The "Five-O" team had grown quite familiar with Jack by now, so when they saw how nervous he looked during a phone call, they couldn't help but get curious.
"Who was that?" Danny was the first to ask, unable to hold back.
"NCIS's Office of Special Projects in Los Angeles is sending two special agents to Hawaii. That call just now was from their operations manager, Hetty Lange."
Jack slipped his phone back into his pocket, visibly relieved. Even through a phone line, the sheer presence of that old veteran could be intimidating. He briefly summarized what Hetty had told him for the others.
"The two agents are G. Callen and Sam Hanna. Dracula Comănescu—the Romanian suspect whose prints we found—is the main target of a case they've been pursuing. There also seem to be... additional factors involved."
"Additional factors?" Cheng Hao didn't quite follow.
Jack paused for a second to organize his thoughts. "Comănescu is a prominent member of a Romanian crime family. That family has some personal history with Agent Callen. Not long ago, OSP dismantled nearly all of their operations."
Danny's mouth opened as if to comment, but he seemed unsure where to begin. "Uh... personal history? And they still sent that Callen guy here to Hawaii?"
"You can ask him yourself tomorrow. They're taking the next military transport flight out here."
From a personal standpoint, Jack didn't see anything wrong with this. His own house had been blown up once, and he'd chased the culprit all the way to Mexico. Personal vendettas were fine—as long as they didn't show up in the final report.
Five-O's actual leader, Steve McGarrett, had also taken an unscheduled "vacation," supposedly chasing down something personal himself.
Of course, if a person's judgment gets clouded by emotion, then it's a whole other problem. But OSP agents were known for their efficiency, not drama. Jack wasn't too worried.
Besides, Hetty had been clear—their agents were only here to assist and would fully cooperate with Five-O and the FBI.
With that brief interruption out of the way, the group discussed case progress late into the night before finally heading home to rest.
The next morning, Jack and Danny were scheduled to pick up the arriving agents at Hickam Air Force Base in Pearl Harbor. Cheng Hao would dig into Ken Tanner's background—relationships, finances, anyone he might've known in Hawaii.
Kono would continue chasing down the identities of the three missing individuals. The phones recovered with the contaminated clothing still needed to be sterilized by CDC before they could safely remove the SIM cards, but results were expected by mid-morning.
Since the case now involved NCIS, Danny had also called Steve McGarrett before bed. Steve technically still held the rank of Navy Lieutenant Commander, and it turned out he not only knew about OSP—he was an old SEAL teammate of Sam Hanna.
The night passed without incident. The next morning, Jack and Danny drove separately to the airfield—Danny in his trusty Camaro that barely fit two adults, Jack in a borrowed Suburban from the local FBI office.
As they arrived on the tarmac, a C-17 "Globemaster" transport plane slowly lowered its cargo ramp.
Out stepped two men: one a hulking bald Black man in a red T-shirt with muscles carved like marble; the other a sharp-featured, always-smiling white guy with a buzz cut, both carrying their duffle bags.
When they saw Jack and Danny waiting beside their vehicles, the two agents quickened their pace and greeted them warmly with handshakes.
"Danny Williams. Welcome to Hawaii." Danny made the introductions first.
"Hanna," the bald man said simply, then grinned broadly as he turned toward Jack, eyeing him like a curiosity.
"Callen," said the other agent, shaking Danny's hand before turning to Jack and giving him a once-over. "You must be Agent Jack Tavoler. You're younger than I expected."
"Just Jack is fine." Sensing something slightly off in their expressions, Jack tilted his head. "Is something wrong?"
Hanna and Callen exchanged glances, their grins widening.
"Not really," Callen said. "You're just kinda famous in NCIS circles. You're... the guy Abby couldn't get."
"Huh?" Jack's smile froze for a second. "You mean Abby Sciuto?"
Though he now relied more on Alice and Justin for technical support, Jack and Abby still stayed in touch. She was NCIS's chief forensic scientist and had always had a quirky fondness for unusual people.
When Jack had still been a skinny, awkward geek, Abby's goth sensibilities had found him "adorable." But ever since his transformation into the athletic, sun-kissed heartthrob he was today, she'd jokingly told him he was "too symmetrical" and "mainstream."
Their friendship had normalized since then—bonded as professionals who both loved solving puzzles and occasionally exchanged weird gifts. Just a few months ago, Jack had mailed her a hand-polished natural quartz crystal he'd found in Arkansas, and she'd loved it.
"Abby helps us out a lot," Callen continued, still amused. "And since you've been on Hetty's radar, well..."
Clearly, Abby's eccentric charm had made her a beloved figure in NCIS circles. Meanwhile, on the other side, Hanna was cracking jokes with Danny.
"So, McGarrett ducked out just to skip out on that steak dinner he owes me, huh?"
"Aha! That explains the long vacation," Danny replied, playing along.
The mood had lightened nicely. Callen used the moment to ask about the case.
"How bad is it?"
"Well, the good news is, no new smallpox cases have popped up—yet," Danny said. "The bad news is, neither we nor CDC have any idea where the victim, Palmer, was during the two weeks before he died. We don't know who he might've been in contact with."
"There are also three suspected missing individuals we haven't identified yet."
"So there could be new infections any time?" Callen summed up grimly.
Jack nodded and handed them each a small bundle. "A little welcome gift. Rubber gloves and face masks."
"Dark humor," Hanna said, sliding the gloves into his back pocket. "I like it."
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