Some people say bad luck never comes alone, and while Jack had long since come to understand the truth behind that phrase, it didn't mean he could calmly accept a nonstop barrage of terrible news.
When Jack and Danny returned to the office that evening, they hadn't even had time to sit down and catch their breath before Kono arrived from the crime lab—with an absolutely awful update.
The large bundle of clothing sent to the forensics lab had tested positive for smallpox contamination. The lab techs were handling the dangerous materials with extreme caution, hoping to extract enough biological evidence—like hair—for DNA comparison.
But some facts didn't require testing to be known. For instance, the clothing sizes. The researchers had confirmed at least four different sizes among the garments, and also recovered four smashed mobile phones.
Kono's discovery had relied a little on luck—Palmer's phone had only had its screen smashed and was not completely destroyed.
"This means we have at least three more victims, and they could still be alive."
Danny looked ready to explode. He wasn't even the true leader of "Five-O"—that was Steve McGarrett. As acting deputy, he'd only been filling in, dragging his injured "nephew" around all day.
After a full day of investigating with the threat of a "bioterrorism attack" looming overhead, they were now facing three more potentially infected victims whose status was completely unknown.
Oahu wasn't that big geographically, but it held over two-thirds of Hawaii's population—nearly a million residents—not including tourists. Finding three possibly infected people in that kind of crowd was like looking for needles in a haystack.
"Don't lose your head," Jack said, trying to calm Danny down. "Palmer's sudden appearance was clearly unexpected. The killers hadn't planned for that, which is why they rushed to eliminate Ken Tanner—someone who knew too much.
The other three might still be alive, kept under control by the people behind this—maybe even being used as human test subjects for the virus."
"The priority now is identifying them. Waiting for DNA results isn't ideal. Have the lab prioritize analyzing the SIM cards from those smashed phones—that'll be the fastest way to get names."
Jack turned toward Cheng Hao, who had taken Kono's place at the computer. "What about the fingerprints we lifted from Ken Tanner's house? Any results yet?"
Cheng Hao blinked like he'd just woken up from a trance and quickly clicked the print button. "Nothing in the local database, but your colleagues in New York just got a hit from the federal database."
As he spoke, the printer began whirring, spitting out several sheets of paper.
"It's all here. This guy has a weird name—Dracula Comănescu?"
Danny groaned and slapped his forehead before even reading. "So, on top of an ancient deadly virus, now we've got an ancient vampire to deal with?"
"Could be," Cheng Hao shrugged. "Says here he's Romanian."
Jack wasn't paying attention to their banter—he was focused on the info displayed on the screen. The report wasn't that detailed, but one specific annotation caught his eye.
"This name's flagged by NCIS?"
"What does that mean?" Danny leaned over, forgetting his jokes as curiosity kicked in.
Just as Jack opened his mouth to explain, his phone rang. He thought it was one of his New York teammates, but the caller ID showed a landline from Los Angeles.
Could it be Chris calling about something? With that in mind, he answered—only to freeze at the unfamiliar voice on the other end.
"Agent Jack Tavoler, good evening. I'm Hetty Lange, Operations Manager for the Office of Special Projects, under the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I've heard you were recently injured—will that affect your ability to assist in this matter?"
"Uh..." The moment Jack heard the raspy, elderly female voice, a small shiver ran down his spine. He immediately pictured a tiny, skinny old lady—someone whose size was inversely proportional to her presence.
"Hello, Ms. Lange. It's an honor to speak with you. I'm recovering well—shouldn't affect my duties."
He hadn't expected to interact with NCIS so soon—let alone OSP, one of its most secretive branches.
In Jack's previous life, there had been a spin-off show called NCIS: Los Angeles, which many assumed referred to a local NCIS field office.
But as the name Hetty Lange had just confirmed, OSP—Office of Special Projects—is a specialized department under NCIS headquartered in LA, focused on highly classified Navy and Marine Corps investigations.
OSP handled cases even more sensitive than what regular NCIS agents saw. Still, that wasn't the real reason Jack was suddenly on his best behavior.
Normally, the FBI and NCIS had little overlap. The FBI fell under the Department of Justice; NCIS under the Department of Defense. Sometimes their work intersected, but there was no hierarchical relationship.
What made Jack treat Hetty Lange like she was a nuclear warhead wasn't her title—it was her.
In the original show, Hetty was a living legend. A high-ranking, elusive figure with connections spanning across decades. Even the Secretary of the Navy would defer to her. Based on age and status, she was a contemporary of Jack's CIA mentor Joe Mason, and possibly even outranked the bald-headed Frank in pure seniority.
Though Jack had never met her in this life, he knew from Joe Mason's casual remarks that Hetty was one of the few people Joe still kept in touch with—a survivor of the Cold War era and a spy of the old guard.
That alone justified Jack's sudden formality.
Hetty, for her part, didn't seem surprised that Jack knew who she was. In fact, she gave a few dry chuckles through the phone.
"You sound rather tense, young man. I've heard good things about you. Frankly, I'd love to poach you for my team, but it seems little Rossi's holding onto you quite tightly."
Okay—Jack could at least rest assured that this mysterious old lady wasn't some kind of "special friend" of his mentor's.
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