"Son of a Bitch," Brian Jones screamed as he dropped his gun and clamped his right hand over his upper arm. Steve's left-handed shot had somehow managed to clip the ex-Interpol agent. He removed his hand as blood soaked his sleeve and pulled off his tie. He wrapped it several times and knotted it tight with one hand and his teeth.
That was it for first aid. Picking up his gun, he walked towards Peter Garrod, who was face down in a puddle of blood and brain matter. One problem solved, but there was no sign of Keller. Wondering if he had finally disposed of the resilient inspector, he peered over the cliff, just catching site of Steve's shoes ten feet down. Jones wondered if he was even alive.
He turned his head left, then right, looking for a way down to check. As he looked back over the ledge, a slight movement caught his eye. Damn, he thought, that guy must be part cat. He seemed to have just as many lives.
Jones jogged off to his left, where it appeared a foot path would give him access to the lower terrace.
00000
Steve dropped in a heap, seeing stars when he felt something snap in his arm near his shoulder. He assumed his right-handed instinct had overridden his attempt to protect his damaged shoulder. The trade-off had broken his fall, preventing a long, long tumble into the bay. For sure, he had done significantly more damage this time around. He shook his head, trying to focus.
The stitches in his left arm had not survived an apparent impact with an outcropping of rocks several feet above his head. Blood flowed freely from the wound, ruining another shirt. His trousers were also a lost cause, filthy and torn. If this crap keeps up, I won't have any work clothes left by the end of the week. I'm gonna need a raise just to replace my wardrobe. He hurt all over as he sat up.
Steve looked around his landing pad. Curiously, the ledge had looked a lot bigger from ten feet up. Maybe facing his own loaded weapon had messed with his sense of perception. It didn't really matter. It was safer than where he had just been.
From his vantage point, he didn't see any viable way to get back to the upper level. That didn't mean there wasn't a way up. From what he recalled; the cliff was riddled with narrow goat-worthy footpaths. He just had no desire to find one. Astonishingly, his back-up pistol had landed on the ledge, 2 feet from where he now sat. It took all his resolve to shift forward and retrieve the weapon. He grabbed it and scooted backwards, laying it in his lap. Steve wondered vaguely if his left-handed shot had made any difference.
He had no idea what was happening above him, and he didn't really care. Blood spray covered the right shoulder of his shirt and after checking to make sure it wasn't his, he assumed Jones' bullet had hit its mark. Whether Peter Garrod was alive or dead didn't really matter to him at this point. He posed no threat to Steve, only to himself.
The question of Jones' survival was a more troubling concern, but for some reason he couldn't make himself care. He almost felt giddy. The term concussion slid through his thinking like water in a sieve. He ran his left hand through his hair until he hit a moist, tender spot behind his left ear. His hand came down bloody. Great, just great, he thought.
Steve leaned back against the cliff face and breathed in the salt air from the bay, with no intention of moving anytime soon, if ever. It was what Mike called a Chamber of Commerce day, the kind when they took pictures for postcards. Peter Garrod had been right about one thing, the view from here was spectacular. Steve wondered if the powers that be in Marin County would ever take advantage of the view this spot afforded, maybe making it a park or a tourist overlook. He closed his eyes, thinking a nap might be the best idea ever conceived by human beings.
00000
Norm grabbed the keys from Mike when they hit the parking lot, "I'll drive, you don't look so good boss."
Mike didn't argue. He was too angry and distracted by fear. If he managed to find his partner still breathing, he wasn't sure what his reaction would be.
As they approached the bridge, traffic came to a standstill. Mike reached down and pulled the magnetic strobe from under the seat and slapped it on the roof. Norm hit the siren. They swung onto the shoulder and limped forward until a Highway Patrol vehicle blocked their path.
An officer strolled forward towards the Galaxie and rapped on the passenger window. Mike rolled it down.
"What's up guys?"
Mike looked at his name tag, "Kelso, we gotta get across the bridge. We have an office in trouble at the Battery.
"Young guy? Beard, drives a Porsche?"
Mike nearly jumped out his seat. "That's him."
"Yeah we left him up at the parking lot. He was just checking out the car of a jumper. He found a note."
"And you left him up there alone?" Mike was incredulous.
"It was a no brainer. We got the call on this mess and had to roll." He paused, "Head on, three fatalities on the Marin side. Bridge is gonna be tied up for a while."
Mike put his hand on the door handle. "Easy, Mike." Norm said as Mike opened the door and exited the car.
He flipped open his wallet with his ID, took a deep breath and stood to his full height. "Officer Kelso, this is what's going to happen. You are going to go over and tell your partner to get on the radio. Call whoever you need to and tell them that Lt. Stone needs to get across this bridge, now."
"I don't think I can do that sir, the bridge is closed."
Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. Norm shook his head in car. Mike didn't often throw around his weight, but when he did, Steve was usually involved and it wasn't pretty. Norm almost felt sorry for the young officer.
Mike slipped his badge back into his pocket. "OK. Let's try this again. How long have you and your partner over there worked for the highway patrol?"
"8 years in June for me, 10 for my partner."
"Do you both like your jobs?"
"Yes..." the officer stuttered, realizing that he was over-matched.
"I very pleased. We need officers that are happy in their work."
Kelso didn't reply.
"How long do you think you two will keep your jobs if my partner gets hurt or dies, because you bailed on him?"
"Um..."
"Listen, I want you guys to keep your badges. I'm sure you both want you to keep your badges. Get me across the damn bridge and your mistake will disappear like the marine layer under the August sun. You got me?"
The officer nodded and jogged over to his vehicle. Mike got back into the car. "Did you have to eviscerate him right on the street?" Norm asked.
Mike glared in response.
After a minute, the Highway Patrol cruiser inched forward and made room for the Galaxie to sneak by on the right. An arm stretched out the window and waved them through.
Norm was still snickering when Mike barked, "Drive."
00000
Jones picked his way down the treacherous path. It was narrow, uneven and covered with loose sand, pebbles and rocks. With one arm limited, his balance was compromised. He took his time. After a 10-foot drop, he was pretty sure Keller wasn't going anywhere soon, but he had to be sure.
Slipping on some loose pebbles, he just caught himself on a small sage scrub brush before plummeting over the edge. Jones stood up and put his back to the cliff face. Heaving in relieved breaths, he considered heading back up and leaving the inspector's fate to chance. He discounted the idea; leaving witnesses before they were neutralized hadn't served him well in the past few days.
After several minutes he regained his resolve and continued down the path. He skidded again on the loose gravel, but after he righted himself, he thought he heard a rustling sound over the background drone of wind and sea. Jones drew his gun.
00000
Steve was rouses by a waterfall of gravel sliding onto his perch. It took him a moment to remember where he was and why he felt so terrible. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but it did no good. The sun had started to slip down in the sky, coloring the cliffs in a rose-gold glow and casting deep indigo shadows onto the ledge. The wind was increasing in intensity
He thought he heard another tinkle of shifting pebbles. Shivering, he wasn't sure if it was from the coming darkness, intuition, fear or all three. He picked up his gun. He imagines the sound of a siren wailing in the distance.
00000
Norm skidded to a stop next to Steve's Porsche. Mike fears were confirmed when, along with Peter Garrod's Mercedes, he saw a black Lincoln in the lot. It was the same car the Interpol Agent had driven when attempting to tail their movements. A highway patrol vehicle sped into the lot.
Mike jumped out of the car. He turned back to Norm. "Patch into Sekulovich. Tell him to call Talbot. Garrod and Jones are here."
Norm picked up the microphone and gave a thumbs-up. "I'll be right behind you. Go!"
Mike jogged over to the black and white. "We've got two suspects and my partner up there somewhere. You two take the bunkers." Mike saw Norm get out of the car, "...and get some more backup to cover the lot."
Just as Mike caught up to Norm two shots rang out. "I'm sure he's ok!" Norm called as they picked up their pace.
00000
Jones pressed into the cliff face and cautiously stepped over a narrow void in the path. As he peered around the bend, his head was thrust into shadow, momentary robbing him of site. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Steve propped up against the back wall of the ledge with his eyes closed. He raised his gun thinking, what do I have to do to get rid of this guy? He slipped around the corner walking towards the inspector to check for a pulse. Dead or alive, Keller was about to take a dip in the frigid waters of San Francisco Bay.
00000
Steve felt, rather than saw, the Interpol Agent. His only chance was to let Jones get as close as possible, maximizing the accuracy of his left-handed shot. If he didn't drop Jones with his first crack, he'd be dead. When he could wait no longer, Steve opened his eyes, raised his gun and fired.
Steve watched as the shots slammed into Brian Jones, shoving him backwards. He tensed, expecting return fire, but it never came. His last vision of the Interpol Agent was a shocked expression as he lost his footing and disappeared from site. Steve reclosed his eyes.
00000
Mike slowed up when he got to the fence bordering the cliffs. Norm was panting when he caught up. They looked beyond the barrier, but saw no one. Mike put a finger to his lips and motioned Norm forward.
As they approached the edge, they saw the prone figure of Peter Garrod. Even thought he was clearly gone, Norm checked for a pulse an shook his head. The only sound was the wind sweeping up the cliffs. There was no sign of Steve or Jones.
"What now?" Norm asked in a whisper, as if cowed by the quiet.
Mike felt his breath catch in his chest. "I don't know." He stood up and walked to the edge of the precipice, scanning the Chiaroscuro pattern of light and dark below. He saw nothing and hung his head, convinced he had lost his best friend. Norm stayed back, giving Mike a moment.
Mike stared out at the Golden Gate Bridge. Even the sight, bathed in saffron splendor, could not ease the weight he felt pressing on his chest. Unable to turn off the cop in his brain, he knew the bodies wouldn't turn up for a couple of days. He turned, sending a shower of pebbles over the edge. "Let's get out of here."
00000
Gravel rained down on Steve's head, rousing him from his momentary repose. Damn it, he thought as he shouted in a croaking voice, "For Pete's sake, would you cut that out?"
Mike pulled up short and spun on his heels. Norm turned back around, "What's up?"
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Mike walked back to the edge and kicked more gravel into space. Norm was pretty sure his boss had lost his mind.
Mike heard the voice again, stronger this time.
"I SAID, WOULD YOU CUT THAT OUT?" "PLEASE."
"STEVE?"
"MIKE?"
It was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever heard. "Hold on, we need to figure a way down to you."
"I'm not going anywhere." Steve replied.
"Norm, go back down to the car and call an ambulance."
Norm grinned and jogged off. Mike was pretty sure he heard the word "unbelievable" drift from Haseejian's lips as he jogged towards the fence.
Mike picked his way down the cliff trail, finally spotting Steve on the ledge, camouflaged by deep shadows, ten feet below. His initial joy was replaced by concern when he finally got a look at the wayward Inspector.
"You're a mess."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Do I want to know how you got down here?"
"Probably not. Can we not talk about it and just get out of here?"
"Where's Jones?"
"Depending on which way the tide is rolling, probably half way to Alcatraz by now. What about our Nazi and son?"
"Dead."
"So, it's really over?"
"Looks like it. You think you can walk out of here?"
"With your help, I can do just about anything."
Mike smiled and held out his hand. Steve grimace as his partner helped him to his feet. It was going to be a long, painful trip. They had only taken a few steps when Mike stopped their progress.
"What's the matter?" Steve asked.
"I only have one question."
Steve knew there would be lots of question later, but he was intrigued, "Only one?"
"Yeah. How did you drive that damned car of yours with only one hand?"
Even though it hurt like hell, Steve laughed.
Epilogue
Steve stood in a nook next to a small table bearing hors d'oeuvres and sipping a glass of red wine. Mike was on the other side of the room drinking a beer, chatting with Larry Talbot. Mike turned and lifted his glass, Steve returned the gesture and smiled. It was the first drink he'd had in quite some time. Although he was in a sling and still riding a desk, he was well on his way back to full health. It has been a difficult journey.
Valerie walked over, playfully clinked her glass with his and smiled. She was one of the few positive notes of his prolonged recovery. He didn't know where their relationship was heading, but for right now, life was good.
"This is very nice," Steve said, returning the smile.
"Why thank you, sir. I'll bet you've never been to an art opening before."
"You'd lose that one. I've been to a few, but not here. His mind traveled back to several memorable evenings at the Charles Campbell Gallery in North Beach. * "When are the Steiner's arriving?"
"Soon, I hope. I'd like to get the ball rolling. So how come you are lurking back here? I'm sure some of our friends from the fourth estate will want to talk to you. You and Mike are a big part of this story."
"That's exactly why I'm hiding. I'd like to put this whole thing behind me."
"I understand, I guess." Valerie said. Steve had shared most of the tale of the Klimt's recovery with her over the past several weeks. "But it is such a compelling story."
Steve was about to respond when the guests of honor entered the room. Jakob Steiner was in his black serge suit and Sarah looked older, but lovely in an emerald green dress. He took note of the stunning diamond pendant around her neck. Jakob Steiner was truly an artist. She smiled and waved when she saw Steve. He set down his glass and waved back.
"I guess that is my cue." Valerie walked over to the Steiner's and led beyond the velvet ropes that blocked a small gallery.
Mike walked over and stood by his side. "Did you see the necklace?"
"Yep, I bet she's the only 16-year old in San Francisco with a rock worth 100 grand."
"It suits her."
Valerie cleared her throat and pulled back the velvet cord. "If everyone would join us please..."
Mike and Steve held back. They knew what was in the gallery beyond; Peter Garrod's attempt at redemption. Larry Talbot leaned out of the gallery and beckoned them with a curled index finger. Mike shrugged and walked forward. Steve picked up his glass and followed.
Sarah Steiner was at the podium. She looked nervous and self-possessed at the same time. To her left was a poster size blow up of the photograph included in Garrod's suicide note; the photo that had been stolen from Miriam Steiner's family album. It was a black and white of a handsome mother and child in an elegant drawing room, taken in the early part of the twentieth century. Clearly displayed in the background was a painting. Steve knew that behind the drape to Sarah's right was the very same painting.
She began to speak "Many years ago, in a very dark time, my family was forced to flee their home to escape a great evil. Many things were lost, but more importantly many lives were lost. Before I continue, I would like to take a moment of silence to remember the millions who perished."
"Thank you. My mother, Miriam Steiner, was a vivacious woman, almost a force of nature. She was a brilliant scholar, a loving daughter and a caring mother. She will be missed, always." Sarah began to get a little teary, but continued, "She was also haunted by things lost, actually one thing in particular. She called it mein schatz, my treasure. It is what ultimately caused her death."
"Thanks to the efforts of the Department of Justice and The San Francisco Police Department, the men responsible for my mother's death have been brought to justice and my mother's treasure has been returned. Thank you, Lieutenant Stone, Inspector Keller and Marshal Talbot."
She held up her hand in their direction and waited for the polite applause to die down.
"In memory of my mother, the Steiner family would like to donate her treasure to the people of San Francisco." With Valerie's help, Sarah released the curtain to expose Klimt's "Portrait of a Woman."
Sarah stepped down and Dr. Brookham took the podium and began to speak. Steve tuned out and was startled when Sarah touched his arm.
The second speech had ended and people were milling about. He looked up at her and smiled. "You were great! I don't think I could have given a speech like that when I was in high school."
She shrugged and blushed. "I just wanted to come over and thank you again. Opa is very happy."
"You are very welcome. One thing I don't get." Steve began, "Your mother spent all that time looking for this, even died for it and you just gave it away. How could you do it?"
Sarah was silent for a moment. "It's hard to explain."
Jakob Steiner walked over and beamed at his granddaughter. "Inspector."
"Mister Steiner."
"She was wonderful, yes?"
"I was just complimenting, her." Sarah blushed again.
"And the necklace, as my partner says, it suits her."
"Ah yes, a treasure for my treasure."
"Opa, Steve was just asking why we gave the painting away. I think maybe you could do a better job explaining."
Valerie was trying to get Sarah's attention and finally came over and politely "borrowed" the young woman.
Jakob looked at Steve. "The easy explanation is that, because of what it cost our family, it was just too painful to have around. But I don't think that's it, really. I loved my daughter, but as you know, she was obsessed with getting it back. It was not a good thing. I don't think she ever understood how unimportant things are in life. It's not about things, It's about people, Inspector, the people we love. He turned and looked at Sarah again, they are our greatest schatz."
Jacob walked away. Steve searched the room with his eyes, caught Mike's attention and smiled.
*The Fine Art of Death, FF 2016
Author's note: Another one in the books. A special thank you to everyone who reviewed along the way. Feedback is like catnip to this amateur author. To all who read, and hopefully enjoyed, the journey: till we meet again on the "Streets of San Francisco" adieu.