GUTTERS AND ALLEYS
CHAPTER SIX
Code 10 Bomb Threat
Back to patrolling the streets, I sat once again in the passenger seat watching out the window as the shadows danced along the sidewalks under the streetlights glow. It was quiet again, only the dispatcher's voice occasionally breaking in over the radio -- with no calls yet that concerned us. I honestly was hoping for nothing more to happen tonight but I knew that was a long shot. We'd been out here six hours and had six more to go before I could go back to my apartment, take a hot shower, eat a cold pizza, and get some long needed sleep.
A code ten suddenly squawked over the radio. 723 Prospect. The Scarlet Cabaret. Best little all night porn Theater in Bay City.
Hutch and I exchanged a look. So much for hoping as reality set in. We usually didn't get involved with bomb threats but knew how shorthanded the department was -- besides, maybe we could help. I snatched the mike and radioed us in route.
We pulled up to the theater; two black and whites and the Bomb Squad were parked outside. The front of the building was tapped off already, and a crowd of people stood behind the yellow 'do not cross' banner that was guarded by a few of Bay Cities finest Auxiliary Police. Some of the onlookers had seemed scared, while other's appeared angry.
"Crowd looks angry." Hutch nudged me with his elbow, just before we exited the car and headed side by side toward the building.
"I'd be angry too, Blondie. They're missing a great all night French movie marathon." I read the glowing red billboard out loud, "Practice Makes Perfect, Last Dance in Paris, Everything Tastes Better On The Rocks, and Cowboy On The Rise. Compelling stuff," I snickered.
"Starsky." Hutch gave me a look that hovered somewhere between disgust and shock. "You're really into that kind of kinky thing?"
"Reading sub-titles isn't kinky, Hutch." I grinned wide, loving how Hutch and I always could bounce off each other. "You'd be surprised what you can learn," I continued.
"Charms just flowing out your ears, isn't it, buddy?" Hutch drawled.
"You should try it sometime, Hutch. Might just be the hustle and flow you need to overcome that dating dry spell of yours," I joked.
"Stuff it," Hutch grumbled. "How do you want to handle this?" he asked, now all business as he pushed open the front door, and held it open.
"In and out," I chuckled, going in first.
We entered the theater, our badges out of our pockets identifying ourselves to the head of the Bomb Squad, Jim Mesa. Jim was a tall, thin, blond, man with scarred fingers and washed-out blue eyes. If it weren't for the glasses, the deep scar above his right eye, and his toothpick fetish, he'd almost be a dead ringer for Hutch.
I'd met Mesa only twice, but of those two times I'd come to know him as a hardnosed cynical man with a good record. A roll up your sleeves and get to work, no time for feelings or heartfelt talks, kind of guy. Hutch wasn't crazy about the man, said he wore his boxers like his compassion -- too tight. I told Hutch maybe that's what helped maintain his mental equipment in the right place. I laughed, but Hutch didn't find my humor funny. Anyway, I liked Mesa - after all, he was left-handed.
"What you got, Mesa?" Hutch asked.
"We received a call, from a male voice stating there was a bomb in the theater set to go off at three am.," Mesa said, tossing a well-chewed toothpick to the floor.
With scarred fingers that I could only imagine how'd he'd gotten, he plucked out another toothpick from his vest pocket and pushed it between his lips. Guy must spend a small fortune on toothpicks; guess it was cheaper than cigarettes or cigars. I inwardly cringed as I pictured Mesa choking to death on that thing one day.
"Could be something could be nothing," Mesa mumbled, as I watched the toothpick dance in the corner of his mouth.
Hutch grabbed my wrist and looked at my watch. "That's only fifteen minutes from now."
"Right! And we're short on manpower. I wouldn't normally have two detectives looking for a bomb but --"
"What are we looking for?" I asked in a rush.
"You'll know it -- if you find it," Mesa said, forcing a smile.
"Terrific."
"Just don't touch the device. You find something out of the ordinary; you call one of my men over. You've got ten minutes then we clear this place out and hope it stays standing."
Hutch and I swiftly joined in with the other officers, all who were searching frantically. Some, on hands and knees, some, up and down each aisle, while others checked out the film room and the concessions.
Hutch and I had turned left down a long narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway were two doors. One marked office, one marked cleaning supplies.
"I got the office," I said drawing my gun and jiggling the door handle.
"Locked. Shit," I muttered my curse knowing time was slipping away.
I glanced at my watch. "Hutch, we only got --"
"Starsky!" Hutch gasped and I heard the clatter of stainless steel hitting the floor recognizing the sound right off -- my partner's .357 falling out of his hand.
I whirled around on my heels and my spine went rigid seeing a large armed man, in a short-sleeved black tee shirt, sporting a soothing picture of a sunrise tattoo on his right forearm. He was anything but soothing and calm having just pulled Hutch into the closet with him, the muzzle of his gun dug deep into my partner's side. He had the look of a man who'd been pushed to the edge -- a real crazy person. I assumed he was the guy who claimed there was a bomb.
"Police freeze!" I yelled loudly, at the same time charging three steps forward and using my foot as a doorstop before the guy could pull the door shut.
"I'll shoot him," Sunrise growled. "Do you believe me?"
Many things can drive a man to violence, and Sunrise was clearly insane. His thin, long hair was soaked with sweat, and his eyes were wild with panic, or hyped-up on drugs -- the lasers nearly drilled a hole in me.
"Where's the bomb!" I shouted my frustration.
"Yell any louder and it will go off," he smirked. "You didn't answer my question. I'll shoot him," Sunrise said without any feeling of remorse. "Do you believe me?"
I nodded. "Yes. Yes, I believe you. Just take it easy. We're police officers." I swallowed as I tried to keep a note of confidence in my tone. I could tell this man's heart was cold and full of contempt, but I tried to reach him anyway. "That's my partner you have there." I stared at Hutch. "He means a lot to me." Hutch raised a brow, his lips emitting a soft smile. "Look, man, you've got yourself backed into a closet. This place is full of cops. You're not going anywhere. Especially if you harm that officer. You…shoot…him… all gun's are going to be blazing your way. Do you believe me?" I nodded toward the sound of feet scrambling behind me down the narrow corridor, and the echo of guns cocking. "Let's work something out," I said, as I took charge of the situation.
Without looking I held up a firm hand and yelled, "Stay back!" Directing the officers in the hallway behind me. "Buddy," I made eye contact with the suspect once more. "You look like you could use a -- a drink -- a cup of coffee. How 'bout it, huh?"
Not to mention a few screws tightened, I thought to myself being sure to keep a friendly smile.
"Starsky, what the hell's going on?" Mesa asked from behind.
"I'll handle this, he's my partner." I glanced over my shoulder and leveled a fierce gaze toward Mesa, he spit out his toothpick and said no more.
"Keep them away!" Sunrise screamed, I turned around to see him drag Hutch further into the closet.
"You don't want to do this," Hutch said calmly.
"Don't talk!" The man's knuckles where white as bone as he held tight to the handle of his weapon digging it deeper into Hutch's rib cage.
"Mmmmm," Hutch winced.
"Keep your mouth shut!" Sunrise spat like a cornered cat.
"What do you want?" I asked softly, still keeping one hand up, feeling the heat behind me, knowing every man's weapon was trained on the suspect and my partner.
"I'm getting out of here." Sunrise flattened his back against the far wall being sure to use Hutch as a human shield. "Tell them to go away!"
I took a step into the large walk-in-closet, noting the cleaning chemicals, brooms, and cans of old paint on the shelves to my right.
"Stop!" Sunrise was becoming more agitated. "Don't move another inch or I'll shoot him, and get them out of here!"
"Mesa, take your men and get the hell out of here," I instructed again in a low demanding tone. No one made a move. "Get out of here!" I snapped, never taking my eyes off Hutch.
I heard the shuffle of feet backing away, but knew they hadn't gone far.
"Why are you doing this?" I stalled.
"My cheating wife. She's in that porn house with her lover. Comes here every night. I'm going to take care of them once and for all…and I want the world to know about it."
"Along with all the other innocent people?" I tried to reason. "Their all out of here now. Safe. You're only hurting yourself."
"Nobody is safe and nobody is innocent!"
"My partner is. Right, partner?"
"Right," Hutch said nervously.
"Don't you think you should get out of here too, before you get blown to bits?" I questioned.
The crazed man shook his head; he hadn't thought this through very well. I guess it's true what they say about love being blind, it was deaf, and dumb too.
"I want to be here. Need to hear the explosion. See the fire. Know they're dead." The man tightened his grip on Hutch. "They ruined my life… now I'm going to ruin theirs."
"Two minutes." I heard Mesa's voice, not far off.
"Starsk, go on," Hutch said softly. "Get out of here."
I glanced at Hutch, and then Sunrise. "I'm staying."
"That's not a good idea, partner."
"I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Sunrise hissed in Hutch's ear, his finger trembling against the trigger.
I was getting nervous. I had to get Hutch out of there. My first instinct was to rush in hard, but I knew I couldn't risk that. I forced myself to think, cutting my eyes to the shelf not far away from where Hutch and the suspect stood. My attention zeroed in on several large bottles of Ammonia.
Bingo!
I made eye contact with my partner.
"You heard the man, Hutch --" I said, darting my eyes to the right then back again. "Keep your mouth shut, and your eyes while you're at it!"
Hutch's eyebrows flew up in confusion, but he knows when I have a plan, and he knows to do exactly as I say when I say it -- even if he doesn't understand why.
I kept my face blank and my body stiff. Only my eyes moved, first to the target on the shelf, then to the creep who had my partner.
"So -- if you can't have a happy ending with your wife no one will--" I paused and took a breath. "Is that…right!" I shouted.
On cue, Hutch ducked his head to the right as I pulled the trigger hitting one of the Ammonia bottles, sending the liquid spraying into the eyes of the suspect.
"Ahhhhh!" Sunrise screamed and dropped his weapon.
Before I could move in, Hutch was up on his feet, and shoving the large man up against a wall. "Spread your legs!" he ordered as he kicked the man's feet apart. "Put your hands on top of your head."
I could hear the fury in Hutch's voice, and a shiver went up my spine. I bent down and picked up the man's gun and then my partner's, while Hutch patted Sunrise down and pulled his hands behind his back.
"Owe, that hurts," the man complained as the cuffs snicked tight around his writs.
"Not as much as being blown to bits," I said getting in the man's face, noting his bloodshot and tearing eyes, probably from the ammonia that had been spilled.
"Starsk?" Hutch frowned, and swiped a few tears of his own from his eyes. "The bomb?"
"Was a crude homemade device," Mesa said leaning against the doorframe of the closet arms crossed over his chest, seemingly unaffected by the pungnet smell. "Blasting caps, and simple wiring. Any twelve-year-old following the instructions out of a science book could have made it. We found it under one of the seats."
"I'll build another one," the man hissed angrily. "Going to pop that no good son-of-a- bitch, and my wife and send this place to the moon."
"Pal," I said, breathing through my mouth, and swallowing air trying to rid my nostrils of the ammonia smell that was irratating my already burning throat. "Where you're going you won't even get the chance to pop a paper bag full of air," I choked,the ammonia smell cutting my breath off as I resisted the urge to cold-cock him. "Come on!" I grasped the crazed bomber by his shirt collar and pointed him toward the door. "Here, Mesa, he's all yours." I roughly handed the man off.
"Thanks for the happy ending," Mesa said, taking charge of the man he began to read Sunrise his rights as he walked him down the hallway.
Hutch stepped silently past me and leaned up against the wall out in the hallway. I holstered my gun and stood next to him. He looked a little shaky.
"Hey." My voice soft. "He hurt you?" I brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder, and handed Hutch his weapon.
"No." Hutch shook his head, whooshed out a huge sigh, and dropped his head back against the wall. "Hmm." He rubbed the spot on his ribcage where the suspect's gun had been.
"You're sure?" I asked, holding back a sneeze as I pushed a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead.
"I'm sure." Hutch took a breath, and stepped away from the wall. "Wh-what a night," he stuttered, and took in a breath of fresh air.
"It ain't over 'till the whistle blows, partner."
"Let's get out of here," Hutch said, holstering his gun and heading down the hallway.
I stared at his tan sport jacket as I followed behind him. His shoulders were rigid struggling to hold himself in check. There's a big heart behind my partner's badge. He feels everything deeply -- deeper than most. I worried that big heart of his would break before it's time. This cop's life isn't an easy one. We see it all. The cruelty. The inhumanity. The fear.
I secretly wondered how long it would be before one of us cracked; like a fissure running through rock. Or until the day came when one of us would fall into the other's pool of blood with a loud splash, floating up to the top like a dime store goldfish in a fishbowl.
It took my father and his partner fifteen years to burnout. It all ended in the echo of twenty-one rifle shots and the honorable snapping sound of white-gloved hands - I didn't want Hutch and I to go that way.
I know I often thought of us going out like Butch and Sundance. But what I really saw was two old guys stretched out on lawn chairs, roasting hotdogs over an open fire pit, drinking beer, and remembering when.