Fic: Stealth and Sudden Violence (Chapter 5)
Danny sat back in his chair and let his dinner settle. He rarely ate in Shepherd's restaurant, a little too stuffy and a lot overpriced for his tastes, but he had to admit the food was excellent and on this occasion the company entertaining.
He was really glad that Chin and Kono had been included in the invitation to eat with the Emersons, even if it had caused somewhat of a sensation in the normally placid dining room of Shepherd's. Looking back he supposed it was less of an invitation to join them and more or an order, in much the same way that Mrs. Emerson's suggestion to the manager of the hotel that Chin and Kono were to be treated as any other guest was more of a threat than a request. He suspected that, had the people inviting the native Hawaiians to dine with them been anyone other than the Emersons, the pair, and probably Steve and Danny with them, would have been gently but forcefully refused a table. That was why they had intended to eat in the Khan el Khalili, a small restaurant that Steve remembered from his youth.
The Emerson family was as improbable as all the stories he'd been told, and then some. The Professor was an imposing man, his big frame still packed with muscles even though he was in his early sixties. He had sharp, intelligent eyes, and Danny found being fixed by them more than a little unsettling, until the man clearly decided he posed no threat to his family.
Mrs. Emerson had been described by Danny's colleagues as indomitable, meaning it more as an insult rather than the great strength it could be. She didn't, and obviously never would, bow to other people's opinions and was more than willing to explain why. She was also fiercely intelligent; Danny could tell that from the very direct questions he'd gotten about police procedure and some recent cases. He thought she reminded him a little of his own mother, despite not being anything like the Italian firebrand he'd left back in New Jersey.
Ramses, who'd spent most of dinner allowing Steve to tell Danny and the others stories about his youthful exploits, with barely any corrections, was something of an enigma to him. He still felt the sting of the change in the man's demeanor when he'd discovered Danny was with the police, but was struggling to understand the reason. The whole family seemed to have been involved with solving murders and catching smugglers for years, and clearly had pretty good relations with the police. He'd have to ask Steve later if he had any idea.
Nerfet Forth, the Emerson's adopted daughter, was just as beautiful as he'd been told. Where Ramses was dark like a native Egyptian, Nefret was fair, her hair a red-gold, her eyes cornflower blue, her skin still pale even after months in Egypt's sun. She was also just as fiercely intelligent and independent as her adoptive mother. He didn't want to be surprised when she talked about the women's hospital she ran, he'd known she was a trained surgeon before meeting her, but there was still a small part of him that marveled that a woman as beautiful and wealthy as she was had decided to dedicate a good portion of her time to the women of the red blind district.
She'd spent most of dinner becoming firm friends with Kono, and after Steve's stories of Nefret's skills with the knife and the bow he was beginning to suspect he might have to lay down some ground rules about sharp implements in the house. He also figured he was going to be getting all kinds of questions from Kono about the notorious red blind district and all the things he'd seen there. He wasn't going to spare the details, but he was going to try to impress on Kono the fact that it was dangerous and she couldn't go rushing in to save the day.
He smiled to himself. Kono was enjoying herself, her face flushed from the wine, her eyes shining as she told Nefret and Mrs. Emerson about their time in the Philippines. Chin was a little more reserved, but still chatting amiably to the Professor about Hawaii and the culture of the native peoples. Steve and Ramses were sat very close together, discussing something Danny couldn't hear, and he felt a sudden stab of jealousy.
Danny took a moment to analyze the surprising thought. What did he have to be jealous of? The two men were friends, or they had been years ago, and were just catching up. He'd only met Steve four days ago, although it seemed a whole hell of a lot longer, and he had no rights over who Steve spoke to. He'd have no rights over that even if he'd known the man a lifetime, he told himself, but it still didn't stop the little nagging voice in his head that said Ramses was some kind of threat.
The younger Emerson, Danny was fairly sure, wasn't a threat in a physical kind of way, not least because all of the little team they'd formed were more than able of taking care of themselves. Even against someone who was as obviously capable as Ramses was. No, he was a threat to the bright new bond that Danny had with Steve. Ramses was someone he could see Steve finding useful for more than liaising with the police and making sure he didn't tread too heavily on their procedures. He certainly fit better into the circle of friends Steve surrounded himself with. Ramses could be one of the many cousins Kono and Chin talked about.
“Are you all right, Mr. Williams?” Mrs. Emerson asked, looking at him with a certain amount of consternation and more than a little curiosity. “You seem to be grinding your teeth.”
“I'm sorry, I was thinking about my ex-wife,” he lied, with a little smile to soften what could be construed as a socially unacceptable statement.
Mrs. Emerson smiled at him, clearly not offended, but her face showed a determined sympathy that Danny knew he was going to regret. “You came all the way to Egypt to be with your daughter?”
“Yes,” he said, frantically thinking about how to distract the woman even though it was his own fault for bringing it up. “I couldn't imagine giving up the chance to watch her grow up.”
“Even if it is only a few hours a week,” she stated, showing a depth of understanding of his situation that most people didn't. “It must be very difficult.”
“It relies a lot on the goodwill of a woman who seems to hate me, and a man I hate for marrying her,” Danny admitted, surprising himself a little.
“Ah, yes, Stanley Edwards,” Mrs. Emerson spat with such bitterness that Danny almost laughed.
“What did he do to you?” he asked with a smile, taking a sip of the coffee. “You sound as if you hate him almost as much as I do.”
“He is, unfortunately, one of that breed of men who believe that a large fortune qualifies them to dig holes in Egypt.” She sounded as wounded as if Stan had been terribly indiscreet with her daughter. “He's caused nothing but problems since he arrived and took over the von Bork's dig at Heliopolis. His methods are sloppy and his security is so lax it's a surprise there's anything left on the site.”
“And there was I just thinking he was the rich man my wife's mother always wanted for a son-in-law.”
“It seems we have a common enemy, Mr. Williams,” Mrs. Emerson replied, her eyes twinkling with humor.
“For heaven's sake, my dear, don't go interfering with Williams' life,” Professor Emerson ordered, making Danny wonder how much of the conversation he and the others had heard. “You're likely to drive Edwards to leave Egypt, and then where would McGarrett be in the investigation of his father's death?”
“You'd leave?” Steve asked, demonstrating he was listening too.
“I go where Grace is,” Danny admitted, not enjoying the stab of hurt that flashed ever so quickly over Steve's face. “Sorry.”
“There's no need to apologize, my dear boy,” the Professor said, clapping Danny on the shoulder and nearly driving him face first into the table. “It's an admirable quality that more men should aspire to. If only certain members...”
“Emerson,” his wife interrupted, noticing the stony cast to Steve's face. “Perhaps we should think about getting home. I'm sure these young people have other plans for the rest of the evening.”
“Young people?” the Professor asked, sounding vaguely affronted at the implication he was no longer young, even though he was already beginning to stand up.
“Yes, people who are not us, my dear,” his wife said with a quick glance at their son, one she probably thought wasn't at all obvious.
“Well, we have an early start tomorrow at the site,” the Professor agreed, obviously trying to stop her saying anything else. “Most enlightening discussion, Mr. Kelly. You should come to the site. Just don't expect us to drop everything to show you round.”
“Don't mind him,” Nefret laughed, gathering her small purse from the table as the waiter rushed to pull out her chair. “We'll be happy to show you the tomb, such as it is, and offer a cup of tea for your troubles.”
The Professor harrumphed, but didn't object, as he pulled out his wife's chair and virtually lifted her out of it. Danny found the idea of going out to the tomb far more appealing now that he'd been all the way out in the desert with Steve. He might even take Grace out there.
“Bring your daughter, Mr. Williams,” Mrs. Emerson offered, reading his mind. “I'm sure we'd all like to meet her.”
“I might just do that,” Danny replied, standing as all the men had as soon as Mrs. Emerson and Nefret were on their feet. “Thank you.”
“We shall no doubt see each other around town,” Ramses said, with a look at Steve. “Good to meet you all.”
And with that the Emersons left the dining room, leaving Steve, Chin and Danny to take their seats again in slightly stunned silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny could see waiters hovering, obviously wanting to reclaim the table and restore the dining room to its European normalcy. He could imagine the complaints being made by other patrons about foreigners in their hotel.
“We should probably leave, too,” Steve said, finally finding his voice. “We've got a busy day tomorrow.”
“We have?” Danny asked, thinking fondly of his bed, and less so of his landlady.
“I'll explain in the car,” Steve said, standing up and pulling Kono's chair out for her so forcefully that she nearly fell off it.
“You really are a Neanderthal, aren't you?” Danny asked, holding out his arm in an exaggeratedly chivalrous gesture for Kono, once she'd gotten to her feet. “You might be the best trained soldier, a secret warrior for good and all that, but you're really clueless when it comes to basic mammal to mammal interactions.”
Steve blinked at him, and then turned, marching off towards the door without a backwards glance. Kono took Danny's arm with a smile and they followed Chin, who was already hard on Steve's tail. He was glad these guys knew Steve already, or he'd spend all his time apologizing to them.
“Would you really follow Grace wherever she went?” Kono asked, sounding unsure, as though she wasn't allowed to mention this part of his life.
“I would,” Danny answered, watching her brows crease a little at the answer. “But not without a lot of begging Rachel to stay here first though.”
His answer earned him a squeeze of his arm that he was sure briefly shut the blood supply off to his hand. He reminded himself again to never cross the Kono. Now he just had to find out what had crawled up Steve's ass and made him close himself off again.
Steve leaned against the low parapet of the roof terrace and looked out over the dark city. Most people would be in bed already, at least the folks who worked for a living. He suspected that some people were still dancing themselves into the small hours of the morning, but the war in Europe had dimmed the spirits of even the most ardent reveler.
The moon was nearly full, its light glinting off the waters of the Nile a few blocks from the house, and beyond that he could just make out the hulking shapes of the Giza pyramids. Behind him, the lights of Cairo, such that they were, spread across the eastern bank of the river.
He watched the Nile, hoping its slow movements might soothe his mind and let him get some sleep. He'd told the others to go to bed before he'd escaped up the stairs to the top of the house, out into the open air. Danny had to drive home, of course, but at least he, Kono and Chin were going to get a good night's rest before they mounted their little operation tomorrow. He knew he should be worrying about that, analyzing Ramses information, assessing if he could trust the man's assertion that he'd passed information to Steve's father when he visited Shepherd's. But he wasn't, he was worrying about another conversation he'd had at dinner.
He wanted to swim, but the idea of doing it in the confines of the pool made his skin crawl. He needed open water, but, as tempting as the Nile was, the prospect of being eaten by a crocodile, however unlikely, really didn't appeal. He wasn't feeling that bad. Yet.
God, he'd been an idiot. He had known Danny had come all this way to follow his daughter, and of course that meant he would follow her if she moved again, but to hear it from his own mouth somehow made it more real. And Steve had no right to even imagine asking him to stay here. He'd met him just four days ago and already Danny had somehow become the center of this new life Steve was making for himself.
And what a new life it was. He'd given up the one thing in life he knew he loved, the Navy, to do a job he was only barely competent for. His dad had worked for years to build a network of contacts and informants and he'd still gotten himself killed by this Victor Hesse person.
He was back living in the house that held some of his best and worst memories of his childhood, the house where his father had been murdered, a house he wasn't sure he wanted. He was sleeping in his old bedroom, the master suite untouched and still filled with his dad's most private possessions. The whole house was filled with his dad's things, his dad's memories.
He felt sorry for the man he had spent a lot of time in the past years resenting, if not hating, because he'd been living in a museum to the family he'd lost. His and Mary's old rooms were exactly the way he remembered when he'd stepped out of the door that last day as he was sent away. There was even a closet of his mom's clothes in the dressing room next to his dad's bedroom. Kono described it as a little creepy, and he had to agree.
And here he was, taking over the mantle of the man, coming back to the same house, the same life, the same stupid risks his father had taken. And somehow he was expecting Danny, Chin and Kono to drop everything they were doing, change their whole lives, and join him in this crusade he found himself on. It wasn't fair of him and it was foolish to expect it to happen.
“You know, I can almost hear you brooding from my bedroom,” Chin complained quietly from behind him, making him start in surprise.
“I didn't hear you come up,” Steve said redundantly, while he tried to get his heart rate back under control. “You should go back to bed.”
“I'd say the same to you,” Chin answered, ignoring the order Steve had given. “But I know you're going to sit up here and stew about whatever has your bloomers in a twist.”
Steve barked out a sudden laugh, surprised again at Chin's turn of phrase. He suspected that he might have to separate Chin and Danny because the Jersey native was having a detrimental effect on his friend's language.
“It's nothing, honestly,” Steve lied, hoping the low light would disguise the tells he knew Chin would normally read.
“Right,” came the skeptical answer, and Steve knew he'd been rumbled.
“Really, I'm fine.”
“You can talk to me or I can let Kono come up here like she wanted to.” Chin pointed out, sitting on the low wall of the roof terrace.
Steve stared at the other man, trying to work out if it was a lie, but Chin had no tells, at least ones that Steve knew. “You wouldn't?”
Chin looked at Steve like he was an annoying teenager who was too stupid to listen to his parents. “I've signed the request to join the reserves.”
“You have?” Steve wished he didn't sound as surprised as he did. He hadn't asked Chin or Kono to stay with him in Egypt, he wasn't even sure why he'd made the decision himself either, although he was beginning to wonder if Danny's entry into his life weren't tied up in it somehow.
Chin sighed. “There's nothing for me back in Hawaii, not with everyone still thinking I stole the plantation's payroll money, and the Navy wasn't all that much fun until you and your dad got me out of being a glorified dock hand.”
“And Kono?” Steve asked, pretty sure he knew the answer already.
“She's even less keen on being pressured into a marriage she doesn't want now than she was before,” Chin said, with a wry smile. “Can't say I blame her.”
“Me either,” Steve agreed, because there was something so wrong with the idea of bright, beautiful Kono being cowed into marriage by her extended family. Or any woman. Or man.
“Stop it,” Chin ordered, some of the snap that made their unit so scared of Sergeant Kelly in his voice. “I've seen you do this before and I won't let you do it again.”
“What?”
“You get melancholic,” Chin said, obviously uncomfortable saying what he was going to say. “When Nick Taylor died... I don't want you to start trying to make everything your problem to fix again.”
“I don't...”
“Steve, trust me,” Chin said, and Steve did, always had. “Don't take all this on yourself.”
“Okay.”
“You have friends, a family even,” Chin said, looking as serious as he ever had. “We're in this with you. We're ohana, brah.”
Steve guessed he really was acting like an idiot, if Chin had to explain what he already knew, what he'd always known. “Yeah, sorry. I know.”
“No problem,” Chin said with a smile. “Go downstairs and swim lengths until you're wobbly. Then I'll get Kamekona to make you some warm milk.”
“I'm not a kid,” Steve objected, although the idea of being told what to do by someone else was pretty appealing. As was the warm milk.
“No, you're not. You're a guy who's barely slept in weeks and who's taken on a new job that involves trying to catch the man who killed your father. Now, go swim until it hurts.”
Steve grinned at him, clapped Chin on the shoulder and headed down to the pool. His friend was right. He'd wear himself out, get his mind into the quiet place he found swimming, and try to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow they had a shop to visit, courtesy of Ramses' information, and he was going to get Kamekona to start sorting out his mother's clothes. He didn't need them to remember her.
Kono hoped to God the guys got in place soon, because there was only so long she could feign interest in shawls at the front of the shop without the owner expecting her to buy one. She wasn't really a shawl sort of woman, if she was being honest with herself, and she certainly didn't have the Arabic skills to fool the shopkeeper she was local if she had to enter into an extended round of haggling.
She wished, again, that she could be in the antiques shop around the corner with Steve and Danny, but they needed someone to watch the rear of the shop and Kono could be made to blend in much more easily than Chin. She was swathed in the robe and veils the Egyptian women wore and was growing to admire their fortitude with every passing second.
There was so much cloth. Every movement seemed to have to be made to work around or through a piece of fabric. And she felt like she was cooking, just standing still in the shade of the shops of the souk, the Khan el Kalili. Okay, so she had her normal attire, working trousers, shirt and boots on under the robes, but she was sure even if she hadn't, they'd be too hot. She took a deep breath and tried to look at the positive side of things, at least there weren't corsets involved.
A shout rang out from behind her, and then another, and she heard the thump of running feet. Without even having to turn to look, she knew that someone was making a break for it from the rear of the shop Steve and Danny were in. Finally, she said to herself, and, dropping the scarf she'd been looking at for far too long, she stepped into the path of the escaping man.
She turned to face him, slipping her outer robe off her shoulders so she had some chance of not tripping over the damn thing. The man coming towards her wasn't much taller than she was, but he was at least twice as wide at the shoulder, and had a chest like a barrel. His steps faltered a little, obviously surprised at the sudden appearance of what must have looked, as least until she'd dropped the abiya, like a middle class house wife preparing to take him on.
Kono could see the thoughts pass quickly on his face. Surprise, confusion, dawning realization that it was only a woman standing in his way. One of life's most important lessons, thought Kono, as she shifted her balance backwards slightly and landed a bone-crunching kick to the man's right knee as he tried to shove past her, was to never underestimate you opponent. She was more than happy to be the one to teach this fool that lesson. The man crumpled with a howl of pain, clutching his leg. The street was completely silent, shopkeepers and their customers looking on in surprise.
She pushed him over on to his stomach with her booted foot, knelt on his back with one knee and grabbed his hand to snap on the handcuffs Steve had given her. That was when all hell broke loose around her. The shop owners seemed to wake up from their stupor and feel the need to get involved with the scene unfolding before them. They rushed forward, shouting and waving their arms, clearly with no idea what to do. Here was a woman, until moments ago a customer at one of the shops, suddenly turning around and attacking a one of their own who happened to be running past. Kono ignored them, forcing the man's hand behind his back and snapping the cuff around his wrist.
Feeling the cuff snap closed seemed to give the man a renewed sense of purpose and he rolled, attempting to knock Kono off his back. She reached up, grabbing his hair, and banged his face hard into the floor. She heard something crunch and he groaned, and stilled. She grabbed his other hand and snapped it into the cuffs.
She levered herself off his back, only to be immediately surrounded by irate shopkeepers all yelling at her. She had been learning off of Steve and Chin, but she knew her linguistic skills weren't on a par with her fighting. She took a breath and mustered up the best Arabic should could. “Quiet. Police. Still keep.”
It worked for about thirty seconds and then the people were pressing in again, yelling at her and at each other. The man she'd cuffed started struggling again, moaning as he tried to get his feet under him. Kono gave him swift kick to the ribs, before putting her foot on his neck. She drew the gun she'd pushed in the side of her boot before they'd left the house and pointed it at the crowd. They drew back, but they weren't happy about it, and she knew how ugly a mob could get. She hoped her backup arrived soon, or she might have to resort to real violence.
Chin sat in the driver's seat of Danny's car, trying his best to look like a bored driver waiting for his wealthy employers, rather than the heavily armed backup he was. He'd dressed in his most chauffeur-like suit and pulled on the motoring cap they'd found when they raided Jack McGarrett's closet. Some of the things they'd found in there made Chin pretty sure that Steve's father had been doing some heavy duty undercover work over the years. When they had time, he'd catalog everything and try to match it up to McGarrett senior's case notes.
Maybe he could get Steve involved, keep him from brooding. But the man had never been good at the paper work side of things. He could do it, and do it well if he had to, but it was never his first choice for finding a solution to a problem. That was why he liked Danny. The man knew what solved cases, or found Filipino rebels, it was leg work and good note keeping. Steve's brand of direct frontal assault only really worked when he had people like Danny and Chin to fill in the gaps. Kono, well, she was more like Steve than Chin cared to think about. If they ever did return to Hawaii, then her mother was going to kill him.
Another car pulled alongside his, stopping at the gate of the Khan el Kahlili, its occupants clambering out and stripping off the cumbersome motoring outfits they wore. Chin never understood the need for a special set of clothes simply for driving, especially in the city. These people wouldn't have worn them in a carriage, and a car didn't travel any more quickly when the streets were filled with slow moving people and intransigent camels. Fashion, he supposed.
“I say, you,” one of the men said, approaching Chin's car. “You there, driver. We're rather in need of someone to take care of the motor. Don't suppose you could oblige?”
Chin sighed. Just what he needed. He couldn't tell the idiot to just get lost because it would draw too much attention to him, but he really needed the man to go away. Much as he hated to, he knew he had to play his trump card. Looking up, letting the approaching Englishman see his face, he spoke. “No English.”
“I say,” the man said, obviously surprised by this unexpected turn of events. He tugged on the thin chain that ran into his vest pocket and produced a monocle, scrunching his face to peer at Chin through it. Excellent, not only a idiot, but a pretentious one at that.
“No English,” Chin repeated, a little more firmly.
“The blighter's a Chinaman,” the man said, turning to his friends. “What the bloody hell's a chink doing driving a car?”
“I dare say he drives for one of the embassies,” one of the women answered, reasonably.
“Well, it's not much use to us, is it?” the man said again, still standing next to Chin's car. “I'm not leaving the motor here if we can't find someone to watch over it. You know how light-fingered the fellahin are.”
Chin bristled for the poor Egyptians who had to put up with idiots like this in their country. It was a sad truth that many of the British tourists, and a large number of the governing elite, didn't seem to much like the people of the country they were visiting. Or occupying, in the case of the bureaucrats. But then, the Americans who occupied his own country weren't really any better.
“I'm sure the Chinese Ambassador, or whoever it is, didn't set out to ruin your day, Arthur,” the woman pointed out very sensibly. Chin rather liked her.
“There isn't a Chinese embassy in Egypt,” the other man in the little group said, approaching the car. Chin shifted under the man's sharp gaze, trying to make sure he looked like he hadn't a clue what was being said.
“Then I'm sure it's just an eccentric visitor,” the woman said, obviously getting irritated by her companions. “Can we please go shopping now?”
“Not without someone to guard the motor,” the first man, who Chin had now christened The Idiot in his head, complained.
The Idiot turned to Chin. “You,” he said, pointing at him, “look,” pointing at his own eyes, “after my motor,” gesturing to the car. “Dinar,” he got out some coins. “Good?”
Chin was very tempted to take the coins just to get rid of him, and then perhaps try to sell the car and all its contents before the people got back. Or he could just punch the man in the nose.
There was a shout from the Khan, followed by more voices raised in alarm. Chin turned, as did The Idiot and his friends, to look through the gate of the huge souk. He couldn't see anyone coming his way yet, but he was sure they were. He pressed the button to fire the starter motor, hugely glad he didn't have to get out to crank the handle like he'd had to on the Ford Ts he'd driven.
He pushed the gear shift into reverse and eased the car back, taking great care not to run over The Idiot, who was virtually standing on the running boards. He turned the wheel and shifted into the first forward gear and drove forwards, effectively blocking the gate.
“Where are you going?” the Idiot's friend asked, turning away from the gate of the Khan, eying Chin suspiciously.
Chin didn't have time to formulate an answer before a man wearing a fez and Turkish robes, waving a pistol around, came charging along the road out of the gateway and towards the cars. The little group seemed frozen, both men rooted to the spot and only the woman raising her hand to her mouth as though she was about to scream. The sound never came though as the Turk saw his escape blocked and grabbed the woman, holding the gun to her head.
Chin was standing on the seat of the car, aiming his shot gun at the man, before either The Idiot or his friend even seemed to comprehend what had happened.
“Police,” Chin shouted in Arabic, knowing it was a lie, but he wasn't about to try to explain a US ambassador's special task force. “Put your weapon down, and let the woman go.”
“Bloody hell, the Chinaman's got a gun,” the Idiot said, confirming his status as the dumbest person Chin had ever had the misfortune to meet.
“Arthur,” the woman complained, seemingly more annoyed by her stupid companion than by the gun to her head. “Do be quiet.”
“Yes, Arthur,” Chin said, making The Idiot gape like a fish. “Shut up.”
“Well of all the...”
“Walsingham!” The Idiot's friend snapped, cutting off whatever foolishness he was about to say before turning to Chin. “I hope you've got a better plan than that shotgun, because you'll kill her if you fire it.”
Just what he needed, a backseat hostage negotiator. Chin ignored him, keeping his attention on the Turk. “Put down the gun.”
“It is as he says,” the Turk replied, his English perfect and his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You can't shoot me with that weapon, not without killing her, so we appear to have reached an impasse.”
“I can wait,” Chin replied, not feeling anywhere near as confident as he sounded.
He only had to hold the guy here until Steve, Danny and Kono came to help. Which they would eventually, he knew that, it just depended on what they were doing. Maybe The Idiot's friend was right. Maybe he did need another plan.
Steve grunted and dodged the punch. He was knew he was trying to do too many things at once, including analyzing his actions, but he had long since accepted that this was what it was like working with a new team. And this one was new, even if he'd worked with Chin for years and had known Kono for nearly as long.
They were in a new country with a new team member, one who was currently punching a suspect twice his size repeatedly in the stomach to little effect. And Kono, who was out the back of the shop somewhere on her own, was an active part of his operation, something the Navy had never, ever, knowingly allowed.
“Trade off,” Steve shouted, and grinned with relief when Danny understood immediately and danced away from his big, lumbering sparring partner and squared off with the wiry fighter Steve had engaged. Changing things up didn't stop Steve worrying about the rest of his team, but he felt better once he'd spun and landed a roundhouse kick on the big guy's temple that made him stagger back into a pile of carpets. Why couldn't the bad guys be using a shop that had hard surfaces?
There was a muffled thud behind him and he risked a glance to check Danny was okay. The detective was standing over the prone form their suspect, the broken remains of a wooden stool in his hand. Trust Danny to find the only solid object in the shop. Steve dodged a lumbering swing from his opponent and landed another kick to the man's guts that should have floored him. The guy was clearly too stupid to feel pain. Steve was debating just shooting the guy, because he suspected someone this dumb would probably be as much help dead as alive.
He heard Danny click handcuffs onto the downed suspect and knew the detective would probably want to help him fight the oaf he'd just punched in the face. But Steve knew eventually this guy would go down and he needed to know the rest of his team was okay.
“I'm going to check on Kono,” Danny said, already heading towards the back room of the small shop and the door that lead to the alley at the back.
Again Steve was supremely grateful to whatever deity had brought Danny to Egypt. He took a breath and focused entirely on the man he was fighting. He needed to finish this and go check on Chin. He swung another roundhouse at the guy's head, but the oaf seemed to have suddenly learned to block and Steve found himself face down on the stack of carpets.
He rolled on to his back and sprung up to a standing position in one fluid movement, which obviously astounded his opponent so much he stopped in his tracks. Steve took full advantage of the man's shock and punched him in the throat. The man crumpled, clutching at his neck and gasping for breath. Steve flipped him onto his front and dragged his hands down behind his back and cuffed them together.
He rolled the man on his side, feeling his throat, checking just how much damage he'd done. The big man was dragging in little choked off breaths that Steve knew meant his windpipe was damaged. There was only one way to fix this and he didn't really have time for it. But he couldn't very well leave the guy to die, no matter how dumb he appeared to be. He looked frantically around the shop for something he could use and saw nothing. Damn.
Then he remembered the other man, the one Danny had dispatched with the stool, had been smoking a cigarette, complete with a rather ostentatious mother of pearl holder when they'd first entered the shop. Steve moved quickly, rolling the unconscious man onto his back and riffling through his pockets. He pulled out books of matches, lint, a few coins, a folded sheet of notepaper that he pocketed to read later, string, a pocket knife, but no cigarette case. Steve swore. He knew it had to be there somewhere, but he didn't have time to search the whole shop. He looked back towards the man he'd punched and realized he didn't have time to search anything.
And then he saw it, sticking out from under the edge of the rug the smaller man had been showing them before all hell broke loose. He grabbed the case, flipped it open and thanked God that the holder was in there. He snatched up one of the books of matches that he'd found and drew his own knife.
“This is going to hurt, but I'm going to make sure you can breathe,” he explained in Arabic, but wasn't sure the man could hear anymore.
He lit a match and held the blade of the knife in the flame, hoping it was hot enough to sterilize the blade. It wasn't perfect, especially with the smoky flame turning the blade dark, but it was all he had. Once he got home that evening, he was going to put together a little kit of useful things, like matches, rubbing alcohol, string, dressings, something like the kit he'd carried as a soldier, just smaller.
The blade was black but hot, so he figured it would do. He lit two matches at the same time and flamed the cigarette holder, wishing he could be confident he wasn't dooming the man to infection. But at least this way he had a chance of living.
He felt for the rings of cartilage that made up the larynx, counting down to the last one and then pushing the blade of the knife in, parallel to the rings. It slid in easily and the man never even flinched, making Steve worry he was already too late. He levered the knife up, pushed in the cigarette holder, forcing it between the rings of cartilage and into the man's windpipe.
There was a whooshing whistle and air flowed through the tube, color coming back to the man's face as his lungs started to get enough oxygen again. He didn't move though, and Steve wondered if he'd been without an air supply too long. There was nothing he could do about that right then, though, he reasoned with himself. He needed to go and check on Chin.
He stood, checking briefly that both men were securely cuffed, and then ran out of the shop onto the bustling crowds of the Khan. Except it wasn't really bustling so much as blocked by a crowd of people standing and gaping at something in the gateway of the bazaar, just around the turn in the narrow street. He elbowed his way through, issuing apologies and threats as he went. He had a bad feeling about what he was going to find, something he'd long since learned to trust, and drew his gun.
He rounded the bend in the street, and saw the reason for the crowd. The Turk, whose entrance into the shop had changed their little operation from subtle gathering of intelligence to a fist fight, was in a standoff with Chin. Steve had no doubt that Chin could have dropped the guy where he stood before he managed to pull the trigger on the pistol he carried, were it not for the woman he'd obviously grabbed as a hostage. Adding another line to his mental check list of lessons learned from this little operation, he realized he needed to get Chin a handgun as well as his favored shotgun.
Steve raised his gun, taking aim at the Turk's head as he moved forward and to the left, making sure that any shot he took wouldn't hit the people behind the man. He saw on Chin's face the moment he spotted Steve, noting the easing of tension in his shoulders. He mentally kicked himself for taking so long to reach his team mate.
He was about the shout an order at the Turk to surrender when the man decided to make his move, obviously taking Chin relaxing posture as a sign of weakening resolve. The Turk's arm moved, bringing the gun away from the hostage and pointing it towards Chin. Steve didn't hesitate; he squeezed the trigger and shot once, hitting the back of the man's head.
Blood and brains spattered forward, the woman screamed and staggered sideways, to be caught by a man who quickly stepped from the edge of the gateway. Chin jumped off the car and strode forward, his shotgun still trained on the fallen man. He kicked the pistol away from the man's hand following the protocol Steve and he always used, even though he was sure the man was very dead.
The crowd around Steve all began to press forward, as though those at the back wanted to get a good look at the show. Steve wondered if Danny and Kono were having the same problem and found himself grateful when he heard the shrill sound of a policeman's whistle signaling the arrival of the Cairo Police.
Chapter 6