Who Ya Gonna Call?

Author: Kyle Bernard <csktech[at]yahoo.com>

Author: Kosh Len <kosh_len[at]yahoo.com>

Date 14 Dec 2004

Category: Crossover

Rating: PG-13

Keywords: None

Legalese: All characters with their respective rights, properties and copyrights are the property of their respective creators, authors, owners, producers and agencies. These characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and no money will be made from this story. This story may be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright information remains.

Summary: Evil Mystical threats and invasion for space aren't the only thing you have to worry about in the Journeyverse, so if you get in real trouble, Who Ya Gonna Call?"


Cape town, South Africa,

The sun had barely risen when the dark-haired woman snuck into her father's study. She'd chosen this time carefully so none of the staff would be blamed for what she was about to do. Emma wasn't normally prone to breaking the law and rarely had she directly disobeyed her father, though the two had argued about nearly everything else, but the current crisis in the jungles of their homeland set her medical ethics against her father's will, She was planning on breaking both the law and her father's direct orders.

Emma had known where her father's safe was since she was 12, and she'd had her own access code since she'd graduated from medical school. Her father had given it to her on the chance that she would need more money than she kept in her account, and he was out of the country. She was certain this wasn't what he had in mind.

She moved aside the portrait of her mother and punched in her birthday. A solid thunk filled the room and she winced at the noise, absolutely sure that everyone in the mansion had heard it.

When her nerves had settled down she opened the safe and carefully pushed the stacks of currency aside. She selected the smallest bag of diamonds in the safe. Where she was going cash wasn't particularly welcome, but the untraceable and easily smuggled diamonds would buy her what she needed.

Now all she had to do was lose the protection that he father insisted follow her everywhere.

Emma Samms crashed through the door of the hanger like a whirlwind on a mission. Which when she thought about it, she was. Emma, Dr. Emma Samms, when she was being petulant, needed a plane and she needed it fast quick and untraceable. She was planning on breaking fifteen UN sanction and even worse than that, at least in her own mind, she was going to defy her father, Victor Samms, one of the richest men in South Africa.

Emma slammed the door shut and immediately wished she hadn't. The office was cramped. It was filled with a desk that was overflowing with paper, most of it being bills that had overdue stamped on them. The office also had a pungent odor. It was a mixture of Oil, Gasoline and body odor, topped off by the smell of bourbon.

The source of the oil and gas was obvious, there were old cylinder heads setting on the floor and on the back wall there was a fuel drum dated 1969 The source of the bourbon was equally obvious, laid out on the desk was the pilot, snoring with a vengeance.

Emma slammed her hand down on the desk with a vengeance; she had no time to waste. "Wake up old man."

"What,' the pilot said in a sleep laden voice as he shot to his feet. He was dressed in an old pair of Dockers and a grease stained safari shirt and it looked like he hadn't shaved in the last week. Thankfully he was better at flying than he was at grooming.

Emma glared at the man. She wouldn't even be here, save that her sources had told her that the man was competent, and he was the only pilot in Cape Town who would risk his license by flying into a country that was under UN sanctions. "Are you Dirk Patterson?"

"Whose is it that would be asking?" The pilot eyed the woman carefully. She wasn't hard on the eyes. Maybe five feet seven inches tall and raven black hair matched nicely with the milky white complexion. The only thing that ruined the effect was that she was a bit over weight.

The pilot shook the sleep from his head; He hadn't survived this long, both in and out of the South African military, without paying attention to whom and what he was dealing with.

"A customer," Emma replied warily. "A customer with money to spend and a tight schedule," she added. To prove her point, Emma laid a black cloth down on the cleanest spot on the desk and unfolded it.

"Holy love of god," Dirk cursed. Sitting on his desk were more diamonds than he had ever seen in one place before.

Emma laid her hand over the diamonds, "A very tight schedule. Now are you the pilot?"

Dirk's eyes went wide and a hint of greed filled his voice "That I am lass. Now just what I have to do?"

"In twelve minutes a truck will pull up. You will help load that cargo into your plane. Then we will take off and I'll tell you where we are going. When we land and unload I give you the diamonds. Then you forgot that I even existed."

How… how," he stammered, "Much is in there?"

"One and a half million dollars worth," Emma stood back and watched. Diamonds had a power over men and women far, far in excess of their true worth. That power, greed, gave her a tremendous advantage. Emma had come from a life of privilege, more than privilege, she lived in the finest mansion in South Africa, she ate only the finest foods and when the time had come she'd gone to the best medical school in the world. Her family had so much money that she's ceased even thinking about what something cost but, the lesson of money was never lost on her, she'd seen her father make the same ploy a thousand times over, it always worked.

Dirk wasn't stupid, nor was he a fool, but he was desperate "What's the cargo?

"Medicine… and that's all you need to know. "Are you in or out?"


"Where is she? The speaker demanded in a tone that would not be ignored. Viktor Samms was never ignored, reviled maybe, feared certainly, but never ignored. The man cut and impressive figure, well over fix feet tall and as lean as he'd been as a teenager, even at 72 years old he could, if necessary, hike twenty five miles a day just as he could when he was a young solider in the German Army. "Where is she?" he demanded a second time.

"Sir she was last seen heading for a small airstrip just outside of town. I have three men on their way to get her."

"That damn fool of a girl is going to be the death of me." Viktor slammed his hand against the expensive desk, "I swear to god I should have never let her go to school. Just like her mother, she gets an idea in her head and she never lets it go."

"Yes sir," his assistant agreed, He's seen these rages before. Father and daughter had been clashing over everything since Emma's mother had died. "Sir Do you want the security staff to bring her back when they get there?"

"No," he answered in a plain voice. "Have them bring the car around; I'm going to get her myself."

Loading the C-47 had taken the pair of them, plus the driver of the truck less than an hour. Then again, 37 cases of vaccine weren't that big nor did they weight all that much, the real concern, which Emma made painfully clear to both of the men, was making sure that the medicine was securely in place so none of the precious medicine was lost to transit damage.

Fifteen minutes later, the majority of which was spent starting the old engines, the plane was off the ground. When Dirk cleared the pattern he glanced over at Emma, "Well Lass it's your party, where to?"

"Head north."

The plane, like the pilot, had had seen better days. The plane at least had an excuse. It had been built in 1943 and had gone though the worst of the Pacific campaigns largely intact; the pilot had no such excuse. To his credit, Dirk Patterson knew how to wring ever ounce out of the old girl.

Sitting in the left hand seat of the worn out Dakota, Dirk chewed on an old cigar butt and he sweated, lord was he sweating, ever since takeoff the number one engine's cylinder head temp had been running in the yellow. The old girl was worn out and the engines were both 300 hours past total overhaul time. The only reason he'd taken this job was to get her into a shop and rebuilt.

"Come on sweetheart," he pleaded as he adjusted the mixture control knob for the ninety-sixth time in the last two hours, "Back in the green for daddy."

In answer to his desperate pleading, the left engine began making popping sounds. And the manifold vacuum pressure started dropping rapidly. "Damnit old girl, one more flight that's all I ask… one more then you get new engines." Dirk added another fraction of an inch to the mixture control and the balky engine started to purr again and the alarming cylinder head temperatures dropped back into the normal range. "That's my girl." He beamed, as he continued on the course that Emma had given him.

Three hours later Dirk knew they were in trouble. For some reason, though he privately conceded that old age and the lack of proper maintenance was probably the cause, the old gooney bird started to lose altitude. He'd tried adding more power, but there just wasn't anything left to add. It was time to admit that the old girl had flown her last hour. The only thing he could do now was try to get them back on solid ground before she gave up the ghost completely.

He turned his head and shouted through the door way, "Darling I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news."

"What?" Emma shouted back. She could barely hear him over the sound of the rushing wind.

Dirk glanced at the instrument panel. He motioned he forward. "I said I'm afraid I have some bad news. "The old girl has a lot of heart but the body is just worn out."

"Emma shook her head, "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Well the good news is you get to keep all those lovely diamonds. The bad news is where we are going they aren't going to do you any good." Dirk's words of doom were punctuated by the left hand engine, exploding, leaving the wing awash in flames.

Dirk's hands flew over the controls. He quickly shut the magnetos off to the left engine and in the same smooth movement he switched both the fire extinguishers to the left and slapped the big red button.

On the outside of the wing a white cloud of carbon dioxide enveloped the engine nacelle and for a minute the bright orange flames flickered, than faded into nothingness, leaving only a destroyed motor too leave a trail of black smoke behind the old war bird.

Dirks hands became a blur of motion. He feathered the prop and pulled the fuel lever back into cutoff. He reached down and cranked in as much opposite trim as he could get. It wouldn't lighten the control forces much, but it would help. He was carefully balancing the plane against the loss of thrust from the dead motor.

On an unconscious level he was looking for someplace to land the Gooney Bird, some place that would leave it as intact as possible. He grabbed Emma by the arm and tossed her into the copilot's seat, "Strap in girly, we are going down."

Dirk kept the plane in a left hand bank where the loss of the engine would make the least difference. He was trading altitude for airspeed, airspeed meant control and he was on the losing end of a downhill battle. Off in the distance he saw a small clearing. It wasn't much, but it was better than the dense jungle they'd been flying over.

"Hang on," He yelled as he nosed the control wheel over. "You strap yourself in tight girly and when the plane comes to a stop, get out and run like hell. If she doesn't blow up we can come back and salvage what we can from her. Oh yea, under the seat you'll find a pistol and some ammo, sorry girly, it's the best that I can do."

At fifty feet Dirk dropped the flaps and reached down and shut off all electrical power to the C-47. It was a halfhearted attempt to avoid a fire, one that he knew was useless, but he had to try. Ten seconds later, the heavy cargo plane slammed into the ground. It slid the length of the clearing then the blunt nose of the plane slammed into the heavy jungle.

Dirk Patterson's, late of the South African Air Force, body smashed against the control column. His seatbelt, worn and overused over the years, broke, sending his body through the heavy Plexiglas.

Emma awoke slowly. The first thing she noticed was the smell of dirt. It wasn't the clean smell of things growing on a farm, but a repugnant smell that only grows in thick jungles. It was the smell of death and decay. A place where if something died, the jungle consumed it within hours

Her eyes opened up slowly. "Well I don't feel hurt, but that could be shock," she said over rationalizing her survival. Her hands slowly explored her body looking for any signs of injury. "Well nothing feel broken." She tried to stand up and found that she couldn't move. Her pupils went wide in panic and a sweat broke out on her forehead, "Oh my god, I've broken my back and I'm paralyzed from the waist down."

Emma screamed in panic. She struggled against her trapped body feeling more and more helpless as the minutes passed. She looked down and for the first time since the crash noticed the seatbelt that had saved her life. The poor woman started to giggle. Her body shook as the giggles changed to full bore laughter and them finally, when the true depth of her situation set in finally she cried.

Her hysterics lasted all of fifteen minutes, that all she would allow herself. With the numbing shock wearing off and feeling returning to her body, Emma sniffled one last time, "Time to get out of here," she said to the empty spot next to her.

Emma unlatched the seat belt and tossed the matched pair off to the side. She struggled to get her left leg past the control column, but it was frozen stiff. She reached down. There was something blocking the column and her fingertips could just reach it from her awkward position to see if it could be cleared. Her fingers wrapped around the object and a wry grin crossed her face, it was the gun from under the seat.

Emma worked her was over to the pilots side of the plane, just behind where the pilots seat used to be, was an emergency exit. Though still dazed and definitely overwhelmed the hatch was simplicity itself to operate. Pull the red handles and kick. Thirty seconds later Emma was wishing that she too had been killed in the crash.

Viktor paced back and forth. It had been more that two days since he just missed his daughter at the airport and his anger at her had faded into worry. Even with his contacts in local governments he had no idea where she was and that left him feeling out of control. He threw he half empty glass of brandy against the wall.

The echo of the crash hadn't even faded when his manservant, Joseph who had been with him for over 30 years, entered the room. "Sir there is a man at the gate who claims he knows here Miss Emma is."

Hope surged in Viktor's heart and it was instantly replaced by pure terror. "Who is it Joseph?"

"I haven't a clue sir, but from the scars on his face," Joseph stopped for a minute. He knew Viktor wouldn't want to hear what he was about to say." He's Mogo Sir."

Viktor's worse nightmare had come true. The Mogo's, were a tribe deep in the jungle that has resisted the white man since the early days of civilization. Unlike most of the tribes they didn't reject what they didn't understand, they learned what it could offer and took advantage of it as best they could. Though they were known by few they had resisted nearly every attempt in the last century to invade their territory.

The lone exception was Viktor's diamond company.

This leader has a particular hatred of Viktor. It was in this area that just after world war two, Viktor homeless and with little or no money, came to Africa and the man's father helped Viktor find the first diamond mine that started the Samms fortune.

Unfortunately, Viktor, like many of the white immigrants to Africa in the time, cared more about himself than do the right thing, he mercilessly cheated the man of his fair share of their discovery. He knew in his hear that his crime was coming back to haunt him." Very well Joseph, show the man in." The butler turned to leave but Viktor stopped him, Joseph have the security teams standing by; we may be able to track this man."

Viktor steeled himself and waited. He didn't have long to wait, several minutes later a man, taller that most Africans, about five feet nine inched entered the room. His skin was coal black and he wore the tribal scars of the Mogo's around his eyes.

"Mister Samms," he said in a darkly thick accent, "My chief he tells me to give this to you." The black man handed Viktor a box, "He also says that if you follow me as I leave your daughter will not live for more that thirty seconds."

Viktor ripped the tape off the box, inside of the box was a video tape and a smaller box and a note. The note said, Open the smaller box first and then watch the tape. He opened the smaller box and inside of it laid a finger. Viktor gasped, the finger still wore the diamond encrusted family seal, It was Emma's little finger.

It took the poor man a few minutes and two glasses of brandy to gather up the courage to play the video tape.

He slapped the tape into the machine and a familiar face appeared. "You Viktor Samms know who I am. You also know what I want. You have ten days; ten days to divest yourself of all the stolen goods, land and diamonds, business and homes, ALL stolen from my people. You will leave Africa just as you arrived, penniless and destitute, because if you don't, then your daughter will pay the price."

Emma was thrust into the picture, her clothes were dirty and Viktor could see the bloody bandage where her finger had been removed. Her hair was filthy and her face was tear streaked, but she looked better than Viktor had any right to expect.

The voice continued in the back ground. "When the transfers have been complete I will return your daughter via the Red Cross. Any attempt to follow my messenger and I will kill her instantly. Any rescue attempt and I will kill her instantly. You will do just as I say, when I say it, or… She… Will… Die…"

Pacific Ocean, just off the mansion known as Robin's nest

Wearing a pair of cut offs and his old Detroit Tigers hat, Thomas Magnum floated on his kayak thinking about the last few years, more importantly thinking about his imminent retirement and his lost old friend.

The years had been kind to the Ex-private investigator. He'd hardly changed since that Day in 1988. The day Rick got married and he'd gone back into the Naval Intelligence Service. His six foot four inch body was even leaner than it had been. That was due to a chance encounter in 1989 with an old friend from his days in Nam. The results had been both painful and rewarding.

Coronado Island, 1989

Lieutenant Commander Thomas Magnum stood above the beach and watched the newest recruits beginning their first day of hell week. He'd been sent from Pearl to brief the new commander of the Basic Underwater Demolitions/Seal training unit on the strategic planning for the Pacific fleet.

A voice came out of nowhere. And Magnum knew that voice all too well. "Well I'll be damned," the voice had said, "I see it's true, the guilty always revisit the scene of the crime."

A wry grin, nearly a trademark for Magnum, split his lips, "Only if he gets direct orders to do so," Magnum turned and noticed the rank insignia on his friends collar, "Sir." Magnum extended his hand, "how are you A.J?"

"Well Tom, better than I was ten minutes ago. Have you got time for a cup of coffee?"

Magnum glanced down at his watch, "I have to brief the C.O in about ten minutes, after that I'm free as a bird for the next two weeks" A.J Chegwiddon's face broke out in a smile that matched Magnum's but he didn't say a word. A light flashed in Thomas's eyes, "Ok," he paused for a second, "now I see it. You are the C.O."

"Ya'know if you'd been that bright in Nam you would have gone far." A.J's tone changed from one of teasing humor to dead serious. "Walk with me Commander."

The pair strolled down the beach careful to stay out of the way of the instructors. A.J reached into his pea coat and handed Magnum a cigar. "Cuban," was all he said.

After the ritual of lighting the cigars was completed they smoked in silence for a few minutes, "Tom, your not here to brief me on what's going on in PACFLEET."

"I'm not?"

"No that was just a cover. Do you remember Captain Fitzwallace?"

"Wasn't he the Captain of the Oriskany in '68?"

"That's the one; he's been given command of Naval Special Warfare. He's the one who got me this job. He still remembers you."

"Well I did save five of his pilots in one week."

"Well he heard you came back. Tom He wants you back in the teams and I need you back in the teams. Seal Team Six's commander is retiring and Fitzwallace wants you to take over in fifteen weeks."

"Wait a second sir; I'm too old for that. It's been too long since I saw combat."

"Understood, and that's why we need you. Look Tom I don't know what you heard about Grenada but it was a cluster fuck from the get go. The Teams weren't deployed to fight the way they trained. The command structure was so confused that the thumb didn't know what the fingers were doing. I lost good men because everybody wanted to get their piece of the action and I was overruled. Fitzwallace wants to make sure that never happens again. From now on, when the SEALS go to war, we go our way."

"But sir."

"Give me a second and let me explain. At the time the newest generation had never seen a day in combat and all the old guys, the guys we knew in Nam, had moved up the chain of command. The only ones with any combat experience were some of the old Chief's and there were damn few of them."

"Sir, I fail to see how that affects me?"

"I need a combat experienced SEAL commander, someone that can cut through the bullshit and, if necessary, work with others who don't think like SEALS do. And you my friend are the right grade for the job. More importantly, you are in the right place at the right time."

Thomas paused. God new he was tempted. "Ok sir, if you need me I'm with you the whole way."

"Outstanding, Get ready Tom; See those kids down there?"

"Yes sir,"

"Tomorrow morning you join their class."

"Hoo-yaa, Sir," Thomas Magnum didn't sound overly enthusiastic.

A.J tossed something at Magnum, "And Commander, go ahead and put these on. I'm sure it will make up for having to go through BUDS twice.

Thomas Magnum caught the metal object and when he opened his hand, the silver oak leaves of a full commander lay inside.

Hawaii 199X
Off the coast of Robin's Nest

Magnum's little voice kicked in full blast, <Floating in the ocean leaves a man feeling, I don't know, insignificant. Even on a day like today, where the sun is shinning and the waves lap against the board gently I can't help but think what if. What if I hadn't gone back to the navy? Sure I would have never made Captain. I would have missed out on some pretty important things and never made all the friends in the Teams that I did, but today of all days, none of that seems important, not today. Today even paradise is lost when you have to burry an old friend>

< I'd come back to Hawaii to hold my retirement party. Of course Higgins insisted that I hold the party at the mansion. I told him that the Club would be fine, he of course, as he always did, insisted that he have it his way, that's Higgins for you.>

<I'd invited all my old friends, both from my life in the Navy and out. Jessica Fletcher was flying in from the east coast, Rick and AJ from San Diego and of course TC and Rick would be there. The party was shaping up to be one hell of a good time. What the hell you only retire once. All that changed when I landed in Hawaii.>

Three days earlier

Captain Thomas Magnum, all six feet four of him still fit and trim even after 15 years back in the Navy, grabbed his cover and donned it as he sat up from the first class seat. Normally he would have never worn his dress whites to travel in but Higgins had sent him tickets for first class and it didn't seem right to fly with the high and mighty wearing just tans.

He grabbed his sea bag from the overhead compartment and threw it over his shoulder. Normally officers didn't carry sea bags, but Thomas was a SEAL, first last and always, so he carried what the Teams did and they didn't carry suitcases.

He'd expected to be met by Higgins and just made it though the terminal when He'd been paged, "Would Thomas Magnum please pick-up the white courtesy phone!"

Magnum set his bag down. He picked up the phone, "This is Thomas Magnum."

"Can you hold please Captain Magnum?"

"Of course," Magnum was more that a little perplexed. It was probably Higgins calling saying he'd he late so Tom thought up a few smart assed remarks. When he heard a click on the line he said, "What's the matter Higgins, sleep in this morning?" Tom knew that would bust the former sergeant majors chops just right.

"I'm sorry Captain Magnum; this is Commander Bean with the intelligence section here at Pearl Harbor."

"My apologies Commander, but I thought you were an old friend, what I can do for you?" The voice on the other end of the phone hesitated, which left Magnum feeling nervous. He'd been assured that no matter what he would not be recalled to active duty and the feeling he was getting was that his retirement was going to have to be postponed, "Commander?"

Commander Bean was at a loss for words. How did you tell a man that one of his best friends had just died? "Sir this isn't strictly a Navy matter, but it is somewhat sensitive. Would it be possible for you to meet me in my office in fifteen minutes? I have a driver waiting for you outside the terminal."

"Commander you realize that I'm scheduled to retire in three days."

"Yes sir, I know that. And as I said this isn't strictly a Navy matter though we do have a request from an outside government to render all assistance possible."

Magnum's face went stone cold hard. "Enough with the evasions Commander tell me what's going on."

Thomas could hear the man gulp. "Sir… at 0330 this morning, Sir Jonathan Quayle Higgins passed away." There was a dead silence on Magnum's end of the phone, "Sir… sir?"

"When Magnum found his voice, "Thank you Commander."

"Sir I'm afraid it gets worse. We have an official request to hold off on the ceremony. Sir, the Queen of England herself is coming to pay her last respects as well. Captain I hate to interfere but I need to speak with you about security and I have to do it today."

"Very well Commander, I'll be in your office," Magnum grabbed a quick glance at his father's watch… "In thirty minutes, I have to make a few calls first."

Commander Jason Bean gave the only response he could give a senior officer, "Yes Sir."

Robins Nest

The Red Ferrari 308gt pulled up to the wrought iron fence that guarded the entrance to Robin's Nest, the home of Robin Masters one of the most prolific mystery and action adventure authors in the last forty years, Rarely had Robin Masters not had at least one book on the best seller list and more often than not there were two.

For the better part of eight years Thomas called the place home. He'd lived on the estate nominally as chief of security. A home he shared with a crusty old Sergeant Major of the British Army, Jonathan Higgins. Now with Higgins gone it felt empty. One the bright side, there was no reason for Magnum to rush into the relative safety of the guest house this time, Higgins's dogs; a pair of Doberman Pinchers, who couldn't stand Magnum, were long gone. The thought didn't comfort Magnum in the least.

Automatically he headed for the guest house. Higgins has categorically refused Magnum a room in the main house and had insisted that he stay in the guest house. That suited Magnum perfectly.

The door was locked but in the oldest tradition Magnum checked under the door mat and found the spare key. He kicked the door open and much to his surprise the room looked as if it hadn't changed since the last time he was here. His kayak was still against the wall and on the fireplace rested his much beloved Detroit Tigers hat. Magnum checked his watch, he still had two hours before the lawyers arrived, "I've got time," He announced to the empty room. Though the day was one of the darkest he could remember a quick swim in the tidal pool would make him feel better. He couldn't help but smile as he headed into the bathroom to change.

A voice, accented by a Chicago accent that could never be lost interrupted Magnum's remembrance, "Hey Thomas," one of his oldest friends, Orville 'Rick' Wright screamed across the water. "You ok?" Standing beside the short man was another of Magnum's wartime buddies, Thomas 'TC' Calvin. If there were anyone in the world who Magnum could share his grief with, it was this pair of oddballs.

The trio had met in the hell hole that Viet Nam had become in by 1969. Magnum and Rick had been caught in a firefight and were the last surviving members of a SEAL team that had gone into the Delta. T.C had been a scout pilot, flying an OH-6A, and he'd been the only pilot willing to chance the heavy ground fire that was encompassing the pair. After that a bond had formed, one that had gone far beyond the war and they found themselves living in Hawaii.

T.C turned to Rick, who was at least a head shorter that the helicopter pilot, "Now doesn't this feel just like the old days?"

"Yea man, I keep expecting Higgins to come rushing out of the house and start yelling at Magnum."

"Yea, Higgy baby loved to give Thomas the business. I couldn't help but laugh when he let those dogs loose on the boy."

Rick smiled fondly, "Zeus and Apollo; man those dogs loved everybody but Magnum. I wonder what happened to them."

Magnum rose from the water. He pulled the kayak out of the water and grabbed a towel. With water still dripping off his face he answered Rick's question. "He buried them over by the guest house. Said that was their favorite place and that's where they belonged."

A lingering silence hung in the air. There were no need for words between the three, each had lost a friend and it was a personal thing. Rick laid a hand on the shoulders of each of his friends and broke the silence with a brisk, "Its time."

"Yea, it is," Magnum and T.C said in unison. They had been avoiding talking about it for the last two days. Instead they all distracted them self's by talking about the old days, the night before they had come close. Each had recalled their favorite story that Higgins had shared. They had learned that it was unwise to doubt the old mans stories, the most unlikely ones were the ones that proved to be truest. But they could no longer put off the inevitable.

Higgins Office

There was a small crowd in the off when the trio arrived. Agatha Chumly, one of Higgins oldest friends and three men who Magnum knew were Higgins lawyers. Adding the three of them just about filled the small office. Magnum turned to his friends," Guys wait here a minute I want to go say hello to Agatha."

Magnum strolled over to the ancient leather chair that had dwelt in Higgins's office for as long as Tom could remember. "Hello Agatha," he said in a soft voice.

The Grand old Dame looked up at Him with a look of prolonged sadness. Magnum's heart nearly broke into a million pieces. Agatha was Higgins's closest friend in Hawaii. "Oh hello Thomas, it's good to see you again."

"Yes Ma'am, I just wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Agatha, showing all of her 90 years, seemed a little befuddled, "Did you know Her Majesty is coming by this afternoon?"

"Yes Ma'am, they told me. Agatha is there anything I can do for you?"

Before Agatha could answer him a young, good looking man stood up and made an announcement, "Good morning everyone," said the one who seemed to be in charge of the lawyer contingent. "I'm Bradley Whitford the third. My father and his father before him have handled Mr. Higgins legal requirements for the last fifty years," the sheen of competence fell away from the young man, "Unfortunately my father passed away last month so I am not as familiar with this case as I should be."

Agatha Chumly sniped back at the lawyer, it was obviously clear that she didn't approve of the caviler manner which he displayed. "Don't worry Young man, Jonathon took care of everything." A knock on the door eased the tension in the room.

"Rick," Magnum waived his hand and with his eyes implored his friend to answer the door.

Rick correctly read the signs, "Sure Thomas."

The ornate door opened and in walked Jessica Fletcher, looking as if she hadn't aged a day in the last twenty years. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I ran into these two on the airplane and for some reason the authorities wanted to search their luggage very closely." Two men followed the aged mystery writer into the room.

Magnum instantly recognized the pair; he'd worked with them in the past, Rick and A.J Simon, a pair of private investigators from San Diego. Rick, the taller of the two stepped up and offered Magnum his hand, "Been a long time Magnum."

Magnum took Rick's hand, "Too long." He nodded to the shorter of the brothers, "How's it going A.J?"

"Not bad Tom, I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"Yea that seems to be the catch phrase today."

"Gentlemen, perhaps we could hold homecoming time for later, we do have some business to conduct."

It was Jessica that took the young lawyer to task this time. "Young man, there's no need to be rude. I don't know why you are in such a hurry. If you'd read the codicil to Jonathan's will you would have seen that you couldn't have started the reading of the will until I was present."

Her authoritarian tone rocked Bradley back on his heels. "That would make you… you," he stammered, "Jessica Fletcher. I was told that you wouldn't be here until after the funeral."

"Well I'm here, and now," She turned to the Simons, "Boys if you will forgive us, this has to be done in private." Rick and AJ headed for the door. Jessica then turned her attention to T.C and Rick, "I'm sorry boys, but Jonathan left strict instructions as to who should be here when his will was read."

Rick started to protest. T.C took Rick by the arm, "Yes Ma'am. We understand. Come on Orville, we can go get some of the good beer that Higgy Baby stashed in the fridge."

The dark headed Italian protested every step of the way, "But I wanted to hear this."

"Thomas will tell us what we need to know later," The last of T.C's words came through muffled as he closed the door.

As the door closed, Bradley Whitford stood up behind Higgins's desk, where he'd retreated to when Jessica had taken over. "Mrs., Fletcher, if I may."

"Of course young man," Jessica said sweetly.

He nodded his thanks to her and began, "as I said earlier, my family had represented Jonathan Quayle Higgins since just after world war II. I have here his last will and testament. There are a few formalities that Mr. Higgins requested. The first is that each of you receive a copy of his will but that you not read it until a video tape that he made be played in your presence."

The lawyer opened his briefcase and pulled out a large manila envelope. "I have here said video tape and I request and require that each of you check the seal and verify for yourselves that it has not been tampered with in the least."

Magnum took the envelope and he closely inspected it. There being nothing suspicious he passed it on to Agatha. The date on the envelope triggered a question in his mind. "Mr. Whitford I notice that the envelope is dated 1989, is that correct?"

"Frankly I don't know Mr. Magnum, I was in law school at the time and my father handled the account."

Jessica, who now had the tape chipped in, "Don't worry about it Thomas."

"Damn it Mrs., Fletcher, I do worry about it and frankly it sounds like you already know what's in there."

"Actually I do, Thomas, your leaving caused Jonathan a great deal of distress. Whether you know it or not, he considered you almost like a son. So when he came to visit me in Cabot Cove, we talked about a lot of things, mainly what he was going to do when he died. I was the one that suggested this and he… well you will have to wait and see, but I promise you it's nothing bad and it is what he wanted."

"Ok," Magnum wasn't really mollified but the only way he was going to get to the bottom of it all was to watch the damn tape.

Jessica handed the envelope back to Mr. Whitford, "Ok young man we are ready."

Bradley Whitford picked up where he'd left off, "Now that each of you had inspected the seals and verified for yourselves that they are intact, I break the seal." He ripped into the envelope with the miniature bayonet that was lying on the desk. He pulled out a video tape, "and in accordance with my instructions, I play it for you." The television screen dissolved into static.

Aboard Samms international's Gulfstream
110 nautical miles from Hawaii

Viktor sat in the passenger compartment, his nerves drawn tight and getting tighter every minute. Three days had passed since he'd received the ransom note from the Mogos and every hour since then had only resulted in more and more anxiety in the man.

The South African government had laughed at him. The official line had been delivered by the President of South Africa. His words had been kind but firm. "I'm sorry Viktor but even in the best of times we can't go that deep into Mogo territory and these certainly aren't the best of times. Our recommendation is that you do as they ask.

"Preposterous, do you have any idea what you are suggesting? I financed your campaign, When you came to me with your hand out did I even blink> NO, he bellowed, "now that debt has come due, I want action and I WANT IT NOW."

"Viktor, settle down, yelling won't get you anything. And suggesting that I owe you this will get you even less. I appreciate the seriousness of the situation but surely you have enough money stashed away in other countries."

"That's not the point… They have my daughter."

"Viktor, I have only one source of intelligence in the Mogo tribe. He has been undercover for more that five years. If I were to call him in now it would leave us totally in the dark about what they are doing. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Bitterness ruled his reply, "I do, and it means that I have wasted my time. No matter what I say you aren't going to help."

"And if you acceded to their demands would you get her back. Of course you would. Truly my friend I wish I could do something for you. I simply can't. If I interfere, and you lose, than its more than one woman that will fall. The Mogos have the military power to take over this country. All they want is to be left alone, which has worked for the past fifty years, I can't risk upsetting that balance."

"Defeat filled Viktor's voice, "Then I want one thing from you."

"Anything I can do, without risking my country, I will."

The memory still burned in Viktor's heart, now it was time to do things his own way and that meant that he would need some help. There were some old debts that he could call in and he intended to call in every one of them. That was his whole reasoning for going to Hawaii.

Higgins office

The static cleared and a picture of Higgins's desk formed on the screen. In the background voices could be heard but the word were unintelligible. Higgins, dressed in the dark pants and the safari shirt he favored when puttering around the estate, came into the picture from the left hand side. He sat down at his desk. "Is it working," he asked in the tone of some one unused to being filmed. "Very well," he said to the unheard answer.

He straightened up in the chair and slid his notes aside. "I suppose we should get started."

"Welcome my friends. If you are viewing this tape then I have met my final reward. It seems strange to me, these final words from beyond, but it does give me a chance to say a few things that I simply could not say in life."

"Agatha, there is nothing I could give you that could possibly match the gift of a lifetime of friendship, therefore I have established a foundation in your name and funded it in the sum of five million dollars. The money is to be used in any manner that you find acceptable. You or your heirs can do whatever you wish. Thank you my dear friend, I will miss our afternoons together. Be assured dear Agatha, I will be waiting when your time comes to toss off the mortal coil."

"To Jessica Fletcher, my long time friend and partner in crime," In the background of the tape a woman's chuckle was clearly heard. "Jonathan continued, "If you are there than I leave it to you to solve the last mystery. Magnum, if Jessica is in the room you can skip the next part."

The picture on the screen froze. Jessica, with the remote control in her hand, rose from her seat, "The next part Jonathan and I made on the chance that I would pass on before he did. Obviously that's not the case."

"Let me begin with a little background, I first met Robin Masters just after the Korean War. My husband Frank had been killed and I needed some way to make a living. So on a whim, I attended a writer's workshop in New York and Robin was the guest speaker.

"Mrs. Fletcher, I hate to be rude but what does this have to do with Higgins?"

"Be patient Thomas it will all make sense in a few minutes."

"As I was saying, Robin was the speaker and he and I got along famously, perhaps a bit too well." Jessica blushed as she recalled the beginnings of a lone term romance with the man she then knew as Robin Masters. "We became involved romantically and it was the day he left that he told me that Robin Masters was only his pen name."

Magnum shot to his feet. "I knew I knew I knew it…" he trumpeted like a child that had just won the big game.

"Yes you did Thomas, and you don't know how hard it was for Jonathan to keep you in the dark the whole time, but just so we are all clear, Robin Masters was the pen name of Jonathan Quayle Higgins. Now back to the tape."

The frozen form of Higgins started to move. "We can skip past this part since it's just me saying the same thing only on tape instead of live. Jessica pressed the fast forward button and the image of Higgins was replaced by Mrs. Fletcher, who, after a few minutes, was replaced by Higgins again.

The Tape resumed playing at the normal speed. "Well Magnum now you know. I wish I could convey how much fun I had keeping you in the dark. All those little ploys through the years, they were just me having a little fun at your expense. I know I don't need to ask for forgiveness because I could see in your eyes you enjoyed it just as much as I did. Now comes the time that I repay you for all the practical tricks."

"Thomas, with all of my family having passed before me I am left with a conundrum. Who to leave my not so modest wealth to? With Agatha and my other charities taken care of that leaves only Robin's Nest and my book royalties," The figure on the screen paused and a hint of pride glowed in his eyes, "Thomas I want you to have them. So, for tax reasons I am putting the estate in a foundation in your name All my personal chattels, other than the behests in my will become yours. In addition I leave the royalties from all of my books to you. Thank you my friend, for keeping an old man alive and interested in living. Until you joined me at the estate I was tired of living and my writing had suffered. You gave me new inspiration. Enjoy these things and share them with your friends.

"And now my friends I bid thee farewell." The tape ended just as it began static on a screen.

Thomas stared at the screen blankly. "I always suspected that Higgins was really Robin. But there had always been reasons to doubt my suspicions, the different accents; Robin's voice had been deeper than Higgins." Magnum didn't realize he was speaking out loud.

Jessica Fletcher explained the inconstancy, "Thomas, Jonathan was a man of many talents and mimicry was one of those. If you'd listened closely you would have suspected that it was Orson Wells calling instead of Robin Masters. Jonathan and I once met Mr. Wells and Jonathan thought he sounded like a mystery writer should sound like so he adopted that voice."

"Thomas, there's one more thing; I wasn't sure if now was the time but I suppose it will have to do. Over the last few years Jonathan had slowed the release of his books."

"I guess Robin… I mean Higgins" Thomas was visibly flustered by what he'd just had confirmed, "Oh you know who I mean, He slowed down in his old age."

"Not in the least, in fact the publishers were clamoring for more. Jonathan limited them to one a year and he wouldn't sign any multibook deals."

"Now that doesn't sound like Higgins. I can't ever remember a time when he wouldn't tell a story at the drop of a hat."

"That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Jessica took a deep breath, "Thomas, Jonathan's last eighteen books are based on your life. He was afraid to publish them for fear that you would connect the dots.

Magnum flashed a toothless smile. "Now I see. He knew if I saw one, I would know he was Robin Masters."

"That's a part of it. Thomas, Jonathan always believed that you had the talent to continue his work, it was his desire that you take over from him as Robin Masters." The old mystery writer placed her hand on Thomas's back. "Now don't fret Thomas, if you decide not to do it, I'm sure Jonathan would understand, but if you do try your hand at writing I'm there to help you any way I can."

Magnum's toothless smile disappeared in a flash as his jaw dropped open. He silently left the room his shoulders slumped in shock.

T/C and Rick were waiting outside of the study door and he walked by then not even answering their calls "Hey Thomas, what happened in there?"

Thomas kept walking.

When Jessica came out of the room she caught the tail end of the one sided conversation. "I'm sorry boys, Thomas is in shock. I think it might be best if you gave him a little time to himself. Besides that we have to set up of Jonathan's service and I don't think Thomas is up to it, but I think between us we can handle it."

Thomas meanwhile had reached the guest house. Unsure of what to do he grabbed his hat and baseball glove and sat down on the couch. He sat there for an hour and later on, when asked, he couldn't for the life of him, say what he did or thought for that hour.

Rick and T.C stood just outside the main door and observed what was going on, saying nothing they simple stood in awe of the preparations for their friend's funeral.

The expansive and manicured lawn of Robin's Nest was now covered by starkly white chairs; All standing in the cemetery straight and neat lines. At the head of all the rows was a raised dais, also painted a stark white. On each side of the dais were flags, dozens of flags. Some represented places where Jonathan Higgins had served, colonies of the failing British Empire, others were regimental flags of the regiments that he had served in.

In the center of the dais was a flag draped coffin The British ensign was folded back so the coffin itself could be opened. Jonathan Higgins was dressed in the dress uniform of a Sergeant Major and around his neck he wore the Victoria Cross, which the present Queen's Father had bestowed on him after the retreat from Dunkirk.

Surrounding the entire estate were security guard from both countries he'd called home. The perimeter was guarded by a detachment of men from the U. S secret service and the area around the house was guarded by special trained troopers from Buckingham Palace.

In the background, The Special Air Service's band and color guard were warming up. Rick turned to T.C, "I guess we better go get Magnum, looks like they are about ready to get this shindig going."

"T.C just shook his head at Rick's nonplused crassness. "Man, when will you ever learn?"

"What," Rick protested, "I learn."

"Never mind lets go shake Thomas out of his funk." The two men headed for the guest house just as the band began playing the chosen music and the invited guests started heading for their seats.

Thomas Magnum stood and grabbed his cover. He had put a lot of consideration on what to wear to this service and he was sorely tempted to grab an old pair of shorts and one of the outlandish Hawaiian shirts that had practically become his trademark while he'd lived in Hawaii. While that thought amused the Ex-SEAL, there was no way that he was going to do that, if the service was smaller perhaps. Instead he'd donned his dress whites, with medals instead of ribbons. <Higgins would have appreciated it,> he thought.

Thomas opened the door just in time for T.C to knock on his chest. Both men jumped back and gasped in surprise, Magnum was the first to recover. "Damn it guys, don't do that."

"What about you?" you could have made little…" T.C trailed off as his eyes dropped to the medals on Magnum's uniform, "Damn Thomas, where the hell did you get that fruit salad?"

"Silver Star, Bronze Star, twice, Croix de Guerre, Purple Heart, Hell I was there when he won that one. He got shot in the ass just before you picked us up."

"Ok Guys that's enough."

"Wait just one minute," T.C bent down, "if that's what I think it is then you have a lot of explaining to do."

"If know what it is then you know that I can't explain it. Guys, enough of this, we have to get to Higgins service." Magnum turned sharply to the left and marched off.

Rick stopped T.C with a hand to the bicep, "What did you see?"

"Well he never said I was right but the one at the very top, it looked like the Intelligence Star.

Rick Wright wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. He only joined the Navy to get out of a jamb, "What the hell is the Intelligence star?"

"You've heard of the Navy Cross?"

"Are you kidding, of course I have, I'm not stupid."

"The Intelligence star is the CIA's equivalent. Most of the holder's names are still classified."

Rick's eyes went wide. "And you're saying… Thomas… CIA… No way man..."

"Rick, its worth ten years in jail to wear that medal if you haven't earned it."

The next few hours were a blur for Magnum. Oh he stood at attention at the playing of the National anthem and when the Queen arrived but each detail seemed to pass as another took its place. He could vaguely remember Jessica speaking.

<Oh, I knew what was wrong, emotional shock had sunk in! I just didn't want to admit it. Higgins and I had a very strange relationship. He used to make me so angry when he took away one of privileges of the estate, conversely when he had to bargain something away in order to get something he wanted, I felt triumphant. Now I learned it was all just a game. Damn it Higgins, why didn't you just tell me when I asked all those years ago? All it would have taken was a yes or a no and all you did was stand there with that silly grin on your face.>

T'C nudged Thomas in the ribs with his elbow, "Thomas." he whispered sharply. "Thomas, it's your turn." He nudged his friend even harder.

Magnum's head jerked up, "Huh?"

"It's your turn, hey Thomas are you all right?"

"Huh… Oh yea,"

Magnum marched to the dais. He stopped beside the coffin for a second. The look of tranquility on Higgins face matched the look he used to give Magnum when Higgins had won whatever battle they two were currently fighting. That look made up Magnum's mind, he was going to tell it like it really was and to hell with the consequences. "You're gonna love this one Higgins," he whispered to the dead man.

"Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen," He nodded to the regal woman in the front row, "Your Majesty. Today we gather in remembrance of our friend Jonathan Quayle Higgins. Many of you have spoken of his life much more eloquently than I ever could, so I will do something a little different." Thomas looked skyward, "Hail Robin, I come not to praise him but to burry him."

A gasp went out from the audience and the look on the face of the Queen was decidedly unfriendly.

"Don't worry folks, I knew Higgins for more than twenty years and he would have appreciated the sentiment. He might have scowled but inside, he would have been laughing. Higgins appreciated a nice turn of a phrase as much as he did a good practical joke."

"Jonathan Higgins was an authority on nearly any subject that you could imagine, from military tactics to growing flowers, and if his knowledge was a little on the shy side, he wasn't above making up the facts to fit his arguments. He was as stubborn and cantankerous as he was generous and loyal. He would give you the shirt off his back if you were his friend. If you were his enemy he would go to the ends of the earth to find you and finish the battle that you started.

"Jonathan Higgins was a gifted writer that shunned the spotlight. For many years He wrote best seller after best seller, yet he shunned the celebrity that came with that success, Instead he lived on the estate as if he were Robin's employee. All the benefits without the hassles, I guess that it gave him a cloak of anonymity that he so desperately wanted and it worked. I lived with him for eight years and I only suspected at the very end that he was indeed Robin."

"He was an enigma cloaked in mystery, and that's the way he liked it. I'll give you one example, He, though I thought at the time it was Robin, bought the Ferrari just after I came to work for him. Now, in hindsight, I'm sure he bought the car for me to use, however he wouldn't make it easy. Rather that just give me the keys he would hide them and if I did manage to get the keys he would let loose the dogs then he would stand there and smile while I dashed for whatever cover I could find. Some would call that cruel and mean. I just call it Higgins being Higgins."

"I guess I sort of got off track a little here. Each of you has spoken about some part of Higgins life, his work, his military accomplishments but not many of you really knew Higgins like I did, mores the pity. He was my boss for many years and we didn't always get along, and now that he's gone and I think about it, we both liked it that way."

"Hail Robin, today I can only offer up one praise to you, one that I am sure you would have valued and one that could not be bought nor bartered: My friendship, You were my friend, Goodbye Higgins."

The next few hours went by quickly. Thomas met more people in those three hours than he'd met in the previous ten years. It seemed that everyone knew Higgins and even more tellingly, and Magnum had to wonder how the news had gotten around so quickly, everyone seemed to know who'd received Robin's Nest. Now every charity on the island, which could finagle an invitation to the service, had hit him up for money.

It had gotten to the point, where he would just shake their hand and then turn away. That pattern changed when a man in an old fashioned white linen suit approached him. "Mr. Magnum, I am Viktor Samms. Let me offer my sincere condolences on the loss of your friend."

The heavy German accent put Magnum off. Assuming that it was another plea for money, Thomas gave his now automatic reply, "Thank you very much." He turned away.

"Mr. Magnum, would it be possible for us to speak in private for a few moments?"

Magnum was more than put off, he was irked, "Mister, I hate to be rude but all of the money earmarked for charity has already been determined."

"Money… You think I am here for MONEY?" Anger flushed red in Viktor's face and his accent became much more pronounced, "Money I have… no… no sir I am here to collect on a debt and since Yonny is gone, that debt falls onto you." The outburst seemed to drain the anger away. He changed from a rich and indigent man to a father in search of help of his child, "Please Mr. Magnum, they have my daughter and Yonny always said if I ever needed help to come see him, or if he wasn't here that I could trust you. Please, I beg of you, please help me."

Magnum led the distraught man into the study. <I don't know why I did it; maybe it was just the fact that there was someone in the world that could get away with calling Higgins, Yonny. The little voice in my head was screaming at me and it wouldn't let go until I agreed.>

Thomas sat down behind Higgins old desk and Viktor took the sofa. Magnum didn't fail to notice that the man looked as if he'd been there before. "Ok Mr. Samms, it's your dime, you have ten minutes."

Viktor glared at Magnum. "Very well but first I must tell you a story. Yonny and I go back to the early years of the Second World War. It was in Africa, just before the battle for El Alamein."

"So you were with the Desert Rats?"

"No, the Africa Korps, Viktor watched Magnum's eyes to see how he reacted to that.

"I see!"

"Just before the battle I became lost in a sand story. Unknown to me another soldier was just as lost as I was, that soldier was Yonny. He was in very bad shape, having been lost for more than three days. I will cut to the chase and tell you that we encountered each other and after a few tense minutes we each decided that mutual survival was preferable to both of us dying. I shared my water with him and after the storm was over we each went our separate ways. It wasn't until just after the war that we encountered each other again.

Magnum was curious, but not impressed.

"I had just founded my company and made a huge strike. He'd just mustered out of the Army and I hired him to train my security staff. Needless to say we both remembered our previous encounter."

"Ok Lets cut to the chase."

"The chase as you so crudely put it is that Yonny and I formed a friendship. He wrote his first novel while in my employ. After he sold that he moved on but we remained in contact. And now when I need him the most, he is gone."

Magnum sat up in the chair, "You said something like they have your daughter."

"Ya, and if I don't give them all of my assets within a week they will kill her."

Magnum reached into the humidor and lit a cigar. He offered one to Viktor who refused it. "Ok you have my attention, give me the whole story and I'll see if I can help you out."

It took Viktor more than an hour to get to the point of where the plane had crashed and how he'd tried to get the South African government to do something. "From that point I was on my own. I sent in one of my own security teams. They radioed back that they had found the site and from then… nothing. Mr. Magnum, these were hard men. All of them had previous military services and most were special services veterans. I may have underestimated the Mogos."

Magnum stubbed out the cigar he'd been smoking. "Mr. Samms, to be honest with you I don't know what kind of help you were expecting."

"Mister Magnum, Yonny maintained contact with a wide variety of people, including his friends in the SAS and SBS. But he had other more shadowy connections; it was from these connections that I was hoping to find someone willing to rescue. Obviously with your being a naval officer any thing you say will be held in the strictest of confidences"

I retire in a very few days. What I can do in the meantime is check Navel Intelligence to see if they have any satellite imagery on hand, that might give us a clue. I can also put some feelers out, but, and I want to be absolutely clear on this, I am making no promises at all."

Viktor leaned forward, "add this to your feelers, I will pay 500 million dollars to anyone who brings my little girl home alive."

"If I can help I will. A reward isn't necessary."

"But you will need money."

"If I do anything, I will bill you for expenses. Look its going to take some time, your welcome to stay on the estate until I can figure this all out. I want to make one thing clear from the start; I'm not doing this for the money. You see Mr. Samms, I have a daughter and for years she was kept from me, so I understand your pain."

Thomas leaned back in Higgins… <no, wait it's my chair now.> He kicked his feet up on the desk and immediately felt guilty. <Higgins would kill me> that thought was also cancelled out by the realization that his friend was gone..< what the hell I think best this way. < I don't know what it was about the man, but Viktor Samms sent alarm bells ringing loud and clear in my head. At the same time, His story about Higgins rang true. I had to wonder how much did I owe this man?>

<It was looking like of those deals that I always came to regret in the end. It started with my little voice telling me that there was more than what I was seeing. Hell my little voice had been screaming at me for the last three days and look where that got me.>

Magnum took his feet down off the desk and picked up the telephone. He dug around in his wallet and retrieved the number for Commander Bean. "Commander Bear, Captain Magnum here, is the Seahawk in port?"

He listened to the muzak as the commander checked the port list. "Excellent, My compliments to her captain, I would like to make a formal visit, can you arrange that?

"When, I was hoping later on this evening. Sure I can hold."

"1900 hours, that would be perfect, thank you Commander."

Magnum drove the Ferrari onto the base. The SP on duty saluted. "Good evening Sir, Identification please."

"Good evening Chief," Magnum said, unsurprised that he didn't just get waved through.

He gave them the idiots smile and handed over his identification. When they saw the Seal Team 6 attachment they went from alert to hyper alert. Seal Team 6 had been used in the past to test the defenses of various military installations, the majority of which ended up looking very foolish.

The guard looked very nervous, "Sir could I ask you to step out of the vehicle?"

"Is there something wrong Chief?" Thomas said as he unwound his large frame from the short car.

"No sir, but standing orders require that we stop all red 308 GT Ferraris."

Magnum couldn't help himself, he broke out in laughter. "Son I think someone is pulling your leg. There are only two 308's on the island."

"Yes Sir, It's possible but this is the longest standing order in the book. No one even knows who ordered it originally."

"I can make a damned good guess, probably a Marine Colonel Greene."

"Never heard of him, Sir, can I ask a question?"

"Sure Chief."

"Sir is Pearl getting a security audit?"

"Well if it was, I sure couldn't tell you now could I?"

"No Sir."

"Relax Chief; I'm just here to visit an old friend on the Seahawk."

Magnum walked down the huge pier that had once served as the home to America's finest warships. He came to a temporary gangplank with the name of CVN-66, U.S.S. Seahawk.

At the top of the gangplank he found a very junior officer and a very senior Master Chief. In the tradition of Navy's everywhere he asked permission to come aboard, He saluted the Ensign, "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted Sir."

The chief raised a whistle to his lips and blew the traditional salute, "Seal Team Six, arriving."

Magnum turned to the aft portion of the bridge and he then saluted the colors. "Thank you both. Can you tell me where I might find the skipper?"

The Captain is over at command, thought I might be able to help you?

A grin split Magnum's face, "Well howdy CAG," and offered the officer his hand.

The two navel officers walked through the narrow corridors, stepping over the knee knockers and Magnum ducking his 6 foot four inch frame unconsciously, a lesson he'd learned a long time ago.

Dinner was a simple affair in preparation but lavish in taste. The cooks had out done themselves. Prime rib so tented that the knives on the side of the plate went unused. Fresh green beans accented with bacon bits and potatoes augratin on the side all topped off with fresh baked rolls still warm from the oven.

The men ate silently and had headed to the open aired conning tower. "Nice night for a smoke Thomas started as he handed CAG on of the cigars Higgins had left him. "Cag I was wondering if you might see clear to doing me a favor?"

"GAC's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Last I heard you were retiring, what the matter changed your mind?"

"No, but that's a few weeks off. I've run into something that I need to check out. Now I could call Coronado and have them fax me the intell. I was hoping you or the Captain would save me a few hours."

GAC thought on that for a minute, when he finally spoke his voice was stern, "Ok Magnum, I'll clear it with the Intel section, but nothing classified leaves the ship, or I send NCIS after your ass, is that understood?"

"Yes sir," inwardly Thomas was pleased. He's expected to have to wheedle the information out of one of the lower grade officers.

"Just so I know, what are you looking at?"

"Africa sir, particularly anything we have on the Mogo tribe."

GAC lifted the phone and rang the Intel section deep in the bowels of the ship. "Caminitti, this is the GAC, I'm sending Captain Magnum down to you, give him what he needs, but anything classified stays on the ship."

Robin's Nest

<It had taken me more that four hours to read what the Seahawk had on the Mogos and none of it was good. In 1989 the Seahawk has lost an F-14 in their territory and it had taken Washington six weeks to get the crew back and it taken a special treaty to get the job done, that's where my problems began.>

<To mount any kind of a rescue mission I would have needed at least two full teams, plus one of the converted MC-130's out of Florida. And there was no way I could pull that kind of juice, not now.>

<I had no idea what to do next, the phone calls and contacts that I had, left me with zilch.>

Magnum kicked back in the chair, crossing his ankles and resting them on the desk again, lost in thought. If Higgins's had been around, he would have asked the old man what to do, and once again the detective wished he could talk to him again.

A sound of barking Doberman's startled him; it caused Magnum to rear back in the chair, his legs flailing wildly. With a crash and a clatter and his flailing hands, he cleaned off Higgins's old desk, cards from the rolodex scattering to the winds. A loud thud was heard across the empty mansion as his head impacted with the floor and Magnum found himself staring up at the fluttering cards as the landed like snow around the room.

<I watched as a card seemed to hang in the air, almost caught by the island breezes. It fluttered above my chest, before landing like snowflake dead center on my ribcage. The card read simply 'GOT A PROBLEM? ODDS AGAINST YOU? CALL THE EQUALIZER!' When I flipped it over, there was a hand written note, simply stating 'Call me if you ever need me, I owe you, R.'. Laying there with my head resting on the carpet, I couldn't help but smile and wonder if perhaps Higgins had again given me the answer I needed, yet again.>

The ringing phone stirred the silence of the still apartment, waking its owner for a deep slumber. A noise that sounded like an angry badger was heard from the bed as the covers were thrown off and its occupant stalked his way toward the phone. Pausing only to get his glasses, the apartment's owner started at the phone's caller ID for a moment before picking up the receiver and yelling into it.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" demanded Robert McCall into the phone.

"Actually, no, no I don't," said the voice on the other line after a moment of hesitation. "I'm not even sure where or who I just called, actually."

"Who is this?" demanded McCall as he stared at the called id and picked up a small book laying next the phone. Leafing through the small book, he checked the area code section and frowned. "And why are you calling me from Hawaii?"

"My name is Thomas Magnum," said the caller. "I am a friend of Jonathan Higgins."



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