NOTE: Some of you are slightly annoyed at the scenes of washing, cleaning, other personal matters, etc. In movies, a guy gets shot, falls off a building and then jumps up to catch the bad guy. In reality, when you've got a head injury, then hypothermia, gone through cardiac arrest and on top of that have to deal with being sedated with bad drugs and have to go through withdrawal, well ... But don't worry, things will pick up speed soon.
"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence."
- Carl Sagan -
10. ZEROING IN
The phone on the mahogany desk rings twice before John Yun picks it up. "Yes?" He listens for a few minutes, then sighs. "You have no idea where this other man is, Chen Zhi?"
The answer causes him to frown. "That is not what I want to hear. I do not want any problems from the mainland interfering with our plans. You have exactly three days."
He listens again, then interrupts. "Three days, preferably less. Then I want to have absolute confirmation that any loose ends have been tied off."
Just before he hangs up, Yun adds: "And Chen Zhi, if your failure to comply interrupts my plans ... don't bother coming back. Instead, start looking behind you."
With that, he disconnects.
Danny can't believe it's going on three weeks since Steve has been kidnapped. It has taken every ounce of self-control, every bit of will power to keep going, to not let the vortex of anxiety, guilt and abject fear pull him down into insanity. He's just talked to Grace on the phone, repeating the same daily litany.
"Yes Monkey, as soon as we know where Uncle Steve is, you'll be the first to know. Like I told you twice yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that." He'd listened, then closed his eyes to prevent tears from spilling over, and his voice had cracked. "I miss him too, Monkey; I miss him very much."
He sits quietly in his chair, rubbing his face, emotions raw. It's killing him, having to tell his daughter day after day that they still haven't found Steve. All in all, they don't have any hard evidence, no solid proof to work with. Like the detective from the San Diego PD reminded him over the phone.
All you have are assumptions, Detective Williams; no evidence, no hard facts. We can't work with that. The ads could be mere coincidence, and all the lab results indicate is that Commander McGarrett has been in contact with the blanket. I'm sorry. I understand your frustration, but surely you know we need to follow procedure in this. And I know the WSP in Seattle will tell you the same.
He had wanted to scream, yell that of course he understood there was a fucking procedure, of course hard evidence and proof were the preferred tools for an investigation! But this was his partner they were talking about, his friend, and lack of evidence didn't mean he was simply gone !
It tears him apart, knowing that his partner has been beaten, drugged with illegal sedatives and, for all they know, is lying somewhere seriously injured, possibly dying or dead, because lack of hard evidence prevents any of the law enforcement agencies from springing into action.
Standing up, sighing, he hitches up his pants as they start sliding down. He frowns, then tightens his belt a further notch. The long hours, little sleep and lack of appetite due to the continuous worry about Steve have made him lose weight; has turned his face into a tight, gaunt mask; caused dark circels to appear underneath his eyes and deep lines to be etched into his face.
Like Lou said, trying to find Steve is like looking for a needle in a haystack. However, by now Danny Williams has reached the point where he will pull said haystack apart, hay-stalk by fucking hay-stalk if need be, if it will turn up Steve. Even if it will cost him his badge. Or his life.
Archie pulls up into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant at Lebec, just off the I-5. He's been careful to take the back roads, constantly checking whether he's being followed. So far he's not seen anybody who seems to have an unusual interest in him, and it looks as if he has managed to get out of San Diego unseen. Looks like he has managed to evade the Chinamen.
Ray's phone call keeps replaying in his head; the news of the other two bikers being tortured, and then Duck getting shot is a bad omen. The Chinamen are going after everybody involved with the kidnapped guy from Honolulu, which means he's next on the list. He wonders if they managed to extract Tommy's name from Duck before he died.
He puts the bike on the side-stand, runs a chain through the rear wheel and locks it, then walks into the restaurant. After ordering a coffee he sits down in one of the booths, takes off his jacket, then pulls the piece of paper with Tommy's number out of the pocket of his jeans. He turns it over in his hand, contemplating what to do next. Finally, he pulls his cell phone out of his jacket, then dials the number on the paper.
"Hey Tommy, it's Archie. We got some serious problems."
He wakes up because his stomach is acting up, his intestines feel weird. They're rumbling, almost cramping, and he suddenly realizes why. Oh shit ! Immediately he realizes the wry humor of that thought. Talk about literal ...
Squirming, he manages to slightly move into a different position, and the pressing feeling in his lower abdomen lets up a little. Unfortunately, this now makes him aware of his full bladder. He groans mentally, closing his eyes, trying again to find a more comfortable position.
When he opens his eyes ten minutes later, sweating and almost panicking at the increasing pressure in his bowels, he finds Rhys standing next to the mattress, arms crossed, frowning down on him.
"I can think of just two reasons why you're squirming like a worm on a hook. Are you in pain?"
He shakes his head, whispering "no" before he needs to change his position again. He looks up at Rhys, a pleading but embarrassed look on his face. Much to his disgust, a grin appears on Rhys' face.
"Then I guess it's the dreaded Number Two. Right?"
Blushing, he nods. "Need ... to go ... badly." Still grinning, Rhys disappears and quickly returns with something that looks like a flattened, mint green toilet seat with a steel bottom and a curved square attachment on top.
"Something I had picked up after I came to believe you might actually live. Thought it might come in handy at some point. Like today." He winks.
He looks at the contraption, then at Rhys, and shakes his head. What Rhys is asking him to do is something that goes against his very instincts, against the very grain. You don't crap where you sleep!
"I don't think you'll make it to the toilet, you know."
He frowns, then squirms to push himself higher in the bed. The movement causes pain to erupt in his lower back, and he hisses through his teeth. "Help .. get up." He is dead set on doing this the right way, and he grits his teeth, ignoring the white hot pain as he tries to move again.
"No. Just no."
He looks up, glowering, at Rhys standing there, arms akimbo and a calm but stubborn look on his face. Right, then he'll do it himself. Moving his legs, trying to will strength into the weak muscles, he tries to push off the mattress, which in turn increases the pressure in his lower abdomen and turns the white hot pain into liquid fire. He groans, feeling sweat breaking out on his brow. "Dammit ... help me!"
"I said no. Ain't happening. I'll just stand here and watch you crap the bed. Seen you do worse ..."
"F ... fuck you!" He is furious, both at his weakened state and the refusal of the man standing there to help him preserve some semblance of dignity, some degree of self-respect.
"Dude, come on. Be reasonable. You're in no condition, and as this is the first time in weeks, it might take quite a while. You're not gonna be able to sit for long, let alone walk over." Rhys sighs. "I'm sure you used bedpans in the hospital ..."
"Hated that!"
"Sure, who doesn't. But that's what you're gonna use now. I'll help you get on, then I'll go outside for as long as you need, give you all the privacy you want, and then I'll come back in and clean you." A little smile appears on his lips at the look Steve throws him. "Yeah, like a fucking baby."
He stares at him, suddenly understanding the last remark is simply to remind him that he really is no more than that, a helpless baby. He also realizes that Rhys is telling him that things are as they are, that it's not his fault, that he can't help being so weak, shouldn't be embarrassed. Sighing, he nods, almost imperceptibly.
A hour later, Rhys has been proven right in every aspect.
Yes, it took a while, a very long while actually, and no, he could never have sat up for so long. He was barely able to manage the semi-reclined position Rhys had placed him in, his back against a stack of pillows. By the time Rhys returned to the cabin he was whimpering, fighting to keep himself from graying out as his lower back was invaded by a roaring, clawing animal tearing him apart inside.
When Rhys gently moved him to remove the mess he had produced, he actually did black out from the pain. By the time he became aware of things again, he had been cleaned and redressed. Rhys had placed him on his left side again, rolled up blankets and a warm water bottle against his lower back. The roaring animal was withdrawing.
"Hey, there you are again. Better?" Rhys calmly looks at him. "I just want to know one thing: is everything gonna be such a fucking battle with you? Because for the time being, I think it will prove to be futile on your part." He suddenly throws him a cocky grin. "I could throw you over my shoulder and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do against it, SEAL or not."
He blinks, still trying to get a grip on reality again. Staring at Rhys through his eyelashes, he takes in the humor in his eyes. "Wait ... 'till I'm better." He manages to lift his lips in a little smile, sees a returning grin on Rhys' face.
"Challenge accepted. Now, please do me a favor, and until then just do what I suggest. Saves me a lot of headaches, and you all kinds of assorted other aches." He winks at him. "Your time will come, Steve, don't worry. I'm convinced it's all uphill from here on out."
Chin is looking through the files they received from the SDPD, frowning. He then pulls up a site with the latest news from San Diego, scrolling through the site until he hits a small article. 'Motorcycle gang member shot in alleyway'. He reads the contents of the article, then scrolls to another article on the same site. 'Three dead in suspected arson'.
"Something interesting catch your attention?" Lou ambles up to his team mate. Chin nods. "Yeah, something did, actually. Here, look." He zooms in on the file concerning the deaths of the three bikers. Lou scans through the article, then sucks in his breath. "Well, I'll be ... that can't be just another coincidence!"
Chin nods. "That's what I thought. And look here." He pulls up the article about the biker shot in the alley again. "Less than twenty-four hours later, and the guy was associated with the same biker gang." Lou frowns. "I'm sure SDPD will tag all this with the label 'assumptions', but I think we should tell Danny about it."
Just then Danny comes walking out of his office. "Tell Danny about what?" Chin quickly gives him a condensed version of what they found. "So, one of those three bikers killed in the fire worked at the same slaughterhouse they found the blanket at. They find evidence of them having been tortured, and less than a day later one of their associates turns up dead."
Chin nods absentmindedly, scrolling through the articles again, reading the contents. "Yeah, and get this: a witness at the bar the last biker got shot swears he saw three Asian men jump in a car and drive off afterwards." They look at each other, then Danny scrapes his throat. "OK, Chin, try to find out more about who the close associates of these guys are, where they're at, where they work; everything."
Running a hand over his face, Danny thinks hard. "So it looks like the Triad took care of Steve's transportation off the island to San Diego, where the Chinese gift shop guy arranged for his further transportation. And apparently that was handled by members of some local bike gang, one of whom worked at the slaughterhouse they found the blanket at and where those boxes are produced we saw in the video."
The memory of the video causes a small wave of nausea to course up from his stomach; the images of an unmoving Steve, cuffed and chained, bruised, battered ... he doesn't think he'll ever be able to scrub those from his mind. What he does know is that he's willing to do anything to get his hands on the people who did this to his friend.
He sees Lou and Chin staring at him, a worried look on their faces. He throws them a small, tight smile. "I'm OK. Just thinking of all the possible ways in which I can kill the bastards that did this to Steve." They nod in complete understanding. Danny sighs.
"So, has Kono come back from China Town yet?"
He's half reclining against a pile of pillows, one pillow in the small of his back. After recuperating from what he still considers an embarrassing ordeal, dozing while the warm water bottle helped ease the pain in his lower back, he discovered he was hungry. Starving, actually.
When he told Rhys, he had carefully turned and half lifted him, then stuffed several pillows behind his back, placing a smaller one down by his lower back. Then he had gone over to the stove and gotten a bowl of porridge.
"How about you try and feed yourself this time? If you can't, don't be upset."
He knows it's Rhys' way of trying to give him back some sense of self-sufficiency, some form of independence despite all the care he still needs. Rhys had put a simple wooden bed table on his knees, then placed the bowl of porridge on it and handed him a spoon.
He is shocked by his lack of energy, the weakened state he's in. Just bringing the spoon to his mouth demands every bit of will power he can muster. Savoring the warm, sweet porridge, he manages to drag his arm up again for another bite, then notices how his hand trembles, almost spilling the food.
"That's a full work out in itself, isn't it?" Rhys looks at him, monitoring his progress. "Want me to help you with the last bit? You look pretty exhausted."
He looks at him, then shakes his head. "Need to do this." Ten minutes later, he puts the last spoon full of the now lukewarm porridge in his mouth. His hand slumps down on the covers, his last energy completely spent. The fact that he has managed to feed himself is worth it though.
"I got some tea for you if you want. And I'm gonna help you with that, you've done enough for now."
He gratefully nods, not protesting when Rhys holds the sipping cup to his mouth, drawing in the warm liquid loaded with honey. When the cup is empty, he lets his head fall back, wearily looking out from between heavy eyelids.
Rhys gets up, takes the dirty dishes to the simple wooden counter along the wall, then pours hot water from the stove in the sink. He watches him, content to just lie there, stomach full, satisfied but exhausted from feeding himself. Then he suddenly frowns. "There were two of you ... right?" He watches Rhys become still, then turn towards him.
"Yeah, there were two of us. Why?"
His mind is going over the few memories he has, the argument he overheard days before. It suddenly clicks in his mind. "He's the one who ... who helped abduct me." Rhys walks over, drying his hands on a tea towel. Standing next to the mattress, he looks down.
"Seems those gray cells of yours are starting to work again as well." He sighs. "Yeah, he's the one that was gonna keep you up here in the cabin." Rhys hunkers down, staring into his eyes. "But he got a call from the guy bringing you over that you were in really bad shape, and he knew he didn't have the skills to care for you. So ..."
He watches Rhys' green eyes turn dark, a far-away look on his face. There are emotions flitting over his face; anger, guilt, something else. He knows Rhys has been drawn into this situation against his will, instinctively senses that this man really isn't the type who normally is involved in this kind of thing. "So?" he asks in a soft voice.
Rhys blinks, then looks at him. "So he called me, asked me to help him, help you. From what he described I figured you needed urgent medical help. I also knew they would never call a doctor, take you to a hospital. Besides not wanting my ... my friend to get in trouble, I just couldn't turn my back on somebody who was badly hurt. And you were, badly hurt I mean. When I saw you in that truck ..."
He closes his eyes, tries to call up a memory of what Rhys is telling him. What comes is a fleeting sensation of extreme cold, chilling him to the core; of excruciating pain, of ... being chained up? He shudders, his eyes flying open, immediately drawing Rhys' attention to him.
"You remember that, being in the truck?" Rhys looks at him, a worried frown on his face.
Hesitating, he answers: "Not sure ... something about freezing, pain. And something about chains." He sighs; it's obviously he's been through hell, but he's convinced he doesn't need to remember that particular part of his journey. When he glances at Rhys, he sees he has an angry look on his face. "What's wrong?"
"Just the fact that you remember that ... Man, you have no idea how fucking mad I was when I found you!" Rhys scowls. "Badly injured, sedated, cuffed and chained; stuck in a meat truck with temperatures around freezing, just a soiled thin blanket covering you. Fuck, you were so far gone ..." He shakes his head.
Once again, he realizes he literally owes his life to Rhys, and knows he's forever indebted to him. He still doesn't know who he is, where he came from, or what's going to happen. What he does know is that, no matter what happens, he will find a way to repay him. "I owe you my life" he says softly.
Rhys stares at him, then sighs. "Don't thank me yet, Steve; we still need to get you home."
They've agreed to meet in Aberdeen, at the exact same spot where they transferred the guy abducted from Honolulu. There they can plan what to do next, discuss their options, find the best way to ensure they'll stay alive. If he sticks to the main roads he can be there in under eighteen hours.
Tommy sounded shit scared on the phone, terrified at the manner in which this seemingly simple operation has gone horribly wrong. "I don't get it, man! All we had to do was keep him alive, hold on to him until further notice. What the fuck went wrong?"
They only thing Archie can think of, the only reason why the Chinese have suddenly decided to change their plans, is the video Duck has posted. A video which might have given clues to the Five-0 team looking for their boss; a video which most likely incensed the Triad leader who had given the initial order for the abduction of the man, ordered to keep him healthy and alive.
As he gets on his bike, Archie's mind is busily going over all the options they have, all the possible scenarios which might play out. No matter which way he turns it, their options are few, and most scenarios end with him and Tommy encountering a fate similar to that of Duck and the other three guys. There's only one logical conclusion.
They have to get rid of the guy.