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sealieRating: Slash
Word count: ~3, 850
Warning: you think that last week’s chapter was a cliff hanger?
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; violence! IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Rats!” Danny echoed.
Steve angled across the sitting room, grabbing the holdall, but staying far out of the splay of any rounds. The top of the door was a honeycomb of wood, suffering under the onslaught of the bullets.
Night vision goggles tucked up high on his forehead, Steve crouched between the hidden door to the office and the entrance into his apartment. He plucked out a shape that was unmistakably a grenade from his bag.
“Steven!” Danny snapped out loudly.
Steve was going to throw a grenade inside the House! Utter insanity.
“Go!” Steve mouthed, jerking his chin furiously, indicating get over the balcony.
Vehemently, Danny shook his head. He wasn’t leaving unless Steve was on his heels. Steve yanked the pin out from the grenade with his teeth. Determined to stop the madness, Danny ducked back under the counter-levered window.
Almost casually, Steve was watching the top of the door shredding under the force of bullets; all his focus was captured. As Danny raced across the room, Steve released the lever on the grenade, clearly counting under his breath. He jack-in-the-boxed up, shot back through the door to a bunch of swearing, and then tossed the grenade through the hole. All in one smooth motion, as if he had practiced time and time again.
“Steve!” Danny yelled. “No!”
Wide eyed, Steve pounced, and Danny went down under his long limbs. Danny’s head would have cracked off the hardwood floor except for the big hand cradling the back of his skull. Danny’s protest was smothered by Steve’s chest in his face. A dull thwump rolled over him deafeningly, and fingers of white light frayed his nerves.
“C-m- O-” Steve hauled him bodily to his feet.
The hidden door was pushed forcibly open, and Danny was frogmarched through. Unerringly, Steve guided him this way and that through the pitch-black darkness.
“You with me?” Steve muttered, squeezing Danny’s shoulders tightly.
Danny rubbed his free hand over his hot face, fighting through the discombobulating ringing that he could feel through his bones.
“Stun grenade?” Danny said indignantly.
“Very effective in tight spaces,” Steve said, with no small amount of glee.
There was a clunk of a lever, and a door swung open before Danny. Abruptly they were out on the balcony on the far side of the House, directly overlooking the peninsula framed by the starry night sky. Steve had taken them straight through the higgledy-piggledy museum like an arrow. Twisting his shoulder, Steve dumped the big holdall on the decking.
“Steve?” Danny took in a deep breath, trying to clear his brain.
Steve stared back at him, owl-eyed behind his infra-red goggles.
“Stay here.” He loped off around the balcony to overlook the drive.
Danny followed, of course. The light over the front porch lit up the entire turning circle in front of the House. The Kapu Chevrolet Silverado and another black panel van were stopped, skew-whiff on the gravel.
“Is that the Navy surveillance van?” Danny asked.
“No.”
“Reinforcements?”
“Maybe.” Steve turned on his heel and pushed Danny back to the museum fire exit. “Kono’s jeep is still out front.”
Steve parked Danny by the fire door, and then jogged to the far corner to look along the back balcony toward the lighthouse. This time, before Danny could join him, Steve came trotting back.
“Malia and Chin are in the trees. Why didn’t you go with them?” he asked, crouching to haul a bulky black vest out of the bag.
“You need back up.” Danny said. It wasn’t up for argument. Steve absorbed that, blank eyed behind his lenses.
“Here.” Rising to stand, Steve plopped the heavy vest over Danny’s head.
Astounded, Danny let it happen. Only finding himself as the heavy rasp of Velcro penetrated his bamboozled, stunned brain, as Steve fastened him in quickly, but tightly.
“Steve,” he protested.
“Stay close and when I tell you to duck -- duck.” Steve towed Danny back into the museum, and Danny let him, because once the fire exit was closed it was pitch dark. “Watch my back.”
“Stev--” That order surprised Danny.
“Shush,” Steve whispered loudly. The glint of light from the security code panel provided poor illumination. “The new code is 85337EEC.”
His hand blurred over the panel, and the hermetically sealed door snicked open. Steve led them down the tight, steep staircase running alongside Danny’s bathroom. Circumspectly, Steve peeked around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Danny got in close behind him, peering around his shoulder. A blink and Steve seemed to teleport along the corridor, pausing briefly to check the hall staircase curving down to the front foyer. He glanced back, checking on Danny, before ghosting along the length of the panelled wall to the staircase leading to his eyrie.
Heart in his mouth, Danny crept after him.
An unmoving dark lump at the end of the corridor resolved into a figure lying sprawled at the bottom of the steps. Flattening against the wall, Steve glanced around the corner and jerked back as a foot flew past his face. The foot caught Steve’s chunky gun, and it clattered to the floor.
“Steve!” Danny managed not to yell.
Almost inhumanly fast, Steve caught his attacker’s foot, using the man’s poorly thought out height advantage as a disadvantage. Pulled, the assailant clattered down the steps. Nimbly, the man back flipped and kicked out with both feet. Steve practically pirouetted to the side and Danny heard the rush of air underscoring the man’s attack.
It was fast. It was brutal. Instinct and reaction. Slaps and grunts the only sounds as they fought with focussed precision.
The man’s face was burnt and bloodied. Taking an opening that Danny wasn’t aware of until he saw a spray of blood, Steve delivered a punishing jab to the man’s chin. Stunned, the attacker staggered back. Steve ruthlessly pressed his advantage, pile-driving the terrorist to the floor.
There was a nasty sounding dull crunch and Danny didn’t think that Steve’s attacker was getting up any time soon.
“Anton Hesse.” Steve bounced to his feet. Breathing out hard and fast, he rolled the lax body over with his foot. “Where there’s an Anton, there’s a Victor.”
Smoothly, he dipped down and scooped up his submachine gun. All poetry in motion running on adrenalin and focus. Steve gave his apartment staircase a cursory glance and went stone-faced.
“Where is he then?” Danny whispered, making sure to face Steve directly. “And the Kapu? And where’s the freaking cavalry?”
Hard eyed, Steve darted past Danny heading along the corridor to the main staircase. Danny kind of wanted to know what was on the stairs leading up to Steve’s rooms, but decided against looking. He guessed, as he hared after Steve, that flash bangs and people in close proximity were not as innocuous as the television and news reports had him believe.
Steve oozed down the main staircase down to the foyer with a skill that bordered on the obscene. He practically slid down the banister, precariously leaning over to scan the hallway below. Never had Danny been so aware of the passage of every second. Where was the Navy? But more importantly where were Kono and Mary?
“Hello, McGarrett.”
Danny knew that slimy, poisonous voice. He might have been drugged and barely conscious the last time that he had heard Victor Hesse, but he remembered that strangely mocking accent.
Steve skirted around the heavy newel post at the bottom of the staircase, using its carved bulk as protection. He flicked a fiery glance up at Danny, impressing him to stay at the top of the stairs out of view. Danny tried to peer over the top banister to get a glimpse of Hesse, but the man was back towards the end of the corridor by the kitchen and pantries.
“Let Kono go,” Steve ordered. Sighting along the weapon, his elbows were tucked in tight, leaving the barest amount of body unprotected by the thick post.
“You’re not in charge here, boyo,” Hesse drawled.
“Wanna bet?” Steve asked. “And where did you get that black eye from?”
“Steve, shoot him,” Kono ordered.
“Hey, shut up, bitch.”
“Oh, I will, Kono, I promise.”
“Really,” Hesse mocked. “And why don’t you ask me where Mary Mary Quite Contrary is?”
Danny clamped his hand over his mouth to corral any gasps.
“Yeah, and where’s Anton?” Steve shot back.
“You better not have hurt my brother!”
“You better not have hurt my sister.” The glint in Steve’s eyes was fervent. “Either of them.”
“Give me what you’ve found and I’ll let your sister… sisters go.”
“Hah. You’re premature, dickwad,” Steve mocked. “We haven’t found Wo Fat’s secret yet.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t believe you,” Hesse said. “You know more than you’re saying. And you’ve definitely been up to something all day today. You were taking something out to the surveillance van. I want it.”
“Oh, you mean Kaye’s smart phone that we found?” Steve said, curling his lip. “You know I gotta admit, we had Kaye trying to find out what Wo Fat was looking for, which is kind of weird. And now we’ve got you carrying out an unsanctioned attack on the House. Wo Fat’s gonna be seriously pissed at you.”
What? Danny raised his hands in the classic ‘what’ sign that incidentally matched the one on his you-tube ‘learn ASL’ video. How did Steve know that this wasn’t Wo Fatty Pant’s plan?
Steve didn’t even flick a glance at Danny.
“Something’s rotten in the State of Denmark?” Steve continued to mock.
“There’ll be brains splattered over walls,” Hesse countered.
“You don’t even know what you’re looking for,” Steve continued.
“And do you?”
“I know that it’s really important to him.” One handed, Steve pulled Kaye’s smart phone from his polo shirt pocket. The gun remained rock steady, resting on the top of the post, pointed at Hesse, still out of Danny’s view. “You want?”
“What’s on it?”
“A CIA agent’s investigation into Wo Fat.”
Danny edged down a step. He wasn’t entirely sure what he could do, but he couldn’t stay standing at the top of the stairs.
“Hey, Hesse.” Paulo sauntered in through the front door. “The--”
A single short explosive shot from Steve’s gun made Danny jump. Kono yelped.
“Steve!” Danny yelled.
“Fuckin’ Hell.” Paulo swore. A large sawn off shotgun swung lackadaisically at his side. He fumbled with it, bringing it up to point at Steve.
Danny did the first thing that popped into his head. He threw the machete, scabbard and all, at the traitorous Kapu member. Baseball was Danny’s sport of choice. Normally, he threw balls, but throwing was throwing. Paulo squeaked as the blade smacked him between the eyes. He dropped to his knees with a grunt.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Danny clattered down the stairs, jumping the last few steps onto the floor. As Danny skidded over the polished wood, he caught sight of the tail end of Steve darting into the gym after Hesse.
“Kono!” She lay in a lump, as if cast aside, by the kitchen door.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. Paulo. Get Paulo.” Kono rolled onto her back, and pointed behind Danny.
Blood streaming from his nose, Paulo was struggling to his feet. Kneeling, he weaved, shotgun in his hands. Danny resorted to the tried and tested kick to the head. Baseball might be his sport, but Danny could kick a football. The force of his kick jarred up his leg and twinged his knee.
“Geez!” Kono grated, as Paulo went down to a clean kick. If his head had been detachable, Danny would have scored a great goal.
“Kono, are you okay? Did you get shot?” Danny demanded.
“No.” Kono struggled to her feet, holding her right wrist gingerly as she wriggled her fingers. “I felt it go by my head, though. Geez! Ouch. Ouch.”
“Where’s Mary?” Danny looked about; he needed to tie up Paulo.
“I left her in the catacombs.”
“What?”
“We were in the catacombs checking out Chin’s wine collection, debating what type of wine to drink, when we heard Steve yelling. Then he clomped up the stairs like the hounds of Hell were on his heels. Then there was a crash.” Kono managed to stand upright. “Discretion was the better part of valour. I told her we should hide in the catacombs. I came out to switch the light off in the cold pantry. But I closed the trapdoor and put a keg of beer on top of it.”
“Okay?” Danny digested that for a heartbeat.
“So it wouldn’t look like anyone could be down there,” Kono explained. “And I had to see if I could help Steve.”
“Umh. Good idea, I guess. The flaw being you weren’t safe.” Danny shook his head. “Look, tie Paulo up or something. I have to go after Steve.”
“Yeah, okay, brah. Uhm.” She sucked on her bottom lip. “Clothesline in the utility room.”
“Good plan.” Danny chased after Steve.
The gym was an ankle barking and bruising hazard in the darkness. Only the light from the conservatory made it possible to work his way through the maze. The conservatory doors leading to the back gardens were wide open as if a gale -- Hurricane McGarrett pursuing Tornado Hesse -- had passed through.
Out in the moonlight gardens, protected by the shadow of the House, it was difficult to see anything. Supposedly, there was a two man team out in the back of the woods watching them, and hopefully, Chin and Malia were with them, but that didn’t help Danny.
Their backup sucked.
“Fucking Paulo,” Danny swore. He could have kicked himself. They had never answered the question of who had drugged the Indian Curry takeout that they had consumed. They had trusted Blue’s assumption that it had been the dead Kapu member -- Gareth -- who had poisoned the meal.
He couldn’t see anyone. Should he go back to Kono? He had left her with Paulo, and her wrist was sprained or something. What if there were more terrorists in the House?
He didn’t know what to do.
It had to be longer than the four minutes that Steve had calculated.
A shot rang out. Loud and crystal clear in the night air.
Danny ran straight towards the peninsula.
His eyes adapted. He knew the trails. If he had a flashlight his route would have been much easier. He could only guess that Hesse had taken the main, widest trail, best seen in the moonlight. It curled through the woods, eventually splitting in two, the south trail dropping down to the beach, the west trail going deeper into the woods.
Danny hit the fork in the path. He paused, breathing hard. The only sound was his panting. Yay for not knowing how terrorists thought. Frustrated, Danny tugged on the collar of his heavy vest.
He couldn’t even yell for Steve, he wouldn’t hear it.
Another shot was the last thing that Danny wanted to hear.
“Steve!” It was ahead, deeper into the woods. Madness. He would have thought that Hesse would have gone to the beach, and then across the bay and off Seolh’s lands.
That assumed that Hesse knew the trails.
Danny jogged as quietly as possible, listening for Steve. Weren’t submachine guns, or whatever type of gun Steve held, supposed to fire streams of bullets? The great-grandfather 'ulu tree cast a massive, twisted, creepy shadow over the glade in the moonlight.
Steve was hunting Hesse. Silent and deadly.
‘Shit. Shit. Shit,’ went the litany in Danny’s head. He would give his left nipple for a flashlight.
A helicopter roared overhead, its searchlight panning the forest.
“Backup!” About frigging time. But good luck penetrating the thick canopy over the peninsula. Danny scuttled out of the shadow of the ‘ulu hoping to see SEALs and Marines rappelling from the low flying helicopter.
There was a shot and then another. Sparks strafed the side of the helicopter. There was a dull clank that heralded major repairs in every car that Danny had ever owned. The helicopter veered widely away, noisily screaming as it rotated around itself.
The shots came from close by.
There was a sudden rat-tat-tat that could only be described as rapid fire. The squealing from the plummeting helicopter was deafening. The explosion rocked the woods. A plume of smoke and fire billowed upwards into the night sky. Holy Shit, the helicopter had crashed! The cloud was like a mini nuclear explosion -- the head mushrooming and spreading over the sky.
Surely, Danny thought, that had to bring reinforcements.
Steve.
Danny took the trail that headed straight for the tip of the peninsula and the cairn of stones. He skirted the path, keeping to the trees. Danny crept, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, because he knew that this was a stupid thing to do. He was following two trained professionals intent on killing each other and he had thrown away his only weapon.
He picked up the next handy dandy chunk of wood he almost tripped over.
The trail twisted and turned, edging further to the northern side, where the scrub wasn’t as dense. Danny knew this part of the trail. It was very close to the edge where the poles marked the trail so that the kids didn’t run off into the wild blue yonder.
“Danny. What the Hell?” Steve popped up like a genie from a lamp.
“Jesus.” Danny flailed, brandishing the log at the doofus. “How the Hell did you do that?”
“Practice.” Steve grabbed Danny’s collar and hauled him right into the understorey off the trail. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“No, I’m trying to help,” Danny snapped back matching Steve’s strident tones. “You can’t run off after a fucking terrorist, Steven!”
“I’m not running. I’m trying to capture him.”
“What if there are more of them back at the House?” Danny flung his hand in the direction of their home. “Kono and Mary are back there.”
Steve absorbed that blank-faced.
“I know he killed your friends,” Danny said lowly, right into Steve’s stubborn expression.
“Danny,” Steve grated.
“But your family’s back there.” Even as he focused on Steve, Danny continued to point behind them, jabbing the thought home. “Kono’s injured. Mary’s trapped in the basement. And I don’t know if there are any more terrorists creeping around the House!”
He knew when Steve capitulated, shoulders slumping.
“You’re right.” Steve gusted out a sigh. His eyes were flinty.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Danny nodded furiously, underscoring his words.
“Come on then.” Teeth audibly grating, Steve pushed Danny ahead of him.
Keeping to the scrub rather than taking the path, it was treacherous underfoot. Roots and vegetation threatened to trip them. But it felt safer than being on the paths. Danny thought that they were going down hill, slightly.
There was a shot and a punch to Danny’s side, and he went down, gasping.
“Danny! Danny!” Abruptly, Steve was in his face, utterly terrified.
“Jesus!” Danny groaned, half-winded as he lay on the ground, stones jabbing the back of his head.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Steve said, as he pawed at Danny’s chest. Danny didn’t know who he was trying to convince. There were fringes of darkness creeping over Danny’s vision. “Thank God. The vest caught it.”
“Uh?” Danny managed. He meant to say: I’ve been shot! I’ve been fucking shot!
“You’re okay,” Steve repeated. A drop of dew on a dry moonlit night splashed on the bridge of Danny’s nose.
“Ble--”
“Stay down, we’re too exposed.” The kiss was quick and furtive and mashed against the corner of Danny’s mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Steve said, and then the fucker rolled Danny over and further down the dusty incline under a bushy rhododendron.
Teeth gritted, Danny scrabbled for Steve’s ankle and missed. Curled over, Steve squirreled off at a right angle to the bush.
Up until then it had been Hesse doing most of the shooting, Danny guessed, as Steve stalked him. Now it sounded like war had broken out. Steve was going to run over him like a tank. Retribution was in Hesse’s future.
Danny genuinely didn’t know if he was seriously hurt or not. He felt like he had taken a punch to the breadbasket. He breathed lightly and shallowly as his diaphragm spasmed. When he touched his side his hands were dry. He had expected blood. He had expected rivulets of blood.
“Fuck and shit and fuck!” Danny rolled onto his side and spat. He wasn’t lying under a bush while Steve went after Hesse. Adrenalin got him to his knees and gritted teeth got him to his feet. He staggered up the rise and onto the trail.
Silhouetted against the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean off the peninsula, Steve traded punishing blows with a shorter man. Brutal -- it was more about inflicting pain than ending a fight. The smack of a roundhouse kick echoed. This was Hesse, the man that had orchestrated the death of Steve’s best friend, Freddie, and left Steve permanently hard of hearing. A shaft of light speared the scene. A second helicopter hovered over them. Detritus and leaves whipped up from the helicopter’s rotor blades half blinded Danny as he staggered forwards.
It wasn’t Kung Fu, it wasn’t Karate, and it definitely wasn’t Boxing. It was close and vicious, about deflecting and inflicting damage. Hesse lunged, and Steve eeled around and under his arm, fiercely punching his ribs. Hesse fell back, but his foot came out as he rolled, and Steve was suddenly flipping over his head. He smacked down hard on the earth, flopping -- stunned. Steve tossed head over heels would be completely discombobulated.
“Shit!” Danny yelled, and started running. To do what he didn’t know, but Steve was still sprawled, failing to get up on one elbow.
Hesse spun away, scrabbling through dusty grass close to the edge, hunting by the illumination of the helicopter’s strobing light. Metal glinted.
“Gun!” Danny hollered. The earth under his feet felt strange and friable.
Hesse scooped the gun up, but swung around towards Danny.
“No!” Steve screamed.
A shot, and Danny scrunched in reaction, tripping and falling. Rolling, he scrabbled at the dry soil. Danny got to his knees and, madly, he patted his chest, but there had been no impact. Astonished, Danny raised his head -- who had fired the shot? Directly in front of him, Hesse was frozen. Even as the terrorist stood, he looked dead, floppy. His gun dropped from his lax fingers. Hesse started to slowly turn. And then he toppled, too close to the edge, too far away from stable earth. Danny reached, instinctively, to grab the man, but he was just a fraction too far away.
Hesse simply fell --
-- plummeted straight off the precarious cliff edge.
Clumpy chunks of grass, soil and stone broke away with Hesse, and man and boulders pin wheeled through the air down to the ocean hundreds of yards below.
“Danny! No!”
~*~
Tbc
Part ninety seven
Word count: ~3, 850
Warning: you think that last week’s chapter was a cliff hanger?
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; violence! IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Rats!” Danny echoed.
Steve angled across the sitting room, grabbing the holdall, but staying far out of the splay of any rounds. The top of the door was a honeycomb of wood, suffering under the onslaught of the bullets.
Night vision goggles tucked up high on his forehead, Steve crouched between the hidden door to the office and the entrance into his apartment. He plucked out a shape that was unmistakably a grenade from his bag.
“Steven!” Danny snapped out loudly.
Steve was going to throw a grenade inside the House! Utter insanity.
“Go!” Steve mouthed, jerking his chin furiously, indicating get over the balcony.
Vehemently, Danny shook his head. He wasn’t leaving unless Steve was on his heels. Steve yanked the pin out from the grenade with his teeth. Determined to stop the madness, Danny ducked back under the counter-levered window.
Almost casually, Steve was watching the top of the door shredding under the force of bullets; all his focus was captured. As Danny raced across the room, Steve released the lever on the grenade, clearly counting under his breath. He jack-in-the-boxed up, shot back through the door to a bunch of swearing, and then tossed the grenade through the hole. All in one smooth motion, as if he had practiced time and time again.
“Steve!” Danny yelled. “No!”
Wide eyed, Steve pounced, and Danny went down under his long limbs. Danny’s head would have cracked off the hardwood floor except for the big hand cradling the back of his skull. Danny’s protest was smothered by Steve’s chest in his face. A dull thwump rolled over him deafeningly, and fingers of white light frayed his nerves.
“C-m- O-” Steve hauled him bodily to his feet.
The hidden door was pushed forcibly open, and Danny was frogmarched through. Unerringly, Steve guided him this way and that through the pitch-black darkness.
“You with me?” Steve muttered, squeezing Danny’s shoulders tightly.
Danny rubbed his free hand over his hot face, fighting through the discombobulating ringing that he could feel through his bones.
“Stun grenade?” Danny said indignantly.
“Very effective in tight spaces,” Steve said, with no small amount of glee.
There was a clunk of a lever, and a door swung open before Danny. Abruptly they were out on the balcony on the far side of the House, directly overlooking the peninsula framed by the starry night sky. Steve had taken them straight through the higgledy-piggledy museum like an arrow. Twisting his shoulder, Steve dumped the big holdall on the decking.
“Steve?” Danny took in a deep breath, trying to clear his brain.
Steve stared back at him, owl-eyed behind his infra-red goggles.
“Stay here.” He loped off around the balcony to overlook the drive.
Danny followed, of course. The light over the front porch lit up the entire turning circle in front of the House. The Kapu Chevrolet Silverado and another black panel van were stopped, skew-whiff on the gravel.
“Is that the Navy surveillance van?” Danny asked.
“No.”
“Reinforcements?”
“Maybe.” Steve turned on his heel and pushed Danny back to the museum fire exit. “Kono’s jeep is still out front.”
Steve parked Danny by the fire door, and then jogged to the far corner to look along the back balcony toward the lighthouse. This time, before Danny could join him, Steve came trotting back.
“Malia and Chin are in the trees. Why didn’t you go with them?” he asked, crouching to haul a bulky black vest out of the bag.
“You need back up.” Danny said. It wasn’t up for argument. Steve absorbed that, blank eyed behind his lenses.
“Here.” Rising to stand, Steve plopped the heavy vest over Danny’s head.
Astounded, Danny let it happen. Only finding himself as the heavy rasp of Velcro penetrated his bamboozled, stunned brain, as Steve fastened him in quickly, but tightly.
“Steve,” he protested.
“Stay close and when I tell you to duck -- duck.” Steve towed Danny back into the museum, and Danny let him, because once the fire exit was closed it was pitch dark. “Watch my back.”
“Stev--” That order surprised Danny.
“Shush,” Steve whispered loudly. The glint of light from the security code panel provided poor illumination. “The new code is 85337EEC.”
His hand blurred over the panel, and the hermetically sealed door snicked open. Steve led them down the tight, steep staircase running alongside Danny’s bathroom. Circumspectly, Steve peeked around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Danny got in close behind him, peering around his shoulder. A blink and Steve seemed to teleport along the corridor, pausing briefly to check the hall staircase curving down to the front foyer. He glanced back, checking on Danny, before ghosting along the length of the panelled wall to the staircase leading to his eyrie.
Heart in his mouth, Danny crept after him.
An unmoving dark lump at the end of the corridor resolved into a figure lying sprawled at the bottom of the steps. Flattening against the wall, Steve glanced around the corner and jerked back as a foot flew past his face. The foot caught Steve’s chunky gun, and it clattered to the floor.
“Steve!” Danny managed not to yell.
Almost inhumanly fast, Steve caught his attacker’s foot, using the man’s poorly thought out height advantage as a disadvantage. Pulled, the assailant clattered down the steps. Nimbly, the man back flipped and kicked out with both feet. Steve practically pirouetted to the side and Danny heard the rush of air underscoring the man’s attack.
It was fast. It was brutal. Instinct and reaction. Slaps and grunts the only sounds as they fought with focussed precision.
The man’s face was burnt and bloodied. Taking an opening that Danny wasn’t aware of until he saw a spray of blood, Steve delivered a punishing jab to the man’s chin. Stunned, the attacker staggered back. Steve ruthlessly pressed his advantage, pile-driving the terrorist to the floor.
There was a nasty sounding dull crunch and Danny didn’t think that Steve’s attacker was getting up any time soon.
“Anton Hesse.” Steve bounced to his feet. Breathing out hard and fast, he rolled the lax body over with his foot. “Where there’s an Anton, there’s a Victor.”
Smoothly, he dipped down and scooped up his submachine gun. All poetry in motion running on adrenalin and focus. Steve gave his apartment staircase a cursory glance and went stone-faced.
“Where is he then?” Danny whispered, making sure to face Steve directly. “And the Kapu? And where’s the freaking cavalry?”
Hard eyed, Steve darted past Danny heading along the corridor to the main staircase. Danny kind of wanted to know what was on the stairs leading up to Steve’s rooms, but decided against looking. He guessed, as he hared after Steve, that flash bangs and people in close proximity were not as innocuous as the television and news reports had him believe.
Steve oozed down the main staircase down to the foyer with a skill that bordered on the obscene. He practically slid down the banister, precariously leaning over to scan the hallway below. Never had Danny been so aware of the passage of every second. Where was the Navy? But more importantly where were Kono and Mary?
“Hello, McGarrett.”
Danny knew that slimy, poisonous voice. He might have been drugged and barely conscious the last time that he had heard Victor Hesse, but he remembered that strangely mocking accent.
Steve skirted around the heavy newel post at the bottom of the staircase, using its carved bulk as protection. He flicked a fiery glance up at Danny, impressing him to stay at the top of the stairs out of view. Danny tried to peer over the top banister to get a glimpse of Hesse, but the man was back towards the end of the corridor by the kitchen and pantries.
“Let Kono go,” Steve ordered. Sighting along the weapon, his elbows were tucked in tight, leaving the barest amount of body unprotected by the thick post.
“You’re not in charge here, boyo,” Hesse drawled.
“Wanna bet?” Steve asked. “And where did you get that black eye from?”
“Steve, shoot him,” Kono ordered.
“Hey, shut up, bitch.”
“Oh, I will, Kono, I promise.”
“Really,” Hesse mocked. “And why don’t you ask me where Mary Mary Quite Contrary is?”
Danny clamped his hand over his mouth to corral any gasps.
“Yeah, and where’s Anton?” Steve shot back.
“You better not have hurt my brother!”
“You better not have hurt my sister.” The glint in Steve’s eyes was fervent. “Either of them.”
“Give me what you’ve found and I’ll let your sister… sisters go.”
“Hah. You’re premature, dickwad,” Steve mocked. “We haven’t found Wo Fat’s secret yet.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t believe you,” Hesse said. “You know more than you’re saying. And you’ve definitely been up to something all day today. You were taking something out to the surveillance van. I want it.”
“Oh, you mean Kaye’s smart phone that we found?” Steve said, curling his lip. “You know I gotta admit, we had Kaye trying to find out what Wo Fat was looking for, which is kind of weird. And now we’ve got you carrying out an unsanctioned attack on the House. Wo Fat’s gonna be seriously pissed at you.”
What? Danny raised his hands in the classic ‘what’ sign that incidentally matched the one on his you-tube ‘learn ASL’ video. How did Steve know that this wasn’t Wo Fatty Pant’s plan?
Steve didn’t even flick a glance at Danny.
“Something’s rotten in the State of Denmark?” Steve continued to mock.
“There’ll be brains splattered over walls,” Hesse countered.
“You don’t even know what you’re looking for,” Steve continued.
“And do you?”
“I know that it’s really important to him.” One handed, Steve pulled Kaye’s smart phone from his polo shirt pocket. The gun remained rock steady, resting on the top of the post, pointed at Hesse, still out of Danny’s view. “You want?”
“What’s on it?”
“A CIA agent’s investigation into Wo Fat.”
Danny edged down a step. He wasn’t entirely sure what he could do, but he couldn’t stay standing at the top of the stairs.
“Hey, Hesse.” Paulo sauntered in through the front door. “The--”
A single short explosive shot from Steve’s gun made Danny jump. Kono yelped.
“Steve!” Danny yelled.
“Fuckin’ Hell.” Paulo swore. A large sawn off shotgun swung lackadaisically at his side. He fumbled with it, bringing it up to point at Steve.
Danny did the first thing that popped into his head. He threw the machete, scabbard and all, at the traitorous Kapu member. Baseball was Danny’s sport of choice. Normally, he threw balls, but throwing was throwing. Paulo squeaked as the blade smacked him between the eyes. He dropped to his knees with a grunt.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Danny clattered down the stairs, jumping the last few steps onto the floor. As Danny skidded over the polished wood, he caught sight of the tail end of Steve darting into the gym after Hesse.
“Kono!” She lay in a lump, as if cast aside, by the kitchen door.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. Paulo. Get Paulo.” Kono rolled onto her back, and pointed behind Danny.
Blood streaming from his nose, Paulo was struggling to his feet. Kneeling, he weaved, shotgun in his hands. Danny resorted to the tried and tested kick to the head. Baseball might be his sport, but Danny could kick a football. The force of his kick jarred up his leg and twinged his knee.
“Geez!” Kono grated, as Paulo went down to a clean kick. If his head had been detachable, Danny would have scored a great goal.
“Kono, are you okay? Did you get shot?” Danny demanded.
“No.” Kono struggled to her feet, holding her right wrist gingerly as she wriggled her fingers. “I felt it go by my head, though. Geez! Ouch. Ouch.”
“Where’s Mary?” Danny looked about; he needed to tie up Paulo.
“I left her in the catacombs.”
“What?”
“We were in the catacombs checking out Chin’s wine collection, debating what type of wine to drink, when we heard Steve yelling. Then he clomped up the stairs like the hounds of Hell were on his heels. Then there was a crash.” Kono managed to stand upright. “Discretion was the better part of valour. I told her we should hide in the catacombs. I came out to switch the light off in the cold pantry. But I closed the trapdoor and put a keg of beer on top of it.”
“Okay?” Danny digested that for a heartbeat.
“So it wouldn’t look like anyone could be down there,” Kono explained. “And I had to see if I could help Steve.”
“Umh. Good idea, I guess. The flaw being you weren’t safe.” Danny shook his head. “Look, tie Paulo up or something. I have to go after Steve.”
“Yeah, okay, brah. Uhm.” She sucked on her bottom lip. “Clothesline in the utility room.”
“Good plan.” Danny chased after Steve.
The gym was an ankle barking and bruising hazard in the darkness. Only the light from the conservatory made it possible to work his way through the maze. The conservatory doors leading to the back gardens were wide open as if a gale -- Hurricane McGarrett pursuing Tornado Hesse -- had passed through.
Out in the moonlight gardens, protected by the shadow of the House, it was difficult to see anything. Supposedly, there was a two man team out in the back of the woods watching them, and hopefully, Chin and Malia were with them, but that didn’t help Danny.
Their backup sucked.
“Fucking Paulo,” Danny swore. He could have kicked himself. They had never answered the question of who had drugged the Indian Curry takeout that they had consumed. They had trusted Blue’s assumption that it had been the dead Kapu member -- Gareth -- who had poisoned the meal.
He couldn’t see anyone. Should he go back to Kono? He had left her with Paulo, and her wrist was sprained or something. What if there were more terrorists in the House?
He didn’t know what to do.
It had to be longer than the four minutes that Steve had calculated.
A shot rang out. Loud and crystal clear in the night air.
Danny ran straight towards the peninsula.
His eyes adapted. He knew the trails. If he had a flashlight his route would have been much easier. He could only guess that Hesse had taken the main, widest trail, best seen in the moonlight. It curled through the woods, eventually splitting in two, the south trail dropping down to the beach, the west trail going deeper into the woods.
Danny hit the fork in the path. He paused, breathing hard. The only sound was his panting. Yay for not knowing how terrorists thought. Frustrated, Danny tugged on the collar of his heavy vest.
He couldn’t even yell for Steve, he wouldn’t hear it.
Another shot was the last thing that Danny wanted to hear.
“Steve!” It was ahead, deeper into the woods. Madness. He would have thought that Hesse would have gone to the beach, and then across the bay and off Seolh’s lands.
That assumed that Hesse knew the trails.
Danny jogged as quietly as possible, listening for Steve. Weren’t submachine guns, or whatever type of gun Steve held, supposed to fire streams of bullets? The great-grandfather 'ulu tree cast a massive, twisted, creepy shadow over the glade in the moonlight.
Steve was hunting Hesse. Silent and deadly.
‘Shit. Shit. Shit,’ went the litany in Danny’s head. He would give his left nipple for a flashlight.
A helicopter roared overhead, its searchlight panning the forest.
“Backup!” About frigging time. But good luck penetrating the thick canopy over the peninsula. Danny scuttled out of the shadow of the ‘ulu hoping to see SEALs and Marines rappelling from the low flying helicopter.
There was a shot and then another. Sparks strafed the side of the helicopter. There was a dull clank that heralded major repairs in every car that Danny had ever owned. The helicopter veered widely away, noisily screaming as it rotated around itself.
The shots came from close by.
There was a sudden rat-tat-tat that could only be described as rapid fire. The squealing from the plummeting helicopter was deafening. The explosion rocked the woods. A plume of smoke and fire billowed upwards into the night sky. Holy Shit, the helicopter had crashed! The cloud was like a mini nuclear explosion -- the head mushrooming and spreading over the sky.
Surely, Danny thought, that had to bring reinforcements.
Steve.
Danny took the trail that headed straight for the tip of the peninsula and the cairn of stones. He skirted the path, keeping to the trees. Danny crept, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, because he knew that this was a stupid thing to do. He was following two trained professionals intent on killing each other and he had thrown away his only weapon.
He picked up the next handy dandy chunk of wood he almost tripped over.
The trail twisted and turned, edging further to the northern side, where the scrub wasn’t as dense. Danny knew this part of the trail. It was very close to the edge where the poles marked the trail so that the kids didn’t run off into the wild blue yonder.
“Danny. What the Hell?” Steve popped up like a genie from a lamp.
“Jesus.” Danny flailed, brandishing the log at the doofus. “How the Hell did you do that?”
“Practice.” Steve grabbed Danny’s collar and hauled him right into the understorey off the trail. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“No, I’m trying to help,” Danny snapped back matching Steve’s strident tones. “You can’t run off after a fucking terrorist, Steven!”
“I’m not running. I’m trying to capture him.”
“What if there are more of them back at the House?” Danny flung his hand in the direction of their home. “Kono and Mary are back there.”
Steve absorbed that blank-faced.
“I know he killed your friends,” Danny said lowly, right into Steve’s stubborn expression.
“Danny,” Steve grated.
“But your family’s back there.” Even as he focused on Steve, Danny continued to point behind them, jabbing the thought home. “Kono’s injured. Mary’s trapped in the basement. And I don’t know if there are any more terrorists creeping around the House!”
He knew when Steve capitulated, shoulders slumping.
“You’re right.” Steve gusted out a sigh. His eyes were flinty.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Danny nodded furiously, underscoring his words.
“Come on then.” Teeth audibly grating, Steve pushed Danny ahead of him.
Keeping to the scrub rather than taking the path, it was treacherous underfoot. Roots and vegetation threatened to trip them. But it felt safer than being on the paths. Danny thought that they were going down hill, slightly.
There was a shot and a punch to Danny’s side, and he went down, gasping.
“Danny! Danny!” Abruptly, Steve was in his face, utterly terrified.
“Jesus!” Danny groaned, half-winded as he lay on the ground, stones jabbing the back of his head.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Steve said, as he pawed at Danny’s chest. Danny didn’t know who he was trying to convince. There were fringes of darkness creeping over Danny’s vision. “Thank God. The vest caught it.”
“Uh?” Danny managed. He meant to say: I’ve been shot! I’ve been fucking shot!
“You’re okay,” Steve repeated. A drop of dew on a dry moonlit night splashed on the bridge of Danny’s nose.
“Ble--”
“Stay down, we’re too exposed.” The kiss was quick and furtive and mashed against the corner of Danny’s mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Steve said, and then the fucker rolled Danny over and further down the dusty incline under a bushy rhododendron.
Teeth gritted, Danny scrabbled for Steve’s ankle and missed. Curled over, Steve squirreled off at a right angle to the bush.
Up until then it had been Hesse doing most of the shooting, Danny guessed, as Steve stalked him. Now it sounded like war had broken out. Steve was going to run over him like a tank. Retribution was in Hesse’s future.
Danny genuinely didn’t know if he was seriously hurt or not. He felt like he had taken a punch to the breadbasket. He breathed lightly and shallowly as his diaphragm spasmed. When he touched his side his hands were dry. He had expected blood. He had expected rivulets of blood.
“Fuck and shit and fuck!” Danny rolled onto his side and spat. He wasn’t lying under a bush while Steve went after Hesse. Adrenalin got him to his knees and gritted teeth got him to his feet. He staggered up the rise and onto the trail.
Silhouetted against the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean off the peninsula, Steve traded punishing blows with a shorter man. Brutal -- it was more about inflicting pain than ending a fight. The smack of a roundhouse kick echoed. This was Hesse, the man that had orchestrated the death of Steve’s best friend, Freddie, and left Steve permanently hard of hearing. A shaft of light speared the scene. A second helicopter hovered over them. Detritus and leaves whipped up from the helicopter’s rotor blades half blinded Danny as he staggered forwards.
It wasn’t Kung Fu, it wasn’t Karate, and it definitely wasn’t Boxing. It was close and vicious, about deflecting and inflicting damage. Hesse lunged, and Steve eeled around and under his arm, fiercely punching his ribs. Hesse fell back, but his foot came out as he rolled, and Steve was suddenly flipping over his head. He smacked down hard on the earth, flopping -- stunned. Steve tossed head over heels would be completely discombobulated.
“Shit!” Danny yelled, and started running. To do what he didn’t know, but Steve was still sprawled, failing to get up on one elbow.
Hesse spun away, scrabbling through dusty grass close to the edge, hunting by the illumination of the helicopter’s strobing light. Metal glinted.
“Gun!” Danny hollered. The earth under his feet felt strange and friable.
Hesse scooped the gun up, but swung around towards Danny.
“No!” Steve screamed.
A shot, and Danny scrunched in reaction, tripping and falling. Rolling, he scrabbled at the dry soil. Danny got to his knees and, madly, he patted his chest, but there had been no impact. Astonished, Danny raised his head -- who had fired the shot? Directly in front of him, Hesse was frozen. Even as the terrorist stood, he looked dead, floppy. His gun dropped from his lax fingers. Hesse started to slowly turn. And then he toppled, too close to the edge, too far away from stable earth. Danny reached, instinctively, to grab the man, but he was just a fraction too far away.
Hesse simply fell --
-- plummeted straight off the precarious cliff edge.
Clumpy chunks of grass, soil and stone broke away with Hesse, and man and boulders pin wheeled through the air down to the ocean hundreds of yards below.
“Danny! No!”
~*~
Tbc
Part ninety seven
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Date: 2014-06-21 06:51 pm (UTC)But...who shot Hesse? Was it one of the Navy guys? Joe White? Chin? Kono? Someone else? OH MY GOD!
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Date: 2014-06-21 08:58 pm (UTC)The adventure continues. Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel. Next week \o/
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Date: 2014-06-21 08:01 pm (UTC)You're evil, but I like you.
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Date: 2014-06-21 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-21 11:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-23 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-22 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-23 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-06-24 01:03 am (UTC)Can't wait for the next chapter after a literal cliffhanger :)