When the Stars Begin to Fall
By Peg Keeley

onenerveleft59@hotmail.com

Part 4

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Steve used the services of an interrogation room of HPD to address Kato. The room would be intimidating, cold, and might make the boy come clean right off the bat. He was surprised to recognize him as one of the young people who had been with Mali Kanea at the House of Flowers. "Akia, have you been advised of your rights?"

Kato was sitting straight up in the chair, trying to look like an honest, clean citizen. "Yes, sir," he answered a little too quickly. "I told the officer yesterday. Someone hit my car. I don't know what this is about."

"Where were you this past Monday night?" Steve asked glancing at Kono who stood quietly by at the doorway.

"I took some friends to the House of Flowers. Mali, my friend, she was singing."

"And what time did you leave there?"

Kato shuffled his feet. "About 10 o'clock, I think. Yeah, Mali wanted to go give her boyfriend the good news about the mainland agent. She was real excited."

Steve had already known when they left. So far, the boy was telling the truth. "Where did you go?"

"The University. We were looking for Danno, that's her boyfriend."

"You left the club and drove to the University. You were there how long?"

"We were there till just after midnight. College guys have a 1 AM curfew."

"And then?"

"I took Mali and Leah home. Leah had to work the next day. You can ask Mali and Leah."

"I will," he assured Kato.

"And Leah's parents, they'll tell you what time I brought her home."

"Aika, the time I am most interested in was around 10:45. Where were you then?"

He stammered slightly. "We were at the University looking for Danno."

"I imagine we can talk to him, too?"

"Well," he hesitated, "yeah, sure. Dan Williams, he's a student there."

Williams again? That kid keeps turning up. "And he will verify you were on campus?" Steve repeated.

"Yeah," Kato nodded.

"Akia, I want you to know that there is no doubt that your vehicle was involved in a road accident that occurred on Pali Highway Monday evening at 10:48 PM. No doubt. The car was there. How do you explain that?"

He looked mystified and shrugged, raised his hands. "I don't know."

"Three people died in that accident."

Kato's eyes grew round and he paled. "What?"

"And naval officer, his wife, and driver were killed. This isn't a simple drunk driving issue. We are talking about hit and run. Death by auto. Murder charges."

"Murder!" Kato was suddenly filled with dread.

"Confess right now and it will go easier."

Is he fooling me? Can this be a bluff? He doesn't look like the kind to bluff. If I confess, it's over forever. I didn't mean to hit that car. I didn't know. I thought I just bumped it. I guess I'd been drinking a lot. I can't even remember what happened. They won't care. They'll put me in jail for life. If I keep saying I didn't do it and can get Danno to agree, I don't think they can touch me. "I wasn't there, Mr. McGarrett. Really, you gotta believe me."

Steve turned away, glancing towards Kono. "Book him. Hit and run, death by auto, three counts of murder in the first degree."

Kono nodded and tapped Kato's shoulder. "Come on, kid."

"No! Wait!" he pleaded. "It's a mistake. I didn't do anything! Maybe someone took my car!"

"How could that be? You claimed you were in that car on campus at 10:45," Steve replied.

Kato waved his hands over his head in confusion. "I don't know!"

Steve sighed calmly. "Son, do you want to change your story? Now is the time."

Kato gulped once, trying to think of a way out. "Please, you gotta believe me."

Have to hand it to him, he is persistent anyway. Caught red handed and he holds to the lie. "Okay, Kono, book him." Steve shook his head as Kono and Kato left the room. What a waste. Well, at least we can tie up one of our cases. If I can put the boy in the car, Che can put the car at the scene. He stepped out of the room, headed towards the exit when the city desk officer waved a home.

"McGarrett, phone call."

He again accepted the receiver. "McGarrett."

It was Chin, standing in the vacant house that had once housed the Hastings. "Steve, you'd better come out here..."

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It was hard to believe that someone could have cleared out so quickly. Furniture, clothing, dishes, even the dog had vanished from the Hastings home. Steve walked through the empty house, stopping to run his finger along a windowsill. They had even taken the time to dust.

"They are professionals at getting out in a hurry," he remarked.

Chin nodded. "Professional. No local mover was hired -- I checked."

Che stepped inside the door, a thin metal rod in his hand with a spent casing on it. "Found this in the front yard. .38. We're collecting foliage samples. Looks like the girl was shot outside the house." He slipped the brass casing into a small paper envelope.

Steve ground his teeth as he walked through the empty house again. "Why did they clear out? What spooked them?" He glared at the repaired wall in the bedroom. What secret does that hold? Was it a fit of rage, or was something hidden in there that was removed? What was it? "Chin, I have an appointment to keep with Marten Camp. Find this Bart Polski. We know what he looks like. We have an address. Get a warrant to check out his place. Be careful, he is not to know we're on to him and I don't want him picked up. When you find him, just tail him. And be careful about it. My guess is he's in the spy business, too."

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The golf course seemed like a nice public place to meet Marten Camp, but it was Saturday and the public course was crammed with players. Steve and Camp moved off towards the clubhouse instead which was fine with Steve. He didn't think he could concentrate on his game anyway.

"Been along time, Steve," Camp said as they shook hands. "Let's see. Was it Guam six -- no seven years ago."

"That long already?" Steve commented, tolerating the small talk.

"Those were the days, huh? We were brilliant. You did a fine job identifying the German rocket man. We slipped him out right under the Russians noses." He chuckled. "I'll never forget the look on Vlademer's face." He slipped his ice water. Like Steve, Marten did not drink. He glanced at Steve. "So, what is it? I know you want something."

"Roger Hastings."

"Who?" Camp blinked in mock innocence.

"Please, Marten, do me the honor of cutting the games. Hastings' daughter was murdered. It's my duty to find out by whom."

Marten ran a finger around the edge of his glass. "It is unfortunate that the state of Hawaii decided to start it's special unit right now -- and that they picked you of all people to run it. I'd have never guessed you to bail out of the Navy."

Steve waited silently, not allowing the subject to change.

"I read about the girl's murder. I never knew her of course. Sad thing, a sad thing." Marten straightened and looked Steve in the eye. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Hastings is your man."

"I have no Hastings."

So we're going to play games. "Fine, her father is your man. What is he into that could get her killed?"

Marten's expression tightened. "I don't have a Hastings."

Steve anger was starting to build. "I've been to the publisher, I've been to the house. I know that signs of your people when I see them." He threw the picture of Bart Polski on the table. "And this guy's in it, too."

Camp eyed the photo.

He did not know that. He knew the rest, but not about Polski.

"Steve, I know you need to make an impression -- just starting out and all. Remember, your purpose is to see justice served. It shall be."

He's telling me that I'm right. But he's also saying that now they have the face, the CIA will take care of this. Do I want it that way?

Camp rose from the table. "Sorry I could not be more help, Steve." He forced a smile. "Stay in touch, okay?"

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Danny walked into the locker room to collect his things. The locker room had the perpetual odor of unwashed clothing and sweat. It was kind of sad to think of the ball season as over. A week ago the team had been discussing their playoff possibilities. Can't win them all. He opened his locker and took out his cleats and glove. Slipping the glove over his left hand, he tapped the pocket with his right fist a few times. There's always next year. The door opened and he turned, expecting to see coach.

It wasn't. Two Hawaiian youths, both in their early twenties came into the locker room.

Danny recognized them right away. Paki Onia and Ted Karakeona were small time bullies for hire. "What do you want?" Danny demanded, hands on hips not showing any of his inward apprehension.

The bigger one, Paki, grinned. "I was lookin' for you. I was told you might be here."

"Well," he shrugged. "Here I am."

"Kato Akia," he explained. "I was told you might need some convincing to talk up for him."

Danny frowned. "I haven't been questioned about this by the police."

"You will be. You need to say Kato was with you Monday night, you got that?"

"I don't know where Kato was or what Kato did. I didn't see him." He scowled. I can't see Kato hiring these guys, that just isn't like him. "Who put you up to this, it wasn't Kato."

Paki stepped closer. "He didn't have to. He's cousin to me. Kato says you like a bruddah. Mali says you are aikane to her. You gonna turn your back on your friends?"

"I'm not turning my back, but I can't say I know what I don't know either."

Ted pushed him backward with one hand. "You like all dem other haoles. Mali say dere Hawaiian blood in you. But you gonna sell out your own." He picked up one of the cleats. "You wanna think about this again?"

Danny frowned. "Look, don't start something here. I can't offer Kato much help cause I wasn't there."

Ted suddenly slammed Danny in the right side of the face with the shoe.

Danny stumbled one step backward, but straightened, keeping eye contact on the bullies. Three of the metal cleats in the sole of the shoe had cut him leaving three small lacerations; one horizontal just above his eyebrow, two vertical on the right cheek. Bruises began to puff around them immediately.

Paki had picked up a baseball bat and held it lightly in one hand, tapping it gently against the palm of the other. "Kato ain't goin' to jail, haole. You gonna spring him out. You gonna talk to dem cops and tell 'em he was with you. You got that?"

"They can prove he wasn't with me! I was in the library and there were people who saw me down there. They'll know he wasn't there," Danny tried to explain as Paki advanced.

Paki rammed the head of the bat into Danny's stomach with all his might. Unable to conceal this pain, Danny fell to his knees, doubled over, gasping. Arms wrapped protectively around his torso, he slowly bowed over, forehead touching the cool tile flooring.

Paki bent over him, leaning on the bat like a cane, face close to Danny's. "You listen good, little haole. You gonna do just as I say or next time I come back I'll shove this bat so far up your ass, you'll use it for a toothpick. You got that?"

Still gasping in pain, Danny glanced sideways towards the bat. In a sudden act of rage, his left hand grabbed hold of the bat and yanked it out from under Paki. Trying to regain his footing, Paki stumbled. "So you wanna play ball, huh?" Danny snarled, now controlling the bat and slammed it upward against Paki's groin. The Hawaiian gave a howl of pain grabbing his privates and fell to the floor. Ted jumped forward, but Danny rolled away under a bench for cover, then, ignoring his own pain, jumped to his feet taking a wild swing at Ted. The bat crashed against the locker doors, bending metal. Ted, his partner still moaning on the floor, now retreated at the sudden shift of events, but against the lockers, had nowhere to go. Danny jabbed the end of the bat into Ted's face with controlled force calculated to inflict injury but not maim. Blood gushed from Ted's nose. The next blow of the bat caught Ted in the ribs and, cursing, he bent in response. As he did, Danny hit him in the right kneecap with the bat. Now pleading for mercy, Ted staggered backward, tripped over Paki and fell against the bench, banging his head. Paki made an effort to rise and Danny kicked him in the chest, crashing him back to the floor. Turning his attention back towards Ted, Danny struck the bench beside the Hawaiian's head with such force that the impact splinted the bat, sending pieces scattering across the room.

"Now, you listen to me," Danny uttered hotly, the broken point just inches from the would-be assailant's face. "Don't you ever threaten me again -- ever, you got that? And next time you come in here trying to muscle me, you'd better be ready to kill me. Take this piece of crap," he kicked Paki's leg, "and get the hell out of here."

Ted pulled Paki to his feet and they scrambled back out of the door.

Danny, alone at last, allowed himself the luxury of sinking down onto the bench and giving in to the pain. He let the broken bat clatter to the floor as he leaned forward, arms around himself waiting for the pain to ease.

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Steve burst through the door into HPD to be met at the door by Chin. He'd had trouble finding a parking place and eventually had abandoned the car in a no parking zone. "Well?"

"I left him in the interrogation room," Chin said, his professional face masking his feelings.

"I should have had you pick him up earlier," Steve commented regretfully as he strode down the hallway, Chin almost at a run behind him. "Is he all right?"

Chin nodded.

"Did he say anything?"

He shook his head.

As Steve opened the door, Dan Williams looked up from where he sat near the table. The small lacerations, each contained three small knots of stitches that had been carefully sewn and the blackening bruises were obvious. "What happened to you?" Steve demanded.

"I fell down," he said wryly, looking away.

"Quite a fall." Steve took a chair on the other side of the table, and Chin one closer to Danny. "Your coach says someone wrecked up the locker room. You know anything about that?"

He stared at the table. "I don't remember."

"Do you remember getting cleated?"

"Lots of people get cleated in baseball. Pretty common accident," Danny muttered.

"Amongst second and third basemen," Steve remarked. "Aren't you a pitcher?" Tense silence settled over the room as Steve waited, hoping Williams would say something. "Who was it?"

"A couple of punks," he replied, still not looking at McGarrett.

"What did they want?"

This time he looked up. "My autograph."

McGarrett bent close. "Look, I'm not here so you can play cute with me. Now whoever this was just beat the crap out of you. Next time you may not be so lucky."

"You should see the other guys. And they won't be back," Danny replied with conviction. "At least I know what they wanted. What do you want?"

McGarrett leveled an icy steel gaze on him. He's got guts. "I can tell you the lab results have shown us that there is no way you could have killed Natalie Hastings."

He's telling me what I already knew. Yet, it is a relief. Which fear is worse? The fear of being guilty and found out or the fear of being innocent and convicted? How many times have I seen the faces of victims and criminals in the news and never considered their experience. What a horrific responsibility to determine who is at fault. How does a law enforcer live with being wrong? He was aware that McGarrett had said something he'd missed. Danny looked up at him, cheeks flushing. "What?"

"I said your troubles aren't over," Steve said quietly. "Do you know Kato Akia?"

"Yes."

"Did you see him Monday night?"

Here it is. Yes or no. Kato is my friend, Mali begged me. Mali! Kato! "I can't remember," he mumbled.

McGarrett sighed. "You can't really expect to get away with that for an answer." He turned to his brief case and pulled out a few black and white 8 x 10 glossies. He slid one across the table. "Lieutenant Don Miller. Age 24. Single. Served as aide to Commodore Reg Palmer, age 56." He slid the second. "Palmer was married. Three children, five grandchildren."

Danny glanced at the grizzly photos of the two dead men.

"Miller died when the steering wheel sheered off and the steering column impaled his chest. Palmer's skull was crushed, as you can see. They both died almost instantly. They probably had a few seconds to contemplate their fate, eternity, God, whatever they believed in as the car left the road and became airborne." McGarrett slid over the picture of Marsha Palmer. "Marsha Palmer, age 54, wife to Commodore Palmer."

The dead woman in the photo was not tactfully covered by the sheet as she had been when McGarrett was at the scene. She lay on her stomach, head to one side, mouth open, dead fingers dripping the loose earth of the embankment, dead eyes staring right into the camera. The color left Williams' face.

"She lived a while," Steve explained. "There was time, maybe as long as an hour, for her to lie on the ground in agony, claw her way out of the car and attempt to find help. What did she think about, Williams? What did she pray? Did she see her husband crushed beside her? Did she feel the life slipping away from her? Did she know that if the person who hit their car had stayed she would have lived?" He stopped talking, allowing silence to do its work. At last he added. "Are you ready to tell me what you can about Monday night now?"

Danny slowly lowered his head, one hand to his face.

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Kono knocked once on the apartment door; there was no response. He had not expected one. Polski had been identified and was now being loosely tailed by an HPD detective. Hopefully, there would be no surprises. He motioned the manager and the elderly man unlocked the door. Kono with three uniformed officers announced their presence again, then entered. The apartment was modest, neat, and recently occupied. There was a half-empty coffee cup in the sink. The refrigerator still contained leftovers. It took only seconds for an officer to return with a navy blue London Fog jacket -- missing a button. Just as the officer brought it out, Kono examined the note pad beside the telephone. Picking it up, he held to at an angle to the light.

This is an old trick, but it still works, he decided placing the pad down and gently scratching back and forth with a pencil. An officer looked over his shoulder as the writing became visible. "A phone number," he commented.

Kono glanced back at him. "Yeah." He copied it into his pad and placed the pencil-covered sheet carefully into an evidence box. "Get down to the phone company and trace this number."

Without argument, the officer left to do as instructed.

Kono continued his examination of the apartment. Eventually, his search took him to the bath. He looked in the obvious closets, in the toilet tank, then noticed several tiles were loose behind the tub. Using his penknife to carefully pry away the loose mortar, he lifted out two porcelain tiles. He stopped and stared, uncertain of what he was seeing. The small metal box seemed innocent, but there was no telling what was inside. It appeared to be about the size of a stick over butter. There was no exterior wires so he doubted it could be a bomb. It had been hidden here intentionally. He remembered the recently repaired wall at the Hastings'.

Within ten minutes, McGarrett stood in the bath with Kono peering into the small hole examining the box.

"You want the bomb squad, Boss?" Kono asked.

He shook his head. "Do we know where Polski is? I don't want him showing up in the middle of the investigation."

"He was spotted going into a movie house," Kono replied. "Seems to be still there."

McGarrett frowned, knowing that movie theatres were favorite spots of spies to meet, being both dark and public, and they often offered several exits. "Get Che on the phone. Then set about closing this up. Leave the place just as you found it." If Polski is anything but a novice, he's going to know someone was here, but he doesn't have to know who. Moments later, he was connected by phone to Che Fong. "Che, I need you create a strip of microfilm about two inches long with a set of dummy, though convincing, missile plans on it….I need it right now."

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Wo Fat strolled thoughtfully back and forth along the lanai of the large estate. In one hand he held two small iron balls that were about the size of golf balls. As he rotated the Health Balls repeatedly between his fingers they issued an almost inaudible musical jangle. These are a small piece of the ancient ways of China. They bring peace to me. Most certainly not all of the old ways were wrong. Such heresy could be dangerous! Yet, I keep the balls as a memento of a more peaceful age, an age I hardly recall any longer. He forced himself to return his thoughts to the issues and the man before him. These arrogant westerners believe the world is theirs for the taking. They assume too much of themselves and underestimate their opponents. This is to our benefit. At last he turned to face the man known as Roger Hastings.

Roger was trying to conceal his fear. He knew the power and reputation of the man who stood before him. Outgunned, outnumbered, and apparently with no cards to play, Hastings knew he would have to think quickly to survive this day. He paused to rub the splinter of wood out of his hand from the redwood lawn chair on which he sat.

"Well, Mr. Hastings, what shall we do?" Wo asked bluntly. "You failed to meet my terms. It is unforgivable that you placed your child -- your daughter in such a situation."

"Natalie was never part of this," Hastings snapped. "Your business was with me and my wife, never her. I did not bring her in."

Wo sighed and rolled the jingling balls between his fingers. "Your dear wife proved to be -- unreliable. I had faith you would be a man of integrity."

"I am a man of integrity," he snapped through his teeth. "And I will never sell out my country on the story of the likes of you."

"Man of integrity -- and of honor." He gave a nod. "Admirable, but inconvenient." A glimmer of tolerant anger kindled in Wo's dark eyes. " You knew what I wanted, I had been very clear, yet instead of doing as I requested, you took your wife and fled."

"We did not flee."

"You left the Island."

"But we did not flee," Roger insisted. "I needed time alone with her to sort out all of this."

"Come, Mr. Hastings - or shall I say - Mr. Franks, you did not take your wife on holiday. You went to a facility operated by American Intelligence."

"I needed to find out who had done this to her!" he nearly shouted.

"That is not of importance to me. The microfilm is all that matters. I gave you specific orders that I wanted it. You knew the danger of failure."

"Danger! It was my cooperation you wanted! Would you believe me without proof? I was trying to find out who had brainwashed my wife. You murdered my daughter!" Hastings nearly leapt from the chair with rage.

"Did I?" Wo said quietly lifting his eyebrows. "I provided merely an opportunity. Your deadline passed. I needed the missile plans. I needed to resort to - other methods. Certainly you were aware of Mr. Polski's reputation."

"I never saw him. The little bastard never came around when I was there."

"Had you heeded my word that would not have mattered," Wo snapped. "He would merely have drifted into, then out of your lovely child's life as just another boy friend. He was my insurance and you made him become necessary."

"Well this is all academic. You've got what you wanted, so what now?"

Wo Fat scowled. "I cannot afford not to make an example of a person who spurns me. And I do not know when you might decide to --" he paused looking for the term, "--spill the beans to your superiors."

Roger licked his lips nervously. "How could I possibly do that without it sounding like treason?"

Wo Fat brought his hands together, an open calm expression on his face that masked the deep mind that never rested from strategy. "Ah, but the Americans have an odd tradition of amnesty. One never knows when they may choose to employ it. You are a loose end that must be tied up."

Hastings gave a nervous grin. "Then what's your angle, Wo Fat. If that's true, why are we sitting here talking about it? Why haven't you just killed me?"

"Because, Sir," Wo said in a gentle way, "you are already dead."

Hastings smile froze on his face in an uncertain way. Is this some kind of a joke?

"You pricked your hand on the chair a moment ago, did you not?"

Hastings stared at his hand.

Wo glanced at his watch. "Have no fear. It is painless. And I will express my condolences to your dear wife when I see her."

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Steve glanced at his watch as he entered the Five-0 office. Nearly six o'clock. I was supposed to meet Diane for dinner. No way I'll be gone from here any time soon. Regretfully, he picked up the telephone receiver. She answered on the second ring. The disappointment was obvious in her voice, but she was graceful about the cancellation. She was too good a person for me anyway. I will never commit to a woman because if I do, I will be less than committed to my responsibility. He gazed at the telephone wondering why it needed to be that way. Maybe I should just leave, call her back. It is Saturday, after all. Everyone is deserving of some time off. When this is over, then I'll consider it.

Chin came to the doorway. "Steve, the kids are over in the conference room."

He nodded and rose, his mind once again filled by the urgency of the moment.

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The door to the conference room burst open and Mali blew in followed by Kato, then Leah. Mali spotted Danny sitting near the table instantly and raced towards him. "My God, Danno! I'm glad you're here! I can't believe it! This cop came and said they want to talk to us. You told 'em right?" She stopped short, seeing the bruises and stitches. "My God, what happened?"

He glanced at Kato with a look that said, Do you really want me to tell her? "Nothing," he replied solemnly.

Kato glanced quickly around the conference room. Satisfied that there were no two way mirrors and that this was a meeting room, not an interrogation room that might be bugged, he gained confidence and his anger grew. "They already accusing me of that car thing. You didn't tell 'em I was with you, did you. "

"I couldn't," he answered. "It would be too easy for them to prove otherwise. Look, Kato, just tell the truth. They know your car was there."

"It's all circumstantial, Danny, I asked a guy who knows a lawyer."

"A guy who knows a lawyer?" Danny gave a smirk and shook his head.

Mali put a hand on her hip, her momentary concern over Danny already replaced by her own interests. "It's not too late, Danny. You've gotta do something."

"I do? What should I do, Mali?" he asked flatly.

"Tell them you saw Kato."

"I don't know where he was."

"We were driving," she blurted. "Just driving."

"And were you drunk?" Danny demanded of Kato.

He threw his hands up. "I'd had a few beers. I was fine. You gonna take Mali and Leah down, Danny? You gonna save us or no?"

"Do you even remember where you were? Or were you so drunk you don't have any idea what happened?" he challenged.

"We were at the House of Flowers. Mali got done singing -- by the way you never showed up. You didn't even come to support her. There was a big scout there that night. You let her down; you're letting me down. You're just like all them other haoles. Ready to get us out of your way and plow under our homeland for your big skyscrapers!" Kato shouted.

"Oh, spare me," Danny remarked, rising from the chair and coming close to Kato. He said more quietly, "Changing the subject won't change the facts."

"You're right," Kato agreed more quietly. "The fact is you're gonna screw me and Mali and Leah. We're all going to jail. You wanna live with that on your conscience?"

"Conscience?" he murmured. "What right do you have to talk about conscience? Do you have any idea what happened to those people in that car?"

Kato licked his lips nervously. "I can't bring 'em back, Danno. If I could, I would."

"What's he talkin' about, Kato?" Leah asked. "What people?"

Danny and Kato glared at each other in silence before Kato looked away.

"Kato?" Leah insisted. "Danny?"

Without taking his gaze off of Kato Danny said softly, "A man, his wife, and driver all died."

Leah uttered a little gasp and there was total silence in the room for several minutes. "Did you know this, Kato?" she finally asked.

"Not until today," he replied. "It was all a big mistake, Leah. I thought I just bumped 'em, you know? I just wanted to get away before they found out I didn't have insurance. I didn't even know what happened to the car. I didn't mean for all this. You know me! I'd never just leave somebody if I knew they were hurt!" He was looking at Leah now who turned away from him, tears in her eyes.

"Now look what you've done, Danno," Mali snapped, undaunted by the new facts. "You've made Leah cry!"

He opened his mouth, then shut it in fury and frustration.

The door to the room opened and Steve entered, flanked by Chin. "Mr. Akia, Miss Kanea, Miss Oaluma, you are to go with the officers in the hall. There will a public defender to take statements and provide counsel within the hour."

"There isn't any statements cause we have nothing to say," Kato snapped, regaining some of his arrogance.

"That is up to you," Steve replied calmly, unconcerned by Kato's proclamation. He gestured them towards the door.

Kato suddenly turned, realizing that McGarrett must already have what he wanted and remembered the brief conversation just moments before. He lunged forward, grabbed Danny's shirt and ripped it open, sending buttons scattering. Kato froze, staring at the wired device, then at Danny. "You bastard." Kato's right hand began to come up a in fist but made it less than half way before McGarrett grabbed both of his arms, pinning them back. Kato struggled. "You bastard! I'll get you for this! Nowhere you can go but I'll find you! My blood will find you! They gonna get you, haole!"

"Officer Lukela!" Steve shouted, "get him out of here!"

Police officer, Duke Lukela, who had been at the door, took hold of Kato, pulling him towards the door.

"I'll make you pay!" Kato continued to scream as he was dragged away.

Mali stood staring at Danny, disbelief on her face. "Danno, I know you all my life. I thought you were aikane. You tricked us." Her voice began to rise and gain momentum. "You tricked us! You traitor! Judas! You monster!" Mali flew at him, fingers extended to scratch his face, but Danny easily caught her by each wrist and held her fast. She tried to pull away. "You ungrateful monster! I hate you! I hate you!" She stepped backward and he released her. "Ahahana!"(You're gonna get it!) She threatened. "You be sorry, you think you my onipo!(lover) Lupawale!(Stupid!) 'Oe ma'i pokole pau. Ko hoi pili ino mau!"(Your screwing is finished. Your short little prick was so bad.)

McGarrett had a passing moment of frustration at being unable to interpret the raging Hawaiian dialect, but the glance at Williams told him the message was not lost on the college student.

Lukela stuck his head in the door. "Lawa! Kulikuli! Ko hilahila Hawai'i."(Stop that! Enough! You bring shame on Hawaii)

Mali gave him a smug look of satisfaction. "He mea iki." She looked at Steve and with a sly smile repeated in English: "Ain't no big ting."

"Uoki,"(shut up) Duke ordered, not so gently taking hold of Mali's elbow.

She allowed herself to be steered towards the door. As she left, she gave a final glance of utter contempt over her shoulder towards Danny. "You just like the rest of these damned impotent haoles." She gave a snort and remarked. "Pauloa haoles maika'i ino a 'a'ohe mahi moe."(Weak whites are all so bad in bed)

Tight-lipped, Lukela completed their exit.

Leah still stood there, compliant and weeping. McGarrett turned to Kelley and said somewhat wearily, "Book 'em, Chin."

Chin guided Leah out of the room.

Steve glanced back at Williams, standing like a statue of stone beside the conference table. "You all right?"

Danny blinked once and took a deep breath. He looked at Steve in silence, no emotion showing, but amazed with himself that Mali's words could hurt so badly . At least she granted me the courtesy of slandering my manhood in a language some of the police department did not understand. Why do I feel like the one who should apologize? Why does it matter that she understand? She will never understand. Never. I've just betrayed my best friends in the name of justice, how should I be? It may be right, but that doesn't make it feel right. "If you're done with me, I'll be going."

Steve did not feel good about turning him loose. "Akia made threats against you. His friends have already tried to attack you once."

"They won't be a problem," he said flatly. I've got finals Monday morning that I haven't even begun to study for."

"You, uh, care to interpret what she said?" Steve probed gently.

He paused in his journey towards the exit. "No, I don't think I do."

Steve gave a nod, willing to honor the refusal. "Thank you."

"It wasn't for you, McGarrett, any more than it was against Mali. I did what was right because it was right." He walked out of the room.

End Part 4

Part 5

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