A/N: Sorry for the delay. Spouse lost his job several months ago; we run out of money in 2 weeks bc my salary isn't enough, so we're trying to figure out how to make ends meet and/or where to live, plus he keeps having these weird, mini-stroke episodes, so life is really interesting right now. If anyone out there is a praying person, we'd sure appreciate it. In the meantime, I'll continue my self-medication in the distraction of fiction.
...
Excerpt from The Bunker, chp. 8
13 years ago…
"Any decision Colin made was his own," Steve gritted out through clenched teeth. It was becoming very hard to focus, hard to concentrate on anything except the pain. "You've read our emails. You know that- aggh!" He lurched, shuddering as a heavy blow split a new line of skin along his side.
Behind him, Foster's voice reverberated through the damp hallway. "You influenced him! You made him enlist. You didn't dissuade him, didn't push him to find another career. His death is your fault! It." Crack. "Is." Crack. "Your." Crack."Fault." Crack.
Steve couldn't stop the scream that was wrenched from him by the last four blows. He stumbled, listing heavily to one side. "What…about…" He struggled to draw a breath. "What about… your granddaughter?" he wheezed out as he forced himself slowly upright.
"Leave my granddaughter out of this!"
"She needs you, Mr. Foster." Steve tried to inhale deeply, but was stopped by a sharp pain in his left side. He wondered if Foster's kick had done more than bruise his ribs. "What… will she say later…. about you?" Steve gasped for air, unable to quite draw a full breath. "That you gave up on her? That… that you took the easy way out?" Steve was pushing, hoping that Kurtis would hear him. "Who will help her remember her father?" He drew another ragged breath as Foster made no reply. "You… you raised Colin. You made Colin the man that he was, knew him better than anyone else. Who else would tell her about him?"
It was now silent in the bunker except for the intermittent dripping of water and rough breathing as Steve fought the waves of throbbing, burning agony in his body. Buried far underground in the forgotten structure, the two men were quite alone. Steve could feel the tension and the internal war raging in the man behind him, and he waited patiently, eyes closed, dizzy with pain but not wanting to disturb the relative calm that had now settled between them.
Then Kurtis Foster drew a harsh breath and Steve sensed a subtle shift in the battle of wills. Mentally preparing himself for the worst, Steve made one last attempt.
"What do you want, Mr. Foster? You have a choice, and it's not too late to make things right."
For a brief moment, immediately after speaking those words, Steve regretted it and wondered if he had made a mistake. He heard the familiar pacing of the shoes again, the sharp turn in the step, and the pause that usually preceded a blow, and he flinched.
But the blow never came. Instead, Mr. Foster slid down against the wall with a sob.
"I want… I want… Oh god, I want my son back," he moaned pitifully. "My beautiful, brilliant boy…"
...
Chp. 9: Hazardous Reunion
It took Detective Danny Williams an astonishingly long time to notice the man who walked into the Five-0 offices and now stood just inside the glass doors. Danny didn't normally work nights, but after another long and fruitless search for his missing partner, he had decided to stay late at the office and sift through the incoming reports from the anonymous tip line. If even one call led to something, it would be worth the late hours and overdose of caffeine… but so far all he had were false trails and dead ends.
The vast majority of the 'tips' were easy to dismiss, and some were downright insulting, like the woman who wanted to know if McGarrett was available for dating, and, if he were ever found, could a date be arranged for them to meet? Danny huffed and shook his head. People were despicable. Some were well-meaning but others…
"Detective Williams?"
Danny whirled around. An older gentleman stood in the doorway, absently adjusting the visitor badge clipped to his shirt pocket. Wasn't it too late for visitors? Danny rubbed his eyes and squinted blearily at the clock, only to realize with a start that it was past midnight. Yes, very late. But the man looked harmless enough: greying hair, thin, with worn lines around his eyes.
With an exhausted half-frown, Danny stood and nodded at the visitor in confirmation. "That's me," he said, walking over and taking the extended hand. He felt a powerful grip beneath the weathered skin, not at all the fragile handshake that he expected. In surprise, he looked more closely at the man's face and felt something akin to recognition… but he couldn't place it. "Can I help you?"
"You're Steve McGarrett's partner, aren't you?"
Danny's heart jumped. "Yes. But-"
"I know where your partner is."
Danny shoved down the elation that sprang up inside him. He'd heard that line before, far too many times in the past few days. Rubbing a hand wearily over his hair, he began, "Look, Mr. …?"
"Just call me Lamar."
A brief frown crossed Danny's face. The man's name was unfamiliar, but his voice rang a bell somewhere deep in his memory. Danny's is eyes flashed across the man's face again, but without recognition. "Look, Lamar: it's been a long day. We've had tips from across the island come in, and while I appreciate your concern, unless you have hard evidence…"
"I've seen him."
"So have a thousand other people on the islands."
"This evening. Manoa Arboretum."
Danny barely had the energy to maintain his patience. "At the gardens… just walking around?"
The man looked around and suddenly walked into the nearest office. Danny followed, a protest on his lips, but the man grabbed a notepad and a pen off the desk and began to sketch hastily. A few moments later, a crude map appeared on the sticky note.
"There's a road here," Lamar narrated as he sketched, "from the gate through the garden to the trails. It ends here, at a second gate. One of the trails goes to the waterfall at the back of the gardens. If you follow it but turn aside approximately here," he marked the map with an 'x', "you will find an abandoned church. In the basement of the church is your partner." He ripped the map from the pad and thrust it at Danny. "He's in bad shape and needs a hospital. And you're going to need help."
Danny stared at the sticky note. "And you just happened to find him down there? By yourself? While… I dunno… exploring?" He stuffed a hand in his pocket and felt for his cell phone. "Why not call 911? Or our anonymous tip line?"
"Phone died."
"Okay." Danny rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck and tried to think. "Okay, so why were you there, in the arboretum, in the first place? Didn't it close hours ago?"
"I was there because I thought I was meeting a friend."
"And you just waltzed into the woods and found Commander McGarrett?" Danny asked in disbelief.
The man offered a half-shrug.
"But instead of bringing him out, you decided to drive all the way back downtown instead?" Danny asked, beginning to feel irritated at the illogical sequence of events.
The man shook his head; his fingers played nervously with the hem of his shirt. "I needed bolt cutters. And wire clippers. Because he was, ah…" and the man made a motion with his hands together.
"Tied up? You needed bolt cutters for some rope?"
"Not rope. Chains. And wire."
Danny wasn't buying it. He gave the man a hard look and sat down behind the desk. Slipping the phone out of his pocket, he hovered his finger over the button for Duke, but he didn't make the call. Not yet. "Let me get this straight," he frowned, jabbing a finger deliberately at the man, "you just happened to be at Manoa Valley Arboretum and happen to find an abandoned church, and it happens to be open and not locked shut, and you happen to find my partner inside. But of course, he happens to be chained up or something, so you can't rescue him yourself, and your phone happens to be deadso you can't call for help." He paused. "How am I doing so far?"
The older man bit his lip. "It doesn't sound plausible, I know."
"Damn right."
Lamar's face twisted. "It's a long story."
Danny folded his arms. "I've got time."
For a long moment, the stranger stared at Danny. Then he stood suddenly. "This was stupid. I'm sorry, Detective. I'll just… I guess I'll just take care of it on my own." Lamar sighed heavily. "I'll go by the shop and get everything and take care of it myself." Turning away, he headed for the door.
"Hang on a minute," Danny interrupted, jumping up. He moved between Lamar and the 5-0 office door, blocking the exit. "What do you mean, 'take care of it'?"
"I already explained it to you, Detective: your partner-"
"Is trapped in a church in Manoa Valley, according to you. Yeah, I got that bit."
"He needs help. That's all I meant. But if you don't believe me, I don't want to waste your time."
A moment of silence passed between the two. Danny sized up the man and suddenly realized that the plastic badge he had taken for a visitor's badge actually designated him an employee at a local hardware store. This revelation prompted a more thorough analysis of the disheveled guest, and Danny wasn't sure what to make of what he saw. The firm hand he'd shaken earlier was rough with dirt, the man's clothing that had seen better days, his shoes were caked in red mud, which also stained the knees of his jeans… this wasn't the type of person who would pay a $10 entrance fee to see some fancy flowers at a yuppie tourist attraction.
Lamar seemed to sense his thoughts. "I know I look like some street bum. The others thought I was, too."
"What others?"
"The other cops. I went by the precinct before coming here. They didn't believe me, either."
"Did you tell them what you told me?"
"Yes."
Something about his tone gave Danny pause. "Lamar, I can't just chase down every tip and sighting. There's not enough time; the universe would end and we'd all be dust before I finished going down every tip that's come in."
"I understand," Lamar said softly with a nod.
Danny pinched a hand over his burning eyes. Deep breath, Williams. Just one more cup of coffee. "Look, here's what I can do: I'll pull up a map of the arboretum property. If you can point out this church to me, I'll send some guys over there tomorrow morning to check it out."
"McGarrett might be dead by tomorrow."
"Was he bleeding out?"
"No."
"Shot? Poisoned? Suffocating?"
"No."
"So what makes you think he's going to die?"
"The guy who did this to him- I think he might come back."
Danny paused and digested this new information. "What guy?"
"His name is Scott. Scott Agaran."
"How do you know it was him? And what makes you think he'll come back?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time."
"McGarrett doesn't."
Danny folded his arms and stared at him steadily, but Lamar never flinched. After a short, silent battle of wills, Danny asked, "You really think he's coming back tonight? To finish Steve off?"
"Maybe. Don't know. Don't want to take the risk." Lamar stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Look, Detective: I'm going back there tonight, alone if I have to. You can come or not, I don't really care, but I'm not going to take the fall for something I didn't do."
"Why would you take the fall for this?"
"I found him, didn't I? My prints are going to be all over that place."
Danny pursed his lips, not liking the disturbing feeling that Lamar was hiding something, and that Danny should know what it was. At the very least, Danny felt like he should recognize the man, but he couldn't seem to place him.
"Do you have your driver's license?" he asked on a whim.
There was a slight hesitation before Lamar nodded. "Sure. Why?"
Danny motioned him back inside his office where the computer was still running. "Just want to check something."
Lamar followed him inside, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. Danny sat down behind the desk, nudging the mouse to wake the computer up.
And that was when Lamar suddenly made his move.
...
Had it not been for the slight squeak of Lamar's shoes on the Palace's shiny, black floor, Danny wasn't sure he would have noticed. He was drained, physically and mentally, and despite feeling wary of his midnight visitor, his guard had slipped. Hearing the sound, Danny looked up from the computer screen just in time to see something rather large and heavy fly over the desk. It hit him square in the chest, catching him by surprise and knocking him backwards to the floor.
It was metal and wood, a trophy Danny belatedly realized as the thing clunked onto the floor beside him. He'd gotten it from some bigwig in Washington for saving the world, again. It had been on display on the corner of his desk to compete with Steve's wall of Navy ribbons in his partner's office; now Danny wished he'd just left the trophy in the cabinet with the others.
Head foggy, ears ringing, with a sharp ache above his ear where he'd smacked into the ground, Danny barely had time to register the trophy when a larger problem entered his space. A huge shadow- Lamar- slid across the desk and landed hard on Danny's side, knocking the air from his lungs and pinning him to the ground.
Winded, Danny fumbled for the weapon at his hip, but Lamar was on top of him, holding him down and working to pull the gun from his grasp. For a brief moment, they grappled violently on the cold stone floor, Danny flailing underneath the other but unable to twist free. The older man was surprisingly strong for his age and Danny was stuck in the small space between the desk and the wall, trapped on his side with one arm caught beneath him. Cursing, he felt his fingers being pried away from the holster and the weapon pulled from his grasp. When the muzzle pushed against his side, Danny froze.
"No sudden movements, Detective," Lamar said unnecessarily.
"Not moving," Danny grunted in response. Heart racing, he lay still and felt Lamar patting him down, running his hand around his pockets and belt. "If this is your way of trying to convince me you're innocent in all of this, I've got news for you: it's not working."
"Detective, I don't have time to sit around and wait for you to make up your mind. If Scott comes back, your partner is dead."
Danny wished his heart would quit thudding quite so loudly; it pounded in his ears as though Danny had just run up Koko Crater at a sprint carrying Steve on his back. Lamar's knees pressing into his side weren't helping, either, and Danny felt a pinch as he tried to inhale. He shifted just enough to take a deeper breath. "You really think he's coming back," he stated, still not sure what to believe.
"At some point. He's not one to leave a mess."
"And this is your solution?" Danny snorted nervously. "Kidnapping?"
The man faltered and for the first time seemed suddenly uncertain. "It's not my first choice," he muttered. He emptied Danny's belongings onto the floor, pocketing the car keys.
Danny watched in his periphery. "You know, I believe you now."
Lamar stopped. "You do?"
"You know where Steve is."
Lamar grunted.
"But I'm still not sold on the idea that you just 'found' him out there," Danny added. "What about this 'Scott' person? Who is he? How do you know him?"
"In case you're having doubts, Scott is real, Detective, as real as you and me."
"Really," Danny returned drily. "And you know him how exactly?"
Lamar paused in his groping. "Prison."
Danny swallowed; that bad feeling in his Jersey gut suddenly felt a lot worse. "I assume you weren't in there for embezzlement." Or some other friendly, non-violent crime.
"No."
"And you had no idea your little prison buddy was up to no good?"
"It's prison. Everybody lies."
"Right. Your involvement is some big misunderstanding, some sort of accident," Danny muttered, feeling more and more unhappy by the second. "I suppose someone's going to find my body by accident, too?" he continued as he lay there and wondered what would happen next.
Lamar didn't answer. His free hand had found the handcuffs. "Roll over."
Danny obeyed. He couldn't really roll over completely, but with Lamar no longer pinning him down, he managed to shuffle around until both hands were behind his back. "What was on that driver's license that you didn't want me to see? Not 'Lamar,' obviously."
"Lamar is my middle name," the man gruffly replied. He tightened the cuffs around Danny's wrists until they pinched. Danny winced.
"So what's your full name?"
Lamar didn't respond. Grabbing the detective's arm, he hauled Danny to his feet with surprising ease. Pushing him up against the wall, he ran his hands up and down Danny again.
Danny felt Lamar re-attach his shield to his belt and return his wallet to his pocket. The remaining items, however, were left on the floor. "You know, I'll find out who you are sooner or later."
Lamar stopped. There was a pause; then Danny heard a sigh behind him. "Fine. My name, Detective Williams, is Kurtis Lamar Foster. Does that satisfy you?"
Lamar said it as though expecting this revelation to have some profound effect on Danny, but it only served to increase Danny's confusion. "Who?"
"Kurtis Foster," the man repeated patiently.
The name sounded familiar. Danny wracked his brains, trying to place it, until the other man himself answered that question.
"I kidnapped and tortured Commander McGarrett in an underground bunker some years ago," he summarized blandly. "Lamar is my middle name."
Danny started, then flushed immediately after, angry and embarrassed that he had somehow forgotten. A thousand thoughts crowded his mind: Did this mean it was Danny's fault Steve had been kidnapped this time? How long had Foster been out of prison? Had Danny seen Foster recently and somehow failed to recognize him? Could all of this have been prevented? Heart ramming anew, Danny twisted his head around to look at the man behind him. "When did you get out? Or did you escape?"
"I was released three years ago."
"Excuse me, years?" Pause. "You've just now come back to finish the job?"
Foster chuffed humorously. "Detective, I've had three years to finish the job. Don't you think your partner would be dead now if that's what I wanted?"
"What else am I supposed to think? That you wanted us to throw you a 'Welcome Home' party?" Head pressed against the wall, Danny closed his eyes and listened to Foster rifle through his desk. "Your friend Scott- he knows about your beef with Steve, right? He does the kidnapping and delivers Steve to you with a big, fancy bow on top, Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday all in one. You show up, finish what you started, and then come down here to clean up the loose ends."
"Detective Williams, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn't still be talking," Lamar replied with a hint of irritation.
He had a point, Danny grudgingly admitted. Why was he still alive? Unable to come up with a good explanation, Danny finally asked, "So what now?"
Lamar slid the desk drawer shut and gripped Danny's arm, pulling him around. "Now we go for a drive."
…
With the gun still against the Danny's back, Lamar guided him down the back stairs, avoiding the front lobby. Danny wondered if anyone were watching the cameras. Since no one came after them, he guessed not.
"You have bolt cutters?" Lamar asked suddenly as they strode across the parking lot.
"Yeah. In the trunk." Belatedly, Danny remembered Steve's grenade stash was there as well and hoped Lamar- Foster- didn't look too closely at the spare tire well.
The back of the lot was dark under the kukui trees, and Danny cursed under his breath as Lamar pulled him to a halt. Stupid, Williams, letting him get the drop on you. Stupid for not recognizing him. Stupid for not calling Duke when you had the chance. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chided himself, but it was too late to change that now.
Foster didn't bother to ask which one of the three cars was Danny's; he just pressed a button on Danny's keys and the car announced itself.
"Up against the hood," the ex-con ordered, pushing Danny toward the vehicle.
Danny leaned forward and felt one cuff come free, but the gun remained pressed firmly against his back. Danny debated whether to try one of Steve's patented 'Crazy SEAL Ninja' moves, but thought the better of it. At the end of the day, he wasn't Steve; unless he had a very clear opportunity, he decided he would be better off playing along like a good little hostage. No point in getting himself shot and making them both victims.
"Cuff yourself to the wheel," Foster ordered next, stepping back.
"If you want the car-"
"I don't want the car."
It had been worth a try. Danny sighed as he sat down in the driver's seat and slid the open ring around the steering wheel. "Now what?"
Foster closed the door, moved around to the other side, and slid in. He pointed the gun in Danny's direction. "Drive."