Charades

Author notes: Hawaii Five-0 fanfiction. Some characters are mine, but not the main ones.

This is my favorite of the stories I've written so far, particularly part 2. I get a kick out of the title, but you'll have to wait for part 2 to appreciate it. (Sometimes I amuse myself.)

Chapter 1: Suspicious activity

"A homegrown Hawaiian contract killer?" Officer Kono Kalakaua asked doubtfully. "Are you putting me on?"

In the passenger seat of the silver Camaro, Detective Danny Williams half turned to regard the girl in the seat behind the driver.

"That's what I thought when I first heard about it," Danny agreed. "I thought they were hazing the new guy, But I've seen the reports. This Mo'o guy really exists."

The driver agreed. "A contract killer who only works in Hawaii," said Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, head of Hawaii Five-0, a state police task force.

"Ten hits in eight years," confirmed the fourth member of the team. Chin Ho Kelly sat beside his cousin Kono in the back seat. "Two on the Big Island, one on Maui, one on Kauai, the rest here on Oahu. All of them were booby-traps triggered remotely. And any witnesses were ruthlessly eliminated. Eliminated by hand," Chin pointed out. "Apparently they were knocked unconscious with a kick to the head and then choked to death."

"A kick to the head. Sounds like martial arts stuff," Danny mused.

"Investigators don't even know for sure that the two victims were witnesses. But they were killed in the same way and were found in places where they might have witnessed the bombs being triggered," Steve said.

"Their deaths are typical of Mo'o, too," Chin said, "He doesn't worry about collateral damage. He set one of his bombs in a children's playground that a prominent banker was dedicating. He killed the banker, 15 children, nine of their parents and a dozen other innocent bystanders. Thirty-seven people to kill one. That's Mo'o."

"Mo'o means what again?" the Jersey import asked.

"Lizard, reptile, serpent, dragon," Kono offered.

"Anything scaly and scary," Danny translated.

"Pretty much," Chin chuckled. He often enjoyed Danny's non-Hawaiian perspective.

"Dragon's too grandiose for a scumbag killer like this. I think I'll call him 'snake'," Danny decided.

"There are no snakes in Hawaii, Danny," Steve said.

"Except this one," Danny countered. "That is one area where I will acknowledge Hawaii's superiority to New Jersey. The absence of snakes."

Steve smirked. "You get a lot of snakes in the big city?"

"More than you'd think," Danny said seriously. "Anywhere there's rats, you're liable to find snakes. But as much as I'm a city boy at heart, there's a lot of non-city in New Jersey. I have spent more time in woods and fields and wetlands than I like to remember. The empty spaces are everyone's favorite body dump. You can't appreciate how fast your heart can beat until you're bending over to study a decomposing corpse and a 6-foot timber rattler sticks its head out of the ribcage!"

Danny shuddered at the memory.

"What did you do?" Kono asked.

"Screamed like a girl..."

"Hey!" the girl protested. Danny held up a finger to indicate he hadn't finished.

"... in a horror movie."

"Better," Kono said.

"Then I stumbled over my own feet and fell on my ass trying to get away. Fortunately, the snake didn't like the looks of me, either. It raced away in the other direction, scattering cops and forensic scientists. You wouldn't believe how fast a rattlesnake can move, but no faster than a fat old sergeant who sees a rattler coming straight toward him."

Steve chuckled. "I'll bet you got teased for a month over that."

"You'd lose that bet," Danny answered. "One of the officers took a wild shot at the snake as it passed, then had to explain why he discharged his weapon to a shooting review board. When asked why he fired at the snake, he answered, 'Because it was getting away.'"

Everyone laughed.

"So he's the one who got rubber snakes in his locker and a wanted poster of a timber rattler on his desk and the other juvenile pranks that pass for humor in a squad room. To my eternal relief."

"What do we expect to find in the park?" Kono asked.

"Probably nothing," Steve said. "It's a week until the Earth Day festival when the governor will be here, but I want us to be familiar with the ground. Then, when the time comes, we should be able to tell whether anything has changed."

"Too bad we couldn't do this earlier, when the light was better," Chin Ho said.

They'd been tied up in court most of the day.

"Well, sometimes the shadows at this time of day show up imperfections better," Danny suggested.

"And we'll come back a couple of times, to get used to the park, so we can detect any booby-traps before they go off," Steve said.

The park formed a rough rectangle with main roads on east and west sides and small side roads to the north and south. The eastern road was higher than the western, giving the park a gentle rolling slope. A jogging and biking trail circumnavigated the park, weaving in and out and up and down, through the trees and past the children's play area.

There were two parking lots, one in the southeast and one at the northwest corner. Because the eastern road was higher, the southeast lot was stood on a small bluff with a vehicle entrance directly off the main road and two tree-lined pedestrian paths — one connecting to the jogging track — that meandered down to the park.

The steep edge of the bluff was fenced off by a heavy chain that ran through a series of posts.

Danny knew the main stage for the Earth Day festival would be set up with its back to the bluff, so he claimed the park's southeastern corner when Steve brought the Camaro to a halt in the northwest lot. Steve assigned the less-experienced Kono to the open playing fields at the southwest corner and more-experienced Chin Ho to the wooded area in the northeast. He kept the northwest corner for himself, not because it was closest, but because it contained the tot lot. Mo'o had attacked children's playgrounds before.

As Danny approached the parking lot, he saw someone at the top of the bluff moving in a furtive way that raised the hackles on the back of his neck. He swung wide around the bluff, then walked soft-footed up the path, staying on the grass at the edge so the gravel didn't crunch under his feet. He moved stealthily along the edge of the parking lot and peered between the two cars parked there. He couldn't tell what the man was doing, but he didn't like the way he looked.

He eased back and touched the microphone on his collar.

"I've got suspicious activity at the parking lot in the southwest corner," he said quietly.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, then felt Danny's glare clear across the park (diagonally!). "Sorry," Steve said. "Why are you sure?"

"I've got a suspect wearing a hoodie and a ski mask. Lake Placid this isn't. Might just be a tagger, but he doesn't move like a kid."

"All right. Converge on the parking lot," Steve ordered. "Don't try to take him without backup, Danny."

"Didn't you learn that from me?" Danny replied.

Hidden behind an SUV, Danny listened to furtive sounds of digging and scraping; then the noise stopped.

Danny stiffened and slowly drew his automatic. A hand swept around the rear of the SUV and struck the gun from his hand. As it clattered down the path, Danny's attacker followed up with a flying kick at the detective's throat. It was Mo'o's signature move, and Danny was ready for it. He slipped aside, caught the leg flying past and spun with Mo'o's momentum. He slammed his attacker into the side of the SUV as if Mo'o was a baseball bat. A satchel flew from the assassin's shoulder as he crashed to the ground.

"Police!" Danny yelled. "Put your hands behind your back!"

Halfway across the park, the other Five-0 officers heard their friend and doubled their speed.

Mo'o also doubled his speed and rolled between the SUV and a compact car. Danny pursued. Mo'o scrambled to his feet. Danny tackled him and they rolled across the parking lot, each struggling to get the upper hand. They finally lurched to their feet.

As they ran toward the sounds of combat, the Five-0 officers spotted Danny's gun and the satchel. Steve pointed and Kono diverted to snatch up the items without slowing her steps. Danny could hear his friends running up the gravel path, so could Mo'o.

With a desperate thrust, Mo'o drove Danny back two steps until he caught himself against the chain fence. But Danny's clutching hand took cloth away with him. The detective stared. Mo'o snarled and retreated. Before Danny could catch his balance, Mo'o grabbed something out of his pocket and threw it, then sprinted away from the approaching Five-0 team.

"Grenade!" Danny shouted.

As his friends dove for cover behind cars, Danny lunged toward the grenade. With memories of his high school shortstop days, he scooped up the grenade with a barehanded grab and fired it away as if trying to turn a double play. He hit the ground and covered his head as the grenade sailed over the edge of the bluff and down.

The explosion sent sand and dirt high in the air. The Five-0 cops coughed and wheezed while the cloud dissipated. "Everyone OK?" Steve coughed.

Chin and Kono sounded off. "Danny?" Steve called. There was no answer.

Chin leaped up, past the car that had protected them from the blast.

"Damn! The blast brought the whole cliff down. I don't see him anywhere."

The three ran up onto the now truncated parking area then slid down the sandy slope that replaced the bluff. There was no sign of their friend, then …

"There!" Kono pointed at one blue-clad shoulder emerging from the sand like a breaching whale.

Chin and Kono dug frantically to free Danny's face but the loose sand kept sliding down to fill the space. Steve got behind his friend, caught the still figure beneath the shoulders and tried to pull him up. He'd made a few inches of progress, when Danny began to thrash around.

"Danny, stop struggling!"

Danny managed to turn his head and free his mouth. In a hoarse but forceful whisper he answered, "You stop pulling! You're strangling me!"

More sand fell away and the others froze, appalled. The heavy chain that had fenced the parking lot was wrapped once around Danny's throat and again around his waist. When Steve pulled, the chain pressed tightly against his partner's windpipe. Steve released him, and the weight of the chain plunged Danny headfirst back into the sand.

"Sorry, sorry!" Steve grabbed him again and pulled more carefully until his partner's face was free of the sand.

"We can't do this alone," Chin calculated. "We need heavy equipment."

Kono already had her phone out and was calling 9-1-1. "We need paramedics and a fire truck with heavy rescue gear," she said, describing the situation to the dispatcher.

Steve shifted his legs carefully until he found a stable position in the soft sand. His grip was awkward, but any other pose seemed to steal Danny's air. Steve's muscles were already burning and his hunched position compressed his diaphragm, hindering his own breathing; but the commander called on his SEAL training to endure what he must for his friend's sake.

Danny was in a no-win situation. He could breathe better if he hung his head down, but then the half-inch-thick chain pressed against his carotid arteries until his vision went gray. When he turned his head to protect the blood flow, the pressure increased on his windpipe. He was just barely getting enough oxygen to stay conscious, but he tried twice to say something. All he could manage was a wheeze. His right hand had a screw driven through the center of his palm and his left hand was tangled in a piece of cloth that was caught between his chest and the chain. When he couldn't speak, he tried to lift his left hand, but he unbalanced Steve who slipped, caught himself, and grunted, "Don't."

Danny subsided, frustration evident on his red, strained face.

"Whatever it is will just have to wait, brah," Chin said. He scraped out more breathing space beneath Danny's down-turned face, but was afraid to do more, because he might undermine Steve's footing.

While they waited, Kono and Chin investigated Mo'o's satchel. It contained Claymore antipersonnel mines and equipment to make remote detonators. It made them sick to envision the damage Claymores would have wreaked on the Earth Day celebrants.

"He was mining the face of the bluff. He was going to shotgun the entire stage," Chin said.

"No chance of that, now," Kono said, looking at the sand pile that had been the shallow cliff.

"We'd better have the bomb squad go over this to see if he planted any mines before Danny interrupted him," Chin said.

Kono could tell Danny and Steve were listening, though they couldn't contribute to the conversation. She tried to lighten the mood. "You don't see this every day, cousin. You and I are the only ones who can talk."

Danny snorted. Steve twitched and his foot slid a half an inch. "Don't," he said again, but Kono could hear laughter in his strained voice.

Chin saw some people approaching, attracted by the explosion. "Crowd control," he said and left.

A jogger stopped. "Can I help?" he asked Kono. She heard sirens and the throaty honk of a fire engine. "Could you go to the entrance and direct the firemen?"

"You got it." He looked at the straining men in the sand pile and tossed Kono his water bottle and the towel around his neck, then took off running.

Kono crouched beside Danny and, with extreme caution, used her fingers to comb sand out of his hair, then, dampening the towel, she washed the sand off his face.

"Thank you," he mouthed.

She was afraid Danny might choke on even a sip of water, but she held the bottle for Steve to have one swallow.

A flicker of a smile thanked her, then Steve's face settled back into a remote calm, like a classic Greek statue set to endure the ages.

A yellow HFD fire truck and a rescue van roared up with an EMS ambulance right behind. The firemen piled out, hauling their gear. The captain came over to study the situation. Chin paced with him.

"As best as I can tell, the explosion made the bluff collapse. Danny and the chain rolled down the slope together," the cop explained.

"When Steve let go, the chain pulled Danny face first into the sand. We've dug the hole deeper, but we're afraid to move anything," Kono contributed.

As the captain distributed his men, one of the EMTs trotted over. His nametag read "Riley."

"Hey! I remember you guys," he exclaimed. He leaned over and tilted his head like a parrot to look Danny in the eye. "But you traded places."

One blue eye glared at him. Riley was unfazed. He and a rescue fireman positioned a stretcher board beneath Danny's chest and spread a blanket over it and over the sand.

"We have to tie off the chain before we can cut it," explained the fireman, whose name badge read "Harnett." "If it's under tension, it could snap and kill someone."

Riley fitted an oxygen mask over Danny's mouth. The detective's color improved immediately.

"Now can we get Steve out of there?" Riley asked Harnett.

They caught Danny by his shoulders and lowered him gently onto the supporting stretcher board, while two other firemen took Steve by the arms and pulled him away. The commander was so cramped up from his awkward position, they had to help him to a seat on the bumper of the ambulance. Riley's partner, a blonde woman named, Chandler handed Steve a small oxygen tank.

Riley patted Danny's shoulder, "Wait right there. Be right back." He bounded over to the ambulance where Steve was sucking oxygen. Riley flicked his penlight at each of Steve's eyes; then familiarly tilted Steve's head to get a look at a mostly healed scar on his scalp.

"Do I know you?" Steve asked.

"I suppose you wouldn't remember," the paramedic admitted.

"He treated you at the marina, boss," Kono said.

"I don't often see follow-up patients," Riley said cheerfully. "I was interested."

"We're ready," the fire captain announced.

Harnett shrugged into his heavy turnout coat and settled his helmet. He wrapped the blanket around Danny; then bent over him, shielding the fallen detective with his body. "Go."

Sparks ricocheted off Harnett's shoulder and helmet as the circular saw cut the chain on both sides of the detective. The Five-0 team could only watch as the firefighters unwrapped Danny. They dug him out of the sand and settled him on an ambulance stretcher. Riley began to immobilize the metal screw in Danny's hand.

"I'd rather let the doctors take this out. Too many important moving bits in the hand," he explained.

"Is that technical paramedic speak?" Chin asked, amused.

"I'm a trained professional," Riley said cheerfully.

Danny beckoned his friends closer and pulled off the oxygen mask.

"Steve, I saw …" His voice squeaked and failed.

Danny looked outraged at this further indignity. His expression gave way to panic as his wheezing increased, then ceased. He clawed at his throat.

"Damn!" Riley shoved the cops out of his way.

"Airway?" Chandler asked with her hand on the equipment.

Riley shined his light into Danny's gaping mouth. "No good. His throat's swollen. Can't force an airway down. Get me the trach kit," he shouted at his partner.

Danny's friends could only watch helplessly as his own body tried to kill him.

To be continued