The conversation about car repairs came to a temporary pause. Technically speaking, Jack's recently totaled Hellcat wasn't beyond fixing—after all, it wasn't wrecked in a collision. The chassis was intact, and most of the damage was concentrated in the engine and front end.
But it was ultimately a government vehicle, and once it landed in the logistics department's hands, it was almost guaranteed that the repair bill would be more expensive than just buying a new car and modifying it for undercover use.
Aside from his sentimental Pontiac Firebird, Jack tended to get bored with cars—like oversized toys. After receiving a brand-new Audi R8, he'd pretty much left the poor Hellcat in the dust.
The three-car convoy soon entered a run-down warehouse district. Whether it was the container units or the sheet metal buildings, the corrosive sea salt air had taken its toll, leaving everything looking weathered and decayed.
That's why coastal real estate projects in Hainan were always full of endless bubbles—vacation villas by the sea were forever just that: for vacation. Not suitable for year-round living. Even if you had enough money to cover maintenance, arthritis was unforgiving. (Author's nonsense, don't take seriously.)
Standing out in this decrepit environment were several white surveillance cameras mounted on the corners of the warehouses—clearly newly installed.
"When is HPD backup getting here? They might've already spotted us," Hanna asked in a low voice the moment he got out of the car.
Danny racked his slide, made a forward gesture, and struck a bold pose. "Then we don't wait. Let's go in now."
"Watch out!" Jack's ears twitched—he had picked up the sound of a car engine inside the warehouse. Almost at the same time he shouted his warning, a Mercedes G-Class burst through the thin metal wall, charging straight toward them.
"Cover! Cover!" The two NCIS agents in front raised their AR-15s toward the Mercedes, but didn't fire—their fields of fire overlapped, and the vehicle zipped through the gap between them.
Jack shoved Danny aside and spun to run. They were directly in the path of the oncoming vehicle.
The engine roared behind them, getting closer. Jack sprinted with all his might, reached the Suburban's front end, planted a hand on the hood, and vaulted over.
The Mercedes screeched to a halt, fishtailing into the Suburban's midsection and leaving an ugly dent.
"It's Comescu! He's inside the car!" Callen shouted, giving chase. Jack popped up from behind the Suburban's front end, raised his weapon—but didn't fire.
Both the NCIS agents and the Five-O team were between him and the Mercedes.
The opportunity vanished in an instant. The G-Class roared again, smashed through a stack of wooden pallets, and broke out of the encirclement. By the time Jack circled to the other side of the Suburban, all anyone could manage was to pepper the fleeing SUV with a few harmless sparks.
"After them!" Danny, still recovering from Jack's shove, was first to sprint to his Camaro, with the big guy Hanna right behind.
Jack flung open the Suburban's driver door and got in, then reached over and opened the passenger door for the trailing Cheng Ho. "Come on, come on!"
But by the time he floored it, Danny's Camaro had already shot out ahead.
"We're on their tail!" Danny's voice blared in Jack's earpiece.
"Okay, then we'll circle around from the outside of the warehouse zone." Seeing the thick clouds of dust ahead, Jack decided against eating their trail.
"No problem! Kono, Callen—keep up! Let's cut them off!" Danny was practically gleeful.
"There are only two wooden bridges connecting this area to the main island. One of them's on the far side of the warehouses," Cheng Ho said, using his local knowledge to guide Jack.
Meanwhile, over the comms, Hanna and Danny were bickering.
"Pass them! That's a good car you've got!"
"I'd love to, but don't you think there's too much junk in the way?" Danny's tone made it clear he was doing his best behind the wheel.
"Drive steady!" Hanna said—just before the sound of gunfire rang out, followed by a muttered curse. Clearly a missed shot.
"I am driving steady! You shoot like Ray Charles," Danny shot back.
Ray Charles, one of the first inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, was a pioneer of rhythm and blues and created one of the first true African-American songs in the U.S. Danny's comparison wasn't about music—Ray Charles was blind.
"Watch out for the dumpster!"
"I see it, thanks!"
"You really need to work on your driving. Your grip on the wheel is all wrong!"
"My grip is wrong? What is it with you SEAL guys always nitpicking how people hold a steering wheel—"
That exchange alone made it clear that this was exactly the kind of banter Danny shared with his usual partner, Steve McGarrett.
At that moment, Jack and Cheng Ho had already circled to the outer perimeter of the warehouse zone. From their elevated vantage point, they could clearly see the plumes of dust rising within the complex.
The Mercedes and the Camaro were chasing each other in circles through the area. Through gaps between containers, glimpses of the two vehicles flashed by.
Kono's red Malibu was still circling from another direction, trying to get ahead of the G-Class.
Then came the long screech of brakes, followed by Danny's frustrated wail. "Jack, I'm blocked off! Can you see them?"
"Uh, hold on. Kono, they're at your ten o'clock. You should see them soon. There's a construction site ahead—we'll block them from the other side."
Compared to the chaos below, Jack's position was much calmer. Just a small-scale mess—nothing serious.
A few minutes later, the G-Class burst out of the warehouse zone and reappeared—only to get caught by Kono. Her car nearly ran parallel with it, but without a push bar and with less weight, her Malibu wasn't suited for a PIT maneuver. All she could do was stick close and try to force it off course.
"We're back in it! We got him cornered! Yes! Ohhh no—shit!" Danny's Camaro, having looped around the other side, skidded into position with a dramatic drift to block the road. But the Mercedes wasn't slowing down at all—it barreled straight toward them, prompting Danny's voice to spike in panic.
VROOM—WHAM! Jack's Suburban launched off a small dirt mound, the massive full-size SUV crashing down with unstoppable force right into the Mercedes's front right wheel.
To the left was a slope with a large bulldozer parked on it; below was a beach strewn with gravel.
The impact sent the G-Class spinning—its side scraping against the bulldozer with a shower of sparks—then launching into the air. In a perfect midair 180-degree spin, it flew off the slope toward the beach.
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