McGarrett awoke to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and a warm body pressed against his. Lu must have found the coffee pot, he decided, which was better than the alternative. After a first disastrous attempt at coffee making, Maggie was no longer allowed near any coffee making apparatus.
He checked the clock by the bed. 0600. It was going to be another very long day.
Maggie felt him stirring beside her. "Morning, love," she said.
"Morning, beautiful," he said, kissing her hair. "I'm off to the showers. Want to join me?"
She gave him a sleepy smile. "Don't you ever get enough?" she asked.
"From you, never." he whispered, kissing her neck. "Shower together, save water, good for the ecology."
"We're on an island in the middle of the ocean. It rains all the time," she said as he stroked her bare skin. "Okay, you talked me into it." She got out of bed to join him.
An hour later, they found Lu and Duke sitting at the kitchen table, holding hands, cups of forgotten coffee next to them. Duke was wearing his HPD uniform. Lu was still in Steve's pajamas.
"Morning, y'all," Maggie said, turning on the drawl.
"Morning yourself, lazybones," Lu said, "We've been up since five. Coffee's hot and there's water for your tea. Let's get these guys fed. They can explain things while they eat."
Before either of the men could speak, McGarrett's cell phone rang.
"What have you got?" he asked when he saw Danny's name on the caller ID.
"We hit the jackpot. Ledgers filled with names and dates and places. There are going to be a lot of unhappy people in the great state of Hawaii."
"Is Murphy one of them?"
"Murphy, a couple of city councilmen, a member of the planning commission and few others."
"Keep everything under wraps until I get there. Should be in about an hour. Any word on the surveillance report from Maui?"
"They're still trying to round up someone with a key to the building. I gave them till noon to find the owner or the doors coming down with at battering ram."
"Good work. Keep at them until you get results."
"Gotcha. Drop by the lab before you go to the office. I love it when the criminals keep good records. Makes my job so much easier." Danny hung up.
Steve was smiling as Maggie passed him a cup of coffee, blood pressure medicine on the saucer next to the cup. He took the pill, washing it down with a swallow of coffee.
"You look too happy about that call," Maggie said.
"Let's hope today keeps getting better."
Lu started serving the food. She had made a Midwestern breakfast, eggs, ham, hash browns and toast. She kissed Duke on top the head before she sat down. "Okay, boys, you've been fed. Time to talk. Do not make me go non-com on you."
"You first, Steve," Duke said, digging into his eggs. He was starving. Susan had awakened him at five with one thing on her mind. It was the kind of wake up call he could get use to.
"There's no way to sugar coat this and make it any easier. I wish there were." McGarrett told them everything, giving them the history of Charles Arthur Rhodes and Frank Collins, the standoff at Oahu Prison, the murder of Roxie Harris, the holes in the Mustang's brake lines, the raid on the church, and the escape of Big Chicken, Collins, and Barker.
"Is that why we had babysitter's last night?" Lu asked.
"Yes," Duke said, "The same person who killed Roxie Harris put holes in Maggie's brake lines. Their intention was to disable the brakes, hopefully leaving both of you stranded and easy to get to. Thank God it didn't work. Barker left physical evidence at both crime scenes. Roxie's murder gave us probable cause to search the mission and the church. Only the sheriff and his buddies blew the raids. We got that phony reverend, but Chicken, Collins, and Barker managed to escape while Murphy was putting on his act out front."
"The reverend has a long history of turning states evidence to avoid arrest and prosecution." Steve continued. "He was very cooperative and here's where we got very concerned. Chicken had you two under surveillance from a PI for months. According to the reverend, Chicken is obsessed with the pair of you and I doubt it's in a good way. Chicken was calling you 'insurance'. Insurance for what we don't know. I've got the PI report subpoenaed. I'll know more when Maui PD finds it. Until then, you two will stay at this house."
"Tell that to the US Army when we don't show up for work Monday." Maggie said.
"You will have an HPD escort to the gate at Ft Shafter. You can't get onto Shafter without checking in at the gates. The MP's on gate duty have photos of Chicken and Collins and as soon as we run one down, they'll have one of Barker. The MP's have agreed to additional patrols around the Stars and Stripes building and the BEQ. You'll be safe on post."
"Except I'd feel better if you stayed with me." Duke told Lu, reaching across the table to take her hand.
"But, why?" Lu asked. "I don't understand."
"I sent Chicken up for his third felony. That made him eligible for repeat offender status. Then Steve sent him up for receiving stolen property that gave him life with no parole until last week's ruling by the Court of Appeals. Collins is just plain damn crazy. I pulled him over for a traffic stop for no plates and he came out of the car swinging a cane knife."
"It took four rounds from a .38 to stop him," McGarrett said.
"You went up against a crazy man with a cane knife?" Lu asked, eyes wide.
"Believe me it wasn't my idea," Duke said. "That was the day I lost all faith in a .38 and went to the .357."
"Both those guys are out now?" Maggie asked.
"Out and hiding somewhere on this Island. Chicken, Collins, and Barker. We know Barker's capable of murder. Add him into the mix and it gets scary." Steve said. "Honey, please, stay in the house, keep the drapes closed. Work on wedding plans. Make the officers watch chick flicks. Finish unpacking your things. Just don't go out."
"Do we get Compton and Marks again?" Maggie asked.
"No," Duke said. "Today it's Kanoa and Franklin. Try not to traumatize them too badly."
"I still need some clean clothes," Lu said.
"Your bag is in my truck. I was so tired last night I forgot to bring it in. I'll get it for you before I leave for work." Duke said, getting up to stand behind her chair, hands protectively on her shoulders.
She took one of his hands in both of hers. "What am I suppose to do with you, Sergeant Lukela?"
He bent to whisper something in her ear that no one else could hear, causing her to blush furiously.
The doorbell rang and Duke's rover unit beeped.
"Lukela. What's up?"
"This is Kanoa. We're at the door."
"Roger."
McGarrett went to let the officers in. Lu recognized Kanoa and Franklin from the incident that got their former first sergeant escorted off the Island by a very annoyed Kono. Duke was only sending people they recognized and officers he knew he could trust.
Lu waited on the front steps, breathing in the fresh, cool morning air, while Duke got her bag from his truck. It would be a good beach day. She felt like a grounded teenager. She must have been looking like a sulky teenager because instead of giving her the bag, Duke just held her, not wanting to let her go for fear she'd disappear into the ether.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never intended for this to happen."
"There wasn't anything you could have done about it." God, he felt good. He was a year shy of his fiftieth birthday and in damned good shape. He felt as steady as a rock, one that wouldn't move or change or compromise. One that would always be there. "I love you," she said, burying her face in his neck.
"I love you, too, my Kukana. Now go back in the house and stay there. Please? I've got work to do and it won't get done if I'm worrying about you."
"That's why you sent your kids to Hilo, isn't it? To keep them safe? So you wouldn't worry? Why the hell didn't I meet you about twenty years ago?"
"I was married twenty years ago, and so were you. It wouldn't have worked then."
"And now? Will it work now?"
"If I have anything to do with it, it will." He kissed her softly. "Go help Maggie plan her wedding. It'll give you some ideas for ours."
She stood there and watched him drive away, wondering what he meant by that.
If that was a proposal, she already knew the answer.
She went back in the house, humming the same silly little tune she'd been humming since she met him.
When McGarrett left the house, Maggie and Lu were in the garage, unpacking the sewing machines. Maggie had been sewing since she was tall enough for her feet to reach the controls. He had known she did needlework and embroidery, what he hadn't realized was how good at it she was until she had opened the carton with the framed needlework. When he had asked what the technique was called, she had gone into a discourse on Elizabethan blackwork and embroidery from a historical perspective. He had to admit that the history of any needlework was an area he'd never been too concerned with. She had given a mini lecture that would have done a university professor proud. She knew her subject well and had made it interesting, something he would have normally deemed impossible. The woman kept surprising him. Maybe, he decided, that's why I love her so much. She's like a book that keeps adding chapters and you have to keep reading because you have to know what happens next.
Danny was still at the lab. It was apparent that he and Che had been there most of the night. He was getting ready to send both of them home to get some rest when Danny, grinning like a Cheshire cat, handed him a ledger that had already been dusted for prints.
"You're gonna love this, Steve," he said, "Turn to page seventeen."
"What's so special about page seventeen?" Steve asked. It was list of names, dates, and amounts. "I'm not familiar with any of the names in here. What are they, clients or employees?"
"None of the names on that list make any sense until you run them through the computer. See the name at the top? Tom Linn, Jr.? Someone thought they were being clever. I ran the names through the computer and asked it what the names all have in common. They're all employees of Oahu State Prison." Danny gave him a computer printout with the officers names, addresses, and work assignments listed by rank.
"Which would make Tom Linn, Jr. Tom Linn's son. Tomlinson. Too bad we can't charge them with making bad puns." No wonder Chicken had hit all the points needed for a parole hearing. He'd paid good money to get the little checks in the right boxes. "My god, this goes all the way through the chain of command to the warden's office. Get the DA and the AG on the line. If you can't reach them by phone, go to their house. I want arrest and search warrants for every name on that list, and that includes finances. And when you're done with that, go home. You too, Che."
"The techies are still going over the computers we found at the scene. Most of it's encrypted, so I suspect I'm going to be sending the hard drives to the FBI's main computer lab at Quantico. It's a good thing the reverend didn't trust computers and kept most of his records in those old fashioned ledgers. Oh, and I've got Maggie's car ready," Che said, smiling. "I'll have the technician deliver it this afternoon. He worked overtime to get it done. I think he's in love."
"With my fiancee?" Steve asked, eyebrow raised.
"No, with that Mustang."
"Tell him to keep it at the speed limit and stay off the Pali. Anything else, Danno?"
"Yeah, and you're gonna have a good laugh over this one. Murphy wants your job."
"Really? There are days when I'd be happy to give it to him. How'd you come to this conclusion?"
Danny took out another ledger. "This is their campaign strategy guide. You know how we were all wondering how Murphy managed to get himself elected to public office. This reads like a how to guide on buying an election, including bribing the right people to run and to drop out of the race as needed. The plan was get Murphy elected sheriff then four years from now, get a new governor elected, one who's first act would be to fire you and appoint Murphy. Only they were going to be backing the wrong candidate for governor."
"Any idea who that would be?"
"The Right Reverend Simon Leeds," Danny said.
Steve shook his head, grimacing at the idea. "Leeds for governor. That would take a lot of money."
"They've got it," Che said, "it's all in these ledgers, and there's probably more on the computers once we're able to access the drives, including where a lot of it was going. An offshore bank in the Cayman Islands and another in the Philippines. Those are the only ones we've found so far, although I suspect there will be more once the accountants and the IRS get involved. Apparently these days the Swiss have too many rules and have a tendency to frown upon taking money from know human traffickers and drug dealers."
"Please tell me Murphy's still in a holding cell," McGarret said.
"Oh, yeah," Danny said, grinning evilly. "And not happy about his accommodations at all."
"Give me an hour and have him brought to my office. Tell Chin and Kono to meet me there, please. Then get those warrants and go home."
"Gotcha, boss. Hate to miss the fun."
"You won't. According to computer, most of the guards listed work day shift. We'll hit them in the morning, at shift change. That way we get them all at one go. And, Danno, while you're at it, get me a warrant to search Chicken's former cell. I'm starting to wonder exactly what it was Chick was paying Tomlinson to ignore."
After signing the proper chain of evidence receipts, McGarrett collected both ledgers and left the lab. He drove back to his office at Iolani on autopilot, deep in thought. The whole thing had just gone political. He hated politics. The only good thing being that federal charges meant federal prisons on the mainland. With Big Chicken's and Collin's previous records, they were prime candidates for a cell in a supermax. With luck, Hawaii was about to see the last of those monsters.
So, he though, Murphy and a few of his buddies want to get rid of me. Well, at least this time they want me fired instead of dead. He supposed that in a way it was some sort of backwards flattery. He did his job, and did it so well the criminals were trying to get rid of him. Five-O took the cases that no one else wanted or knew how to handle. They had a ninety eight percent closure rate. The other two percent still bothered the hell out of him, but they were getting there. When he had taken over Five-O he had told the previous governor that he'd run the division his way. The first few years had been brutal, but then he'd put together the right crew at the right time and that had made all the difference.
I'm fifty-three years old, he thought. I'm getting married on my fifty-fourth birthday to a very special woman who deserves more than a twenty-eight hour a day cop. They've got me until I'm sixty and not one day more.
Mind made up, he parked his car and ran up the steps to his office.
Duke was already there, maps everywhere, co-coordinating the manhunt for the three fugitives.
"Any sign of them?" McGarrett asked.
"Nothing," Duke said. "Not a shadow or a rumor. Either they've gone to ground or anyone who's seen them is too scared to talk. Right now I've got HPD and as many federal marshals I could beg, borrow, or steal concentrating the search from Highway 92 to Beretania between River and Bethel. It's a big area with a lot of construction, warehouses, vacant buildings and tenements. It's slow going. I'd like to call in a few deputy sheriff's, only I don't know if we can trust any of them."
"That's two of us. Hit their roster. Ask for volunteers from anyone who was hired pre-Murphy. Who's in charge over there now that Murphy's locked up?"
"That twit Hardin. His lawyer showed up with a writ and we had to let him go. Murphy made a glorified press secretary with zero law enforcement experience his second in command. Now that's a man who knows the value of looking good for the cameras. By the way, I pulled Hardin's service record. Interesting read."
"How so?" McGarrett asked. He hadn't seen Hardin's entire record, just the portion of it that got him escorted off the Island.
"He's made a career out of being at the right place at the right time and none of that time was in combat. The closest he ever came to seeing any action was when he served six months in Korea near the DMZ back in '72. He somehow managed to miss the entire Gulf War by being assigned training duty at Fort Gordon, Georgia. That gives a lot of insight into his behavior towards women who are decorated combat veterans. The record also indicates that his military specialization code is 31Z30A, or senior communications specialist. It means he can run a platoon, and that's about it. He's not a reporter, editor, photographer, or columnist. The man doesn't even have a GED. Makes you wonder if he can even write his name correctly. The only experience he's had with journalism of any type was the eight months he spent at the Stars and Stripes making everyone around him miserable."
"Remember when the reverend was referring to useful idiots? We may have found one. Kono and Chin are bringing the sheriff in for an interview. Have someone from HPD round up Hardin. Where's his file?"
"I put it on your desk, along with the one for Bernard "Bulldog" Barker. I'm going to warn you about that one. Leaves you with a slimy feeling from just having read it." Duke said, looking utterly disgusted. He was a Navy veteran with a rack of combat ribbons earned in Vietnam. As far as he was concerned, the DD Barker had earned wasn't nearly as much as he deserved.
McGarrett grabbed a cup of coffee and retreated to his office. He opened Hardin's file and began reading. Hardin was just smart enough to stay out of trouble, or at least he had been until he'd made the mistake of putting his hands on a small female Army sergeant with good reflexes and a bad case of PTSD that made unwelcome advances dangerous to the person making them. After reviewing all the witness statements as well as the medical reports filed at Tripler Hospital, Hardin had been allowed to medically retire, after first being stripped of two stripes. McGarrett thought he'd gotten off lightly. Hardin claimed that he had been receiving mixed signals from the sergeant all day, was only coming onto her and had no idea that she was a combat veteran with PTSD, a lie so blatant that McGarrett kept expecting the file to burst into flames. Hardin had been hired by Murphy two weeks earlier, having seen the ad for the job on Honolulu County's website. It was a match made in cyber heaven.
Barker's file wasn't nearly as thick as Hardin's, but it was enough. Barker was a slimeball of the first order. He'd been given a DD for an incident involving what Barker must have thought of as a prank that was the height of hilarity and ended up getting three female sailors seriously injured when the fire control systems in the women's berthing area had activated in the middle of the night. His excuse was he just wanted to see how many of them were breaking regulation by sleeping nude, offering as proof the evidence he'd collected from a network of hidden cameras he'd strung throughout the area. The captain, a man who obviously tolerated no nonsense on his ship as shown by Barker's two trips to captain's mast and four letters of reprimand, had decided enough was enough. The ship, home ported in San Diego, had made an unscheduled stop in Hawaii to drop Barker off for processing out of the Navy.
In all Barker had served nine years in the Navy, including a brief stint on a carrier during the Gulf War. The more McGarrett read, the more convinced he was that the man was a waste of oxygen. Barker had extremely high test scores and graduated first in his class from three of the Navy's computer systems schools, including both encryption and fiber optics technology. According to the psychiatric evaluation attached to the DD proceedings, Barker was a hedonist with narcissistic tendencies and a borderline sociopath. Great, McGarrett thought, a sociopath with access to a computer owned by a con man and who's just became best buddies with a pair of homicidal maniacs. He wanted all three of them off the streets before anyone else got hurt.
There was commotion in the outer office as Hardin barged in. "What is the meaning of this," he roared, face red with anger. Hardin was standing between two HPD officers with the sheriff following, Chin and Kono at his heels.
"Sit," McGarrett said, pointing to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Chin, be a gentleman and read them their rights, please." He sat down and turned on the tape recorder.
Chin recited the Miranda ruling. Both the sheriff and his scrawny deputy looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Either of you give up the right to remain silent?" McGarrett asked.
"Turn off that damned tape recorder," Hardin demanded.
McGarrett tilted his head and looked at Hardin, eyes the shade of icy blue that usually indicated he'd had enough. "Funny, I don't recall anyone asking me if I wanted to be taped decking your boss. The tape stays on. Everything is being recorded, that way there are no mistakes. Would either of you care for a lawyer?"
"I don't need one," Hardin said. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"Keep that thought in mind, please." McGarrett said. "About the only thing you're guilty of at this time is being stupid."
"Listen, McGarrettt," Murphy said. "It's been a long night and all I want is to go home. Fair's fair. I probably shouldn't have tried to have you arrested and you've all had your fun. You can't keep me here."
"Yes, I can, Mr. Murphy. We found the ledgers from the mission. The ones with the names and dates and places listed. I see that Big Chicken and his cronies were trying to buy their way into politics. Chin, you got them?"
Chin smiled, feeling overly pleased with himself as he took the papers out of his jacket pocket and handed them to McGarrett. "Here you go, boss, arrest warrant for the sheriff, a search warrant for his house, car, and office, and oh, just for kicks, a subpoena for all his financial information, both public and private, including any and all campaign contributions."
"Thank you, Chin. Did we miss anything?"
"I'm not sure if the goop he has on his hair meets EPA regulations, but I'm going to let that one slide for now. Otherwise, I think we've got everything pretty much covered.
"Hear that, Hardin? We're looking at the sheriff for accepting bribes and malfeasance in office as well as interfering with a police investigation and obstruction of justice. So far we haven't found anything linking you to any crime committed in the Islands. You cooperate fully and you may get out of here without being charged with anything."
Hardin had made a career out of covering his ass. He didn't like the way the big Hawaiian cop standing behind him was glaring at him, nor did he care for the expression on McGarrett's face. Rumor had it that evil little half sized cunt was now engaged to the man. All he had to say to that was good luck and god bless. Hardin had once had a very successful military career being at the right place at the right time. He was hoping he could at least salvage his dignity and qualify for severance pay.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Shut the fuck up!" Murphy demanded. "Keep your mouth shut and we'll come out ahead in the game. I already told you it's all politics!"
"No, Murphy," McGarrett interrupted, "this time you will shut up and listen. Thanks to that little stunt you pulled yesterday, three dangerous felons are now loose on the streets. Anything they do is on your head!"
"Nonsense," Murphy said, trying to match McGarrett's glare and failing miserably. "I know those men. They're been rehabilitated. I saw to it myself."
"Rehabilitated? You are more clueless than I suspected." McGarrett stood up, picked up a pile of file folders from his desk, and practically hurled them at the sheriff. "That's only part of Charles Arthur Rhodes' files. There are more. Arrest reports, surveillance records, victim statements. You didn't bother to check, did you? You collected your campaign funds and wore your tailored uniforms for the press and neglected to check the facts. Now Rhodes and Collins are out there somewhere and good men and women are going to have to put their lives on the line to bring them in. This isn't television or the movies. When someone gets hurt out there, they bleed and sometimes they die and if that happens I swear I will do my damnedest to see that you are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. If you have any idea where those monsters are hiding, you need to tell us."
"I have no idea," Murphy said, truthfully. He was a firm believer in the concepts of don't ask, don't tell, and plausible deniability. "All I was suppose to do was give them a heads up if there was a raid."
"On who's orders?" McGarrett asked. "Who's pulling the strings? I know it isn't you. You were hired to play a part, that's all. A part you had to audition for. Who's the director? I'll bet whoever it is wasn't expecting Rhodes to go off the reservation so soon."
Murphy looked like he was about to start crying. The script wasn't going as planned. Too many damned rewrites. He was tired because the bunk in the holding cell was not up to his personal comfort levels. He needed a shower and his hair was a mess. All he wanted to do was go home and soak in the hot tub for about six hours. The look on McGarrett's face was telling him that wasn't going to be happening in the near future.
"The only one I had contact with was David Maru from the city council. He's the only one I ever saw. I didn't ask who the rest were. And that one guy at HPD, Seth Walker. He's the one who suggested I run in the first place."
McGarrett stared at the sheriff. "You had better be telling the truth. Kono, ask Duke to step in for a minute, please."
Duke came in, looking preoccupied. "What's up?"
"Sheriff, in what capacity did you know Seth Walker?" McGarrett asked.
"He was the one encouraged me to run for sheriff. Said I'd be a shoe in. Had all the qualifications, looked good in the uniform, could make believable speeches. He said all I'd have to do was make a few press statements, maybe go on a raid or two, mostly just look like a sheriff is suppose to look. That was all. Just look like a sheriff. And then four years from now, after the right candidate for governor was elected, they'd fire you and appoint me as chief of Five-O. That was it. Just politics, is all it was."
"Politics?" Duke asked, incredulously. "That's not politics, that's conspiracy. Are you willing to swear in court that Captain Seth Walker, commander of HPD's vice division, is on the take?"
"No," Murphy said, "not on the take, it's just campaign contributions. He was getting funding to run for governor from all sorts of people. A lot of them attended the church or were working at the mission. That's why he didn't want the place raided, or for HPD to interfere with their work. They were doing so much good."
"Tell that to the girls we found there." McGarrett said, wondering how the man had managed to survive without a keeper for so long. "Okay, Sheriff, you're about to make the most heartfelt and public apology the people of Honolulu have ever heard. You're going to announce at a press conference to be held this evening that you are unable to fulfill your duties as sheriff because your dear mother has taken ill."
"My mother died two years ago," Murphy said.
"Then you'd better find another one fast. After you have announced that you will be flying back to the mainland to stay with her for the duration, you will be placed in protective custody until the district attorney decides what to do with you. Hardin, this is your one shot at fame. You better write a believable speech. Then you're on the next plane off this rock, and this time you'd better not come back. We clear on this?"
"Uh, yeah, only I'm not a writer," Hardin said.
"What do you mean, you're not a writer?" McGarrett asked, enjoying watching Hardin sweat. "You worked for the Stars and Stripes. According to rumor, you practically wrote the entire paper."
"I may have exaggerated somewhat," he said.
"Then who did the writing, Deputy Hardin? Little fairy's with tiny typewriters?"
Hardin knew McGarrett wasn't about to let him off the hook. Every war story he'd ever told was coming back to haunt him as those relentless ice blue eyes bored into his. "It was the rest of the staff. I just supervised." McGarrett continued to glare "Okay, goddammit, Colonel Dale was the editor and that big Polock and that little half sized Cajun helped. Satisfied?"
"Very. Kono, get him out of here. And by out of here I mean off this Island."
"You got it, boss. I see he still hasn't learned how to respect women. Their names are Sgt Yablanski and Sgt Alden and don't you forget it." Kono escorted Hardin out.
"Looks like you're going to have to write your own dialog for a change, Sheriff," McGarrett said. "Chin, call the DA's office. I suspect John Manicote will be happy to help the sheriff and he should be out of church by now."
Duke watched as Chin escorted the Sheriff from the office, jaw clenched, disapproval very apparent on his handsome Polynesian face. "I guess that explains why we couldn't get vice to go in and how Murphy found out about the raid."
"Yes. Politics. I'd rather go swimming with sharks. I'm confused though. The evidence says that the next governor's candidate was going to be Leeds, and Murphy was certain it was Walker. Makes you wonder which one was planning on running."
"Probably both, then at the last minuted the reverend would back out, throwing all his support behind Walker. Walker has made no secret of his political ambitions. It was only a matter of time before he ran for something." Duke was gazing off into the distance. He had a headache and had taken off his glasses, giving his eyes a slightly unfocused look. "Walker use to be a good cop. I wonder what happened?" He shook his head and returned to the ongoing search.