Chapter 13

Steve grabbed Zhào's right hand, jerking it upward right as the gun went off.

The bullet whizzed dangerously close to Steve's ear but missed, going wide and lodging in one of the leather-bound volumes in the bookcase. They wrestled for the gun and two more shots fired off in quick succession. The first one ricocheted off the fireplace and into the side of the sofa where Steve had been sitting just moments before. The second shot shattered a light bulb and several pendalogues in the ornate chandelier overhead. The crystals splintered and shattered, sending shards of glass raining down upon them like jagged icicles as they fought.

They continued to struggle for the upper hand and control of the gun until Steve found an opening seconds later. Zhào hesitated and Steve whipped him around, twisting Zhào's right arm behind his back, and used his body as a shield, trusting that the bodyguard would not shoot for fear of hitting his employer. He hoped it would work as the guard holding Steve's boots dropped them and also drew a handgun, making it three armed men against one unarmed SEAL.

The odds were stacked against him, but Steve wasn't about to go down without a fight. It would have been easier if Zhào was a soft, middle-aged man with more bark than bite. But he wasn't. He was muscular and fit, and as he rammed his left elbow backwards, trying to knock Steve off his back, it became obvious he was also ruthless and would waste no time before capitalizing on Steve's injuries. Not that Steve could blame the man—it's exactly what he would do if their roles were reversed.

Steve grimaced and grunted as Zhào's elbow made contact with his cracked ribs. The bandages wrapped around his torso kept the bones secure but did nothing to prevent the unavoidable onslaught of pain. Still, he kept his grip tight on Zhào's arm with his right hand, not giving him an inch, and wrapped left arm around Zhàos' neck from behind, going for a choke hold.

But Zhào wasn't going to go down that easily. Again, he drove his left elbow backwards forcefully into Steve's ribs as he simultaneously lifted his right foot and slammed it down as hard as he could on Steve's big toe. The combination of stomping on his missing toenail and hitting the broken ribs again were too much. And while Steve did not let go, his grip was loosened just enough that Zhào was able to break free.

He quickly turned and tried to level the SIG at Steve's chest. He was too close to stretch out his arm and aim properly, but it did not matter. At this range, any hit would be fatal.

Steve didn't even stop to think. He just reacted-just like he'd been trained, just like he had practiced- to subvert a scenario that he always hoped would never happen but somehow always did. He jumped forward, closing the foot or two that separated them, and reached for the gun, trying to change its trajectory.

He didn't even have time to pray that it would be enough as the gun went off.

For a moment, neither man moved.

But their bodies were pressed together too closely for the bullet to have missed.

One of them had been hit.

One of them would die.

The question was, which one?

Steve was fairly certain it wasn't him. After all, he didn't feel anything.

But maybe that was the problem- not feeling anything was a sign of shock. And Zhào's face, mere inches away from his, mirrored the same wide-eyed, yet blank look Steve knew he was wearing himself.

Time seemed to stand still as neither man moved. Neither man flinched.

Then Steve felt something wet spread across his chest and the air was filled with the unmistakable smell of warm blood.

And one man began to fall.

And Steve had never been so happy in his whole life that it wasn't him.

But the fight wasn't over yet.

He held onto Zhào's gun as the man crumpled to the floor, dead, and immediately trained it on the first bodyguard. Steve was about to ask the man to surrender when he saw the bodyguard's finger tense slightly. Steve dove sideways behind the sofa as the man popped off a few rounds which lodged harmlessly into the sofa's wooden frame.

Steve came up from a roll and fired, hitting the first bodyguard in the right shoulder. The man cried out and dropped immediately, clutching his now useless firing arm. Steve quickly swung his gun around to the second bodyguard, who was scrambling to find cover behind the desk.

"Freeze!" he yelled, but the man didn't stop.

Instead, he aimed his gun at Steve, giving him no choice but to fire. The man dove and landed behind the desk before Steve could see if his bullets had found their mark. He could wait and see if the man popped back up or he could go on the offensive.

The choice was easy. Steve had never been one to wait. He quickly got up and ran in a crouch, making his way over the second guard to see if he was down.

He wasn't.

The guard had rolled onto his back and was starting to swing his gun up for a shot when Steve kicked it out of his hand, sending it skittering across the room.

"Stay down!" Steve commanded, his gun trained at the man's head.

The guard was positively seething but he did as he was told.

"Good choice," Steve nodded. He kept his gun trained on the guard as he backtracked and picked up the first guard's gun, then moved a few feet away to pick up the second gun tucking them into the back of his waistband as he went.

The room now secure, he walked back over to the desk, his SIG still trained at the prone man's head.

"What's your name?" Steve asked, his chest heaving.

"Ling," the bodyguard spat out, his dislike for Steve practically radiating from his body.

"Well, then, Mr. Ling," Steve said curtly, "it looks like you work for me now, whether you like it or not." Then he smiled. "It's time for you to start earning your keep."

*H50*

Less than an hour later, Ling opened the door to the conference room and held it open.

"Mr. Song to see you, sir," he announced, complete with a courteous bow.

"Thank you, Mr. Ling," Steve replied, breaking away from the group of men to meet his latest guest.

Since the fight, Steve had changed clothes, exchanging his blood soaked shirt and suit for a fresh one, courtesy of Mr. Zhào's extensive closet. He had also showered, carefully scrubbing his body to remove all traces of gunpowder. He washed the blood from his knuckles, where his stitches had reopened during the fight, as well as from his neck, where he found and removed a small shard of glass from the chandelier that had lodged dangerously close to his right carteroid artery. He then carefully rewrapped his right hand with clean gauze and bandaged his neck where it would not be visible underneath his shirt collar. He had paid attention to every detail and there was nothing left to indicate he had just been involved in a firefight. Even his freshly shampooed hair was dry.

Ling nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Sir?" Song said with a laugh as he clapped Steve on the back. "McGarrett, how'd you get Zhào's man to call you that?"

Steve smiled back. "I could tell you…"

"Let me guess," Song joked with a grin, "but then you'd have to kill me."

Steve smiled back. "Probably. Would you like a drink?" he asked, gesturing toward the large decanter of scotch in the center of the table and two remaining crystal tumblers.

"Yes," Song replied with a nod, blowing out a large breath. "I could use one after the day we had today."

Steve poured a generous amount of scotch and handed it to Song. "I agree. By the way, I'm sorry about all of that."

Song waved his hand dismissively. "You got me out in the end and that's what matters." He took a sip and then he smiled. "Besides, seeing you tell off your old partner was worth it. You, chasing that pimp onto my boat, was the best thing that ever happened to this operation."

Steve nodded and grinned. "I agree." Then he glanced at his watch. "If you'll excuse me," he said, then walked over to the five other men laughing in the corner.

Steve had never met most of Zhào's men before this night, but he knew exactly who they were. They were the rest of captains, the men who trafficked girls from Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia. If a country had a viable port and a supply of poor people desperate for hope of a better life, Zhào was there, ready with a ship and a route. And for the first time since Steve jumped onto Song's boat 19 months ago, they were all assembled in one place.

"Gentlemen," Steve said, gesturing toward the table.

The men looked a bit confused as to why Steve was giving the directions, as did Song, but they made their way to their seats anyway.

The conference room was large, even larger than the study, with a large oval shaped table inlaid with tiger wood residing in the center of the room. Ringing it were a dozen tall, black-leather chairs, in which the men were now sitting, their crystal tumblers of scotch placed on the table in front of them. To the left was a door, leading into the study, and on the back wall, there was another large window. The sun had already set and the only thing the window reflected back was the inside of the well-lit room. An enormous crystal chandelier, which Steve now knew was outfitted with a security camera, hung down from the middle of a large, ornate ceiling medallion.

The whole room spoke of wealth and prosperity.

And all it cost to buy it were the lives of an untold number of innocent girls.

But that didn't seem to bother its owner or the men seated around the table, ready to discuss the profitability of their operations and to laugh at each other's stories of near misses with the police and nights filled with debauchery. It didn't seem to bother them that they had taken innocent children and turned them into sex slaves for no other reason than to make a dime.

It didn't seem to bother any of them at all.

"Shall we get started?" Steve asked.

Song grinned. "Shouldn't we wait for Mr. Zhào, McGarrett?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "He's a bit indisposed at the moment."

Song laughed. "What does that mean? Did he get the party started before we got here?"

The other men chuckled appreciatively at the joke.

Steve smiled indulgently. "Something like that. But don't worry," he continued, "he made me his lieutenant before you arrived. I'm perfectly authorized to run this meeting in his absence."

The laughter stopped as the ship captains looked at each other and traded confused expressions, the disappointment clear on each of their faces. Evidently, they all wanted the job and Zhào had not shared his choice with anyone.

Finally, it was Song who spoke up. "No offense, McGarrett, but we'll need to hear that from Mr. Zhào himself."

Steve sighed. "That's going to be a little hard, Song," he replied, walking to the door.

Song shifted uneasily in his chair. "Why's that?"

Steve opened the door to the study and stepped aside, revealing its contents to the curious captains.

"Because I killed him forty-five minutes ago."

The men craned their necks and gawked at Zhào, laid out on the floor, obviously dead from a gunshot wound to the chest, his eyes open and staring into nothingness. Beside him was one of his bodyguards, alive but face-down, gagged and hogtied, a bloody bandage covering his right shoulder.

"Which makes me… your new boss," Steve finished.

He watched with satisfaction as the realization sunk in. Life as the captains had known it had changed. There was a new sheriff in town, one who had not only killed Zhào but had won the loyalty of his butler and bodyguard, Mr. Ling, all in less than one hour.

As soon as they understood that fact, hope began to flicker across their faces. Evidently, there was no love lost over a dead boss when there was a new position of power to be gained.

Song was the one to voice it first, clearly hoping his familiarity with McGarrett would give him the inside track. "So, McGarrett, have you given any thought to who you would like to make your lieutenant?"

Steve smiled and nodded. "As a matter of fact, I have."

As if on cue, the door from the hallway burst open, and Danny, Chin, and Kono barged in wearing full tactical gear, their guns drawn.

"Hands up!" Danny yelled as they moved in, HPD reinforcements sweeping in both from behind them and from the open study door.

Everyone in the room froze, but as reinforcements continued to sweep in, they slowly began to comply.

Everyone… except for Steve.

"Gentlemen," Steve said with a single nod of his head, "I'd like for you to meet my choice for lieutenant- Lieutenant Danny Williams of Five-0."

*H50*

Thirty minutes later, the men had all been read their Miranda rights and were in HPD custody.

Their phones had been seized, providing a wealth of contact information. Their crystal tumblers of scotch had been bagged, securing their DNA and fingerprints for identification as well as for matching to evidence left at prior crime scenes. Their weapons had been confiscated from Mr. Ling, who had taken them at the door, and would be handed over to Fong and the crime lab soon for ballistics comparisons. In the meantime, Chin oversaw the collection and possession of the evidence, ensuring a clean chain of command that would undoubtedly result in many life sentences.

Mr. Ling also found himself in cuffs but clinging to the promise of the good word Steve said he would put in for him if he cooperated before the captains arrived for the evening.

And Steve got the satisfaction of watching Kono direct HPD as they placed the men into police cruisers and hauled them off to jail. Song was the last to be led out, his hands in cuffs behind his back. Steve stopped the HPD officer as he passed, asking for a word.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Song growled as the officer stopped.

Steve smiled. "I just wanted to tell you that you were right before."

"How's that?" Song asked, confused, and Steve could see the glimmer of hope returning to his eyes—the hope that Steve was just playing another angle and that Song would be out of jail before dawn.

It was a hope that Steve was all too happy to crush.

Steve stepped forward, moving closer to Song, before his smile faded and his face turned dark. "Me, running onto your boat chasing Wang Lee," he explained, his voice low, "was the best thing that ever happened to this operation."

Then he stepped back and watched with satisfaction as Song's face turned to stone. "Officer," Steve said, his deathly gaze still fixed on Song, "get him out of here."

The HPD officer immediately complied and Steve watched expressionless as Song was led to the cruiser and unceremoniously shoved inside, the door closing after him with a resounding thud. The car pulled away and Steve continued to watch until the lights disappeared down the mountainside.

He didn't even realize Kono was beside him until she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Boss… you ok?" she asked gently.

Steve waited a beat before he nodded. "Yeah, Kono. I'm fine."

Then they turned and walked inside together.

In the hallway, they passed the crime lab techs who had just arrived. Steve quickly grabbed Charlie Fong and directed him and his colleagues to the file cabinets in the small study.

"I want all of the contents catalogued as evidence," he ordered. "All the details of their operations are inside. Names of contacts, addresses of holding cells, lists and home towns of all the girls they've abducted or bought—it's all in there. If you have any questions, ask Officer Kalakaua," he said, looking to her as she nodded her acceptance of overseeing the task.

Steve left the gathering of evidence in her capable hands and went off to find Danny. He found him in on his cell phone in Zhào's study. Danny looked up when he entered and held up a finger, indicating for Steve to wait.

Steve looked around as Danny held the phone to his ear, obviously listening. The paramedics had already been there and left, carting off the bodyguard that Steve shot in the shoulder, and the only evidence he had ever been there was a blood stain on the rug. However, the coroner had yet to get there and Zhào's sightless eyes still stared into space.

Steve never intended to kill the man; and he never wanted to be him, either. He'd just said that to throw Zhào off his game and try to create doubt and hesitancy in the minds of his bodyguards. His plan had always been stop the trafficking ring and bring Zhào to justice for his crimes. But as he stood there, looking down at Zhào's body, Steve couldn't help but think that a violent death couldn't have happened to a better person. He hoped hell was especially hot for him.

Steve's thoughts were broken when Danny spoke.

"You found all of them?" he clarified, his eyebrows rising as he talked on the phone. Then he glanced at his watch. "Ok, take them now, but make sure it's simultaneous. We can't have them tipping each other off. We'll be there in thirty," he concluded before disconnecting his phone.

"They located all the ships?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "Yes. Although, apparently your ship was a bit harder to find than the rest." He snorted softly. "Imagine that—even your ship is difficult."

But Steve didn't reply to the friendly barb. Instead, he dragged his hands down his face in relief.

It was going to work. This plan- this crazy plan he and Danny hatched in two minutes in the stairwell, after his memory came back and Danny drove the Camaro onto the Aliʻiōlani Hale's lawn but before he quit and stormed out of the office, allowing Five-0 and HPD to coordinate the details all afternoon while Steve kept his cover with Song intact- was actually going to work.

After 19 months of lies, deception, constant vigilance, and the never-ending fear of being found out, it was almost too much to believe.

They were really going down, all of them.

Zhào. Song. The other boat captains Steve had just met tonight. And all of their crews.

He really was going to get them all.

Well, not just him.

It had started with Steve all those months ago, but tonight, it would end with his team.

It was the way it should have been all along, and how he would have preferred for it to be, but the risk had been too great. If Steve had been found out, if his self-imposed cover had been blown, he had no doubt Qīng Lài and all the other girls would have paid with their lives. And he would have been dead as well.

But with Zhào dead and the rest of the captains in custody, it was almost over. They had made it this far and there was only one step left.

It was time to get moving.

"Do they know to stay away from my quarters when they get to my ship?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "I made that abundantly clear." Then he clasped his partner on the shoulder and smiled.

"Now, let's go get her."

To be continued…