A/N: Sometimes life gets in the way. On Tuesday, it more or less dropped a massive meteor in my path. So: while the story is mostly finished, mild editing is needed and it may be a while between posts. Finding time to actually sit down with the laptop is going to be tricky for the next few weeks. Bear with me.
On the plus side: both Danny and Steve whump are coming. *wicked grin* I read Gone2Far's Cujo story and was inspired by her amazing ability to mix adorable kittens and humor with serious whump. Figured I'd give it a try, too. I'm definitely not as talented as she is, but I had fun, so that's what counts.
…
Danny cocked an eyebrow as he caught a glimpse of his partner's distant gaze. "No. Absolutely not."
"What?"
The two partners were sitting in Danny's office, enjoying a few mid-morning malasadas and brainstorming options for finding the unicorn and getting the drugs off the streets. Working on information provided by their less-than-happy suspect, Steve and Danny had made an unannounced visit to the headquarters of the Princess Party company earlier that morning (along with several HPD cruisers, at Danny's insistence) and happened to interrupt the preparations for that afternoon's 'party' (aka, shipment of pharmaceuticals). With half the employees now in custody and the other half on the run, the only thing left to do was find the horse and then the case would be all finished, "tied up nice and neat with a bright pink bow," Danny had said, miming the bow part with his good hand as Steve secured the last of their prisoners in the HPD van.
But the question remained: how to find the horse? A tip line with HPD had been set up and an announcement played on the morning news and radio stations, but it would take time before the calls could be assessed and evaluated for legitimacy, a process that was now being taken very seriously after the incident at the wharf yesterday afternoon. Danny had thrown out a few other ideas- using Kamekona's helicopter to search for the animal from the air, for example- but even he admitted that he couldn't think of anything solid.
Steve was more interested in the 'tip' that led them to the wharf yesterday. "We were set up, Danny. Forget the horse for a minute- I want to know who placed that call. Someone knew the Samoans would be there, and they deliberately phoned in a tip, knowing we would go down there and the Samoans would likely shoot at us." He popped the last bite of a malasada into his mouth, miraculously avoiding scattering crumbs and sugar across his desk and shirt.
It must be a secret SEAL trick, Danny thought, scowling as he stared down at the sugary dusting on his own clothing. His partner's penchant for cleanliness could be a tad annoying sometimes. "Okay," he said, brushing the crumbs onto the floor and earning himself a glare from the ex-SEAL, "Who wants the horse so badly that they're willing to ambush two cops for it?"
"I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out." Although pleased that Danny was clearly feeling better after being winged by a bullet, Steve was still angry at the close call yesterday and irked that out of the original four team members, they were now down to one and a half, with Danny sporting a sleek, black sling and restricted to light duty.
Danny huffed and tugged on one of the straps holding the sling to his body as he tried to shake the crumbs out of the cloth. "I don't know," he said in an annoyed tone as he tried to adjust the buckle, "Isn't the point of an anonymous tip line the fact that the caller is anonymous?"
Steve grunted his assent, but his gaze was elsewhere, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "You know, Danny…"
Danny shook his head. "No. I know that face. That's your I'm-Thinking-of-a-Fun-Interrogation-Method face. No, you may not use some unethical, top-secret technique on them. They're just idiots."
Steve frowned in annoyance. "We're being played, Danny. Someone used that tip line to set us up."
"Yeah, okay, but who? According to Michael Tafua, they were just after the drugs and we were in the way. Between the princess party people and the Samoans and your mysterious tip line caller, this party is getting a little too crowded for my liking."
"We're missing something." Standing, Steve paced the office, turning sharply on his heel between his desk and the window. "The party company is too small to pose a threat to the Yakuza or the Triads. Economics will eat them out of business before anyone else can take them out. Their shipments are too small to be worth the risk…"
"So why risk it?"
"Maybe this one seemed like an easy target? But killing cops for a small stash isn't worth it." Steve scrubbed a hand through the back of his head as he made another lap around his office. No, killing- or attempting to kill- two cops would have dire consequences for the gang members involved. It didn't seem worth it at all. So why do it? What were they missing?
"So what now?"
Steve ran a hand over his chin, brushing away the last of the crumbs, then rumpled up the wax paper and tossed it neatly into the trash can. "You know, D, I think you're onto something with the party idea. I think there's another person behind the scenes, pulling the strings. We need to be looking for whoever isn't looking for the unicorn."
"And how to you propose we do that? 'Everyone not interested in the unicorn, please raise your hand.'?"
"I have a plan."
Danny eyed him warily and rubbed his arm. "Am I going to like this plan?"
"Do you ever like my plans?"
"Yeah, well, your plans tend to get me shot. Or they involve helicopters, or grenades, or rocket launchers."
"There are no helicopters, grenades, or rocket launchers in this plan."
"What about guns and high speed chases?" Danny asked doubtfully.
"What is with you and dissing my ideas? You are the most negative person I've ever met." Steve picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. "I haven't even told you what we're doing yet, and you already think it's a bad idea."
"You're avoiding the question."
"Am I?" Steve grinned and held the phone to his ear. "Hey Duke. I need a horse."
Danny groaned.
…
Several hours later:
"Why do we have to be the animal control officers?" After an hour of sitting in the hot, stuffy cab of the truck, Danny was feeling more than a little irritable. He took a swig from his dwindling bottle of water and stared out the window at the evening traffic on Ala Moana. The stop-and-go crawl of the late rush hour provided little by way of entertainment. "I'm pretty sure this violates some kind of fair work agreement with the union."
Steve let out a long-suffering sigh. "I told you, Danny: we need the real animal guys on standby. We don't want them to be injured."
"But it's okay if we get injured? I'm already injured Steven!" Danny patted his arm where a bandage was hidden under the striped sleeve and waved his uninjured arm through the air. The sling remained an uncomfortable reminder of their shootout yesterday afternoon. His annoyance mounted as his partner ignored him. "Can you even handle a horse?"
"I learned a thing or two about it in Afghanistan." A wistful expression passed across Steve's face at the sudden thought of Catherine. He quickly changed the subject. "Duke spread some news around with our informants that the horse has been found and is being picked up. If we're lucky, whoever wants the horse will try to take it, and we'll be waiting."
Danny snorted. "And if we're really lucky, we won't get shot," he muttered darkly.
…
The radio crackled to life around 6:30, issuing a call for a found horse on Sand Island. Danny and Steve responded. In the mixed light of downtown Honolulu skyscrapers and the last vestiges of the sunset, they quickly located the animal in a grassy lot behind the wastewater treatment plant, exactly where Duke said she would be.
To Steve's frustration (and Danny's pleasure), there was no sign of attackers or antagonists. 'Lilith' seemed perfectly content, so they took their time recapturing her and loading her into the truck while still keeping their eyes peeled for anyone else who might have overheard the widely-broadcast call.
By 7:30, however, they had delayed long enough. With the horse loaded and no indication of any trouble, Steve and Danny decided to leave.
The return trip across the bridge and toward the shelter downtown was likewise monotonous.
No guns.
No chases.
No helicopters.
No hint of excitement of any kind.
"Well, that was uneventful," Danny commented as they turned onto Keawe Street a few blocks from their destination. "I gotta hand it to you, babe, you kept your word- no thrilling explosions, no machine guns, no grenades… I'm proud of you."
Steve was less pleased. "I don't get it- there should have been someone there. After all this trouble to get a horse, we should've had a shootout or sabotage or something." He had deliberately picked Sand Island for its close-yet-remote location and the ability to minimize collateral damage. "What went wrong?"
"Don't know." Danny tapped the AC vent and silently cursed cheap automakers. "Could be any number of things, babe. We did plan this at the last minute."
"Are our CI's compromised?"
"Maybe. We'll figure it out tomorrow." Danny was more interested in a hot dinner and an early bedtime. He lurched forward suddenly as Steve stopped to avoid a motorcyclist running the stop sign. "Mind the horse!"
"The horse is fine." Steve started forward again, but stopped as a second motorcycle flew through the intersection. "Crap!" He glanced at Danny. "You get a license plate?"
"So you can beat them up later for running a stop sign? No, I'm too busy trying not to face plant on the dash." He pushed himself up with his good arm and glanced left and right. "See any more?"
Steve peered down the darkened alley between two office buildings. "No."
"So hurry up. Let's get this over with. I'm hungry."
Throwing Danny a look that he reserved for the detective's more verbal rants, Steve threw the truck into gear and made the final turn onto Pohukaina. They were three blocks from their destination when it happened.
…
The dump truck seemed innocent enough. At 7:45pm, it was plausibly making its final run of the day through the downtown business district and had just returned a fat, green dumpster to the pavement when Steve and Danny drove past. It pulled behind them onto the street, following for half a block before turning into aside for another dumpster.
Then the motorcycles reappeared.
Not one to believe in coincidence, Steve picked up the radio. "Duke? We've got two motorcycles, license plate XKF- 384 and the other starting with PTN-2." He paused as the pair criss-crossed in front of him. "Duke, do you copy?"
"Stupid kids," Danny muttered beside him.
"Hello? Duke, do you copy?" Steve tried again. The only response on the radio was static. Steve checked his phone. No bars.
"Danny, do you have signal on your phone?" Steve fumbled the phone in one hand, holding it on the dash as he searched for signal. "Danny?"
But Danny was abnormally silent.
"Hello? Earth to-" but Danny interrupted him.
"Steven." Danny's voice was dangerously quiet. "We have a problem."
Steve looked over and saw his partner frozen in place, eyes wide, staring at a small, red dot of light on his chest. "Ah shit!" Leaning forward, Steve peered out the window for the source of the laser. "Can you tell where it's from?"
"Uh, no." Danny gripped the door handle with white fingers and tried to hold perfectly still as the truck bounced over a pothole. "Can you stop, please? I would really rather not die tonight."
"The person hasn't shot yet, so it might not be a sniper, Danny," Steve stated as he slowed. "Maybe it's just a, uh... a kid with a laser pointer," he offered lamely.
Danny snorted. "You're a horrible liar, Steven."
Ahead of them, the motorcycles stopped, blocking the road. Behind them, the dump truck stopped as well and several men jumped out. Steve pulled the truck to a halt. The little dot on Danny's chest wavered for a moment, then stilled. Seeing it sent Steve's heart rate spiking, and judging by the throbbing vein in Danny's neck and his shallow breathing, he was faring no better. Steve reached under the seat for his gun
"What are you doing?" Risking a tiny bit of movement, Danny twisted his head to watch his partner. "You can't take on all of them by yourself."
"You have a better idea?"
"Yeah- wait for backup."
"What backup? They've blocked our phones and radio." Shoving a hand in his pocket, Steve retrieved his cell and showed Danny the lack of signal. "We're on our own until Duke realizes something went wrong."
"Swell. I hope he figures it out fast." Danny leaned his head back and closed his eyes, willing the little red circle to move somewhere else. "What are my chances if I try to duck really fast?"
"Don't. Just hold still. I'll think of something."
"Well think faster." Sweat beaded on Danny's forehead as he struggled to maintain his composure and absolute stillness.
Steve frowned. One hand on the wheel, he fingered his gun with the other and debated his options. But any ideas were cut short when a masked man with a rifle jumped out of the dump truck.
"Commander McGarrett," he called, raising his weapon toward the vehicle, "come out!" As he approached from behind, two more appeared in front of them, weapons drawn. "Come out, or we will shoot Detective Williams."
"Can you see the sniper?" Danny asked quietly.
"No, but…" Steve scanned the surrounding buildings for the gunman. "He's up there, probably," he said, nodding toward a skyscraper across the street. "It's where I would be."
"And where's Duke? SWAT?"
"Waiting for us at HQ." They were close, so close, and yet so far away as to be pointless. Steve flicked his phone on again, already knowing what he would see. "Still no signal."
The motorcycles and dump truck were now joined by a catering van and two sedans.
"Commander!" the man called impatiently. "I'm waiting!"
Danny fidgeted and watched the small dot on his shirt. "So what's the plan?"
"I don't know," Steve said, disquieted. "Just… just stay still." Tucking his phone under the seat, he checked his gun and slowly opened the door. "Don't move. I'll be back."
"You better." Danny watched with growing trepidation as his partner walked toward the first man, his hands raised in surrender. For a brief period, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps it was just some local punks having 'fun.'
"Just a few kids out for a joyride," he muttered. He watched as Steve and the man spoke for a few minutes, Steve gesturing angrily at the truck at one point. "Just a few hot-headed idiots, that's all," Danny whispered without conviction.
But then things became heated and any hope diminished. The man with the gun yelled something, Steve stepped back, and although Danny couldn't hear him, the meaning was clear.
Hands raised, Steve sank to his knees, leaning forward briefly to deposit his own weapon on the pavement in front of him. Another man stepped forward and searched him, emptying his pockets and dropping all the items- gun, spare clip, badge, pocketknife, wallet- into a bag. Then he was bound, blindfolded, and loaded into the catering van.
The man turned his attention to Danny. "Detective Williams!" he called out. "Come out of the truck."
Still frozen in his seat, Danny risked a glance at the red dot. Was he allowed to come out? Or would the unseen sniper shoot him when he moved? To his surprise, the light had moved and was now situated on the cracked plastic of the center console. Taking it as permission, Danny unbuckled his seatbelt and gingerly opened the door.
"Hurry up, Detective," the man growled, reaching inside, grabbing Danny's arm, and roughly dragging him from the truck. "Lay on the ground," he instructed.
Why am I the one who has to lay down? Danny thought, but he obediently lowered himself to the pavement and locked his fingers behind his neck. Small, quick hands ran up and down his legs and patted around the waist before emptying his pockets. Twisting his head, Danny watched as the catering van carrying his partner drove away.
"Where are you taking him?" he risked asking.
The man ignored him. Pulling out a second cloth bag, he began to drop Danny's belongings inside. Danny heard a quiet clink as his keys disappeared into the sack.
"I hope you know your evil plan, whatever it is, won't work." Danny was feeling braver now that a sniper's gun wasn't trained on his heart. "And taking us in the middle of downtown Honolulu? That's not a smart move."
The man chuckled. "I think the plan is working fine, Detective," he said as he pulled Danny's wrists behind his back and slipped handcuffs on them. Reaching into one pocket, he pulled out a dark, cloth hood and gestured for Danny to lean forward so it could be draped over his head. "Perhaps you should consider that your little charade-" he tapped Danny's fake animal control uniform- "was not a smart move," and he pulled the hood over Danny's face, cinching it slightly so it wouldn't come loose.
Danny closed his eyes and fought off a wave of panic as claustrophobia clawed at him. Grabbing the back of his shirt, the man pulled him to his feet. "Come on; you're going for a ride."