Traffic was very light, the rain now no more than a heavy mist as Mike drove south toward Hunter's Point. He was trying to figure out what Steve meant when he said that he had stumbled on something that could blow the lid off the department. There weren't any cases, in Homicide at least, that had political implications that he knew about so maybe it had something to do with the growing drumbeats for a strike amongst an unsatisfied faction of the department. Whatever it was, it obviously needed his immediate attention.
It had been awhile since he had been to Hunter's Point, and the blocks of abandoned buildings were startling. He knew the current economic downturn had been fatal to a lot of local businesses, especially those connected to the port and the facilities that supported it.
His high beams pierced the gloom as he turned onto Spear, his keen eyes searching for the LTD he sometimes considered a second home. The lights from his personal car illuminated the large familiar red taillights of the Ford sedan a couple of blocks up and he slowed, turning off the brights as he slid into the small parking lot in front of a large, two-storey concrete block building that could have been a garage, he thought with a facial shrug. He parked behind the LTD, turned off the engine and the lights and got out, leaving the topcoat on the front seat.
His eyes shot wide in surprise when he spotted the small red car parked in front of the tan sedan. And he remembered Steve mentioning that Linda had bought a replacement car, a small second-hand Toyota. Was this hers?
He stood in the open door of his own car for a few seconds, trying to locate his partner. Steve had said he would meet him, so where was he? And was it actually Linda with him or someone else? Steve had mentioned an informant. Mike took a step back from the door and closed it quietly, a knot of worry beginning to form in his stomach. He flipped the right panel of his jacket back and touched his gun like it was a talisman.
He circled the car, opened the passenger side door and leaned in, opening the glove box. It took only a few seconds till his fingers wrapped around the plastic flashlight and he pulled it out, then closed the door. He thumbed the flashlight on, recoiling slightly in surprise when the beam of light it threw was weak and yellow. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he slammed the head of the flashlight against the heel of his other hand, hoping to jar some life into what he knew were very old batteries. It didn't work.
Wanting to preserve what little power it had, he turned the flashlight off and stuck it in his jacket pocket. Still looking around, he moved to the driver's door of the LTD and tried the handle. It was locked. He leaned towards the window and looked in; everything seemed normal. Straightening up, he looked around again, his frown and fear deepening. Where was his partner?
Resisting the urge to call out, Mike crossed quietly to the only entrance he could see, a sticker-filled glass door. He was surprised when it opened easily, wincing in annoyance at the squeak from the rusty hinges. He stepped over the metal threshold into the very black garage; he couldn't see a thing. Assuming that the lightswitch panel would be to his left, he felt carefully along the wall and found it. With anticipation, he snapped a couple of the switches up but nothing happened; no doubt the electricity had been disconnected when the business shut down, he thought.
He reached into his jacket pocket and took the flashlight out, silently growling to himself again when he turned on the pathetically weak beam. It was enough to illuminate the floor for about five feet in front of him but nothing else. And he had no idea how long it would last.
Slipping the .38 out of the holster on his right hip, he started towards the centre of the large room. And though he tried to walk softly, every sound was amplified in the cavernous space.
Where was Steve? Was it Linda that was with him? With each step he was getting more and more worried. Had his partner been jumped? Was he lying somewhere in this dark, sinister structure, badly injured… or worse…? Had they both walked into a set-up? And was he now walking into one himself?
# # # # #
Steve was back in the chair in the office, but this time she had stuffed his hanky in his mouth before securing it with a strip of tape, and with the somewhat flippant warning that he'd better keep his emotions in check or he could suffocate.
She had then walked to the door of the office, snapping off the overhead lights before she turned back, staring at him with an enigmatic smile. "This office is pretty soundproof but not a hundred percent. So if you're thinking of making some kind of noise to let Mike know where you are, just remember that I'll be standing very, very close to Linda, and I have this…" She reached out and calmly picked something off the windowsill beside the doorframe and held it up so he could see it. It was a knife, a six-inch hunting knife, and its blade was covered in blood that had already started to dry; Linda's blood.
Behind the tape, he caught his breath and uncontrolled tears stung his eyes.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she admonished, shaking her head. "Remember what I told you about allowing those emotions to get the better of you…" Smiling, she stepped down to the garage floor, closing the office door behind her, then walked towards Linda, where he paused. She leaned over and stared into the young woman's downturned face, looked back at Steve and smiled, giving him a ghoulish thumbs up before disappearing into the darkness.
She was right, Steve realized; with the door closed the office was very quiet, almost creepily so. He stared at Linda, who he hadn't seen move since they had returned, through the glass in the door, no longer sure she was still alive, despite Nicole's suspect reassurance.
He squeezed his eyes closed, trying not to cry, suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that he was responsible for Linda being here, he was responsible if she died. He felt his throat tighten, and he knew Nicole was right; he really couldn't let his emotions engulf him or he literally could suffocate.
He managed to slow his breathing and, when he felt in control again, raised his head and opened his eyes. Everything was black. She had turned out the one large ceiling lamp that had bathed Linda in a bright pool. Now the silence in the office was even more oppressive.
He swallowed heavily. Anytime now he knew Mike would be walking into a trap, one that he had set, and there was nothing he could do about it.
# # # # #
The soft footfalls, that until now seemed to reverberate off the far walls in the huge building, suddenly sounded different. Like the echo-location that bats used, Mike could tell that there was a wall or structure of some kind directly in front of him. He raised the flashlight and the weak beam bounced off something smooth and reflective. A window.
He knew it was a central office; he'd been in enough large garages over the years to remember the layout. The beam wasn't strong enough to see through the dirty windows and there was no access from this side. He moved slowly to his left to circle the office, looking for the door.
His fear for Steve's safety was intensifying with every step he took. What the hell could've happened to his young partner after their phone call? He tried not to think the worst but with each step that reality was getting harder and harder to dismiss.
The office door wasn't on the next wall and he was just about to turn the third corner when something on the floor caught his eye. There seemed to be a fluorescent yellow glow on the floor and he turned the weak beam of the flashlight towards it. It looked like a large yellow X. He brought the beam back to the floor at his feet, checking for objects in his path, but noticed the X continued to glow.
Frowning in curiosity, he slowly approached the mark and was almost on top of it when the overhead light snapped on. He gasped, taking a quick step back and raising his gun before freezing as his disbelieving eyes fell on the limp figure tied to a chair a few feet in front of him. He knew immediately it was Linda, but was she still alive?
Knowing for sure he wasn't alone now, his gun still raised, he was just about to take a step towards the unconscious young woman when a soft swishing noise could be heard to his right. He began to turn his head but it was too late.
# # # # #
Steve's eyes shot wide when the light snapped on and he saw Mike staring at Linda still tied to the chair. He tried to make a noise, straining against the gag in his mouth and jerking himself back and forth in the chair but his partner didn't seem to notice. Then suddenly there was a blur of movement from the right and all at once Mike wasn't standing there anymore, and the huge pulley from a block-and-tackle was swaying back and forth.
Steve froze, his heart pounding, his eyes straining trying to see where Mike was. There was a few seconds of nothing, just the pulley continuing to sway, then the overhead lamp to the left of the one already illuminated snapped on. And Steve finally realized why the chair in which he was sitting was elevated on the two pallets; it was so he could see the floor outside the office.
Not moving, Mike was lying on his left side, facing away; he was obviously unconscious. Straining against the ropes tying him to the chair, Steve began to thrash, making as much noise as could behind the hanky, his throat dry.
Nothing happened for several long, very tense seconds, then Nicole appeared out of the darkness, crossing to stand on the far side of the fallen detective, staring down at him. After a beat, she raised her right foot, put it against Mike's chest and pushed him onto his back.
Then, looking up at the office, she stared straight into Steve's eyes, her own unreadable, and she smiled almost triumphantly. He stared back with as much defiance as he could muster, though his heart was pounding in his ears and his entire body was trembling violently.
Then, very slowly, she raised her still latex-gloved right hand and light glinted off something metallic and shiny. She was holding his .38 and he froze, his eyes wide. Behind the tape, he tried to yell "No!" but only managed a strangled, muffled scream that didn't penetrate the thick glass walls.
Still staring at him, she lowered her hand, pointing the gun down. Then, with a deliberation that was mind-numbingly terrifying, she looked down at the fallen lieutenant and, with a soft, almost pleased smile, pulled the trigger.
