Mike was both surprised and glad to find Steve already eagerly working away at his desk by the time he walked in at 6:30AM.
In the far-right corner past the printer, Forester had set up camp along an oversized desk, using the mobile chalk board as a background to write down notes, his train of thought having filled half of if already.
Other than those two tenacious souls, the bullpen was still deceivingly quiet, despite the frantic manhunt going on around downtown, stretching from the Embarcadero to the Cow Palace, from the China Basin to the Presidio.
Deeply engrossed in a phone conversation, Steve never glanced up, one hand nervously rubbing his eyebrows, as his assortment of yes's and no's disrupted the stillness.
Gently squeezing his partner's shoulder, Mike set a brown paper bag containing a cinnamon sinker in front of him, before heading to his office to check on any notes he may have missed throughout the night.
Despite a reasonably sound sleep, he could feel every muscle and bone in his body ache, signs of the stress and tension feeding on him throughout this case. The faint headache from the day prior was quickly morphing into the mother of all migraines, and he decided to start his day with a black cup of coffee, foregoing the cream and sugar until he had time to actually enjoy the warm beverage.
His enjoyment lasted all but three sips, when the door to the glass-walled vestibule was slammed open, the sound of leather boots against the Terrazzo floor heading straight for his office.
Glancing past the rim of his coffee cup, the Lieutenant sighed inwardly when he recognized an angry Nick Carigio barging in at a rapid pace, his slim body wrapped in a tight jean jacket and brown dress pants.
"I hear you're looking for me, Stone.", he sneered without as much as a greeting or knock on the door, never bothering to take his hands out of the pockets of his well-worn jacket.
Mike smiled confidently, trying to hide his confusion behind another sip of coffee.
Before he ever had a chance to answer, Forester appeared from his corner of the office, grunting something he couldn't understand from a few feet away, then attempted a cordial expression that looked more like a pained grimace.
"I wanted to see you, Mister Carigio. My apologies, I haven't had a chance yet to brief Lieutenant Stone. I am Captain Arthur Forester. I am assisting the Lieutenant and Inspector Keller in this case."
With a rushed handshake, Forester ushered the impatient man toward the northeast interrogation room and gestured for the two detectives to follow suit.
Steve got off the phone in time to glance up at Mike in unmasked bewilderment, undoubtedly sharing the same concern about another round of double-crossing when it came to the seasoned Captain digging into their list of informants and suspects alike.
"You know guys, this is beginning to smell a whole lot like police harassment.", Carigio complained loudly by the time the group entered the small room, and leaned against the corner window overlooking the parking lot, "You see, I have work to do, a bar to run, supplies to buy. I don't have all day to help you guys do your goddamn jobs."
Deciding to play it back and let Forester run the show for the time being, Mike stayed near the door to the bullpen, Steve by his side, so close that their shoulders touched.
Stealing a brief glance over at the young Inspector, he noticed his partner's tense jaws, eyes focused on the man ahead of them in fierce intensity, arms crossed over his chest as if that was needed to restrain his temper.
"Mister Carigio, it has come to our attention that you are in possession of a semi-automatic rifle. Is that correct?"
Forester stood completely still, his body language unreadable, eyes partially hidden beneath the navy baseball cap. It left Mike to wonder who was a better actor, Carigio or the FBI Captain.
"I don't know what you are talking about, and for the last time, you boneheads, I didn't kill those faggots!"
The high-pitched complaint was loud enough that anybody in the hallway could have heard it, causing Mike's protective instincts to kick in, and his partner to shift nervously.
"There's no need for derogatory language, Mister Carigio. We have treated you with respect thus far, and we request the same treatment in return.", Forester retorted authoritatively and stepped toward the man who glared back at him like a caged animal, "Does the name Roger Hurst ring any bells with you?"
"Hurst?...Hurst…let me think…yeah I know him. Worked as my bartender for a couple of years. Nice guy. Went to 'Nam, just like I did. What has he done?"
"Nothing. But he seems to be certain that you smuggled an AK-47 back to the States when you returned home. As a matter of fact, according to Hurst, you two went out target practicing with it several times. He's willing to testify to it under oath. Now, let me ask you once again, are you in possession of an unregistered semi-automatic weapon, Mister Carigio. And my advice to you would be to consider this question long and hard."
Quite familiar with the tough-guy routine Forester was playing on, Mike smiled faintly, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for Carigio to lose his cool momentarily.
And he didn't disappoint.
Jumping forward from his guarded position in the corner, Carigio rushed toward Forester so fast that it made the other two detectives flinch, getting ready to intercept if needed. Stopping at the last second, the bar owner used his five-and a half foot frame to stretch as high as he could, to see eye-to-eye with the FBI Captain.
"What I own is none of your goddamn business, pig. I already told this guy over here, and the Kid, that I don't have anything to do with this shooting. Do you think I'd be stupid enough to do that and make myself the prime target, being that we're just down the road? Hm?"
"Well, if I am going to be perfectly honest here, I do think you'd be that stupid.", Forester said without skipping a beat, and completely ignored the angry huffing coming from a few inches below, where Carigio was getting ready to choke him, "Bringing a gun over here and then sharing it with the world was a dumb move, even for you. Now the good news is, as we're speaking, I have a team on site to execute a search warrant for both, your bar as well as your apartment, Mister Carigio. And for your sake, I hope you did a better job hiding that AK-47 than the stash of smack in your silverware drawer."
Mike had begun marching toward Forester before he even finished the sentence, allowing him to push Carigio away as the bar owner pulled his hand back for a punch.
In a well synchronized maneuver, he positioned himself in front of the FBI Captain, a stern glance serving as a warning to stop the agitating remarks, while Steve shoved a loudly protesting Carigio against the side wall and far away from his target.
"I'm gonna nail you, you damn pig. All three of you! You're no better than those faggot freaks down the road!", the bar owner hissed and tried to fight Steve's hand keeping him in place by the lapel of his jean jacket, when the young Inspector decided to join the parade.
"Is that the kind of morally superior language you spout off at your bar, Mister Carigio? The place you claim good minded, blue-collar, patriotic family men gather to meet under the umbrella of your narrow-minded bigotry? What are you gonna do next, hm? Create your group specific greeting and high-five each other when you beat up any gay, black or Jewish guy who crosses your path on your grand plan to ethnically cleanse the neighborhood?"
Not liking the low growl in his partner's voice, or his carefully chosen words one bit, Mike turned around in time to see Steve lean forward, close enough that their faces almost touched.
"You're out of your mind, you damn punk Kid. I knew the moment I saw you that you are one of those…those sickos. It disgusts me to think that my tax money pays to have people like you on staff with the police, of all places. Talk about the downfall of society and degradation of values. It's people like you who destroy the neighborhoods of what used to be a nice city full of law abiding, decent people."
Even though he let go of Forester as fast as possible and rushed toward the other side of the room, Mike couldn't stop his partner from slamming Carigio against the wall, doing it so hard that the other man hit the back of his head.
"You wouldn't know the first thing about decency if it hit you in the face, Nicky. See, while you sit there each night, surrounded by a bunch of like-minded cowards, giving yourself pep-talks like insecure third-graders before their first field trip, having shots on how great you feel about yourself…your wives are probably having affairs across town because they realized what a bunch of ignorant, worthless, narrow-minded losers they married, secretly hoping you drink yourself to death or die in a car wreck on the way home so they can save the money on the divorce."
"Stephen!"
The threatening growl disrupted the young Inspector momentarily, giving Mike enough time to grab him by the upper arm and tear him away from Carigio, before the situation could escalate even further.
"Forester, get this guy out of here so he can crawl back into the hole he came from.", the Lieutenant then barked, never letting go of his partner's arm and quite certain he was leaving bruises by now.
With a powerful shove, he pushed the young Inspector against the back wall, giving both detectives some privacy to work through what just happened, as the door to the interrogation room shut behind them.
Steve's green eyes were filled with fury, his chest heaving from the outburst that was neither appropriate, nor characteristic for the usually cheerful and emotionally balanced young man.
"What got into you?!"
Demanding an answer, Mike used his extra height to tower over his partner, who seemed to have a hard time calming down.
"You heard what the man said. Are you…are you okay with that? 'Cause I wasn't going to let him talk to anybody like that."
"Don't turn this around on me, Stephen. I asked what has gotten into you? That's not like you at all.", with a final squeeze, Mike let go of his partner's arm and moved it to his shoulder, symbolically shaking the young man to his senses, "This was highly unprofessional. You know better than that."
When Steve fell quiet, refusing to go further into detail, Mike narrowed his eyes, as a growing suspicion entered his mind.
"I won't let you play that game with me, Buddyboy, look at me.", he ordered, grateful when Steve yielded his strict tone, "Something has got you churning bad, getting you worked up enough to let some lowlife like Carigio get you all hot under the collar. And I can assure you right now that neither one of us will be leaving this room until I know what that is."
Feeling his partner's breathing slow down, hopefully allowing for the overabundance of adrenalin and testosterone to leave his system and make room for rational thinking, Mike waited a few moments, letting the reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder do the talking.
After a few seconds of tense standoff, the young Inspector lowered his eyes that had become somber and weary, then sighed.