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The Spy stared in disbelief at the two gun barrels pointed towards his head. How could such a perfect plan have gone so suddenly wrong?
McGarrett glanced at the nametape on the man's shirt. "Freeze Garvin!" He yelled.
Spy stood perfectly still.
Heinriche released the safety on his weapon. At the click the man carefully placed the toolbox on a desk and held up his hands.
"Against the wall!" Heinriche ordered as he shoved the intruder towards the outer wall of his office.
Garvin quickly dropped his arms turned and swung the flashlight he had in his hand at Heinriche. Although the captain tried to move out of the way he was not fast enough to avoid being clipped on the head by the heavy metal light. Garvin saw Heinriche stagger backward from the blow and capitalizing on the moment shoved Heinriche into Steve's line of fire.
Steve stepped aside to avoid the collision with his captain and raised his left arm to block the oncoming flashlight.
Captain Heinriche fell to the floor on top of the radio as his world went quickly dark.
Seizing an opportunity Spy grabbed hold of the weapon and pulled up on McGarrett's injured right arm. When his knees reflexively buckled from the pain Spy wrenched the weapon away and shoved him shoulder first into Seaman Quinn's desk. Steve slumped to the floor and laid there in a dazed agony as the thief ran away from him.
Steel desk chairs crashed to the floor in the far corner of the room. A loud Russian expletive aroused Steve from his agony. Seconds after his brain had registered the foreign word McGarrett's gun skidded across the floor and came to a stop just three feet from his hand. Steve did not take the time to contemplate his sudden good fortune. He snatched the gun off the floor and grabbed hold of the side of Seaman Quinn's desk and staggered to his feet. After regaining his balance he set off in search of the noise.
The Spy (AKA Peter William Garvin) had kicked over the water pitcher and slid on its liquid contents. He sucked in his breath at the pain and swore at his own clumsiness as he rolled himself to a sitting position and held his throbbing right ankle. Garvin's sole motivation was to escape. He grabbed hold of the front of the desk next to him and cautiously stood up. Garvin breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that he could still bear weight on the joint. He removed a .45 automatic from inside his belt and cautiously made his way towards the exit.
Steve saw a shadow moving across the wall towards him. The arm of the shadow straightened. Steve dove behind a desk as a bullet whistled past his ear and with a metallic thud imbedded itself in the filing cabinet behind him.
Garvin was in a panic as ran for the door.
Outside in the van Glen heard over his staticy radio what sounded like a gunshot. The rear doors flew open as he charged from the back of the van with his gun in one hand and the radio in the other. "Steve!" He yelled into the radio. "You OK?! Steve!! Captain!"
Steve peered over the top of the desk and saw a blur of motion heading towards the door. He fired blindly in the direction of the fleeing spy. The bullet missed its intended target and smoked glass flew in all directions as the door shattered.
Stunned and bleeding from several deep lacerations Garvin froze for an instant. McGarrett fired again. Spy clutched his right flank as he crashed through the remaining glass door.
Steve ran back into the office and snatched the radio out from underneath Heinriche. "Glen. Out front!" He yelled into the walkie-talkie and chased after the fleeing spy.
McGarrett carefully stepped through the doorway in order to avoid cutting himself on the shards of glass that had remained attached to the doorframe. He held his pistol at the ready in front of him and scanned both directions.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his heart began to pound and adrenaline surged through his body. Where the hell's the night patrol! He wondered in disgust.
Out of the corner of his left eye Steve saw a dark shadow pass across the polished brass NAVAL INTELLIGENCE letters bolted to the wall behind him. He turned abruptly toward the movement. He held his breath as he swept the hallway with his eyes; his hand gripped the gun tighter. Steve knew the man had to be somewhere in the hall but he saw no movement. He exhaled in resolution and stepped cautiously in the direction of the elevator. He had not taken two steps when he heard the retort of Garvin's gun, and at the same instant a slug richoeted off of the metal letter N beside his head. The sound reverberated like a ship's bell in his head as he as dropped to the floor behind the security desk. A second shot hit the heavy solid brass crest and sent the top portion of it crashing onto the desktop above Steve's head. The clang of the heavy metal object as it impacted the steel desktop above Steve's head tore through his head as he struggled to maintain control over his equilibrium.
A few feet away a steel door slammed shut. Garvin was sure he had the situation now under control as he started down the stairs. With each step he began to feel weaker.
Steve slowly crawled out from underneath the desk and grabbed hold of the bottom of the brass letter I and pulled himself to his feet. He couldn't help but sigh in relief when he saw the piece of escutcheon laying on the desk and the deep dent it had left in the desktop. Steve said a silent prayer of thanksgiving that it was not his head that had been dented. He then turned towards the fire stairs.
Garvin leaned against the steps and held his bleeding side as he tried to catch his breath. He knew that he had to get out of the building. Keep moving! He told himself but his body seemed unwilling to cooperate. Blood had soaked his clothes and began to seep from between his fingers and drip onto the step.
As Steve approached the stairwell he hesitated for a moment. Up or down He thought to himself as he stood beside the metal door. He knew that for some strange reason criminals always ran up, but Garvin was a trained spy and therefore likely to take the best route which was down. Steve decided if the situation were reversed he would take the quick escape over high-ground advantage. He switched the gun to his left hand and wiped the sweat from his now empty palm onto his shirt. In one movement he jerked open the door and stepped into the landing. At that moment he was vulnerable from above. Steve saw a puddle of blood on the first step below his position. A second later he saw his quarry against the railing.
Garvin looked up in horror at the sound of the door being opened. His pursuer was nearly on top of him. That thought translated itself into a reflexive action as he raised his gun hand and fired another round. That bullet impacted itself harmlessly into a cement step. Steve fired down at the target then flattened himself against the wall in anticipation of returned fire. When there was no reply he looked at the landing again and the man was gone. Steve charged towards the second floor landing. When Steve stepped out onto the stairs, Garvin quickly popped up from below and fired at him. McGarrett ducked and tried to dodge the bullet but his foot slipped in the puddle of slick blood and he was sent skidding out of control towards the second floor landing.
Captain Heinriche had started to regain consciousness when McGarrett rolled him over to retrieve the radio. He slowly stood and rubbed the back of his throbbing head."Oh my God!" He gasped when he saw the condition of his surroundings. He thought that he had heard gunfire coming from somewhere and in his dazed state thought maybe he should find out where that was coming from. Heinriche staggered along the trail of devastation that led to the hallway in search of McGarrett. When he saw the shattered glass door the captain's adrenal glands kicked into action. The charge of adrenaline burned away the last of the fog in Heinriche's mind. The Old Man entered the stairwell just in time to see Steve crash to a halt on the recently vacated landing.
"McGarrett! No!!" Heinriche yelled as the words echoed both inside and outside of his head.
Steve landed hard on the concrete landing. The black cloud had started closing in on Steve's consciousness when he heard his name. Steve quickly sat up at the sound of his name bouncing off the walls around him. He carefully moved each limb through range of motion and sighed in relief that nothing appeared broken. Slowly he pulled himself up by the handrail and resumed the chase.
Heinriche charged down the stairwell only to follow a few seconds behind his agent as they descended the rest of the stairs.
Glen had almost reached the rear entrance when he heard Steve's message. Relieved that his friend was alive Anderson sprinted to the front entrance of the Intelligence Building.
Garvin burst out of the stairwell like a wounded rhino and collided with a marine.
Private Jones, unaware of the goings on, had just returned from warming his leftover Chinese take-out on the radar unit located on the roof of the building beside 'The Garden' where his partners were resting. He chuckled to himself about the 'unauthorized use of Navy electronics' which his sergeant had only recently shown him.
Jones did not like the situation he found himself in. His partners spent the greater part of watch asleep on the roof while he tried as best he could to patrol his squad's section of the building. The first night it had happened he had sought out his sergeant to complain. After a lengthy search he had found the NCO on the roof with the rest of the group. Jones, bootcamp still a fresh horror in his mind, knew well the things a sergeant could get away with doing in the name of 'discipline' to a young private. That night when Jones returned to his post he had never felt so alone in his life. He had not been able to sleep the entire day as he debated what to do. Breaking the chain of command held serious repercussions and most of the time it was the one who 'squealed' that paid the price. Private Jones decided that doing nothing and saving his skin was the best course of action. As he sat at the desk staring at the recruiting poster on the wall Jones remembered the oath he had taken to defend against all enemies foreign and domestic, would this count as a domestic enemy he wondered. Well the evidence was there Jones had told himself as he got up from his chair. By that time he was certain that Sergeant Olvera and the rest of them would be passed out on the roof, Jones went off in search of the duty officer intent on taking the man with him to 'The Garden' and plead his case. It had taken almost an hour for him to locate the man. Jones was devastated when he found the Lieutenant sacked out on a couch in an out of the way conference room. Jones had spent another sleepless day agonizing over his situation. The next course of action, he decided, would be to find an officer who would help him. Commander McGarrett had gone out of his way to be nice to him that first day and still spoke to him in the mornings. The private had not seen McGarrett in several days so surely he would be back from leave soon; Jones would wait until then. Private Jones had been set in his resolve to speak to McGarrett no matter the outcome. When he returned to the building that night everyone was talking about the rumor that Commander McGarrett had been captured by a Chinese pilot. "It's fate" He had told himself.
Private Jones, still thinking about his predicament, stepped out of the elevator at the same instant Garvin came out of the stairwell. Shocked by the presence of an armed intruder Jones dropped his lo mein to the floor and dove behind a huge potted ficus.
Garvin was just as surprised by the young marine. This close to freedom he would not be deterred, Garvin fired two quick rounds at Jones and continued his run for the door.
The ceramic tub containing the tree shattered on impact sending dirt and shards into the air. Jones right arm burned like fire. Dirt and leaves from the destroyed tree covered him. At that moment two thoughts went through the eighteen year old's mind. ' I want my mother' and ' get the son of a bitch'. Mother came in second as he instinctively reached over with his left hand and drew his weapon.
Out of the corner of his eye Jones saw movement from behind himself, he quickly rolled to a seated position and prepared to fire. At the last instant he recognized his target. Commander McGarrett! Shit!! the guard thought as he released his finger off the trigger. Heinriche! Hells bells I almost killed my commanding officers. Disturbed by that thought Jones carefully came to his feet and holding his bleeding upper arm followed behind the officers.
Garvin plowed blindly past the sign in desk and out the double glass doors to freedom.
Glen was on the third step when the panicked bleeding intruder bolted through the doors and collided with him. Out of reflex he grabbed hold of the front of the man's shirt and rolled with him back down to the sidewalk. Glen felt the edge of the steps scrape against his back as they slid to a halt at the base of the stairs. The radio sailed from Glen's grasp, bounced off the edge of the steps and fell in pieces into the hibiscus hedge beside the entrance. Both guns clattered to the sidewalk.
Glen was momentarily dazed by the impact with Garvin. The spy saw this as an opportunity and punched him in the solar plexus. Glen gasped for breath and put his hands around the man's neck and began to choke him.
Garvin shifted his weight to ease the pressure on his neck and brought his knee up and drove it into the officer's groin
Glen recoiled from the impact, released his grip on the man and pulled his knees in close and rolled onto his side.
Garvin tried to stagger to his feet but was grabbed by his belt and pulled back down by the Lieutenant who then straddled him. He could feel the warm blood seeping from his right side.
A forceful blow to his head sent stars shooting past Garvin's field of vision. The waves of nausea were coming closer together. The hands were closing off his windpipe. It was becoming difficult to breathe and blackness began to close in around him. The game was up and Garvin knew it. He relaxed in defeat.
Anderson felt the body in his grasp go limp and released the chokehold. Glen moved aside in order to flip the man onto his stomach.
Spy saw the gun laying less than an inch from his grasp. With Herculean effort Garvin shoved Glen off balance, rolled to his left side and seized the gun. He staggered to his feet and charged towards the road.
Anderson landed in a supine position on the grass at the edge of the sidewalk but quickly recovered and came to a low blocking stance.
In his compromised state Garvin did not see the opening to his right and charged ahead.
Glen dove towards the fleeing man, tackled him around the ankles and threw him to the ground.
Anderson saw the pistol in the man's hand pinned the arm to the ground.
Garvin's swung awkwardly at his opponent's head with his free arm
Glen ducked back from the flying fist and loosened his grip on the arm for an instant.
Garvin used that advantage to slip out from underneath the larger mans body.
Anderson recovered and slammed the arm back down.
Garvin grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down with him.
A grappling match ensued as the two men rolled around on the grass trying to gain a superior position.
Garvin strained to keep his grip on the weapon as he wrestled with Anderson. Glen felt the barrel touch his chest and shoved the arm aside. Garvin tried to pull loose and the gun discharged.
Glen screamed out in agony as the hot lead pierced his upper thigh and grabbed the affected area with both hands.
Spy pulled himself out from underneath the now huddled Anderson and started to flee. His right foot became entangled between Glen's arms and leg and could not be wrenched free. Garvin grabbed Glen by the shoulders and bashed his head against the bottom cement step.
Anderson's arms relaxed with unconsciousness enough that Garvin could release his pinned leg.
With renewed energy Spy took off across the grass to wards freedom.
Steve was nearly out of breath from the run/slide down the three flights of stairs and was focused only on capturing the spy as he leaped over Glen's inert body.
A fresh tropical breeze blew through LTJG McAdams hair as he sped across the base in his new car. Santo and Johnny blared from the radio as he rounded the corner. Seemingly out of nowhere a sailor suddenly loomed in his headlights. The tires squealed as he jammed on the brakes and watched the man ran past his car. When his eyes returned to the road he realized in horror that there was a second dark figure in his path. McAdams applied more pressure to the brake pedal, but it was too late
Heinriche had just ran out of the building when he saw the car barreling towards the charging man. "McGarrett!" Heinriche yelled futility as he watched in horror as Steve fly over the hood of the car and fall hard onto the asphalt beside the front tire as McAdams brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop.
Garvin turned when he heard the screech of tires. He stood frozen for several moments in disbelief at the good fortune which just taken away his pursuer. In spite of the pain in his flank Spy laughed as he made his way across the grass towards his quarters.
Spy was getting away! Private Jones, who had exited the building a second behind the captain, was unsure of what was going on but he carefully aimed with his left hand and fired off two rounds at the fleeing man.
Heinriche continued, despite his pounding head, to chase the intruder.
McAdams, totally confused by the situation in which he found himself, reacted instinctively and bolted from his car to chase the fleeing man.
Garvin stumbled as he felt a bullet hit his shoulder a few seconds before McAdams caught up with him and tackled him to the ground. Exhaustion and pain from his wounds along with blood loss had taken their toll. The man offered no resistance as McAdams pinned him to the ground.
"Who the hell are you?" Heinriche asked as the marine came along beside him.
"Private Lemeul Andrew Jones, Sir." The young man answered as he tried to salute in spite of his wounded arm. "What's going on?"
"Lieutenant!" Heinriche yelled to McAdams as he ignored Jones. "Bring him over here!" and sprinted towards the far side of the car where McGarrett had fallen.
The captain stared in horror at the unmoving black figure on the pavement. "Commander?" Heinriche asked with trepidation as he knelt on the ground. He cautiously pulled back the rolled neckline and placed his fingers on the side of the pale neck. H was relieved to find that there was still a pulse. "McGarrett, can you hear me?"
It was warm in the black tunnel and Steve did not want to leave. Faintly he heard his name being called. Who was calling him? And from where? He felt his left leg tingle. Funny the things you notice in here His mind thought. How did my shirt get wet?
"Steve?!" Heinriche called again as he gently shook his agent. "Say something"
Something His mind giggled.
"That's an order!"
Nobody orders me in my space As his fuzzy consciousness struggled to form a terse reply to the unwelcome intrusion Steve gradually became aware of the throbbing pain in his right arm.
McAdams roughly pulled the spy to his feet and dragged him back towards the group. Under the streetlight he could see the man's pale coloring. He forcefully shoved the man against the hood of the car, removed the handcuffs that were dangling from his rearview mirror and applied them tightly to the moaning man's wrists. Once the prisoner was secured the Lieutenant finally too a good look at him. He saw that blood had soaked the entire right side of the man's clothing. "He's been shot!" McAdams announced in bewilderment.
"Yeah. What about it." Heinriche spat as he continued to shake the dark form on the pavement.
Quit shaking me! Steve's mind yelled. More signals from the body. His left side was on fire. Blood was soaking his shirt. Ah hell I've been shot. He swore at the realization. Again! Slowly he tried to remember what had transpired. As the fog slowly lifted Steve remembered feeling the sutures rip as he slid down the stairs. Chasing....Chasing what...
"Is everybody OK Sir?" Jones asked as he tried to understand why the two officers had chased the man he now recognized as one of the building maintenance crew.
Heinriche stared up at the young man as he cautiously rolled Steve over onto his back. "I hope so." He silently prayed.
McGarrett felt himself spinning into disequalibrium again. Had he moved himself or had someone moved him? He wondered. A sharp grating pain in his chest chased away the last cloud as his mind snapped abruptly back to pain filled consciousness. He briefly stared up at the crowd silhouetted in the car's headlights then rolled back onto his left side and pulled his legs up into fetal position.
"Commander?" Heinriche asked with his hand on Steve's back. He didn't want to ask the obvious question.
"I think I just broke the last rib." Steve choked in reply. "And lost the bastard"
"We've got him." The captain reassured.
"Great!" Steve uttered and had to grit his teeth at the agonizing pain caused by the outburst. "Sir." He swallowed. "I didn't know you could run that fast."
"Neither did I." Heinriche chuckled as he sat on the ground next to his officer.
"What's the janitor done?" Jones wondered aloud as he walked over to where the officers had gathered.
"Oh my God!' McAdams gasped when he realized whom it was he'd run over. "Commander I'm so sorry." and collapsed onto the bumper of the car and held his head in his hands. "I didn't see you..."
Garvin looked around and saw that everyone was concerned with McGarrett's condition. He saw this as another opportunity to get away and slowly got up off the car and began to sneak away into the night.
Jones saw that their prisoner was making moves to get away, ran between the prone McGarrett and Heinriche grabbed Garvin and dragged him back to the group. "And just where do you think you're goin'?" The private barked as he slammed Spy face first onto the trunk.
"What happened?" Steve asked as he cautiously rolled over onto his back.
"Junior here caught him after he ran over you." Heinriche replied as he leaned over forwards with his head between his knees and rubbed the egg-sized lump that had formed near the base of his skull.
"Commander I swear I didn't see you." McAdams profusely apologized.
"Forget it." Steve replied flatly as he tried to sit up.
McAdams saw that that McGarrett was having difficulty as he tried to right himself, so he reached down and carefully pulled him to a seated position against the car and returned to the bumper.
"Thanks Lieutenant." Steve stated as he ran his fingers through his hair and tried to remain awake. It had been a long night and his energy level was hovering on empty. "Oh my God!" A sudden expression of horror appeared on his face as he tried to get up. "Glen!"
"Relax." Heinriche ordered as he gently pushed McGarrett back against the tire. "I'll get him.
The captain cautiously came to his feet and walked back toward the building to retrieve Glen.
McAdams had finally calmed himself down enough to realize he had left the engine running. He got up from the bumper, walked back to the driver's door and reached over the steering wheel and turned it off. He also noticed that McGarrett wasn't staying down as ordered. With his help Steve managed to stand up long enough to sit on the hood of the car.
Heinriche picked up Glen off the sidewalk and took the man's arm around his neck grabbed him around the waist and half carried Glen across the lawn to the car sitting crossways in the street although he nearly collapsed from the physical stress. When they arrived at the group Anderson let go of Heinriche and sat himself on the hood of the car. "You look like hell." He half smiled and bit his lip as a swift pain shot through his thigh.
McGarrett turned slightly and in the dim light could see his friends blood stained pants and soiled shirt. "I could say the same about you." Steve retorted weakly.
"Yeah." Anderson admitted as he glanced down at his leg. "Guess I won't be dancing for a while. He touched the back of his head and felt something warm. When he brought his hand back and looked at it, his stomach did a 180-degree turn at the sight. Anderson hated the sight of blood, especially his own. "That him?" He asked as he swallowed back the pizza as it rose in his throat and pointed towards the bleeding man on the trunk.
"Jerry got him." Steve replied with a nod of his head that he instantly regretted. He cradled his head with his left hand and closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the oncoming vertigo.
Heinriche leaned against the side of the car and rubbed the back of his head. His stomach turned inside out in undulating waves of nausea from the concussion.
McAdams surveyed the scene. There was a man whom he didn't know dying on his trunk, his mentor was in nearly the same condition, Glen was starting to pass out and Heinriche did not look very well either. "Would someone please tell me what I got?" McAdams pleaded.
"Lieutenant...." Steve remembered the Russian cuss word the spy had yelled in the office. "You just captured a Soviet agent."
McAdams' eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open in shock. "A what?" He gulped.
"He's been bugging our office and stealing secrets." Steve started to explain.
The young lieutenant stood speechless for a moment as he digested what he had just heard. "Then you weren't really losing it..." He blurted out. "This weeks been...."
"Part of an internal investigation." Steve finished the sentence although he was still not entirely certain of his sanity.
Private Jones was even more surprised to learn what he inadvertently become involved in. "That what you were doin crawlin around under stuff." Jones hissed at Garvin."Huh?" He jerked the semiconscious man's head up by the hair. "You sellin your country?" There was no response. "Bastard." Jones spat. He was so repulsed by the thought he slammed the head back down onto the car and wiped his hands on the front of his pants.
Jerry McAdam's mouth gaped open in shock at what he had just heard. Slowly he began to piece together the series of events that led up to the current situation. "I thought something was up." He blurted out. "Stuff on your desk would move around."
Despite his general agony Steve had to laugh at the revelation.
"That pen you've got. With the girl's name on it." McAdams continued to ramble. "The day you left I threw it in your desk drawer so it wouldn't get lost. Next day it was back out."
Glen still held the back of his head as he pushed himself up on the hood of the car with his free arm. The wound in his thigh was bleeding more profusely so he carefully removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around his leg just above the hole and pulled it tight. He winced as pain seared through him. He closed his eyes, laid back against the windshield and tried very hard to keep from hyperventilating.
Steve's world began to spin again as he too leaned back against the windshield. "We've got a smart boy here Sir." He gestured weakly in the direction of McAdams. "We're going to have to encourage him."
"First we're going to have to reward him." Heinriche replied as he turned to face the junior lieutenant. "Son, how would you like a long weekend in Tokyo?"
"Yes Sir!" Jerry replied with a weak grin. He was still shaken by the thought that he had nearly killed a fellow officer. "The code book's for real then?"
"You u mean this book?" Heinriche said as he stepped to the rear of the car and removed the fake book from inside Garvin's shirt. "Not this one." And laughed as he looked at the front of the book then tossed it casually onto the backseat of the car. "Be in my office next Friday at zero six hundred, and bring your toothbrush."
As Heinriche started back towards the group he felt his knees go weak and grabbed the side of the car. "Guess we better start for the hospital." He half whispered. "You think we'll all fit in this car of yours my boy?"
McAdams looked around at the two officers bleeding on his hood and the prisoner dying on his trunk. "Don't know Sir." He replied as he wondered to himself how he would get the bloodstains off the leather seats."
Glen gritted his teeth at the movement as he pulled a set of keys from his front pants pocket. "The van's around the corner." He informed and weakly tossed the keys in the general direction of McAdams who awkwardly caught them.
"You're sure he's a Russian then McGarrett?" Heinriche questioned.
"He cusses like one Sir." Steve replied weakly.
"So do you." Heinriche said with a wink of his eye. "Well, if he is it'll come out in the interrogation."
Glen looked over at Steve who had fallen asleep on the car and back at Heinriche. "He's ours too captain."
"Don't worry Anderson." Heinriche reassured as he leaned against the car and rubbed the back of his throbbing head. "You'll both get a crack at him. Junior too, be good practice for him. We don't get too many POW's during peacetime." Heinriche knew that he had to inform Admiral Winters who in turn would have to awaken somebody in Washington. Just how high the news would travel Heinriche was uncertain.
At the word POW Steve snapped awake and looked around for the prisoner. A deep anger overrode his pain as McGarrett slid off the hood and staggered around to the rear of the vehicle. He was oblivious of Private Jones sitting on the curb. He had seen that face before. With each step his anger towards the prisoner rose and by the time he got to the man was at its peak. When he saw the semiconscious man sprawled across the trunk the long repressed memory came to vivid light in McGarrett's head. Steve pulled Spy off the hood by the back of the shirt, punched him in the face and let the body drop to the ground.
Garvin hit the pavement face first. Although his hands still cuffed behind his back he tried to roll up to a seated position.
Steve did not want him to recover so quickly, so he spun around and kicked the man back down. "That's for Ron, Comrade." He spat.
McGarrett's blue eyes fired with a deep hate as he jerked the man to his knees by the hair.
"You remember this game." He growled. Reaching into the belt of his pants Steve whipped out his pistol and shoved it in to Garvin's mouth. "Don't you!" He sneered and released the safety.
McGarrett's face twisted in anger as he his finger twitched on the trigger.
"Steve! No!!" Heinriche shouted as he ran towards McGarrett.
Garvin's eyes went wide with fear as Steve advanced the barrel down his throat. Unable to swallow around the mass of metal in his mouth Spy made a gurgling sound as he stared helplessly into his tormentor's darkened eyes.
"What's gotten into you!" The captain yelled as he tried to grab for the gun. "Let him go!"
Steve was not to be kept from his revenge as he jerked Garvin's hair harder. Heinriche's plea to release the prisoner went unnoticed.
Private Jones stared in horror at the unfolding events.
After several tense minutes Steve broke his glare at the prisoner and glanced at Heinriche. The horrified look on the captain's face told him that he might just have crossed the line in treatment of a prisoner. Slowly his eyes returned to their glassy blue and he pulled the gun back out of the quivering man's mouth.
Heinriche sighed in relief as the weapon cleared the man's mouth.
The captain's relaxation was to be short lived.
Steve was determined to finish what he had started. He kicked the spy in the chest spun and kicked his head back down to the pavement. "And that's for me." He said angrily then turned back to the front of the car. "Glen, I want you to meet someone!"
Anderson hung onto the car as he slowly limped towards his friend, grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back against the car. "Buddy, what's gotten into you?" He exclaimed as he glared at his friend. "You flippin out on us or what!"
Steve was content to sit on the trunk as the adrenaline rush diminished. "Remember I told you there was something weird about that helicopter?"
"Yeah." Glen replied as he nodded his head. "What about it?"
"It wasn't NK's that were in it." Steve revealed. "That chopper was full of Russians." His energy expended, he slumped on the trunk. "I must have recognized him somehow in the wardroom when he was messing with the vents. But until now I didn't put it all together." McGarrett looked up and was amazed that his friend was still upright. "He's the bastard who shot you."
Glen raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "You sure?" He asked
"Yep." Steve replied as he sat up. "He was the one hanging out the door firing at us when I tackled you."
Anger overcame reason in Lieutenant Anderson as he vividly remembered that day in the meadow. His chest burned as intensely now as it had that afternoon. His left fist balled in fury as he let go of the side of the car and grabbed the prisoner by the shirt and punched him repeatedly until Spy finally collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
Steve slid off the rear of the car and reached down to pull Garvin up for his less mobile friend.
Jerry McAdams, unaware of the keys dangling from his right hand, stood transfixed as the scene before him played out.
Glen seized this opportunity and leaned back against the automobile with his hands and front kicked the spy in the chest with his good leg.
The force of Anderson's kick sent Steve along with Garvin to the ground.
Appalled by the behavior he had just witnessed by his men Heinriche angrily grabbed Glen and shoved him against the car and motioned for Steve to remain where he was on the pavement.
"Hold it! Both of you!" He shouted. "You're going to kill him!"
Both men began to protest as Heinriche knelt next to the prisoner and checked for a pulse. Relieved that the man was still alive he slowly stood and shifted his glare between both men.
"What has gotten into you?" The captain demanded. "I can't believe the behavior I just witnessed from two supposedly professional men!"
Heinriche focused his glare at Steve. "You started it Commander, I want an explanation! And I want it now!"
McAdams looked down at McGarrett as he lay on his left side splinting his ribcage. His face reflected the amount of pain he was in. Carefully he helped him up to a seated position against the tire and out of the reach of Garvin.
Steve was to exhausted to answer the question but tried unsuccessfully to kick the prisoner just one more time.
Seeing the aggressive move towards the unconscious prisoner Heinriche grabbed Steve by the shoulders and slammed him onto the car next to Glen. "Now that I've gotten your attention." He leaned over so that he was inches from McGarrett's nose and shouted. "Would you tell me what's going on!"
"Sir." Steve whispered as he began to slide over sideways on the trunk. "He's a Russian mole."
Heinriche glared disbellievingly at the two agents.
"Steve?" Glen asked in concern as his friend fell onto him. "You OK?"
"No." He whispered and looked up helplessly at Heinriche as he continued to rant. "Sir...I think you knocked something loose."
"That doesn't give you the right to kill him." Heinriche fumed as he jerked Steve upright again. "This isn't a war-zone. What in the hell is the matter with you!"
Captain." Glen shouted as he grabbed Heinriche by the back of the belt when he moved towards Steve again. " Let him alone. "He was at Lang Bak."
"ANDERSON! ENOUGH OUT OF YOU!" Heinriche screamed. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! NOW MISTER!!"
"Sir." Glen continued as he attempted to explain. "He was in the helicopter. That's the son of a bitch who strafed us." And pointed at the prisoner that lay unconscious on the ground.
Heinriche was taken aback by what he heard. He looked down at the Russian and over at Steve laying on the car. "You're sure about this?" He asked gently.
"That's the bastard." Steve nodded assuredly. "I got a good look at him twice six years ago. Probably who tried to blow me off my deck this afternoon. The muscles in his shoulder twitched and he bit his lip in response to the pain. "Rifles are his thing...."
Heinriche slowly exhaled the breath he held at that moment; the ramifications of McGarrett's recollection were mindboggling. A double agent is one thing. Even a Russian thief. His gaze went beyond his men as he stared off into he night But a mole put in place inside a POW camp. Most likely the sailor is dead. But what if he's still being held in Peking or Pyongyang...or now Moscow. "This has opened a can of political worms! Christ even the president will be woke up because of this." The captain ran his fingers over the lump on the back of his head. Far worse headaches, he knew, were on their way "You know what this means don't you?"
"Yes Sir." Steve replied ruefully. "Every POW who went through there will have to be vetted."
"The Brits and the Aussies too." Glen added.
"What!" Heinriche shouted loud enough to make his head throb from the outburst. "McGarrett you just created an international incident!"
"I didn't create it." Steve replied in defense of himself. "I just remembered it."
"Oh boy." Heinriche sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Just how much of the UN is involved here?"
"Well." Glen answered as he held his leg. "There was that Italian major with the attitude. A few Turks. And your French friend...."
"Claude?" Steve added with a brief smile at the memory. "He was from Luxembourg. But I saw him and his family after the war..."
Heinriche looked at the two men and shook his head in bewilderment.
. "Sir." Steve began as he cautiously sat up on the trunk. "Sir. I intend to tell Ron and Roger about this. You can bust me back to lieutenant commander if you want; I haven't ordered the braids yet anyway." Splinting his rib with is right arm he did his best to glare at the captain. "You want to vet them. Fine. They're as clean as we are. Do what you want. But I owe them this."
Glen scooted towards Steve a few inches and nodded his agreement.
"Steve," Heinriche replied sympathetically. "I can't even begin to comprehend what you both went through. But I understand where you are coming from. I won't fault you your loyalty. " The captain glanced at the still unconscious spy at their feet. "But my God, Steve you almost killed the guy."
"Sir." Glen glared at Heinriche. "Compared to what they did to us every day back there. This isn't even a tenth."
Ltjg McAdams could have cared less about his dying prisoner; but the two officers on his trunk were in about the same condition. Surely somebody will fill me in He thought as he ran to get the van.
As McAdams stopped the van near his car Private Jones grabbed their spy by the shoulders and dragged him to the back of the surveillance van. The lieutenant opened the rear doors and both men lifted the unconscious man into the vehicle.
. Glen slid off the car under his own power, and with McAdams' help, crawled into the back of the van next to the prisoner.
"Let's get out of her son." Heinriche suggested as he cautiously pulled Steve off of the car trunk.
McGarrett, who was barely conscious, slowly moved his feet as Heinriche half carried him the short distance to the van and deposited him on the floor beside Glen. Heinriche slammed the rear doors closed and walked around the side of the vehicle and got into the passenger seat.
"Lt. Anderson." The radio squawked as McAdams pulled away from the scene.
Glen roused at the sound of his name and looked up at the roof.
"Chief Morgan here." The voice continued. "I found the car Sir. You aren't going to believe this...Sir?"
Heinriche rubbed the back of his head and nodded towards the radio and McAdams handed him the microphone. "Believe what Chief?" He said into the mic.
"Captain?" The confused voice inquired.
Heinriche glanced over at Glen as he lay against the side of the van with his eyes closed. "He's a little occupied right now. What did you find?"
"Well Sir..." Morgan responded uncertainly. Anderson had been very evasive about the reason for the search but specific that he was to report immediately to him. "The car was auctioned off six months ago. Sold for two hundred bucks to a man named James W. Smith. I drove out to the address he gave. There's no house just an empty lot."
"Smith huh.." Heinriche smirked. "Figures. Gather up all the documentation Chief. And bring it to the hospital."
"Hospital?" Morgan verified. "I thought the commander was going home."
The captain stared at the unconscious McGarrett laying beside him. "Not this time Chief."
*************
McAdams brought the van to a screeching halt at the trauma door, leaped out of the driver's side and ran into the building. Heinriche slowly opened his door and followed the lieutenant.
Saprestien laughed at one of the on call surgeon's jokes as they left the doctor's lounge and headed towards the trauma unit. Saprestien was on his way home when he crashed into McAdams.
McAdams, in his hurry to find a doctor, rounded the corner and collided with a medical officer. Jerry quickly explained the situation and insisted that the physicians follow him.
"Oh my God!" Both doctors uttered in unison as they stared into the back of the van.
With a reassuring pat on the back and promise to get to him shortly directed at private Jones Saprestien directed the orderlies to get his patient into the first room and left the scene.
The surgeon knew that more MDs were on their way but right now he had to chose between Glen and the prisoner. Deciding that Spy was in worse shape he ordered IV fluids for Anderson and sent him with the medics to room 2 to await another physician and turned his attention towards the prisoner.
"Hold it!" Heinriche ordered. "My man goes first." The captain demanded as he pointed at Glen.
The surgeon turned abruptly towards Heinriche and explained that rank had nothing to do with the Hippocratic Oath. The argument began to get heated; the captain pressed his point that his men should receive preference over what he considered technically a prisoner of war. The physician countered that in his hospital he was the law and had no further time to waste arguing. A parting caustic comment from Heinriche regarding the surgeon's competence went unanswered as the man followed behind the gurney into the treatment room. Heinriche followed on the doctor's heels and was met with an abrupt slam of the door in his face.
Finding himself with nothing left to do for his men Heinriche reluctantly set out in search of a phone to inform Admiral Winters of the evenings events.
Petty Officer Third class Angeline Harris looked up from behind the ward clerk's desk with a sense of dread as Heinriche approached. The captain was very subdued when he asked for a private phone. Harris pointed down a short hallway towards a small conference room.
The room was unoccupied at the moment. Heinriche sighed in relief as he staggered into the room and collapsed onto the dark green vinyl couch that was just inside the door. The events of the evening weighed heavily on his mind as he massaged his stiff neck and throbbing head. Heinriche sat in the dimly lit room for what seemed to him like forever before he reluctantly reached over for the phone, picked up the receiver and dialed the admiral's private number. As he waited for the connection, he went over in his mind what he would say to his commanding officer. We caught the spy, but your men were nearly killed in the process. His conscience bellowed. The captain forced himself to breathe normally. By the time the line was picked up, he still was not totally prepared to explain what had happened.
As Heinriche told the story of the evening's events that concluded with a trip to the hospital the admiral quietly listened. It seemed to Winters that procedure had been followed but with unfortunate adverse results. The spy had been captured and the specter of Washington had been exorcised. Winters felt the tenseness that had filled his body for the past few months leave his body. He had been about to end the conversation when Heinriche told what could only be described as 'the rest of the story'. From that moment on the conversation between the two senior officers seemed almost surreal to both parties. Neither officer quite comprehended the wild turn of events. The phone conference lasted for upwards of an hour before Admiral Winters stated that he would contact Washington immediately and hung up.
Heinriche left the conference room and made his way back to the emergency waiting room only to find it was deserted. He sat on one the plastic benches and waited impatiently for a condition report on his men.
Masterchief Floyd Morgan burst into the emergency ward and approached the desk where Petty Officer Harris, who was doing her best to avoid any interaction with 'Captain Pain In The Hinney' as she had dubbed him to herself. She informed the chief that a surgical suite had been reserved for Lt Anderson and that as far as she knew Cdr McGarrett was still in the examination room. Morgan asked what had happened. Harris replied that she only knew that four patients entered at the same time and that three of them were in critical condition. Morgan leaned on the desk as the ramifications of her statement ran through his mind. Harris picked up the chief's manila envelope off of her stack of filing and set it on top of the counter and gestured towards Heinriche.
The middle-aged masterchief turned to his right and saw the captain sitting quietly on the plastic bench staring at the triage area.
"Evening Sir." Morgan greeted as he crossed the wide corridor towards the bench.
Heinriche automatically returned the salute. He wearily stood in order to escort Chief back to the relative privacy the conference room would afford them.
Morgan was quickly brought up to speed in regard to the investigation. At the end of the informal briefing Chief was as dazed by the situation as his superior.
"When I found the damage Sir." Morgan reported. "And heard who was involved, I immediately notified Lt. Fitzsimmons and he took charge of the scene."
Heinriche glared at the man sitting next to him on the sofa. The fact that the spy was a Soviet agent seemed to clear Lt Fitzsimmons but Heinriche hadn't yet been able to realize that.
"That's SOP Sir. He is the most senior officer after McGarrett." Morgan replied as he swallowed hard. "Wasn't I supposed....."
The captain relaxed back against the vinyl couch and slapped Morgan on the thigh. "You've been around a long time Chief."
"Did I screw up Sir?"
"No. No." The captain reassured. ""You followed procedure, no fault there. "
Morgan sat back against the couch and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "Then why are you concerned about Fitzsimmons Sir? He's surely not involved in this?"
"No. He's not!" Heinriche snapped defensively.
Morgan raised his eyebrows at the captain's tone.
Heinriche leaned forwards and placed his elbows on his knees. "Just allot of soul searching on my part." He said as he quickly leaned back against the couch when he felt the blood pounding behind his eyes. "Do you know this Garvin, Chief?" He asked as he massaged his eyes.
"I've seen him around the NCO club," Morgan replied. "Talked to him a few times." His mind still swam from the revelation that the man was in reality a Russian agent. "But obviously I didn't know enough about him" Chief added ruefully.
Heinriche carefully turned his head towards the man sitting next to him. "Guess sometimes you think you know someone only to find out that you really don't know the person at all." He stated philosophically then added quickly. "Tell me what you do know about him Chief."
"Well he seemed very patriotic. He collects American flags." The Chief paused to reflect on his statement. "Maybe a little too patriotic in retrospect."
"He what!" The captain exclaimed.
Collects flags Sir. You know, old ones from around the time of the Civil War." Morgan quickly added. "I remember him saying once that some people where he lived were throwing away a bunch of them out of the attic of an old house they had bought. It pissed him off so much that snatched the whole lot away from them."
Heinriche could feel his blood starting to boil. IT infuriated him to learn that their Soviet spy collected such treasures.
"That's what I mean Sir, he seemed like a regular guy." Morgan continued. "He even knows more baseball trivia than Commander McGarrett."
A brief grin crossed the captain's face. "Well now that would be alot chief."
"From what I've heard Sir, he's a sailor's sailor. Been everywhere and done just about everything."
Heinriche's mind had slipped off onto another plane.
"With the exception of his last job of course....." The Chief quickly added.
"What?" The captain raised a curious eyebrow at the man sitting next to him on the sofa.
"He got a lousy deal. Things like that just aren't done to a masterchief." The man spat.
"Chief?" Heinriche said in effort to keep the man on target.
"He was at Groton till the Little Tyrant got pissed off at him." Morgan realized too late what he had said. "Sir." He swallowed.
Heinriche made a half wave of dismissal with his left hand as he massaged his stiff neck with the other." I was on the same review board as Rickover long time ago. Well acquainted with the personality." He slumped down on the sofa so that his neck rested on the back of it. "What happened?"
"You wouldn't believe it Sir."
"Try me." Heinriche smiled momentarily as he rolled his head in the chief's direction.
The admiral ordered him to make a pot of soup."
A curious eyebrow was raised.
"Yes Sir. I guess he decided that it would be prudent to follow the odd order. So he made the soup and when he brought it to him, the admiral spit out a mouthful and threw the bowl across the room. Said there was too much salt in it." Morgan tried to relax his tense muscles. "Garvin tried to explain and Rickover would have no part of it. Said putting in salt before tasting was an example of poor planning."
Heinriche shook his head in disgust.
"Threw him out of his program on the spot." Morgan snapped. "Promised him the worst duty an engineering chief could get."
Heinriche laughed in spite of himself. "That would be the Azores with Groton coming in a close second but definitely not Hawaii."
"I think Sir, someone in personnel interceded on his behalf. You just don't pull things like that on a senior NCO." Morgan snapped. "Not without a damn good reason. And especially not to an ex-POW and has the Cross to boot. It just isn't done Sir!"
"Calm down Chief." Heinriche stated. "I agree with you. But THIS senior NCO just happens to be a Soviet agent!"
"Sir." Morgan swallowed the lump in his throat."I......" He stammered. "I can't get over this. It's just so wild."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." The captain replied as he slid down into the sofa. "But I guess we have to face the music. You better get his jacket and bring it back over here. Might as well see what else has been compromised besides the Nautilus."
The masterchief stood and with a casual salute he turned and left to retrieve the requested file.
Heinriche stared at the doorway for only a few seconds before he slipped into a light trance. He had been fighting the sense of disconnectedness that was enveloping him but could no longer continue the struggle.
The staccato click of Saprestien's oxford heels on the linoleum floor aroused the captain from his stupor. When he opened his eyes he saw a visibly outraged physician standing less than a foot away from him
"McGarrett?" Heinriche worriedly asked as he struggled to regain his bearings.
"Unconscious!" Saprestien fumed as he straightened to his full height.
Heinriche cringed as another pang of guilt shot through his chest. His head began to swim. "What happened?" He whispered as he leaned forwards and hung his head between his knees to make the lightheadedness go away.
Saprestien could no longer contain the rage that had been brewing since he had gotten Steve out of the van a few hours earlier. "Exhaustion. He ran himself into shock." The MD hissed. "multiple contusions, moderate concussion, dehydration....Shall I go on?"
"Dear God." Heinriche sighed as he sat back against the couch. "Dehydrated? He drank almost a quart of water tonight."
"COMPENSATION MECHANISM!" Saprestien exploded. "He lost nearly that amount of blood this afternoon. I let him go under the assumption that he'd rest at home. Had I of known this was going to happen I would have kept him here." Doc was so enraged he could barely focus as he grabbed blindly at Heinriche's shirt. "Sedated and in restraints if need be to keep you away from him."
The captain let the physician rage on because he was too queasy to fight back. The dizziness was becoming much worse.
"You almost killed him tonight Captain." When his anger came back under control Saprestien shoved the man back against the sofa. "I hope that you are satisfied."
"I....." Heinriche struggled to find the words to express the anguish he felt.
"There's no excuse Captain." Saprestien cut in.
"Now just a damn minute here." Heinriche struggled to his feet.
Saprestien took on an eerie glow as the lights behind him pulsated. Heinriche felt his stomach flop as the room began to swirl.
"What the hell...." Saprestien uttered in confusion as Heinriche fell forwards into him. Unprepared for the captain's collapse, both men fell backwards against the coffee table and to the floor. Once he recovered from the impact he swore at the man as he shoved him sideways and rolled out from underneath the body. The diminutive physician straddled the unmoving Heinriche and pinned him to the floor.
OH I crap!Saprestien thought to himself when he saw the man's ghostly pallor and felt the limp arms in his grasp turn clammy. He had been prepared to curse this man up one side and down the other and now he was his patient.
"Captain!" He shouted as he shook the man insistently. A check of the man's pulse revealed a strong and regular, there was no distension of his neck veins. While palpatating the carotid artery the tips of Doc's fingers touched the lump on the back of Heinriche's head. A more detailed examination of the occiput elicited a moan of discomfort from the unconscious man.
With a sigh Saprestien came to his feet and walked out into the hallway in search of assistance.
Two seamen entered the conference room ahead of the returning physician and a nurse from the ER. With a fluid movement they lifted Heinriche onto the gurney and attempted to lock the siderails. The captain's right arm hit against the cart causing another moan of discomfort.
The group left the room and headed towards the exam room.
"Admiral Burke?" Heinriche mumbled deliriously. "What does the CNO want with me Quinn?"
Saprestien's attention was drawn from the odd statement as another pair of seamen wheeled Steve past them enroute to the elevator.
"In and out." Doc grinned slightly at the nurse as they entered the recently vacated room. "This bunch is going to make me old before my time."
Heinriche continued to mumble seemingly incoherent statements through out the examination.
shortly the x-ray tech rushed in with a large manila envelope in his hands and offered it to the physician.
Saprestien extracted the heavy plastic sheets and clipped them to the lighted viewer on the wall. Eerie blue images of Heinriche's skull stared back at Saprestien as he studied the film. There was no skull fracture.
Satisfied that the man was not badly injured, Doc sat on the gray metal chair by the desk. He leaned his head back against the wall and watched as Heinriche's leg muscles involuntarily twitched and contracted.
Serve him right if he went into a seizure He sneered and quickly berated himself for the totally unprofessional thought and turned around to begin his notes.
"McGarrett!" The captain cried out. "No!"
Doc looked up from the chart he had been writing in.
"I've killed him." Heinriche mumbled in unconscious anguish. "Please God, don't let him be dead."
"Well I'll be..." Saprestien stated in disbelief and set the chart on the counter beside him and crossed his arms across his chest. "The tin man has a heart after all."
Half observations, snatched pieces of conversations and the seemingly delusional rantings of both Heinriche and McGarrett suddenly coalesced in Saprestien's mind. He saw the entire scenario with such clarity he knew that he had to have deduced the truth. "Sweet Jesus whatever's missing must be huge!"
The Secretary of the Navy himself had pushed the panic button who in turn had ordered Saprestien to release McGarrett from the hospital in the first place.
"More warheads?" Doc wondered aloud. "Nah, they'd send someone else just to look see. Gotta be something he's expert at." Doc suddenly became aware that he was talking out loud to himself. But he's a SWO, plenty of those in the Navy. Nothing on a ship that couldn't just be photographed from a plane. IN the ship maybe.
Saprestien watched Heinriche as he continued to theorize and noticed the he was starting to come around.
What's in a ship though. Guns, torpedoes, no big deal. The engines themselves? Wait, Frank said he would be involved in this soon.
"Something nuclear, a missile! Evershall's an aircraft engineer." He suddenly smacked the side of his head. "That's it! McGarrett mumbled something about Germans.....Holy crap, we've got a satellite!"
Doris Parker shook her head as she walked past the open exam room door and heard Saprestien conversing with himself yet again.
Saprestien now understood the urgency that fueled McGarrett and Heinriche. He still disliked the captain but Doc now understood that Heinriche was under orders just as he had been.
Heinriche slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the overhead lights. He was unsure exactly where he was but knew it was not where he was supposed to be. The captain tried to focus his thoughts.
"McGarrett!" Heinriche shouted and tried to sit up. HE had only moved a few inched off the pillow before his vision warped.
"Woah Sir." Saprestien ordered as he stepped over to the table and gently pushed the man back down, "You don't want to be moving around."
Heinriche stared at the man standing over him.
"Relax. The commander's upstairs. You are both going to be alright."
Heinriche glared at the physician as he cautiously attempted to sit up again.
Chief Morgan entered the trauma unit carrying Garvin's personnel file and headed down the corridor to the conference room.
"Chief!" Heinriche shouted when he saw the man pass by the door, and immediately closed his eyes as the echo of the word reverberated inside his head.
Morgan stopped midstride when he heard his name and turned in the direction of the sound. When he entered the exam room and saw the captain sliding off the exam table. "What happened Sir?" HE asked as he grabbed the man by the arm in an attempt to steady him.
"Not now Chief." The senior officer barked. He had yet to figure out the answer to that question himself.
Doc grabbed hold of Heinriche's arm as he tried to take a step and stumbled over his own feet. "Woah. Where do you think you're going?"
The captain pulled his arm free and moved to the door.
Stubborn goat Saprestien said to himself as he stepped around the chief to block Heinriche's path. He would not have his patient's walking out until he said they could.
"Out of my way!" Heinriche ordered as he brushed past the doctor and left through open doorway and into the corridor. He snatched the file away from Morgan and staggered back to the conference room.
Morgan promised Saprestien that he would keep an eye on his boss and quickly caught up with the man as he wavered his way down the corridor and escorted him into the conference room.
Heinriche sat on the sofa and opened the folder and began to read. The more he got into the documentation the more amazed he became. Garvin's file read like a tour guide of the US Navy. The man had indeed 'been everywhere and done everything' as Morgan had heard. Just how much information he had managed to pilfer remained unanswered but it was safe to assume that the satellite had been compromised as deeply as the nuclear program. The captain sat back on the sofa and wearily rubbed his face. There was nothing he could do now until Steve and Glen woke up.
On to Part 7