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THE ROOT OF THE PROBLEM by Kathy Meyer

Mornings in paradise were a sight to behold. An overnight rainstorm had cleaned the air making it cool and crisp and relieving some of the humidity that is so common in Honolulu. The sun had risen to reveal a clear blue sky and the blue-lined storm clouds had retreated to the surrounding mountains and hung over them as if to smother them.

Steve McGarrett, head of Hawaii Five-O, responding to a call from Danny Williams, his second-in-command, was headed to the Palm Motel.

Bringing his car to a stop in the parking lot with a screech of the tires, McGarrett slid his 6-foot 2 trim frame out from behind the wheel and swiftly walked around the HPD squad car that had responded earlier. At best the place was desolate. Palm trees framed the entrance to doors and windows that looked like they hadn't been washed since the bombing of Pearl Harbor. What had once been a small yard now grew empty beer cans and broken wine bottles.

As he made his way through the lobby he saw two men hunched over a corner table playing a game of checkers. Beer cans and a wine bottle lay on the floor under the table, smiling to himself he concluded that the beer was winning. Beyond the lobby and facing the courtyard was Room 5. He returned a salute thrown by the officer stationed outside. The door to the room showed signs of being forced open, although it wouldn't have taken much to knock it open. The wood was obviously old and the paint was faded from the constant pounding of the Hawaiian sun. The number on the door was gone leaving behind only a ghostly image.

McGarrett's eyes traveled all around the room as he entered and meticulously took mental notes about the room. Old and tattered furniture decorated the interior. A desk was in the corner and had names of several people carved into the surface. The carpet was a sickly lime green and the wallpaper had yellowed from time. The air in the room contained a smell that was a combination of mustiness and the early beginnings of decay of the body. In the middle of the room the medical examiner was bent over the body. McGarrett walked over and knelt down beside the ME and grimaced at the sight of the man's beaten and bloodied face and blood-soaked clothing.

"Okay, Doc, so whadaya got."

Dr. Bergman, the county medical examiner, a man in his 50's with graying hair and a gray expression was finishing up his preliminary assessment of the body. Glanced up at the Five-O chief as he knelt down.

"Steve," He said in a weary voice as he acknowledged the Five-O chief. "I've been an medical examiner for many years, and you'd think that would make one immune to sights like this. But sometimes you just can't help feeling sorry for the victims."

Steve nodded an acknowledgement and asked, "What have we got?"

"What we have is a caucasian male, about 50 years old. Looks like there are several broken ribs. The severe bruising is probably from an intense beating. Besides the obvious condition of the body, and Steve this you'll find interesting, the beating didn't kill him." The Doc said as he looked at the Five-O chief.

"So what did?" Steve asked as he looked at the body.

Bergman spread the man's blood-soaked shirt to display two bullet holes that were side by side in the victim's chest. "This is what killed him, two shots at close range right into the heart. Looks like the gun used was a nine millimeter."

"About how long ago?"

"Two, maybe three days. I'll be able to tell you more after the autopsy." Bergman replied as he motioned for the ambulance attendants to remove the body.

"Thanks Doc. When you find the slugs send them over to Che Fong at the lab for analysis, and keep me informed." Steve requested as he stood.

"Will do, Steve." Bergman replied as he followed the attendants as they carried the body out of the room.

Across the room was Danny Williams, McGarrett's second-in-command, took notes in his ever-present notebook. A boyish-looking man with brown wavy hair, he was interviewing the man who found the body, the motel desk clerk. The desk clerk was an unsavory-looking fellow with forearms covered with tattoos of naked women. A cheap cigar was stuffed into the corner of his mouth. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days and smelled of sweat and beer.

Steve walked over to Williams. "Danno, whadaya have."

Danny introduced the desk clerk. "Steve, this is Otto Miller, he works the front desk during the night shift. He's the one who discovered the body. Mr. Miller this is Steve McGarrett."

"Mr. Miller." McGarrett acknowledged the clerk. "Did you see the victim enter the motel?"

"No I don't remember." Grunted the desk clerk.

"Do you remember anything strange happening about two nights ago? He'd have to walk right past your front desk." McGarrett inquired again already annoyed by the man's behavior.

"I must've been in the back."

"A man is dead, brutally murdered right here in your motel." McGarrett submitted, "How often do you check the rooms?"

In a gruff voice the desk clerk responded indignantly, "Every month, like clockwork."

"When was the last time you checked this room?"

Removing the cigar from his mouth the desk clerk said sarcastically, "I don't know, I don't keep track." And stuffed the cigar back into his mouth.

Danny watched the exchange between Steve and Otto Miller, continuing to take notes.

"Have you seen the dead man before?"

"Nope." The desk clerk shook his head, loosening ashes on the end of his cigar. McGarrett's eyes followed the remains as they fell to the floor. Being an avid non-smoker he watched the silent movement for a moment which reminded him of how much he hated the smell of cigars.

Refocusing on the desk clerk, McGarrett continued, "Has this room been rented to anyone in the last few days?"

"Not since the last guy was here." The desk clerk replied.

"Oh?" McGarrett replied as he sensed a possible lead as he tried to avoid the smoke that emanated from the end of the man's cigar. "When was this?"

Removing the cigar Otto said, "Oh, about a month ago, and left the place a mess." and stuffed the cigar back into his mouth. Blowing a large cloud of smoke in McGarretts' direction he asked. "Can I go now, stiffs give me the creeps."

"Yes, thank you Mr. Miller." McGarrett said as he recoiled from the cigar smoke, "We’ll be in touch."

The desk clerk walked out of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Steve turned to his second-in-command. "Any ID on the body?" he asked.

"No." Danny replied.

"Okay, make the standard inquiry to HPD and NCIC and see if a name pops up. I want to know everything about this guy. Also, call Che and get the lab boys down here and have them go over this place with a fine toothcomb. Prints, hair, and fibers the works, and make sure they get pictures of the door." Steve requested while looking around the room again.

"Could it be he was killed elsewhere and dumped here?" Danny asked.

"Maybe Danno. Maybe Che can tell us that. Were there any other witnesses besides Mr. Miller?" Steve asked.

"Chin is checking on that right now." Danny replied.

"Let me know what he finds out." McGarrett requested, as he looked around the room one more time before he left. While he drove back to his office his mind churned on the murder. Why was the body dumped there? If it was dumped, what was to be gained by leaving the body here in a run down motel where nobody would find it?

Time!

That's it!

Time is to be gained!

The victim was dumped there so he wouldn't be found for at least a few days, he concluded. But what is to be gained in those two days? What did the killer want to accomplish before somebody discovered the body? These questions ran unanswered over and over in his mind. If he knew the answers to all these questions he would be the supercop the media called him, which always annoyed him.

***

The autopsy report arrived the next afternoon. After returning from a long meeting with the Governor, Steve removed his jacket and hung it on the nearby coat rack. He loosened his tie and poured himself some coffee. Sitting down in his chair behind his desk and picked up the report. Leaning back he began to read. He did take a hell of a beating, Steve thought as he read the report. "...broken ribs, acute bruising of the abdomen, internal bleeding, deep cuts on his face, even some teeth were missing..."

Steve's reading was interrupted when Danny knocked on the door and walked in. Looking up from the report Steve asked, "What is it Danno?"

Danny strode up to McGarrett's desk and handed him the file, "Got a positive ID on the body from the motel. Our dead man's name was Paul Maxwell. He was a FBI agent out of Las Vegas."

"That's very interesting, Danno." Steve said. "Very interesting." Curiously he looked through the file. "What's an out-of-state fed doing in Hawaii, without informing Five-O he was here?"

"You know the bureau Steve. They play it close to the chest. They don't tell anybody what they are doing. Very hush hush." Danny added, "I spoke to some guy named Smithers over at the bureau. He's Fred Morton's assistant, all he was able to tell me that it was some witness protection case, but didn't elaborate."

"Yeah, I'll bet he didn't. Have you ever met the director over there Fred Morton?" Steve asked.

"No, don't think I have." Danny replied, after he thought for a moment.

"I worked with him on a few cases a couple of years ago. He's the type you don't want to get in his way."

"What if he comes for you over this?" Danny asked.

"Oh, I can handle Fred Morton, don't worry about me." Steve replied confidently.

"I know that but what about the guy standing next to you?"

"What's the matter Danno? You worried?" Steve asked with a grin.

"Yeah, a little." Danny replied with a smirk.

"Here's the autopsy report on the victim from the motel." Steve said as he handed the file to Danny, "It says he was systematically beaten. I'll just bet his killer was looking for information on that witness."

"That means that witness could be right here in Honolulu." Danny guessed as he looked up from the file.

"Yeah." Steve replied, "And if this witness is still alive, we need to find him before our killer does."

The office door swung open and Chin Ho entered with Kono right behind him. Steve asked as the detectives approached his desk. "Yeah, Chin, what is it?"

"One of the motel residents remembers seeing two men arriving at the motel around midnight, about three nights ago. Looked like one of them was drunk or something, had to be carried to the room." Chin reported.

"Did he get a look at the men?"

"No. Says it was too dark." Chin replied.

"Keep on it, Chin. Somebody has must to have seen something. And keep on that desk clerk, what's his name?"

"Otto Miller." Danny said.

"Otto Miller. I think he's hiding something." Steve said waving his hand, "His answers were too vague."

"Right boss."

"All right gentlemen." Steve said rapping on his desk with his fist as he stood. "Our body at the motel was a FBI Agent and was protecting a federal witness. Now, we don't know who or where this witness is, or if Paul Maxwell gave that information or not before he was killed. Okay gentlemen, hit the streets, find out what the latest word is. Talk to your sources, squeeze em. Our killer already has two days on us and a life is at stake now." At that word Danny, Chin, and Kono left the office.

The phone on Steve's desk rang. He picked up the receiver. It was Che Fong from the crime lab. The medical examiner had sent over the bullets from the body at the motel. He had the results of his examination and suggested that Steve come to his lab, he had something to show him. Hanging up the phone he headed for the crime lab.

When Steve arrived, Che invited him to look through his microscope as he explained what he was looking at. "The slugs are standard nine millimeter. Examination of the rifling indicate that this gun has six rifling grooves."

"Six grooves huh? What does that do for us?" Steve asked as he looked up from the microscope.

"It means that the gun used was of European manufacture. Because most guns manufactured here in the States and some from other European countries have four maybe five grooves, but not six."

"Thanks Che. You've just eliminated all the four and five grooved American-made guns from the list."

The lab man looked at the Five-O chief and nodded his head.

"Can you identify what gun was used?" Steve asked.

"It'll take some time but I'll see what I can do." Che replied.

"Thanks Che, that will be a big help." Steve replied as he left the lab.

***

In his room at the Ilikai Hotel Evan Paxton relaxed as he cleaned his SIG P210 nine-millimeter semi-automatic pistol. He was a tall man in his mid 30's with dark hair and a slightly muscular build. His skin was tanned from the many hours he spent out in the sun. American by birth, he grew up in Switzerland. As a young man he had a very close friend in Hans Roquefort, an ex-militiaman and semi-retired political radical. During his stint in the Swiss Army he had to agree with the government. Upon his discharge he began to vocalize his disagreement with the government. What had attracted the young Paxton to him was the man's ideals and how he saw the governmental structure of their country.

As he wiped the cloth over the weapon he remembered his close friend. He had looked upon the older man as a mentor and admired him and listened to his stories with great interest. When one dark day he was to witness his friend's death when the Swiss police gunned him down in the street. From what he saw was for no good reason. For the police it was a righteous shoot. Roquefort had been the facilitator of an unruly crowd that was becoming violent.

Since Hans' death, he had grown to despise authority figures. It had made him angry enough to purposely ambush the officer that killed his friend and to kill him himself.

Taking the weapon from the dead officer, he had held it in his hands angrily. Squeezing it hard he grew angrier because he was trying very hard not to cry. He knew that this was the gun that the officer used to kill his friend. As he thought about Hans, he remembered the strange feeling that came over him. It was a numbness that never seemed to go away. Is this how it feels to kill someone? He asked himself. If I don't feel anything he thought, then I can do this again. So he sought out the organized crime leaders in Geneva and offered his services to them as a freelance assassin. After much discussion, they took him in. And here he learned his trade and learned it well. He made Interpol's most wanted list in just a little over a year and earned the moniker of the Iceman, because he was cold blooded in the way he did his work.

Since then he didn't make any friends. Everything was strictly business because he wouldn't and perhaps couldn't trust anyone.

When he finished cleaning his gun he placed it and the cloth down on the coffee table and walked out onto the lanai of his hotel room to savor the view of Honolulu. With his arm he wiped his brow as he surveyed the city like a hawk searches for prey while he lit up a cigarette. He hated the tropical heat and humidity, it made him sweat and he didn't like to sweat. It reminded him too much of the jungles of South America. He wanted to finish this business and get out of this 'paradise' as soon as possible.

A knock on the door turned the Iceman's attention from the scenery. He returned from the lanai and walked toward the door. He scooped his gun off the coffee table and shoved in the clip as he approached the door. Pulling the slide back and cocking the weapon he held it at the ready in front of him. "Who's there?" He asked cautiously.

The voice said from the other side of the door, "Jimmy Ling."

The Iceman opened the door, and Jimmy Ling, a local, entered the room. The Iceman had a colleague contact this man and arranged this meeting. Jimmy Ling was a small time street hustler who knew the Honolulu streets very well.

"You're late." The Iceman barked as he put his gun on safety and tucked it into his waistband.

"Don't sweat it bruddah, I'm here now." Jimmy said coolly. The Iceman looked down the hallway in both directions to see if he had been followed.

"I wasn't followed." Jimmy said a bit insulted sauntered over to the sofa and sat down. "What's up bruddah?"

"I need you to find someone for me, and I'm not your bruddah." The Iceman said coldly as he handed the picture of the woman that he needed found to Jimmy.

"Classy wahine!" Jimmy exclaimed as he looked at the woman in the picture. "What'd she done?"

"None of your business," the man snapped, "just locate her and I'll take care of the rest."

"Ok, your money bruddah." Jimmy, unoffended by the man's attitude, smiled as he stood. "You know my price, do you have it?" He asked. Jimmy Ling's price for this kind of work was five hundred dollars.

The Iceman walked over to the bed, reached into his suitcase and produced an envelope and threw it at Jimmy, who caught it against his chest with one hand. He opened the envelope and examined the contents. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Half now and the rest when you finish the job. There's a bonus in it for you if you find where she's staying." The man replied, "When you find her, call me. I don't want you coming back here."

"Fair enough. Hang loose bruddah. I'll be in touch." Jimmy said as he waved his hand and smiled, as he moved toward the door and left.

What an asshole, the Iceman thought. He disliked people who smile too much.

The Iceman sat down on the sofa and picked up the phone. He dialed a long distance number. While waiting for the connection he took a long drag on his cigarette. A deep voice answered. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's me." The assassin said.

"Did you make contact?" The voice asked.

"Yeah, the guy showed up at the airport, just like you said he would."

"And?"

"The son-of-a-bitch wouldn't talk." The Iceman said as he took a drag on his cigarette, "He took everything I gave him and didn't crack." Flexing his right hand he looked at the red marks on his knuckles.

"What's your next move?" The voice asked.

"I've been in touch with a local hustler and gave him the picture. He'll work the streets. Don't worry he’ll find her." The assassin assured the man.

"Do you trust him?"

"No I don't, but as long as you pay his price, he'll do most anything." The Iceman confidently answered. "If not, I'll deal with him."

"He'd better be successful, it's taken me two months to get this close, and I don't want anything to screw this up now. The feds here are getting too close." The voice said dryly. "Don't fail me Mr. Paxton, I don't need to remind you of the consequences if you fail."

"Yeah I know." Paxton replied annoyed as he hung up the phone and took another long drag on his cigarette. Leaning back on the sofa he exhaled perfect round smoke rings. He stared at the ceiling as he rolled his cigarette back and forth in his fingers and contemplated his next move. He was beginning to have bad feelings about his association with Lou Sanders. The man enjoyed pushing people around and wielding his influence. And he felt he had been pushed and threatened once too often. He soon decided that this would be the last time he would work for this man.

Although it had been a profitable association in recent years, he felt he needed to move on and work for somebody else. Maybe someone else could pay more for his services he thought, and without the use of threats. He didn't like being threatened, not by this guy, or by anyone.

***

Soon after the meeting, Jimmy Ling started his search. He contacted his network of street friends with a promise to pay them a few bucks if they helped him locate this woman. He gave them copies of the photo and sent them on their way.

They spread out across town starting at the Ala Moana Shopping Center. The picture was shown to store clerks, shoppers, and supermarkets in the area, and other stores up and down Waikiki. They canvassed King Street from Kapiolani Boulevard to Alapai Street, even approached passersby with the story that she was a good friend and he hadn't heard from her in over two days and he was very worried about her.

Two days had gone by without success until a clerk at a small market on Beretania recognized the woman in the picture and said she knew the woman and that she comes in about every two weeks and was due in the next few days. Jimmy thanked the clerk graciously and left. He found a phone booth just down the street from the store where he called his benefactor and gave him the name and location of store where he could find the girl in the picture. It was agreed that they were to meet that night in an alley a block from the store at nine o'clock, where Jimmy was to collect the remainder of his fee. Unknown to him that this would be his last hustle.

Earlier that same evening the Five-O detectives were assembled in McGarrett's office to report their findings from their street sources. Danny began first. "Word on the street is that a street hustler named Jimmy Ling, with the help of some of his cronies have been showing a picture of a woman around town for the last couple of days, saying she's a missing friend."

"Who's Jimmy Ling?" Steve asked curiously.

"A small time street hustler." Danny replied. "Hustles tourists for whatever he can get, not the kind that wouldn't expend a lot of energy without being paid for it."

"Then he's working for someone." Steve stated, as he looked at his staff. "Any ideas?"

"He was seen leaving the Ilikai two days ago Boss." Kono jumped in. "Maybe somebody who's staying there."

"Kono, get a description of Jimmy Ling over to the hotel desk clerk, see if anyone remembers seeing him and who he visited. And get an APB out on our friend, I want to talk to him." Steve requested.

"On it, boss." Kono answered.

"That's it gentlemen, I've got a feeling we are just getting started with this case and we're already behind." Steve said tiredly as he walked over the to the lanai window and stared out over the moonlit palace lawn and the palm tree-lined King Street outside his window. It had been a long day and there were very few leads.

Jimmy arrived first. Fifteen minutes later the Iceman arrived. Seeing his benefactor approach from the street Jimmy walked toward him. But instead of an envelope with his money, he pulled out his silencer-equipped SIG and pointed it at Jimmy.

Two muffled shots brought Jimmy's hustling days to an end.

***

Danny was already in when Steve arrived in the office the next morning. "We already have a response on that APB on Jimmy Ling." He advised.

"Already?" Steve replied as he put his briefcase down on his desk. "That was fast, where is he?"

"The morgue." Danny said as he handed Steve the police report.

"The morgue?" Steve's eyes opened wide in surprise as he took the report from Danny. Opening the folder he scanned the pages as Danny continued.

"HPD found him last night in an alley off of Beretania. He was shot twice at close range with a nine millimeter. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah it does, just like the victim at the motel." Steve commented sensing a possible connection.

"Do you think there might be a connection between the killing of Paul Maxwell and Jimmy Ling?" Danny asked.

"Maybe." Steve said thoughtfully. "Get the lab boys over to that alley, see what they can turn up."

"Already called them, Steve. I'm meeting them over there just in case they find something." Danny said as he turned to leave. "Good, keep me informed." McGarrett called after him.

"Will do." Danny replied as he left.

Steve's attention returned to the police report on Jimmy Ling. He sat down and leaned back in his chair to study the report. Danno may be onto something if the murders of Paul Maxwell and Jimmy Ling were connected, Steve thought. And if the ballistics report comes back that confirms that it was the same gun that killed both men that would be a definite connection.

Included in the report was a bloodstained photograph that was found on Jimmy Lings' body. Nice looking lady Steve thought to himself as he angled the photograph to get better a light on it. It was a candid snapshot of a hazel-eyed woman with shoulder-length blonde hair. What was her connection to Ling, he asked himself. Girlfriend maybe? Maybe not. As he studied her face it struck him that she would have more class than to associate with the likes of Ling, but it takes all kinds he mused. He returned the photograph to police file and placed it on top of the coroner's report on Paul Maxwell, and frowned at the growing stack on his desk.

The buzzing of the intercom interrupted Steve's thoughts. Jenny informed him that Fred Morton was in the outer office and wanted to see him. Fred Morton was the Director of the FBI office on the island. This average-looking man was known to work 'by-the-book' and had the potential to be a major pain in the ass. Steve knew instinctively why the Director was here to see him. It was about Paul Maxwell. He was surprised that it took him this long to come see him after Williams' phone call earlier. He asked Jenny to show him in. She opened the office door to allow the Director to enter and closed the door behind him as he approached Steve's desk.

A man in his late fifty's, everything about Fred Morton was average. Average height, average build, but had a waistline that showed he enjoyed gourmet foods. His thinning hair was becoming lighter with the increasing number of gray hairs entered the room like a bull.

"Hello Fred." Steve said as he stood. The men shook hands and Steve motioned for the Director to have a seat in one of the two chairs facing the desk. Morton sat down as Steve began. "What can I do for you?"

"Let's cut the formalities Steve, you know as well as I do why I'm here."

"I do? I can take a guess and say it's about the FBI agent that was found dead yesterday at the Palm Motel. Am I right?" Steve stated as sat back down and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm here because of the phone call Smithers got from your man Williams yesterday. I want to know what you have on the case so far." Morton said aggressively.

"I don't know what I have." Steve admitted making a wide gesture with his hands dismissing the man's aggressiveness. "When I have something I will let you know. In the meantime, I would like to know is why a mainland bureau man was working here in Hawaii without Five-O being notified? And whatever happened to inter-agency cooperation?"

"This case was just too important, Steve. That information is only on a need-to-know basis. The Director said confidently. "Besides, the bureau can handle this."

Steve got up from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk and sat down on the corner of his desk and calmly said. "Fred, I don't need to remind you that Five-O is involved in any case that involves murder. If the bureau was handling this case so well, why didn't you know that this man had been dead for the last three days?" He stated expressing his authority.

"Steve, there are other concerns here, not just this man's death." Morton replied confidently as if he didn't care that a fellow agent was dead. "There are some cases the bureau can handle without the locals being involved."

"Come on Fred." Steve barked as his demeanor shifted to the offensive. Quickly coming to his feet he strode to behind his desk. "Why? Because you're superfuzz and we're supposed to contend ourselves with the chicken fights and illegal parking?" Jabbing his finger on his desk for emphasis Steve looked harshly at the Director. "This man was brutally murdered. That's homicide on the local level. And that makes it my jurisdiction."

Steve picked up the file on Paul Maxwell from his desk and tossed it to the Director that contained the coroner's report and 8 x 10 photos of the crime scene and tossed it at the Director. Catching the file Morton took a moment before flipping it open. Steve stood waiting as the Director's face reflected the horror of what he saw in the photos. When Morton looked up Steve continued to state his case giving the Director little chance to recover as he ticked his points on his fingers. "Besides Paul Maxwell, I've got a dead street hustler. Both killed in the same way. Two shots to the chest at close range, possibly with the same gun. The ballistics report on the first victim showed that the gun used was of foreign manufacture. Two murders Fred." Steve held up as many fingers. "Two murders in three days Fred, possibly connected. And you can't sit there and expect me to believe the bureau can handle this without Five-O being involved."

"All right." The Director admitted. "Steve, you've made your point. I still believe the bureau should handle this. It's our case and I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

"That's bull Fred and you know it." Steve barked, "Five-O has jurisdiction over all murders that take place in this state." Giving Morton a harsh stare, "I ask you again, what was Paul Maxwell doing here in Honolulu and what was he working on?"

Morton sat silently and rubbed his chin and mulled over his options while Steve stared at him waiting for an answer. Steve could see that the man was hesitating, so he decided to play his trump card and opened the police report on Jimmy Ling and handed him the photograph.

"I think this might help you decide."

Morton immediately recognized the woman in the bloodstained photo. His face lost all expression and a lump began to swell in his throat. "Where did you get this?" He asked holding the photo, his hand shaking slightly.

"It was found on the body of Jimmy Ling, the street hustler I told you about. He had been seen showing that photo around town claiming she's a missing friend." Steve replied calmly, "Do you know who she is?"

Two months of work was just got blown out of the water, the Director thought. The face smiling in the photo was the witness that Paul Maxwell brought to the islands for safekeeping. Only the people in his immediate office knew that she was even in the islands. After a moment he finally spoke. "Her name is Marta Michelson. She is, or rather was Paul Maxwell's assignment. She's under the bureaus' protective custody. Because her testimony is vital in a case that the bureau has been trying to build against her former employer in Las Vegas. His name is Lou Sanders." Morton said as he handed the photo back.

"Who's Lou Sanders?" Steve asked.

"He owns a import export business in Las Vegas by the name of Peerless Imports." The Director replied. "Which is also a known front for a money laundering operation for the local mob. The bureau wants to prove that he has been bribing state officials to look the other way. And he's not above hiring somebody to convince them if they don't cooperate, if you know what I mean." Steve nodded his head as his visitor went on. "We also believe he's directly responsible for the car bombing death of Miss Michelsons' friend, Bonnie Carruthers. He's a very slippery character. Every time the bureau gets lucky and secures a witness to testify, he gets to them somehow. They are either scared off and or they turn up dead. That's why it's imperative that Miss Michelson has to be protected. That's why she's here." The Director finished with his own hard stare at the Five-O chief.

"Who does he use to get to do his convincing, as you put it?"

With thoughtful apprehension Morton replied. "He has been known to use a guy by the name of Evan Paxton. His moniker is the Iceman."

"Iceman, huh." Steve replied thoughtfully, "Do you have a file and picture of him available?"

"Yes, I do." Fred replied his voice feigning cooperation. "I can have a copy of the file sent over today."

"Fine. I also want all other pertinent information you have on this case." Steve replied. "Do you have a location on him?"

"According to our information, as of two weeks ago he was skiing in Colorado." Fred replied.

"So am I to understand that Miss Michelson is here in Honolulu?"

"Paul has her at a house in the Kaimuki Distict." Came the hesitant reply. "You're not intending on going over there are you?"

"That's the procedure for protecting a witness isn't it?" Steve said as he picked up a pencil. "What's the address?"

"Steve, you know I can't give out that information, it's classified!" The Director exclaimed. "Paul Maxwell was the only one with access, that's the way he worked. The fewer people that knew the location, the lower the risk."

"That's just fine, for your office, Fred. This is Five-O's jurisdiction and I insist that you give me the address." Steve demanded as he drilled the Director with a hard stare.

"Well, ok," Fred reluctantly replied, "But you're not going over there without me." The Director insisted thinking that this was his hold card over the Five-O chief.

"Alright Fred." Steve replied, "You can come along." And repeated his request. "What's the address?"

Morton reluctantly gave out the address of the house. "1205 Maunaloa Avenue." Which was located across town near Diamond Head.

Steve followed up and asked. "Do you have anyone with her now?"

Morton answered with a shake of his head. "No."

"She's alone? Now?" Reeling from the Directors answer, Steve swiftly walked to his office door and jerked it open. "Let's not keep the lady waiting Fred, shall we go?" Seeing Williams was in his office on the phone, Steve called to him. "Danno, get your jacket."

The young detective quickly ended his conversation and hung up the phone. He struggled into his jacket as he followed Steve and the Director out of the office and out to the parking lot where they all climbed into McGarrett's Mercury and sped toward the house.

During the drive Steve took the radio mic and contacted Central Dispatch. He requested an APB on Evan Paxton. Adding that the man is to be considered armed and dangerous and not to approach, only to observe and call Five-O. Steve handed the mic to the Director and told him to add the man's physical description to the APB. The Director looked at the Five-O chief for a moment not sure of what to do slowly took the mic from McGarrett. Depressing the button he gave the description to the dispatcher. When he was through he handed the mic back to McGarrett, who went on to request that HPD send a car with a policewoman to the Maunaloa Avenue address.

***

The Iceman had parked his car across the street from the Hoawa Market so he could watch for his target. She should be coming by any day now according to what Jimmy Ling said, he thought. Carefully, he eyed each woman who entered and exited the market. Tall, short ones, wide ones, teenagers and seniors. The women were of various nationalities and so far none of them looked familiar. He had given the only photograph he had of the woman to Jimmy Ling, and cursed himself for not being able to find it on his body, but didn't dwell on the thought. His work was so impersonal, cold and calculated. Walking up to a person and just shooting them. He liked it best to look them in the eyes, seeing their reaction to being shot dead as their life drained from them. That's how he acquired the nickname the Iceman, and was well named.

After waiting and watching all morning, there she was. He watched her walk into the market. Her hair was longer and bleached by the sun to a blonde. Other than that not looking much different than the photo. After she finished her marketing, she got into her rental car and entered the traffic flow of Beretania Street. Traffic was not heavy this time of day and following her was not difficult, but he did leave some distance so he wouldn't be spotted. He got a good look at the car and license number so he wouldn't loose her in traffic. He decided he would do it at her house.

Marta Michelson steered her car down the Lunalilo Freeway taking the 6^th Street exit and drove toward the house where she had been staying for the last two months. But today was different. An uneasiness had come over her over the last 24 hours. She hadn't seen Paul Maxwell for the at least three days. He was the FBI Agent that brought her here to Hawaii. He had told her that he was going to the airport to pick up another agent he was told was coming to help him, and would only be gone only a short while. And she hadn't heard from him since. She was becoming scared that something's happened to him. The events that followed in the next couple hours were to confirm her fears.

After putting the groceries away, Marta nervously took the phone to the sofa and sat down. She stared at it for what seemed like hours, as she tried to muster enough courage to call the police and report a missing person. But Paul told her that under the current circumstances, no one is to know who she was and where she was.

The ring of the doorbell made her jump and nearly knock the phone off the coffee table. Nervously she placed the receiver back on the cradle and composed herself the best she could and took a deep breath. She wondered if this could be Maxwell, but he has a key. She called him Maxwell because it seemed to take the edge off the stress she had endured during the last two months.

She slowly approached the front door. Her fingers fumble with sliding the security chain onto the door, opened it until the chain was taut. On the porch steps stood three men dressed in suits, one was tall, very striking, wearing a dark blue suit, the other was shorter, kind of stocky, in a tan suit, and the third was average, wearing a black one. They were accompanied by a uniformed policewoman. Behind them parked on the street she saw a police car and a big black sedan. The man in the blue suit began to speak.

"Marta Michelson?"

Marta nervously nodded her head as she still peered through the opening. All three men displayed their badges and IDs. McGarrett began. "My name is Steve McGarrett of Hawaii Five-O, this is my associate Dan Williams, and Fred Morton of the FBI. May we have a word with you, it's very important."

"Why?" She nervously asked after a few moments. Stunned that this man whom she's never seen before, knew her name, and the police for that matter, "How do you know my name?"

"Miss Michelson," McGarrett repeated, "please, may we talk inside." He could see the indecision in the woman’s eyes.

After several moments she asked the men to wait a minute. She closed the door and released the chain. Pausing momentarily she took another calming deep breath. What would the police want with me she thought. They aren't supposed to know her. She opened the door all the way and allowed the men and the policewoman to enter. Marta Michelson was a tall and slender woman in her late 30's, her light brown hair could easily be called sun-bleached blonde that cascaded down from a ponytail. Her hazel eyes were radiant against her tanned skin. Closing the door she turned her attention to the men. "What is it you want?"

"Miss Michelson," McGarrett began, "There isn't a lot of time so I will come straight to the point. We believe there is a hired assassin on this island. And he's looking for you. He's already killed two people that we know of."

Marta shuddered and thought that maybe would be a good a time as any to report a missing person. Said hesitantly with a worried look on her face. "There's been an FBI agent staying with me. His name is Paul Maxwell and I haven't seen him for a couple of days. I'm afraid something's happened to him."

McGarrett said sympathetically, "I'm sorry Miss Michelson. His body was found yesterday morning at a motel near the airport. He had been beaten and tortured."

The words hit Marta like a runaway truck and her heart sank. "Oh no." She gasped as she covered her mouth with her hand. Then anxiously asked, "What happened?"

"What we know so far is that his killer was after information. Information on you."

Marta's face went pale, as the Five-O chief continued. "What we don't know is what information, if any, his killer got out of him before he was killed."

"The method used was a trademark of a known assassin who has worked in the past for Lou Sanders." Morton added.

For Marta, that one statement explained it all. Lou Sanders had found her.

"He goes by the name of the Iceman." Morton added.

Marta looked at the FBI man and back to McGarrett in shock and disbelief. "He's looking for me, isn't he?" She said trying to control her increased feelings of panic.

"Yes." McGarrett replied. "We believe he is."

Looking from one man to the other trying to keep herself in control. She exclaimed. "How did this killer know I was here in Honolulu? My location was supposed to be classified! How did he find out!"

"We don't know that." McGarrett said as he tried to assure her as best he could, "But we're looking into it."

"You're looking into it!" Marta retorted exasperatedly as she looked at the Five-O chief, "This guy wants to stop me from testifying, doesn't he? I don't want to sound like I’m being indignant Mr. McGarrett, but just how long is that going to take? I'm taking a big personal risk here and what you're telling me scares the hell outta me!"

"Miss Michelson, please calm down." McGarrett said. "I want to assure you, that for the remainder of your stay in Hawaii you will be in Five-O's protective custody."

"Seems like I remember hearing that somewhere before." Marta said glaring at Fred Morton. Then shifted her gaze to McGarrett, her voice edged with exasperation. "So, what happens now?"

"We're going on the assumption that this location has been compromised and this house is no longer safe. I want to take you to a Five-O safe house. So please, pack a bag, enough for a few days. This policewoman will assist you." McGarrett instructed. He motioned to the policewoman to follow Marta to the bedroom.

Glaring at the FBI man Marta stated indignantly, "I hope that your Five-O does a better job than the FBI. They can't seem to keep a secret." Turning on her heel she walked back to the bedroom with the policewoman right behind her. McGarrett's lips curved into a small amused smile. Williams, seeing his chief's expression, mirrored it with a smile of his own. Quite a headstrong lady Steve thought as he glanced over at Fred Morton whose expression reflected that he was not amused.

During this time, the Iceman drove his car slowly past the house and looked hard in its direction. Parked in front was an HPD squad car and a black Mercury sedan with an officer standing guard on the front lawn. He growled that somehow the cops got to her first. With them around the plan of the robbery wouldn't work.

He continued to scan the street near the house for a prime spot to make the attempt. He saw that the house diagonally across the street had dense shrubbery in front. Next to the house there was an alley that would be perfect for a fast getaway. Parking the car in the alley he retrieved from the glove compartment his pistol and its silencer. After screwing it on he checked the breach making sure it was loaded. Exiting his car he made his way stealthily toward the tallest shrub and waited for the cops to leave.

It took Marta some minutes to think clearly enough to collect everything she needed from the bathroom and closet. This whole thing had upset her terribly because she had done this before some two months earlier and here she was packing in a hurry again. She wondered why it seemed harder this time. Collecting what she needed to take the policewoman packed the suitcase. It didn't take long before the suitcase was filled and closed. Danny took the suitcase from Marta as she entered the front room and opened the front door for everyone to leave the house. McGarrett grasped Marta's arm and escorted her out of the house and made their way down the walkway toward the cars.

As the parade came out of the house, the Iceman took his stance and placed the pistol against a branch of the shrub to steady his aim. Hunching he focused his aim on the woman through the sights on the barrel and squeezed the trigger.

The sidewalk between the house and the curb had risen due to the roots of a tree in the yard. Marta tripped on one of the rises. She yelped out in pain as she grabbed her arm. Her legs collapsed under her and slumped into the Five-O chief.

Catching her he saw the pain on her face and noticed blood was becoming visible between her fingers. Through gritted teeth she said. "You weren't kidding when you said you didn't have a lot of time."

Not paying any attention to the woman's remark, he called to every one to get down by yelling 'Sniper!' He helped her to cover behind his car as the other detectives and officers rushed for cover behind the cars. They pulled their pistols and peered over the vehicles to look for any movement by the sniper. Slowly McGarrett lifted Marta's trembling hand to look at the wound. He'd seen enough bullet wounds in all his years as a cop that he recognized marks left by them. "Take it easy it's just a crease." He told her as he took out his handkerchief and gently placed it on the wound and replaced her hand over it and instructed her to keep pressure on it.

The assassin felt confident enough that he had hit his target, he lingered behind the bush for a few moments watching intently for subsequent activity that would confirm his success.

From his position by his squad car Officer Kipala noticed some movement behind a tall shrub in the front yard of a house down the street just as the woman fell. McGarrett needed to have this information he thought. Crouching, the officer made his way to the Five-O chief and told him what he saw.

Steve's heart was pounding as he pulled out his pistol and held it ready as he peered over the trunk of the car. He tried to see where Officer Kipala had seen the movement only to be forced to duck when another bullet shattered the back window showering him with broken glass.

The assassin watched as the officer moved between the cars readied his gun for another shot. He saw a head peer over the trunk of the black sedan. He fired another round to keep that head down and hit the back window sending glass fragments flying.

Danny joined Steve and Officer Kipala behind the car. "Did you see who it was?"

"Not close enough." Kipala replied. "Can't see clearly through the shrubs."

"Ok, Danno, you and Kimo, flank him from that direction." Steve said as he pointed in the direction up the street. "We'll cover you from here, and Danno, keep your head down."

"Right." Was his stoic response.

McGarrett rose up to enough to see clearly over the trunk of the car. This time he was able to see some movement and a glint of sunlight on metal in the bushes where Officer Kipala indicated. He watched Danno and Kipala as they made their way across the street.

The Iceman, satisfied that the hit was a success prepared to make his exit until he saw two of the officers cross the street and approach his position from up the street. The muscles tighten in his face. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on his weapon.

When McGarrett saw that Danny and Kipala were in position and ready to make their move he yelled out, "This is McGarrett, Hawaii Five-O! Throw out your gun and come out with your hands up!" Keeping an eye on the bush for any movement that the gunman might make and one on his men as they approached the suspect's position.

The assassin's attention was now split between the approach of the officers to his flank and the voice that came from behind the black sedan. He had to distract the two men from coming closer so he could make his escape. He fired a couple of shots toward them he then shifted his aim to the cars. He fired repeatedly, breaking windows and perforating fenders. Finally, the light on the top of the squad car shattered under the onslaught of bullets.

Danny and Kipala ducked behind a nearby-parked car for cover as they caught a glimpse of the gunman as he ran off toward the alley. He quickly jumped over a low picket fence that bordered the alley and disappeared behind the house. The officers quickly moved to the driveway to the alley and stopped at the corner of the house. The fence ended at a walkway at the front of the house. Each man silently thanked the homeowner for not building the fence all the way up to the house, and so they wouldn't have to climb over it. Hearing footsteps running on gravel, Danny took a quick look around the side of the house. He saw the man running to a car parked in the alley. He motioned to Kipala to take a position on the other side of the driveway.

Kipala was halfway across when the gunman turned suddenly from getting into the car. He saw the officer and quickly raised his gun and fired. Danny watched in horror as Kipala was felled by the gunman's bullet. He wanted to help the officer but couldn't without exposing himself as the next potential target. He tried to calm his breathing as he glanced between the cars across the street and the wounded officer lying on the ground. And prayed that this wouldn't get him killed.

Setting his jaw with determination Danny silently urged the officer to hang in there as he stepped out from behind the house and took aim at the escaping gunman. A glimpse was all the detective got before the gunman trained his weapon on him. He was forced to dodge back as the bullets struck the corner of the house sending splinters flying just inches from his face. Seconds later he hears the engine start. He peers around the corner again in time to see a car speed off down the alley spewing gravel in its wake.

Danny chased after the car on foot for a short distance, then stopped and squeezed off a couple of rounds at the escaping car. His aim broke the back window and the taillight before the car turned onto the intersecting street leaving the detective in its dust. Swearing under his breath he holstered his gun and returned to the officer. He knelt down next to the semi-conscious cop and told him to hold on and that help was coming.

In a need to assist Williams, McGarrett first made sure that the policewoman stayed with Marta. He jogged across the street over to the alley with Morton, who insisted on going, was right behind him. Steve's jaw tightened as he saw the officer drop to the ground. He finished the distance to the alley in a running crouch with his gun ready and avoided the alley entrance until he reached the driveway. By that time the gunman had made his escape. McGarrett turned to Morton and told him to go call for an ambulance before he knelt next to Danny. He looked over at Steve with a pained expression on his face. Each suspecting what they didn't want to admit that the officer's wound was not survivable. But there was always hope.

"What happened?" Steve asked his detective.

"We were right behind him Steve." Williams explained, "I had motioned for Kipala to take a position across the alley. That's when the guy turned and fired. He had a car parked there. I was able to fire a couple of times before it turned the corner. But he got away."

Steve took the news with a grim look on his face. "Did you get a look at the gunman?"

"Just a glimpse. He could've been the assassin Steve, but I can't be sure."

Not liking what he heard Steve continued. "What about the car or the license plate?"

"It was a late model green Chevy sedan." Danny replied. "Only got a partial on the plate."

"Okay, it's not much, but run it through the computer anyway and see what comes back. And call the lab boys." McGarrett ordered. "I want every scrap of evidence from this entire area collected and analyzed." Glancing back across the street he saw Marta was standing behind his car. She had managed to get to her feet after the shooting was over and was looking in his direction. From his position across the street he could see the anxiety on her face.

While waiting for the ambulance, Steve and Danny conducted a search around the front yard of the house and the alley. They found several empty shell casings on the ground, which could only be from the gunman's weapon.

When the ambulance arrived, the attendants carefully placed the wounded officer on the gurney and loaded him into the back of the vehicle. Steve broke off his search and told Danny to take over. He helped Marta sit down next to wounded officer relaying to Danny that he could be reached at the hospital if he was needed.

As the ambulance drove away Che Fong arrived with the lab team. Danny handed the bullet casings over to him as he watched the ambulance fade into the distance with an expression of sadness on his face.

***

McGarrett was right in his observation. Marta's wound wasn't serious enough for her to be admitted. The wounded officer on the other hand was rushed into the emergency room. While the Five-O chief talked with the doctor who attended the officer, a HPD officer had been stationed outside Marta's treatment room while a young intern bandaged her arm.

The doctor said he wasn't sure about the officer's chances. The officer had lost a lot of blood. The doctor agreed to McGarrett's request that he be contacted if the officer's condition changed. Steve thanked him and returned to Marta's treatment room. Fred Morton stopped him outside the door. Red-faced with anger he shook his finger at him.

"Steve! I'm holding you personally responsible for this! This wouldn't have happened if you had let me handle this!"

The Five-O chief glared down at the Director and suspected by the man's tone that this wasn't going to be a pleasant confrontation. He also disliked having his authority questioned. "Look Fred!" He barked, barely controlling his temper, "Don't talk to me about procedure! I know what's at stake. I don't like what's happened any more than you do. And believe me I will find out who's responsible for this. Even if it takes every officer on the island." Steve drilled the Director with a cold stare as he countered the Director's accusation.

"Let me ask you this, what would you have done that would've been any different? Because I would really like to know."

The Director started to say something but decided against it and stormed off in a huff down the corridor and left the hospital.

Marta watched the Five-O chief as he entered the room. She had overheard the discussion that took place in the corridor outside her room but the look on the Five-O chief's face led her to ask. "What about the officer who was brought in with me?" She asked.

Frowning he said, "The doctors don't know anything yet."

Before leaving the hospital to take Marta into protective custody, Steve placed a phone call to HPD and requested that a security team be sent to prepare the safe house at Koko Head, and to notify his office when everything was ready. He also requested that a car be brought him at to the hospital, and escorted his charge out to the car when it arrived.

***

Once at the office Steve informally introduced Marta to Kono and Chin Ho. He showed her to a chair where she could sit and wait near to his secretary's desk until the call from HPD came. Marta wasn't in the mood for small talk but after Jenny offered her some coffee they began to idly chat. Steve called Danny, Chin and Kono into his office.

"What did the computer check turn up?" Steve asked Danny as he walked behind his desk and saw the folder from the FBI with the information on Evan Paxton he had requested. Picking it up he scanned through the contents.

The detectives follow Steve into his office and line up in front of his desk. Opening his notebook Danny read. "So far there are one hundred seventeen green Chevy sedans registered on the island. Out of those fifty have the same first number and letter combinations on the plate. Still trying to narrow it down Steve, it's going to take some time."

Steve's brow furrowed as he thought for a moment. He didn't like the time factor. "What about the hot sheet? Has there been any green Chevy's reported stolen in the last several weeks? We don't know how long this guy has been on the island." Danny's face shown that he hadn't thought of that, said that he was 'on it' and hurried to his office to add that to the computer readout request.

"What about Evan Paxton, any word on the APB?" Steve asked his detectives.

"Can't find him anywhere Boss." Kono admitted. "Must be keeping a low profile, it's sure like the island swallowed him up."

"According to the file provided by the FBI, it says here that Evan Paxton has been known to work for certain people for certain periods of time and the last known association is for Lou Sanders." Steve asked as he handed the photo to Danny. "Is this your alley gunman Danno?"

"That's him Steve." Danny replied. "That confirms that he's working for Sanders. And Marta Michelson is his target. But how did he learn that she was here?"

"Don't know." Steve answered. "But we can't let this guy to turn this island into a shooting gallery. We've got to find him and fast. The FBI provided this picture of our man. Make sure that it's distributed to every car on the island." And handed the photo to Kono who left with it to see to its distribution.

After the detectives leave Steve's office, he returned his attention to the file on Evan Paxton. He read the information sheet from Interpol that said that the man's trademark has always been a double shot to the chest at close range. The gun he used was a SIG P210 nine-millimeter pistol. And when he made their most wanted list back in 1964, he was known to associate with European organized crime figures where he made his reputation. The record also showed that he broke from the underworld and went independent around 1969. Steve grew dismayed as he read that this man is credited with at least fifty successful hits and not one miss. He rubbed at his chin as he continued to read that the FBI has wants out on him in the States too. This man was on Hawaiian turf now. Five-O's jurisdiction. Here will be his last stand, and Marta Michelson will not be his next victim.

Feeling agitated Marta got up and slowly approached the door to Steve's office and softly knocked on the doorframe. Looking up from the file he invited her inside.

Hesitantly she entered. "Sorry to disturb you Mr. McGarrett, but I can't sit out there any longer. Your secretary is very nice but I feel somewhat exposed out there. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Miss Michelson, please come in make yourself comfortable. I should be hearing from HPD soon." And returned his attention to the file.

Marta slowly strolled around the office. She looked at the pictures that hung on the wall. And admired the large outrigger model on a table against the wall. Her attention was then drawn to the bulletin board where she saw the photo of Lou Sanders pinned to it. She gasped.

"Is everything all right?" He asked hearing her gasp.

"Yeah." She replied as she recovered. "Even a photograph of that man scares me. Who are these other men here?"

"Well." Steve answered as he walked over to her, "This first one is Raymond Hammond known syndicate man in Las Vegas. Our information is that he's a silent partner in Sanders' import export business. Have you ever seen him before?"

Marta shook her head. "No, he doesn't look familiar."

"This next one was Las Vegas City Councilman Marvin Cooke. He was found dead in his home on July 14 this year from suspicious causes."

Marta's eyes went large when she saw that photo. "I remember hearing about him on the news."

"And you know Lou Sanders. The last one is who we believe is Sanders' hired assassin, Evan Paxton."

"Was he the one at the house today?" She asked as she unconsciously rubbed at her arm.

"Yes, we think so. You were very lucky today Miss Michelson, tripping on the sidewalk very likely saved your life. He never misses."

Marta face lost its color. The tightness in her stomach served to remind her how close she came to death. She turned from the photos and went across the room to a window and looked out. The last two months have been so quiet. Now someone is trying to kill her. "Why is he trying to kill me now? Why not over the last two months?"

"Maybe Sanders didn't know where to look for you before now."

"You mean to tell me that someone told him I was here in Hawaii?"

"That's possible. He also could've found out through other channels, but that's doubtful."

The phone on Steve's desk rang. He quickly picked up the receiver, "McGarrett." He answered. Listening for a moment, he thanked the caller and replaced the receiver and walked over to Danny's office.

"Danno, I'm taking Miss Michelson to the Koko Head safe house. After you narrow down that list. Split it with Chin and Kono and go home and pack a bag and meet me over there. You're going to be staying with Miss Michelson."

"Right Steve." He answered and returned to the list, this time with renewed energy. Because he liked that kind of duty and Marta Michelson was a lot better looking than the others he's had to stay with on previous occasions.

"The house is ready Miss Michelson, shall we go?" Steve offered.

Marta looked over at him and slowly stepped away from the board. She reached for her purse and walked out of the office with McGarrett behind her.

The drive to the safe house was a quiet one. McGarrett was going over in his mind the question Marta had asked him back at the house was a viable one. If the gunman was the assassin, then Jimmy Ling had located her. After he passed that information to Paxton, he was killed for his trouble.

Marta's mind was wandering too. She stared out toward the horizon, blindly watching the buildings go by. Thinking back to when this whole nightmare started. She knew from the very beginning that this would be a big risk, and would take a lot of courage on her part. If she knew that this was going to unfold this way, she probably would've had second thoughts about cooperating with the police in the first place. The news that the Five-O chief told her about Paul Maxwell was hard for her to accept, she wasn't sure if she could believe it, or him.

"Are you all right over there?" McGarrett asked trying to make conversation.

Still gazing out the window and rubbed at her bandage, she responded softly. "Yeah, I think so."

"You've held up quite well considering."

"Well, after two months of 'holding up' you get good at it after a while." She replied unemotionally still staring out the window.

Steve glanced over at his passenger to assess the origin of the statement he just heard. It's understandable he thought. Considering what the last two months must have been like. Living on the edge emotionally, and not knowing whether she'd be killed today or tomorrow, regardless of the security measures taken.

***

In the driveway of the house McGarrett parked his car, grabbed her suitcase from the back seat and swiftly escorted Marta inside and placed the suitcase on the floor. The house was of medium size with three bedrooms. It was nestled amongst some evergreen trees with palm trees dotting the back yard. As Marta walked in, the dining room was just inside the front door and contained a medium sized table and chairs. The kitchen had an island counter and a breakfast bar with a couple of stools. A support post stood at the end of the counter. The back door was next to a picture window off the living room that gave a prominent view of the back yard and the ocean.

The furniture looked relatively new, probably from infrequent use she mused. The sofa was in the middle of the living room with its back to the kitchen with lamps on each end table, and couple of chairs. A smaller window overlooked the living room from the side wall and the bedrooms were on the left side of the house.

Remembering the comment Marta made in the car about any house being really safe, McGarrett gave her the tour of his security measures. "I have men positioned around the perimeter of the house." He pointed out the picture window to a fisherman out on the beach. "That fisherman out there is Officer McFadden." He took her by the arm and led her to the front door. Opening it he pointed to the gardener across the street, "That's Officer Sherman." And to the landscaping truck parked down the street and the man in the cherry picker, "Officer Apaki. The officers will rotate every four hours, round the clock." He motioned toward the left wall. "The bedroom is back there. You'll be here a few days so make yourself comfortable."

Depositing her purse on the coffee table Marta walked over to the picture. The sky was beginning to take on an orange and red tint as the afternoon sun began its decent to the horizon. She gently rubbed her arm. It hurt like hell and she wished the pain would go away as she rubbed at the bandage. She was tired and scared. Fear had a way of sapping a person's energy and hers was nearly gone.

Absorbed in the view, her mind began to wander. Her thoughts landed on Paul Maxwell, and the months with him around all the time. And the whole arrangement of him being the only security for her for the last two months. She began to wonder if his tactics were really the best approach and began to miss him a little. Uncounted minutes passed before her thoughts were jarred back to the present by the ringing of the phone. Turning her gaze from the view to see McGarrett answer the phone. She saw his expression became steadily grimmer. He thanked Danny for the call and replaced the receiver slowly. He looked up toward Marta. She could tell by looking at him that the news was not good.

"It's about that policeman, isn't it?" She asked her voice quivering, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Officer Kapala died twenty minutes ago." Steve answered slowly with a clenched his jaw and felt a tightness growing in his stomach.

Marta's heart sank, "Oh, damn." She said as a hint of moisture showed in her eyes and her face became drawn. "Did he have any family?"

McGarrett moved to the window and stood next to Marta and stared out at the afternoon sun. "A wife and a child," he said solemnly.

Marta felt worse now that she knew that a family didn't have a husband and a father because of her. Her strength began to wane as her feelings of responsibility for the deaths increased to a level of being undeniable. She closed her eyes tightly. Nobody was supposed to die. If she hadn't agreed to testify, maybe Paul Maxwell and that officer would still be alive. And she could be living a normal life, and not spending endless days being scared out of her mind, looking over her shoulder. Grief and exhaustion were beginning to show as her eyes were becoming red as she tried to keep the tears from falling because she didn't want McGarrett, whom she didn't know and had just met a few hours earlier, to see her this way. "It's all my fault." She said weakly, "Nobody was supposed to die."

"What makes you say that?" Steve asked as he gave her a curious look, "You are not responsible for their deaths."

After a long sigh she lowered her head and replied. "Yes I am. I started all this by agreeing to testify in the first place. My best friend is dead, Paul Maxwell too, and now a policeman. Oh, God!" she cried as her effort to keep her composure failed. "She died from a bomb that was meant for me!"

McGarrett wasn't going to allow this woman to blame herself for the trail of death and destruction left by the assassin. She had come too far, and he wasn't about to let her to go down that road. In an attempt to dissuade her from self-persecution, he placed his hands on her trembling shoulders, and looked her in the eyes and said in a reassuring voice. "Miss Michelson, you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't care. So, don't start doubting yourself.

Right now, you're in an ideal position to put Lou Sanders permanently out of business. And what you're doing takes a lot of courage, and I commend you for that. So don't start blaming yourself, I won't buy that, no way." He said.

Marta looked at the Five-O chief with tear-filled eyes as he went on. "If you want to blame somebody, blame Lou Sanders. If anything you should be angry at him. He's the one responsible for your friend's death and He's at the root of this whole messy business."

McGarrett's words hit her like a rock. She leaned back against the window frame. Rubbed her hands over her face and wiped away the tears, stared at the ceiling and sighed. "I don't know anymore." She answered as her voice trailed off. She pushed herself away from the window frame separating herself from the Five-O chief and walked toward the kitchen. Once there she opened the refrigerator and looked inside. "God, what I wouldn't give for a drink right now." She stated as she regained some of her composure.

"Sorry, there's no booze here if that's what you mean." Steve replied as he pulled the drapes closed over the picture window that darkened the room. Following her he sat on a barstool at the counter across from the kitchen. This woman was putting up a strong front he thought and was more upset about the deaths than she was letting on. What he didn't know was just how long she could keep it up before she cracked. The best thing he felt he could do was to help her the best he could when she did.

Closing the refrigerator door she turned around to face McGarrett, her lips pulled into a pout, "You really know how to hurt a girl, don't you. That leaves only one alternative." She said.

Steve watched her movements and wondered what she meant by alternative. Marta looked through the cupboards until she found the glassware. She took one, dropped in a few ice cubes from the freezer and filled the glass with water from the faucet. When finished she held the glass up and said. "H20 on the rocks." Then looked over at the Five-O chief. "Care for one? I hate to drink alone."

Steve declined her offer but watched her as she raised her glass as for a toast, "Cheers." she said. Thirstier than she thought, she downed the contents of the glass. Watching as she refilled her glass he noticed her hand trembling.

Steve decided that now was as good a time as any to start to question her about how her involvement in this case. He had this thing about the 'horses mouth,' and wanted to hear it from her. "I know you have been through a lot today Miss Michelson, but I need to ask you some questions."

"Sure, but call me Marti please, Mr. McGarrett. Miss Michelson sounds like I should be some kind of society dame or something." She said as she slowly walked out of the kitchen and leaned against the post at the end of the counter. "Before you start, I know what you're going to ask. What's a nice girl like me… something like that, right?" She said as she looked to the Five O chief detecting some compassion in the blue eyes and chiseled features of the man in front of her.

"Something like that." He agreed as he adjusted his seat so he could face her.

Marta stared into her glass and toyed with the ice cubes with her finger. "Well, at the time I was so sure I was doing the right thing."

"Do you feel the same way now?"

"Now?" She replied with a sigh as she stared into space. "I'm not so sure. If I knew all this was going to happen, it might be all together different."

"But you did do something." McGarrett added.

"Yeah, I did." She replied dejectedly pushing herself from the post. Crossing over to one of the chairs she sat down tucking her leg under her. "What I have done is subject myself to two months of sleepless nights, and enough emotional stress to fill a volcano waiting for the feds to get their case together. Two more people are dead, and now you tell me that some killer is after me." She said sarcastically as she made a broad gesture with her hand. "What else can go wrong?"

Steve followed her to the living room and sat down on the sofa and faced her. Slowly and deliberately he folded his hands and interlaced his fingers. Giving Marta an authoritative look he said in a firm voice.

"Miss Michelson, let me assure you that nothing will happen to you while you are in Five-O's protective custody. This is my rock, my jurisdiction, and you have my personal assurance that nothing will happen to you."

Marta looked at the Five-O chief skeptically. "Seems like I've heard that somewhere before." She recited sarcastically. "The feds said, Miss Michelson, nothing can happen to you while you are in our custody, we will take care of you, etc, etc. And look what happened, some killer takes a shot at me. Answer me this, how will it be different with you?"

"Please trust me." Steve asked earnestly, "We will find this assassin before he tries again."

She looked at the Five-O chief's expression for a long moment. She wanted so badly to trust this man and believe him, but she still had reservations about cops. The fact that a veteran federal agent and now a local cop that she didn't even know were dead was hard enough. And there was something about the man in the black suit back at the house that gave her bad vibes she couldn't explain.

McGarrett's words echoed over and over in her mind, 'you have my personal assurance that nothing will happen to you.' After a moment Marta replied. "Mr. McGarrett, I want to believe you, I really do, but could you give me some benefit of the doubt for a while, okay?"

Steve could see the mental turmoil going on in this woman's eyes. She had to be extremely frightened, more than she would admit to. With an assuring smile Steve agreed to her proposal. "Okay, you've got yourself a deal."

"I appreciate that." Marta softly replied, "Thanks."

"I have a picture I want to show you." Reaching into his inside jacket pocket he brought out the photograph that was found on the late Jimmy Ling. "Do you recognize this picture?"

Taking the photo from him she looked at it for a moment while she held the cool glass of water to the side of her forehead in an effort to suppress a growing headache. "Yeah, that's me. Looks like it was taken a year or so ago at a company picnic at one of the city parks." She winced at the sight of the bloodstains on the photograph. "How did you get it?"

"It was found on the body of a street hustler by the name of Jimmy Ling. Does that name mean anything to you?"

After thinking for a moment she shook her head negatively. "Never heard of him. How did he get it?"

So much for the girlfriend theory Steve thought as he replied. "He very likely got it from Paxton. Jimmy Ling had been seen showing this photograph around town saying you were a missing friend." Marta groaned as she dropped her head back on the sofa. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend." He sincerely added.

"You really mean that, don't you." Marta replied as she looked at the Five-O chief.

"I know this is hard for you, for that I apologize, but please," Steve said in a consoling voice, "I need to know all the details. Starting at the beginning."

"All the details?" Marta asked. She really didn't want to repeat the story again. She had done so many times already.

"Yes, please, if you would." He urged.

"Well, here goes." She warned as she began. "I had been working for Lou Sanders for about four years. He owned an import export company in town and I was one of the office clerks. Two and a half months ago, I was walking to my car after work when I was approached by to two men identifying themselves as FBI agents. They said that they've had my boss under investigation for bribing city officials. And possibly members of the legislature for some special interest reasons, and were requesting my help. I told them I didn't know anything about that and that I didn't believe them. I insisted that my boss was an honest businessman. But they assured me that what they told me was true.

They wanted my help in acquiring some hard evidence against him. I told them I still didn't believe them but I would think it over. They accepted that. A few days later I happened to walk past his office and overheard him talking to somebody. I tried not to eavesdrop but his voice was so loud that I heard him say something about some Councilman wasn't going to approve something that he had a great interest in. A day or so later I saw on the news that a member of the City Council was found dead in his home. It frightened me to think that the man's death could've been ordered that day. And possibly that's what I overheard, was the order for the Councilman to be killed. I'd never been scared like that, I didn't know what to do."

"You mean Councilman Cooke?"

"Yeah." She answered realizing that he was the same man in the photo on the bulletin board in McGarrett's office.

"Did you know who the man in the office was?"

Marta shook her head.

"Did Sanders know that you overhead this conversation?"

Marta stared at her lap and replied. "I didn't think so, his door was closed."

"Maybe he saw you talking to the FBI agents in the parking lot."

Looking at the Five-O chief with wide eyes. "I don't know... even if he did… my best friend was killed because of that?! Because of what he thought he saw!" She exclaimed when she realized what McGarrett was saying.

"It looks that way." Steve replied. "Go on, please."

"Well…. it was then I realized those men were right. So, I called them and agreed to do what I could to help hem with their case against Mr. Sanders. While I was waiting to hear from them, my best friend needed to borrow my car. When she started the motor, the car exploded. She died while I stood there and watched. There was nothing I could do to help her." Tears began to well up in Marta's eyes. "Nobody deserves to die like that, not even your worst enemy." She added as she looked at the Five-O chief and quickly wiped away the tears.

She noticed that McGarrett's face reflected sincerity and compassion. She hadn't ever seen anything like it on or off of a cop, and began to believe that this man was as sincere as he claimed.

"Officer Williams will be staying with you from now on for your protection until this is over. He should be here soon." McGarrett said.

"Do you really think that killer will find me again?" Marta asked.

"All possibilities have to be covered." Steve replied as he got up from the chair and walked over to the phone and dialed the office to speak to Danny Williams. He wanted to check on his progress with the stolen car list. Williams told him he had narrowed the list down to ten probables. Chin and Kono have split the list and that he was on his way home to pack and would be at the house in about an hour.

Williams added before ending the call. "The ballistics report came back from the slugs from Jimmy Ling. And Steve, they match."

"Thanks Danno." He said and hung up the phone. The same man committed both murders.

***

When Williams arrived at the house Steve gave him some last minute instructions, and told Marta to try not to worry and to leave the curtains closed and stay away from the doors. After assuring her that everything was going to be all right, he left.

Steve returned to the office and proceeded to put the photos of the people in the case that he received from Fred Morton's office on his bulletin board. There he put the photos of Evan Paxton, the hired assassin, Lou Sanders and the bloodstained photo of Marta. Along with surveillance photos of men that frequented Lou Sanders' office as well as his residence. And preceded to study their files that accompanied the photos.

Marta was somewhat glad that Dan Williams was to stay with her, at least he was someone she had already met which put her at ease a little bit. He was friendly enough and best of all he knew how to cook some of the native dishes, and prepared a delightful light meal for dinner. They chatted idly for the next few hours until Marta couldn't stay awake anymore and went to bed.

Her first night at the safe house was a restless one. The ever-present humidity affected Marta more than usual. She tossed and turned tangling herself in the covers while the images of the shooting at the house replayed over and over in her mind. The nightmare was punctuated by the explosion of her car that killed her friend. She sprang up in bed shrieking, her heart was pounding and she gasped for air.

Hearing the scream Danny burst into the room with his gun in his hand and startled her even more causing her to scream again. He quickly scanned the room and determined that there was no immediate threat. Quickly holstering his gun he came over to her bed and sat down, "Are you all right?" He asked.

She nodded her head, "Just a bad dream." She admitted as she wiped the sweat from her face with the sheet. In the back of her mind she wasn't sure if it was smart thing to admit to the nightmare.

Danny smiled at her, "Everything's going to be all right." He assured her, "Now go back to sleep. If you want me to, I will stay close by until you're asleep."

She felt comforted by the young detectives' offer and was able to get back to sleep. But the sleep was not restful.

***

After the shoot-out at the house, the Iceman knew the car he had would be on every hot sheet on the island. So he drove out to the harbor around dusk with the thought that this would be the best place to dump the car. In forty feet of water he figured the cops were not likely to find it. There he found what looked to be a deserted pier. Carefully surveying the area to make sure no one was around he took out a stick and placed it against the accelerator. The engine began to race. Bracing the stick against the seat he shifted the car into drive and released the brake and watched the car as it rolled off the end of the pier. With a big splash the car quickly sank into the dark waters of the harbor.

A short time later he commandeered another car and returned to his room at the Ilikai. He mused at how easy it was that his target was so accessible, even in the company of cops. He poured himself a brandy and slowly sipped it. Toasting himself for job well done and the fat payday while he rolled the liquid around in his mouth savoring the taste. Before he swallowed the liquor the phone rang. He placed the brandy down on the table and picked up the phone. "Yeah." He said dryly.

"Where've you been!" The voice shouted angrily. "I've been trying to call you for hours!"

"Nothing that concerns you." The assassin replied bluntly. "What do you want."

"You missed! You fool. The girl is not dead!" The voice was filled with tension.

The assassin's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, I hit her, she went down!" He angrily replied. "There is no way she survived, I'm sure of it!"

"You may have hit her, but you didn't kill her!" The voice shouted again. "All you succeeded in doing is drawing attention to yourself by killing a cop and shooting up the street!"

"How do you know this?" The assassin asked suddenly wondering how this man knew about the shooting so quickly. When he got no answer to that question, he asked. "Where's the girl now?"

"McGarrett's got her stashed at a Five-O safe house under heavy security." The voice answered.

"What's the address." The assassin demanded. The line was silent again. "The address, let's have it!" He demanded again.

The line was silent a little longer before the voice came back and sounded greatly distressed. "153 Portlock, Koko Head. And don't miss this time! And you can tell your employer, this is the last time, my commitment to him is finished! And don't expect my help if you foul up again!"

Before the assassin could respond the phone went dead with a loud click. He stared at the handset for a moment dumbfounded by the news he just heard. He slammed the handset down on the phone as he thought how could that be? He played the scene over again in his mind. How could he have missed? Snatching up the glass he downed the rest of the brandy in one swallow wincing as it burned its way down his throat. Anger swelled up inside him causing him to take the empty glass and threw it against the wall. Shattering on impact glass shards flew in all directions. The girl will not survive and will surly die next time, guaranteed, he promised.

His remembered that a plainclothes cop had fired at him back to the alley. Did he get a good look at him? The clock was definitely ticking now. How much time did he have before the cops were onto him? These questions began to bother the usually calm assassin. He took a deep breath as he calmed himself and decided that that cop would need to be taken care too, at least for his own satisfaction. Just like Jimmy Ling.

***

The next day about mid morning, the assassin drove out to the safe house location to see for himself this heavy security he was told about. What he observed he considered were the security measures, because his source didn't tell him what type of security there was. First, he drove through the neighborhood. The area had spacious homes with immaculately landscaped front yards.

Dressed like a local so he wouldn't stand out, he parked his car and causally walked the street where the house was. He eyed the house with great interest. The front of the house was bare, with the exception of trees on either side. He did find where the phone line entered the structure at the front corner. From there, there was no way to keep from being seen from the street he thought.

At the house across the street a gardener was tending the lawn. Several yards further down was a landscaping truck with the worker twenty feet off the ground in a cherry picker manicuring one of the trees along the street. A mail truck worked its way down the street delivering letters and packages to the residents. He observed the pace of activity on the street, checking his watch when he saw the mail truck and made note of the time. He walked out onto the beach where he saw a man surf fishing, but showed no signs of success. He had no fish staked out. Carefully he watched this man as he cast his line into the surf and reeled it back in.

He had to be suspicious of everyone he observed assuming that they all were the security. He didn't want to take any chances. He also watched a couple as they jogged by on the beach.

He found a place amongst the nearby trees where he closely watched any and all activity around the house for the next few hours while he mapped out in his mind each step he would take. He swore that what happened before, would not happen again, the woman dies this time. Even if he had to kill every cop around her. When he was satisfied with what he had learned, he returned to his car and left deciding that he would need a small distraction.

When he returned to the hotel, he phoned his contact and requested he be supplied what was needed for an adequate distraction. Enough for a car, he said. And to bring it Makapu'u Point by eight o'clock the next morning.

***

It was mid-morning the next day when Morton phoned Steve and told him that he got a call from the DA in Las Vegas. The grand jury had handed down an indictment against Lou Sanders and he was expected to be taken into custody later in the day. He asked that Miss Michelson be informed that it shouldn't be much longer.

"She'd be glad to hear that." Steve replied.

After he hung up from the Director Steve began to dial the safe house to relay the news to Danny and Marta when Chin walked in the office. "Steve, on the computer check for any stolen green Chevy's, I came across one that was reported stolen about two weeks ago. The first numbers on the license plate match what Danny saw." He reported.

"Where is it now?" Steve asked.

"Don't know. HPD doesn't have any reports on any abandoned green Chevy's on the island."

"It has to be somewhere Chin," Steve wondered, "a car like that can't just disappear into thin air." He considered that the car angle could be a dead end. Or the vehicle could be in the water somewhere where they'd never find it. "Keep on it, thanks Chin."

Returning to the phone he dialed the safe house, when the phone continued to ring he became suspicious. He knew Danno wouldn't be far from the phone and would answer it immediately. Something was wrong he thought, very wrong. He became increasingly concerned as the line continued to ring.

His brow furrowed as he realized that maybe something may have happened to Danno, and that's why he doesn't answer. "Oh my God." he said under his breath. Dropping the receiver onto its cradle he grabbed his jacket of the coat rack so quickly that the hanger almost swung off its hook. Quickly putting it on he called to Chin and Kono to come with him as he trotted out of his office.

"What's up?" They ask as he passed their offices.

"Danno doesn't answer the phone at the safe house. I've got a bad feeling about this. Lets go."

The two detectives fell in behind their boss as they exited the office and out to the Mercury. No sooner than Steve started the motor he threw the car into gear and floored the accelerator. The passengers had to reach for something to hold onto to keep from sliding across the seat. The tires squealed as the car sped out of the Palace parking lot and raced off toward the safe house with the siren wailing.

***

The Iceman parked his car a block away from the house and out of sight. From the floor of the passenger side he reached for the green canvas Army issue pack that he received from his contact, and placed next to him on the seat. He cautiously opened the bag. Inside, as promised, was clock timer strapped to a half-dozen sticks of dynamite. Checking his watch he synchronized it with the timer in the bag. He set the timer for thirty minutes and flipped the switch that started the second hand clicking its way around the dial. He closed the bag and placed it back on the floor and casually left the car and walked toward the house. As he got nearer to the house he saw that the landscaping truck was still there and so was the gardener. Quickly he ducked into the trees and made his way to the beach.

He saw that the fisherman was still on the beach and watched him with a cold eye. He wasn't the same guy from the day before. This guy also lazily cast his line into the surf, and reeled it back in and didn't have any fish. This man has to be part of the s