Chapter 4

Plans, More Plans, And Getting Drunk

Ironside was not in a good mood by the time Ed showed up at the office. Sergeant Brown had been off the scope all day, and Ironside didn't like not knowing what was going on.

'Where is everybody?' asked Ed as he came in.

'They're working,' Ironside told him.

Ed glanced up at clock.

'It's late, you sure they haven't gone home early?'

'They're undercover.'

Ed stopped halfway down the ramp.

'Undercover? Eve? Mark!?'

Ironside nodded.

'Why I am always the last to know?' Ed asked, half-jokingly. But Ironside scowled.

'Maybe if you called in every so often, you wouldn't be so ignorant of what your colleagues are doing.'

'I called three times,' Ed replied much more calmly than Ironside expected. He understood the Chief's moods, and had clearly decided he was going to try the reasonable approach. He went over to the kitchen area and collected a mug of coffee off the stove.

'So when's Mark due back?' he asked.

'I don't know.'

'So who's here to help you?'

'I'm not a baby needing spoon-fed, Sergeant!' snapped Ironside.

'Sorry, Chief,' replied Ed quickly.

'But you can stay in Mark's room while he's not here.'

Ed gave an audible sigh as he moved forward from the stairs to sit down beside his boss at the desk. He took a slow sip from his coffee, savouring it. Ironside frowned all the more deeply.

'Is my company really so bad, Sergeant Brown?'

'No, sir!'

'Did you have other plans for this evening?'

The moment's hesitation told Ironside that Ed had indeed planned something else, probably involving a shapely young lady.

'Well, now you mention it…' started Ed.

'There are more important things than your love life, you know.'

'Yes, Chief,' agreed Ed with a slight smile.

'There are more important things, like your report,' said Ironside hotly. 'Care to tell me what you've been doing all day? Or did ordinary police work slip you mind?'

Ed reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of tanned letters, tied with fraying, old string. He tossed it onto the table.

'That's it,' he said.

Ironside picked up the bundle and looked questioningly as Ed.

'I'm sorry Chief, but that's all I have. They're from the landlord at Scott Thompson's apartment.'

Ironside flicked through the letters then he glanced back at the sergeant with a critical air.

'Well, that's not much for a full day's work,' he said.

'There's nothing more,' Ed replied with a heavy sigh. 'I've been through everything I can think of. Either people don't know or aren't talking. And all I've done is go round in circles.'

'And you've talked to them all?'

'There's nothing new to add to the reports,' Ed insisted. 'Nothing.' Ironside glared at him, and Ed obviously felt the need to clarify himself. 'I can't find a single thing to link any of the men with anyone connected with fights, let alone John Carlson.' he said. 'No one saw anything. No one knows anything. If these men were picked, whoever did it covered their tracks very, very well. No one saw anything.'

'But grown men don't just disappear into thin air, Sergeant.'

'I know,! Ed replied, a snap in his tone this time.

'Not all seven of them.'

'I know! But I can't find a new angle.'

'Then what's wrong?' Ironside demanded. 'Can't you do your job?'

Ed pursed his lips, looking away, and for a moment Ironside wondered if he'd gone too far. Then Ed lifted his head, looking straight back at his boss.

'There's nothing to find,' Ed replied steadily. 'These men walked out of their apartments, their jobs, their lives one day and were fished out of the Bay the next. Whatever they were going, they hid it. And they hid it well.'

Ironside drew a long breath in, fighting the desire to argue with his sergeant. But Ed had been the one out working on this and he knew what he was doing. Besides, it wasn't fair to take his frustration and worry about Eve and Mark out on Ed.

'Alright, then Ed. Get your report done, the whole thing, while it's still in your mind, and I'll get us some dinner. Early tomorrow morning we'll try a different tactic.' Ed looked up, curious and Ironside smiled. 'We'll go and see John Carlson.'

Ed's face remained deadpan.

'And that's going to help?'

'I hope so, Sergeant.' Ironside thought of Mark and Eve, out on assignment, and he gave a sigh. 'I hope so.'

The music thrummed loudly in Mark's ears. A tangle of bodies moved to the beat, there was a heavy mist of smoke in the air and the smell of alcohol was everywhere. It was getting on his nerves. Undercover, you weren't supposed to drink.

Mark had been in the Blue Corner Club since nine last night and it was now past four in the morning, he occasionally caught a glimpse of lightening sky through the narrow window of the Club. Undercover work had looked glamorous to begin with, but in fact he had found it tedious after only a couple of hours. But he had hung out at the Club, sure that this was as good a place as any, and fortunately his perseverance was beginning to pay off. People were loosening up, talking more any more. But he still wasn't making any real headway.

Earlier, he'd spoken to a couple of his old fighting buddies, and both of them had suggested this place as the most likely place to start. Anyone who was anyone in the scene came here at some point. Carlson himself was rumoured to show up every once in a while as well. For most of the night he'd talked about fights; talk but no concrete details. Though Mark knew his way around the fight scene, he had no idea there was so many fights going on underground. The Chief could easily be right, there were so many opportunities for rigging fights up. A man with money and a few connections could do it and still keep a lid on it. Something like that would be easy for John Carlson.

Tired from the long night, thirsty and growing discouraged by the whole job, Mark was just wondering how much longer he would hang before he called it in, when he noticed someone new coming through the doorway.

As Mark watched, people surreptitiously moved away from the man, quietly stepping back and keeping out of his way as he walked over to the bar. Everyone in the Club was aware of his presence, and Mark wondered who he was. As the man ordered a beer, other people drifted away from the bar. Whoever that guy was, nobody like him.

Over the next half hour, Mark kept an eye on that man. He didn't speak much, and drank alone. The only other person to get close stood next to him, drinking in silence, sticking nearby like a shadow. Mark watched patiently from a distance, waiting to see what they did. Eventually, as time wore on, and the man got more drinks into him, Mark decided to take a chance and ambled over. He stood next to the two men, and ordered a double.

'Haven't see you around here before,' said the man. He was as tall as Mark, broad and powerful; Mark could tell a fighter when he saw one. But at the moment, he had a heavy, glazed expression, with no sign of the cat-like reflexes a fighter needed to win. His voice was slightly slurred, and the smell of alcohol was heavy on his breath.

'Not in town for long,' said Mark. 'Looking for somewhere to relax. Maybe some action, too.'

'You need a drink!' said the man. 'Freddie, get this man another one. Another double. And mine.'

Freddie the barman nodded, and produced a pair of double bourbons in a matter of seconds. Mark looked at it hesitantly. He would have to drink that if he was going to stay in cover. The man picked up his drink and knocked it back in a single mouthful. He looked at Mark, expecting him to do the same. Trying not to think of what his boss would say, Mark tossed the drink back, his eyes suddenly watering from the strength of it.

The man clapped him hard on the back.

'Good! Have another!'

'Archie. take it easy!'

Mark looked up. The second man, the shadow in the background, had come over. He ignored Mark, and was staring at Mark's new drinking buddy.

'I'm fine,' said Archie to the shadow-man. 'I'm just getting my friend here a drink. What's wrong with that, Mikey?'

Mikey turned to look at Mark. While Archie was tall and loud and imposing, Mikey was the opposite. Looking at him gave Mark the urge to check his wallet. Instead, Mark grinned.

'Peace out, man,' he said in a friendly way.

'Yeah, well, we might see you round,' said Mikey, giving Archie a small scowl. 'We got to go.'

'No. We don't.' Archie looking to his drink. 'My new buddy here was going to get me another drink.'

'Archie…?'

Archie glared up at his shadow, a hash, vicious stare and Mikey took a step back. After a moment, Mikey smiled at Mark, half-hearted but a still a smile.

'How about I get the next round?' said Mikey.

Mark had little choice but to agree, if he wanted to get more information out of them.

The morning wore on, and Mark slowly became drunker and drunker, out of his depth when it came to drinking with these two. Archie had clearly taken a liking to Mark, whatever Mikey thought, or possibly because of what Mikey thought and Mark was happy enough to use that to get information.

There were a lot of fights, he found that out pretty quickly, most of them weren't licensed. No one here thought anything of it. Archie claimed to fight every few weeks. It was just a quick way to make a few bucks. Mark was careful not to mention anything about the bodies in the Bay, but he did recognise one of the names Archie mentioned: Scott Thompson. It wasn't much, but at least it was some sort of connection.

The conversation lurched from topic to topic, booze, junk, and girls, with all three of them getting increasingly drunk on doubles. Interestingly, the more Mikey drank, the less anxious and more talkative he became, relaxing in Mark's company.

Slowly, Mark drew the conversation back to fights, struggling inside against the waves of drunkenness that were making it difficult to concentrate. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this high.

'How do you do it?' Mark asked eventually. 'Don't the cops know? It is illegal!'

Archie laughed in a malicious way.

'The cops don't care,' said Mikey. 'Why would they care if we're paid to knock the sense out of each other? They got other things to do, and we just stay out of their way.'

'Damn cops,' muttered Archie. 'They gonna get what's coming to them real soon.'

Mark frowned at Archie. He didn't like the way the man had said that. It sounded like he really meant it.

'Knock it off,' said Mikey with a drunken laugh, looking keenly at Mark. 'He's just kidding, man!'

'Cop's gonna get it!' insisted Archie.

Mikey looked embarrassed and angry, but Mark smiled back.

'Yeah, man,' he said. 'The fuzz is always on my case. Been in and out of the pen since I was old enough to steal cars.'

Archie gave a twisted smiled and laughed.

'You've seen it, man, you and all the other blacks,' said Archie. 'Cops hate the blacks. Cops hate everyone. Ain't got nothing good about them. Gonna get it soon. Very so-' The rest was cut off, as a murmur spread round the room.

'About time,' Mark heard Mikey mutter. 'Thought he'd never show.'

'Who?'

'Who d'ya think? The man!'

Mikey jerked his head to the door and much to Mark's surprise, he saw John Carlson walking in, smiling and joking, attracting all the attention of the room. But even more to his surprise, he caught sight of a very familiar figure walking just behind Carlson, obviously part of his group. Mark frowned, unsure what to do next.

Her clothes were garish and bright and certainly not the latest fashion, but there was no mistaking who it was.

It was Eve!