Curious as to why he needed a stethoscope Saprestien asked, "What on Earth do you want that for?"

"Combination locks." McGarrett answered as he leaned on his arm tiredly against the wall. . "Never know what you might need on a mission. He added with a grin. "I've always been accused of being overprepared."

Saprestien shook his head in disbelief and followed Steve into the elevator for the brief ride to the floor where Dean Hargrove's room was located.

Leaning against the side of the car Steve pushed the button for the second floor. . A few moments later the doors opened and both men stepped out into the dreary yellow ceramic tiled hallway and looked around.

Saprestien gestured for a right turn towards a pair of maple colored heavy wooden doors.

Steve had to stand his full six-foot-two-inch height in order to peer through a small circular window into the seemingly deserted hallway. Cautiously he put his weight against the door, it didn't move. A forceful jerk of the handle proved that the door was indeed locked.

Saperstein had come along with reservations "You don't actually think you are going after this Bortzoff guy yourself are you?" Doc asked. "Why don't you let those other guys handle it."

"Who? Foggarty!" Steve exclaimed but tried to keep his voice down. "Bortzoff would spot him in a minute he'd go to ground and we'd never catch him." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This is a real bad SOB. He'd probably kill Foggarty before he even knew what hit him. Those guys aren't ready for anything this serious." Steve looked down at the physician. "It'll take somebody with field experience. Bill is running the office while Heinriche is with the top brass, that leaves just Glen and I. which one of us runs faster."

Saprestien surveyed the man before him then retorted, "The way you're limping, I'd say it would be a toss up."

"Stick to medicine Doctor!" Steve shot back with a hard glare and an ever-harder tone of voice. "When Alexi doesn't show up for the meet with Bortzoff he's going to be on edge. And he'll want to verify the cover agent, which means he'll probably run the meet in Russian and that disqualifies Glen."

"Surely there's got to be someone else who speaks the language." Saprestien suggested as he tried to reason with his patient.

" Tomlich can order a bowl of borscht and ask for directions to Lenin's Tomb." Steve replied punctuating the lack of experience.

"Not very useful." Doc conceded realizing that apparently Steve was probably the only one that could accomplish this.

Steve studied the lock while Saprestien nervously scanned the hallway. "Set up work for this will be good training for them. He said lessening the edge on his voice just a little, "When Ron and Roger get here, we will come up with something." He resolved and produced a lock pick kit from the back pocket of his pants.

"You're serious." Doc exclaimed when he saw Steve unzip the kit. "It'll never work. We'll be caught for sure." And again looked over his shoulder and scanned the hallway.

"It'll work." Steve replied assuredly with a hint of exasperation in his voice and inserted the picks and began to work the lock. "Trust me, I've broken into a few places and lived to tell about it. This is child's play by comparison." With one last twist of the pick an audible click could be heard. As he turned the doorknob a sly grin grew on his face and couldn't help but chuckle at the amazed look on Saprestien's face as he pushed open the door. "Welcome to your first covert op Doc." McGarrett chuckled as he shoved on the door."You want a cyanide capsule before we go on?" He teased as he replaced the picks to the kit, zipped it closed and pocketed it.

Despite his apprehension of being caught in an unauthorized area the physician managed a slight grin at the offer. Steve had been joking about the capsule but Doc had seen many spy movies and took it seriously.

McGarrett turned and whispered to Saprestien as he inched the door open. "OK, just do exactly as I do unless I tell you different." Steve pushed the door open wide enough to slide through the opening then flattened himself against the wall near the corner.

Saprestien, in spite of his misgivings, found himself beginning to enjoy the thrill of sneaking into the locked ward as he quickly followed Steve into the corner.

Despite the late hour, the main hallway was brightly lit much to McGarrett's disliking. As he scanned the hallway there were numerous doors that didn't have any names on them, which made it difficult to determine which one Dean was in.

"OK Doc," Steve whispered as he ducked back into the corner as he saw a nurse crossthe far end of the hallway. "Where would they put him?"

"Probably close observation," Saperstein replied as he began to relax some, "that'd be one of the rooms right across from the nurse's station. Unless they still have him in the lock down area. How long ago was he brought in?"

Steve thought back to that night which seemed like a lifetime ago. "Four days." He replied.

Saprestien clicked his tongue as he considered the time factor. "That's pushing it. How was he the last time you saw him?"

McGarrett stepped back into the corner from his reconnaissance for patrolling nurses and looked at the physician and answered. "Crying like a baby."

"But was he still intent on killing himself?" Doc demanded.

"He handed me the gun." Steve repliedwith hope quite evident in his voice. "That should count for something."

"It's a good sign." Doc replied in agreement as he peered around the corner and added. "Try across from the nurses station first."

Steve began to feel better about his friend as he chanced another look into the hallway, the four nurses on duty had gathered around the chartrack. Each one had a cup of coffee and crumb cake on a paper napkin in front of them and were slumped slightly in their chairs.

"They'll be there for a while." Saprestien commented as he watched their activity for a moment.

"We need a diversion then." McGarrett decided and grabbed hold of Doc's arm and drug him into a nearby supply room.

Inside the room McGarrett observed there were shelves lining the walls and several small carts in the middle of the room. "Has to look like an accident." Steve informed as he removed several heavy cases of IV solution from the top shelf and carefully set them aside. The shelf was a piece of dry three-quarter inch pinewood. With a quick left-handed chop Steve split the shelf. . Just in case the breaking wood may have aroused attention from the nurses, he opened the door slightly and peeked out and scanned the hallway. Fortunately no one heard the noise and the corridor remained empty. "All clear." He commented as he closed the door.

Saprestien eager to display his martial arts skills, followed suitand chopped the shelf that was next to him.

Steve watched the wood break in amazement but rememberedthat Frank had told him that Saprestien had 'judoed' Heinriche previously. But this was the first time he actually saw the physician in action and did not realize the man's talent. "Woah." he grinned. "Anything you say Doc."

The physician smiled broadly at the intended compliment as he pushed his supply cart over to where McGarrett stood and on the count of three both men tipped over the carts and tossed the IV cases on top of the clutter. Metal bedpans clattered to the floor and glass bottles shattered on impact creating an exceedingly satisfactory amount of racket. Betadine solution formed a brown river as it spread across the floor to join the growing puddle of rubbing alcohol.

Steve dragged Saprestien out of the room and across the hall into a small waiting room just as one of the nurses came out into the hallway to investigate the racket.

Ltjg Joyce Ruggles reached the supply room ahead of her less athletic co-workers opened the door and stared in horror at the mess before her. Two other nurses quickly joined her as they exchanged curses at their misfortune of knowing that they would have to clean up the mess. LtCdr Wiems, who in addition to an addiction to chocolate smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, wheezed over the shoulders of her staff as she too looked into the room.

While the women assessed the damage to the contents of their supply room Steve and Doc were able to slip out of the waiting room and make their way to the nurse's station. McGarrett quickly scanned the circular rack until he found the chart with Hargrove's name on it. He extracted the beat up aluminum clipboard and glanced at the number at the top. "216" He declared and handed the chart to Saprestien. "Make yourself useful. Read this for me."

Dr Saprestien thought about the breech of confidence he was about to commit as he located a chair and started to sit in order to read. But he was interrupted when Steve grabbed him by the sleeve and jerked him across the hall and into Dean's room only to instruct him to stand in the far corner of the room, "Stay here," He gestured with open palms. "I don't know how he'll take you."

"He's probably drugged Steve." Saprestien said as he took his place in the corner as instructed. "He might not appreciate you too much either."

"Relax Doc. I've seen this before." Steve replied sadly. "Too many times." Then slowly approached Dean's bed and whispered. "Hargrove?" The only response he got was a sleep-filled moan. "Dean." He whispered again, this time a bit louder and gently shook his friend's shoulder; Hargrove rolled onto his back and cautiously opened one eye and slowly focused on who was standing next to his bed. "McGarrett...?" He muttered as he slowly began to recognize his visitor. "Why are...." He murmured groggily as he sat up in the bed rubbing the sides of his head.

"Dean." Steve said in a sympathetic voice. "I've got something to tell you."

"Wait a minute." Hargrove said in an anxious tone cutting Steve off as he shook his head not believing that his friend was there, "You're not real. He turned to stare at the man before him. "Are you?"

Doc reached down to assist his patient off the floor. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah." McGarrett nodded as he staggered to he feet and leaned against the wall rubbing his chin, "When this is over he's gonna pay for that one."

Hargrove's loose fitting hospital issue white pajamas sagged so from his body that they nearly fell off. He stood hunched over holding his throbbing hand and mumbled incoherently to himself as Steve tried to approach again although this time with caution.

"Hargrove." Steve demanded as he approached him still rubbing at his chin. "What the hell was that for?"

Steve saw such an inner torment in Dean's eyes that for a moment was uncertain whether he should proceed. This man was the control agent for a Soviet KGB officer that had been planted deep within the US military. Were there more? If so how many and what information had been compromised? It was imperative that Bortzoff be located. McGarrett's mind still reeled at the thought that he had came within hours of being replaced by an imposter himself. The need for information about Bortzoff's movements convinced him that regardless of the outcome, he had to question his friend.

"Steve! You are real." Hargrove cried as he finally recognized his friend. In two long strides he crossed the room and clung to McGarrett's left shoulder and began crying uncontrollably.

Dean's weight on Steve's already weakened body threw him off balance enough to where the only option he had was to go to the floor.

"Steve." Hargrove sobbed as he continued to hold on to McGarrett's shoulder, the look in his eyes was one of a man on the brink of insanity. "Why didn't you let me do it?" and wiped his runny nose with his sleeve. "That bastard's in my head. I can't get rid of him."

Steve gently removed Hargrove's arms from around him and sat up against the wall as Dean curled up on the floor and began to whimper as if he were a child. As he sat there watching his friend Steve wasn't sure if this information would hurt more than help. But he had a spy to catch and in order to do so some hurt had to be inflicted. "Bortzoff's not only in your head Dean," He said hesitantly in a flat tone, "the bastard's in Honolulu too."

Not certain of what he heard Dean stopped crying and slowly looked up at Steve. "What?" He uttered as he straightened himself out and looked at his friend with uncertainty in his eyes

"Bortzoff’s in Honolulu." Steve said again definitively.

Hargrove's eyes grew wide in shock as he brought himself to a sitting position and stared at Steve in disbelief.

" He's the control for a deep planted mole." Steve stated and then saw Hargrove shudder from an involuntary tremor. "I just finished sweet talking the mole."

Dean sighed despondently and hung his head between his knees. As he sat there his mind was flooded with all the feelings that had accumulated over recent weeks. Including those that he feared that had lost everything, embarrassment over almost killing himself because of that monster and cravings for some kind of normalcy in his life, a life he wasn't sure he could ever have again. Damn that Bortzoff, he swore to himself, his life was in ruins because of that man.

"Dean."Steve said intruding on Dean’s reflections. "you must have seen Bortzoff someplace recently. Where was it?"

"He's here!" Dean cried as his fear increased dramatically. "Don't let him get me!" He pleaded and slumped back to the floor curling himself back into a ball and began sobbing.

McGarrett sighed as he looked at his friend, as long as he had known the man he had been the ultimate practical joker. Now he was an emotional wreck. Sobbing uncontrollably and fearful of the tormentor that had ripped him apart. He couldn’t help but reflect on his own recent flashbacks which had proven to be a result of a combination of drug toxicity and his still bruised brain's way of recognizing Gordov/Garvin. If they had of continued for much longer, Steve couldn’t help but wonder if he would have ended up just like Hargrove. There couldn't be a worse Hell on Earth than to spend the rest of his life reliving that one fateful North Korean day over and over again. A scream from Hargrove snapped him from his thoughts.

"Dean. " Steve began as he tried to console his friend and grasped Hargrove's trembling shoulders, "please relax. Bucharest is over, long ago. He's not going to hurt you ever again."

"Please Dean," Steve said quietly, "This is important. Where was Bortzoff?"

Dean's eyes grew wide with terror. "No!" He cried. "You don't want to find him Steve, he's the devil!"

"Hargrove, please." Steve whispered. "You're safe, there's no way he can get in here."

Dean pulled his legs up closer to his body. "You did," he replied looking for assurance in Steve's eyes, "he's just as crafty."

"Dean." Steve placed his hand on his trembling shoulder tried to calm his friend. "I promise I won't let him near you. Now come on, think! Where did you see him?"

Hargrove stopped his crying for the moment and carefully sat up and muttered in a voice that sounded just as lost as the man was saying it. "Downtown."

"That's a big area." McGarrett commented in reply.

Hargrove leaned forwards and held his head in his hands again. He really wanted to trust Steve because they had been friends for many years, but in his demented mind he also wondered what the man was thinking. Was Steve working for Bortzoff and this was all a hallucination? Should he talk?

McGarrett grabbed Dean by the shoulders shattering his self-agonizing session and from a half-kneeling position shoved him against the end of the bed "Suck it up Lieutenant!" He yelled and glared into Hargrove's eyes. "You're bigger than this. Now think. Where was Bortzoff?"

Saperstein looked up from the medical record he had been reading at the curt sound of McGarrett's voice and watched the two men for a moment before returning to his attention to the chart.

McGarrett's abrupt change in tactics shocked Hargrove out of his mood. Which is worse... A maniacal bastard like Bortzoff or a pissed off McGarrett. Hargrove couldn't help but laugh to himself at the thought; there was really no comparison as he ran his fingers through his rumpled hair "Yes Sir!" He replied with moderate conviction.

For the first time since he entered the room Steve relaxed. "OK Dean." He smiled and sat down on the floor beside his friend. "Where'd ya see him?"

"Everywhere." Dean replied shakily. "The yacht harbor…."

"Outside the Ala Wai restaurant?" Steve asked for the sake of clarification

"Yeah." Dean answered. "When I looked again, he was gone. Ruined my mood so bad that the girl I was with never called me back. Ever do that? Catch a glimpse of something and it sends your mind to the last place you'd ever want it to go?"

"Oh yeah!" Steve admitted. "Hundreds of times. But I don't let it carry me to extremes."

"That's just it." Dean replied. "I don't.... Guess I should say didn't now." And gestured around the room. "I dismissed it as my overactive imagination. Then I saw him again."

"Where?"

"By the police station." Dean said. "Bill and I stopped by there on our way to the beach, Bortzoff was across the street getting into a black Lincoln. And before you ask, no I didn't see the plates."

Steve was barely able to suppress his growing excitement of a lead to Bortzoff's location and the possibility of getting an unbiased description. "Did Fitzsimmons see him too?" He asked.

"No. I didn't say anything to him about it. I didn't want him to think I was cracking up." Dean answered with a laugh. "Funny huh?"

"Not really." Steve sighed in agreement.

"After that I saw him all over," Dean went on, "Hotel Street, the theater on Kalakaua. Even saw him in the Bishop Museum one time."

"All good places for a meet." Steve concluded as he unconsciously rubbed at his sore chin again. "Did you see anyone with him?"

"No. Once, maybe. I don't know." Dean replied in frustration.

"Dean." McGarrett said as he turned to face his friend. "Think. Please. I need all the help I can get to find this son of a bitch."

"I am thinking Steve." Dean replied as he wearily rubbed his face. "About the only place I didn't see him was The Russian Tea Room."

How many black Lincoln's could there possibly be in Honolulu? Steve thought as he considered calling his friend Corporal Duke Lukela at HPD again but decided that a records search would take too much time. He thought back to the trip he'd made once to the University of Illinois and the computer room he had seen in the Pentagon. Pity the military can't share its 'secret weapon' with local law enforcement agencies. The enigma machine, roughly the size of a portable typewriter, was a computer in a way. To be able to carry a computer in your briefcase and communicate anywhere in the world. Nah never happen. He dismissed.

"Steve!" Hargrove exclaimed as he suddenly grabbed hold of McGarrett's shoulders. "If he's here, then I didn't hallucinate...." Steve had pushed the man's arms off him and was leaning forwards holding his right arm as Dean sighed in relief. "I'm not going nuts." A faint glimmer of hope grew in his eyes as he stared at McGarrett. "Steve get me out of here.".

"Dean." McGarrett said as he briefly gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You tried Colt Stew remember? Now come on."

"Oh lord." Hargrove sighed as he remembered that night he tried to kill himself and cradled his head in his hands again and attempted to apologize. "Steve I..." He started to say.

"It's not a big deal." Steve said as he tried to reassure the man. "If I'd of seen Tang again back in '52 I might have done something crazy too."

Dean's mood became very subdued as he stared at the floor. "No, you wouldn't have."He ran his fingers through his hair again and hesitated before he spoke. "Steve, I've never seen you chip let alone crack."

McGarrett leaned back against the end of the bed and briefly closed his eyes. "Dean I..." He swallowed hard at the thought of what he was about to reveal but plunged ahead. "You tell anyone this and I'll haunt you for the rest of your life. "While I was being held prisoner in Camp 5, I almost….. I gave up for a couple of days. Hang on to that."

Hargrove's greenish-blue eyes no longer held their desolate expression when Steve looked over at his friend. "You're OK." He stated again this time with conviction. "And I'll see to it that a Swiss cheese copy of this case falls into the headshrinkers hands."

"Will it ever go away?" Hargrove asked.

Steve hesitated before he answered. "No, not entirely. But most of the time, you forget about it. Back at Pak's Place they had what we called the caskets. Three by six-foot prefab steel boxes. If we didn't pay close enough attention during the indoctrination lectures, the commies would put us in one to correct what they called our 'hostile attitude'." Steve felt his chest tighten at the memory. "And you know how hostile I can be sometimes."

A very brief grin crossed Dean's face when he remembered all the times Steve was less than hospitable.

"Needless to say, I spent a lot of time boxed." Steve added. "After we escaped; I couldn't be inside a building more than a couple hours at a time."

Hargrove sat up and turned towards his friend. "But you're OK. Right?"

"Yeah." Steve sighed. "Most of the time the walls leave me alone." He saw the raised eyebrow on Hargrove's face and added. "Why do you think my desk is the one by the window."

"Rank hath its privileges." Dean stated with a slight break in the flat tone.

McGarrett chuckled, "That too. Every time you've been at my house, you ask why I've fixed up the deck like I did. I spend more time there than in my living room. Remember that time we were stuck in the elevator?" Not one of my better moments. Steve thought.

Dean remembered the incident too and couldn't conceal the smile that was working its way onto his face, "Yeah, Glen was yelling down from the floor above and you were cussing the maintenance crew about missing a hot date. I'd wait a few hours any day before I'd rappel down three floors in an elevator shaft. No matter who the woman was waiting for me."

"Yeah. You did." Steve stated. "Gloria's potential wait had little to do with it. I'm claustrophobic."

Hargrove stared in amazement and stammered. "What?.. Steve… you're..."

Steve wiped his hands on his pants and took a deep breath. He could feel his chest tighten at the memory.

Was he anxious from that or because self-revelation was difficult for him. Dean was not a close friend in the way that Frank and Glen were in fact Steve doubted very much if anyone would ever be that close. Frank was his first real friend. Although at the time he thought it a misery to be endured he now realized that the years at Annapolis were probably the best times of his life and Frank was a part of that time. Glen on the other hand came out of the worst hell that anyone could experience. Steve considered Frank his brother but a brother that spent most of the war in a stateside office. Glen understood him in a way that Frank never could; they were literally blood brothers. Steve's mind was wandering off into deep places again; he quickly exhaled and forced himself to focus on Hargrove.

"What the crash did to me was nothing compared to not being able to get outside for three months. Most of the time I felt like my heart was going to explode.

Dean continued to stare at Steve in disbelief of what he was hearing, Steve McGarrett claustrophobic? He would have never guessed.

"Why do you think Glen drags us half way around the globe." Steve continued his impromptu lecture. "And never gripes when he gets stuck on the courier route. That's because he can't be in one place too long. In fact this posting is the longest he's remained anywhere. Not that anyone would willingly leave Hawaii." As they talked he noticed the near casual turn their conversation had taken. Dean seemed almost like his old self. No doubt he was thinking about how his friends were going to react to him now.

Hargrove leaned back against the bed and sighed to himself.

Steve went on to show Dean in an effort to comfort him that everyone has some kind of idiosyncrasy. "Tell Roger his watch is fast and he has to call the Naval Observatory to find out what time it is. Now Ron is the opposite of me, he can't be outside too long." The last time Steve had met with Ron in San Diego they had argued over seating arrangements. It ended up with them at a table next to the veranda with Steve facing the windows. He grinned at the memory and continued. "He won't even go to an outdoor restaurant if he can avoid it."

Dean rolled his head from side to side against the metal bed in an effort to release tension.

"I know a dozen guys who sleep with a loaded pistol under their pillow." McGarrett went on. "Morgan won't teach SCUBA in anything but the open ocean even though we've got the deep pool. He gave up recruit training, pretty good post for a Chief, to come out here. I've never asked him about it but I know why." I first met him in Seoul,

" Chief? He's the most level-headed person in the office." Dean dismissed.

"Trust me on this. He's got a reason. This guy I was stationed with in Tokyo freaks out if he hears a bugle."

"Kinda hard to avoid one of those in the military." Hargrove laughed.

"Yeah." Steve sighed in relief when he saw some more of the old Dean break through. "Something is going to come out of this; but Dean you're all right."

Hargrove stood up and stared at the metal grate that covered his window. "I sure hope so".

"Dean." Steve said in a choked whisper as he floundered around on the floor trying to stand up. "Neither of us is cracking up."

"Thanks, again." Hargrove said as he reached down and pulled his friend to his feet.

"Forget it." Steve replied as he adjusted his balance.

"But Steve…" Dean added, " I know how you are with paperwork. Don't take too long getting the file over here, huh."

"Sure." McGarrett grinned and pointed an accusing finger at the man's chest. "But you ever punch me like that again and I'll let you rot."

Hargrove smiled briefly again. Steve McGarrett was a loyal friend. More importantly though was the fact that the man never lied so the revelations about the other men were true. Dean, if he managed to keep his security clearance, decided that knowledge would help him endure the 'looks' he was bound to get. It was now up to him to prove himself worthy of trust.

"You gonna be Ok in here for a little longer?" Steve asked and when he saw a slight nod continued. "I'm here in the black, so I've got to get out before they find me." He let go of the foot of the bed and turned towards the door.

Dean stood up straight and looked at Steve. "How long are you going to have Bortzoff?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "long as it takes I guess. Why?"

"I want to see him." Hargrove stated resolutely.

"What!" Steve turned back to face his friend and his eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"I have to." Hargrove replied with determination in his voice.

Steve had over the years gained a fair amount of experience in situations similar to this. He also knew the man's character. His pep talk had taken hold and Hargrove appeared to be sincere in his request. But what effect facing his tormenter at this time would elicit was just too huge of a variable. Steve McGarrett was not a psychiatrist.

"Dean, I don't know about that." He hesitated "You'd better ask the doctors."

"Oh come on McGarrett!" Dean's eyes fired with determination. "These headshrinkers have no idea in hell what that bastard is! You and I, we know how it is, we've been in the field."

"I'll agree with you there." Steve conceded and glanced in Saprestien's direction. " I'll have to think about it." He glanced over to the grated covered window."But you might have to go over the wall."

"That's easy." Dean said with a positive air and a smile. "Paper clip and a roll of tape and I'm out down the firestairs."

Both men couldn't help but laugh at just how easy it would be to escape from the 'secure area'.

"These people really don't have a clue." Dean added after he recovered from laughing.

"Tell me about it." Steve was still laughing when he turned towards the door. "Call us when you get out."

Saprestien followed McGarrett as he left the room and stopped at the nurse's station. He took the chart from Doc and slid it back into the slot where he had removed it earlier. A small grin grew on his face when he saw a roll of white tape lying on the counter. Steve glanced down the hall to see if it was clear then quickly searched the desk until he found a large paperclip and two smaller ones. He pulled back the tape until he had enough to accommodate the metal clips and replaced it onto the roll.

Heads up! He said to himself as he pitched the tape into Hargrove's room before heading for the exit.

Between them and the exit was the supply room where the nurses were still cleaning up the mess that was made earlier for the distraction. Quietly and quickly Steve and Saperstein slipped past the room where the voices inside were disgusted with the fact the mess was so large. Once at the door they found it to be locked from this side too. Steve shook his head in disgust at himself for not realizing that the doors would be locked from the inside also. Removing the lockpick kit from his pocket swiftly opened the door.

Once they were safely outside of the ward and closing the distance to the elevators Steve asked. "Well Doc, what did it say? Is Dean going to be okay?"

"Steve." Saprestien replied apologetically "I never would have guessed that there was anything like that wrong with you. That's why Anderson had such a fit about leaving the window open isn't it?"

"Yeah." Steve nodded impatiently. He really did not feel like talking about this subject again.

"If I had known, I would have found a way to get you outside."

I must have pulled it off to get past Frank AND him. Maybe I should have been an actor. "Don't worry about it, it was a great motivator." Steve dismissed "What was in the record?"

"Nothing much." Saprestien replied. "He passed every psychological test with flying colors. He's not schizophrenic, manic/depressive or a split personality. He loves his mother, doesn't hate his father and has no sexual deviations. His blood alcohol was way over the limit, which you probably knew that night."

McGarrett nodded his agreement as Saperstein continued. "But not enough to be the sole reason. His blood chemistry was a bit out of kilter, which could be caused by not eating and heavy drinking. The diagnosis is exhaustion and acute anxiety."

"Oh boy." Steve sighed. "There goes his clearance."

" There was mention of ' persistent visual hallucinations'. You give the psychiatrist proof that this Russian is real and not imaginary," Saprestien said, "and I would almost bet that he'd discharge your friend within a week."

"Really?" The last bit of information made McGarrett smile. "That'll make me start the paperwork tonight."

Saprestien shook his head in disbelief at what he had coined 'the McGarrett response'. "Steve, the fact still remains, your friend tried to kill himself. And what I saw tonight did not look healthy."

McGarrett dismissed the point Saperstein was trying to make and walked down the hallway. "I've seen worse than that come back."

McGarrett." Doc replied in exasperation at being asked for his opinion only to have it summarily dismissed.

"I knew a guy once who insisted that he was a dog." Steve couldn't help but start to chuckle as he spoke. " Crawled everywhere and barked all night if we didn't shut him up. When he got back, they had to feed him on the floor, and couldn't keep clothes on him for longer than ten minutes. He's a full colonel now and up for a star."

"What so funny about that?" Saprestien asked with a confused look on his face.

"Nothing really." Steve replied with a laugh. "Just...that he's allergic to cats. His name's John C. Spaniel and he's a Marine. Go Bulldogs!" and shook his upheld fist in a cheerleading fashion.

"That's a joke right." Doc answered in an unamused tone of voice.

"No. Its true." Steve explained as the elevators came into view. "He lost his entire platoon at Imjin River. The Chinese had drug what was left of him out of a foxhole. My unit was on a recon when we found him and a couple others in a cage camp waiting to be transported Up North."

Saprestien shrugged his shoulders at McGarrett's apparent denial and followed behind him. To say that the events that Doc witnessed this night were overwhelming would be an understatement. Even after a rotation through psychiatry, he failed to understand why any seemingly normal man would willingly put a gun to his head. He had dealt with a few clinically depressed patients in his practice but a perfectly healthy person choosing to die was something he would never understand.

Saprestien was still deep in thought and nearly ran into McGarrett when he stopped and pushed the elevator call button.

Steve gave the physician a curious stare. What was the little man contemplating now he wondered?

The loud chime signaling the arrival of the elevator snapped Doc back from his thoughts. And when the doors opened both men stepped inside the car.

"McGarrett, why?" Saprestien quietly asked.

"Why what?" Steve replied as he gestured towards the buttons and waited for Doc to push the button.

"Why did he try to kill himself?" Saprestien asked not noticing Steve's gesture and didn't bother to select a floor either.

"A long story." McGarrett answered evasively and tried to reach around the man to get at the floor buttons.

Saprestien's curiosity about Bucharest was not to be deterred.

"Trust me on this. You're better off not knowing." Steve answered with assurance and reached around the man and pushed the button for the fourth floor. The doors slid closed.

"What happened in Bucharest?" Saprestien demanded.

Annoyed at the persistence of the little doctor wanting to know all the dirty details about Dean's experience Steve shouted out, "All right!" He paused momentarily when he realized that he had shouted. "All right Doctor, but don't say that I didn't warn you."

The shorter man nodded that he understood

McGarrett did not like the idea of telling Dean's story, especially to the little physician whom he knew had no concept of the situation that the man had been in at the time. Saprestien hadn't interfered with Dean's interrogation even though he had serious misgivings therefore he was entitled to know something.

McGarrett still had problems with memory recall and although Doc had reassured him that it was temporary he still had his doubts. This, he thought to himself, was something that he would dearly love to forget even though he had no first hand knowledge of the situation, he doubted that even a skull fracture could erase the horror.

"Dean was sent to get an agent out of Bucharest whose cover had been blown. That's a risky job. He had the guy along with the man's wife and baby and was on his way out. Bortzoff had them grabbed off of a train just outside of the city. They were taken to the police station and thrown into a basement cell and were interrogated nonstop for over a week.

"That doesn't sound so bad." Saprestien commented as he leaned in to hear what came next.

"I said nonstop." Steve snapped back then calmed himself. "I won't go into the methods, but it's not pretty. Then Bortzoff just let them go."

Saprestien's eyes were wide with curiosity.

"Oh Dean thought they were escaping but... Bortzoff and his henchmen followed them into a wooded park. He tied the man to a tree with the infant in his arms and forced him to watch his wife being gang raped.

Doc inhaled deeply in anticipated dread.

" After he had his way with the woman he put a shotgun to her head and pulled the trigger. Then he took the baby from the man and gave it to a Spetznaz who climbed a tree and tossed it into the air. Bortzoff blew it away like a clay pigeon then shot the agent in the face. Dean saw an opportunity and ran. He managed to elude the bastards long enough to scale the back wall of the French embassy.

Saprestien felt the strength go out of his legs as he slid down the wall. "My God...what kind of..... No human could..."

McGarrett reached over and pressed the stop button and knelt down beside the physician to see if he was all right.

"I asked. Fair and square didn't I." Saprestien said as he swallowed against the hot bile that was rising in his throat. "How on Earth, do you deal with..."

"Thick emotional walls." Steve replied, "You think I'm a hardass, but that's all it is, just over control."

Doc leaned back against the wall of the car and tried to control his breathing. "You're a pain in the butt that won't listen to reason," He grinned reluctantly. "But with the number of people who called about you while you were in the coma, no, I don't think you're a hardass McGarrett. However Heinriche defines the term."

Steve grabbed the handrail and pulled himself upright. "I heard you decked Heinney for the same thing. I'll admit, I'd love to have seen that. But he's more overcontrolled than all of us put together."

Saprestien sighed deeply then slowly came to his feet and pushed the button for the ground floor.

McGarrett felt the car sink instead of rise towards his fourth floor room. Maybe he would be allowed to go home after all. His mood brightened until a shooting pain in his left knee reminded him that he had agreed to have the leg x-rayed. He doubted very much that there was a fracture but was too tired to resist.

***

The unfolding of events and revelation that there was a spy in their midst had left Ensign Foggarty unable to sleep. He felt that a quick walk in the cool night air would help him relax. The young man wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood and eventually found himself in front of Tomlich's building. He debated on whether or not to visit his friend because of the late hour, and was about to walk away when he saw the small orange glow of a cigarette beside a palm tree. Tomlich was awake also.

Fogarrty reluctantly admitted that he couldn't sleep either.

Tomlich, having no other explanation for his nocturnal presence, admitted to being bothered as well.

The pair had been given the task of photographing the area where the meet would take place. Tomlich glanced at his watch then stated that it would be sunrise by the time they drove into the city.

Foggarty looked at the baggy pants and faded aloha shirt that he was wearing and decided that he looked civilian enough for the adventure.

Tomlich chuckled nervously and then realized that the reason he was feeling chilly might have more to do with the shorts he was wearing than with potential spies. Suddenly both men realized that they weren't scared at all but excited at what Tomlich pointed out as their first mission that didn't involve schlepping something from office to office.

Foggarty grinned when his friend pointed out that McGarrett was giving them a huge opportunity; he did not want to disappoint him. Tomlich went inside to put on a pair of pants and retrieve his camera. Foggarty jogged back to his apartment in order to get what he called his Kodak Special and returned in his beat-up Buick.

The two young officers were very thorough in their reconnaissance of the area, having each used two rolls of film on their 'vacation' pictures. Foggarty developed the film and made eight by ten enlargements of the photos in the section's darkroom. The prints were barely dry when Tomlich rushed them over to the hospital where Nicholson snagged them away from him in the hallway and quietly slipped them into McGarrett's room.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle at the image of Foggarty grinning like an idiot in front of the bowling alley. It never ceased to amaze him how careless medical people were with their supplies. He had no dressings on his injuries, yet a roll of white tape had appeared mysteriously on the table. Give them a ship and they'd sink her in a day he thought to himself as he tore off a tiny piece of the tape and used it to adhere the photograph to the wall. When he finished with the rest of the photos in the envelope he sat back on his bed and stared at the gallery before him and tried to visualize the scene. He caught himself doodling a diagram on the back of the envelope that would be most useful, not only for himself but also as an aid during the upcoming planning discussion. The envelope proved to be too small for such drawing, as was the table it rested on. Roger had brought him a China pencil and ruler, which he now used to diagram a block of Hotel Street on the window.

Steve had just finished the drawing and was staring at it when the door burst open and two men entered. Ron laughed at the startled look on his friend's face and positioned Glen's wheelchair at the end of the bed.

"Steve, you manage to choke down this morning's breakfast?" Glen teased as he cautiously lifted his injured leg a few millimeters off the leg-rest and carefully returned it to a straighter position.

"We've had worse." Steve replied absently. As the aroma of fresh tomato sauce and cheese hit his nose he forgot about lines of sight and distant North Korean ghosts. Saliva flowed expectantly in his mouth as he turned toward the two men.

"Mamma Celini's." Glen announced with a grin as he set the pizza box on the end of the bed. "Ron said that Mamma made it special."

Because of his recent hospital captivity, McGarrett knew that the day's lunch menu would feature beef barley soup. There was no doubt in his mind that the slop was going back today untouched as he nearly ran towards the now open box.

"You two eat like this when we got back?" The shorter man laughed as he straddled the chair that he'd dragged from the corner of the room towards the bed.

Glen flicked a piece of green pepper towards Nicholson's chest in response.

"Where's Roger?" Steve asked between bites.

"Coming." Nicholson answered as he removed a slice of pizza from the box. "He's got the kids on the pistol range. That Jenkin's has got talent."

Ron added as he took a tiny bite off the pointed end of the slice. "I had them in the gym last night. Sucker kicked me hard."

"Steve taught him." Glen mumbled as he continued to consume his third slice.

The door creaked its resistance as a tall stocky red haired man shoved it open. "Hey hey!" He called as he waved a cardboard case of chilled coke in greeting. "Hennessey to the rescue."

***

McGarrett felt a little self-conscious wearing a bright red bowling shirt that had two smiling bowling pins on the back as he walked in to the seedy bowling alley on Hotel Street. He carefully surveyed the room and noted that it was not very crowded for a league night. Judging by the condition of the bowlers Beer Frame was in full swing. The sound of the pins being hit by the weighty balls filled the building. It didn't take him long to locate Bortzoff sitting at the far end of the bar

The bar area was on a six-inch high platform, which encompassed the front 3/4 of the left side of the room. An unreadable sign partially blocked a bank of grease covered tilt-out windows. A three-foot high outline of a kangaroo glowed in red neon above the words OZ BAR.

Steve did a mental double take as he saw the bartender waddle from the back room The woman was huge, in fact Steve couldn't recall ever seeing a woman as large as her in all his life. Her hair appeared to be dirty brown in color, but it was hard to tell for certain in the dim light, and was cropped off above her ears. A Marine barber would have done a better job blindfolded Steve laughed to himself. She wore a grimy navy blue sleeveless dress; the faded and blotchy flower print had one day been yellow. Even from his distance he could hear the slapping sound of her plastic beach sandals as she walked. He also observed that "Gargantua" was in bad need of a bra, he recoiled at the thought of what else she might not be wearing. She tossed the legal pad she had been carrying onto the back of the bar and wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her arm. With her pudgy hand she reached for her favorite Irish Whiskey from the row of bottles, removed the stainless steel pour spout, lifted the container to her mouth and took a large swallow of its contents. After a satisfied belch she replaced the spout and returned the bottle it to its place on the shelf.

The smell of cigar smoke, stale beer and cheap cologne on unwashed bodies was more than overwhelming. If I hadn't of gotten into Annapolis….. A group of slovenly men had congregated at the end of the bar and were guzzling beer and pawing at the waitress. She was nearly as large as the medusa behind the bar but had thin stringy blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in quite some time. The mangy mane hung in matted clumps down the back of her grimy white T-shirt. She wore a once bright pink headband with a plastic flower stuck behind her right ear. In Hawaii, a flower worn on the right side indicated that the woman was not married or otherwise committed. Steve doubted that flower would ever change locations. There were cigarette burns and grease stains on the tight black pants that she wore which barely contained the mounding rolls of flesh. At least this one wore shoes, he thought to himself, as he observed the filthy white tennis shoes with scuffed pointed toes that covered her crusty feet.

Steve remembered the Brooklyn bowling alley where he worked as a boy setting up pins. This could have been my life, he thought to himself as he shook his head in disgust at what could have been. He had to force himself to focus on the case at hand as he continued to scan the room. He saw Ron was in place in the far corner and apparently doing quite well at his pinball machine. Jenkins was busy sweeping in the other corner.

McGarrett's jaw nearly dropped at the sight of Doc and Nurse Parker sharing a pizza at a table in the center of the dining room. What are they doing here! His mind screamed. A furtive glance at Ron was returned with a "what could I do about it!" upwards motion of one eyebrow. He acknowledged the gesture with a quick shrug knowing that there was really nothing he could do about the situation without blowing the mission. He felt for the fake codebook that he had tucked inside his shirt and adjusted it against his side. Except for the unexpected audience everything inside seemed in order. A quick glance out of the corner of his left eye revealed the vindicated Bill Fitzsimmons staggering in the door with his T-shirt hanging out of his pants. The position of the shirt revealed that no one had followed him.

At the far end of the bar sat a middle age man in a white suit and black shirt that was secured at the neck with a red tie. He was of average build and height and except for the garish attire would probably have gone unnoticed. The man's facial features appeared to be Slavic in origin though it was difficult to tell for certain because of the thick moustache and goatee. While the picture tucked inside Dean's file had been of a clean-shaven and much younger man this had to be Colonel Bortzoff. McGarrett approached the bar and ordered a Stoli and Kirin then sat next to the Russian to await his drinks.

"Das vadonya Comrade." He whispered and slid the glass of Japanese beer towards Bortzoff.

"I do not know you." The bearded Soviet insisted and pushed the glass away.

"Sure you do." Steve grinned. "We were classmates, years ago." He answered in Russian.

Bortzoff's mind raced. He had not seen Gordov at his usual take out restaurant last night and a call from a public phone booth to the man's quarters had gone unanswered. This man was wearing the appropriate clothing and ordered the correct drinks. Something serious must have happened to Gordov for him to send a replacement. The codebook was a major piece of intelligence which could justify the urgency of sending another man. But this man was not one of his other assets. One time Alexi had stumbled into a meet between Bortzoff and a radioman. Why didn't he send Halloween (which was the Amercian sailor's codename)? Whoever this man was he spoke Russian fluently although Bortzoff couldn't quite place the accent. His intestines were knotted in apprehension. "Kiev?" He asked

"No, no, surely the vodka has not affected you so much that you do not remember Minsk." McGarrett answered thankful that he had taken the time to refresh himself on the subtleties of mood and tense that the language made use of. "Master Gordov's geometry class."

The Russian smiled outwardly though he still remained tense inside. "Ah, yes, my friend." He said as he hugged Steve and carefully frisked him for a weapon at the same time.

"You were almost passed over." Steve reminded as he patted down the stocky Russian in return.

Fitzsimmons wiped the beer off his face with the back of his arm and staggered away from the bar and headed for the bathroom. When he was even with the Steve and Bortzoff, he fell into them purposefully spilling Steve's vodka on the bar as he slid drunkenly to the floor.

From the floor Fitzsimmons had the opportunity to get a look at the lower portion of the Russian's body, and he saw that the man was armed.

"Filthy pig!" Bortzoff exclaimed as he dodged the growing puddle of vodka on the counter and attempted to kick the drunken bum away.

"What's your problem pal?" Steve asked as he pulled the drunk to his feet. A quick tap from Fitzsimmons on his right leg told McGarrett in a pre-arranged signal that the Soviet had a weapon in an ankle holster in addition to the knife in the back of his pants. "Get out of here!" Steve yelled as he shoved Bill away.

Fitzsimmons wiped his face again indicating that the spy had two agents in the street.

The Russian laughed genuinely at McGarrett's actions and began to relax slightly. Had this been some kind of signal? His stomach lurched again. He looked over at McGarrett who was wiping his hands on his pants after having touched the bum. The look of disdain appeared genuine. Bortzoff came to a decision; he would get the codebook from this man and then kill him.

"Let's get out of here." Bortzoff insisted as he gestured toward the door that opened onto Hotel Street. Steve stood beside the bar for several seconds in order to show that he still maintained control in the situation. Bortzoff gave a steel-toothed grin and made a gesture indicating that McGarrett should walk in front of him. Steve smiled back and proceeded to leave the building.

Once Steve was outside Ron and Jenkins sprang into action. They each grabbed an unsuspecting Soviet backup agent and dragged them into the bathroom. Each man was handcuffed to the drainpipe of the grimy sink. Ron grabbed the bottle of Chloral Hydrate that Fitzsimmons had stashed behind the toilet tank and soaked a cleaning rag with it and smothered the two spies into unconsciousness as Jenkins held them down.

Nicholson tossed the rag into a beatup trashcan and carefully washed his hands in the sink while Jenkins used the men's belts to tie their free arm between their ankles. As they exited the restroom Ron grinned at the lieutenant as he placed an 'Out of Order' sign on the bathroom door. "McGarrett always has a way of adding class to his missions." He said as he dusted off his hands, admired the sign then walked away.

Steve stopped in the middle of Hotel Street when he didn't see his 'companion' beside him. Bortzoff stood next to McGarrett as he put on his sunglasses, he did this not to shade his eyes from the searing late afternoon sun but to signal his men to go into the alley. "This way." The Russian growled as he grabbed Steve by the arm and dragged him into the alley.

"Go!" Glen yelled into his radio from his rooftop perch then set the walkie talkie aside and trained his sniper rifle on the back of the Russian's head and held it there, waiting.

Ensign Foggarty rushed from his post as ticket taker in a porno house and grabbed the Russian who was heading out of the Laundromat into the alley. A quick karate chop to the back of the neck and a kick to the head rendered the first Russian agent into unconsciousness. He smiled with pride that he accomplished his first covert mission successfully while he dragged his prisoner to the laundry truck parked nearby.

Ensign Tomlich had to disentangle himself from a prostitute before he could tackle his target as he came out of the Chinese restaurant next to the bowling alley. Quickly he handcuffed his man and dragged him over to the waiting laundry truck. The truck's rear door opened up and a pair of hands grabbed and drug the new prisoner inside. Kicking the door shut Tomlich turned and slapped hands with Foggarty in a celebratory fashion as they ran together towards the alley.

"Let me see it." Bortzoff insisted as he and Steve stopped halfway down the alley.

Glaring warily at the Russian Steve removed the codebook from inside his shirt and handed it over to the man.

"Seems genuine." Bortzoff grunted as he flipped through the pages before placing the book inside his shirt and grabbed the knife that he kept at his belt. "But you do not!" He spat. "Comrade!"

McGarrett quickly dodged the plunging knife then grabbed the man's wrist and brought his arm up into an arm lock then roundhouse kicked him to the ribcage which released the mans grip on the knife. It clanked against the brick wall and fell to the ground. McGarrett gave it a quick kick out of reach. "GIVE IT UP!" He ordered and pulled his own gun out of its ankle holster and pointed it at the man's head.

Bortzoff froze briefly but looked anxiously around the alley for his men. When he didn't see them he eyed his opponent warily, the man didn't flinch a bit. His gaze was ice cold. Again, he surveyed the alley for his men ;it was then he spotted them lying unconscious under a pile of old cardboard.

"OK". Bortzoff replied as he carefully held his arms above his head as best he could and grinned an evil grin. "You've got me cowboy."

"Against the wall" Steve ordered waving his weapon in the desired direction.

Bortzoff slowly turned and stepped toward the wall but kept an eye on his captor. When he saw that McGarrett was within range he moved quickly to grab the gun. He twisted Steve's right arm upwards accidentally discharging the weapon and shoved him against the wall.

Seeing that Bortzoff was getting the upper hand, Roger leaped from behind the nearby dumpster and tackled the Russian.

The rest of the team members converged on the scene from both ends of the alley and completely restrained the Russian spymaster.

Roger removed the handcuffs from his back pocket and slapped them roughly around the Russians wrists turned to Steve and asked as he snapped the cuffs closed "You OK, Steve?"

"Yeah." Steve answered with a groan as he staggered to his feet. "Guess so." He rubbed his upper arm as he bent down to remove the Makarov from the Russian's leg holster. "You got one of these yet?"

Hennessey looked at the pistol in his friend's hand and laughed at the reference to his gun collection. "Come on man. Get me something unusual will ya."

Steve grinned as he stuck the soviet pistol in his belt and retrieved his own weapon and the knife. "Commie pig sticker." He teased and waved the knife in Roger's direction.

"I'll take it if nobody wants it." Glen announced as he limped into the alley.

"You two do OK?" Steve asked the ensigns as he leaned against the wall when he felt a wave dizziness come over him.

"Yes, Sir!" Foggarty grinned as he put an arm around Tomlich's neck. Both young men beamed at the accomplishment of their first mission.

"Good." Steve answered quietly as the alley started to spin. "Mole found. Spy captured. It's over." He closed his eyes and slid down the exhaust soot stained wall slid down and sat on the asphalt and let his head sag between his knees.

"So you think!" The Russian spat as Fitzsimmons and Jenkins jerked him to his feet.

"You boys wanna get the trash." Fitzsimmons ordered the ensigns as he pointed towards the unconscious spys under the cardboard.

"Steve?" Roger asked worriedly when he observed his friend's grayish pallor.

"Let's get out of here." McGarrett replied weakly as he grabbed hold of Roger's outstretched hand and was pulled to his feet.

. The adrenaline rush brought on by the mission was beginning to fade. Anderson became aware of the hot throbbing agony in his thigh. Feeling the limb was about to give out from underneath him he leaned heavily against Nicholsen as the pair brought up the rear of the parade leaving the alley. Ron was still uncertain how he felt about the revelation regarding what had happened in Korea. He had for the most part put that horrible period behind him, or so he thought. Roger, having spent the longest duration in enemy hands wanted to rip Bortzoff's head off. Steve was just relieved that this phase of the mission was over and if he was lucky he would be able to talk Saprestien into letting him sleep in his own bed tonight.

The laundry truck backed into the alley and Chief Morgan opened the rear doors and helped the younger officers drag the heavy unconscious pair of men into the back with the other prisoners.

Bortzoff cursed in Russian as the men dragged him to the entrance of the alley. Fitzsimmons wanted the man to shut up so he gave the man's arm a painful upward tug and growled a promise of continued pressure unless he quieted down.

Steve and Glen both looked up when the passenger side door of the truck opened, Dean Hargrove jumped out and walked towards them.

When Dean saw Bortzoff standing there, his stomach knotted up and the memories of that night in the Bucharest woods came back to him a vividly as if it had happened yesterday. He had been afraid that the mere sight of the man, who had caused him so much anguish over the years, would cause him a second breakdown but he felt nothing but repulsion. He walked up to the Russian and glared at him for a moment. He clenched his teeth and balled his fists as the memory of the killing of the agent and his family played over in his head. Steve and Glen stood by silently as they watched their colleague confront his tormentor and wondered how he would handle this meeting.

" Who the hell are you?" The Russian sneered at the man in front of him.

Dean’s eyes showed the rage he felt as hissed in the man's face. "You bastard!" He snarled. "I hope to live long enough to see you in hell." Dean turned away from the man.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. The relief was short lived as Hargrove turned on his lead foot and launched a kick at the Russian's chest. Bortzoff's knees buckled and he started to sink to the ground from the impact but the officers jerked him back upright by his arms as their colleague finished his assault with an uppercut to the man's jaw.

The spymaster slumped against his captors for several minutes as he regained his senses and his breath from the blows. "You saw that!" He yelled angrily. "That's assault! Arrest that man!"

Jenkins and Fitzsimmons casually began to examine their fingernails ignoring the raging Russian. Glen and Ron turned their backs a gazed towards the street. Roger stared up at the sky and commented on the appearance of a star.

"It would appear that no one saw a thing." McGarrett said with a slight smile."And just who's going to take the word of an enemy agent who is also a known rapist that slaughtered an innocent infant."

"I never........." Bortzoff screamed, his face turning red from the rage he was experiencing. He had long forgotten about the incident in Romania but knew that he had no options for escape.

Steve walked over to Hargrove and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "It's a long ways from Bucharest to here." he said grinning icily at the handcuffed man and gestured towards the back of the truck.

Saprestien slid himself between the open rear van door and the corner of the bowling alley, dropped the burden that he had been dragging inside a grimy tablecloth, onto the pavement and stood watching the turn of events. "So are you boys done playing now?" he said placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head at his patients' activities.

McGarrett started to say something caustic about interference but let it drop as Nurse Parker came out of the bowling alley with an arm lock on the dirty bleached blonde waitress. "You missed this one Commander." She announced pleased with herself as she tightened her grip around the woman's neck.

"Yup." Saprestien grinned as he stepped away from the unconscious Aussie woman at his feet. "I'm starting to like the spy business." "What the…" McGarrett choked back his disbelief when he saw Nurse Parker bring out the waitress. Doc grinned at the two ensigns as they got out of the truck in order to scrape up yet another unconscious prisoner and tossed his medical bag at Chief Morgan who had helped lift the heavy woman into the back of the van.

"Took a whole bottle of Thorazine to sedate her." He laughed.

"Bitch." The waitress, whom she had dubbed Brunhilda, growled as she struggled against Nurse Parker’s grip.

"What did you say Dearie?" Doris laughed snidely as she pulled tighter on the woman's neck. Increasing the choke hold brought her close enough to get a fresh whiff of the woman’s body odor, " I'm gonna need a surgical scrub to get the smell of you off."

After you guys took the spies into the head and the bearded one left." Saprestien began to explain how he had gone from curious spectator to spy nabber. "The two women sprang to action. The papers Blondie here was trying to destroy are in my bag. Elephant woman over there was putting through a rush rush call to the Soviet embassy."

McGarrett, although he still felt slightly dizzy, carefully let go of Hennessey and stood up straight. "I don't believe it."

Doc grinned from ear to ear as he pointed towards Nurse Parker. "Doris's grandmother is Lithuanian. She overheard the beginnings of the phone call and figured these two were part of this."

Both he and Parker had been intrigued by 'the spy business' during their part of Gordov's interrogation. He had proposed the possibility of observing the goings on at the bowling alley and Parker readily agreed to pose as his 'date'. After this rather surprising turn of events he now saw Parker in an entirely new light. Would she, he wondered, be interested in seeing him socially?

Steve laughed and winked at Doris. "Looks like we found an owner for the Makarov."

Bortzoff saw in the distraction what he thought was an opportunity for escape and wrenched himself free from the captor's grasp. He took two steps back into the alley before Jenkins grabbed him by his jacket in an attempt to tackle him. The Russian stopped mid stride and with a whipping motion kicked the lieutenant's head sending him stumbling backwards onto the ground.

Roger grabbed the man roughly as Nicholson pushed their prisoner to his knees.

Fitzsimmons lifted the stunned Jenkins to his feet and escorted him into the back of the van.

Chief Morgan situated Jenkins against the van wall and began to assess his condition.

The activity in the rear of the vehicle distracted Hargrove from his ruminations. He quickly crawled from the front, pulled the shrieking waitress into the van and gave Parker an unneeded but nevertheless accepted boost into the back of the vehicle.

"You can't do this!" Bortzoff yelled as he struggled. "I've got dip……" But was stopped mid sentence by a blow to his back.

"Damn!" McGarrett cursed as he realized what the man was saying. He had considered the likelihood that a man in Bortzoff's position would have insured his safety by obtaining diplomatic status. He had gone so far as to order that the photos of the local Soviet embassy's staff be sent to his room. No one in the packet had even remotely resembled Bortzoff. McGarrett felt confident that the man had not availed himself of the protection but now his fears were realized. He would not be able to detain the man longer than the time it would take for someone from his embassy to come and pick him up. IF the state department was wanting to make an issue Bortzoff would be sent home to the USSR. The best that Steve could hope for would be for the Russians to release one of their prisoners in exchange for this one. It galled him that the man would go free.

****

The bar area was deadly silent when the door to a lower cabinet opened seemingly all by itself and a small blonde head appeared. Peering from the opening impassive eyes slowly scanned the area. Satisfied the place was deserted, the midget stepped out of the cupboard and smoothed the wrinkles from his black suit. The pint-sized man was barely more than three feet tall and wore an expressionless face as he quietly closed the cabinet door. Because his legs were short the best he could do was waddle as he made his way towards the back door.

The midget, who was known only as The Terrier not only because of his size but also for his fierce unyielding personality. The North Korean POW program was of such strategic importance that the Kremlin felt that more than one individual should have control over it. Bortzoff had built the program from day one and his efficient handling of it had impressed Iron Felix. However, the Soviet Apparatchik trusted no one completely, so an overseer of sorts was appointed. The midget was in essence, Bortzoff's boss.

As he walked he reached into his jacket and removed a small custom-made 7.65 Luger and a silencer from his jacket pocket. He screwed the metal tube onto the barrel of his pistol. Shoving the heavy steel door open he stepped out into the alley and saw Bortzoff being dragged away by the Americans. He knew that the man would be interrogated! This could not be allowed to happen. Beside the Russian master spy stood the tall dark haired American agent he had seen inside the bar. Many thoughts rapidly went through the midget's mind as to how he would accomplish his assignment. he would have time for only two shots which meant that logically he could take out just one of them but not both. But which one? The pudgy finger snuggled up against the trigger and his eyes narrowed as he took aim.

Bortzoff struggled against Hennessey's grasp while McGarrett felt his head begin to spin and stepped back in order to lean against the wall. At that instant he saw gravel kick up at his feet and heard what he thought was the sound of a ricochet. Instinctively he looked up to see where the shot could have come from. He quickly surveyed the alley and ended at the doorway to the bowling alley. There were no signs of activity, which caused Steve to dismiss the noise. The Russian was still resisting being drug so his feet most likely he had kicked the gravel. Steve silently berated himself for being paranoid and turned his attention back on the prisoner.

Bortzoff twisted and pulled against Roger’s grip trying to free himself from the vice-like grasp. Suddenly he let out an agonizing scream and slumped to his knees. A red spot blossomed on the back of his white jacket.

Gravel chips flew up from ground as a lead slug skipped across the asphalt.

"Get down!" Steve yelled as he flattened himself against the wall.

Nicholson dropped to the ground and rolled out onto the sidewalk. Roger started to drag the wailing Bortzoff to cover as a fourth shot whizzed over his head.

"Roger! You idiot!" Nicholson yelled from his position on the sidewalk. "Hit the deck!"

Hennessey ran towards the street and flattened himself against the wall of Suzi's 24-hour Massage Parlor. Bortzoff was left laying facedown in the alley moaning and whining in agony.

Saprestien turned around and saw the injured man on the pavementWithout thinking he snatched his medical bag from the van and ran towards the patient.

"Doc! No!!" Steve yelled as he whipped his gun from from his belt. "Get back!!"

Saprestien, focusing only on the man lying in the alley, was oblivious to the jeopardy he was placing himself in.

"The bastard's not worth it!!" McGarrett yelled as the physician knelt down beside Bortzoff. As Saprestien attempted to assess the wounded man another bullet skipped its way towards them.

Steve stepped away from the wall and fired three shots down the alley in order to cover Saprestien. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the rear door of the bowling alley close.

The sound of gunfire attracted the interest of the patrons and they filtered out of the bowling alley in order to see what the excitement was about. . The rogues' gallery, which inhabited the more sleazy aspect of Hotel Street, assembled to watch with interest the activity that was taking place in thealley. A man wearing a dirty green aloha shirt gestured that there was a body lying on the pavement a short distance away. The law wanted quite a few of the transient populous for one type of minor infraction or another. The distant wail of an approaching siren sent those in the crowd who were sought by the police scurrying like human rats into the corners and cubby holes of Chinatown.

McGarrett dashed across the alley, grabbed hold of Bortzoff's jacket and helped Doc drag the injured spy out of the line of fire.

"Why on Earth did you do that!" Steve's eyes gave off an intense glare, which signified that an immediate explanation was expected. Doc, who really wasn’t sure himself why he put himself at risk like that, shrugged and shook his head.

Tomlich and Hargrove jumped from the rear of the van, roughly picked up Bortzoff's body and shoved him into the struck.

"Go! Go!" McGarrett shouted as Dean leaped headfirst into the vehicle. The back doors swung wildly as the vehicle made a sharp turn onto the street and sped away

Saprestien sighed deeply looked skyward and said a silent Hail Mary. His legs felt like they were made of rubber and felt a strange tingling sensation in his body. He sat on the curb and tried to compose himself.

"Get out of here!" McGarrett shouted.

Saprestien felt his stomach lurch. He started to lean forwards when he was jerked to his feet.

"Now!" Steve glared into the physician's eyes as he shouted.

Saprestien mutely bent over, picked up his bag and began walking down the street.

Both Ron and Roger now had their guns drawn and were looking in the direction of the suspicious closed door.

Warily McGarrett gestured towards the alley. Slowly the two men crept into the alley following two steps behind Steve as they approached the door.

Inside the bowling alley the midget stomped around the room in anger, he couldn’t believe he had missed the target. Terrier had been the top master spy handler in all of the Pacific Islands for five years and before that he was Stalin's personal assassin. The only three people in Hawaii who knew the midget's identity were now in the hands of the US Navy. Aside from Khruchev and a couple of high-ranking members of the Directorate only Bortzoff knew his real name. Most likely the shot which hit Bortzoff would be fatal but there was no way to be certain of that. He knew that if the man lived it would only be a matter of time before the Americans would be coming for him.

Midget fumed as he stormed into the bathroom and saw the two junior agents chained to the sink. One of the men had regained consciousness and was trying to free himself. He looked up as Midget entered the room. "Help" he pleaded from behind the gag in his mouth.

Terrier’s world was caving in around him like a house of cards. "Pigs!" He yelled in a blind rage and emptied the remaining bullets into the heads of the captive men. The midget found the pink misty cloud of blood and brain tissue oddly satisfying as the top of the unconscious man's head disappeared. He turned the gun to the conscious one, whose eyes went wide with fear as he pleaded for his life. "Coward!" He spat as he pulled the trigger and grinned as the man's face turned into to a mass of red pulpy flesh. Killing the two agents brought as sense of calmness and control to the midget.

With his rage spent he calmly waddled to the rear of the bowling alley where the alley exit was located. His acute sense of hearing detected the sound of footsteps in the alley. He quickly felt his pockets and noted that after reloading he would have two full clips remaining plus $2,500 in emergency cash, and whatever he had in his wallet. Patting his jacket he found that his three passports were still tucked into the lining. He had survived many things in his life, some far worse than his current situation and was confident that he would survive this too. He just had to elude the Americans whom he suspected were the source of the footsteps he heard. Midget surveyed the area to find a place where he could hide and wait them out, He moved quickly towards the narrow rectangular trashcan, which stood against the back wall,opened the bucket removal door and climbed in. As an added concealment he pulled the phony three-sided plastic bucket in front of himself and sat beneath the semi-filled liner and waited.

Steve and Ron flattened themselves against the wall next to the open side of the door.

Roger grabbed hold of the grimy handle and looked at his colleagues. "On three." he whispered.

Both men nodded.

"One."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Two."

Nicholson closed his eyes andsaid a silent prayer.

"Three!"

Roger pulled the door open and Nicholson was the first to enter the building. He panned his pistol low as he surveyed the immediate area for the shooter. Steve was right behind him and aimed his weapon high over Ron's crouched frame and quickly eyed the room. Both men immediately moved to opposite side of the room. Hennessey followed closely and flattened himself against the wall between McGarrett and the trashcan. The bar was empty.

With his pistol at the ready Nicholson moved away from the wall and towards the seating area while McGarrett approached the bar.

Pausing for a moment Steve took a deep breath before he looked behind it. No one was there. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up on end, which meant that SOMEONE was around. He moved to where the office door was and kicked it open and carefully swept the small room with his pistol and keen eye before he stepped inside. In the ceiling there was a trap door that was slightly ajar. He was about to signal for backup when a closer look revealed that a spider web covered the opening. He silently reminded himself to breathe again.

Midget carefully lifted the flap of his hiding place and peered through the small opening. He saw two men who were standing close by with their backs to him. He felt for his Luger that was in his jacket pocket and wished that the distance between them was smaller. The thought that he could easily kill one of them right now brought a sarcastic smile to his face. But before he could the second man would react and, maybe kill him. Deciding that would not be a wise to draw such attention to his position he continued to observe through the hole. As he watched he realized there were three men that entered the bar. Where’d the third one go? He asked himself as he intensely looked for him with his limited line of sight. He shifted hiss eyes towards the right. The red haired target was moving towards the bathroom door. He sat back against the rear of the container and cursed silently in Russian. In a matter of moments that man would discover his 'handiwork' in the bathroom and summon the others. Once they saw the carnage the Americans would certainly tear the place apart looking for him. Terrier regretted his lack of impulse control. His explosive temper had gotten him into quite a few sticky situations.

Finding nothing in the office Steve came back into the bar. When he came around the bar itself he spotted an inert form on the floor and wondered to himself why he didn’t see this person before. He kept his gun pointed at the man as he approached and gently kicked him in the ribs. The man moaned his displeasure. Bending down next to the body he cautiously rolled the man onto his back. A huge burp came out of the man who then broke out laughing. "Hey buddy!" He slurred when he opened his eyes and saw the man beside him. "How's about a rye for an old pal. Huh??"

The man’s breath smelled of stale liquor and nearly toppled McGarrett. He relaxed his aim as he waved his hand through the air in front of him in order to disperse the smell. "You see anybody in here?" he asked.

"Bashful" The drunken man replied with a smirk.

Taken aback by the man’s answer Steve shook him again, hoping that this time he would get a more coherent answer.

"Dopey?" The drunk answered again making a squeezing motion with his right index finger. "Sure wurnt no Doc". He laughed at what he thought had been an amazingly funny joke then went back to sleep.

McGarrett shook his head as he stood to leave the man in his stupor and walked to the center of the room. Nicholson waved to get his attention and gestured in the direction of the vacant bowling lanes.

They had no way of knowing that the pinboys had left with the crowd of rubber-neckers. The vast area at the far end of the lanes represented a potentially huge risk to their safety. Steve tightened his grip on his weapon and nodded his acknowledgement and headed for Lane one. Ron did likewise and ran down lane five. Both men carefully peered into the space beyond the polished maple planking. The chairs on which the pinsetters sat were overturned. The white painted wooden pins were strewn haphazardly across the floor. The area was deserted.

Steve felt the back of his neck tingle despite not finding the shooter or any evidence of one. Both men briskly walked back up the polished wood lanes to the grubby seating area. Out of he corner of his eye McGarrett noticed that the front door was open. Ron pointed out the overturned gumball machine near the entrance. The man who had tried to kill Bortzoff was long gone! Securing their weapons they returned to the rear of the building.

"Damn!" McGarrett swore as he pounded on the top of the trashcan. The sound echoed in the empty room. "We lost him!"

Ron agreed and vented his frustration in one well-placed kick to the can’s side.

Hennessey rushed from the bathroom where he had gone to search for the shooter and his face was pale. "Guys, you better look in here." He stated matter of factly even though his stomach was on the verge of emptying its contents.

The stench of body waste from inside the men’s room permeated the air. The smell of blood greeted them before they even entered the room. Nicholson halted abruptly as well as his colleagues. Steve pushed the door open and the trio stared at the gruesome site before them.

As the wailing police siren was getting louder Roger pointed out the ejected shell casings scattered on the floor.

While the Americans were gathered in the bathroom Midget saw his chance to escape. He shook off the fear he felt when his hiding place was pounded on and kicked earlier and quietly climbed out of the trashcan. He slipped out of the backdoor and into the alley. He took several deeps breaths as he took stock of his situation. Escape he decided was his only option. He tore open the hem of his jacket lining and removed a brown leather pouch. The pouch contained three passports with the credentials necessary to back up those identities along with a fair amount of national currency. The British Royal Crest gleamed in bright gold against the dark blue background as he stared at the palm sized identity booklets. Continuing with his American identity would be risky. Presenting himself as the Soviet Citizen that he was would draw unwanted attention. His other identity was that of a French jockey and at the moment he just didn't feel very "French".

"British it is then" He said to himself and tore open the small envelope which contained his new persona. He exchanged the items with their counterparts in his wallet and tucked the American documents into the brown pouch which he placed in his jacket pocket. Since the women, who were the only ones that knew where he lived had also been arrested he could not risk going back to his apartment to retrieve his clothes. That meant he would be forced to do something he despised greatly which was to shop in a boy's clothing store. The first thing on his escape agenda was to secure passage on the first available ship heading anywhere. He walked out of the alley with resolve, crossed the street and headed for the docks at Aloha Tower. "Nobody ever suspects a midget." He laughed to himself and felt again for the Luger in his pocket.

The sirens were louder as the squad cars turned onto Hotel Street just as the midget walked out of the alley.

"Now what?" Ron asked as the sirens approached. He turned away from the gore and headed out of the room.

Roger quickly followed. Steve stepped forward to get a closer look at one of the bodies. When he heard the siren he looked up and saw that his friends had left the room. He took one last look then quickly joined them by the now empty trashcan.

Roger opened his right hand and showed them one of the casings. "By the back door." He stated "We got the slug in Bortzoff."

The sirens were deafening as the cars drew closer when Ron added. "No ID on them when we put them in there."

Steve grunted his acknowledgement. He couldn't shake the feeling that the murderer was very close by.

The screeching of numerous tires on the street outside the bowling alley announced the arrival of the police. "Local cops are such showoffs." Steve chuckled.

"No ID on any of us are either." Hennessey reminded.

McGarrett wanted to examine the scene further and maybe even question the old drunk again. But that was not to be.. "Exit stage left." He sighed in resolution. The three men filed out the back door just as the first policeman entered through the front door.

One of the squad cars had parked across the entrance of the alley effectively blocking it. Seeing this Hennessey gestured for them to head towards the other end. None of the officers wanted to explain to the locals their reason for being at the scene of a double homicide. Knowing they had no other option the men ran full speed towards the far end of the alley.

Ron was the first to see 'daylight at the end of the tunnel' followed closely by Hennessey. They looked back to see Steve lagging behind by a few paces. He leaned against the wall holding his chest while trying to suck in a huge amount of oxygen.

"Where are we?" Nicholson asked as he surveyed the street and the dilapidated storefronts.

Roger looked at Ron with a somewhat confused look on his face, and replied with a sarcastic tone. "Hawaii." And broke out in a big grin.

Ron gave Roger an evil look. "Thanks a lot. A little closer would help." He looked expectantly towards McGarrett who he knew could give him a more direct answer.

McGarrett felt like his chest was on fire. "Kekaulike" He whispered between gasps for air. "Street"

"For the love of God Nicholson," Roger replied in exasperation, "You spent two months here, don’t you remember your way around?"

"At Pearl." Nicholson corrected. "Only time I was out was with you guys on the boat." He looked hopefully to McGarrett. You know I don't like the outdoors. Steve, how far back to Pearl?"

Steve pushed himself away from the wall. His ribs still throbbed but his breathing was coming easier. "Fourteen miles, that way." He said as he pointed towards the West.

"Fourteen!" Hennessey exclaimed in shock. "You gotta be kidding."

"Wish I was." Steve sighed.

Ron and Roger looked at each other and then back down at Steve. "OK, then we go to the locals."

"Right" Nicholson snapped and gestured widely with his arms. "We waltz in and announce we're lost intelligence officers who just happen to be in the vicinity of a double homicide."

"Then we come up with something else." Hennessey retorted. "Steve, I know you have to have a girlfriend around here someplace. Where does she live?"

"Aina Haina." McGarrett stated.

"Anaheim? Good lord!" Ron fumed. "That's in California."

Steve had to chuckle at the look of horror on Ron's face. He had a plan in mind for their rescue but wanted to have some fun with his agoraphobic friend. "It’s just over that way a little bit." He replied as he gestured toward Diamond Head.

"Well allrighty then!" Hennessey smiled, rubbed his hands together and turned to the East.

"You see Diamond Head over there." Steve put on the best tourguide act he could muster.

"Yeah sure. So what." Hennessey retorted." its just another mountain. Saw enough of those in Korea to last me."

"Aina Haina is on the other side. Twelve miles." McGarrett laughed even though his ribs were throbbing.

Ron felt his stomach lurch at the prospect of spending the night outdoors. "You had to let the van go." He snapped.

"What was I supposed to do?" Steve snapped back. "Let us all get caught. You want to explain to the locals why we grabbed off five supposedly innocent citizens. And one of them just happens to have a bullet in him that we can't explain. The mission comes first! Remember that."

Hennessey grabbed Steve's arm and clapped Ron on the back in his way of stopping the growing disagreement. "This isn't getting us back to the base any sooner."

Steve half-grinned at Ron who reluctantly smiled back. "Twelve is less than fourteen." He chided. "Goodthing you didn't break that leg Steve.

"Or." Steve grinned. "We could go to her office. Six blocks in that direction." He added pointing to downtown.

Roger laughed out loud at the humor of the situatiuon and nudged McGarrett forwards. Nicholson brought up the rear of their little parade.

The midget was walking down the North side of King Street and keeping a wary eye on his surroundings when he spotted the three men from the bowling alley approaching from behind him. For all intents and purposes he was now Ian Barber a British journalist. He debated on whether to ignore or challenge them. With the Lugar still securely tucked away in his jacket pocket he felt he could defend himself if need be, but if these guys were looking for him it was best to know now rather than later. So he slowed his pace enough to let them catch up to him in a well-lit intersection.

"Good evening Gents" Ian smiled and tilted his head.

Ron felt his neck prickle.

Hennessey looked down at the midget. "Can we help you?" He asked.

"Might I trouble you for the time?" He asked making a show of banging his wristwatch." My watch seems to have gone queer on me."

"Twen......" Steve caught himself about to answer in military time. "Nine forty-two." He smiled down at the small man.

"Thank you ever so much" Ian replied as he adjusted his watch, "Lovely night isn't it." Roger inhaled the plumeria scented air and agreed.

"Tally Ho then." The Terrier said as walked past the group and continued on down the street with a genuine spring of confidence in his waddle.

Roger watched the little man walk away and commented. "Polite little fellow."

"Yeah he was." Steve agreed and playfully punched Ron in the shoulder. "Bout your size too."

"Very funny." Nicholson huffed. "How much further?" As the two men enjoyed a good laugh at Ron's expense.

"Turn right at the next corner. Steve directed."And a block down from there. You guys hang back so I can convince the night watchman that I was supposed to meet Kathy tonight. It will sound familiar because we've done that often enough. He'll let me phone her to confirm and I'll call the office and have us picked up by the coronation stand."

Doc Saprestien saw the squad cars converge on the bowling alley as he sat in Doris's car trying unsuccessfully to find a roadmap. He immediately pulled away from the curb before he was approached by one of the officers and began driving west.He didn’t remember crossing the stream but decided to just keep going in that direction in hope that he would see a road sign. Then came the detour for road construction. He only had intended to drive a mere block out of his way and double back and the next thing he knew Diamond Head loomed in his headlights. He turned at the next corner only to discover it to be a one-way street and ended up almost in the mountains. Frustrated that he managed to get himself lost, he turned around and once again headed west looking for a sign that said Pearl Harbor.In his headlights he saw Steve McGarrett walking towards him and assumed that he was heading home which would mean that Saprestien was still travelling in the wrong direction. He knew he was hopelessly lost but not about to admit it to his troublesome patient. At the next side street he turned his car around and drove directly at the three men.

Steve nearly had a heart attack when the maroon 1946 Mercury Sportsman crossed his path and stopped.

"Good evening. Doc said nonchalantly, Might I offer you guys a ride?"

Nicholson had made a quick grab for his weapon but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was in the car and holstered his pistol.

"Where on Earth did you come from!" Steve exclaimed and stared at the car."And in that!"

"It’s Nurse Parker's." Doc grinned. "I had the key with me."

Ron quickly seated himself in the car. Roger decided that he had walked enough for one night and joined Nicholson in the rear seat. McGarrett would have preferred to continue with his rescue plan but reluctantly walked around the car and sat in the passenger seat.

Saprestien once again steered across traffic leaving a trail of rubber on the pavement behind him planning to merge the car just ahead of a semi trailer. A long blast from the truck's air horn pierced the air as its driver applied his brakes. . The men in the back held on tightly to the seat in front of them. McGarrett braced himself with his left hand on the dashboard and prepared for impact. Saprestien floored the accelerator and pulled in front of the speeding vehicle with barely a second to spare.

Hennessey was first to recover his wits and commented that the physician must have driven moonshine in a previous life.

"Reminds me of a tank commander I once knew." Ron commented.

McGarrett couldn't help but laugh at the perturbed look on Doc's face.

"You gentlemen ever hear of a place called Indy." Saprestien retorted.

"There's no number on the side of this car." Steve chuckled. And having said that he slouched down in the seat and stretched his legs as much as he could in the confined space.

Doc, having slowed down to the legal limit, continued driving towards 'home'. Traffic moved briskly as they headed eastward. Now that he was no longer hopelessly lost he allowed his mind to mull over the possibilities of where to take Nurse Parker on their first real date. If she would even go out with you. He reminded himself. He would make inquiries of the other nurses as to what she liked. McGarrett certainly would know the proper places to take a woman.

The breeze blew softly off the ocean and gently rustled the palm trees as they headed towards the undeveloped part of the coast. The air was fragarent with plumeria and salt.

"What is that Steve?" Nicholson inquired as he surveyed the passing scenery.

Steve turned his head and glanced behind Saprestien. " Coronation Stand, that’s the palace behind it."

"Palace?"

"Yeah." Steve informed as he slipped into his tourguide persona. "The Iolani Palace built in 1882 by King Kalakaua. The only royal palace on American soil."

"Unless you count Hyannisport." Roger added sarcastically.

"The government took it over in 1893. You'd probably like it Ron, the architecture is impressive although it could use a bit of sprucing up. Rumor has it that after statehood they are going to build a new capitol building behind it."

"You think that's really happening?" Doc inquired. "Alaska maybe. At least it's on the same continent. But we're in the middle of nowhere out here."

"Just a matter of time." Steve stated. "What about Bortzoff?"

The physician was lost thinking about Doris Parker again until an accidental kick to the back of the seat jarred him back to reality. "Huh?" He questioned.

Steve again inquired about the Soviet's condition. Saprestien prefaced his answer with a reminder that he had only been able to do a brief examination.

The men in the back seat leaned forwards in expectation of an answer as Saprestien informed them that what he had seen indicated a wound high in the shoulder and unless the bullet had taken a strange trajectory Bortzoff would most likely survive.

McGarrett breathed a sigh of relief at the same moment Saprestien guided the car past Kapiolani Boulevard junction.

"Uh, say Doc" Steve realized that the bells he heard a few minutes before were coming from Kawaiahao Church and decided that the nocturnal tour had gone on long enough and he had better get them headed in the right direction. "How full is the tank?"

Ron suddenly became uncomfortable again.

"Should be full." He replied," we had to stop on the way. Why?"

"Well……" McGarrett laughed. "There aren't too many stations once we get out of the city. "

Out of the city! Doc wondered to himself then the revelation hit-he was still lost. "We're not heading to Pearl are we?" He asked sheepishly.

"Steve!" there was tenseness in Nicholson's voice. "Please tell me we will get home."

"Relax. We'll get there. But if we continue in this direction it will be sixty miles around the island."

Saprestien checked that there was no one immediately behind them and made an abrupt U-turn.

"Jesus!" Hennessey exclaimed as he fell against the car door.

Ron gestured at a one-way street sign.

"What are you doing!" McGarrett exclaimed and gestured towards his right. " The police station is right over there! Of all the places to go up a one way street."

Through a series of turns McGarrett got them on the correct route and once the car was headed in a westerly direction he slid down in the seat.

Saprestien glanced out of the corner of his eye and noted that although he was very relaxed McGarrett was not asleep. "Tomorrow I want you to clear all of that junk out of my hospital."

. "My pleasure!" Steve smiled broadly. "I could move it tonight."

"Tomorrow afternoon will be soon enough." The man stated firmly. "Late afternoon."

Steve wanted desperately to go home that night. "Not like I wouldn't be there any how." He stated.

"Steve?" Ron was the first to question the odd statement.

"Somebody has to question Bortzoff"

Hennessey sat upright in the seat. "He's got immunity. We can't touch him."

"Does he now?" Steve replied with a conspiratorial grin. "Do we know this for certain?"

"You heard him." Ron stated.

"And I could tell you I'm Santa Claus too."

Hennessey laughed out loud when he caught on to McGarrett's train of thought.

It took Nicholson a few seconds longer to comprehend. "There weren't any papers on him when we searched him." He offered.

"Steve?" Saprestien ventured apprehensively. "You're not planning on questioning this one too? You said he was a diplomat."

"How much Pentathol you have laying around?" McGarrett teased in order to try lower the man's anxiety level.

Saprestien shot an evil glare at McGarrett and nearly drove off the side of the road.

"He's not off limits unless he has documentation or is conscious enough to phone his embassy. That gives us one crack at him tonight while he's still sedated."

Saprestien found himself staring at the white reflectors on the side of the road as they passed by. "It never ends does it." He replied at length.

Steve stretched his limbs then slumped down in the seat. "No." He sighed. "Unfortunately it doesn't."

Does Steve ever meet up with the Midget again?

Will he and Kathy tie the knot?

PAU

For now

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