Steve flinched when the wheels of the Porsche touched another curb, groaning in protests, as the small sports car whipped around the tight curve and nearly slammed into a parked vehicle.
Ignoring the pair of police cars slowly gaining on him, he kept his eyes trained on the brake lights of the maroon sports car in front of him, as it made its way across town. Missing his police radio for once, he was unable to explain what was going on, and unwilling to let whoever shot at him get away.
Chances were, he was never closer to the real killer than right now.
Thankfully, traffic had let up significantly, making his high-speed travel through the foggy side roads slightly less hazardous.
Fully aware that the current situation wasn't exactly shining the best of light onto him in an already charged case, Steve hoped that apprehending what would easily be one of San Francisco's most resourceful killers would shift some luck his way for a bit.
On the long straight-away, the powerful engines of the police cars in back gained back some of the distance he'd skillfully created throughout his erratic zigzag course, nearly touching his bumper, as he was busy avoiding any foot traffic and obstacles in his way.
Speeding down narrow Parker Street with his black and white friends in tow didn't leave much room for any other cars coming their way, and Steve bit his lip, hoping the road would remain clear.
Several hundred yards ahead, the sports car turned left once again, clearly heading for the bridge, his brake lights disappearing in a cloud of exhaust fumes as the driver gunned the engine.
Steve knew he had to stop him before he could reach the overpass, fully aware that the busy San Francisco traffic was a surefire recipe for disaster. By now he had hoped for roadblocks along 80 heading southwest, cutting the suspect off before he could flee once again, but the traffic patrol gods clearly weren't in his favor tonight.
Slamming on the brakes as he approached busy San Pablo Avenue, Steve glanced ahead, hoping that traffic was clear despite the red light and foggy conditions. As his tires screeched in protest, he turned the steering wheel to the left as hard as possible, causing the small Porsche to smoothly skid sideways across the intersection and into the southbound lanes.
He was just about to shift into gear once again and speed off, when the grill of one of the police cars touched his driver's side rear fender.
With his turn not completed, Steve felt the Porsche lose traction and spin counter-clockwise into oncoming traffic. The steering wheel was ripped out of his hand, as the small car continued its uncontrolled travel across the busy road, all tires screaming in protest.
The loud beeping of a truck horn signaled a near collision, and Steve flinched violently, desperately trying to regain control.
With yellow, red and blue lights coming from every direction and blinding him against the thick fog like a carousel lightshow, he kept his foot pressed hard against the brake pedal, bracing for an impact that never came.
Then suddenly, there was silence.
At last, the Porsche had come to a halt right underneath the traffic light, its engine purring smoothly, the console clicking at him where he'd accidentally hit the blinker during the wild skid across San Pablo.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Steve reached for the door handle and carefully stumbled out of the car, hoping to get some air and evaluate the situation. He barely had enough time to shake off the dizziness from his manic spin, when an officer approached him from behind, grabbed him by the collar of his dress jacket and shoved him against the cab of the Porsche.
"Come on. Get moving. Spread eagle…" the stern demand came as his legs were unceremoniously kicked apart and a hand reached for his left wrist, "Do you know how fast you were going, Sir?"
"I am an ex-cop. I am also carrying a concealed weapon. It's in a belt holster on my left hip.", Steve answered calmly, unwilling to let the tense situation escalate, while his mind was busy coming up with a fitting excuse for his actions.
Trained hands slapped on the handcuffs extra tight, before retrieving the .38 and running up and down his legs, searching for more.
Looking around, Steve noticed half a dozen cop cars gathered around his position, and several firearms trained at him. As the set of hands scanned his torso for any other hidden weapons, they came to rest at the teacher's ID he still had clipped to his dress jacket. Confused, the cop forced him to turn around, before reading off the plastic card.
"You're a Professor? And an Ex-Cop?"
Leaning in to detect if there was any alcohol on his breath, Steve used the opportunity to point his chin south.
"Somebody tried to shoot at me in the parking lot back at Berkeley campus. I tried to apprehend the suspect but lost them. Put out an APB for a maroon '73 Firebird, maybe '74. Damaged driver's side brake light. White hubcaps. It sounded like it might have a twin turbo installed."
Looking at him as if he'd just heard a joke, the middle-aged Sergeant smiled, before shaking his head.
"All I saw was you nearly hitting three vehicles, as you were flying down the road at three times the posted speed limit. If there's anybody else out there, I am sure the rest of the guys will find him. In the meantime, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and-"
"You had to have seen him.", Steve argued and took a step toward the officer, only to hear several firearms being readied.
The man's features darkened instantly and he shoved him back against the cab of the Porsche, causing the handcuffs to scratch the driver's side door. Steve could tell he was ready to say something, when another voice interrupted the confrontation.
"You can let go of him, Sergeant Ferris."
Blinking against the emergency lights in the distant fog, Steve saw a lone figure making his way through the maze of police cars.
"Is he one of yours, Lieutenant?"
Recognizing the dark overcoat and grey fedora heading his way now, Steve let his head roll back against the roof of the Porsche, the sheer relief nearly causing his legs to buckle.
"Yes…yes he is."
He truly had never been happier to see Mike.