Juliet Higgins rolled her shoulders in a vain attempt to ease their stiffness. Sighing heavily, she stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the sunshine and wondering what Magnum had found. If he'd found anything, in his hunt for Katsumoto.
She headed back to her desk and checked her phone for messages, only to find the screen as empty as it had been the last four times she'd checked. She wasn't worried, she wasn't even mildly concerned. Why would she be? But still, why on earth had Magnum not sent any sort of message yet?
She settled back into her chair, stared at the spreadsheets filling the screen of her laptop for a long moment, and then minimised all the windows so that she could pull up her tracking app. Without even thinking about it, she typed in Magnum's number and watched as the dot slowly converged on the still stationary dot that was Katsumoto's phone.
She stared at the dot for a few seconds, watching as it stopped, then started moving again, getting nearer to the other stationary dot, until the two overlapped. Then it stopped as well.
"Half an hour, Magnum." She knew talking to the screen was pointless, but did it anyway. "Then I'm calling you."
She flipped back to her spreadsheets, following the trail of the suspicious company she'd identified earlier. Slowly, she pieced together a set of transactions that confirmed Lewis Harrison's conviction that something was going on.
First, a number of false invoices would be sent to the company she'd highlighted. She'd not been able to find any work orders related to the invoices, and the goods listed had never been purchased from any of H&S Landscapers' usual sources.
Then, about three weeks after the invoices went out, a string of matching payments would come in – only to be funnelled from the operating account into what looked like a savings account. And then things really got interesting, because that account had almost no money in it at all.
Everything was being transferred to yet another account; this time, outside the company. And that account belonged to Nick Stevens, was held at a different bank to the company account and the man's other personal accounts, and showed evidence of offshore transactions.
Each of those facts, by themselves, meant very little. But when you added them up, and factored in the amount of money being moved around, Higgins knew she'd hit pay dirt.
Working quickly now, she highlighted all the odd transactions and collated them into one document. She saved that one by itself and dropped it into a new folder, adding the corroborating files and bank statements. In less than half an hour, she'd put together enough proof that Lewis Harrison could involve the police to investigate his partner.
Then she decided to dig into the company Nick Stevens was using to run his scheme. She pulled up the local business register and ran the name, but according to the records, Plant Exotic was simply a shell company. Digging deeper found nothing useful, but finally, four companies further into the background, Higgins found a registered address.
She stared at the address for a second, tipping her head to the side. For some reason, it looked very familiar. Then the penny dropped and she pulled the phone tracking app back up. The address for the shell company was the same as the address of the coffee plantation where she'd pinged Katsumoto's phone.
"No. No." Higgins shook her head, eyes wide in shock. "This is not good."
She squashed the urge to rush outside, pile into the Range Rover and head after Magnum. The more information she could find, the better prepared she would be.
So she needed to figure out why Katsumoto was at that plantation, and whether it was related to his suspension.
She quickly hacked her way into Katsumoto's phone records, making a mental note to apologise to the man later – once everything was over.
Culling through the detective's texts was reasonably easy, as most of his messages came from numbers already stored in his phone, making it easy to see who had sent which messages. Nothing stood out as particularly odd, in any case. His call log was more interesting, as a lot of the numbers he'd called and received calls from had no names attached. But a little more digging quickly attached names to most of the numbers, and all of those names could be easily explained.
There was very little activity in the call log since Katsumoto's suspension, but she concentrated her efforts on the first two days of the week. There had to be something there to explain why Katsumoto was being targeted.
Because anyone who knew the man, or even knew anything about him, would know that he was obviously being set up. The only questions to ask were why, and who stood to gain from Katsumoto being suspended, or fired.
Monday's call log yielded nothing but frustration, so she moved on to Tuesday. And there in the list of numbers, she spotted the only odd one out – the caller ID had been deliberately blocked. Digging further yielded the fact that the number belonged to a burner phone that was currently switched off.
Her phone chimed, and she grabbed it immediately, hoping that the message was from Magnum. But it was text from Rick instead. She skimmed the message, her heart sinking as she took in the details.
Nick Stevens had disappeared.
She tapped out a quick reply to Rick, then added the location pin he'd dropped to her tracking app. Only to find that it was in roughly the same area as the two dots for Katsumoto and Magnum.
A chill settled between her shoulder blades. Something was very wrong with this picture. She pulled all the files into a single folder and emailed it to herself and Magnum, storing a copy on her phone.
Then she retrieved her gun, and the small medical kit that she'd taken to keeping near at hand. Magnum attracted so much trouble that it seemed only prudent to be prepared at all times. She slung the strap of the kit bag over her shoulder, tucked her gun into the back waistband of her trousers, then grabbed her phone and laptop.
She'd just piled everything into the Range Rover when her phone chimed again. She pulled up the message and froze. Three words only.
'Found Gordon. Need …'
She waited for a full minute, counting off the seconds and hoping for another message. But nothing more came through.
This called for a change of plans.
Rick and TC were already on their way back to Island Hoppers, so she would head there instead of going after Magnum. With any luck, she would get there at about the same time as her chaps did, and she would hitch a ride with them.
Instincts honed by years of working at MI6 were screaming loudly at her that there was no time to waste. No time to debate or consider options. There was only time to act.
Because something bad was happening right now.
Happening to the people she cared about.
MPI-MPI-MPI
He couldn't remember the party, but if this was the hangover, he hoped it had been a party for the record books. The thumping ache behind his eyes grew more insistent and, for just one second, Magnum wished he could pass out again.
But some instinct deep inside him fought against slipping back into the darkness. Then a nagging little voice insisted that there had been no party, and that he'd better get himself sorted out without any more time-wasting. Funnily enough, that little voice sounded remarkably like Higgins, right down to the slightly resigned and sarcastic edge to the words.
Magnum held himself motionless, his head hanging forward, and forced his eyes to open just a crack. His vision swooped around for a moment, before settling into a slightly blurred image of … dirt.
He blinked a few times, the blurry edges of everything slowly resolving into a slightly more well-defined view of things. Although the length of time that took suggested another concussion, even though it was probably only a minor one. Higgins was not going to like that, either.
Someone was watching him. Old instincts from the Korengal warned him to be on guard, and he let his ears fill in the blanks around him. He'd learned the hard way that evil carried an atmosphere all its own, a smothering, cold darkness. But he wasn't feeling that now. Which meant that whoever was watching him didn't mean him any harm. At least, he hoped not.
Hoping to see something other than dirt, he tried to lift his head. A wave of dizziness washed over him so quickly that he froze again. A few moments later, he tried again, but moving more slowly this time. When he'd managed to raise his head, he let his eyes range to each side, searching for clues to where he was and what was going on.
The first thing he realised was that he was propped against something hard, something wooden, leaning hard on his right shoulder. On his right, there was nothing to see but dirt and a wooden wall.
To his left, he could see more dirt and … a pair of sneakers? Attached to legs wearing jeans?
One of the sneakers moved and Magnum's mind finally caught up with his eyes. He'd seen those sneakers earlier, just before something had slammed into the side of his head. And those sneakers and jeans belonged to Gordon Katsumoto.
He'd been looking for Gordon, found him, tried to send Higgins a message, and then he'd seen a tall man knock Gordon out and drag him across a barn. Then … well, then things went blank. His best guess was that tall man wasn't working alone, and his sidekick had treated Magnum in much the same way as the tall man had treated the detective.
He needed his phone. He needed to get a message to Higgins.
He tried to reach into his pocket for the phone, but his arms refused to move. Desperation flared when he realised that he was restrained, and he jerked hard on his arms, desperate to break free. Both wrists protested the sudden movement, along with his shoulders, but he was beyond noticing. He needed to get his hands free now.
His hands scrabbled across the dirt, and he managed to run the fingers of one hand over his other wrist. He ran his fingers over something hard, solid, broad. Not zip ties, then, or handcuffs. Not rope. Then his fingers moved further along the band and hit a ridge; a hinge. It couldn't be. Not again. Another second of blind exploration confirmed his worst fears – the things around his wrists were metal shackles.
Desperation drowned in panic, and the wooden wall behind him disappeared, replaced in an instant with a rough-hewn rock wall, and angry voices yelling in a language other than English.
His breath seized in his lungs and he pulled frantically on the chains attached to the shackles, even though his rational mind knew he wasn't going to be able to break them. He'd tried to break the chains before and it never worked. His friends needed him, and he couldn't get to them. Panting in blind panic, he tugged again, harder than before.
"Magnum." The word was hissed at him, a harsh whisper. "Magnum. Can you hear me?"
That wasn't Nuzo. Or Rick, or TC.
So maybe this wasn't the camp. He hung on to that single thought like a life preserver in an ocean, and forced himself to take in a deep breath and hold it. He managed to count to three before gasping it out and sucking in another breath. This one lasted for a count of five, and the next one too.
Slowly he forced the fear and panic back into their boxes, then slammed the lids shut and turned his back on them again.
Then he used his legs to push himself closer to the wall, more upright, until he was leaning properly against the wall, using it to support his back. Knowing he couldn't avoid it any longer, he turned his head to the left, immediately seeing Gordon looking back at him.
He'd been right about the bruise, was his first thought. The left side of Gordon's face was turning a dark purple, a small cut on the cheekbone an indication that he taken at least one fist straight to the eye before being knocked out. The pinched look around the detective's eyes suggested he had a headache to match Magnum's own.
Letting his eyes wander, Magnum noted that Katsumoto was also shackled to the wall. Or rather, now that he looked more closely, to a pipe that ran along the base of the wall. Moving his fingers to check, he confirmed that he was chained to the same pipe. Whether that information would be of any use, he didn't know.
He finally forced himself to meet Gordon's eyes. After how he'd nearly lost control, he didn't know what he expected to see on the other man's face, but calm acceptance and growing understanding weren't on the list.
Katsumoto stared back at him for a very long moment, then raised one eyebrow in a silent but pointed question.
Magnum nodded, immediately wishing that he hadn't as it made the pounding ache intensify again. A warm trickle in front of his right ear informed him that he was obviously still bleeding from where he been struck and knocked out. He held himself motionless against the wall, waiting for the pounding to ease off again.
"I'm fine." His voice was quiet, and not as steady as he would have liked.
"If you say so." A suggestion of amusement, tinged with disbelief, filled Katsumoto's answer. The detective's eyes flicked away, tracking across the open space to the door.
Magnum followed his gaze, noticing for the first time the trail of blood drops leading to where he was, up against the wall. The slow, sticky trickle by his ear confirmed that the trail across the floor had come from him.
Then again, he wasn't the only one who looked like he'd gone a few rounds with a prize fighter and come out of it a loser.
He looked Katsumoto over frankly and carefully, seeing no other signs of obvious injuries and no active bleeding. He tipped his head ever so slightly to the side, raising one eyebrow slightly to mimic Katsumoto's earlier question to him.
"I'm fine, Magnum." The detective kept his voice low.
"And I'm the Pope." There was no way Magnum was accepting Katsumoto's answer, not when he'd seen the man knocked out.
"You don't look like him." Katsumoto muttered, snorting back a chuckle. "And he wouldn't be here, anyway."
"True." Magnum smiled at that.
"So why are you here?" The curiosity was genuine.
"Seriously? You have to ask?" Magnum was honestly stunned that Katsumoto hadn't expected him to come looking for the detective after he'd dropped off the grid. Did the man remember nothing from their conversation at Diamond Head a few weeks back?
"Shut up, you two." The shouted order came from the doorway. Magnum swung his head in that direction before thinking, wincing at the increased pounding behind his eyes that resulted. The tall man he'd seen with Katsumoto earlier had stepped in through the open doorway and was heading straight for them.
"Make me." The defiant statement shot out without a second's delay. There was no way he was going to let this guy tell him what to do. Or do any more harm to one of his friends. Which meant that he had to get the guy's attention focused on him, and keep it there.
"Keep quiet." Katsumoto's hissed words were barely audible, but the tall man was close enough by now to pick them up.
"Listen to your friend." The man's voice was deep and rough.
"What's the point?" Magnum did his best to shrug, aiming for a nonchalant tone. "You'll do what you're going to do, regardless. Why should I make it any easier for you?"
"Then you'll just have to learn the hard way." The tone turned menacing.
Magnum only had a second to brace himself for the blow he'd been expecting, but the backhanded blow still managed to snap his head to the side. He could feel more blood running from the cut on his head and his vision blurred again for a long moment.
"That all you got?" He laughed, taunting the man. "The best you can do?"
Another blow struck the same spot, this time bouncing his head off the wooden wall behind him as well. He struggled to keep his eyes open, knowing that he needed to see what was coming next.
This guy had nothing on the Taliban, after all. And he hadn't survived all of that, just to let this idiot get the better of him.
"I know little old ladies who hit harder than you." In retrospect, he knew he'd have to admit that saying that might have been a mistake, as it garnered him a boot to the ribs. Pain flared in the same ribs he'd broken a year ago, bouncing off the hood of a car while chasing a rogue FBI agent.
He bit down hard on his lip and tried to shift towards Katsumoto, away from the pain. The man's eyes lit up at getting a reaction, and he aimed another kick at the same spot.
A pained gasp escaped as Magnum felt the bone crack under the assault. He'd broken enough ribs in his life to know that this wasn't a minor crack, but a clear break. Another kick might do even more damage, but he'd rather take the pain than see their captor turn his attention to Gordon.
He glared up at his tormentor and managed a laugh.
Another kick hit the same spot, and he knew he was going to lose the battle to stay conscious. He felt himself slipping to the side, and saw the satisfied smile on the tall man's face as he turned his back and stalked back to the open door of the barn and stepped outside.
He could see Katsumoto tugging against his shackles, trying to get free to help him. The detective was saying something, his tone urgent, but the pain in Magnum's ribs was consuming all his available energy and attention and he couldn't make out the words.
With their captor gone, the desperate need to stay conscious had eased. He let himself take a deep breath and the resulting spike of pain in his side was the final straw. The horrified look on Gordon's face was the last thing he saw before he passed out again.
MPI-MPI-MPI