"We have to assume that every point of entry and exit is wired," Steve said, as they carefully made their way along the wall and toward the main exhibit hall.
"Couldn't Danny and the others just climb over?" Riley asked. "We could have dropped the ropes back over for them."
"They could have," Steve said, "but I don't like the sounds of this set-up: trigger points setting off explosions in secondary locations? Until we get a feel for the situation, the fewer potential triggers, the better."
Steve paused, putting a hand up to signal Riley to stop. She did, instantly and without question. It was uncanny, but then, Joe had trained them both. He whipped out a large knife from his boot and carefully probed at a disrupted spot in the otherwise manicured lawn. There was a flat, flexible panel embedded with circuitry.
He grinned over his shoulder at Riley. "This is why I wanted to come in quiet and small."
"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Riley whispered, looking over his shoulder.
"Only in training exercises," he said, letting go of the device with infinite care. "The IEDs we encountered in Afghanistan were much less high-tech."
He stepped around the device carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when he was safely past it. Riley followed precisely in his steps, and he nodded in approval. They continued their painstaking progress, uncovering one more device, poorly hidden at knee level in a flowering shrub.
"Not very stealthy," Riley observed, as Steve expertly clipped the wire that would have triggered the infrared motion detonator. "Are we supposed to be finding these?"
Steve started to answer, but a deafening explosion on the other side of the wall had him grabbing for his radio instead. He instinctively grabbed at Riley's vest and shoved her behind him.
"Danny, Chin," he said urgently. "Is anyone hit?"
"I don't think so," Danny said, "but we're still checking. It took out the entry gate."
Steve sighed. The gate itself was a precious artifact. "Damn it," he said. "Chin, have HPD and SWAT pull back. Aside from the bomb squad, send them all back to the highway and have them stage and hold there. We've got too many people exposed." He hesitated. He'd like to send Riley as far away from the scene as possible, but thanks to Joe, she was likely the most qualified and best trained person for the job.
"When a device is triggered, or disarmed, it sets of a device in a different location," Riley mused. "What the hell does this guy want? The devices are barely concealed. He wants us to find them?"
"He wants us to find them, or set them off. It's like a game of Russian roulette. The next one we trigger or disarm could take out the exhibit hall where the employees are holed up," Steve said. He pulled out an evidence bag and carefully sealed the device inside.
"He's holding the staff and the museum itself hostage," Riley said. "Or she. We can't assume."
Steve grinned at her. "Good girl," he murmured approvingly. He reached out and tugged her hair, which was fighting to escape its braid.
"I need a computer, and we need to know the locations of each device that was tripped, and each device that detonated," Riley said. "With that, maybe we can build -"
"- an algorithm," Steve finished. "It's worth a try." He clicked on his radio. "Chin, are you all still in contact with the curator inside? Ask where we can get to a decent computer."
"I'm on it, Steve, I'll get back to you ASAP," Chin's reply came over the radio.
Riley had pulled out her cell phone. "Jerry," she said. "I might need your help. We have a series of explosive devices: trigger or disarm one, a different one detonates. We've had . . . six? - " she looked to Steve for confirmation. "Six explosions. With that information, do you think we could build . . . yeah, that's what I was thinking. Okay. Yeah, Steve and I are going to get to a computer, I'll let you know. I was thinking you could go dark? Perfect."
"Steve," Chin's voice came over the radio, "the closest computer to your position is in the planetarium."
"Cool," Riley said absently. "I've never been to a planetarium."
Steve stopped and looked at her. A slow smile spread over his face. "You know what . . . I'm bringing Mary over, and we're going to take a week and explore this island together. There's so many things . . . places Mary and I haven't been in twenty years. Places I want to see again . . . together."
Riley beamed at him, and while he was glad that the idea pleased her, he felt a surge of anger at their mother, at Joe . . . at the forces that had cost them so much.
His thoughts were interrupted by another explosion; this time unprovoked, as far as they knew, by anything they had done.
"Danny?" Steve yelled into his radio again.
Silence stretched into one of the longest minutes of Steve's life.
Finally, the radio crackled. "Steve," came Kono's voice, "we're okay; did you guys disarm another bomb?"
"No, no we didn't touch a thing, Kono, did anyone out there trip something?" Steve said, pacing in small, careful steps.
"No, we didn't touch anything; the bomb squad wanted to try but Chin told them to stand -" Kono broke off with a gasp.
"Kono?" Steve said, his hand clenching the radio so tightly that Riley thought he might crush it.
"It's okay, just . . . this bomb took out the visitor center entrance. There was glass," she explained.
"You're hurt," Steve said. "Anyone else?"
"No, and I'm okay, boss," Kono assured him. "Danny is patching me right up."
"Random detonation," Steve said. "I don't like it. We've either got unstable devices or this guy - or woman - is toying with us. Let's get to that computer."
#*#*#*#*#
"Thanks, Jerry," Riley said. They'd found the computer easily in the planetarium office and Riley and Jerry were speaking in a language that Steve didn't even pretend to understand. His years in Naval Intelligence had served him well, and he had been able to help set up the data and the initial algorithm, but Riley kept going , her fingers flying over the keyboard.
"Did Jerry pick up any chatter on the dark net?" Steve asked. "I know you had him check."
"Nothing," Riley said, "no chatter."
Steve nodded. "This doesn't look or feel like terrorism." He paced behind Riley as the keyboard clicked furiously.
"Okay, Jerry," she said, "I've got the schematics for the grounds and buildings. Superimposing the known devices - assuming we've got every exit point on the main exhibit hall set with explosives, based on worst case scenario - and the order of detonation . . . "
Steve turned and looked at the computer screen. The order of detonation was indicated by flashing lights, repeating on a loop. He stared at it, willing his mind to settle and look for . . .
"I see it," he said. "There's a pattern."
Riley studied it, tilting her head to the side. "A system of transmitters and receivers. Some of the devices aren't intended to explode at all, they just transmit to other devices when they're triggered or disabled. How do we disable it?"
"There is going to be a primary device; one that transmits and receives," Steve said decisively. "That's the only thing that makes sense. These are too well designed for me to think that most recent explosion was random or unstable. So, in order for the bomber to place all of these devices and retreat safely, there's one primary device that turns the whole system on and off."
"So we find that device and disable it," Riley said.
"Isn't that what the bomb squad is for?" Jerry's voice floated over the speaker on Riley's cell phone.
"Jerry, is there any way you can triangulate signals from this location?" Riley asked. "This computer is pretty limited. I've got data capacity but no communications software."
Jerry hesitated.
"Jerry, we've got twenty-five civilians trapped in a building and we need to get to them and get them out safely. Some of these devices may be on timers," Steve said. Riley looked at him in alarm, realizing that was the most logical explanation for the most recent explosion. "I'm exercising the immunity and means given me by the governor and authorizing you to use whatever technology you have at your disposal to help us."
They could hear the tapping of Jerry's keyboard over the speaker.
"If we're lucky, and these devices are transmitting using a cell signal, I can tap into the local cell tower and give you a good -"
Before Jerry could finish his sentence, the sound of another explosion had Steve instinctively tackling Riley to the floor. He covered her slighter frame with his own, his big hands covering her head as plaster from the ceiling showered around them.
"Guys?" Jerry's concerned voice filtered over Riley's phone. "That sounded close."
They were okay. Steve knew they were okay, kept telling himself they were okay as he hauled himself to his feet and reached down a hand, easily pulling Riley up. He knew they were on the island, not Afghanistan. So he kept telling himself that, as he checked Riley over quickly, assuring himself that she was still in one piece.
"We're okay," he called in the general direction of the cell phone, as he pulled plaster out of Riley's hair.
"Yeah, you're gonna want to turn off the computer," Jerry said urgently.
Riley immediately went to the computer and began shutting it down.
"What is it, Jerry?" Steve asked, looking around to survey the damage. The explosion hadn't been in their room, but definitely in their building. The old, plaster walls were showing cracks. "We're going to need to get out of this building, just to be safe," he said, standing next to Riley.
"The computer was the trigger," Jerry said. "Riley and I overlaid the data with the schematics, and I have a cell signal coming right from the computer lab in the planetarium. Man, I hope there wasn't too much damage . . . I love that place . . . "
"We'll be sure to forward you the damage report," Steve said dryly. "Back to the cell signals, Jerry, are there others?"
"Yeah, if your estimates as to the number and placements of the explosives are correct, then we have a pattern of about half the devices being transmitters, and half being receivers. If Riley's algorithm is correct, then the pattern is radial - explosions getting closer and closer to the main building, where the employees are."
"Jerry, can you take that algorithm and tweak it - start tracking the data of the apparently random, non-triggered explosions," Steve said. "If some of these are on timers . . . "
"Yep, then you're going to want to see if you can track and predict a pattern there. I've got it," Jerry said.
"Okay, we're out of here," Steve said, as another chunk of plaster fell.
"Are you guys okay?" Danny's anxious voice came over the radio.
"We're okay," Steve replied, "but that was too close. Jerry's working on identifying signals."
"Let us come help you," Chin suggested. "We're pacing around out here doing nothing."
"Right now just keeping yourselves relatively safe is the best thing you can do," Steve said. "Until we get something more from Jerry I'm not even sure what Riley and I can do. Every move we make, we risk triggering another explosion. Have there been any ransom demands? Anyone at all claiming responsibility for this?"
"Nothing," Chin said. "It doesn't make sense - why take an entire facility, and its staff, hostage, if you're not going to make any demands?"
His musing were cut short by another deafening blast. Steve realized with horror that the sound was louder over the radio than it was in his ears.
"Chin! Danny!" Steve yelled into the radio. He could hear muffled voices, and the sound of debris still making impact. Grover's deep voice filtered through the chatter, demanding a first aid kit.
"Shit," Steve swore quietly, and Riley squeezed his shoulder gently, feeling helpless.
"Steve," Grover's voice sounded over the radio. "We're all more or less okay, just some cuts and bruises, but that was close. The bomb squad had us positioned near the wall, but one of their guys is down from the concussion of the blast. He'll be okay; he was wearing protective gear."
"Jerry, tell me you've got something useful," Steve said. "I feel like we're just sitting in the middle of a live-round practice range here."
"Well, I've got something useful but I don't think it's going to make you any happier," Jerry said. "The pattern is definite: triggered explosives inside the grounds, timed explosives outside. All moving inward toward the main exhibit hall. Which means the next explosive likely to go off . . . "
"Will injure a civilian," Steve finished. "What are our options?"
"Well, you could start with disarming all of the receiving devices," Jerry said, "neutralize those, and then proceed to disarm the transmitting devices. But it's risky; if we miss just one . . . "
"Okay, other options?"
"There seems to be a control device. I've got a signal exponentially stronger than all of the other signals. My guess is that's the failsafe device; our bomber can either disarm the entire system or trigger the whole thing to go," Jerry explained.
"Where is it?" Steve asked, rubbing his eyes. "Is it near the bomb squad?" Maybe once, just once, he'd let the bomb squad do their job instead of -
"Negative," Jerry said, almost cheerfully. "Opposite direction. It's inside the grounds, on the other side of the library hall. Directly behind you."
"Yeah, Jerry, I know," Steve said wearily. He held down the button to speak into the radio. "Okay, Jerry thinks he's identified a control device. We're going to go see if we can safely disarm it. Seems to be our best option; those explosions outside are on timers, and the intervals are narrowing."
"Please, Steve, for the love of God, come out and let the bomb squad do this," Danny pleaded.
Steve was already moving carefully toward the library hall, Riley falling in easily a step behind him. "Negative, Danny," Steve said, "we can get there in five minutes, it would take the bomb squad longer than that just to scale the wall. Have them hold position, ready to move in to the main exhibit hall. And have the employees take shelter as best as they can."
Riley moved swiftly and silently, keeping pace with Steve. "You know this place well," she observed.
"Annual field trips for school," Steve said, "and then every summer, at least once a month, with mom and Mary. We couldn't let our brains rot."
"Every outing an educational opportunity," Riley said, grinning. "We had that in common. I don't think she ever took me anywhere that was this beautiful, though."
Steve paused a moment. "You really like it here?" he asked quietly.
"I love it here," Riley nodded. "Here, on the island, and here, with your team. And even here, half expecting an explosion any minute. I can't imagine . . . I don't think our mother and Joe prepared me for anything but this."
"You were happy at the university, though?" Steve asked, continuing to move toward the library hall.
"I was . . . busy. I liked the things I was learning in my classes. And learning outside of class," she added. "My Aikido training was going well. It was okay. But I was . . . lonely. Alone. And now I'm not."
"No, you are absolutely not alone. Riley, look, even if something were to happen to me . . . the rest of the team - you can trust them. And with the trust fund Mokoto left you, and the house -"
Riley cut him off, horrified. "Steve, what are you talking about?"
"I want you to stay here, wait for me here while I go disarm this device," he started to explain.
"Hell no, I'm not staying - you're doing the 'just in case' speech. Don't you dare . . . don't you dare do the 'just in case speech' with me, you unbelievable asshole," Riley hissed. Steve had expected her to argue about being left to take cover while he went to disarm the device, but the intensity of her protest was unexpected. "My whole life has been one big preparation for the worst case scenario and the last person to give me the speech disappeared -" Riley stopped, her voice breaking. "So don't. Just . . . don't."
"Okay, okay, sweetheart," Steve said, wrapping his arms around her, his hand easily holding her head against his shoulder as she grabbed his vest fiercely. "I won't. Okay? I won't. So come help me disarm this thing." He felt her nod against his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head quickly and squeezed her shoulders before resuming his approach.
He pulled out his cell phone. "Jerry, where is the control device?" he asked.
"It's at the northwest corner of the building," Jerry said. As they got closer, Steve moved with painstaking care. It would be no surprise if the device itself was rigged.
"I see it," he said quietly. It was in plain sight; no attempts at concealment had been made. "This makes no sense," Steve muttered. "It's a coded device . . . but the wiring is fairly simple." He pulled out a tiny pair of extra sharp wire cutters.
"We were meant to find it?" Riley asked, confused. "It's too easy." She drew her weapon and racked the slide, standing with her back to Steve.
Their heads whipped up in perfect unison as a twig snapped close by.
"I could have made it much more difficult," a young man said, as he walked out of the cover of shrubs and ornamental trees surrounding the library wing. "The man who financed my demonstration said that your curiosity and arrogance would lead you straight to this point. He must know you well, to anticipate your decisions." His right hand had an automatic Glock 18 aimed squarely at Riley.
Riley squared her shoulders and slid her finger toward the trigger.
"Oh, that would be so unfortunate," the young man continued, "because I'm holding the remote detonator . . . it could end so badly for the rest of your team, and those poor people inside the museum." He laughed and held up his left hand, revealing a dead man's switch clutched in his grip. "This is quite delightful - you are indeed a predictable pair. When my father refused to invest in my tech start-up, and instead pledged hundreds of thousands of dollars to this decrepit museum, I knew I needed to make a statement. And I was fortunate enough to find someone willing to finance my company, and allow me to demonstrate my product and my skills."
Steve started to stand, to turn and face the person speaking, to try to protect Riley. She anticipated his movement and stopped him, her voice deadly calm. Resigned. It sounded so familiar . . . a softer, slightly higher pitched version of his father's voice, the last time they spoke.
"Steve. Disarm it," she said.
"Riley, WoFat is behind this, you have to -"
"Disarm it, Steve. Go ahead. I've got him," Riley said.
The young man chuckled. "You're quite confident in his abilities. What if he cuts the wrong wire?"
"He won't."
"Here's what's going to happen: now that I've proven my point, I'm going to walk away from here," the young man said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Try to stop me, and I'll drop the detonator. Disarm the device before I'm clear, and I'll drop the detonator. My product will be worth millions to interested buyers, and while you and the bomb squad spend the rest of the day carefully disarming everything, I'm off the island to start a lucrative career. If you so much as blink, I'll shoot her."
"I have no doubt you will," Riley said, "but I can promise, you won't get a shot off before I do. Here's what's really going to happen: I'll see it in your eyes, the minute he clips the wire. I'll know the civilians are safe, and the rest of our team, and I'll shoot you. Now, you'll shoot too, but it will be a split second behind me, because I've been trained by the best of the best. I'll take a headshot without blinking. I actually like my odds of surviving your shot - how about you?"
"You're willing to gamble with your life, and his?"
"Not gambling with his life," Riley said, taking a half step sideways and putting herself squarely in front of Steve. "Not gambling with the lives of our team, or the civilians, because I already know he can disarm the device. Steve, cut the wire."
"So you're just gambling with your life? I was told you had a careless disregard for your well-being; I must say, I thought it was exaggerated. I see that I'm mistaken. What a passionate little thing you are, just as he said."
Riley laughed dryly. "Passion has nothing to do with it. It's pure logic."
Steve was fairly vibrating with anger, and his hand drifted toward his gun without his conscious thought.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that at all," the young man said. "I definitely can drop the detonator and shoot her before you turn around," he said smugly.
"Steve, I've got him," Riley repeated calmly. "We've won, it doesn't matter. The civilians are safe, Danny goes home to his little girl, Chin and Kono go home to Malia and their family, and Five-O has their leader."
"Riley," Steve said desperately, "you are not expendable . . . "
"Steve, it's okay." Her voice was full of affection . . . not a trace of regret. "My arm is getting a little tired, and he's looking a little shaky, so you need to do this now. This is our best case scenario for the best possible outcome, and you know it. Cut the damn wire, Steve."
Her words resonated in the part of his brain that had been carefully trained to be devoid of emotion, that operated on pure logic and chain of command. Almost without volition, his hand made a sure and decisive squeeze around the wire cutting tool.
As it turned out, Riley had been right.
There was a soft snick behind her, and a look of anger and alarm on the face of the young man in front of her. By the time Steve whirled around, his Sig in hand, multiple shots had been fired. The young man was prone on the ground, a bullet wound neatly through his forehead; his gun and the detonator thrown to each side by the impact of his body falling backward. Steve glanced at the discarded gun, getting a look at it for the first time. Riley wanted to grin at Steve, tell him 'I told you so', and tease him for being so worried about her. But he was inexplicably far away, and at an odd angle. She couldn't see the library behind him, just the sky, and that puzzled her. She tried to ask him why the world was tilted so strangely, but she couldn't seem to get her voice to cooperate.
"Riley, I've got you," Steve was saying. She smiled at him. Of course he had her, that was the point. Why did he look so upset?
Steve was yelling into his cell phone and his radio at the same time.
"Chin, coordinate with Jerry - what's the status on the cell signals coming from those devices; Jerry, did it work? Get the bomb squad on it, have them go in after the employees and get them out. Danny, Grover, get EMS or SWAT medic to the northwest corner of the library hall."
"Already on the way, Steve," Danny's voice came over the radio, but Steve could already hear him tramping through the grounds.
"Danny, what are you doing?" Steve said, leaving the radio open but throwing it down as he frantically searched Riley for injuries. "The area hasn't been cleared."
"Your radio was open the whole time, Steve, we heard everything. Cleared or not cleared, I'm coming to you, hold on," Danny's voice came, through the radio, grim and determined. "Who's hit? Are you hit?"
"No," Steve said, his voice filling with panic. "Riley's hit . . . it was an automatic, he got off multiple shots . . . there's blood . . . Danny, I don't think she's breathing."
Oh, Riley thought. Well that would explain why I can't talk.
"Riley, honey, you had to know that was an automatic," Steve said, "you had to know this was a bad, bad plan. How many shots did he get off? What were you thinking?" He ignored the blood coming from just at her hairline, knowing that superficial head wounds usually looked were than they really were, and focused instead on the blood coming from her side, just under her vest, while searching for any points of impact on her vest. He glanced up as Danny came crashing through the trees, Kono on his heels.
While Kono quickly and efficiently cleared the area, kicking the gun away and confirming the lack of pulse on the young man, Danny slid to his knees next to Steve.
"I've got pressure here," Danny said, pressing his hands firmly against Riley's side. Steve started pulling on the velcro straps on Riley's vest.
"Okay, vest stopped two," Steve said, loosening the straps quickly. "Riley, I know it hurts, honey, and you got the wind knocked out of you . . . try to take a breath for me, can you do that? I've loosened the vest."
Kono peered over Steve's shoulder, her eyes wide with alarm. Riley's skin was so pale it was gray, and her lips were tinged with blue.
But Riley's eyes were fixed on Steve's, the identical hazel gaze unwavering. He had asked her to breathe, so she would. It was that simple. She tried inhaling, and managed a choked gasp, and then another, as oxygen refilled her deprived lungs. Steve dropped his head in relief as some color returned to her face.
"You're . . . hit . . . " Riley gasped out.
"No, sweetie, you are," Steve said, "but Danny's got you, and the bus is on the way."
"Steve," Kono said gently, "she's right, brah, you're hit. That's where some of the blood is coming from." She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, just under a graze that had skimmed over the top, right at the edge of his vest. "Missed the ink, though, nice."
"Told . . . you . . . " Riley said, and laughed, coughing.
"Would you, please, for the love of God, stop talking and hold still," Danny said, through gritted teeth.
"I hear the bus," Kono said, "I'll go bring them around." She took off at a quick jog around the corner of the building.
"Riley McGarrett," Danny said, peering intently at Riley, his crystal blue eyes locked on to hers. "I want to make something perfectly clear; right here, right now. I don't know what kinds of bullshit you were raised with, but I do know that some of it is the same kind of bullshit that your idiot brother was raised with, so I'm gonna assume it comes from Doris and Joe. You are not expendable. And the next time you take on an idiot with an automatic weapon out of some self-sacrificing notion that your life is less valuable than mine, or Chin's, or anyone else's, I'll . . . " He stopped, at a loss, and shook his head.
"You'll . . . what . . . " Riley panted.
"I'll make you listen to Steve's music. On repeat. It's horrible, he has horrible taste in music," Danny said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at her.
"It really . . . is . . . " Riley said. "Have you seen . . . the CDs? Who even . . . owns CDs?"
"Very funny, the both of you," Steve said. "Okay, kiddo, your ride is here."
Kono rounded the corner with two medics carrying a backboard, and in a flurry of efficiency, she was loaded and being carried to the waiting SWAT medic truck. Danny, Steve, and the medics each had a handhold, while Kono deftly carried the IV bag.
"It's good that you don't weigh nearly as much as your big brother," Danny said, still smiling down at Riley. Her color was still terrible and the sheer amount of blood was frightening, but if she was responsive enough to join Danny in ragging on Steve's taste in music, he was going to take that as a good sign. They loaded Riley expertly into the back of the vehicle, Steve jumping in next to her.
"Sir, we need to look at your shoulder," was the last thing Danny heard, as he gave the closed doors a solid thump and the vehicle pulled away. Only then did Danny stop, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. Kono patted his back sympathetically.
"They'll be okay, Danny," she said.
"Oh, they'll be patched up," Danny said, shaking his head, "but they are far from okay."
#*#*#*#*#
"What were today's readings?"
"Mental acuity is still extraordinary. Gamma waves were the highest we'd ever measured, during the session in the planetarium lab; only one burst of beta waves. Her enhanced brain functionality is clearly a success."
"But, there was something in the day's event that unduly stressed her? During the stand-off?"
"No, during the transit between the planetarium and the library."
"Interesting. It would only have been the two of them, correct?"
"That's correct."
"What about the bio-chemistry?"
"Cortisol readings were high, which is expected, but unfortunate. Over time, cortisol is going to create suboptimal stress reactions. Adrenaline and norepinephrine are high. Endorphins are off the chart. Enhanced pain suppression is also clearly a success."
"Why don't we just bring her in? It's obvious the genetic enhancements are functioning as expected - have exceeded expectations?"
"The data is far from complete. We have some brain wave and bio-chemistry readings; we have nothing on strength, endurance, and long-term pain suppression. Nor the enhanced healing capabilities. It's unfortunate that she was injured; however, we should have some solid data by the end of the week."
"Right, and we'd have more accurate data if we brought her in, observed her here."
"No, her cortisol readings would be off the chart if we separated her from McGarrett at this point. It would be artificial; it would skew the readings. I've warned you, be patient."
"We've been patient for two decades. We won't be kept waiting indefinitely. And I've warned you - your objectivity will be questioned if you put us off too long."