From the previous night until noon the next day, the team had been running nonstop. They finally regrouped at the "Five-O" base to share what they'd uncovered so far.
Kono was still hunched over the computer, with Cheng Hao standing beside her. It wasn't until Jack and Danny returned with takeout that both realized they were starving.
"The meds you found in Palmer's motel room definitely weren't smallpox-related. CDC confirmed it. The label matched the contents: Cyclotriptine, a new drug still in clinical trials," Cheng Hao reported.
"So the injection mark on Palmer was probably from that?" Jack asked.
Cheng Hao looked puzzled. "That's the strange part—before you got back, I spoke with Max. He said he didn't find any traces of Cyclotriptine in the tissue samples. So, if that's true, his theory about the smallpox virus being injected still holds up."
"At least we know now how a guy with no steady income, living off a tiny military pension and disability benefits, could afford long-term lodging at a place like the Wavecrest Motel," Jack said, handing Kono a box of stir-fried rice noodles.
Turns out, the best food was often found in the most unassuming places. Yesterday, when buying those chickens, the friendly Cantonese guy had tipped him off about a local street vendor whose food turned out to be excellent.
He'd even discovered a surprisingly authentic Chinese-style pancake stall. And seeing a blonde white girl expertly making them had given him the surreal sense that a national secret had somehow been leaked.
Kono took the box and expertly wielded a pair of chopsticks. "So you think Palmer was a clinical trial volunteer? That's exactly what I was thinking too. I contacted Statim Biopharmaceuticals.
They confirmed there's an ongoing double-blind trial here on Oahu, but because of its design, they don't know which participants received which treatments until the trial concludes."
"They've gotta have a local office or something, right? Someone there must have the master list," Jack said, biting into a fragrant jianbing guozi.
He and Danny had already each devoured one on the way back, and both agreed the white girl running the stall had skills—and looks.
"Yeah, their local branch said the recruitment was handled by a project manager named Ken Tanner. But we couldn't reach him—his office said he didn't show up today."
"So...?" Danny stretched out the word, waiting.
"I was just about to ask HPD to check his place," Kono said, tapping her phone, "but since you're back, I sent you the address."
Danny's phone buzzed with the text, and he reached for his keys. But before he could head out, Kono scarfed down the rest of her noodles in two bites and grabbed her own keys.
"Jack and I got this. Why are you coming?" Danny asked, a bit surprised.
Kono twirled her keys in her hand. "Crime Lab just pinged a location from Palmer's phone—signal came from near the docks. I'm going to check it out."
"Make sure you're fully geared up," Jack said, handing her a pack of masks and rubber gloves.
—
Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside Ken Tanner's home. Danny had been knocking for several minutes but got no response. He turned to Jack, visibly uneasy.
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
Jack drew his pistol and tilted his head, listening intently. But the noise wasn't coming from inside the house—it was coming from the garage.
"Do you hear that engine?" he asked.
Danny tensed and also pulled his weapon. "You think he's trying to make a run for it?"
Jack shook his head. "No. The engine's been idling for a while—it's too steady."
Danny crept over to the garage window and peeked in. The air was thick with fumes, but he could just make out a figure slumped in a car.
"He's in there! Open it!"
They hurried around to the garage door. Jack grabbed a crowbar from the garden and pried it open. A wave of exhaust fumes hit them, and Danny rushed in with Jack's help to pull Ken Tanner out of the car.
But the man was already long gone—stone cold.
"He's been dead at least four or five hours," Jack said after a quick check—probably died around 7 or 8 that morning.
"Suicide? Guilty conscience?" Danny offered, though even he didn't believe it.
Jack lifted the man's head, revealing a bloodied and bashed-in rear skull. "Definitely not. Cause of death: blunt force trauma. Someone tried staging a fake suicide, and did a terrible job of it."
Danny sighed and pulled off his gloves. "I'll call HPD to seal the scene."
Before he could hang up, his phone buzzed again—it was Kono. She had found Brian Palmer's phone and a large bag of clothing near an oceanside observation deck not far from the yacht docks.
The discovery had rattled her badly, mostly because the plastic bag was marked with a glaring biohazard symbol.
Luckily, she'd followed Jack's advice and geared up properly—mask and gloves—otherwise, she might've ended up in a CDC isolation unit by now.
All of it had been sent to the island's only crime lab for testing.
Back at Tanner's place, Jack and Danny did a quick sweep of the house but came up empty. No computer, no phone—nothing left behind.
"I've got a feeling this case won't be complicated—but it's definitely going to be a pain in the ass," Jack said, watching crime scene techs collect fingerprints from every surface, from door handles to car keys.
"How so?" Danny asked.
Jack didn't answer directly. Instead, he pointed around them. "Look at all this. The crude suicide setup in the garage. What does that tell you?"
As a seasoned detective, Danny only needed a second to get it. "They're not trying to hide what happened—they're trying to stall us."
"Exactly. Everything they've done so far is meant to delay our investigation. Which means whatever they're trying to pull off... is almost ready to go."
Jack had always loved those intricate, tension-filled storylines in TV shows where everything clicks together. But being in one? That sucked.
If a hemorrhagic variant of smallpox with a 97% fatality rate really did start spreading across the island, there was only so much he could do—maybe save the people closest to him, but not much more.
The CDC and military might have enough vaccine stockpiled, but for the state government to approve a mass inoculation effort, they'd first need concrete, undeniable evidence.
And fast.
______
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