Mother's Blue Dress

by Peg K

Follows my much earlier story "When the Star Begin to Fall" that provided a first meeting of Steve and Danny. This is my tale of how Danny came to join Five-O. Haven't added stories in too many years. Don't know if there is anyone still out there. Guess I am about to find out.

(August 1964)

Mother's Blue Dress
by Peg Keeley

Mara hurried down the small side street towards the small wood frame house that had always been her home near Waligama, Ceylon. She knew her mother would be starting dinner and her father would be home from the tea plantation shortly. Happy sounds of children at play could be heard from inside as she opened the door. "Mama, I'm home!" she called out in Tamil. She hurried to the modest kitchen.

Her mother turned from the two-burner stove and noticed the flushed excitement on her fourteen-year-old daughter's face. "Mara, what have you and Thanuja been cooking up now?" She scowled, but it was all in play.

Mara giggled. "Thanuja is going to Colombo." Her eyes danced.

"Colombo!" Her mother feigned ignorance, but knew what would come next. The remote beachfront town could not contain the adventure of young people. Many of them sought better paying jobs in Ceylon's capital, Colombo.My child has grown up so quickly!

Mara nodded eagerly. "She says we can make more money there in a week than Papa sees in the tea plantation in a year!"

Her mother snorted. "All dreams, Mara. If you stay here that nice boy, Sanath, will someday marry you."

Mara wrinkled her nose. "He works that plantation. I can make money and send it home -enough for you to have new dresses every year!"

She laughed. "And what where would I go with a new dress every year?"

"Colombo to visit me!" Mara laughed.

Her mother turned back to the steaming stove to hide her feelings. She will leave.This is the way of the young. But one day Buddha guide her home to us.

"What did they say?" Thanuja asked breathlessly as Mara arrived on the beach where the former was picking up shells.

"They were very brave. Papa agreed that it was time to go. I know he understands that there will be more food for the little ones. Mama - well, she understands. Someday we will both have wonderful gifts to bring back!" Mara hugged her friend on impulse.

Thanuja hugged her back. "I have enough rupees to get passage us on the train to Colombo. I can hardly wait!"

Mara, as if realizing their adventure really was about to begin, sobered just a little. Not wishing Thanuja to know she was a little frightened, she giggled. "Tomorrow then? Mama wants me to tell Sanath good-bye."

Thanuja grinned. "Sanath? That skinny boy with the funny knees? Don't forget to tell him you will come back so rich he will not be able to have you for his wife. He is ugly anyway!"

---

The thump of the 707's tires meeting the tarmac was welcome. As the flaps came up and the brakes began to slow the plane, there was the usual combination of excitement and relief amongst the passengers. Six hours over open ocean could be disquieting to some. Dan Williams waited patiently as the flock of tourists stampeded for the stairway down to where they would be greeted by hula skirted lei-throwing girls. Tour groups liked to arrange for this little extra - it was the expectation of many mainlanders.

As the crowd thinned in the isle, he rose, collected his single carryon and headed for the exit. The flower-scented breeze drifted past him and his childhood washed over him.I'd forgotten the fragrance of the offshore breeze, the warmth of the sun, the sound of the birds. He started down the stairway and looked across the runway to see the young, blond woman standing by the gate.

"Danny!" She waved.

"Marjorie!" He waved back.

He reached the bottom and she rushed forward to give him a quick hug. "Are you ever a sight for sore eyes!" She exclaimed. "Look at you! How long as it been? Two years?"

"Nearly four."

"Four! No!" She laughed, tossing her blonde tresses that shimmered in the tropical sunlight. "We've got a lot to catch you up on!"

"Where's Lew?" he asked, looking around for his life-long buddy.

"Working," she replied simply. "He thinks that if he puts in the overtime it will get him a leg up in the department."

"Sounds like Lew," Danny commented as they entered the terminal and headed for the baggage claim area. "He's always one step ahead of everyone."

She did not reply. They stood in a brief silence, waiting for the carousel to spit out Danny's luggage.

At last they were headed for the parking lot. He stopped to glance at the construction that was going on as the airport was enlarging. Tourism was expanding, so was the need to get the tourists' money into the state. There were new hotels going up all over.

"You wouldn't recognize Waikiki," Marjorie commented. "Millionaire Mile. Big hotels everywhere. Lew and I decided you should stay with us until you get a place."

"That isn't necessary," he countered. "A hotel will be fine."

"Absolutely not!" She insisted. "Lew would never forgive me if I let you go. Besides," she gave a small smile, "remember that teriyaki chicken Lew's mother used to make?"

His eyes lit up.

"She taught me how." She lifted an eyebrow.

"Convinced!" he announced. He threw the bags in the back seat, then slid into the passenger side as Marjorie got behind the wheel.

She smiled broadly. "It really is good to have you back," she repeated.

He gave a small smile.I think it is good to be back. I had never really planned to stay away, it just happened. Aloha 'aina that's that they call it - some kind of invisible tether that brings us all back here. He took a deep breath, allowing the tropical air to fill him. It's as though I have not breathed in four years.

"We've got a little time. Anything you'd like to see right away?" she asked as they left the airport.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is."

---

Danny and Marjorie had to wait about twenty minutes for the next ferry, but neither minded. He stood gazing out into Pearl Harbor at the white shrine that straddled the watery burial site of over 1100 servicemen including Ensign David Williams.

No words were exchanged as they were ferried out to the memorial. As they stood in respect before the wall of names in the shrine room, his own depth of emotion stunned Danny. I cannot recall my father as anything but a black and white photo, yet I feel such an intense sense of loss. The father I never knew, the life with him I never had. I have no regrets, no bitterness and certainly Aunt Clara saw to it that things were never dull - but right this moment I miss the life I never had.

Marjorie gave his elbow a gentle squeeze, marveling a little at how quickly the laughter of reunion had mellowed to solemn memories.I should have known he would want to come here first."You okay?" she whispered gently into his ear.

He gave a single nod. "It doesn't seem right that I cannot remember him."

"You were just a child - little more than a baby," Marjorie answered in comfort.

He gazed at the wall of names, the letters seeming to run together in a mass, recalling the pain and anger of his youth. When I was old enough to understand what I was missing, it was Lew's father who tried to fill in the gap. It was Lew who became like a brother to me. It is a good thing to come home.

---

Mara and Thanuja had stared wide-eyed at the countryside flying past the window of their seat on the train. Nibbling on grapes that they had brought along for food, they chattered about what they would find in Colombo, the places they would visit, the things they would buy when they earned all their money. Mara wanted to buy her mother a blue dress - one the color of the sky.

An older woman slid onto the seat across from them. "You are going to Colombo?" she asked kindly.

Their heads bobbed in eagerness.

"You have not been there before," she commented, a twinkle in her eye. "I can tell."

Thanuja looked puzzled. "You can tell? How?"

She smiled a toothy grin. "You are so-" she waved her arms, "-excited. And so you should be! There are many wonderful things in Colombo."

They moved closer to her.

"But there are many bad things, too. You must be careful."

Mara's eyes widened. "Careful of what?"

"I can take you to a safe place," the woman counseled. "Do you have money for a room?" At Thanuja's nod the woman gave a motion. "Good. You will be able to find a good room if you have money. And I know a man who is looking for workers."

"Workers?" Mara asked. "What kind of workers?"

"Good money workers," the woman replied.

"I don't want to work a tea plantation," Mara snapped. "I never want to go back there."

The woman cackled. "Tea plantation? Not in the city. No tea plantation. I will find you good work - but it will cost you."

Thanuja scowled. "We can find our own jobs."

"Just a little money," the woman hasted to add. "You wouldn't deny an old woman just a little money for her fine service." She looked wounded and gripped her hands in her lap in front of her.

Mara and Thanuja exchanged glances. "She seems like a kind woman," Thanuja whispered.

"She is probably someone's dear grandmother," Mara added.

Thanuja pressed a few coins into the old woman's hand.

She clasped them to her chest. "You are such dear girls, blessings of Buddha on you!"

By the time the train arrived in Colombo, the two girls felt like they had known Old Siji forever. Siji led them from the station, each carrying her small bundle of clothing. They stopped to look at the shop windows and giggled about what they would buy once they had their money.

Mara eyed the blue dress on the mannequin. "Siji, when will I have enough money to buy that dress?"

Siji laughed. "Before you know it! Come along, Mr. Molland will want to meet you."

"Molland?" Mara asked, skipping to catch up.

"Mr. Molland is a rich American. He will give you a job." Siji led them through several streets, away from the high-priced shops. She stopped before a wrought-iron gate that had been installed across an alleyway. Through it, Mara and Thanuja could see that a dark garden had been created in what would otherwise have been a dank alley. Siji picked up a metal rod and banged it loudly against the iron fencing. "Come out! Come out!" she shouted in Sinhala. "We have business to do!"

In a moment, a thin dark-skinned man came to the gate, unlocked the padlock with a key and opened the passage. He looked critically at the two girls as Siji brought them inside. He rubbed his chin. "You again, Siji," he muttered.

"You get away," she snapped. "I want Molland." She gave the man a vicious punch to the arm. "You get away from here."

Mara and Thanuja exchanged looks of anxiety. "Is he a bad man?" Mara whispered as the servant shuffled away.

"He is of the dirt," Siji announced.

There were quick footsteps and a pale-skinned, blonde man stepped down into the makeshift garden from the doorway of the house. "Siji!" he said joyously and planted a kiss on her forehead. "It is so good to see you again!" He turned smoothly towards the girls. "And what have we here?"

"Tamil girls," Siji said bluntly.

Molland gave a gentle smile. "So we have." He came close to Mara and ran a hand through her dark hair. "Right off the train?"

Siji nodded. "I bring only the best. Where's my money?" she demanded.

"Patience," Molland murmured. He stepped back from Mara and cocked his head to one side. "You are very pretty," he told her.

She flushed, but an unexplainable fear began to grow in her chest.Why am I afraid? Siji said she would find us a job. Mr. Molland looks so kind. He is dressed so nicely, he must have money. His accent is odd and his Sinhala is so simple.She cleared her throat. "Do you have a job for us?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I believe I do." He glanced back at the servant who stood in the shadows. "Hajjid, take them to their room," he ordered.

The girls, recalling Siji's revulsion of the servant moments before hesitated.

"Go with him," Molland ordered.

As the door closed behind the girls, Siji turned to Molland hands on her hips. "My money!"

"You are so cold, Siji," he said with a laugh as he counted out the rupees.

She was unimpressed with the payment. "These are the good girls. Virgins. I want more."

Molland shrugged and counted out a few more rupees.

She waved her hand again.

Molland's face grew grim. "Get out while you still can, Siji. We wouldn't want them to find your withered body in the ocean now, would we? You want more money? I have a client who would like some young boys. You find me three boys about twelve years, huh? Big money for you."

Disgruntled, she stormed away back into the city. She would ride the train again tomorrow.

Chin Ho Kelley entered the office of Steve McGarrett, four files under his arm. He laid them on the desk of his superior.

"Thank you, Chin," McGarrett replied from where he was writing a letter longhand.

The officer nodded and started to leave.

"Did you look at them?"

Chin nodded. "You asked me to. My report is there."

"And Kono?"

"His, too." Chin began to turn away again.

"Chin," Steve called him back. "I'd like to hear what you think."

Chin stood in the center of the room feeling mildly uncomfortable. He was not a man who chose to express his thoughts even when it was asked of him. In the four years he had worked for McGarrett, he had learned to trust this non-islander totally, but still knew when to keep to himself. "Shall I have Kono come in here, too?"

Steve placed the pen carefully down on his desk. "I already know what Kono thinks."

Chin nodded.Kono never hesitates to express what he thinks - for better or for worse."The two officers recommended by HPD seem to have very good references. Frank Kamana has ten years on the force. Ben Kokua only has four, but he has a good head and excellent intuition."

"Intuition?" Steve repeated the last word. He picked up Kokoa's file. "Spent his whole life in Honolulu. Top 10% of his graduating class at the academy."

"Frank grew up on the north side of the island. Most of his family is still up there. Been decorated twice for valor on the force. Purple heart from the Marines in Korea," Chin added.

Steve picked up the third file. "This one?"

"Self-nominated," Chin shrugged. "Local boy. Played baseball in Princess Lulianai High School. Heavy-hitter."

McGarrett nodded. "What's he accomplished since then Chin?"

"Top 20% of his academy class. Good marksman. Solid officer. He really wants this job."

Steve sighed. "But the chief did not nominate him?"

"He's a uniform officer, Elliott only recommended detectives," Chin explained.

Steve nodded again. "Line the three of them up for interviews."

"Okay," Chin answered. "But - why?"

"Because my first choice may turn me down," he replied simply. "Besides, I want to keep all my options open." As Chin left, McGarrett opened the fourth folder. The enclosed letter came not from Honolulu, but San Francisco and was signed by Lieutenant Mike Stone. He'd met Stone only once, two years ago, but Stone was an officer cut from the same cloth as Steve and he trusted the man he had enlisted the support of two years ago.

"It isn't often that I have a chief from another state ask me to keep an eye on a new detective so he can snatch him away," Stone had remarked.

Steve had smiled as the waitress bought the coffee in a small café along Fishermen's Wharf. "I've had my eye on this one for - a while now."

"Then you know him?"

"We've met," Steve answered.

Stone had grinned and cocked his head slightly. "You aren't going to give me any more than that, are you?"

"Seems like we both have something to gain here." Steve gazed out of the coffee shop window. "You've asked Dan Williams to mentor that college kid you want. What's his name?"

"Steve Keller."

"Right. Steve Keller. I want you to mentor Williams."

"Mentor?" Stone gave an incredulous look.

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Not the mentoring sort, is he?"

Stone gave a laugh of his own. "Not exactly."

"Doesn't look like Keller is either." He motioned towards the car in the lot across the way where the two young men of conversation were arguing about who would drive.

Stone smiled. "So, you just want me to tell you when he decides to return to Hawaii?"

"Right."

"McGarrett, what if he decides to stay here forever?"

Steve gave a sardonic smile. "Here? San Francisco? Trust me, he will return to Hawaii."

He gazed over Stone's letter.I was right, Mike, he came home.

---

Danny dropped his bag on the bed of the guest room at Morgans. Marjorie flittered about the room, showing him the simple things like blankets, pillowcases, and towels. "Get unpacked," she advised. "I'll have a cold beer waiting on the lanai."

True to her promise, she had the cold beer on the side table by the wicker couch when Danny appeared fifteen minutes later. The yearbook from their senior year of high school had been placed on the couch.

"Memory lane?" Danny asked, picking it up.

"I have the chicken in the oven," she announced. "Lew won't be home for a while yet. I thought it might be fun to - you know - remember the old days."

"Old days!" He sat down with the book on his knees. "You make me feel ancient."

She laughed and sat down close beside him, hips touching his. "You, dear friend, are not old. What does that make me?" She reached across him, opening the book to the senior section. "Just six years since graduation. I guess it may feel like a lifetime ago."

He was aware that they were close together, very close. She is my best friend's wife; this doesn't mean anything. "A lot has happened in six years," he agreed.

She had said something, but he did not know what it was. "What ever happened to that little Hawaiian girl you used to hang out with?" she repeated.

"Huh? Oh, Mali? She, hum, went to the mainland. Wanted to make it big as a singer," he muttered.

"You know, there was a rumor that you and she ran off and got married," Marjorie told him.

He laughed. "Not hardly."

"Too bad you didn't stay here," Marjorie commented. "I mean, Lew has missed you a lot." She glanced at him. "It's not been the same around here. No laughs anymore."

"Well, I'm back now," he replied, feeling suddenly warm under the collar. "You and Lew been married - what - two years?"

She nodded with a small smile. "Two great years."

"No,um, little Morgans yet?"

"Lew doesn't want children until we can afford them," she replied. "We need a bigger house, bigger car and all that."

She sounds disappointed. "You want kids, don't you?" he observed.

Marjorie brushed it aside. "We've got lots of time." She glanced back down at the yearbook. "It was all so new then, Danny. Lew was going to really be someone."

"He really is someone, Marjorie."

She sighed. "He is never content. He always wants more. But I don't know more of what. I sometimes feel like a failure - you know? I feel like I should be able to make him happy. But he isn't happy. Did you know that he has put in for a transfer in the department?"

"Really? It's about time he got promoted," Danny said enthusiastically hoping the subject would change. He did not want to hear that the marriage of his two close friends might be experiencing trouble.

"But if he doesn't get it - he'll be so hurt," she concluded. She took a sip of her beer. "If you had stayed it might have been different. I guess I have missed you, too. You were always easy to talk to."

That is the second time she has said that. He could feel her even closer as she leafed through the yearbook on his lap.

She drew back as thought she had become aware of the closeness. "So - tell me what you have done with yourself since high school?"

He blinked once and took a big drink of beer. "A few years in the service." He shrugged. "Came back here for a year, then went to California for a couple. Now I'm back."

"For good?"

"Maybe. I didn't realize how much I missed Hawaii until today."

"Meet any girls on the mainland?"

He gave a sheepish smile. "A couple. But they aren't like girls here."

"Oh really?" She smiled and twisted a lock of blond hair between her fingers. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were blushing, Dan Williams."

Hot crimson flashed across his face. "You're just trying to embarrass me," he muttered. "Just like the old days."

She grinned and reached across him to turn the page of the book. "Yes -like the old days."

He froze, unsure of a response recalling how Marjorie had played him against Lew in their senior year of high school. It had been a lover's spat - after all Lew and Marjorie had been dating for two years. Everyone knew they were going to marry someday. I don't even remember what started it but she flirted with me just to get back at Lew. It was not a good moment.

Graduation was a week away and a large group of seniors had descended on the beach at night. A full moon threw sparkling light across the waves and the sand. Several couples were rolled tightly on their blankets as though with graduation they would never be the same. Maybe they were right.

Mali had not wanted to come. Most of the students were white and she preferred the secluded cove. But he'd convinced her to join the party because the whole baseball team was there and he was captain. She had remained in the surf when Danny went up to the blanket to grab a forbidden beer from the stash the students had buried in the sand. As he finished his drink, he turned and Marjorie was standing behind him.

"Hi," she said with a shrug.

"Hi," he had replied innocently.

She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately as he, astonished, gasped and dropped the beer. He finally got hold of her and pushed her back. "Marjorie!"

She giggled. "It's just fun, Danny." She swayed her bikini-clad hips.

"Fun!" he glanced around anxiously for Lew or Mali.

She pouted out her lip. "Don't you think I'm pretty enough to kiss?"

"It's not that - it's -"

"You prefer those little dark whine girls?"

"No - it's…Marjorie - Lew."

She gave an impish smile. "Maybe Lew shouldn't be so sure of himself."

…Just like the old days? Is she hoping to make Lew jealous through me again?

Marjorie started to laugh. "You should see your face, Danny! Relax, will you? I wanted to see if you remembered."

"I remember okay," he assured her a bit hesitantly.

"I need to go check on dinner." Still laughing, she rose and left the lanai.

He leaned back on the couch, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

---

The black Mercury came to a quick halt on the edge of the dock and McGarrett was up and out instantly. Nothing would stand between him and the grizzly discovery that had been called in. Every moment wasted might mean valuable evidence washed away or accidentally destroyed.

Kono approached him and directed him towards the pier. "The dock workers smelled something bad. They started looking around. Thought it was a dead dog or something."

"Dead dog?" Steve muttered. By now they were close to the wharf and the nauseating stench of rotting death hit them. Steve pulled his handkerchief and covered his nose.

"There," Kono pointed into the harbor. A badly decomposed body floated between the pilings. There were tatters of clothing on it in faded flowered pattern on what might have been a dress.

Bergman, seeming unaffected by the odor, motioned the diving team. In minutes, the decaying specter was carefully lifted onto the dock. In spite of the condition of the body, it was treated gently, with reverence and caution to keep clues intact that might reveal whoever had done this horrific act.

The few workers who had remained issued exclamations of disgust and moved quickly away.

McGarrett stepped back as Doc gave a quick look at the remains. The stocky medical examiner gave a wave and the body was covered over and quickly moved to the coroner's wagon.

"Impressions?" McGarrett asked of Bergman.

He glanced from Kono to Steve. "Female. Dead several days - I can be more exact later. How or why-" he shook his head.

McGarrett clenched his jaw. I hate it when we don't have the information. "Okay, Doc, as fast as you can - okay?"

---

Danny watched the six o'clock news with avid interest. So much had changed in the Islands. Marjorie was right - it's like a whole new place. Whole new problems. The developers are sucking up every piece of real estate they can get their hands on. They are fleecing the elderly, the poor. The broadcaster mentioned a body having been found near the docks without much a-do. Guess with increased money comes increased crime. I spent two years on the force in San Francisco and was glad to get away from that mentality. Too bad it seems to be here as well. Guess Lieutenant Stone was right.

The phone rang and Marjorie answered it. Moments later, she came into the room, a platter of chicken sizzling between her potholders. "That was Lew. He's going to be late."

He looked up from the television. "We can wait."

"No, I mean really late. He volunteered to do a double shift tonight."

"Oh." Danny wondered why his friend he had not seen in four years had chosen to work a double the day he arrived and remembered Marjorie's comments about Lew's get-ahead spirit.I hope he gets his promotion and that things get better.

"He said he'll catch you in the morning. He knows you'll be tired," Marjorie added

"Oh, the jet lag isn't that bad," he replied, glancing at the television as a car commercial splashed across.

"Well, dinner's ready - even if Lew wasn't." She placed the dish on the table and returned to the kitchen. "Pour the wine, will you?"

She sounds really disappointed. After Lew and I get caught up, I'd better have a talk with him. "Chicken smells great."

---

The police artist passed the sketch over the desk to the expectant McGarrett. There was a slight hesitance to the man's action, as though there was something reverent about the drawing. Perhaps there was.

"Doc and the anthropologist gave me the specifics," the artist commented.

Steve gazed at the work of art for much more love and attention had gone into that than a simple police sketch. The beautiful Asian girl smiled pensively from the paper, her long black hair blowing slightly across her face, her eyes filled with a joy and innocence that reality had not been gracious enough to grant her. For a moment, Steve stood speechless, transfixed by the simplicity of the piece, letting the beauty of it work in his mind to erase the decaying lump of flesh he had been confronted with the day before. He noticed the name "Tilly" had been ascribed to the reconstruction. At last, heart filled with great balm and sorrow, he looked up to Doc Bergman who stood beside the artist. "Tilly?"

"I-um thought we should at least give her a name," the artist added.

Steve nodded and glanced at Bergman. "What can you tell me about her, Doc?"

The gruff pathologist passed over his report, then gave a verbal one as well. "Early adolescent, fourteen maybe fifteen years. Probably from Ceylon. There were some indications in the fabric. She still wore a shell bracelet that is widely sold there. Until recently, she had been in good health. Normal development of skeletal structure."

"And recently?"

"She had been beaten at different times, probably starting in the last four months. Partially healed broken finger, probably occurred three weeks ago. Sexual abuse. There was very little in her stomach, mostly a husk of seeds - Che is looking at that. She did not drown. No water in her lungs, no petechia either. Her neck was broken violently - deliberately. That's the cause of death. I estimate she was in the water about 10 days."

Steve steeled back his intense feeling of rage. "How?" he demanded a little harshly. "Thrown off a ship? Thrown in from the dock?"

Doc shook his head. "We don't have enough to tell us that. Unless Che gets something off the stomach contents this is all we have for the moment."

"Thank you, Doc." He glanced over to Chin and Kono. Anything from the street?"

Kono spoke first. "Nobody knows nothing about a missing girl."

Chin Ho gestured towards the drawing. "One snitch talked about a slavery ring."

"Slavery?" Steve could not hide the revulsion.

"That's all, just he heard something about a slavery ring bringing in young girls - selling them for prostitution. Sell some as wives," Chin added. He recognized the impatient look on his superior's face. "Right, Steve, I'll keep leaning on him."

"We need names, dates, where," Steve declared. "Kono, go to the harbor master and find out what ships have come in from the East in the last two weeks."

Kono raised an eyebrow imaging a fairly long list.

---

Danny woke up early; part of the curse of jetlag. He'd been exhausted. A poor choice of combining the wine of dinner with the beers before and after had left him with a blazing headache this morning. He supposed he had become a poor guest by late evening, but he couldn't remember very much except that he knew he'd gone to bed long before Lew would have come in. He rolled over on the pillow, allowing the light floral scent of it to fill his nostrils. The window to the room was open to the yard and he could hear the birds singing. It was not much past sunrise and he wondered if Lew and Marjorie were awake yet. He was plagued with the discomfort of being alone with Marjorie and could not shake it no matter how he tried to explain it away by intellect.I need to find a place to live as soon as possible - and a job.He couldn't understand why he had never heard back from HPD regarding a position as detective, but he would go out there later today and visit a few old acquaintances and see what was up.

The house was still as he walked out into the living area. Lew's gun belt was thrown over a dining room chair. Danny went to the kitchen and could smell fresh coffee. There was a mug sitting before the pot and he poured himself a cup. The nutty aroma soothed his aching head.Nothing like a hangover my first day back in the islands.

"Hi," came Marjorie's cheerful voice.

He startled, nearly dropping the coffee mug.

She grinned. "Up early." She was dressed in a pink chiffon floor length robe that the breeze from the lanai gently blew between her legs and pressed against her form.

"Uh-yeah," he replied, looking away from her towards the counter.

She reached out, taking his hand. "Come on out to the lanai, I have a big bowl of fruit cut up. Bet you haven't had good fruit in a long time."

"Is Lew up?" he asked hopefully as they walked outside to the dinette table.

"He's asleep. Just came in about two hours ago," she replied. "He'll be up around noon." She sat down before her fruit. "What shall we do today?"

He sat opposite her. "We?" He took a drink of coffee and burned his mouth. He winced, trying to hide the pain. "I need to look for an apartment - and a job."

"Well, don't be in a hurry about the apartment. Wait for something good," she counseled. "Maybe Lew can get you in as a rookie at the force. Did you attend police academy?"

He shook his head, trying not to be distracted by the way she was leaning towards him in the low-cut robe. He forced a few quick bites of fruit down, chased that with scalding coffee, then rose. "I've got to go, Marjorie." He fled back to his room to finish dressing.

There was a knock at the door. "Danny?" It was Marjorie. "I was wondering," she stuck her head inside the door, "if you wanted to borrow my car this morning?"

He licked his lips, "Yes, Marj, that would be fine."

She grinned. "I'll leave the key on the table." She left.

Danny hated himself for feeling so uncomfortable with Marjorie alone. He drove away from the Morgans and straight to the place he'd always known as home - Andy's Bar. Danny had known Andy long before he was of drinking age. As a boy, Danny had swept out the bar for Andy and Andy had been his baseball coach in little league. There had been a fairly large number of fatherless children following the Second World War, but Andy had taken special interest in him. Andy's never changed and that was a comfort. The corner bar still looked as it always had with its stucco front, and brown-red front door that stood open even at 10:00AM. Andy did not serve alcohol until noon, but many of the old men of the neighborhood would come by, talk politics and watch TV with Andy in the mornings. There was an old piano in the corner and every so often some aspiring young musician would come by and play a tune.

The screen door banged behind him as Danny entered, all the smells and sights flooding his memories with the security of childhood. "Andy?"

The large Hawaiian man burst from the back. " Kuʻu keikikāne!" He gripped Danny's shoulders in his large hands and gave him a mild shake. "At last." His eyes narrowed. "You got pilikia, Keiki Li'ili'i?"

He flushed. "No trouble, Andy."

Andy shook his head and released him. "No trouble, huh? I know you boys - always some kind of trouble. Pilikia just follow you, Danno. You look like those haole haikea, huh?"

"I guess I need a little sun," Danny muttered.

Andy grunted. "You pass, Danno." He gave a grin. "You still know a little of your Hawaiian, huh?"

"I guess I do," he said a little sheepishly.

Andy drew a mug of beer and set it on the counter before Danny. "Tell me all that has happened while you were gone."

He told some about college, knowing Andy's real interest would be in his female conquests. He mentioned the San Francisco Police Department. Andy grunted at that.

"They give you big work there?"

"Some."

"Then why you come back here?" Andy demanded.

"I missed home," he admitted.

Andy shook his head. "No, I think something more. A man come looking for you here," he added.

"What man?"Did Lew come here looking for me.

"Him," Andy remarked as the screen door squeaked.

Danny spun towards the door as Steve McGarrett entered. Danny remembered McGarrett instantly. "McGarrett," he acknowledged uncomfortably, glancing back at Andy.

"It's not his fault," Steve said quickly. "I've had Andy's watched."

"You - why?" Danny asked, curiosity edging out over indignation.

Andy turned back to draw another beer.

"He doesn't drink," Danny called out towards Andy's back.

Nice touch, Steve mused.

Danny eyed McGarrett steadily, "But he does drink coffee - black, no sugar. Care for a cup, McGarrett?"

"No thanks," Steve replied and motioned towards a table on the other side of the room.

They slid into the seats and Danny remarked. "I don't think I've been in the Islands long enough to get into trouble with Five-0, have I?"

Steve issued a courteous smile. "No trouble. I wanted to talk with you. I heard you had returned to Hawaii."

"You heard? Have you had the airport watched as well?" he asked.

Steve managed a slight no shake of his head. "You did apply for a position at HPD."

He stopped. "And they never contacted me - and you had something to do with that?"

"Let's stop sparring, okay, Williams?"

He shrugged.

Steve leveled a steady steel-blue gaze on the younger man. "I have an opening in Five-0. I would like you to consider it. We are a barebones department. Everyone works together, no frills, no prima donas. But you know we are the best."

Danny blinked once. "Just like that?"

"Yes," McGarrett replied simply. "I know of your history - at least the last four years. You've been a good cop for Mike Stone. You can be a good cop here."

"You've talked to-" He stopped, not really surprised. He gave a little nod. "The last we had dealings you were accusing me of murder."

"No, the last time we had dealings I was trying to decide if you were a spook," Steve corrected.

"Ah," Danny paused. "And what did you decide?"

Steve just grinned. "I think you will work out fine in Five-0. You want the job?"

He scowled.

"You will need to qualify at the range."

Danny glanced down at his beer. "I haven't said 'yes' yet."

"We start work at 7:00AM - sharp. You will need to qualify today." He handed Danny a triplicate form. "They are expecting you." He reached under his suit jacket, pulled out a snub-nose .38 and slid it across the small table towards Danny. "A gift to you."

"I don't need-"

"You left your weapon in San Francisco. Stone told me that, too." Steve leveled a steady, non-flinching gaze on his would-be officer.

Williams pursed his lips." Sounds like you guys are regular pals."

The gaze flared hot for a moment. McGarrett hated insolence. "You will need to stay armed here."

Danny gave an uncomfortable glare. "Stone told you that, too?"

Steve reminded himself again that he was trying to bring this young officer onto his team, not arm wrestle with him - at least not yet. He chose his words with care. "Mike told me that you prefer to talk your way through situations."

"Only shot one really bad guy-in the foot, never killed anybody. I'd like to keep it that way. And I can take care of myself."

McGarrett raised an eyebrow. "I don't question that. But let's just say a gun does a better job than a baseball bat of making the other guy more willing to talk things through."

Danny slowly picked up the pistol and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

Steve extended a handshake. "Welcome to Five-0." Williams accepted the shake.

---

The dingy little room that contained only a mat on the floor and a sink that was coated with black grime had not frightened mara. She was glad that Hajjid had gone away.

As soon as the door closed, Thanuja spun towards her, guarded excitement on her face. "Do you think Mr. Molland will hire us both?"

Mara's brow wrinkled with suspicion. "He did not say what kind of work he had for us. How does he know we can do it?"

"Maybe he will train us, or maybe he can tell how smart we are," Thanuja suggested, trying to bolster her courage.

An hour passed, then two. The girls huddled together on the small dirty mat. "Are you afraid?" Mara whispered to her friend.

Thanuja tried to look the brave one.Maybe, if I look not afraid it will be all right."It will be fine, Mara. Mr. Molland is a very busy American. Did you see his clothes? He must have a lot of money - so he is very busy. Americans are always very busy." She tried to sound like the authority, but her eyes betrayed her own fear.

Mara said nothing else for a time, but she knew Thanuja was afraid as well in spite of the brave words. The sun outside was going down and there was no light in the dark room. "Maybe they forgot us?" she whispered.

At just that moment, the door opened and a fat man dressed in a print shirt, white slacks and sandals shuffled into the room with Hajjid who held a kerosene lantern high to provide better lighting.

The man rubbed his chin and gazed at the two girls. "These all you have?" he asked in Sinhala.

Hajjid nodded with a shrug.

The man frowned. "Scrawny things. You -" he pointed to Mara, "-stand up."

Nervously, she rose to her feet, wiping the dust from her dress.

He walked over and looked at her closely. He lifted a tress of her hair to his nose and sniffed. He grunted. He suddenly grabbed her left breast and pinched her nipple.

Mara jumped back in shocked anger.

"No tits," the man grumbled.

Hajjid mumbled something about Mara being new.

The man nodded and grinned, his large teeth showing. "Good point. We can share the adventure." He pressed a roll of cash into Hajjid's hand. "Come along, girl."

Mara, fear obvious, exchanged looks with Thanuja.

Hajjid grabbed Mara by her hair and the girl started screaming. He struck her across the face with his free hand. "Shut up!"

Stunned by the blow and pressing her hand to the blood that was springing from her split lip, Mara stumbled into the hallway and stopped short before the big man.

He gave her a kind smile. "There, child. You will have to come much quicker than that. You are mine now. I have paid for you. My name is Harold and I am your new master."

Mara gave a confused look.

"If you work well, someday you will earn your freedom. I have just given 50,000 rupees for you. You must pay me that much to go free. Do you have that?"

She just stared at him. She could even imagine that much money.

"I thought not." Harold patted her gently on the shoulder. "I will help you earn it."

---

Danny did not return to the Morgans' until close to 2:00PM being confident that Lew would be up by then. As Danny pulled his borrowed Toyota onto the drive, Lew appeared at the front door beaming broadly.

"Danny! God, it is good to see you!" Lew embraced him in a fierce bear hug as he exited the car. "You need a couple of days at the beach! Mainlander white!"

"So Andy told me," he laughed. "Called me haikea."

Lew laughed. "Come grab a beer."

As they entered the kitchen, Danny glanced around but did not see Marjorie. He did not ask about her. "How's it going, Lew?"

"Good. I have the really good promotion in the works." He slid Danny's bottle of beer down the table and used the bottle opener to pop to metal cap off his own. He took a quick sip. "You remember that group the governor formed - Five-0?"

He gave a sudden stiff nod. Uh-oh.

"Well, word is that McGarrett is recruiting. He sent a message to Elliott and he was supposed to send recommendations." Lew gave a grin. "But I checked - there's nothing says I can't self-nominate. So I did."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I sent my resume and history to him."

Danny swallowed once. "Hear from him?"

"He interviewed Ben Kokua yesterday. I got a call this morning to meet with one of McGarrett's men tomorrow."

Danny gave a nod he hoped was convincing. "Hey, I wish you the best."What a damned thing. Should I tell him? Maybe it's not the same job. Maybe there are more positions open. I feel like I've just betrayed my best friend.

"So, did you apply at HPD?" Lew asked suddenly.

"What?" Danno attempted to snap his attention to Lew and away from the sudden soul searching.

"Marj said that you were going apartment and job hunting. Any luck?" Lew grabbed a bag of pretzels and opened the top. He pulled out a handful and shoved the bag across the table towards Danny.

"I, um, have a lead in the department," he commented, trying to walk the narrow line between truth and injury. "I have to qualify today," he tagged on.

"Hey! Great I haven't been up to the range in a week or two. You need a weapon."

Danny shook his head. "I picked this up this morning." He showed the snub nose.

Lew scooped it up and examined it. "Nice piece. Not too heavy." He hefted it lightly in his hand. "Let's see how it shoots." He jumped to his feet.

Danny followed, a slight reluctance present in his gate that was completely missed by Lew.

Lew rambled and chatted as they drove out towards the shooting range about everything from Marjorie and her insatiable desire for motherhood to his determination to make detective before the end of the year. Danny barely listened to him. As the tropical vegetation flashed past the window, the weapon feeling heavy in his pocket, the memory that had already begun to form since speaking with McGarrett began to take shape. His mind was taking him back to where he did not really want to go…

…It was a dark moonless night. They had been camouflaged in all black with greasepaint to even hide any shine of their skin. Danny had kidded Thomas, who was black, that he was a natural for the work. Thomas Banks had the experience and had ignored the remark of the one he often called "Babyface."

Kevin Rueter was the third member of the team. He and Danny had been recruited together out of high school and spent the two years training for anything the job might throw at them. They were always together and the department paraded the two eighteen-year-olds as the cream of the future crop. Their first assignment had gone flawlessly; they had accomplished the goal in perfect stealth fashion. Although Thomas gave no words of praise, there had been no complaints. The team quickly built a reputation for excellence and success. It was why they had now been selected for the mission to Mexico. Getting into Mexico was never hard - it was getting out that sometimes could be touch and go.

"We need to retrieve a company man - Atwater, Luke G.," Thomas explained in his usual staccato like fashion. "And we need to complete his assignment." He tapped the village in central Mexico. "An American smuggler is delivering a shipment of arms to a revolutionary faction. We need to retrieve the cargo and neutralize the smuggler."

Banks' words always sounded so benign, but his team knew that neutralize was an order to kill. No questions asked. The Federales were more than willing to permit the team to clean up an American embarrassment and had supplied everything needed from transportation to underground information.

"El hombre que usted busca tiene muchos fusiles y muchos amigos. Ellos no vendrán pacíficamente," the Mexican commander announced to them. " Tu hombre ya ha sido asesinado.."

Thomas made no attempt to translate in front of his team. To reveal that neither of his partners was fluent in Spanish would have shown a weakness and Danny and Kevin, watching Thomas closely for clues, nodded at the appropriate times. They already knew that the desperados had plenty of arms and were dangerous men. Nor did Thomas display any emotion at the statement that Atwater had been assassinated. "¿Cuántos hombres que él tiene?" The demand to know the number of men that held Atwater flowed naturally from Banks' mouth.

The man shrugged. "Yo no sé. Cuatro o cinco a lo más. Pero todo muy entrenado y peligroso."

Banks led his team aside and took the time to light his cigarette. "Well, they've got guns and people who know how to use them; maybe four or five men. His troops will meet us a twenty-three hundred hours. Too late for Atwater. Too bad, he was a good friend." That was all Thomas said. Any emotion of loss or remorse regarding Atwater, Banks kept to himself.

A Mexican informant led the group of six Mexicans and the three Americans through the dense underbrush to a small square white stucco two-room cottage a short distance from the village. Thomas and Danny along with three Mexican officers moved one side of the building and Kevin and another three of the commander's best troops were at the opposite entrance.

"¡VAYA!" Thomas shouted and the officers poured in through the doorways and the shack was plunged into darkness. There were bursts of gunfire, screaming people, crashing of wood and china. Within minutes the cataclysmic destruction had ended and the only sound for a moment was of someone sobbing and moaning.

The flashlights and lanterns threw brilliance upon the scene of carnage. Four wounded were sprawled on the floor - a man, a woman, a small child and Thomas. Danny instantly knelt next to his team member who lay, alert, but breathing in gasps.

Thomas' hand was pressed against the wound in his chest. Blood glistened in the beam of light as its drizzled between the man's fingers.

"Rueter, call for help," Danny announced.

Just as Kevin started to speak, one of the Mexican officers began shouting at the wounded man who had been the one moaning.

"¡Dónde están los otros!" He struck the man with a rifle butt. "¡Dónde están los fusiles! El dinero!"

"Hey!" Kevin shouted. "Stop that."

Thomas fixed his gaze on Danny. "Take control," he managed to gasp out.

Danny glanced quickly at the degenerating situation, his pulse quickening. "There's no guns here, Thomas. The woman and child are dead. Where's the guns that were supposed to be here?"

Thomas managed a nod and whispered. "Take control or you're dead next. Tell 'em you are in control. Tell 'em in Spanish."

"I don't speak-"

"Estoy encargado," Thomas whispered.

"Estoy - en - encargado," Danny stammered, his tongue unwilling to form the unfamiliar words.

The Mexican troops glanced at him. It would take more than a few words of a foreign language to convince them.

Rueter brought up his automatic, safety off. "You heard him," he growled at the men. "Este- what did you say, Danny?"

"Encargado," he repeated with a little more conviction.

"El tonto estúpido," one of the officers snarled quietly to his comrades. One of them giggled.

Kevin aimed the weapon at the man. "Where's the guns that were to be here? Where is the American? Where is Atwater?"

"No sé," the Mexican replied with a shrug. He motioned to the wounded man on the dirt floor.

Another officer kicked the wounded man. "¡Discurso, perro! ¿Dónde el rehén Americano es? ¡Discurso o usted mueren!"

The man cried out as he was kicked and punched repeatedly.

"Stop!" Danny shouted so loud his voice cracked, searching for the Spanish word.I've heard Thomas speak Spanish many times. What is the word?

" Los americanos que mataron a su esposa y a su hijo. Quieren saber dónde está el dinero.!" the officer screamed at the groaning man.

"Dinero?" Kevin asked, recognizing a word. "Dinero?Danny, he wants money. We didn't come after money."

Danny glanced at Thomas who was nearly unconscious and wished their fallen leader could provide them with assistance. "You!" he pointed at the lead Mexican officer. "What- ¿Qué dinero?Whatdinero?"

There were chuckles amongst the Mexicans.

I am not in control here. We are at risk! The mission is a washout! We need to get out of here. Danny glanced at Banks. The large black man was still, his eyes fixed unblinking. Danny glanced at Rueter who gave a slight shake of his head. How can I just accept that Thomas is dead if I do not check him? If I check him, I display weakness.

Kevin, kept his weapon steady and murmured. "Williams, we need to get out of here. I don't know what the hell this was, but it went bad."

There was a door to their backs. Without Mexican escort it would be a long dangerous trek back to US soil, but to stay here was suicide. Danny gave a slight nod. His left fist was at his side and he slowly extended one finger, two fingers, three fingers - and the two Americans dashed for the darkness…

…It took six months for the wheels of Intelligence to slowly turn but at last Rueter and Williams were called to a tribunal hearing on the incident in Mexico. Kevin was called in first and when he returned, he left, not speaking a word to Danny whom he passed sitting in the hall patiently. No smile, no word of encouragement, Rueter stared fixedly ahead at the exit until he was through it.

Deputy Director Innes called Danny into the room where ten serious looking men in dark suits congregated around the oval table. He was gestured towards a seat. It was still warm from Kevin's body.

"The Tribunal has considered the statement that you submitted regarding the events of November 15 of last year. Do you have anything to add, Williams?" Innes asked.

Danny shook his head. "No, sir."

"Does the Tribunal have any questions of Agent Williams?"

"I have one," a gray-haired gentleman said quietly. "You left your partner, Williams. You left him to die."

"No, sir," he replied, emotion steeled. "Banks was already dead, Sir. We did not want to join him - Sir."

The man gave a humf. "Did not want to join him, hum? Were you aware of the focus of Colonel Estrada's soldiers?"

"We were attempting to neutralize an American supplying arms in insurrectionists. If Colonel Estrada had something else in mind, we were not aware of it."

"You and Banks entered from the west side of the building according to your statement," the man motioned towards the diagram of the fated little house.

"Yes, sir," Danny replied, never flinching.

"You had some Federales with you?"

"We had some Mexican soldiers. I am not certain that they were Federales," he replied.

One of the men scribbled something on his notepad.

There was silence at the table just a moment. The men glanced amongst them and the gray-haired man who had asked the questions gave a marginal nod.

Innes spoke. "It is the decision of this tribunal that this action be classified as just. There are no charges pending and you are re-instated to full service. Any questions?"

Danny knew he had questions - lots of questions - but that none of them would be answered by this bunch. "No, sir."

"Dismissed."

He rose, his legs shaking like rubber. Why am I so unnerved? He made it out of the office and almost to the exit from the building before Innes stopped him.

"Williams, a word."

Danny paused, hand on the panic bar of the door. He did not turn back. "What - Sir."

"My office - please."

He glanced back.Please? Not a command but a request?

Innes steered him into his office and shut the door. "These past few months have been difficult for all of us. Atwater and Banks were good men."

"Yes, sir," he replied stiffly.

"You and Rueter behaved well."

He did not answer. The memory of a dead mother and child, his dying team member and the Mexican soldier torturing a dying man flooded his mind.

"Ballistics confirms that none of your rounds hit anyone. Not Banks, not the man, not the woman, not the child."

He did not reply. What if I had killed them? Could I live with shooting and killing someone, especially an unarmed civilian?

"It was a righteous action," Innes added.

Danny stood in silence.

"You may speak freely, Danny," Innes commented.

So he did. "Righteous? There was nothing righteous about that incident, Innes. We both know that. Estrada was paid by a warlord to have the poor harmless relative of his enemy killed. There was no gunrunner, God only knows who killed Atwater. And Thomas -" he stopped, "-he was killed by an American round, Innes. An American round. So, if I did not kill him, Kevin did. Does he know that?"

Innes played with the paper on his desk. "Yes," he said quietly. "He does." He looked up, regaining some authority. "Rueter is a soldier, dammit, and so are you. Not the wear-the-uniform-and-get-ticker-tape-parade kind of soldier, but in your country's service just the same and just as necessary. He will get through this -and so will you."

But Danny had not gotten through. He had transferred into espionage and been assigned to keep track of a compromised agent back in his home state of Hawaii then followed her to San Francisco. When his tour was up, he did not re-enlist…

… Lew laughed as he slammed the door to the car. "Hey, Danno, you're a million miles away. Let's go see if you can shoot that little pea-shooter."

---

Mara never forgot the fat Harold who hurt her. She spent all of her time weeping and wishing her mother to come. The men usually came at night - but sometimes during the day as well. Most of them smelled bad. Some of them made her drink things that made her feel bad and get sick. All of them hurt her. She had never imagined the things that men could do to her that were so evil and painful. Sometimes she wondered if her mother would think she was bad. Sometimes she believed she was bad.

Harold told her every day that she was costing him a lot of money. He said she owed him for the room she was in, for the food she ate. But she could not understand it for he gave her very little to eat and she would gladly have left the room except that the door was locked.

One a man who visited asked her if she would like to go away with him. She did not know what to say. Will he hurt me more? Maybe I could get away. Finally, she said that she wanted to go with him.

He got into an argument with Harold. Mara was so battered and bleeding that she could not follow most of the talk, but the new man left without her. After he was gone, Harold beat her with a stick screaming that she did not appreciate all he was doing for her. He hit her until he was too exhausted to continue. Mara fainted.

When she awoke, she was in a small, dirty room with several other girls. "Where am I?"

"We are going away," an older one commented. "You are coming, too. Mr. Harold taking us some place."

"Am I going home?" Mara asked hopefully through her bruised lips.

"We will have to go on a big ship and be very quiet. If we are found, they will drown us," the girl's eyes were wide. "But Harold says that we will go to America and make a lot of money."

Mara did not reply. She could only dimly recall that she had wanted to make money and buy the blue dress.

---

Jenny had just started the second pot of coffee for the morning. The first was usually finished before 7:00AM. McGarrett breathed in the nutty aroma of the brewing beans and waited as Kono and Chin settled themselves into the soft white naugahyde chairs of his office.

"All right, gentlemen, what is the latest?" Steve asked them. The smiling pencil-sketch of Tilly haunted him. Although the office was handling six cases right now, this was the one that filled his mind.

"A lead on an address," Chin offered first. "Word is that young girls are sold there."

"Sold?" Steve repeated, contemplating the word and all it meant. He was too familiar with the black market slavery trade of the Far East. It did not take much imagination to know that it would attempt to reach Hawaii.

"Girls come in. They become wives to men to gain citizenship," Chin commented. "The potential husbands pay a broker fee to the management. Some of it legal - some not."

Steve considered an industry that would sell human beings like property. Perhaps the 1800s were not so long ago. "Any word where these girls come from?"

Chin shrugged. "Mostly from Shanghai, Ceylon, India. They come on ships. Sometimes with visas. Sometimes not. Sometimes they are smuggled in, sold quietly. They live secret lives with the men who have bought them. Some of them are pretty badly used. Because they are not legally here, they live in the shadows and have nowhere to go for help. They don't even know there is help. They can end up in prostitution rings - worse."

Kono spoke up. "I got the names of three ships that operate in the transport of human cargo. One of them was in port two weeks ago: A Beleza."

"Portuguese for Beauty," Steve remarked.

"Well, it is a Brazilian registration," Kono added.

"Port-o-call before Honolulu?"

Kono glanced at his notes. "Manila. Before that Sri Lanka."

McGarrett picked up the forensics report on his desk. "Our young victim had traces of seed spores under her nails that are consistent with Sri Lanka. The woven fabric of her dress is consistent with Ceylon or portions of India. It would appear likely that she was aboard the A Beleza, as either a passenger - or a slave."

---

It was just before 1:30PM when Dan Williams climbed the steps to the Iolani Palace for the first time. The wide mahogany stairway inside was impressive, but the high ceilings of the palace provided natural cooling from the afternoon warmth outside. He stopped before the doorway lettered "Hawaii Five-0" at the end of the second floor hallway, took a slow breath, then opened it.

"Good afternoon," said Jenny with a quiet professional smile. "May I help you?"

"Dan Williams. I have an appointment with Chief McGarrett," he answered and took a seat in the straight-backed chair by the wall.

Jenny went back to her typewriter. The office was quiet for several minutes, then the intercom buzzed on her desk. She looked up. "You may go in, Mr. Williams."

He entered McGarrett's office, instantly aware of the arrangement of the furniture. The two white chairs grouped in a friendly fashion to one side for comfortable conversation; the large walnut desk and chair for the more formidable confrontations where strong authority was required. And which shall this be?

McGarrett rose from behind the desk. "Is it good to see you again," he said, extending a hand in a shake.

Danny accepted it. The grip was strong. He returned the same, looking McGarrett in the eye.

Steve was not surprised. His study of Williams had told him that in spite of his youth, Williams was not easily intimidated. "I have your application to HPD here - and your range results from yesterday." He gestured towards the white chairs.

Aha, the friendly conversation time. Danny took a seat, Steve the other.

"The results are impressive." Steve fingered the yellow form. "195 out of a possible 200."

"I was distracted by a bee on that one shot," he explained.

"Hum." Steve grinned inwardly. "Pretty high marks for someone who doesn't want a firearm." Danny did not give a reply and Steve changed the subject. "I have an assignment for you." He handed Danny the pencil sketch of the murdered girl.

He looked at the smiling innocent face. "Runaway?"

"She's dead," Steve said bluntly. "I believe she is the victim of a sex slave ring operating out of the Far East. She may have been aboard the A Beleza when it docked in Honolulu a little over two weeks ago. I have two officers following leads here. I need an unknown to act undercover onboard the ship. Seems right up your alley."

Nothing like jumping into the new job. "When do I leave?"

Although McGarrett had hoped Williams would accept the mission, he had not dreamed it would come this easy. "You'll be on a flight in the morning to Hong Kong. From there to Singapore. The A Belezais in Sri Lanka now and will leave port in two days. She will begin her trip back stopping in Singapore. Get yourself onboard in Singapore. If you find out anything, do not take action."

"It's a two week voyage from Singapore to Honolulu. A lot can happen," Danny remarked.

Steve nodded. "Still want the job?" He held out the flight ticket.

Danny took the envelope. "See you." He turned towards the door.

Steve followed him. "Jenny," he called to the secretary. "Have Officer Williams fill out the employment information. And call the life insurance company so he gets added today."

---

Singapore was rainy, dirty and congested. Small battered autos competed with thousands of pedestrians and bikes through the compact streets that smelled of spicy food and rotting garbage. Danny adjusted the gray duffel of possessions on his shoulder and made his way towards the harbor. Most of the faces in the sea of humanity were darker than he and no one did more than glance in his direction before diverting the gaze back to the ground ahead. He did likewise, intentionally wanting to be detached from this place. Two blocks from the wharf, the tattoo shops, cheap souvenir shops, bars and whorehouses seemed to proliferate. He caught his own reflection in a window. Four days beard growth, brown knit cap jammed onto his head, sweatshirt and jeans mildly tattered - it was a stranger he saw instead of the usually immaculate dresser.

As he passed, a young girl called to him from the open doorway. "American boy, you want to see what I do for you?" Her scanty attire left little to the imagination about what she was peddling.

He glanced at her, guessing her age somewhere around fifteen. He kept walking.

"Hey, I no pretty for you?!" she shouted angrily.

He did not look back. He reached dockside and continued down to the pier where the A Beleza was berthed. The freighter loomed large, most of her container cargo was already loaded aboard and she rode low almost to the waterline. The deck crew aboard were lashing the containers under the supervision of a short, broad, red-faced man who screamed at them in a mixture of English and French.

Danny entered the small office in the building just off the pier. Inside, a tall man dressed in the freight line's officer's uniform sat behind the desk, a stack of manifest sheets before him, a cigarette burning away in the ashtray on the corner of the desk.

The man did not look up from his paperwork. "You are late," he declared in a heavy British accent.

"Excuse me?" Danny replied, dropping the duffel.

The man looked up, face stiff. "You are late," he repeated.

Danny blinked. "Late for what? I was told three thirty."

"The time was to have been two forty-five," the man snapped back.

Danny relaxed; the code statement finished. This was Strickland's agent. "Do you have a job left? I want passage to Honolulu."

"Depends on what you can do," the man replied.

"Boiler work."

He nodded. "There is one position left. Report to the first officer. You will work on the forward boiler crew." He extended a hand that Danny took in a handshake.

When Danny drew back his hand, he felt the small key that had been tucked between his fingers. He slipped his hand into his pocket. He pulled the duffel back over his shoulder and left the office. It was starting to drizzle as he made his way up the gangway. He held out his paper to the officer on watch.

The man nodded gruffly. "Stow your gear below in crew's quarters three. Report to the boson's mate in thirty minutes."

Danny stepped up on deck headed for the aft door knowing he was on his own to locate both the quarters and the boson's mate.Not a real friendly bunch. He noticed the captain of the ship standing at the forward gangway and the two men who approached him.

Thepaying passengers were being greeted with much more hospitality by the ship's captain. There were only two passengers: a large man who seemed to threaten to burst out of his three-piece suit, and a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, square-jawed American. Steve McGarrett did not allow his gaze to drift to the figure in the brown knit cap at the stern who was stepping through the aft door.

The captain of the ship, Captain Hermano, in dress uniform greeted each of them with a warm smile of hospitality and in his best accented English personally took each to his stateroom informing them that castoff was in thirty minutes and dinner would be at his quarters at eighteen-hundred hours.

As the stateroom door shut, McGarrett allowed himself to take a deep breath and let it out. He'd been following his fellow passenger for two days before they had come aboard. The man seemed ignorant of him until now. But as fellow travelers, he would now alter his tactic from stealth observation to friendship.

Danny made his way below decks towards the crews' quarters a passing seaman had pointed out to him. The room was tightly packed with two level bunks and housed twenty men. Four men were crammed at one end in a game of cards. A fifth man sprawled across a lower bunk, chewing on tobacco, looking at a magazine. The man turned the journal to get a better view of the centerfold.

Danny glanced around, trying to determine which bunk might be unclaimed.

"That one," the man with the magazine said, spitting into a coffee can.

Danny dropped the duffel on a lower bunk. "Thanks." He was mildly pleased a lower bunk had been available.

The men in the card game looked up at the doorway. A large, muscular black man was stooping to step over the doorsill into the quarters. One of the card players snickered and elbowed the sailor next to him.

The large man set an angry gaze on Danny, stopping directly in front of him.

Challenging a man who both outsized and outweighed him two to one did not seem like a wise choice. Danny tried not to look at the large black biceps that were flexing inside the stark white t-shirt. Without taking his eyes from this silent threat Danny commented to the tobacco-chewing crewmember: "Thought you said this bed was open."

The older man gave a grin and spit into the can again. "Hell, that's just Mbutu. Ain't his sack - he's jest tryin' ta' put one over on ya'. Ain't a'scared of a nigger are ya?"

Danny lifted his eyes upward to meet those of the man before him. "Is this your bunk?" he asked the man.

"He don't speak English," the first man declared. "He's one of those real Africans - speaks Swahili or something. Jest look 'em in the eye and make 'im git. You gotta keep 'em in their place - like a dog, you know? Show 'em who's boss."

Danny's eyes remained fixed on the deep eyes of his would-be aggressor. "So this is your bunk?" he asked. He slowly reached over with one hand and pulled the duffel from the bunk. "Sorry."

The tobacco-chewing sailor cursed and spit into the can disappointedly.

Danny extended a handshake carefully, still maintaining eye contact with the large newcomer.

Mbutu's nostrils flared slightly, then he slowly enveloped Danny's hand in his large one as he accepted the shake. Taking Danny's duffel, he lifted it up onto the mattress of the upper bunk. He patted the bunk once, gave a nod and walked away.

Danny glanced again at the man with the can. The man issued a single grunt and looked away. Danny hoisted himself up onto the upper bunk, careful not to hit his head on the bulkhead above that cleared the top of bunk by less than 18 inches.

---

Steve's fellow traveler had the small stateroom immediately across the hall from him. By the time he had squeezed his way down the narrow corridor and through the small doorway, he was out of breath.

"You okay?" Steve asked him.

He gave a brief nod. "These places have not been well constructed for convenience," he commented, pulling a handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his face. "But for the entrepreneur who would like to oversee his cargo - priceless."

Steve managed a small smile.

The man stuck out a hand. "Harold Sizegate."

Steve accepted the hand. "Steve McGarrett," he replied quietly.

"I trust I will see you at dinner then." Harold commented, turned into his room and shut the door.

Steve went into his room and placed his small bag on the bed. He was relieved for he had suspected Harold would have been a talker. There was the feel of a salesman about him.He and I are the only two paying passengers aboard. Strickland's people say that the A Beleza is carrying human cargo. I am in the right place.

He sat down on the one hard chair in the room and pulled the large envelope from his bag. It had been given to him by Hong Kong agents when his plane had landed. He looked at the first photo. It was of a filthy, mud-spattered room. There was a bug-infested mat in the corner and a steel spike driven into the dirt floor with shackles attached to it. The picture was not of great quality and the darkness contributed to the sullen despair of the small prison. A second picture was a two young girls, no older than twelve, dirty, matted hair, soiled worn clothing, huddled in a corner, clinging to each other. But the haunted look of pain in their eyes was wrenching. On the back was scrawled - "occupants, names and ages unknown. Note marks on wrists of girl on left." Steve turned the photo back and could see the bruise marks that matched the shackles from the first picture. The brief report explained how detectives in Hong Kong had broken the slavery ring in their city, but too late to retrieve the other four children they suspected were being smuggled out to either Asia or America. The smugglers had fled and disappeared.

Steve felt the emotion rise in his chest as he struggled to contain the horror of human beings that would bring such atrocities to children. He knew that men who preyed upon women and children had existed since time began, but it made the crime no less heinous. He thought about Harold Sizegate and the power such a large man could flaunt over a mere child. The longer he considered the thought, the blacker his emotion became. Unexpectedly, the plastic pen he had held in his hand cracked and snapped, smearing ink on the small table. The event shocked Steve back to the present and he scrambled to get a towel to contain the black sticky ink.I need to sit with this barbarian and hold pleasant dinner conversation with him in an hour. It will take the acting of a career to contain what I'd like to do to this monster. Where is his precious endangered cargo? Somewhere on this ship there are young girls like the ones in that photo. Where? I have been told by Strickland that the captain is trustworthy, but is he reliable? I have never known Strickland to fail, but there is no margin for error here. It would be a simple business to vanish overboard forever. I will need to depend on Williams to locate the girls. Can he be trusted? He considered what he knew to be true.

Marten Camp had difficulty telling the truth. That was no surprise to McGarrett. It was interesting that the CIA operative had shown up at Five-0 without invitation. He had, as patiently as the man could, stood in the outer office, fists clenched at his side as Jenny called Steve in his office.

There must be a little of the sardonic in me as well, Steve mused for he had deliberately left Camp waiting for three minutes before he told Jenny to admit him.

"Nice place here, Steve," Camp murmured.

"What can I help you with?" Steve said cutting to the point.

Camp squared his jaw.I don't need help. McGarrett is trying to grab all the power to himself like usual. "I thought I might help you," he retorted.

"I don't recall asking for help," Steve answered placidly, then shrugged. "Have a seat. Coffee?"

"No thanks," Camp replied accepting the chair. "I know that you are interviewing for a new detective."

Steve forced a grin. "Are you asking me for a job?"

Camp's eyes flashed.Anything to torture me. "Okay, let's stop playing, shall we?" he snapped. "I suppose I deserve whatever garbage you'd like to throw at me-"

"You suppose? After that stunt with the microfilm that nearly got six people killed and threatened to started an international war? You suppose?" Steve slowly sat down behind his desk, then after conscious thought, relaxed his shoulders. "Okay - state your business."

"You want Williams."

"I do?"

"You've got Stone in San Francisco reporting to you. I know the boy is ready to come back to the islands and has filed an application with HPD probably just to spite me."

"To spite -" Steve shook his head. "I'm lost, Marten. Does Williams even know you?"

Camp was silent. "You want me to play this game, McGarrett? You knew when he left here what he was."

Steve hid his curiosity behind a stoic expression. "So I assume he is one of yours. You want him back in CIA?"

"Shit, he's never left the field and you know as well as I that he isn't from the agency. Let's say he served in quiet service. He was assigned to protect Lynette Franks. He followed Lynette to San Francisco to continue the witness protection of her. But he's really just a kid, never stopped blaming himself for that whole mess with Franks' daughter. He could have been a good agent, but he bleeds too much. You know the kind."

"If I understand you, you're telling me he has a conscience. Sort of a liability for spook work., right?"

"I knew you'd understand."

Steve gave a nod. "So what is this help all about?"

"I'll stay away," Camp replied. "My seniors are pressing me to make him come over to the agency. There's a lot of training gone into him. Hate to see it wasted."

"Wasted?" Steve remarked. "How are you expected to make him sign into the CIA - exactly?"

Camp rubbed his chin. "Let's stay to the issue at hand. You want him in Five-0. If I can't have him, I'd like to see you get him. I'll keep the agency back. But snap him up quick. Is it a deal?"

A deal? It sounded like Camp had been bartering a human life like a cattle sale or new car purchase. Life is cheap to Camp. And to Sizegate? It must be worth much more on the black market.Steve stared out of the small porthole and listened to the sound of the engines as the ship made its way out to sea.

---

Danny met the engine room chief who did not seem terribly impressed with the age and size of the newest crewmember.

"You're a hole snipe?" the man sneered around the cigar butt in the corner of his mouth. "Too young, too small -" He grabbed up Danny's right hand, "too soft and too clean. Where you been working, boy? The Good Ship Lollipop?" The man gave a hacking cough.

"Just give me my station and assignment," Danny retorted.

The chief gave a mutter under his breath and a grin before pointing Danny towards the forward engine room. It was steamy, hot and noisy. And the chief saw to it that Danny received the messiest and heaviest of the work.

Already working the area was another young crewman who looked even younger than Danny. The boy by his own confession was but sixteen and came from Indonesia. His English was faltering, but upon discovering Danny's gentle patience, he relaxed.

"I going to jump ship in America," young Yusuf admitted freely.

"I don't know that I'd make that well known," Danny replied as they greased up bearings.

"Chief no care. He say no his problem. He say I too slow and he get better man soon. You the better man?"

Danny smiled. "Somehow I doubt that."

---

Steve was invited to the captain's table along with his fellow traveler, Harold Sizegate. Nothing close to the extravagance of passenger liner fare, the meal was still well served on gleaming white china by a cook and mess worker. The captain, first mate named Luis Garcia and two travelers made mostly small talk.

"The future is in plastics," Harold advised them all. "Everything will be made from it. Toys, clothing, perhaps even cars. It doesn't break down and rust, it lasts forever. Think of that. Fabric that doesn't wear out."

Steve thought that Harold was a bit extreme in his praise of plastic, but let him go on.

Harold said he worked for a toy company that had signed a contract in Taiwan for making of toys. "Labor is inexpensive and the people can work the toys better. They have small hands."

"Small hands?" Steve asked. "Child labor?"

Harold imparted a gentle smile. "Forgive me, I forgot the American way. As our good captain can agree, most countries do not deny their young people the opportunity to earn wages in their childhood. Working young gives a better work ethic."

Steve refrained from giving a response. He concentrated on the steward pouring the ice water.

"Steve, do you know what a Barbie Doll is?" Harold asked.

He gave a small grin. "A mother's nightmare."

"They are the rage. Little girls wanting to fantasize about growing up. The clothing for this little miss has to be detailed - buttons to button, zippers to zip. Little hands must do the fine crafting. And they are well paid," Harold hastened to add.

"They are children who should be in school," Steve replied.

"If we did not employ them they would starve. They are grateful," Harold insisted.

An officer approached the table and whispered something into the ear of the Captain. "My pardons," he commented and rose. "Events need my attention." He motioned to Garcia and they both left.

Harold took a drink of his water. "A man of your understanding and world travels, I am surprised that you maintain such a narrow American viewpoint. Most of the world tries to just get by, using whatever talents are available to survive."

Steve wondered if this was how Harold slept at night. Can he rationalize what he does to these young girls through this philosophy? "The world once barbarically endorsed slavery, Harold. That does not mean it was moral."

Harold chuckled. "Stay out of South Africa, my friend."

Captain Hermano returned to the table and was seated, but there was concern on his face. "We will be increasing our speed. I plan to reach Honolulu two days early."

Two days less time to solve this mystery! "Is there a problem?" Steve asked.

Captain Hermano gave a sad half nod. "We live in a dangerous world, dangerous world. There is trouble. An American military ship the Maddox has been fired upon in the Gulf of Tonkin. Your President Johnson plans to retaliate. The ocean is not safe if a war begins."

"War!" Steve felt a rush of astonishment and memory wash over him. "This is too small a world now for war to be declared so quickly." Is it? Memories of Camp and Wo Fat nearly exchanging shots over a bit of microfilm flashed before him. "I am sure that the United States government is not seeking war. Do you have any further information?"

"The Russians," Hermano hissed. "It must be the Russians. I read in the New York Times that the Russians wish to seize Alaska."

"The Gulf of Tonkin incident should not concern your ship. The Gulf of Tonkin is a long way away from Alaska - or the Bering Straits and from us," Steve reasoned. "I am sure the seas are safe for you." Am I sure? I have to be sure. If this man sees me so much as blink, he will alter course.

Sizegate clasped his hands over his napkin. "It truly is an unsafe world, Captain. If I recall the sinking the Lusitania contributed to the American entrance into World War I and the attack on Pearl Harbor the second. Who is to say what the attack on this ship will start?"

Steve wanted to kick the man.

Hermano's expression tightened. "We change course."

"Hermano, the US isn't going to allow a war," Steve persisted, but the plea fell on deaf ears.

Sizegate rose from the table, shaking his head woefully. "Dangerous times, dangerous times."

Steve could almost hear the chuckle.

---

Danny's duties kept him busy and exhausted. Although he had been slipped what should have been a master key to the holds of theA Beleza,there were many doors it did not open. The ship's engineer was a tyrant so the crew was short by three workers, meaning they worked sixteen hours on, eight off. He wished he could spend the night on his bunk like many of his shipmates instead of prowling the depth of the A Beleza. There were no signs of smuggled women.

On the fifth day, he skipped his search in desperate need of rest. As he eased himself onto the thin mattress, the tobacco-chewing mate he had come to know as Marco commented:

"Aha, so you sleepin' at last, huh?"

Danny glanced at him and made no comment.

"Where you goin' durin' ya shut-eye?"

He still did not reply.

"I think I know." He gave a grin. "You young guys all the same."

Danny attempted to give attention to Marco although sleep beckoned. "Huh?"

"Not much sex on board a ship of men."

Now alert, he rose up on one elbow. "You have something to say?" he asked bluntly.

"Wanna get some?" Marco's eyes twinkled. "I could help you."

"You? How?" He played along.

"We could get that kid out of engineering. He ain't gonna say nothing cause he needs help getting past customs in Hawaii."

Danny flopped back on the bed. "Get lost."

Marco laughed and coughing laugh. "Of course, there could be something else."

Danny looked back at him again. "I'm tired. Do you have something say or not?" But internally he was hoping Marco would pass something about their stow away cargo.

"You Americano?" Marco remarked. He paused to spit into his coffee can of tobacco juice. He got up from the bunk and came closer to Danny's loft. "You rich boy, Americano?"

Danny fluffed his pillow, faking boredom. "More money 'n you."

Marco burst into a toothy grin. "You man enough, boy?" His eyes glistened with throwing out the challenge. "I mean, you had no guts with that nigger."

Danny rolled to face Marco. "I wasn't stupid enough to get beat up by someone three times my size," he corrected. "I'm man enough for anything you can dream up."

Marco chucked and whispered. "If the price is right -anything is possible."

Danny shook his head. "Enough of the riddles. You tryin' ta sell me on that kid, I told you, I'm not into queer stuff like that. Take it somewhere else."

"How about a girl?" Marco drew the final word out. "Hum? Sweet, young girls?"

"Here?" Danny asked with a scoffing tone.

"Yeah," Marco raised his eyebrows enthusiastically. "There girls here."

"Passengers?"

He laughed quietly. "In a manner of speaking. Don't ask so many questions, boy. You want some or no? One hundred dollar US. Take or leave it."

He pursed his lips. "That's a lot of money."

Marco grinned a yellowed toothy smile. "Neva' try, you neva' know. Supply and demand."

Danny cast him a sideways glance. "I need to see the goods first."

Marco shrugged. "Done." He walked away and sat back down on his bunk.

"Hey," Danny yelled after him. "When?"

Marco laughed quietly again. "I tell you when. Just keep your pants on, huh?" He picked up a Playboy and threw it up into Danny's bunk. "Sweet dreams, buckaroo!"

That evening Danny went up on deck to smoke and noticed Yusuf near the rail. "Yusuf, why are you here? Aren't you on duty?" Danny asked, Marco's plans immediately coming back to mind.

"Some of the crew know you walk the ship," Yusuf commented.

Danny felt a little uneasy.

"They think you are looking to steal things."

"I'm not," he replied lighting up the cigarette and flicking the match into the sea.

Yusuf continued to gaze at the ocean. "They say you bad man."

Danny slowly exhaled. "Yusuf, are you all right?"

The boy turned to look at him for the first time and Danny was shocked by badly swollen and blackened left eye.

"Yusuf!" He pitched away the unfinished cigarette.

"No matter," he hastened.

"What happened?" Danny demanded.

"Nothing."

Danny grabbed the boy's arm and the teen flinched back. "I won't hurt you," Danny promised. "Who did this?"

He shook his head. "No matter. Marco say you bad man. You American and Americans don't see us."

"Don't see - Yusuf, what I see is that someone hurt you. It's Marco, right? He said not to tell what he did or he'd make sure you don't get into the United States, right?"

Yusuf stared at the deck.

"I think you know he's wrong. I think you came up here hoping I'd help you." He softened his tone. "I can help you, Yusuf, more than Marco knows. I can get you into America legally - no police."

Yusuf's expression twisted in apprehension.

"Yusuf, trust me," Danny pleaded.If I can't find the human cargo, I can at least help this abused boy.

Yusuf started to move away, deciding he had already said too much to this dangerous American.

"They will hurt you again. We have three more days," Danny warned.

Yusuf disappeared into the dark.

Cursing, Danny slammed the railing and resolved to keep an eye on Yusuf.

---

Steve had been dogging Harold. If the large man had a live cargo, he never checked it - at least not himself. Steve began keeping a watchful eye on the galley. If there are stowaways, they will need to eat. Someone will have to get food to feed them. It was not long before he was rewarded.

The galley crew had diminished to just two that were completing the cleaning following the evening meal. They chatted between them in Portuguese and Steve, from his hiding corner in the hallway could make out only a little.

A newcomer arrived and murmured something too quietly for Steve to understand.

"Food. English, yes? Good. Here you go. I save you good meat. Put meat on those bones."

Steve peeked a little farther just in time to see a shadow disappear down the hallway. He hurried to see more. The door closed to the narrow metal stairway. He carefully followed, making sure his steps on the echoing stairway were silent. He reached the bottom of the steep metal stairway and the corridor before him was empty. He hurried forward, but there was no one. Whoever had left the galley had been quick.Am I grasping at straws?Maybe it was a hungry sailor. He explored the level, but found nothing of importance or anyone. Disappointed, he returned to the upper decks passengers should have been confined to, relieved his adventure below decks had gone unnoticed, but disappointed at being no closer to resolution that he had been before.

He went without hesitation directly to the ship's bridge and knocked on the door. Garcia opened it mildly surprised to see a passenger on the other side.

"I need to speak with Hermano," Steve stated with unblinking determination.

Garcia's brow furrowed.

"It is all right," Hermano's voice called. "Welcome to my bridge, McGarrett." He gave a broad smile. "Mr. McGarrett is a commander in the United States Navy," he advised Garcia.

Garcia gave a semi-nod and moved off.

Hermano placed a comradely hand on Steve's shoulder and gestured to the view forward. "Not at all bad for a freighter, aye?"

"Hermano, we need to return to the previous course," Steve said quietly.

"I have made my decision," Hermano answered. "I do not understand this frightening world of war. I wish only to have my cargo, my crew and myself safe until this - this calamity passes."

"You have a greater calamity on board, Hermano. We need the time we were promised."

Hermano frowned. "I don't see what Inspector Strickland told me. I cannot believe that this exists, not on my ship. You have the time that you have. You are the great American policeman, not I. The time you have is the time you have."

Steve ground his teeth silently, not accustomed to being ignored. "The weather is changing. There is a tropic storm ahead."

"The A Beleza has handled many storms. She shall do so again. She shall stay this course. Do what you must in the time you have left," Hermano insisted stubbornly.

Furious, Steve left the bridge. Garcia watched him go, then left the bridge as well.

---

"You are over reacting!" Sizegate roared at Garcia.

"I am not," Garcia retorted. "McGarrett was on the bridge. He spoke with Hermano. The old fool introduced him as part of the US Navy! He called McGarrett a policeman! I don't know what else would put him on this ship except they are looking for us."

"There are many things, many things," Sizegate brushed away Garcia's fears.

"Too risky! They have somehow traced that dead girl to us. They are looking for the girls and if they look hard enough, they will find them," Garcia insisted. "We must get rid of them."

"Get rid! You make it sound like throwing out the trash!" Sizegate shouted.

"Is there any difference? Unwanted waste."

Sizegate opened his mouth, then shut it.

"They find out what is happening on this ship, you won't go to some fancy American jail, Sizegate - you go to Brazilian jail. Been to Brazilian jail? Huh?" Garcia bared his teeth. "Hot, rats, bugs, no food - you die and no one cares. "The cargo can be replaced. They are cheap. That idiot Marco did a bad job with that girl that died on the last trip. He dumped her body at port - un weighted - they found it. No doubt they are now looking for answers and somehow, they trailed us here."

"Listen to you! You act as though US police are all powerful. They know nothing, Garcia, or they would already arrest us. They haven't a clue and they haven't found us - you or me. You must not panic here."

Garcia remained unmoved. "We are sailing into bad weather. I want the cargo ditched. Is that clear?"

Sizegate gave a regretful nod. "You have no stomach for this work, Garcia."

He laughed. "Me? I do not hesitate to do what it takes to protect myself. You are the one going soft on those girls. Nobody cares about them. Nobody ever will. They are just non-people are there are thousands more where they came from."

---

Mara and her three partners huddled together most of the time, chained to the bulkhead of a cargo hold. The floor was hard and cold. They could hear the loud rumbling of the ship's engines. Amongst themselves, they had created stories to account for where they were going and what was to happen. All of the stories were more hopeful than Mara thought the outcome was likely to be. But at time when she needed hope; Mara spent the time imaging herself buying mama a blue dress and how it would be to travel back down the dusty road home, run to the house calling for mama and present her with a big white box. Mama would act surprised and tell her she should not have done this, then she would finger the fine white tissue paper inside and lift out a pale blue dress the color of the sky.

More often she was tormented by the nightmare of rejection. When her mother knew what terribly filthy things she had done, she would disown her - hate her. In her nightmares, she looked for Sanath and he would treat her as these horrid men had. She would wake up crying.

Marco now came to the girls. Every so often, he would take one of them from the room. She would be gone for a long time, then return having been used and hurt. Mara no longer was shocked by what happened to them, it was easier to try to forget it, pretend it was not happening, and think of mama's blue dress hoping mama wound never know what she had done.

Marco treated Mara differently from the other three. He would take her from the room almost every day to another room where he would brush her hair, braid it himself in braids while he spoke softly to her in a language she did not know. He had made her understand that his name was Marco. He would often ask her to say it back to him. Sometimes she could, sometimes she was too afraid to. Many times she sat like a human doll and he would put beautiful silk dresses on her and take pictures of her. He was not a handsome man at all, but Mara sensed he liked her. Although not kind towards her for he used her just as every other man, he had a certain gentleness about him and always gave her small gifts of grapes or candy. He never drugged her as he did the other girls and often kissed her forehead when she returned to her small prison. She did not know what to think of him.

---

The humid heat and the din of the engine room was always exhausting. Any communication was always at a yell, so most of the hole snipes did little talk. Danny labored with the grease gun, his eye ever on Yusuf, wishing there was an opportunity to talk to the young man again. No doubt Yusuf was hiding something, but his fear of Danny was as great as that of anyone else aboard - except perhaps the one who'd struck him. And that fear had exacted a stubborn silence.

Danny was also conscious that Marco watched him as closely as he watched Yusuf and that was both disquieting and inconvenient. It had been over twenty-four hours but Marco had not made good on his proposition. Is this just a sham? If it was, did I fall for it? Is Marco wise to what I am here for? He struggled to control paranoia. They don't know. Marco is just waiting because he can control the conditions. Contemplating a course of action, Danny squeezed off the grease gun and a ribbon of dark brown ooze penetrated the bearing he was working on.

Marco walked over and brushed his shoulder. "Americano. Come after mess call tonight." He slipped a small scrap of paper containing a number on it into Danny's hand and winked. "Don't forget your money, heh?"

Danny looked at him unable to hide the look of anticipation that Marco misread as lust.

---

Danny stood outside the metal door, glancing up and down the corridor. This was a small below-decks area where the freighter sometimes carried passengers. There were four small staterooms that were spartan in their décor. He rapped gently on the door.

Marco threw the door open, a toothy grin on his unshaven greasy face. "Welcome, welcome," he chuckled in a seeming good nature. He extended his hand for the money.

"First I see the goods," Danny replied.

Marco shrugged and waved Danny into the room.

On the old rusting metal bed with a then worn horsehair mattress sat a young dark-skinned girl clad in a white short-sleeved buttoned shirt and a pair of underwear. She stared fixedly at her knees. Danny was shocked by her apparent young age.

"Well?" Marco demanded.

"She's just a child," Danny could not help replying.

"She's a female," Marco snapped. "She what you're payin' for. She do you good. Money!"

Danny handed Marco the fist of bills, his eyes still glued to the young girl.

Marco shoved the money away into his pocket. "One hour." He left, slamming the door behind him.

Danny looked back at the girl who was numbly beginning to unbutton her blouse. He hurried over. "No, stop," he said gently placing his hands over hers to stop her. In the moment it took for him to pull the clothing back around her he noticed that much of her young body was covering with bruises.

Her gaze lifted from her knees to his face for a moment and he was lost in the depth of pain and hopelessness that consumed her.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised.

She looked at him without reaction understanding neither his language nor expression.

"Your name?" he asked.

She stared at the floor.

He took one of her hands and pressed it to his chest. "I'm Dan." He pressed it to her chest. "You?"

She turned at dull non-responsive gaze to him.

She is drugged. She doesn't even understand why she is here or what I want to do. Why would someone have sex with someone who is drugged and can't even respond? He tried repeatedly to talk to the girl, get anything, even her name from her without success. Time was passing. How do I get her out of here? Not now, for where could I take her? How many more are there?

When the hour was up, Marco rapped once on the door, then burst in. He was a little surprised to find the girl dressed. "You get your money's worth from her?" he asked of Danny.

"Absolutely," Danny assured him. "Got any more like her?"

"Just one to a customer," he replied, spitting on the floor.

---

Steve stood at the aft railing glaring out across the ocean, as though he could, by his will, change the mind of the weather. Dark clouds were beginning to boil on the horizon and the white caps of waves were beginning to rise and be blown by the increasing wind. It was not good for him to meet Danny aboard ship, it compromised them both, but the red work rag tied to the knob of his room had given the coded message that Williams wanted to meet. Steve hoped the his new officer had information.

He did. Danny and the first of the rain arrived at the same time. Buried in a heavy yellow rain-slicker no one would know his identity. "The girls are here. I saw one on lower deck. I don't know how many of them there are. There is a seaman named Marco peddling them to shipmates for $100 an hour."

Steve winced quietly and dug deeper into his raincoat as the raindrops came more quickly. "We need to wait."

"Wait! For what!" Danny answered. "You didn't see that girl - that child - McGarrett. How many more times will she be assaulted before we reach Honolulu?"

"We need the big fish, Danny," Steve reminded him. "Your guy Marco is just the little guy. If we let Sizegate and his contacts get away, the abuse will go on with more girls. You know that."

"There has to be something we can do for her right now," Danny remarked.

Steve gave him a hard look. "We are already doing something for her. We're keeping her alive by not tipping our hand too soon."

"I don't like it."

Steve lifted an eyebrow, a little surprised that Williams was challenging him. "I don't care whether you like it or not," he answered bluntly.This is my game, Williams, learn that right now. "Maybe we can be glad for Hermano changing course after all - we just have to make it through the storm. Stay alert, keep your eyes open. I'll radio Honolulu."

---

Marco felt the ship straining as the large sea swells slammed against her sides. Cyclones were not to be taken lightly at sea so far from a port, but that was not what pressed on his mind. He knew he needed to comply with Garcia. Although Sizegate had been disappointed in the outcome, he had been clear in Garcia's orders. Marco had disposed of bodies of the dead, weaker girls before, but this was somehow different. These girls were still alive. He'd ordered Yusuf to obtain several cups of applesauce. That had been harder to do, harder for the boy to explain to the cooks, but he had accomplished the task rather than face the beating Marco would have administered his failure. Marco had mixed a generous amount of crushed sleeping pills into the stuff. If they must drown, they shall do so in their sleep, he consoled himself. He thought of the girl he kept to himself.Can I spare her somehow? Sizegate would not care. Certainly I can slip one girl past customs in Hawaii and then I shall never return to the sea. I shall find a way to make her love me and buy a small house on the shore. I will find a way to make her happy. This kind of thought was unusual for a hard-souled men like Marco, it surprised him, but that did not stop it from coming.

He dished out the applesauce into three small cans and took them to the other girls, motioning them to eat up. The young prisoners had scarcely eaten anything but a few bread crusts in more than a week and the gift of applesauce was quickly consumed, down to licking out the small metal cans. Marco smiled quietly to himself. They shall have had a pleasant last meal. He waited for the drug to take effect and contemplated how he would sneak the fourth girl, Mara, away.

---

The churning ocean swirled and crashed across the deck of the freighter. Steve stood inside the mess hall of the ship, glaring out of the portal as the driving wind splashed salt water and rain against the glass. The ship's crew were all busy either below decks or on deck. The bilge pumps were trying to pump the water out faster than it was being thrown back in by the sea. Life vests had been issued but, at least at the moment, the ship was still very much sea worthy.

He wondered about Sizegate's slaves. Will he check on them? What value does he place on them? Sizegate had not left his stateroom and Steve had kept a close eye on pre-mature green dusk of the storm induced twilight was settling on the ship. Ship's hands were running back and forth across decks, keeping a grip on railings against the next ocean wave. The freighter was starting to ride lower in the water - the bilge pumps were not keeping up with the waves washing into the ship.

The door to the dining galley from where Steve was observing the impending disaster and Sizegate blew threw in, soaked with seawater and rain.

"This is terrible," Sizegate announced.

"Yes, it is," Steve replied calmly, not looking the traveler in the eye. "I advised Hermano to go round the storm, if you recall."

Sizegate shook his head. "The ship won't sink, will it?"

Steve gazed at the ocean. "Perhaps. You might want to get all your valuables at hand."

Sizegate rubbed his hands together. "We need to call someone - someone."

The door opened again and admitted Captain Hermano. Although more appropriately attired for the weather in yellow slickers, he also was soaked. Water ran off the bill of his ship's cap in a thin stream. He went straight to Steve. Hermano flexed his jaw. "Let us put aside this play. You are a naval officer - we need all men of experience if we are to live."

Steve noticed Sizegate's eyes widen. "I am not a sea captain. Your ship is taking on water, but you know that," Steve commented.

Hermano nodded. "A bilge pump is out. I have a team working on it."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

Steve glanced at Sizegate. He knows something is up now. I have no choice but to take action now. "Let's go down and take a look," he suggested to Hermano.

The captain issued a stiff nod. He opened the door and he and Steve stepped out into the storm.

Steve was instantaneously and thoroughly soaked to the skin as the driving rain stung him through his clothing. As they hurried down the slippery outer stairway, a wave crashed across the deck and the ship gave a shudder. Although Hermano's helmsman was struggling to keep the aging ship into the waves, the wind kept blowing the craft broadside to the waves.

The darkness was almost like night as Marco rolled one drugged girl into a blanket and put her over his shoulder. The crew were all at emergency stations - where he should have been - but he knew he had to complete this distressing task first. He carefully made his way to the aft deck. The rain poured down and there was, of course, no one near at hand. He moved towards the railing to drop his load into the black boiling water below.

Suddenly, a hand gripped his arm and he spun in alarm.

"Isn't dumping trash at sea illegal?" Williams asked.

Marco glared at him, mouth agape. "Why are you here?" he snapped, but it was a useless question.

A small limp hand dropped from the folds of the blanket. Danny and Marco's eyes met. "She dead?" Danny asked trying to sound callus.

Marco grimaced. "Yep. Sometimes that happens." In a burst of action, he dropped the body on the narrow deck like a sack of garbage and, grabbing Danny by the front of his rubber slicker, pressed a knife against the younger man's throat. "You've gone and stumbled into something that's none of your business. Tell me why there shouldn't be another body overboard as well?" Marco snarled.

The girl under the blanket moaned and moved a little.

"Hey, Marco, she isn't dead," Danny commented, trying to deny the steel blade at his neck.

Marco glanced down. "So she ain't."

"It's okay then, huh?" he murmured trying to look innocent. Banks once told me my youthful looks would some day save me if I could play the naivety card well. This may be the moment. "Good thing I came along just now, huh?"

Marco glared at the semi-conscious girl, a cloud of indecision passing over his features as the rain pounded them. "Why don't you just get out of here, boy."

Danny, trying to maintain a wide-eyed innocent look replied. "Hey, you can get money for a live girl. There are guys in Hawaii that'll buy her. Hey, if you don't want those girls, I'll take 'em. I know somebody who could use a few good girls in Honolulu."

Marco gave a sardonic chuckle. "You? Hell, kid, what do you know about nothing?"

"I'm from Hawaii, I know people there. People who'd pay money."

The deck slowly pitched towards starboard, Marco's rubber soles slipped on the slick deck, sliding him into the aft railing, providing Marco a moment to think as he gripped the railing tightly to keep from being tossed into the sea himself. The ship gradually came back onto an even keel. The moment of watching the swirling brine reach for him caused him to see the fate of his cargo in spite of himself. Maybe I could sell them and keep the money myself. When the storm is over, I'll move them. Sizegate will think they are gone. I will not live the rest of my life knowing those girls drowned just to please that fat slob. To hell with him. I like that little one. She could be pretty if she wasn't so dirty. And I could keep the money for myself. But what about this American? Can I trust him? Maybe I don't have to.

"Marco? You can't really kill her, can you?" Danny asked. He could see the doubt plainly on Marco's craggy features and knew he was compelling.

Marco folded the pocketknife and it disappeared into the deep pocket of his yellow rain slicker. "I don't want to kill those girls, but you - I have no problem slicing you and up tossing you to the sharks -understand that? You say you got contacts, you'd better. I keep those girls and you turn on me, I'll see to it you have an accident - understand me?"

Danny gave a brief nod. "After the storm."

"Hell, we may not make it through this storm," Marco sneered. "Pick her up," he ordered toeing the girl wrapped in the soaked blanket.

As Danny started to bend down, Marco suddenly punched him in the mouth with a closed fist, snapping Danny's head back. Water off the rain slicker scattered in a shower within the rain. Danny gripped his jaw as the pain shot through his temple.

Marco pushed him against the wall, faces inches apart. "That's for following me. Don't you ever - ever get close to me again. You hear?"

The tobacco-laden stench of Marco's breath was nauseating. Danny managed a nod, hand pressed to the split lip that was bleeding and already swelling. He wanted nothing better than to yank this moron off his feet and throw him over the rail, but Danny resisted. Maybe there is a small about of consolation in knowing what I could do, but am choosing not to. Warily, he bent down once again and took hold of the saturated blanket. The girl was surprisingly light. As he lifted her, the blood from his lip ran down his chin, blending with the rainwater and a spilled onto the yellow slicker in an orange thread.

Marco motioned him to follow and went below decks. Water cascaded down the steep steel ladder and Danny struggled with the bulk to the lower cargo hold. In the lowest part of the ship, he noticed there was water sloshing about, filled with debris and topped with a thin film of oil

"Ship's taking on water," Danny remarked.

Marco stopped before a sealed door to a compartment and gave a wry smile. "You're keeping me from fixing that bilge pump." The unlocked water tight door swung back with a groaning whine.

Danny stepped over the sill with the girl and stopped. There were three more girls chained by the wrists to brackets in the wall. Two of them had been drugged for they were asleep in spite of the howling storm and pitching ship. The third peered at them through frightened eyes having paused in her hopeless task to free herself from the chain around her thin wrist. Danny slowly laid the drugged limp load down, his eyes on the alert girl, wishing there was something he could do to reassure her about the future that seemed so uncertain for them all. For an instant there was a smashing pain. Oh no…

Mara gasped in astonishment at Marco who slid the pipe wrench back into the tool holster, then at the young white American who lay sprawled in the inch deep water.

"Now, don't you worry any, "Marco said to her, although she could not understand most of his English. "Can't have this guy telling somebody where you are. We're gonna skip ship as soon as she puts in," he promised. He dragged the unconscious Danny within reach of the chain that had earlier held the girl he had intended on throwing overboard, then fastened a locked the chain around Danny's arm.He may be able to team me up with somebody. If so, I need to keep him under my eye, not having him running all over with what he knows. And if he's makin' this up, or worse, I can deal with it.

Mara's sad expression followed him. Marco, sincerely wished to put her at ease, forced a gentle smile and placed on hand on her cheek. "You'll see," he said quietly. "It will be just fine. Just fine."

She shivered as there came a moaning of the ship structure. Marco knew he had to get back to the bilge pump.

---

There were three mechanics struggling with the disabled bilge pump. Three other pumps were laboriously dumping seawater out of the ship, but, Steve noticed, the water level was still rising.

Hermano hailed the officer who was heading up a crew working on the bilge pump. As they exchanged rapidly words in Portuguese, Steve glanced quickly around, hoping to see Williams.

"He says the pump needs part - they are trying to make something else work," Hermano reported.

Steve noticed that there was about an inch of water on the floor. "How bad in the flooding?"

"Lower cargo hold is taking water."

"Hermano," Steve murmured quietly in spite of the noise. "There may be human cargo down there."

Hermano, without blinking replied: "We do not know that, McGarrett - but we know we all die here without the pump. I cannot send a team after nothing."

"Then give me the pass key," Steve retorted.

Hermano started to object, then gave a sharp nod. He picked up the microphone and called Garcia on the bridge. In a quick rush of Portuguese he told Garcia Steve was coming for the key and to give it to him.

Steve noticed that the deck was beginning to list to port. "Hermano, you need to send a distress signal or no one will reach you in time. You are still fourteen hours out of Honolulu."

Hermano ground his teeth, glanced back at the men laboring over the pump, then nodded.
"I will do this."

Steve considered the ship's captain who was humble enough to seek assistance and he hoped Hermano would not lose his ship to nature.

Steve began to make his way back through the driving wind and rain. As he ascended the steel ladder, the water tumbled around him down the steps creating the effect of an un-glorious waterfall. On deck, the winds howled, snatching at his clothing, threatening to wipe him into the frothing sea as the deck pitched and rolled beneath him. He dared not release the railing for an instant. He approached the stairway leading to the bridge, when suddenly the path was blocked by a figure clad in yellow rain gear.

"You wanted the key!" Garcia screamed towards him although they were little more than three feet apart.

Grateful that the first officer had come to him Steve gave an exaggerated nod. "I need to inspect the holds! We're taking on water below decks."

"Yes, I know!" Garcia shouted back and took a few struggling steps closer, the key extended from his left hand.

Steve reached for it and Garcia suddenly gripped hold of Steve's left elbow yanking his hand free from the railing at the same instant Garcia's foot caught Steve leg swiping it from beneath.

With a gasp of shocked surprise, Steve struggled as his world flipped past him. In the final instant, both hands found the slippery metal railing and closed around it in a vice-grip. He was dangling above the churning white caps of water.

Garcia slammed an ineffective fisted blow against McGarrett's arms as Steve attempted with swing his legs up for a foothold. He lost his footing and tried two more times. The ship pitched wildly as it nosed into a large breaking wave. A two-foot wave raced down the deck, throwing loose items ahead of it. Garcia held on to the railing to keep from being swept away as the water from the swell gushed over Steve.

For an instant Steve could see Garcia's determined face. No look of hatred or malice.He feels no more about killing me than he would drowning a ship's rat.

As the water receded, Steve again swung a foot up to try to gain a foothold and this time caught the edge of the decking. His hands and arms were tiring, he could not hang this way for long.

Garcia ignored Steve's leg as he pulled a bowie knife and in a quick motion stabbed it deeply into Steve's lower left arm.

A cry of surprised pain escaped Steve's mouth as the blade sliced deeply through muscle and blood vessels. Against his will, his left hand let go the railing. The rubber of the sole of his shoe squeaked almost unheard in the gale and slipped from the deck. Clinging to the ship by just one hand as blood streamed from the injured arm, Steve looked up towards Garcia knowing he was in a critical situation and had to think fast.

Garcia's eyes suddenly widened, bright white even in the stormy darkness and he stumbled backwards, was suddenly lifted off his feet and crashed into a bulkhead.

Before Steve could even wonder at the events, a large hand gripped his right hand and he was pulled back aboard in a single powerful yank. Sprawling across the deck where he could easily see Garcia's now unconscious crumpled yellow-clad form, Steve turned to view his benefactor, expecting to see Williams.

The tall black man stooped down to look at Steve's wound. The driven water and rain were washing the blood away nearly as fast as it seeped out.

"Who are you?" Steve demanded.

Mbutu looked up as another large wave washed down the deck. He took hold of Steve as the wall of water flooded over them, dragging away everything in it's path. Mbutu reached for Garcia, but the water was quicker and moments later, he was gone.

Good God, Steve gasped, knowing the first officer had just been washed overboard. In spite of the man's murderous attack on him, he would not have wished such a fate on him.

As the last of the powerful surge drained off, Mbutu pulled Steve to his feet and nearly carried him inside the same galley Steve had earlier occupied with Sizegate. With one arm Mbutu swept saltshakers and centerpiece from a table as he hauled Steve atop the table. Steve tried to protest, but Mbutu pushed him back. Blood had thoroughly saturated Steve's white shirt and had left a trail from the doorway. Snatching up several cloth dinner napkins and tearing open the shirtsleeve, Mbutu tied them tightly around the bleeding wound.

"Thank you," Steve stated, getting to really see his rescuer for the first time.

The large man gave a single nod. "Bad."

Steve wasn't certain if that referred to the weather, his arm, or the general circumstances. In any event, it still applied. "I need to get to the lower holds. I need to rescue some young women who may be locked down there."

Mbutu gave no immediate response.

"Do you know anything about girls being held prisoner? Do you understand me?"

"Of course I do," Mbutu responded in heavily accented English. "Because I see no need to talk does not mean I am ignorant."

"Will you help me?"

"I know a boy who will know," Mbutu informed him. "Men speak freely around you when they believe you to be stupid. They say many things. You must be ware of the ship's engineer. He a dangerous man. We must fine Yusuf."

"Yusuf," Steve repeated. "Where is he?"

The deck beneath them rocked to port and pots, pans and china crashed in the galley. "Come," Mbutu bid and headed out into the storm.

Steve followed close behind as Mbutu led him back down into the lower part of the ship.

---

Mara had a growing sense of impending disaster as the structure of the ship moaned and whined around her. The water level was creeping higher. She stretched as far as she could and was able to move the head of one of the drugged girls to keep her face out of the water, but the other two were too far away. The American was also within reach. She hesitated, recalling Molland. He was also a nice looking American. Maybe this one will hurt me, too. All the white men hurt me. The water was rising more quickly now. She hoped the water itself would rouse him, but it did not. He was face down and would be submerged in another moment.What shall I do? Maybe I should let him drown. That is what these white men deserve. She twisted her hands together in fear an indecision. I know Marco is evil - and he chained the man. Maybe he was trying to help? No one tries to help, they only hurt. In spite of her inner concerns, Mara, hands shaking, touched Danny's shoulder. She tapped him again. With more courage, she shook him again. Unable to get a good enough hold to turn him over, she put her hand under his chin and lifted his head free of the water.

There was the sound of the key at the door; just as the door opened, water rushed into the compartment from the hallway, sending small waves over the bodies on the floor. Mara issued a small gasp of frustration as Yusuf entered.

He had been afraid for the girls below decks. Knowing that Marco and Garcia were keeping the women and knowing the viciousness of Garcia who had earlier abused him, Yusuf knew they would not rescue the prisoners and had come to free them himself. He quickly splashed the several steps to Danny's side and pulled him over, trying to arouse him as he dragged him into a sitting position. "It okay," he told Mara. He moved to the other two girls and pulled them higher out of the water as well.

Danny gave a gurgling cough and began to revive. For a moment, he could not remember how he had come to be here, but a glance at Mara's fear filled eyes brought the situation rushing back. Danny, now alert, discovered he was chained to the bulkhead. In a surge of anger, he slammed his arm down hard, hoping to break the bond, but it did not give.

At his action, Mara pulled back in fear and shock.

"Yusuf," Danny muttered. "The key – you have the key?"

Yusuf fished in his pocket and quickly unchained Danny, Mara, and the other girls. "We go now - they come be very angry," he remarked stating the obvious.

The ship gave a deep moan of metal and the floor began to tip, water rushing around the small group. With no bonds to restrain them, the unconscious girls flopped hopelessly against the bulkhead.

At loud pop could be heard and felt as a kind of shudder followed by a scraping sound and shaking crashes. Cargo in a bay had broken free from the ties and had come crashing towards the other side of the ship. The ship that was already low from taking on water was now unbalanced as well.

The floor was not coming back on even keel. Instead there came another series of heavy crashing; something struck the wall beside them, then a second blow.

"We get out of here!" Yusuf shouted running for the escape door. Danny scooped up the semi-conscious girl who'd been wrapped in the blanket and gestured to Mara who seemed capable of following on her own. He glanced back at the two unconscious girls left behind, regretting abandoning them, and with Mara before him, ran for the door.

Just as they cleared the door into the hallway, Mbutu appeared at the bottom of the steep ladder at the end of the corridor, McGarrett behind him. "Come! Quickly!" Mbutu shouted, clinging to the tilted ladder.

"Two more back there!" Danny gasped hurrying towards them, passing the drugged girl to Mbutu. "I've got to go back!"

"No time!" Steve yelled above the moan of grinding, twisting metal.

There was a rumbling crash, the deck seemed to ripple beneath their feet. Mbutu and Steve were already retreating back up the ladder, Yusuf at their heels.

The lights failed and they were plunged into blackness.

Mara gave a small whimper of fear. Danny took hold of her arm in the blackness and placed her hands on the rungs. "Go!" He ordered. Just as the words left his mouth, there came a strange hiss of air, the sinking ship tilted sharply, knocking everyone aboard ship off balance.

The water rushed in. Violent currents swept through the decks tossing cargo and humans like feathers. There was a deep, shaking rumble followed by an ear-shattering blast as the cold water reached the hot boiler. A huge rupture appeared as the outer left hull was torn open.

---

McGarrett wasn't certain if he ever lost consciousness or not. He knew that somehow he had ended up outside the ship and was at the surface where the gale and waves continued to toss him. Something struck him on the left shoulder and he took a life and death grip hold of the wooden deck chair that had floated into him. Using his one good arm to pull himself upwards onto the debris, he was now able to see a little better through the blowing rain.

Unidentified objects were everywhere, tossed by the waves. A wave lifted him up and Steve could look into the ocean below and see members of the crew, most of them floundering about and grabbing for something to stay afloat on. Steve spotted a motionless body close by and paddled to the man. Pulling the crewman over, it was evident right away the man had died from severe burns. Steve moved the other way. Did Hermano get out the distress call? How long will it take for someone to reach us?

It seemed an eternity, but the winds were gradually diminishing and the rain easing up. Visibility was better and McGarrett could make out a small knot of life about thirty yards away where several survivors had clustered together on pieces of floating debris. He gradually made his way over and as he neared, a crewman reached out and pulled him in. It was reassuring just to know there were others alive and to feel the slight warmth of their bodies close to his as his muscles shivered. He looked from face to face, hoping to identify any of the five people. He knew the cook, but the others were strangers.

"Se llamo?" asked one man in Spanish, although it was apparent that was not the man's native tongue.

"McGarrett," he replied. "Do you speak English?"

"I do," replied another man.

Steve focused on the blonde haired, blue-eyed crewman. "There must be others out here."

The man glared through the drizzling weather. "Ya got to hope, right, mate? Crew of 32, ya got to hope."

Every so often, a survivor would spot a person, let loose of the raft of debris and swim to the body, only to return empty-handed and issue a name sadly.

At last, there came the drone of an airplane high above them in the gray clouds.

A few of the survivors murmured and they all looked skyward, but the overcast was still thick. Everyone was cold and shivering by now and darkness would be upon them soon. Steve wondered how many of them could survive until morning in the water. Maybe none of us. The plane faded away into the wind.

One of the men muttered in Portuguese and shook his head.

"He thinks we're not gonna make it," the Australian translated for Steve.

"Tell him we will be all right. Hermano radioed for help before we went down," Steve answered emphatically. "We just need to wait. Help is coming."

The seaman exchanged glances with Steve, his look wishing Steve's words to be true and searching for anything to make them believable. He glanced away and stammered to construct a sentence of hope to the others. "Ajuda chegando.."

Steve looked from face to face of the other five men and wondered if any of them believed him.

They were distracted by the sudden sound of a voice calling out to them. A man was waving wildly from the water. Steve recognized the voice instantly as Mbutu. As they pulled the large man into their group, they realized that he was holding onto still another person. Mbutu had been able to just barely keep a young Asian girl's head about water. A few glances were exchanged amongst the survivors, but this hardly seemed the time for questioning.

The girl was shaking uncontrollably and in deep shock. Her arms and legs were drawn up close to her body, and she was totally unable to function for herself. Mbutu continued to hold her close as he found a small corner of the debris made life raft.

"The others," Steve asked him. "Did you see them?"

"Everything go at once," Mbutu replied. "I think I see Yusuf, but not now."

"And Williams? The other American?"

Mbutu scowled, then shook his head. "Nothing."

Steve turned his head away, wondering if Williams would be as resourceful as he had hoped. There was nothing to do but wait - and hope what he had told the survivors was true - that Hermano had radioed for help.

---

The clouds had moved off, leaving just an occasional wisp of stratus clouds behind as the blue sky broadened out towards the horizon where the sun was moving hastily towards the sea. Shortly, it would be dark and locating anyone would be nearly impossible. Hopefully the coordinates received by the USS Tattnall were accurate. The destroyer had been the closest ship and had been redirected towards the site with orders to move in once the weather had cleared enough. Her crew was on high alert. Rumor had it that war with Asia, China perhaps, or even Russia, was eminent and her officers were skeptical that this might be a trick. But the A Beleza was registered to be in the area even though all the maritime craft had been warned to avoid this cyclone. It was surprising that the Brazilian ship had ignored the warning.

"Probably didn't believe it," Richardson, the first officer remarked in the ready room.

"Whatever," Captain Anderson answered. "We are elected to clean it up. Advise the ship's physician to stand by to render assistance - and keep us on yellow alert."

"Aye, Sir."

As the Tattnall approached the coordinates, her lookouts scanned the water surface with field glasses. They began to spot debris and oil slick - a ship had met a watery fate here for certain. The claxon sounded calling more crew to the rail to look for survivors and Captain Anderson put down the motorwhale boat with a rescue team. It was less than ten minutes before the small boat returned to the destroyer with two survivors.

Anderson had already placed the call amongst his crew for a Portuguese interpreter and finding none had accepted the Chief Petty Officer who was fluent in Spanish.

As the two survivors, draped in gray navy blankets were ushered aboard the Petty Officer stepped forever. "Dé la bienvenida a bordo. Esto es un Estados Unidos el barco Naval."

One of the rescue team chuckled. "At ease, sailor, one's an American."

The male survivor stepped forward. Beneath his woolen blanket he was streaked black from head to toe, hair matted down from the oil he had floated through for hours. His hand shook from cold and exhaustion as he extended it towards the officers.

"American?" Richardson asked of him.

He gave a single nod. "Dan Williams. The girl needs help."

Mara, shivering from her experience, buried her face in the blanket, terrified at the new group of men who were surrounding them. She gripped tightly the edge of Danny's blanket. Although nearly a stranger to her, she knew they had kept each other alive in the water and that was enough for her to stay close to him.

The motorwhale boat was putting out again as Richardson asked. "What was your compliment?"

"Close to 34," Danny muttered and gazed back at the choppy ocean wondering how many had died.

---

The little makeshift debris raft had found two more survivors, one of them severely burned and in extreme pain. No one was completely out of the water, but the survivors graciously shifted as well they could to accommodate the badly injured man. Darkness was beginning to fall and there was yet to be any indication of help since the high-level aircraft several hours before. Steve looked critically from person to person knowing that it would not be long before they began to die.The nearly catatonic girl or the burned man will be first. Then who? One of the crewmen was slipping into deeper hypothermia. What can be done to keep them alive? Steve did not want to face that his own survival was not likely as the deep gash on his arm continued to bleed freely and he had no gauge to determine his blood loss. As time was slipping by, he could feel his strength sapping with it. Steve could no longer lift his head from the wet debris-webbed surface of their only hope.

"Mbutu," he whispered through chatting teeth.

The large kind man at Steve's elbow bent his ear close.

"Williams…did you know Williams?"

Mbutu gave a quick nod.

"When you are rescued…if the girl lives…go to Chin Ho Kelley…Hawaii…he knows us…tell him…" Steve's voice faded and was lost.

Mbutu frowned. "You not die, I think," he commented. "What I say to Kelley man?"

"Girl…take her back home…" Steve wanted to give Mbutu a report, but he did not have the strength. His body was shaking and his teeth chattering. It was all too much. Have to sleep…

One of the men suddenly bolted upright, eyes shining. "Estamos aqui!" He shouted waving his arms wildly.

Others turned, exclaimed and began shouting. Far in the distance was the silhouette of an American destroyer in the last of twilight. A smaller boat was closing on the group waving a spotlight back and forth across the blackening water.

---

The hospitable crew of the Tattnall accepted the new survivors into their midst.

"Everyone to sick bay!" the first officer ordered as sailors corralled the cluster of survivors below deck. There had been a third boat of two more survivors. Lt. Commander Richardson provided the number of survivors to his captain as eleven, all of whom were crowded in sickbay.

"Get a ward room with food open. Tell Doc to send the okay ones there. And find dry clothing for them.

Richardson cleared his throat. "There are females in the group."

That did not seem to phase Anderson. "Jumpsuits for them, too."

Sickbay had never been planned to accommodate the large number of survivors. Doc was quickly triaging the group. He motioned the burned man, the Asian girl from Steve's group and Steve himself to examination beds. "We well check everyone else as we can."

As the group was being herded back out towards the ward room down the hall, Danny spotted Sizegate and he felt ice forming in his gut. Yet, immediately after, he recognized Steve. The pallid gray of Steve's skin and the blood dripping freely from the saturated linen dressing were disquieting. He hesitated trying to decide if he needed to keep his under cover intact.

The corpsman tending to McGarrett looked at the binding cloth, then made an attempt to untie the knot. Between the blood and the water, the knot held fast. The young man cut away the cloth to inspect the wound.

"Shit," the young medic uttered in shock as the restrictive cloth dropped away and as it did the deep knife wound yawned open before him. "Hey, Doc, this guy's been filleted!"

As the air reached the injury, Steve gritted his teeth in new pain and gave a single vicious kick against the exam table to keep from crying out.

The doctor was pouring saline over the sterile dressings he had been applying to burns. "Morphine," he replied. It seemed his standard first response for everything. "And plasma."

The Corpsman injected the needle deeply into Steve's good arm.

Knowing the drugs would take effect quickly, Danny moved closer to Steve. "McGarrett, what do you want me to do?"

Steve gazed at Williams, already feeling the heavy sedative effect. It was the first time he had known the young recruit was still alive. "You're alive…good." He drifted out.

Danny gave a smirk and ran a hand through the curls of hair that still lay matted in black oil against his head. Good?

Danny allowed himself and Mara, still clutching the edge of his blanket, to be guided away by crewmen into the wardroom where the other six survivors were huddled around a table wrapped in gray woolen blankets, warm beverages cupped in their hands. As the last ones into the room, all eyes focused on them for a moment and Danny could feel Mara shrink back upon seeing Sizegate.

Sizegate leapt to his feet. "My dear daughter! You live!" He theatrically reached out and embraced Mara who shivered. "My dear child!"

Mara stared in shocked betrayal, looking back and forth between Danny and Sizegate. It was plain she thought Danny was giving her back to the man who had abused her.

Danny, unable to look her in the eye, tried to hide the feeling of revulsion. I cannot begin to make her understand. I just have to keep her alive until we get to Honolulu. Ten hours. If I go to the officers of the ship, I have no way to back up the truth. It is my word against Sizegate. No evidence. He watched as Sizegate led Mara away and sat her down beside him at the table. She glanced back over her shoulder at Danny, her face blank and lifeless.

A seaman announced: "We have showers and dry clothing if you all would like to take a turn." Everyone looked at him blankly.

Then the Australian rose. "I'll go for that. Maybe I can get everyone else moving."

"There is an MP outside the door who will show you where to go," the sailor said with relief.

Danny wondered how long Steve would be sedated from his morphine. An hour? Two? He could imagine McGarrett fighting his way back to consciousness in a hurry. He glanced at the guarded door and moved a few steps in that direction.

"Sir?" The seaman looked at him. "Sorry, sir, civilians cannot wander the ship at will."

Hoping he was out of earshot of Sizegate, Danny muttered. "My friend is in sickbay. Can I see him?"

"Doc will come here when he has a report."

Danny opted for the second best thing and sat down next to Sizegate and Mara. The smuggler was still nearly covered in black oil from the surface of the water and his wet hair and clothing clung against him. Even with the once white suit stained with streaks of black oil, Sizegate reminded Danny of images of humpty-dumpty from his childhood reading. But there was nothing humorous about his hostile countenance. "Those girls your cargo?" Danny whispered.

Sizegate glared at him and did not respond.

An MP stuck his head inside the door and gestured to Mara. "Doc wants her."

Her eyes widened in panic.

"She doesn't understand you," Danny said quietly.

The MP came closer and motioned to her. "Come," he said in a gentle voice.

She jumped from her seat and fled to a corner of the small room.

Sizegate half rose. "My dear daughter is frightened. This is not wise."

That did not impress the MP. He glanced at Danny. "You Williams?"

"Yes," he replied, astonished the man knew his name.

"You bring her."

Since getting to sickbay was high on Danny's list, this seemed an excellent plan. He crossed to where Mara huddled against the wall.

"They won't hurt you," he said gently, taking her hand.

She started to pull away, but stopped.

"Come, no one will hurt you," he assured although he knew she did not understand the words. He glanced towards Sizegate, lifted an eyebrow. "I will keep you safe."

Seeming to understand his gesture, she allowed him to take her hand and quietly lead her away from the man who had been her captor.

Sickbay was only three doors down the hallway and as they entered the room, Mara saw the other girl who had been her companion. She ran to her and they embraced, weeping.

Doc watched for a moment. "I will need to examine her and that won't be easy. Her friend was still unconscious during her exam."

"Danno," Steve's tired voice came.

"Steve!" His voice filled with relief as he turned and saw McGarrett propped up on his left elbow on a gurney, right arm heavily encased in dressing.

"We need to interrogate Mr. Sizegate," Steve announced. "Doc can prove that these young women have been sexually abused. Once we get a translator in Hawaii I am certain we will get statements, but meantime we should learn what we can from him."

Danny nodded. "Do they have an interrogation room on a destroyer? I'd rather waterboard that monster than interrogate him."

"Don't let that get around," Steve remarked. "Captain Anderson is going to put something together including an 8mm movie camera to record. Afraid with morphine in my system you should take the first shot at him. I'll be watching."

Danny thought about it for a moment. "Let's roll."

Danny returned to the wardroom, noticing that several more of the survivors, including Sizegate, had bathed and changed to clean clothes. He knew he would need to wait a little longer.

Sizegate snarled. "Where is my girl?"

"With her friend," he replied cooly. "I will take you to her soon." At the insistence of the MP, he accepted a bundle of clean clothes and was pointed to where a shower awaited.

Thirty minutes later and much cleaner, Danny was back in the wardroom. As he entered, the MP murmured that the private room and McGarrett were ready for them.

He gave a subtle nod. "Sizegate, they are ready for you."

Sizegate seemed pleased and believed he was about to reclaim his property. Danny and the MP led him from the wardroom and towards another room. The door opened. There was a table and two chairs opposite each other. The room often served for small meetings. A water pitcher and fountain pen in inkwell were decorating the table, seeming oddly out of place for the current use. Danny suspected the microphone was in the metal pitcher. Sizegate spun. "Where is she? Is this a trick?

"No trick," Danny muttered. "Marco told me about you and the girls. Four of them, right?"

Sizemore's eyes narrowed. "What is this?"

"Sit down," Danny commended.

"You and Marco were going to steal my girls."

"Your girls? Weren't you telling Marco to throw them overboard?"

Siziegate quickly glanced around the room again. "What is this? You are stealing my girls." His mind raced. "I make you a better deal."

"Yeah? Tell me about it," Danny sat down opposite Sizegate.

"You get us ashore and I cut you in."

He chuckled and looked away.

"Bigger cut if that cop in sickbay has a terminal accident."

Danny let his jaw drop slightly. Hope they got that on tape. "How should I do that? You aren't on a little sleazy freighter. This is a United States warship. There are people with guns here - and they aren't supposed to be us." He clasped his hands together on the table. "You know we are making port in Pearl Harbor, not Honolulu."

Harold's look darkened.

"And likely there will be customs people looking for passports, proof of identity."

"All lost at sea. That is easy to explain."

Williams shrugged.

Sizegate drew closer to him. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"What are your plans for those girls?"

Sizegate paused a moment, trying to figure out how to play this. "You want in on this? Those girls won't get much. Too young, too damaged, too-"

"Damaged?" Danny repeated, anger flaring in his eyes.

Harold chuckled, trying to keep an air of control. "Look, boy, this is all business. We bring them, sell them. But sometimes like bad fruit. They just aren't worth very much. You cut your losses."

"Bad fruit?" Danny whispered. I should not be surprised that life is cheap to Sizepate. "Don't have many options now. Maybe you need to save yourself and give up the rest of this racket."

Sizegate was openly astonished. "They have nothing on me!"

Danny gave a small grin, sitting back and crossing his arms. "Actually, you have already given us quite a bit."

Sizegate leapt to his feet, fists clenched, starting over the table towards Danny. At the same instant Danny jumped towards him, the objects on the table flying.

The door burst open as two MPs and McGarrett crashed through brought in by the noise.

"Danno!" Steve shouted.

Sizegate was flat on his back on the floor, Danny atop him, the fountain pen gripped in his hand, the gleaming metal tip a fraction of an inch from Sizegate's eyeball. The scene froze for an instant.

"Danny," Steve repeated more quietly. "Good job."

Danny remained glaring at Sizegate whose look was now genuinely terrified. Reluctantly and slowly, Danny moved back. He dropped the pen onto the floor near the overturned table. He turned his back on SIzegate without saying a word.

---

The volumes of paperwork had taken hours and would take more over the next several days. Steve and Danny had handled the most urgent pieces at the Five-O office, but exhaustion at last won out. "Can I drop you somewhere?" Steve asked knowing Williams did not have a car. He hasn't been here long enough to get one.

Danny, for the first time realized he might not have a place to go. By now Lew must know he did not get the Five-0 job. All the issues he had left behind two weeks ago came flooding back. "No thanks, I'll arrange something."

They exited the front door by the parking lot. Danny looked up to see Lew waiting for him. "Hey, Danny," Lew called, a broad smile on his face. "Bet you could use a good night's sleep."

Danny blinked in surprise. "Lew? How did you know-"

"A good cop keeps an ear to everything that goes down," Lew commented with a laugh. "Come on. Get in the car."

Danny got in on the passenger side. Everything seemed so out of place and odd. Twenty-four hours ago I was floating in an ocean, realizing I might die. Six hours ago I was stabbing a man in the eye with a fountain pen. Now I'm in a car and our greatest concern is the traffic light on Kapeolani Boulevard.

"Danny, I want you to know that it's cool about the job. I'll bet you didn't even know we were both after the same position," Lew said in a friendly way. "How I see it; I've got an in on the inside for the next opening, right?" He gave a chuckle.

Danny managed something that sounded like an agreement.

Marj met them at the door, the fine aromas of a roast in the oven wafting out of the doorway to the drive. "Welcome home, Danny! Hungry?"

He tried to give a positive answer, but knew he wasn't hungry, just dogged tired. He had slept so little on the A Beleza and none in the last 36 hours. He allowed himself to be directed towards the feast-laden dining table.

Somewhere between the salad and the soup he fell sound asleep at the table.

---

Danny awoke from a sound slumber with a start. He did not remember going to bed, yet here he was in the same room at Lew's he had occupied two weeks ago. For a flash of an instant he wondered if everything had been a bad dream. His sore face and the crumpled military jumpsuit on the floor testified otherwise. He showered, dressed in his own clothing and went out into the kitchen.

Marjorie sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, dressed in a short-sleeved blouse and jeans. "Good morning, Danno. Coffee's hot." She did not look up from the paper.

Pondering the contrast from their breakfast two weeks ago, Danny poured the coffee. "Lew here?"

"He's at the department. McGarrett called for you. He needs you down at Five-0 as soon as you can get there." She still did not look up.

He nodded. "Okay." He sat down opposite her at the table, and studied her for a moment. She never looked up. Finally he said quietly. "Marj, is everything all right?"

She looked him in the eyes, a smile on her face. "Of course, Danno. Just fine."

Puzzlement crossed his expression. "No problems?"

She blinked. "None. Should there be?"

He frowned, uncertain. "It's just that - well - before I left you were acting like -" he stopped talking.

She continued to look at him, expectantly. "Acting how?"

"Well, it's just -" he paused. "Never mind. I just don't think you understand. Lew is like a brother to me; I won't do anything to hurt him."

She gave a soft smile. "I love Lew, Danny. I really do. I think you may have misunderstood my joy at Lew having his good friend back."

"Misunderstood?" Images of her flirtation flooded over him.

"Danny, you look confused," she commented innocently. "It wasn't anything, just teasing." She sat there for a moment, the smile frozen on her face, then began a giggle that rapidly grew into laugh.

He sat frozen in place.She is making excuses.

When he did not relax she chuckled. "I haven't been so flattered in years, Danny! Don't be embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" he muttered through stiff lips. Embarrassment was not on the short list of feelings right now.

Marj settled down a bit, her broad smile mellowing. "My dear dear Danno. My God, you really thought I was making a play for you?" A single chuckle escaped her again. "I'm sorry it's just - you should see yourself."

He blinked once. I must look like an idiot. Is she right? Was this all just some messed up assumption? Is that possible? Color was creeping into his cheeks, his face felt hot. God, she must think I am some kind of pervert.

"It's fine, Danny, really. Oh - gee, now you're embarrassed," she looked sympathetic. "Hey, it's okay - really."

He struggled to recover the situation. "Okay, then - I guess I need to get up to Five-0. I, um, I'm glad there isn't any problem."Is she being truthful? I spend too much time with deceitful people. This is Marjorie. It is okay.

He hoped he was right.

---

McGarrett was on the lanai, cup of coffee in his left fist when Williams arrived. He had refused to take any pain medication this morning and his left arm throbbed with each heartbeat, but he would not trade the pain for the dulled mind. He turned as Jenny escorted Danny into the room. "Coffee?" He waved his own cup towards the pot.

Danny wondered whose cup he was swiping as he poured the coffee into the mug. I need to bring in a cup. As an afterthought, he realized he did not even know if he had an office.

"The Governor is pleased with how you handled yourself," Steve reported. He led Danny through his office out to the suite and pointed his cup towards the adjoining office. The small lettering on the door spelling out D. Williams. "I hope we were not premature."

Danny did not reply right away. McGarrett and I do not work the same way. He will always be in charge. But he will nearly always be right. I can live with that. A small smile curled his lips. "It's fine, thanks."

"There is one little thing," Steve remarked.

"Oh?"

"Your weapon. Baseball bats and fountain pens are not this office's weapons of choice."

Danny nodded and did not give an answer.

"I gave this to you once," Steve held out the .38 snubnose. "I hope this time it sticks."

I choose now to be an officer of the law and take all that involves, weapons included, or I walk away - for good. Danny accepted the gun. "Thanks, McGarrett."

The moment past, Steve quickly reverted to business. "I think Sizegate will give up what he knows in time. We aren't going to shut down sex slave trade in one operation," Steve commented as they walked back into the chief's office. "Chin has been following up here and we've arrested two men we think are connected to the local trade. I only wish we could end it all this easily."

Danny gave an inward smile. Easily? We were nearly knifed, shot and drowned. If that is easy this is going to be one tough career. Sounds like fun.

---

Mara had found the food to be interesting. Over three days, she had grown strong enough to now care what it tasted like. A man from an embassy had come to her hospital room each day to visit her. At first, he had frightened her - she thought someone new was coming to hurt her - but the white woman with the pleasant voice who spoke the English Mara could not understand had comforted her and held her close while the man talked. After two days she no longer cringed away from him. And he was the only person with whom she could communicate. After a week, she could walk and visit the flowers outside of the hospital. She saw the other rescued girl once, but the other girl just lay on the bed curled up and crying.

Mara was able to remember more as time went by. After two weeks, she knew a little English - enough to ask for water or to indicate she wanted to see the flowers. A new woman, Mrs. Faulkner, came to visit her now. This woman spoke a little Tamil and asked Mara about things that had happened to her. Mara could not remember a lot, but her face lit up as she recalled wanting to buy her mother a blue dress.

The next day, Mrs. Faulkner brought a new blue dress with her. It was more beautiful than Mara had ever imagined. Mrs. Faulkner suggested it was time for Mara to take the dress home to her mother.

Mara could not help crying for fear and joy. She wanted to go home, but was afraid her family would not want to see her. She had little time to wonder. Mrs. Faulkner also brought another dress, this one for Mara. It was white with pink and blue flowers and there were a pair of white sandals for her feet. When she was dressed, Mrs. Faulkner led her out to an office.

As the door opened, Mara saw her father for the first time and nearly fell into a faint. He leapt to his feet and scooped his missing child into his arms, tears falling without shame. As he wept for joy, so did Mara. Within seconds, there was not a dry eye in the room.

As they recomposed themselves, Mara realized there were other people present including two men whom she thought she should know.

Mara's father spoke in Tamil, first a statement to Mrs. Faulkner, then to Mara. "Mara, these are the men who saved you on the ship," her father said quietly. "You must thank them."

Mara gasped, as the memories flooded back and she recalled the younger man who had held tight to her through the sinking of the ship, never let go in the frothing ocean even when she panicked and could not swim. She could not recall the taller dark haired one but he had a gentle smile. She whispered her thanks in Tamil.

Faulkner turned to Steve and Danny. "This is Mara. She and her father will be returning to Ceylon. Her father has expressed his thanks for the great compassion and courage you both have in rescuing his daughter." Faulkner gave a small smile. "She has said 'thank you.' Mara does not know this yet, but there is a young man back in Ceylon who has not stopped loving her. She will not be going home to disgrace."

Steve nodded and said how good it was to have been included in the reunion and to see Mara returned to her family. He and Danny then headed for the parking lot.

"You have these happy endings often?" Danny commented.

Steve smirked. "Not often enough. But we try, bruddah."

Danny was already glad he had made the decision to sign on with McGarrett's group. Chin was like a parent, Kono already a good drinking buddy. He hoped McGarrett could be trusted.

"A question for you," Steve remarked as they got into the oven-hot hot car.

"Okay," Danny replied.

"Four years ago - the Franks. Where were they when their daughter died?"

Danny gave a subtle smile and did not reply.