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sealieRating: Slash
Word count: ~3, 400
Warning:
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof – dedicated and continually enthusiastic. ❤
In fine Hobbit tradition, on my birthday, I present to you a chapter of The Co-operative.
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Hey, babe.”
They had had a quiet dinner. It had been Toast's turn to prepare dinner, but he had texted Chin with abject apologies in the face of an emergency at the University. All hands on deck had resulted in a pot luck pasta dinner of Seolh’s ubiquitous tomato sauce with sautéed fresh vegetables, and garlic bread. The vegetarian slant to his diet was a new chapter in Danny’s life, but he didn’t mind. Dinner had uncharacteristically segued into the family separating in their own directions.
Danny scrunched down lazily on Steve’s sofa, opposite his ridiculously large flat screen television playing the news, and set his sore head against Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s hand draped comfortingly down Danny’s chest.
“You feeling all right?” Steve scraped his stubbly chin against Danny’s temple.
“Yeah.” Danny nodded to emphasise his words since they weren’t facing each other. He knew what it was; too much sun giving him a minor headache. Knowing the cause made it somewhat easier to deal with. “What did Mamo say?”
“Uhm?” Steve questioned.
“Mamo?”
Steve leaned into Danny as he twisted to haul his phone out of one of his voluminous pockets. He thumbed to the picture of the Asian man.
“Mamo said it’s Koji Noshimuru. Said he worked with dad sometimes.”
Danny lifted the phone out of Steve’s hand. He moved through the pictures, scrolling through the ledger pages, pausing to admire the House tapestry in all its glory -- it was a tragedy that it had been burnt -- the massive carved Nandi Head, to the splay of coins over a white background.
“It’s a weird combination of photos,” Danny observed as he flicked to the front cover of a journal of indeterminate size -- no scale made it difficult to judge. The sequence of dolls were just simply creepy. “Do you think that this is the front of the ledger, or a different book? I kept the sequence of photos, so why take a picture of the pages then wander around the House taking photos of the tapestry and Nandi Head and the coins, and then take a picture of the front of the ledger?”
“What?” Steve unfolded from him in a tangle of limbs and shifted around, sitting crossed legged, so that he had a better view of Danny’s face. Danny missed the snuggling, but it was necessary.
“The sequence,” Danny repeated, holding up the photo of the vase for Steve’s inspection, “is weird.”
“It tells a story, I assume.” Steve took his phone back. “We just don’t have any words to go with the pictures.”
“Have you asked Chin to look at the pages in Chinese?”
“Haven’t had a chance.” Steve went back through the pictures, stopping on one of the coin images.
“Do you think we should show the picture of the guy to Mary?” Danny asked.
Steve’s chin came up. The crease between his eyes was deep as he considered Danny’s words. Slowly, Danny circled his finger in mid-air, mimicking the passage of time as Steve thought hard.
“Because--” Steve carefully uncrossed his long legs, “--this is a person of interest around the time of our parents’ deaths? Well, before, really.”
“When you put it like that… But you know, I didn’t mean now.”
“No time like the present. Come on.” Steve was off like an arrow.
“You know, Mary’s not that fond--” Ridiculous, he was once again addressing Steve’s back, or in this case an empty space, because he was out of the door and clattering down the hairpin staircase.
“What the Hell.” Danny levered off the sofa because, regardless of Mary’s feelings, he wanted to know.
Steve moved like the proverbial greased piglet when galvanised. The door to the blue studio was wide open by the time Danny made his more sedate way after the idiot. Danny just hoped that Steve had knocked rather than barging in. He stuck his head around the door, checking for unexploded ordnance or flying ornaments. Studying the phone, Mary stood in the centre of the ode to the colour blue. Danny so understood why Chin was planning on redecorating. It was undeniably a lovely pale blue shade, the same aquamarine of the Seolh business card that Steve had given Dolce, but accents, rather than every single surface, was the way to go.
“And?” Steve probed, hands on his hips.
“Jesus.” Mary held up her hand. “Give me a moment.”
“Is it the guy that you thought that you saw looking in the car?”
“I ‘thought’? I didn’t make it up, Steve!”
Defensive Mary bit like an antagonised rattlesnake.
“Or someone around the house when you were with mom when you were little?” Steve said, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. “If it wasn’t the guy looking in the car?”
“Pressure!” Mary turned away, stomping over to the windows overlooking the gravelled drive and the landscaped greenery in front of the House. “Could be. I mean--”
“Did you say ‘could be’?” Steve echoed. “Why do people turn away when they talk to me?”
Mary spun back, a flush colouring her cheeks. “I forget. Sorry.”
“So is it?” Steve demanded.
“He came so close, pushing his nose against the window. But… I can’t. It was dark.” Mary drew her fingers through her short hair, strands catching on her heavy rings. “Who is this?”
“Yakuza heavy,” Steve said, uncompromisingly, playing at being a cop. “Mom may or may not have been running surveillance on him.”
“And you asked if he came by the house?”
“He was a cop, once upon a time,” Steve said. “Mamo recognised him.”
Man, Steve liked to play his cards close to his chest, even when not necessary, Danny observed.
“If you had asked me if I just knew the guy, I wouldn’t have known him.” Mary was hollow eyed. “I didn’t remember that that guy was Asian. He was just a guy. It could be him. It was a long time ago, Steve!”
“But you’re sure that the guy looking in the car was Asian.” Steve stalked over to her. “‘Cos you’ve never mentioned that before.”
“Like we’ve ever talked about it! I didn’t think in those terms; I was nine. Adults were adults. But now I’d say…” She closed her eyes scrunching her face up. “Late twenties–early thirties, middling height, Asian. Twenty years ago, I would have said old guy like dad. And then got really annoyed because no one believed me.”
“So it’s a possibility, based on ethnicity, but not a definite one.” Steve snatched his phone back. “Because, one, it’s a poor picture, and two, your memory is old.”
“Maybe if there had been a proper investigation twenty years ago, after the death of a cop and his wife,” Mary spat, “I would have been questioned properly and showed photographs of possible suspects.”
“Proper investigation. Hmmm.” Steve paused, visage frighteningly blank.
“Babe?” Danny asked, in the face of that expression.
“That’s a really good observation. Uncle Choi said that it was an open secret that Koji Noshimuri was a Yakuza cop, and he left soon after the murder. Why? He wasn’t under any threat? It had to be to the Yakuza’s benefit that he was placed in the department.” Steve went preternaturally quiet, thinking hard. “He was forced to leave. By whom?”
“I’m guessing you’re going to answer your own question?” Danny hazarded.
“I’m so slow since I got injured!” Steve growled, clenching his teeth and fists in pure frustration. “I swear. I swear. Fucking head injuries.”
“Babe, calm down,” Danny said. And head injuries -- that was the first mention of head injuries.
Mary was a silent statue, fingers stuffed in her mouth.
“A CIA agent and a detective investigating the Yakuza were killed. And there was only a police investigation that ruled that it was an accident?” Steve spat. “There was a ‘proper’ investigation. Uncle Joe has a lot to answer for.”
“Babe. Babe.” Danny got his hands on his chest, stroking for calm. “Explain your leaps of logic? Cause you’re losing us.”
“Joe was mom’s handler. We know that from the photos in the album. He was there when mom was being a ‘friendly’ operative,” Steve said mockingly, sliding away from Danny’s comfort. “There was a police investigation. None of the files that Koa Keawe or Hyo Kelly have passed my way reported on the incident other than it was filed as an accident. The omission is conspicuous by its absence.”
“What’s missing?” Danny asked. Steve’s thought processes were impossible to follow sometimes.
“The CIA would have had to be involved. The CIA would have investigated our parents’ murder.”
“But why didn’t they talk to me?” Mary asked quietly.
“What?” Steve spun around, making her jerk back.
“But why didn’t they talk to me?” Mary repeated. “If there had been a CIA investigation shouldn’t they have talked to the only witness?”
“They did. Uncle Joe talked to you. Remember? The funeral. You were sitting on his knee, and he asked you what you remembered. That was the first time you mentioned the guy around the car. Uncle Joe shushed you. Told you that that couldn’t have happened. You burst into tears.”
“It was a funeral!” Mary said indignantly.
“I know it was a funeral! I thought that you were doing it to get attention--”
“What!”
“Uncle Joe shut you down, because if you could identify a Yakuza hit man I doubt you’d be standing in front of me today yelling at me.”
“You’re yelling at me.”
Jesus. Siblings, Danny thought, not for the first time, and rubbed his hand over his face.
“Hey. Hey.” Danny stepped between them flourishing out his arms, holding them apart. “Calm.”
“Danny,” Steve said.
“Kiddywinkles, you now have yet another complicating layer to the story. You, Mary, know why people never believed you, because your Uncle Joe made sure -- in your best interests -- that it was never documented for your own safety. Steve, you’ve got to talk to Joe, and get him to tell you the whole truth. It’s past the time that you need protection.” In all honesty, Danny thought Steve did need protection, and maybe that was behind Joe White’s machinations.
“Kiddywinkles?” Mary repeated.
“That’s your take away?” Danny rolled his eyes.
Steve’s phone vibrated in his hands, announcing a text. Glaring, he stared at the screen. Suddenly, his eyes widened in horror.
“Steve?” Danny asked, moving in close.
“The doc identified the palm print: Jovan Eteinne.”
“And?” Danny asked. The name wasn’t familiar to him.
“Comrade of Victor and Anton Hesse. He’s their computer expert.” Steve’s face pinched. “Not normally the person I’d expect to deploy a bug.”
“Do they all travel together?” Danny asked, because that was worrying, on a whole new level of worrying.
Steve had his ITE remote out and was simultaneously fiddling with the dial as he thumbed through his phone contacts. Danny slid in even closer to better listen. It was unusual for Steve to talk on the phone.
“Barnabas?” Steve said.
The only Barnabas that Danny knew was Simons, the Navy SEAL, who had stayed with them after the Hesse brothers’ attack, only leaving to pursue the terrorists in Europe, and who was now back on ‘Oahu.
“Sir?” The text came up on the BlackBerry’s screen courtesy of the mobile translation app.
“It's 'Steve’, Barnabas. It occurred to me, that I hadn’t reiterated my invitation when we last spoke. You’re welcome to stay at Seolh,” Polite Steve, precise Steve -- Lieutenant Commander McGarrett -- was palpably present, despite the tenor of a friend inviting another friend to visit.
The screen remained free of any further text for a long moment.
“That sounds like a good plan, Steve,” Simons said, eventually. “My rental is grim. Would tonight be okay?”
“No time like the present,” Steve said tightly.
“I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“Excellent.” Steve simultaneously flicked phone and remote buttons, ending the call, and changing the setting on his aids.
“We’re getting a visitor?” Mary asked.
“A colleague. A good man.”
What they were really getting was another layer of protection, Danny knew, but Steve wasn’t saying that.
“Really,” Mary drawled. “I mean, really, who is he?”
“You’ll like him.” Steve scratched at the long elegant line of his throat as he regarded Mary through his lashes. “He’s an officer and a gentleman.”
Mary, Danny guessed, would probably eat Simons up with a spoon.
“Dick,” Mary said, without heat. “What is he -- a bodyguard?”
“Better than that. He’s a Navy SEAL.”
Mary absorbed that, paling.
“You know,” Steve said stoically in the face of that unease, “Aunt Deb would probably love it if you visited.”
“You trying to get rid of me, bro?” Mary cocked her head to the side.
“Just trying to keep you safe.”
“Danny’s here. Chin and Kono are here. Toast’s here. Are you saying it’s not safe?”
“It’s as safe as I can make it. But if you were in Florida, which you could do, you’d be out of the line of fire.”
“And Danny Boy could go back to -- where was it? -- New Jersey.” She stared at Danny pointedly.
“My Monkey lives in Hawaii,” Danny said, showing his teeth, because he wasn’t moving anywhere. Well, if Steve said that they should go to Jersey, he would simply kidnap Gracie and deal with the legal fall out under the umbrella protection of the Williams’ Clan and every single one of the numerous Hudson County Fire Departments.
“I’m staying,” Mary said, chin up.
“Fine,” Steve said. “But you’ll follow the buddy system and wear your tracker.”
“When did this become a lecture about how I’m supposed to follow your rules?” Mary rose up on her toes. “I have been using your buddy system since you explained it to me.”
“Kiddiewinkles,” Danny chastised, moving between them once again. “You’re both impossible. Your default position seems to be defensive and offensive at the same time. Grow up.”
Mary bristled. If she had been a cat, her tail would have been lashing.
“I’m talking to both of you.” Danny helpfully pointed at Steve and then Mary. “You should just hug it out. I’m going to check the airbed in the room that Simons’ normally uses, ‘cause it will probably be as flat as a pancake.”
Maybe they would hug? Although, Danny didn’t expect them to do it with him watching. He stalked towards the door, and came to a complete stop at the sight of the large sagging handbag on a blue bookshelf.
“Danny?” Steve asked.
“Mary?” Danny pointed to the handbag. “Care to explain?”
“What?” Steve asked.
“That’s Jenna Kaye’s handbag -- the one that you took off her at the bar,” Danny said. Steve had thrust it into his hands when he had disarmed the woman. Danny had completely forgotten about it, leaving it at the table when he had chased after Kaye. “I remember it. It’s big enough to keep a kitchen sink in.”
“Mary,” Steve whined through all the syllables, as he stomped across to the bag and snatched it up.
“There’s nothing in it,” Mary said, “that you wouldn’t expect to find in a woman’s bag.”
“She’s a CIA data analyst pretending to be an intelligence operative.” Steve upturned the bag right there on the carpet, and pawed through the contents. “Where’s her cell phone?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“I’ll repeat it, she’s a data analyst.” Steve cocked a mocking eyebrow. “A data analyst that doesn’t have a cell phone or an iPad?”
“Maybe it was in her pocket?” Danny offered.
“I know what was in her pockets.” Grunting, Steve rent the bag in two between his clenched fists. A smart phone fell out of the lining with a clatter. Steve snatched it up triumphantly. “Ha!”
“Oh, my god,” Mary exclaimed.
“What? Why so excited?” Danny asked.
“Computer specialist.” Steve bounced to his feet. “Hidden smart phone. There are going to be toys on here.”
Tongue peeking out, Steve fiddled with the phone. Craning his head, Danny saw that it was as responsive as a corpse; the battery had long since run out of charge.
“I need to go into Pearl.” Steve announced.
A blink, and he was out the door.
“Shit.” Danny chased him into the corridor, yelling, “I’m coming with!”
Steve was already by the staircase outside Danny’s studio.
“Stop! Now!” Danny ordered, as he raced down the corridor, because orders always worked best with Steve. Satisfactorily, Steve froze, one hand on the banister.
“Danny,” Steve whined, as Danny grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, stopping him going any further. He was doing a lot of grabbing today. Steve was wound tighter than a spring.
“Buddy system, Babe. You don’t go anywhere alone.” Danny stared straight at him, forcing understanding.
“I’m going in, dropping this off, and coming straight back.” Steve slid his hand around Danny’s neck, smooth fingernails skirting over the sunburn, and leaned in to lightly kiss Danny’s lips.
Danny stretched into the kiss, touching chapped lips with his tongue. Steve’s large hands bracketed his face, carefully as if holding glass. A glorious shiver shimmied across Danny’s nerves, as he matched Steve’s kiss.
“Oh, gawd. Kissing brother. Yuck.” Mary made a disgusted sound.
Steve rested his forehead against Danny’s and sighed. Danny rolled around in their loose embrace, as Mary made an about face and darted back into the blue studio.
“Sisters.” Steve screwed his nose up at the space where she had been standing.
“Steve, I’m coming with you.”
“Look, I won’t be long. You look like a boiled lobster. Chill out.”
“Your truck’s at the Base,” Danny pointed out, ignoring the insult, because boy, Steve could be obvious and oblivious at the same time.
“So I’ll take Chin’s, or Kono’s jeep,” Steve said, shrugging, unconcerned.
“Steve,” Danny began.
“I’ll be one and half, two hours at best.” Steve glanced at his watch.
“This is not up for negotiation,” Danny said simply.
Steve pouted, truculently.
“Look, you don’t need to go all the way to the base,” Danny realised. “Jog on over to Kala Drive where the surveillance vehicle is. Give it to them, and they can get a courier to take it to Dr. Hewson.”
Steve absorbed that with all the expression of a Winnebago.
“Huh, that’s a good idea.” Finally, Steve stood a little straighter, turning the suggestion over in his head.
“I have them,” Danny said. He made a point of smiling his cat had got the cream smile.
“Okay.” Steve nodded, eyes narrowing slightly in the face of Danny’s expression. “I’ll be back in fifteen-twenty minutes. Look, if you want to help, see if you can find the ledger.”
“You think it’s here?”
“You sure you got the order of the photos right?” Steve countered, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Danny was sure; he worked with sequences of photos all the time. It was one of his things. A story could be told in images over time.
“Mom had possession of the ledger,” Steve said. “It’s as you said before-- She took the photos of the pages. Then ran around the House taking photos of the tapestry, and the Nandi Head and the coins and then took a photo of the front of a notebook, ledger, or any old book. But it’s probably the ledger. She did that here at the House. Mom never lived at the House. But Joe’s right, this place is a walking garage sale. It’s the perfect place to hide things in plain sight.”
“So where’s the library hiding?” Danny asked. He would have preferred to go with Steve to the surveillance truck, but he had that resolute cast to his patrician’s face that was impossible to argue against. Danny was going to let him win this minor battle. “You’ve got a museum. Where’s the library?”
“There isn’t any library, Danny.” He smiled fondly. “There’s shelving stacks in the museum for the rare folios. But there’s no library per se. Well--”
“Ha! Ha!” Danny jabbed his finger. “See!”
“One of the reception rooms has a lot of books in it.” Steve flicked the tip of Danny’s outstretched finger. “There is an attempt at order. Like all of Grandmother’s stuff in one room. But, first go see if Toast has an idea of the whereabouts of an old ledger on his database.”
“Yes, sir.” Danny fired a sloppy salute.
“Go to it, Private Williams.” The kiss that followed was in no way military.
~*~
Tbc
Part ninety five
Word count: ~3, 400
Warning:
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof – dedicated and continually enthusiastic. ❤
In fine Hobbit tradition, on my birthday, I present to you a chapter of The Co-operative.
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Hey, babe.”
They had had a quiet dinner. It had been Toast's turn to prepare dinner, but he had texted Chin with abject apologies in the face of an emergency at the University. All hands on deck had resulted in a pot luck pasta dinner of Seolh’s ubiquitous tomato sauce with sautéed fresh vegetables, and garlic bread. The vegetarian slant to his diet was a new chapter in Danny’s life, but he didn’t mind. Dinner had uncharacteristically segued into the family separating in their own directions.
Danny scrunched down lazily on Steve’s sofa, opposite his ridiculously large flat screen television playing the news, and set his sore head against Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s hand draped comfortingly down Danny’s chest.
“You feeling all right?” Steve scraped his stubbly chin against Danny’s temple.
“Yeah.” Danny nodded to emphasise his words since they weren’t facing each other. He knew what it was; too much sun giving him a minor headache. Knowing the cause made it somewhat easier to deal with. “What did Mamo say?”
“Uhm?” Steve questioned.
“Mamo?”
Steve leaned into Danny as he twisted to haul his phone out of one of his voluminous pockets. He thumbed to the picture of the Asian man.
“Mamo said it’s Koji Noshimuru. Said he worked with dad sometimes.”
Danny lifted the phone out of Steve’s hand. He moved through the pictures, scrolling through the ledger pages, pausing to admire the House tapestry in all its glory -- it was a tragedy that it had been burnt -- the massive carved Nandi Head, to the splay of coins over a white background.
“It’s a weird combination of photos,” Danny observed as he flicked to the front cover of a journal of indeterminate size -- no scale made it difficult to judge. The sequence of dolls were just simply creepy. “Do you think that this is the front of the ledger, or a different book? I kept the sequence of photos, so why take a picture of the pages then wander around the House taking photos of the tapestry and Nandi Head and the coins, and then take a picture of the front of the ledger?”
“What?” Steve unfolded from him in a tangle of limbs and shifted around, sitting crossed legged, so that he had a better view of Danny’s face. Danny missed the snuggling, but it was necessary.
“The sequence,” Danny repeated, holding up the photo of the vase for Steve’s inspection, “is weird.”
“It tells a story, I assume.” Steve took his phone back. “We just don’t have any words to go with the pictures.”
“Have you asked Chin to look at the pages in Chinese?”
“Haven’t had a chance.” Steve went back through the pictures, stopping on one of the coin images.
“Do you think we should show the picture of the guy to Mary?” Danny asked.
Steve’s chin came up. The crease between his eyes was deep as he considered Danny’s words. Slowly, Danny circled his finger in mid-air, mimicking the passage of time as Steve thought hard.
“Because--” Steve carefully uncrossed his long legs, “--this is a person of interest around the time of our parents’ deaths? Well, before, really.”
“When you put it like that… But you know, I didn’t mean now.”
“No time like the present. Come on.” Steve was off like an arrow.
“You know, Mary’s not that fond--” Ridiculous, he was once again addressing Steve’s back, or in this case an empty space, because he was out of the door and clattering down the hairpin staircase.
“What the Hell.” Danny levered off the sofa because, regardless of Mary’s feelings, he wanted to know.
Steve moved like the proverbial greased piglet when galvanised. The door to the blue studio was wide open by the time Danny made his more sedate way after the idiot. Danny just hoped that Steve had knocked rather than barging in. He stuck his head around the door, checking for unexploded ordnance or flying ornaments. Studying the phone, Mary stood in the centre of the ode to the colour blue. Danny so understood why Chin was planning on redecorating. It was undeniably a lovely pale blue shade, the same aquamarine of the Seolh business card that Steve had given Dolce, but accents, rather than every single surface, was the way to go.
“And?” Steve probed, hands on his hips.
“Jesus.” Mary held up her hand. “Give me a moment.”
“Is it the guy that you thought that you saw looking in the car?”
“I ‘thought’? I didn’t make it up, Steve!”
Defensive Mary bit like an antagonised rattlesnake.
“Or someone around the house when you were with mom when you were little?” Steve said, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. “If it wasn’t the guy looking in the car?”
“Pressure!” Mary turned away, stomping over to the windows overlooking the gravelled drive and the landscaped greenery in front of the House. “Could be. I mean--”
“Did you say ‘could be’?” Steve echoed. “Why do people turn away when they talk to me?”
Mary spun back, a flush colouring her cheeks. “I forget. Sorry.”
“So is it?” Steve demanded.
“He came so close, pushing his nose against the window. But… I can’t. It was dark.” Mary drew her fingers through her short hair, strands catching on her heavy rings. “Who is this?”
“Yakuza heavy,” Steve said, uncompromisingly, playing at being a cop. “Mom may or may not have been running surveillance on him.”
“And you asked if he came by the house?”
“He was a cop, once upon a time,” Steve said. “Mamo recognised him.”
Man, Steve liked to play his cards close to his chest, even when not necessary, Danny observed.
“If you had asked me if I just knew the guy, I wouldn’t have known him.” Mary was hollow eyed. “I didn’t remember that that guy was Asian. He was just a guy. It could be him. It was a long time ago, Steve!”
“But you’re sure that the guy looking in the car was Asian.” Steve stalked over to her. “‘Cos you’ve never mentioned that before.”
“Like we’ve ever talked about it! I didn’t think in those terms; I was nine. Adults were adults. But now I’d say…” She closed her eyes scrunching her face up. “Late twenties–early thirties, middling height, Asian. Twenty years ago, I would have said old guy like dad. And then got really annoyed because no one believed me.”
“So it’s a possibility, based on ethnicity, but not a definite one.” Steve snatched his phone back. “Because, one, it’s a poor picture, and two, your memory is old.”
“Maybe if there had been a proper investigation twenty years ago, after the death of a cop and his wife,” Mary spat, “I would have been questioned properly and showed photographs of possible suspects.”
“Proper investigation. Hmmm.” Steve paused, visage frighteningly blank.
“Babe?” Danny asked, in the face of that expression.
“That’s a really good observation. Uncle Choi said that it was an open secret that Koji Noshimuri was a Yakuza cop, and he left soon after the murder. Why? He wasn’t under any threat? It had to be to the Yakuza’s benefit that he was placed in the department.” Steve went preternaturally quiet, thinking hard. “He was forced to leave. By whom?”
“I’m guessing you’re going to answer your own question?” Danny hazarded.
“I’m so slow since I got injured!” Steve growled, clenching his teeth and fists in pure frustration. “I swear. I swear. Fucking head injuries.”
“Babe, calm down,” Danny said. And head injuries -- that was the first mention of head injuries.
Mary was a silent statue, fingers stuffed in her mouth.
“A CIA agent and a detective investigating the Yakuza were killed. And there was only a police investigation that ruled that it was an accident?” Steve spat. “There was a ‘proper’ investigation. Uncle Joe has a lot to answer for.”
“Babe. Babe.” Danny got his hands on his chest, stroking for calm. “Explain your leaps of logic? Cause you’re losing us.”
“Joe was mom’s handler. We know that from the photos in the album. He was there when mom was being a ‘friendly’ operative,” Steve said mockingly, sliding away from Danny’s comfort. “There was a police investigation. None of the files that Koa Keawe or Hyo Kelly have passed my way reported on the incident other than it was filed as an accident. The omission is conspicuous by its absence.”
“What’s missing?” Danny asked. Steve’s thought processes were impossible to follow sometimes.
“The CIA would have had to be involved. The CIA would have investigated our parents’ murder.”
“But why didn’t they talk to me?” Mary asked quietly.
“What?” Steve spun around, making her jerk back.
“But why didn’t they talk to me?” Mary repeated. “If there had been a CIA investigation shouldn’t they have talked to the only witness?”
“They did. Uncle Joe talked to you. Remember? The funeral. You were sitting on his knee, and he asked you what you remembered. That was the first time you mentioned the guy around the car. Uncle Joe shushed you. Told you that that couldn’t have happened. You burst into tears.”
“It was a funeral!” Mary said indignantly.
“I know it was a funeral! I thought that you were doing it to get attention--”
“What!”
“Uncle Joe shut you down, because if you could identify a Yakuza hit man I doubt you’d be standing in front of me today yelling at me.”
“You’re yelling at me.”
Jesus. Siblings, Danny thought, not for the first time, and rubbed his hand over his face.
“Hey. Hey.” Danny stepped between them flourishing out his arms, holding them apart. “Calm.”
“Danny,” Steve said.
“Kiddywinkles, you now have yet another complicating layer to the story. You, Mary, know why people never believed you, because your Uncle Joe made sure -- in your best interests -- that it was never documented for your own safety. Steve, you’ve got to talk to Joe, and get him to tell you the whole truth. It’s past the time that you need protection.” In all honesty, Danny thought Steve did need protection, and maybe that was behind Joe White’s machinations.
“Kiddywinkles?” Mary repeated.
“That’s your take away?” Danny rolled his eyes.
Steve’s phone vibrated in his hands, announcing a text. Glaring, he stared at the screen. Suddenly, his eyes widened in horror.
“Steve?” Danny asked, moving in close.
“The doc identified the palm print: Jovan Eteinne.”
“And?” Danny asked. The name wasn’t familiar to him.
“Comrade of Victor and Anton Hesse. He’s their computer expert.” Steve’s face pinched. “Not normally the person I’d expect to deploy a bug.”
“Do they all travel together?” Danny asked, because that was worrying, on a whole new level of worrying.
Steve had his ITE remote out and was simultaneously fiddling with the dial as he thumbed through his phone contacts. Danny slid in even closer to better listen. It was unusual for Steve to talk on the phone.
“Barnabas?” Steve said.
The only Barnabas that Danny knew was Simons, the Navy SEAL, who had stayed with them after the Hesse brothers’ attack, only leaving to pursue the terrorists in Europe, and who was now back on ‘Oahu.
“Sir?” The text came up on the BlackBerry’s screen courtesy of the mobile translation app.
“It's 'Steve’, Barnabas. It occurred to me, that I hadn’t reiterated my invitation when we last spoke. You’re welcome to stay at Seolh,” Polite Steve, precise Steve -- Lieutenant Commander McGarrett -- was palpably present, despite the tenor of a friend inviting another friend to visit.
The screen remained free of any further text for a long moment.
“That sounds like a good plan, Steve,” Simons said, eventually. “My rental is grim. Would tonight be okay?”
“No time like the present,” Steve said tightly.
“I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“Excellent.” Steve simultaneously flicked phone and remote buttons, ending the call, and changing the setting on his aids.
“We’re getting a visitor?” Mary asked.
“A colleague. A good man.”
What they were really getting was another layer of protection, Danny knew, but Steve wasn’t saying that.
“Really,” Mary drawled. “I mean, really, who is he?”
“You’ll like him.” Steve scratched at the long elegant line of his throat as he regarded Mary through his lashes. “He’s an officer and a gentleman.”
Mary, Danny guessed, would probably eat Simons up with a spoon.
“Dick,” Mary said, without heat. “What is he -- a bodyguard?”
“Better than that. He’s a Navy SEAL.”
Mary absorbed that, paling.
“You know,” Steve said stoically in the face of that unease, “Aunt Deb would probably love it if you visited.”
“You trying to get rid of me, bro?” Mary cocked her head to the side.
“Just trying to keep you safe.”
“Danny’s here. Chin and Kono are here. Toast’s here. Are you saying it’s not safe?”
“It’s as safe as I can make it. But if you were in Florida, which you could do, you’d be out of the line of fire.”
“And Danny Boy could go back to -- where was it? -- New Jersey.” She stared at Danny pointedly.
“My Monkey lives in Hawaii,” Danny said, showing his teeth, because he wasn’t moving anywhere. Well, if Steve said that they should go to Jersey, he would simply kidnap Gracie and deal with the legal fall out under the umbrella protection of the Williams’ Clan and every single one of the numerous Hudson County Fire Departments.
“I’m staying,” Mary said, chin up.
“Fine,” Steve said. “But you’ll follow the buddy system and wear your tracker.”
“When did this become a lecture about how I’m supposed to follow your rules?” Mary rose up on her toes. “I have been using your buddy system since you explained it to me.”
“Kiddiewinkles,” Danny chastised, moving between them once again. “You’re both impossible. Your default position seems to be defensive and offensive at the same time. Grow up.”
Mary bristled. If she had been a cat, her tail would have been lashing.
“I’m talking to both of you.” Danny helpfully pointed at Steve and then Mary. “You should just hug it out. I’m going to check the airbed in the room that Simons’ normally uses, ‘cause it will probably be as flat as a pancake.”
Maybe they would hug? Although, Danny didn’t expect them to do it with him watching. He stalked towards the door, and came to a complete stop at the sight of the large sagging handbag on a blue bookshelf.
“Danny?” Steve asked.
“Mary?” Danny pointed to the handbag. “Care to explain?”
“What?” Steve asked.
“That’s Jenna Kaye’s handbag -- the one that you took off her at the bar,” Danny said. Steve had thrust it into his hands when he had disarmed the woman. Danny had completely forgotten about it, leaving it at the table when he had chased after Kaye. “I remember it. It’s big enough to keep a kitchen sink in.”
“Mary,” Steve whined through all the syllables, as he stomped across to the bag and snatched it up.
“There’s nothing in it,” Mary said, “that you wouldn’t expect to find in a woman’s bag.”
“She’s a CIA data analyst pretending to be an intelligence operative.” Steve upturned the bag right there on the carpet, and pawed through the contents. “Where’s her cell phone?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“I’ll repeat it, she’s a data analyst.” Steve cocked a mocking eyebrow. “A data analyst that doesn’t have a cell phone or an iPad?”
“Maybe it was in her pocket?” Danny offered.
“I know what was in her pockets.” Grunting, Steve rent the bag in two between his clenched fists. A smart phone fell out of the lining with a clatter. Steve snatched it up triumphantly. “Ha!”
“Oh, my god,” Mary exclaimed.
“What? Why so excited?” Danny asked.
“Computer specialist.” Steve bounced to his feet. “Hidden smart phone. There are going to be toys on here.”
Tongue peeking out, Steve fiddled with the phone. Craning his head, Danny saw that it was as responsive as a corpse; the battery had long since run out of charge.
“I need to go into Pearl.” Steve announced.
A blink, and he was out the door.
“Shit.” Danny chased him into the corridor, yelling, “I’m coming with!”
Steve was already by the staircase outside Danny’s studio.
“Stop! Now!” Danny ordered, as he raced down the corridor, because orders always worked best with Steve. Satisfactorily, Steve froze, one hand on the banister.
“Danny,” Steve whined, as Danny grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, stopping him going any further. He was doing a lot of grabbing today. Steve was wound tighter than a spring.
“Buddy system, Babe. You don’t go anywhere alone.” Danny stared straight at him, forcing understanding.
“I’m going in, dropping this off, and coming straight back.” Steve slid his hand around Danny’s neck, smooth fingernails skirting over the sunburn, and leaned in to lightly kiss Danny’s lips.
Danny stretched into the kiss, touching chapped lips with his tongue. Steve’s large hands bracketed his face, carefully as if holding glass. A glorious shiver shimmied across Danny’s nerves, as he matched Steve’s kiss.
“Oh, gawd. Kissing brother. Yuck.” Mary made a disgusted sound.
Steve rested his forehead against Danny’s and sighed. Danny rolled around in their loose embrace, as Mary made an about face and darted back into the blue studio.
“Sisters.” Steve screwed his nose up at the space where she had been standing.
“Steve, I’m coming with you.”
“Look, I won’t be long. You look like a boiled lobster. Chill out.”
“Your truck’s at the Base,” Danny pointed out, ignoring the insult, because boy, Steve could be obvious and oblivious at the same time.
“So I’ll take Chin’s, or Kono’s jeep,” Steve said, shrugging, unconcerned.
“Steve,” Danny began.
“I’ll be one and half, two hours at best.” Steve glanced at his watch.
“This is not up for negotiation,” Danny said simply.
Steve pouted, truculently.
“Look, you don’t need to go all the way to the base,” Danny realised. “Jog on over to Kala Drive where the surveillance vehicle is. Give it to them, and they can get a courier to take it to Dr. Hewson.”
Steve absorbed that with all the expression of a Winnebago.
“Huh, that’s a good idea.” Finally, Steve stood a little straighter, turning the suggestion over in his head.
“I have them,” Danny said. He made a point of smiling his cat had got the cream smile.
“Okay.” Steve nodded, eyes narrowing slightly in the face of Danny’s expression. “I’ll be back in fifteen-twenty minutes. Look, if you want to help, see if you can find the ledger.”
“You think it’s here?”
“You sure you got the order of the photos right?” Steve countered, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Danny was sure; he worked with sequences of photos all the time. It was one of his things. A story could be told in images over time.
“Mom had possession of the ledger,” Steve said. “It’s as you said before-- She took the photos of the pages. Then ran around the House taking photos of the tapestry, and the Nandi Head and the coins and then took a photo of the front of a notebook, ledger, or any old book. But it’s probably the ledger. She did that here at the House. Mom never lived at the House. But Joe’s right, this place is a walking garage sale. It’s the perfect place to hide things in plain sight.”
“So where’s the library hiding?” Danny asked. He would have preferred to go with Steve to the surveillance truck, but he had that resolute cast to his patrician’s face that was impossible to argue against. Danny was going to let him win this minor battle. “You’ve got a museum. Where’s the library?”
“There isn’t any library, Danny.” He smiled fondly. “There’s shelving stacks in the museum for the rare folios. But there’s no library per se. Well--”
“Ha! Ha!” Danny jabbed his finger. “See!”
“One of the reception rooms has a lot of books in it.” Steve flicked the tip of Danny’s outstretched finger. “There is an attempt at order. Like all of Grandmother’s stuff in one room. But, first go see if Toast has an idea of the whereabouts of an old ledger on his database.”
“Yes, sir.” Danny fired a sloppy salute.
“Go to it, Private Williams.” The kiss that followed was in no way military.
~*~
Tbc
Part ninety five
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no subject
Date: 2014-06-07 02:24 am (UTC)It makes sense that Joe would try to shush Mary and no one would think anything of it. They were at their parents funeral and he was their uncle - people would have assumed he was trying to console her.
Now it's time for them to get to the bottom of things
no subject
Date: 2014-06-07 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-07 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-14 03:17 am (UTC)