V for Vashon: The Daughter, Part 3
Sitting alone in his office with Steve McGarrett, Tom Lin marveled at how quickly he had lost control.
"Look, Steve, you can't be in charge of this investigation," he said. He didn't sound convincing, even to himself.
"Oh, I'm not in charge, Tom. You are, of course," McGarrett flexed his hand slowly; his arthritis was worse today. "It's entirely your baby."
Lin sighed and started to open his mouth again, but was interrupted by Danny coming back into the room. "We put it out on the Interpol computer, Steve," he informed McGarrett. "Fiddler's working on it now. It'll take a little while to get the information back."
"Good, Danno, good," McGarrett replied. "In the meantime, what do you say we go for a little drive."
"Where to, Steve?" Danny asked.
Steve flicked his eyes toward Tom Lin, then looked at Danno with as much wide-eyed innocence as he could muster. "How about Sea Life Park, Danno? After all, this is your vacation."
Danny understood immediately and grinned. "Sounds great, Steve."
They walked out of the office with Lin staring after them in mute frustration. Within minutes, they were in McGarrett's Mercury and on their way to Mits Kalapana's house.
***
Mits Kalapana had a headache.
He sat glumly on the lanai of his oceanfront home, mulling over the profits -- or lack thereof -- from his latest venture. Thus far, his attempt to bring organized gambling and prostitution to the Big Island hadn't been successful. Japanese businessmen were more interested in golf than what he had to offer. He rubbed his forehead and wondered: Who the hell talked me into trying to peddle pussy in Hilo?
Then there was the other thing, trying to find somebody to replace his late second-in-command. As much as he hated to admit it, Vashon really had done him a favor. The guy had been the biggest threat to his authority in the kumu. Now he could get somebody in there who understood his way of doing things.
Kalapana looked up as Billy Swan hulked onto the lanai. A holdover from the days of Tony Alika, Swan sometimes reminded him of an Hawaiian Frankenstein. Gave him the creeps.
"Five-O's here," Swan said heavily.
"Jesus!" Kalapana exclaimed. "Get rid of them. Tell them I'm not here."
"I told 'em," Swan responded. "They no go."
"What do they want?" Kalapana asked.
"Some answers, for openers," said Steve McGarrett, stepping through the sliding glass doors that led out onto the lanai. Danny Williams slipped out behind him. McGarrett stopped and sized Kalapana up for a full ten seconds.
Kalapana stared, surprised. He hadn't seen McGarrett for years, not since he had been a snot-nosed bag man for Tony Alika. The guy had to be about a hundred years old. "What do you want, McGarrett? I ain't done nothin' wrong."
"Then you won't mind giving me some information," McGarrett said. He glanced over at Billy Swan. One time, years ago, he had dumped Swan on his ass in front of Tony Alika's house. He knew the Hawaiian remembered, and the thought didn't comfort him. He felt glad Danno was there.
"Why should I talk to you, McGarrett? You ain't Five-O."
"Why shouldn't you talk, Mits?" Danny broke in. "We're old friends, remember?"
Kalapana scowled. Williams had nailed him on a drug charge back in the late 70's, his first arrest. He'd gotten five to ten in Oahu State Prison, out in two for good behavior. He still hated the smug little bastard.
"So what's this all about? I'm just a law-abiding businessman."
"Save it for your memoirs, Kalapana," McGarrett snapped. "I just want the answer to one question: who killed your number two man?"
"How should I know?" Kalapana started to sweat. "That's your department. For all I know, he committed suicide."
"Suicide, by a shot to the back of the head?" McGarrett raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes boring into Kalapana's.
"Hell, I don't know! Jealous husband, maybe! I can't keep track of every dumb kanaka who gets himself knocked off."
"He was your guy, wasn't he?" Williams asked, his voice rising.
"Yeah, but --"
Cutting off Kalapana's protest, McGarrett decided to take the direct approach. "Mr. Kalapana, are you aware that the Vashon family is back in the islands?"
"I don't know nothin' about that, McGarrett," Kalapana said. "I wouldn't know a Vashon from a vacuum cleaner."
"So you didn't wonder about the 'V' cut into your man's cheek?"
"No, like I said, I can't keep track --"
"Maybe you didn't wonder! Maybe you put it there!" Williams shouted.
"Listen, you sonofabitch," Kalapana said. He rose from his chair, face full of fury. "You get the hell out of my house, OK? You're not cops anymore! And I don't have to answer any questions!"
Billy Swan moved in on them fast. McGarrett backed up, raised his hands. He suddenly remembered that neither he nor Danno was carrying a weapon. They left the house, quickly.
***
"So what do you think, Steve?" Danny asked as they drove back towards downtown.
"I don't know, Danno," Steve said wearily. "Kalapana knows who killed his man, that's for sure."
"Inside job?" Danny speculated.
Steve considered, shook his head. "Nah, Kalapana's a lightweight. I have a hard time believing he could be behind something like this."
"Yeah," Danny nodded. He was silent for a long moment. "Steve, do you really think the Vashons could be back in the islands?"
"Who knows, Danno? My guess is if they are, they won't keep it a secret for very long." McGarrett jerked the wheel, swinging the car onto Beretania. He pulled up at the curb and screeched the Mercury to a halt. Danny flinched. He'd forgotten about Steve's driving habits.
"Wait here, Danno. I've gotta make a phone call."
Danny looked at him questioningly. "Five-O headquarters?"
McGarrett shook his head. "Drugstore. I gotta call in a prescription." Seeing Danny's concerned look, McGarrett shrugged and said, "Prostate."
Danny looked sympathetic. "Yeah, my PSA count went up last year, but the doctor said it was no big thing." He sighed. "It's a bitch getting old, isn't it, Steve?"
"Yeah." McGarrett slammed the car door. You have no idea, Danno, no idea, he thought as he walked to the phone booth. The meeting with Kalapana had taken a lot out of him, more than he would have imagined. He felt exhausted. Still, there were things he needed to do.
"Danno," Steve said when he returned to the car, "do you still have a permit to carry a weapon?"
"Yeah," Danny said. "California private security officer's license."
"What do you say we go take a few shots at the HPD practice range?" McGarrett looked over his shoulder, threw the car into reverse, and swerved back out into traffic.
Danny flinched again. He felt suddenly uneasy. "I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea," he said. After a minute, he looked at McGarrett and said, "This is serious, isn't it, Steve?"
"It's murder, Danno. Murder." McGarrett smacked the wheel with his hand. He didn't care if it hurt.
***
Archie Yamomoto had worked at the HPD firing range since virtually forever. His chubby-cheeked face lit up when he saw McGarrett come in the door.
"Hey, Steve," he called out cheerfully. "Ain't seen you in a long time, man. How you been?"
"Fine, Archie, fine." McGarrett smiled. "Hey, look who I've got with me."
Archie's eyes widened. "Danny!" he exclaimed, rushing out to pump Danny's hand. "I can't believe it! I thought you were gone for good, bruddah."
"Like a bad penny," Danny joked. "I've been living in California for eleven years now."
"Wow! Time flies." Archie smiled. He patted Danny's gut and said, "Guess they got pretty good kaukau in California, huh, bruddah?"
Danny pretended to scowl, then laughed. "My wife likes to cook."
Archie chuckled. "So what can I do for you guys? Come to shoot a few rounds, for old times' sake?"
"Yeah," McGarrett said. "Give us a couple of .38's."
Within minutes, Archie had them set up on the firing range with .38 caliber standard police-issue automatics, protective headphones, and safety glasses. He handed each man several clips worth of ammunition. "Knock yourself out, guys," Archie called cheerfully. "Just let me know when you're done."
McGarrett wrapped his hand around the automatic, gripping the cool metal. The gun felt unexpectedly heavy in his fingers. He slid in a clip and faced the target. Bracing his right wrist with his other hand, he aimed at the cardboard figure at the end of the range and squeezed off ten shots as rapidly as he could.
The pain was excruciating. It shot up his wrist to his elbow and shoulder, finally reaching his face. His hand was shaking badly.
McGarrett lowered the gun, switched it to his left hand, and shook out his fingers gently. He flexed and unflexed his right hand, trying to lessen the pain. The sharpness turned to throbbing, then finally to a numb ache.
He glanced over at Danny. Danny was blasting away at the target, fire leaping from the barrel of his automatic. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air. Even after all these years, his hand was rock steady. The target was practically demolished.
Danny shook his empty clip out onto the floor. He carefully lifted his safety glasses over his real specs, peered down at the target, and nodded, satisfied.
McGarrett whistled with genuine admiration. "Don't tell me you haven't been on a firing range since you left Five-O."
"Every week," Danny confessed. "In fact, a couple times a year I teach a firearms safety course at San Bernadino Community College."
"Amazing, Danno." Steve grinned. "I was afraid you were going to say it was just like riding a bicycle."
"Not quite," Danny smiled. Then his face turned serious. "How're you doing, Steve?"
"Not good, Danno, not good," McGarrett admitted. There was no point trying to snow Danno; he could see for himself McGarrett couldn't shoot worth a damn anymore. "It's arthritis. My pistol grip is shot all to hell."
Danny nodded. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "Why don't you get one of these?" he said, pointing to the copper bracelet around his wrist. "Julie gave it to me. It's supposed to ward off aches and pains."
"I could use it, smartass," McGarrett replied. "Let's call it a day, huh, Danno?"
The two men left the range and turned in their weapons, headphones, and ammunition to Archie. As he checked them off his list, Archie frowned and said, "Hey, Steve, I don't want to butt in or anything, but there's been two guys sitting in a parked car across the street ever since you got here. They been watching this place pretty closely."
"Where are they, Archie?" McGarrett looked out the plate-glass window.
Archie pointed. "Over there, see? Blue Ford sedan?" McGarrett drew in a breath.
Danny craned his neck. "Who is it, Steve? Kalapana's boys?"
"No." McGarrett spit out the word with white-hot rage. "Danno, we're being tailed. By Hawaii Five-O."