"What did you just say?" Danny couldn't believe his ears. "That's impossible! Comescu thought it was smallpox—he even tried to smash a vial to infect Callen!"
"Someone must've switched the vials," Jack said grimly, his earlier gut feeling now proven right. "Had to be that missing doctor—the one who ran those experiments for Comescu."
"I thought so too. The CDC lab went through the surveillance footage from the warehouse. The guy never showed his face, but Dr. Dusek said his voice sounded really familiar.
So I followed her hunch and ran a voiceprint analysis using publicly available medical lecture videos. We got a match."
"Hey guys, time to go," Danny said as he grabbed Cheng Ho's phone and started walking. Callen gave his half-finished beer one last look of regret and set it back on the table.
"Kono, who is this guy?" Cheng Ho slapped some bills on the counter, waved briefly at the shrimp truck's massive 300-pound owner, and jogged after the others.
"His name is Jared Brodman," Kono replied through the phone, her voice tense. "He used to be a well-respected epidemiologist. I just got back to HQ and I'm pulling his full file. You guys better get back quick."
With that, she hung up. The group piled into their cars and headed straight for the "Five-O" headquarters.
Jack rode in Danny's Camaro. Cheng Ho took his F-150, with the two NCIS agents in tow. As soon as they pulled out, Cheng Ho patched into the comms.
"So Comescu stumbled on the smallpox virus in Pennsylvania, but he and his crew didn't have the technical ability to replicate or test it. That's why they found Brodman.
But why would Brodman betray his employer and take off with the virus?"
"Maybe he wasn't happy with Comescu's payout and found a buyer of his own?" Danny guessed.
Just then, Kono's voice crackled back through the channel. "Guys, no need to come back. TSA just responded—they've confirmed Brodman booked a flight that departs in fifteen minutes. Destination: Los Angeles."
Danny flipped on the siren and lights and yanked the wheel hard. "Tell TSA to delay the plane under the pretense of mechanical issues. But don't alert the passengers until we get there."
——
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up at Honolulu Airport. A TSA officer in a blue uniform met them out front.
"We've delayed the flight for inspection. Passengers are still waiting at the gate. According to our records, Brodman checked in hours ago—but we haven't located him yet."
The team entered the boarding lounge, scanning the room. Jack glanced at the photo Kono had sent—a Middle Eastern-looking man in his early forties, slightly tanned skin, black hair, blue eyes.
He scanned the passengers seated near the gate, but his expression darkened. Nothing matched.
"I don't see him," Callen muttered. He had sharp eyes—after all, he had spotted Jack's wave from over 300 meters earlier.
"Then let's make him come to us," Danny said, gesturing for everyone to spread out casually. He strutted over to the counter and offered a flirtatious smile to the young Asian woman working behind it.
"Sorry to interrupt your work," he said, glancing at her name tag. "Alcie, right? I need your help calling a passenger. Just tell him he's being upgraded to first class."
She looked a bit startled—first at his badge, then toward the TSA officer nearby who gave a subtle nod. She hesitated, then picked up the mic.
"Passengers in the boarding area, attention please. Jared Brodman, please report to the counter for a complimentary seat upgrade."
The announcement repeated twice.
Then a young white man in his early twenties stood up and walked toward the counter, looking a little too excited.
"That's not Jared Brodman," Danny muttered. Everyone could feel the tension spike.
The young man stepped up confidently. "Hi, I'm Jared Brodman."
"No. You're not." Jack and Danny flanked him and guided him away from the counter. Five pairs of eyes bore into him.
"You're not Brodman. Who are you?"
Even though Hanna wasn't as massive as some bruisers, his physique was intimidating enough. The guy stood there, stunned.
"What's the matter? Making up another identity on the fly?" Callen glared, making the guy sweat even more.
"No—I… I just…"
Jack pulled the guy's wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. "Benjamin Gallagher. You're in a lot of trouble, you know that?"
"C'mon, man! I knew this was a bad idea. Damn it… why did I…" Benjamin groaned, rubbing his face.
Danny scoffed. "Oh no, Benjamin. Pretending to be someone else on a flight? Brilliant idea."
Hanna cut to the chase. "Where's Brodman?"
"I… I don't know," Benjamin stammered, overwhelmed.
"You don't know? You took his ticket. You expect us to believe you don't even know the guy?" Callen's fists clenched.
That did it. Benjamin flinched and immediately spilled.
"I swear, I don't know the guy! He found me in the waiting area—asked if I'd swap flights with him. Said his girlfriend was scared to fly alone and was on the earlier flight."
"Wow. Such a good Samaritan," Jack muttered. "So you're saying he had someone traveling with him."
"Yes! And he gave me 500 bucks! The plane was boarding soon and I figured—easy favor, quick cash, why not? Is… is this really that serious?"
No one answered. They turned to the nearby schedule board.
"What flight did he take?"
"Flight 792."
"Hanalē Air Flight 792," Jack muttered, checking the schedule and doing a quick mental calculation. From Hawaii to L.A. usually takes five to six hours. The timing meant the flight would be landing right about now.
Hanna was already calling NCIS L.A. HQ. "Eric, get Hetty to send a team to LAX—Hanalei Air Flight 792. Passenger traveling under the alias Benjamin Gallagher."
Jack was on the phone too. LAX wasn't under the jurisdiction of the Wilshire precinct, but L.A. was still home turf. He had direct contacts at both LAPD and the FBI.
Both men hung up at the same time—and their expressions were equally grim.
"What?" Danny asked, reading the tension on their faces.
"We've got a problem," Hanna said, his dark face even darker than usual. "That plane landed… five minutes ago."
Jack had more detailed intel. "There's a female body in the plane's bathroom. I've already told LAPD to dispatch their emergency response team. Hopefully… we're not too late."
______
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