Chapter Four: "Crispy Toes Bulloski"
The clock at Harvey's bedside ticked past the midnight hour ushering in the dreaded date with destiny, June the 12th.
"Crunch time" Harvey thought to himself, his stomach feeling sick.
Having finished making preparations in the bathroom and having relieved all his bodily functions for what would be the last time in a while, perhaps forever. Harvey unscrewed the light bulb from his bedroom ceiling and placed it in the bedside lamp he kept by the clock. It cast a very dim light.
It would have to do.
He then picked up the handcuffs from the bed and promptly cuffed himself to the large heavy four-poster that dominated the room. He smiled to himself; this was not quite the situation in which he had ever envisioned doing this. Making himself comfortable he settled down to wait for Kosov's thugs.
They eventually came at around seven am, just as Harvey was finally drifting off to sleep. The heavy pounding at the door sounded to him like a distant thunderstorm.
The lock gave way as Harvey's swimming head began to surface above conscious level.
"Come in its open!" He muttered.
Two thugs stood before him both shaven headed and dressed in black, one carrying what looked like a suitcase. Harvey thought he might have seen them around Kosov before.
"You are Harvey Bulloski?" The one without the suitcase barked in a thick Eastern European accent.
"Close enough," Harvey acknowledged trying not to look as scared as he felt.
"We are finding your car empty in Munch Rouw!"
Well that's strange cos I left it in Moench Row! Harvey wanted to say but instead it came out "Well that was where you told me to leave it!" with feigned outrage.
"Ja," the one with the suitcase acknowledged, "but it is being empty, there is no gun, no uniform, no badge!"
Now came the hardest part Bullock thought. "THERE'S NO WAY YOU LOUSY RUSKIE'S ARE GETTING MY GUN!" He shouted at the top of his lungs which earned him a swift sock on the jaw from suitcase. He heard draws being emptied, cupboards slammed and other general sounds of his furniture being rearranged but he doubted it had anything to do with décor.
There was a moment's silence.
"Alright you freagin baskervitch!" Harvey was still too stunned to know which one of them had said this, but they both sounded alike to him anyway.
"Soon you be telling us where every leetle thing is but first we be going for leetle drive!" It was then after attempting to pull Harvey out of bed that they noticed the handcuffs.
"Word of advice boys," Harvey grinned, "never date a cop, they pull all kinda stunts on you." If only that were true! He thought to himself.
The thugs were shouting at each other waving their arms in the air and probably cursing for all Harvey knew in their native tongue. They even tried to lift the bed between them a pretty heavy item in itself, but with Bullocks weight thrown in this would've been impossible for four Russian mooks let alone two. Besides one of them realised they would never get the four-poster out through the bedroom door. Harvey smiled to himself so far so good! Besides the image of the thugs actually succeeding in dragging him and the four-poster down three flights of stairs and out on the street only to realise they couldn't fit him in the car was too much! Harvey began to chuckle to himself.
"Oh you think you being a clever amerikanski baskervitch!" Suitcase rounded on him, "But we be seeing soon who is clever, and who is being very very hurt!"
Harvey suddenly found himself wondering what was in the suitcase. He had gambled on the fact that they would come under prepared with the intention of taking him away somewhere, probably the docks to make him talk, before.Harvey didn't want to think of what came next. The Department was rife with rumours on the amount of corpses at the bottom of Gotham harbour all decked out in concrete boots.
He dropped the suitcase with a hollow thud. It was empty. Of course! They brought it was to pack his uniform, badge, and gun in so as to appear inconspicuous.
Suitcase now with both hands free decided to use them in earnest. Harvey braced himself for the forthcoming pain.
PUNCH! A right hook! "WHERE?" SLAP! A left hand to left cheek stinger! "IS?" SLAP! This time right hand to right cheek! "THE" CRACK! A left uppercut! "UNIFORM?"
Anymore and Harvey knew he was going to black out, his head was buzzing with a thousand angry bees.
A distant voice enquired, "Where is the gun? Where is the badge?"
Another sharp slap but Harvey was too dazed to know or care which way it came or where it landed, his face was just one big stinging pain now.
SPLASH! Cold water all over his face the coolness instilling a seconds respite then the stinging, throbbing, pain back again! He knew he had blacked out, but for how long. One of them was holding his head up.
"Open your eyes Amerikanski!"
Harvey drowsily complied; suitcase was sitting on the bed in front of him with a cigarette lighter, naked flame exposed!
With a rush of fear Harvey thought he was about to have his eyes burnt out and pulled back!
Suitcase and the guy standing behind him began to laugh; suitcase relaxed his thumb on the strike and the flame died.
"My friend forgot to bring blowtorch!" He said by way of explanation.
Harvey had banked everything on this. Hoping they would prefer to carry this out at the docks. With the torch they could've cut the cuffs took him for a ride, and then game over.
"So," said the other one, "we improvise!"
Here it comes Harvey thought.
"This reminds me of children's rhyme!" Said suitcase standing up and walking to the foot of the bed. The flame was on again as suitcase grabbed Harvey's right foot. "Do you know it?" He asked coldly a cruel smile playing on his lips as Harvey struggled. But the other now had his leg around the knee.
Harvey felt the flame licking at his toes as suitcase began to recite, "This little piggy went to market." Harvey screamed drowning out the rest they threw his foot on the bed and waited patiently for him to stop.
"One last chance Bulloski!" Suitcase pronounced very slowly as if to a small child, "where is hiding your uniform, your badge, and your gun?"
Harvey glancing at his bedside clock realised that at nearly eight fifteen he had held out longer than he thought he could. What the hell? He thought to himself just a little longer wouldn't kill him; well at least he hoped it wouldn't.
"Go to hell Ivan!" Bullock sneered, and then for his neighbours benefit "I AIN'T GIVING YOU SQUAT!"
The burn was longer this time and so was Harvey's scream.
"Okay Okay!" Harvey said finally, "It's in a locker at the station!"
"The Police station?" Said suitcase, this was not what he wanted to hear.
Harvey shook his head, "Rail station, locker keys in my coat."
There was more talk in Russian whilst the other one frisked Harvey's coat, he found the locker key and suitcase turned back to Harvey.
"Okay Bulloski we go check locker! If we are not finding what it is that we be looking for, we be coming back, this time we bring tools we cut your bed to pieces, we take you for ride and then we cut you!"
They headed for the door and Harvey noted with satisfaction it was just shy of eight thirty. The security for the parade was meant to be in place by nine.
"Oh and one more thing!" Suitcase had paused by the door and now retraced his steps to the bed and grabbed Harvey by the collar, "My name is not Ivan!" Harvey yelped as he felt a knee squeeze his groin. "Amerikanski Swine," Suitcase spat on his face and left.
Harvey fell back on the bed breathing out a sigh of relief. He looked down at his right foot and laughed; in the dim light he could see there wasn't a mark on it. Thank god the bat had carried water gel! And thank god that Harvey was enough of a movie buff to recognise the stuff that stuntmen used to protect themselves from burns. It had worked a treat, he hadn't felt a thing! Although the same could not be said for his face.
Shame about the bruises, Harvey thought, but they too were necessary for authenticity.
"Mr Bullock!"
It was Nivens the landlord right on cue. "I must strongly object to the noise from this room at this unsociable." Nivens gasped and broke off as he saw both Bullocks face and the cuffs.
"Nivens" Bullock groaned with fake pain, "call the cops I need to speak to the Commissioner, it's a matter of life and death."
*****
The headline in the Sunday edition of the Gotham Globe read "Half Dead Cop Saves King."
*****
One Week Later.
After King Khanaquin draped the medal around Sergeant HarveyBullock's neck, Commissioner Loeb shook Harvey's hand and said, "Congratulations, Sergeant Bullock, you're a credit to us all. Tell me how do you like the sound of 'Lieutenant Bullock?"
Harvey smiled. "I don't know, Commish," he said, "is there a test?"
THE END
The clock at Harvey's bedside ticked past the midnight hour ushering in the dreaded date with destiny, June the 12th.
"Crunch time" Harvey thought to himself, his stomach feeling sick.
Having finished making preparations in the bathroom and having relieved all his bodily functions for what would be the last time in a while, perhaps forever. Harvey unscrewed the light bulb from his bedroom ceiling and placed it in the bedside lamp he kept by the clock. It cast a very dim light.
It would have to do.
He then picked up the handcuffs from the bed and promptly cuffed himself to the large heavy four-poster that dominated the room. He smiled to himself; this was not quite the situation in which he had ever envisioned doing this. Making himself comfortable he settled down to wait for Kosov's thugs.
They eventually came at around seven am, just as Harvey was finally drifting off to sleep. The heavy pounding at the door sounded to him like a distant thunderstorm.
The lock gave way as Harvey's swimming head began to surface above conscious level.
"Come in its open!" He muttered.
Two thugs stood before him both shaven headed and dressed in black, one carrying what looked like a suitcase. Harvey thought he might have seen them around Kosov before.
"You are Harvey Bulloski?" The one without the suitcase barked in a thick Eastern European accent.
"Close enough," Harvey acknowledged trying not to look as scared as he felt.
"We are finding your car empty in Munch Rouw!"
Well that's strange cos I left it in Moench Row! Harvey wanted to say but instead it came out "Well that was where you told me to leave it!" with feigned outrage.
"Ja," the one with the suitcase acknowledged, "but it is being empty, there is no gun, no uniform, no badge!"
Now came the hardest part Bullock thought. "THERE'S NO WAY YOU LOUSY RUSKIE'S ARE GETTING MY GUN!" He shouted at the top of his lungs which earned him a swift sock on the jaw from suitcase. He heard draws being emptied, cupboards slammed and other general sounds of his furniture being rearranged but he doubted it had anything to do with décor.
There was a moment's silence.
"Alright you freagin baskervitch!" Harvey was still too stunned to know which one of them had said this, but they both sounded alike to him anyway.
"Soon you be telling us where every leetle thing is but first we be going for leetle drive!" It was then after attempting to pull Harvey out of bed that they noticed the handcuffs.
"Word of advice boys," Harvey grinned, "never date a cop, they pull all kinda stunts on you." If only that were true! He thought to himself.
The thugs were shouting at each other waving their arms in the air and probably cursing for all Harvey knew in their native tongue. They even tried to lift the bed between them a pretty heavy item in itself, but with Bullocks weight thrown in this would've been impossible for four Russian mooks let alone two. Besides one of them realised they would never get the four-poster out through the bedroom door. Harvey smiled to himself so far so good! Besides the image of the thugs actually succeeding in dragging him and the four-poster down three flights of stairs and out on the street only to realise they couldn't fit him in the car was too much! Harvey began to chuckle to himself.
"Oh you think you being a clever amerikanski baskervitch!" Suitcase rounded on him, "But we be seeing soon who is clever, and who is being very very hurt!"
Harvey suddenly found himself wondering what was in the suitcase. He had gambled on the fact that they would come under prepared with the intention of taking him away somewhere, probably the docks to make him talk, before.Harvey didn't want to think of what came next. The Department was rife with rumours on the amount of corpses at the bottom of Gotham harbour all decked out in concrete boots.
He dropped the suitcase with a hollow thud. It was empty. Of course! They brought it was to pack his uniform, badge, and gun in so as to appear inconspicuous.
Suitcase now with both hands free decided to use them in earnest. Harvey braced himself for the forthcoming pain.
PUNCH! A right hook! "WHERE?" SLAP! A left hand to left cheek stinger! "IS?" SLAP! This time right hand to right cheek! "THE" CRACK! A left uppercut! "UNIFORM?"
Anymore and Harvey knew he was going to black out, his head was buzzing with a thousand angry bees.
A distant voice enquired, "Where is the gun? Where is the badge?"
Another sharp slap but Harvey was too dazed to know or care which way it came or where it landed, his face was just one big stinging pain now.
SPLASH! Cold water all over his face the coolness instilling a seconds respite then the stinging, throbbing, pain back again! He knew he had blacked out, but for how long. One of them was holding his head up.
"Open your eyes Amerikanski!"
Harvey drowsily complied; suitcase was sitting on the bed in front of him with a cigarette lighter, naked flame exposed!
With a rush of fear Harvey thought he was about to have his eyes burnt out and pulled back!
Suitcase and the guy standing behind him began to laugh; suitcase relaxed his thumb on the strike and the flame died.
"My friend forgot to bring blowtorch!" He said by way of explanation.
Harvey had banked everything on this. Hoping they would prefer to carry this out at the docks. With the torch they could've cut the cuffs took him for a ride, and then game over.
"So," said the other one, "we improvise!"
Here it comes Harvey thought.
"This reminds me of children's rhyme!" Said suitcase standing up and walking to the foot of the bed. The flame was on again as suitcase grabbed Harvey's right foot. "Do you know it?" He asked coldly a cruel smile playing on his lips as Harvey struggled. But the other now had his leg around the knee.
Harvey felt the flame licking at his toes as suitcase began to recite, "This little piggy went to market." Harvey screamed drowning out the rest they threw his foot on the bed and waited patiently for him to stop.
"One last chance Bulloski!" Suitcase pronounced very slowly as if to a small child, "where is hiding your uniform, your badge, and your gun?"
Harvey glancing at his bedside clock realised that at nearly eight fifteen he had held out longer than he thought he could. What the hell? He thought to himself just a little longer wouldn't kill him; well at least he hoped it wouldn't.
"Go to hell Ivan!" Bullock sneered, and then for his neighbours benefit "I AIN'T GIVING YOU SQUAT!"
The burn was longer this time and so was Harvey's scream.
"Okay Okay!" Harvey said finally, "It's in a locker at the station!"
"The Police station?" Said suitcase, this was not what he wanted to hear.
Harvey shook his head, "Rail station, locker keys in my coat."
There was more talk in Russian whilst the other one frisked Harvey's coat, he found the locker key and suitcase turned back to Harvey.
"Okay Bulloski we go check locker! If we are not finding what it is that we be looking for, we be coming back, this time we bring tools we cut your bed to pieces, we take you for ride and then we cut you!"
They headed for the door and Harvey noted with satisfaction it was just shy of eight thirty. The security for the parade was meant to be in place by nine.
"Oh and one more thing!" Suitcase had paused by the door and now retraced his steps to the bed and grabbed Harvey by the collar, "My name is not Ivan!" Harvey yelped as he felt a knee squeeze his groin. "Amerikanski Swine," Suitcase spat on his face and left.
Harvey fell back on the bed breathing out a sigh of relief. He looked down at his right foot and laughed; in the dim light he could see there wasn't a mark on it. Thank god the bat had carried water gel! And thank god that Harvey was enough of a movie buff to recognise the stuff that stuntmen used to protect themselves from burns. It had worked a treat, he hadn't felt a thing! Although the same could not be said for his face.
Shame about the bruises, Harvey thought, but they too were necessary for authenticity.
"Mr Bullock!"
It was Nivens the landlord right on cue. "I must strongly object to the noise from this room at this unsociable." Nivens gasped and broke off as he saw both Bullocks face and the cuffs.
"Nivens" Bullock groaned with fake pain, "call the cops I need to speak to the Commissioner, it's a matter of life and death."
*****
The headline in the Sunday edition of the Gotham Globe read "Half Dead Cop Saves King."
*****
One Week Later.
After King Khanaquin draped the medal around Sergeant HarveyBullock's neck, Commissioner Loeb shook Harvey's hand and said, "Congratulations, Sergeant Bullock, you're a credit to us all. Tell me how do you like the sound of 'Lieutenant Bullock?"
Harvey smiled. "I don't know, Commish," he said, "is there a test?"
THE END
