Mike rolls with the punch.
Chapter 7
Mike and Connie had been forced at gunpoint into a Lincoln Town Car.
This did not look good.
These middle aged hoodlums did not look like FBI agents.
Who were these guys, Connie thought as she and Mike were forced into the backseat of the car.
Inside the car was a driver. The tough ponytail man sat in the front passenger side, his gun still aimed at the two of them.
In the backseat sat a man who looked like a rough biker, the number two man. Mike sat in the middle while Connie sat at the other end of the backseat.
The two main goons did not identify themselves.
Ponytail man in front seemed to be the boss.
"What is it you want with us?" Mike demanded to know from the back seat.
"Shut up, you," commented Number two man, who was seated next to Mike.
"That's right. We don't need nothing from either of you," Boss Ponytail man said in an authoritarian voice, from the front seat.
He continued pointing a gun at the two of them.
"If there isn't anything you need from us, then let us go." said Mike.
"We don't want anything from you, but you need to listen to this warning," continued Ponytail man, "Don't try and find Jack McCoy."
His voice was low and threatening.
So someone else did not want Mike and Connie involved in the case.
"Why?" asked Mike, "What is it to you two?"
"Shut up, I already told you that!" threatened the Number two man.
The thugs' responses were strange, thought Mike. No violence. Just veiled threats. Also, the car remained stationary. These men weren't driving Mike and Connie anywhere. Strange.
Somehow, Mike felt the act was all bluster with no action. Maybe the two thugs' job was just to scare them. At least he hoped so.
Mike leaned over to Connie, whispering the key word, "Over-talk."
"That's not a warning," said Mike to the two men, hoping Connie followed his lead, "Warnings should be followed by an 'or else.' Where's the follow-through?"
"Yes! You don't scare us! Where's Jack!" Connie burst in, "Where are you hiding him?"
"Dammit, now the broad wants to pipe in, too!" Number two man leaned over to get a good look at her, "if you know what's good for you, you'd shut up, too."
"I will not!" said Connie, sounding indignant, "I have a right to speak my opinion!"
"Leave her out of it... In fact, let her go!" Mike interrupted, "I'll stay and tell you what we know. You don't need her."
"I'm staying," Connie interjecting, their sentences almost overlapping, "They don't scare me."
Connie sure was getting the point of "over-talk" Mike thought.
"Don't listen to her, just let her go!" insisted Mike, "She—"
"I need to stay here until I know what's happened to Jack!" interrupted Connie.
"Your safety is important to me," Mike said in a louder voice over Connie's.
"Don't tell me what to—" Connie raised her voice slightly over Mike's.
"I can't believe you would say —" began Mike again.
"You should believe it, because ever since—" interrupted Connie, even louder.
"Why must you always interrupt—" Mike really raised his voice.
"I'm interrupting? Look at —"Connie barged in.
Throughout Mike and Connie's interaction, Ponytail man sat in the front seat, watching the two lawyers bickering as though it was a tennis match.
However, Number two man in the back seat was losing patience.
"Jesus Christ!" Number two man finally yelled to Ponytail man," I'm getting an effing headache! … Bulldog, let me shut them up!"
"I already told you before, let them be!" Ponytail man insisted, from the front seat, his gun still aimed at Mike and Connie.
But somehow it didn't look so threatening any longer.
"Yeah, listen to your boss!" Mike taunted Number two man.
"I agree, and if you hate noise so much, then don't force people into cars!" Connie replied impatiently.
Number two man had it with these two.
His fuse blew faster than anticipated.
He'll teach them a lesson.
Number two man had a bad thought that sounded good to him.
Maybe punching the lawyer guy would shut both of them up, he figured.
"I'll show you who's boss!" Number two man exclaimed, as he rolled his hand into a fist.
But Mike was ready.
Mike was good at anticipating a person's move.
This talent of anticipation worked not only in the courtroom, but in life as well.
Like now.
Number two man prepared to strike.
The thug had turned to hit Mike low with a closed fist, but Mike had already prepared himself to be hit in the stomach. First he silently breathed out, which would take most of the air out of his abdomen. Then he clenched his stomach muscles, shifted, and bent more at the waist, thus taking away most of the effectiveness of the blow.
The punch was delivered, low as expected.
But it actually did not hurt Mike.
Much.
A quick observation at the front seat seconds before the punch also told Mike that Boss Ponytail man was getting nervous.
It was now clear to Mike that Ponytail man probably had not plan on using any physical force on Connie and him.
Mike decided to put on an Oscar worthy performance.
A split second after being hit, he bent over.
"Uuuuugggghhhhh"
"Oh God, Mike!" Connie's face was one of horror as she watched him doubled over in "pain". She bent down to the same level as him.
Before letting out another round of agony, he managed to whisper to Connie as she bent low to check on him, "Fake."
It would only take seconds for Connie to react, he knew. It's nice when your working partner is brilliant at figuring out different situations.
Mike stayed bent and pretended a loss of breath. He wheezed and then started coughing uncontrollably.
"Dammit!" said Ponytail man, yelling at Number two man, "didn't I say not to hurt either one of them?"
"Ahhh, Bulldog," reasoned Number two man, "I just knocked the wind out of him that's all."
"His medicine!" Connie feigned panic, "He needs his medicine!"
"What? He some kind of pansy or something?" Number two man asked.
"He's choking! Can't you see that?" Connie yelled loudly over Mike's retching, "He needs his heart medicine!"
Mike stuck his tongue out and gagged. Followed by more coughing.
"He's gagging! He needs medicine! Let me go to my car! The medicine is just inside my car!" Connie was screaming hysterically now.
She's good at this, Mike thought as he did some heavy wheezing.
The inside of the car was a bedlam of annoying sounds, from convincing hacking noises to loud reprimands from the two prosecutors.
Ponytail man looked stupefied. Mike knew the guy was feeling overwhelmed.
The situation was out of control.
"Do something! He'll die right in this car!" Connie shrieked.
Mike grabbed his throat and heaved breathlessly, "A-air! A-a-air!"
"Oh no! Mike!" Connie held on to his arm, turned and in a vicious tone lashed out to the bullying men in the car.
"I just hope he doesn't start spitting out blood like the last time!" she said pointedly.
"Blood? Blood? Awww…Sh-it!" Ponytail man got out of the car and hastily opened the backseat door.
"Get the hell out!" said Ponytail man disgustedly, as he gestured for the two to make a quick exit. He angrily scowled at Mike and Connie.
"..bunch of pansies!" yelled out Number two man.
Connie rolled out first and helped a stumbling, choking Mike out of the car.
Mike had his arm around her shoulder. As Connie dragged Mike back to their car, she heard the last of Ponytail's menacing voice imposed over the choking noises, as the car screeched out of the parking space.
"This time it's a warning. Next time, some real hurt will take place," the voice warned through an open window.
Bent over, Mike watched the car until it disappeared from sight. Then he stood up, as if nothing had happened. He now knew those men were just supposed to scare them so they wouldn't try and find Jack.
But why?
Another puzzle to solve. So now, Mike and Connie had the FBI and some thugs after them.
But he was just grateful to get out of that situation, thanks in part to Connie.
"Smart thinking about the medicine in the car." he said to her. "Also, with the comment about spitting up blood. With their simple thinking, they probably would not want to mess up their car seats."
"Thanks, but Mike, are you sure you're alright?" Connie looked concerned.
He smiled to himself, taking pleasure that Connie cared so much.
He liked all this attention.
He liked Connie worrying about him.
Just like the other time when he had been shot.
He liked being pampered.
Especially if the one doing the pampering was Connie.
He slightly bent over again.
"Ooooh, it is a little painful," he faked and held on to his abdomen.
"Oh my…don't' worry Mike," said Connie, looking concerned and taking hold of him once more, "I'll take good care of you."
Truly an Oscar-winning performance, he thought to himself.
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