CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 11
"Forget it McGarrett." Barlow hissed as he pointed the silver .38 Derringer at Steve's chest. "Be so kind as to drop it and step away with your hands up."
Steve let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as the anticipated pain of being shot didn't materialize. He hesitated, weighing up his options. He knew at such close range any bullet would hit its mark but he also believed that whatever sweet deal Barlow had going he wasn't going to risk killing him before the money was handed over. If he judged it correctly he presumed someone would pay a lot for the privilege of killing him their way and it was in the small man's best interests to keep him whole until any exchange and payment was made. What he also knew, with a chilling certainty, was that no matter what - he was a dead man. He couldn't be sure if HPD or Five-0 had a clue who had kidnapped him and with Williams either out of action or worse, he doubted he would be found before any sale' took place.
He had nothing to lose.
Barlow's goon was still down, whimpering in pain as the man clutched a broken wrist, it was about the only thing Steve had in his favor but maybe it was enough. Keeping a firm grip on the wood he threw back, "You won't shoot me Barlow, I'm too important to you. Your customers won't pay for damaged goods, they want the fun of doing a cop their way. You shoot and someone's going to hear it. What have I got to lose? A bullet is far more appealing than torture or worse at the hands of other criminals, and who knows which one of us is faster! I may even reach your fat throat before you get a shot off and trust me, after what you did to Dan Williams I wouldn't hesitate to strangle the life out of you!"
Rent chewed on the inside of his cheek, McGarrett was almost a foot taller and dwarfed him under the low attic ceiling, even in his disheveled state the Five-0 chief was menacing. By comparison Barlow was cunning and sadistic but physical prowess wasn't his forte, he was the brains of his organization, which was why he needed men like Noah and Brett to carry out his orders. On a good day McGarrett worried him, with a weapon and nothing to lose, Barlow was downright scared of him.
Rent leveled the gun but couldn't disguise the nervous shake in his hand. With the advantage of a lethal weapon Barlow thought he had the upper hand but McGarrett was right, in his mind's eye he could see thousands of Dollars floating around a drain if he pulled the trigger. He bluffed, "You think you've got it all worked out mister high-and-mighty cop but you're wrong, if I shoot you I still collect. The original contract is still in place, all I need to do is squeeze and hold my hand out for the cash. As for hearing shots, the music downstairs is so loud we even have neighbors complaining, I doubt something like a teensy-weensy bang is going to have much effect. So put it down, nice 'n easy and save yourself a whole heap of pain." He glanced behind the detective to where his henchman sat groaning, "Brett – get off the floor and stop whining, take McGarrett's toy away from him!"
"He broke my wrist!" Brett complained.
"I don't care if he broke your neck, just do as you're told. I don't pay you to sit on your ass at my expense!"
Steve turned side on, trying to watch both men now as his advantage was about to evaporate. Out of the corner of his eye he spied an old broom that was almost within reach of his foot. The handle ran down past where Barlow was standing and McGarrett took barely a fraction of a second to make his mind up. He kicked out sideways, hitting the broom so the end caught Rent's ankle with a thwack! The Derringer went off, angle too high to hit anything animated and Steve swiped the wood against it like a tennis racket, sending the gun into the corner of the room as Barlow cried out and grabbed his hand. Another swing and he almost caught Rent in the side of the head, but the dapper man squeaked and ducked. Brett was on his feet, aware that his meal ticket was in trouble and their prisoner gaining all the advantages. Using his one good arm he tried to tackle McGarrett's legs and bring him down but Steve was faster and side-stepped as the big man came for him. He neatly used the wood to hit the would-be line backer in the temple and for the second time that night saw Brett go down.
All the physical activity was taking a toll on McGarrett's weakened state but the adrenalin surge and fight or flight instinct kept him going. It was now or never. Lunging for the exit as Barlow scrabbled around for the gun, Steve managed to get past him and closed the door behind, turning the key just as a bullet whacked into the thin wood. No time to lose - he was free!
Taking the stairs as swiftly as his damaged ribs allowed, he reached the upper floor landing just as Noah was exiting Phantom with a girl on each arm and a bottle between them. In a classic case of double-take Noah took two looks at McGarrett, computed something was wrong with the scenario and flung the bottle at the detective. Steve ducked, allowing the expensive wine (lifted from Barlow's private stock) to crash into the wall and soak the flocked wallpaper in rich red liquid.
Forcing the two shocked women off his arms Noah dived on the escaping man, knocking Steve back onto the landing and forcing the air out of his lungs with the impact. The plank of wood went skittering across the floor, lost out of reach. McGarrett shrieked as one of his cracked ribs took the brunt of the blow, Noah pressed home with another jab to McGarrett's belly causing the injured man to double up and almost spew his guts. Realizing he was losing the battle, Steve fought wildly, punching the wiry man leaning over him, but in the end his damaged head and ribs proved to be his undoing and one small mistake brought the whole furore to an unsatisfactory close. As a wave of dizziness smothered him, McGarrett let his guard down. The lead detective saw the fist that knocked him out but couldn't block it; it was huge and solid and accompanied by an arrogant grin as his assailant punch him in the face sending him sprawling on the floor. There was a brief acknowledgment of pain then the lights collapsed inward.
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Noah shook his fist, the force of the punch had bruised his knuckles but, he mused, it was worth it. McGarrett lay on his back in the middle of the floor unconscious. How he had escaped the young man didn't yet know but had every intention of finding out. Shooing the two women back into the club with a warning not to speak a word or suffer the consequences, he knocked at Barlow's office door and walked in without waiting for a reply. No one was there.
He leaned over Steve and checked he wasn't faking before running upstairs to the attic. As soon as he hit the landing he heard the rattling door handle and knew that his boss had been locked in. Swiftly turning the key he was rewarded by an abusive slap as Barlow shouted angrily about slacking and demanded to know where McGarrett was in a high pitched shriek that was more reminiscent of a girl than a full grown man.
"I uh…he's downstairs, I knocked him out."
Happy to tell his red-faced boss that the Five-0 Chief had been recaptured he was shocked to see Brett lying on the attic room floor.
"Good! I want that bastard bound and taped and this time get it right - do it with chains and a padlock if you have to. Get him back up here - no second chances, next time I'll incapacitate him with a bullet!"
"Uh, what about Brett boss? He don't look so good."
"He'll survive. You played nursemaid to that other cop didn't you? Well you can patch him up too. Get him on his feet but no hospital visits, we have a deal going down here and can't afford to waste any more time or bring the cops down on us."
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With effort Noah hefted the solid man and carried McGarrett back upstairs to his temporary prison, ensuring that their guest was bound hand and foot with duct tape and stronger rope and away from anywhere he could loosen his bonds. He moved anything out of the attic that might be used against them and dusted his hands on his legs. It was still an unsatisfactory job but Noah hoped it would suffice since his head was now on the block.
Steve was dead to the world the whole time, a dark bruise forming on his chin and his breathing shallow, Noah threatened the unconscious man regardless of whether he could hear or not, "Now cop – you try anything that stupid again and my boss will drill a hole in you! Play nice or you might find yourself in a whole world of pain!"
He kicked McGarrett for good measure and went back downstairs.
As he passed Barlow's office Rent called him in, "Noah get in here."
He poked his head around the door, "Uh yuh boss?"
"I said come in not stand there like some hulking ninny!"
"Ah, I was just gonna see if Brett's okay downstairs."
Barlow cocked his head toward the couch where the injured thug was resting, wrist in a makeshift splint. "He's in here being useless!" Noah walked in and checked his partner out as Rent continued, "So is McGarrett trussed up properly this time?"
"Yuh."
"Good. I don't want any more surprises tonight. In the morning we check the bids and see how badly his enemies want him. For now I'm going to my room to get some rest, keep looking in on McGarrett. Try not to wake me unless it's absolutely necessary!"
"Uh boss, what about me? Us I mean – when do we get to sleep?"
Barlow sighed, exasperated and tired, "Let Brett sleep it off for a few hours and then wake him up. Do shifts; his head's as hard as steel and twice as empty, he'll be fine. And tell Joey I want the club closed now – I can't sleep with all that racket going on!"
Noah nodded as Barlow shuffled past him and out. "Well sleeping beauty, make the most of it cos it's going to be a long night!" he said to the man on the couch.
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When morning arrived the phones began ringing, it seemed every criminal had crept out of the woodwork for a piece of McGarrett and Dollar signs were gleaming in Thomas Barlow's eyes. Dressed in a size-too-small deep blue dressing gown the balding man yawned as he listened to the slimy voice on the other end of the phone.
"Oh I understand perfectly Mr. Weston – yes, I can see your point, the wait can be frustrating especially with such a large shipment due in. I think you can safely say with Williams and McGarrett out of the picture Hawaii will be a much safer place to do business."
The voice at the other end of the phone asked a question and Barlow raised an eyebrow before replying, "I'm not at liberty to reveal the name of the highest bidder so far but I can tell you that politically and morally I would find it reprehensible to deal with this man and his fellow countrymen. Regrettable though it would be, I would be forced to take his money if another, such as yourself, were not generous enough to offer a new settlement of say – double the bid?"
More agitated chatter and finally the voice calmed down. Barlow smiled, "Good that's settled then. I realize you are anxious for the auction to be completed so in light of your very generous offer I will accelerate the bidding but still need the day to conclude my business and come up with the final price. Will that suit you? Just think of it Weston – by five pm tonight Steve McGarrett could be yours to destroy any way you please! Assuming the money is handed over to us swiftly and all is correct, you can have that farewell party for Five-0 and Honolulu will be yours for the taking."
Another question and this time Barlow chuckled.
"Oh I shan't forget – call Dan Williams a bonus gift, from me to you. It will be my pleasure to make sure he's dead!"
With the deadline advanced Rent had a lot of work to do but with someone like Doyle Weston, kingpin of a prostitution, gambling, drugs and pornography ring, offering to give him a great deal of money he was prepared to work hard. His first order of the day was to arrange for one of his old friends to pay a visit to the detective he knew from Weston had survived the fire at the Marketplace. As a gesture of goodwill to the hideous villain he would have Williams killed. With half a million dollars or more in the balance he could afford to pay for the sandy-haired cop to be topped. It made him smile.
He picked up the telephone and dialed a number he hadn't called for years, not since his parents were beaten to death.
"Hello Dobbs, it's Thomas Barlow. Long time no speak my friend. I want you and Kahama to do a little job for me."
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Danny was slowly surfacing from his drug-induced sleep when he heard a noise outside his room. Still early by most people's standards, the hospital had been buzzing for hours and he had already been poked and prodded more times than he cared to remember, most of it just a foggy haze but the occasional lance of pain was seared on his memory, along with the friendly voice of a nurse. In those moments when he was drifting he thought of Steve McGarrett and his heart constricted with worry for his friend. He felt there were phantom clues at the edges of his mind, waiting for him to find them but each time he tried to identify one it slipped away. If he could persuade Doctor Francis to keep him off the pain medication long enough he knew he could find Steve.
Out in the hallway a gurney was being pushed towards the elevator surrounded by concerned medical staff who watched their fitful Hawaiian patient as he tossed in pain on the traveling bed. The wheels squeaked on the linoleum and echoed down the corridor. As the troupe passed a young woman, trolley piled high with breakfast dishes covered in metal the girl stood to one side.
Without warning the patient suddenly leaped up, pulling one of the nurses down on top of him as he slid off the gurney and clattered into the trolley, startling everyone, felling both women and causing panic to ensue. Unsure if the man was fitting or crazy the officer assigned to watch over Danny left his post by Williams' room and raced down the corridor to offer help bring order to chaos.
As the officer ran a linen room door opened behind him and a man slipped out unseen. Covering his face with a black mask he checked to make sure that Kahama was keeping everyone busy with their little ploy before Dobbs opened the door and entered Williams' room.
Danny lifted his head as a muscular shadow fell across him but he had no time to react as a piece of tape was plastered to his mouth and a hard hand pressed down on his chest, agony shooting through his ribs. He struggled, eyes wide open in panic. The man's face was partially covered but he could clearly see the twisted, sinister smile and knew he was in trouble.
"Sshh don't struggle Williams, it'll only make it worse. Someone wants you out of the way and I am only too happy to oblige them!"
Danny fought instinctively, his ribs hurting so much from the pressure that he almost passed out from the pain. The call button was close to his bed but he couldn't quite reach it. He grabbed the man's arm with both of his and dug his nails into the flesh below the short sleeves as hard as he could and tried shoving his assailant off but it was no use, his strength was depleted and his hands dropped, he wasn't even able to get off the bed. His legs kicked and his damaged thigh telegraphed excruciating fire through his nerves endings as the masked man squeezed the bandage so hard that Danny writhed in agony and blood started to appear on the clean crepe. His heart monitor sent out desperate beeps until Dobbs pulled it off and the eery silence was then punctuated by muffled gasps from the wounded man and other noises as he fought.
The assailant swiftly clambered onto the bed harshly pulling IV tubes out of William's arm as he did so and knelt either side of Dan's body, sitting back on his haunches and connecting heavily with the detective's damaged leg. Danny's struggles were become less significant now and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't roll Dobbs off him, his finger tips touched the call button switch but he wasn't able to move that fraction to push it with the heavy weight sitting on him.
"Rent says goodbye, officer!" the masked man chuckled as he reached underneath Williams and pulled a pillow out. Danny's blue eyes registered horror as the feathered weapon swooped towards his face and he saw no more. With his mouth already covered he couldn't take as significant a breath in as he would have liked before the plush material smothered him and cut out the light. Under normal circumstances with his surfing training he could manage to hold his breath for a considerable time but drugs and injury had made him weak and he was fighting for his life.
Still struggling to reach the call button with every last ounce of strength he had he managed to touch the tip of the switch one more time. His lungs felt like they were bursting, pressure building inside his head as thick inky blackness crawled across his eyes and everything hurt. He screamed silently against the tape.
Gradually his arms dropped to the sides and his body became limp.
Danny was dying.
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