Chapter 5

"And that's all you remember?" Chin asked as they all sat around the conference room table the next morning.

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands, then dropped them down to the table. "Yeah. That's it."

Steve was still tired, having slept only three or four fitful hours after finally getting to bed the night before. After remembering what happened on the ship, he had stayed up even later telling it to Danny twice, and even recorded it once on his iPhone, afraid he might forget it again. Then, this morning, he told it two more times to Danny, Chin, and Kono at Five-0 Headquarters.

"Well, it's a start," Chin replied. "I'll start pulling the registration paperwork for all the boats and ships docked in Honolulu the week you went missing. We'll take a look and see if anything pops."

Steve nodded, forever glad he had such a capable team. "Thanks, Chin."

"No worries, brah. We're just glad to have you back." Chin smiled and stood, walking out to get started on the smart table.

"And don't forget," Kono added, "this is really good news."

"Yeah? How's that?" Steve asked.

Because being held captive was never good news in Steve's book, even if it happened 19 months ago. Being captured meant you let someone get the drop on you and in this case, it had happened twice. It was as humiliating as it was unforgivable. And hardly a stellar day for a SEAL.

Kono smiled at Steve kindly. "It means your memory's not gone for good."

Steve blew out a large breath. It wasn't much of a consolation, but it was something. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Kono reached over and patted Steve's hand, reassuringly. "I am. We'll get your memory back and then we'll get these guys. You'll see." She smiled again, then rose and walked out of the conference room to help Chin.

Steve had no doubt he would get the men from the ship. All he needed was for his memory to cooperate.

And that was the hard part. If the ship lights were any indication, his memories were all there, just waiting for him to access them. But finding what prompted them was difficult, considering the triggers appeared to be arbitrary. Steve had taken the shade off the lamp in his bedroom and stared at the bulb for what seemed like forever after he went to bed, hoping it would produce another memory. But all he got for his trouble was a miserable night's sleep and an overwhelming desire to throw his lamp out the window. It was clear the light bulbs had yielded all of their clues; he would have to find something else. And to a man who liked order, the randomness of it all was driving him crazy.

"Hey," Danny said, interrupting Steve's thoughts, "why don't you go catch a nap in your office? I'll let you know when we have something."

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine. I just need some coffee and I'll be awake."

"Nobody will think any less of you if you take it easy today," Danny said, trying to persuade him.

It didn't work.

Steve looked at Danny incredulously. "How long have you known me?"

"Long enough," Danny said with a shrug and a hint of a smile. "But it was worth a shot." He stood up from the conference table and inclined his head toward the door. "C'mon. Let's see if Kono bought any of that icky soy milk you like so much."

*H50*

Kono had indeed bought soy milk on the way in. Low-fat vanilla, in fact. His favorite.

Not that it really helped, Steve reflected, as he downed his fourth cup of coffee that morning. Usually, he held himself to one cup; maybe two. But that was it; he didn't want to risk the caffeine making him jittery. However, since he was still barely awake after the second cup, the third and fourth came in quick succession, downed with hardly a second thought.

They stood around the smart table all morning, looking at pictures of boats and ships that were docked in Honolulu when Steve went missing. Steve sighed and shook his head. None of the ships looked familiar. None of the ship names rang a bell. And Steve's memory remained locked down tight, much to his growing frustration.

"Why don't we take a break," Chin finally suggested around noon. "We can expand the scope after lunch—pull in more weeks of data and more ports besides Honolulu. Maybe we'll find something then."

Steve could only hope Chin was right.

*H50*

Lunch was a subdued affair, with Danny, Chin, and Kono periodically throwing nervous glances at Steve, who barely even picked at his grilled chicken with pesto and provolone on whole grain bread, while they tried to keep the conversation upbeat.

Steve didn't say much of anything, and only listened half-heartedly, as his mind kept churning.

"Look, maybe I should just call Catherine," he finally said. "She might be able to find something."

Instantly, the conversation stopped and the room grew silent. Danny, Chin, and Kono all looked over at Steve, then quickly at each other, as if trying to decide who would be the spokesman of the group.

Steve noticed. "What?" he asked, a sense of dread creeping up on him.

After a few more glances, Danny cleared his throat, evidently having won the silent election. "I've been meaning to tell you this, but it didn't seem like a good time, with your amnesia and all…" he waved his hand towards Steve, encompassing his injuries as his voice trailed off.

Steve's stomach flipped, nauseated. "What is it? Did something happen to her?" he demanded, while at the same time, afraid to hear the answer.

"No, nothing like that," Danny reassured, shaking his head. "It's just…" he paused, apparently gathering his thoughts before continuing, "…she took things hard after you disappeared. She waited for you. And she looked for you. But after a year or so, she just couldn't be in Hawaii anymore." Danny shifted uncomfortably in his chair before continuing. "She said it made her too sad, thinking about you all the time. So she transferred to DC, Steve. To a desk job."

Steve sat there, dumbfounded for a moment. But only for a moment.

"Do you have her number?" he asked.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "I'll get it for you."

"You know what?" Steve said, rising from the table. "Never mind. I remember her cell."

*H50*

An hour later, Steve was in a slightly better mood.

He'd been able to reach Catherine and they talked for almost 45 minutes, catching up and saying what needed to be said. It wasn't until after they hung up that Steve realized he didn't ask her for help.

But that was ok. She would visit the first week she could get off from work; they could try to sort out their personal relationship then. As for the professional one… he would just put it on hold. After putting Cath through 19 months of agony, Steve couldn't bring himself to call her back and ask for a favor. She'd been through enough. It was time he started treating her like, well, like a whatever she was, and not like a source of Intel.

"So, where are we?" he asked as he joined the others in the bullpen.

"I expanded the parameters. I'm pulling the port records for all of Oahu for the entire month you disappeared," Chin replied as he worked his magic, documents and pictures flying onto the big screen. "I should be finished in another 10 minutes or so."

"Good," Steve said with a nod. "How about you two?" he asked, walking over and joining Danny at a table covered in print-outs. Kono sat a few feet away at a desk, printing off more documents.

"You said the ship was a freighter, right?" Danny asked. Steve nodded in the affirmative. "Ok, then," Danny continued, "we're pulling all the cargo manifests of freighters, thinking you might have seen something on board; maybe what the ship was carrying."

Steve worked his jaw and nodded slowly. "That makes sense. I didn't remember seeing anything yet, but that doesn't mean I didn't see something at some point."

Danny smiled. "That's what I thought. Here," he said, pulling out a chair, "sit down and take a look."

Steve sat down and took a stack of papers Danny handed to him as Kono added another stack to the table. The first manifest was for newsprint. The second one, for goats.

"I hope I wasn't on the goat boat," Steve mumbled.

"Nice rhyme, Boss" Kono commented with a smile.

Danny couldn't help but grin, either. "Well, that would explain the smell when I picked you up. And the residual stubbornness."

Steve grinned back, still scanning the document. "I thought we already established I was stubborn before I disappeared."

"We did. But that still leaves the smell…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Steve said dismissively. "I took a shower."

"And the Camaro and I thank you for it."

Steve snorted. "What, are the two of you going steady or something now? When did the Camaro become a person?"

Danny shrugged. "Since you disappeared and I started talking to myself. She's a really good listener, by the way; much better than you. She even lets me pick the music."

Steve looked up and grinned. "Would you like for me to disappear again so you can go back to listening to bad music and talking to your car like the crazy cat lady?"

"Well," Danny hedged, grinning, "we did go to all the trouble of looking for you. It seems like a waste to dump your butt back on the pineapple farm so soon."

"That's what I thought," Steve said, still grinning, as he put the goat manifest aside.

He flipped through several more invoices—chemicals, meat, jewelry, aircraft parts, motor oil—until one manifest caught his eye.

It was for a freighter from Vietnam for silk; raw silk, to be precise.

Steve stared at the words—raw silk. Silk was a common export from China and Southeast Asia. But something about that word combination seemed… familiar.

Kono noticed Steve's concentration. "Boss, is there something wrong?" she asked.

Raw silk… raw silk…

Steve wanted to laugh.

There was no way he would ever allow Stickers to use him. And if Stickers thought so, then he was delusional.

He tried to say as much but since the sock was still in Steve's mouth, talking was impossible.

Stickers looked over at Bert and inclined his head toward Steve. Bert immediately walked over and ripped the duct tape from Steve's mouth, clearly relishing the small amount of pain he was able to inflict on Steve in retaliation for the incident in the stairs.

The duct tape now gone, Steve spit the sock out onto the table and coughed a few times. His mouth was as dry as a desert but he wasn't about to ask for water. He worked his mouth for a few moments, trying to gather enough saliva to speak. Stickers, Bert, and Ernie just watched, apparently amused, which angered Steve all the more. But he remained calm. Deadly calm.

Finally, he was able to talk. "I will never help you," he said, his voice dry and grating, and the mere effort of speaking made him cough several times.

"But you haven't even heard my offer yet," Stickers pointed out. "I think you'll find it would be good for both of us."

Steve shook his head. "I don't need to hear your offer," he rasped, licking his dry, cracked lips before continuing. "The answer is no."

Stickers shook his head. "Things will go so much better for you if you just agree now," he warned.

But Steve wasn't scared. He had been in a lot of tight situations before, both as a SEAL and with Five-0. And one thing he learned over the years was that half the time, the bad guys were bluffing. He had to hope this was one of those times. And even if it wasn't, the game wasn't over yet. Instead of dwelling on maybes, he would be better off keeping his cool and trying to find a way out of this situation. And the longer he could keep the conversation going, the more time he would have to figure something out before things got ugly.

"I'm not afraid of you," Steve replied.

"Maybe not." Stickers cocked his head and looked Steve straight in the eye before continuing. "But I think you'll find I can be really… persuasive."

"There is nothing you can possibly say to make me work with you," Steve said plainly, as if trying to explain something to an obstinate child.

Stickers shook his head again, almost like he pitied Steve. "You still don't get it." He looked over his shoulder and jerked his head toward the door. Ernie opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. Stickers turned back to Steve and smiled as he waited.

Steve used the time to covertly work on his bindings, which he had been doing ever since he woke up at the table. But they still would not budge. Whoever tied him up knew what they were doing, which was hardly a reassuring thought.

But criminals still bluff half the time, Steve reminded himself. Maybe Wang Lee had already used up the bad half- the deadly, non-bluffing half- leaving Steve a bit more leverage. After all, if Stickers really wanted Steve dead, he'd already be dead, no matter what Stickers said about cowardice. But instead, Steve was alive. That meant he was valuable.

Why? He didn't know.

But things of value were hard to part with, even for criminals.

Especially for criminals.

Stickers was bluffing. Steve was sure of it.

Until the door opened.

And suddenly, Steve wasn't sure anymore.

Ernie shoved a girl toward Stickers, who grabbed her by the arm roughly and turned her to face Steve. The girl was young—nine, maybe ten at most. She was thin, wearing an old, faded, pink-flowered dress, and clearly trembling. Her long brown hair was unkempt and it looked like she had not bathed in days. Steve couldn't pinpoint her nationality because she was staring down at the table, but she was definitely Asian.

Stickers took the girl by the chin, forcing her to look up. She bit her lip and cried but still did not look at Steve as tears flowed silently down her face. Stickers either didn't notice or didn't care.

Or this was exactly what he wanted in the first place.

Stickers smiled at Steve; a cold, calculating smile. He brushed the dark hair off the girl's forehead, to the side, and tucked it behind her ear. The little girl shuddered, but did not move.

Steve felt sick.

"She's lovely, isn't she?" Stickers asked, still stroking the girl's hair. "The finest 'raw silk' in all of Asia."

Steve felt even more sick.

"You see," Stickers continued, "this is what we import on this ship. Raw silk. You'd be surprised to know how many people can't wait to get their hands on a girl like her."

Actually, Steve knew all too well how large the demand for children was. But that didn't make the current situation any less nauseating. Or infuriating.

Steve wanted to leap across the table and strangle Stickers with his bare hands. He knew Bert and Ernie would kill him if he did, but it would almost be worth it anyway. But his hands were still bound behind his back and if he killed Stickers, what would become of the little girl?

As hard as it was, he knew he had to remain cool. Remain calm. Think of a way out of this, both for him and the girl- that was really the only option.

Stickers dropped his hand from the girl's hair and looked at Steve. "As I was telling you before, we can work out something that benefits us both."

Steve clenched his jaw. "What's that?"

He really didn't care what Stickers had in mind, but knowing what it was couldn't hurt. Steve might be able to leverage it back against him.

"There are a lot of cops in Hawaii and Asia who don't like what we do," Stickers began. "They want to shut us down. Many of them can be bought, of course, but that really cuts into our profits." Stickers shook his head, as if it was the worst thing in the world. Not the trafficking of innocent children, but the loss of money.

"But if we had you," Stickers continued, "you could help us evade the authorities altogether. No jail. No bribes. Just us, running our business, without the local cops sticking their noses in and their hands out. Sounds great, doesn't it?"

Steve thought it sounded horrendous but didn't say so; he still needed stall for time.

"So, I'm your 'get out of jail free card'," Steve clarified tersely. "What do I get in return?"

Stickers leaned forward, his arms on the table. "You get to live." He smiled. "And if you do well, I'll give you a share of the profits. And if you do your job really well, I might let you keep a girl for your own."

Steve shook his head, the bile rising in his throat. He was disgusted and repulsed by everything Stickers had said; everything he stood for.

"There is no way I'm helping you," he spat at Stickers for what seemed like the hundredth time, his calm beginning to erode.

Stickers sighed heavily. "I was afraid you were going to say that." He looked over his shoulder at Ernie, who handed him a Glock. Stickers pulled back on the slide, loading a round into the chamber, and then leveled the pistol at the little girl's head. She began to sob even harder, her thin dress now wet from tears.

And Steve's calm dissolved.

He tried to hold back the onslaught of déjà vu, but it was too strong. He couldn't help but remember what happened the last time an innocent person had a gun held to their head because of him. But this time, he told himself, it would be different.

It would be.

It had to be.

Stickers intent was obvious, but he confirmed it anyway.

"You will help us," he said, "or she dies."

Steve didn't doubt him; not for one second. Stickers wasn't bluffing anymore, and evidently, he never had been. It bothered Steve that he had miscalculated and misjudged him. But that didn't bother him nearly as much as much as the fact that while Steve was valuable to Stickers, the little girl clearly was not. He would kill her. He would kill her and not even blink.

Stickers watched as the emotion flickered across Steve's face for a brief second.

And he pressed harder.

"If you don't agree, do you know what will happen?" Stickers asked, playing off Steve's thinly veiled emotions. "I'll kill her. And then I'll bring in another girl and I'll kill her, too."

No… no… no…

"This could go on all day." Stickers smiled a sickening smile, going in for the kill. "I have plenty of raw silk available."

Steve sat there, horrified, his mind reeling.

"So, Commander McGarrett," Stickers asked, his voice completely calm, "what's it going to be?"

To be continued…