Chapter 10

That's Why It's Called Undercover

The tension in the car was making Mark extremely nervous, and just at a time when he had to be as calm as possible. In the front passenger seat, Archie was mumbling to himself as Mikey drove, and occasionally Mikey would steal a dark look at the other man, as if to try and communicate something that Mark couldn't quite figure out.

After about half an hour of slow, city travelling, they stopped at a red light and Mikey glanced back over his shoulder to Mark in the back seat. Mark didn't like the expression on his face.

'You're not going to get a second chance to back out,' Mikey said.

'Quit bugging me, man,' replied Mark. 'I know.'

Mikey gave a nod, then turned back to the wheel of his shiny, new three-door Ford. Though the exchange had been short, Mikey was more relaxed. And that made Mark even more nervous. As they travelled, he stared out of the car window, and never before had the call boxes they passed looked so interesting.

He knew what Ironside was going to say to him when they next spoke, the words had been loud and clear in his mind for the past few hours. He had done precisely what the Chief had told him not to do.

And he was only getting himself in deeper with every new decision.

But there was no way he could let something like this go, he couldn't just turn around and let Mikey and Archie off on their own. Something was going down. He had to be involved and he had to try and stop it. He was the only one in a position to do it. Not that he had expected anything like this when he had agreed to go undercover, but that wasn't the point. Now he was here, he had no other option.

They drove on, weaving though the back streets and dark corners of San Francisco. It was almost as if Mikey was trying to make sure Mark was confused about where they were going. His cover story had been that he was new in town, so it was likely that Mikey thought that he didn't know his way around.

Rather than appearing worried, Mark contented himself with looking out of the window. They passed through familiar streets, and out into more unfamiliar territory. He knew roughly where they were, but not specifically. His anxiety increased slightly more.

'How long is this gonna take, man?' he asked eventually. 'Your driving is making me dizzy.'

Mikey didn't answer.

They were on the outskirts now, and it was growing lighter in the sky to the east, Mark refused to look at his watch, as that would only show how long it had been since he'd contacted the Chief. As last, Mikey turned the car off the road, down a dirt track. In the front passenger seat, Archie suddenly began to get agitated, looking eagerly from left to right as if he expected trouble.

'Ok,' said Mikey, pulling up the car by a tree. 'This is it.'

'Yeah, man!' said Archie, rubbing his hands together. 'This is it, this is going to be so sweet!'

'Keep it in control,' Mikey said to the other man. 'Keep it cool.'

'What's up with this place, man?' Mark asked. 'It's time to level. What's going down?'

Mickey looked at his front-seat passenger.

'There's gonna be a fight. A real sweet, special one,' said Archie, a slightly manic look in his eyes. 'And with your background one that you are just gonna love.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'You'll see, my friend,' said Mikey.

A smile of true madness spread over Archie's face, and Mark's blood ran cold. But he knew from working with the Chief that he had to keep on digging for information. He had to push.

'Come on,' he said. 'You can't leave it like that. What's goin' down, man?'

'It's what they were waiting for,' said Archie in a forced whisper, his eyes still wide with glee. 'Something the Club would pay to see. And big bucks, too. It's the big time, man.'

'Archie, shut up!' Mikey muttered.

'What sort of thing?' insisted Mark.

Archie gave a nasty smile.

'I told you before,' he said slowly. 'Cop's gonna get it!'

Mark looked from one man to the other, panic stabbing through him. He fought to keep himself under control. This wasn't just big, this was huge, and far too huge for him. And it was far too huge for him to he into on his own with no backup, as isolated from the other team members as he could get. But what other choice had he had?

'I told you,' said Mikey with a grim smile. 'I told you it was heavy. I asked you if you wanted in. There's no way to back out now.'

Trying to stay calm, Mark looked from Mikey to Archie, then back to Mikey.

'A cop?' he said. 'Are you cats crazy? You're going to fight a cop?'

Archie just shrugged.

'Hey man, fighting's one thing,' said Mark. 'But a cop is something different. I don't wanna get involved with cops again. And what if he ID's us afterwards.'

'There ain't gonna be an afterwards,' said Archie. 'You get what I'm saying?'

Mark already knew that what they were going to say, but still the words seemed to take him by surprise. They were really going to murder someone, with no more thought than what it took to get to the right place at the right time. And Archie was looking forward to it.

'That's murder,' said Mark. 'You know what happens with murder. I don't want to get in with a murder, not for any buzz.'

Mikey leaned over and took hold of his arm very tightly.

'You said you were in. You don't get to just walk away! No one does and stays alive afterwards, I've seen it. And it's gone to far already. You're either in or you're gonna join that cop in the show. You cool?'

Mark hesitated. He didn't want anything to do with this, this was too big. He had no back-up and no way to safely contact the Chief without blowing his cover. But he wasn't going to get another opportunity at this. Whoever they had shanghaied into this was in serious trouble, and so was he if he didn't play along. Going undercover had looked so simple in the safety of Ironside's office.

He let out a long breath, and nodded.

'I trust you, Mikey,' he said at last. 'And you're right. I do wanna see a cop go down.'

Mikey gave a wide grin.

'I knew it, as soon as I saw you in the club. I knew you would be able to take the heat.'

Mark wasn't sure he should be pleased by that compliment, but he smiled anyway.

'C'mon then,' said Archie. 'If we're goin' to go, we've gotta go now.'

He was already half out of the door before Mikey grunted a response, or before Mark could nod. Mikey pulled the seat forward and let Mark out of the car, then slammed the door with an excessive thud, and locked it.

Mark watched him. Was he nervous, or excited? It was difficult to tell. There was something odd about him, and Mark didn't like the way Mikey was acting, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

They headed along a dirt track, Mikey and Archie on either side of him, reminding Mark with unpleasant clarity of all those times in his youth that he'd been marched along to some downtown Police Station.

Ahead was a dark, low building that was about as non-descript as it could get. They went to the back of it and went though an unobtrusive door.

Inside, they descended some steps, down towards a corridor blazing with off-white, artificial light. Beside him, Archie was acting more erratically, he bouncing along the corridor, his arms and hands tense, rolling his shoulders the whole time as if warming up for something.

Mark tried to focus on what was happening, he kept a keen look out for any exits, or telephones, but all he could see was the grey of the corridor ahead. At the bottom of the steps, a man Mark didn't recognise was waiting for them. His placid look vanished the moment he set eyes on Mark.

'What are you playing at?' he hissed at Mikey. 'What?'

Mikey gave the man a sullen shrug.

'He's a player,' Mikey said. 'And he wants in.'

'In? You have no right to let anyone in! I say who's in and who's not.'

There was an unpleasant pause, and the man looked at Mark with a sneer.

'What's your name?'

'Mark Sanger.'

'Did you check him out?' the man asked Mikey.

'Of course I did,' said Mikey in a very derisive tone. 'I'm not stupid. He's a player, I said so. If you don't believe me, Pete, then…'

"Pete" snorted at the suggestion. Mark's expression didn't change, though he knew that if Mikey had done any checking at all, it would have brought him straight back to Ironside. If this Pete decided to check, then he was going to get burned.

But Pete didn't move. Instead he looked at Archie, who looked up to him, grinning like a maniac. Pete patted Archie on the shoulder, and gripped it tightly. Then he looked back to Mark.

'The man's not flush, is he?' Pete said. 'So how's he going to pay his entrance fee?'

Mikey grinned.

'Same way I did. First blood.'

Mark was liking this scenario less and less with every passing second, but there was no way he could back out now, and remain alive. He made sure his stance was open and relaxed, and concentrated on looking calm, burying his feelings as far down as they could go. He stared back at Pete, meeting his eye and waited for a response.

They stood in silence of almost a minute, Mark aware of every twitch Archie made, and Mikey staring at Pete.

'Ok, first blood it is,' said Pete at last. 'But he doesn't get a second chance.'

At the words, a sneer appeared on Mikey's face, but Pete paid no attention to it, if he had even noticed. He spun round on his heel and strolled off down the corridor.

'Come on!' he said.

Archie followed like an eager puppy, Mikey and Mark with much less enthusiasm. Pete led them down to another doorway, and they went inside.

The room was very brightly lit as well, painfully so and Mark had to blink hard to keep his eyes from watering. The group of five men stood around in a small circle talking in hushed voices. Mark didn't recognise any of them; none of them were John Carlson, that much was obvious. The men accepted Mark's presence with barely a glance of curiosity, they were all far to interested in Pete and Archie.

Mark moved towards the back, and Mikey went with him.

The soft murmuring died away as Pete moved to the front of the group.

'This is a privilege,' said Pete. 'We all know it, and we're all grateful for it!' He patted the place on his jacket where his wallet should have been, and there was a cheer from the others.

'This is what we've been working towards. After this one, we're going to have to change tack, shut this place down and think of something else. So tonight we get to enjoy it one more time. Savour it, as we've saved the best until last.'

Mark's stomach clenched, as part of him wanted to be sick. They were talking about watching a man beaten to death, not watching the final football game of the season.

'You on the level?' said one of the men to Pete.

'Yeah, we're on the level. This is the big one.'

'What about our insurance?'

'Carlson is going to take the fall, no sweat. This one's been hanging around the man for a couple of days. No one is going to find out about us.'

'And it is a real cop?' another said.

'Oh yeah,' said Pete, grinning. 'And a sergeant, no less.'

Working for Ironside had changed a great many things about Mark. He was happy, at ease with his new life, he had money, a steady job, but he had discovered something else. He had an instinct. When he'd fought in the ring, he'd had a gut feeling then, being able to duck and weave and avoid the punches. But now, with Ironside, his gut feeling had developed into something else, something much more refined.

And he knew that the sergeant they were talking about was Ed Brown. He was never able to explain how he understood that, but he did.

'So where's the badge?' demanded someone. 'Not that we don't trust you Pete, but we're gonna need some proof, for all that bread.'

Pete reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black wallet that was passed around, the other men examining it with murmurs of approval. Mark couldn't bear to look at it, in case he was right. As it came close, he realised that he was right. He'd see that wallet often enough, slightly dog-eared round the bottom corner, about the only dog-eared thing about the man. Ed had always claimed that he needed a new one, but had never gotten around to getting it, Eve had joked that he was too attached to it to get another one.

Someone passed the wallet across to him, and he saw Ed's picture and his signature along the bottom. After a moment, Mikey took it from his hand and passed it on to someone else.

Mark didn't move. This wasn't just bad, this was as bad as it could get. It wasn't about stopping them killing a cop; it was about stopping them killing a friend, as well as getting them both out of here alive. And he still didn't know where "here" was.

His chest tightened in panic. He found himself paralysed by indecision as he realised that he had no idea what to do. If it came down to it, how was he going to stop them beating Ed to death, knowing that if he made a move and got it wrong, they would just kill him as well and Ed would die anyway? But, if he did nothing, how was he every going to face Ironside, or Eve again? More to the point, how was a he ever going to be able to look at himself in the mirror again?

He had to do something. He just didn't know what.

Suddenly, the door opened and three men stepped out, the one in the middle blindfolded. From the scuffmarks on his shirt, his tousled hair and the way the other two held him with his arms tight against his back, it was clear that he hadn't come along easily.

Standing in the full glare of the lights, the blindfold was ripped of his face and the man winced in pain from the punishing brightness of the white lights. The smallest of shudders when though Mark. He knew already had all the proof he needed; he knew who it was, but that didn't make the reality of seeing him any easier. It was Ed Brown.

The two men let him go, pushing him forward slightly, and Mark realised that Ed's hands were cuffed behind his back. Mark had never seen his friend look so vulnerable before. Usually so self-assured, there was an expression on his face that Mark hadn't expected. Having worked on the case, he'd seen the pictures of the other victims, and Mark saw Ed understood what was about to happen. There was no panic in his eyes, or terror, just the detached kind of determination of a man who knows that he's at the end of the line.

For a few moments Ed stood there, staring straight ahead. Then his gaze went round the group, Mark held his breath. But Ed was a pro. He didn't even look twice at Mark, even though he must have been extremely surprised, and maybe even grateful, to see him standing there at the back.

There was some excited chatter at the sight, and Mark saw Archie grin at Mikey. Mikey didn't respond.

'You know why we're here,' said Pete. 'So let's get down to it.' He pointed at Mark. 'You, c'mere!'

At first, Mark's legs wouldn't work, but after a seconds hesitation, he stepped forward towards Pete, careful not to look at Ed.

'First blood,' said Pete with a cruel smile. 'That's what we need. Just to see how serious you are.'

'You're the new boy,' said another man, one with a mocking, sarcastic edge to his voice. 'You're going to have to prove you're in.'

'I ain't killing no cop,' said Mark firmly.

'That's what we've got Archie for,' said someone else. There was a small ripple of laughter that quickly petered out, leaving a profound silence behind.

Pete jerked his head towards Ed.

'Assaulting a police officer is good for a couple of years, if you're caught,' he said. 'And there are witnesses, reliable ones too, in this room. Going to risk a couple of years of your life for the chance to join us? Hit him. Show us what you think of the cops.'

Mark had expected some jeering, but there was a silence that somehow felt more intimidating. And try as he might, he couldn't see any other way out of this situation, other than to do what the man said.

'Mikey said you were a player,' Pete said. 'Did he get it wrong?'

Mark shook his head.

'I just didn't expect anything like this,' he said.

'What did you think it was gonna be? More playing at fights?'

Mark shook his head again and Pete snorted.

'Well, just a reminder, if you're not in, then we'll have a double showing. Archie's not gonna mind that.' The silence grew deeper.

He had no choice. These men weren't going to be fooled if he pulled the punch, these guys knew what they were looking at. If he was going to do it, it had to be for real.

Hiding the shake of his hands with balled fists, Mark stepped up to Ed, looking at him, eye to eye. And Ed looked back, his face as expressionless as could be. Mark couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking.

Ed Brown stood for everything that Mark had hated in his youth: a white authority figure who'd had everything Mark hadn't. There had been a few times he'd wanted to take a swing at the other man. They had disagreed from time to time but, like the Chief himself, Ed was a good man and he had earned Mark's respect over the past few years. He was a friend. However unlikely it was, they had somehow become friends, though Mark had never realised it properly until now.

A full minute must have passed.

'He ain't got it in him,' said a voice. 'He ain't got the nerve!'

The words forced Mark to act. There wasn't anything else he could do. Still looking Mark directly in the eye, Ed's expression changed. He tilted his head up slightly, Mark couldn't decide if Ed was daring him or pleading with him to take a swing.

They stood for a second longer, then Mark took a half-step backwards, twisting his body. Then he swung his right hook around, putting all the force he could behind the punch, aiming directly for the other man's face.

Mark's fist connected with a dulled crunch and Ed fell to the floor as if he'd been hit by a hammer. He didn't move.