Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing - and so quickly! Your loyalty is very humbling!
The electricity could be felt in the air inside the nondescript black van as everyone waited for the Homicide inspector to respond to the not-so-veiled threat from the Vice lieutenant. Steve was staring at the floor, breathing heavily through his nose, trying to stop the trembling, both from the pain and from the anger, worry and guilt.
Eventually a heavy sigh filled the small, enclosed space and Steve's rigid shoulders began to sag. "I'm sorry," he said softly again, "I, ah, I want to stay."
Everyone relaxed, exchanging relieved glances. Bobby Cox leaned towards his younger colleague, putting a hand lightly on his forearm. "Just so you know, Steve, Mike was still there after you left. I saw him."
Steve looked up, meeting Cox's eyes, and nodded gratefully.
"Okay," Jenkins said loudly, shattering the tense mood and getting back to business but not before shooting a glance at the Homicide inspector and smiling encouragingly, "well, let's figure out what we know, what we don't know, and what we think we know." He held up his right index finger. "First - we know Mike is nowhere to be found but if they do have him, where is he?"
"Yeah," Cox nodded, "if they got him out of the building, how? We didn't see him inside and nobody outside saw anything suspicious."
"So, what?" asked Jacobs. "He's still inside? They have him tied up in the basement or somewhere?"
Steve shifted uncomfortably and Jenkins glanced once more in his direction.
"I know what everyone's thinking," Jenkins said quickly, "but we can't go in there, and I don't just mean that we can't get a warrant. With the info we have right now we could get a warrant in two seconds with no problem, but that would blow this whole operation right out of the water. And if they've already nabbed some others and have them stashed here or someplace else, their lives would be forfeit as well. And besides, we're not even sure Mike's still in there."
A strained silence filled the van. Everyone knew what they had to do next and nobody was happy about it.
"So," Jenkins continued slowly, exhaling loudly, "we wait. That's all we can do for now." He avoided looking at the Homicide inspector, who he could feel staring at him. "We're gonna keep people on Coopers all night, and the Coast Guard are on standby. But there's nothing for them to do tonight either. The fleet's already out and has been for hours so we're pretty sure nobody's gonna be moved tonight. At the very earliest it'll be tomorrow night and we'll be ready. Or as ready as we can be."
The headlights of a car pulled up behind the van and they heard a car door open and close. There was a soft rap on the side door and Jacobs leaned over to open it. Lieutenant Gary Newman curtly nodded a greeting, quickly taking in the four men in the van, his sympathetic gaze lingering slightly on the Homicide inspector.
"Fellas, I take it that Kyle has filled you in on what we need to do for the rest of the night?" he asked, briefly making eye contact with all four. They nodded. "Okay, good, well then the best thing we can all do for Mike right now is to get some sleep," he said, smiling grimly at Steve.
"I'm not going anywhere –" Mike's partner began and Newman chuckled at the inadvertent insubordination.
"Mike told me you could be a handful sometimes, but that's why he likes you so much. Steve, you can't do anything for him right now even if you were a hundred percent. And Kyle and I aren't asking you… or ordering you… off this operation, we wouldn't think of it. But we don't want anything to happen to you either, okay?" He glanced at Jenkins and they shared an empathic headshake.
"Steve," Jenkins took over, "we understand what you're going through, believe me. And we want to find Mike just as badly as you do, but we also want to make sure that, if Mike's press gang theory is right, we don't blow this and we bring these guys down. Am I right?"
Steve took a deep breath then nodded. "Yeah…" he agreed almost breathlessly.
"Good," Jenkins said with a smile and he looked at Newman.
"Okay, fellas, it's after three. This place opens at noon and we're gonna be back here, but we've got guys standing vigil all night long, front and back. Nobody's gonna get in or out without us finding out," Newman began. "I want you four to get your asses home and get as much sleep as you can," he looked pointedly at Steve, "and we'll meet up again in Homicide at 8 am for another brainstorming powwow.
"Now I've already cleared it with Olsen and Condon and we're getting more guys tomorrow, including some of your colleagues, Steve, so we'll bring them up to speed and we'll lay out our plan, which Kyle and I are gonna fine-tune tonight. The Coast Guard guys'll be there tomorrow too."
He took a deep breath and made eye contact with all of them once more. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but everyone did the best they could tonight. And as bad as it seems to us right now, this is exactly what we wanted to happen." He paused and took a deep breath. "It seems Mike was right, wasn't he?" he asked quietly, staring at Steve, a wistful smile playing at his lips.
The younger cop stared back then his features softened slightly and he managed his own brief smile and nod.
"Unfortunately, we were at a disadvantage going in with that little 2-for-1 crap they pulled tonight – these are not stupid people we're going up against and I think we all know that now. And remember, Mike might not be the only guy who disappeared tonight – we have no way of knowing.
"And I know you're kicking yourself for what happened, Steve, but I have a feeling it couldn't be helped. And I'll look forward to your explanation when we have more time to dissect everything that went on tonight. But right now we all need some time to regroup because we need to be as sharp as we can tomorrow, right?"
"Right," Jacobs agreed; Steve and Bobby Cox just nodded.
"Listen, ah, Lieutenant," Cox said to Newman, "I can drive Steve home if that's okay. I think I live pretty close to him." He glanced at his Homicide counterpart and received a confirming and appreciative nod in return.
"Okay, then, everybody meets up again in Homicide at 8 a.m. and we'll take it from there." As he backed away from the van and started towards his car, Newman yelled over his shoulder, "And get some sleep – I want everybody at the top of their game!"
# # # # #
Steve turned to close his front door and carefully tossed the keys on the small nearby table, trying not to move too quickly. The Tylenol was wearing off and every move was becoming sheer agony.
He didn't want to sleep but he knew that he needed to, not only for himself but for Mike. And he wanted, and needed, to be there when they got him back. If they got him back….
He carefully took off the leather jacket then sat gingerly on the couch, breathing in short shallow gasps in an effort to control the growing pain. He took the bottle of Tylenol out of the jacket pocket with the realization he had to get up in order to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He debated very briefly whether he actually needed the painkillers or not then, with a tiny moan of frustration, pushed himself slowly to his feet and crossed the short distance to the kitchen.
He was filling a glass when he felt them, the hot tears coursing down his cheeks. Turning off the tap, he put the glass down and leaned against the counter, his head lowered, trying to draw in air with long deep breaths.
Things had been out of their control from the very start tonight, he knew; from the moment he stepped into Coopers he had felt it. But he had stayed 'on script' as they say; he had ordered scotch instead of beer and, when the drunken giant had taken exception to his drink of choice, had taken him on.
In hindsight a miscalculation, he acknowledged now, but at the time, he felt if he backed down, appearing cowardly, he would be overlooked, dismissed as a wimp and not suitable material to be Shanghai'd.
But they had picked the milquetoast, the imposing physical stature but shrinking violet personality of Archie Richardson. And so they had targeted his partner, possibly from the start but it was impossible to know at the moment.
Finally downing the pills, he slowly climbed the steps to his bedroom, easing himself down onto the bed. He didn't have the energy, or inclination, to shed the jeans and shirt. He would sleep, if he could, in his clothes tonight.
He stared at the ceiling in the dark. Any other night, he realized, it would never have crossed his mind, but tonight it was all he could think of; here he was, safe and secure in his own home. On any other night, he knew, Mike would be as well, in that old, comfortable house on De Haro; the house that was dark and empty tonight.
Where was he? How was he? Was he even still alive? The image of their unnamed floater flashed through his mind and he caught his breath, biting his lip.
It was going to be a very long night.
# # # # #
It was a few minutes before 8 when he opened the door to Homicide and walked slowly into the room, Bobby Cox on his heels. Unable to drive, the undercover cop had picked him up that morning, continuing the tacit agreement that Cox would be with him all day.
Every eye in the bullpen turned in his direction, all of them sympathetic. Jenkins and Newman had already unofficially briefed those assembled about the events of the previous night. The atmosphere of anger, worry and determination in the room was unmistakable.
Steve nodded a truncated greeting to his Homicide colleagues, who gravitated towards him slowly as Newman started to bring everyone up to speed. All the cops in the room knew each other for the most part so he introduced Captain Hastings and Commander Williams of the Coast Guard Station Fort Point to the group as a whole.
Steve leaned carefully against his desk, keeping his left arm close to his side. Between the cracked ribs and the bruised stomach muscles, every movement was wracked with pain. His head still throbbed and his right eye was turning black.
He'd gotten less than three hours sleep, unable to get his mind to empty, and he knew he was going to have a hard time concentrating. But knowing the minutiae of the upcoming operation was unnecessary as he wasn't going to be allowed to participate. If he was spotted in either of the areas they had under close surveillance – Coopers and the pier – he could jeopardize everything, even his partner's life. And he was not about to do that.
But as he listened to the Coast Guard captain explain their strategy for the coming day, he began to realize just how huge this investigation had become. The Coast Guard had only so many boats, and it was a big ocean, even that close to The City. The fishing fleet was large, and they traveled great distances, and there were too many ocean-going ships just beyond the twelve-mile limit to keep track of. If Mike were really and truly gone, finding him might be like trying to find a needle in a haystack the size of the Pacific.