Fic: The Business of Second Chances (2/3)
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tli_productionsHeader information and notes contained in Part 1.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
The Acting Governor of Hawaii is a short, rotund man with the manner of an accountant and the air of a boar staring down the business end of a hunting rifle. He is sworn in in front of a sea of video cameras and flashing lights while the remains of Five-0 watch from the shadows cast by the early evening light.
He steps forward to give his first official press conference and at the precise moment he begins to speak, Chin feels a hand at his elbow.
“Come on,” the Captain tells him. Chin glances back at the others – Danny, Jenna and Aldershot – and they follow him and the Captain silently around the increased police presence, around the HPD buildings and through one of the back exits.
In the confines of his office, the Captain suddenly looks smaller than his usual looming frame, and his exhaustion is evident. Chin is just as tired, but even more on edge.
“Ask your questions, Chin,” the Captain says, breaking the tense silence.
Chin nods. “When did you first become aware that the evidence from the Governor's mansion was missing?”
“I personally wasn't aware of it until first thing this morning. With the mêlée from processing Commander McGarrett and Officer Kalakaua -” Chin's arm darts out to restrain Danny's automatic bristle, and he notes the fear and tension in Jenna's posture, and the naked curiosity in Aldershot's. “- nothing brought from the crime scene was processed immediately.”
“Giving someone enough time to slip in, unnoticed, and make off with everything.” Danny's voice is low and hard and completely to be expected.
“Yes,” the Captain tells him. “At this point I'm not ruling out anything -”
“Like another mole?” Danny is on a knife-edge now, and Chin could hit himself for forgetting about Meka. Danny hadn't mentioned him since leaving Sanden's office, and it hadn't occurred to Chin. He thinks – no, he knows Steve would have instinctively understood every degree of tension in his partner's body, would have made the connection intuitively.
The Captain sighs. “We can't take another hit like that,” he says, almost redundantly, but the women in the room hadn't been here for Meka, or even in the beginning when they'd first found out there was a mole.
“I'm guessing checking the station's internal security feeds is out,” Danny opines.
“No.” The Captain's answer surprises all of them. “It would be a long shot, but not 'out'.”
“I can – I can do that.” Jenna's arm twitches like she'd been on the verge of sticking it up.
The Captain motions behind him to his computer, then leans over for a Post-it pad and a pen, writes a sequence of letters and numbers and gives Jenna the top sheet. “My password,” he explains.
Taking it, Jenna pulls out her glasses and positions them carefully on her nose while squinting at the tiny handwriting. She glances at Chin quickly before concentrating on the computer.
“Lieutenant.” The Captain looks at him carefully. “A word?”
“Of course,” Chin nods. He starts to move for the door, but is stopped by another hand on his elbow.
The Captain glances sideways at Danny, Aldershot and Jenna and then looks back at Chin. “You have questions about your involvement in this case,” he says in a mixture of Hawaiian and pidgin.
It's as close to a private conversation as they're going to get, under the circumstances, and one Chin is more than willing to go along with. “My ability to be fair was questioned,” Chin replies.
“Yes.” To his credit, the Captain ignores Danny's eye-rolling and Aldershot's staring at the two of them.
“But these new events...” Chin gauges the other man's reactions carefully. “Why us?”
“Your team was far from popular in these halls – but nobody has ever been able to deny that Five-0 got results.” The untranslatable task force name gets everyone's attention, but without context they're left to wonder. “Consider this a second chance,” the Captain continues. “If the theft of the evidence is connected to McGarrett, Jameson or your second body – prove it.”
“In accordance with the law.”
At that, the Captain grins and indicates Chin's HPD badge. “Them's the rules.”
Chin takes a breath and tries to think. If Jenna can find something on the security feeds that links the missing evidence or any of the forensics teams to Wo Fat or the Yakuza – but they still need the second body to have Yakuza ties for the connection to stick. There are too many variables, and a much larger game being played than Chin can see right now.
He sticks with what he can touch and see and affect directly. “Lieutenant Aldershot,” he says. “You spoke to Commander McGarrett earlier today.”
“Yes,” Aldershot confirms.
“What did he say exactly?”
“Just the one word answer to whether he killed Jameson or not – he said no,” she adds quickly.
“I need you to get back in to talk to him,” Chin tells her. “Make sure he knows this is coming from us – we need to know every detail of what went down in that office, whether he likes it or not.”
“He may not comply,” Aldershot says. “I believed him when he said he didn't do it, but he still acted like a guilty man -”
“Yeah, Steve does that,” Danny interrupts. “The way he probably sees it, his entire life is a string of 'what if's gone wrong, and this won't be any different.”
“I don't know,” Jenna chips in. “Is he really the type to punish himself for something he didn't do?”
“Yes,” Danny says instantly.
Jenna frowns over the frames of her glasses. “He wanted to believe the Governor when she said she didn't know about Noshimuri's Yakuza links.” She shrugs. “The Governor started Five-0 in response to his father's murder. That kind of faith can blind people.”
“Even more reason for him to think this is all his fault,” Danny says. “He broke into the Governor's mansion twice in one day, the second time with a gun. His intention may not have been to kill her, but that was still the end result.”
“And with his own gun,” Chin adds. “Steve doesn't take being physically bested all that well.”
“Flagellation.” Danny snaps his fingers. “Self-flagellation, that's the word I was looking for. It's practically a McGarrett speciality.”
“This pop psychology is all well and good,” Aldershot says. “But if your assessment of Commander McGarrett is accurate, how am I supposed to get through to him?”
“I'll go with you,” Danny says instantly, but Aldershot's already shaking her head.
“He's barred from having visitors,” she tells him apologetically. “Except for his attorney.”
“What about Kono?” Danny asks nobody in particular.
“Officer Kalakaua's charges are significantly less than those of Commander McGarrett's, under the circumstances.” The Captain takes Danny's surprise in his stride. “She'll be permitted limited visitation rights pre-trial.”
“Ever represented a civilian before?” Danny asks Aldershot, and she shakes her head again.
“Not within my purview – legal advice, on the other hand, transcends military affiliation.”
“Meaning you can get in?” Chin asks.
She considers it for a moment. “Can't hurt to try,” she replies. “And if that doesn't work, I can get in on my position as Commander McGarrett's lawyer – I do need to speak to everyone in Five-0, after all.”
“Nothing on the precinct's internal security feeds,” Jenna reports. “I can't find any shots of the forensics teams or evidence making it back to the station.”
The Captain moves over to the window. “Conference is breaking up; you'll need to get out of here if you don't want the state's press all over you,” he informs the team.
Chin's already drawing up battle plans in his head. “Meet back at my place,” he says – perfectly redundantly, because he already knows there's nowhere else any of them is going to be tonight.
o o o o o
The kid's demons are loud and persistent. It's difficult for Steve to refer to him as anything else, and he doesn't think a name will exactly be forthcoming.
“No, no, no... Chris, please...”
Not the kid's name, at least. Chris is the latest variation on a name that could be Christie, Christine, Kristen... the continually changing diminutives are either an indication of familiarity – “Book 'em, Danno!” – or there is no such person and Steve's over-analysing a nightmare.
Not that he can do much else right now. There are two guards on patrol in the hallways; a pair of bunkmates are loudly fucking in the cell opposite; the occupants of a cluster of cells at the far end of the block are discussing what sounds like... media coverage, though of what Steve can't make out.
And in the bunk directly beneath him a boy is crying out for his mother, sister, girlfriend... whoever Christie is.
Steve closes his eyes and wonders how Kono's faring, if she's in a jail like this one or still being held at HPD. Whether Chin's managed to get in and see her. What Chin and Danny and Jenna are even doing, whether they're getting on with something vaguely resembling a life or if they're being dragged into the mud and mire by Steve's screw-ups as well.
The kid whimpers and howls before falling quiet, making snuffling noises into his pillow.
Some small part of Steve's brain starts to consider the kid as a strategic op, and multiple possibilities start to present themselves to him. He could slip down off the bunk and try to coax the kid out of his nightmare – Danny's described the process enough times that Steve thinks he could get the steps right – but that's open to misinterpretation and even physical retaliation, and Steve's learned the hard way not to underestimate smaller opponents before.
He could stay on the bunk and try talking the kid out of the nightmare. The problem with that is he'd have no idea what to say beyond the very obvious and very stilted. He can't remember Danny ever having gone into detail about how he's dealt with Grace's night terrors, but he suspects it's an intuitive thing, and one of those areas where Danny can run rings around him without even trying.
The other alternative, of course, is to do nothing and ride the nightmare out. It's more passive than Steve's used to, but this entire situation has left him more passive than he's used to. He's technically innocent of the crime he's in jail for, but breaking out is a federal offence – and something he really wouldn't be able to come back from.
It sounds overly simple, but it's the truth: Hawaii can't be his home if he's a fugitive.
There's a loud, sharp intake of breath from the bottom bunk, and then the breathing patterns change. The kid's awake.
Steve still doesn't know what he's supposed to say or do, or how it's going to be received. He doubts it would be well.
And in the end his decision is – again – taken away from him. “Didn't wake you, did I?” someone asks – Steve realises it's the kid.
He frowns in the darkness. “No.”
“Good, s'good, I -” didn't want to make you mad is probably the rest of that sentence.
“Who's Christie?” Steve asks before he can stop himself.
But it doesn't matter – the kid doesn't answer him.
o o o o o
The team meets back at Chin's an hour after they leave the precinct. Jenna has clearly stopped by her motel room, dumping a bulging knapsack by the side of the couch and settling herself into her reduced command centre in one smooth movement.
Danny barrels through the house, cell phone attached to one ear and in mid-argument with someone female. That much Chin can tell from the higher-pitched yelling he can hear from the kitchen. Danny's language is all wrong for it to be Rachel, but that doesn't rule out other family members he doesn't have direct knowledge of.
Aldershot shows up last, having knocked on Chin's door with the same rigid formality as when she'd shown up earlier. She's changed into civilian clothes between PD and here, sporting nondescript colours and modest necklines that remind Chin of the librarians from when he'd been at Kukui. She hesitates in the doorway, habit clearly making her reach for a hat that isn't there before she catches herself and asks: “Can I come in?”
Chin holds back a smile, but stands aside. “Come on,” he says, leading her to the living room.
Jenna doesn't give up any of the couch space, but Danny's already set out three chairs around the coffee table which are quickly filled. Danny's cell phone is on the table, screen down; his face is taut and Chin can't help but wonder what the argument had been about, and with whom.
“First things first,” Chin starts. “What do we know?”
Jenna looks up from the laptop. “Governor Jameson was killed with two bullets from Com – Steve's gun. The same gun was likely used to kill the man whose death you and Danny were sent to investigate.”
“The second crime scene possibly mirrored Jameson's,” Danny says sombrely. “John Doe was sitting upright when he was killed by someone standing over him.”
“And the time of death was while Steve was in HPD custody – and his gun missing from evidence,” Chin continues.
“But why?” Aldershot asks. Whether it's from some compulsion to feel included or just to act as a voice of reason isn't clear. “Assuming that Commander McGarrett's weapon was used to kill the second victim – why?”
“To throw doubt on the investigation – and Steve's arrest,” Chin suggests.
“So says the arresting officer,” Danny counters. Before Chin can protest, he continues: “You saw those reporters hustling the Acting Governor – we all did. And then there's the news coverage. Steve's as good as locked up for the rest of his life. It would take nothing short of a miracle for the case to be thrown out.”
“Or a conspiracy,” Jenna says.
“What do you -” Aldershot begins, but Chin's already seeing the bigger picture.
“Wo Fat,” he says to Jenna, not taking his eyes off hers. She nods slowly. “He's the only person who could have made Steve go off the reservation the way he did, and the only person on the islands with a vested interest in playing mind games with him.”
“He has ties to the Yakuza,” Danny interjects. “Assuming my hunch was correct and that John Doe does have Yakuza links of his own – there you have it.” He waves his arms around.
“But why?” Jenna frowns. “Why would Wo Fat set Steve up as the perfect fall guy for a high-profile murder, then turn around and sow the seeds for a mistrial?”
The realisation hits Chin like a sucker punch. “Because he can. This is all a game to him.”
“And one of control.” Danny rubs his face with a hand. “This – all of this is his way of telling Steve he's the top dog and no one can touch him.”
“But we can,” Jenna says instantly. “Can't we?”
“More importantly,” Aldershot says, though more hesitantly than before, “how would we go about proving it?”
“I don't think we can,” Chin replies. “The second crime scene was a secondary location, and likely clean.”
“Plus there's what Sanden told us – everything not directly related to Jameson goes straight to the bottom of the list.” Danny pulls a face. “Aside from a commonality in ballistics and my admittedly less than stellar memory for faces, we have nothing concrete linking the two murders.”
“But it would be enough to secure Commander McGarrett's release, at least temporarily,” Aldershot says – and doesn't that just grab everyone's attention. “Like you said,” she tells Chin, “if this is about control and power plays, the end game will be the commander's case being overturned, even without an outright exoneration.”
It's as messed up a ploy as Chin's ever heard, but it makes a sickening kind of sense. If everything Five-0 has suspected about Wo Fat is true – calling it bad news for Steve would be the understatement of the century. McGarrett's never responded well to being the subject of mind games, and Chin doesn't want to think about how he'd react to this.
Silence echoes around the coffee table, and the unspoken question hangs even louder.
Now what?
Now... “We have to compile as much hard evidence as we can,” Chin decides out loud. “Danny, see if Sanden's still up, and get her to go over every inch of John Doe to see if there's anything she might have missed the first time around; stand over her shoulder if you have to. Jenna – keep trying to track down any evidence from the Governor's mansion. Aldershot – get onto jail authorities and organise interviews with Kono and Steve. You're still our only guaranteed point of contact to both of them.”
“What about you?” Danny asks.
“I'm going to ruffle a few feathers,” Chin answers. He's ready to admit that he doesn't have the first clue how he's going to do that when it hits him and he reaches for his cellphone and badge, scrolling through the contacts list on the former while placing the latter on the coffee table.
Danny doesn't look convinced. “Call me if you need backup.”
Chin nods, even as he's making the call. It picks up on the sixth ring.
“What do you want?”
“Help,” Chin says. He tucks the phone under his ear and leaves the house quickly, before the others can stop or ask him what he's up to. He wonders whether Danny's realised that he has no intention of calling for backup – the last thing they need to be is another man down right now. “I need your help.”
o o o o o
“Christie's my ex.”
The statement, whispered but clear, makes Steve jump a little. It's around 0400 and up to that point he'd been dozing, relaxing his guard enough to try and get some sleep. The adrenaline coursing through his system quickly causes that plan to abort.
He thinks about the moniker the kid had used, and what he'd heard up to that point. It must have been a hell of a break up. Steve's not sure what he's supposed to do next, so he stays silent and waits.
“Well, sort of,” the kid eventually continues. “I haven't seen her in a while, I don't know what...”
Steve weighs his options. He thinks he understands the mechanics of prison visits and relationships, but it's not something he has direct experience of. “How long have you been here?”
“Four months,” the kid answers, surprisingly promptly. “Don't know why it hasn't gone to trial yet.”
“But this isn't your first time?” Steve guesses.
“No.”
Steve exhales into the silence. “What are you in for?” And was it connected to Five-0?
Did I do this to you?
“Possession with intent to distribute.” The kid rattles it off like it's a shopping list. “Caught with a large enough amount they've got a shot at making the charge stick.”
Why are you telling me this? “And Christie didn't want you involved.”
“She wants me to get clean. But there aren't exactly promising career options on the island for a high-school drop out at the best of times.”
Steve recognises the cynical tone from his own childhood, and Dad shipping him out to the mainland straight after Mom's funeral with nothing but a couple of suitcases and a pit in his stomach that he'd thought would never go away. But he'd had football to keep him going, and the promise of Annapolis, and the almost petty solace that at least Mary had been in the same boat as him.
“So that's my story.” The kid interrupts Steve's brief reverie with practised apathy. “My whole life is one vicious circle of drugs and jail and nothing worth stopping for. So stop asking questions, Five-0. It's not your job any more, and from what I hear, it's never going to be again.”
And that, apparently, is that.
o o o o o
Sid takes Chin to a twenty-four hour laundromat on the outskirts of Honolulu, the outside of which is grey and battered, flaking paintwork and old wood boarding up one of the windows. The machines look about as old as he is, and three of them are in use when Sid pushes the front door open and steps inside, leaving Chin to follow in his wake. The air is pungent with cigarette smoke and detergent and the dim lighting seems appropriate given their reasons for being here.
There are a handful of patrons. A few of them glance up at Chin but they just as quickly dismiss him, and even fewer pay Sid any heed. Sid pointedly ignores all of them, instead focusing on his path over discarded clothing, bags and unidentifiable debris.
The laundromat's proprietor's suspicion when he sees Sid is impossible to miss.
“Don't serve cops,” he grunts.
Sid glances at Chin. What did you expect? is written all over his face. “Watched the news lately, Owens?” he asks, both establishing himself as the lead in this... whatever this is, and giving Chin the other man's name.
Owens huffs. “Don't mean much. What do you want?”
“Traffic reports,” Sid replies, picking his words carefully.
“Who's the beanpole?” Owens counters.
Sid glances at Chin again. “Family. He's one of mine. Now, do you got those reports or do I have to look elsewhere?”
“More'n your life is worth to sting me,” Owens replies, calm but derisory. He makes a show of sifting through some of the papers on the table beside him.
Sid sighs. “All we're here for is information. If this was a sting, SWAT would be all over this hole of yours already.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Keahi.”
Owens swears. “You're cashing that in for – this? That damn haole SEAL?”
“He's as kama 'aina as you and me, maybe more,” Chin replies before he can stop himself, and before he can wonder what or maybe who Keahi is. “Do you have what I want, or not?”
Owens glances between Sid and Chin a few times, processing the new dynamic with more shrewdness than had been there before. Then he nods, and smirks. “I'll need time.”
“How does an hour sound?” Sid demands.
Owens swears again. “My schedule. I'll call when I have what you want.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Sid leaves the office, motioning Chin to follow, and they leave the laundromat at a much quicker pace than when they'd come in.
Chin's about to get into his car when Sid stops him. “I hope you know what you're doing.”
“Yeah,” Chin says. “I – thank you. For in there.”
Sid shrugs. “The hell I'm collecting any other way off that creep. But he's reliable as they come. If he supplies intel, it'll be solid.”
Chin just hopes it will be enough.
“You're a good man,” Sid says, surprising him – and himself by the look of it, “doing this for McGarrett.”
“He's innocent,” Chin shrugs.
Sid gives him a long look. “Like you, taking the fall so Auntie could get her kidney.” He exhales loudly, then nods. “Like I said, hope you know what you're doing, cuz. I'll call you when Owens comes through.”
Chin nods and watches him walk off to his car, get in and leave – back home to his wife and kid. Then he gets on his bike and heads back to his place, where a different kind of family will be waiting for him.
It's going to be another long night.
o o o o o
Kono is pulled out of the breakfast queue – like she was going to eat that colourless slop – and taken to an interview room. Escorted would be too kind a word, but so far nobody's crossed a line, and she isn't exactly in a position to complain.
A redheaded woman stands up when they enter the room, and looks pointedly at the guard until she backs out and closes the door behind her. Kono tries not to stare. She's never seen this woman before in her life; it's obvious that she's not carrying a badge or a gun, maybe not any kind of weapon underneath her bland civilian clothes – but there's something about the way she holds herself that seems familiar, but Kono can't quite put her finger on it.
“Kono Kalakaua.” The woman stumbles only a little over the surname, and holds a hand out, which Kono slowly shakes. “I'm Lieutenant Aldershot, JAG – Commander McGarrett's attorney.”
She's military – that explains why her posture's familiar. Kono's not sure it explains why she's here, though, but if it takes her away from the mess hall for a while, she'll play along.
“Take a seat,” Aldershot continues.
“What are you doing here?” Kono asks. It comes out rougher than she'd like, but she figures the current situation gives her a pass for being abrupt.
“I have a message for you,” Aldershot replies. She pulls a face, clearly concentrating. “Aho – a'o...” She sighs and pulls a piece of crumpled paper out of a pocket, straightening it out and smoothing the edges before handing it to Kono.
A'ohe hana nui ka alu'ia.
Kono frowns as the memory surfaces. Beers being passed around after an almost completely successful first day of – whatever this was going to be. Awesome, probably. “We need a name!”
“Chin sent you,” she says thickly.
Aldershot nods, but says nothing.
“So what – what's going on?” Kono asks. She hasn't even heard rumours since being transferred to jail, and all she's had to go on was the glimpse of Steve being processed after the old lady had identified her as part of the robbery.
“Commander McGarrett's currently being detained in the Oahu Community Correctional Center,” Aldershot replies. “There's a solid case for convicting him for murdering Governor Jameson -” Kono's heart sinks. “- at least, there was.”
Was? Murder? Kono sits up a little straighter than before. “What do you mean?”
Aldershot hesitates, then looks around, as if she's expecting someone to be listening in on what they're saying. There are security cameras, yes, but Kono can't remember if they're wired for sound or not. Either way, Aldershot leans in over the table. “The case is starting to fall apart,” she explains. “Evidence is missing -” Missing? Or stolen? “- and there's a second body. He hasn't been identified yet, but we think he was killed with McGarrett's gun while McGarrett was in custody.”
“Whoa, whoa – hold on.” Kono tries to stop the whirl of thoughts and questions in her head. “What?”
Aldershot shakes her head. “I don't know exactly what or how or even why, but Chin, Detective Williams and Jenna – they know what they're doing.”
Kono smiles. “Five-0,” she says quietly. “You'd be surprised what we can pull off.” She catches herself on the 'we'. “What about me?” Chin and the others might be able to overturn a murder charge – and she's still reeling on Steve being arrested for murder because he doesn't do that, he'd never do that, not without proof and cause and what the hell's been happening to her team over the last week or more because it's mad and -
“I don't know,” Aldershot says, the apology cutting through everything in Kono's head. “Your charges are separate to Commander McGarrett's, and technically he's who I'm supposed to be worried about.”
“Yeah? How's that going for you?”
A flicker of a smile crosses Aldershot's face. “Your team can be very... persuasive. That the commander is innocent helps, as well. Mostly...” She takes a breath.
“Chin sent you,” Kono says again.
“Yeah. He just needs to know you're okay – the others as well.”
“They can't just overturn why I'm in here,” Kono points out.
“No.” Aldershot shakes her head. “But I'm pretty sure they'll give it everything they've got.”
There's a lump in Kono's throat. “Tell them to be careful,” she says. “And not to worry about me being in here. I can take care of myself.”
“I'll do that,” Aldershot replies. She stands up, waits for Kono to do the same, and holds out her hand again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am.”
“Likewise.” Kono shakes her hand. A minute later the guard comes in and takes her back to the cell block. She doesn't regret missing breakfast – but it's worth it knowing a bit more of what's happening.
o o o o o
Danny decides to grab coffees on his way to the campus to meet Professor Sanden. One of the first things Patch had taught him back in Newark was when dealing with civilians to butter them up first and it's served him well over the years. He thinks Sanden might even appreciate the gesture, given everything she's had to deal with over the last day or so.
Ten minutes out from Chin's, and Danny thinks he's got a tail. He tests it, taking a couple of unnecessary little detours and sure enough, back on the main road he's still being followed. He pulls up outside the coffee shop, and checks that his gun is where it's supposed to be as the tail – a dark blue model that looks like it's come straight from the production line – pulls up a few spaces over from him.
Danny rechecks his gun, adjusts his shirt so that his badge is visible and then stomps over to the second car. He doesn't care how badly this could go if a stray camera is watching, he just -
“Stan?” The driver is indeed dear old Step-Stan, and Danny takes in what he can. Stan's shirt is rumpled, his expression focused but his eyes are dull. And he's completely focused on -
“Hey, hey, come on man.” Danny steps backwards automatically. “There is a time and a place for -”
Stan punches him.
Danny stumbles. He rubs his jaw. He realises he has no idea what to say.
“You bastard.” Stan clearly doesn't mind about the lack of conversation. “I... you bastard.”
“I'm sorry,” Danny says automatically, before he can stop himself. There's a crowd starting to gather – just a couple of people, but these things have a way of snowballing.
Stan is obviously thinking along the same lines, or maybe he's thinking something else altogether – Danny's never paid the man enough attention to figure it out one way or the other. But regardless of what he is or isn't thinking, Stan just stares at Danny for a long few seconds, breathing loudly, before he gets back in his car and drives off again.
Danny turns around and heads into the coffee shop, ignoring the former spectators who can't decide whether they want to look at the bruise probably already forming on his face or his HPD badge. He buys the coffees without preamble and drives straight for campus. He periodically checks his mirror, but he's not being followed this time.
In the office adjacent to her lab, Sanden pokes Danny's jaw with a latex-gloved finger. “Do you want to tell me what happened, Detective?”
Danny shakes his head and pulls back from the impromptu examination. The last few months have been crazy enough without him trying to put parts of it into actual words – he has a sneaking suspicion that my ex-wife-now-girlfriend's husband just punched me on the sidewalk would need actual context to even remotely make sense.
“Have you found out anything else since we were here yesterday?” he asks.
“Nothing useful,” Sanden replies. She leads him through to the lab with the slab and John Doe's remains. “Have you found out anything else since you were here yesterday?”
“Possible leads on the possible murder weapon.” It's not much, but it's still all they have.
“Well,” Sanden begins, taking a swig of coffee as she goes, “if you can get me the weapon, I can match it to the bullets I took out of John Doe.”
Danny considers this. He knows Steve got the weapon from Kamekona, but the big guy's dropped off everyone's radar, and not even Chin and his extended family have been able to figure out where he's gone. Danny can't blame him, really. “Does anyone else know you've got bullets?”
“No.” Sanden frowns. “I take it that's a good thing?”
“Just...” Danny doesn't even know. “Just keep it quiet for now, please.”
“Sure.” Sanden moves around the covered body.
Danny sips from his own coffee. It's lukewarm, bordering on cold, but he's had worse.
“In other news, I still don't know John Doe's real name,” Sanden says. “I pulled a partial set of fingerprints, but he's not in any system I've been able to run them through.”
Which still means he could be Yakuza, but he could just as easily be some schmuck in the wrong place at the wrong time for the wrong criminal mastermind's latest evil plans. “Okay,” Danny says anyway. “Fingerprints are good.”
Sanden makes a noise at the back of her throat and drinks some more coffee. “I can't believe I'm saying this but I'd be happier if this guy had a record – something. Anything – just so I'd know who he is.”
Danny can sympathise, but one of the perils of being a homicide cop is having to deal with the fact that not every body who passes through his watch is going to have a name tag attached.
Before he can say anything, his phone buzzes, and Danny reads the text. “You just need a gun, right? To match up to Mr Doe's bullets?”
“Yes...”
Danny nods. “I think we might be able to do something about that. That was Chin – Lieutenant Kelly,” he clarifies, holding up the phone. “We've just got a lead on the possible murder weapon.”
“Okay.” Sanden takes his coffee cup and motions towards the door. “Go. Do – do your thing.”
Danny's out of the door like – well, like a shot.
o o o o o
Steve's in the yard. He knows that rationally he shouldn't be out here, that being this exposed to potential physical attacks is the last thing he needs. Less rational is his compulsion for fresh air and island breeze – and while he knows he can take out multiple assailants, he has no particular interest in getting a tally.
What he keeps telling himself he's interested in is the kid. Steve still doesn't know his name, didn't ask for it last night and isn't exactly in a position to ask around, but he remembers the face and physical features from before lights-out. He hasn't been able to extrapolate body language or pace of movement, but that will come once he sights the kid outside of the cell.
He gets his opportunity twelve and a half minutes after entering the yard and taking up a strategically sound position at the perimeter – as sound as he can get out here, anyway. The kid slips through the gate behind three oversized guys who wouldn't look out of place on a nightclub door and makes his way over to a group of men Steve has already identified as drug dealers. The kid's movements are jerky and uncoordinated, and if Steve didn't know any better he'd suspect the kid was high already. He wonders how the kid's paying for the drugs, whether he's got some form of cash flow in here or if he's offering some other service in exchange. The idea of the kid, who in daylight still looks like he should be in high school, getting on his knees to get high is enough to turn Steve's stomach.
He wants there to be something – anything – that could persuade the kid to clean up. He remembers Christie's name from last night, but he can't exactly commandeer Lieutenant Aldershot on her next visit - if there's a next visit, something in his mind whispers – and get her to track down someone who might not be willing to help someone who's already said he doesn't want helping or saving.
“McGarrett!” It's one of the guards – and he doesn't look happy about having to deal with Steve. “Lawyer's here.”
Steve jumps down from the bench he'd been sitting on, and away from the Hispanic with the quarterback build who clearly thought he was being subtle about sneaking up on him.
In the interview room, Aldershot is wearing civvies, and it throws Steve for a second before he recollects himself. “Lieutenant.”
“Commander,” she nods, and motions him to a chair.
“What do you want?” he asks.
To her credit, Aldershot barely hesitates. “Everything you can remember from the night the Governor was shot.”
He points the gun at her head, demanding answers in a voice that doesn't sound like him but has to be. Why Laura Hills, why the Yakuza. His entire world flipping on its axis with every answer and angry tone -
On the floor. He's lying on the floor. There's a gun in his hand. He can smell the residue but he doesn't remember firing it. His neck hurts and someone's pulling him to his feet and –
“I didn't go there to kill her,” Steve says quietly, but firmly. “That wasn't my intention.”
“You went there for answers,” Aldershot surmises. “Proof?”
Steve nods.
“Proof of what?”
Steve hesitates. Memories of Mom warning him to never speak ill of the dead war with the burgeoning cop instinct to share what he knows – such as it exists in fragmented memories.
“Proof of what, Commander?” Aldershot presses.
“That Jameson had Laura Hills killed for getting too close to my dad's investigation into her ties to the Yakuza, and for countermanding her attempts to stop me finishing what he'd started.” Again it doesn't sound like Steve's speaking, but dimly he knows it's him.
Aldershot leans forward. “Did you record what she said?” she asks. “Or did you transmit it?”
“No.” Steve shakes his head. “My phone – I recorded everything she said.”
“Your phone is missing from evidence,” Aldershot tells him.
Steve stares at her. “It was there. On her desk. I set it to record. Why wouldn't it be in ev...” He trails off as finally – finally things start to click. “There's another mole in HPD. Someone who compromised chain of custody.”
“That's what it looks like.”
“Why?”
Aldershot shakes her head – and Steve thinks he gets it. There are some things he's better off not knowing, at least for now. He doesn't have to like it.
He wants to ask if Aldershot's spoken to anyone else on the team, whether she knows anything about Kono's situation, but before he can look for the words, Aldershot's phone buzzes. She smiles apologetically at him before reading the text message.
“What is it?” Steve asks. If it's relevant to him or Five-0, then surely -
“That was Jenna,” she tells him. “I think the team's just found your evidence.”
o o o o o
Chin's making coffee for Jenna when Aldershot calls to let him know she got in to see Kono and is now on her way over to Oahu Community to see Steve. She passes on the message from Kono – that they should look after themselves, and Chin smiles. Just like his baby cousin to worry about everyone else when she's in just as much hot water as they are – more, in fact.
Jenna practically grabs the coffee as soon as Chin sets the mug down on the table beside her laptop.
“Still no joy?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “There was a partial upload from Steve's phone to the Five-0 servers, but the data's corrupted, like it was interrupted mid-process. There's nowhere near enough information to reconstruct the files.”
“It was worth a try,” Chin reassures her. He feels as dejected as Jenna looks – the only realistic link they have left to any evidence from the Governor's mansion is Sid's contact at the laundromat, and he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with how quickly he'd be able to dig anything up – and there's no guarantee he'll even find anything.
“How do you see this ending?” Jenna asks suddenly. “I mean, really ending.”
“How do you mean?”
“If you're right, and Wo Fat is pulling all the strings...” Jenna shrugs helplessly. “What if this – what we're doing – is all in accordance with some master plan? Five-0's been disbanded – we might be able to get Steve out of jail, but not Kono. He could lose his commission, and the best case for Kono could be, what? Getting out but losing her badge?” She stares at Chin with wide eyes. “For some of us, this team is all we have.”
“No,” Chin tells her gently. “For all of us, this team is all we have.” At least that was how it had been in the beginning. Danny has Rachel and Grace back, and will go wherever they are once this is over – which is New Jersey, and that's everything he's ever wanted, right there, if his frequent outbursts over the last several months have been anything to go by. Kono reinvented herself once, but she's running out of resets and Chin – he's got what he thought he'd always wanted, but the HPD badge isn't a cure-all. Steve could have reactivated himself into the SEALs or Naval Intelligence pretty much any time he wanted after finally getting Hesse, but something had kept him here all this time as well, beyond finishing John's last great investigation. And then there was Jenna, who had a desk job in Langley waiting for her – unless it wasn't, or she'd outgrown her analyst origins.
Chin realises with a dull certainty that he can't answer Jenna's question – he has no idea how this will all end, or even if it will. If he is responsible, however indirectly, for all of this, then Wo Fat could rival Steve for his determination and drive and ability to single mindedly obsess over something. The fallout of the two of them having each other in their cross-hairs for an extended period of time isn't something Chin particularly wants to think about.
His phone rings, and Chin sets his own coffee down before answering it. “Kelly.”
“It's me,” Sid tells him. “Owens came through. Got an address where your evidence is being kept.”
“Tell me.” Chin grabs Jenna's laptop away from her and balances the cell against his shoulder while he types out the address that Sid gives him.
“You going on your own?”
“I'll have back up.” Chin reaches for the keyboard again and with one hand types: Text Danny.
“You and the Jersey boy?” Sid doesn't sound convinced.
Chin huffs, already looking around for where he dumped the bike keys the night before. “They train them well in Newark. And besides,” he adds, “I can't exactly put this through the books.”
“True.” Why one of them hasn't hung up yet is a mystery. “Guess this means I gotta ride along and watch your ass.”
“No, you don't,” Chin tells him. “I have to go.” He hangs up before Sid has a chance to reply.
“Danny's on his way.” Jenna bites her lip. “Be careful.”
Chin places his hands on her shoulders, gripping gently for a second before letting go again. “We will,” he promises.
o o o o o
Danny pulls up at the corner of the street Jenna had texted him, and looks around for Chin. He sees the bike at the far intersection, but there's no sign of the man himself – or, indeed, of any life at all in the immediate vicinity.
“I'm over here, Danny.”
Danny just about succeeds in neither jumping nor screaming, but it comes close. Then he looks closer. Chin's sitting in the passenger seat of an old sedan, and sitting in the driver's seat is...
“Sid?” Danny bends down to get a better look.
“Williams.”
“Should I...?” Danny gestures vaguely at the back seat, and decides to climb in anyway. He parks himself in the middle, and leans forward. “So what's the plan? I mean, we can't just go in there willy-nilly and -”
“Go in there what?” Sid eyeballs him and then glances at Chin. “Seriously, cuz, where'd you find this one?”
Chin shakes his head slightly. “Danny's right,” he tells Sid. “Our old rules don't apply any more. We need probable cause, preferably something that will stand up to scrutiny.”
“Like what?” Danny asks. “Oh dear, oh my, I think I heard someone crying out for help inside?”
Chin snorts, while Sid simply stares at him. “Odd time for a sense of humour.”
“It's a coping mechanism, all right?” Danny retorts.
“Gentlemen.” Chin looks amused now. “How about we just knock on the front door?”
Danny considers this. “And then what? We don't exactly do incognito any more. Neither do we have full immunity. And don't think the Captain won't have all of our asses if we screw this up,” he adds in Chin's direction. It's redundant, but he feels it should be reiterated several times anyway – even if the evidence that could exonerate Steve is on the other side of the front door in question. Also not in their favour is the fact that no judge is likely to give them a warrant, not with the freedom of the ever so beloved late Governor Jameson's alleged murderer on the line.
“You two are ridiculous.” Sid gets out of the car and strides over to the house his contact had given them. Danny and Chin share a split second glance and scramble out of the car to catch him up.
“We're ridiculous?” Danny hisses at him. “You – you are certifiably insane!”
Sid ignores him, and steps calmly over the house's broken front gate and marches up to the front door. He bangs on it twice. “HPD, open up!”
There's no sound from inside. “HPD!” Sid bellows through the door.
“What exactly are we supposed to be getting whoever's inside on?” Danny wonders out loud, his hand already on his weapon.
Sid looks at him like he's completely stupid. “Theft of evidence pertinent to a criminal investigation, brah,” he replies calmly, and at a much more reasonable volume. Then: “I hear something – get around back.”
Chin complies immediately, slipping around the side of the house, leaving Danny and Sid to stare at the front door some more. Sid actually has the temerity to grin at Danny. “You want to do the honours, Jersey?”
Danny has a sinking suspicion that he knows what's coming next. “Be my guest,” he says, and steps back.
Sid licks his lips, then kicks down the front door.
He and Danny charge through the house, guns raised. “Clear!” Danny sweeps through an unfurnished living-slash-dining area.
“Clear!” Sid moves through the kitchen then doubles back on himself to go upstairs.
Danny re-holsters his weapon and looks for Chin – he's out on the back patio, cuffing a scrawny little thing barely Danny's size. He tugs the man's hair, pulling his head back so Danny can get a good look at him.
“Where is it?” Danny asks. The man spits, and Danny grins. He'll never admit to it – but he kind of likes this part. He drops to a squat and smiles some more. “You know why we're here and you have what we want. Now tell me where to find it before I call my cranky friend from upstairs and he can repeat the question.”
The man's eyes narrow. “I'm just a courier.”
“So I promise not to shoot you,” Danny replies, much to Chin's amusement.
“Five-0 is history.” The man spits again. “Hit me and I'll take you down with me.”
“Now who said anything about hitting?” Danny tries to look offended. “Do I look like the kind of man who'd kick the ass of a man on the ground and in cuffs?” he wonders out loud. “Better question,” he says, attention back fully on the man underneath Chin, “is do you want to be the one who finds out?”
As it turns out, all three of them are spared from finding out the answer to that question. “I found it,” Sid announces from behind Danny. He turns around to see Sid holding a brown cardboard box.
Chin and Danny get to their feet, not without difficulty, and take the lid off the box.
“Jackpot...” Danny whispers.
Inside it is what is unmistakeably Steve's cellphone, some shell casings, half completed fingerprint and blood work kits – and a gun.
o o o o o
“None of this will be admissible in a court of law,” Chin says. “And there are no witnesses, co-operating or otherwise, to step forward and admit their level of involvement. Really, though, it's simple – you have two clear choices in front of you.”
The Acting Governor of Hawaii stares at him, but doesn't say anything. His aides bristle, and the heads of the Hawaii branches of the various law enforcement agencies look similarly unimpressed. All except for the HPD Captain, who looks inscrutable, except for the quiet shine of approval and even pride in his eyes.
Behind Chin, he knows Danny, Jenna, Aldershot and Sanden are giving as good as they're getting. But they're not the focus of this show.
“The evidence in front of you proves conclusively that Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett did not murder Governor Pat Jameson, her aide Laura Hills, or the man in the harbour, who remains unidentified,” Chin continues. “That we believe the individual known as Wo Fat to be responsible for all three is at this point immaterial.”
The Acting Governor nods, but keeps quiet, even at the mention of Wo Fat.
“If you decide to formally charge Lieutenant Commander McGarrett for the murders of Governor Jameson and Laura Hills – falsely so – you will be under the thumb of Wo Fat and the Yakuza for the rest of your political life,” Chin says.
“What's the alternative? Letting him go?” The Acting Governor speaks up for the first time. “The media would crucify us.”
“And if they were to find out you'd sentenced an innocent man just to appease them?”
The Acting Governor closes his eyes briefly.
“Own up to it,” Chin continues. “Admit you made a mistake, that Commander McGarrett was present but not responsible for Jameson's murder – that he was framed.” Have some integrity. Be a better person than those who came before you.
Give Steve a second chance.
o o o o o
Two weeks and four days after he is arrested for Jameson's murder, Steve stands at the front gate of Oahu Community Correctional Center, wearing civilian clothes and masking a limp. He squints in the harsh sunlight and doesn't make eye contact with the guards as he walks out into a changed world.
Chin, Danny and Jenna are waiting for him by the Camaro, and Danny opens the passenger door as Steve approaches.
Chin knows better than to think this means it's all over. There's still Kono to get out, but even without that...
This is just the beginning.
o o o o o
Go to: Part 3
o o o o o
The Acting Governor of Hawaii is a short, rotund man with the manner of an accountant and the air of a boar staring down the business end of a hunting rifle. He is sworn in in front of a sea of video cameras and flashing lights while the remains of Five-0 watch from the shadows cast by the early evening light.
He steps forward to give his first official press conference and at the precise moment he begins to speak, Chin feels a hand at his elbow.
“Come on,” the Captain tells him. Chin glances back at the others – Danny, Jenna and Aldershot – and they follow him and the Captain silently around the increased police presence, around the HPD buildings and through one of the back exits.
In the confines of his office, the Captain suddenly looks smaller than his usual looming frame, and his exhaustion is evident. Chin is just as tired, but even more on edge.
“Ask your questions, Chin,” the Captain says, breaking the tense silence.
Chin nods. “When did you first become aware that the evidence from the Governor's mansion was missing?”
“I personally wasn't aware of it until first thing this morning. With the mêlée from processing Commander McGarrett and Officer Kalakaua -” Chin's arm darts out to restrain Danny's automatic bristle, and he notes the fear and tension in Jenna's posture, and the naked curiosity in Aldershot's. “- nothing brought from the crime scene was processed immediately.”
“Giving someone enough time to slip in, unnoticed, and make off with everything.” Danny's voice is low and hard and completely to be expected.
“Yes,” the Captain tells him. “At this point I'm not ruling out anything -”
“Like another mole?” Danny is on a knife-edge now, and Chin could hit himself for forgetting about Meka. Danny hadn't mentioned him since leaving Sanden's office, and it hadn't occurred to Chin. He thinks – no, he knows Steve would have instinctively understood every degree of tension in his partner's body, would have made the connection intuitively.
The Captain sighs. “We can't take another hit like that,” he says, almost redundantly, but the women in the room hadn't been here for Meka, or even in the beginning when they'd first found out there was a mole.
“I'm guessing checking the station's internal security feeds is out,” Danny opines.
“No.” The Captain's answer surprises all of them. “It would be a long shot, but not 'out'.”
“I can – I can do that.” Jenna's arm twitches like she'd been on the verge of sticking it up.
The Captain motions behind him to his computer, then leans over for a Post-it pad and a pen, writes a sequence of letters and numbers and gives Jenna the top sheet. “My password,” he explains.
Taking it, Jenna pulls out her glasses and positions them carefully on her nose while squinting at the tiny handwriting. She glances at Chin quickly before concentrating on the computer.
“Lieutenant.” The Captain looks at him carefully. “A word?”
“Of course,” Chin nods. He starts to move for the door, but is stopped by another hand on his elbow.
The Captain glances sideways at Danny, Aldershot and Jenna and then looks back at Chin. “You have questions about your involvement in this case,” he says in a mixture of Hawaiian and pidgin.
It's as close to a private conversation as they're going to get, under the circumstances, and one Chin is more than willing to go along with. “My ability to be fair was questioned,” Chin replies.
“Yes.” To his credit, the Captain ignores Danny's eye-rolling and Aldershot's staring at the two of them.
“But these new events...” Chin gauges the other man's reactions carefully. “Why us?”
“Your team was far from popular in these halls – but nobody has ever been able to deny that Five-0 got results.” The untranslatable task force name gets everyone's attention, but without context they're left to wonder. “Consider this a second chance,” the Captain continues. “If the theft of the evidence is connected to McGarrett, Jameson or your second body – prove it.”
“In accordance with the law.”
At that, the Captain grins and indicates Chin's HPD badge. “Them's the rules.”
Chin takes a breath and tries to think. If Jenna can find something on the security feeds that links the missing evidence or any of the forensics teams to Wo Fat or the Yakuza – but they still need the second body to have Yakuza ties for the connection to stick. There are too many variables, and a much larger game being played than Chin can see right now.
He sticks with what he can touch and see and affect directly. “Lieutenant Aldershot,” he says. “You spoke to Commander McGarrett earlier today.”
“Yes,” Aldershot confirms.
“What did he say exactly?”
“Just the one word answer to whether he killed Jameson or not – he said no,” she adds quickly.
“I need you to get back in to talk to him,” Chin tells her. “Make sure he knows this is coming from us – we need to know every detail of what went down in that office, whether he likes it or not.”
“He may not comply,” Aldershot says. “I believed him when he said he didn't do it, but he still acted like a guilty man -”
“Yeah, Steve does that,” Danny interrupts. “The way he probably sees it, his entire life is a string of 'what if's gone wrong, and this won't be any different.”
“I don't know,” Jenna chips in. “Is he really the type to punish himself for something he didn't do?”
“Yes,” Danny says instantly.
Jenna frowns over the frames of her glasses. “He wanted to believe the Governor when she said she didn't know about Noshimuri's Yakuza links.” She shrugs. “The Governor started Five-0 in response to his father's murder. That kind of faith can blind people.”
“Even more reason for him to think this is all his fault,” Danny says. “He broke into the Governor's mansion twice in one day, the second time with a gun. His intention may not have been to kill her, but that was still the end result.”
“And with his own gun,” Chin adds. “Steve doesn't take being physically bested all that well.”
“Flagellation.” Danny snaps his fingers. “Self-flagellation, that's the word I was looking for. It's practically a McGarrett speciality.”
“This pop psychology is all well and good,” Aldershot says. “But if your assessment of Commander McGarrett is accurate, how am I supposed to get through to him?”
“I'll go with you,” Danny says instantly, but Aldershot's already shaking her head.
“He's barred from having visitors,” she tells him apologetically. “Except for his attorney.”
“What about Kono?” Danny asks nobody in particular.
“Officer Kalakaua's charges are significantly less than those of Commander McGarrett's, under the circumstances.” The Captain takes Danny's surprise in his stride. “She'll be permitted limited visitation rights pre-trial.”
“Ever represented a civilian before?” Danny asks Aldershot, and she shakes her head again.
“Not within my purview – legal advice, on the other hand, transcends military affiliation.”
“Meaning you can get in?” Chin asks.
She considers it for a moment. “Can't hurt to try,” she replies. “And if that doesn't work, I can get in on my position as Commander McGarrett's lawyer – I do need to speak to everyone in Five-0, after all.”
“Nothing on the precinct's internal security feeds,” Jenna reports. “I can't find any shots of the forensics teams or evidence making it back to the station.”
The Captain moves over to the window. “Conference is breaking up; you'll need to get out of here if you don't want the state's press all over you,” he informs the team.
Chin's already drawing up battle plans in his head. “Meet back at my place,” he says – perfectly redundantly, because he already knows there's nowhere else any of them is going to be tonight.
The kid's demons are loud and persistent. It's difficult for Steve to refer to him as anything else, and he doesn't think a name will exactly be forthcoming.
“No, no, no... Chris, please...”
Not the kid's name, at least. Chris is the latest variation on a name that could be Christie, Christine, Kristen... the continually changing diminutives are either an indication of familiarity – “Book 'em, Danno!” – or there is no such person and Steve's over-analysing a nightmare.
Not that he can do much else right now. There are two guards on patrol in the hallways; a pair of bunkmates are loudly fucking in the cell opposite; the occupants of a cluster of cells at the far end of the block are discussing what sounds like... media coverage, though of what Steve can't make out.
And in the bunk directly beneath him a boy is crying out for his mother, sister, girlfriend... whoever Christie is.
Steve closes his eyes and wonders how Kono's faring, if she's in a jail like this one or still being held at HPD. Whether Chin's managed to get in and see her. What Chin and Danny and Jenna are even doing, whether they're getting on with something vaguely resembling a life or if they're being dragged into the mud and mire by Steve's screw-ups as well.
The kid whimpers and howls before falling quiet, making snuffling noises into his pillow.
Some small part of Steve's brain starts to consider the kid as a strategic op, and multiple possibilities start to present themselves to him. He could slip down off the bunk and try to coax the kid out of his nightmare – Danny's described the process enough times that Steve thinks he could get the steps right – but that's open to misinterpretation and even physical retaliation, and Steve's learned the hard way not to underestimate smaller opponents before.
He could stay on the bunk and try talking the kid out of the nightmare. The problem with that is he'd have no idea what to say beyond the very obvious and very stilted. He can't remember Danny ever having gone into detail about how he's dealt with Grace's night terrors, but he suspects it's an intuitive thing, and one of those areas where Danny can run rings around him without even trying.
The other alternative, of course, is to do nothing and ride the nightmare out. It's more passive than Steve's used to, but this entire situation has left him more passive than he's used to. He's technically innocent of the crime he's in jail for, but breaking out is a federal offence – and something he really wouldn't be able to come back from.
It sounds overly simple, but it's the truth: Hawaii can't be his home if he's a fugitive.
There's a loud, sharp intake of breath from the bottom bunk, and then the breathing patterns change. The kid's awake.
Steve still doesn't know what he's supposed to say or do, or how it's going to be received. He doubts it would be well.
And in the end his decision is – again – taken away from him. “Didn't wake you, did I?” someone asks – Steve realises it's the kid.
He frowns in the darkness. “No.”
“Good, s'good, I -” didn't want to make you mad is probably the rest of that sentence.
“Who's Christie?” Steve asks before he can stop himself.
But it doesn't matter – the kid doesn't answer him.
The team meets back at Chin's an hour after they leave the precinct. Jenna has clearly stopped by her motel room, dumping a bulging knapsack by the side of the couch and settling herself into her reduced command centre in one smooth movement.
Danny barrels through the house, cell phone attached to one ear and in mid-argument with someone female. That much Chin can tell from the higher-pitched yelling he can hear from the kitchen. Danny's language is all wrong for it to be Rachel, but that doesn't rule out other family members he doesn't have direct knowledge of.
Aldershot shows up last, having knocked on Chin's door with the same rigid formality as when she'd shown up earlier. She's changed into civilian clothes between PD and here, sporting nondescript colours and modest necklines that remind Chin of the librarians from when he'd been at Kukui. She hesitates in the doorway, habit clearly making her reach for a hat that isn't there before she catches herself and asks: “Can I come in?”
Chin holds back a smile, but stands aside. “Come on,” he says, leading her to the living room.
Jenna doesn't give up any of the couch space, but Danny's already set out three chairs around the coffee table which are quickly filled. Danny's cell phone is on the table, screen down; his face is taut and Chin can't help but wonder what the argument had been about, and with whom.
“First things first,” Chin starts. “What do we know?”
Jenna looks up from the laptop. “Governor Jameson was killed with two bullets from Com – Steve's gun. The same gun was likely used to kill the man whose death you and Danny were sent to investigate.”
“The second crime scene possibly mirrored Jameson's,” Danny says sombrely. “John Doe was sitting upright when he was killed by someone standing over him.”
“And the time of death was while Steve was in HPD custody – and his gun missing from evidence,” Chin continues.
“But why?” Aldershot asks. Whether it's from some compulsion to feel included or just to act as a voice of reason isn't clear. “Assuming that Commander McGarrett's weapon was used to kill the second victim – why?”
“To throw doubt on the investigation – and Steve's arrest,” Chin suggests.
“So says the arresting officer,” Danny counters. Before Chin can protest, he continues: “You saw those reporters hustling the Acting Governor – we all did. And then there's the news coverage. Steve's as good as locked up for the rest of his life. It would take nothing short of a miracle for the case to be thrown out.”
“Or a conspiracy,” Jenna says.
“What do you -” Aldershot begins, but Chin's already seeing the bigger picture.
“Wo Fat,” he says to Jenna, not taking his eyes off hers. She nods slowly. “He's the only person who could have made Steve go off the reservation the way he did, and the only person on the islands with a vested interest in playing mind games with him.”
“He has ties to the Yakuza,” Danny interjects. “Assuming my hunch was correct and that John Doe does have Yakuza links of his own – there you have it.” He waves his arms around.
“But why?” Jenna frowns. “Why would Wo Fat set Steve up as the perfect fall guy for a high-profile murder, then turn around and sow the seeds for a mistrial?”
The realisation hits Chin like a sucker punch. “Because he can. This is all a game to him.”
“And one of control.” Danny rubs his face with a hand. “This – all of this is his way of telling Steve he's the top dog and no one can touch him.”
“But we can,” Jenna says instantly. “Can't we?”
“More importantly,” Aldershot says, though more hesitantly than before, “how would we go about proving it?”
“I don't think we can,” Chin replies. “The second crime scene was a secondary location, and likely clean.”
“Plus there's what Sanden told us – everything not directly related to Jameson goes straight to the bottom of the list.” Danny pulls a face. “Aside from a commonality in ballistics and my admittedly less than stellar memory for faces, we have nothing concrete linking the two murders.”
“But it would be enough to secure Commander McGarrett's release, at least temporarily,” Aldershot says – and doesn't that just grab everyone's attention. “Like you said,” she tells Chin, “if this is about control and power plays, the end game will be the commander's case being overturned, even without an outright exoneration.”
It's as messed up a ploy as Chin's ever heard, but it makes a sickening kind of sense. If everything Five-0 has suspected about Wo Fat is true – calling it bad news for Steve would be the understatement of the century. McGarrett's never responded well to being the subject of mind games, and Chin doesn't want to think about how he'd react to this.
Silence echoes around the coffee table, and the unspoken question hangs even louder.
Now what?
Now... “We have to compile as much hard evidence as we can,” Chin decides out loud. “Danny, see if Sanden's still up, and get her to go over every inch of John Doe to see if there's anything she might have missed the first time around; stand over her shoulder if you have to. Jenna – keep trying to track down any evidence from the Governor's mansion. Aldershot – get onto jail authorities and organise interviews with Kono and Steve. You're still our only guaranteed point of contact to both of them.”
“What about you?” Danny asks.
“I'm going to ruffle a few feathers,” Chin answers. He's ready to admit that he doesn't have the first clue how he's going to do that when it hits him and he reaches for his cellphone and badge, scrolling through the contacts list on the former while placing the latter on the coffee table.
Danny doesn't look convinced. “Call me if you need backup.”
Chin nods, even as he's making the call. It picks up on the sixth ring.
“What do you want?”
“Help,” Chin says. He tucks the phone under his ear and leaves the house quickly, before the others can stop or ask him what he's up to. He wonders whether Danny's realised that he has no intention of calling for backup – the last thing they need to be is another man down right now. “I need your help.”
“Christie's my ex.”
The statement, whispered but clear, makes Steve jump a little. It's around 0400 and up to that point he'd been dozing, relaxing his guard enough to try and get some sleep. The adrenaline coursing through his system quickly causes that plan to abort.
He thinks about the moniker the kid had used, and what he'd heard up to that point. It must have been a hell of a break up. Steve's not sure what he's supposed to do next, so he stays silent and waits.
“Well, sort of,” the kid eventually continues. “I haven't seen her in a while, I don't know what...”
Steve weighs his options. He thinks he understands the mechanics of prison visits and relationships, but it's not something he has direct experience of. “How long have you been here?”
“Four months,” the kid answers, surprisingly promptly. “Don't know why it hasn't gone to trial yet.”
“But this isn't your first time?” Steve guesses.
“No.”
Steve exhales into the silence. “What are you in for?” And was it connected to Five-0?
Did I do this to you?
“Possession with intent to distribute.” The kid rattles it off like it's a shopping list. “Caught with a large enough amount they've got a shot at making the charge stick.”
Why are you telling me this? “And Christie didn't want you involved.”
“She wants me to get clean. But there aren't exactly promising career options on the island for a high-school drop out at the best of times.”
Steve recognises the cynical tone from his own childhood, and Dad shipping him out to the mainland straight after Mom's funeral with nothing but a couple of suitcases and a pit in his stomach that he'd thought would never go away. But he'd had football to keep him going, and the promise of Annapolis, and the almost petty solace that at least Mary had been in the same boat as him.
“So that's my story.” The kid interrupts Steve's brief reverie with practised apathy. “My whole life is one vicious circle of drugs and jail and nothing worth stopping for. So stop asking questions, Five-0. It's not your job any more, and from what I hear, it's never going to be again.”
And that, apparently, is that.
Sid takes Chin to a twenty-four hour laundromat on the outskirts of Honolulu, the outside of which is grey and battered, flaking paintwork and old wood boarding up one of the windows. The machines look about as old as he is, and three of them are in use when Sid pushes the front door open and steps inside, leaving Chin to follow in his wake. The air is pungent with cigarette smoke and detergent and the dim lighting seems appropriate given their reasons for being here.
There are a handful of patrons. A few of them glance up at Chin but they just as quickly dismiss him, and even fewer pay Sid any heed. Sid pointedly ignores all of them, instead focusing on his path over discarded clothing, bags and unidentifiable debris.
The laundromat's proprietor's suspicion when he sees Sid is impossible to miss.
“Don't serve cops,” he grunts.
Sid glances at Chin. What did you expect? is written all over his face. “Watched the news lately, Owens?” he asks, both establishing himself as the lead in this... whatever this is, and giving Chin the other man's name.
Owens huffs. “Don't mean much. What do you want?”
“Traffic reports,” Sid replies, picking his words carefully.
“Who's the beanpole?” Owens counters.
Sid glances at Chin again. “Family. He's one of mine. Now, do you got those reports or do I have to look elsewhere?”
“More'n your life is worth to sting me,” Owens replies, calm but derisory. He makes a show of sifting through some of the papers on the table beside him.
Sid sighs. “All we're here for is information. If this was a sting, SWAT would be all over this hole of yours already.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Keahi.”
Owens swears. “You're cashing that in for – this? That damn haole SEAL?”
“He's as kama 'aina as you and me, maybe more,” Chin replies before he can stop himself, and before he can wonder what or maybe who Keahi is. “Do you have what I want, or not?”
Owens glances between Sid and Chin a few times, processing the new dynamic with more shrewdness than had been there before. Then he nods, and smirks. “I'll need time.”
“How does an hour sound?” Sid demands.
Owens swears again. “My schedule. I'll call when I have what you want.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Sid leaves the office, motioning Chin to follow, and they leave the laundromat at a much quicker pace than when they'd come in.
Chin's about to get into his car when Sid stops him. “I hope you know what you're doing.”
“Yeah,” Chin says. “I – thank you. For in there.”
Sid shrugs. “The hell I'm collecting any other way off that creep. But he's reliable as they come. If he supplies intel, it'll be solid.”
Chin just hopes it will be enough.
“You're a good man,” Sid says, surprising him – and himself by the look of it, “doing this for McGarrett.”
“He's innocent,” Chin shrugs.
Sid gives him a long look. “Like you, taking the fall so Auntie could get her kidney.” He exhales loudly, then nods. “Like I said, hope you know what you're doing, cuz. I'll call you when Owens comes through.”
Chin nods and watches him walk off to his car, get in and leave – back home to his wife and kid. Then he gets on his bike and heads back to his place, where a different kind of family will be waiting for him.
It's going to be another long night.
Kono is pulled out of the breakfast queue – like she was going to eat that colourless slop – and taken to an interview room. Escorted would be too kind a word, but so far nobody's crossed a line, and she isn't exactly in a position to complain.
A redheaded woman stands up when they enter the room, and looks pointedly at the guard until she backs out and closes the door behind her. Kono tries not to stare. She's never seen this woman before in her life; it's obvious that she's not carrying a badge or a gun, maybe not any kind of weapon underneath her bland civilian clothes – but there's something about the way she holds herself that seems familiar, but Kono can't quite put her finger on it.
“Kono Kalakaua.” The woman stumbles only a little over the surname, and holds a hand out, which Kono slowly shakes. “I'm Lieutenant Aldershot, JAG – Commander McGarrett's attorney.”
She's military – that explains why her posture's familiar. Kono's not sure it explains why she's here, though, but if it takes her away from the mess hall for a while, she'll play along.
“Take a seat,” Aldershot continues.
“What are you doing here?” Kono asks. It comes out rougher than she'd like, but she figures the current situation gives her a pass for being abrupt.
“I have a message for you,” Aldershot replies. She pulls a face, clearly concentrating. “Aho – a'o...” She sighs and pulls a piece of crumpled paper out of a pocket, straightening it out and smoothing the edges before handing it to Kono.
A'ohe hana nui ka alu'ia.
Kono frowns as the memory surfaces. Beers being passed around after an almost completely successful first day of – whatever this was going to be. Awesome, probably. “We need a name!”
“Chin sent you,” she says thickly.
Aldershot nods, but says nothing.
“So what – what's going on?” Kono asks. She hasn't even heard rumours since being transferred to jail, and all she's had to go on was the glimpse of Steve being processed after the old lady had identified her as part of the robbery.
“Commander McGarrett's currently being detained in the Oahu Community Correctional Center,” Aldershot replies. “There's a solid case for convicting him for murdering Governor Jameson -” Kono's heart sinks. “- at least, there was.”
Was? Murder? Kono sits up a little straighter than before. “What do you mean?”
Aldershot hesitates, then looks around, as if she's expecting someone to be listening in on what they're saying. There are security cameras, yes, but Kono can't remember if they're wired for sound or not. Either way, Aldershot leans in over the table. “The case is starting to fall apart,” she explains. “Evidence is missing -” Missing? Or stolen? “- and there's a second body. He hasn't been identified yet, but we think he was killed with McGarrett's gun while McGarrett was in custody.”
“Whoa, whoa – hold on.” Kono tries to stop the whirl of thoughts and questions in her head. “What?”
Aldershot shakes her head. “I don't know exactly what or how or even why, but Chin, Detective Williams and Jenna – they know what they're doing.”
Kono smiles. “Five-0,” she says quietly. “You'd be surprised what we can pull off.” She catches herself on the 'we'. “What about me?” Chin and the others might be able to overturn a murder charge – and she's still reeling on Steve being arrested for murder because he doesn't do that, he'd never do that, not without proof and cause and what the hell's been happening to her team over the last week or more because it's mad and -
“I don't know,” Aldershot says, the apology cutting through everything in Kono's head. “Your charges are separate to Commander McGarrett's, and technically he's who I'm supposed to be worried about.”
“Yeah? How's that going for you?”
A flicker of a smile crosses Aldershot's face. “Your team can be very... persuasive. That the commander is innocent helps, as well. Mostly...” She takes a breath.
“Chin sent you,” Kono says again.
“Yeah. He just needs to know you're okay – the others as well.”
“They can't just overturn why I'm in here,” Kono points out.
“No.” Aldershot shakes her head. “But I'm pretty sure they'll give it everything they've got.”
There's a lump in Kono's throat. “Tell them to be careful,” she says. “And not to worry about me being in here. I can take care of myself.”
“I'll do that,” Aldershot replies. She stands up, waits for Kono to do the same, and holds out her hand again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am.”
“Likewise.” Kono shakes her hand. A minute later the guard comes in and takes her back to the cell block. She doesn't regret missing breakfast – but it's worth it knowing a bit more of what's happening.
Danny decides to grab coffees on his way to the campus to meet Professor Sanden. One of the first things Patch had taught him back in Newark was when dealing with civilians to butter them up first and it's served him well over the years. He thinks Sanden might even appreciate the gesture, given everything she's had to deal with over the last day or so.
Ten minutes out from Chin's, and Danny thinks he's got a tail. He tests it, taking a couple of unnecessary little detours and sure enough, back on the main road he's still being followed. He pulls up outside the coffee shop, and checks that his gun is where it's supposed to be as the tail – a dark blue model that looks like it's come straight from the production line – pulls up a few spaces over from him.
Danny rechecks his gun, adjusts his shirt so that his badge is visible and then stomps over to the second car. He doesn't care how badly this could go if a stray camera is watching, he just -
“Stan?” The driver is indeed dear old Step-Stan, and Danny takes in what he can. Stan's shirt is rumpled, his expression focused but his eyes are dull. And he's completely focused on -
“Hey, hey, come on man.” Danny steps backwards automatically. “There is a time and a place for -”
Stan punches him.
Danny stumbles. He rubs his jaw. He realises he has no idea what to say.
“You bastard.” Stan clearly doesn't mind about the lack of conversation. “I... you bastard.”
“I'm sorry,” Danny says automatically, before he can stop himself. There's a crowd starting to gather – just a couple of people, but these things have a way of snowballing.
Stan is obviously thinking along the same lines, or maybe he's thinking something else altogether – Danny's never paid the man enough attention to figure it out one way or the other. But regardless of what he is or isn't thinking, Stan just stares at Danny for a long few seconds, breathing loudly, before he gets back in his car and drives off again.
Danny turns around and heads into the coffee shop, ignoring the former spectators who can't decide whether they want to look at the bruise probably already forming on his face or his HPD badge. He buys the coffees without preamble and drives straight for campus. He periodically checks his mirror, but he's not being followed this time.
In the office adjacent to her lab, Sanden pokes Danny's jaw with a latex-gloved finger. “Do you want to tell me what happened, Detective?”
Danny shakes his head and pulls back from the impromptu examination. The last few months have been crazy enough without him trying to put parts of it into actual words – he has a sneaking suspicion that my ex-wife-now-girlfriend's husband just punched me on the sidewalk would need actual context to even remotely make sense.
“Have you found out anything else since we were here yesterday?” he asks.
“Nothing useful,” Sanden replies. She leads him through to the lab with the slab and John Doe's remains. “Have you found out anything else since you were here yesterday?”
“Possible leads on the possible murder weapon.” It's not much, but it's still all they have.
“Well,” Sanden begins, taking a swig of coffee as she goes, “if you can get me the weapon, I can match it to the bullets I took out of John Doe.”
Danny considers this. He knows Steve got the weapon from Kamekona, but the big guy's dropped off everyone's radar, and not even Chin and his extended family have been able to figure out where he's gone. Danny can't blame him, really. “Does anyone else know you've got bullets?”
“No.” Sanden frowns. “I take it that's a good thing?”
“Just...” Danny doesn't even know. “Just keep it quiet for now, please.”
“Sure.” Sanden moves around the covered body.
Danny sips from his own coffee. It's lukewarm, bordering on cold, but he's had worse.
“In other news, I still don't know John Doe's real name,” Sanden says. “I pulled a partial set of fingerprints, but he's not in any system I've been able to run them through.”
Which still means he could be Yakuza, but he could just as easily be some schmuck in the wrong place at the wrong time for the wrong criminal mastermind's latest evil plans. “Okay,” Danny says anyway. “Fingerprints are good.”
Sanden makes a noise at the back of her throat and drinks some more coffee. “I can't believe I'm saying this but I'd be happier if this guy had a record – something. Anything – just so I'd know who he is.”
Danny can sympathise, but one of the perils of being a homicide cop is having to deal with the fact that not every body who passes through his watch is going to have a name tag attached.
Before he can say anything, his phone buzzes, and Danny reads the text. “You just need a gun, right? To match up to Mr Doe's bullets?”
“Yes...”
Danny nods. “I think we might be able to do something about that. That was Chin – Lieutenant Kelly,” he clarifies, holding up the phone. “We've just got a lead on the possible murder weapon.”
“Okay.” Sanden takes his coffee cup and motions towards the door. “Go. Do – do your thing.”
Danny's out of the door like – well, like a shot.
Steve's in the yard. He knows that rationally he shouldn't be out here, that being this exposed to potential physical attacks is the last thing he needs. Less rational is his compulsion for fresh air and island breeze – and while he knows he can take out multiple assailants, he has no particular interest in getting a tally.
What he keeps telling himself he's interested in is the kid. Steve still doesn't know his name, didn't ask for it last night and isn't exactly in a position to ask around, but he remembers the face and physical features from before lights-out. He hasn't been able to extrapolate body language or pace of movement, but that will come once he sights the kid outside of the cell.
He gets his opportunity twelve and a half minutes after entering the yard and taking up a strategically sound position at the perimeter – as sound as he can get out here, anyway. The kid slips through the gate behind three oversized guys who wouldn't look out of place on a nightclub door and makes his way over to a group of men Steve has already identified as drug dealers. The kid's movements are jerky and uncoordinated, and if Steve didn't know any better he'd suspect the kid was high already. He wonders how the kid's paying for the drugs, whether he's got some form of cash flow in here or if he's offering some other service in exchange. The idea of the kid, who in daylight still looks like he should be in high school, getting on his knees to get high is enough to turn Steve's stomach.
He wants there to be something – anything – that could persuade the kid to clean up. He remembers Christie's name from last night, but he can't exactly commandeer Lieutenant Aldershot on her next visit - if there's a next visit, something in his mind whispers – and get her to track down someone who might not be willing to help someone who's already said he doesn't want helping or saving.
“McGarrett!” It's one of the guards – and he doesn't look happy about having to deal with Steve. “Lawyer's here.”
Steve jumps down from the bench he'd been sitting on, and away from the Hispanic with the quarterback build who clearly thought he was being subtle about sneaking up on him.
In the interview room, Aldershot is wearing civvies, and it throws Steve for a second before he recollects himself. “Lieutenant.”
“Commander,” she nods, and motions him to a chair.
“What do you want?” he asks.
To her credit, Aldershot barely hesitates. “Everything you can remember from the night the Governor was shot.”
He points the gun at her head, demanding answers in a voice that doesn't sound like him but has to be. Why Laura Hills, why the Yakuza. His entire world flipping on its axis with every answer and angry tone -
On the floor. He's lying on the floor. There's a gun in his hand. He can smell the residue but he doesn't remember firing it. His neck hurts and someone's pulling him to his feet and –
“I didn't go there to kill her,” Steve says quietly, but firmly. “That wasn't my intention.”
“You went there for answers,” Aldershot surmises. “Proof?”
Steve nods.
“Proof of what?”
Steve hesitates. Memories of Mom warning him to never speak ill of the dead war with the burgeoning cop instinct to share what he knows – such as it exists in fragmented memories.
“Proof of what, Commander?” Aldershot presses.
“That Jameson had Laura Hills killed for getting too close to my dad's investigation into her ties to the Yakuza, and for countermanding her attempts to stop me finishing what he'd started.” Again it doesn't sound like Steve's speaking, but dimly he knows it's him.
Aldershot leans forward. “Did you record what she said?” she asks. “Or did you transmit it?”
“No.” Steve shakes his head. “My phone – I recorded everything she said.”
“Your phone is missing from evidence,” Aldershot tells him.
Steve stares at her. “It was there. On her desk. I set it to record. Why wouldn't it be in ev...” He trails off as finally – finally things start to click. “There's another mole in HPD. Someone who compromised chain of custody.”
“That's what it looks like.”
“Why?”
Aldershot shakes her head – and Steve thinks he gets it. There are some things he's better off not knowing, at least for now. He doesn't have to like it.
He wants to ask if Aldershot's spoken to anyone else on the team, whether she knows anything about Kono's situation, but before he can look for the words, Aldershot's phone buzzes. She smiles apologetically at him before reading the text message.
“What is it?” Steve asks. If it's relevant to him or Five-0, then surely -
“That was Jenna,” she tells him. “I think the team's just found your evidence.”
Chin's making coffee for Jenna when Aldershot calls to let him know she got in to see Kono and is now on her way over to Oahu Community to see Steve. She passes on the message from Kono – that they should look after themselves, and Chin smiles. Just like his baby cousin to worry about everyone else when she's in just as much hot water as they are – more, in fact.
Jenna practically grabs the coffee as soon as Chin sets the mug down on the table beside her laptop.
“Still no joy?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “There was a partial upload from Steve's phone to the Five-0 servers, but the data's corrupted, like it was interrupted mid-process. There's nowhere near enough information to reconstruct the files.”
“It was worth a try,” Chin reassures her. He feels as dejected as Jenna looks – the only realistic link they have left to any evidence from the Governor's mansion is Sid's contact at the laundromat, and he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with how quickly he'd be able to dig anything up – and there's no guarantee he'll even find anything.
“How do you see this ending?” Jenna asks suddenly. “I mean, really ending.”
“How do you mean?”
“If you're right, and Wo Fat is pulling all the strings...” Jenna shrugs helplessly. “What if this – what we're doing – is all in accordance with some master plan? Five-0's been disbanded – we might be able to get Steve out of jail, but not Kono. He could lose his commission, and the best case for Kono could be, what? Getting out but losing her badge?” She stares at Chin with wide eyes. “For some of us, this team is all we have.”
“No,” Chin tells her gently. “For all of us, this team is all we have.” At least that was how it had been in the beginning. Danny has Rachel and Grace back, and will go wherever they are once this is over – which is New Jersey, and that's everything he's ever wanted, right there, if his frequent outbursts over the last several months have been anything to go by. Kono reinvented herself once, but she's running out of resets and Chin – he's got what he thought he'd always wanted, but the HPD badge isn't a cure-all. Steve could have reactivated himself into the SEALs or Naval Intelligence pretty much any time he wanted after finally getting Hesse, but something had kept him here all this time as well, beyond finishing John's last great investigation. And then there was Jenna, who had a desk job in Langley waiting for her – unless it wasn't, or she'd outgrown her analyst origins.
Chin realises with a dull certainty that he can't answer Jenna's question – he has no idea how this will all end, or even if it will. If he is responsible, however indirectly, for all of this, then Wo Fat could rival Steve for his determination and drive and ability to single mindedly obsess over something. The fallout of the two of them having each other in their cross-hairs for an extended period of time isn't something Chin particularly wants to think about.
His phone rings, and Chin sets his own coffee down before answering it. “Kelly.”
“It's me,” Sid tells him. “Owens came through. Got an address where your evidence is being kept.”
“Tell me.” Chin grabs Jenna's laptop away from her and balances the cell against his shoulder while he types out the address that Sid gives him.
“You going on your own?”
“I'll have back up.” Chin reaches for the keyboard again and with one hand types: Text Danny.
“You and the Jersey boy?” Sid doesn't sound convinced.
Chin huffs, already looking around for where he dumped the bike keys the night before. “They train them well in Newark. And besides,” he adds, “I can't exactly put this through the books.”
“True.” Why one of them hasn't hung up yet is a mystery. “Guess this means I gotta ride along and watch your ass.”
“No, you don't,” Chin tells him. “I have to go.” He hangs up before Sid has a chance to reply.
“Danny's on his way.” Jenna bites her lip. “Be careful.”
Chin places his hands on her shoulders, gripping gently for a second before letting go again. “We will,” he promises.
Danny pulls up at the corner of the street Jenna had texted him, and looks around for Chin. He sees the bike at the far intersection, but there's no sign of the man himself – or, indeed, of any life at all in the immediate vicinity.
“I'm over here, Danny.”
Danny just about succeeds in neither jumping nor screaming, but it comes close. Then he looks closer. Chin's sitting in the passenger seat of an old sedan, and sitting in the driver's seat is...
“Sid?” Danny bends down to get a better look.
“Williams.”
“Should I...?” Danny gestures vaguely at the back seat, and decides to climb in anyway. He parks himself in the middle, and leans forward. “So what's the plan? I mean, we can't just go in there willy-nilly and -”
“Go in there what?” Sid eyeballs him and then glances at Chin. “Seriously, cuz, where'd you find this one?”
Chin shakes his head slightly. “Danny's right,” he tells Sid. “Our old rules don't apply any more. We need probable cause, preferably something that will stand up to scrutiny.”
“Like what?” Danny asks. “Oh dear, oh my, I think I heard someone crying out for help inside?”
Chin snorts, while Sid simply stares at him. “Odd time for a sense of humour.”
“It's a coping mechanism, all right?” Danny retorts.
“Gentlemen.” Chin looks amused now. “How about we just knock on the front door?”
Danny considers this. “And then what? We don't exactly do incognito any more. Neither do we have full immunity. And don't think the Captain won't have all of our asses if we screw this up,” he adds in Chin's direction. It's redundant, but he feels it should be reiterated several times anyway – even if the evidence that could exonerate Steve is on the other side of the front door in question. Also not in their favour is the fact that no judge is likely to give them a warrant, not with the freedom of the ever so beloved late Governor Jameson's alleged murderer on the line.
“You two are ridiculous.” Sid gets out of the car and strides over to the house his contact had given them. Danny and Chin share a split second glance and scramble out of the car to catch him up.
“We're ridiculous?” Danny hisses at him. “You – you are certifiably insane!”
Sid ignores him, and steps calmly over the house's broken front gate and marches up to the front door. He bangs on it twice. “HPD, open up!”
There's no sound from inside. “HPD!” Sid bellows through the door.
“What exactly are we supposed to be getting whoever's inside on?” Danny wonders out loud, his hand already on his weapon.
Sid looks at him like he's completely stupid. “Theft of evidence pertinent to a criminal investigation, brah,” he replies calmly, and at a much more reasonable volume. Then: “I hear something – get around back.”
Chin complies immediately, slipping around the side of the house, leaving Danny and Sid to stare at the front door some more. Sid actually has the temerity to grin at Danny. “You want to do the honours, Jersey?”
Danny has a sinking suspicion that he knows what's coming next. “Be my guest,” he says, and steps back.
Sid licks his lips, then kicks down the front door.
He and Danny charge through the house, guns raised. “Clear!” Danny sweeps through an unfurnished living-slash-dining area.
“Clear!” Sid moves through the kitchen then doubles back on himself to go upstairs.
Danny re-holsters his weapon and looks for Chin – he's out on the back patio, cuffing a scrawny little thing barely Danny's size. He tugs the man's hair, pulling his head back so Danny can get a good look at him.
“Where is it?” Danny asks. The man spits, and Danny grins. He'll never admit to it – but he kind of likes this part. He drops to a squat and smiles some more. “You know why we're here and you have what we want. Now tell me where to find it before I call my cranky friend from upstairs and he can repeat the question.”
The man's eyes narrow. “I'm just a courier.”
“So I promise not to shoot you,” Danny replies, much to Chin's amusement.
“Five-0 is history.” The man spits again. “Hit me and I'll take you down with me.”
“Now who said anything about hitting?” Danny tries to look offended. “Do I look like the kind of man who'd kick the ass of a man on the ground and in cuffs?” he wonders out loud. “Better question,” he says, attention back fully on the man underneath Chin, “is do you want to be the one who finds out?”
As it turns out, all three of them are spared from finding out the answer to that question. “I found it,” Sid announces from behind Danny. He turns around to see Sid holding a brown cardboard box.
Chin and Danny get to their feet, not without difficulty, and take the lid off the box.
“Jackpot...” Danny whispers.
Inside it is what is unmistakeably Steve's cellphone, some shell casings, half completed fingerprint and blood work kits – and a gun.
“None of this will be admissible in a court of law,” Chin says. “And there are no witnesses, co-operating or otherwise, to step forward and admit their level of involvement. Really, though, it's simple – you have two clear choices in front of you.”
The Acting Governor of Hawaii stares at him, but doesn't say anything. His aides bristle, and the heads of the Hawaii branches of the various law enforcement agencies look similarly unimpressed. All except for the HPD Captain, who looks inscrutable, except for the quiet shine of approval and even pride in his eyes.
Behind Chin, he knows Danny, Jenna, Aldershot and Sanden are giving as good as they're getting. But they're not the focus of this show.
“The evidence in front of you proves conclusively that Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett did not murder Governor Pat Jameson, her aide Laura Hills, or the man in the harbour, who remains unidentified,” Chin continues. “That we believe the individual known as Wo Fat to be responsible for all three is at this point immaterial.”
The Acting Governor nods, but keeps quiet, even at the mention of Wo Fat.
“If you decide to formally charge Lieutenant Commander McGarrett for the murders of Governor Jameson and Laura Hills – falsely so – you will be under the thumb of Wo Fat and the Yakuza for the rest of your political life,” Chin says.
“What's the alternative? Letting him go?” The Acting Governor speaks up for the first time. “The media would crucify us.”
“And if they were to find out you'd sentenced an innocent man just to appease them?”
The Acting Governor closes his eyes briefly.
“Own up to it,” Chin continues. “Admit you made a mistake, that Commander McGarrett was present but not responsible for Jameson's murder – that he was framed.” Have some integrity. Be a better person than those who came before you.
Give Steve a second chance.
Two weeks and four days after he is arrested for Jameson's murder, Steve stands at the front gate of Oahu Community Correctional Center, wearing civilian clothes and masking a limp. He squints in the harsh sunlight and doesn't make eye contact with the guards as he walks out into a changed world.
Chin, Danny and Jenna are waiting for him by the Camaro, and Danny opens the passenger door as Steve approaches.
Chin knows better than to think this means it's all over. There's still Kono to get out, but even without that...
This is just the beginning.
Go to: Part 3
o o o o o
