AN: Mahalo to my readers :-) and to my beta for editing this chapter.

Chapter 10

General Hospital, Potrero Avenue, San Francisco, 1972

Stone walked into the waiting room and sighed when he saw the two men sitting in silence. He could see his partner's uneasiness and hoped that some fresh air would do them all some good. "I just got a call from Inspector Tanner. We got ourselves an address to check out." The urgency in Stone's voice did the trick and both McGarrett and Keller were on their feet. "McGarrett, since Williams will be asleep for a little while yet, it might be a good idea if you came along with us."

"Alright, lead the way. I'll follow in my car, but first I need to get a hold of Dr Moore and let him know we'll be out of reach for a couple of hours," McGarrett agreed. Stone gave a curt nod as together the three men filed out of the room.

…..

Resident of Johnny Barker, Pine Street

The overweight middle aged landlord breathed heavily as he climbed the stairs of the dilapidated apartment building, with three men following suit. Wiping the sweat from his brow, the grumbling landlord reached the landing and led the way to the door of room 38. Cursing, his pudgy fingers fumbled with the ring of master keys in his hand until he found the right one to fit the lock of the apartment door.

"Useless, good fer nuffin' kid hasn't paid his rent in over a month now, I tell ya!" The landlord spat as he gave the door a push and gestured for McGarrett, Stone and Keller to step inside. "Spends all his bread on booze and that dang school. Nuffin' but trouble. Kicked the door in a couple of months back showin' off his judo shit!"

"Thank you, Mr Stokes." McGarrett wheeled around to face the landlord who stood a head and shoulders shorter but twice the width of the detective. McGarrett's patience had clearly run its course and Mr Stokes' cussing all the way up to the fifth floor of the apartment building grinded on his nerves like finger nails raking across a chalkboard. "Well, if ya fellas need me, I'll be outside. This place reeks of all kindsa shi…"

"We'll let you know, if we need to ask you any further questions!" McGarrett's loud and clear baritone over-rode Mr Stokes's. There was only so much the detective's ears could take and this was one of those times when McGarrett felt like gagging another fellow human being, if he could call him that. Behind him, Keller and Stone exchanged amused looks but kept their thoughts to themselves as they began searching the apartment. Mr Stokes trudged out the apartment door and sat himself down on the top step with an audible sigh and more cursing which caused the detective to squeeze his eyes shut with profound annoyance.

"He's right about one thing amongst all that jargon, the kid's a mess." Keller commented, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he picked up what appeared to be dirty laundry on the living room floor in front of him.

"Looks like Mr Stokes is right about another thing. Check these out." Stone called out as he stood facing a glass cabinet perched on top of a cupboard next to the television set. Inside were three shelves lined with a collection of polished trophies, silver goblets engraved with the name of Johnny Barker on each of them, framed photographs of a young man wearing a white martial arts robe and a shield bearing a crest for a tournament dating back two years.

"Kid's pretty good." Keller remarked, his grey eyes roaming over the assemblage.

"Kajukenbo." McGarrett mused out loud as he took in the inscription engraved into the plaque in the center of the shield. A face floated to the surface of his mind and he frowned as the memories came flooding back.

"Kaju…?" Keller arched his questioningly brow at the detective beside him.

"Kajukenbo. It's a hybrid combination of boxing and several styles of martial arts including two forms of Karate, Judo, Kung Fu and Jujutsu. Philosophically, the name of the art means, through this fist style, one gains long life and happiness." McGarrett replied.

"Something troubling you, McGarrett?" Stone asked, seeing the frown deepen on the detective's face.

"Sean Tate was a renowned instructor of the art in Oahu until five years ago when I arrested him under suspicion of illegally distributing semi-automatic handguns and .38 Specials in various parts of the island. Kids as young as thirteen were sold Saturday Night Specials. Five boys, barely old enough to shave, died, three were wounded and all by guns we believe came from the same supplier. Unfortunately the evidence against him was circumstantial and we had no choice but to let him walk away a free man. I had him in my sights again the moment I heard something similar was going down here, on the mainland. Washington and the Governor of Hawaii have been well aware of Tate's movements and when the body count started again, Danny Williams was sent here to infiltrate Tate's organization and help us with the break we needed to put him away for a very long time." McGarrett detailed the Lieutenant and his young partner on the case that put his detective and best friend in hospital.

"We'll nail him this time, detective." Stone replied fervently. He could see McGarrett's desperation in his eyes to finally put the man responsible for the murders in both jurisdictions behind bars where he belonged. He also knew McGarrett had taken a more personal approach to the case since his detective was grievously harmed. It was a feeling Stone would share had it been Steve Keller lying in the hospital bed, wounded and helpless.

"Let's see what else Barker's been collecting." Said Keller as he reached out and opened the pair of cupboard doors below the cabinet. When the contents came into view, he stepped back, with an incredulous look upon his face, mimicking that of both his partner and the detective.