A.N.- Hawaii Five-O and its characters belong to CBS. No copyright infringement is intended.
The first scene of this story was inspired by an image created by "Tanith2011", which is used as the cover image. Thanks also to "Tanith2011" for beta reading this. I am posting the first chapter of this story for the October Case File – Che Fong Challenge from the Coconut Wireless forum. I hope to update at regular intervals, RL permitting.
Power of the Press
Chapter 1
"That's him, boys," said a gravelly, sinister voice. The large man in the expensive suit carefully studied the color photograph from a recent news article in the Honolulu Advertiser, using a magnifying glass to peer closely at the figure in the white lab coat. "Che Fong, head forensic scientist at the HPD crime lab. I want you to get rid of him," the man ordered in a low, menacing tone before taking another sip of his coffee.
"Waste a scientist?" The small hapa-haole flunky couldn't believe what he had heard. "Why don't we go after McGarrett? He's the real problem."
The mob boss released an evil laugh. "That's what most people think. But the king of Five-O wouldn't get half the convictions without this Chink scientist."
"Won't they just hire someone else?"
"They will. But this Fong fella – he's brilliant, out of the ordinary, says so right here. No one else will come close to his expertise. With him out of the way, I'll take over and this rock will be mine!"
"Okay, boss, whatever you say."
"Make it soon. I want this taken care of and no loose ends! Got it?"
o-o-o
Parked directly across the street from HPD headquarters, Lenny and Nick slumped down low in the front of an old Ford sedan so as not to be seen. The bench seat was getting harder by the minute as they continued to scan the entrance of the crime lab adjacent to the HPD building.
"These guys sure work long hours," Nick complained, lighting up his fifth cigarette. "Think he's really in there or are we just wasting our time?"
"Cool your jets, will ya? It's only been a couple of hours," Lenny scolded as he ran a sweaty hand over the razor stubble on his face. Then he wiped his hand on the tail of his faded, dirty aloha shirt before he spotted someone exiting the building. "Hey, there he is!" Lenny said in a hushed voice as he pointed out the window.
Nick sat up straight and tossed his cigarette out the open window. Then he grabbed his revolver and aimed it at the small man in the green business suit coming out of the building. "I see him!" Nick said excitedly.
"Not here, you idiot!" Lenny yelled as he jerked the pistol away from his partner. "We'd be surrounded by cops in two seconds!"
"What are we supposed to do then, Einstein?" Nick was clearly annoyed.
"We follow him," Lenny answered as he turned the key in the ignition. "You can plug him the next place he stops."
o-o-o
Briefcase in hand and a file folder under his arm, Che Fong made his way to his green VW Fastback in the parking lot. Before he reached the car, he heard a friendly voice call out behind him.
"Ready for the weekend, Che?" A uniformed Hawaiian officer with silver hair and wire rimmed glasses greeted the scientist with a friendly smile. "It's been a long day!"
"Hi Duke," Che replied, pulling the file folder from beneath his arm. "Just need to deliver this file to Doc then I can start my weekend. You?"
"I'm on a dinner break then I'll be on the evening shift," the HPD sergeant explained. "I'm off on Sunday. Better get out of here while you can!"
Che smiled at the advice that was meant as a joke. He admired these men who dedicated their lives to serve and protect the public and he didn't know anyone who worked harder than HPD and Five-O. He actually felt honored to work with such men. "Enjoy your dinner, Duke," Che called out to the departing officer. He opened the car door and tossed his briefcase onto the passenger side seat then tucked the file folder in between the case and the seat back. Once he had settled into the driver's seat, Che started the car and headed for the county morgue.
When he drove out of the parking lot onto South Beretania Street, an old Ford sedan pulled away from the curb and followed at a discrete distance.
o-o-o
Che parked his VW in a vacant parking space in front of the morgue, grabbed the folder from the seat next to him and got out of the car. Then he locked the door since he was leaving his briefcase in the car for the short errand.
Sometimes the most ordinary thing can end up saving one's life…
At the same instant that a trigger was pulled releasing a bullet aimed directly at Che's heart, the weary scientist dropped his car keys and bent down to pick them up. The shot that was meant to kill instead grazed the small man high in the right shoulder, but the force was powerful enough to knock him off his feet. His head collided with the cement curb and his world went dark.
o-o-o
"I got him!" Nick yelled excitedly, almost dropping his cigarette as he pointed out the car window at the unmoving prone figure across the street with a growing dark stain on his jacket.
"Keep it down, will ya? We gottta get outta here wiki wiki without attracting attention," Lenny whispered nervously, starting up the car. "You sure he's dead?"
Nick took one last puff and flicked the smoldering butt out the window. "He ain't moving. He's dead. Let's go!"
o-o-o
Startled by the sudden unexpected report of a gun, Doc Bergman hurried out the front door of the morgue followed closely by his young assistant. The ME was shocked when he recognized the crumbled figure in the parking lot.
"Good Lord, Che!" The exclamation escaped Bergman's lips before he could even think. "Jeff, go back inside, call Five-O and then bring my bag. Hurry!"
As Doc rushed over to the downed man, an old Ford sedan sped by. Fortunately, the ME had the presence of mind to glace up and note the license plate before he knelt down beside the fallen scientist and quickly checked for a pulse. At Bergman's touch, Che stirred, releasing a low moan. He attempted to sit up, but Doc pressed a hand to the smaller man's chest, keeping him in place.
"Easy, Che, just lie still for a minute," Bergman advised as he carefully opened the man's jacket, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the wound.
"Doc? What happened?" the still dazed scientist managed to ask. But the physician was engrossed in his assessment of the damage and didn't seem to hear him.
"Superficial, thank God," Bergman mumbled in relief, pulling out a handkerchief and applying it to the bleeding wound. Che bit back a cry of pain at the sudden pressure on his damaged flesh. "Sorry," Doc apologized before he turned his attention to the ugly swollen knot rising from beneath the dark hair on the man's scalp.
"Doc?" Che repeated.
"You've been shot, Che, but it's high up in your shoulder; looks like it's just a crease. And you hit your head on the curb. I'm more concerned about that. We'll need some x-rays of your skull, just to be sure there's no serious damage."
"I'm okay," Che insisted, "I was only out for a minute."
At the sound of sneakers swiftly pounding the sidewalk, both men glanced up to see Bergman's assistant running toward them, black bag in hand, the tails of his white lab coat flapping behind him. The young man handed the bag to his superior. "Five-O is on the way, doctor," he reported as he knelt beside the coroner to offer assistance.
"Thanks, Jeff," Bergman replied as he pulled a pressure bandage from the bag. He removed his handkerchief and applied the bandage to Che's bleeding shoulder. Che gasped when air hit the open wound then swallowed hard as Doc applied pressure. After several minutes, the bleeding slowed. "Here, Jeff, hold this." Doc moved his hand to the side so his assistant could take over holding the bandage in place. Then he proceeded to further probe the tender goose egg on Che's head. During the course of the emergency first aid ministrations, a big black Ford Mercury pulled up to the curb squealing to a dead stop. Its two occupants flew out the door and onto the pavement before the car had even stopped rocking. Not far behind the Mercury was a blue and white HPD sedan.
"Doc, what the hell happened?" Steve McGarrett asked tersely as he, too, squatted beside the prone scientist. His attention still focused on his patient, Bergman pulled out his pen light and checked Che's pupil reactions. "Well?" McGarrett asked impatiently as Duke Lukela joined the group, shocked at the sight of the injured man. Bergman continued to work while he briefed the head of Five-O.
"There was a shot, Steve, we heard it inside. I ran out and found Che bleeding and unconscious." Bergman ran a hand over his face, still angry over what had just occurred in front of his workplace. "God, Steve, I thought he was dead at first. I did see a car fly out of here right after the shot. Got part of the plate number, too."
"Oh?" Steve raised an eyebrow. At least it was a start. He glanced up at his second-in-command, who had already pulled his notebook out of his breast pocket.
"Go ahead, Doc," Dan said, his pen positioned on the page.
"Victor, five, three; didn't get the last three digits, too fast, but it was a late model Ford sedan. Brown."
Williams swiftly jotted down the information and sprinted back to the Mercury to request information on the owner of the plate.
"Who would want to shoot me?" asked Che, looking up at the group of worried faces while still trying to process what had happened.
Duke responded first, "Tony Kahuku. Steve, word on the coconut wireless is that he ordered Che hit."
"Tony Kahuku ordered Che hit? Why wasn't I informed?" McGarrett's voice rose with anger. "We could have arranged for his protection!"
"This is new information, Steve," Duke continued calmly. "I just heard it on my dinner break from Charley Takahashi, right before I got your call to come to the morgue."
"And what does Tony Kahuku have against Che?" Steve squatted down close to the trusted head of the crime lab and studied the man's face, which looked just as confused as McGarrett felt.
"He thinks that Che's work is the key to your high rate of convictions," Duke explained.
"Well, I can't argue too much with that," Steve replied, giving the injured scientist a sympathetic smile.
"I would say that I'm flattered, but this isn't the way I want to be rewarded for my work," Che commented wryly.
"Steve, we should get him to the hospital," Bergman broke in.
It took McGarrett a few seconds to respond, a clear sign that he was thinking several steps ahead. "Think you can treat him here, Doc?" Steve asked. "If it won't compromise his health, I mean. I'd like for Che to stay here for a while; lay low. It would be easier to protect him here than in a hospital."
Bergman frowned and considered the idea. "I suppose so, Steve," he replied somewhat reluctantly. "The shoulder wound isn't too serious; I can clean and stitch that here then Jeff and I can do the skull x-rays. We have the equipment." The coroner glanced at his assistant who gave him a confident nod. Then he addressed his patient. "Do you think you can stand?"
"I think so," Che replied in a tone that was less than convincing.
"Well, I still say he belongs in the hospital, but I see that I'm outnumbered," Doc grumbled as he rose to his feet. "All right, Steve, give me a hand and we'll get him inside. Go slow and be careful of that shoulder!"
The two men helped Che to his feet and after waiting a few moments for his dizziness to pass, they steadily guided him inside the morgue building, followed by Dan and Duke.