Glad you guys still like this one. Thanks for all your reviews.
These climax chapters are my favorite thing to write, so I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
On the outside, Danny tried his best to seem unfazed. To convince Makoni he didn't care. Not enough to speak. Inside, though, crippling panic seized every inch of his body. Relief from knowing Steve was still alive soon changed into his worst nightmare when Makoni aimed the gun at his best friend's head. Demanding what Danny couldn't give him, no matter what.
He wasn't that dumb. Even if he gave Makoni what he wanted, Steve would die. As well as Danny. And thousands of people with them. Not to mention that at least half of the island would be uninhabitable for another century or more. There was nothing to even think about. He'd much rather die and he was absolutely certain Steve would, too.
But it didn't mean he was ready to watch his best friend's execution.
Just like he wasn't ready to see him in such a bad shape. Steve was a mess. His thighs shook from the effort of bearing his body weight and he seemed to use all of his energy to keep his head up and his eyes open. The same clothes he'd worn the last time Danny had seen him were covered in dried blood, as well as his face. His lips were chapped and cracked, bleeding in several spots. His cheeks were red and probably burning with fever, and his eyes unfocused and clouded. There were dark circles underneath them from the lack of sleep mingling with purple bruises that lined his eyes, jaw, and a lot of smaller ones all over his exposed skin. His breaths were rapid and shallow, and it seemed as if every single one of them hurt like hell.
But he was alive.
On his knees. Yet, not broken.
Barely clinging to life. Yet, still fighting.
Danny held Steve's gaze for a few seconds in complete silence.
"Don't," Steve croaked eventually. His voice was weak and pain-filled. "Don't tell him anything."
"I would, if I were you," Makoni said. "I told you what would happen otherwise. Your friend over here is just the beginning."
Danny called upon his inner strength, to remain calm and composed. He shook his head, then slid his gaze to Makoni.
"You can kill him," he said. "I don't care. It won't change a thing."
Just saying such a lie out loud hurt. But Steve would understand. He would know that Danny indeed cared very much. That he'd have traded his own life for his friend's without the slightest hesitation.
Makoni didn't buy it, as expected. "Oh, come on," he said. "I don't believe it. I can see the way you look at each other. He means something to you. Do you really want to watch him die because of you?"
Danny remained silent. Thinking.
"You've got five seconds," Makoni said.
He felt sick. This wasn't happening.
"Four."
He needed to do something. Anything.
"Three."
He looked back at Steve. His best friend shook his head slightly. Practically begging him to keep his mouth shut.
"Two."
"Fine!" Danny called out. "Fine, I'll tell you."
"I'm listening."
Danny's brain whirred. He had no plan. But he was definitely not giving Makoni the stolen barrels. The best thing he could do at the moment, though, was buy them some time.
"I didn't lie," Danny said. "When I said I threw it in the sea."
Makoni's nostrils flared in anger. He kept his gun aimed at Steve's head. "You really want to go down this road again?"
"It's true."
Makoni looked at Steve. "One," he said, picking up where he'd left off.
"No!" Danny screamed. "Please. I can show you. I'll take you to it."
He got Makoni's attention. "No tricks."
"No tricks. I swear."
"You're not going anywhere," Makoni said. "You tell me where it is, and me and your friend will go get it. And I'd speak the truth if I were you."
The last thing Danny wanted was to leave Steve alone with Makoni any longer.
"So?" Makoni asked, his arm still in the air, his finger on the trigger.
Seconds passed in excruciating fashion, tense silence filling the room.
Bang!
A loud crashing noise from somewhere outside of the room. As if something heavy falling from a height.
Makoni turned to the doorway. "What the hell was that?" he snarled.
"Should I go check?" One of his men asked.
Makoni's frown deepened when another, similar, sound disturbed the silence. It seemed closer than the first one.
Makoni looked at Steve, then Danny, then back to Steve. He hesitated.
Danny could see it in the man's eyes. Wondering, whether he should just shoot them both and get the hell out of here, or try to salvage his plans, take care of the problem, and then return where he left off. It only took a second. Then he lowered his weapon and turned to agent Denise.
"Get it out of him," he ordered. "I don't care how. Get creative if you must."
"Where are you going?" Denise asked, puzzled.
"For a little hunt," he said. Nodded over to the man with a taped-up nose. "You're going with me."
The goon gestured to Steve. "What about him?"
"He's going too," Makoni said.
Danny's heart sank.
The two of them flanked Steve and helped him to his feet. Makoni turned to Danny. "We're not done yet," he said. "You better speak up."
And within seconds, they disappeared from his line of sight with Steve in tow.
Danny tugged at the restraints in frustration, desperate to stop them. He didn't even want to imagine what else Makoni could do to Steve if he didn't get him out of the monster's clutches right now.
As soon as the door closed, agent Denise took an empty chair across the desk, looking unfazed.
Danny sank into the chair. "Why?" he asked. "Why the hell would you work for a man like him?"
"It's complicated," Denise said.
Danny scoffed. "It's money, isn't it?"
"Not just that. When a man like Roko Makoni tells you to do something, you don't say no. You don't really have a choice."
"You always have a choice," Danny opposed. "And you chose wrong."
Denise shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand."
"It's not too late to change your mind," Danny tried, hoping to bring the dirty agent's good side out to the surface. "You can help us stop him. Stop this madness."
Denise stared at him intently. "I see what you're doing," he said. "It's not going to work, so don't bother."
So much for that.
When Danny didn't say anything, Denise took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He picked one carefully and lit it in his mouth. Took a draw and leaned back in the chair. "I'd like to know something," he said. His voice was calm. Almost friendly, unlike Makoni's. "How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"About Brooks and me," Denise said. There was genuine curiosity in his eyes. "How did you know we were working for Makoni?"
"I didn't," Danny admitted. "But I knew something was off about the two of you the moment you walked into Five-0 headquarters."
"How?"
"The Waikiki explosion."
"What about it?"
"You mentioned that our team had been in the restaurant when the bomb exploded."
"So?"
"It wasn't public information," Danny explained. "The whole team was off the clock. We didn't appear on any of the news. Didn't tell anyone. Yet, you knew when you walked into the HQ."
"That's it? Maybe we got the information from HPD. Or someone else."
Danny shrugged. He'd learned to trust his instincts. It usually paid off. "Just a hunch. I know from experience not to trust you agency guys."
Denise shifted in his chair and took a pull out of his cigarette, unbothered. "So you swapped the cargo," he said. "Just in case your hunch was right."
"Turns out it was."
Denise inhaled again, not letting his eyes off Danny. He stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. "So," he said eventually. "Where is it?"
Danny remained silent.
Denise ground out his cigarette on the desk. Leaned forward. Spoke quietly.
"We're serious here, Detective. You know what Makoni is capable of, don't you? What he does to people who displease him. You've seen his file. You've seen what's left of the people that tried to stand up to him. Think about your friend. Your family. Makoni could do that do them. To you. We need that cargo. You understand that, right? So, if you want to avoid a lot of unnecessary pain, for you and your partner, and everyone you love, you better tell me where you hid it."
Danny's face remained stone, but inside, he battled for control.
"If I do, we're all as good as dead anyway," he said.
"I'm not gonna lie," Denise said softly. "You and McGarrett aren't getting out of this alive. But if you tell me now, I can pull some strings. Help to get your children as far from here as possible before it's too late. Otherwise, nothing I can do about it."
Danny didn't say a word. He knew it was all bullshit. He had to come up with something. Fast.
"Do you smoke?" Denise asked.
He held out a pack. Smiled. The good cop. The friend. The ally. The oldest routine in the book. Requiring the oldest response. Danny glanced around. There was only one guard on his side, against the side wall. Rifle held easy in the crook of his arm. Denise behind the desk, holding out a pack. Danny shrugged and nodded.
Denise reached for something on his leg and took out a knife. He reached forward and cut through the zip tie on his left wrist. Then leaned back and offered the pack again.
Danny took a cigarette with his free hand. He hadn't smoked since high school, but when somebody offers you a lethal weapon, you take it.
"So tell me," Denise said. "And be quick."
He held out a lighter and held it out. Danny bent forward and lit his cigarette from the flame. Took a deep draw and leaned back. The smoke felt strange. He had never enjoyed smoking. But he took another lungful.
"Where did you hide it?" Denise asked.
Danny took a third pull, thinking how to play this. He wasn't fooled by Denise's approach. He'd used it himself more times than he could count, after all.
"Don't draw this out, Detective," Denise said when he didn't reply.
Danny trickled the smoke out of his nose and held the cigarette between the thumb and forefinger, palm hooded around it. Take quick deep pulls, and the coal on the end of a cigarette heats up to a couple of thousand degrees. Lengthens to a point. He rotated his palm, like he was studying the glowing tip while he thought about something, until the cigarette was pointing straight forward like an arrow.
"Where is it?" Denise asked again.
"If I tell you, will you make sure to get my kids off the island?" Danny asked back.
"I will do my best."
"Do I have your word?"
Denise smiled. "You have my word."
Danny shrugged unhappily. Sketched a listen-up gesture. Denise nodded and shuffled on his chair and leaned close. Danny snapped forward and jammed the cigarette into his eye. Denise screamed and Danny was already on his feet, the chair cuffed to his wrist clattering after him. He windmilled right and the chair swung through a wide arc and smashed against the guard's head. It splintered and jerked away as Danny danced to his left.
He snapped back and hit Denise with the wreckage of the chair. Used the follow-through momentum to swing back to the guard. Finished him with an elbow to the head. The guy went down. He spun and smashed the chair to pieces against Denise's shoulders. Grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face into the desk, once, twice. Denise went limp and slid down on the floor, unconscious. He would live, but he wasn't a problem anymore.
Neither of them were.
Danny took Denise's knife and freed his other wrist from the remains of the chair. Took the guard's rifle and Denise's Glock and headed out of the door to the corridor. Breathing hard. Thinking even harder.
Makoni couldn't have gotten too far, especially with injured Steve in tow. He needed to find them. But there was still a bomb somewhere in the building full of people. A bomb Makoni could set off the moment he learned that Danny was free and things had gone to hell.
He sprinted down the corridor and noticed a small red box mounted on the wall. A fire alarm. And he got an idea.
*to be continued*
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