing the man's proffered hand. "Kono, you big kanaka! What are doing here? Well, besides the obvious."
Old guilt stung hard as McGarrett silently regarded the exchange. Fifteen years ago an assassination attempt on Governor Jameson's life had ended Kono's career as a cop. Again Steve wished he could turn back the clock. He should have made sure everyone had on a bullet-proof vest. Everyone! The spray of bullets meant for the Governor hit Kono, severely damaging the nerves to his spinal cord, robbing him of normal mobility. He would always need the metal arm-crutches to help him walk.
"Man, don't you read the papers? Me an' the gang are back from one of our famous all day outings to the north shore...you know, the P.B.A. group for the handicapped where I do volunteer stuff. Island Outreach. Since I grew up here, I'm their tour guide. So, I hear all kinda things--like you bein' back here in the islands and such!"
"Yeah, I'm back. I've accepted the position of Chief of Five-O." Danny motioned to McGarrett. "Steve's retiring in three weeks."
Kono's grin faded as he finally acknowledged Steve's presence. "That so? Congratulations, Steve. Good luck."
"Thank you."
"Um--look, I gotta run. I'll give ya a call and we can get together over a beer."
"Sure, fine. Take care!" Danny sat down as the big Hawaiian left. A long moment of silence passed and Danny finally said, "He still blames you."
"Yeah," McGarrett said, looking down as he took a sip of water. "I still blame myself."
"You had no way of knowing what Cameron was going to do."
"But I should have anticipated it." McGarrett set down his glass. He glanced towards the Island Outreach group as it exited the restaurant, watching Kono hobble along as he brought up the rear. Finally he was out the door and McGarrett said softly, "I should have known."
###
Kono shifted his weight on his crutches and headed for his car. Thank God for those people, he thought. If it hadn't been for them, he'd have lost his mind fifteen years ago.
Old rage fired inside his heart as he thought back to the reason why he could no longer surf, be a cop, or more importantly, just plain walk like a normal person.
Kamehameha Day festivities over, he and Steve headed down the great staircase in the Iolani Palace, Governor Jameson between them, escorting him toward the rear exit. Ex-police officer Cameron came through the front door, the semi-automatic in his hands blazing out death. In that split second the rain of bullets blasted across the three men, Steve pulling the Governor to the floor as he fell.
Fiery pain ripped across his back, as Kono crumpled, the fleeting thought that his vest was still in his car. His vision went black, and all he could hear were voices, distant, calling his name. His sight faded back into reality; Steve was bending over him, and Danno was there too! Sirens wailed in the background, and dimly he wondered why. His pain was mysteriously gone, but he couldn't move.
Time blurred and when he opened his eyes he was on a stretcher, being carried to an awaiting ambulance.
"What some guys will do to get Kamehameha Day off," Steve said, then added something about "getting better." He gave a slight nod to his boss and then closed his eyes.
Kono scowled, his hands tightening on the crutch-grips, the vivid memory fading away. That was fifteen years ago, when life as he knew it came to a grinding halt. Now he could barely walk and that was only with the aid of these damned metal sticks. To McGarrett, he was a casualty of war--useless, washed-up! Unable to perform his full duties as a detective! All those years of service meant nothing.
Afterward all McGarrett offered was empty apologies and platitudes. The others had come because they cared. Even Chin Ho, God rest him! But not McGarrett. He came because he had to and that had hurt worse than any damage Cameron had done.
He stopped at his car, a light blue '86 Cutlass with the handicap sticker on the license plate, a blue tag with the wheelchair symbol on it hanging from the rear-view mirror and the special hand controls on the steering wheel. Thanks to Island Outreach he was able to drive a car again.
He hugged the arm brace of his right crutch and fished in the pocket of his shorts for his keys.
Seeing Danno at the restaurant had given him a good feeling. He'd always thought the state of Hawaii had made a mistake letting Danny leave Five-O, but if he'd gotten a juicy job offer to go work with the D.E.A in Miami...shit, why not? Anything to get away from hard-assed McGarrett.
Kono unlocked the door, pulled the handle and swung open the door. Heat blasted from inside the cab as he lowered himself on the cloth-covered seat and manually lifted his legs inside.
He scowled, bitter anger twisting inside him. Seeing Steve McGarrett sit there like he had a cob stuffed up his ass hadn't surprised him. Except for the deeper frown lines, the man hadn't changed. If he smiled, his ears would probably fall off!
Kono propped the crutches on the passenger seat, keyed the engine and grabbed the door to shut it.
The sound of a thousand rapid-fire explosions and shattering glass shook the car as semi-automatic gun fire ripped through the air. Panic engulfed him as he hit the seat, covering his head. Lead peppered the back seat of his car.
Again he was in the Palace, Cameron's deadly barrage of bullets coming straight at him, and then everything went silent.
###
Carefully he folded the newspaper in half, setting it aside. He picked up his cup and took a sip of black coffee just as Tosaki came through the back door, a big sack of groceries in his hands.
"Good morning, Mr. Vashon," he said as he entered the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter. "It's been a most productive day."
"Already?" Honore looked up at the wall clock. "And it's not even eleven yet." Tosaki was a good man, and the only one who had stuck by him throughout the long, bleak years. Although to look at him, no one would ever guess he was as old as Honore himself. His Oriental-Polynesian heritage must have been the secret to keeping his youthful appearance. "Did the bank give you any trouble?"
"No, sir," Tosaki replied as he started to put the grocery items away. "Everything is in order. Your ex-wife, Marguerite, kept her word. A deposit was wired in from Chicago and credited to my account the day before you were released."
"Good! Very good." Briefly he thought of the woman he had once--he still--loved, again recalling what was forever lost to him. A familiar knot of anger formed in his chest, and a coldness separated his mind from his emotion. The memory was from another time, a different place.
"I paid our handy-man for yesterday's work," Tosaki continued as he worked. "He's on a plane to Costa Rica as we speak. He was still quite amazed that I didn't want the Kalakaua man killed."
Vashon absently nodded an acknowledgment.
"As you requested, I've retained Fumi for two more weeks." Tosaki pulled a thick manila envelope from one of the shopping bags and handed it to Vashon. "Here is his latest report."
Honore took the item, slitting it open as Tosaki turned back to his task of putting away the groceries. Inside was the ex-private investigator's detailed report on the movements, and happenings of the current Five-O team.
"His information on Kalakaua has been very accurate so far," Honore commented. "Did you pay him?"
"Yes, sir."
"I hope you told him to stay clean."
"Fumi knows the price of failure," Tosaki replied. "Also, an associate of mine was able to provide me with extra inside information on our target. Soung Lei was more than happy to cooperate when I advised him what the information was worth," he said as he finished stacking the last of the canned goods.
Momentary alarm filled Honore. "You didn't use my name?"
"Of course not, sir. Your privacy is intact."
He nodded, giving a faint sigh of relief. He'd fought hard to keep his release from prison quiet, to keep his name out of the newspapers and off television. All he needed was for some punk janitor to blow his secrecy. "And what did you hear?"
"McGarrett's last day will be September 25th. The word will not be made public until then. They're even planning a party for him."
Honore absently pulled at the corner of his mustache. "I see. Did the man Harry recommend meet our requirements for Friday's agenda?" "Yes, sir. I hired him yesterday. His loyalty has been assured by Harry himself. And Mr. Michaels thinks I am his sole employer."
He took another swallow of coffee. "What about the other little task?"
"I took care of that yesterday morning, sir," Tosaki said with a grin. "I had no problem locating the cemetery or the headstone. Oh, and a water-based immediately afterwards."
"Good!" Honore said, then drained his cup. "Very good! He should have gotten both of them by now." He gazed at the folded newspaper, zeroing in on the photo of McGarrett. "Too bad I can't see his face when he opens the envelope."
###
Suddenly his office door burst open and Steve looked up from reviewing the photo to see a livid Kono come barreling through, Danno and Duke Lukela behind him. He rose, calmly meeting the man's angry stare as he came to a halt in front of the big desk.
Steve stoically regarded his ex-employee, refusing to let his feelings interfere with his words. "From what I saw I'd say 'drag' isn't quite how I'd describe it." He could feel the animosity radiating from Kono virtually thicken the air. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but I did call you. I left messages, but obviously you didn't get them. We need your help."
"My help?" Kono laughed. "Have you forgotten something? I ain't a cop no more. There ain't nothin' I can do for you."
"On the contrary, there is," Steve said. "You can start by remembering who would want to see you dead. How's your recall on your past cases?"
"Past cases?" Kono shook his head. "Dirt work! That's all I did here and that's all you got. I don't remember nothin'."
"That's odd," Steve said calmly. "I seem to remember you were a damned good cop who handled a sizable case load." He hit the intercom switch. "Lani, did Archives send the Kalakaua case list?"
"It just arrived," she replied over the speaker. "I'll bring it in."
Kono's breathing eased. "I can't believe you guys. It's been over a decade since I even arrested anyone. And the clues you guys got from the restaurant scene wouldn't fill a thimble. I didn't see anything! I can't single out anyone."
"Right now, that may be true." Danny put a hand on Kono's shoulder. "But you can narrow the possibilities down for us." Steve picked up a folder. "We've asked for a list of recent prison releases for you to compare to the cases you handled when you were with HPD and then Five-O," he said. "Will you help us?"
There was a long silence as Kono glanced from the folder to Steve.
Duke added, "You might see something we would otherwise miss."
Kono's expression soured. "Forget it!"
"Despite what you think, I do care--deeply," Steve said, tossing the folder on his desk, his hands tightening into fists of frustration. "Kono--"
"I can take care of myself--'boss,'" Kono said, his acidic emphasis on the word 'boss' cutting the air. "I told you guys I don't know nothin', and no damned list is gonna help me remember. If someone wants to shoot me, let 'em! They'll finish the job you started years ago." Kono's glare lessened and he readied himself to move. "Now, unless I'm under arrest, I'm leaving."
Steve took a deep breath, and rubbed the sudden stiffness in the back of his neck. "Kono, please...."
At that moment Lani entered the office, a large manila envelope in one hand, and the daily mail in the other. She handed the packet to Steve and set the mail on his desk. "Archives said if you want any files, you guys can access them yourselves, normal security procedures." She held out her hand. "You also wanted me to remind you of the lecture at the University on Friday morning. This is Thursday. If you want your outline typed, I need it soon."
McGarrett frowned, but was grateful for the distraction. "Just a minute...I have it." He pulled some handwritten notes out from under a stack of papers, causing the mail to slide, exposing an envelope with red lettering.
It caught his eye. Absently he handed over the notes to his secretary as he picked up the garishly lettered piece of mail.
"What is it?" Danno asked, moving to see the letter.
McGarrett shook his head. Carefully he slit the thing open and pulled out another Polaroid snapshot.
It showed a graveyard. In the center was a headstone covered with red and a caption was neatly typed on the bottom of the picture.
"This little piggy should have stayed home," he read aloud, then felt his jaw set, his emotions going glacial. "Dear God," he whispered as he read the name on the stone marker. "Chin Ho Kelley."
###
A sudden influx of people filled the walkways, indicating that a court session had just let out. He hoped he wasn't too late to catch up with Steve. As he approached the double glass doors he saw the tall figure of McGarrett heading toward him. Except for the graying hair at his temples, Steve basically looked the same, still cut an authoritative figure in his dark blue suit and matching tie.
Briefcase in hand, he headed for the exit of the building. "Danno," he said in greeting. Williams fell into step beside him. "So, how'd it go?"
"I think we got De Martin this time. If things go accordingly, D.A. Manicote will get him the max and that bastard will deserve every minute."
"I hope so," Danno replied. Child porn was one of the hardest rackets to deal with, the most heart-breaking. "At least the slimeball will be out of circulation for a while."
McGarrett gave a short sarcastic laugh. "And there'll be a dozen more to take his place, but keep up the optimism anyway, Danno. It helps." They headed across the grounds toward the street crossing that would take them to the Iolani Palace. "So, what've you got?"
"A couple of items. Duke called in. His contact was found dead this morning. Most likely connected with that prostitution ring we've been working on. The lab boys are at the scene now."
"Well, back to square one," Steve said with a sigh. "Sometimes it seems like a losing battle. Anything on Kono's case?"
"The lab didn't find anything useful at Chin's grave. A common brand of water-based paint that's sold all over the island was used. No prints, impressions or otherwise were found." They stopped at the crosswalk and Dan glanced at the red signal halting their progress. "However, the caretaker said she did see a man around that vicinity early Tuesday morning."
"Oh?" McGarrett answered, turning toward Dan.
"Yeah--black hair, graying, medium build and height, possibly Chinese."
McGarrett sighed. "That could fit any of Chin's relatives."
"Yeah," Dan nodded, remembering the black day that his friend and co-worker had been murdered. Chin's cover had been blown while trying to infiltrate the Chinese underworld. The bloody bastards had killed him, then dumped his body on the Palace steps as a warning to Five-O and anyone else in the vicinity. Though Steve never revealed it outwardly, Dan knew that a part of him had died that day, too. Finally he said, "Chin certainly had a big family."
The light turned green and the crowd that had gathered around them on the corner moved forward. They went down the sidewalk, heading toward the Iolani Palace.
"The caretaker saw him from a distance, so she couldn't do any better on the description," Dan said. "She said she didn't see any unusual activity. And let's face it, slopping red paint on a gravestone isn't something you could ignore."
"But cemeteries aren't very secure. Anyone can go in and out without being noticed. What about the list?"
"Duke's still at the computer and has narrowed it down. He's checking the obvious ones off the prison release list first. It would be a lot easier if Kono would at least look at it, but he refuses to co-operate."
They reached the front steps of the Palace and McGarrett paused, looking up at the majestic old building. "So, in other words, we still have nothing."
"Looks like it," Dan replied. "Kono still refuses the safe-house, so I pulled a favor."
McGarrett's eyebrows rose as he looked at Dan. "Already?"
Dan grinned. "An old I.O.U." He glanced at his watch, seeing it was ten minutes to four. "Yeah, Kimo said he'd alert the patrol in Kono's neighborhood to keep a close watch. I figured it's better than what we've got right now. I have to get to HPD headquarters. After I finish business there I thought I'd pay Kono a visit. Maybe talk some sense to him."
McGarrett permitted himself a slight smile. "Thanks, Danno. I appreciate that."
"Don't mention it," Dan said. "That's what friends are for."
###
This time the parallel bars were positioned at the right height. One hand gripping a rung, he slapped the towel around his neck, gripped the other bar, braced himself and pulled.
"One--more--time," he said through a grimace, working every usable muscle to make himself stand. Soon he was up, and this time it was easier. Sweat trickled down his face and neck, soaking his red tank-top. Tentatively, he loosened his grip on the bars, testing himself to see if he could stand on his own. Concentrating, he swayed, a grin blossoming as he looked down at his feet. But the joy was short-lived as his legs began to buckle, the muscles refusing to obey him. Quickly he caught himself, and eased back onto the bench.
He sat there, glaring at the metal crutches propped next to his work-bench. The damned things were a constant reminder that no matter how much he worked, his legs would never really be the same. This was all because of some nut with a gun and a grudge against Steve McGarrett.
Quickly he stifled the thoughts and grabbed the bars again, readying himself to stand. He felt the beads of sweat begin to trail down his face as he forced himself to rise.
Damn it! There was no way he could go to a safehouse. They didn't have one equipped to take care of his needs.
He gritted his teeth and pulled, lifting up his 175-pound frame with the strength of his arms. He couldn't believe someone would be gunning for him. Sure, ten to twenty years ago he had helped lock away some certified creeps, but no one with any real power. It didn't make any sense. And why now?
Another confusing thing was why, if this psycho was gunning for him, did this nut wait until he was in the car? Face it, he was a slow-moving target and could have been nailed anytime before he got inside it. And why did the gunman shoot out only the back window? Certainly from the trajectory the dumb-ass could have hit him. No, this was not an attempt on his life, it was something else.
He braced his arms, standing between the bars, gripping them so tight his knuckles were white. "What am I doin'?" he breathed. "I'm acting like I'm gonna run out and investigate this sucker tomorrow and I ain't even got a car."
He eased down on the bench, let out a long breath, and mopped his face again. Certainly Steve and the others have already asked the same questions. Maybe he should give them a call, tell them what he thought. Mentally he shook his head. No, he wouldn't play that game again. He'd gotten over his bitterness long ago. Five-O didn't need him now, just like they hadn't needed him years ago.
But still, it wouldn't hurt to find out what they had. He grabbed his crutches and in a couple of minutes was heading for the showers to clean up.
A little later he was refreshed and dressed, and heading for the exit, back pack slung across one shoulder. A glance at the wall clock showed it was already 6:35.
"Oh, God," he muttered, putting as much haste into his pace as possible. His friend, Aneka, would be waiting. The automatic doors swung open, letting him out of the building and into the parking lot. Sure enough, there was her silver Taurus parked near the main road. He moved in that direction, his back-pack slapping against him with each halting step. Quickly, he made a mental note to give her his parking permit while his auto was in the shop.
As he headed for his friend's car, another car slowly pulled out of a slot at the end of the row and started to creep down the lane toward him.
He frowned, that second sense he'd developed during his days as a cop screaming inside his head as he stared at the maroon Firebird.
A gun barrel appeared through the open passenger window. Everything blurred as he awkwardly twisted to the side, his feet tangling as he fell between two cars. Gunfire blazed, spraying the cars. Glass shattered and people screamed, scrambling for cover. The car squealed off, the stink of burning rubber filling the air.
Kono's chest heaved, and finally he opened his eyes. People were gathering around, but at that moment he didn't care. He just lay there, the sound of gunfire still ringing in his ears.
###
"Anything worth mentioning?" McGarrett asked the man.
"Not really," the plain-clothesman answered. "But I'll get you copy of my report as soon as possible. Iokama and Tony will stand guard until I can get a roster together."
"Thanks, George. I appreciate it. Keep me posted," he said, then continued onward, hearing the front door close as he entered the short hallway going to the bedroom. Danno leaned against the wall, briefly glancing up as McGarrett paused just before the open doorway.
Crutches propped next to him, Kono sat on the full-sized bed staring at the wooden floor, shaking his head. Scratches covered one cheek and white gauze pads held by adhesive tape covered scrapes on both his elbows. "It just don't make sense, man," he said. "Why? It don't make sense. After all these years why would someone have it in for me?"
"That's what we were hoping you could tell us, Kono," Steve said as he stepped fully into the room.
The Hawaiian looked up as if he'd been hit. McGarrett could feel an immediate chill fill the room. "How are you feeling?"
"Bruised."
"Thank God it's only that," Steve replied. "I know you've probably told this several times already, but I'm going to ask you to repeat what happened to you yesterday one more time."
"Kealoha already recorded this--last night and again today! Can't you get it from him?"
"Sometimes repetition helps you remember more." "Well, I didn't see much."
McGarrett felt the chill changing into a steel barrier. Not this time! "I don't believe that for one damned second!" he snapped. "You saw something! What kind of car was it? Was the driver disguised? If so, how? What kind of weapon did he use? Damn it, Kono! We're trying to help you, but you've got to help us first."
The Hawaiian glared up at him. "Everything I know is in my statement to HPD. Read it."
For several seconds McGarrett glared at him. "I don't understand you. Even after all these years, all the times we worked together.... I know what you blame me for--"
"We ain't got nothing to talk about." Kono continued to stare defiantly at Steve.
McGarrett counted to ten, then softly asked, "What is it? Do you want this maniac to kill you? Or is your pride still too big to accept my help?"
Kono flinched as though a nerve had been hit, but he didn't look up, his gaze staying glued to the floor.
"If that's what you want, I'll back off. I know you hate my guts, but at least you could give me the courtesy of an answer. We're trying to save your butt, mister, and we can't do it without your cooperation."
Several long seconds passed. Steve looked at Danno, shook his head and then turned to leave. If he stayed any longer the iron-clad control he held on his emotions right now would crumble. The anger would unleash the hurt and the words he knew he would later regret.
"It was a maroon Firebird," Kono said.
McGarrett stopped and turned back.
Kono's hands gripped the edge of the bed. "It pulled out of a parking space as I headed toward Punahou Street. There was a guy driving, nylon stocking over his face, but it was a guy. I saw his hands as he held up the gun." Finally, he faced McGarrett. "What I can't figure out of all this is how this guy can be such a lousy shot. Let's face it. I should be an easy target."
Outwardly McGarrett remained cool, concealing the flood of relief that now filled him. It wasn't like old times, but at least Kono was talking to him again.
###
He swirled the cold coffee remaining in his cup, took a drink and grimaced at the taste. He sighed and continued to stare at the board and a puzzle that obviously had some big pieces missing. The report on the two slugs the lab boys luckily found at the gym scene would arrive soon. He hoped they matched the ones taken from Kono's Cutlass.
The next thing he knew, there was a tap at his door. "Come in," he said. Dan Williams, followed by Duke Lukela and Jim "Kimo" Carew, came into the office. "Gentlemen," he said, gesturing to a chair, "we need a bull session, so make yourselves comfortable. Where's Lori and Truck?"
"They got a call from Altman. Said he may have some info for us," Kimo replied. Brown-haired and with a wiry build, he was one of the newer members of the Five-O staff. "They should be back shortly."
Steve half-turned and punched the intercom button. "Lani, hold all calls for the next hour. No interruptions unless it's an emergency."
"Yes, boss," came her reply over the speaker as the men took their seats.
"Okay, here's what we know," Steve said, rising and going to the board. "Since last Tuesday, we've had two attempts on Kono Kalakaua's life within days of each other. One at the restaurant, the other at the gym where he works out. We also have these instant photos with quite a different version of the rhyme 'This Little Piggy' typed on the bottom border."
"Indicates someone has been studying his routine for a while," Kimo said. He turned one of the a large white leather chairs more toward the board and plopped down in it. "Which means this someone knows everything about Kono, probably including the exact time he takes a crap."
Steve glanced at Dan, catching his faint smile of amusement. Kimo could be crude, but he was a good cop. "You can bet on that. Danno, what about these instant photos?"
"They're from a cheap and unfortunately common Polaroid camera. The photo cartridges can be purchased in any drug or department store."
"Common," Steve repeated, pacing a bit. "Duke, any luck with the lists?"
"Not so far. Kono has a copy of my list and the computer read-out. And Danny's working on getting him a lap-top set-up to view his old case files."
Hands on hips, Steve turned away from the board, going back to his desk. "Okay, is there any talk on the street?"
"Unless Altman has something--nothing we can use," Dan said, crossing his arms. "Even the local talent is sitting still." He paused, pursing his lips, then said, "What bugs me is something Kono said the other day. Let's face it, he should be an easy hit."
"I thought of that too," Duke said. "How can you miss a slow target?"
"Real easy if it's intentional," Kimo said.
Steve tapped a finger on a stack of files. "Kimo's right. But why?"
"To scare the person," Duke said.
"Or it's warning," Kimo added
"Yeah, could be either." Steve turned to Danny. "What's our security detail?"
"HPD has two guards posted at Kono's home, one out front, the other with Kono all the time."
"Why isn't he at a safehouse?"
Dan shook his head. "We don't have the facilities to handle a handicapped person."
Steve didn't like that. "Well, we'd better see if we can find something, Danno. Check with Manicote, see if he can help locate a place that would fit Kono's needs. I want him out of the line of sight."
Another tap sounded at the door. Steve looked up as did the others when Lani opened the door.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, but I thought you'd want to see this," the secretary said as she entered. She walked across the room and handed Steve another garishly addressed envelope.
He took it by the corner, carefully dropping it onto his desk. The obvious outline of a photo showed from inside it. Using his handkerchief and a letter opener, he carefully slit the top. "I doubt there are any prints, but you never know when you might get lucky." Maneuvering the letter, he slid the contents out onto the blotter. A bright glossy snap-shot showed the gym in the background, and between two parked cars a shaken Kono being helped up by a good samaritan. On the bottom border was typewritten: This little piggy is dead meat!
"Well, this proves one thing," Steve said, studying the angle of the picture.
"Yeah, look at the distance and it's aimed downward," Dan said. "The hitman couldn't do this from a car."
Steve nodded.
"Then there's more than one person involved," Kimo added.
"You got it, brudda!"
###
A soft breeze blew in off the ocean and seagulls wheeled overhead, crying their shrill song over the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. He loved that sound. He looked out, remembering when he was a little boy how he used to steal his mother's wooden ironing board and ride the waves. It always got him in trouble, but he did it anyway.
He sobered a bit, coming back to the present. Slowly he turned working his crutches as he hobbled down the broken walkway going past the garage, his plain-clothes shadow next to him. God, that was a long time ago. All he had left now was his sister in Maui. He'd stubbornly refused to go live with her after the Cameron shooting, but now he wished he had. This whole scene had hit like a curse from Pele'. Maybe when this was over he'd sell the old homestead and take her up on her offer if it still stood.
"Thanks, Moki," he said as his guard held open the back door and he moved into the cool darkness of the house. "Also, thanks for letting me go out. I was getting a little stir-crazy."
"Don't mention it."
"I'm gonna go over the list again, so I'll be in 'solitary' at the lap-top."
"Want a bite to eat?"
"Hey, sure! But easy on the calories. My doctor's gonna kill me if I gain too much weight."
"You got it!"
"And hey! No rabbit food, okay?"
The tall Hawaiian cop smiled. "How about some Kalua pork?"
Kono grinned. "You know where the kitchen is, brudda." He headed down the hall. "Just be sure you make enough for Gary," he said, referring to the other guard posted out front of the house. "Last time he was really pissed. Said he's the one really workin', ya know."
He entered the second bedroom, also known as "solitary." Carefully he lowered himself into his wheelchair, setting aside the crutches. He hated his crutches, but loathed the chair. It was an even bigger reminder of what he'd lost nearly two decades ago and he remembered it as if it were yesterday.
"Look, I lost the use of my legs, not my head! I can still do the job."
"I'm sorry Kono," Steve said. "I can't keep you on with Five-O. Yes, you're still the same person, but we have to face the reality that you have a physical limitation now. You know the demands this job makes on a cop."
Kono's fury boiled up inside. "Yeah, I sure do." Angrily he pushed his wheelchair back from Steve's desk.
McGarrett rose. "I can talk with Chief Nomura. Perhaps you could work in some other capacity."
"Like what? Clean the toilets and dust the shelves? No thanks, boss!" he hissed. "I got the picture, big time. Don't call me, I'll call you type thing."
"No, that's not it at all."
"Because of you I can't walk and now because of you I can't keep my job or any other job for that matter. I understand it all too well now!"
Steve gave him that inscrutable stare. "Kono, be careful. Sometimes pride can be more crippling than a bullet."
"Sit in my chair before you make that judgment." Furiously he turned the chair and before he wheeled out of the office he said, "As for your job, you know where you can stick it!"
Bitter and angry at what had happened to his life, he'd blamed and hated McGarrett. But now as he looked back, he knew he'd been unfair. Steve was right, pride had been the real crippler. Deep down he still trusted those guys. Even McGarrett, he finally admitted to himself.
He gazed at the phone on his desk. Maybe he should call. Maybe he should talk to Steve this time. Mentally he shook his head. No, too much time had passed. It was beyond words now.
He settled himself, then unlocked the brake and moved over to the desk unit and set up the lap-top Danny had brought. A quick dial-up and password and he was hooked into HPD's Five-O computer compartment.
He picked up the printout of Duke's list, deciding to start at the bottom this time, scanning the names: Zepeda, Zedmorre, Yarkoff, Wirdham, Welau, Waihona, Vogel, Victor, Vasallo....
He tapped on the keyboard, bringing up the information on the Zepeda case and started to read. It was going to be another long day and an even longer night.
###
He hung up and glanced at his desk clock, noting he had ten more minutes
before he had to leave to make the three o'clock meeting with the Governor, Danno
and Chief of Police Nomura. It was the beginning of the changing of the guard, a discussion of what was pending, what needed wrapping up before next Monday and how long he would be needed on a consultant basis as the cases he'd been involved in came due in court.
He stared at his calendar, Monday in particular. On September 25, 1989, Danno would officially occupy this office and inherit all the headaches that went with it. He was glad Dan had accepted the state's offer. He'd never tell him who'd fought and pushed the higher-ups to get him back.
"Good luck, Danno," McGarrett murmured to himself, and he scribbled a note to himself to bring in some boxes so he could start packing his personal belongings. Again a mix of emotions assailed him and he took a deep breath.
He tapped a key on his computer console, then logged off the network. The police file on Uhlich disappeared only to be replaced by the HPD Logon banner. He picked up a copy of Duke's printout and tucked it inside its folder. So far all the names he'd looked at didn't ring any bells.
A twinge of guilt crossed his mind. The last five days had been hectic, and
he'd had precious little time to lend to Kono's investigation. The week ahead
of him was going to prove just as difficult.
He rose, grabbed his jacket off the coat tree and moved to stand before the cork-board again. As he put on his coat, he studied the pictures one more time. The Altman tip had been a dead-end and all had been quiet this past week, too quiet. No new leads had turned up, not one word from any of the Five-O informants, and strangely, no other weird letters from Kono's mysterious enemy had arrived.
He bit his lower lip. It could mean whoever it was never meant to kill him, maybe only scare him. No, that didn't make sense. Evidently the person was lying low, biding his time until Kono could no longer be protected. Well, this guy was going to have a long wait. He'd see to that. If it meant delaying his departure until Kono's assailant was apprehended, he would do it. This was one loose thread he didn't want to leave dangling.
He grabbed his briefcase and then headed for the door. After the meeting, he'd take the long way home today, maybe drop by the safehouse to check on things.
###
"Don't worry. Ikki'll be here."
Dan glanced at his co-worker and friend. He'd known Duke since his days at HPD, but back then the Hawaiian's hair had been black, not salt and pepper gray. And now that he thought of it, he'd never seen the man without his glasses.
People moved in both directions on the sidewalk in front of the seedy tavern. At 5:30 a hooker dressed in a tight black leather mini-dress and siletto heels stood on the corner. Her hair was dyed bright red and she looked to be barely 20 years old. She puffed on a cigarette and looked directly at Duke's plain sedan. Casually she stamped out the butt, smiled and winked, turning to walk into the pub.
"That's our cue," Duke said, getting out of the car.
Dan followed suit, coming around the front of the car. "Ikki's a girl?"
"A woman, Danny. A woman," he replied as they crossed the street.
"How in the hell did you get her as a contact?"
"It's a long story."
"One I want to hear."
In minutes they were inside the darkened bar, the clatter of billiards and the stink of tobacco and stale beer filling the air. Gaudy neon lights in the shapes of green palms and pink flamingos hung on the walls above the booths and there, at a back table, sat Ikki, a freshly lit cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other.
"Dahling! You got my message," she said as the two men slid onto the bench seat opposite her. "I was afraid you wouldn't show."
"Now you know I wouldn't let you down," Duke grinned. "Especially if you got what I need."
Coyly, she looked at Duke. "I know what you need, and I'd sure like to give it to ya."
"Ah-ah, naughty girl. You know I'd have to arrest you."
Elbow on the table and chin propped in his hand, Dan watched the exchange, finally clearing his throat.
"Oh, allow me to introduce you. This is Dan Williams, soon to be my new boss."
"Cool," she said with an easy smile. "I heard the big boy was hanging it up soon."
Dan looked at her. Steve's retirement hadn't been publicly announced yet. "Exactly what did you hear, Miss...?"
Her grin broadened. "Just call me Ikki. Actually, I heard a lot. You see, Pipo doesn't know I'm here. He thinks I'm taking care of business. Ya know what I mean," she said, blowing a puff of smoke into the aisle.
Duke dug into his coat pocket and handed her a fifty. "How's this?"
"Good for thirty minutes." She took another drag, smoke escaping her nose and mouth as she spoke. "Last night this john picks me up. Now he's drunker than skunk and looks like he couldn't afford a bottle of Ripple. So I started to turn him down, but he says he had plenty of bucks and proceeds to show me a roll that would choke a whale. He said he earned it spying on you guys."
"On Five-O?" Dan asked.
"That's who you are, right?"
Duke clasped his hands, placing them on the table. "Did this guy happen to mention a man by the name of Kalakaua?"
She thought a moment. "Yeah, he did....first name was Pono or Komo...or something."
"Ikki," Duke asked, "what's this john's name?"
She looked at him like he'd handed her a dead fish. "You gotta be kidding? Getting names is not part of my job description."
Dan frowned. He didn't like what he was hearing, a feeling in his gut growing heavier by the second. "But you could I.D. him."
"Yeah, if I had to."
"Miss...Ikki, this is very important. Did he give you any other information? Like why he was doing this or for whom?"
"Nope, all I remember is that he said he'd done this job for the past month, ya know, watching this...what's his name?"
"Kono," Duke replied.
"Yeah, then he bragged how he'd dogged each of you guys for a couple of days and no one picked him out. That's how I heard McGarrett was quittin' and all." She took another drag, knocking the ash onto the floor.
"Would you be willing to look at some photos?"
She hesitated, the smile fading from her tanned face. "That might be tough. How soon?"
"Tonight?" Duke asked.
"That would definitely be tough." She looked at her Timex. "You see, I can't leave the office."
Dan glanced at Duke and nodded, motioning for him to stand. "Then I'm afraid you're under arrest."
"For what?"
"For starters, propositioning an officer," he said as he rose. "Book 'er, Duke."
She glared up at them as Duke gently took her by the arm. "Hey, you can't do this. What about Pipo? He'll kill me."
"Don't worry about Pipo," Dan replied as they escorted her toward the door. "Trust me. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
###
"Soon, Chris," he murmured, "soon you and Papa will truly be able to rest in peace."
He heard the backdoor open and he rose, going out to greet the only other person who had a key to the place. "Did you have any problems?"
With a medium-sized bundle under one arm, and a large envelope in the other hand, a rather subdued Tosaki replied, "No, Mr. Vashon. All went well." He handed the slim manila file to his boss. "Inside is Fumi's last report. It contains Kalakaua's location, a map and a schematic of the house and grounds, and a traffic count, human and otherwise. I think you'll be pleased with the details Fumi included."
"Good! Good!" Honore took the envelope, pulling out the contents.
"As you instructed, I paid Fumi in full and gave him a ticket to New Zealand, advising him we no longer required his services. He was most gracious."
Vashon looked up from the papers in his hands. "And the other arrangements?"
"The truck is rented and ready for pick up tomorrow morning at 9 a.m., and I have the uniform you requested." Tosaki looked solemnly at Vashon as he handed over the package. "The revolver is wrapped inside the uniform, the ammunition is in a pouch in the front pocket."
"Good," Vashon said as he set it on the table and tore open the wrapping paper. A blue jumpsuit spilled out onto the kitchen table. Inside a billed cap, wrapped in white cloth, was the gun. He unbound it, tested its weight, checking the sights. Next he examined the clothing, seeing the cable TV company logo on the back. Looking at the label inside, he smiled. "You remembered my size."
Tosaki's grave expression didn't change. "Sir, if I may say--"
"No!" Honore saw the look on the man's face, practically knew what he was thinking. "No! You may not say!"
"But sir, I can't stand by and watch you do this. Let the past remain in the past. Doing this will not bring Chris or Mr. Dominick back. It will only bring you harm."
An iron fist gripped Honore's heart, his jaw going rigid with anger. "It'll bring justice to Chris's killer. His death will finally be avenged."
"Sir, we are not young anymore. If this should fail--"
"It won't! That I can promise!" Honore went cold inside, shutting off all his emotions. "Did you get the picture?" Tosaki said nothing, merely removed another instant photo from his shirt pocket and handed it over. Honore studied the glossy shot of McGarrett, briefcase in hand, coming down the front steps of the Iolani Palace, and nodded.
Silently he headed for the den, Tosaki following behind him. He sat at his desk and picked up the red pen and began to write.
"Please prepare this as we did the others, but I want this one sent special delivery. Have the courier deliver this exactly at 2 p.m. on Friday to the Five-O office, attention of Mr. Williams." He finished the lettering and handed back the picture.
Tosaki looked at the photo in his hand, sadness reflecting in his face.
Honore stood, the invisible iron fist releasing its grip on his soul. He hated having to do what was coming next, but it was for the best. He reached out, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder, fighting the tightness of emotion building in his chest. "Tosaki, my friend, all these years you have served me and my family well, but it's time for you to leave me...time for you to retire."
Stunned, he looked up. "Mr. Vashon--"
"The bank account is already in your name. After you post the letter, I want you to go to the Far East Travel Agency. I've made a reservation and prepaid a ticket for you to go to Japan. I'll have your bags and necessary documents sent to the airport as the flight leaves this afternoon."
"But Mr. Vashon--"
Honore looked at the man's anxious face and softly, but firmly said, "You've never questioned my orders before, Tosaki. Don't start now. Do as I ask of you, all right?"
Reluctantly, he replied, "Yes, sir."
"Goodbye--my friend."
Tosaki bowed slightly. "Goodbye, sir. It has been an honor to know you and work for your family." Sadly he turned away, heading for the kitchen.
Honore heard the back door close and the lock-bolt click into place, and a minute later the car started. The sound of the engine faded as the car left the driveway and soon silence filled the condominium.
Again Honore looked at the calendar lying on his desk. Friday was only a sunrise away.
###
He glanced at his watch, noting it was 5:05 p.m. It had taken Ikki most of the day to go through the HPD photo library, but by mid-afternoon she'd hit pay dirt. Damn lucky she did, as he couldn't have held her past the 24-hour time limit, which had been a couple of hours away from expiration.
He was a bit surprised at who she identified as the 'john.' Dan didn't think Kasifumi was still in the islands after all these years. An ex-cop washed out of HPD due to a chronic drug problem, turned private investigator; he was good when he was sober. Then came the big sex scandal that lost him his investigator's license and won him a stay in Hawaii State Prison. Fumi had gone to hell in a handbag and it certainly was a shame. And he was also proving a bit hard to locate. This was the fourth flat he and Duke had visited.
"Let's get lucky this time," Dan murmured. "I'm beginning to feel like we'll need to pick out furniture pretty soon."
"No thanks," Duke replied. "Mrs. Lukela wouldn't like me moving out. This way to room 2021," he said, pointing at the directory sign posted on the water-stained wall. Both men headed down the narrow hall. Moments later they came to a halt in front of a battered door.
Dan glanced at Duke, both men taking care to stand to the side. He rapped on the door, sending loose chips of old white paint to the grimy floor. "Fumi! It's Dan Williams of Five-O."
Both men waited, but there was no reaction. Dan rapped again and when there was still no answer he gently turned the knob, finding it unlocked. Cautiously, the two entered the apartment.
One beat-up autumn gold chair that somehow survived the 1970s sat in a corner; a single bed with a lumpy-looking, naked mattress occupied the opposite wall. By the bathroom door stood a scarred dresser that had one drawer missing. A half-empty whiskey bottle and a dirty glass sat by the bed.
"Well, at least he's still here," Duke said, looking in the closet, kicking at some items of clothing piled beside a canvas bag. He picked up a rumpled ticket jacket off the dresser and pulled out an airline ticket. "This cost a pretty penny. Round trip to Auckland. Shows paid with cash. He was supposed to leave today at two p.m."
Dan looked in the bathroom, seeing some personal toiletries on the window sill. Yeah, he was still here. He looked at his watch again. "He's probably in one of the bars along the strip. Knowing Fumi, if he has money, he could be out quite a while."
Duke had that look on his face. "Surveillance?"
"Yeah, and put out an APB. The sooner we talk to Fumi the better." Dan headed for the door, Duke following behind him. "Go see if we can get a room across or beside this one. I'll call Truck and Kimo. Let's hope they don't have any plans for the evening."
"Shall I call a moving van for our furniture?"
"Very funny," Dan commented dryly as they exited the room, heading down the hallway.
###
"No idea," Danny said, "and we won't know until we pick up Fumi and ask. Duke and Lori are watching his digs right now. I'm hoping to hear some good news from them...soon."
"No APB?"
"Put one out yesterday. No luck yet." The younger man's gaze returned to the bulletin board. "This whole thing just doesn't make sense. It's been two weeks since the last attempt on Kono. You'd think these guys would make some type of move...a letter or a call to brag about what they've done."
"They could be waiting, hoping we get careless." "Yeah." Dan took a sip, then added, "or until we can't guard Kono anymore. I had to release one of the men back to HPD yesterday."
Steve admantly shook his head. "No, Kono will have a guard until this is resolved, even if I have to do it myself. I'll be damned if I let him down again."
He crossed his arms. The frustration of the past two weeks bore down on him. "And I've really been useful to you guys, too," he said sarcastically. "All during this I've been tied up--done nothing but wrap up old business. I haven't done a damned thing to help you guys with this case."
Danny looked up. "Well, considering what Monday will be, that's understandable."
"No, it's inexcusable."
"Steve, you can't do everything."
"I know," Steve said with a grimace. The knot in his chest drew tighter, his fists clenching at his sides. "I wanted to be working on this, to resolve it before Monday arrives. I owed it to Kono and now it's too late."
"Too late?"
McGarrett said nothing, just turned away from the board to go to the window and open the blinds again. Bright sunlight hit him across the face and he gazed out at the lush green grounds of the Iolani Palace, a sight he knew he was going to miss. He leaned against the wall, trying to sort out his feelings.
"What's bugging you, Steve?"
He gave a short laugh, not looking at Williams. "Today."
"Because you're retiring?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He fidgeted with the pull-cord to the blinds. "The day you've worked your ass off all your life for finally arrives and suddenly you wonder, what the hell do I do for an encore? I never thought I'd actually make it to this day. Now it's here and I hate it because I feel I've left so much undone."
"But you've accomplished a hell of lot too."
"Yeah, I have, but there are a few things that still haunt me. Kono is one, Chin Ho's murder is another, not to mention the falling-out we had ten years ago. I should've listened to you back then. I should've never let you leave Five-O, but pride is a very tough barrier to crack."
Danny walked over to stand next to McGarrett. "Well, I'm not too proud of how I acted either. But what happened is in the past and that's where it should stay."
"I know...." He paused, then looked at Danny. "You're a good cop, Danno, and a good friend."
Suddenly the phone rang and Steve quickly picked up the receiver. "McGarrett. Yeah, he's here. Just a minute." He held it out. "For you. It's Duke."
Danny grabbed the phone. "Yeah, Duke. Yeah. Great! I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and quickly headed for the exit.
"Jackpot?" Steve asked the retreating man.
"Big time," Danny replied. "They have Fumi at HPD headquarters. I'll let you know what I find." The heavy wooden door closed with a thump.
"Yeah, McGarrett softly said, "let me know."
###
He leaned back in his chair and stretched, trying to blink away a negative image burned into his aching eyes from the microfiche viewer he'd been staring into for the past hour. The file on Saito Tosaki was a thick one. Duke Lukela turned off his viewer, and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.
"Did you see anything?" Dan asked.
"Just a bunch of words in tiny white letters," Duke replied. "Hey Al," he shouted through the open door. "Is the computer system up yet?" An answer of 'no' came back and when they heard it would be another twenty minutes both men groaned. "Just our luck," he said, "they would have a processor go down."
"Well, we've waited this long," Dan said as he stood, rubbing his back. "What's another 20 minutes? Let's go back to headquarters. At least we can go through the print-ours we already have. Maybe the system will come back up and make this much easier than it is now."
"What say we grab some lunch to take back with us?"
"Yeah, good idea," Dan said grabbing his tan jacket off the back of the chair, slinging it over his shoulder. They headed out the door and down the corridor.
As Dan followed his co-worker, his mind kept going back to the name and picture Fumi had given them. This guy, Tosaki, looked very familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on how or from where he knew this person. From what Fumi said, the man had served time with him, but he needed to see the full dossier. As he and Steve suspected, there was another person involved and Tosaki would lead Five-O to him. If only the computer system would cooperate. He shoved the thoughts aside as they exited the building and headed for his car.
###
He shook his head. No, the weirdos who were into the revenge stuff never gave up easily. This guy was laying low, waiting. Again he tried to think of who it could be, but he came up as blank as the computer screen this morning. There was no case, no incident he remembered that would put him on someone's hit-list. He was never the big player, only the footman, the gopher.
He rolled over to the sink, rinsing the cloth and draping it over the faucet. Well, this guy would have to wait a long time. McGarrett had promised a guard until this nut was caught and locked away. Steve certainly wasn't Mister Personality, but he was always good on his word.
The sound of a truck pulling into the driveway came through the open kitchen window. A mustached man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap got out and headed to the front of the house. From the writing on the back of his coveralls, the man was obviously from the cable company.
A knock sounded at the door and he saw Moki get up from the couch to answer it. Briefly, he wondered why the guy was here. This place didn't have cable. Suddenly a terrible feeling hit Kono and he turned to shout. Two shots exploded throughout the house. Kono saw the guard crumple to the floor, the "cableman" stepping over the body and coming for the kitchen. Adrenalin and fear surged as he yanked open a drawer, going for a butcher knife.
The man slammed the drawer shut, nearly smashing Kono's hand, the warm muzzle of his gun sticking into Kono's neck. "Don't even think of it," the man growled. "Now, do exactly as I tell you! Understand?"
The initial shock was wearing off as Kono looked up at the man. He had no earthly idea who this guy was.
"Understand?" the man growled again, shoving the gun harder into his neck.
Slowly Kono nodded. "Who the hell are you?"
The man removed his sunglasses, revealing dark brown eyes that burned withhatred. "An old friend of McGarrett's," he spat.
###
He picked up another empty carton when the intercom buzzed. A call was holding. He glanced at the flashing light, hoping it wasn't another well-wisher who was going to tell him how envious they were about him retiring. He'd gladly trade a few years with them, anytime.
He punched the button. "Yes, Lani?"
"Boss, I have Kono Kalakaua on line one. He's asking for you."
He hesitated, a bit perplexed that Kono was phoning him. With the recent events the ice had begun to thaw, but even so, when he called he always talked to Danno or Duke. "Thanks, I'll take it." He clicked off the intercom as he picked up the receiver. "Kono, what can I do for you?"
"Steve, I been thinkin', you know, about the past. I think we need to talk...if you could, right now. It's kinda urgent."
"Sure, you know the door has always been open."
"Um, not on the phone. Can you come to the beach house?"
McGarrett frowned. "Kono, is something wrong?"
"No, everything's cool. Can you come over?"
He glanced at his wristwatch. "Sure, I'll be there in about twenty minutes."
"Thanks, see ya then."
"Sure. Bye." McGarrett hung up the phone, his fingers drumming against the white plastic. This seemed rather unusual. After all this time Kono wanted to sit down and discuss what happened all those years ago and why. His voice seemed a bit strained, but then it could be due to his decision to speak with the person he blamed for robbing him not only of his ability to walk, but also his career as a cop.
Steve grabbed his blue jacket off the coat tree and headed for the door. He stopped momentarily at Danny's desk. "I got a call from Kono. Nothing serious," he added, seeing Williams' concerned expression. "He just wants to talk."
Dan gave a small smile. "Progress?"
"I hope so. Don't know how long I'll be gone," he said and headed for the big door. He paused before going out, adding, "Oh, mind the store, will you?"
"Get out of here," Dan said with a laugh.
He went down the polished mahogany staircase of the Iolani Palace, out the front doors and straight to his car. A group of tourists were off-loading from a bus to begin their early afternoon sight-seeing of the area. He waited until they filed past, then backed out and headed for the street.
It was a quiet ride to the beach house in the Hanauma area. Steve pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. He gazed at the dwelling. He'd rehearsed what he wanted to say several times during his short ride, hoping his words wouldn't be taken the wrong way. He had a habit of coming across too strong, too unemotional, and he knew it had earned him a reputation of being cold.
He got out and went to the front, pressing the door bell. Nothing sounded. He then knocked and waited. After a minute he knocked again, harder this time. A sinking feeling hit him and carefully, he tested the door, finding it unlocked. Light fell into the darkened house as he pushed it open and saw Moki lying unmoving in a pool of blood on the floor, his eyes dark with death's stare.
"My God!" Immediately he drew his gun, listening for the slightest noise, his eyes searching the area as he cautiously entered the house. Nothing seemed out of place, nor were there any signs of a struggle. He tried the light switch. It was dead. "Kono?" he called, very wary of his surroundings. "Kono?"
Nothing but silence answered him. He moved over to the couch and picked up the phone. It, too, was dead. McGarrett turned, going for the door.
Once outside, he quickly headed for his car. He reached through the open window, grabbed the mike and the whole thing came out.
"What the hell?" The cord swung loose, bare wires showing where it had been cut. An alarm went off inside his head, the sinking feeling turning into dread. Kono's voice, the phone call; it was to lure him out here. The puzzle pieces were starting to make a scary kind of sense as he now knew he was part of the picture.
He started to get inside his car. Suddenly the sound of shattering glass mixed with a distinct and painful cry. McGarrett froze as another crash, followed by an undeniable curse, came from inside the single-car garage.
The big garage-door was shut, but like an invitation, the side door hung wide open. He had no back-up, no way to call for any, and time was against him to drive to the nearest phone. Kono and whoever was behind this were in there. Gun at the ready, he started for the building.
###
"There," Dan said, pointing at the screen. "Stop there."
Each man listened as he read the background and history aloud. "Convicted as an accessory to murder, and also on conspiracy in the attempted murder of a police official in connection to one--' Danny froze, the picture becoming quite clear. "Dear God! Honore Vashon?"
"Danno, your tan just faded," Kimo said. "What's wrong?"
"Duke, where are your lists?"
"Right here." He handed them to Williams.
Danny scanned the enemies list, not seeing the ex-mob boss's name. Quickly he switched to the parole list. "This may sound off the wall, but I don't think Kono is the target. He's the bait for a bigger fish."
Duke looked up at Danny as if a bell had just gone off. "The hotel heists. Steve shot and killed Chris Vashon in the line of duty."
"Yeah, and Honore has never forgotten it." He stopped, the name of Honore Vashon showing on the recent parole list in stark black and white.
"Danny," a worried looking Lani called as she stood in the cubical entrance. "We just got a special delivery. It's another letter with a photo inside it, and it's addressed to you."
Williams took it from her, not bothering with concern for prints as he tore open the envelope and pulled out the snap-shot. The creepy feeling inside him intensified as he looked at an image of Steve McGarrett leaving the Iolani Palace. Hand lettering on the bottom border read: "This Little Piggy killed my son!"
Danny added Kono's phone call, the arrival of the picture together with Vashon and grabbed the phone on Duke's desk, quickly punching in a number. "Central, this is Williams, Five-O. Get me McGarrett, priority one." He covered the mouthpiece. "Kimo, call the beach house. That's where he was heading."
As Kimo left for his cubicle, Dan waited. A minute later Central came back. "No answer. I want a car dispatched immediately to 3232 Kalanianaole Highway."
"Danno," Kimo called. "Can't get through. I get nothing but a busy signal."
He hung up, heading straight for the door. "Let's go, guys!"
###
Head to one side, eyes closed, Kono sat in his wheel-chair, hands bound behind him, his mouth gagged. Fresh blood trailed down the side of his face. Just in back of him was a closed door, blood smeared across the front of it.
His cop's intuition screamed warnings inside his head. To step inside would put him in a box.
At that moment, Kono moaned, his head moving slightly.
Box be damned, Steve wasn't going to let Kono down a second time. He pressed against the wall, leaning just enough to see around the doorjamb. "You inside! This is McGarrett, Five-O! Come out with your hands up!"
Seconds passed, but there was no answer, just the sound of the wind coming off the ocean.
Carefully Steve entered the building. The glass crunched under his shoes as he made his way along the side. He stepped around another dumped box and more broken glass as he reached the back.
Gun ready, he stood to one side of the blood-smeared door, and grasped the knob, then abruptly yanked it open only to be greeted by a washer and dryer. One window above them was wide open, faded green curtains fluttering in the breeze.
Quickly he turned, going to the semi-conscious man in the wheelchair. "Kono? Kono, can you hear me?" Hurriedly, he removed the gag and then began untying his hands. Whoever did this was outside and he and Kono were sitting targets. They had to get out, now!
Racket startled him as the garage door suddenly flew upward. He spun, aiming as he came around.
"Freeze right there or Kalakaua's dead," a man snarled, leveling a revolver at Kono. "Drop the gun," he ordered. When McGarrett hesitated he shouted, "Drop it! Now!"
Steve obeyed, letting it gently fall just in front of him, then slowly he straightened.
"That's a good little piggy," the man said, contempt saturating his words.
Surprise made McGarrett stare speechless at the person standing silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight. He recognized the build, and the voice instantly. A cold wave of fear washed through him and he whispered, "Vashon!"
"I've waited a long time for this, my friend," Vashon said. He moved into the garage, his gun never wavering. "A very long time." He smiled, his brown eyes glittering with hatred. "You see...this little piggy's time has just run out!" He swung the muzzle toward McGarrett.
Shots rang in the garage as Steve dropped down, trying to reach his gun. Pain, sudden and sharp burned into his gut. He gasped, glass scattering as he hit the overturned box, shards slicing into his hands and through his jacket as he tried to stop his fall. He hit the concrete, vision turning white, the agony twisting him double. Clutching his mid-section, he gasped for breath, aware of blood, warm, wet and sticky against his skin and on his face.
The crunch of glass sounded. He opened his eyes, seeing the dust covered shoes of his assailant, then slowly looked up to see Vashon standing over him, his face a stone mask. The missing piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and McGarrett knew he and Kono would never leave this place alive.
###
"Murder?" McGarrett rasped. "I shot...your son. But you murdered... him." He grimaced, inhaling sharply. "You...and his grandfather...."
The years of anger blazed through Honore, erupting like a volcano. "Liar! You shot him and he died in my arms!" With difficulty, he brought himself under control. "And you drove my father to suicide. How would you like it, you bloody son of a bitch, if I let you die like he did?" He pointed his gun at McGarrett's head, his hand trembling as he aimed.
For several seconds the cop stared up at Honore. He blinked twice, then slowly his eyes closed, his breathing growing shallow.
"You bastard!" Kono shouted.
The force of furious a bull plowed into Honore as he fired, the shot going wild. He yelled in pain, tumbling over, gripping the weapon tight as metal and a man crushed against him, sharp pain surging through his legs and back. He tasted blood as he twisted around, glass grinding through this clothes and into his back. Two strong arms locked around his waist.
His fist came down against the side of the man's face. He swung the gun around as a vise-like hand clamped around his wrist, pinning it to the side. Honore fought back with all his might, teeth gritted as he battled the Hawaiian for control, his finger tightening on the trigger. Desperately he tried to get out from under the man's weight, but Kono anchored him down.
His strength surged. Wildly the gun swung back and around and he pulled it in-between them and squeezed. A shot rang out and Kono stiffened, his breath driven sharply from him. His grip relaxed and Honore extricated himself from his attacker.
Chest heaving, Vashon glared down at the man beside the overturned wheelchair. All around the body, the shattered glass glittered like diamonds in the naked light.
Blood streamed from the cuts that covered his arms, but he didn't feel any pain. He wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth and stared at the floor, his strength evaporating, leaving him drained and burned out.
The one he recognized as Dan Williams came to an abrupt stop. "Freeze!" he shouted, his gun targeted on Honore. Lukela and the two officers did likewise as another plainclothes he didn't know appeared through the side-door, his police .38 also drawn and aimed.
Honore felt a strange calmness, a peace he had not known for long time invade him. He smiled as he could suddenly hear his father speaking to him, instructing him. He nodded in agreement.
"Drop the gun and put your hands on your head!" Williams ordered.
Honore smiled and said, "No, not this time." He put the barrel of his revolver to his temple and pulled the trigger.
###
For some reason he tried to remember anyway; something had happened, but all he could feel was the pain, especially in his abdomen. He lifted his hand trying to scratch at the irritating tubes that fed oxygen into his nasal passages. God, even his face hurt. Through the drug induced haze, a memory of a cold floor, and the crunch of glass under shoes flashed into his mind.
He opened his eyes, focusing on something hovering over him. It was a double bag of intravenous fluids hanging beside his hospital bed. Plastic tubes ran down from it, attaching to his arm. He looked at his bandaged hands, and he remembered feeling broken glass.
The door to his room gently creaked opened and Dan Williams looked inside. "Hey," he said softly.
Steve blinked, battling confusion as his friend walked over to the side of his bed. For a few moments he stared at the man in the black suit and tie. "Danno," he said tiredly. "You're back?"
Williams gripped the bed rail. "Yeah, I'm back. Have been for a while."
He closed his eyes, trying to fight the infernal grogginess. "Oh, yeah...yeah, I remember now." He rested a bit, almost falling back into the sedation. He opened his eyes again, another tag of memory coming back. "What day is it?"
"September 25th. You've been out of it for three days. You had us pretty worried."
Steve would have laughed, but didn't have the energy. "Happy retirement," he murmured.
A smile turned the corners of Danno's mouth. "You know you screwed up the party we were going to throw for you and the hospital won't let us hold it in intensive care. So, we all chipped in and got you a small gift." He held out a can of Nine Lives Cat Food. "It's got to be better than the stuff the hospital's giving you."
"...bunch of smartasses," Steve said softly, but a weak smile played the at
the corners of his mouth.
Danny set the can of tuna on the night table. When he turned back to Steve his expression grew somber again. "How do you feel?"
"Like hell."
"Do you remember what happened?"
Steve was silent for a moment, trying to put together the bits of memory; the concrete floor, the glass, the blood, the shoes of an old man who had a mustache, gray hair and a gun. "Vashon," he breathed, looking up at Dan. "It was Vashon. He was after me, not Kono."
A nurse entered the room. "I'm sorry, Mr. Williams, but your time is up."
Gently Danny touched Steve's shoulder. "I gotta run, but I'll be back this evening."
He nodded and the younger man turned to leave.
"Danno," Steve called. "Is Kono all right?"
Dan stopped, hesitating slightly before he looked back. "He's...not in pain. Just relax and I'll fill you in tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Steve answered and closed his eyes again. He heard the door shut softly and he drifted a little. The fuzzy insulation of sedation numbed his mind, tatters of thoughts rising and sinking, memories of sounds echoing inside his head.
How would you like it, you bloody son of a bitch-- Gunfire exploded! You bastard! Kono yelled. Vashon cried out, terrible racket followed, then another shot rang out.
Steve's eyes snapped open in horror, recall breaking through the drugs. He looked at the closed door, another realization coming clear. Danno had on his black suit. He never wore that suit, except for one occasion and that was for a funeral.
PAU