It was after 6, and Coopers was reaping the benefits of its irresistible special offer. The small watering hole was almost at its maximum capacity and, as Mike glanced around surreptitiously from his stool against the wall at the bar, there was still no sign of Steve. He began to worry that if he waited much longer, his partner would be denied entrance that night.
Customers, mostly men - and mostly men of a certain rough demeanor and deficient wherewithal – were crowding the bar at least three deep. The increasing pandemonium as excited, and increasingly drunk, patrons demanded their beers was beginning to get a little out of hand, and the homicide detective could only hope that the authorities wouldn't be called. It would be a rather unfortunate and totally unanticipated premature end to their little operation.
But he also knew that this could be the night; that the two-for-one special was designed specifically to be a smokescreen. And that was what worried him the most.
Still nursing his first scotch, he glanced towards the far end of the bar in time to see his hirsute partner push his way through the throng. Mike took a deep breath, he wasn't sure if in relief or worry, and allowed his gaze to return to the glass in his hands.
Trying to ignore the pushing and shoving around him, and patiently waiting for one of the two overworked bartenders to ask for his order, Steve managed a quick look around the bar, relieved to see his partner in his 'usual' location against the wall. Mike had picked the perfect spot, he conceded; it was almost an oasis of normality amid the chaos swirling all around him.
Danny was at Mike's end of the bar; the back-up bartender finally stopped in front of Steve. "What d'ya want?! We're running out of Bud and Old Mil!" he yelled above the din.
Steve leaned closer so he could be heard. "I want a scotch!"
The bartender's eyes narrowed and he pulled his head back slightly, as if he hadn't heard it right. "A scotch?" he asked skeptically, smirking with a shake of his head as the bearded biker in front of him nodded with raised eyebrows.
"Straight up!"
"Okay, scotch it is…" He turned away, reaching up to grab the bottle of Johnny Walker Black with the measured spout from the shelf above the mirror and deftly poured the amber liquid into the heavy bottomed tumbler that he'd snagged from under the bar.
Steve watched his every move and, as the young blond turned back to him, setting the glass and napkin on the bar, he slapped a five on the beer-stained wooden surface. "Keep the change!" he shouted as he picked up the tumbler and turned, forcing his way through the horde and out of Mike's sight.
The crowd continued to get bigger, though that seemed almost impossible. Mike felt sure The City's Finest would be making an appearance at any second. But the writhing multitude seemed to be behaving, for the time being. He knew Steve would be scanning the crowd, looking for anything unusual. His intention of relaying his tale of woe and need to unload the Harley to Danny would have to wait till tomorrow night at this rate.
But Mike was getting nervous; every instinctive impulse in his body was screaming that tonight would be the night.
# # # # #
In a black van with tinted windows parked two long blocks west on Howard, Kyle Jenkins raised the binoculars to his eyes once again. The foot traffic around Coopers was almost out of control; with Newman's consent, he had already been on the horn to dispatch, letting them know that patrol cars were to stay away from the bar on Howard unless a call came from Coopers itself.
Like everyone else involved in the operation tonight, the sense of impending inevitability was almost overpowering.
They could allow nothing to go wrong; there was just too much at stake.
# # # # #
Empty glass in hand, Steve pushed his way through the throng around the bar, finally able to squeeze in between two large, thoroughly intoxicated patrons. Still handing out beers at an alarming rate, Danny finally looked his direction, his eyebrows rising slightly in surprise.
With a wry smile, Steve slammed the tumbler on the bar. "Gimme another scotch, will ya, Danny?!" he shouted and the bartender nodded, turning to grab the JW.
"A scotch?!" came a loud sarcastic taunt in his ear. "This here's a beer joint – didn'tcha see the sign outside! Two fer one!" The words were slightly slurred and Steve could feel and peripherally see the tall, heavyset, bearded face from which the jeer emanated looming over his shoulder.
Slamming another five down onto the bar, Steve took the glass from Danny's hand with a nod, attempting to back away but the large provocateur blocked his way. He could smell the beer-laden breath on his face as the tried to shove his way past the much larger man.
"What are ya? A pansy?" The bearded giant glared down at him, taking a small step forward, pushing the cop back against the bar. Steve stumbled slightly, trying not to drop the glass. He caught his balance then waited a beat, gathering his wits about him before he looked up slowly, his eyes narrowing, and glared into the glassy brown eyes that stared down at him.
"Let me by," he said quietly and watched as the belligerent giant blinked uncomprehendingly, his mouth hanging open. Steve pulled himself to his full height and leaned into the other man. "I said, let me by," he repeated, this time with a growl, his eyes growing slightly wider in foolhardy defiance.
The bigger man stared at him for a long beat, then he tilted his head back slightly and a deep belly laugh began to emerge from his still open mouth. He took half a step backwards then stopped and dropped his head, the laughter dying abruptly as he snarled, "You ain't goin' nowhere, you little pansy."
# # # # #
From the other end of the bar, Mike was watching all of this unfold from under a lowered brow, knowing that if anything happened, he was going to be powerless to stop it. He saw Steve glaring up at the massive drunk that was confronting him and he closed his eyes in a silent prayer that Steve wouldn't step over the line.
His eyes flew open at the roar that emanated from the other end of the bar in time to see his partner's body jerked forward as if by some unseen force and disappear into the crush of drunken revelers. Suddenly fists were flying, bodies were falling, furniture was being tossed around, and shouts, moans of pain and the unmistakable sound of flesh connecting with flesh filled the room.
Mike slumped against the wall on his left, trying to remain invisible as the scuffle that had begun between his partner and the drunken giant escalated rapidly.
# # # # #
Steve was unprepared for the swiftness of the intoxicated behemoth he was foolishly confronting. A large hand grabbed the front of his leather jacket and yanked him forward, off his feet, and the glass slipped from his hand. He felt the scotch splash onto his jeans before the tumbler hit the floor; a split second later, a beefy fist slammed into his stomach.
He doubled over, the breath leaving his body in a pain-filled gasp, then he was pulled upright once more, his suddenly tear-filled eyes glimpsing the mirthless grin of his attacker as a second punch caught him in the left ribs and he felt himself falling.
He hit the floor hard, gasping for air, his entire chest in agony. As quickly as he could, he curled himself into a foetal position, trying to protect his head and injured ribs from the feet that were stamping and kicking all around him as others joined in the fight.
The belligerant giant was being held back by two brave patrons who had witnessed the altercation but he shook them off and took a step towards the man on the floor. Before he could be restrained again, he aimed a kick in Steve's direction; the cop saw it coming and braced himself but the heavy boot caught him on the side of the head and white-hot pain shot through his brain as he struggled not to lose consciousness.
It was then that all hell broke loose.
# # # # #
Holding his breath, his heart in his mouth, Mike could see the thrashing heap but he couldn't see his partner. Danny and two other large men, who seemed to materialize from nowhere but who Mike soon realized were bouncers, had joined the fray and between them managed to restrain the drunken giant, pinning him against the bar. But not before many more blows had rained down on anyone within reach.
They slammed the huge man's head onto the bar, pinning his arms behind his back. The two bouncers held him in place as Danny reached down and helped Steve to his feet. Even from where he was sitting, Mike could see the blood coursing down his partner's face and the hunched, agony-ridden posture.
Closing his eyes, Mike bit his lip in frustration and helplessness. There was nothing he could do, but that knowledge did little to assuage the nearly paralyzing guilt.
# # # # #
Danny gently put his hand on Steve's chin and raised his head, staring at the open gash dripping blood above the right eyebrow. The injured man pulled away angrily. "I'm okay," he growled then winced in discomfort.
"Like hell you are," the bartender said with a surprising touch of sympathy in his voice. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."
"No!" Steve almost yelled then gasped from the pain the exertion caused. He was only too well aware that the presence of any authority would effectively put an end to their undercover operation for tonight and probably well into the near future. He couldn't allow that to happen. "No, I'm okay…" He inhaled carefully and tried to smile with some degree of reassurance. "I just want to get out of here."
"You sure?" Danny's concern seemed sincere and Steve managed a small smile.
He nodded carefully. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Thanks." Trying to stand a little straighter, Steve shot a glance back towards his attacker, still pinned against the bar, and shook his head in anger. He was tempted to try to sneak a glimpse at his partner but knew it was too dangerous. He had to get out of the bar so things could return to some semblance of normal.
"I don't think you're gonna be able to ride that bike!" Danny called after him as Steve started to limp away, trying not to jar his injured ribs.
Nodding, Steve forced his way through the crowd, most of whom backed away to give him room. He finally made it to the door, gasping for breath, and leaned against the doorframe trying to get the pain under control before he pushed himself upright and started to stagger down the block. The Harley was parked in the middle of the next block; he seriously didn't think he was going to make it that far.
Thirsty potential patrons, unable to get into the already packed bar, watched his slow and painful progress down the sidewalk with studied indifference. He hoped he could get to the Harley before he passed out; he knew he couldn't get to the van, but somehow he needed to alert his backup that all was not going according to plan.
# # # # #
The excitement in Coopers had settled down somewhat, the bouncers having strong-armed the antagonist out the back door and sent him packing. Danny made it back behind the bar and was once again filling drink orders.
He was working his way to the far end of the bar, delivering a handful of beers, when his eyes briefly settled on the obviously distressed man in the corner. He studied the down-turned head then went back to the middle of the bar, returning about a minute later with fresh tumbler of Scotch and ice, setting it down with a thud.
When the wide blue eyes looked up at him from behind the gold-rimmed glasses, he smiled. "Sorry about all that, Archie. This one's on the house." He nodded towards the fresh glass.
Nodding his thanks, swallowing heavily and unable to find his voice, or so it seemed, Mike managed a slight smile. He hoped his look was conveying fear and alarm over what had just transpired; and he also hoped it was masking the overwhelming worry for his partner.
# # # # #
It was getting harder and harder to stay on his feet; every step brought a jarring agony. His arms were wrapped around his lower chest, but it wasn't helping, and he kept having to wipe the blood from his right eye. He knew he must look a sight to everyone he passed on the dark street, like a chilling apparition of Terry Malloy from the final scene in "On The Waterfront".
But there was only one thing on his mind: he had to get to Jenkins, he had to let them all know what was going on in the bar. Mike was alone in there now, he thought, and that couldn't be allowed to continue.
He blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear his vision, and raised his right hand to wipe the blood from his eye again. He wasn't sure how far he had gone. He stumbled across Russ Street; he thought he could see the Harley angled into the curb further down the block but he couldn't be sure. His head was pounding and black spots were beginning to obscure his vision.
He didn't hear the footsteps that came quickly up behind him.