By Cary Anne Conder

PROLOGUE

  5 October 1977

                 Creaking slightly for want of oil in its hinges, the door set into the huge gates of the maximum-security prison on Oahu swung open.  Francisco Wilkes, known as Willy to his associates, stepped through into the open air and freedom.  He spared the guards no more than a parting glance.  They watched him studiously, their faces blank of all expression.  He knew if they had their way he would never leave the world behind the walls.  Pausing, Willy looked around.  No one waited to give him a lift into downtown Honolulu.  But he had not expected a ride.  He had refused the Warden's offer of a taxi into the city.  Nor did he plan to take the bus.

                 Wilkes stood five foot eleven.  Work had hardened muscle to iron on a lean frame.  Black hair had turned to salt and pepper with years and hard labour.  Beneath it, his features held a saturnine quality.  Watery blue eyes took on an unnerving, piercing look when he was on a job.  It had been his eyes which had eventually resulted in his conviction in Sixty-two.

                Willy Wilkes was, by nature, a loner. Like the lone wolf, he was wholly unpredictable and a menace to society.  However, that same society that made the rules had recently decreed Wilkes had served sufficient time for previous offences.  He was now being permitted to return to the very life-style that had spawned him.  Jacket slung over his shoulder, Willy stretched out into a long, pavement-eating stride.  Several hours would be required to return him to his old haunts, but he was far from troubled.  A nasty smile flickered briefly.  Throughout his years in prison, he had had more than adequate time in which to prepare his surprise for those responsible for putting him away.  Willy planned to eradicate every witness who had talked.  A few more hours, even a few more days, meant nothing to Wilkes.  They would all pay, even the cops, and one in particular.

CHAPTER ONE

8 November 1977

                Dan Williams straightened his paperwork.  It was almost twelve ten, and he had promised to meet Charlene for lunch at twelve thirty.  He scrubbed his hair, unconsciously organising it, although the tight sandy curls scarcely needed it.  He got to his feet.  As he passed Mary's desk on the way to Steve McGarrett's office, she glanced up.  Danny smiled back, his blue eyes twinkling.  He walked into his boss' office.  McGarrett look up.

                "What's up, Danno?"

                "Going to lunch, Steve."

                McGarrett grinned almost impishly.  "Charley?"

                When Danny blushed to the roots of his hair, McGarrett leaned forward and studied his partner thoughtfully.  In the years he had known Dan Williams he had developed a keen ability to read his reactions clearly.  Now there were much the same indications as had existed several years earlier when Danny had been dating Jane.  Ironically, Charlene had wound up in a perilous situation as well.  Unlike Jane, however, Charlene Mattheson had survived.  Throughout both incidents Dan Williams had proved himself under fire.  Even with his heart wholly entangled in the case, Danny had kept his cool.  He was a good cop.  A partner Steve McGarrett knew he could always rely upon.

                In McGarrett's estimates, taken from what he knew of both Charlene and her brother, Jonny, Danny could to a lot worse.  Charlene's mother had been a police officer, albeit on a Canadian police force and Charlene had openly admitted she had once considered joining, too.  But when her parents died, Charlene had been left to raise her brother alone, and she had had to shelve the idea.  McGarrett often suspected she would have made an excellent officer.

                "Decided where you're eating?"

                "There's a new Japanese place about four blocks away," said Danny, "Charley's never tried sushi.  I thought I'd give it a shot."

                "That might be a mistake," suggested McGarrett with a touch of humour.

                "Maybe."   Danny's faced split with a grin.  "But you know Charley.  She's game.  She'll try anything once."

                Steve nodded.  There was considerable truth to that statement.  Charlene was a daring and, thankfully, not altogether foolish young woman.  There were times when he knew he might have been interested in her as well, were he a few years younger.

                "Okay, Danno.  How long do you figure you'll be?"

                Danny glanced at his watch out of habit.  "I've got those files on the Streit Case almost wrapped up.  I should be able to get them to Mary this afternoon for filing.  One-thirty okay?"

                "Sure."  McGarrett reached for the folder on the desk in front of him.  "Tell Charley I said hi."

                "Will do."

                Danny turned and hurried through the outer office.  Mary noted his departure with a faint smile.  Catching Danny's passing from the corner of his eye, Duke raised a hand.  Not wanting to be side tracked, Danny kept moving.  He reached the top of the stairs to the main foyer just as a busload of tourists began filtering into the building.  Conscious of the curious stares and flashing cameras, Danny descended the steps.

                "If you'll look this way---" began the guide.

                Outside echoed the sharp crack of rifle fire.  Danny's hair stood on end at the nape of his neck.  He hesitated only a second upon registering the identity of the noise, before pushing through the tourists, shouting at them.

                "Get inside!  Get down!"

* * *

                Trees flashed past the bus as it wound laboriously along the coastal route.  Commuter traffic and housewives frequently employed the system that tied out-lying communities to the city.  Charlene sighed and stretched out her legs.  Watched as the sun broke through a bank of clouds in the late fall sky.  Shadows played tag across the passengers.  She was still tired from the previous evening's stocktaking.

                'There were times,' she reflected, 'when working as Assistant Manager at the grocers half a mile from our new home is far more taxing than accommodating for the vagaries of the little corner store where I worked earlier this year.'

                However, experience had taught her never to look a gift-horse in the mouth. When Mama Lawry had sold the Wyllie Corner Store to a developer in January, Charlene had found herself out of work.  Mama had not let her down.  She had put in a good word with the manager at the new store.  The job was around the Eastside of the island, so the ever-vigilant Mama had elected, across her grown children's protestations, to sell the small bungalow she had owned there to Charlene.  The Realtor had disgustedly informed Charlene that she had purchased it for a song.  Not that Charlene had haggled.  The move had removed Jonny from the bad influences that had so drastically affected their lives the previous year.

                Thought of Diedre Streit put Charlene momentarily on edge.  After a second she firmly thrust the incident aside.  Bad enough that Jonny was on probation.  He reported every second week without fail.  Danny Williams was partially responsible for over-seeing his parole and had encouraged her brother to join several local Youth Groups.  This served to alleviate most of Charlene's worries.  She now knew where he was while she was at work.

                Her transport braked to a half with a hiss of in the downtown core, effectively interrupting her train of thought.  Along with a large percentage of the other passengers, Charlene got to her feet and disembarked.  On the sidewalk she paused to get her bearings.  Given the option she could have hopped another bus with a transfer.  But she had fifteen minutes in which to make her way to the Iolani Palace.  The walk would do her good.  A soft smile played about her lips as she started to walk.

* * *

                Willy stepped through the rooftop door and softly slid it shut behind him.  Before bellying down, he checked to ensure his escape route was set.  Then he crawled cautiously to the low coping.  Setting down the case he carried, he carefully raised himself to peer over the edge at his objective.  Everything appeared normal.  Leo had been correct.  The cops were going about their usual routine as though it was any other day.

                "Ain't gonna be like no other day they've ever known," Willy murmured to himself.

                Satisfied, he unsnapped the case lid, removed the tripod and meticulously set the legs to support the weapon. He removed the rifle parts and carefully fitted them together.  While he worked he caressed each piece of metal. Before slipping the scope in place, Willy used it to scan the building front across the boulevard.  There was no use attempting to hit anything inside the offices.  What he wanted would, Willy knew, come to him.  All he had to do was wait for the appropriate moment.  He settled himself comfortably in place.

                His target appeared.  Drove into the parking lot at the side of the building and parked.  As he stepped out and closed the car door a uniform cop called out.  The plain- clothes officer turned to walk across the lot to meet the new arrival.

                "Perfect," muttered Willy with a satisfied smile, "Smile for the birdie."

* * *

                Charlene's thoughts rambled as she walked along the street in the direction of the Palace.  On days such as this she often recalled how she and Danny had met.  If someone had told her as little as two years ago that she would have been dating Dan Williams, she would have told them they were crazy.  Circumstances and Diedre Streit had thrown them together, an occurrence neither of them complained about.  The street opened out into the boulevard fronting the Iolani Palace.  Charlene paused at the corner to study traffic.  Two officers, one in plain clothes, the other in blues, spotted her.

                "Charley!"

                Ben Kokua and Terry Melanni waved to her.  She hovered on the sidewalk, waiting for the appropriate break in traffic.  As soon as a comfortable gap appeared, she sprinted across the street.  Terry limped slightly as he and Ben sauntered up to meet her.

                "Jay-walker," Ben accused her.

                "You didn't see that," she retorted mischievously as she slowed to a halt in front of them.

                "Didn't see what?" Terry wanted to know.  He feigned credible innocence.

                Ben shot him a disgusted look that set Charlene laughing.  When Ben glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the Palace, she tried not to look self-conscious.

                "Meeting someone for lunch?" he probed with a gleam in his eye.

                "Maybe," she countered evasively.

                "It wouldn't happen to be a certain Dan Williams, would it?" teased the tall Hawaiian.  He raised a knowing eyebrow.

                "You're as nosy as my brother," blurted Charlene.  "He's always asking me where I'm going and with whom."

                "Yeah?"  Ben grinned broadly and took a poke at her ribs.

                "Yeah!"  She responded, easily avoiding him.

                "So, are you?"  He tried another poke at her ribs.

                "What's it to you?"

                Terry stepped back to referee the amenable altercation. All too often the members of Five-O, barring the boss, wound up in sparring matches with Charlene.  Ben and Duke appeared to have adopted both Charlene and her brother as family.  Consequently, situations such as this sprang up with unfailing regularity.  There were all sorts of speculation concerning Dan Williams' relationship with Charlene.  In fact, there were bets being secretly laid around the Department on how soon it would be before McGarrett's number one colleague became engaged.  Terry found himself laughing at his companions' antics.  They reminded him of his own family.

                Ben bobbed in and out, hands extended as he attempted to tickle Charlene.  She, in turn, ducked and wove in an effort to escape the threat.

'There are times,' she reflected, 'when certain members of the police department seem to be little short of over-grown boys.'

Not that she objected.  It was fun having friends.  Still, she was exceedingly ticklish, as Ben had accidentally discovered.  He tended to employ her 'Achilles heel' whenever the opportunity presented itself.  This time, Charlene was determined to get the upper hand.  She measured the moment, waiting, poised.  Ben leaned forward when he should have ducked, and Charlene smacked out and up at the side of his head with her left hand.  Ben reacted in the instant she moved, leaping back out of range with a laugh.

                Before Charlene's blow could land, something viciously slapped her arm across her front.  She staggered, thrown off-balance.  Ben's eyes reflected shock as a loud report racketed across the square.  He reached out and yanked Charlene down behind a vehicle.  Dazed, she stared at him.  Ben ignored her.  Crouched up against the trunk of the nearest vehicle, weapon drawn, he scanned the buildings across the street.  For a fleeting moment he thought he caught the impression of a fleeing shadow, thrown by the sporadic sunlight, as it flitted across the pavement.  Then it was gone.  Charlene was suddenly aware that everyone else in the lot had also taken cover.

                "What happened?"

                "Stay down."  Ben sharply ordered her.  "Someone's shooting at us."

                Charlene realised where she had previously heard the noise that still rang in her ears.  It resembled the report of Danny's weapon when he had shot Diedre Streit's guard the year before.  She looked quickly around for Terry.  The young officer was grotesquely sprawled on the asphalt.  A slowly widening pool of blood framed his head.  Sight of the body left her numb.  There were no tears, no screams.  Only a sensation of being caught up in a world wholly unreal.

                Several police from the nearby headquarters appeared.  Two rapidly scaled the exterior fire escape of the suspect building.  Ben waited expectantly as first one man then the other slipped over the coping to the tarred surface beyond. One stood.  He waved vigorously before turning back to speak to his companion.

                "All clear," announced Ben with considerable relief.

                He turned.  Unnoticed, Charlene had moved out to kneel beside Terry.  There was no doubting he was dead.  Half the side of his head was missing.  Without thinking, Charlene removed her sweater and covered the dead officer's face.

CHAPTER TWO

                As terrified tourists threw themselves out of the way, Danny slid up against one of the exterior pillars.  He peered cautiously around it.  Police and civilians in the parking lot at the side of the building had taken cover.  A single body lay contorted on the ground.  Danny's stomach lurched at the sight.  He forced himself to concentrate on the action across the street, in the direction the other officers were looking.  Steve McGarrett slid up alongside him.

                "Where is he, Danno?"

                "Up there."  Danny directed McGarrett's attention toward several office buildings on the opposite side of the boulevard from the Palace's front entrance.

                "Anyone hurt?"

                "Someone's down in the parking lot."

                "Damn," cursed Steve.  "Cover me, Danno."

                Revolver ready, for all the good it would do over that distance, Danny watched the rooftops as his boss ducked down the steps and pressed himself up against the side of the tour bus.  When McGarrett nodded, Danny joined him.  As they peered around the rear of the bus, they saw two member of HPD secure the rooftop.  One of the officers moved back into view and waved an 'all clear'.

                "Looks like our sniper's bolted," observed McGarrett sourly.

                But Danny was no longer listening.  Weapon holstered, he dashed across the parking lot to where a woman was kneeling, head bowed.

                "Charley?"

                At the sound of his voice she looked up slowly, face pale and drawn, eyes large and dark with grief.  Danny drew her to her feet and held her against his left side.  Ben joined them.  He stared at the body.  The sparring match with Charlene seemed an age ago.  In the distance a siren wailed.

                "We were just clowning around," Charlene explained thickly, "There was a shot.  Ben pulled me behind the car.  I didn't realise anything was wrong."

                Danny's gaze ran up the side of the building upon which the other officers were standing.  Steve McGarrett was on his way over to join them.

                "Only one shot?" the head of Five-O asked Ben.  Danny listened attentively.

                "Just the one," acknowledged Ben soberly.

                McGarrett steeled himself as he asked, "Who is it?"

                "Terry Melanni."

                A lead weight settled in the pit of Danny's stomach.  "Damn!"

                Ben caught sight of a red smear on Danny's jacket.  "Danny.  There's blood on your front."

                Looking down, Danny gently pushed Charlene back to inspect her.  "Are you all right, Charley?"

                Still unsteady with the rapid movements of events, she had to consider the question and faintly admitted, "My arm stings a bit."

                All three men inspected the injury.  An ambulance drew up nearby.  While Danny steadied Charlene, Ben hastily tied his handkerchief around her arm.

                "She'll be alright, Danno," McGarrett assured him.  "Looks like a flesh wound."

                Nodding, Danny led Charlene to where his vehicle was parked in the 'Restricted' area.  Charlene was gripping her wrist, the makeshift bandage rapidly turning red.  She elevated her arm in an effort to staunch the flow of blood.  Her expression was set and determined.

                Once more McGarrett inspected the scene.  Terry Melanni had been on the force little more than three years.  Until he had assisted Five-O in busting Diedre Streit's organisation, he had worked with moving violations.  It was during the bust at the warehouse that he had received the injury to his leg.

                At that moment the lab boys arrived.  One hastily chalked an outline on the ground as the ambulance attendants prepared to remove the body.  The police photographer reached them.  Apologetic, he silently requested Ben and Steve to move aside so he had a clear field from every possible angle.

                "I want a look at our sniper's location," announced McGarrett.

                With Ben in tow, he crossed the street and entered the building.  Several officers were questioning office workers. There was numerous shaking of heads indicating there would be no simple solution to Terry's murder.  McGarrett elected to take the stairwell.  Nine flights later they emerged onto the tarpaper roof.  An officer heard them and came across from inspecting the coping.

                "What have you got, Paul?"  Steve McGarrett wanted to know.

                "High powered rifle, probably mounted with a scope, and set on a stand for maximum stability."  The officer gestured.  "There are scrape marks where the sniper set it up.  There was a fair amount of recoil.  The legs left distinct marks in the pebbling."

                "Casings?"

                "No, sir.  None that we've managed to locate, anyway."

                McGarrett stepped to the parapet and stared across the boulevard to the parking lot.  He crouched to inspect the angle of trajectory.  The ambulance attendants wheeled the gurney and body bag to the ambulance and loaded it.  Seeing McGarrett on the rooftop, an officer still in the lot obligingly moved into position to give the head of Five-O the correct sighting line.  Ben waited patiently for his boss to conclude his personal inspection of the crime scene. Together they inspected the marks on the parapet at the rear of the building, as well.  Two officers on the neighbouring building held up two stout planks.

                "So that's how he escaped."  Ben swore.  "I thought I saw someone running off."

                Head whipping around, McGarrett stared at his subordinate.  "You saw the sniper?"

                "Sorry, Steve, just a shadow.  The sun was almost overhead.  I couldn't see well enough to be certain."

                Steve McGarrett nodded acceptance of the statement.  It was a silent head of Five-O that passed the other officers and descended the stairs to ground level.  Only when they had returned to his office did he speak again.

                "Contact Danny.  Tell him I want him to bring Charley back here when they're done at the hospital.  There's something about this scenario that doesn't add up."

                "Sure, Steve."  Ben turned to leave.

                "And, Ben?"

                "Boss?"

                "Don't go anywhere in a hurry."

                Ben Kokua blinked twice before realising what McGarrett was intimating.  Mortality reared its ugly head in his mind. He thought about his family and friends.  If his boss was correct, it should have been him, not Terry Melanni, lying in the ambulance on the way to the morgue.  The thought was far from comforting.

* * *

                Perched on the edge of the surgery table, Charlene watched the physician's deft movements as he swabbed her wound.  Strips of surgical tape closed the lips before it was bandaged.  For moral support, Danny remained at her side throughout the procedure.  From time to time she looked up at him, struggling to smile.  But the incident had definitely shaken her.

                "There."  The doctor fastened the end of the gauze.  "That ought to do it.  Give me a call if there's any sign of infection.  You can remove the wrapping tomorrow evening.  Clean away any seepage, but no showers, young lady.  I don't want it getting wet.  Understand?"

                "Yes, doctor," said Charlene, exhibiting meekness wholly at odds with her character.

                "You're to take these pills three times a day for the next five days," he ordered, "Follow the instructions precisely."

                Charlene stared down at the prescription pad, but failed to decipher his handwriting.  "What are they?"

                "Antibiotics."  He scribbled a second prescription.  "And I'm going to give you a supply of painkillers."

                "I'm fine," she objected more strongly.  The doctor scowled at her, but she was undaunted.  "Really," she insisted.

                "Are you sure," queried Danny.

                Charlene's smile was somewhat twisted out of true, but he could see the shock was beginning to fade.  There were no tremors in her left hand, and her eyes were clear.  She nodded firmly.  The doctor watched the exchange with disapproval.

                "Is there anyone at home who can help out for the next few days?" he asked.

                "Just my brother," said Charlene.

                Danny smothered a laugh.  The manner in which Charlene had phrased her reply left even the doctor with little doubt that Charlene seldom relied upon her brother for assistance with the housework.

                "Have someone come in, then," was the official admonishment, "Or leave the chores until this has formed a good scab.  I want to see you at the middle of next week, young lady."

                Impatience surfacing, Charlene requested, "Can I go now?"

                The physician rested a look on her as he addressed Danny.  "Are you seeing this young lady home, Danny?"

                "I think Steve's going to want to speak with us first, Doc."

                "Tell him I said he wasn't to grill her too long.  She needs rest."

                Taking that as a dismissal, Danny held out his hand.  "Sure, Doc."

                With Danny's hand securely beneath her elbow for support, Charlene slipped from the table.  She waited a couple of seconds before trying to walk, wary of her balance.  Then Danny escorted her from the hospital.

* * *

                Steve McGarrett was reviewing the initial reports on the shooting when they reached his office.  He nodded to them as they entered and indicated Danny should seat Charlene.  While Charlene got comfortable he depressed the intercom button to page his secretary.  Danny positioned himself directly behind her chair.  He noted how the line of McGarrett's square jaw had set like a chunk of immovable granite.

                "Mary?"

                "Yes, boss?"

                 "Send in Ben."

                "Right away, boss."

                Danny looked at McGarrett expectantly.  "Where's Duke?"

                "Over-seeing the interrogation of office workers in the building our sniped used to make his hit from."

                As he replied, McGarrett's face remained expressionless.  Charlene looked from him to Danny.  Dan Williams squeezed her shoulders in reassurance just as Ben entered the office.

                "You wanted me, Steve?"

                "C

                Four blocks from the Iolani Palace stood a somewhat run-down tenement.  Directly across the street and down two blocks was a building that backed onto an office complex.  These offices, in turn, sided, kitty-corner, onto the building from which Wilkes had launched his private vendetta on Five-O.

lose the door, Ben."

                Once the door was shut Ben joined them at McGarrett's desk.  Strangely, the head of Five-O rested a rueful look on Charlene before beginning.

                "Are you up to this, Charley?"

                Beneath his piercing stare, Charlene grew hesitant.  "What do you want, Steve?"

                McGarrett took a deep breath.  When next he addressed her, he watched his partner rather than Charlene.  "I want you and Ben to take up approximately the same positions you were in when Terry was shot."

                At his direction, Charlene went pale.  She licked her lips nervously and met Ben's eyes.  He waited patiently for her to adjust to the situation.  Slowly, she stood.  After due consideration of the office floor space, the pair positioned themselves near the windows.

                "We were like this," said Ben.

                "I think there was a bit more room between us," commented Charlene reflectively.

                Ben obligingly moved back half a pace.  She nodded her satisfaction.  Once certain they had found their marks, McGarrett moved nearer to study their respective positions and stances.  A frown marred his brow.

                "Where was Terry?"  Steve wanted to know.

                "About there."  Ben indicated a spot to his left.

                Steve pivoted.  "Danno.  Would you stand there?"

                As Danny moved into position, Charlene's stomach somersaulted.  Seeing how white she had turned, Danny looked concerned.  She shook her head marginally, indicating she would be all right.  Once again McGarrett walked around.  His eyes fastened on her bandaged arm.

                "How exactly were you positioned, Charley?"

                "I think---here."  Charlene demonstrated her actions.

                "We were clowning around," explained Ben, "and I ducked."

                As Ben spoke, Charlene swung her arm to mimic for them what had happened.  In mid-act she froze.  Her eyes went large and dark.  For a second she stared at Ben, horrified, before whipping around to focus on McGarrett.

                "That shot was meant for Ben!"

                "I was fairly certain of it," acknowledged Steve flatly.  A knock on the door interrupted them.  "Get that, Danno."

                While Danny went to the door, Charlene returned to the chair, where she slumped in silence.  Mary passed a slip of paper to Danny and exchanged a few quiet words with him before closing the door again.  Danny returned to the desk.  As he passed the piece of paper to his boss, Charlene caught the set jaw line, the deadly light in Danny's eyes.  Once before such an expression had frightened her.  It was a look that boded ill for those who transgressed the boundaries of the low.

                Steve McGarrett silently read the slip of paper.  His face turned bleak.  'Hello, McGarrett.  I hear you're well, and that you've got a new partner.  You won't remember me, and Williams doesn't know me, but I've never forgotten you. In memory of my years of free room and board, I'm sending you some presents: three to share with your buddy, Williams, and one specially for you.'

                Steve passed the piece of paper to Ben.  The Hawaiian read it.  Then reread it.  Both eyebrows rose at the inferred message in the contents.

                "He's a lousy poet," remarked Ben, trying to keep his voice from betraying anything.

                Charlene stared from one man to the next, more than a little curious, and a touch concerned.  Steve's gaze returned to her.  He pushed back his cowlick, which had fallen over his forehead, and redirected his attention to Danny.

                "Take Charley home, and get back here, wikki wikki."

                "Right, Steve."

                At the rather abrupt dismissal, Charlene stood.  "Don't you want a statement, or something?"

                A bleak smile touched Steve McGarrett's lips.  "We've more than enough witnesses, Charley, professional ones.  But thanks for the thought.  You just see that arm heals up."

                Danny gently but firmly escorted Charlene from the office.  There were several reasons beyond the one his boss had voice for getting Charlene out of the way.  And she knew it.  Certainly she needed to get home and rest after the shock of the killing.  But her curiosity had been pricked.  Both Danny and Steve knew it.  That was the primary reason for getting her out from underfoot in short order.

                "That note had something to do with the shooting, didn't it?"   When Danny refused to even look at her, she pressured him, undeterred.  "Was it from the sniper?"

                "Leave it alone, Charley," Danny softly ordered as they reached the car.

CHAPTER THREE

                Charlene silently watched the scenery flash by once more.  Beside her, Danny's face was grim.  He dared not make small talk for fear of letting something slip.  The tone of the note the department had received led him to believe they could expect several more incidents like the one involving Terry Melanni.  Who the sniper would select as his next target deeply concerned him.  He glanced at Charlene, worried by her suspicions over the content of the note.  She kept chewing her lower lip; a sure sign she was disturbed beyond the parameters induced by the shooting.  As they drew up at the front door, Jonny met them.

                "Hi, Danny."  Jonny hung over the sill of the driver's open window.  "Charley.  Did you have a good lunch?"

                Danny adeptly sidestepped the inquiry.  "Hi, Jonny.  How are you making out in school?"

                "Not bad."  Jonny grimaced back at him.  "Gettin' there, anyway.  I'm a bit behind in a couple of subjects."  He glanced at his sister.  "Say, I heard there was a shooting at the Palace."

                Danny smothered a sigh of irritation.  Even Jonny appeared to have a nose for information when Five-O least wanted inquisitive acquaintances.  Charlene slipped from the car and closed the door with a trifle more force than was necessary.

                "Yes."  Danny watched Charlene as he spoke to her brother.  "Was it on the news already?"

                "Yep.  They were saying someone got killed," continued Jonny, unaware of his sister's unusual behaviour.

                "Jonny," Charlene exploded, "shut up."

                Voice sharp, almost strident, she glared at her brother.  Suddenly Danny realised she was fighting down a flood of tears that had failed to materialise at the time of the shooting.  He grabbed for the door handle.  Startled, Jonny leapt clear.  Danny was out of the car in a single fluid motion and at Charlene's side before Jonny could quite comprehend what was happening.  Distressed beyond words, Charlene wrapped her arms around Danny and strove desperately to stem the hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

                "Shhh."  Danny stroked her hair soothingly.  "It's all right, Charley.  It's over."

                "It's not over," she sobbed, her face pressed against his jacket.  "Terry's dead.  And that---lunatic's out there somewhere, just waiting to go after one of you."

                "What the hell's wrong?" demanded Jonny.  Only when he came around the car did catch sight of the bandage on his sister's arm.  He halted.  "Charley got shot?"

                Danny shook his head.  "Just a graze from a passing bullet."

                "But they said someone was killed," repeated Jonny.

                "It was Terry," said Danny, ignoring the stiffening of the body in his arms.