Our Devoured Minds

by Tari Roo

Everyone says it's the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

4. Chapter 4

Our Devoured Minds Part 4/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually 'see' Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary: Everyone says it's the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

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The hotel room was pretty swanky. Top end, luxury suite, but not so over the top so as to draw attention. The kind of suite a wealthy business man booked. Free wifi. Fax machine. Separate space for meetings and conference calls. A fine mix of professional business atmosphere combined with local hospitality. A dying lay of flowers was crumpled in the trash can.

"Housekeeping hasn't been in to clean since check in by request," Chin reported, his grip on his sidearm firm and confident. He joined Steve in the main body of the suite, bedroom to the right, dining area and kitchen to the left. The breathtaking view of the ocean out of the wide, floor to wall windows and sliding door was lost in the pressing here and now.

McGarrett studied the room, carefully shoving aside emotion so that he could reach the necessary detachment to find the crucial pieces to the puzzle. "We need to check the security feed for the hallway CCTV, find out when someone was last here. See if Reception remember if anyone else was staying here."

Shifting, face set and determined, Chin nodded, "Already checked. The card key to the door was last used yesterday afternoon, midday. Nothing since. And they're pulling the camera feed and sending it to Kono."

"Good," Steve muttered, still scanning the room.

To be honest, this room, this hotel, didn't make a lot of sense. If you came to the island for some less than legal business, why check into a hotel with state of the art security? Why have the room at all – unless Danny was nearby? But even then... a place like this drew attention, left a paper trail, security footage, eye witnesses.

"What are you thinking, Boss?"

McGarrett shrugged and holstered his sidearm. Biting his lip, he pointed at the messy bed. "Something doesn't add up, Chin. If this guy, Vizzini, is the guy behind Danny's kidnapping, why leave all this crap here? Hell, why stay here at all? Why not rent a low budget motel room somewhere where no one asks questions?"

There was a lot of personal stuff left behind. An empty, unpacked suitcase. A closet of clothes. Dishes and room service trays on tables and counter tops. In fact, there were definite signs of more than one person using the room, more glasses with dregs of alcohol in them than one man would have. Unless he was an alcoholic. If they had burst into the room and found the place tidied, with signs of someone covering their tracks, it would have made Steve feel ... easier about it all. People who left evidence behind where either terminally stupid – or very clever.

"Maybe he planned on coming back, eventually," Chin said softly, stepping aside to let a CSU Tech past him. "Or their plans didn't pan out?"

"Why? You make a play like this, and grab a cop, you better have a quick exit strategy, one that doesn't involve going back to a hotel," Steve snapped, eyes dark with emotion. "Everything about this shit screams planning and professionals. So..."

"So...?" Chin prodded.

McGarrett turned to Chin, restraining the urge to pace. "Ok, so I'm a lowlife scumbag who plans on kidnapping Danny. I get here five days ago, check in and start planning," Steve said, toeing over a pile of papers, most of which looked like internet print outs, maps and emails. Browsing them briefly, Steve noted the maps of Ohau, Honolulu, and Los Angeles. There were print outs for private plane hire, ferries, airline time tables, boat charters.

"And start watching Danny," Chin added and Steve nodded. "Yeah, his movements, address, security at the condo, whatever." Some of the papers were from online newspapers, international and local.

Eyes wide, Chin picked up the thread of conversation and said, "And meet up with Olekane, a local gunrunner, get some weapons, organize a place to stash Danny."

"And plan an exit strategy."

"Ok," Chin sighed, "Then what – grab Danny and..."

Steve's grip on his holstered gun whitened, and he hissed, "Danny doesn't talk, so they go to Plan B. Grace."

"Yeah, but why not check out? Why leave all of this evidence – these clues?" Chin asked, shooting the HPD officers out in the hall a brief look.

"To throw us off? Maybe they're not as professional as we think," Steve snorted, going for levity and failing, the worry about Danny crawling up his throat and threatening to strangle him. Standing here, talking possibilities with Chin was burning a hole through his chest. The need, the desperate need to move, act, to do something had not died, but rather was surging with frustrated pain through him.

Taking those emotions in hand, reigning them in, for now, Steve shook his head and corrected himself before Chin could say anything, "I don't buy it. I think leaving the hotel like this is deliberate. They know the moment we find out Danny is missing, the clock is ticking. So, this is to buy them time."

Chin frowned, his own worry buried behind a professional facade, "Then we probably can't trust anything we 'find' in this room. Or risk discounting something valid, because we're uncertain."

Steve didn't reply, thinking silently, running the scenarios, trying to find an angle that made sense. Three foreigners. Known hired guns. Possible military backgrounds. A local contact for firearms and a location – somewhere quiet where they would be undisturbed. A mystery mastermind or leader. The last man standing.

Out of the corner of his eye, McGarrett watched Chin call Kono, probably for an update on any of the multiple searches they were running. Old Jersey cases. Five-0 cases.

Closing his eyes, McGarrett ran through this 'operation' like it was his own, ignoring the raw revulsion at the idea. But he had planned Ops like this – snatch and grabs, dark and dirty interrogations. The fact that he'd done so under sanction, orders and necessity didn't change the fact that the similarity was sticking in his craw.

You studied your target. Danny. Got him alone, or neutralized any companions. You had one or two flexible exit strategies and a back-up to those. Team communication was critical, so everyone checked in, regularly. And you kept tabs on local hostiles. Us.

Steve's eyes flew open, an idea blossoming with force. Chin noticed and quickly ended his call with Kono. "Later, cuz. What, Boss?"

Scanning the room with renewed fervor and growled, "He knows his men are dead or in custody. They would have missed a check in by now."

"Sure," Chin agreed, scanning the room as well, but with less certainty, unclear as to what they were looking for.

"Hey, hey, Jim!" McGarrett called one of the CSU Techs over, and as Jim approached, his expression earnest, Steve asked quickly, "You got a frequency scanner by any chance?"

Jim stared at him blankly before grinning, "Yeah, in my kit in the van. I'll get it for you."

It was an indication of the dedication and seriousness that everyone at HPD was treating this case that Jim left instantly and a few Techs looked at Steve expectantly. However gratifying it was, McGarrett paid it every little attention as he started poking around the closest lamps and lighting fixtures.

Before Chin could ask, Steve bit out, "He, Vizzini, needs to know how much time he has, how close we are to finding them, if anyone of his guys talked. And if I were him... I'd leave a nice evidence filled room for the local podunks to stumble on. To spend time processing, dusting for fingerprints, running around like CSI Hawaii."

Chin snapped his fingers and pointed at the overhead light, "And he'd need a way... like a camera to check up on us. On our progress!"

"Yep," Steve grit out, carefully scanning the room. Eyes and ears on the enemy. Eyes and Ears! Chin signaled for the CSU guys to start looking as well, and the hunt was on. Jim returned in record time with an electronic frequency scanner and Steve took it with what he hoped wasn't borderline rudeness. Flicking it on, he reviewed the dial and readings. The room was full of electronic 'hum' – tv, wireless, cellphones. But the flower arrangement on the coffee table – that shouldn't be registering. Dropping to his haunches, McGarrett peered into the stems of orchids, plumeria, and tuberosa. And there it was... a high tech, wireless camera. Tiny, single purpose.

"Hey, hey, can we track this signal? Anyone?" Chin was shouting at the Techs who were alternatively nodding or shaking their heads. Steve though glared at the lens, resisting the urge to rip it out, and smash it to a hundred pieces. Gotcha.

Chin joined Steve and stared into the mass of white flowers and grey camera. "If he's seeing this and realizes we're on to him..."

Steve nodded, and sighed, "Then Danny's time is running out." McGarrett stood and dialed Kono in one smooth movement. "Boss?"

Steve barked quickly at her, "Kono, get in touch with tech specialists at HPD and co-ordinate a trace on this camera, I'm sending you the signal IP address and frequency band now."

"On it, Steve."

Kono ended the call and Steve drummed his fingers on the phone, running through options. As much as he wanted to run out the room and start a street by street search, waiting for the information would be faster, even if the waiting was torture in its own right.

His stomach did a weird flop, clenching in on itself at the idea of torture, and McGarrett stared at the phone, willing for Kono to call back, now. Chin had picked up some of the papers lying around the room, and was paging through them... just in case. With time pressing down on them like an anvil, constricting your chest, making each and every breath an agony of pressure, doing something helped. McGarrett ran through everything they knew – again, double checking that they weren't jumping to conclusions, chasing down rabbit holes that led nowhere. This though... this made sense. With no other real leads appearing and a nice fat deliberate red flag waving for the cops to see, to distract them, Steve felt a glimmer of hope. Hope that they'd get ahead of the bad guys and find Danny.

His phone had barely begun to vibrate, let alone ring when he accepted the call, and snapped, "Yeah, Kono?"

"Ha, they're barely covering their tracks here, Steve. The camera feed is being accessed from a computer in Honolulu Harbor. It's bouncing around a lot of wireless networks in the area, cruise ships, shipping and freight companies, but we've got a general location. Sending it to you now."

McGarrett frowned, and motioned Chin closer so that he could hear, "The Harbor? But that's an insanely busy place, not exactly the quiet spot you'd want to interrogate someone. And security is pretty damn tight."

Chin shook his head, "Maybe not, especially if you found out which storage sheds weren't being used and only needed 24 hours, maybe less to get the job done ... "

Steve snapped his fingers at Chin and nodded, speaking to both Chin and Kono, "And a local gang banger told you where the gaps in security were, especially a gun runner!"

Kono completed the thought, "It'd also provide a good exit – come in by plane but leave by cruise ship. Get lost in the mass of people."

"And we have no idea what you look like!" Chin sighed, already moving for the door, trailing McGarrett.

"Kono, if you can narrow this location down at all..."

"You'll be the first to know, Boss."

Issuing rapid fire instructions to the HPD officers and detectives in the room and corridor, McGarrett led the fast paced walk down and out of the hotel. If their man was this Vizzini, and the harbor wasn't another false lead, they had to get there fast, before Danny cracked, or the kidnappers spooked and ran.

Steve didn't even want to think about they might find if that was the case.

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"So, tell me. How do I reach Marks?"

Danny licked his lips, mind racing, stalling... for what he wasn't too sure. Oh hell, yes, he was sure. He was stalling for that rescue, for that damned idiotic rescue that involved a lot of jumping through windows and unnecessary hand grenades. And really, Danny could use some unnecessary hand grenades, they felt... necessary for once, less insane. Or maybe Steve was just rubbing off on him.

And the fact that that idea didn't bother him – bothered him.

"What? Like I'm some walking, talking human telephone directory? I don't know the number right off the bat!" Danny snarled, unable to keep the sarcasm away.

Maybe it was the hope of Steve. And Chin's shot gun. And Kono kick ass round house. But the mouth was back in full force. Hell, it was probably the accumulation of hours of torture and frustration and now a frigging crushing mountain of worry about Grace and shit... the mouth was back.

Mr Jackass didn't like Danny's mouth, and the quick succession of punches, one, two to the jaw and cheek confirmed what Williams' knew all too well. Through the ringing in his head, joining the cacophony of a headache, Danny heard the muffled, "I'm not asking again!"

Trying to shake it off, without actually shaking his head, Danny groaned, "Punching me does not help! You cannot expect me to think, let alone remember anything when you keep hitting me!"

Alas, physical blows were not the only items on the menu, and sure enough, there was that damn razor again, pressed into his skin, right below the jaw line. Without prompting, Danny swallowed and said, "Dude, the information, the frigging blow by blow instructions on how to reach Marks is my old leather binder. Which is in the top drawer of the craptastic closet in my condo. The only closet. Near the back. The number is somewhere in the middle of the book... it's broken down by case."

The SOB didn't move the razor, instead the pressure increased and trickle of blood was warm on hot skin. "That's not good enough."

Danny held still, ignored the blood, focused on the sweat soaking his shirt, the tingle of his feet trying to regain feeling. He growled, "It's damn well gonna have to be, because I sure as hell don't remember! You cannot seriously expect me to remember the number of some witness in a case I closed five years ago!"

Slowly, with all the associated implied threat it entailed, the pressure lessened and the sharp edge of the razor disappeared, leaving behind the faint sensation of a pulsing throb as blood continued to seep from the cut.

It wasn't hard, imagining the wheels churning in the guy's head, as he weighed up his options. Believe Danny, leave and go get the book. The thing was, and Danny sorta belatedly realized this, and kinda kicked himself for not realizing sooner – the minions hadn't come back yet.

Or had they, and he had just missed it?

A wild, earth shattering hope surged through Danny as his sluggish, over tired, pain riddled brain put what it hoped was tab A into slot B. At least three guys had attacked him at home. Only the razor wielding mad man here had done any questioning, but the other guys must have been sent to get Grace. If this SOB actually had Grace, he could just send the minions to fetch the book. If the minions weren't back... No Grace.

Alternately berating himself for not thinking this through before, Danny waited on tenterhooks for the man's response... reaction. Send thugs or go himself because he had no thugs! And therefore... no Grace.

Grace.

A tiny, tiny insidious voice inside his head whispered that hired thugs can be smart too, and stay real quiet and play along with the torture.

The hand and unexpected tight grip on his knee, fingers pressed into the ligaments, his damn ACL injury, made Danny bite off a groan, and fight to pull away. Uselessly. Head back, fingers clenched, body rigid with pain as every other cut and wound joined in the chorus of pain as he moved, tried to move, Danny growled, "Shit, shit..."

The pressure on his knee continued and the bastard hissed, "If you are jerking me around, sending us on a wild goose chase, I am going to let you watch me gut your little girl! Got it?" The last words were accompanied by a sharp twist and Danny gasped, eyes flooding with the tears as his knee protested, loudly.

Abruptly the pressure was gone and in the wash of relief, Danny felt his heart beating against his chest like it was tunneling a way out. As he took long, deep breaths, well as deep as he could, Danny clung onto that wild hope, that desperate hope. The bastard was leaving. Actually leaving.

Maybe. Maybe Grace was ok. Because the rest of the gang hadn't come back. So he had to leave. Because Grace was ok.

Please, please, please.

Through the rush of blood and throbbing of everything, Danny willed his body to calm down, keep it together and be ready. For that imminent rescue. Straining to hear anything, anything to confirm his hopes or fears, Danny sat quietly, just breathing.

There were odd sounds, like boxes or stuff being moved around. Distant traffic. Seagulls again. Water. No voices though. Just movement.

A whimper.

A gagged, terrified whimper.

Oh, please let that be me!

But it wasn't, as booted footsteps, one man, echoed through the room, the whimper came again. And then the footsteps came nearer.

"Wha..."

The blow came out of nowhere, which wasn't all that unexpected, considering the blindfold, but it still caught Danny off guard. Through the haze of pain, Danny barely fought the rough gag shoved into his mouth, or the duct tape that followed, two long strips slapped over his mouth and the material. Ungentle fingers checked the plastic ties cutting in his wrists and ankles, and maybe tightened them, but Danny wasn't entirely sure. The motion of checking had been painful enough.

In the silence that fell after, after the footsteps were gone and out the door, off to find a book, Danny did his own stock take. Tied up. Yep. Blindfolded. Check. Gagged. New and not improved. In dire need of a piss. Hell yes. Thirsty. Yes. Hungry. Yes. Status – completely and utterly screwed.

He resisted adding a mocking 'still not King', and clung to the one frigging silver lining. He had been left behind. Bastard Number One was gone. Which meant that either the scumbags sent to get Grace had failed, hopefully because Steve had kicked their asses. Or, they were on lunch, or some other improbable tourist thing. So maybe Steve knew he was in trouble. Had Grace. Was on his way. And maybe Danny had bought himself, all of them time. Because his hand writing was chicken scratch at best and the SOB was going to have to bring that journal back here in order for Danny to translate.

So... silver lining on an otherwise completely crap day.

Danny tried very hard not to think about the whimper that had not been him. The whimper from the other room.

But if it was Grace... his monkey...

Shit if he didn't feel like crying right about now.

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Chin might have paled a little as Steve swerved to take a corner and fumble for his phone at the same time. Hitting the handsfree button, Steve yelled over the siren, "Yeah, Kono?"

"Bad news, Steve. The signal's gone."

"Shit!" McGarrett slammed his fist against the steering wheel and took another corner way too fast, foot flat down. "Did you narrow it done at all before you lost it?"

Kono sounded breathless, like she was running, or hurrying somewhere. "Not really, it's still pretty much anywhere around Piers 19 to 23. That's a lot of area to cover, Boss."

It sure as hell was, and Steve white knuckled the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. Chin clung to the passenger side of the vehicle and said, "Kono, did you get a list of vacant berths and empty storage units?"

"Working on it. The Port Authority is emailing me everything they've got, but they're also waiting on a few commercial shipping companies to update their manifests and containers on the system. I'll push them to hurry it up."

Steve snarled, "You get the Governor's office to help if necessary, Kono. We need to narrow down the search area."

"On it."

McGarrett deliberately did not look at Chin as Kono ended the call, even though he felt Chin's careful gaze, his reassurance. Losing the signal was not a good sign – at all. The kidnappers must know HPD and Five O were on to them, the camera discovered. The big question was – what did this mean for Danny? Give up and let him go? Tie up loose ends? Move him? Turn up the heat and really try get the information they wanted.

"Steve, I'm sure..."

McGarrett cut Chin off with a direct, hard look. "There is no way on earth I'm telling Grace we didn't get there in time, Chin. No way."

The increase in speed was a direct correlation to the adrenalin surge of determined panic. Failure just wasn't a damn option.

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To be continued in Part 5