Oops, apologies, had every intention of posting last night but I slightly fell asleep on the sofa instead...the perils of travelling with small children and not-yet-trained dogs... :) Dog is lovely. Epic journey though- no car for technical reasons, so instead...one plane, two buses, THREE ferries and a couple of friend's cars. Work that out if you can... Like I said- it's a cute dog.

Anyhoo, back to business! Thank you all so much for the reviews. Make me smile, make me happy, make it worth all the effort!

LIFE IS BUT A GAME OF CHANCE

CHAPTER 7

"DANNY! DANNY!" Steve yelled. He could see his partner in the distance, but he wasn't going to get there in time, he was too far away! Dobbs had Danny by the throat. Light glinted off the lethal blade as the bastard stuck it in Danny's body over and over but Steve just couldn't seem to get any closer. His legs weren't working properly! He was too tired, too sick and now Danny…..Danny had gone limp, his face white, his mouth slack and the blood….there was so much blood….

"NOOO! DANNY!" Steve screamed out, desperate.

"Commander? Are you okay?"

Officer Kapule's hesitant voice cut into Steve's subconscious. Steve's eyes snapped open. He was panting, rivulets of sweat running down his face. He looked around in total confusion. He was still in the car, Kapule by his side, the landscape of industrial Honolulu drifting by slowly.

Dreaming, had he been dreaming? Had he actually fallen asleep? The guilt that hit him hurt worse than Dobbs' knife had.

Trying to cover his distress, he turned to glare at Kapule as though it was his fault Steve couldn't seem to stay awake. He was okay, he was sure he was okay. His blood pressure had to be too low, something like that. That could explain the nausea, the light-headedness. He needed to rest, take on fluids. Take some painkillers. Sleep. Really sleep.

He opened his mouth to speak, to say he was fine. Then the squad car hit a pothole and white hot pain erupted in his gut, radiating outwards to every part of his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away so Kapule wouldn't see his suffering.

When he had re-composed himself somewhat he glanced at the young cop. At least someone was alert. Kapule's eyes were everywhere, between the surreptitious looks that periodically came his way.

No sooner had that thought crossed Steve's meandering mind, than the young officer's gaze fixed on something. "Did you see that?"

"What?" Steve turned his head, following Kapule's line of sight.

"Probably nothing," said Kapule, eyes still fixed on the same spot. He checked his mirrors rapidly, then pulled into the side of the road. He pointed ahead, at the roof of a warehouse just visible in the distance amongst the industrial buildings they had been driving around. "A bunch of pigeons just came up through the hole in that roof. Kind of like something had startled them. Should we check it out?"

Just like that, Steve's laser focus came back online.

….

Danny lay, limp and unmoving. He was on his side, back to the wall, having dragged his all but useless body as far away from the edge of the platform as he possibly could, into the depths of the shadows.

He had no concept of how far he'd fallen. But he was alive. Just.

He didn't really know why he wasn't dead, he didn't know how he had managed to stop his fall. His memories of what had happened were a horrible, terrifying, painfilled blur. But somehow he had survived. He had reached out in desperation, caught hold of something, some part of the scaffolding he supposed. He managed to slow his descent just above a lower platform, got a leg out in the right direction at the right moment and dropped bodily onto it. It had been far from graceful. Certainly not deliberate; a sprawling, fortuitous movement.

His muscles quivered as though he had run a marathon. He was bleeding from wounds old and new. He could feel his strength ebbing with every beat of his heart. The pain was intense and the need to cry out overwhelming. He tried to control it, sucking in great lungfuls of air in silence, but somehow he just couldn't seem to get enough. The pain, the dizziness built and built. He felt numb, his limbs cold and heavy.

He heard a creak. Dobbs was nearby. He was moving around the wrecked scaffolding, searching. Danny would be found. There was nothing he could do, no fight left in him. He could only press himself back, huddled miserably in the shadows, and pray. One white hand lay limp just in front of him, dominating his vision. He watched dimly as blood ran steadily from a nick on his thumb down to his wrist before dripping down onto the wood, joining a dark, growing pool beneath him.

He listened intently for the smallest sound, but now he heard none. There was silence. A calculated silence. Dobbs was close, listening too. Danny could sense the predatory presence.

Another creak. Closer. Danny screwed his eyes shut, then changed his mind, opened them wide. He moved his eyes, looked beyond his hand. He saw a silhouetted figure up near the ladder. Dobbs was on his platform.

….

The instant Kapule pulled up outside the security gate, Steve was out of the car. His legs shook beneath him in protest but he blanked them out, refusing point-blank to allow his own body to beat him.

His eyes darted round, took everything in. 'Haikani Fish Processing'. He was aware of the building. It had certainly been out of use for his lifetime, probably his father's lifetime too. There was of sign of life, no sounds of movement. What had startled the birds? It could have been anything. A stray cat. Maybe nothing at all.

His gaze came to rest on the gate in front of him. His breath caught in his throat. Blood! A smear of blood! His heart began to beat faster.

"This is it. Kapule?! This is it! Get on the radio. Call my team, call HPD, get them here. I'm going in."

…

Dobbs was coming closer, moving silently. Cat-like.

Danny's gulping breaths quickened. An entirely new type of fear rose up, black and cold. He was out of options. He was going to die. He tried to control his breathing, biting his lip so hard his dry mouth filled with the metallic tang of his own blood.

A vicious wave of pain tore through him and he slid his hand towards his mouth, tried to gag himself, feeling the hot tears of pain beneath his palm. His hand felt cold. He was as far back in the shadows as he could possibly be, but all Dobbs had to do was look his way and it would be over.

He watched the figure move slowly towards him. His eyes shifted, watched his own blood pooling in front of him. A tiny red droplet rolled slowly away from him then disappeared down the gap between two wooden boards. It was followed by another. Then another. Danny's eyes widened. He was sure, so sure he could hear the dull splatter of the liquid hitting the wood below. He was so sure Dobbs would hear it too.

Dobbs was right there. Right in front of him. If he turned and looked into the shadows behind him, he would see him. But he was facing away, looking down over the edge of the scaffolding. He had to think Danny had fallen further.

Dobbs crouched down, seemingly focused on something below them.

Danny felt unashamedly terrified. His body had betrayed him, had taken too much punishment. He couldn't take Dobbs on. Somehow, he was still alive, although it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to blood-loss and shock. If he was seen he would die, it was as simple as that. He would never find out the truth about Steve and the other cop. He would never see Grace again. Shivers wracked his body and he prayed the man couldn't feel the vibrations through his feet.

…

Dobbs frowned in annoyance. The stupid cop had seriously bad timing. Dobbs wanted to lie down, mellow out after his hit, not climb around fucking half-collapsed scaffolding. But he had to be sure. He had got a real buzz from seeing the cop drop, but had to know the stubborn bastard was actually done this time. Dobbs hadn't leant over the edge to watch as he'd dropped. He'd shut his eyes when the shocked face dropped out of sight, waiting for the wet thud as the body hit the concrete. It hadn't come, he hadn't heard it, but given he was still riding the back end of his high at the time it maybe wasn't too surprising.

He made his way down the unstable structure cautiously, hoping whatever it had stuck on would hold, that it wouldn't all come tumbling down before he could get off, get clear.

Then he heard it. Footsteps. There was someone else in the building. Cops? Shit.

He crouched, silent, watching from his vantage point. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the dark-haired figure as he began to make his way to and fro along the corridors at the front of the building. How had he got in? He must have picked a lock.

But then Dobbs smiled in sudden realization. The man was alone. And the way he was moving- he was weak. Injured? It was the man he had fought earlier! He was being handed a chance to finish the job he had started!

If the first one had died, that would be three for three. That was more like the old days. That was the way it should be.

He traced the man's path, waited patiently until he headed down to the basement. The man strode on to the middle of the work floor, the flashlight beam working around amongst the machines.

Dobbs crouched down, silent and cat-like. He drew his gun, took aim and squeezed the trigger.

Yeah, you know how I said the whump was over by ch8? I've re-drafted (again) since then and made myself a big fat liar...I just can't stop myself fiddling with the damn stories till the bitter end.

Anyhoo, let me know what you thought...