Sorry for the delay - really needed to take a day off!
The soft thud and slight jerking motion as the hovercraft slipped almost seamlessly from the water onto the low dock under the Golden Gate Bridge at Fort Point finally roused Mike and he lifted his head to find his partner's smiling face mere inches from his own.
"We're home," the younger man said with a soft chuckle as Mike looked around hesitatingly, as if trying to remember where he was and how he got there. Suddenly the light dawned.
"Oh, ah, yeah, right," he said quietly, shaking his head with an almost embarrassed snort.
Steve got to his feet as the hovercraft floated to a stop and began to settle, the air escaping from the skirt as the propellers shut down. As he helped the older man to his feet, keeping a hand on his arm for support, Williams crossed the short distance to them. "Mike, if you'll follow Steve, he knows exactly where to go. I'll join you as soon as I finish up here."
Mike turned to his partner with a mischievous smile. "Lead on, MacDuff," he chuckled, waving the younger man ahead of him.
Steve managed a head shake and eye roll in Williams direction before he led them out of the cabin, onto the deck and down the short metal steps to the dock. Coast Guard personnel were all over the dock, and they were directed towards the staircase they were to use to access the large red brick building tucked under the Bridge. Steve led them to the appropriate door and they stepped out of the dark, cold night into the bright warmth of the masonry fortification.
Lieutenants Gary Newman and Kyle Jenkins were there to greet them. "Jesus Christ, are you a sight for sore eyes," Newman said with a heavy relieved sigh as he spotted Mike coming through the door.
Mike stopped abruptly in surprise, a grin splitting his weary, unshaven face, as he shook hands with his Vice counterpart. Before he could say anything, Jenkins stepped forward as well, patting him gently on the back with a, "You sure had us scared for awhile there, Mike. We weren't sure we were gonna get you back."
"Well, I'm here, thanks to all you guys," the Homicide detective chuckled, glancing over at Steve. "And I was right, wasn't I? This is a Shanghai gang, isn't it?" he continued with a touch of pride in his light tone.
The others laughed. "You sure were," Jenkins agreed, nodding. "So what do ya say we nail the rest of the bastards?"
As the sickening image of the body under the grey blanket on the floor of the hold came back to him, Mike looked at his partner; he knew Steve was recalling the same horrific apparition. The smile disappeared. "I'd say that's the very next thing we have to do."
# # # # #
Most of the members of what they had started to call the Press Gang Team were waiting for them in a large office on the ground floor of the Fort. After Mike acknowledged everyone's joy and relief at his safe return, they settled down to business.
Still wrapped in the gray blanket, and sitting on a large leather chair that someone had dragged in from an office down the hall, Mike began with an apology. "I wish there was more that I could tell you fellas, but most of the last …" He hesitated, his brow furrowing, and turned to Steve, who was sitting on a table on his right.
"Two days," his partner told him, eyebrows raised.
Mike's eyes widened slightly as he inclined his head. "Wow," he breathed softly, "it sure felt a hell of a lot longer than that." He shook his head in amazement. "Anyway, ah, for most of that time I was drugged. I know that's how they got me out of the bar." He looked up at Newman quickly. "Danny… the bartender?"
Newman, and most of the others, nodded.
"Yeah, he's definitely their point man. It was that last drink he gave me… ah, after Steve got beaten up and thrown out." He glanced up at the younger man pointedly and Steve glared back; he knew Mike was still upset about the extent of his injuries.
"I wasn't thrown out, I left voluntarily," he corrected quietly, and Mike stared at him without moving for several long beats. He knew what that meant; he knew that Steve, as injured as he was, had not wanted to jeopardize the operation, jeopardize his cover. Their covers.
Realizing everyone was waiting for him to continue, Mike blinked quickly several times as he turned back to the others. But he knew he wanted to talk about what had happened in the bar in more detail, when time and place permitted
"Um, yeah, there was definitely something in that last scotch. I couldn't taste it… at least I don't think I could, I had a lot on my mind…" His eyes snapped briefly in Steve's direction. "But after a few sips I began to feel really dizzy… there were blacks spots I couldn't see through, and I was having a hard time moving… everything went into slow-motion. I just wanted to lie down and fall asleep."
"Do you remember how they physically got you out of the bar?" Newman asked.
Mike shook his head, his focus turning inward as he tried to remember. "I really, ah… I think I remember somebody, maybe a couple a guys, picking me up by the arms…? I sort of remember moving through a crowd of people but I don't know if I was walking under my own steam or not…
"The only other thing I really remember before I saw his face," he smiled, indicating Steve with a jerk of his thumb, "was being in this dark, cold room, lying on the floor with my hands tied behind my back. There were others in there too but it was pitch black and I couldn't see anything… I could hear them though…but I don't know how many…" His voice faded and he sat very still, staring into nothingness.
After several seconds, he raised his head quickly and smiled wryly. "Sorry, fellas, I know you were hoping to get more from me, but that's it. I might remember more later but right now…" He shrugged apologetically.
Jenkins took a step towards him and dropped a hand onto his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Mike, we're just glad we got you back. But we have more than enough right now to get warrants for Coopers and that bodega next door."
"The bodega? Why there?" Mike asked, frowning.
"Because we're pretty sure that's where you and the others were stashed after you were nabbed."
"How do you know that?"
Newman chuckled, standing up and coming closer. "We'll tell you that some other time. Right now Kyle and I have some planning to do and Steve and Norm are going to take you to the hospital."
Mike started to shake his head. "I don't need to go to the hos-"
"Yeah, you do," Newman said firmly, cutting him off. "You're not in charge of this operation anymore, Mike. Kyle and I are. You're a victim right now, whether you like it or not. And the most important thing you can do at the moment is to get to the hospital and have them give you a once over. When that's done, and if they give you a clean bill of health, you're back on the team. Do I make myself clear?"
The tension crackled in the air as the two lieutenants stared at each other, neither of them moving. Every eye in the room snapped from one stubborn face to the other. Then, with the most imperceptible of nods, Mike lowered his eyes; he knew Newman was right.
The Vice lieutenant smiled gently. "Thank you," he said quietly, then looked at Steve, raising his eyebrows.
With a relieved smile, Steve got to his feet and stepped closer to his partner. Mike looked up at him without saying a word, then got slowly to his feet, the blanket still around his shoulders. Norm Haseejian suddenly appeared beside them, keys in his hand. "I'll drive you," he said softly, nodding at Steve and smiling sympathetically at Mike.
As the Homicide detectives got to the door, Mike looked at Newman over his shoulder. "I'll be back," he said firmly.
Newman smiled. "Oh, I know you will."
# # # # #
The soft knock on the wooden door brought him quickly out of the light sleep. His head snapped up and for a brief moment he had no idea where he was. The room was inordinately bright; his partner was asleep in a hospital bed, an IV line attached to his right arm. Everything came flooding back as he began to stand, the pain from his cracked ribs making itself known again.
One arm wrapped around his chest, he raised himself slowly from the metal chair and started towards the door. He glanced at his watch. 11:10 am.
He opened the door slowly; Bobby Cox was standing in the corridor. The older cop flashed a smile as he glanced past Steve into the room, the smile disappearing quickly. "Is he okay?" he asked worriedly, indicating Mike with his chin.
Steve stepped out into the corridor and let the door close behind him. "He's fine. He's just a little dehydrated so they wanted to give him some fluids. And they want to keep him in till tomorrow morning. He wasn't too happy about that but as soon as he laid down he fell asleep and he hasn't moved since, so I think he's not going to have much choice in the matter."
Cox nodded, relieved.
"So what's up?"
"We got the warrants. Newman and Jenkins are putting together the team to raid Coopers and the bodega and start making arrests. Coopers doesn't open till noon so they want to do it around 1 when they're sure everyone is there – both in the bar and the bodega." Cox hesitated, taking a step closer and dropping his voice.
"I, ah, I figured you'd want to be in on the action."
Steve stared at his colleague, a slow smile spreading across his bearded and battered face. "You figured right."
# # # # #
Steve and Cox were sitting in the back seat of an unmarked blue LTD on Harrison, several blocks from Coopers. They, along with over twenty other plainclothes and uniformed officers in nondescript vehicles scattered south of Market, were waiting for word from Newman to begin the sweep.
Steve had already been warned by both Newman and Jenkins that he was to remain in the car during the initial foray into the bar and the bodega. Though he didn't agree with, and argued vociferously against, his temporary benching, he understood that because he was not in top form, he could actually be a handicap to his colleagues. He would be allowed to go in after the first arrests had been made, he was told, and he knew he could wait; he had no desire to be a liability to anybody.
He glanced at his watch. 12:43. He took his sunglasses off and rubbed his tired eyes. Other than the couple of hours of uncomfortable sleep he'd managed to grab in the chair in the hospital room, he'd been up for over twenty-four hours.
Cox looked across the seat, staring at the younger man for a few seconds before asking, "What did he mean by, he 'was wondering when you were going to find him'?"
Steve stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at Cox, his brow furrowed. "What?"
"When we found Mike on the trawler last night? He said he was wondering when you were going to find him. Not 'if'… 'when'."
Steve shook his head in confusion then he smiled. "Oh, um, I, ah, I guess he just knows I would've never stopped looking for him, that's all."
Cox shook his own head. "No, that's not it and you know it." He paused and stared at his young colleague. "He has extraordinary faith in you, doesn't he?"
Swallowing heavily and putting the sunglasses back on, Steve turned to the windshield. "We're partners," he said quietly.
Cox stared at the Homicide inspector's profile, then turned to look out the side window. "Yeah, right, you're just partners," he muttered under his breath.