"PJ?" Skipper's radio crackled to life.
"Uh hu." He hated recon. Kowalski was much better at recon, and to Skipper's amazement actually seemed to enjoy it enough that he'd report how many blades of grass were on the lawn if you didn't stop him.
"We've just broken down the door of a warehouse in the meat packing district. The police got called in after reports of gunshots. Well, that was four hours ago," Jones reported, "The leader, and known lieutenants of the mysterious sewer rats were found dead inside. The lab boys haven't had a go of it yet, but it looks like everything points towards…"
"I know. What does he have to gain from all this though?" Skipper thought aloud.
"You can ask him that, I suppose." With that the conversation ended. Skipper climbed out of the commandeered station wagon he was waiting in and started to walk towards the front door of the mansion. He stopped as he reached door, which was just as cold and foreboding as it had always been, fumbling in his pocket for the key. He knew that all the other doors and windows were booby trapped, possibly with similar explosives to the day before. K'walski had explained the strategy to him like this: If they're trying to get in, and they're good enough that you actually care if they do, you can't really stop them, but at least you can control where they get in.
The door opened with a creak, though Skipper was expecting it. The place held so many memories, that he'd closed it up as soon as he had been accepted into the department. He'd actually considered selling it, but he'd been warned by Jones that the amount of secret passages and panels, potentially hiding sensitive information, were more than he could ever hope to find prior to the sale. All that was necessary for a major security breech was for one of those passages to be found.
It was these hidden passages, at least the ones he knew of, that he was running through in his mind as he examined the darkened dust covered hallway. The sheets covering the furniture left so many hiding spots that he was in the perfect spot to be ambushed. Still, as far as he knew, his target was in the office near the centre of the building, and seemed completely unaware of his presence. Skipper had gone to insane lengths to keep it that way.
He walked towards what looked like a window with it's curtains drawn, a few feet away from the door. Painstakingly slowly, so as not to make a sound he parted them, exposing, not a window, but a dark tunnel. With equal caution Skipper climbed through and moved the drapes back to their original position before continuing down the passage, which led directly to the study. It had originally been designed as a quick escape, which was why it was so easily accessed, and relatively alarm free.
About half way along the passage the tunnel forked. The left path went a few feet further before it ended in a ladder which went up to the floor above, the right fork continued to the study. Skipper took the left, climbing the ladder, though leaving his injured left arm by his side. It was too obvious for him to go directly to the study. That would be exactly what was expected of him. It was this reasoning which made him once again deviate from the path leading to the second entrance to the study. Instead he opted for the one which took him to the room above.
The room had once been a guest room but was, like the other rooms, covered with spectral sheets. On one wall, a dust covered poster was left uncovered. This had been almost permanently Manfredi's room, which only reminded him more of why he was here. "Hide the loot, Private, Captain Creepy's comin' in T-minus half an hour." Manfredi had named his killer.
Skipper approached the window, inspecting the key pad that controlled the security for that window, and if his lieutenant's notes on similar systems developed for the department were correct, by entering the master code he'd be able to shut down the whole network. This code had baffled him in his youth, but it was obvious to him now: Doris.
The windows now unlocked, Skipper silently slid the window before him open, and secured one end of the thin but strong cable he'd brought with him into the side of the wall, and started the climb down to the window of the study. He paused a few feet to the side, and sure enough Skipper could see K'walski seated at the desk in the same manner he always had, with his back to the window. He seemed to be reading something, a large volume; Skipper guessed it was one of the classics he'd always been encouraged to read.
Suddenly K'walski stood up and walked towards the window at a leisurely pace, giving no indication that he'd seen Skipper (the inturder still flattened himself against the wall for good measure) and opened the window.
"You can come in any time," He stated, not even looking up at Skipper as he returned to the desk, and without any hurry, marked his page, "In approximately 2.227 minutes your arms will get tired and you will be forced to either come in or go back up to the guest room." At this Skipper knew it was not a ruse to get him to reveal his hiding spot, and climbed through the window, but not releasing the rope lest he need a quick getaway option, "On your way in you alerted me to your presence by failing to silence the front door though it was obvious it would not open silently after so many years of neglect. I was impressed by the fact you didn't take the obvious route, or even the second most obvious and you may have managed to surprise me if you hadn't entered Doris as the password. It might have let you in, but I'd expected you to guess it, so I reprogramed the system to silently alert me the moment it was entered. If you'd gone for the second most obvious, you would have guessed correctly."
"This isn't a lesson." Skipper snapped. He recognised that patronising tone, and he wasn't four anymore.
"Apparently it is because you obviously didn't pay attention to any of your previous lessons on anticipating the enemy."
"Why are you back?" Skipper asked pointedly, pleasantries aside.
"I thought Marlene told you that." Kowalski replied, "Why are you here?"
"Manfredi and Johnson," Skipper replied, " and the Herring Bank massacre as the media are calling it."
"It was probable that it would get Jones' attention, though I would hardly call it a massacre unless you consider the crippling effect it had on Rico who had a decent amount of freshly laundered bills there," Kowalski's expression darkened, "He'd be disappointed in you. You had the perfect opportunity for justice."
"Don't change the topic. The slip of paper in Manfredi's pocket named you as his killer."
"Your argument is flawed. I had no grudge against Manfredi," Kowalski replied, "The loss is unfortunate. He was a far more promising student than you ever were." However his expression gave no indication of any sorrow.
This was more than Skipper could take. His hand flew to his pocket, and a few seconds ahead of Kowalski pulled his gun and fired.
The bullet shattered the glass a few inches from Skipper's head, but that was the only shot fired. Skipper's gun had jammed. He almost turned around to signal Rico to fire, or toss him a replacement, but he was on his own. In fact, his alarm must have been apparent in his expression as Kowalski continued:
"Don't think your equipment is immune to jamming. This isn't one of those comic books you used to read as a kid," Skipper backed towards the window only to see that the window above had been shut, and the line wouldn't take him low enough to jump to the ground without breaking his legs which would be certain death, "Truth is, the good guys never win, and if they do, they don't stay good very long."
"Last time you said something like that you didn't take the shot," Skipper stated, more for his own morale than any hopes that it would convince the other.
"Unlike you I learn from experience," Skipper's opponent replied coldly, and the stare that seemed to go almost through him echoed the same. Strangely, unlike the panic he'd felt only days earlier, he was angry. Angry that due to a simple mistake, his failure to check the weapon before charging in, almost mimicking the full frontal assaults Jones, and ironically, K'walski too, had claimed would be the death of him.
There was a thud as the hook at the end of a line took hold on the windowsill, and
without even checking to see who had thrown it, Skipper dived through the window and climbed down it. Bullets coming from both the garden and the room he'd just left flew past his head, and it wasn't until he hit the ground harder than he expected that he saw his rescuer.
"Ge' up, kid." Rico barked, pulling Skipper up from the ground by his collar, and dragging him towards the perimeter fence.
"Thanks," Skipper finally spoke, though there was a grudging note to his voice. The two men were already half way back to the HQ; neither had wanted to say much for the first half of the trip.
"Tha' was badly plann'd 'nd careless." Rico criticised.
"I know," Skipper replied dully. He didn't get it. He'd never been that sloppy. In fact, that was the third operation that had ever gone wrong, and even the ones that had in the past hadn't gone that wrong.
"y' need 'oo team or ya gonna get yourself killed." Rico stated bluntly.
"I can't," now that he thought about it, if Kowalski had been there, he would have done a better job at the reconnaissance, probably spotted something he didn't, maybe even found a better way in. If Private had been there, he probably would have used his uncanny understanding of people to realise that K'walski wouldn't have been sloppy enough to use Doris as his password, and if Rico had been there, well, he would have had a spare line, and even better, a spare gun, "If I leave them out, there's a chance K'walski will overlook them. At least then, even if I don't make it, they won't pay for my mistakes."
"Y' don' get it. I kno' how Ko'alsk' thinks an' after 19 years with 'im, I'd think 'ou woul'. He notices eve'y move 'ou make. He read' you like a book, 'specially oo, Private, 'nd then 'ee turns it all 'gainst you."
"I know." Skipper replied. Rico rolled his eyes.
"By pushin' your team 'way, you're only lettin' 'im know y' care 'bout them, 'nd also that withou' 'em, you're lost. They're 'is next target if 'e can find 'em," Rico could see Skipper still wasn't getting it, "If I notice' how y' looked back for ya sergeant, 'e did. He' gonna use that 'gainst ya next time 'nless you comp'etely change you're attack."
Now only a few steps from the HQ, Skipper stopped, his hands thrown up in a gesture of defeat.
"Alright, so at this point I've probably given away everything. I have no idea how I'm supposed to beat him."
"What'd y' normally do, if ya stuck?"
"Ask Kowalski, I mean, my Kowalski."
"Then ask 'im. Enemy's not goin't expect tha'."