After being busy from last night until noon the next day, everyone returned to the "Five-O" base to meet and summarize the clues they had so far.
Kono had been busy in front of the computer, with Cheng Hao standing next to him. The two did not realize how hungry they were until they saw the takeout that Jack and Danny brought back.
"The medicine you found in Palmer's room was indeed not smallpox. The CDC has confirmed it. The label on the bottle is consistent with the contents. It is called 'Cyclotriptine', a new drug that is still under testing."
"So the needle holes on Palmer's body were actually left by the injection of this new drug?" Jack asked.
Cheng Hao's expression was a bit bewildered. "But I just contacted Max before you came back, and he said he found no trace of the drug in the tissue samples. If that's the case, his theory that smallpox was injected still stands."
"At least we know why someone with no regular income, relying on a meager military pension and disability benefits, could live in a place like the 'Langhua Hotel' for so long."
Jack handed a plate of fried rice noodles to Kono. Good food really should be found in unassuming places. Yesterday, when he bought chicken, the helpful Cantonese man recommended a snack stand that was quite good.
He even found a pretty authentic Jianbing Guozi nearby. Honestly, seeing a white girl expertly making the pancakes there gave him the illusion that a major state secret had been stolen.
Kono took the takeout box and expertly used his chopsticks. "You mean clinical trial participants, right? We were thinking the same thing, so I just contacted Statium Biopharmaceuticals.
They admitted that there's indeed an ongoing clinical trial on Oahu, but because it's a double-blind trial, they won't know the exact identities of the participants until it's completed."
"They should have a branch office or something on the island, right? The list must be in the hands of the person in charge." Jack opened the plastic bag and took a bite of the fragrant pancake.
On the way back, he and Danny had each finished one, and both had high praise for the beautiful white girl making the pancakes, both for her craftsmanship and her looks.
"Yes, that's right. I contacted their local office. The project manager in charge of recruiting volunteers is a project manager named Ken Tanner, but we can't reach him. The people in his office said he wasn't at work today."
"So?" Danny dragged out his words, waiting for the next words.
"Before you came back, I was planning to notify HPD to go check on his house, but now that you're back," Kono said, tapping his phone twice. "I've sent you the address."
Danny heard his phone chime, signaling a text message. Just as he was about to grab his car keys and head out again, he saw Kono finish his leftover fried rice noodles in a few bites and pick up his own car keys, ready to go as well.
"Is Jack and I enough?" he asked, puzzled.
Kono shook the keys in his hand. "The crime lab just found a location signal using the deceased Palmer's phone number. It's in the direction of the pier. I'm going to check it out."
"Remember to take personal protection measures," Jack handed her a pack of masks and rubber gloves.
--
Twenty minutes later, at a residential door, Danny knocked for a long time but heard no sound from the room. He turned to Jack with a frustrated expression.
"Honestly, I have a bad feeling."
Jack drew his pistol and listened carefully. He found something, but the noise wasn't coming from the room, but from the garage next door.
"Did you hear the car engine?"
Danny suddenly became nervous and quickly drew his pistol. "Are you saying he's trying to escape?"
Jack shook his head. "No, that noise has been going on for a while, and it's been idling."
Danny carefully leaned over to the small window next to the garage and peeked inside. It was filled with smoke, but he could still vaguely see what looked like someone.
"He's in there! Open the door!"
The two of them hurried around to the main door of the garage. Jack found a crowbar from the garden and opened the garage door. An indescribable smell of car exhaust filled the entire garage.
Danny rushed into the garage without hesitation and, with Jack's help, dragged Ken Tanner out of the car. Unfortunately, the middle-aged fat man was already dead.
"He's been dead for at least four or five hours." Jack briefly examined the body and estimated the approximate time of death, which was around seven or eight o'clock this morning.
"Suicide? Out of guilty conscience?" Danny said a speculation that he didn't even believe.
Jack lifted the corpse's head and showed him a large, bloody mass at the back of the skull. "Obviously not. The cause of death was a skull injury. This was a botched suicide."
Danny sighed, removed his gloves, and pulled out his phone to call HPD. "I'll have someone cordon off the scene."
Before he could finish, Kono called. She had found Brian Palmer's phone and a large bag of clothing on a seaside viewing platform not far from a yacht marina.
The woman was horrified because the plastic bag containing the phone and clothing was emblazoned with a terrifying biohazard symbol.
Fortunately, she had heeded Jack's advice and put on a mask and gloves, otherwise she might have been taken into quarantine by the CDC.
The clothing and phone were now being sent to the island's only crime lab for examination. Jack and Danny briefly searched Ken Tanner's house, but found nothing. Neither the computer nor the phone was there.
"I have a feeling this case won't be complicated, but it's going to be quite a headache." Jack sighed as he watched the forensic examiners remove fingerprints from Ken Tanner's doorknob and even the car keys.
"What do you mean?" Danny asked, puzzled.
"What does all this, and the crude suicide scene in the garage, tell you?" Jack asked instead.
As a seasoned detective, Danny understood his point after a moment's hesitation. "The killer isn't trying to hide the truth; they're stalling for time."
"Yes, they're just delaying our investigation as much as possible, which means whatever they were planning is almost done."
Jack loved the clever, interconnected plot devices of American TV series, which naturally kept the audience in a state of tense anticipation.
But when he was in the situation himself, the experience was far from pleasant.
Once the hemorrhagic smallpox virus, with a 97% mortality rate, spread across the island, he was truly powerless, save for protecting the few people around him.
The CDC and the military do have sufficient vaccine reserves, but if the authorities want to make the decision to immediately vaccinate all residents on the island, they must at least be able to present convincing evidence to the governor.
(End of this chapter)