Fic: Stealth and Sudden Violence (Chapter 4)
“Howzit, brah?” Kamekona asked by way of greeting as he ambled across the courtyard of the McGarrett house.
Chin looked up from whatever it was he was doing at the long table that now occupied what had been an outdoor, if sheltered, seating area. Not that Jack McGarrett had used the area all that much. Not big on entertaining, that man. Having Steve, Chin and Kono around the place as well as the tiny detective was more people than had been here in total over the past year.
“Howzit,” Chin replied, an easy smile splitting his face. “You want to help?”
Kamekona peered down at the papers and little cards on the table. He knew they were to do with Jack's murder and in that sense of course he wanted to help, but, well, files and papers and organization weren't really his strong suit. “I tink I'll stay making da food, brah. Jack fo say an army marches on its stomach.”
Chin laughed, before sobering and looking a little guilty, as though being happy was somehow disrespectful. “I wish I'd had a chance to meet him again. I know, even if I can't prove it, that it was him who got me transferred to the same unit at Steve. I'd like to have gotten the chance to thank him for that.”
“Dat sound like Jack,” Kamekona admitted, looking over to the stairs as Kono clattered down to the first floor. “He like to make sure all da folks who he knows from Hawaii taken care of.”
“I don't know how he knew I was in the Navy,” Chin said, a certain amount of awe evident in his voice. “And how he managed to make it so I didn't get stuck running a dock crew at Pearl forever.”
“Da man know people,” Kamekona agreed, because Jack'd gotten him out before he'd been in too much trouble to get away with his life. “Hey, lil sister.”
“Howzit, Kamekona,” Kono answered, her long hair loose around her smiling face. Kamekona approved of Steve's friends.
“Your cuz doin complicated stuffs with cards,” he said, nodding towards Chin's work. “He lookin for volunteers so I'm goin use you as a human shield.”
The girl laughed, obviously not feeling the same taboo about happiness that Chin was. But then Chin had known Jack, even if it was only when he was a kid, and that made a person more prone to worrying about what other people would think. He needed to do something about that.
“If you're not going to help,” Chin said, an obviously fake frown creasing his brow. “How about some coffee?”
“Shoots, I got better stuff,” Kamekona replied with a grin as he turned and headed back towards the kitchen.
He could hear Chin and Kono speaking quietly together behind him, but he paid it no mind. The dough for the fatir would be ready and he knew that sweet, honey-laden pastries with a cold glass of hibiscus tea were just the thing for hard working brains.
And after he'd served them that, he was going to get on with his plans for dinner. He was expecting a messenger from Mamo any minute to tell him Steve and the haole detective were staying at the camp for a fiesta. He was kind of surprised that Steve thought he was going to be allowed to visit and not stay for the night, but then it had been a long time since the man had been in Egypt and maybe he'd forgotten how things worked.
With the two men away he thought that Kono and Chin would appreciate a little taste of home. He had some noodles stashed away, waiting for a special occasion, and this was it. Three Hawaiians, far from home, what they all needed was a big bowl of saimin to remind them that the islands were still there waiting for them.
Danny laughed. He had no clue what the storyteller was saying, but it didn't matter because the guy was just funny. He'd seen other storytellers, but they seemed to be very dignified and told tales that Danny was sure were educational, if the audience's expressions were anything to go by. This guy knew his crowd and played to it, jumping around and acting the parts as well as telling the story.
Steve, before the big lug vanished with a couple of guys who he'd obviously known as a kid, had told him it was a story about a man trying to sell his camels at market. Danny wasn't sure how that could be this funny, or take as long as it had to tell, but he didn't mind. He was full of excellent food and surrounded by people enjoying themselves, even if they were doing it in a language he didn't understand. It was a lot like family gatherings back home, minus his mother's lasagna and with fewer people he couldn't talk to because they worked the wrong side of the law.
And okay, he was sat on a rug that smelled faintly of camel in the middle of the desert, but it was close enough to make him miss fiercely the warmth of his big, loud family back in New Jersey. His mom would love this, even if she would feel obliged to try to clean everything, and she'd be in the kitchen area learning to make all the new food. She was adventurous, his mom, the first in her family to marry outside the Italian community, and he figured that was where he got his thing for free spirits from. Rachel was a lot like her; well she used to be, leaving the safety of England to travel to America to see the country just because she could.
The storyteller finished his tale with a great shout to applause from the people gathered around him. The old man grinned, showing his two remaining teeth, and flopped down onto a cushion on the other side of Mamo to where Danny sat. He felt movement next to him and turned to little Selim sitting next to him, grinning at him.
“My mother said to sit with you,” the kid said, gesturing over to the women and children sat over the other side of the fire. All the women were veiled and in the dim light all looked much alike. None of them acknowledged the boy, so Danny was none the wiser.
“Oh, she did, did she?” Danny asked, teasing the boy. He didn't mind, he liked the little tyke.
“You need someone to help you with the words,” the boy said proudly, and Danny grinned at him.
“Maybe I do,” he admitted, looking around the circle of people who were all chatting or enjoying their tea and dates. “What happens next?”
“Men on horses,” Selim said, looked far too excited for it to be as simple as men on horses.
“And that's exciting?” Danny asked, being careful with his language because Selim was a kid and also not that great at English. Well, his English was about a million times better than Danny's Arabic, but then most people's was.
“Mmmm, huh?” Selim said, chewing a date he'd stolen off Danny's plate. “They go fast.”
There was movement in the circle of people and Danny looked around to check if he was going to have to change position. He wouldn't mind the chance to get up and stretch his legs, but it seemed he and all the people in the main tent with its back to the cliffs could stay where they were. The other folks moved to the sides and Danny had a clear view of the whole wadi.
The dim light of setting sun was painting the whole valley lilac, softening the sharp contours of the cliffs that surrounded them and giving the place what even Danny had to admit was a kind of romantic glow. He wasn't given to flights of fancy, and he certainly hadn't discovered a love of the desert, but there was something kind of magical about the place in the evening.
At the far end of the wadi, Danny could just make out a group of riders being marshaled into a line and he felt a flutter of excitement. In the confines of the small valley whatever the horses did was going to be loud and extremely close to the audience. The cop in him, the sensible father, wanted to stop the whole thing because someone could clearly get hurt, but the larger part of him wanted to see the show.
There was a great shout from the men on their horses, answered by the crowd around Danny, and then the horses were galloping, with a sound like approaching thunder. Clouds of dust rose behind the horses' hooves, making it look like they were trying to outrun a sandstorm. Danny could feel the ground shake as they got closer, and his heart beat faster as though it was trying to outpace the horses.
Danny had always loved watching the mounted division of the Jersey City police work, whether it was an exercise or a real situation, admiring the control of the horses by the riders in their dark uniforms. This was nothing like that. He was sure the riders were actually in control, at least he hoped they were, but they looked like they were clinging to the backs of stampeding wild animals, their differently colored robes flapping behind them like flags in the wind.
The horses were about ten yards away when they divided into two groups that wheeled around at the last minute and turned hard, avoiding the seated audience. Danny realized he'd been holding his breath and blew it out. The riders lined the horses up in front of the audience, the impressive animals stamping and snorting in their eagerness to run.
In the saddles, the men started to rise, pulling themselves up until they were all standing on the backs of their animals. Danny looked along the line, impressed beyond words, until he did a double take of a rider nearly right in front of him. Instead of the robes of their hosts, this one wore khaki drill pants, a dun colored shirt open at the neck and a pair of battered riding boots that had seen better days. Steve.
Danny wanted to shout at him for being a fool and trying to kill himself, but he found he couldn't really form words. Steve was grinning like an idiot right at Danny, obviously happy for what was probably the first time in weeks, and on top of that he looked like some kind of hero from one of the adventure stories Danny loved. Steve was a good head taller than most of the other riders, lean and strong, balancing, like he was born to it, on the back of a beautiful bay mare.
Danny swallowed hard. Dear God, the man was a menace. How was it his mother had said they described Lord Byron? Mad, bad and dangerous to know. Danny could almost feel the years ticking off his life expectancy from just breathing the same air as Steve. He knew he should be trying to get to minimum safe distance and yet he found himself grinning back at Steve as he lowered himself back into the saddle and wheeled the horse about. He was doomed.
Steve stared at the ceiling of the tent. He needed to sleep, he knew that, but the exhilaration of the evening's activities was still thrumming through him. Or maybe he'd lost the ability to tolerate all the coffee he'd drunk. He used to be able to drink the stuff like Mamo did and still fall into a deep sleep at night, but then in those days he'd also have been riding horses all day, or climbing the desert cliffs.
He missed those days with a fierce passion, even with the ever present grief for his mother he'd felt. Life was harsh but simple, the people warm and caring, open with their feelings. More open than his father had been back then, at least, and definitely more than Steve was now.
Steve sighed. Maybe that wasn't entirely true. It had taken about five minutes of Alima holding his hand, her words soft and kind, and he'd been crying like a baby. Well, not a baby, but he'd shed a few tears, which was more than he'd done in a long time. She'd cried too, for him, for her long dead son, for his mother and father. God, he could feel his eyes filling again.
Pushing away the incipient tears with his fingers, he sniffed, determined to get himself back under control. There wasn't anyone around to see him, except a softly snoring Danny on the bedroll next to him, but he couldn't let himself go. He had too much to think about, too many problems to solve.
And it hadn't been all tears with Alima. She'd smiled too, laughed with him about how he was going gray at the temples, how he was getting old. She'd told him that Mamo, for all his supposed vigor, was getting stiff in his joints and she needed some days to massage him as if they were at the hammam. Steve smiled at that. Mamo had four wives, but the eldest, and the one he clearly felt most at home with, was Alima. For all the differences in culture and geography, they were no different than any other long married couple.
He sat up and punched the lumpy pillow into shape before flopping back. Of the things he hadn't missed about living in Mamo's camp, hard, lumpy pillows were probably top of the list. And a decent bath. After the drive across the desert, the day spent in the camp, and then the evening feasting and riding, he really, really needed a wash. He'd spent a longer time being way dirtier than he was now on missions, but for some reason he was finding the day's grime maddening. Maybe he was getting too old to be gallivanting, as Danny had called it, around the desert on a horse.
Or maybe he was just out of practice. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should have fought his father harder to avoid being sent away, if he could have enlisted Mamo in persuading his dad he could stay in Egypt and live with the Bedouin. He would have been happy, well, a lot happier than with his great uncle, but then he wouldn't have joined the Navy or met Chin and Kono, two people he couldn't imagine his life without.
He looked over at the other man who shared his tent. Danny's blond hair was already disarrayed from sleep, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly. He had a sneaking suspicion, one that made no sense given the short time he'd known the man, that Danny was going to turn out to be someone else he couldn't imagine his life without.
Steve sighed. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t made a terrible mistake resigning his commission and taking on his father’s role. His father's files were extensive and he was beginning to suspect that they had very different approaches to their work. He wanted to be out there, in the streets of Cairo, following leads and chasing down suspects. Except, of course, as Danny pointed out, they didn't have anything to go on except the notes. He also insisted they needed to go through every piece of information and cross check it before they started asking more questions, something that made Steve want to punch the smaller man in the mouth. Just a little bit.
“Are the steam engine impressions helping?” Danny asked from his place on the sofa.
“Huh?” Steve replied.
“You're sighing like it's the end of the world,” Danny pointed out, jabbing the air with the paper clip he'd had between his lips for most of the afternoon.
Steve pinched the top of his nose and screwed his eyes shut, trying to clear the frustration from his mind. “I'm just... tense.”
“Of course you are,” Danny said with a laugh, putting his file aside and standing up. “You want to be outside, chasing bad guys and riding horses like some big, goddamned hero, don't you? Well, you'll just have to save the daring do until we've gotten all the facts in order. That's what good police work is all about, and at least your dad understood that.”
“I know,” Steve admitted, because he did understand, really, but he needed to let off steam somehow. “I just want to be doing something.”
“You are doing something,” Danny told him, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. “If you're really going to take over from your dad, it's not going to be daily gun play and conflagrations.”
“Conflagrations?” Steve queried, raising his eyebrows. Where did Danny get these words from?
“You know them, surely,” Danny replied with a laugh, stepping in closer to Steve and throwing a pretty useful right handed jab that stopped a couple of inches short of Steve's chin.
“I wouldn't let Kono see you doing that, unless you want to get knocked on the head again,” Chin suggested from the doorway.
“Chin, tell me you've got something to save me from the dullest read ever?” Steve asked, dodging another mock punch from Danny.
“I might at that,” Chin admitted, making both Steve and Danny stop fooling around and follow him out of his dad's office and into the open courtyard area where their little task force’s main work space was.
“You know,” Danny said conversationally as they approached the enormous table, "we should move all this into one of the rooms if you ever want to have people over to visit.”
“Who am I going to invite?” Steve asked, genuinely baffled by Danny's suggestion.
Danny looked at him, blinked, rolled his eyes and shook his head, before addressing Chin. “What have you got?”
“I've been doing some organizing,” Chin said, only to correct himself when Kono coughed. “We've been doing some organizing, and getting all the facts we know into order. Just so it's easier to cross check things.”
“You indexed it all?” Danny asked, clearly impressed by the work he could see. “Seriously? And a time line, too?”
“It seemed the most logical,” Chin said, glowing a little at the praise. “I got Kamekona to put up this board, too, and we can use that for the most relevant information.”
“Impressive as ever, Chin,” Steve said, looking at the timeline of all the events they knew about leading up to his father's death. It even continued past it, including the phony housekeeper.
“There are guys in the Cairo Police, hell, police forces all over the world, who would kill for this indexing system,” Danny said, flicking through the small cards Chin had found somewhere and filled in with his neat writing.
“Did you spot anything new?” Steve asked, not really expecting anything at all.
“Actually, yes,” Kono said, moving over to the board. “We noticed that your dad seemed to have new information whenever his day book said he visited Shepherd's Hotel.”
“He had a source there.” Steve felt a swell of familiar excitement, happy to finally have something to get him out the house. “Let's go.”
“Whoa there, cowboy,” Danny ordered, holding up one hand and looking at him like he was crazy. “What are you going to do there? You don't have a name and you can't just go and ask people, can you?”
“Actually, I thought we'd go and have some pre-dinner drinks,” Steve explained, pausing to check his watch to confirm the time. “And see if anyone tries to talk to me.”
Steve was starting to get a little irritated that Danny thought he was some kind of fool. He'd done more years than he cared to mention in military intelligence and even longer planning missions on the ground to take out some pretty effective opponents.
Danny blinked at him, then raised his eyebrows and gave a little nod of approval. “Actually, that's not the worst plan I've ever heard.”
“Funnily enough, the Navy thought I had some good ones in my time.”
“Okay.” Danny held up both his hands in surrender. “I was just confused given your last plan ended with you standing on the back of a horse.”
“Darn it,” Kono swore with feeling, her glare almost enough to make even Steve take a step backwards. “You promised you'd teach me.”
“Teach you?” Danny squawked, his voice rising along with his hands. “There will be no teaching of anyone to do ludicrous tricks that could lead to head injuries and death.”
“I think it's up to Kono if she wants to take the risk, isn't it?”
“Not when you've clearly brainwashed her into thinking she's indestructible,” Danny objected, running a hand over his face. “Besides, society, ours and Mamo's, generally frowns on young ladies doing that sort of thing. Unless they join a circus.”
“Well, this young lady already kicked your ass,” Kono said, not really taking any offense at what Danny had said.
“Lucky hit,” Danny said with a grin to Kono that made her stick out her tongue at him.
“Are we going to stop arguing and go to Shepherd's?” Steve said, trying to get back control of the conversation. “If we don't go soon everyone will have already sat down to eat.”
“Okay, okay,” Danny conceded, holding up his hands again. “We need to stop at my rooms so I can change for dinner.”
“Oh,” Steve said, suddenly realizing that, yes, he would have to change too. Damn it, he hated getting into starched collars and stiff jackets.
“My god, Steve,” Danny snapped like he was mad, but Steve could see he was biting his lip to hide a smile. “You're a barbarian. Go and put on your best monkey suit and let's go.”
Steve rolled his eyes but didn't object, taking the stairs two at a time as he raced to change. He hadn't been inside Shepherd's for years but he suspected nothing much had changed. The bar would be full of officers and bureaucrats mixing awkwardly with the tourists. Male tourists, anyway. He doubted things would have loosened up enough to allow women in to the male dominated sanctum, the bar. No, women sat on the terrace, if their social standing warranted a table there, or in the restaurant, and drank tea.
And of course, none of these people were native Egyptians. They weren't really allowed inside any part of Shepherd's, a few exceptions notwithstanding. He couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be to live in a country and be excluded from the parts of society that had all the power. He didn't blame the Egyptian nationalists for their views, and found he could understand all too well why they thought they had to resort to violent actions.
But that didn't matter right now. All he needed to do was go and try and flush out an informant at Shepherd's to help find his father's murderer. And hopefully stop the nationalists doing something that the people they were trying to free from British rule would ultimately regret. Easy, he thought, with an ironic grin to himself.
Steve sighed. This was even more frustrating than the paperwork. And hotter. His suit was thick and heavy, his collar starched and too high, his bow tie too tight. He hated dressing for dinner and tried to avoid it when he could. He, Kono and Chin never bothered with the custom when they were alone, and that first evening with Danny none of them had even thought about it when they'd sat down to a quick meal once the chaos was over.
“How is it that even though I know you're hating every minute of this, you still manage to look like some fashion plate?” Danny complained, dragging Steve away from his thoughts. “I mean, look at you, you're like some playboy millionaire.”
“It's just a suit, Danny,” Steve objected, even though he felt a little flutter of pleasure at his partner's words.
“It's just a suit?” Danny mocked, his hands coming up to join in the rant. “No, Steven, it's not just a suit. It's a very well cut item of clothing being worn by a very attractive man, and I say that objectively, that is making every man in this room wish he had the name of your tailor. And, loathe as I am to admit it, every woman we passed on the way into the bar has nearly given herself whiplash just to get a look at you.”
“Or maybe it was you,” Steve said with a smile. “Maybe all the ladies were looking at you.”
“Oh, I know I'm a very attractive man,” Danny agreed, puffing out his chest and using both his hand to slick back his hair. “But even I know I can't compete with you looking like Prince Charming.”
Steve laughed and raised his drink to Danny in salute. He looked around Shepherd's bar and wondered if any of the men, mostly people he would instantly dismiss as useful, were his father's source. “I just hope my dad's contact is as enthusiastic as you.”
“I think it's a member of staff,” Danny said, raising his own whiskey and soda and taking a sip. They were trying to look like they were just out for a drink before dinner, so they'd had to actually buy drinks, but they were being careful to not drink too fast.
“Why do you say that?” Steve knew Danny was a good cop; that meant he had good instincts and Steve wasn't going to ignore them.
“You dad's day book entries were for dinner with lots of different people,” Danny stated, looking pleased that Steve was listening to him. “And if it was some other guest that your dad was meeting then that could arouse suspicion. People gossip about other people, but they don't mention anyone's interactions with the staff.”
“You're probably right,” Steve agreed, thinking through the implications of Danny's reasoning. “We should probably try to speak to some of them.”
“Hold your horses, bucko,” Danny hissed, a restraining hand on Steve's arm as he put his drink down. “If you go and purposely talk to the staff, people will gossip about that. More importantly, you'll scare off the source.”
Steve wanted to ignore them, but Danny's arguments made sense. He just wanted to be doing something, rather than sitting around in a suit drinking pretty poor whiskey. Before he had a chance to answer Danny, he saw someone walking towards them over his partner's shoulder.
His heart sped up. Could this be the contact? He stood up straighter, making Danny turn around to see who was making Steve react. The approaching man was clearly a guest, dressed in a dinner suit and with the confident swagger of a British ex-apt. But under that rather obvious exterior, there seemed to be something more, something darker. The man was as tall as Steve and, for all his build was slimmer, Steve was sure there was a strength there that could potentially match his own. The man was dark, like a native Egyptian, with a rather somber, closed off expression. And that jogged something in his memory.
“Ramses?”
The subject of his inquiry smiled and it lit up his whole face. “I was certain you wouldn't remember me,” he said, holding out his hand towards Steve, “I was barely more than a child last time we saw each other.”
“You were only three years younger than me,” Steve objected, shaking Ramses' hand vigorously. “And having adventures that I would have killed to be part of.”
“And then you would have crossed mother,” Ramses said with a smile.
“How is your family?” Steve asked, remembering Ramses' slightly terrifying parents.
Ramses was about to answer when Danny cleared his throat, giving Steve a glare that spoke of imminent ranting, when he looked at the shorter man. His old friend saved the day, thrusting his hand out for Danny to shake. “Walter Emerson, pleased to meet you.”
“Danny Williams,” the detective replied, returning Ramses' firm handshake.
“Ramses is an archeologist,” Steve explained, not sure how well acquainted Danny was with some of Cairo's better known people.
“Oddly enough, Steven, a whole family who has a reputation of solving crimes and getting into all kinds of trouble is something that your fellow officers tend to keep you informed about.”
“We don't try to get into trouble,” Ramses objected, his face almost imperceptibly stonier than it had been a few moments ago. “At least I don't.”
Well, well, well, Steve thought, Ramses has something against the police. That was new. The family had always been on good terms with the powers that be, if not the antiquities department, when he knew them before.
Danny smiled at him, but Steve could tell that he'd sensed the withdrawal of Ramses behind his mask of indifference. The detective didn't look as if he were offended by the change, rather that he was resigned to it, obviously having seen it before. Maybe, Steve thought, he was going to have to get used to it, too.
“In answer to your question, Steve, my family is well and almost certainly in the dining room by now. You should come say hello, I'm sure mother will be delighted to see you. She's already mentioned sending a note to welcome you home.”
“She's as well informed as ever,” Steve said with a wry smile, trying to decide if he could get away without going to the dining room and facing the combined might of the Emerson clan. “I only arrived four days ago.”
“You should come, too, of course, Mr. Williams,” Ramses said, a little of his good humor sneaking back into his face. “That way there's strength in numbers when you tell my mother you won't be joining us for dinner.”
Steve laughed. Ramses was as good as ever at reading people's inner thoughts. No wonder the Egyptians called him Brother of Demons. “Come on, Danny. There's no escaping. We'll go and say hello before Chin and Kono arrive with the car.”
Ramses gave him a look that Steve couldn't read and he wondered if he'd made some faux pas. Ramses and his family were renowned for their liberal attitude, as most saw it, around the native Egyptians, counting many among their closest friends. Surely he wouldn't think it strange for Steve to have non-white friends.
“Are we, errr, done with the other thing?” Danny asked, finishing his drink and placing the glass on the bar.
“For now,” Steve said, watching Ramses pretend to ignore their conversation, even though he knew the man was more than likely trying to work out what they were doing.
The three men left the dim confines of the bar and crossed the lobby to the dining room. Ramses was walking in front of them and Steve noticed a slight tension in his shoulders, a stiffness of movement, that told the Navy man this supposedly innocent archeologist was disguising an injury. Probably a pretty bad one.
He wanted to ask, to offer comforting words to his old friend, but something held him back. Ramses hadn't mentioned it, and was clearly going to great pains to hide it. That could be down to the same stoic nature, a stiff upper lip, as the Brits said, that he'd had as a child, but it could also be because no one was supposed to know. Steve would never be able to explain why, but he was sure it was the latter.
Assuming it was the latter, that probably meant that Ramses was involved in something, but this time Steve was pretty sure that it was bigger than a simple case of solving a murder. Steve couldn't think of anyone better suited to being a spy than his friend, even if he'd not improved on his skills since Steve last saw him. The thirteen year old Ramses would have made a better intelligence officer than many of the people Steve had worked with, and he could imagine how much better he would be now. Steve just hoped they were going to be on the same side.
Chapter 5