Hogan's Heroes, Hawaii Five-O, and Streets of San Francisco are the property of others. No copyright infringement is intended.
Detective sergeant Norm Haseejian SFPD leaned back in his chair as he surveyed the view from the terrace of the small Waikiki restaurant. He sampled the macadamia nut muffin on his plate and followed it with a sip of fresh Kona coffee. "Delicious! I'll have to bring some back for the squad room. Not quite strong enough, however, but an extra scoop or two for the pot would fix that!"
He studied the other diners and found his scrutiny stopping at a pair of men in business suits who also seemed to be enjoying a late breakfast as they talked with the little Frenchman who owned the place. "Cops? Maybe? Something about them . . . Maybe not. Too intense, especially the taller man. Mob? Possibly."
Danny Williams smiled in appreciation as he finished the last of LeBeau's new macadamia-apple strudel. Who would have expected that a fusion of a Hawaiian delicacy and a German dessert could taste so good! He congratulated the little chef - Master chef, he corrected mentally -
and added, "Kono would love this! He's got a sweet tooth that just doesn't quit!"
Louis LeBeau nodded his thanks. "Then, mes amis, he should try some." He wrote something on a card and handed it to the young detective. "With my compliments," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "He reminds me of Schultz! He could never resist my strudel!"
"With good reason," McGarrett added with a chuckle. "It's a winner." The two men stood up to leave. "You and Kono checking out those robberies at the International Marketplace?
"Yeah, Steve," Danny replied as he looked at his watch. "He's meeting me there in a few minutes We'll check in with you this afternoon."
His curiosity aroused, Haseejian watched as the Frenchman handed something to the smaller man. "Money? Too far away to tell." The young man's jacket fell open slightly as he turned to leave, allowing the San Francisco cop a glimpse of the handle of a pistol. " A shakedown? Possibly!" He memorized the appearance of the two men. He'd report the incident to HPD later. After all, it wasn't his jurisdiction. Let them handle it. The Honolulu cops were probably already aware of this pair. Meanwhile, he had some time to kill before an afternoon appointment at the Hawaii Five-O offices. Stone and Keller had spoken highly of the small state police unit and the Armenian cop was looking forward to meeting the team. He decided to visit the nearby International Marketplace. Got to pick up something nice for my family!
"Just a string of petty robberies!" Danny muttered, "At least to start."
"Yeah, Bruddah," the Hawaiian detective answered. "But they getting violent! That last shopkeeper, Mr. Miasaku, got beat up pretty bad when he tried to resist."
"And the next one might be worse," Danny added. "Let's see if we can get a better description from some of the other shop people in the area."
"And maybe a shave ice first?" the ever-hungry Kono queried.
"OK," Danny laughed as they headed for the nearest shave ice stand.
Haseejian eagerly explored the many shops lining the winding walkways of the Marketplace. He choose a few gifts, taking his time as he went from shop to shop. Like Ghirardelli Square, only better! Hesampled some chocolate-covered macadamias. Gotta get some of these for me! As he paid for his purchase,a now-familiar figure caught his eye: the little curly-haired guy from the restaurant. Only now he was accompanied by a big Hawaiian. "Muscle?" He watched as the two went from shop to shop. Definitely a shakedown.
The San Francisco cop noticed an older HPD officer several yards away. Better let him know what's happening. He began to move in the cop's direction when he saw the men he'd been watching approach a nearby shopkeeper. They seemed to be in serious conversation.
"You recognized the man?" Danny questioned.
"His name's Johnny Lukas. He used to hang around with my neighbor's kids before he went into the army.. He's bad news. He's big into drugs—got a real nasty habit. Picked it up over in Nam. You better get him before he really hurts someone. He lives over in the Kalihi district." He gave the two Five-O officers the address.
"I'll go call it in to HPD, Bruddah. They can pick him up and bring him in for questioning.
The big detective moved off.
Haseejian hadn't heard the conversation, but it certainly looked like the two guys had been intimidating the shopkeeper. He decided to act.
Danny watched as Kono moved toward his car. He started to follow when he was grabbed from behind, his left arm painfully twisted behind his back in an unbreakable grip. His eyes watering, he yelped in pain. It felt like his wrist was crushed.
"Haseejian, SFPD. Don't move!" his assailant's voice growled the command. Danny closed his eyes. He couldn't move even if he wanted to.
"There's a policeman on his way," Haseejian informed his captive. "He'll take you in . . ." he didn't finish the sentence—the gun pressed in his back prevented him from speaking. "Let go of him, Bruddah. We're cops. Five-O."
An embarrassed Haseejian released his captive. Danny groaned and rubbed his wrist. It felt like every muscle, bone, and nerve were crushed, His hand was starting to swell. He sat down hard on a nearby bench, still rubbing his wrist. It didn't help. He bit his lower lip and nodded slightly at Kono's "You OK, Kaikaina? Steve's not gonna like this."
Danny shook his head, looking up at the sound of Duke Lukela's voice. "Assaulting a police officer! Want me to take him in?"
"He's an out-of-town cop," Kono replied. "He made one big mistake. Steve's gonna be plenty mad. I'll let him handle it." He went on to give Duke the particulars on Lukas and instructed the older officer to have the suspect picked up.
"Kono," Danny muttered, "We'd better get back to the Palace-and take Haseejian with us. Steve's not the only one who's gonna be mad." He was thinking of Mike Stone.
"OK, Danny," Kono grinned. "I'll drive."
An angry Mike Stone was a teddy bear compared to an angry Steve McGarrett, Haseejian decided. The dark blue eyes practically bored a hole through him. How could I have made such a stupid mistake? Mike will probably suspend me for a month! If he doesn't fire me.
A slight groan from his young second-in-command diverted the Boss's attention. He gently examined the other man's arm. "You need to see Bergman. I don't think it's broken, but it looks like a bad sprain." McGarrett pointed to Haseejian. "You want me to book him, Danno?" He smirked. Danny shook his head.
"Mistaken identity, Mr. McGarrett. Mistaken identity. I didn't know he was a cop."
Steve laughed in spite of himself. "Then for your penance, you can explain it to Doc!"
"Nothing broken, young man," Doc smirked as he strapped a soft supporting splint to Danny's wrist. "But it's desk duty for you for a few days. No driving, no surfing, no car chases, no tackling criminals . . ." Danny's face fell as the list went on. "And use this sling for the next two days, just to give the wrist some time to rest." The curmudgeonly medico turned to Haseejian. "As for you—no more tackling cops, especially Five-O cops. Steve McGarrett doesn't like it when one of his guys gets hurt!"
" I already found that out," the rueful cop muttered.
"I'm sure you did," Bergman replied with a sardonic grin. "Now back to work and keep out of trouble. I've got other patients who need my attention and Danny has a report to dictate. At least Steve won't have to decipher his typos for a while!"
"Stop apologizing, Norm!" Danny laughed after what felt like the Armenian cop's tenth "I'm sorry."
"But I should have recognized you! You were one of Mike's favorite college interns."
"That was a few years ago," Williams replied. "Weren't you still walking a beat back then?" Haseejian nodded. "Then let's just drop it. It was an accident. Could have happened to anybody"
"But why does it always happen to me?"
"Bad karma," Kono snickered as he dropped into the driver's seat. "Better get back to the office. Boss will be wanting a report on that Lukas case."
General Robert Hogan read the report for the second time. Drug smuggling! He ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It was easier rescuing escaped prisoners and blowing up bridges! He hit the intercom. "Kinch?" he said as his second-in-command answered. "Come to my office. We've got a big problem."
"What's going on, General?" Kinch heard trouble in his CO's voice.
Hogan handed the dark-skinned officer a report. "Just got this. It's bad enough that so many of our vets coming back from Vietnam with drug problems. Now it looks like a smuggling operation is targeting them to be local pushers."
"That makes it our concern. Five-O will be interested, too. You think Newkirk might have gotten any info from his MI contacts?" Kinch went back to the report. "It says here that the only thing our agents have picked up is the code name Unicorn."
Hogan nodded. "We'll need assistance from civilian authorities. I'll call McGarrett and set up a meeting. You call the guys. They might have heard something."
"Will do," Kinch responded. "Looks like Papa Bear's team is back in business."
"Were we ever out of business?" Hogan smirked.
"How is it, Danno?" McGarrett queried as his detectives and Haseejian returned to Five-O.
"Sore," a rueful Williams replied. "Doc put me on light duty for a few days."
Steve grinned. "Good thing it's your left hand. At least you can still write reports." He patted the younger cop's back as he added. "Good job at pinning those robberies to Lukas. Chin's interrogating him now. Maybe we'll get a lead to his supplier—get one more scumbag off the streets."
A knock on the door heralded Chin's entrance. "Lukas confessed, Steve. Duke's taking him over to lockup. I tried to get information on his supplier. No luck there. The only name he had was 'Unicorn'."
"Unicorn?" Kono questioned. "What's that?"
"It's a mythical animal," Danny laughed. "Looks like a horse with a horn on its forehead."
"Unicorn?" Haseejian picked up on the term. "Are you sure? That's the same code name drug smugglers used on one of our recent cases."
He was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom as Jenny's voice announced, "Phone call, Boss. General Hogan."
McGarrett listened as Hogan recounted the news: drug smugglers operating under the code name "Unicorn," possibly targeting military returning from Vietnam. The drugs-thought to be high-grade heroin-were being delivered to a middleman for safekeeping until they could be shipped to the Mainland.
"Code name 'Unicorn,' General?" the detective questioned. "That's the second time I've heard that in the last few minutes. We'll check things out from our end. Could we meet here at four this afternoon?" He turned to his team. "Gentlemen, we have a case. Detective Haseejian, would you be willing to work on this with us?"
The SFPD sergeant nodded. "Gladly. Mike will be happy to have the rest of that gang off the streets."
"Just don't let him make any coffee!" Danny snickered.
"Unicorn?" Lt. Mike Stone questioned. That was a name he hadn't expected to hear again. "Active in Hawaii? I'll have Steve send you the records of the case. It makes sense that they'd have a middleman out there - makes it easier to move the stuff. They're linked with the Vegas and Jersey mobs. We got the locals here but I always felt some of the bigger fish got away. I'd appreciate anything you can give us."
"Thanks, Mike," his Hawaiian counterpart responded. "I'd like to borrow Haseejian if it's acceptable to you."
"Haseejian?" Mike sounded surprised. "So he did get to meet you?"
"Meet us?" Mike could hear the smirk in McGarrett's voice. "He tried to arrest Danno!"
"Almost busted the Kaikaina's arm," Kono broke in.
"He what!" Mike's shock was evident.
"Danno's OK, and Haseejian does know the case," McGarrett thought out loud.
"Fine – I'll list him as on temporary loan. We'll telex the file and photos. Keep us informed, OK?"
Steve offered his thanks as he ended the call and turned to his detectives. "Kono, see what HPD has on Unicorn. Chin, you check with the FBI. Danno, call Interpol. I'll talk to Jonathan Kaye. Norm, go with Kono. We'll meet back here at 3:00 before we head to Hickam" A chorus of "OK, Boss and On it, Steve" and the team left to carry out their assignments.
Haseejian hadn't been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the odd assortment of characters who greeted the detectives: three men in Air Force blue, a tall Englishman with a decided Cockney accent, and a little Frenchman. The San Francisco cop looked around the office at a small collection of World War II souvenirs. Photographs, insignia, an old USAAF crush cap - these men had been POWs? And not simply POWs but a first class intelligence and sabotage unit operating out of a prison camp? Haseejian realized that he was in the presence of living legends.
"Gentlemen," Steve opened the conversation. He handed the telex copy of the Unicorn logo to Hogan. "What have we got? Norm?"
Haseejian recounted the facts of the Unicorn case: the murder of a beat cop; recovery of a burned box bearing the picture of a unicorn; another case of heroin found by a vagrant . . . the story went on to implicate a San Francisco doctor linked with the mob and a final confrontation with members of the gang.
"Mike always felt there was something missing in the case, some link we were never quite able to find. This might be it. The doc in the case had big gambling debts. That's how the mob was able to pressure him into cooperating. It was a case of help us or die."
"Gambling debts," Chin ruminated. "Could be something to look into."
Hogan picked up the story. "A number of troops have become addicted during their service in Nam. It often starts with marijuana, then progresses to harder drugs. There's no way to track down a single supplier there. Unicorn appears linked to smuggling the stuff back here."
"It's very high grade heroin and highly concentrated," Carter broke in. "We analyzed a couple of small samples. Street value of that stuff would be a few hundred thousand dollars once it's cut and on the market. We've had several men hospitalized at Tripler with drug problems, big ones."
"No links from the FBI or Interpol," Williams added. "Just a few ports in Southeast Asia as possible points of origin, but we already knew that."
"And no mention of our favorite spy, Wo Fat," Newkirk snickered.
"HPD did pick up one name, Boss," Kono continued, "Big Chicken."
"Big Chicken?" Haseejian questioned.
"One of Hawaii's biggest drug dealers and the hardest one to pin anything on," McGarrett noted. "His real name's Henry Bauer."
"Actually, it's Heinrich," Hogan corrected. "He was a guard at Stalag 6. Nasty piece of work. Like you, we've had our eye on him for a while, but he stays just under the radar."
"He tried to frame me for murder a few years ago," Danny said ruefully. "If it hadn't been for Steve . . ." The young detective couldn't continue. The memory proved too strong.
McGarrett gently squeezed his second-in-command's shoulder. "He almost cost Five-O a good cop. We were able to get him for conspiracy, but he cut a deal. I want to put him away this time."
"So how we gonna do it, Boss?" Kono voiced the question.
"Suggestions, gentlemen?" the head of Five-O asked the group.
"Got an idea," the Cockney MI agent began. "Bauer had a reputation for working the black market, but he always kept a low profile. Used the other guards to get what he wanted. Had some kind of hold on them, maybe knew things that could be used against them. I'll wager he works the same way here."
"He does. That's what's made it so difficult to catch him."
"Are you suggesting an undercover operation?" Hogan asked.
"Right, Guv'nor." Newkirk turned to the Armenian cop. "You said that the mob was involved?" At Haseejian's nod, he continued, "Then why not send someone in as a mob official? Maybe looking to expand the operation?"
McGarrett thought for a minute. "That might work. Chicken knows Five-O too well for any of us to go undercover. Norm, how about you? Ever done any undercover work?"
"Some," the detective nodded, "Played a gang boss a couple of times. I'm willing to do it again, but I'll need an entourage - some muscle and maybe an accountant. After all, I'd be expanding the business here and the Organization would want an estimate of profit and expenses."
"I can see where this is going," Hogan picked up the thought. "Newkirk, maybe a good pickpocket would be helpful. And Carter, how are your accounting skills?"
The two men laughed as Newkirk held up Haseejian's wallet. "Bet you didn't even know I took this!" He handed the wallet back to the embarrassed detective. "Got to keep in practice, Mates!"
"We're gonna need a meeting place," Carter said. "LeBeau, how about your restaurant?"
"Of course, mes amis. Just no shooting. I don't want to scare away the customers! Together we'll stew this chicken!"
"We'll need to work on your identities and set up some discreet surveillance," Steve continued the thought. "We should wire at least one of you, too."
"Let me handle that," Kinch offered. "I've had some experience there."
"Some experience?" Newkirk snickered. "Kinch could've bugged Berchtesgaden if he'd had the chance!"
"What makes you think I didn't?" the soft-spoken communications expert grinned.
McGarrett laughed. Then, in a more serious vein, he continued, "Chin, you mentioned gambling debts. You and Kono see what you can find out - doctors, pharmacists, anybody who might be receiving unusual shipments from Southeast Asia. I want the book on them. Danno, work with Haseejian on a false identity. It has to be foolproof. General, We'll meet again tomorrow afternoon."
"OK, Norm," Danny suggested. "Let's go over it once more to make sure we've got all the bugs ironed out. Name?"
"Norm Cellini. Born and raised in San Francisco and live in North Beach."
"Private investor. I also do some investment counseling."
"Other sources of income?"
"Family money. We own a couple of fishing boats down at the Wharf. We hire out charters to rich tourists, maybe charge a bit more than the going rate depending on what they're looking for." There was a hint of malice in Haseejian's voice as he said this.
"Chicken can read that any way he wants!" Dan laughed. "Now, who did you bring with you?"
"Hired muscle Pete Burke, a Limey living here in the Islands. Knows his way around. My accountant, Andrew Kroner. I like to check out potential investments."
"Speaking of investments, why are you here?"
"The bosses are looking to expand the operation and they asked me to discuss possibilities. Chicken's been reliable so far and they'd like him to organize things for us."
"What if he asks about the bosses?" This from McGarrett.
"They're centered in Vegas and are an offshoot of the Jersey mob. They call themselves 'The Organization.' They like to keep their identities quiet. Less trouble for them - and for Chick." The hint of malice turned threatening.
"Good," Steve responded. "Chicken is a coward at heart. That kind of threat will keep him quiet." He nodded his approval. "Hogan and his team are on the way. Newkirk's got your ID's ready and Kinch will get you wired. He wants to test it with you."
"What about bugging his phone?"
The lead detective shook his head. "Useless, Norm. Chicken uses pay phones to arrange his drops and pickups so we can't track him. Lt. Stone is planting a message through a local contact for us."
"Any leads on who's actually receiving the stuff for Chicken?" Williams queried.
"Kono and Chin are tracking down possibilities. They'll be here soon. Chin thinks they've found something."
"Good job, Newkirk," Hogan complimented his chief forger as he studied the fake drivers licenses. "Chicken won't be able to tell them apart from the real thing."
"Thanks, Guv'nor. Carter's cooked up a few little diversions, too. You know, in case of emergency."
Hogan looked concerned. Carter's diversions tended to be explosive.
"Carter . . ."
"Not to worry, Colonel, sir. They're just small smoke bombs rigged up inside pen casings. They'll make a lot of noise and smoke, maybe a small flash of light. You know, in case we need a distraction. I can carry them in my pocket. Accountants always carry pens, you know . . ." Stalag 13's one-time demolitions expert rambled on.
"Just as long as you don't blow yourself up!" Hogan cautioned. Changing the topic, he added, "How's Kinch coming along with that transmitter?"
"All ready, General." Kinch displayed his handiwork. "I've been experimenting with miniaturizing my equipment. This is built into a hearing aid casing. LeBeau and I tested it. It's got enough of a range for Five-O to stay out of sight and still pick things up." He grinned at his CO. "Built the receiver into a transistor radio. It's on a special frequency—anyone else picking up the signal will get only static. And you don't have to worry about anyone mistaking it for a coffee pot!" His final comment elicited a chorus of laughs from his teammates.
"Kinch, you're a genius!" Hogan complimented.
"Chin, Kono, what have you got?"
"Got a possible suspect, Boss," Kono replied. "Guy's name is Conrad Borland. He imports stuff for some of the local Chinese docs. No gambling debts, though."
"Imports botanicals, rare pharmaceuticals, things like that," Chin added. "Supposedly they're ingredients for Chinese herbal medicines and such."
"And some of them have a unicorn brand?"
"Looks like it. Kono spotted some pieces of crates in the trash. Che has them for analysis."
"Good job, gentlemen," McGarrett. "But what ties him to Chicken? What kind of hold does our friend have on him?"
"Borland," Danny said thoughtfully. "That sounds like a German name. Could he be an immigrant? Maybe even another former guard? A lot of those low-level German soldiers emigrated after the war."
"Check into it, Danno." Steve looked at his watch. "We don't have much time. We'll need to be at Hickam in a couple of hours."
"On it, Steve," Williams acknowledged as he left to make some calls.
"The wire checks out, Sir," Kinch reported. "And Haseejian says Chicken took the bait. He'll meet them around 12:30 at LeBeau's.
"We've also got something on Chick's contact here, an importer named Borland," Dan added. "We found evidence that he's receiving shipments from Unicorn. Now we've just got to link the two of them."
"Borland?" Hogan thought out loud. "Conrad Borland?" At Williams' nod, the officer continued, "He was another guard at Stalag 6. Worked with Bauer on the black market scheme. He's got to be the connection. He receives and distributes the stuff while Chicken plans the operation and keeps his hands clean."
"Sound like Chicken's usual methods," McGarrett commented. "Danno, you and Kono keep an eye on Borland's place. Haseejian, do you think you can get Chick to take you there? Maybe on the pretext of checking the place out?"
"Piece of cake," Newkirk chuckled as the SF detective nodded.
"Kinch and I will monitor things at LeBeau's," Chin offered. "Just in case there's any trouble."
"Hogan and I will follow you to Borland's. Take care, gentlemen," McGarrett cautioned. "And good hunting."
Kinch and Chin sat at a secluded table in LeBeau's restaurant, quietly observing their companions. "You think Bauer will really show?" the Air Force officer wondered.
"He won't be able to resist the bait." Chin laughed. "Money is his weakness." He looked around, "Here he comes now." Kinch turned the receiver on and plugged a small speaker into his ear.
Kelly's observation proved correct as Chicken sauntered into the restaurant and was motioned to Haseejian's table. "Coffee, Frenchy," he ordered, "And your special of the day."
LeBeau choked back a response and fought to keep a polite look on his face. Nazis! This one is due for a fall." The master chef simply nodded. I should feed him ground up dog food. He is too gauche to know the difference!
Haseejian opened the conversation. "Norm Cellini. I'm here on behalf of the Organization." He indicated Newkirk and Carter. "My associate Mr. Burke and my accountant, Mr. Kroner." Neither man offered to shake hands with the heavy-set criminal.
"Call me Chick," the drug dealer responded.
"I prefer to use your real name, Mr. Bauer. You were born in Germany, served as a guard at a Luftstalag, Stalag 6, I believe? You were involved in the black market?" Haseejian waited for Chicken to reply.
Chicken's answer was guarded. "How did you find this out? Yes, I was a guard in a POW camp, but so were a lot of others."
Carter picked up the conversation. "We have our ways, Herr Bauer," his tone a perfect mimic of a Gestapo officer. "We know that you and an associate were heavily involved in black market dealings but were never caught. That was very clever of you."
"The Organization likes its partners to appear to have a clean record. Less trouble for them and more profit for everyone involved," Haseejian finished. "You are the contact for Unicorn here in Hawaii. We would like to increase your involvement, add to your import business."
Newkirk spoke up, "You have someone who handles pickup and delivery? A loyal employee, perhaps? And you pay him well to insure his silence?"
"I do, " Chicken answered. "Conrad Borland . He's a legitimate importer of Chinese herbal medicines. He worked with me at Stalag 6."
"I would like to examine his business. Now." Haseejian's tone allowed no disagreements. "We'll take my car." He dropped a few bills on the table as the four men left.
LeBeau joined Kinch and Chin. "Get him, Kinch, Chin. That man is a cochon. A pig." He fairly spat out the last sentence.
"Kono, you watch the front," Danny instructed as they approached Borland's offices. "I'll check the back."
"Got it, Bruddah," the big Hawaiian answered. "Be careful!"
The curly-haired detective waved his acknowledgement as he took a roundabout route to the storeroom entrance. Steve had radioed them that Chicken was on the way. McGarrett, Chin, and Hogan's team would follow and HPD backup had been alerted. Meanwhile, it was just him and Kono. There was no sign of Borland or any of the man's workers. It was almost too quiet. A disquieting thought ran through his mind : Strange. I'd expect some activity around the place, deliveries, shipments . . . The place seems deserted. Danny suspected a trap. He pulled his gun as he moved toward the door.
Chicken felt the sweat trickling down the back of his neck as they drew closer to Borland's offices. Cellini-there was a guy who knew his business. Probably wouldn't hesitate to shoot anyone who got in his way. The other two made him even more nervous. Something about them was vaguely familiar. He'd run into them somewhere before, but where? Somehow, he associated them with a prison camp. Guards? Possibly. That thin, blonde one scared him the most. Gestapo? Maybe. He'd had a few encounters with that bunch, but had always been able to buy them off with favors from his black market contacts. He didn't think that would work with these men.
Steve's tension levels rose as they neared Borland's offices. It had been almost too easy. He'd expected more resistance from Chicken. HPD backup was on the way, but Dan and Kono were on their own until they arrived. "Be careful, my friends," he whispered.
The scrape of a shoe on gravel caught Dan's attention. He spun around, only to be staggered by a blow that left him reeling. Rough hands slammed him against the wall and pulled the gun out of his hand. Another pair of hands grabbed the handcuffs from his belt. Tears of pain filled his eyes as his still healing wrist was twisted further and his hands were restrained. A second blow forced him to move. Dragged more than walking, he was forced into the building and thrown to the floor. A voice snarled, "One word out of you, little cop, and you're history." A rough kick accentuated the threat. Williams struggled to remain conscious as he attempted to twist away from his captors.
Kono moved out of sight as he spotted Haseejian's car pull into a parking space. He waited until the men entered the building, then approached the door. He wondered where Danny was – he'd expected the younger man to have completed his surveillance by now. He carefully moved to the rear of the building. No Danny. A fresh blood spatter alerted him to trouble. Danny! They must have Danny!
"Mr. Cellini," Chicken gestured at his associate. "My partner, Conrad Borland. I assure you that we can handle any size order you might need."
"Chick," Borland interrupted. "We have a little problem. Look what my boys found out back. I told you we'd have trouble when I spotted that big Hawaiian cop nosing around the other day." He pulled a battered Danny to his feet. "McGarrett's right hand man."
Chick's expression grew feral. "Kill him and dump him. Send McGarrett a message."
"Chin!" Kinch alerted the Chinese detective. "They've got Danny. Contact McGarrett1 Now!"
Kelly grabbed the mic and requested a patch to Steve's car. He could feel the man's anger and fear as he relayed the news. They'd have to act quickly to prevent a tragedy.
The cars screamed to a stop as the two teams poured out, joined by Duke Lukela and several HPD cops. McGarrett issued orders: Kinch, Kono, and Duke would enter by the rear. He, Hogan, and Chin would take the front. The HPD men would provide backup. Stealth and silence were essential. He gave Kono's team three minutes to get around back. They'd go in simultaneously. McGarrett prayed they'd be on time.
"Kill him! Now!" Chicken repeated, shoving Williams back to the floor.
Danny closed his eyes. Barring a miracle, he was a dead man.
Haseejian gave him that miracle. "No." His tone was cold. "Kill a cop and the entire operation is finished. Do you want every cop in the Islands gunning for you? We keep him on ice for a while, then we make him disappear. Mexico, Southeast Asia, Colombia, it doesn't matter where. A missing cop is an unsolvable case. A dead cop - that's an invitation for vengeance!"
Chicken considered Haseejian's suggestion. "Good idea. We can ship him out tomorrow. Live cargo!" He turned to Borland. "Handle it!"
"Workable?" Haseejian queried his associates.
"Worthy of the Gestapo," Carter, still in character, responded. Newkirk, stalling for time, agreed. He noticed Carter pull a couple of pens from a pocket. He signaled the demolitions expert to wait—he'd heard something at the door. McGarrett? Hogan? He flashed a grin. "Now, Mate!"
The pens exploded in a choking cloud of smoke as McGarrett and Kinch kicked the doors open. The drug smugglers and their muscle, eyes watering, coughing uncontrollably, attempted to leave, only to be subdued by an angry McGarrett and his team. Newkirk and Haseejian carried Danny to safety.
Chicken, gasping for breath, looked around at the cops as he realized he'd been trapped in a well-planned sting. He glared at McGarrett. "You win – this time." His angry glance went from face to face, finally stopping at Hogan. He suddenly remembered where he'd seen these men. Stalag 6. They'd gotten a high-level prisoner out of the camp, reportedly smuggled him back to England. "You! This is not over!"
Hogan's voice was icy. "Me. And my team. The war is over, Bauer. You lost. For good, this time." He smiled wolfishly as he turned to the dark-haired detective. "They're yours, McGarrett."
"Read them their rights and book them, Duke," Steve instructed. "Drugs, smuggling, assault for a start. I'll add more charges later." The HPD cops led the men away. The snake's head had been cut off. There would be time to track down the lesser figures.
Danny, aided by Carter and Haseejian, attempted to sit up. Instantly, Steve was at his side, releasing the handcuffs and gently massaging his shoulders. He noted his young detective's pained expression, heard his wheezing as he attempted to clear his lungs. "How's it, Danno?" he questioned. At his friend's labored "Thanks, Steve," he continued, "Don't try to talk – just catch your breath. We'll take you to Doc."
A concerned Carter grinned ruefully, "Sorry about the smoke bombs, Danny. I didn't have time to warn you to hold your breath! But it sure provided a distraction!"
Dan leaned against Steve's shoulder as a painful coughing spasm shook him. He hoped he'd never be on the receiving end of one of Carter's distractions again.
The case ended where it began – on the terrace at LeBeau's. A casually-dressed Danny, his injured arm back in a sling, was on sick leave for another day or two. Doc had not been pleased, even though Dan insisted that he didn't tackle any criminals – the criminals had tackled him. Bergman had been adamant in ordering the young man to take a few days off. Steve was only too glad to allow them. He'd come much too close to losing his friend. If it hadn't been for Haseejian's quick thinking and Carter's smoke bombs . . . McGarrett banished the thought from his mind.
"To think this all began with a case of mistaken identity," the SFPD officer laughed.
"You're lucky Duke didn't arrest you," Chin added. "But it added up to an even bigger case of mistaken identity for Chicken."
Dan smiled as he looked around the table. "You saved my life, all of you. We made a good team. Hope we can work together again." He rubbed his arm. "Only not quite so painfully next time!"