Chapter Two
At first, they don't get much use out of the phone. They find Tanner Downey's name in the contacts list, but it's not like either of them really expected Gillings to be telling the truth, so it doesn't tell them anything they don't already know. There are a few text messages between the two, plenty of calls, too. However, any conversations they may have had about where Downey could be, must either not exist or have taken place in a phone call. Steve's dejected, he'd been hoping this was going to be the major break they were looking for. To top it off, they're both missing their badges after the scuffle in the bar.
Still, he keeps up an optimistic front for Kono. Doesn't want her to think she didn't do a good job by getting the phone because she did. Not her fault that she swiped the phone of one of the only people left on the island that doesn't prefer to communicate using 140 characters or less.
They're in the middle of forming a new plan when they hear the beep signaling a new text.
"Tell Nick no one wants to talk to him," Steve grumbles, scrolling through Gillings' past tax records, looking for something that just isn't there. Kono rolls her eyes. "Wrong phone. It's for Gillings."
She looks up from the phone and smiles. "It's from Downey."
We're waiting. Where are you?
Tilting the phone so he can see, she opens the window to reply. "Should I ask for directions?"
"What if he's been there before?"
Kono sucks her lip between her teeth, before typing a new message. I'm here already. Where are you?
They both know it's sort of a long shot. Downey could already know that his lackey was separated from his smart phone. Gillings could be standing next to him for all they know. So they're both surprised when they get answer back.
Place on Hau'oli St. Get here now.
Steve starts the truck, waits for her to crawl up front, and drives. Spirits restored, Kono turns on the radio and bops along with the music, and Steve doesn't even glare. Pressing their luck a bit, she fires off another text once they find the correct street. 330?
250.
After Downey's correction, she feigns a personal emergency and powers the phone down. It may have seemed suspicious, but they don't need to pretend to be Gillings anymore, so they aren't too concerned.
Because Kono can't crouch down for long with her knee the way it is, Steve goes alone to survey the place. Slips into the back yard and stoops low to peer in the window. He doesn't like what he sees. Downey is definitely there, reclining on an arm chair, surrounded by his loyal soldiers. He counts six and scowls. Less than there were at the bar, but these men are armed, and their blood isn't flooded with alcohol.
When he returns to home base and reports his findings to Kono, she sighs. Knows the implications as well as he does. "Guess we should call for back up," she says quietly.
He nods. Tries not to think about being dragged back to the hospital while HPD handles the take down. Instead, he thinks about other ways to get the job done and comes up with this little gem, which he recognizes as a bad idea before he even vocalizes it. "Or we could wait until early tomorrow morning. Catch them off guard."
Kono pretends to be unexcited, but he can see the spark as it works its way up her spine, eventually illuminating her eyes. "Probably that would work just as well."
Their plan falls into place from there. They'll attack at four the next morning, when any decent thug would be fast asleep. After they restrain the prisoners and get some retribution, they'll call the rest of Five-0. And gloat. Probably a lot.
"We'll pick up some zip ties from the hardware store we passed on the way here," Steve says, and it looks like they're really going to go through with this.
"Okay," she agrees, "Except, I don't have any cash on me. You?"
Steve swears.
There's a flaw in the plan.
They do their best to avoid calling attention to themselves, but they do look like they've experienced both an explosion and a bar fight in the last twenty-four hours, which comes across as suspicious. Steve is wearing a pair of Kamekona's large, aviator sunglasses, which they found in the center console of the truck, in a valiant but mostly unsuccessful attempt to cover the bruising on his face. Kono is still limping, and while a set of crutches would coordinate nicely with his sling, they can't exactly go back to the hospital to claim some.
So no, they do not look like the sort of people that should be exerting themselves with a home improvement project. This is not in their favor.
It's a little ridiculous how nervous they are considering this is possibly the least illegal/dangerous thing they've ever done while on the job. However, they're both without their badges and dealing with a certain amount of guilt because the owner of the store is elderly and looks frail but friendly, and this goes against every inkling of right and wrong that they have.
"Seriously," Kono reprimands herself, whispering aloud as they weave through the aisles. "It's not like they cost more than twenty bucks."
"We'll pay him back," Steve promises. "With interest."
He keeps watch while Kono slips the package under her shirt and rearranges the loose fabric to disguise the bulge. It doesn't really work, so they hope the owner's thick, round glasses don't work as well as they look like they do.
"Maybe he'll just think you're pregnant," Steve says weakly, looking mournfully at the foot long, three inch deep rectangle protruding from her stomach.
"With what? An encyclopedia?"
On their way out, he swipes a pair of miniature binoculars too, because they've already crossed a line anyway, and they need them, so why not? He positions himself between her and the cashier as they make their way towards the door, loudly discussing how disappointed they are that the store didn't stock their favorite brand of fertilizer. When they near the counter, a rough voice yells for them to stop where they are. Steve looks towards the owner/cashier and blinks.
He is holding a gun on them.
Really?
Kono breathes an exhausted, incredulous chuckle, sounding frustrated, disbelieving, and just a little bit delirious. Should they live to see the inside of the shrimp truck again, he'll probably try to get her to eat something other than shave ice and catch a couple hours of sleep while he keeps watch because she's certainly not running at full capacity. If this elderly gentlemen doesn't shoot them over a twelve dollar pack of zip ties, that is.
"Put it back," the owner warns, "Or die. Makes no difference to me."
Not as frail as he looks, but Steve's even more puzzled by the gun. He doesn't recognize the style, and he's sort of the expert on these things. Something custom? Foreign, maybe?
Kono is looking at him with wide, earnest eyes, trying to communicate something that he can't decipher. He puts a hand on her back as he steps forward to reason with the other man, only to feel the fabric of her shirt brush his hand as she makes a run for it, before he can even think to tug her back.
His breath gets caught in his throat, choking him, when the owner fires and Kono lurches forward. She's hit, he thinks, wondering what went wrong in her head to make her do something this stupid. Steve spots the wound and blinks in surprised horror. The back of her shoulder is wet, shirt torn away and bare skin blossoming in a splotch of vivid-
Green?
With painstaking precision, Steve lowers the cloth to her forehead, mopping at the green paint and wincing at the welt that's revealed once it's gone. There's splotches of paint all over her clothing, which is probably hiding more more welts, and if she feels anything like he does, her entire body is aching. Still, it's better than being shot.
He sits back on his heels and studies her face, narrowing his eyes. "You're insane."
Kono smiles.
"How did you know it was a paintball gun?" he asks, wetting the cloth again and scrubbing at some paint under his ear.
She shrugs, opening a water bottle to rinse the green spots out of her hair. "I went a couple times with some friends from the academy. It looked kind of like the one's we used."
Steve pauses, and whirls to face her. "Kind of?"
"Yep."
"You put yourself in the path of a gun that you were kind of sure wouldn't kill you?" he asks, raising his voice to a volume that he hasn't used with her since she was sitting in their interrogation room, waiting for Fryer to bail her out. "What were you thinking?"
"Take it easy, brah," she says easily, looking at him like he's the crazy one.
"I will not take it easy. What would your cousin have done to me if I let you die over a pair of binoculars? Did you ever think of that?"
She gives him a sharp look and snatches said binoculars out of his hand, before limping across the back of the truck and struggling into the driver's seat. "Sorry, Danny."
Oh, he thinks. That was a low blow.
Eventually, he crawls into the front seat with her. They don't speak, but she silently hands him the binoculars, which he takes as a peace offering. She seems to have forgiven him for whatever he said to irk her earlier. However, she snaps at the piece of gum she found in the cup holder, and he's pretty sure she's doing it out of spite, to bother him. Or she could just be antsy. It occurs to him that they don't send her on enough stakeouts for her to have really gotten used to the monotony and boredom. When this is over, he'll have her tail some average tourist for a couple days. For the sake of practice.
It's getting late and they're starting to lose their light when they spot some movement. But it's not coming from the house.
"Is that-?"
Steve swears and scrambles out of the truck, Kono on his heels. They perform a flawless, almost silent take down, before dragging their captive into the back of the van. Nate Gillings sputters indignantly.
"Sorry, Nate," Steve says insincerely, grinning in a way that makes him look not very sorry at all. He pins Gillings down by the shoulders while Kono secures his hands and feet with their stolen zip ties. "Can't have you warning your buddies that we're coming."
"Don't worry," Kono chimes in. "We borrowed your phone and canceled your plans. It would rude to keep them waiting."
Steve nods solemnly. "Very rude."
Gillings is still throwing a tantrum, spitting and swearing up a storm until Kono crouches next to him, wearing a face that doesn't exactly seem friendly. "If you do not quiet down," she warns calmly, "I will shoot you. Is that clear?"
He stares at her with wide eyes before nodding slowly. She smiles and stands, grimacing when she realizes how far she's just pushed her knee. Leaning against the cooler, she rubs the aching joint and surveys her companions.
"Anyone in the mood for shrimp?"
At headquarters, Danny and Chin have their own prisoner to deal with. In the comfort of the conference room, they are circling their prey, who is seated on a desk chair in the middle of the room. Danny stops and narrows his eyes, dropping his voice an octave or two when he uses his best interrogation voice to address the suspect.
"We know you're helping them. And you're going to tell us where they are."
Kamekona glares back."You'll never make me talk."
The two remaining members of the task force exchange a glance and wordlessly switch tactics. Chin takes over, pulls up a chair next to his fellow Hawaiian, and puts on his "good cop" face. "Why, brah? What's in it for you?"
The bigger man shrugs. "Mostly because I dunno where they went."
"You didn't ask?" Danny asks in disbelief.
"Nah, bruddah," Kamekona says, mournfully. "I trust McGarrett and the little sister. It'll be the death of me one day. I see the best in people."
Chin pats the other man's large shoulder, and the three sit in silence, until it's broken by the sound of Kamekona's phone. It's on the table, so Danny snatches it up, squinting at the caller ID. "You know this number?"
Kamekona shakes his head.
With the phone on speaker, Danny answers the call and nods for him to speak.
"Aloha?"
"Hey, brah. You don't happen to have any kind of tape lying around here do you? Long story."
Chin sighs and reaches for the phone, but the detective shakes his head and turns off the speaker, instead holding the phone up to his ear.
"You listen, and you listen good, rookie..."
"Kamekona doesn't have any duct tape. We're just gonna have to live with listening to him talk for the next few hours."
Gillings, who has become quite the social butterfly since the initial shock of being held hostage in a food truck wore off, grins smugly. Kono steps on his foot.
"Damn," Steve sighs from the front seat, where he has the binoculars fixed on the rapidly darkening street. When he hears a noise from the back, he turns around to see her banging the phone against the fryer until the back pops off. While she pries the battery out with her fingernail, he looks at her oddly. "Anything else you want to tell me?"
"They got to Kamekona," she mutters, storing the powerless phone in the cooler. "And we probably shouldn't use that phone anymore."
"You talk to Danny or Chin Ho?"
"Danny."
"Did he seem-"
"Testy," Kono confirms. "Very testy."
He's not the only one. After less than an hour with Gillings, they're both ready to do just about anything to shut him up. "You're violating my third amendment rights," he complains loudly, while Kono is powering up the laptop.
One thin, dark eyebrow lifts. "We're quartering soldiers in your home?"
"Six-?"
She shakes her head.
"-teenth?"
"Nope," Kono says from on top of the cooler, where she is absentmindedly browsing the internet. Steve is still up front, keeping an eye on the house until the last possible moment. Every once in a while, he turns the binoculars towards the end of the street, half expecting to see the Camaro speeding in to put a stop to the operation, but it never comes. He's had a long day, and he'd like nothing more than to arrest Downey and his boys right now, so he can head home to sleep in his own bed. However, he also knows that when they end this mission and go back to HQ, his partner will be there waiting to end him.
A loud cry of, "I'm gonna have both your badges!" comes from the back, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like the sole of Kono's boot meeting some part of Gillings' body. Steve smirks. You'd have to find them first.
Gillings tries to stomp his bound feet for emphasis. "I want to speak to your supervisor!"
"Hey, boss?"
He holds back a chuckle and lowers the binoculars, accepting that there's not really much left to do until morning. "Yeah, Kono?"
"Nate wants to speak with you."
Their prisoner repeatedly bangs his head off the wall behind him in frustration. No one tries to stop him.
