Mike and Bill exited the elevator and made their way to the ICU. Bill was first to see Rudy and Lenny in the waiting area sitting near the window. He nudged Mike and directed his boss their way. Rudy stood up and addressed Mike.
"We heard you were on your way over from Dispatch, Mike. Steve's had another setback and they're prepping him for surgery," he reported a bit too anxiously. His delivery struck Mike like a Mack truck.
Lenny jumped in with his typically calm voice. "Steve's fever continued to edge up a bit. The doctor thinks it might be an abscess."
Rudy continued, "They are just waiting for an operating room to open up. You might be able to see him before he goes up there," he said while pointing to the ICU.
Mike turned without a word and went back to the partitioned area where he had been the night before. He recognized the nurse on duty and nodded her way. "Lieutenant Stone, the doctor was trying to call you. Can you wait in Steve's area for a few minutes?"
"Sure," Mike replied, uncertain and somewhat apprehensive for what the doctor might say. Steve had no one on his personnel record listed as family. As a result, with Mike being his partner and boss, he was considered the de facto next of kin. No blood relative would feel any more concerned than Mike did at that moment.
Mike tentatively moved the curtain back into Steve's area, uncertain what he would find. He partner lay motionless with eyes closed, breathing softly through the tube. He was not flat on his back, but instead propped in a way which elevated the side where he was shot. Flushed, a light sheen of sweat covered his skin.
Mike rested his hand on Steve's arm and was stunned at the heat. He instinctively placed his hand on the young man's forehead and realized that he was much warmer than even the night before.
At that moment, the doctor walked in. "Oh, good. I'm glad you're here," he said to Mike. "I'm afraid we're going to need to take Steve back to the OR. I'm suspicious he has an abscess and it's probably near the injured kidney. We need to do some exploratory surgery to confirm. If it's there, I should be able to remove it, and then clean and reseal the wound.
Mike's brow furrowed at the news. "Oh, I understand. Before you came in, I…well, he feels so hot. What's his temperature been running?"
"Our last check was right around 104. It keeps getting higher. I wanted to let the antibiotics kick in and do their thing, but we are to a point where need to take action. We're getting ready to take him now."
The doctor continued. "Generally, this wouldn't be a problem, but he is in a weakened state. I'll let you know how it goes after the surgery. Will someone be around for me to talk to after the surgery?"
"Yes, it will be me or someone from my team."
"That's fine. You may want to go up to the surgical waiting room so we can talk afterward."
"Sure," Mike said as he looked around the room. "Thank you."
He then looked back at Steve and patted him on the arm one more time. "You hang in there, Buddy boy. We're pulling for you." He gave his arm one last squeeze. It saddened him to see that the young man could not respond.
Mike walked back to the others and explained the situation. Rudy thought it best to go back with Tanner and follow the leads from the motel. Lenny decided to stay with Mike to hear how the surgery went. As department psychiatrist, Lenny thought he'd take the opportunity to see how the older detective was handling the aftermath of Steve's shooting and the investigation.
SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF
Vic Spagnozzi hit the streets to find out who might have hired the hitman to kill his brother. The most obvious theory was that the attacker was brought in by someone related to the Livingston case. Vic knew that the Spagnozzi family and the Livingstons had 'clients' in common. Vic also knew that some of those clients had their ears to the ground but would be reluctant to talk. Still, people hear 'things' and Vic would try his best to finesse answers from even the tightest of lips.
Vic walked into Barney's Friendly Pub and Grill, an establishment well known to the underground and police alike. While a popular spot for locals, it also was the front for a profitable book running operation. One of the bookies was Frankie Winslow, an older English gentleman.
Frankie was on good terms with Vic - they went back years. Like old friends, they greeted each other accordingly.
"Frankie, have you heard anything about someone putting out a contract on Charlie?"
"It was Charlie I heard about on the news?," the Englishman asked. "I'm so sorry. And so soon after your Danny-boy was killed."
"You're a good friend, Frankie. Yeah, it's been rough," Vic nodded in agreement. "What about a contract? What have you heard?"
"I heard that old lady Livingston didn't want her boys to go down for your son's death. She said that her boys were reacting in self-defense, but that Charlie was going to say otherwise."
"The evidence says otherwise, too. It wasn't just Charlie."
"But he was the only witness to the altercation. Without him, the old woman figures there's not much of a case."
Vic nodded his head. "So what'd you hear? Did she bring someone in?"
"Yeah, two guys from LA. They are goons from their drug supplier. Both not long out of jail for attempted murder. There's the main guy - don't know his name, but he had basically pulled another guy in for a cut. I heard they were roommates back in the pen."
"No names?" Vic inquired.
"No, but I'll keep snooping around. What kind of deal can we cut for the next set of races?" Frankie asked.
"You get me names and I'll double your cut on the next Saturday run. Got it?" Vic responded. He knew the routine.
"Got it, Vic," Frankie winked. With his connections, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he found out the names of the pair.
SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF
"Can I get you some coffee, Mike?" Lenny offered as the pair made their way over to the Surgery waiting area. Mike had gone quiet since seeing Steve in the ICU and the psychiatrist wanted to break the ice.
"No, nothing for me," Mike responded just a little harsher than intended.
Once seated, Lenny turned to Mike. "They do very good work here."
No response.
"I think you know I interned here many years ago when I first got out of med school. Top notch facility."
Still no response.
"Mike, he's in good hands. It will be okay." Lenny finally tried offering hope.
"He shouldn't have to be in anyone's hands right now. This never should have happened." Mike's anger was once again bubbling.
"Of course he shouldn't be here. But he wasn't given much of a choice. The gunman…"
Mike interrupted. "There were four of us escorting, Charlie Spagnozzi. Four! No one should have had the balls to approach four cops in broad daylight and do what that maniac did. He didn't care that there were witnesses to what he was doing - not to mention that those witnesses were cops. He called me by name! How blatant could he have been?"
"But now, the shooter is dead. What do you think happened there?"
Mike surmised, "Well, it certainly wasn't any of the good guys. I couldn't even get a shot off when he had Foster by the neck. No, either it was his partner or perhaps whoever hired him. Maybe he had already been paid. Money is usually the motive with this type of scum."
The pair sat in silence.
"I let Steve down. I didn't protect him," Mike began to grieve. "It's my job to make sure that he's okay and to have his back."
"Mike, you can't anticipate every crackpot in this city or every action that they can possibly take. This was a professional hit. It wasn't your fault."
"No, but maybe someone else would have seen what Steve saw. Maybe someone else would have been more focused and quicker to react," Mike asserted. His tone softened. "Maybe the day has come when I should think about leaving the streets."