Chin closed up the cell, sticking it into the sling rather than reach all the way down to his pocket. If he had to wear the damn thing, he'd make it do more than simply support his arm.
The trio of Hanolo's goons was gone. He could see the remnants of their path, cutting a large swath through the oncoming crowd of prospective jurors being shepherded into place by a court official. The trio must have just left, he realized. He pulled out the cell once more.
"Kono."
"Kono, it's Chin. The three in here? They're on the move." He moved toward the window that looked out over the back of the courthouse, scanning the surroundings. "I can't see them from here." He sniffed. "Tell Hernandez to pull his ass back. That's the only part of him that's sticking out from between those two cars. He's going to get it shot off if it comes down to gunplay."
Kono's voice came back, cool as ever and without humor. "I'll do that."
"Everyone in place?"
"Everyone. Every last one of them," she added with certainly, "except for your three, and they'll wedge themselves into position in a moment. Tell Steve he can bring Danny in."
Coming in hot.
Steve spared one last glance for the man in the car seat beside him. Still breathing, and that was a plus. Color: not so great, and Steve blessed the fact that the fabric to the seat cushion was leather. He'd have a bitch of a time trying to get Danny's blood out of a cloth backing.
Have the man testify and put Hanolo behind bars, and Steve would put up with the stain. Having Danno walk out of the hospital, sniping at his boss, and Steve would put up with even more.
Steve's arm stung, and he looked over that, too. Damn bastard with a knife. It was the hood with the whip, too, and Steve's biggest regret was that he hadn't had the opportunity to cause the thug more pain. The slice on Steve's arm was shallow, but with the adrenaline wearing off it was hurting as though someone was dripping hot lava into it for a bandage. No matter; the blood had already dried over the laceration, which meant that it could wait until he got his partner squared away some place with cool white linens, a intravenous bag filled with pain-killers, and a bunch of angels in scrubs taking care of him.
Time for some more adrenaline: the entrance to the courthouse would be fast and furious. The less time they spent outside meant less time exposed to a lucky sniper, and Steve McGarrett intended to use more than luck. He intended to use deceit.
It was time: Steve pushed down on the accelerator, and the vehicle leaped forward with all the power he'd tuned into the engine.
Skid through one red light, leaving an angry motorist honking but intact.
Dodge a city bus. Not hard. The thing moved like, well, a city bus. D'oh.
Target in sight: the Hawaii State Courthouse, complete with a three hundred foot expanse of concrete in front with no cover whatsoever. Any idiot trying to bring in a witness with a bull's eye on his back would immediately reconsider and go around back to the more secluded entrance where the exposed distance was only thirty feet instead of three hundred.
Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett wasn't just any idiot.
Diversion: the act of diverting or causing to be diverted; to turn aside. Also: a distraction from business or amusement. Military: a feint intended to draw off attention from the point of the main attack.
Steve McGarrett wasn't amused and he wasn't turning aside, but he was all in favor of diverting the enemy. Hanolo's people knew he was coming in with the only man who could ensure that Hanolo would spend the next fifty to life behind bars, and they would be ready with sniper specials to make sure that man didn't testify. Hanolo's people knew that Steve McGarrett would do the smart thing, and aim for the back entrance so that he'd only have to drag Danny Williams thirty feet instead of three hundred.
They were wrong.
Steve squealed the tires, stomping on the brakes, leaving black skid marks on the pavement in front of the Courthouse.
Chin was waiting for them. One-handed, he yanked open the car door, neatly catching Danny before the man could topple over onto the cement. Not enough; Chin needed his other hand to keep going. Biting back a snarl, Chin pulled his wounded arm out of its sling, trusting to his own supply of adrenaline to prevent it from hurting.
Steve appeared next to him, stuffing the car keys into his pocket. "Let's go." He grabbed Danny's other side, shoring him up. They had three hundred feet to cover, and fast.
"I can walk," Danny protested, helpless in their grasp.
"Yeah, I hear you learned to do it right before you went through your toddler years," Steve told him, "but I don't want to be out here all day. Move!" He fumbled with Chin's loaner cell phone. "Kono?"
"Yeah, boss?"
"Take 'em out."
Kono stood to the side of the door, ready to give the word. How did I get into this position of command so fast? I'm only a rookie. I'm not ready for this!
Ready or not, this was her operation and a man's life lay in the balance. A man, she reminded herself, who had saved her life by playing his role to the hilt. Peter Hanolo had wanted Kono killed in the bar that night, and Danny had prevented that disaster from happening.
It was her turn.
She nodded at Walker, a huge mountain of a man armed with a battering ram. Officer Rodney, equally as large, stood on the other side of the door.
"Police! Open up!" Rodney bellowed, just a split second before Walker smashed the battering ram into the door, breaking it open.
Kono darted inside. "Police! Freeze!"
Rapid assessment: three men. Sniper rifle, on a tripod, aimed through the open window. Two handguns—crap, one was firing right at her!
Rodney barreled into her from behind, saving Kono from becoming a corpse on the spot.
No time to curse her own stupidity. Her handgun had been knocked from her grasp, had skittered along the hard linoleum floor, out of reach. Kono leaped to her feet and snapped out a front kick that whacked the gun out of one sniper's hand. He yelped in sudden pain, clutching his wrist with his good hand. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Walker, still armed with the battering ram, use the tool as a club. One blow: the man went down with a crunch that promised orthopedic surgery in the near future. Walker went for his handcuffs to secure the prisoner.
Pay attention, Kono! Spinning back kick, well-aimed, connected to the jaw.
Exit one sniper.
Rodney blocked the punch from the third and last thug, but missed the return uppercut. He staggered back, blood flowing from his nose and eyes rolling back into his head.
Kono's handgun was on the floor in front of the hood. The third thug spotted it.
No time. Kono delivered a sharp heel to the back of the man's knee. It collapsed beneath him, sending him down toward the floor. Good; now he was within Kono's reach. She wrapped one arm around his neck and squeezed.
He bellowed—or he tried to. Nothing emerged from his throat, not even air. Without air, he couldn't breathe. His face got redder and redder; he fumbled at her arms, trying to dislodge the smaller woman, without success.
He fell over.
Kono jumped back, out of the way, to avoid being pinned underneath him. She inhaled deeply, drawing in oxygen, shaking.
Officer Rodney staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. "Thanks," he gasped, picking up his own handgun and stuffing it back into its holster. "I owe you one." You may be a rookie, but you're a cop worth serving with.
Kono nodded; there would be time for relief later on, once these three were locked up. "That means we're even."
Her victim's cell phone jingled. Kono banished the shakes and plucked it up. She tapped the receive button.
The voice that was emitted from the thug's cell didn't wait for any salutation. "Bastard came in the front! Get around there now! Take him out! Take him out!"
Kono grinned at the trio of prisoners. "Can't wait to trace this call," she told them.
Without Steve and Chin, Danny Williams would have been on his hands and knees on the concrete pavement in front of the Courthouse, easy game for any sniper who had eluded the back entrance gambit. Instead, the pair hooked their hands underneath his arms, all but dragging him into the courthouse and down the long corridor to the courtroom where Peter Hanolo was facing the judge, the suspect expecting to be released any moment. Onlookers stared as the members of Five-O passed; not one of the trio cared. They had more important things in mind.
They paused just outside the courtroom.
"Danno?" Steve asked. Can you do this?
Danny stared at the taller man, uncomprehending, and Steve's stomach plunged. Was the man too far gone to make sense in these legal proceedings? Then Danny took a deep breath, and both Steve and Chin could see him pull something from deep within himself. Danny stood taller, straighter, and his eyes cleared. His knees stiffened. He straightened his torn collar.
He couldn't do anything about the dirt or the rips in the fabric of his shirt, but he could march in with his head held high. "Let's go."
Steve and Chin pushed open the doors. Danny walked in, barely limping, refusing to hang onto the chairs to either side of the aisle to keep from falling. The crowd hushed; Peter Hanolo's eyes narrowed.
Judge Hardaway stared. "Prosecutor?"
Wing's jaw dropped. "Uh…uh, the State…I mean, the prosecution would like…uh, to call another…"
"Another witness, Mr. Wing?" Judge Hardaway's glare was hard to miss. "Why wasn't I informed that Detective Williams was on his way into my courtroom?" He ostentatiously set down the gavel he was about to use. "I won't be needing this for a few minutes. Court will remain in session until I am damn good and ready to stop." He turned to the bailiff. "Swear in the witness, Mr. Shannon. Oh, never mind, I'll do it myself. Do you swear, and all that, Detective Williams?"
"Yeah." Danny wobbled, and grabbed onto the chair beside him.
"He do it?" Judge Hardaway pointed at Hanolo.
"Yeah."
"Good enough for me. Defendant is held over for trial," Judge Hardaway intoned. "Put him on the docket. Court dismissed."