Fic: Stealth and Sudden Violence (Chapter 6)
“Look, Mainwaring,” Danny started.
“That's Inspector Mainwaring to you,” the man interrupted, his mustache bristling with indignation.
“Inspector Mainwaring,” Danny amended, managing to keep his eyes from rolling. “We have been assigned to this case, by the Ambassador of the United States of America, with the full agreement Assistant Commissioner Russell.”
“I doubt either of those two gentlemen were expecting shootouts in the Khan,” Mainwaring spat, his face getting redder and redder as he spoke. “And I'm positive they weren't expecting you to involve a woman in your illegal schemes. Especially some wog from god knows where.”
“A wog?” Danny asked, his voice low and dangerous enough to make Mainwaring step back. “That woman over there, who can no doubt hear you insulting her, is from the Territory of Hawaii. She's smart, she's got more of an instinct for police work that most of the men in your force have, and I would rather have her at my back in a fight than ten of you. Now, you're going to go over there and apologize to her for being an unpleasant human being and I might just forget I saw you last week coming out of one of El Gharbi's places in the red blind district.”
“You did no such thing,” Mainwaring argued, outrage making his face even redder.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Danny said, his hands wide and his shoulders coming up in an exaggerated shrug. “But I'll make damn sure everyone thinks it's true.”
“You...you...”
“Now then, Mainwaring,” a male voice said from behind Danny. “Why don't you go and supervise the statements being taken from the crowd in the street?”
Danny turned and saw Thomas Russell himself standing at the doorway of the rear of the shop. This couldn't be a good thing. You didn't drag the Assistant Commissioner out of his nice cool office with your shenanigans and expect there to not be repercussions. He just hoped the man would understand that they hadn't intended to do more that have a look around the shop and see what the men were up to.
“Very good, sir,” Mainwaring said, the veins in his neck standing out in his obvious struggle to not strangle Danny.
“And perhaps you'd better apologize to Miss, err,” and here Russell looked to Kono for an answer.
“Kalakaua,” she replied with a duck of her head in acknowledgment and thanks. “Kono Kalakaua.”
“Thank you, Miss Kalakaua,” Russell continued, not even stumbling over the name and its unfamiliar shape.
“I do apologize, miss,” Mainwaring muttered, before turning and striding out of the cramped office to the main room at the frint of the shop.
“The man really is a crashing bore, Miss Kalakaua,” Russell said in a low voice, ensuring only Danny and Kono could hear him. “But he doesn't deserve to be tarred with the particular brush you threatened him with, Williams. Unless, of course, he really was there.”
“He wasn't, sir,” Danny admitted, feeling chastened by Russell's words. He really did respect the man and hated to feel like he'd disappointed him in any way.
“Good,” Russell said, with a little nod of his head. “Now, let's have your report of what happened here so I have all the facts when Philippides goes to whine about it to Harvey Pasha.”
Danny didn't much like the head of the political CID, Philippides, but for reasons that no one could fathom, Commissioner Harvey seemed to think he was brilliant. He was an unpleasant man, who seemed more interested in what he could achieve at the expense of others than in doing his job. Not that Danny thought the job was all that necessary. If someone committed a crime, regardless of the motivation, he should be punished. Egypt didn't need political police trying to clamp down on people's wish for self determination. He really wanted to make sure Russell's faith in Steve, and by extension Danny, wasn't ill founded.
“Well, sir,” he started, trying to order his thoughts and tell a cohesive narrative. “We received information that this shop was being used as a meeting place by the people who Steve's father was investigating.”
“Who gave you the information?” Russell asked, his brows drawing together in an impressive frown.
“I know who it was, sir,” Danny replied, trying to think how to phrase his answer to not offend his superior officer but protect Ramses if he'd given the information in confidence. “But, can you ask Steve about it, because I suspect that it shouldn't be common knowledge, and he got the information?”
Russell looked at him for a few moments, unblinking and looking every bit as sharp as people said he was. “Alright, I'll speak to McGarrett.”
“Thank you, sir,” Danny said, tension sliding out of his shoulders. “As I said, we arrived here intending to gather intelligence under the guise of buying a carpet. Anticipating there might be people wanting to slip out of the shop unseen, however, Sergeant Kelly took up a position in the car at the gate to the Khan and Miss Kalakaua was set to watch the rear of the shop.”
“And you agreed to this, Miss?” Russell asked Kono, who was leaning against a stack of carpets, dressed in trousers, shirt and riding boots, the robes she'd worn long since gone. Danny could understand Russell's obvious skepticism. Her pretty face and slim build looked more suited to sipping tea and gossiping with friends than working in a police team.
“Of course, sir,” Kono said, standing up straight and matching Danny's easy but respectful stance. “I was wearing full robes and veil and no one suspected I wasn't there to shop. It was easy to see anyone who came through the backdoor of the shop.”
“Quite,” Russell said, obviously unsure what to make of Kono. “Do continue, Sergeant Williams.”
“Yes, sir,” Danny answered, hiding the smile he felt brewing at what Russell was going to say when he heard just what Kono had done. “We, Steve and I, were in the shop, drinking some coffee and admiring the rugs, when a Turkish gentleman entered. It was immediately obvious that he didn't expect to find us there, and that he knew who we were. Or we think he did. He was the one that Steve shot at the gate. Anyway, he pretended that he had a better poker face than he did and went into the back of the shop.”
“Did you recognize him?” Russell asked.
“No, none of us did,” Danny replied. “Be he definitely knew us. After a few moments, the big fella, the one with the tracheotomy...”
“Tracheotomy?”
“Yes, sir,” Danny said with a sigh, feeling stupid for mentioning it. “Steve punched him in the throat, collapsing his larynx and causing him to stop breathing. To save his life, he performed a tracheotomy with his knife and a cigarette holder.”
Russell stood blinking for a few moments, obviously speechless. Danny had to admit to feeling much the same way when Steve had told him.
“Anyway,” Danny continued, hoping to get through the story quickly before Steve, who was still searching the main room at the front of the shop, finished and decided to cause mayhem elsewhere. “The big man and the man in the suit came out of the back of the shop, obviously with instructions to incapacitate us. The shopkeeper made a break for it, running out of the back while Steve and I fought with the other two.”
“And did you see where he went?” Russell asked Kono, sounding like he was feeling a little pleased with himself for including her in the conversation. Danny smirked, knowing the poor man's Victorian sensibilities were about to receive a severe blow.
“Where he went, sir?” Kono asked, genuinely baffled by the question.
“Yes, my dear. Did you follow him?”
“No,” she replied, and Danny was outright grinning now, because Russell was clearly confused as to her role. “I stopped him when he tried to run.”
“You stopped him?” Russell asked, looking at Danny for confirmation. “You didn't shoot him, did you?”
“No, I barely hurt him,” Kono denied indignantly, shrugging slightly when Danny cleared his throat in a meaningful way. “Well, he might have a limp for a while and he's not going to win any beauty contests again either.”
“You fought him?” Russell asked, probably more horrified about that than with the thought of Steve doing emergency surgery in the shop. “With your fists?"
“One kick, sir,” Kono boasted, standing up even straighter and raising her chin in defiance. “And I may have banged his face into the floor a couple of times. But he could have done that falling over.”
“I thought I was used to women interfering,” Russell sighed finally, pulling a cigarette from his case and tapping it on the closed lid. “But Mrs. Emerson and Miss Forth don't go around fighting in the street.”
“Sir,” Steve said, coming into the backroom of the small shop, “you and Ambassador Jameson gave me full control of the team I picked and how I did the job.”
“We did McGarrett,” Russell agreed, looking at the man's slightly disheveled appearance and probably doubting his decision. “But I think I can speak for both of us when I say we didn't expect this.”
“There's no law against a woman doing the job Kono is doing,” Steve pointed out, drawing up to his full height as if he could intimidate Russell into agreeing with him.
Danny winced, that was never going to work. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the cigarette lighter he carried for just this type of occasion. He sparked it alight and held it out for Russell, who put his cigarette to his lips and nodded his thanks to Danny. The detective wondered if he was going to have to sit Steve down and have a little chat about catching more flies with honey than vinegar.
“Perhaps not, but I'm sure you understand that we can't have women running around taking the law into their own hands. It's just not done.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Danny interrupted, actually getting angry with Russell for not living up to the reputation he had for fairness. “In the short time that I've worked with Sergeant Kelly and Miss Kalakaua, they have displayed all the characteristics of exemplary police officers and you should be grateful that their skills are available to you.”
“Skills?” Russell asked, looking angrily at Danny. “And what might they be?”
“Since you ask, Chin, Sergeant Kelly that is, has in the space of around two days developed a card index system that will make the Cairo Police the envy of the world when it comes to managing data on suspects. Miss Kalakaua, as you have already heard, can get into situations that no male officer would be able to, and yet is more than capable of looking after herself should the need arise.”
Russell didn't say anything for a while, just drew on his cigarette and looked at Danny until the detective wanted to squirm away and hide. So much for the honey and vinegar chat with Steve. This was some kind of tipping point, Danny could feel it. If they failed now, they'd get shut down completely, or at least have so many restrictions placed on them that they'd be unable to do the job Steve had laid out for them.
“You are correct, Sergeant Williams,” Russell said eventually, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray he found on the desk. “It was perhaps a shock to my world view, a view that I think needs a little revising with regards to the err, gentler sex.”
“Thank you,” Steve breathed, and Danny could tell from the way his posture relaxed that he'd felt the importance of the conversation too. “I didn’t mean to interrupt Danny's report to you, but we're done with the search of the shop and haven't really found much of any use. We need to question the prisoners.”
“I can provide you with a room or two at headquarters,” Russell offered.
“We'll only need one, I think,” Steve explained, grinning at Kono. “The big guy has gone to hospital to have his throat operated on. And the one Kono took down needs to get his leg set and his face stitched back together.”
“You broke his leg?” Russell asked Kono, finally realizing what 'limp for a while' meant.
“His knee is dislocated too, sir,” Kono replied, a faint look of smugness on her face.
“Of course it is,” Russell muttered, shaking his head slightly. “You will keep me informed, Commander McGarrett?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed, drawing himself up and, Danny could tell, fighting the urge to salute.
“Very good.” Russell walked into the main room of the shop and out of the door. He called to Mainwaring as he stepped into the street and turned in the direction of the reply, disappearing from their view.
“Was there really nothing here?” Danny asked, once they had the room to themselves.
“No,” Steve said, a small smug smile twisting his lips upwards. “But Ramses said to trust no one.”
Steve pulled some crumpled pages covered in a spider's web of scratchy Arabic text. Danny sighed. He was learning Arabic, could even speak some words, but there was no use pretending that the writing wasn't always going to elude him.
“I found one in the pocket of our man in the suit and the others pushed under a stack of rugs,” Steve continued, looking more than a little smug about his find. “I figure Kono and Chin can go back to the house with these and start translating them, while we go and question suit-man.”
“I can't translate that,” Kono objected, clearly wanting to go with the two men to question the prisoner.
“But you can't come to headquarters,” Steve told her before Danny could. “Most policemen are like Mainwaring and besides I want to keep you as a secret weapon for a while longer.”
“It'll be all around town before dinner,” Danny pointed out, even though it was probably not what Steve wanted to hear. “Most people have nothing better to do than gossip.”
“Maybe, but at least we can try to not let them all know what she looks like,” Steve explained, handing the notes to Kono and striding out of the door.
“Where exactly are we going?” Danny asked, looking around at the large houses they drove past. “And yes, before you come back with some line you think is hilarious, I know we're in Gezira.”
“We're going to see an old friend of my dad's,” Steve replied, flashing Danny a bland little smile that did nothing to hide the fact that he was up to something.
“And why have we brought our silent friend with us?”
“He wasn't going to tell us anything before Hesse had time to hear about our raid and tidy up his loose ends,” Steve explained, turning the car into the driveway of a property that dwarfed that of Stanley Edwards. “I thought we might give him some encouragement to talk more quickly.”
“And what?” Danny asked, as the car came to a stop outside the grand entrance of the house. “You think a civilized cup of tea is going to loosen his tongue? A nice stroll in the grounds will make him see the error of his ways.”
“Something like that,” Steve said with a wolfish grin, and Danny's heart tripped a beat. This was insane. They should be back at headquarters questioning this guy, or going to the hospital to pick up the man Kono had maimed, not doing whatever mad thing Steve had planned.
The door to the house opened, but instead of the butler or footman he was expecting, a long-limbed, middle-aged man dressed in a crisp linen suit came bounding down the steps to greet them. “Steven, Steven. So good to see you again.”
“You too, Tom,” Steve said with a grin, taking the man's proffered hand and shaking it vigorously. “Danny, this is Thomas Darley, seventh Duke of Danforth. Tom, this is Daniel Williams, a detective with the Cairo Police and now my partner.”
“A detective?” the duke said, gripping Danny's hand and nearly crushing it with the enthusiasm of his grip. “How exciting.”
“Not nearly as much as you'd expect,” Danny responded, giving the automatic answer for when people thought his life was an adventure story. He did suspect that further time spent with Steve may make people's assumptions about his work more accurate.
“Oh, yes, quite,” the duke agreed, his face serious. “Lots of paper work and reading reports, I expect. Very dull.”
“Sorry to cut this short, Tom,” Steve said, looking like he was all business and not a crazy man. “But we need to use your pets for a while.”
“You do?” the duke asked with a pleased smile. “They'll be pleased to see you. We lost Bully and Bob since you were last here, but I have a few new ones for you to meet. I wonder if Sasha will remember you? She was always fond of you.”
“She's still here?” Steve looked genuinely happy and Danny was getting more and more confused. What were they going to do? Threaten the prisoner with dogs? Horses?
Steve grabbed the silent man from the back of the car, and Danny could tell the guy was as unsure of what was going on as Danny was. The duke glanced at the handcuffed man as though he'd noticed him for the first time. “Oh, I see. I hoped it was a social visit.”
“We can do that too,” Steve said, marching the prisoner down the path behind the duke. “Can't we, Danny?”
“Sure, we can be social,” Danny replied, eying the rocks in the formal garden and wondering if he could get away with claiming it was an accident if he lobbed one at Steve's head. “I can be as social as you'd like.”
“Splendid,” the duke said, loping off towards the rear of the house. “It's feeding time anyway.”
“Feeding time?”
“You know,” Steve started, giving the prisoner a shake to make sure he had his attention. “The Ancient Egyptians had a god called Sobek. They built temples to him, worshiped him, gave him offerings, everything. But they didn't know if he was a good god. Some said he created the land by lying eggs on the banks of the primal waters, others thought he protected the pharaoh, but he could also be a cruel god, taking away people from their loved ones. Whatever they thought though, they understood he was a powerful god.”
“Thanks for that, Professor McGarrett,” Danny quipped, getting really annoyed with Steve and his shenanigans. “You still haven't explained why we're here.”
“I thought you'd like to meet some old friends of mine,” Steve said, as they came around the corner of the house and looked over what in most properties would be a nice terrace filled with ornamental plants and uncomfortable chairs.
Instead, stretched before them, behind a thankfully solid looking set of iron railings, was a large pool with a small island in the center. Danny was about to comment on the odd garden arrangement when he realized the pool wasn't empty. In the murky water, their noses and eyes just sticking above the water, several crocodiles were lazily watching them.
“Come on,” the duke shouted from where he stood near the bank. “They're quite peckish right now.”
He threw a chunk of meat, the shoulder of some unfortunate animal, bone and all, into the water. The water churned as the huge crocodiles dived for it, thrashing and rolling as they snapped and grabbed at their meal.
“Don't give them any more,” Steve ordered, marching the now squirming prisoner towards a gate in the fence. “I want them hungry.”
“Well, they won't be happy,” the duke said, looking like he wasn't pleased either.
Steve unlatched the gate and kicked a lever that swung an iron bridge over the pool and connected their bank with the island. “Sobek was the crocodile god. People prayed at his temple so that they'd be protected from the crocodiles that swam in the Nile. They're the most vicious, most deadly of all crocodilians, you know? They drag you under and drown you, rolling you round and around, tearing off limbs.”
“Steven,” Danny warned, finally managing to find his voice, hoping it sounded calmer than he felt. He had nightmares about crocodiles, lurking, waiting to drag you down into the depths and rip you to shreds. “You are not going to feed the prisoner to the crocodiles, are you? There'll be forms to fill in. You know I hate forms.”
“Relax.” Steve was calm as you like as he dragged the handcuffed man over to the island and pushed him off the edge of the bridge. He forced the man down onto his side, facing the water and the crocodiles that were now circling the island lazily, obviously used to people.
“No, no,” the handcuffed man pleaded, the first words he'd spoken all day, which made Danny think this perhaps wasn't the worst idea. “You can't. You can't. Don't.”
Steve ignored the man's protests, quickly stepping back on the bridge and swinging it back to the bank, cutting off the island. The man was still trying to struggle to his feet as Steve closed the gate and came over to where Danny and the duke stood.
Steve reached into the big bucket of meat and hurled a chunk into the water right in front of the man. The crocodiles lunged forward, churning the water and the man screamed and scuttled backwards, away from the edge.
“Steve, seriously,” Danny warned, because he really didn't want to watch a man get torn apart by crocodiles, no matter who he might be.
“It's fine,” Steve assured him in a soft voice, turning his back on the island. “The banks of the island are vertical, with an overhang covered by grass and reeds. The crocs can't get out.”
“It's true,” the duke agreed, looking very earnest. “I made it so I can get close to them. We have dinner out there sometimes.”
“Dinner?” Danny squeaked, his voice high even to his own ears. “You sit out here with them?”
“It's fun,” Steve insisted, looking gleeful and suddenly about twelve years old. “I remember having dinner with Mom and Dad, and Mary was so scared at first. Then Tom told us all their names and showed us how they were actually tame.”
“Tame? Those aren't tame. Show me one tame creature in that pool and I'll show you a flying pig.”
“Oh, Sasha's quite gentle, really,” the duke assured Danny, making a move towards the fence.
“No, don't,” Steve said, grabbing the duke's arm. “We need to get this guy to talk. He might know who killed my father.”
The duke blinked at Steve, and Danny cursed his partner's loose tongue. You didn't go around telling friends of the victim who your suspects were. Knowing stuff like that made people do stupid things like trying to kill people in revenge or plant evidence to get a conviction.
“Right,” the duke said, seeming to pull himself up. He suddenly looked less like a foolish old buffer, as the British called men of a certain age and type, and more like someone who you really didn't want to cross. He picked up a shoulder of meat and flung it so it landed right on the edge of the island. The crocodiles rushed towards it and the man on the island shrieked, jumping back and tripping over his own feet. He landed near the back of the island, rolling on to his side and coming face to face with a big croc that had obligingly swum around the far side of the pool.
“Nice shot,” Danny found himself saying, because even in the worst of situations there was something beautiful about a perfectly weighted throw. And you should let a man know that.
“Full blue for Oxford, 1881,” the duke said proudly, as though he thought Danny could understand what he meant.
The suspect rolled to the center of the island, facing the three men on the shore. His face was white and Danny could tell he was close to cracking. The detective didn't like the method but it seemed to be working. The duke studied the roiling water and threw another piece over the heads of the crocodiles, one of which lunged upwards and snapped it out of the air. The enormous creature landed almost on the island, slapping down hard on the water and splashing their reticent suspect.
“Alright, I'll talk,” the man shouted from the island. “Just get me off here. Please.”
Steve turned and flashed Danny a smug little grin, before jogging to the bridge and swinging it out to the island. Danny sighed, wishing in a way that the man hadn't cracked. This was like rewarding Steve for his bad behavior. There was going to be no living with him now.
“Okay, talk,” Steve ordered the shaking suspect as he pushed him up against the railings of the pool. He was under no illusions that giving the man the time the journey back to HQ would take would let him regain his composure.
“I don't... I can't,” the man tried, his face pale and his whole body jittering with fear.
“What's your name?” Danny asked, interrupting the man.
Steve was about to turn and snap at his partner for asking stupid questions when the guy answered. “Byron Hameed.”
“Byron?” both men said together, their voices high with surprise.
“My mother was a foolish woman,” he said, his chin rising up a little in defiance over what was obviously an old hurt. “She was affected by the story of your poet.”
“He's not my poet, babe,” Danny objected, his hand raised to make his point. “I think the Brits have to answer for that one. Never was one for the Romantics myself. Now, the metaphysical poets, they knew what they were doing. 'License my roving hands, and let them go, Behind, before, above, between, below. Oh my America, my new found land, My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned.' That's poetry. Gets under your skin. Does things to you.”
Steve stared at Danny, only vaguely aware that Byron was doing exactly the same. Danny was right, it did do things to him, at least when Danny spoke the words. He imagined hands on him, Danny's hands, exploring and claiming. He wanted to let go of the ridiculously named suspect and find out if Danny could ever think of him as his new found land.
“What?” Danny asked indignantly, breaking the spell. “I can't like poetry? Because I'm a New Jersey cop, I shouldn't read John Donne?”
“No,” Steve managed to choke out, then cleared his throat and tried for a better reply. “You just seem more like a naughty limerick kind of guy.”
“Limericks?” Danny squawked, his hands raised in horrified anger. “Seriously? That's what you're going to throw at me? When I've stood quietly by and let you try to feed our suspect to crocodiles?”
“Quietly?” His definition of quiet must be different to Danny's.
“It's a good thing I'm so tolerant,” Danny replied, without any outward signs he was being ironic. “If you'd gotten yourself one of those old school, by the book types as a partner, you'd be up the metaphorical creek without a paddle.”
“Are you two going to argue all day?” Byron asked, looking more annoyed than scared. Maybe he needed to go back on the island.
“Who are you working for?” Steve asked, giving the man a vigorous shake just to make sure he remembered who was in charge.
“I'm not working for anyone,” the Egyptian answered, his chin going up again, defying either of them to argue with him.
“Oh, you're behind the murder of Steve's father, are you?” Danny said, his sarcasm not really hiding the underlying threat. “Because if you are, I'm not going to see Steve throw you in that pool.”
“No, no.” The man paled again and maybe Danny knew what he was doing after all when it came to interviewing suspects. “That was Hesse.”
“You know Hesse?” Steve demanded, tightening his grip on the man's shirt. “Where is he?”
“I don't know,” Byron answered, squeaking when Steve pushed him a little further over the railings. “Honestly. I've only met him once. We use the shop as a drop point. Ali, the shopkeeper, is someone Hesse and the Turk trust. We just work for them.”
“And that's it?” Danny asked.
“Yes,” Byron moaned, shrinking down against the railings when Steve let up his grip just a little. “Please. I don't know any more.”
“Right,” Danny scoffed, his face set in an exaggerated expression of complete skepticism. “And I'm the king of England. What about the note in your pocket? Is that just your shopping list?”
“What?” the Egyptian gasped, his arms twitching like they wanted to pat his pockets and check for the note.
“I bet you weren't supposed to keep the others either, were you?” Steve said, watching the fear grow on the man's face. “Hesse told you to never keep records, didn't he? And here you are with a sheet full of things you're supposed to have forgotten.”
“They're not...” he started to defend himself before clamping his mouth shut.
“They're not, what?” Steve asked, tightening his grip on the man's shirt again. “They're not yours? They're something you were supposed to pass on to Hesse?”
“A messenger from Bahariya Oasis brought them,” Byron admitted, slumping down in defeat.
“And you were supposed to pass them to Hesse?” Danny asked.
“Yes. Please, you have to protect me,” Byron begged, looking more terrified at the thought of what Hesse might do than during his time with the crocodiles. And that told Steve more about Hesse than anything else they had discovered. Not that they had much.
“I'll make sure you're safe,” Steve reassured him, glancing at Danny who ducked his head in agreement. “But I want to know everything you do.”
“Yes, okay,” Byron agreed, looking like he might shed tears of relief any minute. “Anything, just don't let Hesse get to me.”
It wasn't exactly the outcome he was hoping for when they caught their first suspect, but then he supposed this was what detective work was like. You followed leads, sometimes they went where you didn’t expect and sometimes they weren't as good as you hoped. Maybe he'd get Danny to start taking him through some of the cases he'd worked to give him some pointers. First though, he needed to get this guy locked up somewhere safe and then find out if Chin and Kono had found anything useful in the notes.
Chin looked up as the door to the McGarrett house opened with a thud. Steve and Danny bowled in, arguing about something that involved the detective waving his hands and the Navy man rolling his eyes.
“It was exactly like that,” Steve said to Danny, before turning to Chin. “How's translating the notes coming?”
“Slowly,” Chin had to admit. “My written Arabic's never been that good and your suspect...”
“Byron,” Steve and Danny interrupted in unison, grinning at little at each other when Chin felt himself screech to a halt mentally.
“Byron?”
“His mother was a fan,” Danny said with a shrug, before explaining the notes' origin. “But he didn't write them.”
“Huh,” Chin managed, before remembering he was in the middle of telling them what he'd found. “Anyway, whoever wrote the notes has the worst penmanship I've ever seen. He also seems to have carried on the Ancient Egyptian tradition of moving words around to make the sentence look good. Except his sentences are just confusing.”
“Maybe it's a code,” Steve said, looking just a little bit too excited.
“I think it's just the author's only mildly literate,” Chin argued, almost sorry to disappoint his friend.
“So what's the story?” Danny asked, getting them back to the point. “Because I have to say, we're kind of relying on those notes now. Unless Kono's casualty is talking. Where is she?”
“Swimming,” Chin replied, hiding a smile at Steve's look of longing towards the stairs to the pool. “You should join her, Steve. Danny and I can finish up here before dinner.”
“I don't get to frolic in the water?” Danny asked, trying to look wounded, but Chin could tell most of it was for show.
“Steve doesn't frolic,” Chin replied, looking at Steve who had his arms crossed, biceps straining his shirt sleeves. “He cuts through the water like a machine. So does Kono.”
Danny looked at Steve, who raised a single smug eyebrow, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I'll pass then. Go and swim yourself to a standstill while we get the information collated.”
“Are you sure?” Steve asked both of them, but he was already edging towards the stairs.
“Go,” Danny said, waving his arms at the larger man like he was trying to waft away a wasp. “You need to relax.”
“And you don't?”
“Go on,” Chin ordered, before they could get into another argument. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”
“Aye aye,” Steve said, offering a sloppy salute and jogging away happily.
Chin didn't fight his smile. Since he'd heard about his father's death, Steve had shut himself away behind unscalable walls, high enough to keep even his closest friends out, and Chin had felt powerless to help. And now those walls were coming down, no doubt because of the man standing next to him.
“You don’t mind them swimming together?” Danny asked, flicking one of the cards between his fingers. “Most people... well, most people don't think unmarried men and women should be in the same room without a chaperone, let alone half naked in a pool.”
“Seriously, brah?” Chin was surprised that Danny had a problem with the way they were in their own home.
“I don't have a problem,” Danny protested, holding up his hands. “I just... it's unusual and, well. God, this is so hard.” Danny scrubbed his hand over his face. “Are they a couple?”
“Oh hell, no,” Chin said, shocked that Danny even thought that. He'd thought Danny understood that they were all just friends, that, as unconventional as they were, they were like a family.
“Kono’s a beautiful woman,” Danny explained, obviously trying to say what he meant without offending Chin. “Steve’s an attractive man, I can see them together.”
“If you’re trying to find out if you should ask Kono out to dinner, you can, but she’ll likely tell you no. She’s not interested in anything that would limit her freedom.”
“I wouldn’t,” Danny objected, and actually Chin believed that he’d try his best not to, defying every social convention in the process. “But I wasn’t asking that.”
“Well, you could ask Steve out, he might say yes,” Chin said with a laugh, making it seem like a joke even though he was pretty sure his friend would say yes. He just doubted Steve wanted his preferences broadcast to all and sundry when they could get him sent to prison. He was fairly sure Danny wasn’t going to do anything to hurt Steve, even if he didn’t have the same feelings, but he wasn't going to risk Steve's freedom and reputation.
“Right,” Danny said with a cough, blushing furiously and looking down at the cards on the table. “So, we should probably go through these notes.”
“Sure,” Chin agreed, letting the subject drop. He couldn't push the matter, and hopefully, if they were both inclined the same way, they would work it out. But looking at Danny determinedly shuffling cards and knowing how terrible Steve was at social interactions, he didn't really hold out much hope. Maybe he'd have to help bring the two men, his two friends, together. Happiness was too rare a thing to pass up when it was there for the taking, regardless of what society thought.
Chapter 7