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"No way!" Steve retorted as he straightened to his full height and faced the captain. The room and his stomach began to spin in opposite directions. He wasn't sure which was worse nausea or the actual pain behind it, both of which would have to be ignored for the moment. Cautiously he shrugged off Anderson's assistance to keep him on his feet and returned Heinriche's glare. "Captain, somebody just tried to kill me. I intend to finish this!"
The captain quickly grabbed a hold of Steve's arm as he nearly toppled over forwards onto him. "All right, McGarrett." Heinriche agreed in order to calm the man long enough to get him to the sofa.
Anderson had left to get a wet towel.
Steve gritted his teeth from the pain of his injured muscle as he sat on the sofa and slowly lifted his legs onto it. McGarrett intended to only briefly shut his eyes in order to block out the spinning room. Heinriche picked up the phone which was on the table next to McGarrett's head. Anderson, carried a towel when he returned to the living room as Heinriche concluded his conversation and hung up the receiver. What is the old bird up to now...... Glen wondered as he knelt next to the sofa.
The noise jarred him awake. "Won't do any good Sir." Steve whispered quietly. "He's long gone by now."
"The air search; no, probably not." The Old Man smiled reluctantly at McGarrett's determination. "But Chief's making a list of who's in the office right now."
"Who wants to kill you?" Glen asked as he carefully placed the towel underneath Steve's blood soaked T-shirt.
He grimaced at the slight pressure that Glen put on the wound. The movement sent Steve spinning into the very familiar but still terrifying kaleidoscopic vortex. He dug his fingernails into the sofa in an attempt to hang on as it tilted wildly back and forth. McGarrett knew there was nothing he could do until his brain stopped the wild ride. "You, till a few minutes ago." Steve retorted when his equilibrium finally returned and brought the world to a slamming halt.
"You know us Pisces." Anderson, relieved that his friend had forgiven him, quipped. "Very moody." In the back of his mind however, Glen wondered what the inevitable payback for this would entail. "Friends?" Glen asked as he extended his right hand.
McGarrett half-opened his eyes and reached up to grasp his friend's hand in acceptance of their continued friendship. The object from the flowerbox that he had been holding onto dropped to floor.
Anderson reached over to retrieve the metal chunk as Steve painfully shifted his position in order to see what it was.
Heinriche curiously looked over Glen's shoulder at the object. "That's a rifle slug!" He announced. "You couldn't have caught the...."
"High powered sniper rifle I'd say." Glen deduced as he weighed the object in his hand.
"Oh my God" McGarrett uttered involuntarily as he lay back on the couch and covered his eyes with his arm . "That plane...." He continued as he remembered the earlier incident. "The guy wasn't BSing us. Somebody did blow him out of the sky......."
"Commander!" Heinriche demanded. "Who wants you dead?"
If the tourist plane had not of interrupted the sniper's shot Steve would not be alive at that moment.
"I don't know Sir..." He answered weakly as the revelation overwhelmed him.
"Steve, this is serious stuff." Glen stated anxiously. "Think. Who hates your guts enough to do this. How about that guy in Seoul who rewhacked up your leg. He threatened you at the trial." As he handed the slug back to Steve's waiting hand.
"Trinnean?" Steve dismissed the possibility. "He's in Portsmouth."
"Are you sure?" Glen asked. "He was crazy enough back then to have done most anything."
"I'm sure. He's got some JAG to cry to now." Steve replied.
That Admiral you left Tokyo over." Glen offered. "You ruined his career."
"No." Steve said and swallowed as a hot jagged bolt of pain coursed up and down his side.
Heinriche couldn't help but stare at the tiny beads of sweat, which were forming on McGarrett's already pale skin. Hurry up Chief. The captain thought to himself as he prayed for the phone to ring.
The shrill ring of the phone ripped through the tension filled room like a knife. Steve was startled and jerked partway to a sitting position. He immediately regretted the movement as he fell back onto the sofa. Above his head, Glen and Heinriche both grabbed for the phone.
"Lt. Anderson." Glen spoke into the receiver he had wrested away from Heinriche. "Oh. Kathy. Hi." He acknowledged as Steve carefully shook his head. "Not right now." Glen evaded. "He's got a doctor's appointment. No. It's one of those all day kind. Me?" Glen was trapped by her question until his gaze fell on the slug sitting on the coffee table. "Tending to the plants. Sure, I'll tell him. Bye." As Glen hung up the phone he glared at Heinriche.
As Steve lay in the sofa images of Kathy danced through his head. He longed to tell her everything that was going on, yet knew, like most everything else about his covert life, he couldn't tell her anything. Would she even believe some of the stories he wanted to tell her? Most of them if he had not of lived through the event himself he would not have believed either. A frown grew on his face. Dear God when will this mess be over. McGarrett wondered hopelessly. A little more than a month had passed since the last time they were together. forty-one days but who's counting. He thought bitterly. He recalled the afternoon outside the hospital and the sight of her walking through the hedge with Seaman Watkins. A tiny breeze had blown through her hair as she had turned to wave. He remembered the soft silky feeling of her long brown hair as it swept across his chest and the sensation sent him back to the first night he had stayed overnight at her condo. The sweet scent of her jasmine perfume flooded his mind. Kathy was certainly not a culinary genius. Steve laughed at sight of her swearing at the lobster pot as boiling water ran down the side of it.
Glen and Heinriche both stared curiously at Steve as his expression grew soft..
The lobster had surveyed them from the counter as they made love on the kitchen floor. Neither of them regretted missing the evening movie for which he had ostensibly been invited over to watch. More of their clothing had been left in the living room. The journey into the bedroom had been a passionate one as she had walked backward enticing him to follow. That night, Steve recalled, had been more physically intense than any other he had ever experienced. In fact, he had prided himself that he had been in much better shape then than when he was a nineteen-year-old midshipman and getting regular backseat PT drills. What time he and Kathy had actually fallen asleep was still an uncertainty, but they must have because when he awoke she was asleep under his left arm and every muscle in his body was exhausted. Steve had turned to move her off of him and glanced at the clock beside the bed. He knew he would have to rush in order to make it on time for watch and quickly headed for the shower.
While he was underneath the pulsating water basking in the glow she had slipped quietly into the room and pulled back the curtain a tiny bit. "Hey Sailor." She smiled coyly. "You really are hot stuff." And replaced the curtain. Less than five seconds later a bucket of ice cold water came over the top of the shower bar. "To cool you off!" She had giggled. Once he had recovered from the tactile assault Steve wanted revenge and whipped back the curtain intent on chasing her. There were ice cubes still remaining on the bottom of the tub, and as luck would have it Steve McGarrett stepped on one of them and slid backwards onto his rear. Kathy had of course laughed at him that incensed him further. He began to plot his revenge as the water pelted down from above. Her sudden shriek snapped his attention from the plot and towards the blood flowing from his right temple. The top of his left foot was turning purple from hitting his great toe on the faucet. It had been a very tiny cut but for obvious reasons he would not let her put ice on either of the injuries. It had not been fun, for the next week, explaining how he gotten the black eye and a limp on a 'surveillance mission'.
After she had quit laughing Kathy had helped him out of the tub and 'tended to the wounds' on the bathroom rug. That led them on a merry chase through the condo and the discovery that it was possible to make love in every room of the house, except for the hall closet that Steve refused to enter. She had forced him to make up for that by doing it twice on the deck. Steve woke up at six-thirty that evening and realized he had forgotten to go to work. Fortunately, for Steve, Heinriche had been in Washington and he had been acting XO so no one except Glen knew where he had been that day. Now their relationship existed only on the phone. Frustrated at the constraints on his life McGarrett slung the rifle slug against the living room wall and abruptly sat up on the couch.
Heinriche stared at his agent's even paler coloring.
"Why didn't you just talk to her Steve?" Glen asked.
McGarrett bit his bottom lip against the searing pain running down his side and leaned back against the cool leather of the sofa. "She worries too much." He replied quietly as the darkness began to close in around him.
"It's over Commander." Heinriche stated consolingly. "Anderson and I'll catch him tonight. Relax."
"Relax hell!" Steve snapped as he jerked himself back to consciousness. "I intend to finish this!"
"Steve, don't be ridiculous!" Heinriche barked. Even now, I'd hate to be on hate wrong side of that look Heinriche thought as he glared back at the semi-focused steel blue eyes. The captain knew McGarrett could be exasperatingly stubborn at times but this decision was in the man's best interest. "The two of us will manage just fine."
Glen saw the hard look in his friend's glassy eyes and knew the level determination behind it. "Sir, let him stay." Anderson added. "There's no slug in him. Few stitches and he'll be OK."
"No." Heinriche stated as he began to pace the floor.
"Captain." Glen argued. "If everything that you told me went on is true, then he's been running solely on adrenaline. I want this bastard as badly as you Sir, probably more considering my 'involvement'. But he needs it."
Steve did his best to stay awake while he listened to the ongoing debate.
"This collar belongs to him." Anderson informed as he blocked Heinriche's path. "I won't take it away. Sir it's either both of us or neither of us."
When Steve heard the ultimatum he bolted upright on the sofa and watched the confrontation intently. Crazy Swede's going to get himself reprimanded over this. Heinriche's expression turned to stone and matched the one Glen wore. Steve rarely saw that side of Anderson. Now that's friendship. He concluded.
Heinriche noticed that Steve had sat up and was watching their conversation. His gaze shifted between the two men and lingered on Steve as he thought about Anderson's statement. Both of them can be bull-headed at times. This is definitely one of those times. He reasoned. I'm the one who got him into this mess in the first place. I suppose its the least I can do to let him finish..... Another glance at McGarrett served only to increase his misgivings. Or at least get as far as he can..... "One of you is bad enough." He stated finally and with a shake of his head continued. "But together you two are impossible." After a slight wink at Steve he turned and faced Glen. "You know he was probably diving again when he got hit."
"So?" Anderson dismissed the captain's comment. "His screwed up head saved his backside. He'll make this Sir. Believe me."
"Forget the search." Heinriche decided abruptly after he looked again at McGarrett. "We're going now!"
"Sir." Anderson, glad to finally be doing something, acknowledged as he headed towards the rear of the apartment. "I'll get his black gear."
Outside a Marine helicopter sliced through the air with a thundering roar past the open glass sliding door. It hovered briefly just off the lanai. "Anderson! Hit the deck!" Steve yelled as he dove underneath the coffee table. This was the first time that Heinriche had seen what proceeded McGarrett's waking up on the floor. The captain could do nothing but stare in disbelief.
"What in the..." Anderson began when he entered the room and saw Steve huddled under the table.
Heinriche shook his head. He could not believe what he had just witnessed from the stablest man he knew. The captain wondered if this would pass with time or was something far more ominous looming on the horizon.
"Steve." Glen ordered as he tossed the clothes on the sofa and grabbed Steve's arms and pulled his friend to his feet. "You gotta quit this."
"I want those doctors to take a good look at you." The captain ordered as he grabbed the black clothes off the couch.
"You aren't shoving me out of this." Steve implored resolutely.
"Against my better judgment, I said you could go." Heinriche said reassuringly despite his misgivings, but was even more impressed by the man's tenacity. "Anderson'll be with you. Would you quit worrying. I won't back you off."
********************
Heinriche paced the waiting area outside the ER as Glen sat on the hard plastic bench with his feet on the table and stared through the open door at his friend in the exam room.
Glen thought back to the days after North Korea, Steve had seemed to deal with the experience quite well, whereas he had faltered on numerous occasions. Now, years later Steve was going to crack, it didn't seem fair. But if any one could cling to his own sanity, it would be Steve Glen decided. Anderson was contemplating ways to help his friend when Heinriche's booming voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Where's that sawed off excuse of a physician?" Heinriche fumed. "I should demand another doctor right now." The Old Man stated as he turned towards the reception desk.
"Relax Sir. " Glen replied. "He's on his way. Man doesn't sit around all day just in case you might want him."
"Anderson." Heinriche snapped as he glared a hole into the lieutenant.
"Steve's gonna be OK Sir." Glen said as he tried to calm his superior officer. "Doc knows him. A new guy wouldn't." And slap him in here where he belongs. He thought.
Glen couldn't help but feel sorry for Steve and the way he had pushed himself but Heinriche's attitude did not help the situation.
Nodding briefly the captain reluctantly sat on the bench next to the deceptively relaxed lieutenant to wait.
Glen stared through the still open door at his friend who lay agitatedly on the exam table. Oh God, here we go again. He's gonna blow his chance at this. "The rails are up Captain, he's not going anyplace." Anderson added and hoped that he'd covered his own fear enough to keep Steve on the case.
"Anderson?" Heinriche asked a short while later. "What happened in North Korea?"
"A lot of things." Glen answered evasively. "He'll be all right."
"Lieutenant please." The captain implored.
"Didn't he ever tell you about Lang Bak?" Glen replied as his hopes of avoiding the topic diminished. "It's all in our files."
"Just bits and pieces." Heinriche replied. "It was like pulling teeth to get it out of him. You and another man were in pretty bad shape. Stole a motorcycle and ran South. Lieutenant I want to know the whole story."
"But Sir..." Glen groaned as he looked at the captain and saw that his effort to avoid the subject had failed miserably. He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up on the bench. "It was six years ago Sir....." He protested futily. Glen could deal with the fleeting memories that happened almost on a daily basis but The Old Man wanted him to go into detail about that fateful day. The images in his subconscious dragged him back in time. He was so deep in thought that Heinriche's calling of his name startled him.
"Lieutenant." Heinriche ordered. "I don't want to hear any buts about this. What ever's going on here, I want to understand it so I don't want you sparing me any of the details."
"Sir." Anderson sighed resignedly. "You don't know the half of it. I used to run marathons. A mile now and I'm done for. Steve gets Chief Sysmanski to let him run with me for the fitness eval every year. Even with him yelling at me most of the way, I still barely make it under the nine minute mark." Glen glanced in the exam room at his friend. "I'm overdue now." He admitted reluctantly. Chief hasn't said anything. God only knows when Steve'll be running again..... "Ron's missing most of his digestive system. Hennessey, well he's always been lucky."
"That he did say." Heinriche grinned. The captain could tell by Glen's reluctance that he really did not want to discuss this but he could see no other way of obtaining the desired information. Heinriche was not good at interpersonal communication but tried his best to make the situation easier.
"The night before we took off." Glen continued. "Steve overheard the guards joking Tang was going to kill us."
"He told me he only understood some Korean." Heinriche said a little confused by the statement.
"A little? Is that what he told you?" Glen replied with a small laugh. "Captain, he reads and writes poetry in it. Hell he even fights Korean."
"Come again?" Heinriche questioned the discrepancy between what the two men were leading him to believe.
"Come by the base gym some night." Glen offered. "He's been teaching for a couple years. Bunch of the SP's are learning. Foggarty's just started. Jenkins was about to meet Master Park before....." His voice trailed off as he recalled the days immediately after Steve's crash.
Heinriche was taken aback by this latest revelation into the abilities of Commander Steven J. McGarrett USN. The information was enlightening but did not explain why the man dove underneath furniture seemingly without warning. "What are we talking about here?" Heinriche asked intrigued.
"Tae Kyon. Basically it's Korean karate. Steve rescued most of Master Park's family from Up North and spent the rest of the war studying with him."
"Wow." He responded dumbfounded. "I never knew."
"He's an amazing old man." Glen continued. "Came to see Steve right after we got back. Started teaching me the breathing patterns while Steve was out of it. Captain, he probably saved my life."
Anxious to hear more, Heinriche sat forwards on the edge of the bench.
"They'd had Ron in the tank that day." Glen began hesitantly. "We were trying to keep him alert. I hardly slept a night in that hole. 'Bout all you can do is talk. When Steve heard they intended to kill us, well, that kind of left out the diplomatic option. We waited by the door and rushed the guards. One of them shot Ron. We ran blind for the grass and crawled through there till we got to the woods and could stand up and run. They chased us with everything they had. Dogs, cycles even a helicopter." Glen shifted uneasily on the bench as he continued under the captain's intense gaze.
"That's where he's at." Heinriche stated as he sat back on the bench. So that's what's going on. But still he could see as well as I that it was an American chopper this time. The captain was uncertain now of his decision to keep quiet about hallucinations. He could beach himself at anytime. My silence could end up getting the man killed. Heinriche shivered at that thought.
"Yeah. I know." Glen replied apprehensively. "I had nightmares about that day for a long while. Last I talked to Ron he still was. Steve and Roger, never seemed to bother them." Or so I thought.
"Continue Lieutenant." Heinriche asked as he glanced into the exam room.
"We came to a field. Steve said it didn't look mined. He has a sense about those kind of things." Glen paused but continued at Heinriche's insistence. "It was Rogers turn with Ron. They ran across to the trees. I started across and.......OH GOD!!" Glen suddenly cried out. He swallowed hard and sat back on the bench rubbing his chest.
"Anderson?" The captain asked in concern. Glen's coloring was almost as pale as McGarrett's had been earlier. Tiny sweat beads began to appear on Glen's face. Could the man be having a heart attack? Heinriche wondered though it seemed unlikely.
Glen continued to stare into nothingness holding his chest.
"Anderson!" The captain shouted startling Glen back to reality. "What's wrong?" Heinriche demanded.
"I'm OK." Glen replied at length as he leaned over forwards with his head between his knees.
Heinriche glanced quickly into the room and saw that Saprestien had just finished his exam. "Anderson?" He inquired and gently placed his arm across Glen's shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing Sir." Glen swallowed and sat upright on the bench. "I'm alright." He took a deep breath and continued with the story. "A chopper came up over the trees where we were. I couldn't move. My chest was on fire. Next thing I knew I was on the ground and Steve was on top of me. IT came low and strafed us. I tried to move.......Steve belted me in the kidney and told me to stay still and they'd think we were dead. Dirt was kicking up all around us. Roger started yelling and I guess they saw him because it took off towards the trees. We ran till we finally caught up with Ron and Roger in an old shack. I couldn't breathe anymore and Steve wasn't running anywhere. We sat there for what seemed like forever. Hennessey had his hands full keeping us all alive."
Heinriche stared in bewilderment at the lieutenant. He knew the two men had to have been terrified. The captain's mind slipped back to 1942. He had been a lieutenant then and stationed on Midway Island. The air raid warning siren was as vivid in Heinriche's mind now as it had been fifteen years earlier when he had leaped into a foxhole milliseconds ahead of a diving Japanese Zero. The young Marine whose hole he had jumped into had not been as fortunate. The captain could still feel the stickiness of the man's blood as he shoved what was left of him off of the anti-aircraft gun.
A rushing corpsman rammed an oxygen tank into the wall. The noise startled Heinriche. The images in his mind were so intense that he was unsure of which reality was correct. He stared at the tan coloring of his pants, no clue there. A quick check of his body told him he wasn't wearing a flak jacket but...Finally he rubbed the eagle on his collar and exhaled in relief. That scenario had come up entirely too quick for the liking of Albert Heinriche, but it HAD come up. He was now absolutely certain of his decision. Nothing would be said about the hallucinations as long as he was in charge. Unless he beaches himself in front of an admiral. The captain shuttered at the thought.
"I got hit in the lung." Glen explained. "Few inches up and I'd have been dead. Broke his leg doing it but if Steve hadn't of tackled me......"
Heinriche glanced into the room at McGarrett. He was even more impressed with both officers.
"He didn't tell you that part did he?" Glen laughed as he looked in at his friend arguing with the doctor. "You never noticed the way he walks?"
"No." Heinriche admitted reluctantly.
"Well unless you really know you can't tell anymore. When he's tired I notice it. Today its really obvious."
"What is?" Heinriche asked as he decided that he really knew nothing at all about any of the men in his command. McGarrett does though, right down to their kids names. Perhaps I should take the time.....
"There's a six inch piece of metal in his left leg. Bullet shattered the bone and lodged in his shinbone. Running tore up his knee. Quite a mess from what I understood at the time."
"How come I never heard any of this." Heinriche asked, but in the back of his mind he knew the answer. Because you never asked Albert that's why.
"I think it's classified someplace. Neither of us talk about it. Ron's in San Diego. Steve said he saw Roger in Hong Kong. We're here. The only four men to ever escape Lang Bak alive. Its just one of those things Sir."
Heinriche looked at his watch and realized almost two hours had passed since the air search. He was anxious to know the whereabouts of Fitzsimmons. Ordering Glen to bring McGarrett with him to the office at 1800 the captain, after a last glance in the room at his agent still arguing with Doc, left to find Chief Morgan.
******************
Glen had returned from the receptionist's desk and saw that Saprestien was not in the room. "They done with you yet?" He chided as he dropped the black clothes on the end of the table.
"Yeah." Steve replied as he swallowed hard. "Fifteen stitches and an antibiotic. Don't ask which hurt worse." He winced as he carefully sat on the edge of the cart and waited for the room to stop its familiar spin. "They wanted to keep me." He stated as he gingerly zipped the black fatigue pants. "But I'm not staying."
"You better be careful man." Anderson teased when he saw how loosely the pants fit. "Scrawny as you are those are gonna fall off."
"Good thing too." Steve retorted as loosely buckled the web belt. "I might be able to stand them tonight."
"Any new developments?" McGarrett asked as he cautiously stuck his right arm in the sleeve and struggled into the black turtleneck.
Nah. Just Heinriche calling to check on you. Again. And ask me if I knew where Bill was." Anderson informed as he sat on the stool beside the exam table. "He in on this with you?"
Damn not again. Steve thought as he slid his foot into his boot. "In a manner of speaking. He's the old fart's prime suspect."
"Bill Fitzsimmons!" Glen exclaimed and couldn't help but laugh at the idea. "That's ludicrous."
"Tell me about it." Steve said disgustedly as he leaned over to tie his boots. The room suddenly started to move backend over front as Steve gripped the edge of the table tightly. "You mind?" He asked, when the wave of nausea passed and gestured towards the boots.
"Sure." Glen replied as he wheeled the stool forwards with his feet. "You really don't have to do this ya know."
"Hey Glen......" Steve asked as he watched his friend's movements. "Back in the field. Did you get a good look at that helicopter?"
"Too good." Anderson retorted. "It was on top of us, how could I miss it."
"Was there something weird about it?" Steve asked with a curious tone in his voice.
"Weird?" Glen answered with raised eyebrows. "The whole damn war was weird. They wanted to turn us into Swiss cheese. Steve, all I remember is you tackling me. Why?" He looked up from the last lace. "And a bolo punch in the back." Glen stated as he chopped his friend hard on the left leg causing him to jump.
"Yeah, well you never could keep your head below deck." Steve retorted and slowly shook his head. "Something's weird...."
Glen sat up straight and gave his friend a sympathetic look.
"I don't know exactly." Steve said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Just, something about that day's been bugging me lately."
"Steve it's no big deal." Glen reassured. "I had nightmares for almost a year after that. It's just finally caught up with you is all."
Steve stared mutely at the floor.
Oh geez don't crash now Anderson thought sadly. "You'll get through it Steve, I did. Hell's bells we're lucky to even still be here. Maybe if you go see Ron or Hennessey." He suggested.
"That's just it." Steve tried to explain. "I hadn't thought about Tang in almost a year probably. I've got enough to deal with in the present to worry about the past. This whole thing started that day in the wardroom. Why?" He asked as he slid off the edge of the table. "Glen I swear to you that doesn't bother me. It was a moment in my life. Its over."
Glen quickly grasped McGarrett's shoulders and guided him to his feet. "Steve the brain is a funny thing." He said consolingly. "Something got crosswired from the crash. China's not that different from North Korea you know. Maybe it brought up a bunch of unresolved crap from back then. Why not take Jenkins to meet Master Park like you planned?" He added. "If anybody can help you get your head on straight its him."
Glen has always been honest. Steve thought. Oh God! Maybe I am cracking up. "Yeah maybe." Steve answered quietly.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in from the tile floored corridor. Both men looked up as Chief Morgan rushed into the room.
"Commander?" The NCO asked breathlessly. "You all right Sir?"
"Yeah. Chief." Steve replied as he looked at the ripped blood soaked T-shirt he had been wearing and tossed it in the trashcan. "I'm fine." I'm about two seconds from being classified as squirrel food, but fine What'd you find out about the cars?"
"Well..." The man replied as he pulled up his sagging pants. "There's the one I gave to you. Ensign Barker is borrowing one till his wife has the baby. I know I'm not supposed to, Sir, but Seaman Engel's got one unofficially while his is in the shop. If that's a problem Sir I....."
"Nah." Glen dismissed before Steve could say anything. "Let the kid have it. But we've got more cars than that."
"Thank you." The Chief grinned. "I traded three of ours with Sysmanski for jeeps."
"Jeeps?" McGarrett was surprised. "We've got those."
"Only because I traded with the Shore Patrol for them Commander." The chief explained. "We are not technically a combat unit so we are not entitled to any jeeps. But we need them to get up to the gunnery range."
"Not a combat unit." Steve laughed. "Then how come I just got a Star?"
"Welcome to the Navy Sir." Morgan saluted. "They are not a part of our BEL (basic equipment list). The SP needed cars for their drug operations. If there's some kind of inspection coming up I can make a few calls and get all our assigned stuff back for the duration." He added.
"No. Nothing as severe as that Chief." Glen stated.
"Good." The masterchief exhaled in relief. "Lousy GAO bean counters are a pain in the butt that won't go away. Those fools had to actually work under the rules they make it'd be a whole new ballgame around here,"
"Then all the cars are accounted for, right?" Steve asked glumly.
"Yep. The rest are right where I parked them."
Glen stared at the floor in disappointment and rubbed his face wearily. Their only lead had just dried up.
"But here's the kicker." The Chief added. "There's an extra one in the lot."
"I knew it!" Glen shouted and banged the table with excitement.
Steve stopped pacing the room and leaned, with his arms crossed, against the edge of the exam table. "Tell us about that one Chief."
"Well Steve it's either a '50 or '51, hard to tell." Morgan informed. "Kind of beat up but somebody gave it a good wax job. Standard issue stuff, but the serial number doesn't appear in any of my records. 'Less the motorpool made a mistake and parked it in the wrong lot. Old as it is probably about ready for auction anyway." He added.
"Do all the cars go through the motorpool?" Steve asked as a theory began to form in his head.
"Just the ones that have a problem. Engel does the gas and oil." The chief replied as he looked at Steve curiously.
Glen remembered the small electronics screwdriver that was in his locker. "Civilians can get stuff on auction?"
"Heck yes Sir." The portly chief laughed. "No sailor'd be dumb enough to buy a wreck the government didn't want anymore."
"Well lets hope this one had a problem." Steve said as he stood away from the table. "Call the motorpool. Better yet, go over there yourself and see if you can find where that car came from."
Master Chief Petty Officer Floyd Morgan had first met McGarrett in Seoul the autumn of 1952 when the upstart young lieutenant had limped into his section carrying a metal pipe in his hand and wanted to know what it was. He turned that broken piece of artillery into a Murder one conviction the chief recalled. That kind of tenacity, I wonder what he can do with a whole car. Even after twenty years in the service 'Need To Know' was still frustrated him. "Aye aye Sir." He saluted. "Is this a Priority 1?"
"No." Steve grinned as he slapped the chief on the shoulder. "It's a half."
Morgan stared at him quizzically.
"Worse than a one Chief." McGarrett answered looking at his watch. "When you find out something call Glen on channel 3. And whatever you do, don't go near the office for any reason. OK?"
Morgan left the room shaking his head. First Lieutenant Anderson had him chasing cars. Then Heinriche wanted to know who was in the office. By the look in McGarrett's eyes Morgan knew he had just put something together. This was one of the times Chief really wished he knew what was going on.
"Uh Steve." Glen asked as he started to follow his friend out of the room. "You just sent Chief on a merry chase. How are we going to get back?"
"You're going to call the Shore Patrol." Steve grinned. "We're going to need their stake out van for tonight anyway."
*****************
It had taken some effort to get the van away from Sysmanski. The Chief had all but demanded a drop of blood from Glen. He had handed over the keys with an express warning that it had better be returned in one piece. Once they had possession of the dingy truck Glen dropped Steve off at the office and drove into town for a pizza and large container of coffee. It was going to be a long night Glen surmised as he parked the faded gray service van on the side street where he could easily see both the main and rear entrance to the Intelligence building. He crawled into the back of the vehicle and watched as one by one his co-workers left the building.
Time seemed to drag by as Anderson sat in the cramped van. The sun finally descended to the horizon and the sky came alive with the colors of sunset. Even though his view was partially blocked by buildings Glen could tell that this was one of those spectacular Hawaiian sunsets that he enjoyed so much. One by one the streetlights came on partially illuminating the front entrance. There was a light above the rear door that provided enough light that Glen could see part of the alley.
In side the building Steve and Heinriche waited impatiently until the last person had left the office and the floor was empty. They positioned themselves on the floor, behind a desk, in the darkest corner of the outer office.
Steve stretched out his legs out in front of himself, leaned back against the filing cabinet and wiped his arm across his forehead. It was cold in the room yet he was sweating, Steve dearly hoped that this would end soon.
Even in the darkened room Heinriche could see the stark contrast between the man's pasty coloring and his dark clothes. "You sure you're Ok?" He asked at length.
"Yes Sir." Steve replied as he pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket. "Just thirsty."
"You've all ready had three cups of coffee tonight." The captain replied in amazement as he stood up. "This thing goes down you'll probably be in the head."
Steve shifted his position in an attempt to get more comfortable on the hard floor and grinned slightly at the captain's comment.
When Heinriche returned from the wardroom with a pitcher of water and two styrofoam cups he observed that the tiny sweat beads on McGarrett's skin had returned. It's not THAT hot in here. He thought as he sat back down.
"You sure you're alright?" He asked as Steve gulped a second glass of water.
"Yes Sir." McGarrett sighed and leaned back against the cool metal cabinet.
"Uh huh." Heinriche replied. "Sure you are. I meant what I said before. When this is over take a month or so off. God knows you deserve it.
"I've had almost the whole year off already." Steve grinned.
"I mean it." Heinriche ordered. "Go someplace nice. You are still seeing that lady lawyer?" At Steve's smile he continued. "Good. Take her with you. I've always liked the Med this time of year. Ever been to Crete?"
"I'm going to Naples in December." Steve replied.
"Well where ever you go. Have a nice time." Heinriche said in an authoritative tone of voice.
"Yes Sir." Steve answered. "So who wanted the Tokyo run this morning?"
"McAdams was interested." Heinriche replied. "But your puppy Foggarty practically did handsprings trying to get my attention.
"Well he's new." Steve admitted. "Probably would be his first time on the Ginza."
"Who knows." Heinriche retorted. "Might make a man out of him."
"Or scare him half to death." Steve added with a chuckle. "Probably displace most of the water in the bathhouse."
The image of the chubby ensign in a hot tub surrounded by geishas was enough to cause both men to laugh for a moment.
That worm Fitzsimmons didn't even look up." Heinriche spat.
"Bill likes Japan about as much as I do." Steve replied sarcastically.
"So can we move on Fitzsimmons yet?" Heinriche asked. "I was trapped in the elevator with him this morning. Almost killed me to be civil to him." The captain added disgustedly. "Get me some thing. Anything. And I'll have his bars."
"There's nothing to get. Sir." Steve replied. "I really don't think its him."
"He's on both lists." Heinriche reminded. " And nobody knows where he has been all afternoon."
"Yeah I know." Steve sighed in exasperation. "Call it intuition, gut instinct or what ever, but Bill's not involved in this."
"Oh come on McGarrett!" Heinriche snapped. "Your instinct is as off as your coordination. He's guilty as hell!!!"
"Look." Steve barked as he glared at Heinriche. "You're the one who got me into this! You want to blow our secrecy by busting Fitzsimmons, fine, go right ahead. I'll take my medical leave right now and sit on the beach until Washington sends out your replacement."
"Steve calm down!" The captain ordered. "I know you hate this situation, but not half as much as I do....the thought of one of my own men....." He paused not only to take a breath but also to bring himself to admit that one of the men in his command had indeed sold out his country. "That worm was in Korea too, maybe your letting some kind of POW comradery cloud your judgement."
"That's bull Sir, just plain bull!" Steve shouted as he sat up and glared daggers at Heinriche.
Heinriche had never been so certain of anyone's guilt as he was of Fitzsimmons at this moment. McGarrett was just as convinced of his innocence it seemed as he glared back.
Steve saw that he was getting nowhere with Heinriche and sighed deeply as he sat back against the cabinet.
"Let's look at this logically."Heinriche said as he also settled back against the cabinet. " What do you have on him. Those football pools for example. He likes to gamble."
"Sir, if I recall correctly." Steve retorted. "You were the one who picked Penn State, over Navy nonetheless. One could wonder about YOUR loyalty there, Sir. And I won the whole thing. So what does that say?"
"That you know football. And I'm a realist." Heinriche went on as he tried to make his point. "And Fitzsimmons is a lousy gambler. All the more reason."
"Captain." Steve exhaled in frustration and ticked off on his fingers the results of his investigation. "I checked him out eight ways from Sunday. According to HPD none of the bookies in the Territory have heard of him. The phone company records show that all his long distance calls are either to his mother in Texas or a brother in Oklahoma. His local calls are either to an insurance agency downtown his girlfriend runs, or to take out joints. Every call he has made from the office has been for business or to make ticket reservations. His life insurance policy has not been borrowed against. He has no bank accounts in any of the areas he lived in or has relatives in. He only has one account here and the balance in that sucks. Basically he spends what he makes. There is no crime in that. I watched him play poker the other night at Ed Nelson's house, and he enjoyed himself even though he lost like he always does. But when he was done he was done. Serious gamblers don't know when to quit. There is no evidence that Bill has ever been near a loanshark."
With the last comment Heinriche felt like the wind had left his sails. He hated to admit it, but Steve's information made sense. A sharp crack from the walkie-talkie sitting on the floor next to the water pitcher ended the debate.
Heads up." The staticy voice of Lt. Anderson informed. "A truck just pulled up out back."
Heinriche reached over Steve and grabbed the radio off the floor. "Roger." He replied and clicked the send button twice in acknowledgement.
McGarrett pulled Dean's Colt out of the back of his belt and released the safety." Here we go!"
"Steve." Heinriche admonished. "Promise me you won't fire that weapon unless I'm behind you. I don't want another Purple Heart."
"Aye aye Sir." Steve smiled reluctantly and pulled the slide back to load the chamber.
From Glen's vantagepoint he watched as a small framed man with a toolbox in his hand enter open the rear door. From what he could see the man appeared to be dressed in Navy-issue dungarees and a dark jacket. "He's in the stairwell." Anderson relayed into the radio.
Both men knew the intruder was not going anyplace but their floor. Moments later the office door opened and the man that Glen had described walked in.
Heinriche ducked back down behind the desk as the man set his toolbox down and pulled a flashlight from his jacket pocket and panned the outer office. Steve and Heinriche hugged the floor when the beam swept their direction.
Satisfied that he was alone, the man picked up his toolbox and headed towards the captain's office. He had been in and out of the section so many times, the man told himself with a satisfied grin. Prior to this occasion he had contented himself with photographing items from files locked in the various desks. This would be his first attempt at cracking the safe in Heinriche's office. I know how. This will be easy. The man told himself. Just concentrate. Get in and get out. The man couldn't understand why he would all of a sudden have such an ominous sense of foreboding. The shiver in his spine was so intense that he almost ran because of it. Relax. He told himself as he took off his jacket and tossed it on Seaman Quinn's desk. The man uttered a tiny laugh at his perceived paranoia opened the office door.
"Who's that?" Heinriche asked in a whisper and clicked the radio button three times to alert Anderson.
"I don't know......"Steve answered as his world started to tilt. "Sir I think I'm going..." He squinted his eyes shut and grabbed his head with his free hand.
Heinriche looked over at McGarrett as he started to slump towards the floor. "Steve! Not now!" He ordered in the loudest whisper as he dared and grabbed the man by the shoulders. "Hold it together another five minutes."
After what seemed like hours to Heinriche, Steve nodded his response. The two men carefully crawled towards the office.
Crouching behind Rameriz's desk, which was as close to the door to the captain's office as they dared get. The pair watched as Spy retrieved a stethoscope and a screwdriver from the box. He hooked it in his ears and placed the bell on the safe door and began to tap with the screwdriver against the metal to locate the tumbler mechanism. Once it was located he moved the stethoscope to the location and began to slowly turn the dial.
Steve shook the last of the dizziness from his head and peered over the desk. When his eyes focused he couldn't believe whom it was standing in front of the safe. "The maintenance master chief!" Steve whispered as he grabbed Heinriche's forearm.
Heinriche jerked his head and stared at McGarrett. He was about to reprimand him for grabbing a superior officer when he saw the look in his eyes.
"They were having problems at the lab....." He spoke in almost a babble. "He was in the wardroom.......the air conditioning......."
Heinriche stared in amazement as McGarrett solidified his babbling explanation.
It was like a gunshot had gone off inside his head as everything became crystal clear. Steve was not losing his sanity, his brain had been trying to tell him all along who the spy was but he had been too wrapped up worrying about Korea to see it. "That's how he gets access....breaks it himself, then waits till we call......puts out his bugs in the evening with a cleaning cart. Who ever pays attention to janitors and repairmen. They blend into the background. All that time and effort. The background checks.....we were spinning our wheels!"
With a smirk of satisfaction Spy removed the falsified codebook from the safe and slipped it inside his shirt and carefully closed the safe door. With a silent laugh he replaced the stethoscope and screwdriver, slammed the toolbox lid closed and retrieved his flashlight.
"HOLD IT!" The two officers shouted as they came around the desk with their guns pointing towards the Spy.
On to Part 6