Go to part four 
McGarrett's mind was charged with a dozen different thoughts each clamoring for attention. He decided to drive around the base until the adrenaline rush wore off. Sad, mad, disgusted,and confused...Steve's focus was not on his surroundings. As he turned onto the docks a movement at the far end of a deserted pier caught his attention. He saw a lone figure silhouetted, in the moonlight, at the edge of the long concrete pier. Steve quickly turned off his headlights and parked at the edge of the dock. Quietly he approached the distraught man who stood with his shoulders hunched over. As the man turned in profile McGarrett recognized him. At the same instant he saw a gun in the man's right hand.
"Hargrove!" He yelled as he took several hurried steps towards the man. "What the hell are you doing!"
Hargrove was the same height as McGarrett and normally just as fastidious about his clothing, but this night his uniform shirt was rumpled and hanging out of his torn dirt streaked pants. Frightened by the unexpected interruption he turned towards the intruder and with shaking hands leveled his gun.
Seeing the wild unfocused look in the man's sunken eyes Steve slowed his pace and calmly, despite his pounding pulse, approached the panicked officer. He held his hands up in front of him palms forwards. He was sure he could disarm the man quickly. "Give me the gun Dean." McGarrett ordered.
"Get back!" Hargrove shouted as he waved the pistol wildly.
Steve heard the familiar click of metal as Hargrove pulled the Colt's slide back to chamber a bullet. He quickly dove behind a nearby concrete projection as the man fired three erratic rounds at him. Rolling onto his back it took several attempts for him to slide up the wall to a seated position as he assessed the situation. Breathing very shallow he stood up painfully splinting his ribcage with his right arm. "What the hell Dean!" He yelled and cautiously stepped out from behind the wall. "You trying to kill me or something!"
"McGarrett!" The despondent man, his mood cycling rapidly, exclaimed in a jovial voice. "What are you up to?"
"Me?" Steve replied as he took several carefully measured steps towards Hargrove. "You're the one with the gun. Now very calmly, I want you to hand it to me butt end first alright." He ordered and tried to reassure the agitated man.
"You're not supposed to be...!" Hargrove screamed in a panic and began to wave the pistol again. "Get away from me. They'll get both of us!"
"Who are they?" Steve asked firmly as he stood his ground. "Dean. Trust me, there's nobody here but you and me. Calm down. Think about this. You don't want to die."
"They got me man!" He shouted as he frantically scanned the area. "I can't get away. They're following me....."
"What!" Steve replied as he searched the area for signs of other individuals and took a few more steps towards Hargrove. "Who?" He asked noting the shattered whiskey bottle on the ground beside Hargrove.
"The Ruskies!" Hargrove whispered. "They're everywhere. Even in my sleep."
"Dean, tell me what happened." Steve asked in his best comforting voice as he swiftly closed the distance between them and put his arm cautiously around the man's shoulders.
"I...woke up..." He stuttered. They were standing....Both of them. Bortzoff"
"Who?" McGarrett asked as he tried to lead Hargrove away from the water.
"He...Oh God!!" Dean screamed as he grabbed his head in an effort to block out the hallucination.
"Dean, what are you....." Steve continued to speak as he seized the opportunity to grab the gun and wrestled Hargrove to the ground.
As they rolled around on the wet slippery pier grappling for the weapon Dean managed to get Steve's right arm into a bar lock and grabbed the weapon back from him as he lay in a fetal position on the cold concrete.
"No! I have to do this." Hargrove stated with finality as he leveled the gun at McGarrett's head. "Get back Steve!"
"Dean come off it!" Steve demanded through his clenched teeth as he stared at Hargrove's twitching finger on the trigger. "You don't want to kill me. Now who in the hell is Bortzoff?" He asked as he carefully sat up and hesitatingly moved his arm through range of motion.
"He.....held me in Bucharest..." Hargrove said as tears began to stream down his face,reluctantly he handed the gun down to McGarrett and with a deep sigh collapsed onto the ground and curled up into a ball. "I can't take this anymore....Oh God." Dean suddenly became aware of what he had tried to do and clung to McGarrett's outstretched leg. "What am I doing?"
"I don't know" Steve replied reassuringly. "But it's not good." As he tried to comfort his friend as best he could. "What happened in Bucharest?"
"Classified..." Dean choked out between sobs.
"Come on." Steve retorted as he cautiously took a few deep breaths. Fortunately nothing seemed to be broken or dislocated. "Save me the trouble of getting the file."
"OK." Hargrove surrendered as he sat up and wiped his eyes on his torn shirtsleeve. "I was supposed to bring out an agent. Bortzoff got both of us. He held me...for over a week...beat the crap out of me nonstop." Dean explained in a flat tone of voice. " Killed the guy right in front of me....his wife and baby....I ran. After that I transferred out here. I thought I was away from it." Hargrove put his head between his knees and rubbed the back of his neck. "But downtown last week it came back." Turning I close my eyes, I see that monster. Steve am I cracking up?"
"I don't know exactly." Steve replied sincerely. "But I think you need help."
"You never..." Dean ran his hands through his wild hair. "Steve I've never seen you chip let alone crack."
"Hey, I've had my share of basket case moments too, believe me." Steve said as he looked around the pier again. "It's OK Dean. Let's get out of here all right?"
"I guess so." Dean replied reluctantly as he stood up and pulled Steve to his feet. "I'm done for aren't I?"
"Let the shrinks worry about that." Steve replied as he gently patted him on the back. "I saw alot of guys in Korea loose it...most of them are doing OK today. One's even a general now." He added reassuringly.
**********
There had been worse days in his life than this one, Steve decided, but not many. Even though he was completely exhausted and his arm and ribs throbbed from the fight with Hargrove. McGarrett knew it was useless to attempt sleep. He tossed his soiled uniform into the hamper and realized that tomorrow was the day the maid would arrive at his apartment. When she left there would be fresh towels in the closet; his laundry and shopping would be done for the week. The next afternoon she would drop off his dry-cleaning at the office. Thank God for Mrs. Monahan! He sighed; at least one part of his life would be under control.
Thinking about the Ukrainian pastries and chicken soup she had brought him in the hospital Steve realized he had forgotten about supper. Wearing sweatpants and his favorite multicolored floral aloha shirt he grabbed a banana from the counter and choked down a Mepergan caplet with a glass of his favorite Darjeeling and headed out onto the lanai.
For some unknown reason he had brought along Hargrove's gun and placed it on the table beside the deckchair. Steve stared up at the stars as the medication slowly took effect and was almost asleep when Frank bumped his way into the darkened apartment.
"Hey Steve, what're you still doing up?" Evershall asked as he joined his friend on the deck.
Startled by the noise Steve grabbed Dean's Colt off the table and whipped around in his chair in order to level the gun at the intruder.
"What the hell" Frank stuttered as he stared at McGarrett's intense expression, uncertain if he should duck or stand still.
"Oh Geez Frank! Don't do that!" Steve shouted as he finally recognized his friend and dropped the gun back onto the table.
"Do what!!" Evershall retorted still feeling like his heart was in his throat. "Steve are you OK?!" He asked as he cautiously sat in the other chair.
"Yeah." McGarrett replied quietly.
"Then why in the world are you sitting out here with a gun waiting to blow my head off?" Frank demanded as he took several deep breaths in order to calm his pounding heart.
"I'm sorry about that." Steve apologized and wondered what had made him react like that. "It's not even my gun, mine's still in China someplace." He settled back in the chair.
"What's going on?" Frank demanded again.
"Friend of mine tried to kill himself tonight." Steve answered as he fingered the gun on the table.
"Oh man that's rough" Frank replied somberly. "Did he?"
"No." Steve replied as he stared out at the twinkling stars. "I caught him in time. But it was close."
"Doesn't make sense." Frank wondered as he scratched at his receding hairline. " Unless..he was sick, cancer or something."
"I'm not exactly sure why yet. Our business is an emotional roller coaster sometimes. You wouldn't understand." Steve answered as he painfully turned in his chair to face Frank. "And I'm glad for you that you don't." Steve's expression became intense again as he continued to explain. "There's an adrenaline rush like you wouldn't believe on a covert mission. One slip up behind the line and somebody puts a bullet through your brain. You live your cover from what he eats for breakfast to what color pajamas he does or doesn't wear. Twenty-four hours a day until the assignment's over. It's such a schizophreniform existence that sometimes you loose yourself for an instant. I don't know. I guess maybe Dean just didn't find his way back." Steve leaned back in the chair and watched the blinking lights of an airplane pass overhead. "Some of the things I've done for God and Country....you don't want to know. Even if I was allowed to tell you." He added quietly. "It's a wonder we all haven't cracked up."
"Steve you're too stubborn to break." Evershall replied with reassurance. "All that's gone on the past 3 months. If you haven't by now you aren't going to."
"Don't bet on it." Steve replied in resignation. "I've ran alot of marathons and spent quite a few nights on the beach. Sometimes...."
"Steve?" Frank asked apprehensively. "What are you talking about?"
Whether it was Hargrove, the medication or a combination of both McGarrett found himself strangely introspective. Frank Evershall, the first real friend he'd ever known, always had a logical approach to any situation. He could be trusted.
"You never noticed I spend alot of time outdoors?" Steve asked.
"So." Evershall dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You've always..."
"It's a quirk I picked up after Lang Bak. For months after that I could barely walk let alone run, about all I could do was sit in Master Park's garden. I stay inside too long and the walls close in."
"You're putting me on. Claustrophobia? You??" Frank replied dumbfoundedly. Steve McGarrett had a few faults but fear was not one of them. "Come on. You're in an office all day. Airplanes. Cars. This is one of your little jokes right."
"No. Its not." Steve retorted. "A long as there's a window I'm OK. I just think better outdoors."
"Oh great! Some guy goes whacko and now you think you're nuts." Frank chided. "Sometimes you're too empathetic for your own good. Get over it!" As Frank shifted in his seat he could see the intensity in his friends eyes." In the hospital you were only out twice, when Kathy came and the day I took you to the hanger. And you survived."
"Barely." Steve smiled reluctantly. "Fourth medical wasn't so bad when the window was open and Glen made sure of that. But those weeks in ICU I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest." Steve confessed
"My God: You're serious about this." Frank replied noting Steve's sudden tenseness. "Why on Earth didn't you say something?"
"And just what was I going to say." McGarrett retorted. "Gee Doc I hope you don't mind, but can I please sleep in the parking lot. Let him think my heart rate was up for some other reason."
"Steve." Evershall apologized. "I swear I never knew. It explains a few things though. But trust me you're alright."
"Not exactly." Steve sighed in resignation. "Past few days I keep having weird images in my head."
"Oh good God Steve, that's nothing but a leftover from the crash." Evershall scolded. "I'm sure. Nothing else. You were saying all kinds of odd things for a while."
Odd??" Steve asked with raised eyebrows and hoped that the helicopter scenario was among them and he could write the flashbacks off as just that, leftovers from the crash.
"Glen said it was Charlie somethings from Korea." Frank stated. "The only one I remember is Purple Dragon Rider. That one came up alot."
"Charlie signs probably. They're challenge/response codes. But that's not what purple dragon rider was."
"What was it? Never mind...." Frank replied as he rolled his eyes. "National security...."
"It was the name of the China mission. What else did I say? Evening Dog Bush???" He asked hopeful that the mission he was captured on had come up.
"I don't know..it was all gibberish to me. I wrote most of them down if you want to read for yourself." Frank informed. "Lana's got a nice sweater."
Steve stared blankly at him for several moments then replied. "But Rita's got a better skirt. That was a Charlie sign. What else??"
"Steve I don't remember." Frank replied impatiently and slumped down in his seat. " There were several whole series of numbers and letters. It sounded algebraic but I couldn't make a formula out of any of them."
Six characters then a three-letter sequence??" Steve asked excitedly as he thought some sense could be made out the whole mess.
"Heck I don't know. Probably. Why??"
"That would be a code." Steve replied and decided he would get old the codebook from Heinriche somehow. Maybe somewhere in that I might have mentioned Lang Bak. All the effort I went to forget that place. Now my sanity depends on if I'm remembering it. "You'd never figure out what it was without the book and an authenticator number to tell you which book. I'd bet on J-bird. I did alot of work in that one. God I hope you're right and I'm not cracking up."
"Steve," Frank reassured. "You are probably the most stable person I know. What ever is going on with you I'm sure is only physical."
"What's the difference?" Steve quietly replied as he stared at the stars. "Aren't the mental and physical all connected somehow?"
"Yeah, I suppose." Frank added. "But you are not going insane! Geez. I didn't know there was so much to the spy business."
It's not exactly recruiting poster stuff Frank." Steve replied as he grinned at his friend.
"Now there's an understatement." Frank laughed as he selected a macadamia nut out of the bowl on the table.
"I know this is really bad timing but.....how'd you like to work for me?" Steve asked.
Shocked by the question Frank was completely at a loss for words. "WHAT!" Was all he finally managed to croak out. "That's a joke right?"
"I'm serious. You like your job in Japan?"
"It's a job. That's about it." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders and looked at his friend skeptically. "Steve what are you getting at?"
"You know about Sputnik."
"Steve. The whole world heard that blip blip." Frank scoffed.
"Well, what you didn't hear." McGarrett informed. "We have a design that'll put the Russians years behind. I don't understand all the technical hooey, suffice to say once we get it up we'll be able to read the tag on Kruschev's underwear."
"Holy..." Frank whistled in amazement. This evening was one of only a few glimpses Evershall had ever gotten into what Steve did for the Navy.
"It's being developed here in Hawaii." Steve added. "I've been in charge of the security and encoding for two years now. A couple of Germans are running the show. The project's way behind schedule and now I hear they're short an engineer and a rocket tech. How about it Frank? You'd be building satellites."
"Oh my God Steve. I never." Evershall stuttered in amazement. "Space engineering. I never thought I'd get a chance at something like that...who do I have to kill."
"No one." Steve laughed. "It's not official yet. I'd have to talk to Washington. I wasn't sure you'd be interested. The downside being you'd be directly involved with 'all that spy stuff' you razz me about. And you'd be keeping an eye on the Germans for me."
"Boy, you don't trust anyone do you." Evershall laughed.
"In God we trust. All others we monitor." Steve grinned. "That's our motto."
"I can deal with it I guess. As long as I don't have to wear a shirt like that." Frank teased.
"Hey." Steve feigned insult."This shirt has got class! But that mangy academy baseball shirt you've hung onto.... has got to go."
They both laughed.
"When will you know?" Frank asked.
"I don't know for sure." Steve replied and sighed at the thought of the current case. We've got a few other problems right now that are taking precedence. I can probably have Heinriche call Washington next week. Three letters of recommendation ought to be enough. Then there's the transfer paperwork. It's an integrated program, I'm thinking about asking if Marilyn wants to give up her snow skis."
"Oh she'll do that alright." Frank replied. "Who's going to write the letter besides you?"
"Heinriche."
"Oh terrific." Frank interrupted dejectedly. "Get me excited then pull the rug out. He'd rather dance with a cobra."
"Don't believe everything you hear." Steve, based on a recently found respect for his boss, added. "If he didn't like you, you wouldn't still be here."
"That's one good. And one I'm not so sure about. Who casts the deciding vote?"
"Glen. He'll do it if ask him to." Steve replied. "You turn in something even halfway decent with the MIG and you're in."
****************
The following evening Heinriche was waiting outside the rear entrance of the Intelligence building smoking his pipe when Steve arrived. "Good Lord, where did you park?" The captain asked as he stared in concern at his winded agent.
"CinCPAC lot." Steve answered as he leaned against the doorframe trying to catch his breath. " There are at least a dozen staff cars in there. One more won't be noticed."
"Across the street, and you're this tired?" Heinriche shook his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this to you."
"Trust me Sir." Steve grinned wryly. "You are."
"Good job." The older man replied as he carefully slapped him on the back as they entered the building. "I checked the place again just before you got here. They forgot one in the garden otherwise all clean."
"The fink even bugged our plants?!" Steve exclaimed as he returned from the wardroom with his coffee cup. "OK, lets have the list. Who was in your office Sir?"
"Foggarty." Heinriche replied as he removed a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and began to read from it. "Ensign Tomlich, Warniki from Crypto, Lauri, Fitzsimmons, Meijer in Crypto, Eigerstein from Linguistics, Pearsen from Records, Walters in Supply and Seaman Quinn."
Steve closed his desk drawer and stared at the dark heavy shades that covered his window. "You know Sir. Who'd ever of thought the old black out curtains still had any use today."
"Technology will make us obsolete one day." Heinriche replied philosophically.
"Never." Steve replied in a flat voice. "We deal with human interactions. These new computers can crack a code in less than a day and that's great but no machine can predict a man's thoughts. Our motives are sometimes just too illogical to figure." After a pause to sip his coffee, Steve returned the conversation back to the business at hand. " Now we've got some more suspects.
"More?" Heinriche replied with surprise.
"Yeah. Seems like I can't rule anyone out. McAdams is probably 99.9% clear. Adams: blackmail. Hans and Gerhard: loyalties back home. Fitzsimmons likes to gamble. Moricelli is supporting his parents back in Nebraska. Guys with large families. One or two with a son in college. Heck even Dean Hargrove claims the Russians are after him."
"It's too bad about him." Heinriche sighed. "He was a good agent. Wait a minute, did you say Fitzsimmons. That's it! He's on both lists. We've got our man!!"
"Bill?" Steve replied with raised eyebrows. "He likes to gamble but..The man's got two citations that I know of and a Silver Star. He spent six months in a POW camp Up North. I really can't believe he would sell his country."
"Good men do go bad." Heinriche rationalized. "Unfortunately."
The loud groan of a motor abruptly halted their conversation. Both men caught their breath as they looked towards the glass doors.
"Sir!" Steve whispered as he rushed for the light switch. "Someone's coming up in the elevator."
Heinriche quickly grabbed their cups from off the desk as Steve scooped up his jacket and the pair quickly hid in the captain's office.
A dark haired officer entered the outer office and flipped on the lights as he tossed some papers on his desk.
The captain peered through the venetian blinds into the room. "Ensign Tomlich!" Heinriche whispered as he reached for the doorknob. "Lets get the traitorous bastard!!"
"Hold it Sir!" Steve cautioned as he blocked Heinriche's egress. "He hasn't done anything yet. He might just be working late. He's got the time in grade and you ARE working on the promotions list."
"You're right." The captain agreed and returned to his position at the blinds. "I thought I liked the boy. Where is Fitzsimmons? Can you find him?"
"Bill's at the Officer's Club most every night during the week." Steve answered as he took a quick peek at Tomlich.
"Very well. You go question him. I'll watch this one." Heinriche ordered as he pointed toward Tomlich who had settled into his chair and began to work.
"Is that really wise Sir? If it's him you're here alone.
"I'm not a dottering old man Commander! Get out of here while he's not looking. If it's him I'll call the SP's."
"Very well Sir." Steve agreed. "If you need me call the club and tell the bartender you are Lt. Ryan."
********
Steve entered the Officer's Club as Admiral Winters and his wife were about to enter the restaurant."Good Evening Commander McGarrett." The Admiral greeted. "Haven't gotten your hat updated yet I see" The man in charge of the Pacific Fleet teased the newly promoted commander. "Took me a while to get used to company grade status, too."
"Sir?" Steve replied curiously as he returned the salute.
"You're Al Heinriche's XO now. Couple of those long boring senior staff meetings he skips out on are coming up. Always makes me wish I was just an ensign again." The Admiral smiled as he guided his wife towards the reservations desk. "See you then. Have a nice night Commander."
Confused by the Admirals comments Steve paused on the steps that headed down into the informal recreation area. As he scanned the room for Fitzsimmons he wondered if it was a good or bad sign that the CinCPAC would call him by name.
"McGarrett!" a tall husky man, who was just beginning to show the signs of middle age, yelled across the room. "How the hell are ya?!"
"Hi Bill." Steve answered as the man walked over and practically dragged him across the room to his customary table. "Little fuzzy but OK. You didn't happen to catch the Notre Dame game did you? I started to listen to it and conked out in the third quarter."
"Yeah I caught it all right." Fitzsimmons answered in a slightly irritated voice as he shoved the bowl of chips towards his friend. "Lost ten bucks to Commander Enlow on it. Stanford 101 Notre Dame 100 in overtime."
"Wow. Sounds like I missed something." Steve answered as he reluctantly began to eat one of the potato chips. "I thought after your loss on the Giants/Green Bay game you'd have learned your lesson." Maybe he is in debt to somebody He wondered.
"Awh hells bells I'm no gambler." Fitzsimmons dismissed. "You should know that. You got $30 off me for those lousy Packers. I just bet for fun." He jokingly pointed a finger at Steve. "Now if you'd tell me your secret then maybe I could be a few bucks ahead."
"No secret." Steve grinned. "Just research. Green Bay had lousy odds but they were a better team than New York. Besides...." McGarrett grinned as he slumped down in the chair. "My firstie year the quarterback was a freshman at Yale. We were so far ahead of them that the last quarter they played him against us. Under stress he's got lousy aim to the left side. He's never corrected that. Green Bay had a strong left line last season."
"Research huh." Bill laughed. "OK who do you like for the NCAA finals. I'll bet with you."
"I don't bet on basketball. Besides I was unconscious most of the season remember." Steve replied. "What's wrong?" He laughed and tossed one of the chips at his friend. " Loan shark after you?"
"No. I just want to get my money back from that jerk Enlow. Just tell me who....off the top of your head."
"Bill I'm not going to be responsible for your money." Steve said. "Besides I don't even know who's playing."
"Oh come on." The husky Texan insisted. "I'm not going to blame you. Come on. Stanford or 'Bama."
"No." Was Steve's final answer. A distant look grew in McGarrett's eyes as his mind wandered into an area that he did not like but on the surface appeared very logical. Ah hell. I can't believe I'm doing this. McGarrett thought sadly. Six months Up North. Silver star. He couldn't sell his country any more than I could.
"Just guess." Fitzsimmons pleaded. "You're right ninety percent of the time."
"McGarrett!" Bill hollered when he noticed the faraway look in Steve's eyes. He reached over and shook his friend back to reality. "You alright?" He asked.
"Huh?" Steve muttered as he snapped back to the conversation.
"What in the sam hell?" Fitzsimmons replied. "Man an ICBM could have went up your azimuth and you wouldn't have known it.....What's wrong?"
"Just thinking about Pak's Palace." Steve answered distantly.
"Oh man don't start with that crap! I still break out in a cold sweat every time I have to go to Seoul. Somethings you don't forget." Fitzsimmons yelled then gulped down the drink he had been toying with and angrily slammed the empty glass back down on the table. "No matter how hard you try." He added quietly.
"Sorry." Steve apologized to his friend who was still visibly shaken from his own frightful memories. " OK Bill, this is my best guess. If they beat Notre Dame than 'Bama's easy prey. I'll say Stanford by at least ten points." He informed in an attempt to calm his friend. "Are you going to be all right??"
"Yeah." The Texan replied as he ran his fingers through his thinning blonde hair. "Sure. I'm OK. Hey! Ed Nelson's monthly poker game is at his house tonight. Lets go."
"Maybe another time." Steve declined.
"Oh come on. There's two subs in port." Bill urged with a grin. "Fleece the tin can commandos. It'll be fun."
"I'd lose my shirt." Steve replied as he discounted his current abilities.
"You! No way." Fitzsimmons retorted. "I saw you stare down a vice admiral with only a pair of sixes. You've got ice cubes in your veins."
"When all you've got is crap." Steve laughed at the memory. "You have to play it out. I nearly lost my happy island home on that hand. The admiral wanted to take me back to DC with him."
"All the intel guys are going to be there." Fitzsimmons promised as an inducement." I'll bet you haven't seen any of them except probably Anderson. Your puppy Foggarty's been beside himself."
As if on cue Ensign Foggarty entered the room and looked around for Tomlich.
"Hey boy!" Fitzsimmons yelled when he looked up and saw the young man enter the room. "Get your tail on over here. I've got a surprise for you."
Reluctantly the ensign approached his superior. "Evening Sir." He greeted awkwardly. "I'm supposed to be meeting Alvin here."
"Forget that boy tonight." Fitzsimmons laughed as he gulped down his third bourbon since Steve had arrived and waved the empty glass to get the bartender's attention. "He's up to his hippockets in paperwork." Bill sat the empty glass on the table and pointed towards his tablemate. "Look who I found roaming around."
"Commander!" Fogarrty exclaimed in surprise.
"Yep." Bill grinned at McGarrett as he swallowed his fourth drink as soon as the bartender handed it to him and returned the empty double rocks glass to be refilled. "The boy's been having kittens worrying about you."
"Sorry about the music, Sir." The ensign apologized sheepishly. "I didn't think the Big Bopper could floor anybody like that."
"Forget it. It wasn't your fault." Steve replied and wondered how long it would take for everyone to forget about that incident.
"You aren't mad about the party are you Sir?" Foggarty asked.
"No. It was nice. I just don't deal with surprises well."
"Party?!" Lieutenant Fitzsimmons exclaimed. "You had a party and didn't invite Ol' Bill? Boy I ought to give you a Texas Whoopin' like your mamma never saw."
"You weren't back in town yet Sir." Foggarty replied defensively.
Out of town?? Meeting an agent?? Steve thought as he mentally lined up the clues. Opportunity: He's there every day. Means: He taught the locksmith course. If anybody can crack a safe it'd be Bill. Motive: Money. But I still can't believe he'd do it. "You've been gone Bill?" Steve asked innocently.
"Yeah. Fitzsimmons replied after he swallowed his sixth bourbon and paused briefly before he spoke. "My youngest brother died. Cancer. You knew about that didn't you?"
Steve nodded but wasn't sure if he'd heard about the situation or not.
"I was home on leave getting things lined up for my Momma. When I came back and heard you'd gotten trashed, Heinney gave me most of your harder cases. I just finished the alien smuggling ring tonight."
Foggarty nervously shifted from one foot to another as he wondered what was going on. Tomlich was not going to arrive. An evening with Commander McGarrett would have been a pleasant experience but Foggarty did not like Lieutenant Fitzsimmons in his current state.
"The one involving the XO of the USS Hornet?" Steve asked about his former case.
"Yep. He was guilty as hell. Hard to believe a man would risk his career like that just for money don't you agree?" Fitzsimmons stated.
Steve nodded his agreement.
"Just got back from India this afternoon rounding up the last of the perps. I've got that boy Tomlich processing the paperwork tonight. Rank do hath its privileges." He commented as he grinned at Steve. "Oh, you might want to telex Herb Reikers that you're OK. He heard about you from Glen when he intercepted one of your tea shipments. Herb was almost as upset as party boy here." Bill gestured awkwardly in Foggarty's general direction. Well..." Bill stood up, gulped his seventh bourbon and dropped the glass back onto the table. "I'm going to Nelson's house. You two coming??" Bill asked, in a slightly slurred manner, as he spun around and headed for the door.
"Woah." Steve stood and quickly grabbed the back of Fitzsimmons belt as he almost tripped over Ensign Foggarty. "Bill, you sure you want to be driving tonight?"
"Ah hell." Fitzsimmons swore. "I grew up on West Texas moonshine. This here's nuthin' but water. You comin McGarrett?? Bill asked while he held onto the back of a chair.
"Only if I drive." Steve stated. Not that I'd do a much better job but at least I'm oriented to 3 spheres..... McGarrett thought as he retrieved their hats. I've seen him happy before but never this smashed. "You sure you don't want to go home instead?"
"Home! Hell no!" Fitzsimmons shouted. "You think I'm drunk or somethun'.......I'm going to Ed's game." He proclaimed loudly and staggered towards the door. "Bring party boy with us!!! He'll learn sumthun'." Bill laughed loudly as Steve guided him from walking into a barstool.
"I'm going to help Alvin out." Foggarty declined the officer's drunken invitation.
And walk in on his arrest..... maybe get accused right along with him. Steve thought. "You don't want to go back there tonight. Bill will calm down once we get to Ed's house. You know how to play poker Foggarty?"
"Sort of, Sir." The ensign admitted reluctantly.
"At the Academy we called it 'Bridge'" Steve grinned at the traditional 'deception'. "Only thing a plebe could do on a Saturday night." He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and walked Fitzsimmons out the door. "You'll figure it out as you play along."
**********
It had been several hours since McGarrett had left Heinriche in order to find Fitzsimmons. The card game had not been an unpleasant experience despite the surveillance of Bill. Steve had won a few hands but the big winner, much to both men's surprise, had been Ensign Foggarty. Fitzsimmons had lost badly to the submariners. Steve left Fitzsimmons, who had passed out after his loss, in Nelson's guestroom to sleep it off and dropped Ensign Foggarty of at his quarters before he returned to the Intelligence Building. McGarrett cautiously stepped out of the stairwell and made his way through the double doors. When he entered he found Heinriche sitting in his office behind a pile of folders.
"Well Sir?" McGarrett asked.
"Just typed up an arrest form for Fitzsimmons and summarized the case for him." Heinriche replied. "Your hunch about the Hornet's XO was right on target." Heinriche informed as he rubbed the embossed naval academy crest on his brass paperweight. "He acted like he couldn't wait to get out of here."
"Uh Huh." Steve replied as he dropped into the chair across from the captain. "Rank hath its privileges." At the Old Man's puzzled look he added. "That's what Bill told me. So I guess Tomlich is out too."
"You found that worm Fitzsimmons then." Heinriche asked as he surmised the conclusion of the case. "What did he have to say for himself?"
"Nothing much." Steve answered. "I left him at Lt.Cmdr Nelson's house. Tomorrow I'll have him checked out." Steve promised as he rubbed his eyes. He reluctantly took a folder from the stack of personnel files and nearly knocked the donut that was on the desk on the floor with it.
It was a few minutes after 2AM when Heinriche returned to his office with yet another stack of service records. "Oh my God what have I done..." The captain gasped in horror at the sight of his pale, sweat drenched Executive Officer slumped over sideways in his chair. He quickly tossed the records at the cabinet beside his door. Heinriche started towards the chair but stopped abruptly mid stride. How am I going to explain this... "Dammit McGarrett why did you have to die in my office." He uttered under his breath. Because you worked him to death Albert! Heinriche shoved the momentary panic out of his mind and reassessed the situation; this time noticing the shallow respiration. "Commander?" Heinriche asked as he felt the muscles in his grasp tremble. "McGarrett!" Heinriche yelled as he shook the agent's left shoulder insistently.
As his name finally hit his consciousness Steve's eyes flew open in a brief wild unfocused 'where am I' panic. "What...Sir.." He responded groggily and blinked his eyes several times.
"That does it!" Heinriche commanded "You're going home right now."
"I'm OK Sir." Steve tried to argue as he fumbled with the zipper on his jacket. "Idiotic maintenance masterchief. It's freezing in here."
"No. It's not. Steve." Heinriche replied as he helped zip the jacket for his officer. "You're going. And that's an order. I'm not going to risk losing you because of some Judas Goat."
"We've got....." Steve replied and pulled one knee up in the chair and leaned forwards against it as he shoved Lance Corporal Tyson's file onto the floor. "U through Z to go. Like you said, this isn't an exercise....anymore."
Heinriche gathered the batch of records off the cabinet and shook his head in amazement at the man's determination. "I'm going to have to get you another medal Commander." The captain teased as he sat in his chair."
"Just what I need." Steve quipped back.
"At least eat something." Heinriche insisted as he shoved the glazed donut towards Steve who reluctantly opted for the cold coffee instead.
The words in Petty Officer Ulitzich's record suddenly made no sense at all. "This is killing you and getting us no where!" Heinriche yelled in frustration as he threw his pencil at the wall, leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes.
Steve looked up as the pencil whizzed past his right ear. what the..... McGarrett thought as he watched the pencil roll to a stop on the floor behind his chair. He was shocked by his over controlled superior's sudden outburst. McGarrett couldn't recall ever seeing the Captain sweat let alone blow his cool like this but at the moment he was too tired to really care. "Maybe Sir...." He proposed as he leaned back in his own chair. "Its time for offensive action."
"Offensive?" Heinriche asked in bewilderment. "How?"
"I've been thinking." McGarrett chose his words very carefully as he explained his idea. "They have gotten away with High Eye and can listen to our conversations at will. Somebody's feeling pretty proud of himself right now. If there were something really big, he'd go for it again. Only this time we'll be there to nab him."
"Gambling with classified documents could be very dangerous." Heinriche cautioned as he warmed slightly to the idea.
"I'm aware of that." Steve replied. "What do we have in the safe Sir that'd be worth the risk?"
"Son. I don't want to think about that." Heinriche answered as he stood and peered out through the venetian blinds at the darkened main office. Steve's idea was a viable option he thought. The thief probably could not resist one more job if the prize were great enough. After several moments Heinriche turned to face his junior officer and let out a deep sigh. "Next Friday the new PAC codes are arriving here en route to Japan.
Steve let out a low whistle in surprise. He knew that the operating codes for the entire 7th Fleet were changed routinely every four months. If the codes were breached, even if they knew about it from day one, there would still be a delay of at least eight weeks before another one could be implemented. He swallowed hard at the thought of how much information would be lost during that time.
"We can't let those get out." McGarrett answered quietly. "But suppose. It sounds like a crazy idea but just suppose." Steve caught himself unconsciously snapping his fingers and for the first time in months it hadn't hurt. Or if it did he was too numb to notice the pain. "We could make a fake set."
"It'd have to be a good fake." Heinriche cautioned as he decided that he liked the idea.
"Our rat's not going to sit here and authenticate it." Steve replied and sat up in his chair with a bit of renewed energy. "Get one of the old books from the storage vault downstairs. We'll copy it and change a few of the sequences. It'll work."
We're bug free now. We can't be certain they'll know." Heinriche added.
"Damn." Steve swore under his breath as he leaned forwards and ran his fingers through his hair. "I wish I could think straight."
"You're doing just fine." The captain encouraged. "In the morning, after Fitzsimmons arrives, I could make an announcement to the room that the code book will arrive. A plane ride to Tokyo would give the worm plenty of time to copy the book."
"If its him." Steve reminded. "The married officers should grumble about the trip. The single ones will jump at the chance for a long weekend in Tokyo." Steve explained and hoped that Glen had other plans for the weekend or Heinriche would be back to suspecting him again." Steve sat back in his chair. "If you ask for volunteers Sir, somebody is going to act out of character. If it's one of the enlisted men he'll have to break in tomorrow night." He tapped his finger on the arm of the chair for emphasis. "And we'll be right here waiting for him."
The captain continued to stare out the window for several minutes as he considered the plan. The risk of losing a false codebook was very small in proportion to capturing the traitor "I like it." He said as he slowly turned around. When he saw the glazed look in his XO's eyes, Heinriche realized it wasn't all that many days ago that McGarrett had been completely disoriented and yet he had just come up with a plan that would capture THE SPY. "At least you've got right and left figured out now." The older man, despite his guilt feelings, teased as he walked over and slapped his officer on the back reassuringly.
"Yeah." Steve smiled reluctantly. "Now I just walk into things.like walls. You gonna get the book Sir?"
"Yeah." Heinriche replied as he moved toward the door of his office. He opened it just enough to peer out into the outer office. When he saw that the room was empty he opened the door all the way and proceeded towards the smoked glass doors and disappeared into the hallway.
The captain returned a few minutes later after having successfully avoided the night watchman's patrol. In his hand Heinriche carried a dark navy loose-leaf binder and tossed it at his agent. "Your idea." He grinned.
McGarrett opened the book and thumbed the pages. I can at least get out of this much. World's greatest invention has to be the secretary. Steve decided as he recalled all the term papers he was ordered to type by the firstclassmen, in addition to his own of course, his plebe year. "But you type faster than I can right now." He grinned back at his CO. "We'll need a cover sheet with Friday's" He removed a page and while snapping the rings shut he glanced at his watch. "Tomorrow's date." He corrected. "When's your birthday Sir?"
"May 15th." Heinriche replied curiously. Why?"
"OK. Just picking random pages to alter." Steve explained as he pulled three more sheets of code out of the book. "Pages 5, 15, 12 and 30 will be the ones we change." And handed them to Heinriche. "I'll copy the rest of the book while you're doing that. Let's just hope nobody decides to inventory the vault in the next couple of days."
"I don't think it ever has been inventoried." Heinriche commented as he searched through Seaman Quinn's desk for some blank paper. "But that reminds me, now that you're officially XO, I've got to give you the combination."
"Wait till I can remember it Sir." McGarrett replied then brought up a subject that had been in the back of his mind. "I've never realized before, but security is very lax around here. We've been here every night this week and the only interruption has been Tomlich. So far the night watch has only been by once with his flashlight and that was just in the hall." Steve remarked as he played with the book. "I have no idea where the duty officer is keeping himself. Obviously anybody can get in the back door at will. When this is over, we might want to look into a few things Sir."
The captain was still hunched over Seaman Quinn's Remmington Elite manual typewriter when Steve returned from the copy room with his part of the project. Laughing to himself at Heinriche's frequent use of the word 'damn' as he stopped typing and picked up the eraser wheel yet again. Steve walked over to his desk and collapsed into his chair to watch the display. By the third expletive McGarrett was entering REM sleep. The nightmare was about to begin again.
03 June 1952: His chest felt like it was ready to explode as he ran full speed behind Glen Anderson through the North Korean forest. Behind him the dogs' barking grew louder and louder. They're getting closer!! He thought as he quickly picked himself up from tripping over a fallen branch. Surely they could smell the sweat and fear..... but there was no way he could control either at the moment. The Koreans were shouting threats and curses at the escaped prisoners. Up ahead Ron was dying, and rather quickly, judging by the amount of blood smeared on the brush as Roger dragged him through the trees. There was nothing Steve could do about that either. IF he got out of this alive he vowed he would always be in control..no matter what. Exhausted from the five mile run the four men paused at the edge of a wide clearing. The rabbits were hopping around in the tall grass as Glen pointed out. "And they each still have four feet." The dogs began to bark more insistently. Ron began to cough violently. "We're going! Mines or not!" Hennessey shouted as a cloud of butterflies ascended from the field. The pair made it safely to the trees on the other side. A flock of blackbirds flew out of the trees as Glen headed into the meadow. Seemingly out of nowhere a helicopter appeared over head, a man leaned out of the door with a machine gun. Suddenly Glen stopped running and stood bent over forwards. Steve ran into the field as bullets kicked up divots around him.
"Keep your head down! They'll think we're dead!" McGarrett yelled to the imaginary Anderson as he dove off his chair onto the floor.
The outcry startled Heinriche from his erasing. When the captain looked up he did not see McGarrett sitting in the chair. Heinriche nearly tripped himself as he ran from behind the typewriter. Even in the semidarkness, he could see his officer was drenched in sweat and trembling underneath his desk.
"McGarrett!" He shouted as he tried to shake him awake.
Steve yelled something unintelligible and began to flail around in an effort to get free of whomever it was that had a hold of him.
Heinriche marveled at how strong the commander was despite his condition, as he tried to pin down his legs. No way that can still broken! Heinriche thought as he pinned McGarrett's right arm underneath him and gripped the left one.
Once immobilized, Steve's eyes flew open as he frantically searched for an escape from the 'Korean'. Slowly his eyes focused on the silver eagle pinned on his captor's collar. Slowly his eyes tracked upwards from the collar. After a tense moment Steve finally recognized who was that was holding him down and ceased his struggling.
"What the hell McGarrett?" Heinriche asked as he released his grip on him and sat back against the wall. "I'm getting too old to fight with you."
"Sir?" Steve groaned as he cautiously removed his arm from underneath himself.
"The other day on the roof, that wasn't an act was it?" Heinriche asked with a sigh. "What am I doing to you?"
"Sir.... you aren't..." Steve replied as he tried unsuccessfully to sit up.
"What's going on here?" The Captain asked in concern. "In the hospital they were tying your ankles down to keep the needles in and you from climbing out of bed. Anderson raised enough of a ruckus about it that they left your one arm free. Now that I know the connection between you two all of his actions make sense. They must have tied you up while you were in the prison camp."
"Up. Down. Around. You name it." Steve replied as he painfully slid up the side of his desk. "Tang's favorite thing was to Mussolini us and spin us around till we were ready to pass out. When he grabbed his rifle you never knew for sure if he was going to beat the crap out of you or shoot you with it." Once he found a semi-comfortable position he took a deep breath. "Sometimes you got to the point that it didn't matter one way or the other."
"Few times, early on, when I'd visit you'd come halfway out of it and yell something that sounded sort of Korean. You speak the language Commander?" Heinriche asked.
"Not enough to qualify as a diplomat." Steve replied. "But I know what's being said." Steve swallowed against a sudden wave of nausea. "What was it???" He asked hopefully.
"I don't know. Your friend Frank was writing that stuff down. Just now it was suki something."
"Sukeen sin??" Steve answered as he stared at Heinriche questioningly.
"That's it!" The captain exclaimed.
"Then what is it?" Heinriche demanded. "Not one of our old codes."
"Its son of a bitch in Russian." Steve answered even more confused. "But that is one of my expressions...."
"Russian!" Heinriche exclaimed. "Why would you be yelling at a Korean in Russian? I didn't know you spoke that either."
"It's in my records Sir." Steve replied. "Three years of it at Annapolis. It was a new course my youngster year. I took French in high school and grew up with Italians. My father learned German in WW1. So I figured why not Russian. Why now.. I've got no idea."
"Steve, when this is over I'll leave you on the indefinite medical. Go someplace and sort this out.
Steve sighed deeply; he didn't know what to think anymore. Oh terrific now he thinks I'm nuts. Frank thinks I'm the most stable person he knows...What in the hell's going on! "I don't know why it'd bother me now after all these years. The only thing I really regret about Korea is that Paul didn't make it back." He stared at the floor for a moment. "But that's life...so to speak...in our business."
"I'm serious Commander." Heinriche ordered.
"Can we at least finish this Sir. Before you pack me off to bunk with Hargrove?"
"Yeah." Heinriche smiled as he stood and then pulled Steve to his feet.
**********
