Chapter 12

Well Known By Reputation

'What you doing, Sanger?'

Mark didn't answer him, just let he phone slip away from his ear and back to the table, his knuckles white with the force of his grip.

How was he going to talk his way out of this? In a different life, before he'd met Ironside, it would have been easy to talk his way out, or just to run, plain and simple. But he had other responsibilities, not least to the man he'd just laid out cold.

'I asked you what you were doing, Sanger?' Mikey said.

For a moment, Mark considered telling the truth; it was a reasonable option and maybe he could try and talk Mikey into helping. But he knew that would never work, he wasn't skilled enough for that.

The other man looked Mark up and down. 'You're not the fuzz, are you? Who are you?'

Mikey was calm, a lot calmer than Mark would have expected. That couldn't be good.

What ace did he have to play? What were this man's weaknesses? Archie was a weakness, the way Mikey hung around him all the time. He liked to drink and he was easy to talk to, once he loosened up. Nothing of much help there.

Ok, what were his own strengths? Or what did he know that could scare Mikey enough to get him on side?

The Chief had always said: "if in doubt, push!". So he had to push Mikey into a different position, he had to upset the normality, he had to do or say something that would change Mikey's idea of what was going on.

But Mark's mind was a blank. He'd no plan, he'd nothing to say. Instead, he thought about Ed, lying handcuffed and helpless downstairs. Ed's life could be measured in minutes… what would Ironside do in this position? The Chief would have already have talked his way out of this, he would be downstairs having bluffed his way around Pete as well. Ironside was unstoppable!

Ironside… Suddenly, he had it, something so simple and so straightforward that it was amazing he hadn't thought of it before.

Instead of answering, Mark looked back at Mikey as confidently as he could, allowing a little smile onto his face.

'It's a simple enough question,' said Mikey.

Mark shook his head slowly, his allowing his smile to grow.

'I can't believe it,' he said., matching Mikey's calm tone 'You don't know, do you? Or else you have a death wish!'

'You're the one heading for a quick exit,' said Mikey.

'You sure about that? That cop downstairs, you've no idea who he is, do you. Listen to me, man, he's bad, bad news.'

Mikey narrowed his eyes, taking a small step towards Mark.

'Then why did you hit him so hard? If he's such bad news?'

'I had to buy myself some time, man. Because, baby I am out of here!' Mikey looked surprised. 'And if you had any sense you'd split too.'

'Why would I do that?'

'That cop, the one Pete's so proud of, you know who he is, don't you?'

'You keep on saying that like I should care. He's just some cop.'

Mark barked a laugh that sounded much more convincing than he thought it would.

'You cats just don't have a clue, do you? That isn't just any cop, Mikey. I'm new around town and even I know you don't go messing with Chief Ironside!'

Confusion flooded Mikey's face and Mark offered up silent thanks that the Chief had such a fine reputation.

'Ironside?'

'Yeah, ol' fuzz-on-wheels himself. That man lying on the floor unconscious is his very own pet sergeant. And even I know you don't go around killing off Ironside's men, not for any kick. Not if you want to stay out of the gas chamber.'

Mikey stepped up to Mark in a manner that should have been threatening, if he hadn't been shaking at the same time. He was taking short, shallow breaths, his eyes searching Mark's face.

'How do you know?' Mikey hissed. 'How?'

'I'm not so green as you think,' snarled Mark. 'Why do you think I split from 'Fricisco in the first place? I'm not staying around here to see if he remembers me.'

A plan was forming in his mind as Mark's spoke. He would get Mikey to go first and take him out. Then he would get on the phone and call backup straightaway, and somehow get downstairs and hint that Mikey had done a runner, get most people out of that room and away from Ed, maybe even get to Ed's gun. Then he and Ed would stand a much better chance.

Mikey stared at Mark.

'You're wrong,' he said. 'You've got to be.'

Mark shook his head and crossed his arms, looking disinterestedly towards the door.

'You want to know what I think?' he said. 'I think you're being played for a fool by your friend Pete!'

'What?'

Mark leaned forward.

'I'll bet my last dollar that Pete knows exactly who that is. Pete's the man with the answers, right? He's gotta know who's who in this town. And he's gotta know that Ironside's not going to be fooled easily. It's not that hard to figure out who's going to take the fall.'

'Pete wouldn't do that to us,' Mikey said. 'No, Pete wouldn't.'

'You sure? You don't sound convinced to me.'

Mikey was silent, but Mark was sure he'd done enough. He was already thinking about the best way to get the others out of the basement when Mikey spoke.

'I can't leave without Archie,' he said.

Mark frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen.

'Why, man? Why not just the two of us split, right now?'

'Archie's my brother,' he said quietly. 'He's the only one in this whole goddamn world who's ever helped me out of a jam.'

Inwardly, Mark swore. That was going to make things a whole lot more complicated.

'Well,' he said hesitantly. 'Maybe you've got to help him out of this one. If you can help him. Or maybe you should let him take care of himself.'

'You don't get it!' snapped Mikey. 'He can't! He needs me! After the army, he came back different. Then this little punk Ronnie Stevens starts mouthing off and the next thing I know, Archie's near enough killed him. Pete saw. Pete bailed us out. Helped us. He wouldn't…'

'I think he would,' said Mark. 'He's got more to lose than you do, either of you. He's in this for the kicks, man, he's not going to care if you or your brother go all the way to San Quentin.'

Mikey was silent.

'You're sure about this cop?' he asked eventually.

Mark nodded.

'If you've got doubts, why don't you just see if Pete knows who he is? I bet he does but just hasn't bothered telling any of you. You want to get involved with Ironside, that's your own bag, man, but I'm out of here. You don't get a first chance with that man, let alone a second.'

Mikey didn't say anything and, his confidence growing, Mark kept pushing.

'You're gonna have to level, Mikey,' Mark said. 'Where are we?' There was another silence. 'I want out, and so should you! Where are we, man?'

'Carlson's Gun Club,' Mikey replied at last, his shoulders sagging down. Mark picked up the phone. 'What are you doing?'

'I want out!' snarled Mark. 'I said I was in, and I went along. But I'm not doing this. So you either let me get a pickup, or we're going to have a problem.'

Mikey's eyes flicked down to Mark's fist, then back to his face, maybe thinking about the punch Mark had given Ed.

'I could stop you right now,' said Mark quietly. 'Or I could walk away and let you deal with this mess on your own. Or I could help you. What's it gonna be, Mikey?'

There was a very long silence. It took all of Mark's nerve to keep staring at Mikey and not show his fear.

'Call,' Mikey said in a low voice. 'Get it over with.'

Mark breathed a soundless sigh of relief. He still wasn't out of this yet, but at least he was still in the game. As fast as he could, he dialled the van's number. It rang twice.

'Ir…'

'Need a pick up,' interrupted Mark loudly.

'Just wh…'

'Carlson's Gun Club.'

'W…'

'As fast as you can.'

Mark slammed the phone down like it was a hot iron and stepped quickly away from the desk. Mikey was watching him carefully.

'Ok, Mark,' he said. 'Now what are we gonna do?'

'Gimme time, man. We've got to think of a way out.'

'I can't leave Archie. And Pete wants the cop up and standing, and dying as soon as he can.'

Mark's stomach twisted at the words. They weren't out of this yet, not by a long shot. But at least Ironside was on his way.

'Then we've gotta play along,' he said, 'and not get Pete suspicious, not let him know that we know his game.'

Besides that, Mark knew he also had to try and get Ed in better shape, so if it came down to a fight, he'd have some sort of chance of living until Ironside showed.

'No!' said Mikey suddenly. 'You know what? I wanna talk to that cop. And you're coming too!'

Ed didn't open his eyes. Maybe it was just a nightmare…

Mark was there. What in God's name was Sanger doing there? How? He had to keep his cool, and not blow Mark's cover. He kept on staring, not moving, not showing his fear. Behind, the crowded men started to get restless, the atmosphere oppressive and frightening. Mark stepped forward.

'First blood. Hit him, show us what you think of cops!' Mark stood there, staring.

Come on Mark. Come on. Do it. Just do it. Don't blow your cover. Do it!

'He ain't got it in him,' said a voice. A brief flicker of anger crossed Mark's face. All he had to do was take a swing.

Don't blow your cover!

'He ain't got the nerve!'

Suddenly, breath caught in Ed's throat. His heart was thumping. Not the usual, steady sixty beats per minute, but racing like it was the end of the world. What was going on?

Ed still didn't open his eyes, he wasn't sure that he could, and the left side of his face was aching. There were no sounds, and under his cheek was the familiar feeling of thick-pile carpet, and there was the same musty, smoky smell as earlier. It was a safe guess that he was back in that pokey little room, the one he's first been in. For a moment, he was tempted to think that the previous memories were just a bad dream, but the ache through his skull and the numbness across his jaw told him it had been real enough. He tried to move his mouth, but there was an unexpected, stinging pain by his left ear, at the top of his jawbone when he did. He would have frowned, but that would probably have hurt too.

What was going on?

He'd seen Mark. He didn't understand what Mark was doing there, and at first, he hadn't even looked at the other man. Instead, he had kept his gaze fixed on the back of the room, feeling incredibly uncomfortable; the pressure and tension from the gathered men was suffocating. But he had to keep his cool. And he had to hope Mark wasn't going to blow his cover and do something stupid.

'Hit him!'

The words flashed back and Ed twitched, twisting away from the imaginary people surrounding him.

He had looked back as arrogantly as he could, tilting his chin towards Sanger, challenging him to do as Paxton said, and praying that he would that up that challenge.

'Hit him!'

And Mark had. Ed had thought that seeing Mark like that had been the biggest shock of his life; but that was nothing compared to the shock he'd experience at the force Sanger had put behind that punch. His head was still ringing.

He still didn't open his eyes. What was the point? He could feel the familiar grip of steel handcuffs, he wasn't going anywhere. So he lay there, his eyes still shut, pulling together as many memories as he could. All things considered, a black eye and a broken jaw were the least of his worries.

Mark was undercover, and he was "in", but it was unlikely he was in far enough to be completely free from suspicion. And, more importantly, it was unlikely he'd have been able to get any backup. And, even if he had somehow managed to contrive to get in touch with the outside world, since they were on a tight time limit, it was unlikely that any backup would arrive fast enough to get him out of this.

He knew he had to do something, but he had no idea what. The room was locked down tighter than San Quentin; he knew that from the futile and terrifying few hours before when he had tried in vain to get himself out. And now it was unlikely he'd be able stand up, even assuming he could summon the coordination to try.

Suddenly, there was noise that was amplified to a roar by his aching head; the crash of a door opening and the thunderous stomp of footsteps across the carpet.

The door closed with a clang and Ed realised someone was there, in the room with him. But he still didn't open his eyes. At that moment, he wasn't sure that he could.

'I need answers, cop,' said a man close beside him. It was someone new; Ed didn't recognise the voice, he was sure of that.

His head was lifted a few inches off the floor and there was the smell of scotch under his nose as an open bottle was pushed hard to his lips. He struggled, trying to twist away, his hands tugging uselessly at the cuffs. But the bottle was raised higher, making it hard to breathe. Unable to do anything else except suffocate, Ed drank.

But it wasn't just scotch, there was a gritty feel to the liquid, as if something had been crushed up and partially dissolved. He tried to spit it out, but that didn't work, and only made him swallow more. The alcohol burned his throat and he coughed, feeling some of the alcohol going up the back of his nose.

'Hey man, take it easy!' But Ed did recognise that voice… that was Mark!

He tried to say something, but the words didn't make it from his brain to his mouth. The alcohol hit his empty stomach like liquid lead and he was almost sick.

'Hey, wake up!' said the first voice. A warm hand tapped the right side of his face, in a surprisingly gentle way. Ed tried ineffectually to pull out of his grasp. 'C'mon! Wake up!'

Slowly, and very painfully, Ed tried to open his eyes. Only the right one worked, the left one remained shut.

Having his eyes open made his head hurt more. Everything was blurred, each of the lights in the ceiling were as bright as the midday sun. But there was a dark haired young man holding what was likely a bottle, kneeling beside him.

He moved his lips, trying to speak, but only a groan came out. The man peered at him.

'You need to tell me something,' the young man said, moving close. 'Who's your boss?'

What a flaming stupid question! At a time like this, who was going to care who he worked for? They were gonna kill him, so what did it matter? Then a glimmer of memory came back to Ed, of the conversation that Paxton had had earlier. What if Paxton had kept his connection with Ironside a secret? The others were likely to be really pissed off if that were true, most people in the city knew the Chief's rep. And maybe Mark had been stirring trouble.

'Who's your boss? C'mon, I gotta know.'

'I-I…' he tried to say. His mouth and jaw ached as he spoke and his voice sounded like someone else's.

'Who?'

'Ir- ron- side.' he gasped.

The young man swore; for a full minute he reeled off colourful euphemisms without ever repeating himself.

'I told you, man,' Ed heard Mark say when the diatribe had finished. 'And you don't go messing around with him.'

'We've gotta get out of this place,' the man said. 'I've gotta get Archie, and we've gotta split.'

Ed opened his mouth to say something, help Mark push the situation, but he was overcome by a wave of… he wasn't even sure he could describe it. He'd had never felt so unusual in his life, and it was not a feeling that he liked one little bit. Some of his discomfort must have been visible on his face.

'Mikey, what did you give him?' asked Mark suddenly.

'Uppers. Might have been speed, I don't know. Nothing too heavy, we don't have junk like that in the Club.'

'Man!' Mark was suddenly by his side, his voice disproportionately loud and wobbling. Ed blinked at him. 'Look at him, how much did you give him?'

There was a deafening sound of sloshing as Mark grabbed the nearly empty bottle from Mikey.

'Three or four of the blue ones,' Mikey said. 'I don't know. All I found.'

Now it was Mark's turn to swear. He loomed close to Ed, his eyes like great big, white flashbulbs with tiny black dots in the centre.

'Hey man, you still with us?'

Ed tried to reply, but the room was expanding too fast. He felt like he was falling.

He'd seen the effects of drugs in others, and he'd heard about it, but there was nothing to prepare him for what it felt like. His head wasn't so much aching any more as spinning, his heart was thumping like he'd just spent the past half hour out on a football field, and there was an odd and unpleasant feeling of excitement though him, as if he could suddenly do anything he wanted along with a sense of tremendous anticipation. He could feel his arms and legs shaking and there was a thousand sharp pin-pricks all over them, as if he were surrounded by nipping insects.

As Ed stared, Mark nodded very, very slowly, then looked towards Mikey with a smile, and for the first time in hours Ed felt like this might actually work out ok, in spite of the strange, overwhelming sensations he was experiencing.

Then, as if caused by his thought, there was the heavy scraping noise from behind them, and both Mark and Mikey jerked around towards the door. As it opened, Ed could make out the rough shapes of two men. Ed peered harder, but he couldn't make out exactly who they were.

A voice boomed out through the room.

'It's time!' said Peter Paxton, throwing something shiny at Mikey. 'Get him up. And the cuffs. We're waiting.'