Crash and Burn - Chapter 35: Ka’akālai

Ko’olau Mountain Range, O’ahu, 6.30 a.m.

Marc brought his pick-up to a dust-lifting stop at the beginning of a hiking trail. His father’s former colleague in the SEALs, Joe White, was already waiting for him. With him were four Marines, sent along by his buddy at the base...And Danny Williams, Chin Ho Kelly, and Steve McGarrett.

Gritting his back teeth, Marc grabbed his pack from the passenger seat, and mentally counted to ten. So much for discretion. He’d told Joe to get a few trusted men together, true, but that didn’t mean ‘enlist the Five-0’. Reena was going to kill him. But, he suspected, she’d have to get in line once McGarrett learned just who they were saving. Or Joe. Because if Joe knew, so would his father, and there was no telling what former Senator Sebastian Hawthorne might do.

“Show-time,” he murmured, opened his door, and jumped out of the truck.

Steve arched an eyebrow as he saw the governor. The always polished, suit-and-tie sporting Marcus Hawthorne, wore camo pants and shirt, hiking boots, wraparound sunglasses, and a bulky pack slung easily over his right shoulder. There was a mean looking knife tucked in his boot, and a SIG in the holster at his waist.

It was rather disconcerting seeing the soldier where the politician was supposed to be. Disconcerting so see someone skilled enough to protect, to keep safe. Disconcerting, because this man could keep Sabrina safe, so she wouldn’t need anybody else to do the job...So she wouldn’t need Steve to do the job.

Shaking himself out of the grim reverie, Steve watched as Joe pulled the governor into a bear-hug.

“It’s good to see you, son,” Joe said.

“You, too, Joe,” Marc replied. “I thought you’d bring someone else with you, though.”

Joe shrugged. “Too much paperwork, and you wanted a good sniper. I brought along the best.” A small smile. “Figures it would take an emergency to contact me. How long have you been in Hawaii?”

“Three months,” Marc answered with a sheepish smile. “And I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to see an old friend. What about Sabrina? Was she too busy as well?”

Steve scowled. “You know Sabrina?”

Joe looked at him. “Of course I do, she’s Marc’s...friend. How do you know her?”

“It’s a long story.”

Joe looked at Marc questioningly, received a slight nod in reply and his eyes widened. “Ah. I see.”

Everybody saw, it seemed, but him, Steve mused, then decided to get to the point. “So who are we saving today?”

“Sabrina.”

“Shit,” Joe murmured.

Before Marc could draw breath to continue, McGarrett held him by his shirt. “Sabrina’s been taken?”

Marc shook his head when Joe moved in to intervene. “Yes. Last night, probably between nine and eleven p.m.”

“And you know this how?” Steve growled, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fingers around the man’s throat.

“She called me at five to nine and she was unavailable at eleven.”

How could the man speak so matter-of-factly about Sabrina’s disappearance? “It’s been eight hours!”

Marc freed his shirt and stepped back. “And I didn’t know she was missing until I drove by her house this morning.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Danny intervened, before his partner could do something stupid. Or stupider. “Why don’t we forget our differences, gentlemen, and get down to business?”

It was at the tip of Marc’s tongue to comment that there was at least someone thinking clearly among them, but knew it would not have been fair. He’s been as frantic as McGarrett when he’d learned of Sabrina’s disappearance. He’s just had more time to adapt to the thought of it.

He watched as McGarrett visibly pulled his impenetrable shield around him, his eyes focused, and his face became expressionless. It reminded him of his sister and her similar ability.

“How do you know where she is?”

“Don’t you want to know who took her first?” Joe asked.

“I don’t have to,” Steve replied. “Wo Fat.”

“The man who had John killed?”

Steve merely nodded.

“What the hell?”

“It’s all connected, Joe,” Marc supplied. He didn’t have to elaborate. Joe got the picture. “She has a subdermal implant in her hip,” he continued. “Contingency plan for exactly this kind of situation.”

“GPS-enabled?” Chin asked.

Marc nodded.

Chin whistled softly. “Impressive. Those are not exactly available to the general public.”

“There’s nothing general about Sabrina Logan,” Steve muttered. “When did she get it?”

“Five years ago,” Marc replied. Only it hadn’t been meant as a search-and-rescue means, back then. It had been to make sure if something happened, they could identify the body.

“There’s that number again,” Danny murmured. Those two words kept on popping up, more and more often.

Marc pulled a folded map out of the back pocket of his camos. “The coordinates haven’t changed. She’s stationary. For now.” He unfolded the map, pointed at a spot in the middle of nowhere. “They’re keeping her here.”

Joe peered closer. “I see why you wanted a sniper.” He ran his finger on the map. “This ridge here would be perfect. We’ll just have to make sure it’s clean.”

“That everything is clean,” Steve added.

One of the Marines grinned. “That’s where we come in.” He looked at Marc. “We heard a lot about you, Sergeant-Major Hawthorne. We’re glad to help.”

Marc nodded. “You’ll have to tell me who told you about me.”

Another grin. “Marines never kiss and tell.” The Marine nodded to his colleagues. “Let’s go.”

And the four men disappeared down the trail.

Marc sighed, envious. “Oorah.”




7.25 a.m.

A grating sound coming from above her, made Reena open her eyes. Wherever she was being held was still pitch black, making her suspect she was in some sort of basement or bomb shelter. That sound has just confirmed her suspicions.

It was followed by a metallic screech, like a door opening on rusty hinges, and a beam of light hit her directly in the face, blinding her.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Vincent Fryer greeted and lowered a ladder though the opening. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”

“Very,” she replied, blinking furiously up into the blinding light. “I dreamed of beating the shit out of you.”

He chuckled and slid down the ladder. “You forget who has the upper hand here.”

“Wo Fat. You’re just a lackey. Expendable work-force.”

He slapped her and she spat onto his shoe. He slapped her again.

She glared up at him. “I’d be more than happy to kill you for him.”

His fingers curled into a fist, but he pulled back. His boss had said that she should remain unmarked. But there were other ways to make an impression. And there was plenty of time for that, before the boss arrived. He grabbed her hair, pulled her head back. “Up you go, bitch.”

“Yeah?” She wiggled a little. “And how do you propose I do that?”

He pulled a knife from his back pocket. Her knife. “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned, cutting the binds on her arms and legs.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Reena hissed, rubbing her ankles, then her wrists. She would never go into a fight unprepared, without knowing what might wait for her up there, how many men Wo Fat had, what traps they’ve laid.

She meekly followed Fryer up the ladder, out of the basement and up into what looked little more than a ramshackle shed.

“So, where is he?” she asked. “Not very hospitable of him to make his guest wait.”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Fryer asked, pulling another zipcuff from his pocket.

“That was sarcasm,” she corrected. “Jackass.”

That earned her another slap, then he turned her, her back to his front, and tied her wrists again. Then, gun firmly in hand, he pushed her out of the shed.

She blinked, her eyes still sensitive after spending so long in the dark. She stumbled as he pushed her again, then...

...All hell broke loose.

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