Recovering rapidly, Mike managed a quick smile and nod at Lonsdale, who returned the salutation congenially, before dropping his eyes back to the menu in his hand. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears and feel his heart thudding against his ribs. His mouth went dry. He fumbled in his shirt pocket for his reading glasses and put them on.

"Here you go," he heard the bartender announce and glanced up again to see a tall glass of Guinness being set on the bar in front of Lonsdale, who had turned back.

Becky, the waitress, was suddenly at Mike's elbow and she deposited a frosty glass of a pale beer on the coaster she'd tossed on the table. "Pabst," she said with a smile. "Nice and cold."

Not trusting his voice for the moment, Mike nodded his thanks, still trying to get the sudden rush of adrenaline under control.

She glanced at the menu. "Ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?"

"Ah," he said tentatively, quietly clearing his throat, "I need a little more time, thanks."

Her grin was broad and instantaneous. "Not a problem. Take all the time you need. I'll be just over there." She pointed at the end of the bar near the door to the kitchen.

As she started to turn away, he stopped her. "Ah, anything you'd recommend?" He took the opportunity to glance past her towards the bar again. Lonsdale was leaning forward and looking down, reading a newspaper that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, his Guinness near his right hand.

Becky smiled again. "Sure, everything!" she giggled and he couldn't help joining in the laughter. She took a step closer to the table and pointed at the menu. "Seriously, though, we are known for our burgers. We do seven different kinds, as you can see, and they are all great." She looked at Mike and frowned slightly. "But you look like a steak man to me. Am I right?"

He smiled at her charmingly and nodded once, almost gravely. "You are."

"Well then," she said, the twinkle in her eye getting brighter, "I would definitely recommend our Porterhouse T-Bone, a baked potato with bacon bits and chives, and a side of string beans and broccoli in a delicious garlic sauce. How does that sound?"

Grinning, Mike nodded. "You read my mind," he chuckled as he took his glasses off and put them back in his pocket.

She chuckled. "I'm glad." She took the menu from his hand and, with a wink, turned and headed back towards the bar.

Mike took the chance to glance in Lonsdale's direction again; he hadn't moved, still poring over the paper. It was obvious he was a regular, and that was a very good thing. Relaxing slightly, Mike leaned back. His heart was still pounding but now with the excitement of the game. He had spotted his prey; now he had to figure out how to bag him.

# # # # #

The bar started to fill up quickly and it became harder and harder for Mike to keep tabs on Lonsdale, but the middle-aged fugitive didn't move from his spot at the bar, except for a couple of quick trips to the men's room. The San Francisco detective had even managed to relax enough to enjoy his meal. The t-bone was just as good as Becky had promised and he had savoured every bite.

Finished, he laid the knife and fork on the empty plate and pushed it away. With a small smile, he wondered what Steve had managed to do for dinner. It had taken all his self-control not to excuse himself, before the porterhouse had been delivered, and step out of the bar, ostensibly for a cigarette but actually to sprint down the street to tell his partner the news. But common sense had prevailed and he had managed to remain in his seat.

Another waitress spotted his empty plate and cruised by his table, avoiding the ever expanding mob, to pick it up. Nodding at his almost empty glass, she asked if he wanted another. Realizing he could do no more this evening, and that he had accomplished what he had set out to do, Mike genially declined, asking for the bill.

As he left the now crowded pub, after making sure Becky had picked up his cash and generous tip, he took one last look at the bar; Lonsdale was still there, talking to a couple on his left. He looked very at home. With a satisfied nod to himself, Mike held the door open for a group of young, tanned surfers and beach bunnies to enter before he stepped out into the relative quiet of the bustling street.

Trying to look nonchalant, he stuck his baseball cap on his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to saunter across the street and up the block towards the blue sedan, whistling softly to himself.

Steve saw him coming. Sitting behind the wheel, he sat up a little straighter and smiled when he saw his partner almost casually strolling towards him, looking every inch the relaxed and laidback vacationer he was trying to project. Mike made enigmatic eye contact as he circled around the front of the car to the passenger side and slipped quickly onto the front seat. They looked at each other for a beat before the older man said quietly, "He's in there."

Steve grinned, pounding the steering wheel with his right fist. "Yes! I thought that might be him. I saw someone that looked an awful lot like him go in about, what? An hour and a half ago?"

Mike was nodding, trying to suppress his own broad smile. "Yeah. He seems to be a regular. Which is really good for us," he added, eyes wide, feeling the adrenaline beginning to course through his veins again.

Steve was staring at him with a warm and happy smile. "So Jerry was right…"

"Yeah," Mike agreed softly, leaning back on the seat, his relieved smile lingering. "Yeah, he certainly was…" He exhaled loudly. "I almost didn't believe it when I saw him… I looked right into his eyes and I knew, Steve… I knew it was him…"

A comfortable silence stretched out between them for a few long beats, then Steve ventured quietly, "Well, I guess we have some thinking to do tonight, hunh? Plan our strategy?"

Mike turned his head slowly. "Yeah, we sure do."

Steve cocked his head. "But there's something I gotta do first," he said as he turned the key and started the engine.

Mike frowned as he watched his partner put the car into reverse and turn to look out the rear window. "What's that?"

As he shifted into drive and started to pull away from the curb, Steve glanced across the front seat. "I have to give Jerry a call. I promised I'd call him… when I found you," he smiled guiltily, "and to let him know if he was right about Lonsdale."

Mike snorted dryly. "When you found me, hunh?" He shook his head, chuckling. "Listen, ah… I'd like to be the one to call him, okay? Tell him about Lonsdale? Is that okay?"

Turning a corner, Steve nodded, smiling to himself. "Of course it's okay. You got his number?"

"Yeah, I got his number." Mike turned to the younger man quickly. "Say, did you get yourself any dinner?"

Steve shook his head. "No, I wasn't hungry. Figured I'd pick something up later."

"Then let's not go back to the motel right away. Let's stop somewhere so you can eat and I can call Jerry. How does that sound? And, ah, and your dinner's on me tonight."

The younger man's head snapped in his partner's direction, the eyebrows raised. "On you?" He looked back at the road, grinning.

"Yes, smarty, you heard me right. It's on me. I'm feeling magnanimous tonight… so take advantage of it, 'cause it won't last," Mike chuckled.

Laughing, Steve shook his head. "Ah, yeah, sure, dinner on you… works for me."

Mike pointed through the windshield. "Just… shut up and drive… and look for someplace you'd like to eat… but don't get carried away, okay?"

"No, sir," the younger man laughed, his eyes starting to scan both sides of the street.

# # # # #

Mike dropped into the opposite chair as the waitress arrived with the large plate and set it in front of the younger man. He scanned the colourful plate loaded with two hard-shell tacos, a generous dollop of refried beans and a small salad. Two small bowls with guacamole and salsa were already waiting on the table, along with a small wicker basket filled with tortilla chips.

She looked at Mike expectantly. "Ah, no, thank you," he demurred with a smile, patting his stomach, "I already ate. But could I get a coffee, please?"

"Of course," she said pleasantly and disappeared.

Steve took a sip of his Corona and put the bottle back on the table. "Was he relieved?"

Mike chuckled. "Relieved? He was over the moon. He wants me to keep him up to date and I told him I would. He also asked what we're gonna do next?" He raised his eyebrows in a facial shrug.

Reaching for one of the tacos, the younger man snorted dryly. "What did you tell him?"

"Well, I told him we hadn't talked about it yet but we'd figure it out tonight."

"That's optimistic of you," Steve grinned as he took a bite, trying to hold the quickly crumbing shell together.

With a smirk, Mike pushed the stack of napkins closer. "What else have we got to do the rest of tonight… and all day tomorrow. Lonsdale seems like a dinnertime regular so I don't expect him to be there much before 5. And we can't be seen lurking around the place all day… that would be more than a little suspicious," he chuckled sarcastically.

Grabbing a handful of napkins, Steve tried to stop the ground beef juice from sliding down his chin. "So what do you want to do?"

Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, I think it's gonna take a little more than just you and me saying it's him for LAPD Homicide to come out here and arrest him for us… Especially since I haven't seen him since '49 and you've never seen him."

Wrestling with the second taco, Steve chuckled and nodded. "So what are you thinking?" he asked around a mouthful.

The waitress appeared and put the cup and saucer on the table in front of Mike, who nodded his thanks. He reached for the milk jug. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we should take a trip downtown tomorrow morning and talk to my contacts at the LAPD, start to bring them into the loop, see what they can do to help. What do you think?"

Steve had paused in his chewing and was staring at his partner with a frown. "You really want their help on this? You don't want us to do it?"

Taking a sip of coffee, Mike shot him a peeved glare over the top of the cup. "Of course I want us to do it," he growled as he put the cup down a little more forcefully than he wanted, making enough noise for heads in the small restaurant to turn in their direction. He glanced around guiltily; Steve hid his smile behind the taco as he took another bite. Mike paused and took an obvious steadying breath, his eyes narrowed. "What I meant was, and not to put too fine a point on it, we have to remember we're strangers in a strange land here, our badges mean nothing. You know that. It's not our ballgame… we're the visiting team, so to speak."

Steve nodded, continuing to chew.

"So I want to know what they want from us in order to get this guy into custody, that's all. I, for one, want to find out what his new name is. I know he's using Danny but that's really not much use to us, is it? We need a last name. I'd love to get an address as well, see what he's driving - Oh, ah, chances are he does have a car, he told the bartender he went 'north' to see his parents. That's really no help – that could mean anywhere from the San Fernando Valley all the way to the Canadian border. But that does means his folks are still alive and still around and I really want to track them down too but that's something we can do later. We just have to make sure when we grab him he has no way of tipping them off."

Steve pushed his now-empty plate away and sat back, wiping his mouth and chin with the last of the clean napkins. "Well, I've got an idea about what we should do tomorrow night," he said with a smile.

Cocking his head, Mike leaned forward, forearms on the table, wrapping both hands around the still warm coffee cup. "You do?"

The younger man nodded.

"Do tell."