Chapter One:
~Three Months Later~
Wo Fat opens the window, anxious only that he will be interrupted before he can complete his mission. Steve McGarrett is his target. His contact on the outside told him Joe White led McGarrett to Shelburne, but the contact has proven unreliable before, so Wo Fat will trust only himself to retrieve the information he so desperately requires.
He needs to capture McGarrett again, ask the same questions, maybe use another cattle prod.
His escape from prison was nothing fabulous—just put on a guard's uniform and walked right out. Finding McGarrett was even easier since the over-confident ex-SEAL still lives in his childhood home.
Now, Wo Fat focuses on staring into the darkness that is the McGarretts' living room. McGarrett's bedroom is upstairs, and Wo Fat ignores it in favor of setting up his own little "room." He doesn't fear being interrupted now that he's inside.
The coffee table, covered neatly in coasters and car repair manuals, will do nicely for his torture table, and he carefully cleans everything off, replacing it with wooden paddles, some blades, and a new cattle prod. The couch is too soft, but Wo Fat has two flat boards embedded with glass to remedy that. He makes several trips to his van, each time smiling at the metal safe bolted to the floor, remembering the snap of the waitress's neck. She'd deserved to die, after all. He'd paid her a hundred dollars to slip a homemade knockout drug into McGarrett's food earlier. Witnesses were bad for business.
Finally, Wo Fat is set up. He'd emailed McGarrett's HQ with an Internet address he had gotten from dear little Mary, saying she was back in town to look after her brother who was fighting a bad cold. A response from Kono Kalakaua, the only member of Five-Oh still up at one in the morning, is sympathetic and threatens to have Danny stop by around the "usual time."
No matter, Wo Fat only needs a few hours to perform the necessary procedure. He will be long gone, with McGarrett, before anyone stops by the house. Surveying his handiwork one last time, he nods to himself and heads upstairs to collect his subject.
McGarrett is lying on his stomach, head and shoulders on the bed, legs hanging off the edge. He's thrown up somewhere in the room, and Wo Fat frowns in disgust at the smell of it. Using one hand, he grabs the back of McGarrett's shirt and hauls him upright. Unfocused eyes drift onto and then past his face as the partially conscious McGarrett wavers on his feet.
"You should be dead," he mumbles, words slurred, voice thick. "I should kill you." McGarrett moves slowly, hand rising only to bounce harmlessly off Wo Fat's chest. Still, it is an insult he doesn't intend to let slide.
With an arm around McGarrett's shoulders, Wo Fat uses his body and other arm to knock him off his feet so he can pick him up with one arm under his knees now. Vertigo makes McGarrett cling to him. The drug is almost too strong, but he doesn't want the dose to be less because then he'd have to fight McGarrett just to carry him down the stairs and dump him in front of the couch. As it is, McGarrett still moves a little too much even if it's to sway to the side so he can dry heave in open space. He grunts, air whooshing out almost comically when Wo Fat lets him fall onto the floor.
Using a knife, some big-blade military type that has McGarrett holding still, he cuts off the shirt he doesn't need any more. Then he picks McGarrett up again and drops him onto the boards. Surprisingly, McGarrett stays still, looking up at him with eyes that slowly fill with tears as the glass cuts into his bare skin and the pain enters his fuzzy brain.
Gently, Wo Fat puts his hands on McGarrett's chest, suppressing a smile as McGarrett grabs his wrists but otherwise doesn't move. He leans his weight onto his hands, moving them quickly so McGarrett's body jerks over the glass. There is a puddle of blood seeping from beneath McGarrett when he stops and yanks him upright.
"What is the importance of Shelburne?" Wo Fat asks as he forces McGarrett over a wooden chair, found in the dining and moved to the living room for this purpose. He cuffs his wrists to the front legs. Then he winds a length of cord around McGarrett's legs, lacing them to the back legs. The high back is resting against the bottom of McGarrett's chest.
"I told you, I don't know." The words are less slurred now, but it's obvious he's still under the influence. "Why are you doing this again?"
Wo Fat answers him by ripping open a packet of alcohol wipes. "Shelburne," he says, waiting for McGarrett to shake his head before he runs it down his bloody back. McGarrett hisses and hunches over farther, chair scraping the floor as it rocks underneath his weight. When the packet is empty, Wo Fat undoes the restraints and turns McGarrett around. He has one of McGarrett's hands against the chair when McGarrett bucks, shoving his other hand against Wo Fat's neck and twisting free. They grapple quickly, Wo Fat trying to subdue McGarrett and McGarrett trying to escape. Eventually, after a few seconds, McGarrett knocks Wo Fat against the coffee table. He grabs the cattle prod as it rolls, flicking it on and shoving it against McGarrett. He barely touches it to the middle of his back, but McGarrett arches and screams, limbs shooting out and then contracting as he tries to crawl away from the electrified tip. Another sharp hit from the prod knocks him flat on his stomach.
While McGarrett lies still, painting through the pain, Wo Fat props him upright and cuffs him to the chair again, bending him backward this time, so his chest and stomach are exposed. Then he picks up the cattle prod from where he'd let it fall. He turns it off and runs it over McGarrett's chest. He flinches and shudders, and Wo Fat smiles.
"You know who Shelburne is," he says, turning the prod on and letting it hover it over McGarrett's bellybutton. The electricty makes the hairs stand on end. "You'll tell me."
"I don't know. I can't tell you."
He touches the prod to McGarrett's skin, pressing it into his stomach. McGarrett cries out, twisting in his bonds as he unsuccessfully tries to escape from the pain. Wo Fat counts to five before lifting the device. He waits for McGarrett to stop panting before he leans over him again.
"Joe White knows who Shelburne is," he says, reaching out to cup McGarrett's cheek so he can't look away. "If you can't tell me where Shelburne is, maybe he can."
"Joe White is none of my concern," McGarrett spits out. "You can track him yourself."
"No, Steven," Wo Fat smiles, something cold and dangerous rising in him, "you'll bring him to me." He shoves the prod against McGarrett's chest, holding it in place with both hands as McGarrett thrashes, screaming. He moves it over his torso, pressing lightly in some areas and harder in others. He waits twenty seconds before turning it off to listen to McGarrett's ragged half-sobs.
"I can't help you," he whispers, so low Wo Fat has to lean close to hear him. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
"In time," he replies, a harsh hiss in McGarrett's ear. "Right now, you need to do something." He releases McGarrett's restraints, holding him upright while he retches from the pain or the drug again. "Hurry up, Steven. We don't have much time."
ooOoo
Danny Williams gets a call from his colleague Kono Kalakaua shortly—fifteen seconds—after he wakes up. All she says is Mary McGarrett emailed saying Steve is out sick.
"You want me to check on him, don't you?" he says. She just laughs. "All right. I'll make sure it's legit. Let me just get some real food before I go to his place, okay?"
Real food turns out to be corn flakes with the chocolate milk he'd bought for Grace. His usual fifteen-minute shower resembles one of Steve's three-minute SEAL showers. All told, he's out the door and on his way in less than twenty minutes.
The drive is uneventful, especially because his foot is not made of lead nor does he see any reason to weave maniacally through the light traffic. Still, he makes it to Steve's with a whole hour before he's due at work.
Nothing looks out of place, including the fact that there is no rental car in the driveway. Unless Steve had picked Mary up and then fallen ill, Mary hadn't driven to Steve's house.
Just to be sure, Danny pulls out his sidearm. Steve might appreciate a courtesy knock, but Danny doesn't want to tip off any baddies inside, if indeed there are baddies inside, and Steve can complain later, once Danny knows he's safe.
The front door is unlocked, and Danny slips it open only wide enough to duck through. He brings up his gun and sweeps the room. And then he stops. There's a plywood board with embedded glass on Steve's couch, and there's a substantial amount of blood on the board. There's a wooden chair from the dining room table in the middle of the living room, blood on it too. The coffee table is too clean, and there's blood drops all over the floor.
On the wall, painted with fingers dipped in what looks like even more blood is a coded message.
Danny calls Kono and barely makes it outside to throw up in a fern some old neighbor gave Steve at his father's funeral.
ooOoo
Dr. Max Bergman examines the individual deposits of blood carefully, allowing the crime scene unit a chance to photograph everything from all angles before he takes a sample from each spot. He even takes some from the message on the wall. Danny's initial assessment that the message was written with fingers appears to be accurate due to the multiple fingerprints Chin Ho Kelly is looking at.
"I already got a match back," he says, his tone hollow and maybe a little angry.
"Commander McGarrett's then," Max says, wincing when Chin nods. "I suspect this blood is his too."
"How much do you think he lost? Too much?"
"Not enough to be dead, but, yes, a significant amount. He is weakened, and likely unable to survive for an extended period of time without medical assistance. It is also unlikely, if he has indeed been abducted, that he will be able to fight his captor."
"So, we'll just have to fight for him," Danny says as he comes up to them from canvassing nearby witnesses. His tone is even more dejected than Chin's, and Max surmises that the interviews were not favorable. "Do we know who has him, and do we know what he was trying to say?"
Steve's message is phonetic at best, not written in any language with which any of them are familiar. They can't even call a translator until they know what language he was trying to replicate, although Kono has suggested emailing sections of it to dialect professors to see if they recognize any of it.
"We believe the message is about this person." Chin points at a nearly illegible scribble. "I was able to make out a 'j' and an 'e.' Here and here."
"Joe," Danny says suddenly, stabbing at the space between the 'j' and 'e.' "It's gotta be. Too much of a coincidence not to be."
"Does that mean this message is for Joe White, or is Joe White Commander McGarrett's abductor?"
Chin and Danny turn to stare at Max, who shrugs apologetically.
"It bothers me," Danny finally says. "It really does. The answer, Max, is that we don't know."
ooOoo
Danny's sitting on the front steps when the governor arrives, his black limousine sliding to a stop gracefully. Sam Denning is an impressive man, but he's inherited a cluster-fuck, especially keeping Steve and Five-Oh intact. Oh, he thinks they work for him, but really, they only work his cases because Steve's interested in them.
"Detective Williams," Denning says, and Danny stands up to shake his hand. "This is private?"
"More private than your office or mine," he replies.
"Very well. What I wanted to talk to you about is Commander McGarrett's abduction. I do not want you to involve HPD. We have evidence of more leaks."
"I thought we didn't know who'd taken him?"
"Exactly. We do not know whom the information would be passed along to, and it could possibly get him killed. If he's not already dead."
Danny glares at Denning, but Denning doesn't notice; he's too busy scrolling through his phone to pay attention to Danny's reactions.
"I already have people on the crime scene unit that responded to your call," he says. "You have no other cases. I will get HPD to leave you alone, if I can."
"No promises," Danny says. "All right, Governor. We'll keep it as in-house as we can. You do your damage control, and I'll keep you posted." He won't. Not really. Not until he's got McGarrett back safe and sound, but what the governor doesn't know will probably get Danny fired, like Laurie.
"Thank you, Detective Williams." Another handshake and then Denning goes back to his limousine.
The limitations will hinder the investigation, Danny knows. Four people just don't have the manpower needed to locate a missing person, especially if one of those four is the missing person.
Danny growls in frustration, kicking at a stone on the steps before he heads back inside to see how long he can go before he breaks the governor's stupid silence rule.