Danny grabbed Bruce Hoffman's outstretched right hand, pulled him from his seat, grabbed the back of his neck, and shoved him into the kitchen, startling the other diners still dining in the restaurant.
"Police investigation." Jack pulled out his wallet, quickly flicked it, and put it back, not mentioning that he was from the FBI. This temporarily calmed down the several enthusiastic people who had already pulled out their phones to call the police.
In the kitchen, Danny flashed his police badge and politely asked the cooks and workers to temporarily leave. Then, he very "politely" introduced himself to the startled Bruce Hoffman.
"I'm Detective Danny Williams, and I'm also the father of a little girl who was taken hostage this morning in a Mercedes-Benz.
I have the recording you requested, and I intend to release it. So, I'd like to know what you plan to do to me?"
Hearing these seemingly unrelated words, beads of sweat suddenly formed on Bruce Hoffman's shiny forehead. "Listen, listen, I have no idea what you're talking about, Detective Williams. I..."
Seeing he was about to continue his argument, Danny grabbed him by the collar, pulled out his police badge, and pressed it hard against his bald forehead.
Pushed back by Danny's short but powerful frame, Bruce Hoffman came to a stop, slamming into a row of flour shelves.
He also rattled the utensils and plates in the kitchen as he moved. Jack, standing guard at the door, could only offer an awkward yet polite smile through the glass door at the curious diners.
Danny slapped his badge hard and spoke seriously, "Listen, you can copy my number off your forehead, and you're welcome to file a complaint.
I'm only here to tell you one thing. I have the recording, and I'll use it to expose your dirty tricks. You can stop me in any way you want, but if you continue to send people with guns around my daughter, I swear to God, I will kill you myself. Do you understand?"
After Jack packed up several of the most expensive dishes and appeased the restaurant manager with a large tip, he walked into the parking lot and saw a black Buick sedan with the parking brake still on, squealing as it fled. "
Is this how you, Five-O, handle cases? It's different with the Governor's backing." Hearing Jack dare to tease him like that, Danny put his hands on his hips and glared at his "nephew." After a long moment of frustration, his shoulders slumped.
"We usually care about our image. Well, let's go. I'll take you to the best shrimp rice in Hawaii." —
The small town of Kahuku on Oahu's North Shore was once a sugarcane plantation. After the last sugar mill closed in the 1970s, the area fell into decline.
It wasn't until the 1980s, when the sugarcane fields were converted into ponds and shrimp farms, using freshwater to cultivate sweet shrimp, that the old town regained its vitality.
Shrimp rice carts dot the road, covered in graffiti and signatures from tourists. The more signatures, the better the shrimp.
Unfortunately, Jack couldn't quite appreciate the local half-cooked rice. It could easily be made in a rice cooker, but even at the shrimp rice cart Danny specifically recommended, the rice with shrimp and sauce was still lackluster.
That's why the most wanted criminals extorted Jack into a seafood feast before their departure.
Commercial fishing is prohibited in the waters around Hawaii, and there is basically no agriculture on Oahu, the most populous island. There are also very few varieties of fruits grown locally. Basically all food needs to be imported from outside the island.
Therefore, the culinary customs here are essentially similar to those in mainland America, with the handling of ingredients remaining as crude and unsophisticated as ever.
Furthermore, Jack was also somewhat curious about the taste buds of Hawaiians, as he found it baffling that a state with a population of less than 1.5 million could consume 7 million cans of Spam annually.
However, Hawaii is, after all, the most intense clash of Asian and European culinary cultures among the 50 states.
Steaks cooked rare actually enhance their flavor, Chinese cuisine with its eccentricities, relatively authentic Thai cuisine, and Japanese cuisine where authenticity is irrelevant as long as it's served raw, all satisfy most visitors.
Fortunately, shrimp are generally quite tasty no matter how they're prepared. Even with all sorts of bizarre sauces, as long as they're fresh, their sweet, chewy texture is still incredibly delicious.
The Thai dishes Jack ordered from the previous restaurant were also quite good; the sweet and spicy flavors were quite appetizing, and crucially, not greasy.
After dinner at Five-O's office, Jack said his goodbyes. Kono and Chenghao volunteered to stay and help Danny process the case.
Naturally, Five-O couldn't lead a minor case like this; the primary focus was on the District Attorney and the courts.
But Danny was determined to get Bruce Hoffman, the bald, fat man, out of Hawaii, even if he couldn't be sent to prison, so he couldn't ever again taint his precious daughter's environment. Therefore, gathering sufficient evidence early on was crucial.
Jack had slept in, a rare opportunity. Life had been much easier for him lately, and Justin's requests for manuscripts hadn't been as frequent. With Shangri-La's business rapidly accelerating, Hollywood had plenty of material for frustrated screenwriters.
So, someone woke up in a good mood. Yesterday's mishaps were merely a minor incident; he'd served as a driver and spectator throughout, proving that he, Agent Jack Tawaller, wasn't the type to pull off a major case wherever he went.
However, someone's good mood didn't last long. While he was having breakfast in the buffet restaurant with Rachel and Grace, who were also staying at the Hilton, he suddenly received a call from Danny.
"Jack, is the witness you're supposed to protect Julie Masters called?"
"Yes, what happened?" Jack was startled. He had only mentioned a protection mission yesterday, not the witness's name or any information.
Danny's "Five-O" team usually handled major cases. He suddenly contacted him at this time, and he clearly had access to relevant information. There was only one possibility: something had happened to the witness!
Judging by the whirring of the wind on the other end of the line, Danny was clearly already on his way. "The details are still unclear, but HPD just reported that they've lost contact with two officers who were ordered to the safe house to escort a witness to the courthouse.
Things are looking a bit grim. We're on our way to the safe house right now, and I suddenly remembered the protection mission you mentioned yesterday, so I called to ask you about it."
Jack held the phone, forcing a smile uglier than tears at the mother and daughter who were looking at him curiously, and continued, "Your guess is correct. Can you give me a ride?"
"I'll be at the hotel entrance in five minutes. You'd better bring your gun and spare magazines." Danny's extremely fast speech speed already demonstrated the urgency of the situation.
(End of this chapter)