A Matter of Trust
Chapter 2
The trip to Danny's apartment seemed to take forever. Morning traffic was thickening and Steve watched every car, every pedestrian wondering if someone was following him. Danno, what have you gotten into? Do we have the ability to get you back out?
He unlocked the small file box Danny had buried in the service chest of his room in the apartment. It felt odd to be here without Danny. Steve tried not to dwell on the emptiness of the place. The file box contained memos and orders for three years of service, then a few cryptic reports dating through 1964. Steve's eye was drawn to the last file in the box dated 1972. His brow knit as he pulled out the manila folder and began to leaf through the contents. My God, this was just two years ago! Tucking the folder under his arm, he headed back for the office.
The dark coffee rapidly filled the battered, cracked coffee mug and Keaver dumped some sugar from the container into it. He stirred it with the back end of a knife. The walls of the tenement apartment were paper-thin, he could hear people screaming at each other and howling babies. There was a thud of hurried, heavy footsteps coming up the stairway. They stopped at his door and there was a rhythmic rap. He set down the cup and cracked open the door. "What."
"Me, open it," snapped the German accented voice.
He hurriedly undid the locks and threw the door open.
The tall, slender German man stepped into the room. Wilhelm Gorek glanced at Keaver. He just barely tolerated the American that Andrei had selected. No accounting for Kachan's taste, but then he doubted the choices of most Russians. Gorek had tired of this assignment. It was a stupid affair and he thought his superiors should have done this differently. Americans are weak and spoiled. That includes our subjects as well as this slobbering example before me.
"We got him," Keaver offered, trying to find something to fill the silence. Gorek frightened him. He'd either witnessed or heard about Gorek's brutal torturing deaths of six men. Sometimes he wished he had not gotten into this one.
"I heard," Gorek remarked, anger blazing from his stark china-blue eyes. The deep folds of skin on his face deepened further as he growled. "And I heard how. You were stupid. I told you not to injure him."
"Hey, I didn't tell him to wreck his car," Keaver protested. "Besides, Andrei told me to keep the heat on." He tried to crack a smile unsuccessfully. "Look at the bright side - he ain't walkin' out on you."
Gorek brushed him aside. "I want to see him."
"Sure. Kachan's with him." Keaver turned to lead Gorek down the narrow hallway.
Gorek pulled his arm back. "You go get Lu and bring him here."
Keaver shrugged and turned back towards the door.
"Oh, Al," Gorek called him back with a friendly tone to his voice.
"Yeah?"
Gorek slammed him against the door suddenly, a hand at Keaver's throat, eye to eye. "I do not encourage creativity within my organization."
Keaver gaped in fear.
"My orders are to be followed exactly - to the letter. Your brilliant idea of putting the body in the car has called attention to us that I did not wish."
"It worked out," he stammered around Gorek's grip. "They think he's dead."
"No. The media thinks he's dead. McGarrett will know from the autopsy. And he will be looking for us."
Keaver stood wordless in terror. I have seen this man kill people with his bare hands with less emotion than I see right now. I need out of this mess.
Gorek seemed to read Al's thoughts with pleasure. "I believe you understand," he murmured quietly. "Your next stroke of genius will be your last."
"Yes, sir," he whispered, thankful to still be breathing.
"Get Lu," Gorek muttered with contempt.
Keaver just about fell over himself getting out of the door.
Shaking his head, Gorek squared his shoulders and walked down the narrow hallway. He was almost tall enough to duck his head under the doorframe as he entered the small bedroom. The old full-sized bed almost completely filled the room. Kachan had squeezed a straight-backed chair inside the door and rose from it now as Gorek entered.
"Ist alle ruhe?" he asked in German of Kachan.
"Da," Kachan replied in Russian, then added in English. "No problems at all."
Gorek gave a nod and glanced over at old sagging bed that was occupied by Danny who was bound arms and legs to the rungs of the head and footboards of the bed. Gorek walked over to the side of the bed, noting the large bruise on Danny's left temple and the bloody stain at thigh level on the left pant leg. "Hörst du mich?" he snapped at Danny.
Danny opened his eyes halfway. He had a pounding headache that had plagued him since recovering consciousness and his left leg throbbed if he tried to move. For the last two hours, he had been trying to find a position where the pain was the least. "Ja, of course I hear you," he muttered back. He did not know this tall, commanding man. He'd recognized Kachan last night and knew he was trouble, but still had trouble accurately recalling how they had met before.
"Sprechen sie Deutsch?" Gorek asked in mild amusement.
Danny stopped to consider his reply. "Ich spreche besserer Russe."
Gorek glanced over at Kachan and gave a chuckle.
Kachan tucked his Tokarev pistol into his belt and rocked back on two legs of the chair, displeasure plain on his expression.
Gorek turned back to Danny, an open smile on his face. "You are clever," he pronounced in careful English, "but do not think too much of yourself." He leaned back on the wall beside the bed. "I suppose you are wondering why you are here, are you not?"
Danny did not reply. He began to study Gorek for himself to determine the kind of man he was. Age likely his late fifties, so likely the senior agent on this event. This guy is dangerous, sure of himself, and a bit flamboyant.
"Do you remember my friend Andrei? You have met before. A long time ago. You were both little more than kinde." He waited, watching Danny's expression.
Danny remained silent, not betraying anything. I have to remember that guy, it may be important. Long ago - children - before Five-0. That's real trouble. He dared a glance towards Kachan who had not moved.
Gorek issued a new smile. "So, you are here and why? Heh?" In a sudden startling move, he flipped out a rather significant US Marine combat knife. In one swipe, he took hold of Danny's bloodied pant leg and slit it from knee to hip, exposing the puncture wound surrounded by black and red congealed blood. The tissue around the wound was discolored and swollen. "Nein gut. Andrei, we need to modify our expectations."
That did bring a response from the young Russian who slammed the chair flat on the floor and rose. He squeezed next to Gorek to have a closer look at Danny's leg. "Neiht." He muttered. "It is nothing."
Gorek set his jaw and eyed Danny coolly. "I hear your friends refer to you as Danno. It is a Hawaiian thing?" He gave a single chuckle. "Well - Danno - as you may have concluded, I have need of some information you may possess." He lightly touched the razor-sharp tip of the knife into the edge of the leg wound.
Danny gripped the bed rung with one hand, but made no sound as the pain fired through his leg from toes to hip.
Gorek meticulously wiped the blood from the blade of the knife against the threadbare mattress. "In time." He scooped up the morning paper from beneath Kachan's chair. "Care to see the news?"
He flopped the newspaper headlines across Danny's chest and Danny craned his neck to read it.
Gorek gave a smirk. "I have heard about your fabled Five-0 and Steven McGarrett. This ruse may confuse him - for a brief time anyway. To be quite honest, you are of very limited value to me. Your injury shortens that even more. You are just a tool." Gorek turned his back on Danny and took the few short steps through the small room to Kachan's spot. "I would speak with you." He gestured to have narrow hallway outside the room.
Kachan glanced at Danny.
Gorek gave a comical expression. "Oh, you will excuse us, Mr. Williams, will you not? Don't go away now."
The two European agents stepped out into the hallway. Kachan muttered. "I want him, Wilhelm."
Gorek nodded. "I know that, Andrei. But personal vengeance can disable you. The leg is broken, I am sure of it. I cannot take him anywhere without being noticed. We will need to continue with Lu."
"Lu has told us all he knows! Do you think one more body will make him talk? And then what? Williams is the last, Wilhelm. Lu will not talk. Maybe Williams will. I can make him talk."
Gorek, glared at the wall.
Andrei continued his argument. "He retired from their service, he has gotten soft. Let me have the time I need. I know I can make him talk."
"And if you cannot?" Wilhelm whispered, fixing his pale eyes on his Russian partner. He shook his head slightly. "No, our best hope is Lu. We will activate the retrieval plan and take him with us."
Kachan snarled. "And what of Williams?"
Gorek shrugged. "If not for the injury he might have been of use. But now - we shall use him with Lu then discard him like the others. Take heart, Andrei, I will not forget my promise to you. He will be yours for the kill, even though you may not get the satisfaction of the slow process."
McGarrett fingered his chalk and looked around the group of men sitting around the board. Most held cups of coffee, Chin's was tea. Kono had brought some mahi-mahi with him that was shared amongst the team. The original list of Danny's greatest enemies was still scrawled in Steve's tired handwriting on the left-hand side of the board.
Kono began his report first. "Spoke to ten people who were awakened by the accident - the rest of the neighborhood woke up at the explosion. Only one person saw anything, Lily Wotang, 84 years old. She doesn't sleep very well. She sits at her window a lot at night. Said she was watching the rain. Saw the Mustang hit the pole. Then a dark car skidded and hit Danny's. Says two men got out of the second car, pulled Danny out and put him in their car. Then one guy put a different man into the Mustang. As they pulled away, the car went up. Too rainy and too dark for her to make any kind of ID."
"Height? Weight? Ages?" Steve asked.
He shrugged. "Nothing. I looked from the angle of her window - it would be hard even if she didn't have 84-year-old eyes. Said they dragged Danny, he wasn't walking or fighting or anything."
Steve turned his attention to his next detective. "Ben?"
"Valet at Max's is Jackie Qu." Ben handed Steve a mug shot. "Out on parole for four months. Stayed clean. He wasn't happy to be talking to me."
"And?" Steve was unimpressed.
Ben gave a small smirk. "He quickly got helpful when I asked the name of his parole officer. Said he saw Danno last night with a girl. It took some serious convincing, but he gave a name. Al Keaver. Said Keaver was with another guy who did all the talking. He didn't know the guy, never heard of him, but the guy was looking for Danny. That was two days ago. European accent, maybe Russian. Somebody had told him Jackie knew Danny. Claims he didn't rat, but last night spotted the guy on Danny's tail and told Danny when he parked the car. Said Danny reacted like he'd been stuck with a poker. His exact words."
"Description?"
"Took him to the police artist." Ben held out the sketch.
Steve studied the rendering with care. There was nothing familiar in it.
Ben handed over Keaver's mug shot. "Small time guy. Mostly con stuff."
"Alfred Keaver," he murmured and wrote the name under the list of Danno's enemies. He circled the name. That isn't a name that showed up in Danny's records. Who is this other guy? Who does he work for? How does this fit with the facts? "Get copies of both to every cop."
"Already done," Ben assured him.
"Chin, what about our missing persons?" Steve asked.
"Marty Shang, 56 years, retired plumber," Chin started. "He's the one who burned last night; disappeared the 13th. Alan Walker, 34, electrician. Alcohol problem. Was missing three days before his wife reported him on the 14th. Actual disappearance was the 11th. Charles Yamanko, 38,consultant for Carrier Air Conditioning; taken the 8th. Mike Edwards, 48, carpenter, missing the 6rd. Kani Kaula, 40, interior decorator, 4th. Garrison Beck, 30, painter, missing the 2nd. Ben Lu, 52, architect missing the 1st."
Steve wrote each name on the board as Chin read them off. At the bottom he added, Dan Williams taken 20th. He stepped back and quietly reviewed the list. "What have we got?"
"Looks like somebody was building a house," Ben commented with a grin. "But, what's Danny got to do with these people?"
"They were all taken several days apart," Chin added, puffing on his pipe. "Where are they now?"
"A whole week between Shang and Danny," Kono commented. "Looks like they weren't in a hurry."
"Or they couldn't get him easily," Ben suggested.
"Shang died yesterday," Steve reminded them, "the same day Danny is kidnapped."
"Maybe the others are dead?" Chin asked.
"Probably," Steve replied with a sigh. "Get some HPD teams with dogs together. We need to go looking for some bodies."
Steve watched his men file out the office, then slowly returned to his desk, opened the middle drawer and took out the file folder. Placing it carefully into his briefcase, he locked the case, then left the office, briefcase in hand.
Steve was relieved that his dealings with ONI and the CIA had been limited over the years. While he still enjoyed the occasional golf game with Richard Garrison of Naval Intelligence, he detested Marten Camp of Central Intelligence and was quite content to have not heard from him in almost ten years. Both men were now waiting for Steve when he arrived in Garrison's office. They exchanged handshakes.
"Steve, the tone of your message sounded urgent. My assumption is that this has something to do with the morning headlines." Richard started diplomatically.
"It does," Steve answered quietly, unlocking the case. He removed the file and handed it to Garrison, deliberately bypassing Camp.
Garrison scowled over contents. "This isn't us," he remarked. "Marten?" With a lift of the eyebrow, he passed the folder to Camp.
Camp barely glanced past the first page. "What do you want, McGarrett?" he demanded.
"What the hell is this?" Steve demanded.
Camp closed the file. "Where did you get this?"
"That is besides the point," Steve snapped back.
"That is precisely the point!" Camp countered back. "This is not Five-0 business."
"It has everything to do with Five-0. Williams is not dead - he was taken by this man." He tossed out the sketch of Kachan. "Seven other people are also missing - some of them appear in that file." Steve tried to stop himself from telling Camp more than he needed to.
Camp, an expert poker player, revealed only the slightest glint of the eye at Kachan's sketch. He allowed a few seconds to slow the volley of conversation. "Well, it's good to hear Danny is alive," he said calmly.
McGarrett struggled to maintain his cool. Don't give this control over to Camp. "I need to know what Project 467 was about. What did they build?"
Camp shrugged. "It wasn't anything. If it had been important we would have used in house people. The single building is just a minimum-security storage facility out near Diamond Head. I cannot imagine the Russians being interested -"
"Russians? This guy is a Russian agent?"
Camp nodded. "Name is Andrei Kachan. Low guy though. doesn't operate alone. His duties are extraction of information."
"Extraction-" Steve paused recalling the tortured body of Marty Shang.
Garrison spoke for the first time. "Is this that project that was scrubbed in '72?"
"No," Camp said quickly. He glanced at McGarrett. "Look, Garrison, McGarrett doesn't have the clearance-"
"As far as ONI is concerned he does," Garrison answered. "That project was cancelled as too risky, Marten." He gave his attention to Steve. "In 1972 special ops wanted to build a secure storage facility out behind Diamond Head near the existing classified depot. It was decided that the location was too risky and that proper security could not be put in place. It was scrubbed."
"This is not that plan, Richard," Camp fired back. "This is merely a minimal security building for the storage of simple documents, nothing of national security."
Garrison was looking through the file. "You used local contractors instead of our people? Why?"
"I told you - this is not a strategic facility."
"And so no one knew about it," Garrison completed.
"NSA does," Camp snapped.
Garrison was also well acquainted with Camp's abilities to do as he chose in spite of orders to the contrary. "Shall I call them and make sure?" he asked quietly.
Steve ground his teeth. "You got axed on a secure storage facility, so you did it anyway, bypassing security precautions so the service wouldn't know about it?"
"I told you, McGarrett, minimal security," Camp repeated, color rising in his face. The veins on his neck bulged.
"But you used Ben Lu, a former Secret Service operative. Why did you involve Williams?"
Camp glared at the desk surface for a moment. "He was available."
"He'd been retired for over eight years."
"Don't be naïve McGarrett; none of us ever retires from special ops," Camp retorted. "You still work for ONI and Richard every time they whistle. Should Williams be any different?"
Steve tapped the file. "Okay, so what is so vital about this minimal security facility that a Russian torture expert has taken seven people? What is there he could be after?"
Camp rested back in his chair silent for a moment. "I'll find you Kachan - and whomever he's working with. Give me a few hours."
Gorek was waiting in the front room for Keaver when he returned with Ben Lu. "Good day, Mr. Lu," Gorek said cordially to the tall, slender, oriental man.
Ben Lu was exhausted. His clothing was badly rumpled, his hair uncombed. After nearly two weeks of captivity, he was nearly to the end of his emotional resources. Every time he was retrieved from his small cell-room and brought here, someone eventually died brutally.
"You have been well-treated, yes?" Gorek asked of Lu. "You ate today I hope. Would you like some coffee?"
Lu made no response and did not lift his gaze from the floor.
Gorek gave a thin smile. "I have arranged another small reunion for you."
Lu stiffened in fear. Who will he kill this time? He allowed Gorek to lead him back to the bedroom, Keaver bringing up the rear.
Danny and Lu knew each other right away.
"Aha," Gorek said with a smile. "I can see you have met."
"Please," Lu whispered. "I don't know anymore - he doesn't know anything - I don't know what you want from us!"
"Of course you know. And just to show what a generous man I am, I am going to allow you and Mr. Williams a few minutes here to reminisce old times." Gorek turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kachan behind.
Lu stood next to where Danny lay tied to the bed. "Williams," he murmured, "I am so sorry, I - I don't know what to do."
"What do they want?" Danny murmured back.
"The special ops security building on Diamond Head, project 467. They want something there. Don't know what. They keep pumping people for access information, construction details, schematics. Dammit, the people they've paraded through here knew so little - so little. For two weeks he has tortured them, demanded of me, of them - killed them in front of me. I feel so responsible for them." He wrung his hands.
"You are not responsible for this. He's never tried truth serum on you?" Danny whispered. Memories of the construction project were flooding his mind. He had Lu were the only two services people on the project. It was my vacation time. I had to do this. God, I wish I had not. At the time...
"I need you to help Lu. It will only take you a week. You are the best security cracker I ever had," Marten Camp had demanded. "Nothing big time, just about of building specks."
"I'm out of the business," Danny stated bluntly.
"Is that so? And is sweet Aunt Clara out of acting, too? It may be 1972 but the House on Un-American Activities is as interested in communist infiltrators as they were in 1958. You wouldn't want her name back on that blacklist again, would you?"
"How long do you plan to keep holding this over us?" he demanded.
"Forever….."
"I am allergic to the drug," Lu whispered. "They gave it to me and I nearly died. Gorek called in Kachan then."
Danny sighed, taking time to get a grip on the pain in his leg. "McGarrett will be looking for me. He will piece this together. Given enough time, he can get you out. Tell Gorek what he wants and you are dead."
"If I say nothing, he will kill you," Lu replied.
"He'll do that anyway. I don't know as much as you and I'm injured. Buy yourself time, Lu, okay?"
Lu looked like a man defeated. Before he could reply, Gorek came back.
"Well? Have you decided to help us?" Gorek asked with a broad smile.
Kachan shook his head. "Full of silly hopes," he murmured in Russian. "Thinks this McGarrett will rescue them."
"McGarrett?" Gorek looked at Danny. "The Hawaiian policeman? I hear he is a worthy adversary, but we just do not have the time for him right now." He stepped close to Lu. "Now, I shall make you the same offer I have so many times before. You have the opportunity to save your life and that of your friend Mr. Williams here. Just provide us with a few quick drawings and some numbers and it will all be over. You will be able to go free."
Lu did not look up. "Like the others?"
Gorek sighed. "Does this mean you shall continue this foolish resistance? You weary me so." He rubbed his large hands together and pulled a Luger from a shoulder holster. "Say goodbye to Mr. Williams." He leveled the weapon on Danny's head and squeezed the trigger. It gave a soft click. Danny and Lu both jumped. Gorek burst into a roar of laughter. "Nervous, Danno?"
Danny glared silently at him, regretting his gut response but could tell the little display had had a tremendous impact on Lu.
"I can't do this anymore," Lu whispered.
"Will you give me what I want!" Gorek screamed at him.
He silently shook his head.
"Kachan." Gorek stepped back towards the door, taking Lu's elbow drew him away from the bed.
Kachan, a smile of anticipation on his face rose from the chair and approached Danny. "Do you remember me?"
Although the face had been a little familiar, Danny had been unable to place Kachan.
"My name is Andrei Kachan. Do you know my name?" He gave a smirk. "I thought not." He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned close to Danny's face. "You maimed me and you do not even remember me? Do you remember Istanbul, 1959? Wintertime. It was cold. Do you remember Urikov the physicist? You were stealing him from my people."
The memory of the bitter night, the snow, and the old man that Danny and his team were smuggling out of the soviet bloc flashed before him. Danny had been barely nineteen years old. There had been a young Russian sentry, no older than Danny himself. They had startled each other, Danny had the upper hand and instead of killing the guard, he had shot the youth in the foot, choosing to spare his life. Danny had been cursed out by his team leader for not killing the soldier. At the time Danny had never killed a man…at the time.
"Ah, so you do remember me," Kachan whispered watching the recall flash across Danny's features. "You took away my foot. I have a wooden stump. You disgraced me. I walk forever with a limp."
"I didn't kill you," Danny whispered.
"You hurt me," Kachan replied. He gave a grin. "So we begin." He twisted the signet ring on his middle finger of his right hand. He slammed his closed right fist once into Danny's face. "How is it you Americans say? Payback is a bitch?" Kachan rained blow after blow on him all focused on his face, the springs of the sagging bed jumping and with each one. The motion caused fiery stabs of pain from Danny's leg and he tried to keep silent, but a few grunts of pain escaped.
"You can control this if you will just cooperate. The deaths of all these men are on your hands." Gorek commented quietly to Lu. "Kachan. Enough."
Kachan turned towards them, rubbing his knuckles against his pants leg.
Blood trickled out of Danny's nose and mouth. Bruises were already swelling under both eyes.
Gorek shook his head. "You tell me, Mr. Lu? what happens next."
With a grin, Kachan punched Danny in the bloody leg wound. Unable to contain this, Danny let out a yell of pain.
"All right! All right!" Lu begged. "Please, no more, no more. I will do as you say!"
"Lu!" Danny panted in frustration.
Gorek gripped Lu's shoulder and directed him back to the front room, kitchen table, and a pad of paper. "Write quickly, Mr. Lu. Your freedom is at hand."
Kachan slumped back into his chair in the bedroom and picked up a bottle of cheap vodka from under the chair. He took a short drink. "You are weak, Williams."
Keaver, who had observed from the corner, shook his head and laughed. "Ain't so tough, cop. I've seen lots of guys take a lot more than that. Come to think of it, you're pretty soft, ain't you?"
Danny did not dignify the remark with an answer.
"Hey, you answer me!" Keaver insisted, stepping closer as if to deliver some blows of his own.
"I don't beat up on a person who can't defend himself," Danny remarked.
"You got a lot of lip for a guy in your position," Keaver snapped. Bullying a cop - a Five-O cop at that - gave him an exhilarating sensation of power.
"Enough," Kachan interjected. "Leave him alone or I'll blow your head off." He drew the Tokarev from his belt.
Keaver's moment of power was quickly extinguished when faced with the gun. He stepped away, cursing. "You'd protect this cop?!"
"This is not about who he is but what he knows," Kachan declared stiffly. "You are as foolish as Gorek claimed. Go get us some food. Get out of my sight."
Keaver stormed out of the apartment, seriously considering if he should ever return.
Steve had taken the luxury of a catnap in his office. The buzzer of the intercom roused him after thirty minutes of rest. "Yes, May."
"Chin Ho's here," her voice announced.
"Okay." By the time he'd said it, Chin was through the door and into the office. The senior detective was expert at restraining his feelings, but this afternoon, the pain seemed to leak out across his features. "Three bodies, Steve," he murmured. "Dogs found one under a trailer used for classes at the university." He pointed to the spot on the map.
Steve marked it with a stickpin.
"Walker. He'd been dead at least a week."
"Don't those people have noses?" Steve grumbled.
"He was wrapped up in a plastic bag like one of those stay-fresh sandwiches," Chin put a mark on the chalkboard by Walker's name. "Kulana was found in the trunk of a car left at the mall. Dead less than three days."
"Tracing the car?"
He nodded. "It won't lead anywhere though. Yamanko was found out near the Pearl City bypass. All the victims were shot once in the head at close range. Retrieved a bullet from only one. The others, the slug went right on through. Sent that to Che. Looks like a Tokarev 7.62x25mm load."
Steve lifted an eyebrow. "I'm surprised we even got one bullet."
"Bodies showed evidence of torture," Chin added slowly. "Broken fingers, beatings, burns, stab wounds - some pretty nasty stuff."
Steve glared at the chalk written name Andrei Kachan. "Chin, I know you know just about as much about Danno as I do - maybe more. There is no question but that this is a piece of his past. Did he ever mention this Kachan to you?"
Chin's look deepened. "Danno never said anything about his time in the service to me. It was better that way. All I knew was that he served out of uniform."
Steve gave a nod and circled his desk. We are going to have to rely on the help of the likes of Marten Camp whether I like it or not. We have a Russian spy, Russian weapon and a CIA target. "Chin, let's not share this piece with the others for now. Let's not place anyone else at risk."
Chin gave a single nod. He turned to leave the room, just as Marten Camp entered the outer office. He glanced back at Steve, recognizing the CIA field director, but Steve motioned Chin to leave.
Camp entered Steve's office and shut the door. "I said I'd get something today."
Steve glanced at the clock on his desk. It had been barely four hours. I've got to hand it to him, Camp does know his business.
"You need to turn this over to us," Camp declared.
"Like hell. Just tell me what you've got."
Camp remained as immovable as stone. "Not this time, McGarrett. You want what I've got, you let me in."
"You bastard," Steve snarled, rage swelling. It isn't enough to be worried sick about Danno, knowing I have a mass murderer out there preying on the innocent, I have to have this prima donna in my office. But I need his info. Can I afford my pride at Williams' expense?
Quietly waiting for Steve's more civilized comment, Camp fingered the edge of his soft briefcase in a tempting fashion.
Steve did not miss the action. "Why do you want in, Marten?"
"There's a man in this I have history with - you will want my knowledge and help with him."
"Hum," Steve murmured, and walked out onto the lanai. He listened to the breeze for a minute, then turned back and faced Camp. The agent seemed unaffected by the delay of response by the Five-0 chief. "Only you then. My team, I call the shots. No CIA, FBI, ATF, ONI or any other damned letters of the alphabet, is that clear?"
Camp bit the inside of his cheek. "I don't answer to you, McGarrett."
"Then have a nice day. There's the door."
"You'll never see Williams alive, McGarrett."
"Do you care?"
Camp paused and squinted. He said quietly. "Yes, McGarrett, as a matter of fact, I do care. I recruited him as an eighteen-year-old kid. He is one of my players. And I know the son of a bitch who has him."
IS one of his players. Present tense? "Sounds a little like vengeance," Steve commented. "You answer to me or you'll never get your chance at your son of a bitch. And you and I can both make weekly confessions for the rest of our lives in attempt to relieve the guilt we'll share for letting Danno die."
It was Camp's turn to ponder. He suddenly sat down in the chair opposite the desk and zipped open his case. "I'm an atheist."
"I'm not surprised." Taking the cue, Steve sat down in his chair.
Camp passed him a photo. "Andrei Kachan. Russian agent. Scuttlebutt says he has a very bad attitude. Walks with a limp from an injury he received as a soldier in 1959. He is skilled at extracting information by torture by the old school."
"Old school?"
"Brutality. Newer tactics suggest mind games and drugs for extracting information. Kachan still prefers torture. The usual stuff like burns, electric shock, broken fingers. Sometimes a little more creative. Kachan has been seen in Honolulu several times over the last few weeks. There was an alert out in the office." He passed another photo. "Jan Schroeder, a brainiac sort. Has an advanced degree in engineering. Haven't had any updates on him in five years. Was seen just once a week ago - in Kachan's company. German, don't know any more on him. Belief is he may have been in the states, maybe even Hawaii for years. Sleeper cell maybe." Camp pulled the third photo out like it was a prized possession. "Wilhelm Gorek."
Just the way Camp said the name alerted Steve this was Camp's quest.
"Gorek is East German. They don't get any meaner than this guy. He's not the smartest spy in the game, but what he may lack in finesse, he makes up for by being a brute. Good strategist. Picture is about three years old. I didn't even know if he was still alive until today. One of our operatives spotted him this morning. McGarrett, this guy has a big history. He was captured by the CIA in 1964, escaped in 65 and has been hunting down agents ever since when opportunity presents itself. I get the idea that his vengeance campaign him made him less than popular with Stasi. It's sort of an unwritten rule, James Bond movies not withstanding, that agents of opposing countries don't just shoot each other without good cause. He doesn't care about the rules."
McGarrett examined the three year old determined look in the photo of Gorek. "Would Danno fall into that category with him?"
"Can't say," Camp answered candidly, gesturing to Steve's board of names. "But he wasn't his first choice to go after."
"And you say Gorek was captured? Held by the CIA for a year?" Steve glared at Camp. "I'm sure that was no Holiday Inn experience for him."
Camp did not reply.
"What did you do to him, Camp?"
"That doesn't matter right now," Marten replied. He drew close to Steve. "If he finds out I am on the team, he will come for me - I guarantee it."
Steve's eyes narrowed. "Let me get this straight. Are you offering yourself as bait?"
Camp did not blink. "I guarantee it."
An exhausted Ben Lu sat huddled over the small kitchen table, a pencil clutched so tightly in his hand that his fingers were white. It had been 35 minutes. He slowly lay down the pencil and, as he did, Gorek snatched up the paper.
"Is this real?" he demanded spinning to the short blonde-haired newcomer.
Jan Schroeder straightened his glasses and examined the lines, and numbers. His brow knit and he uttered an occasional grunt as he studied the paper. "It is so simple a school child could design this."
Gorek turned on Lu with a snarl and the captive cringed against the table.
Jan touched Gorek's arm. "But you never know - these Americans can be very simple people."
Gorek glared at Jan. "Yes or no."
He winced. "Maybe."
Uttering a grunt of frustration, Gorek yanked Lu up from the table and stormed back to Danny's prison. He noticed that Danny's leg wound had bled more and that the kidnapped officer looked pale in spite of his tan. "Williams," he snapped.
The bruises on Danny's face had swollen both eyes so that when he opened them, they were little more than slits. The whites were blood red giving him a mildly demonic appearance.
Gorek stuck out the drawing. "Is it true or false?"
Danny blinked, trying to see through the edematous tissue. "I don't know anything about this," he whispered.
"You tell me truthfully or I will kill Mr. Lu," Gorek said calmly.
Kachan rose, drew his gun and began to screw on the silencer.
Lu issued a whimper, memories of six other killings flashing before him.
If I tell them this is right, when they know it is not, they may kill Ben as they said. No, not Ben, he is too valuable. If I tell the truth, they may still kill him - or me. Locked in a scenario with no good outcome, he gritted his teeth. "No. It's not right."
Gorek sighed. "Mr. Lu, after all this time you still would lie to me? You think I cannot find another person, that he is the last? You are wrong, Mr. Lu. I shall bring your six year old daughter in here next - I will have the truth!" His voice had risen until he was shouting. He angrily turned away from Lu and, pointing at Danny, glanced at Kachan. "Shoot him."
Kacahan lined up on Danny, but at the same instant he fired, Lu with a shriek like a wild man, threw himself forward. The shot intended for Danny's head struck Lu in the neck. There was a brilliant spray of blood as the architect-agent collapsed across the bed, eyes wide. He twitched once, then was still. The three men froze momentarily, all stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
Kachan slowly glanced at Gorek in a mix of awe and fear, keeping the weapon in his hand. He gingerly stepped past Gorek and unemotionally pulled Lu back off the bed by the shirt collar. The body thudded to the floor where Kachan fired another bullet into his head.
Gorek clenched his fist in momentary anger. "What a stupid man!"
"Smart man," Danny whispered. "You cannot threaten his child if he is dead."
Gorek kicked the bed frame in fury and the jarring sent a wave of agony up Danny's leg. "Do not think too much of your value," he remarked to Danny. "Your life may just have become much more complicated." He spun on his heel and started up the hallway.
Kachan chased after him. "Wilhelm, Williams is now more trouble than he is worth. Let me relieve us of him."
Gorek stared at an invisible distant object. "I need, him. Andrei. We will leave and take him with us in place of Lu. You may get your wish in a day or two, but in the meantime mark my words - he is dangerous. It took you three days to capture him. Keeping him may be more difficult than capturing him was. Have Schroeder get the boat. Meet us there according to the exit plan."
"What about Keaver?"
"He has served his usefulness. Leave his payment." Gorek slammed the door on his way out.
By the time Kachan re-entered the bedroom, Danny had already reasoned that he might not get one-on-one odds again and decided to act. He wasn't sure exactly how bad his leg was, but hoped that somehow he could walk or run on it if necessary. First to get this moose to untie me. "Hey, you!" he yelled at Kachan, "I want to use the can."
Kachan hesitated as he tucked his gun back into his belt and placed the silencer on top of the small dresser in the room.
"You've either gotta let me use the can - or your gonna have to do the honors over here," Danny persisted, praying the Russian would be too proud to consider providing bedside service.
As Danny had hoped, Andrei looked at him in disgust. "You better have no tricks, or I will be explaining to Wilhelm why I had to shoot his prime source." He untied Danny's legs, then his arms. "Get up." He placed his hand on the gun butt in his belt.
As Danny rolled to rise, his leg felt like fire. It was much worse than he had hoped. When he stood, his head swam and he reached out touching the wall to steady himself. He carefully eased himself around Lu's body, pulling himself along the wall. He was unable to put weight on the left leg at all.
Kachan seemed satisfied by the limited ability of his prisoner. "End of the hall," he instructed.
The bath was little more than a closet. There was no way out. Kachan came up inches behind Danny, scrutinizing each movement.
Danny balanced himself carefully on his good right leg.
"Hurry up," Andrei complained.
"All right." He slammed his elbow back, catching Kachan off guard in the stomach.
Kachan gasped and bent double as Danny swung around, grabbing the gun from the Russian's belt with his left hand.
Issuing an oath in Russian, Kachan came back, clawing for the gun, throwing his full weight forward. They both landed on the floor, wedged between the toilet and the tub still in a life and death grapple for the tokarev. There was an ear-shattering blast as the gun went off, piercing the toilet tank which fragmented, spraying water everywhere. Danny got his right knee up and pushed Andrei back with a fierce kick. Kachan fell into the hall but did not release his grip on Danny's hands and so pulled him over in a somersault. Danny got one hand free and slammed it into Kachan's nose, adding more blood to the amount already flowing freely between them. As they fought, the gun discharged again, blasting a hole in the ceiling. The weapon popped loose and skidded down the wet hall, both of them leaping and slipping after it. Danny reached it first, but at the same instant, Andrei came down solidly with both knees on the injured left leg.
Danny gave a cry of agony, let go of the gun as his hands flew to his leg.
Kachan, snatched up the gun instantly and, in rage, rammed the gun barrel under Danny's jaw so hard it cut off his breath. "It is only Gorek that keeps me from sending you to hell right now!" He jabbed Danny's leg wound against in sadistic fury.
"Oh God! Stop it!" Danny gasped through the stranglehold, writhing in pain.
"You gonna beg and plead for death when I finish with you!" Kachan drew back his arm and pistol-whipped his victim across the face, sending him slamming into the wall and unconsciousness.