"I was just about to pull the trigger," Callen muttered as he stepped forward—only to hear Jack's voice in his earpiece once more.
"Ah, ah—if I were you, I'd put on gloves and a mask before you do anything else. His gun's under his arm. I'm guessing what he tried to pull out just now wasn't a pistol."
Hearing that, Callen stiffened, quickly pulled out a mask and gloves, and only then rolled Comescu's body over.
He pulled the arm out from beneath the corpse—sure enough, Comescu was clutching a tiny vial. Callen breathed a sigh of relief, then opened the small metal case on the ground.
Inside were the remaining eight vials nestled in a foam cutout. Including the one in his hand, that made nine—matching what the driver Marku had confessed.
Just then, the rest of the team finally arrived. Hanna, the big bald guy, saw the body and exhaled with relief. He looked to Callen. "Everything okay?"
Callen placed the vial back into the case, his expression complex. "We recovered all the smallpox vials, so… I'd say things turned out okay."
"I meant emotionally," Hanna added softly, as any good partner would.
"I know," Callen replied, removing his mask and taking a deep breath, his eyes resting on the corpse with an unreadable look.
"Beep-beep." A slow, cheerful honk turned their heads—Kono and Jack cruised up in the back of a tourist shuttle cart.
"Hope you don't mind I took the shot," Jack said, stepping off the cart and offering Callen a handshake. "But I figured this ending was best for everyone."
Callen hesitated, then quickly shook his hand. "It's not that. I just… don't really know how to describe how I feel right now."
Danny came over and threw an arm around both their shoulders. "Well then, how about I treat everyone to some classic Hawaiian cuisine? That way I don't have to keep hearing someone complain that my partner owes him a steak."
"I'll take this to the CDC lab," Kono said, taking the briefcase from Callen.
"We'll be at Kamekona's shrimp truck," Cheng Ho nodded to his cousin.
——
"I thought shrimp trucks in Hawaii only had three or four kinds of shrimp plates?" Jack stared at the cluttered menu in front of him, slightly overwhelmed. The variety here seemed more extensive than most full restaurants.
Cheng Ho chuckled and circled the top five or six odd-sounding items. "Technically, these are the only real dishes. The rest are just different combinations of sauces and sides.
Kamekona thinks variety is the key to standing out in Hawaii's ultra-competitive shrimp truck scene."
"I think just having a spot near Waikiki is enough to make him rich," Callen said, sipping a cold beer, his eyes wandering toward the "view."
They were parked near the iconic Waikiki Beach, where a constant stream of bikini-clad women strolled back and forth along the sand.
"You'll love it even more during spring break," Danny added knowingly.
Spring break in the U.S. usually starts in March and runs through April. Different universities have different dates and durations, ranging from one to two weeks.
It's essentially a student holiday carnival. Every year, beaches across the southern U.S. are flooded with young men and women, all basking in sun, sand, alcohol, and… sex.
"This might be the first time I've heard you say something nice about this place," Cheng Ho teased.
Danny put on an exaggerated grimace. "I only said that so Jack might consider staying here a few extra days."
"So Jack really is your, uh… nephew?" Hanna asked, still visibly skeptical as he glanced back and forth between Jack and Danny.
"Of course." Danny suddenly remembered something and patted Jack's shoulder. "How's your injury, by the way? Kono said you jumped across two rooftops."
Jack lifted his loose T-shirt and lightly tapped the bandaged area around his waist. "No signs of infection. Should be fully closed up in two or three days."
"That's too bad. If you weren't injured, Kono would've taken you surfing. She's the best I've seen on a board," Cheng Ho said, clearly disappointed.
Jack smiled wryly. "You guys do realize I grew up in L.A., right?"
Well… truth was, he'd only spent a few years of this life in L.A. and didn't hit the beach much. Most of his real sun-and-sand experience came from Florida with Hannah, and later during B Team's training at Virginia Beach—where he'd swum laps around an island more than once. But real surfing? Not much. With his current level of physical fitness, it was hard to find much thrill in extreme sports anymore.
"Whoa, you're from L.A. too? I thought it was New York," Hanna said. Compared to the brooding Callen, Hanna was far more talkative and knew how to keep a mood light.
"Well, technically New York too," Jack replied, briefly recounting how he'd been "coaxed, tricked, and conned" into relocating. What was supposed to be a two-year assignment had turned into three… then another three.
"Sounds like we both have great bosses," Callen joked, finding some common ground. "By the way, I haven't thanked you properly yet."
Jack knew exactly what he meant—the final shot. He waved it off. "Don't read too much into it. Just figured it'd make the paperwork easier."
Truthfully, taking out Comescu had saved a lot of trouble—especially for Callen's boss, the legendary Hetty.
Jack didn't remember all the details of the long-running NCIS series or its spinoffs, but he did remember Hetty's fierce protectiveness of her team.
And Callen's use of the phrase "blood feud" said it all.
Yes, the situation had been urgent, but if Callen had pulled the trigger, there was a real risk it could've been seen as personal revenge. Jack wasn't stealing credit—he was preventing future headaches.
"So, what's next for you guys?" Danny asked, pleased that Callen wasn't dwelling on vengeance.
"Comescu's dead. Our mission's done. We'll probably fly back to L.A. tomorrow," Hanna replied with a smile, then looked to Jack. "Want a lift? You could swing by L.A. too."
Jack hesitated. He thought about the awful experience of flying in a military transport and finally shook his head. "Nah, I'll stay in Hawaii a few more days. I want to find the guy who modified the virus. Feels like a loose end."
Just then, Cheng Ho's phone rang. Seeing it was Kono, he put it on speaker. "Hey, cousin. You on your way here?"
Kono's voice sounded frustrated.
"Afraid your little boys' club party is over. I'm heading back to HQ.
I just got a call from Dr. Dusek at the CDC lab. The vials we recovered from Comescu? They weren't smallpox at all—just regular saline solution."
______
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