"Oh God!" Danny blenched at her finding. "Someone has him."
"Let's not jump the gun. For ought we know he could have slipped and hit his head. He's probably wandering the streets bewildered from the concussion. Might even have amnesia. Had there been a struggle or worse, he'd been shot, we would have found a puddle of blood, not a few droplets."
"I'll ask Duke to put an APB out on him."
"Not yet. Let's see if we can find him first. If not, we'll send out the search party and get the lab team to dust for fingerprints."
"When do you suppose this happened?"
"Judging by the caked blood, I'd say quite a bit, most likely last night."
"Like finding a needle in a haystack. He could be anywhere by now."
"Then let's get started."
"Wait! I have Grace with me. I don't want to bring her along and risked her being traumatized in the event we stumble onto a grisly scene."
"You're right. I could ask Kono to watch her for a while."
"I think she's spending the day with her beau," Danny informed with a hint of disgust.
"I take it you don't like him?" she gathered from his tone.
"No one approves of Adam. He has or rather he had ties to the Yakuza."
"Then what is she doing with him?"
"Beats me! She's convinced he's changed. He brainwashed her into thinking that he had no dealings in his family crime spree, but we happened to believe otherwise. He's not welcomed in our circle of friends, reason being why you'd never see him accompanying her at social gatherings. No, I'll just take Gracie back to her mother's and explain the situation. Doesn't look like I'll be spending quality time with her anyway."
He slowly broke through the surface only to be assaulted by a pounding in his skull. He groaned awake, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the searing pang above his right eyebrow. He went to raise a hand to the source of his discomfort but found his hands were bound in handcuffs. Blinking away the haze, he tried to focus on his dark, musty surroundings. His mind was a shambles, numbed and murky from the drug still coursing through his veins.
After adjusting to night vision, only then did he realize that he was being held captive inside a small chamber, similar to a solitary confinement cell. Only the dim light from a bulb hanging overhead cast a shadow on the walls that appear to be closing in on him. He was bound hand and foot in shackles with barely enough length to walk around. His tuxedo jacket, waistband and bow tie had been discarded, leaving him with only a white shirt and pants.
No sooner had he begun to shake the cobwebs away that the cell door creaked open. He squinted against the blinding light coming from outside. Before him stood a lone shadowy figure with no distinguishable features. It made its way toward him and as it leaned forward, he could discern the face of a young woman. She cast a timid smile at him while placing a tray of food next to him on the cot. Somehow she looked familiar but couldn't quite place her. A daunting thug armed to the teeth stood guard by the door and waited for her to exit before shutting it close.
He peeked at the meager portion of fried rice and slice of bread with a half-full glass of lukewarm water and cringed. He pushed it aside in disgust and teetered to his feet, but a debilitating wave of dizziness sent him flumping down on his cot.
Minutes elapsed before another visitor flanked by two armed guards entered his musty dwelling. He came to stand imposingly before him.
"Well, well, well, Commander Steven McGarrett. You're the nuisance who's been wreaking havoc in my organization."
"Who are you?" Steve asked, blinking to bring the man into focus.
"Let me introduce myself. The name is Clive McFadden." He bent forward so that his jailbird could get an eyeful of his malicious glee in the glow of the light coming from the open door. "Take a good look at my face, McGarrett. You're one of the few people who get to see it."
"I say they're lucky, they don't have to stare into that ugly mug of yours," Steve witticism was rewarded with a jab in the face. Momentarily stunned, he stretched his stinging jaw and ran his tongue across his bloody lip. He remained cool and composed in the face of adversity, exercising formidable restraint as he stared the Devil's Spawn right in the eyes.
"I can easily rearrange yours along with a few other body parts, so I suggest you lose the cocky attitude," McFadden cautioned.
"Where am I?"
"You need not know for you won't be here long."
"Good 'cause this place stinks."
"I do apologize for the seedy accommodations but under the circumstances be thankful you're sitting down and not hanging on a hook like a vulgar piece of meat."
"Why am I here or do I have to ask?" Steve asked petulantly.
"As you know I'm in the business of taking minors because they sell high on the white slavery market but you Commander, you're quite a famous figure in our circles. I was astounded at the mind-boggling sum of cash your nemeses are willing to fork over to get their claws into you."
"Yeah, fame's a bitch," Sarcasm dripped. "You ought to know that."
"We all have our crosses to bear," McFadden patronized. "One client in particular has put a mighty bulky price on your head."
"And who would that be?"
"The Yakuza," he crowed as he watched the blood drained from his victim's face."That's right. Seems you pissed off one of their syndicates and they are now seeking retribution. You're worth a lot more alive than dead, but they can just as well settle for a corpse so I advise you to behave. Either way I'll get paid."
"Or you'll end up in a ditch."
"I'll take my chances." He slid the tray over to Steve. "Eat hardy, Commander. It could very well be your last meal."
Meanwhile at Five-0 headquarters, Danny, Kono and Frances were discussing possible leads on their colleague's disappearance when an incoming call indicator flashed on one of the wide screens.
"It's Duke." Frances switched on the channel and Duke's face appeared on the screen.
"Duke, hope you have a lead for us?" Danny asked, hanging on tenterhooks.
"Sorry to disappoint you folks. We're completely clueless as to what happened to McGarrett. Our lab analysed the blood found at his house. It's his all right."
Danny's eyes dropped like lead at the news.
"Surely someone must have seen something? What about the neighbours?" Frances asked.
"According to the lab result of the dried blood sample recovered at the scene, we estimated the time of the incident at about ten to eleven last night. It was dark, plus which it was Saturday. Many were out."
"What about fingerprints?" Kono raised.
"Negative. We did recover a batch of 'em, but all checked out. There's an APB out on him. Could be what Commander Nyland said. That he fell, hit his head and started walking."
"I thought about it and no, he wouldn't do that," Danny refuted. "His first instinct would be to try to get inside the house to use the phone."
"Perhaps he did," Kono surmised. "Knocked on the door, there's no answer obviously so he started down the road."
"Then why haven't we found him yet? I'm sorry I just...I can't subscribe to this theory. I know McGarrett. He would have broken into the house to get to a phone or at least try to fetch his."
"Danny, he might not have been all there," Kono contended. "People with concussions often are confused and disoriented."
"We'll keep looking."
"Thanks Duke. Stay in touch," Frances pressed the button to end the communication.
McFadden's young bondservant was cooking in the pantry while he and his accomplice, Sam, discussed the precious cargo to be delivered to the highest bidder.
"Did you agree on a price for McGarrett?" Sam asked.
The young woman reacted to the name and strained her ears to follow the conversation while going about her chores.
"Truthfully, I didn't have to haggle. The offer on the table exceeded my expectations. It's far more than I've earned in the past six years in this money-spinner," McFadden revelled in his triumph. "But in order to get all the dough that's coming to me, I need to deliver the merchandise undamaged. Might not have to be in pristine condition but it'll fetch more than a stiff. That's why I want to keep him breathing and unless it's absolutely necessary, I don't want him roughed up."
"Got it," his yes-man acknowledged.
"With what I'll make I'll be able to retire, which might not be a bad idea considering this glass tower is crumbling and I sure don't want to be stuck inside when it falls. The recruits stink. Bayne and Stratton are a bunch of incompetent yutz! I'm lucky they ain't found me yet! I seriously doubt my esteemed cohorts will come forward and bail me out if I'm caught. I'll take the money and run as far as I can."
"When's the pick up?"
McFadden pulled out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed over to Sam. "Find a phone booth a few miles out and get in touch with this man, Luke Chan. He'll tell you when and where to make the drop."
"All right. Any other instructions?"
"No that's it. Make sure you don't pick up a tail. If you suspect anything, play it cool and lose Chan's number."
"Understood." Sam stood and left the room.
McFadden stretched his neck to get a better view at his slave girl in the pantry. "Hey sweetheart," he called on a chillingly demeaning tone. "When is supper gonna be ready?"
"Should be in about twenty minutes, sir," she replied diffidently. This man was putting the fear of God into her and risked not irking him for dread of getting beaten. "I'm preparing the guest's meal."
"Yeah, well don't wear yourself out on it. He don't need much nourishment. He ain't gonna be with us very long."
McFadden took his leave to go answer nature's call. Once out of earshot, the young girl circumspectly made her way to the other room to grab the handcuff keys kept in a small box inside a desk drawer. Quickly, she retraced her steps to the kitchen and finished preparing Steve's meal just as McFadden returned to his study. Two of his henchmen joined him.
She carefully hid the key in the mashed potatoes and filled up the plate with slices of ham and a generous portion of peas. She threw in a slice of bread with a glass of cold water. She placed everything on a tray and walked down the hall where a sentry was standing at his post by the prisoner's cell.
"It's time for his supper," she told the guard who nodded and opened the cell door.
Steve squinted against the blinding light and blinked to establish focus on the figure walking toward him. "It's only me," she set his mind at ease and placed the tray on his lap. "I hope you like ham? I apologized for the mashed potatoes. They have bits of chunks in them," she hinted, expressive eyes motioning to the plate. Steve acknowledged her message with a discreet nod of the head.
"No talking!" warned the guard behind her.
They exchanged a complicit smirk before the girl returned to her quarters. Once the door closed, Steve poked at the mashed potatoes and found the key. Within seconds he was free from his bonds and began massaging his wrists as he pondered his next move.
As he drove past Steve's house, Danny noticed light coming from the living room. He parked alongside the curb and went to investigate. With gun drawn, he kicked the front door open and aimed his weapon at the intruder sitting behind Steve's desk.
"Dammit Frances!" Danny cursed, his heart beating out of his chest. "What are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are," she said, lowering her own gun on the table.
"I was driving back to my house when I saw light in Steve's house. You know I could have shot you." He holstered his weapon as he walked up to her, curious as to what had her so engrossed. "What are you doing?"
"Looking at some Five-0 case logs."
"Euh...how did you get inside his house?"
"I'm FBI, Danny. I have a few tricks up my sleeves."
"Stupid question. What are you looking for?"
"Clues as to where Steve might be."
"I take it you don't believe in your own concussion scenario?"
"You said it best. We would have found him by now had it been just a bump on the head. He would have gotten to a phone, have someone call 911 or his emergency contact, which is you or checked into a hospital. If too addled to do those things, someone would have found him wandering and would have called the police by now. He was still wearing his tux. That's bound to raise a few eyebrows. We checked his running trail and the beach where he goes for a swim. Nothing."
Danny rounded the table to stand next to her. "Found anything that can give us a lead?"
Frances shook her head dejectedly. "There's no shortage of potential enemies out there."
"Yeah McGarrett raised a few hackles in his time. He collects foes like others collect stamps."
"He ought to try a new hobby. Got plenty of names here. I have the whys and what-fors but zilch on who and where."
"Well we've got to do something and fast," Danny stressed, the sickening feeling of helplessness evading him.
"Danny, we are clueless as to where to start looking for him," she stated, toiling to suppress her own rising emotions.
"What about McFadden? He's the first one I'd go after. I'm sure he must have gotten word of Stratton's and Bayne's arrests by now."
"He takes children. What would he want with Steve? If anyone, he'd be after me."
"Yes but Steve is the head of Five-0. Basically it's our task force that's aiming at dismantling his organization, not FBI or you."
"You have a point, but why take Steve? He would have just shot him dead and leave the body where we could find him as a warning. McFadden's not one to tote a burden, especially a former SEAL."
"I told Steve I'd stick to him like white on rice. I failed at that."
"Danny, rice can also be brown. Steve doesn't expect you to chain yourself to his ankle. Besides I don't think he'd like that. He needs breathing space."
The next morning, Steve lay on his cot, feigning sleep when the young woman and the guard entered the cell. She walked up to the supine man, her back was to the guard, blocking his view of the hostage. Steve pried open one eye and smiled cunningly at her. She acknowledged with a small nod and improvised a diversion.
"Say Mike, would you come over here for a second?"
"What's the trouble?" he asked, surly.
"The prisoner...he doesn't look too good. In fact I don't think he's breathing."
"What are you talking about?"
"See for yourself." She vacated her spot for Mike to lean over Steve.
In a flash, eyes shot open and hands grabbed the thug by the neck. Mike barely had time to react and reach for his gun that Steve kneed him in the stomach and delivered a few blows to the torso and head, after which he looped his arm around his neck in a chokehold to render him unconscious. He then seized the gun and checked the chamber for ammunitions.
"How many are out there?" he asked his new consociate.
"In total, twelve. Four inside and the others are mounting guard outside the compound."
"What is this place?" Steve asked while busy clamping the cuffs around the guard's wrists and ankles and chaining him to the wall as he once was.
"I don't rightly know. My best guess would be an old abandoned mill of some sort."
"What's the location?"
"I couldn't tell you. McFadden usually has me blindfolded when we move around."
"How long have you been with him?" Steve continued his probing as he stuffed a napkin down the guard's throat.
"Quite a few years. I've been sort of his slave girl ever since."
"Well not anymore. We're busting out of here." He clasped her hand and together, they exited the cell. Steve closed the door behind them and locked it. "Okay, which way?"
"McFadden is down the corridor to the left. It's the pantry with a small adjacent room he uses as his study."
"Is there anyone with him?"
"At last count there were two of his top aides."
"Okay, stick close behind me. I'll try to take them by surprise." With gun at the ready, finger on the trigger and his back plastered against the concrete wall, Steve cautiously sidled down the hallway, looking both ways to ensure no one was about.
With the utmost circumspection, he drew near the pantry where McFadden and his two henchmen were sitting at a table discussing their next move in the next room.
"Say, can you create a diversion?" Steve asked in a whispering voice. "So that I may jump them from behind?"
"I'll do my best." She inhaled a deep breath to summon her courage and walked into the study. Just as expected, all eyes turned to her. She feigned tripping and simulated a fall to lure the men's attention to her plight, allowing Steve to spring into action. He pounced on his preys, smashing the butt of his gun into one man's skull, instantly rendering him unconscious, while he kicked the other's gun out of his grasp and rammed his elbow into his ribs, knocking the wind off him long enough to disable him.
"Hold it McGarrett," warned McFadden with a gun thrust at Steve's head. Before he could revel in his triumph, his world suddenly went black, courtesy of a frying pan to the head given by his serf.
Steve threw one last kick into the second man's face to send him down for the count. He striped all three men of their weapons and secured their hands with cuffs that his assistant provided from the study. He took two loaded weapons with him and discarded the others in the trash bin, careful to remove the cartridges first that he stuffed in his tuxedo pants pocket.
"Where can I find a cell phone?"
"There aren't any."
"All right then a wall phone, walkie-talkie, anything." She shook her head. "You mean to tell me McFadden doesn't have any means of communication?"
"Says it might give his position away. He and his men drive a few miles to a phone booth to make their calls."
"Shit!" he winced, "sorry."
"Don't worry. I've heard worse."
"Okay. Can't take the risk. Do you know a safe way out of here?"
The spunky young girl grabbed a set of keys from a hook and beckoned Steve to follow her. "That would be through this underground tunnel." She motioned to the staircase leading down to the tunnel entrance. She unlocked the door and waited for Steve to cross the threshold before turning the key to lock the door behind them. "I've seen McFadden use it a few times to bring new arrivals in transit."
"You mean the kidnapped children?"
She pursed her trembling lips at the grim memory of those helpless victims that journeyed through these halls. "Yeah. I hated it. I can still hear their cries. I have horrid nightmares about it. Some were not older than thirteen and one I remember was barely ten. I don't know what happened to her," she said blearily in a voice choking with emotions. "It was heartrending. I don't want to live through that again."
"Well you won't. I'm taking you back to your family. By the way, are there any kids locked away in here?"
"No. The last one went out a few days ago."
"A young twelve-year-old girl?"
"How did you know?"
"My team and I intercepted the sale. We got her back to her family safe and sound."
"What a relief."
"Which way?"
"This way," she pointed to a fork in the passageway.
They finally reached the end of the tunnel. An iron door stood between captivity and freedom. She turned the key to unlock it and as she went to pull it open, Steve stopped her.
"Wait!" he cautioned, nudging her to stand behind him. "I'll go first to see if the coast is clear." He handed her a gun. "You know how to use one of these?"
She fashioned a wicked grin and grabbed firm hold of the weapon. "It's been a while since I've fired one but it'll come to me if needed."
"Good. Wait for me here." Steve pulled open the door at a crack and with gun at the ready, he took a peak out before emerging whole, scanning the area for any suspicious character loitering about. "Okay, you can come out." She appeared behind him with her gun aiming straight ahead. "Which way now?"
"This way," she motioned to the right. "We must get to the main gate."
"Wait! Too obvious. Isn't there another exit, less conspicuous?"
"I wouldn't know. I was never allowed to wander far. We could scale the fence."
With extreme vigilance they sidled the walls, their hawk eyes on the lookout for the tiniest ruffle of leaves that could give the enemy away.
They balked at the two armed guards posted by the fence; a hurdle Steve deemed too dangerous to tackle given their precarious situation. Shooting them was also out of the question as it would attract attention and give away their position. He beckoned the girl to head further down the path in search of a safer passage.
They noticed a tear in the fence and once Steve gave the all clear, he assisted the girl in crawling through the hole and followed her.
As they dashed toward the forest ahead, gunshots rang out. Steve yelped in pain and clutched his side, nearly tripping on a branch lying on the ground.
"Go, go, go!" he yelled, arm flailing. The adrenalin pumping through his veins momentarily dulled the twinges burning in his right side. No time to check the severity of his injury that he dismissed as a mere flesh wound.
They scuttled through the rainforest as fast as their legs could carry them.
Outside the compound, a bewildered McFadden holding his throbbing head stood by the shooter who had delivered him from his bonds.
"I think I managed to nick him, sir."
"Great! Now he's damaged good," McFadden ranted, wincing from the pain in his skull. "Never mind, take Chuck, Hugo and Stan with you. You hunt them down and bring them to me. I want them alive but if it can't be done, haul back their corpses."
"Yes sir."
"Don't you dare let them reach town," he grinded with teeth set in fury.
