AN: Many thanks to all my readers and reviewers! This chapter brings in a character that you may or may not remember in "The Streets of San Francisco" series. Some fun - who can tell me which episode he came from? Hint: Season 1.

This chapter has been beta read.

Chapter 21

Folsom Street, San Francisco, 1972

Pulling his dark jacket closed as the wind grew colder, Dan Williams walked along Folsom Street. Foot traffic dwindled when residential houses came into view. His head began to throb and the dizzy spells became more frequent. The detective wasn't sure how much longer he could keep on walking. Fewer cars were passing by and he had no idea where he was. All he could think about was going to Chinatown. But how in the world am I going to get there without any money? Then a thought occurred to him. It was something he didn't feel comfortable doing, but what other choices did he have? Standing on the edge of the curb, Dan held out an arm and hitched his thumb up and started hailing down cars.

…..

Residence of Officer Ramon Cardenas, Folsom Street, San Francisco, 1972

Ramon Cardenas strode out of his front door and noticed to his annoyance an unmarked patrol car was parked nearby. He hadn't heard from Tate or any of his men, which probably meant they suspected the phone lines were tapped into. Not one to sit idly at home, Cardenas contemplated on taking a drive to calm his nerves but after realizing he'd only be followed, thought that perhaps if he was on foot he could lose them someplace where cars can't go. It had been a good couple of days since he had a beer and his dry pallet was screaming for a drink at the Hotel not far from where he lived. Well fellas, if you're gonna follow me, you might as well buy me a drink.

As he walked up the street, he took a sidelong glance to see if the dark LTD would enter his field of vision. So far, he gathered they would probably let him walk a little further before passing him. Then they would wait for him at the lights until he caught up with them, all the while keeping an eye on him through the rear vision mirror. He knew the drill all too well having been on stake outs and patrols before. It was oddly strange being on the other side of the law, yet he could predict every move they made as if he were the one controlling them. A figure unsuccessfully hailing down cars caught his eye. Ain't nobody gonna pick you up, buddy! Cardenas snorted before doing a double take when something about the hitcher reminded him of someone. As he drew nearer he took in the man's height, clothing and parts of his face below the cap. Well, I'll be damned! Cardenas could hardly believe his eyes. Nor could he believe his luck. Here he was walking down the very street he lived on and the man he tried to silence was only a few feet away. How ironic, he thought, that he went to great lengths to even get near the man when all he needed to do was wait a day for the opportunity to fall right into his lap. Damn that Sean Tate for his impatience! A car pulled up in front of him and Williams stepped inside. Cardenas quickly made a mental note of the licence plate details and the make of the car as he continued walking toward the public phone at the corner of the street. If he can't get to Williams, he knew someone who could. Someone who wanted nothing more than to end the detective's life once and for all. But first he needed to find out the registration of the car.

…..

Alabama Street, San Francisco, 1972

The Ford Galaxy drove down the length of Alabama Street for the second time, keeping a look out for the missing detective.

"We've been going up and down all these streets for almost an hour, Mike. I'm telling you, he couldn't have gotten very far. Where is he?" Keller mused aloud.

"Well, there's nowhere between here and the hospital that he could've used as a hideout. I'd say, since he probably had no money on him, he's hitched a ride." Stone answered, still scanning the street on both sides.

"Central to Inspectors 8-1, do you copy?" The radio crackled to life and the Lieutenant reached for the mike beneath the dash.

"Inspectors 8-1. I read you."

"We got a call in from one of our patrol vehicles tailing Cardenas. Williams' has been sighted on Folsom Street, entering a dark green sedan, possibly a Buick Riviera, 1967 model."

"Registration?"

"Waiting on DMV."

"10-4"

"Well buddy boy, we may not have to search much longer. Let's head back to the office and give McGarrett a head's up though I have a feeling he already knows, in which case he'll be waiting for us." Stone informed his partner as he replaced the mike under the dash.

…..

Folsom Street, San Francisco, 1972

As the Buick drove down the long road, Dan Williams leaned his head against the glass of the passenger door. The pain in his skull had gotten worse and he was now feeling nauseous. The driver glanced worriedly at his passenger. He had pulled over to give the young stranger a ride. The young man said he needed to get to Chinatown and though the driver was heading to the Embarcadero, he told his passenger Chinatown was not too far out of his way. There was something about the way the young man hid his face beneath the cap and the way he carried himself that troubled the driver. He'd met and helped junkies get themselves cleaned up for half his life. The man beside him didn't look like a user but he was definitely on edge about something and maybe could use some help. He also suspected he was ill or hurt.

"What's your name, kid?" the gruff voice asked in a kind manner.

"Danny." The young detective replied uncertainly. The name still sounded strange to his own ears even though it was the name that everyone he'd seen had called him since he woke up in the hospital. It was not a name he was familiar with, no matter how many times he repeated it in his mind over and over again. It still sounded foreign to him.

"I'm Father Scarne. Where are you from, Danny? You don't look like a local," the priest attempted a conversation

"Hawaii." Dan replied curtly.

"Where about's in Hawaii? Are you from the Big Island?"

"Honolulu." Dan muttered. He wished this Father Scarne would stop with the questions. His head felt like it was going to split in two. He closed his eyes and pretended to be dozing off.

"Look, Danny, if you're in some kind of trouble, maybe I can help. Sometimes just talking about one's troubles can put the mind at ease." Scarne continued.

"I'm fine." Dan's stomach churned sickeningly and he had a feeling if Father Scarne expected to hear another word from him, it won't be just words spilling out of his mouth.

"If you change your mind –" Father Scarne began but stopped when he noticed the young man was hunched over, clutching his midsection. "Hey are you okay?" Scarne pulled the car over to the curb and the young man fumbled with the seat belt with one hand and the door handle with the other. The priest maybe past his middle years but his reflexes were still sharp. He helped free the young passenger out of the seatbelt and saw him push open the door. Scarne removed his own seat belt and climbed out of the driver's side door then rushed over to where Dan was on all fours, retching.

"Easy, kid, easy." Scarne placed his hand on the young man's back and gave it a gentle rub until the illness subsided then he helped him get to his feet. Dan's cap had fallen off his head and Father Scarne could now see that the young man was hurt. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead and bruises could be seen just below it.

"I'm sorry. If you could point me in the general direction, I think I'll walk the rest of the way." Dan said in between heaves.

"You're in no condition to be walking around! We're only half way to Chinatown. You'll never make it on foot. Look, kid, I got a place you can stay for the night. I'm sure whatever's in Chinatown can wait until tomorrow when you're feeling better. What do you say, huh?"

Dan looked up at the kind, lined face and nodded hesitantly. He knew the older man was right. There was no way he was going to even make it ten feet before he fell flat on his face. With the priest's hand about his shoulder he allowed himself to be guided back into the car.

…

Hotel on Folsom, San Francisco, 1972

The Latino officer slipped his last quarter into the coin slot of the phone booth and dialled the number that would connect him to the very man he wanted to speak to. Turning away from the jukebox, he placed a hand over his other ear to shut out the blaring music issuing from it. Every now and then he cast his eyes over to the front entrance for any sign of his old buddies following his every move. He saw the same car that stood outside his home, parking across the street from the Hotel on his way in.

"It's me. I'm calling from a hotel, relax! Besides I'm the one who's standing on hot coals right now, not you! Will you just listen to what I have to say? Dan Williams is out. Yeah that's right, you heard me. I just saw him get into a car on Folsom. I couldn't believe it either. Yeah I'm sure! I was standing no more than several feet away. I'm telling you it was him! Get this, I know a guy from the DMV. I called him and talked my way into him giving me the registration details on the car. It belongs to some priest. Father Scarne. Yeah I got the address. Now, I can't go out there. I have a couple of tails I can't shake loose but you can. I'm betting if you talk to this guy, he'll tell you where he dropped off Williams. He's a priest and won't lie remember? I also know just how badly hurt Williams is. He won't get far. I gotta go, they're coming into the bar." Cardenas hung up just as the two officers dressed in civilian clothing entered the premises and after a casual glance in his direction they sat themselves down at the bar.