Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Candylou and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

A Fiery December

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 20

All right, McCullough, just remember how much you love your job...The tall, blonde Hawaii-5-0 lieutenant sighed deeply as he rolled out of bed. Squinting in the light of the bedside lamp, he reached for his discarded jeans, flung haphazardly on the floor the night before, and plopped back down on the bed to pull them on. Didn't get to bed until midnight...now Hardy calls me at two a.m. Grunting with the effort of making his sleep-deprived body obey, he staggered to his feet and headed for the bathroom, still trying to focus.

He splashed cool water on his face in an effort to make his heavy eyelids stay up, and blinked at his reflection in the mirror. God, McCullough, you look like hell, you know? He splashed more water, attempting to organize his thoughts. Hardy had information – information on his son's kidnapping, apparently provided by his other son, the underage detective-wannabe...

Okay, that wasn't really fair. Pull it together, Dylan...Joe Hardy's not pulling something, you know that. He's really worried about his brother, and he thinks he's found something. It's worth your time...aaaghhh, is it worth the lack of SLEEP, though? He dried off his face and sighed, resolving to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. It was just that he really didn't care for working with civilians – not teenaged ones, at any rate! There were some in the department who did it on a regular basis – snitches, and such, they were always in demand, naturally – but McCullough preferred to go it alone whenever possible. Joe Hardy's almost as old as some police rookies, the little voice in his head reminded him. He's not a little kid playing cops and robbers. He sighed, silently acknowledging the truth of that.

Face it, it's not really your case anyway! You got yanked in because you're the Hardy family's liaison here. And they're nice people who didn't deserve this, and you're going to help...but why does it have to be at two in the morning? He shuffled out of the bathroom, marginally more awake, and found his flip-flops and a shirt that, although it had been worn, wasn't too offensive, then trudged down the hall to the elevator. When it slid open, he shambled in and punched the button for the Hardys' floor, grateful that they were at least in the same hotel. Stairs might have been faster, but when only half-awake, the elevator made more sense; he'd risk falling and breaking his neck if he tried stairs in this condition!

When the elevator car stopped after only going one floor, McCullough let out a snarl, and glared at the intruder – until he realized it was Chief Kimo Pauahi who was getting on.

"McCullough," Pauahi grunted. "Hardy called you too, eh?"

"Uh-huh." The lieutenant's eyes snapped to the steaming cup Pauahi held, and he had to bite back another snarl...or a whimper. Damn police chiefs and theirdamned access to coffee, no matter what time it is! For a moment Dylan debated stealing it, but decided he might get hurt if he tried. Pauahi was a big guy, and the way he was savoring each sip probably meant he'd fight for possession of the coffee. Dylan sighed and tried not to look too pitiful as he inhaled the tantalizing fragrance. Kona macadamia-nut blend...

Lieutenant McCullough followed the chief – and his coffee – down the corridor to the suite Hardy was sharing with his wife. Kids have their own rooms, he recalled. Boys on the same side as their parents; girls across the hall.

Pauahi knocked on the door and they waited for it to be answered. After a moment or two the door was opened, by the little redhead who was Frank Hardy's girlfriend. Megan, McCullough reminded himself. Her name's Megan. Poor kid. She looked pale, obviously shaken by the recent events, but she managed a smile for the two officers.

"Chief Pauahi – Lieutenant McCullough. Come in, please," she invited in a muted voice, and stepped back to allow them entry.

"Mahalo, keiki," Pauahi rumbled, and Dylan McCullough grinned a little at the notion of the big police chief referring to Megan as 'child.' She probably wouldn't appreciate it...but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and he didn't know how knowledgeable she was in Hawaiian phrases.

He followed Pauahi into the room and gently patted Megan's shoulder in passing. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, but it felt like the right thing to do. He sank into the nearest chair with a sigh.

"Lieutenant? Coffee?" Laura Hardy, her blonde hair tousled and her face pale with fatigue, was standing in front of him, holding out a mug.

"Bless you, Mrs. Hardy!" Gratefully, he accepted the cup and took a sip of the steaming brew, then another, deeper, swallow. Oh God, Kona Hazelnut Cream..."Thank you," he murmured, wrapping his fingers about the warmth of the mug. "I needed this...thank you, mahalo, mahalo!"

She chuckled a little. "You're very welcome, Lieutenant. And it's Laura."

"Dylan," he corrected absently, and took another blissful gulp of liquid ambrosia. As Mrs. Hardy moved away, Dylan looked around the room, taking note of the occupants. The younger son, Joe, was there, lounging on the long sofa with his girlfriend, tall blonde Vanessa. McCullough nodded to them both as he sipped his coffee. He blinked several times, trying to convince himself that he was, in actuality, wide awake, and could remain so the rest of the night and all day tomorrow, if need be. But this had better not be a wild goose chase! He noted that Chief Pauahi had seated himself in one of the chairs by the round table, as had Fenton Hardy and his wife. Megan was curled in a corner of the couch near Vanessa, wrapped in a blanket.

"Did you call anyone else?" Pauahi was asking now, and Dylan jerked his attention back to the immediate present.

"I called Captain Masukoko," Fenton said. "I'd like to wait for him before we tell you what Joe found out. He's at a different hotel now – I don't think he's gotten over the loss of his car yet," he added with a wry chuckle.

"He said he was moving to another hotel," Pauahi agreed. "He was supposed to go back to Kona yesterday, but after what happened – the murder of the maid, and now your son's disappearance – he decided to stay on here awhile longer. We agreed – Aaron, Dylan and myself," he amplified, with a nod at McCullough, "that we'd work together to find your son, despite the fact that I'm the only one of us actually from Hilo."

"That's very kind of you," Laura murmured, and the big police chief gave her a reassuring smile.

"5-0's on it," Dylan averred, and took another gulp of coffee.

"Granted, but 5-0 is like the state police in any other state – or perhaps they might be compared to the Texas Rangers," Pauahi said mildly. "Sometimes it's easier to work through local connections." He sighed. "Since it's a kidnapping, we should be calling in the F.B.I., of course." He didn't sound happy about it.

"True," Fenton concurred – and he didn't sound happy about it either.

"Damn Fibbies," McCullough grumped. He took a closer look at Fenton. The dark-haired private detective appeared exhausted, worried and unhappy – naturally enough – and yet, despite it all, he looked determined – and lethal. Dylan decided that he wouldn't want to be on the opposite side in any dealings with Fenton Hardy. He suspected that the reputation the man possessed was truer than he'd imagined.

###

A quiet knock sounded on the suite door a few minutes later, and Laura opened it to admit Captain Masukoko, who was carrying his own cardboard container of coffee, and a pineapple Danish. He greeted his fellow police officers and the Hardy group, and seated himself on the couch between Megan and Vanessa. He smiled at the sad-eyed little redhead and broke off a piece of pastry to offer her. She took it with a reluctant smile.

"Okay, we're all here." Dylan took the lead in calling them officially to order. "So what's up?"

Joe leaned forward. His expression was one of unhappiness, but his determination matched his father's. "I've found out a few things," he said.

McCullough surveyed him closely. Despite the difference in coloration, he could see more than a smattering of Fenton Hardy in his younger son. Although the blonde hair and blue eyes made Joe resemble his mother, his bone structure and the shape of his facial features marked him as Fenton's.

"I was able to talk to someone earlier tonight," Joe continued, oblivious of Dylan's scrutiny. "I promised I wouldn't reveal his identity, though – it was the only way I could get him to talk to me – and I'm not going to back down on that, so don't bother asking me to."

McCullough scowled. He hated protecting informants – but for the moment, he'd let it go. He noticed that Captain Masukoko and Chief Pauahi also looked a little perturbed, but neither of them said anything.

Joe sighed. "The person I talked to," he said, "admitted to belonging to a cult. A cult that worships the Goddess Pelè. It's apparently a group that wants to bring back the old ways to Hawaii, something called...kapu?" The inflection of his voice indicated a question.

Chief Pauahi nodded. "Means forbidden," he said. "It's ancient tradition. Codes of conduct, basically. An offense that was kapu was often a corporal offense, but also often denoted a threat to spiritual power, or theft of mana. Kapus were strictly enforced. Breaking one, even unintentionally, often meant immediate death," he explained.

"The person I talked to said that he favored this, but that he didn't favor the way the leader of the cult was going about it. Which was why he was willing to talk to me."

Dylan narrowed his eyes. "What sort of rubbish are you talking about?" he demanded. Expecting his fellow officers to be equally irritated, he was surprised to see both Pauahi and Masukoko exchanging somber – and knowing – glances. "What?" he snapped at them, but Masukoko lifted a hand to quell the impatient lieutenant.

"There's no easy way for me to say this," Joe continued in a dead voice. "Apparently the group's plan is to make an offering to Pelè within the next two days. They're intending to appease the goddess by sacrificing Frank to her – by way of the Kilauea volcano!"

"What the hell?" Dylan flew out of his seat in fury. "What kind of crap is this?" Were these people completely nuts? Why would the Hardys believe something like this...this...lunacy!?

But Joe didn't back down. He gave the 5-0 detective a smoldering glare from narrowed blue eyes. "I'm just telling you what I was told," he said, "and I don't have any reason not to believe what he said. Even if it's a totally nutso idea – and I agree that it is, Lieutenant – that doesn't mean that someone might not do it!"

Dylan glared back, thoroughly incensed. "Nobody in their right mind would believe something like this!" he fumed. "There hasn't been any sign of cult behavior in Hawaii in decades!" The unmistakable sound of a cleared throat caught his attention, and he glanced over at Chief Pauahi, hoping for corroboration. The big man was scowling, all right – but at him!

"Don't fool yourself, McCullough," he rumbled.

Dylan frowned. "Chief, you don't truly believe..."

"Actually, yes. I do," Pauahi admitted. "There are factions that would love to bring back the ancient system of laws in the Islands. You can't tell me you aren't aware of the heiau, Lieutenant. Surely you've heard of them, if not seen one. They aren't all just places of worship. There are also ancient temples in the back hills – the luakini, the ones used for human sacrifices. And they haven't all been destroyed."

"But...human sacrifice...?" McCullough protested.

"There's always been a small group that opposed progress, seeing it as something stripping the natural beauty from the islands – and they make some valid points," the chief allowed. "Although I can't think that logically, human sacrifice would be a way to bring about what they want – especially a sacrifice to Pelè, who might be rash and a little vengeful, but not overly vicious – it's not completely out of the realm of possibility."

"They think it will make the volcano stop erupting," Joe put in wearily, and Pauahi snorted, shaking his head.

Dylan flung himself back into his chair, seething...and perturbed. "I can't believe anybody would believe something like that!" he exclaimed. "Who would want to bring back something that archaic? Human sacrifice..."

Aaron Masukoko leaned forward, elbows on knees and fingers steepled together. "I have heard," he said softly, "something...about a cult group that's growing in power. I didn't give it much credit, or thought – despite what you think, McCullough, there's always been some small factions out there that believe the old ways are the best, and want to return to those ways. Most of them are harmless. They protest, they complain – but they are also quick to take advantage of the life offered to most Islanders, including modern conveniences. But this one group – the one I'm thinking of – seems to be able to work around the dichotomy of modern conveniences versus traditional ways, and it's growing in power and influence because of that. I hadn't considered doing anything about it; they weren't doing anything illegal. But now...maybe there's something more to it."

"Is there any way you can get hold of a cult member?" Fenton asked eagerly. "There has to be some way to ask them—"

"Dad, I've already talked to a cult member, remember?" Joe interposed in desperation. "The important thing is searching the volcano area – that's where they're going to be taking Frank, if they haven't already!"

"That's harder than it sounds, Joe," Chief Pauahi said, shaking his head. "Volcanoes National Park is a very large area, and there are many, many places a person could be brought in by a group intending on making a sacrifice. I have a feeling – assuming this is all true – that they would use the caldera, but even so, it's not like you can just drive up there and dump someone in!" A choked gasp came from Megan's corner of the couch at that, and Chief Pauahi gave her an apologetic look. "My apologies, keiki," he added.

"There must be another reason, another explanation," McCullough insisted. "How do you know, Joe, that this person you talked to wasn't just feeding you a line of BS – something to throw you off the trail?" He cast wildly for a logical substitution. "You were checking into that rash of carjackings," he suggested. "Could that have anything to do with it?"

Joe opened his mouth to refute this idea, then closed it without saying anything, and pursed his lips together.

"What is it?" Vanessa asked.

"Maybe nothing..." Joe rubbed his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "But Frank and I went to the docks, down in the industrial waterfront area, a couple of days ago. We just wanted to look around a little, get an idea if possibly stolen cars could be taken off the island by ship, or hidden in the warehouses nearby. While we were there, Frank saw something kind of odd in one of the warehouses..."

"What was it?" McCullough demanded.

"In boxes marked 'pineapples'," Joe explained, "there were actually artifacts. Not fruit at all. We assumed that someone was smuggling them."

"What sort of artifacts?" Pauahi wanted to know.

Joe shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't see them; Frank did. I know where the warehouse is, though," he went on. "Maybe the cult followers take artifacts to...to...I don't know, to keep them safe from treasure hunters or something like that? Maybe they could be keeping Frank in a warehouse – before they take him to...to the...the volcano," he stammered.

Damn, he really does believe his brother's going to be tossed into a volcano! Dylan thought with a pang of regret. It's way too far-fetched to be believed...but the artifacts angle might have some merit. It's at least a more substantial lead. He offered this last opinion out loud.

"We can't do anything right at this moment," Kimo Pauahi stated decisively, rising to his feet. "We can't start a search of either a warehouse or a volcano in the dark. I'll make some calls, and we'll get a team into Volcanoes National Park first thing in the morning, as soon as it's light. And we can go to the warehouse Joe saw, and check that out ourselves. In fact, I'll send a unit to keep an eye on the dock area overnight. But right now, we need to get some sleep. All of us. No one will be of any use at all, if we don't."

"I agree." Dylan manfully tried to stifle his yawn at the mention of going back to bed. Inside he still was doubtful about sending a team to the national park, but he wasn't going to argue with Chief Pauahi about it. He could feel a headache growing behind his eyes, and knew he needed some sleep – at least a couple of hours!

"I'm going to call a few people at Kona," Masukoko announced, "and see if I can get any more information about the cult activity." He stood up.

McCullough rose to his feet too, as did Fenton and Laura. The three youngest members of the group remained on the couch, watching their elders somberly. "Let's say we meet back here at seven o'clock, then," he decreed, and received nods from all in reply. "And the search will be on!"