*Author's Note: Letting readers know in advance that updates will be irregular and may be far in between.
This is for all the Steve fans out there...in particular "qdid", "Nadja", "ScienceHill", and "shirik"...thank you for your kind reviews and PM's over the last few months. I hope you will enjoy my first attempt at writing a Steve featured epic.
Chapter 1
The door leading to the private office of Five-O's lead detective, Steve McGarrett, opened and secretary Jenny Sherman, stepped inside. Clutched in one hand was her small, white leather purse and in the other she held a beige manila folder.
"Steve, I've gone over the numbers in the Marshall report for you. Everything's in order." The auburn haired secretary walked towards her boss's desk where he sat immersed in more tedious but necessary paperwork.
"Thanks, Jenny." The no-nonsense detective smiled at his secretary as he held out his hand towards her and retrieved the folder.
"Will that be all for today, boss?" Jenny asked politely, silently hoping that Steve remembered her dinner engagement with a dear old friend.
"Yes, love. Thanks. Go on. I'll see you Monday morning." The appreciation rang true as Steve McGarrett dismissed the smartly dressed secretary.
"Thanks Steve. Will you be staying much longer?" A hint of sympathy could be heard in Jenny's question.
"No, no I'm just finishing up here." Steve smiled as he gave his answer in what he believed was a reassuring tone. In truth, he knew it would take another two hours at least, before he finalized and signed the documents that lay amongst the pile on his desk and call it a night.
"Goodnight, Steve."
"Goodnight, Jenny. Have a nice dinner."
With a warm smile, Jenny turned on her heel and departed the office, leaving the door open to remind the guards that patrolled the corridors that the head of Five-O had not left for the day.
*****************************************************A L O H A !*************************************************
Closing his fingers around the handle of his coffee mug, Steve brought the rim to his lips but stopped short as his eyes caught sight of the scant contents within. Only a few drops of the dark, aromatic liquid remained. Sighing, he placed the ceramic mug on the far end of the desk and rubbed his eyes to clear away the hazy cobwebs that swam in his vision. Picking up the page again, he realized with annoyance that he'd been reading the same paragraph for the third time. Need another coffee. His sluggish brain demanded. Pushing his chair back slightly, Steve rose from his seated position and walked around from behind his desk, picking up his mug in his left hand along the way. He proceeded across the room and out through the door, into the outer office of Five-O headquarters, past Jenny tidy desk and the cubicles where Danny, Kono and Chin were normally stationed.
At the sound of shuffling feet, Steve froze in his tracks. Every muscle in his body tensed like a spring ready to uncoil. Instinctively his right hand moved across his body but not quite reaching his holster. The outer office door slowly opened and a man dressed in blue denim and black leather jacket over a grey shirt stumbled in. Steve placed him to be of about 30 years of age. He had blond hair, slicked back off his forehead, and a five o'clock shadow clearly visible. He staggered towards Steve, clutching his chest and half bent double as if in pain.
"Mr McGarrett? Are you – you Mr – Mr Mc – McGarrett?" croaked the stranger as he shuffled across towards the detective in the center of the room.
Although Steve was positively concerned for the troubled man before him, his cop mind responded to his all too familiar gut feeling. What was this man doing in his office when it was well after hours? The Iolani Palace was not a police station! How did he get past the guards? Before Steve could voice his questions, the man's eyes rolled to the back of his head and disappeared behind his eye lids. He slumped forward and fell a few feet away from the detective. Steve placed the mug precariously on the edge of a nearby desk and rushed toward the figure lying face down on the floor in front of him. He knelt down and placing his hands on the man's shoulders, he gently turned him over on to his back. The man did not appear to be breathing. No rise and fall of his chest or abdomen. Steve made a quick inventory on his observations. Just as he placed two fingers on the side of the man's neck to check for a pulse, the man's eyes flew open. Steve did not have time to react, nor did he see the swift and calculated movement from beneath him as a fist shot upwards, delivering a powerful uppercut. The impact knocked him backwards and he landed on his back, completely dazed. Scrambling to get to his hands and knees, Steve heard a chilling command. "Hold it or I'll blow your brains out!"
Managing to position himself onto his knees, Steve raised his head slowly and faced the barrel of a suppressor fitted to a .45 calibre semi-automatic pistol. Steve cursed inwardly that he'd been played a fool.
"Right detective, on your feet nice and slow." The man carried a heavy European accent. The evil glint in his eyes told Steve he was a dangerous man who would shoot without mercy.
Slowly, Steve pushed himself to his feet, still reeling from the blow he received. "Who are you?" He asked carefully.
"Turn around slowly and put your hands up where I can see them. Now!" The gunman demanded heatedly. Steve did not flinch but did as he was instructed, his brow furrowed in confusion. He could feel his heart rate picking up speed, as his mind flashed with images of how to handle the situation. A sharp and unforgettable pain suddenly stabbed through his skull as something hard struck him in the back of the head. Black blotches obscured his vision and blinding pain rent a groan from his throat. As Steve brought his arms down almost involuntarily, he made a last vain attempt to grip the desk next to him and stay on his feet. His hand connected with the edge of the wooden furniture, as he crumpled to the floor, taking down the coffee stained mug with him. The china cracked in two and lay forgotten beside the Steve's unmoving fingers. Darkness took him into the abyss of unconsciousness.
"Alright boys!" The man standing over Steve's prone form called out behind him and two men dressed in dark nondescript clothing entered the main office. The heavily built duo bent down over the inert form of the detective and roughly frisked him for concealed weapons. One of the men removed the shoulder holster whilst the other found the pair of steel handcuffs in his possession. Grabbing the the downed detective's arms the man pulled them back fast and hard, then applied the cuffs to both wrists, tightly. Steve's holster was passed to the blond man before the two thugs took a firm hold of the unconscious detective's upper arms and picked him up off the ground. Together they half carried and half dragged the dead weight out of the office.