Go to part 2
The morning sun was already beginning to warm the four-story cement block Intelligence/Security building as Commander Steve McGarrett entered through the double glass doors. It was his first day back at work since his plane crashed three months earlier.
Seeing a tan uniform the marine private quickly hid what he had been reading underneath a convenient folder and snapping to attention thought about how much he hated this time of day. Tired from spending his night watch watching nothing he now had to play trained puppy and hop up and down each time an officer walked in. "Good morning Sir." He said matter of factly.
As he watched the officer sign his name in the logbook a tiny alarm went off in his head. He suddenly remembered that in the four months he'd had this job the only left handed officer was a Marine major currently on leave. And this one, he observed, was taking a little too long to sign his name
Oh crap! What gives? The eighteen-year-old Nebraska native thought as he unsnapped his holster in preparation for a possible assault.
"Good morning Jones." Steve greeted as he saluted, pleased with himself that he had made it three quarters of the way to his hat brim, which could pass for a casual salute to the unknowing. Returning the pen to the table he walked around the desk towards the elevators. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the edge of the private's reading material protruding from under a manila file folder. McGarrett found himself suddenly in a playful mood. Succumbing to the temptation Steve grabbed the 'Girls!' magazine out from under the marine's folder ,where he had hastily hidden it when the officer entered ,and tossed it at the trash can.
Jones' heart skipped a beat when the officer reached over the desk towards him.
"Glad to see you're improving your mind." Steve teased. A smile grew on his face at the thought of what was running through the Marine's mind as he continued down the narrow hallway towards the elevators.
The officer was not wearing a laminated plastic security tag Jones observed.
"Hold it Sir!" The panicked marine ordered grabbing the officer by the arm,which spun him slightly off balance.
"What the....." Steve asked as his world suddenly began to spin backwards. The bang his briefcase made on the tile floor echoed in the narrow hallway further assaulting his equilibrium. The tan hat he had been carrying flew in the opposite direction. I didn't hit the floor...so.. I must be standing up still...Think! FBI
Flying by instruments John had called it. After hearing from Frank about the crash Reggis had gotten a ninety-six hour leave and flown to Hawaii from his carrier in the Med. For three days the two officers would orient him then let go expecting him to figure out where he had ended up. Two dozen bruises and an even worse headache than the one caused by the skull fracture; from whacking his head inside John's crash helmet, later McGarrett had come to understand the two rules of flying in a fog.Rule #1: No matter what your body says the instruments are correct. Rule #2: If you honestly believe the instrument is wrong. See rule number one. {Read The Journey Home for explanation}
Steve tried to focus on any stationary object he could find in the swirling room.
OK think about this. Five steps back and I'll hit his desk. Which way is back? Damn! Wait...Towards the marine. Carefully turning around he felt the man's grip tighten around his left arm. With an abrupt twist he freed himself from the grasp and weaved his way back till he rammed knee first into the corner of the desk and perched on the edge with his head down desperately willing the room to quit gyrating.
"Are you all right Sir?" The private asked as he stared at the ghostly white pallor of the senior officer.
"No." Steve replied as he glared towards the marine but in actuality stared down a recruiting poster behind and slightly to the right of the guard. "What the heck was that for?"
"Commander McGarrett!" The marine gasped in shock as he recognized the now famous officer. The commander, who most of the time is the first officer in every morning, had been the one to process his paperwork before Chief Sysmanski had arrived. Fresh from thirteen weeks of indoctrination at Parris Island Pvt. Jones had not expected ANY officer to give him the time of day let alone a tour of the facility and a jelly doughnut from the officer's wardroom. "Nobody said....." He started to say but stopped mid sentence. "Welcome back. You look good Sir."
"I doubt that very much but thanks anyway Private." He replied still hanging onto the edge of the desk with both hands.
"Nobody said nuthun 'bout you comin back" Jones stated relaxing somewhat.
"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it." Steve answered as he blinked away the last of the stars. "Why on Earth did you grab me? If I wanted to push it I could get you for assaulting an officer."
"Sir...I didn't..." The teenager stammered as he saw the hope of his long coveted stripe vanish.
Steve sat up straight and glared intensely at the once again panic stricken marine. He knew there was in actuality very little he could do,especially with out witnesses, but figured a few minutes of squirming adequate recompense for rocking the McGarrett world. "Why Mister!" He snapped as the words reverberated in his ears.
"I....Your tag Sir. You forgot to put it on." Jones replied trying to ignore the huge butterflies in his stomach.
Steve let go of the edge of the desk pointed towards his briefcase on the floor. "Its in there...You mind?"
"Not at all Sir" The private replied grateful for the momentary escape from the intense stare-down he had just been subjected to. Jones picked up the case and retrieved the commander's hat from the corridor where it had landed and set them on the desk next to him.
Turning very slowly McGarrett flipped open the combination lock, retrieved the security badge in question and clipped it to his left shirt pocket. "Been so long I forgot. Sorry." Snapping the case shut he slid off the table and grinned at the perspiring private and slapped the marine on the back. "You did the right thing. Keep up the good work Jones."
Reminding the marine to secure his weapon he headed towards the elevators laughing to himself that the poor kid had probably lost a gallon of sweat.
Steve admired the large polished brass Naval Intelligence seal mounted on the dark navy blue wall as he stepped out of the elevator. He wondered where the petty officer that was stationed in the hallway of the NIS floor just outside the smoked glass doors was. Probably gone to the head he rationalized. As he pushed open the door to the offices he promptly dismissed the thought.
On the wall just inside the door was a board that listed all the officers by name. Steve placed his hat and briefcase on top of the nearby filing cabinet and picked up a piece of chalk to make a mark next to his name near the top. When Steve noticed someone had changed the title in front of his name from LtCdr to Cdr he realized this promotion had removed him forever from field grade status and put him possibly on the fast track to Admiralty . Hum...come to think of it, there are very few short admirals. Maybe being able to reach the top of the board is a requirement for command He mused and remembered that he WAS the first one in his class to climb Hedron Memorial, which according to tradition would make him the first admiral. Except that the tradition had never proved true in over a century. Why would I be an exception. He thought sarcastically.
Steve slowly became aware of an annoying vibration in his ears. He turned towards the room and leaned against the wall as he tried to pop his ears. What the.... He thought as he noticed that the reel to reel tape machine, which was usually kept in a back office, was now in the center of the room playing rock music. A couple of female clerks were dancing off to the side of the room. The rest staff milled around the room, some carrying bottles of coke, a few others with plates of food and one or two carried manila folders. In the far corner Ensigns Foggarty and Tomlich tossed popcorn at each other trying to catch the kernels with their teeth. Oh nuts. So much for sneaking back in quietly. McGarrett sighed as he read his name in 8 inch red letters on the banner across the front of the room.
Wanting to be the first one to greet her boss, Lauri hastily set down her punch cup next to the telex machine and hurried across the room to hug him.
Staring fondly at Steve's secretary as she ran Ltjg McAdams became aware of whom she was greeting. His eyes grew wide in recognition of the man in the doorway.
"Attention on deck!" He commanded.
The order caused heads to turn and started a massive scramble as everyone set aside what they were doing and lined up according to rank.
As the rows of staff came to attention Steve pushed himself off the wall and returned the salute.
"Welcome back Sir." McAdams acknowledged relaxing to at ease position.
"Thanks." Steve smiled reluctantly as he retrieved his hat and briefcase from the top of the beat up dark gray filing cabinet underneath the board.."Can we just..."
Enthustically breaking out of formation,everyone trying to out talk each other as the group rushed towards him enmasse just as a heavy percussion segment began on the tape. As his world began a counterpunctal pulsation Steve headed towards his desk trying to ignore the whirling, increasingly stifling crowd.
"Steve!"
McGarrett instinctively flexed one leg as his name filtered down the warm black tunnel towards his consciousness. "What..... He thought as an oddly familiar voice accompanied the annoying shaking.
Slowly opening his eyes Steve found himself looking up at the face of a very concerned Lt. Anderson. "What's...? He croaked.
Glen started to grab him under the arms then decided that he might accidentally jerk his friend's arm back out of joint, released his hold and grabbed his friend by his belt and pulled him partly up the wall of cabinets.
"I don't know..." Steve stated in response to the obvious question. "Glen, can you turn off the damn music." He asked as the guitar rifts tore through his brain.
A seaman quickly yanked the plug from its wall socket.
"What happened?" Anderson asked more insistently.
"I don't...." Steve began as he looked at his friend. "Everything started spinning...a lot of movement still bothers me sometimes." This isn't going well at all. He thought I've only been back twenty minutes and already made an idiot out of myself. Twice." He winced at the memory of the lecture his friend had given him earlier in the morning. Maybe Frank was right, I should have stayed home.....try explaining that to Washington....
"Man why the hell are you here?!" Glen retorted defensively. "Is Heinriche an ass or what!"
"What's he got to do with...." Steve replied as he adjusted his position against the cold metal cabinets.
"I heard him on the phone last week yelling at your doctor trying to get you 1A'd. We all thought he was doing it for you because the doctor was being a jerk." Anderson stated with disgust as he looked over his shoulder at the window of the captain's office and focused on the opening between the slats of the venetian blinds. "Guess we know who the jerk is now." He stated disgustedly.
Steve started to get up as Anderson helped him to his feet.
"Are you OK?" McAdams asked as Anderson quickly grabbed hold of Steve's belt to keep him from pitching over forwards.
"I'm OK." He replied as he pushed away the hovering Anderson. "Just don't mob me alright." He slowly walked over to his desk and carefully sat in the chair. "So whats been happening around here?"
Ensign Walter Foggarty,who was a perpetually over eager young man, returned from the wardroom juggling three white ceramic Navy issue handleless cups of coffee and tried very hard not to spill the hot contents on himself as he plopped onto the chair next to Steve's desk. "Not a whole heck of alot really." He answered between bites of his fourth doughnut."You want one of these Sir?"
"Maybe later thanks." Steve replied and carefully shook his head in amazement at the youngsters seemingly endless appetite. "One of these days I'm going to run that off you."
The slightly overweight ensign smiled at the thought of his karate lessons being resumed. "I hope so soon Sir."
"You know." Steve chuckled as he looked at the tiny stack of folders on the corner of his usually overstacked desk. "This desk wasn't this empty when I arrived here from Japan."
"Bottom drawer Sir." Ensign Tomlich directed.
"All this?" Steve stared in shock at the huge mountain of paper that he had just piled on his desk from the now empty drawer.
"Three months worth of memos and directives Sir." The ensign informed as he tried not to laugh. "We didn't want you to feel left out."
"I think in this case." McGarrett grinned. "I could adjust." Another look at the stack of papers served only to further his discomfort. "I'll never get through it all before Christmas."
"Sure you will Sir." The junior officer replied and gestured towards the trash can. "Ninety percent of it can be 'filed'."
"Well you're probably right about that." McGarrett agreed as he tossed the first ten-page memo about the excessive use of office supplies into the circular file.
"The save paper speech Sir?" Tomlich laughed at the memory. "We made airplanes out of that one."
A loud screech from the ceiling interrupted the festivities.McGarrett reflexively put his hands over his ears and as a series of white-hot lightening bolts tore through his brain sending him unconscious to the top of his desk.
The noise lasted only a few seconds but it was at least five minutes before Steve awakened. "What the hell was that!" He asked slowly lifting his head off his desk.
"Its the ventilator again Sir." Jg Ramirez said calmly as he looked up at the ceiling. "I'm glad you're back Sir. You're the only one who can get anywhere with Base Maintenance."
Ah. Something easy. I can handle this. "Well,I guess I'm back." Steve answered as he picked up the receiver of the black telephone on the corner of his desk. "Anybody know the number?"
Jg McAdams reached for his directory. "I thought you had the book memorized Sir."
"Lieutenant, I can't think my way out of a paper bag." Steve snapped back at McAdams. "Just give me the damn number!"
"732....81...2...6" the lieutenant answered throwing the book back in his drawer and wondered if he was glad to have his mentor back or not.
After dialing the last number Steve sat back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk and waited."Good morning Seaman, let me speak to your superior please." He asked as he cradled the receiver against his shoulder. "Ah. Master Chief. Good morning. Yes it is a lovely day. But maybe a bit too warm." He said into the phone.
The group that had gathered around his desk began to snicker at the approach Steve was taking towards the man.
"You guys want the air conditioning fixed or not?" Steve asked ,with his hand over the phone, and glared at the crowd.
The group grew silent very quickly as Steve returned to his phonecall.
"Chief this is Lieutenant Comm...sorry..Commander McGarrett.NIS. Thank you I'm fine." He answered growing tired of the mans endless pleasantries. "Yes. it is good to be here." Steve answered looking around the room thinking that the answer for him had a far different meaning than what the man on the other end of the phone had intended. "Chief our air conditioner just died over here. Think maybe you could send someone to check it out? Well if you've been here before then there must be an ongoing problem. Correct? Perhaps today would be a good day to resolve it. What do you mean what am I doing to it??!!" Steve replied defensively. "I've been in the hospital for three months, I don't think I did ANYTHING to it!! Uh...nasty crash. Yeah I'll be OK. I saw alot of your guys over there fixing stuff all the time. Oh,they're a priority.....And intelligence isn't?... Come on Chief...its 82 degrees already. I realize you're busy...but we're on the third floor here. Its a basic law of physics Chief, heat rises. The frosting on my cake's starting to melt. Yeah it's my party." Steve stated as he circled in for the kill. "And Chief YOU'RE RAINING ON IT!!! Thank you Chief. Yes we'll see you in a little bit." Steve hung up the phone and put his left arm behind his head as he leaned back in his chair against the partition that was behind his desk. "He'll be here in an hour." McGarrett announced triumphantly.
"Man what a con job!" Glen laughed.
Steve shrugged "It's called Irish Diplomacy. The ability to tell a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to the trip. You big Swedes just don't get it."
"Why bother at all Sir? Just pull rank on him." Foggarty asked as he put down the sandwich he had been devouring. "You've got enough of it."
The group of officers shook their heads at the statement. Ensign Tomlich was puzzled by the looks his friend was getting from their superiors but also glad that he hadn't asked the question himself.
"Oh geez." Steve laughed and holding his ribs leaned forwards in the chair. I knew you were green but not THAT green."You've got a heck of alot to learn about the Navy son. That shavetail bar of yours doesn't mean a thing and my oak leaves don't count for much more. The first rule of Navy life is never EVER piss off a master chief. A good chief can be your best asset. They've been around a long time and know how to get whatever it is you need and more importantly who to get it from. Make him mad and he'll make your life a living hell...you won't be able to requisition so much as a paper clip out of him."
While the rest of the staff resumed their work, between trips to the food ladden table, Steve struggled through the paper mountain.
"This is ridiculous." McGarrett berated as he tried unsuccessfully to make sense out of the updated cipher machine instructions. The words started to move around on the page. I suppose I'll need this one someday. He thought and tossed the folder back in the bottom drawer. His head felt like it was on the business end of a jackhammer as the edges of his vison started to close in around him. Laying his head down on the desk he waited for the pounding to cease. Moments later McGarrett slowly sat up and thumbed the stack of papers still left in front of him. He did not to repeat the experience. Lost in thought he began to play with the bayonet he kept on his desk.
Glen, pleased to have his friend back,walked up and set a plate of macaroni salad on top of the folders. The abrupt movement startled Steve back to reality and he instinctively pushed his chair back from the desk.
The quick unexpected movement startled Anderson. Seeing only the moving knife Glen quickly pinned Steve's arm to the desk and wrested the weapon away. With the knife secured he dropped into the chair beside Steve's desk. "Careful." He exhaled deeply."Man you could kill somebody with that thing!"
Once he recovered from the scuffle McGarrett scooted the chair back under his desk and shook his head at Anderson's paranoid reaction.
"What's up?" He asked as he settled back in the chair.
"You gotta eat." Glen stated and impatiently moved the plate closer. "Come on."
"I'm not hungry." Steve insisted.
"Yeah right." Anderson retorted. "You look like something out of Lang Bak Prison."
"Re-education Center." Steve replied with a grin as he reminded his former cellmate of the Chinese euphemism for the POW camp.
"We never did learn what the true freedom of communism was." Glen added with a sarcastic laugh as he gestured with the knife at the plate.
"Dammit I told you I wasn't hungry!" Steve barked and glared intensely at his friend. "It's bad enough I've got Mother Evershall at home hovering over me. I'm not going to be babysat here too. Back off Anderson!"
Stunned by the outburst Glen sat back in the chair and toyed with the bayonet for several minutes. He still hurt from the tirade, but finally Glen came to the conclusion that to McGarrett the threat to his independence was far worse than any physical trauma. "Hey Steve?" He asked tentatively. "Where'd you get this thing anyway?"
"Huh?" McGarrett replied distractedly as he looked up from rearranging the pasta on his plate. "Oh. I picked it up in Korea someplace."
"A Chinese officers bayonet.Right." Glen replied not totally believing Steve's vague answer. "These little gut punchers weren't just laying around in the woods."
"The mission's still classified Glen." Steve commented.
"Damn Navy." Anderson retorted as he tilted his chair back down. "We fight a war and can't even talk about it among ourselves." Feeling at ease again he quickly changed the subject. " So how the heck are you?"
"I wish I knew." Steve answered as he relaxed into the leather chair. "Everything's fuzzy around the edges. I can't think past step three and if I read much more than the front page I get a headache like you wouldn't believe." Steve dropped the plastic fork back on the desk and pulled his right knee up in the chair. "You saw what happens with moving things. I'm lucky the Patrol didn't pick me up for DUI this morning."
"You wrecked your T-Bird??" Glen exclaimed disappointedly. "Oh man what a bummer."
"No.It's still in one piece" Steve replied with the suspicion that Glen had planned on conning him out of his car for the weekend. "I've got a staff car..if I'm going to wreck something let it be Navy property. Frank's using the T-Bird anyway while he's here. It's safer with him. The way Frankie dents cars though that's a frightening thought.
"I'll bet." Anderson sighed sympathetically. "Driving one handed has got to be a pain in the butt."
Steve laughed as he looked up at Glen. "You really don't want to know." He said. "That parts not so bad. I drive that way most of the time anyway. Thank god for automatic transmission though. Try opening a coke bottle or tying your shoes. Every time I turn around somebody's saluting me. It's starting to get very old very quickly." He answered then changed the subject. "Did I tell you who's stationed in Hong Kong now? Roger Hennessey."
"You're kidding." Anderson replied as he propped his feet up on the corner of Steve's desk. "I thought he was still in London. Man's gonna forget how to drive on the right pretty soon. So how is he?"
"We went to lunch up on Victoria Peak." Steve replied as he smiled at the only pleasant memory of the China mission. "Sunburned his nose again."
They both laughed uproariously at the absent Roger's expense. "Man he should have stayed where he was." Glen stated. "I was in the UK for 4 months. Think it rained every day I was there except the morning I left." He added with a smirk.
Ltjg Jenkins,drinking his fifth Coke of the day, approached his friends and sat exhaustedly on the corner of Steve's desk. "So what's up with Hinney?" He asked pointing the neck of the bottle towards the Captain's office.
"How should I know." Glen retorted nearly choking on a bite of cake. "Maybe he's getting a personality transplant."
"From a cadaver." Jenkins laughed."didn't know they had one available for him yet.
"Come on guys." Steve replied as he half-heartedly tried to justify Heinriche's peculiarities. "He's not all that bad."
"He's a jerk Steve." Glen reminded.
"I know." McGarrett agreed. "But there's a whole other side to him.... believe it or not. During the debrief..."
Anderson reached over and stole one of Steve's pretzels. "How many times did he quick march you around the room first?" Glen interrupted sarcastically.
"Nah Glen." Jenkins replied draining the bottle and tossing it in the trash can. "He had him doing knuckle pushups." He corrected and helped himself to the pretzels.
"You guys. He was OK. Really." Steve assured as he glanced at his wristwatch and realized that only an hour remained till the end of watch. "Where is he by the way?"
Glen turned around in his chair and looked in the direction of the captain's office. "In his office. Surveying us from behind the venetian blinds like always. It'd probably kill him to come out and mingle." He made a disgusted hissing noise and turned back towards the group. "Lately he doesn't say hello, even if you're in the elevator with him. He's getting ridiculous. I hope he gets his flag so he'll be out of here."
"We could get worse." Steve cautiously advised.
"Must be brain damage." Jenkins joked as he shook his head. "Steve, you got a thing for this guy?"
"No." McGarrett insisted. "He's a class A jerk. But there's far worse out there we could get."
"Or..." Glen smiled. "They could give it to you."
"I doubt that very much." Steve dismissed. "I don't kiss up very well. Just remember the axiom. 'Know your enemy'. We know Hinney's quirks."
*********
Unable to sleep the previous night Steve sat with his head down on his still empty desk. When Captain Heinriche opened his door and observed his executive officer he shook his head in disgust at what he was being forced to do. "You call this a report?!" Heinriche yelled for the benefit of the rest of the staff. "McGarrett hike your tail in here! NOW MISTER!!"
What does the old bird want? I haven't been back long enough to have done anything wrong. Steve thought as he carefully stood up and walked slowly towards the office.
The junior officers exchanged unpleasant looks.
"You wanted to see me Sir?" McGarrett asked as he closed the door behind himself and leaned against it.
Heinriche turned away from the window and saluted the newest senior officer on station. "Sit down Steve before you fall down." Heinriche advised. "Drink?" He asked as he picked up the scotch bottle off his desk. "You look like a centerfold for Mortician's Monthly."
"No thanks." Steve declined as he carefully took a seat in the chair across from Hinney. "I'm off balance enough as it is."
"Yeah I suppose you are." The captain acknowledged as he poured the amber liquid into a not so small glass and swallowed it in one warm gulp. "You're going to want one in a minute. Steve..." He said with hesitation. "I don't quite know how to tell you this. Two months ago...we lost High Eye."
"The satellite? Lost it?" Steve exclaimed as he stared back at his superior with a look of shock. "My project?" McGarrett questioned. "It was no where near ready for launch. How could it get lost?" He asked with trepidation as he leaned forwards in the chair. I don't feel like yelling at anyone. "Who screwed the pooch?"
"Last chance." Heinriche informed as he poured another drink.
Steve waved his declination.
"OK." He stated as the liquor burned its way down his esophagus. "It was leaked to the Russians." He explained chewing yet another Rolaids. "They've been tracking this, Steve. Washington thinks it was stolen from here."
"WHAT!" Steve gasped as he jerked upright in the chair nearly throwing himself over backwards. "NO WAY!!"
Heinriche massaged his burning ulcer as he walked around his desk and peered through the closed blinds. "Someone out there's a spy."
"Sir." Steve smirked at him. "We're all spies. Including you."
"Don't be impertinent." The Old Man retorted but begrudgingly half smiled.
McGarrett's anger at Washington's assumption had been building but the fact that the captain believed it was too much. Outraged by the unjust accusation Steve, momentarily forgetting about the ramifications of abrupt movements, leapt to his feet. As the room began to tilt backwards he grabbed hold of the corner of Heinriche's desk and stood perfectly still with his head down. "Sir..." Sensing himself falling forwards he quickly sat on the corner of the desk holding his head in his left hand. "That's a bunch of crap! Washington has to blame somebody. And we're the farthest from the Beltway. This is ludicrous."
"Steve calm down!" Heinriche ordered as he grabbed his agent who was about to slide off the desk and put him back in the chair.
"Sir, I work with these people. NO WAY!" Steve snapped and immediately regretted the outburst as he closed his eyes and slumped down in the chair. "What makes you so sure its not me?" He asked quietly as his equilibrium slowly returned.
"You were unconscious when it disappeared. You couldn't have done it." Heinriche replied earnestly. " I told you previously that Washington has me by the balls. It's not just about the nodongs." The captain shoved aside a stack of books and sat on the corner of his desk to face his officer. "Steve you're the only one I can trust with this. I'm sorry to have to do this to you...but...the minute you could stand up I started pushing the doctors into releasing you for this. The shorter one's a tough little nut to crack...I should have had him sent back to Japan the first day..."
"Why didn't you tell me about this last week. Or yesterday for that matter." Steve demanded as his head cleared.
"I...." Heinriche hesitated. "They were having that party...I didn't want to ruin it for you."
Frustrated and angry at Heinriche's acceptance of Washington's theory Steve sat up straight in the chair and glared at the captain. "I don't believe any of this. Screw the Pentagon! For once in your life, drop the damn book. These are your people, why aren't you backing us up?" He demanded curtly and purposefully omitted the customary 'Sir'. Could this some kind of power play Steve began to wonder. Did Heinriche want his star badly enough that he would sell out one of his own to get it? Perhaps Glen was right after all and the man was an uncaring bureaucratic drone.
Heinriche walked around behind his officer and put his hands on Steve's shoulders in an attempt to calm him. "I know." He acknowledged and quickly returned to his place on the edge of the desk. "I pray that you're right. But we have got to know for sure." The captain leaned towards Steve and almost whispered. "Here's what I want you to do. Go back out there and let the tough guy act go. Tomorrow I'll announce you're back on medical leave indefinitely. Everyone will buy that. That will free you to follow up on what ever develops without arousing suspicion amongst the staff. After watch, come here and I'll let you in the back door. I'm having all the personnel records sent over this afternoon. The clerk thinks that I want to get a jump on the promotions board. That cover will last at least a couple of weeks." Heinriche looked at Steve with a sympathetic expression. "Steve...whether you chose to believe it or not I really hate doing this..."
Yeah I'll just bet you do. McGarrett thought sarcastically. You want things tidy for your flag review. So you'd kiss ass clear up to the White House and screw whoever gets in the way. "I'll do this. But only to prove they're wrong." And make sure somebody here doesn't get hung out to dry. He replied crisply snapping to attention. "But when we're clean I want to be the one to shove it up the Pentagon's rear echelon."
"Deal." The Old Man agreed as he handed him a folder. "Now go on. Get out of here." And dismissed Steve with a wave of his hand.
Steve returned to his desk threw the folder down and stormed out the door. The rest of the staff exchanged nervous glances at each other and wondered what had happened in the captain's office. It took alot more than just being called on the carpet to upset Commander McGarrett.
Twenty minutes later Steve returned carrying a box of records. He dumped them onto his desk and collapsed into the chair. Still frustrated he opened one of the manila folders, played with the pages for a few minutes then angrily threw it against the wall.
Concerned by their boss's outburst and still wondering what had transpired in the office the two ensigns looked at each other nervously again.
"You OK Sir?" Foggarty foolishly asked.
"Idiotic JAG lawyers..." Steve sighed.
"What was that all about?" Tomlich asked as he pointed to the pile of papers scattered on the floor.
"Nothing." Steve replied sheepishly. "A guy I busted for murder is appealing. Damn lawyers want to retry him on a 'procedural error'. I'm just the guy who chased his tail all over Seoul to bust to jerk, not the JAG who prosecuted." He sat back in his chair and wearily rubbed his forehead. "Walter Stewert's not even in the Navy anymore. Some ding-dong of a Jg from Portsmouth is running the case now. But guess who gets stuck with redoing the paperwork."
Steve picked up his pen and sat up in the chair. "Look, I've got to have this done by end of watch OK."
"Want us to help you?" Foggarty asked as he eagerly gathered the papers from the floor.
"Nah. You guys were still riding bicycles when this went down. Trinnean was guilty as hell six years ago and he's still yelling frame. He finally got somebody to believe him I guess. Good Lord." He groaned. "I'm going to have to find Seaman Rutgers all over again...this is such a waste."
******
Three hours later Anderson entered the room carrying a half empty Coke bottle. "Where's Steve?" He asked setting it down on the desk and pointing towards the vacant chair.
Ensign Tomlich looked up apprehensively. "Lt Jenkin's has got him up in the garden."
"Oh." Glen replied deciding that sitting in the sun with his two friends would be a welcome respite from the days drudgery.
"Sir, he doesn't look too good." Tomlich warned. "Couple of cipher clerks found him zoned out in the wardroom."
"What happened?" Glen asked anxiously.
"Don't know Sir." Tomlich replied."I saw him in there earlier. That chief from maintenance was screwing the grate back on and dropped his screwdriver. The commander handed it back up to him, then poured himself a cup of coffee and sat on the couch. He was fine when I left.
"How long ago was that." Anderson demanded.
"About half an hour I guess." Tomlich replied. "The chief left behind me. I swear to you Sir. He was OK then."
"What's Hinney trying to pull!" Glen yelled and pounded his fist on the desk knocking the coke bottle on its side and spilling its contents all over Steve's desk. "If the Old Man's looking for me I'll be up on the roof." He stormed towards the service elevator.
Behind the air conditioner unit on the roof of the Security Building, there was a collection of cocoa palms growing in buckets along with an assortment of plants. Wild philodendron entertwined itself around the antenna cables which provided a loose canopy over the battleship gray metal tables and chairs. A power cable ran across the roof underneath the thin layer of beach sand covering the asphalt and into an access panel where it was spliced into the main power circuit. Colored Christmas lights encircled the edge of the roof delineating the area referred to by the staff as The Garden.
Steve was asleep in one of the deckchairs. Lt Jenkins sat in a nearby chair staring at him when Anderson came tearing around the corner. "Pete." He called out. "what the heck's....."
Jenkins quickly stood to intercept him and shoved Glen less than gently into one of the straight-back chairs. "Shhh." He warned putting a finger to his lips. "You'll wake him up. I just got him calmed down."
"What happened?" Glen asked as he saw his friend squirm restlessly in his sleep.
"I don't know..." Jenkins replied quietly. "He was freaking out in the wardroom when I got there...carrying on about somebody named Tang and calling me Ron. I dragged him up here before Hinney saw him."
"Oh geez!" Glen gasped as he leaned back in the chair. "Tang was the commandant at Lang Bak Prison. Real sadistic SOB. Four of us escaped from there; Me, Steve, a guy named Roger Hennessey and Ron Nicholson." Glen idly eyed Jenkins."You do kind of look like Ron, a little." He observed. "Something must have tripped his trigger. Man, you should have dumped him right on Hinney's desk!" Anderson exclaimed. "Let him see what he's done. What in the world is that old fart up to? He's gonna kill him."
"Glen, what are we going to do?" Jenkins asked his equally concerned mentor.
"Let him sleep for now I guess." Anderson replied. "When he wakes up we can reorient him if we have to. Several times when I was visiting, right after he came out of it, all of a sudden out of the clear blue he'd say some weird stuff. Charlie signs from Korea mostly, something about artillery in the old J-Bird code. Drove his friend Frank nuts. I guess that's why they lock us up when something like this happens. Just from what Frank wrote down...."
" Glen incoming!" Steve cried out as he dove off the deck chair. Landing on his right side he screamed in agony but was jolted back to reality. "How did I get up here?" He asked through clenched teeth.
" You know where you are?" Jenkins asked staring back in shock.
Oh Lord. Now what. "You tell me." Steve replied as Jenkins pulled him to a sitting position.
Brushing away the sand Glen sat down on the asphalt next to him. "You were babbling about Lang Bak. All I know."
"Before I find out about what?" The captain asked as he stepped out from behind the corner.
"Sir! I...before...well...he's." Jenkins stumbled on his words as he leapt to his feet and saluted.
"I'll handle this Pete." Glen interjected as he jumped to his feet."Captain what the hell are you up to? I know you badgered a release for Steve out of the doctors. This is bullshit Sir!." Glen barked as he pointed to towards the dazed McGarrett who was sitting against the deckchair. "A few minutes ago he thought he was back in Korea. You're going to kill him." Anderson took a step closer to the captain and poked his finger in Heinriche's chest. "Anything happens I'm holding YOU personally responsible."
LIEUTENANT. AT EASE!" Heinriche ordered as Jenkins came up behind Anderson, grabbed his arms and restrained them behind his back in an effort to prevent further insubordination.
"I don't have to justify anything to you Anderson...either of you." The irate Heinriche barked. "Last time I checked Captain is above Lieutenant. Anderson I could have you facing a Board of Inquiry for that outburst." Heinriche threatened. "Touch me one more time and I will." Heinriche threatened. "But.. I will say this much. The last time I saw him in the hospital he was depressed, staring into space, not doing what he was told to. I happened to mention one of the cases he'd had before...he perked up. I thought maybe if he got back here. Maybe. I don't know what I thought....But I sure as hell won't be justifying my actions to a pair of insubordinate junior officers."
"Yeah he never could sit still." Glen agreed reluctantly as he started to calm down. "Let him come visit or something. But Sir he's not together yet."
"You're right." Heinriche acknowledged pulling Steve to his feet. "Take him home. I'll start the paperwork for an indefinite medical."
The two lieutenants headed for the elevator followed by Steve and the captain."Good show son." Heinriche whispered. "I'll see you at 18:00."
"Sir it wasn't..." Steve replied tripping over the powercable.
***********
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