After clearing the open space in front of the cabin with HPD officers, Chin Ho took a moment to inspect the two vehicles parked outside. The unmarked sedan appeared to have been there originally. But while checking the police cruiser, he made a grim discovery—two bodies stuffed into the trunk.
Out of concern that it might disrupt Jack's emergency care efforts, Chin had kept the finding quiet until now.
"So the killers took out the two HPD officers ahead of time, stole their uniforms, and drove here in their car," Danny said, standing at the spot where the wounded FBI agent had collapsed. He looked toward the cabin, about 20 to 30 meters away, and frowned. "That's why the agent didn't suspect anything and stepped out into the open. He probably realized something was off only at the last second and tried to draw his weapon but was shot first."
"But where are the killers?" Jack was puzzled. There were no tire tracks suggesting a third vehicle had arrived or left. Were the attackers still nearby?
"You'll understand when you see inside," Kono said, nodding toward the modest cabin. "Julie's not one to go down easily."
In tropical regions, many homes are built on stilts to avoid humidity during the rainy season. Jack, who'd once lived in the damp southern regions of Jiangnan, understood the rationale. During the "plum rain" season, every ground floor stayed slick with condensation.
The safehouse cabin was surprisingly cozy. From the look of it, Julie Master and the veteran FBI agent had stayed there for some time. The bookshelves were messy with novels. On the coffee table, Jack even spotted the latest Nikki Heat book by Castle—alongside a few of his own over-the-top CEO romance novels. With no internet or cell signal, reading had clearly become the primary pastime.
But it was the out-of-place muddy footprints that drew everyone's attention. Danny pointed to them and the direction they led. "Two men. Tall. At least size 11 boots. They went straight for the bathroom."
Careful not to disturb the footprints, the group walked past the hallway and toward a broken-down door and more scattered tracks.
"These smaller prints? High heels," Kono said, pointing. "They found Julie—but things didn't go how the killers expected."
She led them into the bathroom, which was an even bigger mess—more footprints, spent shell casings… and burn marks.
"9mm rounds. At least three shots fired," Chin said, picking up a casing with a pen. He frowned at the singed walls and shattered door. "What the hell happened here? Did someone try to start a fire?"
"I'll show you," Jack replied. He slipped on gloves, grabbed a can of deodorant and a lighter, and ignited a stream of aerosol flames.
The blast of heat made Chin flinch backward, but his expression quickly turned from startled to impressed. "She's smart as hell."
"If that girl's still alive," Kono said from the broken window in the inner bathroom, "I definitely want to meet her."
Jack stepped closer to the shattered glass, noting the bloodstains and gazing out at the dense jungle. His brow furrowed. "She cut herself going through the window. It looks bad. Hopefully, the killers didn't catch her."
He checked the time. "We're over three hours behind. But the fact that neither of the shooters came back for their vehicle gives us hope."
"We not only need to find Julie," Danny said, looking over the endless trees and distant ridge, "but we also have to get her to Honolulu before the hearing starts."
"The question is… where do we even start?"
"No. Not 'we.' Me." Jack's voice was firm.
——
"Water. Energy bars. GPS. Satellite phone. Everything's in here," Danny said, double-checking Jack's pack with a concerned frown. "You sure you want to go in there alone?"
"Unless one of you has specialized jungle training, it's better to wait for the search teams," Jack replied.
This wasn't about playing the hero. The jungle was still a jungle—even on developed Oahu. It wasn't exactly uncharted, but that didn't mean it was easy terrain.
More importantly, they only had two satellite phones. One needed to stay at the safehouse to coordinate with incoming search teams, leaving only one for field use. If multiple people got separated inside, it would turn into a full-blown rescue nightmare.
Jack, however, had the training. He'd run ops in real tropical jungles with the SEAL Team B guys. Before that, he'd even survived a shipwrecked island scenario. Compared to that, this jungle wasn't so bad.
"McGarrett would love this guy," Chin chuckled. The SEAL-turned-cop—Steve McGarrett—was Danny's partner and the head of Five-O. If he were here, Jack would've had a worthy teammate.
"Relax," Jack said. "If she's still alive, I'll bring her back safe."
He scribbled a note and handed it to Kono. "Call this number—it's my colleague Alice in New York. Ask her to pull every file related to Alan Briner and the Baja Cartel. DEA will definitely have intel."
He paused, then added, "Have her cross-reference their known assassination methods and contractor profiles. We might be able to ID the shooters."
Given how brazen these guys were—killing HPD officers and shooting a federal agent—Jack doubted they were local muscle. More likely, they were flown in. If so, even the smallest clue could reveal their identities through airline manifests.
The fact that they'd ambushed the HPD officers instead of storming the safehouse suggested something crucial—they didn't know the cabin's location.
That meant both the local FBI office and HPD were clean. The only possible leak… was the court.
"One more thing," Jack added. "Get a list of everyone at the court who knew about today's witness transfer—judges, clerks, bailiffs, everyone."
This case had nothing to do with him initially. But now a federal agent was down. Whether or not Jack had known the man, they were still brothers-in-arms.
Forget getting Julie to the courtroom before the five o'clock deadline. That didn't matter anymore.
This case now belonged to the FBI.
Even if the judge granted Alan Briner bail, it wouldn't last long. By now, news of the shooting had already reached the local office. The moment Briner stepped out of court, they'd slap fresh charges on him.
Two murdered HPD officers. One critically injured federal agent. Conspiracy to commit murder. That was enough to bring the case back into federal jurisdiction—DEA or U.S. Marshals had no say.
And Jack's trek into the jungle wasn't just to rescue Julie Master. He was also hunting those killers.
Once in custody, Jack had his ways—dark, off-the-record methods—to make hired assassins "gladly" testify against the Baja Cartel.
Of course, that wasn't something he could share openly.
Sure, Five-O wasn't exactly known for playing by the book—but Jack wasn't about to freak them out on Day One.
______
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