"So how many guys are you gonna give us, Gary?" Mike asked his Vice counterpart. He was behind his own desk, jacket off, tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up, leaning back in his chair with his right foot on the open bottom drawer; Steve, just as casual, was leaning with his arms crossed against the filing cabinet beside the window. Lieutenants Gary Newman and Kyle Jenkins, both with Vice, were sitting in the chairs opposite, dressed for the street in jeans and golf shirts under their light windbreakers. Newman held a baseball cap in his hands.

"Altogether we've got 14 guys going in tonight, including Kyle and me. We're gonna hit all three and see what happens. Now we kinda figured that these places might not be the most, how shall I put it, accepting of… let's say, blacks and women."

The other three men nodded gravely as Newman sighed in frustration and continued, "So we're not going to use any women tonight, but we do have one black officer going into each of the bars. I think one of your guys is working with us tonight, right? Bill Tanner?"

Both Mike and Steve nodded.

"Yeah, we sorta figured that if the black guys got hassled or threatened or, god forbid, beaten up, we could cross that place off the list. Anyone that's Shanghai'ing people aren't about to start caring about color or religion or nationality, that's what we've been thinking. Do you guys agree?"

The homicide detectives nodded again, Mike glancing over his shoulder at his partner.

"So, do you think you'll have enough after tonight to make an educated guess as to which one we should concentrate on first?" Mike asked, taking his foot off the drawer and leaning forward.

Newman glanced at Jenkins, who nodded. "Yeah, we should. We probably won't nail it down, of course, but we might be able to eliminate one of them, if we're lucky." His striking blue eyes floated from Mike up to Steve. "I hear you two are chomping at the bit to get in there," he chuckled and beside him Newman laughed as well.

Grinning broadly, Mike leaned back again. "We're about to rewrite the annals of undercover police work in this city, just so you know," Mike said dryly with a slight swagger, breaking into a grin as he raised a palm and Steve slapped it.

"Damn right," agreed the younger man, barely containing his laughter.

"Well, I don't know about Gary but I'm really glad I'm gonna have a front row seat," Jenkins chortled, looking down, his beer belly jiggling. He started to get to his feet. "Say, ah, Mike," he asked suddenly with a frown, "if I remember correctly, you're not much of a drinker. What made you decide to do this? You do know you're not going to be able to fake it, right?"

Mike blew out a deep breath. "Oh, believe me, Kyle, I know. And if by some reason I didn't know, you wouldn't believe the number of people who have told me the exact same thing since word got out yesterday." The feigned exasperation in his voice made the others chuckle.

"So what are you going to do?" Newman asked.

Mike cocked his head and sighed. "Well, I guess I'm gonna find out just how much I can drink without passing out… or wearing a lampshade... The first night is going to be very interesting… sort of a, oh, a social experiment with me as the guinea pig, I guess."

Everyone laughed but there was a tinge of concern in the sound.

"Well, don't worry, we're gonna have at least one guy inside with you and the rest of us'll be down the street, so you aren't going to be alone."

"I'm counting on it," Mike said with a chuckle as he got to his feet and walked to the office door with their Vice colleagues.

Newman turned back at the door. "So we'll call you first thing in the morning and then get everyone together and decide where we go from there. That sound good to you two?"

Mike glanced over his shoulder at Steve, who nodded. "Yeah, that works for us," Mike agreed, slapping Newman on the shoulder. "All you guys take care tonight – and make sure we get Bill Tanner back in one piece, okay?"

Chuckling, the Vice lieutenants started across the bullpen. "You got it, Mike. See ya tomorrow."

Mike watched them go, then turned and closed the office door, exhaling loudly as he crossed back to his chair and sat heavily. Steve pushed himself away from the file cabinet and sat in one of the chairs. He studied his partner for several long beats, leaning forward to put his forearms against the edge of the desk. "He's not wrong, you know," he said quietly, "about the drinking, I mean."

Mike was looking down at the desk, moving papers around, avoiding his partner's stare. "Oh, I'm very aware of that."

After another few seconds of silence, Steve ventured, "You can change your mind, you –"

Mike's head came up quickly and he grinned. "Say," he said louder than necessary, cutting the younger man off, "this might be our last free night for awhile. Let's get out of here and go someplace nice for dinner, what do you say? My treat."

Steve had closed his mouth, continuing to stare at his boss and closest friend, who looked back at him with raised eyebrows and a smile. Eventually Steve inhaled noisily and started to get to his feet.

Mike watched the younger man as he got up. "It'll be okay," he said quietly, continuing to meet the worried green-eyed glare.

Without another word, Steve opened the door and crossed heavily to his desk, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair.

# # # # #

"So," Mike said, getting up from his perch on the edge of Steve's desk and stepping into the centre of the bullpen, "you heard Gary – we're gonna start tonight at Coopers over on Howard. Everyone know the place?"

There were confirmations, in nods and grunts, from the assembled group. "Good. So, this is what we're gonna do tonight. We need to take this slow and easy, as we don't want to tip our hand and spook somebody. So I'm gonna be the one going in tonight – and only me." He glanced around the room, his gaze settling briefly on his partner's furrowed brow and pursed lips. "We've been talking about this a lot and consensus is that if this is the… establishment that's at the heart of the involuntary recruitment of sailors," he said lightly and most of the others chuckled, "chances are they are not going to grab somebody the first time they lay eyes on them. They'll want to know that whoever they target is not going to be missed and, as we all know, that takes time."

He paused and looked around the room again. "Time. That's a luxury we don't have, gentlemen, so let's hope it doesn't take them too long to decide who their next victim is going to be, because there are lives at stake here." He looked at Steve again, receiving only a noncommittal stare in return. He spun towards Newman and Jenkins. "Gary and Kyle have your assignments, who is going in when and where everyone else will be staked out, for the next few nights. We'll be getting an early start tonight, I'm afraid. My, ah, doppelganger, as Mark Miranda likes to call him, is an unemployed accountant who pounds the pavement during the day looking for a job. Tonight he's gonna drag his sorry ass into Coopers and try to forget his miserable little life." He chuckled, relieved when most of the others joined him. He snuck another glance towards his partner; there was no expression on the younger man's face and Mike hesitated slightly before he continued. "Gary, you want to take over?"

Newman got up from a chair next to Haseejian's desk and took Mike's place in the centre of the room. "Okay, fellas, this is what's going to be happening tonight…" he began as the Homicide lieutenant walked towards his office, shooting a look across the room for his partner to follow.

Mike waited till Steve had entered the small office and begun to sit before he closed the door and crossed behind the desk. "Out with it," Mike said bluntly as he sat and leaned forward.

Steve blinked slowly several times, breathing through his nose, trying to get a grip on his unraveling composure. "I've told you already, I don't want you going in there alone tonight."

Mike watched him silently for several beats before a small smile softened his features. He shook his head slightly. "I won't be alone. Bobby Cox is going in about an hour after I get there, then he'll leave and Cole Harrison'll go in after that. Gary's got it all worked out."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I know. I know you mean you want to be in there too. But that's not gonna happen. Not tonight. Both of us can't go in there the first time on the same night. That's why I'm putting in my first appearance tonight and you'll start tomorrow." Mike leaned forward slightly, sighing quietly, almost overwhelmed by the deep concern for his safety. "This isn't my first time going undercover, you know?" he chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "And I've been pretty successful at it in the past. I mean, I'm still here, aren't I? I must have done something right."

Steve smiled slightly then shook his head in resignation. "I want you to have a big meal before you go in there tonight. It'll help absorb some of the liquor so it won't get into your system so quickly and you might feel the effects less."

Mike stared at him, unable to mask the affection in his eyes. "I'll do that, I promise," he said quietly.

# # # # #

The unmarked dark grey sedan pulled up to the curb on Minna, six blocks away from their targeted bar. Gary Newman glanced into the rearview mirror at the two detectives in the back seat.

Mike took a comb from his inside suitcoat pocket and began to comb his hair down over his forehead.

"Bobby'll be making his appearance in about a hour," Newman reminded him, "but you might not recognize him. That guy can change appearances like a chameleon."

"That's what makes him so good," Steve offered from his place beside his partner, watching as Mike put the comb away and took out the gold-rimmed glasses, slipping them on.

"How do I look?" he asked, turning to the younger man.

"Archie, my man, you look like you could use a drink," Steve said with a laugh and they both heard Newman chuckling in the front seat.

Raising his eyebrows, Mike reached for the door handle. "Okay, well, I better get going. The sooner I get there, the sooner we can get the ball rolling. Wish me luck." He opened the door and was starting to get out when Steve grabbed his arm to stop him. Their eyes met; neither was smiling.

"Be careful," the younger man said quietly, and Mike nodded, getting out and closing the door.

Steve and Newman watched as Mike put the briefcase on the sidewalk between his feet and shrugged the beige raincoat on over the light-grey suit. Then, picking up the briefcase and with one quick look back at the car, he headed down the street, blending into the crush of weary commuters making their ways home after a long day's work. Within seconds he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

With a heavy worried sigh, Steve sat back against the seat. Staring at the young cop in the rearview mirror, Newman pulled the sedan away from the curb and back into traffic.