Hawaii Five-0 fic: Family business - chapter 10/?
Chapter 1 (contains full headers and overall warnings), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
Rating / Warnings: R for angst and references to off-screen violence, including canonical character death.
Spoilers: minor spoilers up to 2x01, but this is mostly AU.
Word count: 7,000 for this chapter; 46,000 words so far.
Author's note: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update this - I got distracted by several other stories, and this chapter proved to be a real challenge.
***
Chapter 10
A few minutes later, one of the prison guards passes Hesse's list to Danny. The handwriting is messy, because his right arm is out of action thanks to Kono, but should be clear enough for Steve's purposes.
Danny's just heading for Halawa's reception area, to wait for his cousin, when a sudden thought makes him stop and double back.
He finds Steve coming out of the surveillance station for this wing, carrying a DVD which presumably contains a copy of the visiting area footage. Danny pulls him into a nearby men's room, checks that the stalls are empty, and locks the door behind them. Steve looks surprised, but doesn't resist this manhandling.
"Listen, did you call the warden yet?" Danny asks urgently.
"I was just about to - why?"
"Something's not right, here," Danny tells him. "How did Wo Fat, or whoever it was, get in to see Hesse so soon after he was transferred from hospital...don't prison visits have to be authorized way in advance? And do maximum security inmates normally get visitors at night?"
With a frown, Steve says, "You're right; only attorneys and law enforcement can get in at such short notice, and Halawa's visiting hours end at 4pm. Shit, I should have picked up on that earlier."
"So maybe this whole story about a big bad wolf is intended to distract us while Hesse tries to escape. Kinda like in The Usual Suspects, you know?"
"Or else Wo Fat is the type of guy who can bribe or intimidate prison staff, and walk away without consequences," Steve counters. "Which means Hesse is in danger from the guards as well as the other inmates."
"Why are you suddenly talking like you believe Wo Fat is real?" Danny asks.
"Because I got my first piece of proof already, just a couple of minutes ago. I snapped a picture of Hesse's visitor, off the security footage, and ran it through facial recognition. An Interpol alert came up for a Chinese national named Wo Fat. He's wanted in multiple countries for murder, arms trafficking, bribing officials, and all kinds of other crimes."
"Huh, really?" Danny says. "Okay, so maybe we're not on a wild goose chase after all. But here's an unsettling thought for you: what if Wo Fat has bought off the head honcho himself? When Hesse demanded a meeting, the warden put the two of you in a room without cameras. Maybe he hoped you'd lose control, and kill the bastard. Two birds, one stone."
"Isamu Quinn is an old Navy buddy of Dad's," Steve protests. "They used to go spear-fishing together. I can't believe he's dirty, or that he'd try to set me up either - he's known me my whole life."
"Even good people can be corrupted, if you find the right pressure point. There's not much I wouldn't do to protect Grace...and most of these guys will have a wife, kids, maybe even grandkids. Lot of leverage, there."
Steve slumps back against the bathroom wall. "And I thought I was supposed to be the professional paranoiac around here."
Danny recognizes his own words, leveled at Steve the day they met. Christ, was that really six weeks ago? "You're a bad influence, man," he says. "So how do you want to play this?"
"I don't have much choice. If he's transferred anywhere less secure than this, Hesse will probably escape - he's been caught before, and always managed to break out. And anyway, moving him to HPD lock-up or to Five-0 HQ might draw some unwanted attention."
"Best not to tip your hand too soon, in case Wo Fat doesn't know you came here," Danny agrees. "Just make up some bullshit story to get Hesse into solitary lockdown."
"Yeah, okay," Steve says. "Good thing I'm a practiced liar."
Someone bangs on the locked door, then, and shouts, "Open up, I gotta go."
The two of them leave the bathroom together, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the waiting guard.
Steve calls the warden and reports that Hesse had seemed feverish and confused, trying to confess to his crimes but not making much sense. So Steve argues that the guy should be under close medical observation instead of in an ordinary cell.
Warden Quinn, apparently convinced, orders the duty supervisor to move Hesse to a secure isolation room in the infirmary. Only one senior guard per shift is to be allowed near him, as well as the prison doctor. It's the best they can manage, Danny figures; now they just have to hope that Hesse survives the night.
On the drive back to Honolulu, Steve is tense almost to the point of vibrating. Unlike with Chin, earlier today, Danny doesn't think a stream of distracting words will help.
Instead, he says, "Okay, so where do we start?"
"You don't have to help me with this, Danny," Steve says, glancing over at him. "I've asked too much of you today already."
Danny shakes his head. "Your team is out of commission, and I'm an experienced detective with a personal interest in the case and nothing else to do right now. Makes sense for us to tackle this investigation together."
"It's Christmas Eve - you don't have plans with your girlfriend, or your daughter?"
"Julia is out of town until early January," Danny explains, "and this year I only get to see Grace for six hours on Christmas. So you have my undivided attention until tomorrow afternoon, if you want it."
After a moment, Steve says, "I appreciate that, yeah. Well, finding a lip-reader is my top priority. Everything else can wait until after we see and hear what went down during Wo Fat's visit."
"I think Homicide has sign interpreters on call, to assist with deaf witnesses and suspects," Danny offers. "Some of them might be able to read lips, too."
"I want to keep HPD out of the loop on this one," Steve says, "present company excepted. There's a good reason, trust me, but I'd rather tell you about it later."
Danny just shrugs and says, "Well, I've noticed Chin and Kono using ASL with each other. It's a long shot, but maybe one of their relatives is deaf?"
"Maybe," Steve says. "They're both pretty reluctant to talk about family stuff, but it's worth asking."
So he dials Kono, and puts his phone on speaker. "Hey, how's Chin doing?"
"Sleeping, finally," she says, sounding exhausted herself.
"Okay, good. Listen: I'm sorry to bother you tonight, but I need someone to interpret a silent surveillance video. I'd rather not use any of the lip-readers with ties to HPD. Do you know anyone who could help out?"
"My mother reads lips," Kono says, "and she hasn't had anything to do with the department since she and my father split."
"Think she'd be willing to help us on this case, seeing as Chin's involved?"
"Actually, Mom's the only other person in my family who believes in him."
"Huh, okay," Steve says. "Would she be willing to come to HQ now? I know it's the holidays and I know it's getting late, but this really can't wait."
"She's a night owl, so that shouldn't be a problem. I'll text her and let you know if she's available."
Kono phones back a few minutes later and reports, "Okay, she's on her way - should be there soon."
"Thanks, Kono," Steve says. "Anything I need to know for when I meet her?"
"Mom can speak fine and she can still hear some, but it's better to let her read your lips than to shout. Face her straight on, and speak clearly."
"Would she accept payment for doing this?" Steve asks.
"Probably not, but you know how the custom goes: offer her money anyway."
***
Mayumi Kalakaua is a short, slender woman, her face remarkably unwrinkled though Danny figures she must be at least 50. There are streaks of gray in her straight black hair, which is pulled back to reveal hearing aids in both ears.
When Steve introduces himself, she smiles at him. "My daughter's told me so much about you, Commander, but she didn't mention how handsome you were."
Danny grins, and extends his own hand to Kono's mom. "Detective Danny Williams, ma'am," he says, enunciating carefully.
"The one who stayed with Chin Ho today?" When he nods, she says, "You did a good thing, Detective."
Steve's already got the surveillance footage cued up on the computer in his office. Mayumi sits beside Steve, motioning for him to play, pause, and rewind the footage as she relays the conversation between Hesse and his visitor:
"Wo Fat, what are you doing here?"
"I have a question for you - one I needed to ask in person."
"What is it?"
"How much does Steve McGarrett know about what his father was investigating before you killed him? How close is he to the truth?"
"Too close."
"Well...we can't have that now, can we?"
"Please, Wo Fat, don't do this. I've been nothing but loyal, all these years. I did every bloody thing you asked of me."
"You have been useful, certainly. But you represent the past, not the future. And your thirst for revenge against Steve McGarrett has now made you a dead weight, to me and my organization. Goodbye, Victor."
Wo Fat walks away, leaving Hesse wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and the recording ends.
They run through it again, with Mayumi writing everything down the two men said and Danny and Steve focusing on body language.
"You can tell Hesse is freaked out," Danny points out. "Look at his face when he first sees who's waiting for him. And how he bows his head and closes his eyes before answering Wo Fat's question."
Steve freezes the footage on Hesse's reaction to Wo Fat's final statement. "Yeah, that's fear, starting to shift to anger. I don't think even he could fake that."
"Wo Fat looks so cool and calm, like he's talking about the weather instead of making a death threat." Danny shakes his head. "He's a professional, that's for sure."
When Mayumi presents the completed transcript to Steve, he thanks her and holds out a $50 bill. There follows an almost-comical exchange, as she refuses the money and he insists.
"If you won't take it for yourself, use it to get something extra for your daughter and son-in-law. They've had a hard day."
Luckily, Reyes had explained this particular Hawaiian ritual to Danny, so he's not surprised when Kono's mom turns away to find her purse and Steve slips the bill into her jacket pocket.
She pats her pocket, rolls her eyes, and leans up to kiss Steve on the cheek. "Good luck finding your bad guy, eh?"
"Mahalo. And remember: please don't tell anyone about any of this," he says solemnly, and she nods.
Mayumi kisses Danny, too. "Happy holidays, Detective."
"Mele Kalikimaka," he says, hoping he pronounced it right, and she beams at him before walking out the door.
Once Mayumi's gone, Danny says, "So what investigation were Wo Fat and Hesse talking about? Didn't your father retire years ago?"
"It's a long story, and we don't really have time for it now. But I just found out last week that my mom wasn't killed by a drunk driver, like Dad always told me. Apparently it was a homicide."
"Jesus," Danny breathes, "I'm so sorry. And Jack kept investigating it all this time, even after leaving HPD?"
"Yeah, looks like it. So now I'm wondering if Wo Fat either had something to do with Mom's death, or knows who did. Dad left behind a cache of files and physical evidence which I've been trying to make sense of, but it's all just a big puzzle."
Steve tosses Mayumi's transcript back onto his desk, frowning deeply.
"Well, I like puzzles," Danny says. "And Clue was my favorite board game as a kid."
He succeeds in getting a small smile out of Steve. "I liked Risk."
"Shocker," Danny drawls, before getting back to business. "Okay, so what's the priority now - tracing Hesse's movements, or researching Wo Fat?"
"I want proof that Victor didn't come to Hawaii as a result of me capturing Anton. Let's get that nailed down first before moving on."
Danny understands what that certainty would mean to Steve, in terms of easing his guilt over Jack's death. So he pulls out the penciled list he got from the prison guards, and hands it over.
Steve scans it and says, "Hesse claims Sang Min met him off the ship and took him to Kishimoto, first of all. Then Kishimoto directed him to Fred Duran, a local arms dealer, who sold him the gun Hesse used on my father."
"So can we talk to those people?"
"Sang Min is in the wind. We let him out of Halawa to help us find Hesse, but he got free and they disappeared together. Not Five-0's finest hour," Steve adds, a rueful twist to his mouth. "And Meka killed Duran during our original investigation into Dad's death. We can probably find Kishimoto still at his club, though. C'mon, let's go."
Steve speeds across Honolulu, the traffic light this late at night. "Kishimoto is a facilitator for Hawaii's criminal underground - he helps people stay off the grid," he tells Danny. "Since Hesse managed to live here for three months without me knowing about it, he's obviously damn good at it."
"And why would this Kishimoto guy cooperate?"
"Well, he already ratted on Hesse once. That's how we came so close to capturing him, yesterday."
"Hey, listen, about yesterday: didn't you think I might like to know Hesse had survived?" Danny asks, because it's been bugging him. "Obviously I never met my uncle, but I still care about catching his killer. And no matter how awkward things have been between you and me, I would've helped out in a heartbeat."
Steve glances at him. "I'm sorry...it just didn't occur to me. As soon as we found out Hesse was alive, all I could think about was finishing the job for Dad's sake. And then this morning, Chin's situation took priority over everything else."
"Yeah, okay," Danny says, because he really can understand that kind of laser focus. If someone murdered Ma or Pop, he doubts anything could distract him from the hunt - except for comforting Gracie, obviously.
***
They pull up outside a classy-looking building overlooking a private beach. Security refuses to let them in, even when they flash their badges. But once the guard passes on the message that Commander McGarrett wants to see Mr. Kishimoto, a well-dressed guy in his 60s comes outside.
He chuckles unpleasantly when he sees Steve. "Don't tell me you lost Victor Hesse again, Commander. I was sure the evening news said Five-0 had arrested him earlier today."
"Oh, we have him all right," Steve says evenly. "I just want solid proof of something he told me, and I figured you could help me out."
Shaking his head, Kishimoto replies, "Now that Mr. Hesse is safely behind bars, my motivation for assisting you seems to be reduced."
"Like Sang Min told you yesterday, I'm not here for you. Give me the information I need about Hesse, and I'll leave you alone." Steve spreads his hands. "If you fail to cooperate, well, Five-0 might just start taking a very close interest in your club and your other business affairs."
Kishimoto strokes his white beard, looking thoughtful rather than intimidated. "What do you require of me, exactly?"
"Hesse says he met you on September 16, within hours of arriving in Hawaii. I'd like to see surveillance footage of that meeting, or any other evidence that it took place."
"Do you wish to know what services I may have provided to him?"
"All I care about is whether he was here that day or not," Steve says.
Kishimoto nods. "I have an old man's memory, so I can't tell you offhand, and you'd need a warrant to see my written records. But I have security cameras covering every angle in this building...a useful insurance policy, given the nature of my clientele. Follow me."
Steve is soon sitting at the club's security desk beside a hard-faced guard, with Danny standing behind them. After consulting Hesse's timeline, the archived footage is cued up to the approximate time of his supposed meeting here.
The guard fast-forwards through the images until Steve suddenly says, "Stop - go back."
On the screen, an uninjured, smiling Victor Hesse walks through the club's front door. He's accompanied by a long-haired Asian man, who leads him across the main room and introduces him to Kishimoto.
The timestamp is 11.47am, 09.16.2010. Wide-eyed, Steve turns around to face Danny, who nods in silent understanding: Hesse was telling them the truth, after all.
Steve stands up, thanks Kishimoto for his assistance, and walks out with Danny at his heels.
A few blocks from the club, Steve abruptly pulls over and stops the truck. He folds his arms on the steering wheel and slumps forward onto them, like his head's too heavy to hold up any longer. Danny watches him, concerned, but doesn't dare speak.
"It takes over a week to sail from China to Hawaii," Steve finally says, his voice quiet and taut. "So at the time Victor Hesse boarded that cargo ship, his brother wasn't in my custody. I was in Seoul, and my intel suggested Anton was finalizing a big arms deal up in Pyongyang."
"How did you catch him, in the end?"
"Anonymous tip: Naval Intelligence received word that Anton would be crossing the Korean maritime border and coming ashore at a certain place on September 20, at dawn. HQ suspected a trap, but I went in anyway. And he showed up exactly where and when the source had predicted."
"So now you're thinking someone in Wo Fat's organization betrayed Anton?" Danny asks. "Or even Victor himself?"
Steve shakes his head a little. "Victor truly loved his brother, despite being a soulless bastard in every other respect. But yeah, maybe Wo Fat did it to put me off the scent. Why would I suspect Victor of having any ulterior motive, after I'd just caught and killed Anton? On the other hand..."
When he doesn't go on, Danny prompts, "What?"
"Before I answered that call from Dad's number, Anton said I didn't talk to my father often enough. He couldn't see the screen of my phone; he could only have known if he was in on the plan. And then, just before our convoy was attacked, he smirked at me and said, 'Boom'."
"So Anton let himself get arrested, in the expectation that he'd be rescued by Wo Fat's men," Danny concludes. "It gave Victor the perfect cover for killing Jack, and gave Anton a chance to kill you too."
"Yeah, and he nearly did. The only reason I shot Anton was that he was about to fire at me. All this time, I thought that my instinct for self-preservation was what got Dad killed. But now..."
"...now you know it wasn't your fault." Tentatively, Danny lays his hand on Steve's back and rubs soothing circles, the way he would if Grace woke up from a nightmare. Steve startles a little, but doesn't move.
"It wasn't, Steve. And if Wo Fat sent Victor to question him, then Jack must have realized pretty quickly that you were just a pawn in a bigger game. I'm sure he didn't blame you."
Steve's breathing sounds ragged, but he doesn't argue and he doesn't shy away from Danny's lingering, gentle touch. They sit in silence for a while before Steve straightens up, scrubs at his face, and starts the engine again.
***
Back at Five-0 HQ, Steve insists on seeing what the two of them can learn about Wo Fat on their own.
"Hesse said the guy had politicians and bureaucrats in his pocket, and we have to assume that extends to law enforcement and the intelligence agencies too. We can't know who to trust."
"Yeah, but I doubt this info will be easy to find without talking to people," Danny counters. "If Wo Fat's activities were common knowledge, at least one of us would have recognized his name. You'd surely have heard of him via Naval Intelligence, especially since you spent five years chasing two guys who apparently worked for him."
"Good point." Steve sighs. "Still, let's just do some basic research to start with. If we get nowhere, we'll try reaching out."
So Danny borrows a laptop from Chin's hoard of electronic equipment, and settles down on the small sofa in Steve's office. "You focus on English-language sites," Steve tells him, powering his own computer up. "I'll see what I can find on the Mandarin side of things."
"You know Chinese? Really?"
Steve smirks a little. "I'm fluent in three languages and I know the basics of many more."
Danny, who can swear in Italian and just about scrape by in Spanish, rolls his eyes. "Smugness is not an appealing quality, Steven, no matter how hot you are."
When Steve glances at him, eyebrow raised, Danny bites his lip and looks down at the laptop screen. Working closely with Steve is one thing; commenting on his attractiveness is another. He has to remember and respect the boundaries, here.
And even if Danny proves himself invaluable, making the breakthrough that nets them Wo Fat, Steve is still his cousin and still a closeted serviceman. No matter how much Danny hopes otherwise, nothing has changed.
For a while, they read in silence. Danny finds nothing too useful on Interpol's 'Wanted Persons' website, apart from Wo Fat being sought by several Asian countries and a couple of Eastern European ones, too.
Wo Fat's doesn't appear on the FBI's equivalent, though, and the CIA doesn't exactly publicize its own most wanted list. They're more the 'assassinate first, crow about it later' type of guys.
A google search produces mostly irrelevant results. There are many Chinese restaurants across the US called 'Wo Fat's', and just scrolling past their menus makes Danny hungry. And a number of other people are named Wo Fat, too, including a law professor in Canada, an internet entrepreneur in Vietnam, and a classical musician in New Zealand.
Danny does find a few scattered references to their elusive master criminal, though. The Singaporean government declared Wo Fat public enemy number one in 2004, after three ministers, two generals, and an admiral admitted accepting bribes from him. In 2008, a human rights organization named him as a major arms supplier to warlords and dictators across Africa. And last month, a freelance Colombian journalist alleged that Wo Fat and the FARC rebels were trading guns for cocaine.
But there's one article that really makes Danny sit up and pay attention. Three years ago, the Washington Post reported the deaths of half a dozen American intelligence operatives somewhere in Asia. According to an unnamed CIA insider, they were sent to capture Wo Fat; instead, he had them all killed.
The paper was unable to get official confirmation that the mission ever occurred, though, and Danny can find no follow-up stories. Still, it backs up Hesse's claim that the Agency is desperate to catch Wo Fat.
It's looking more and more likely that the guy who killed Jack McGarrett is a reliable source of intel about an even worse killer, and how's that for a kick in the teeth?
Danny reports these findings to Steve, who is trawling through his own search results with the occasional help of a dictionary. The way he's frowning and muttering to himself suggests it's not going too well, but Danny doesn't think translation is the only problem.
Steve eventually looks over at Danny and says, "You've heard of the 'Great Firewall of China', right? The Communist regime polices online content generated inside the country, removing any mention of topics like Tiananmen Square or Tibetan independence. But it also censors information about senior officials who have been disgraced or who defected - and it looks like Wo Fat's one of them."
"Huh, okay. So you're looking through Mandarin-language sites based in other places?" Danny asks.
"Exactly. I've found a few Taiwanese websites that mention Wo Fat, and some articles written by Chinese expatriates. It seems like his father was a high-ranking spy who was killed during an overseas mission, sometime in the '90s. Wo Fat himself worked counter-intelligence, and rose to become the youngest-ever Colonel in the MSS."
Danny must look blank, because Steve explains, "China's Ministry of State Security is like the CIA, FBI, and NSA rolled into one. Anyway, somewhere along the line Wo Fat discovered the joys of capitalism and crime. He left China, went underground, and started to build his global network."
With a sigh, Steve sits back in his chair. "And yet none of this tells me why the hell Wo Fat might have wanted my dad dead...or my mom, for that matter."
"Your mother wasn't a super-assassin or anything?" Danny asks, only half-joking. This whole situation is so goddamn surreal, he wouldn't be all that shocked if it were true.
That draws a brief grin from Steve. "Well, if she was, her cover was pretty deep: she worked as an elementary school administrator, she volunteered at a local hospice, and she helped out with Mary's Girl Scout troop."
Steve's expression softens as he talks about his mom, and Danny wants so badly to hold him, to comfort him. Instead, he laces his fingers together in his lap and says, "You think whoever killed her was aiming for Jack, then?"
"Yeah, probably. But after getting his discharge from the Navy and becoming a cop, Dad hardly ever left Hawaii - and the international arms trade is way outside HPD's jurisdiction. So besides looking into Mom's death, what was he investigating that could have pissed Wo Fat off so much?"
Steve shakes his head, looking exhausted and frustrated, and Danny can empathize. After 34 years of certainty about his own parents, Ma's confession about Lieutenant McGarrett had come as a bolt from the blue. And now, in the space of a week, Steve has learned that his mother's car crash was no accident and that his father's murder may have been ordered by a mysterious foreign criminal.
"All right," Danny says. He gets up, grabs two fresh bottles of water from the refrigerator, and hands one to Steve. "Enough research, for now. I think it's time to reach out and touch someone."
Steve drains half the bottle, and Danny tries not to watch the way his throat works as he swallows.
"Yeah, okay," Steve concedes, "but I'm only willing to discuss this investigation with a few select someones."
"Time zones will make it tricky, anyway," Danny points out. "It's the middle of the night on the mainland...and Christmas morning, too. Not many people are gonna feel chatty right now. Hell, it's probably too late to call anyone local, either."
"Yeah, but O'Connor from NCIS is kind of an insomniac. She might be awake."
"Actually, what about trying Agent Bennett too?" Danny suggests. "She used to work at the FBI's Honolulu office - she might have some useful connections."
Steve shakes his head. "I hardly know her, and one day working on the same case isn't enough for me to trust her."
Since Danny is honestly a little surprised that Steve trusts him with this, he doesn't argue. Instead he says, "Well, in a few hours I could call an FBI buddy of mine back in Newark. I'm pretty sure she doesn't celebrate Christmas, so she might be willing to talk shop."
When Steve presses his lips together, Danny adds, "Listen: Sonia's the best Fed I ever dealt with, and she had my back during some organized crime raids that turned ugly. I have total faith in her, and I think she could help us."
"All right, but only if you tell her the minimum amount possible," Steve says, and Danny nods.
"Sure. And to complete our alphabet soup, what about the CIA? With your history, you must know people there."
Steve gives a short, bitter laugh. "Two weeks ago, I would've called my old buddy Nick Taylor. He used to be CIA, and still had some ties to Langley. But there is someone else at the Agency, a guy I've worked with pretty closely before. My team got him out of a tough spot, once, so he owes me one."
In what circumstances had a bunch of SEALs rescued a spy, Danny wonders, and on what continent? But he's sure there'd be no point in pressing for details.
"What about asking your girlfriend?"
Steve hesitates, looking oddly conflicted. "It's unlikely that Cath would have heard something about Wo Fat if I didn't, but I should at least try. And her ship's in the Persian Gulf, so she'll most likely be awake."
***
Explaining that he might need to talk about some classified material with his contacts, Steve shuts himself in Kono's office.
Meanwhile, Danny watches the highlights of the Jets-Patriots game from earlier today. Even though his team annihilated their oldest rivals, Danny's kind of glad he wasn't at the Meadowlands to see it happen - the snow was coming down sideways. Maybe living in Hawaii is making him soft.
When Steve comes back, Danny sets the laptop aside and asks, "Any joy?"
"I couldn't get through to my CIA contact, but I've left a message for him to call me. Cath said she hadn't heard of Wo Fat, and I didn't want her to risk digging around in the system in case his name is flagged."
"Okay," Danny says, "and what about O'Connor?"
"Well, it turns out NCIS is working a case that dovetails with ours." Steve sinks into his office chair with a heavy sigh. "One of the Marine battalions based in Hawaii recently deployed to Helmand province. And in the last month, three shipments of ammo and guns never made it to their forward operating base. A foreign arms dealer got tipped off about the timing and routes of those supply convoys, which are always varied for security reasons. He sent his mercenaries to hit the trucks, and apparently resold everything to the Taliban for a tidy profit."
Danny sucks in a breath. "Fucking hell. It's hard to believe any soldier would reveal that information, knowing the weapons could be used against their own people."
"I know," Steve says, "but unfortunately it does sometimes happen. Anyway, NCIS narrowed it down to two enlisted men in logistics. They both had major financial pressures, and both received large bank deposits the day after each convoy got hit. One guy owed tens of thousands to his bookie; the other was being blackmailed by a male prostitute, who threatened to expose him and get him kicked out of the Corps if he didn't pay up."
Jesus, what a stupid ugly mess. Steve looks grim, and Danny remembers what he'd said about not jeopardizing his career in order to fuck men. If this is what can happen under 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', it's no wonder Steve's played it safe all this time.
"So what's the connection to Wo Fat?"
"NCIS agents in Afghanistan interrogated the suspects. The gambler broke first, and confessed that the two of them met with the arms dealer here before shipping out to Afghanistan. The guy gave them a fake name and their descriptions of him weren't that helpful. But O'Connor now thinks it may have been Luther Magallanes, a big-time European arms dealer who used to supply Al-Qaeda in Iraq."
Danny frowns. "Wait, I know that name. Wasn't that the murder case Five-0 was investigating yesterday?"
"Yeah," Steve says. "He was shot execution-style and dumped in the ocean."
"Let me guess: you think Victor Hesse killed him on Wo Fat's orders?"
Steve nods. "Maybe Magallanes was a subordinate who screwed up, or maybe he was a rival. Either way, I figure Wo Fat told Hesse to eliminate the guy, get the hell out of Hawaii, and go back to arms trafficking. But the only reason he'd disobey orders and stick around would be to get revenge on me. That's what the whole bomb collar thing was really about - killing Chin to make me suffer."
"And that'd explain why Wo Fat now thinks Hesse is a liability," Danny concludes. His stomach growls loudly, and no wonder...it's past 1am, and dinner feels like a distant memory.
"Hey, listen: there's not much else to do here, for now," Steve says. "Want me to drive you back to your place, so you can grab some food and get some sleep?"
"Are you going home?"
"No - I'll research for a few more hours, then get started making calls. I've got to find a prosecutor willing to hear me out first thing on Christmas morning, and maybe a judge too. The sooner I can go back to Hesse with a possible deal, the better."
"Then I'm staying too, on one condition," Danny says. "Know anywhere that delivers, this time of night?"
Steve stares at him for a long moment, and then says, "That Chinese place I took you to, the day we met. It's gotten my team through a few all-nighters."
So much has changed since that first meal they shared, Danny thinks. Steve was closed-off and hostile, interrogating Danny sharply and refusing to cede an inch of ground. And now they're working together so well, bouncing ideas off each other like they've been partners for months.
"Great. I'll have sweet and sour pork plus half a dozen cream cheese wontons, thanks," Danny tells him, and is unsurprised when Steve looks unimpressed. This time around, though, he doesn't criticize Danny's dietary choices; he just pulls out his phone, and places the order.
Danny sinks back into the sofa cushions, and closes his eyes against the glare of the overhead lights. This has been the longest and weirdest Christmas Eve he can ever remember...and that includes the time five-year-old Matty swallowed a tree ornament and wound up in the ER, and the time Newark PD got called to a brawl between two rival mall Santas and all their elves.
It must be almost dawn on the East Coast, now. This time last year, Danny and Grace were at his apartment in Jersey. She had already woken him up, eager to open her first lot of gifts for the day.
But even without his daughter around, it doesn't look like he'll get much sleep this Christmas morning either.
That's the last conscious thought Danny has. Next time he opens his eyes, Chinese food is laid out on the desk and Steve is looking down at him, smiling a little. For a big guy, he sure can move quietly...must be all that ninja training, Danny's sleep-fogged brain decides.
The take-out smells delicious, and Danny licks his lips as he sits up. "Hope you gave the delivery driver a decent tip," he croaks, rubbing his eyes.
"Of course," Steve says, passing Danny his containers of food, a plastic fork, and a bottle of water.
"Good. I delivered pizza, my senior year," Danny tells him, between mouthfuls. "It's a tough gig."
"Anyone ever rob you?"
"Three times - yeah, it wasn't a great neighborhood," Danny adds, when Steve's jaw drops.
"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
"The first mugger was pretty big, but I'd been taking on kids taller than me since kindergarten; I managed to fight him off. Second time, a few months later, it was two masked guys with baseball bats. They got my money, and the pizzas too, but they didn't hurt me."
Steve is holding his chopsticks motionless in midair, like he's too busy listening to remember about eating.
"You didn't quit, after that?"
"Ma wanted me to, but I was determined to earn enough to buy myself a decent car. Third time, though, the son of a bitch had a gun. I got a good look at his face before he took the cash and knocked me out. Once I'd recovered, the detectives sat me down with a sketch artist. They matched my description to a local ex-con with a history of violent muggings, and I picked that guy out of a line-up. I would have testified, too, but he got shanked in prison before the trial."
"Jesus," Steve says. "So is that whole experience what made you want to be a cop?"
"I'd always been interested in law enforcement, but yeah - it made up my mind. I wanted to catch bad guys like him, and help the people they hurt."
Steve nods, with what seems like an approving smile on his face. Danny looks away, because it's harder than he'd expected to have this much of Steve and nothing more.
But Danny's here to do a job. So he says, "Hey, change of subject: can you tell me more about Hesse? If you want me to be in the room when you interrogate him again, it'd be good to know what questions to ask."
"Some of it's classified," Steve says, "but I'll give you everything I can."
***
Danny already knew his cousin had an impressive brain, but the amount of information he's memorized about Victor Hesse is kind of scary. Once he's finally done talking, Steve prints out the NCIS file on Magallanes that O'Connor had emailed over and Danny immerses himself in the documents. He never expected to get a crash course in international arms trafficking when he got out of bed 20 hours ago, that's for damn sure.
Just after 4am, Danny calls his buddy from the Newark FBI office. Steve is sitting a few inches away, listening in.
"Agent Patel," she answers crisply.
"Hey, Sonia, it's Detective Danny Williams here."
"Oh, hi Danny," she says, her tone much warmer. "I didn't recognize your new number. How's life in Hawaii?"
"I'm doing okay, thanks. Listen, have you got a minute to talk? I need to ask you something, but it has to be in complete confidence."
"Sure - what is it?"
Danny takes a breath. "Do you know anything about a Chinese criminal called Wo Fat?"
"I've heard the name, yeah," Sonia says after a moment. "A classmate of mine from Quantico is heading up a RICO investigation in New York. Her team's looking into the recent rise of yakuza activity in the city, and she's convinced a few disaffected low-level members to talk. And apparently Wo Fat is kind of a Keyzer Soze equivalent for these guys; nobody's certain if he exists, but they're all afraid of him anyway."
"Huh, really," Danny says, not mentioning that he'd made that same comparison earlier. Beside him, Steve has tensed up, with a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Has your friend said anything else about him?"
"Her taskforce is really focused on the yakuza themselves, so I don't think she's pursued that tangent. But she thought it was strange that a Chinese man should have so much influence over the Japanese underworld, and so do I. In my experience working organized crime, the Asian gangs tend to stick to their own ethnic groups. So if Wo Fat is real, then he must be something special - and very dangerous."
Sonia pauses, and then adds, "Why are you asking, Danny?"
Danny goes for a simplified version of the truth, highly attuned to the distrust Steve's radiating. "A suspect mentioned Wo Fat as some big-time crime boss who scares the shit out of him, so I just wondered if there was anything to it. Our guy's not Japanese, though; he's from someplace in Europe."
"Interesting," she says slowly. "So either Wo Fat's a universal mythical bad guy, or else he's got his fingers in a lot of pies, in a lot of places. But you'd prefer I didn't tell my friend in New York about this conversation?"
"Please don't," Danny says, "but I'll be in touch again if I can offer anything concrete. Thanks for your help, Sonia."
"No problem...and Happy Christmas."
As soon as Danny's ended the call, Steve jumps to his feet and starts pacing.
"The yakuza are more active here than anywhere on the mainland. If Wo Fat has ties to the local branch, that might explain his presence in Hawaii. And I know Dad was secretly investigating something to do with Japan, so maybe that's why Wo Fat sent Hesse after him."
"Right, okay," Danny says, the words half-swallowed by a yawn.
"Sure you don't want to head home?" Steve asks.
"Yeah, I'm sure. I could do with some sleep, though."
"There's a decent-sized sofa in Meka's office, with a pillow and blanket," Steve tells him. "He's a big believer in power naps."
"I knew I liked that guy. Wake me up if you need me, okay?"
Steve just nods, sitting back down in front of his computer - hoping to find links between Wo Fat and the yakuza, no doubt. In the dimly-lit office next door, Danny toes off his shoes and lies down. The sofa is pretty comfortable, and he's short enough to be able to stretch out fully.
Danny can't help imagining what's happening back home, right now. Pop will be at Mass, because he held onto his faith even after Ma lost hers. Ma will be on her second coffee of the day, cooking up a storm and singing along to cheesy carols on the radio. Jen and Lisa will arrive at the house soon, their husbands and kids in tow, and Matt will be driving over from his luxurious Midtown condo with a trunk full of presents.
It hurts to be so far away from them all. But in a weird way, Danny has still wound up spending Christmas morning with family. He pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, to counter the chill of the AC, and closes his eyes.
***
Chapter 11