Armed with the short letter that Stanley Kovalev had supplied him with, and hoping the aging forger had made good on his word to call his sister the previous night, Mike led the small procession up the stone walkway to the entrance of the modest bungalow on the quiet street.

A smiling, grey-haired older woman opened the door and invited them in without batting an eye, leading them through the house and down into the musty, dirt-walled, dimly-lit 'basement'. Eleven fairly large cardboard boxes, sealed with packing tape, were stacked under a blue tarp against a wall.

Less than a half hour later, the dark blue SFPD Galaxie and hunter green Monte Carlo, both trunks and backseats filled with boxes, were making their way back to The City.

# # # # #

Bidding Tanner and the uniformed officer thanks and goodbye, Mike shut the front door and turned to face his living room. The eleven boxes were now covering almost every inch of the floor; Tanner wanted to make sure that his injured colleagues wouldn't need to pick any of them up so none of them were stacked.

Steve was standing in the centre of the room, staring at the boxes with a slight frown. He glanced up and caught his partner's eye. "I don't know about you, but I didn't think there would be this many…"

"Hmmm," Mike's brow knit and he sighed with a short laugh, "well, he was in business for at least twenty years… and he said he saved everything…" He screwed up his face. "Ah, any chance he put dates on those boxes?" he asked hopefully.

Steve crouched beside one of them, turning in on the carpet as he looked at all four sides. "Of course not…" he confirmed with a chuckle.

"Great," Mike muttered, crossing towards the kitchen. "I'll get us a couple of knives so we can cut the tape."

Nodding to himself, Steve got back to his feet, staring at the boxes with his hands on his hips. It was going to be a long day, he thought.

# # # # #

The boxes were filled with all kinds of interesting things – blank fake documents, various pens, bottles of inks, stencils, rubber stamps, and papers of various sizes, weights and fibres. And photographs – lots and lots of photographs, both colour and black-and-white, 8x10's and passport, and everything in between.

It was a treasure trove.

Working his way through the first of the boxes, Mike glanced up and smiled. "When we're done, I'm gonna get in touch with Mark in Bunco and dump all this in his lap. I bet he'll think it's Christmas!"

Steve laughed. "I know he saved everything, which is amazingly wonderful, but good god, it would've been nice if he put a date on things once in awhile. This is gonna take forever."

"Well, at least we've got a lot of coffee…" Mike snorted with a chuckle as he continued to work his way through the large box.

# # # # #

It had taken almost three hours to clear four boxes and they took a short break for a very late lunch, refueling with ham sandwiches and Cokes. It had already been a trip down memory lane for Mike, many of the documents and photographs he had uncovered bringing several of his old cases back to mind. It took all his self-control not to wander off on story-telling tangents but he knew speed was of the essence if they hoped to track Lonsdale down as soon as humanly possible.

They were wandering back into the living room from the kitchen when the phone rang. Mike answered it on the second ring. "Hello… Yeah, hi, Bill… What?... Really?... Okay, great, thanks… No, ah, there's no rush on that. We can get it later. But, ah, look, if you can follow up on that angle that would be great… Yeah, thanks… Okay, later…" He hung up the receiver and stood staring at it for a couple of seconds, frowning. Finally he looked up at his partner. "Ah, that was Bill -"

"Yeah, I got that," Steve interrupted with a chuckle and Mike smirked, cocking his head.

"Anyway… he just heard from Sacramento. 'Daniel Harrison' started filing California income taxes in 1962…"

Steve frowned. "So he's been back in the country for twelve years…? Sonuvabitch. He's been living under the radar for that long…"

"In California," Mike pointed out. "He might have been living in another part of the country before that."

"Yeah. So he really wasn't in the Philippines all those years…"

"Anyway, ah, Bill is going to pursue that line, see if that leads anywhere, which I doubt but… who knows… After he gets the returns, we'll know if he's held a job all these years, or whether he's been living off his parents money." He looked at the boxes and sighed. "But, in the meantime, we've got to get back to work here, don't we?" He looked up at his partner and smiled.

Steve smiled back. "Yes, we do."

# # # # #

Long after the sun had gone down, they were through less than half the boxes.

Mike, in the armchair, an open file folder in his lap, slowly laid the back of his head against the chair, groaning and closing his eyes. Steve looked over from the couch. "You okay?"

Grimacing, the older man shook his head. He caught his breath before he said through clenched teeth, "I've gotta call it a day…" He pressed his right hand against the left side of his chest, squeezing his eyes tighter.

Steve watched him worriedly for a couple of long silent seconds before he asked quietly, "You want another pill?"

Mike carefully shook his head, trying to smile reassuringly. "I'll be okay… just gotta lie down for awhile…" He took several deep breaths through his open mouth. "It's not the broken ribs, it's where they put the chest tube in…" He made a face. "It doesn't seem to be getting any better… at least not very fast…"

"Well, you haven't actually been taking it easy like you're supposed to…" Steve shrugged slightly, trying not to sound accusatory.

"I know…" the older man admitted softly, "but if we want to get our hands on Jeffrey Lonsdale before he disappears completely, we can't… dilly-dally…"

Steve's eyebrows went up and he smiled. "Dilly-dally…? Is that an old police procedural term I haven't heard yet?"

Mike laughed with a groan, increasing the pressure of his hand on his chest and squeezing his eyes closed again.

Steve stood. "Come on." He waved his partner up. "You get upstairs and go to bed and I'll clean up down here a bit and follow you. I'm beat too…" Mike looked up at him. "We've done enough for today… more than enough…" He made the 'get up' gesture again.

Inhaling carefully in anticipation, looking down and putting his right hand on the chair arm, Mike gingerly pushed himself to his feet. Steve watched as he padded slowly to the stairs and disappeared up onto the second floor.

With a sigh, putting his own right hand on his aching ribs, Steve looked around the room. There was still so much material for them to go through, with no guarantee that anything concrete would come of it. He walked quietly to the bottom of the stairs and listened. Satisfied that Mike was in his room and the door was closed, he crossed to the phone and dialed a familiar number.

# # # # #

They were back at it early the next morning. Mike had assured his concerned partner that he was feeling much better after a pretty good night's sleep and an early morning pain pill, so after a quick breakfast, they were nursing their coffees back in their usual spots in the living room.

And though they were uncovering some interesting items that bore closer scrutiny at another time, there was still no sign that Stanley Kovalev had done any work for someone named Lonsdale.

Sitting on the couch and almost knee deep in files he had yet to examine, Steve surreptitiously glanced at his watch then at his partner. He had just turned over another photograph to read the notations on the back when the doorbell rang.

He froze almost imperceptibly, peripherally seeing his partner's head snap up as Mike frowned in the general direction of the front door then looked at him.

"Who the hell is that?" the older man grumbled, starting to put the file down.

"I'll get it, I'll get it," Steve said quickly as he put his papers on the couch, getting to his feet and crossing with a nonchalance he didn't feel to open the door. Without a word, he took a step back and Devitt walked into the living room, glancing at the younger man with a curt nod before turning his attention to Mike, who was taking everything in with a scowl.

"Mike," Devitt acknowledged with a nod.

"Roy," the lieutenant responded warily, taking off his glasses. "What brings you here?"

Devitt's smile was strained but instantaneous. "You and I are going for a little drive. You have an appointment with one of the department doctors. He's going to check you out."

"What?" The word was laced with both surprise and anger as the blue eyes snapped from the captain to his partner. "What do you mean -?"

"I called Roy last night," Steve interrupted, taking a step closer and meeting the now defiant blue eyes evenly. "You said when we were down in Pasadena that you'd go see your doctor when you got back and you haven't. And last night you were in more pain than you've been in days." He paused and sighed in mild frustration. "I just want to know you're okay… and that what we've been doing these past few days isn't exacerbating your condition… or delaying your recovery… That's all."

Mike, who had been staring at them angrily, blinked suddenly and looked down. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Devitt glanced at Steve then took a step deeper into the room. "Listen, Mike, if the doctor says you're okay then I don't see any reason you can't continue to do…" he gestured vaguely at the boxes and the piles of papers and what-not around the room, "… whatever it is you guys are doing here…"

Mike's head came up slowly and he stared at the grey-haired captain skeptically.

Despite himself, Devitt smiled. He raised his right hand in a parody of the Boy Scouts salute. "I promise."

The blue eyes slid expressionlessly from the captain to his partner. Steve smiled encouragingly. After a couple of very long silent beats, Mike blinked slowly and began to shake his head. He inhaled deeply. "All right," he exhaled, starting to get slowly to his feet. "Just give me a few minutes to change. I'm not going like this," he growled.

Sighing silently with relief, Devitt glanced at Steve and smiled. "That's okay, we have some time," he said brightly as they both watched the older man head towards the staircase. The captain rolled his eyes and shook his head; Steve exhaled quietly with a relieved smile.

# # # # #

"He's just worried about you… You know that, right?" Devitt stated matter-of-factly, looking across the front seat.

Mike, wearing a checkered shirt and khakis, was staring out the side window from under the 49ers cap. "I know," he mumbled softly.

Devitt glanced over again, encouraged. "Look, ah, this shouldn't take too long. You know, I tried to call your doctor but he was all booked up and couldn't fit you in."

Mike finally looked over. "So who am I seeing?"

"Parker."

Mike raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded. "I've seen him before. He's a good guy."

Devitt smiled to himself. "Yeah, he is…"

# # # # #

Steve looked up as the door opened and Mike stepped over the threshold. "That didn't take too long. What did the doctor say?"

Mike chuckled as he shut the door and turned to face the room. "Jeez, can you wait till I get in."

Encouraged by the playful tone, Steve laughed softly.

As he moved closer to the armchair, Mike took a small bottle of pills out of his shirt pocket and shook it. "I have more pills," he almost smiled as he put the bottle on the endtable and started to sit.

Steve frowned. "What, more pain pills?"

Mike shook his head as he lowered himself carefully onto the armchair. "Nope. Antibiotics. Turns out I have a slight infection where they put the tube in."

"An infection?" There was obvious concern in the young voice.

"It's pretty normal, the doc said, and nothing to worry about. The pills'll clear it up."

Steve relaxed. "And that's all?"

Mike smiled. "That's all."

"Great." Unable to stop himself, Steve exhaled loudly, his relief evident. He looked down at the file on his lap then quickly back up at his partner again. "You want to know what else is great?" he asked with a slight smile.

Mike looked at him, his brow furrowing and his eyes narrowing.

Steve picked up the file and turned it around, holding it out. "I found them…"