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After dinner, the usual John Wayne movie and a round of guerrilla basketball, Mark went to the gatehouse about midnight. He showered and attempted to make the house look as normal as possible while he waited for Hardcastle to get settled in for the night. Mark checked the clock for the hundredth time. It was 2:30 am. He knew if he was going to do this that he'd better get going. He sighed as he took one last look around the gatehouse. If this went badly, no amount of explaining would get him out of this. He left a note to tell Hardcase that he had an errand to run and would be back about in the afternoon. Dressed in all black, he picked up his black bag of 'tricks' and shut the door behind him. Once in the Coyote he put it in Neutral and let it drift as far down the drive as it would before starting the engine. So far this part of his plan had, he hoped, went as planned.

He parked about a half a block away from the back of the building and walked down the street as if he were out on a casual evening stroll even though he figured there were few who strolled this neighborhood in the evenings, especially dressed in black and carrying a bag of burglar tools. He stopped by the fence and took in the area for a moment. All was quiet. He slipped a blanket out of the bag, tossed it over his shoulder, checked his pocket of snacks for the dogs he knew would be in the lot, and began to climb the fence. At the top he tossed the non-descript wool blanket over the barbed wire, climbed over very quietly, but once his feet hit the ground he heard the distinct sound of doggie feet on pavement. He dug out the peanut butter sandwiches and bites of raw steak with his right hand and while holding them in the left hand he threw them with his right hand. One young eager pup was more interested in the gloved man than he was the steak. While Mark threw the last sandwich with his right hand the pup jumped for his throat. Mark instinctively threw up his left arm while kicking with his right foot. The next moment was a whirlwind of adrenaline, pain, anger, and the desire to be anywhere but where he was as the young pup sunk his teeth into McCormick's left hand. The kick and the throwing of the sandwich dislodged the pup but not before he'd hit pay dirt. Everything stopped as Mark uttered explicits while shacking his left hand madly. Then, reality set in and he continued toward the fire escape of the building. He was on the roof before he realized that he was bitten and bitten hard enough to have dripped blood from the bite site to here. He pulled the shirt sleeve down over his hand to stop the blood from dripping. He couldn't worry about how bad it was right now. He found a thick pipe to tie his rope to which was a little difficult with one hand hurting like hell and still bleeding enough to annoy him. After the rope was tied, he lifted the sky light, put on his repealing harness, and lowered himself into the interior of the building. Mark unhooked the rope and started carefully looking for room 312, where he pulled out his lock picks, picked the lock and found the file cabinets. Once in the right drawer it didn't take him long to find the file he was looking for, he shut the drawer, locked the office door, returned to the rope, where he found climbing back up with a wounded hand was more difficult than repealing down. When Mark reached the roof, he wound up the rope shut the sun roof, climbed down the fire escape and ran for the fence before the dogs had a clue, he was up the fence out of their reach. Leaving the blanket stuck in the barbed wire, Mark dropped to the sidewalk and casually walked back to the Coyote. He got in and drove off well under the limit. Mark pulled off several miles down the interstate at a rest area. He went in the deserted restroom, started the hot water flowing, soaped up his entire hand especially the two tooth marks in the back of his hand. The pup had sunk his teeth into the back of his hand at the webbing of the thumb and fore finger and at the side of the hand by his little finger. The pinching of the bite probably hurt worse than the punctures which were deep. After a good washing Mark wound paper towels around his hand hoping to stop the mild bleeding. It was 7 am and Mark drove toward the bondsman's office with his left hand held up in the window seal, hoping that elevating it would stop the bleeding.

By the time Mark made it to the bondsman's office the paper towel was more red than brown. He unwrapped it hoping that it had quit bleeding. Half way to the office he felt the blood running down his hand. He pulled his arm up into the sleeve of the jacket that it was much too warm for. Bondsmen are a special breed, they want the life's history of the person being bonded, but could careless who has the money to bond them. Mark waited tensely outside the Magistrate's office for Teddy.

Once in the car Teddy looked at Mark, who again had his hand wrapped and elevated. "Thanks, Man! What happened to your hand?"

Mark answered through gritted teeth as he held up the file, "This." He started the Coyote and drove to a deserted rest area.

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It was early morning when Frank Harper drove into Gull's Way, he noted the absence of the Coyote. He knew he would likely find Milt by the pool, usually joined by McCormick, but this morning, he didn't expect to see the ex-con. "Morning Milt."

"Frank." answered Hardcastle in the most normal tone, "Care to join me for breakfast?"

"No. I'm more interested in why McCormick isn't joining you." Frank replied.

Milt replied, easily, "He left a note, said he had an, 'errand to run' and would be back this afternoon.

Frank was obviously bothered about something, "Milt, we have been friends a long time. Are you all working on anything?" Frank asked.

"No. Nothing that would cause him to go 'to point'." Hardcastle replied.

"Milt, there was a 211 last night out on Fredrick. I read the report and one name keeps coming to me. Are you sure that you two aren't working something that Mark 'needed' a closer look at?" Frank asked, honestly. He expected an honest answer from his friend even if he wouldn't like the answer.

Hardcastle replied, "No, we've got a couple of cases coming up in court soon and we just helped you guys collar Anderson last week. He's been playing 'catch up' around here. I haven't even decided on which case would be our next one."

Harper began, "Well, there's someone who has his MO down to a tee, ... or the kid is free lancing."

Hardcastle glared at the detective and hoped to sound convincing, "You've got the wrong guy."

"Well, if I can recognize his MO from a written report, how long do you figure it will take the officers investigating the B & E?" Frank asked. "Milt the guy was good. The scene was clean. Three alarm systems and cameras on site, nothing was tripped, and all the cameras were avoided."

"Maybe someone cased the joint or was just lucky." Milt suggested.

Harper replied, "No one is that lucky. Besides, the kid has been in this building before."

"So, what was broken into?" Hardcastle asked.

"The warehouse that stores the Federal Aviation records. That you all spent a lot of time around last summer." Harper informed.

Hardcastle tried not to change his expression. He knew if McCormick had been on the prowl, for whatever reason, that it was a one way ticket with him being on parole. He really hoped Frank was wrong.

Frank tried to seem more relaxed with his next comment than he felt. He knew what it would do to his friend if the kid took a fall now and dammit he like the kid himself, "Milt, the only thing about the scene that wasn't clean was whoever came over the fence," he paused, knowing what this next information would do to his friend, "either was cut on the barbed wire or ran into the watch dogs. Below the blanket that was used to go over the barbed wire was a fair amount of blood splattered about." He paused again to reassure Milt, "Nothing life threatening, but still a fair amount of blood there and a trail leading to the fire escape ladder. It disappears there, likely that once on the roof the injury was wrapped." Harper stopped talking.

Milt nodded, looked downward, locked his jaw and waited for Harper to continue.

Frank said so quietly that he wasn't sure anyone else would have heard him, but it was apparent that Milt had heard him loud and clear by his expression, "Milt, when the kid comes home, ... if he's hurt, ... anywhere, ..." Frank tried not to choke as he said, "I'll expect you to call me. I'll have to question him. ... I'm sorry Milt. ... I hope I'm wrong." Harper said as he stood to leave.

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At the rest area, McCormick went to the rest room, washed his hand in hot soapy water again, dried it, and re-wrapped it in paper towels. He noticed the hand was not only sore from the pinching of the bite and the punctures of the teeth, but was also swelling. Mark hoped it was only from the force of the bite and that it was not getting infected. It had been four hours and still the punctures seeped blood every time he moved his hand. Any other time he would have had at least a roll of electrical tape in the Coyote to put pressure on the paper towels to stop the bleeding. But, as luck would have it, he had cleaned out the car when he washed it. He would have to settle with wrapping the hand in towels, making a fist and keeping it elevated. Hopefully it would stop bleeding soon. There was no reasonable way to explain a dog bite to Hardcase and no way to hide a bleeding wound.

Teddy was a bit frightened, "Skid, do you think we better get you to a hospital? That hand has been bleeding awhile."

"I'm fine Teddy. Besides, hospitals ask almost as many questions about a dog bite as they do a gunshot wound. It will quit bleeding in a bit. I've just got to keep it still." Mark said. He only hoped he was right.

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Alone in the den, Hardcastle weighed the odds that McCormick would free lance a case or go back to his old ways. The odds were in favor of him screwing up, yet, Hardcastle found it hard to believe of McCormick. They had worked together, side by side, for over a year. Yet, any of the others, Hardcase would have already told Frank to pick them up. Why was McCormick different? What would he do if McCormick did come in hurt? He'd be obligated to call Frank, after all he was an officer of the court.

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McCormick dropped Teddy off at his apartment, saying, "Just shout when you need the file. I think you'll be safer if I hold it."

Teddy asked, "What about you?"

"Me? They don't even know I exist, besides I've got the Judge." Mark replied.

"Thanks, Skid. I'll be in touch." Teddy replied, then added, "Take care of the hand."

Mark looked over at the tightly wrapped hand that he still held up in the window frame and said, "Yeah."

It was afternoon when McCormick pulled off the road and stopped at the entrance of Gull's Way. He unwrapped his hand which was swollen and still threatened to bleed with movement. He slid on a light weight jacket that it was far too warm to need, then continued up the driveway and parked in his usual spot.

Hardcastle was by the pool and heard the Coyote and headed toward the driveway.

McCormick had tucked the file under his jacket and slipped his wounded hand up into the jacket as he got out of the car. The effort of opening the car door had again caused the hand to bleed. Holding the dark colored jacket close to his hand he hurried toward the gatehouse as he heard the Judge call him.

"McCormick." Hardcastle called.

Just act like you're in a hurry. Be calm. Mark thought to himself. "Morning, Judge. I'll be right out." He kept walking, sure that Hardcase was following him. He opened the front door, headed directly to the bathroom, and closed the door. Now what? First things first. He opened the medicine cabinet took out the peroxide and doused his hand. He purposely moved the hand which was already bleeding pretty freely by now. He figured if it wouldn't quit bleeding then he may as well try to get it clean. After rinsing the hand several times, Mark dried his hand, applied some antibiotic cream. Knowing there was no way to hide this injury, he placed a bandage around the hand, then wrapped his hand from the bottom of the thumb to the bottom of his fingers. He hoped the tape would apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding as well as keep him from bending his hand which had proved to start the bleeding again.

"McCormick? Did you take up a new residence?" Hardcase called impatiently.

"No. I'll be right there." McCormick said annoyedly. He put up the first aid supplies. He then spotted the file that he had acquired. What was another couple of minutes? He opened the file looking for something, anything that might get him out of the mess he knew he'd be in as soon as he walked out the bathroom door. At first glance Mark saw nothing that made this file so important. It contained contracts of a company that designed and inspected the landing gear of airplanes. Further back it also contained the inspection logs on the many planes that used their landing gear. Someone wants this file bad enough to threaten Teddy into going after it. The reality of it all now hit McCormick like a ton of bricks. Teddy and I could both go back up for a long time over this file. There has to be something in here.

Hardcastle had been pacing around the living room waiting on McCormick to come out of the bathroom. The more he paced the more he worried. If McCormick was hurt, would he immediately pick up the phone and call Frank or would he give him a chance to explain. A chance to snow you? he thought. He knew he'd have to call Frank, but didn't he at least owe it to the kid, who had backed him all this time, a chance to explain? He was still debating with himself when McCormick opened the bathroom door.

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