I didn't plan to run this story next, but I realized in my personal chronology (my stories minus episode tags) it came next. There are some spoilers for Episode 18 "Loa Aloha." And wasn't it nice of the series to provide an FBI agent with a grudge just when I needed one for a story. This story takes place a couple of months after "Loa Aloha" (but somehow before Episode 19 when Jenna shows up). And, yes, I've been writing this story since before Episode 18 aired, but other stories kept rudely shoving it aside. Now it's time.
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Chapter 1: Do You Own a Silver Camaro?
"Daniel Williams, where were you at 1 p.m. on Saturday, March 12?"
Standing in his doorway, the Five-0 detective regarded the men on his doorstep. "Why, Agent Kipton and Agent Markowitz, how lovely to see you again," Danny said sarcastically.
"That's special agent," Kipton corrected.
"Right, special agent," Danny agreed with an emphasis strongly reminiscent of Dana Carvey on Saturday Night Live.
"Maybe we should continue this inside," Special Agent Adam Markowitz suggested.
Danny snorted. "Save that for the civilians," he said. If he let the FBI agents inside, they could poke around at their pleasure. Instead, he stepped out on the square of concrete that passed for a porch at his one-room apartment and shut the door firmly behind him.
"Would you answer my question?" Special Agent Edward Kipton said impatiently.
Danny led the way to an out-of-the-way picnic table and sat on the bench. Kipton sat across from him while Markowitz sat beside him. Danny ignored the flanking maneuver and focused his attention on Kipton.
"Would you mind repeating the question?"
"Where were you at 1 p.m. on Saturday, March 12?"
Danny had expected harassment about obstructing justice regarding his fugitive brother. (The memory made his throat contract.) March 12 was new. He had to think for a moment, then he remembered.
"I was on a boat," he said confidently, realizing he had a solid alibi for whatever the FBI was investigating. "I was chaperoning a 9-year-old's birthday party. Little Hannah, a friend of my daughter's, is a budding environmentalist. She wanted to go whale watching. Hannah's parents, the boat crew, eight little girls and a pod of dolphins can confirm my alibi."
"Do you own a silver Camaro, license number DV2 399?"
"Yes," Danny said suspiciously, wondering where this was going.
"Did you have it with you that day?"
"What, on the boat?"
Kipton glared at him.
Danny was unmoved, but chose to answer the silent question. "I did not have my Camaro. I rented an SUV so we could carpool to the docks."
"Where did you leave your Camaro?"
Danny started to answer; then snapped his mouth shut. Steve! This was about Steve!
Kipton's eyes flashed with triumph. "Well?"
"I think you already know."
"Maybe, but we need to hear it from you."
Danny's mind raced. What trouble was his partner in? Reluctantly, the detective told the agents the truth.
"I left it with Commander McGarrett."
"Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, the head of Five-0," Markowitz clarified.
"That's correct," Danny said shortly.
Kipton jotted something in a notebook. "Do you often loan your car to McGarrett?" he said slyly.
Whether I want to or not, Danny thought, but he said, "Yes, he likes it and he always washes it and returns it with a full tank of gas."
"So you wouldn't know where he took it or how far he drove it?"
What was going on? Danny had a bad feeling about this.
"I keep track of the mileage for work. I'd probably notice if he drove a couple of hundred miles, but that's not likely on Oahu."
Kipton made another note.
"Is this your car?" Markowitz said, flinging down a photo with a flourish.
Taken from above and behind, the photo showed a silver Camaro with a sunroof. Mud was smeared on the tires and the lower quarter of the car, including the license plate.
"I can't tell," Danny said calmly. "It looks like the same model and color, but I can't see the license plate. I can't have the only silver Camaro on the island."
"We have proof that it's your car, detective," Kipton gloated.
"And if it is, so what? What's this all about?"
"This is about the death of a federal prosecutor, Christopher York, who had been investigating a drug cartel. He had arranged for surveillance to capture pictures of cars going to a meeting. Instead, they got pictures of his killer. These are surveillance photos taken on March 12," Kipton said, waving a thumb drive under Danny's nose. The FBI agent tapped the photo. "This car drove onto a dead end street and then, 20 minutes later, pulled out again. Half an hour after that, when York failed to check in on schedule, the FBI surveillance team checked on him and found him dead. York had been an Army Ranger. He was a certified krav maga instructor. His assassin caught him by surprise and broke his neck in hand-to-hand combat without making enough commotion to alert the surveillance team. Only an experienced commando could do that, someone like a Navy SEAL."
"Maybe so, but why pick on Steve? This island is full of military and ex-military," Danny scoffed.
"Who had access to your car, detective?" Kipton sneered. "I don't think so."
"I know you don't like him. That doesn't make him a murderer."
"He lied to us. He lied and helped your brother escape the country. Did you ever think maybe he didn't do it out of loyalty to his partner? Maybe your brother paid him off."
"You are certifiably insane," Danny said. "I'm not listening to any more."
"You'd better, for McGarrett's sake," Markowitz warned. "Being the governor's pet won't save him from a federal charge. We had evidence enough to convince a federal judge to issue a warrant for McGarrett's arrest."
Danny's heart sank. "If you have a warrant, why are you bothering me?"
"We want you to serve it," Kipton said.
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"You want me to arrest my boss? My friend?" Danny asked incredulously.
"We want you to book him, Danno," Kipton smirked.
Then something happened that his Five-0 friends had never seen. Danny Williams went utterly still. His mouth didn't spit out a diatribe. His hands didn't gesture his outrage. He didn't even bite his lip. The man who was always in motion didn't move. At all.
Looking into his eyes, Kipton was forcibly reminded of the time he flew over Kilauea and looked into the molten heart of its eruption. The FBI agent took an involuntary step back from the murderous fury he saw in Danny's eyes.
Markowitz thought his partner had caught his heel on the rug, because, from the side, he couldn't see the peril. After all, Danny hadn't moved an inch.
Having successfully repressed the impulse to commit homicide, Danny's fingers twitched, his shoulders relaxed and his teeth chewed pensively on his bottom lip.
"You've obviously researched me," he said in a voice so calm and reasonable, Kipton decided he must have imagined the volcanic fury. "Have you gone back as far as my school days? I had an undeserved reputation as a troublemaker when, really, I was a trouble ender. See — this will surprise you, I'm sure — I was kind of a small kid," the 5-5 detective explained. "There were some bigger kids who liked to pick on smaller ones. Bigger or not, three against one or not, I went after them with everything I had. The principal said I started the fight but, in my mind, what I did was finish it."
"Is there a point to this story?"
Danny jabbed his finger in Kipton's chest. "Don't provoke me," the detective said. "Why are you asking me to do this?"
"You can get close to him. Maybe you can talk him into surrendering." The FBI agent didn't say it as if he meant it, but more as if he was just humoring Danny. He thought Steve McGarrett was a dangerous felon and wouldn't surrender without a fight. "If you won't do it, my men and SWAT will. We have a strike force primed and ready. All they need is an address."
Danny tried to remember if he'd ever talked Steve into doing anything. He talked, but Steve never listened. But if he didn't try, Kipton's men would not hesitate to shoot him down like a rabid dog.
"OK, I'll do it, but not for you. And I want something in return. I want that flash drive."
Danny said, "They're just copies of your surveillance photos, right? I want to see this evidence for myself."
"Why do you want it?" Kipton demanded.
"To prove you're wrong, of course," Danny retorted.
"We're not wrong, detective."
"Then it won't hurt to let me have it."
Danny kept his hand out until Kipton gestured for his partner to hand it over.
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Danny half expected Kipton to impound his Camaro, but the agent permitted him to drive it to HPD — with Markowitz riding shotgun.
The FBI agents obviously didn't want him to warn Steve. Danny wasn't sure he would, even if he could. Danny wanted to tell Steve in person to stop him from going off half-cocked.
At HPD, Danny found Kipton's men organizing a raid with SWAT Lieutenant David Akutagawa.
Kipton's men had worked out positions for SWAT officers and an FBI tactical unit.
"We'll have men on the beach behind the house here and here," the FBI tactical leader said. "We'll put snipers on the roofs here and here and we'll bring in a truck here to provide a third sniper position. I want you to remember this man is armed and considered dangerous. Hell, he's a commando. He's dangerous even unarmed."
Aku nodded at Danny, wondering why the FBI hadn't mentioned Five-0's involvement. "Mind telling us who we're going to arrest?"
"Steve," Danny answered bleakly. "They're going to arrest Steve."
"McGarrett?" Aku couldn't believe it. "Steve McGarrett's the head of the governor's task force!"
"The governor of Hawaii can't supersede federal law!" Kipton said in triumph. "You can see why we kept the target a secret. We're going to send Williams in to try to talk his partner out …" Kipton looked past Markowitz and didn't see Danny. "Where'd Williams go?" he barked.
"Keep your shorts on, Kipton," Danny said as he returned to the room. "I just needed to get some equipment."
"Did you call McGarrett?" Kipton demanded. "It's your duty to assist the FBI."
Danny exploded, bombarding Kipton with verbal shrapnel. "Don't lecture me about duty, damn you. You want me to do your dirty work because you're scared of the big bad SEAL. I'll bring Steve in because I can do it without anyone getting hurt. You're so scared of him, you'd shoot him if he blinked."
"You're wrong about him, Williams. He's a cold-blooded killer and I have the proof."
"If I'm wrong, you can tell my corpse 'I told you so'," Danny snapped. "And when I prove you wrong, when the governor gets back from Washington, I'm going to press her to get you transferred to the 49th state instead of the 50th. I hear Fairbanks is nice this time of year."
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Steve didn't take it well. When he realized Danny wasn't joking, he got furious. He was determined to have it out with Kipton, but Danny worried if he looked aggressive, he might get himself killed.
"Please, Steve, just come with me quietly. We'll get this straightened out. I'm begging you." Palms together as if he was praying, Danny pleaded with his friend to be reasonable, but Steve was too angry.
"I'm not going anywhere with you!"
"Steve, if you don't come quietly for questioning, I'm going to have to arrest you!"
Steve slapped his friend's hands away. "You think you can take me, Danny?"
"Take you? What are you, eight? No I couldn't take you, not on your worst day. You're a trained killer and I'm just a cop," Danny said realistically. "That's why the FBI ordered me to bring you in. That's why they're afraid of you!" he shouted.
"I'm going out there and you're going to have to shoot me to stop me!"
Danny sighed in surrender and stuck his hand in his pocket. "No, I don't have to shoot you. That's the beauty of modern science."
Planning his verbal assault on Kipton, Steve was only half listening. "Huh?" He started to turn and Danny tasered him.
To be continued
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I know, tasered again. I swear, I wrote this before the season finale.