Steve crossed the tile floor of the Homicide bullpen and entered the inner office, closing the door behind him. "This just got delivered," he said, putting a large manila envelop on the desk in front of his partner. "Special delivery from Santa Cruz."

Mike looked up, his eyes wide and bright behind the glasses. "Their floater?"

"Their second one," Steve nodded, eyebrows raised. "Four months ago." He watched as the older man reached into the top drawer and removed a letter opener, slicing through the top of the envelope and sliding the file folder out onto the desk. "That makes five altogether, including our Mr. Laudanum."

As Mike opened the file he glanced at the younger man with a grin and a chuckle. "Still think I'm on a snipe hunt?"

"I'm beginning to come around," Steve agreed with a snort and a smile as he straddled the turned-around guest chair and moved the legal length yellow pad closer to his side of the desk, picking up the pen. "Okay, give me the details and let's see if they match," he sighed in rueful acceptance as Mike began to scan the new reports.

Twenty minutes later, Steve tossed the pen on the desk and stood up, stretching his tightening back muscles. "Well, seems like a match to me." He looked at the older man, who was still staring at the papers scattered across his desk. "So, it looks like there's definitely a pattern here. What do you want to do next?"

Sighing loudly, Mike leaned back in the chair and shrugged with a frown. "Well, I have been, ah… ruminating on it for the past few days," he started with a gentle chuckle and watched the younger man smile.

"I bet you have."

"Yeah, well, we still have a lot of work to do before we take this to Rudy and I try to sell him my plan."

"And what plan would that be?" Steve asked, his smile beginning to turn into a wary frown.

Mike cleared his throat and glanced down at the desk again. "Well, there's only one way I can think of to… infiltrate this little operation, if this is what we're beginning to agree it is."

The younger man watched as his partner's eyes drifted slowly up to meet his own, and the grave inevitability that they now held. "Bait…?" he asked softly, more a statement than a question.

"Yeah," came the quiet affirmation.

Steve shuffled slightly. "Me?"

"No no no," Mike said quickly, shaking his head and leaning forward. "I didn't mean you."

"Why not?"

"Well –" Mike stopped and studied the younger man for a second before cocking his head. "What? Are you saying you'd want to?"

It was Steve's turn to hesitate. "Well, I'm, ah, I'm not sure… I think I'd have to have more details before I make a decision, you know…" he hedged, not quite closing the door on the idea. "It depends on what you had in mind."

"Of course, of course," Mike said quickly, as a smile flickered briefly across his features. "Ah, I have to give it a lot more thought before we take this to Rudy. But you could do me another favor."

"Sure, name it."

"We need to talk to someone who knows what going on, and I mean really going on, in the bar scene in this town. And I don't mean Top of the Mark and places like that. I'm talking the dives, the back-alley –"

"I know what you mean," Steve cut him off with a smile and a chuckle. "A couple of the guys I used to run with in Vice know all about that world. How 'bout I give 'em a call and see when they can meet us?"

Mike grinned. "The sooner the better, buddy boy, the sooner the better."

# # # # #

Steve dropped the pizza box on the counter as Mike opened an upper cupboard and took out two plates. Pausing for a second as if trying to recall something, the younger man stepped nearer the stove and opened the top drawer alongside it, frowning.

"Next one down," Mike instructed as he crossed to the table, holding the plates in one hand as he quickly tossed the linen placemats in approximate positions and laying the plates down on top of them.

With an assenting nod, Steve closed the top drawer and opened the one below, his eyebrows rising happily as he spied the object he was seeking. Grabbing the pizza wheel, he flipped open the top of the cardboard box, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes before making the first crosscut.

"Come on, Mike, you gotta admit that this is the best pizza in The City, bar none. I mean, just take a whiff of that sauce…"

Laying out the cutlery and tossing some paper napkins on the table, Mike glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. "All right, I'll admit, it smells pretty good. But the proof is in the pudding, buddy boy. If it tastes like it smells, I just might convert."

"From Tony's? Come on, it'll be no contest."

A deep laugh was Mike's only response as he opened the fridge door, took out two cans of Bud and popped the tabs before setting them on the table.

Picking up a slice of pizza, Steve looked at the counter and then over his shoulder. "Where are the plates?"

"Oh," Mike laughed as he turned to the table and picked them both up, "I was getting ahead of myself." He held one up and Steve slid a steaming slice onto it, shaking his head and chuckling, then did the same with the second plate.

"Look," Steve said, pointing at the long brown silhouettes on the second slice that looked like fossil impressions against the tomato sauce, "anchovies. I remembered."

Mike paused, bestowing his best long-suffering look upon the younger man. "And I thank you again… for the third time," he said dryly as he returned to the table and dropped the plates unceremoniously onto the placemats.

Chuckling almost evilly, Steve flipped the top of the pizza box closed before he crossed to the table and flopped into the empty chair. He picked up the beer can and took a long pull. "So," he said conversationally as he put the beer down and picked up the slice, "have you figured out what you're gonna say to Rudy tomorrow?"

Mike, who had taken his first bite, stared into the middle distance as he chewed. Steve took the opportunity to take his own first bite. Swallowing, the older man sighed. "I think so." His eyes met the younger man's. "So are you sure you want to volunteer for this, ah, this… assignment? It's not going to be easy, you know."

Steve grinned as he chewed, nodding. "I know. Why do you think I've been letting this grow out for the past few days?" He thrust his chin forward; the three days growth of beard was getting harder to ignore.

"I know, I know," Mike muttered under his breath as he held the pizza slice up to take another bite, "you want to look the part."

"What – you don't want me to do it now?" The green eyes narrowed in sudden confusion.

Mike chewed and swallowed before he answered. "No, no," he said slowly, "I think you're the perfect choice for this. I mean, you know this case inside and out just as well as I do, of course, so…" He shrugged noncommittally. "It's just…"

"I know," Steve said quietly, "it's dangerous, I know. But Mike, I don't think you're wrong, and I think we really have to stop this or more people are gonna disappear and more are gonna die… right?"

Mike stared at him for several long seconds then nodded once. "Right." He folded what was left of his slice and took another bite.

Looking down, trying to hide the affection in his smile, Steve studied the pizza on the plate in front of him. "So, ah, what are you going tell Rudy tomorrow?"

Sighing loudly, Mike snorted and looked down at the table. "Well, at the moment I have no clue. I have a couple of ideas rattling around in this big noggin of mine and I'll see which one… I don't know… which one makes more sense in the morning. In other words, I'm gonna sleep on it."

Steve chuckled with a warm grin. "Good idea." He glanced at his watch. "Hey, why don't we move this into the living room – the news is on. I'd kinda like to find out what's going on in the rest of the world."

"Good idea."

# # # # #

Captain Rudy Olsen closed the large file folder in front of him and looked up at the two detectives sitting in the leather armchairs on the other side of his desk. A significant pause lengthened as he contemplated what he had just been told and read then he looked from one to the other. "So both of you really believe that a… a gang is operating a Shanghai'ing scam here in The City again. In the 1970's?"

Steve looked sideways at his older partner, who hadn't taken his eyes off their superior officer. "I know it sounds crazy, Rudy, but right now it's the only thing that fits," Mike began. "The bodies floating in the ocean, the head wounds, the laudanum, the absinthe… the fact that every one of the bodies remain unidentified and unclaimed, and there seems to be no sign that that's gonna change anytime soon."

"But, Mike, seriously, Shanghai'ing? I know that's a… a colorful part of our past but still…"

"I've done a lot of research on this, Rudy, believe me, and I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't think it was happening again. But… don't think of it only as Shanghai'ing… Press gangs were plying their trade long before the name 'Shanghai' became a verb, believe me."

"Press gangs?" Mike heard Steve almost whisper in his ear and from the corner of his eye he saw the younger man look towards the captain and they both frowned in confusion.

Mike leaned back, taking his partner in with a quick glance. "Press gangs were used to man a voluntary army or navy… although it wasn't so voluntary, if you know what I mean. They started up in the seventeen hundreds, so it's nothing new."

Olsen looked from Steve to Mike and inhaled deeply. "But this is just a theory at the moment, right?" he asked carefully.

Mike hesitated for a beat and then nodded. "Yes, it's just a theory… but it's also something I really believe is happening and I'd like the chance to prove it."

Olsen stared at his lieutenant for several long beats then let his eyes slide slowly towards the inspector, who was looking at him with studied equanimity. He blinked quickly several times and cleared his throat. "So, ah, so what do you want to do about it, Mike?"

The lieutenant released a held breath and shifted slightly, folding his arms. "Well, Steve and I talked to Alan Crosby and Keith Rowland from Vice the other day, and we asked them about what bars… what dives they think could be the front for something like this."

"Oh yeah?" Olsen responded, looking quickly from one homicide cop to the other. "What did they say?"

With a quick glance at his partner, Steve took over the narrative. "Well, ah, they didn't think it would be a place anywhere near where the old Barbary Coast was, and that really made a lot of sense to us too." Mike nodded his confirmation.

"They turned us on to a couple of places in the 'Loin and one south of Market."

"We're gonna do some… reconnaissance in the next few days and pin down the one we want to concentrate on first, and then… well, then we want to send in a plant… a potential involuntary sailor," Mike picked up again.

Nodding slowly while his lieutenant talked, his brow furrowed, Olsen's pale eyes snapped to the young inspector. "A plant? Who? You?"

Glancing quickly at his partner, Steve cleared his throat as he nervously and unnecessarily patted his tie down. "Ah, yes, sir."

Olsen snorted. "I was wondering what the stubble was all about; it's not like you to look so… unkempt."

Mike covered his laugh with a soft cough, looking down to try to hide the sudden smile. He uncrossed his arms and began drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. "I'm gonna need some guys from Vice and probably Missing Persons at first, just to get a read on which place we want to concentrate on…" he ventured, watching his superior closely for any objections.

Olsen nodded, pursing his lips. "That makes sense, and I don't see a problem with it. I'll leave it to you to arrange all that, okay?"

"Thanks," Mike nodded, "and then, when I feel we have everything set up, we'll, ah, we'll send in our decoy," he glanced at his partner, "and see if they take the bait."

Olsen's concerned stare flashed from one partner to the other. "You're gonna send Keller in alone?" he asked sharply.

A soft smile appeared as Mike leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, staring at the captain evenly. He felt Steve's eyes on him. "No, he's not going to be alone. I'm gonna be in there with him."