Summary: Kinchloe and Mike follow a lead; Dottie and Pete meet.

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Copyright: See Part 1

Hero's Welcome

by Syl Francis

Chapter 6

Kinchloe sat tensely in the passenger seat of the unmarked police cruiser, a silent witness to Mike's expert driving. He swallowed as Mike guided the cruiser through several darkened hairpin curves. He tried not to think about the sheer drop awaiting them on the other side of the flimsy guardrail.

When they came to a reasonably straight stretch of road, Mike took a moment to radio his precinct and inform them that he was heading toward Pier 82 to check out a lead. Glancing at Kinchloe, he spoke softly. "It's been too long, Kinch."

"Yeah…I know."

"I'm really sorry about Goldie. He was a great man and didn't deserve what happened to him."

"Yeah…he sure was." Kinchloe felt numb. Goldie's death had not quite sunk in, yet.

Mike chuckled abruptly. "Remember how we all used hang out at his gym after school? Me and my brothers, you and Buddy, a couple others? He let us all work out and learn the ropes. Never charged us a dime."

"Goldie was that kind of guy…real swell. But now—?

"But now he's dead," Mike said bluntly. "And I swear, I'm gonna find the bums that killed him."

A heavy mist was rolling in from the river as Mike maneuvered the cruiser onto the waterfront area. Passing Pier 75, he shut off the headlights and coasted in. He stopped at Pier 80.

"Okay, I walk from here," Mike said.

Nodding, Kinchloe was about to get out and follow him, when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Uh-uh, Kinch. Not this time. I need you to stay by the horn while I recon the area."

"Mike, they killed Goldie—"

"And they're possibly holding the Nilssons against their will. I don't intend on charging in guns blazing. If I see anything, I'm gonna signal you. I want you to call the dispatcher and tell him to send the cavalry PDQ. Think you can handle it?"

"Pretty damn quick, huh?" Kinchloe nodded reluctantly. "Yeah…I can handle it." He studied the radio setup and quickly figured out how to operate it. "Is there some kind of code I need to use?"

"Don't bother with that…'Car 18 needs assistance at Pier 82' should send the troops." Mike reached in and shook hands with Kinchloe. "Thanks, pal. I only hope things don't come to that."

Kinchloe nodded. He watched, his nerves jumpy, as Mike disappeared into the myriad shadows. He wondered how he'd be able to spot a signal from Mike if he couldn't even see him.

After what seemed an interminable wait, Kinch spotted a sudden match flare. The signal! He grabbed the push-to-talk hand microphone and called for help. "Car 18 needs assistance at Pier 82—over!"

A voice crackled over the receiver. "Unknown caller, repeat message."

"Repeat…Car 18 needs assistance at Pier 82!"

"Car 18, you are not following proper radio procedure. What is your location?"

Without transmitting, Kinchloe yelled, "Pier 82, you idiots!" Controlling his anger, he activated the hand mike and repeated the message, a few choice words ringing silently in his head. "I repeat--Car 18 is in trouble! We're located at Pier 82. Officer Sullivan has gone to investigate the warehouse located there."

Abruptly, an idea came to him, and before he could change his mind, he added, "I think I heard gunshots, and Officer Sullivan is out there alone. Now…are you going to send help or not?" That should get them off their butts, he thought smugly.

However, his momentary triumph was short-lived. As soon as Kinchloe released the push-to-talk button, he heard a squawking noise. A crackling, broken voice was finishing a sentence: "…Repeat location."

Kinchloe pounded his fist on the dashboard. He'd obviously talked over the other person's transmission. "Dammit!" Mike needed help, and it was his job to get it to him. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to remain calm and again transmitted the message for assistance. This time when he released the talk button, he was met by a short silence.

The next instant, the calm voice of the central dispatcher came over the air. "We copy, Car 18…shots fired at Pier 82. You require assistance. Stand by…radio units are on the way."

Kinchloe closed his eyes. "Finally…!"

Message delivered, Kinchloe clambered out of the car and sprinted in the direction that Mike had disappeared. Mike wouldn't have signaled for help if he hadn't seen something. That could mean he'd spotted the Nilssons or maybe even Buddy Freeman and the Baxters. As he ran, Kinchloe's common sense warred with his conscience.

What do you think you're doing, James Ivan Kinchloe? You completed your task. You got the message through to the police dispatcher just like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, but now, I gotta help my friends," he replied defiantly.

Oh, really? And just who do you think you are—Captain America?

"Last I checked…ol' Cap was a blond, blue-eyed white cat."

Okay, then…what about Captain Midnight?

"Never heard of him, but the name sounds like he's a pretty cool cat."

Face it…you're an idiot.

"That too." Ignoring common sense, Kinchloe headed toward possible danger. "Let's hope God is on the side of idiots."

"Wh-who are you?" Dottie didn't dare turn and face her assailant.

"Never you mind that, sister…Look, I ain't got nothing against you, but your boyfriend is responsible for my family's kidnapping and the murder of a good friend of mine."

"What do you mean?" Dottie's voice was a husky whisper.

"Don't try to con me, lady! You know exactly what I mean!"

Dottie nodded, her head bobbing up and down in quick, staccato movements. "What are…what are you going to do with me?" Somehow, she managed to get the words out.

"Let's not talk about that now," he said. "Come on…drive!"

"Where?"

"To wherever you told Kinch my cousin was being held."

Nodding, Dottie carefully backed the car and pulled it out the main gate. They drove wordlessly for several minutes, Dottie nervously keeping her eyes forward, too afraid to look at her attacker. At last, they came to a red light. As they waited for it to change, another car pulled up next to them. It was overflowing with young people, too many for the car to carry safely. Her unwanted passenger quickly jammed the gun against Dottie's side, effectively hiding it from prying eyes.

"Don't try anything stupid, lady…I'd hate to blow a hole through you."

Unable to get any words out, Dottie just nodded in acknowledgement.

A couple of the young men in the other car spotted her and began trying to get her attention. "Hey, gorgeous! My buddy and me are reporting for duty tomorrow morning! How about you making our last night as civilians a memorable one?"

"Yeah, babe! You'd be performing a real patriotic service for Uncle Sam! Whadaya say?" The light changed at that moment, and the other car roared off into the night, trailing the passengers' good-natured laughter.

Dottie breathed a sigh of relief. Straightening her shoulders to settle her nerves, she turned and faced him. This was the first time she had a real good look at him. She took in his less than threatening appearance, as well as his somewhat oversized middle. Realizing he wasn't exactly the monster she had imagined him to be, she felt a sudden rush of self-confidence.

"Listen, you…I've had just about all I'm going to take—"

"Hey…who's got the gun here? I'm warning you, lady—"

"Oh, you don't scare me," Dottie snapped. "At least, not anymore." She shook her finger at him. "I bet you're one of Kinch's friends. If so, I'm also willing to bet you're as straight an arrow as he is. You'd no more pull that trigger than he would."

"Oh, yeah?" He made a threatening move with the gun, pointing it in her general direction. "I wouldn't bet on it! Now drive!"

Dottie gave him an exasperated pout, but did as ordered. Angry, she floored the gas pedal. Tires spinning, they took off, accompanied by the smell of burning rubber. Not to be put off, she spoke. "Look, whoever you are…the least you can do is tell me your name. I mean, this is ridiculous. You can't call me 'lady' or 'sister' all night long. And I sure can't call you 'pudgy guy with a gun'."

"Pudgy guy--?" He gave her a hurt look and quickly glanced down at his considerable middle. "You think I'm pudgy?" He plucked at his shirt. "It's this shirt, isn't it? I told my wife it made me look fat." He paused. "You think it makes me look fat?"

"Are you going to stop pointing that thing at me?" she countered.

They glared at each other for a moment. Then with a shake of the head, he lowered the gun and placed it on his lap.

"Thank you." Her words were liberally sprinkled with a layer of frost. They drove on, neither saying a word.

"Pete." He said it softly.

"Excuse me?"

"My name's Pete. And, yeah, Kinch and me…we're good friends. I've known him for a long time."

"Well, Pete, it's nice to make your acquaintance...under the circumstances. I'm Dorothea—" She stopped. "No…not Dorothea—Dottie. And I'm also good friends with Kinch."

"Dottie, I'm sorry about the…you know." Pete indicated the gun. "When I saw poor Goldie lying there on the floor, bleeding…dying, only to find out my cousin Ernie and his wife were missing, I guess I went a little crazy."

"I understand how you feel, Pete," she said. "Look, do you still want me to take you to the warehouse? It could be dangerous."

"I have to do this, Dottie. Ernie and his wife are family. And Goldie…they just don't come any better." He shrugged. "Sometimes a man's gotta take a stand and do what's right." He paused, adding to himself, "Funny…that's almost exactly what Goldie said..."

A few minutes later, they turned into the warehouse district. "Pier 82 should be coming up," she said, pulling over. She turned off the ignition. "I think it'd be safer if we walked from here."

"We?" Pete protested. "Lady…there's no 'we.' I'm not letting you risk your neck for—" The sharp report of a single gunshot echoed along the line of warehouses. The two sat frozen momentarily. Before the sharp sound had died out, the two scrambled out the car and headed in the direction the shot came from.

Just like Hopalong Cassidy in a Saturday afternoon matinee, Dottie thought wryly. We should both have our heads examined.

Her sense of self-preservation suddenly took over after running headlong in the direction of danger, and Dottie pulled up short. A few seconds later, Pete stumbled up next to her, gulping for air, clutching his chest. Bending at the waist, he placed his hands on his knees. The waterfront was eerily quiet, the only sound that of his painful wheezing.

"Why…why are we stopping here?" Somehow, he got the words out.

"Because they've got guns over there, and if I know Theo and Ray, they won't hesitate to use them on us."

"I figured that already," Pete managed. "But I'm still goin'."

Dottie sighed in exasperation. "What is it about you men always ready to fly into the face of danger? First, Kinch and now you…honestly, soon there won't be any young men left in Detroit 'cause they'll either be fighting overseas and getting killed, or they'll stay and kill each other over something stupid."

However, Pete wasn't listening. With grim determination, he set off slowly, still out of breath and struggling for air. Dottie watched and shook her head.

"I guess I can't let you go on alone like that." She stomped her foot in a fit pique. "Men! I'm gonna wash my hands of every last one of you when this over."

End of Part 6