Rodney looked up and down the street, hoping to see a familiar landmark through the fog.
"Don't tell me," Carlton grumbled. "You're lost."
"I'm not lost," Rodney retorted. He glanced up at the street signs and grimaced when he realised he didn't recognise either of the names on the sign.
Carlton snorted.
"I'm not!" Rodney exclaimed. He took Carlton's arm and pointed across the street. "My office is that way." Which is at least away from the docks, he thought as he watched the traffic for an opening where they could cross. So it has to lead back to the office building sooner or later.
Carlton shook his head and pulled free from Rodney's grip as they crossed the street.
Rodney clenched his hands but refrained from grabbing Carlton again. You're trying to be inconspicuous, he reminded himself. Don't make a scene in the middle of the street.
He blew out a breath of relief when Blake stayed with him as they meandered down the street.
"So we get back to your office. Then what?" Carlton asked as they walked.
"I'm, umm, working on a plan," Rodney said.
Carlton stopped walking. "You're working on a plan? You told me you had a plan!"
"I do!" Rodney exclaimed.
Several heads turned in their direction, and Rodney grimaced. "Move," he hissed in Blake's ear. "We're drawing too much attention."
Carlton scowled in reply, but to Rodney's relief, he started walking again.
"To answer your question," Rodney continued, "I have a plan, all right? Well, most of a plan. I'm still working on some of the details."
"You're going to get us both killed," Carlton grumbled.
Not if I can help it, Rodney thought.
They were near the next corner when Rodney heard a familiar voice behind them.
"Hey, Doc," the voice drawled.
Rodney clenched his jaw. I don't need this, he thought. Not now.
"Just ignore him," he muttered to Carlton.
Carlton shook his head. "I know him," he replied. "And right now, I think I trust him more than you." Carlton stopped and added, "Good evening, Detective."
Rodney clenched his hands in frustration. Why? he silently demanded to the universe. Why couldn't anything go smooth?
He turned around and saw Johnny P standing at the mouth of an alley with Roland looming behind him.
"Rumor has it, he used to be a cop. Maybe that was Johnny's problem. He was in deep to someone else."
"Just how well do you know him," Rodney muttered under his breath.
Carlton furrowed his brow, and Rodney realised Carlton must have heard him.
"He used to come into the clinic," Carlton replied.
Rodney snorted. "I'll bet he did." He glowered at Johnny, ignoring the people staring at them as they hurried past the confrontation. "How much did he try to extort from you?"
Johnny ignored the barb, pushed off the wall, and stepped in front of Carlton. "Everything okay, Doc?" he asked. He raised an eyebrow and jerked his head in Rodney's direction. "Can't say I think much of the company you're keeping these days."
"Hey!" Rodney exclaimed. He stepped between Carlton and Johnny and pushed Johnny back a few steps. "You're one to talk. Who's paying you to keep Carlton here away from the State Police?"
Roland snaked out a hand and grabbed Rodney's wrist. "Don't touch him," he growled.
Rodney tried to pull free, but Roland only tightened his hold. Rodney felt his fingers go numb and groaned when he felt his wrist bones grind together.
"Detective, please. This isn't necessary," Carlton said.
Johnny studied Carlton, then glanced at Rodney. "Roland," he said.
Roland glanced at Johnny, who flicked a finger at Rodney. Roland curled his lip but let go of Rodney's arm. "Touch him again, and next time, I'll break your arm," he hissed at Rodney and stepped back.
Rodney gasped as the feeling returned to his hand and scowled at Roland as he cradled his arm against his chest.
Johnny stepped around Roland and rested a hand on Carlton's shoulder. "You sure you're all right with this guy? I've had my eye on him for some time."
Rodney snorted.
Carlton glanced at him, and Rodney saw his expression shift from suspicion to resolute.
He turned and nodded to Johnny. "I can take care of myself, Detective. I'll be fine."
Johnny studied Blake's determined expression and nodded. "Whatever you say." He turned and poked Rodney in the chest. "I'm watching you. Anything happens to the doc," he jerked a thumb in Carlton's direction, "I'll let Roland finish what he started."
"Watching me?" Rodney countered. "What for?"
Roland snorted. "Like you don't know."
Rodney dropped his arm and gaped at Roland. He wanted to shout that he had no intention of hurting Carlton. That he was trying to protect Blake from people like Johnny. But a voice in his head reminded him they were playing a dangerous game, and he might live longer if he didn't give the plan away to the bad guys.
Johnny watched him a moment longer, then glanced at Roland, jerked his chin, and sauntered down the street.
Roland glowered at Rodney as he followed Johnny down the street and around the corner.
Rodney waited until they were gone, then leaned against the brick wall and blew out a breath.
"Are you all right?" Carlton asked, reaching for Rodney's arm.
Rodney hesitated, then held out his arm to Carlton. "Can someone break your wrist just by squeezing it?"
Carlton smiled. "No," he replied as he examined Rodney's wrist. "Can you move your fingers?"
Rodney winced and wiggled his fingers.
"It's not broken," Carlton assured him, letting go of Rodney's arm. "But you will be bruised. You should ice your arm as soon as you can."
Rodney tried twisting his wrist and grimaced at the ache. "Umm, thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Rodney pushed off the wall, and they started walking again. "So, what made you change your mind?"
Carlton turned with a puzzled frown.
"You were all set to ditch me and go with Johnny," Rodney explained. "But in the end, you didn't. Why?"
Carlton shrugged. "You stood up to him."
"Excuse me?"
Carlton smiled. "While I know Johnny isn't a bad person, you don't. You think he's just another punk out to leech off the people in this city."
Rodney couldn't deny it. He did think Johnny was part of the problem and not the solution.
"Even though you thought he was dangerous, you stood up to him," Carlton continued. "If you were willing to do that, then maybe you are someone I can trust."
"Oh, well, umm, thanks for that," Rodney said.
"You're welcome," Carlton replied. He waited a moment, then added, "So about that plan of yours?"
Rodney smiled. "The first part is easy. We get off the street before anyone else sees you." He looked up at the street sign on the corner and blew out a silent breath when he thought he recognised the cross streets. "And we'll stick to alleys as much as possible." He turned into the alley where Johnny and Roland had disappeared. "That should be safer."
"I'm not so sure about that," Carlton replied, peering down a dark, narrow passage.
Rodney turned with a wry smile. "Safer from prying eyes, at least. My office is only a couple of blocks from here. Once we get there, we can figure out the best way to get you to the state police."
He had taken several steps before he realised Carlton wasn't following him. He turned and walked back to Blake. "What?"
"Umm, nothing, I guess," Carlton replied. He glanced up and down the street, then stepped into the alley. "I didn't want any of this, you know."
That makes two of us, Rodney thought.
"All I've ever wanted to do is help people. Now …" He scrubbed a hand across his forehead.
Rodney pressed his lips into a thin line. "Look," he said and tapped Carlton's arm. "Unless you want to be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, you need to tell the state cops what you saw. Then they can deal with Kosta."
Carlton stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. "I know that. I just …" He stopped and shook his head.
"Yeah, I know," Rodney said.
He started walking again, and this time, Carlton fell into step beside him.
"So, you're friends with that two-bit hood, Johnny P?" Rodney asked as they walked.
"Not friends, more acquaintances. He is …" Carlton paused. "He was a good man once upon a time. He used to bring people into the clinic who needed help."
"What kind of help?"
"Anything, really," Carlton replied. "Sometimes they were sick or hurt. Sometimes, they just needed a hot meal or a safe place to sleep." He rubbed his chin. "I was shocked when I heard he'd been kicked off the police force for taking bribes."
Rodney snorted.
Carlton glanced at him. "I take it that is not the man you know."
"Ahh, no," Rodney replied. "He's demanding protection money from me and my partner." He held up his swollen wrist. "And we both know what will happen if I don't give it to him."
Carlton sighed. "I do not understand how I could have been so wrong about him."
They reached the end of the alley, and Rodney glanced up and down the street. The fog made making out any details hazy, and Rodney only saw dozens of vague shapes walking up and down the pavement.
"Umm, this way." Rodney crossed the street and led Carlton into another dimly lit alley.
They exited the alley onto a narrow street lined with five and six-story buildings. No people roamed the pavement lining the street, and most of the shops were closed and dark. Light trickled out of a few windows in the apartments over the shops, but most had their blinds down or drapes drawn.
"How much farther?" Carlton asked.
Rodney grimaced. He didn't want to admit it, but none of the buildings along the street looked familiar. You're heading in the right direction, he told himself. You think, a tiny corner of his mind countered. Rodney scowled and ignored the niggle of doubt.
"Umm, we're almost there," he started to say but was interrupted when Roland and another man crashed through a nearby door.
The man tried to run, but Roland chased him into the alley where Rodney and Carlton had just exited and tackled him.
"What the -" Carlton started to say as Rodney pushed him out of the way of the two men.
"No idea," Rodney said, glancing from the swinging door to the alley. Where was Johnny? he wondered, even as he heard yelling coming from the building.
Carlton adjusted the strap for the medical satchel and peered down the alley. "Maybe we should try to help."
Rodney peeked into the foggy alley and saw Roland punch the other man. To Rodney's surprise, the man shook off the blow to his chin and threw a one-two punch at Roland's face.
Roland grunted and plowed into the man, tackling him to the ground again.
"Roland?" Rodney questioned. "Pretty sure he can take care of himself." Rodney grabbed Carlton's arm. "Come on. We do not want to get involved in this. We're trying to avoid more trouble, remember?"
They were in front of the brick building when the door slammed open again.
Before Rodney could react, Johnny stumbled through the opening as two more men attacked him. Carlton managed to plaster himself against the side of the building and escape the flailing bodies, but Rodney wasn't so lucky. He had just enough time to realise what was about to happen before all four of them crashed to the pavement in a pile of arms and legs.
Someone hit Rodney in the gut, and another fist caught him in the jaw.
Rodney grunted from the double blows and blindly hit back. He heard a groan and staggered to his feet.
A man with dark hair and a long nose stood and aimed another punch at Rodney's face.
"Boss, we got another one!" Long Nose shouted toward the door as he swung at Rodney's head.
"Hey! Wait!" Rodney exclaimed, raising his hands. "I'm not -" He barely ducked out of the way of the first punch but missed Long Nose's follow-up and grunted again when a fist landed in his midsection.
Rodney staggered back, holding one arm against his abused stomach. He heard more grunting to his right but resisted the urge to check what was happening around him as Long Nose stalked toward him.
Rodney grimaced as the man closed on him. He managed to land a couple of punches to his attacker's face, and Rodney thought he might be gaining the upper hand when Long Nose paused and held his hand to his bleeding nose.
"You'll pay for that," Long Nose growled.
Rodney swallowed and backed up as Long Nose snarled and came at him. "Wait!" he shouted again. "I can explain!" But he was cut off when an arm snaked around his throat, and a hand trapped his right arm behind his back.
"Hey, boyo," a voice hissed in his ear. "You want a piece of this fight, too?"
Rodney winced at the grip on his arm and tried to struggle against the hold.
The man laughed low in his throat. "I got this one," he called to Long Nose. "Go check on Tony."
Long Nose swiped at the blood trickling down to his chin, nodded, and ran into the alley.
Rodney looked around and didn't see Carlton, but he saw Johnny and another man trading blows as they inched closer to the street.
Where did everyone go? Rodney wondered. The fog obscured everything more than a few meters away, but he didn't see anyone on either side of the street or any cars. Which isn't a bad thing, Rodney thought as Johnny stepped off the curb.
The man holding Rodney chuckled as Johnny took several blows to the gut and one to his face.
"Looks like your buddy is almost taken care of," the man rumbled into Rodney's ear. The pressure on his throat increased, and Rodney saw spots encroaching at the edge of his vision. "All that's left is to decide what we should do with you, boyo."
"It is all a matter of leverage," Teyla's voice whispered in Rodney's head.
Rodney stopped squirming and tried to remember the steps Teyla had shown him to escape this sort of hold. When? A corner of his mind wondered. He shook off the errant thought and focused on freeing himself.
"First, reach up with your left hand."
Rodney took as deep a breath as he could, then took a step forward, reached up, and pulled down on the wrist wrapped around his throat. Next, he twisted his hips and felt the hold on his arm loosen. He didn't stop to think but pulled back his left arm as he continued to twist and landed a punch to his attacker's chin.
The man stumbled back, hit his head on the light pole behind him, and fell.
Rodney staggered away from the man groaning at his feet and tried to catch his breath.
He bent forward with his arms braced on his thighs, glanced toward the street, and watched as Johnny landed a series of blows to his opponent's torso and finished with a punch to the man's nose.
Blood poured from the man's nose. He lurched away from Johnny and ran down another alley. Johnny let him go and stumbled a step as he tried to stand straight.
Rodney sucked in a few breaths and stood straight. He looked up and down the block, relieved when he didn't see any menacing shadows coming out of the fog.
"Is it over?" Carlton asked, poking his head out of a nearby doorway.
"I think so," Rodney wheezed. He glanced at Johnny, standing in the middle of the street. "Friends of yours?" he called.
"Not exactly," Johnny grunted, then bent forward and swiped at a cut under his eye.
Rodney heard running feet from the alley behind him and turned. At the same time, he heard a car racing down the street.
"Look out!" Carlton shouted.
Rodney's head whipped around, and he felt his stomach climb up his throat as the world around him slowed.
He heard the car engine revving high and saw a dim shape moving through the fog. A corner of his mind noted that the car's headlights were off, but the streetlights reflected off the wide, chrome bumper as the car rushed toward him.
No, not him, he realised. The car was aiming for Johnny.
In the time it took for Johnny to turn his head, see the car bearing down on him, and start to move, a hundred calculations raced through Rodney's head.
He's not going to make it in time, Rodney realised.
His feet were in motion even as collision vectors bloomed in his head.
The car was only meters away when he reached Johnny and shoved him clear of the vehicle.
The push knocked Johnny off balance, and the detective groaned as he rolled across the street until his body hit the opposite curb, and he lay still.
Rodney tried to jump backwards out of the way of the speeding chrome and steel monster bearing down on him, but the car swerved, hitting him with a glancing blow as he scrambled backwards.
Pain exploded in Rodney's hip as he fell backwards. He tripped on the curb, and his head hit the ground in another burst of light and pain. He moaned and thought he saw a dim face loom over him, then nothing.
~*~*~*~ SGA ~*~*~*~
The pain in his hip pulled him out of the darkness.
Rodney groaned, then froze when whatever he was lying on creaked as he shifted his weight.
Where was he? he wondered. The bed didn't feel familiar, and wherever he was, it smelled of musty concrete and stale food.
Not Atlantis, he realised.
He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to alert anyone watching that he was awake, and tried to think around his pounding head and the throbbing ache in his leg. Had the team been captured on a mission? he wondered. Were John, Ronon, and Teyla nearby?
"What was that?" a voice asked.
Rodney grimaced. So much for being sneaky, he chastised himself. The voice sounded familiar, but something was off about it.
"Carson?"
Was he in Atlantis after all? Maybe in some out-of-the-way, damp corner of the city? But why? If he was injured, shouldn't he be in the infirmary?
"Close," the voice replied. "Carlton. Carlton Blake."
Rodney's eyes flew open in surprise, and he tried to back away from the man sitting in the chair next to the low bed. The movement sent waves of pain down his leg, and Rodney groaned when his back hit the wall beside the bed.
"Careful," Carlton said, gripping Rodney's shoulders. "I don't think anything is broken, but you shouldn't be moving around like that."
Rodney hissed and took several deep breaths as the waves of pain rippled out from his hip and side. Carlton, right. He was stuck in a weird alternate universe, he reminded himself. Which explained why the voice was familiar but not. Carlton didn't have Carson's Scots accent.
"What the hell happened to me?" he growled.
Carlton frowned and sat back in the chair. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Rodney scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Carlton leaned forward, reaching for him, and Rodney pushed himself farther into the corner.
"You hit your head," Carlton said, sitting back on the chair. "I just want to know if you're concussed."
Rodney stared at Carlton, then rubbed his forehead and lay back in the bed. What did he remember?
"I was at the docks. I found you. There were men chasing us."
"Mmm," Carlton replied. "What else?"
"There was a fight," Rodney said, glancing at Carlton.
"And?"
Rodney closed his eyes and concentrated. John standing in the middle of the street. No, he reminded himself, not John. Johnny P.
A car coming toward him …
Rodney remembered the flash of wide chrome and steel barreling toward him, flinched, and groaned as the movement set off the pain in his hip and head. "I was hit by a car?"
Carlton sat forward with his arms resting on his knees and nodded. "Sort of. The car was aiming for the detective. You managed to push him out of the way, but the car clipped you when you tried to get clear."
Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. What the hell was he thinking, jumping in front of a car? he wondered. Because you thought it was John, a corner of his mind told him.
"You were lucky. If you'd been hit full on …" Carlton spread his hands. "Your side and hip are badly bruised, and you hit your head when you tripped over the curb. Do you feel dizzy? Sick?"
Rodney dropped his hand and carefully shook his head.
"Then I don't think you have a concussion." Carlton sat back in the chair. "Walking is going to be painful for the next couple of weeks until those bruises have a chance to heal."
Rodney pushed back the patchwork quilt covering him and swallowed when he saw the black and purple bruise covering his right hip. He was still staring at the damage when he realised someone had removed his coat, trousers, and shirt, and he lay in his underwear and an undershirt.
He glanced around the room and saw his clothes and holster hanging neatly from an open door that led to a tiny bathroom. A second door behind Carlton's chair was closed.
Rodney lay back in the bed. "This isn't my office. Where are we?"
Carlton adjusted the quilt over him and replied, "Somewhere safe."
Rodney glowered at the non-answer. "That's not very reassuring."
Carlton sighed. "I couldn't just leave you lying in a gutter. Johnny and Roland carried you back here so I could make sure you were all right."
"So where is here?" Rodney pressed.
"The detective is letting us hide out in his apartment," Carlton replied.
Detective? Rodney wondered as his eyes drifted shut. There was something wrong with that idea …
His eyes flew open, and Rodney groaned when he tried to scramble out of bed.
"Stop doing that!" Carlton exclaimed and gripped Rodney's shoulders. "You're going to hurt yourself."
"We need to get out of here," Rodney hissed. "It's not safe. I'm almost certain he and Ronon- I mean, Roland- are working for Kosta."
"You're wrong," Carlton said, releasing Rodney's arms.
Rodney shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Johnny is still a two-bit hood, and he won't hesitate to sell both of us out if the price is right."
Carlton frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Rodney heard a soft knock on the door.
"Doc," Roland said as he entered the room. He looked Rodney up and down, then grunted and turned to Carlton. "Johnny's back."
Carlton nodded and stood. "You asked me to trust you," he said to Rodney. "Now, you need to trust me. Stay here and try to rest."
Rodney scowled at Carlton, glanced at Roland, and clutched the quilt to his chest with both hands.
"You said he was here," a female voice said from behind Roland, and Rodney blew out a breath. "I want to see him. Now."
"Just hold your horses," Johnny replied. "He's right through here."
Roland glanced out the door, then stepped out of the way as Talia stormed into the room. She gave Roland, now standing near the foot of the bed, a stern glare, then sat on the edge of the bed.
Carlton jumper to his feet. "Hello."
Talia ignored him. "Boss? Are you all right? What did they," she glared at Roland behind her and Johnny standing in the doorway, "do to you?"
Carlton held up a placating hand. "I think you have the wrong impression, Miss?"
"Easom," Talia replied stiffly. "Talia Easom."
"Miss Easom," Carlton said. "My name is Doctor Carlton Blake -"
"You're kidding?" Talia turned to Rodney with a stunned expression. "You found him?"
"Umm, yes," Rodney replied. "We were on our way back to the office when we ran into some, umm, trouble."
"I can see that," Talia replied. She brushed her hand over the bruise on Rodney's chin and glared at Johnny.
"Hey!" Johnny exclaimed.
"If you would let me explain," Carlton cut in.
Johnny shook his head and disappeared.
Talia stared at the empty doorway, then rested a hand on Rodney's arm and turned to Carlton. "All right, Doctor. Explain."
Carlton studied her for a moment, then sat in his chair. "Last week I saw …" He paused and swallowed. "I saw a man murdered …"
Talia's expression changed from cool suspicion to surprise and then shock as Carlton told her about going into hiding, how Rodney found him, their escape from the Exchange building, and then the fight.
"You were hit by a car?" Talia exclaimed, turning to Rodney. She leaned forward, making Rodney groan as she jostled the bed and tried to pull back the quilt.
"Apparently," Rodney replied, clutching the quilt to his chest.
Talia narrowed her eyes but let go of the quilt. "How bad is it?" she asked, not to Rodney but Carlton.
"He'll be fine," Carlton assured her. "He's got some deep bruises, but he was lucky it wasn't worse. I gave him some aspirin a little while ago."
Rodney frowned. He didn't remember that.
"I don't have anything stronger with me," Carlton explained, misinterpreting Rodney's frown. "There's morphine at the clinic. It wouldn't take very long …" He let the sentence peter out as Roland shook his head.
"Not safe to go there, Doc," Roland said. "Kosta has had men watching the place since you disappeared."
Talia and Rodney exchanged a startled glance. That explains how they knew to follow me, Rodney thought.
Carlton sighed. "I thought you'd say that." He gave Talia a kind smile and added, "In that case, rest, ice, and aspirin are the best I can offer."
"Food's on the table," Johnny announced from the other room.
Roland grunted and left the room without a backward glance.
"Do you need help?" Carlton asked, nodding at the clothes hanging off the door.
Rodney shook his head. "I'll manage."
Talia plucked the hanger with Rodney's clothes from the edge of the doorframe, laid the hanger at the foot of the bed, and left the room with Carlton.
Rodney waited until the door closed, and he heard footsteps moving away from him. Then, he carefully pushed aside the quilt and sat on the edge of the bed. Moving set his leg throbbing, but the ache in his head wasn't any worse.
He slowly dressed, stood, and lunged for the door when his leg buckled. Rodney groaned and took a deep breath. Just how sure was Carlton that his leg wasn't broken? he thought as he braced one hand on the wall for balance.
He waited for the throbbing pain to recede, then opened the door.
The door opened onto a large room. Dark paneling covered the walls, and a few knotted throw rugs broke up the monotony of the bare floor. A round, wooden table with six mismatched chairs sat in one corner, lit by a fixture hanging over the table. The narrow kitchen behind the table was little more than a small counter with a tiny sink and a narrow refrigerator.
A pair of cracked leather sofas with a battered oak coffee table between them created a sitting area on the side of the room closest to the bedroom. A couple of floor lamps gave off a dim glow that did little to light the room. A small window over the sink and a second, larger window against the wall opposite the door were open, allowing an occasional waft of damp air into the otherwise stuffy room.
Roland, Johnny, and Carlton sat at the table, passing around take-out containers and talking. Talia stood next to the nearest sofa, waiting for him to exit the bedroom.
"Boss," she said as Rodney shuffled out of the bedroom. "Doing all right?"
Rodney grimaced. "No." He tried to take a step and stumbled when his leg wouldn't hold his weight.
Talia wrapped an arm around his waist and supported him as they crossed the room. She eased him into the chair next to Carlton, then sat in the empty chair to Rodney's right. Rodney waited until the pounding in his leg eased, then glanced across the table at Johnny.
"I know Carlton here says I hit my head, but that doesn't explain why we're here instead of my office."
"My apartment was closer," Johnny replied, never looking at Rodney.
All the easier to eat you, my dear, Rodney thought as he scowled across the table. Carlton was so naïve for thinking Johnny was trustworthy. "And?" he demanded.
Johnny looked up. "What?"
Rodney leaned forward. "You're kidding, right? I seem to recall you threatening me more than once today, and now you're acting all friendly and feeding me." Rodney pointed at the take-out boxes. "I want to know why the sudden change of heart."
Johnny grimaced and set down his fork. "Why did you push me out of the way of that car?"
Rodney stared across the table, dumbfounded. "What?"
"You heard me." Johnny pushed his plate away and crossed his arms over his chest. "You'd just as soon shoot me," he nodded at the shoulder holster Rodney wore, "if given the chance. So, why did you push me out of the way of that car?"
"Oh, umm," Rodney mumbled and stared at the table.
How was he supposed to explain that he wasn't seeing a two-bit hood named Johnny P in danger but his friend John Sheppard? he wondered.
"If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't still be here to carry out all of those threats," Johnny pressed. "So I'm curious. Why did you do it?"
"I just sort of reacted, I guess," Rodney replied.
Johnny studied him for a moment, then grunted. "Lucky for both of us, the car kept going." He pulled his plate closer and picked up his fork. "I tried to get Carlton to leave with me, but he insisted on staying with you. I knew we had to get off the street before anyone else saw us, so we," he pointed at himself and Roland, "brought you here."
"But -" Rodney started to say.
"Look," Johnny interrupted. "You saved my life, all right. Let's just leave it at that."
Rodney pressed his lips into a thin line but accepted he wouldn't get a better answer. He took the take-out carton Carlton passed him and carefully sniffed the contents.
Not lemon chicken, he thought with relief as his stomach rumbled. He caught another whiff and realised it was his favorite, low mein.
How? he wondered. How did Johnny just happen to order his favorite Chinese food?
Talia nudged him, and Rodney took a few spoonfuls of the vegetables and noodles, then passed her the container. Roland ladled egg drop soup, another favorite, from the pot in the middle of the table into a bowl. He handed the bowl to Talia, then dished a second bowl for Rodney.
"Umm, thanks," Rodney said.
Roland nodded, then sat, picked up a set of chopsticks, and started eating his share of the noodles.
Rodney watched as the others started eating. He tried to hide his amusement at how well Roland handled using the chopsticks, then took a cautious spoonful of soup and was pleasantly surprised by the rich flavor of the broth and the perfectly cooked egg.
This doesn't make sense, he thought as he spooned more soup. His favorite Chinese food? Here? He stared at the bowl and wondered if he had made a strategic mistake in eating the food. His stomach rumbled again, and Rodney sighed. Possible poisoning or suffering a hypoglycaemic reaction? he thought as he weighed his options.
"Who are you, really?" Rodney asked Johnny as he ate more of the soup. "The whole disgraced cop turned hoodlum persona isn't tracking." He gestured to the food on the table.
Johnny took a few swallows from the beer can in front of him, then glanced at Roland.
Roland shrugged and kept eating.
"Detective John P Sheridan," Johnny said. He pointed to Roland and added, "This is my partner, Roland Dennis."
Rodney raised an eyebrow. "You two really are cops?"
"I was," Johnny replied. "Roland here is a friend. We joined forces about six months ago and made a plan to take down Kosta."
"What happened six months ago?"
Johnny shook his head and drank more beer. "I reported my lieutenant for taking bribes -"
"Let me guess," Rodney said. "The guy you reported him to was also on the take."
"Something like that," Johnny replied with a wry smile. "After that, the word was out on me. I knew it wouldn't be long before my backup one night decided to accidentally-on-purpose shoot me in the back, so I left the department before they got the chance."
Rodney thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. "That still doesn't make sense. I was told you were fired for taking bribes, not reporting on them."
Johnny's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."
"Uh-huh," Rodney muttered.
Johnny rolled his eyes. "That was my cover story once I was out on the street."
"Your cover story?" Rodney parrotted. "As a crook?"
Johnny sighed and drank more beer. "Gotta be one to catch one. I knew if I wanted to arrest Kosta, I'd have to get close to him. I did some digging and found out that not only was Anton Kosta paying off my captain, but he had most of the division in his pocket, not to mention a few judges.
"So I started a few rumors that I was dirty, that I was on the take and got fired for getting greedy. I decided the best way to help the good people in this city I had sworn to protect was to take down Kosta and his entire network."
"As a crook," Rodney repeated.
Johnny narrowed his eyes. "Running a low-level protection racket was a good way to get in with the local low-lifes. They didn't have the connections to check my story, and I could use them to get inside Kosta's operation. Once inside, I planned to gather as much incriminating evidence as possible and take everything to the state police. Maybe get the case against Kosta taken federal."
"Okay, say I buy all of that," Rodney countered. "What about the threats? You've been shaking down innocent people. That doesn't mesh with your noble plans to save the city from the bad guys. How many people has Roland here hurt because they couldn't make the payments?"
"It wasn't like that," Johnny countered.
"You're kidding, right?" Rodney shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask what you've been doing with all of the money you've hustled."
Johnny smiled. "How many extensions have I given you to pay me?"
Rodney scowled. How many times had Johnny and Roland visited the office? he wondered.
"Exactly," Johnny continued. "And to be clear, I chose my targets carefully. No one running an honest business was targeted by us."
Rodney threw his hands in the air. "You were threatening me!"
Johnny shrugged. "I thought you were working for Kosta. That made you fair game."
Rodney sputtered into his soup. "What gave you that idea?" he demanded. "Was it the luxury accommodations in my office? Or the gourmet meals we," he pointed at Talia and then himself, "were eating in fancy restaurants every night?"
"Look, I was wrong, all right," Johnny said. "Carlton explained a few things once we got you back here. Your choice of clients is still suspect, but I'm now reasonably sure you aren't going to turn the Doc over so Kosta can kill him."
"Reasonably," Rodney grumbled.
"Kosta really is trying to kill me?" Carlton whispered.
Johnny nodded. "Sorry, Doc, but yeah. I've still got a few legit sources willing to feed me intel. One of them is inside The Pegasus Club. She gave me the heads-up about Kosta's assassination plan. We've," he pointed to himself and Roland, "been looking for you for days."
Carlton paled and pushed his plate to one side.
"Are you okay?" Talia asked.
Carlton swallowed. "I'm not sure." He glanced around the small apartment. "I knew there would be repercussions for what I saw, but I thought Kosta only wanted to hurt me as a way to make sure I didn't talk. Break a few bones or maybe burn down the clinic. That's why I've stayed away. People in the neighborhood need that clinic." He picked up his glass, and Rodney saw his hand was shaking. "I-I never thought he'd actually try to kill me."
"He's done it before," Roland said.
Talia set down her glass. "Too bad no one has ever been able to prove it."
Roland clenched his hands into fists and growled low in his throat.
"What's the problem now?" Rodney asked.
Roland glowered at him, then stood from his chair and paced from the apartment door to the bedroom door.
"Tell them," Johnny said as Roland made another circuit of the room.
Roland ignored him and kept moving.
"Hey." Johnny stood and planted himself in Roland's path.
Braver man than me, Rodney thought as Roland stopped, flexed his hands, and glared at Johnny.
Johnny rested a hand on Roland's shoulder. "Tell them," he said softly, and Rodney heard the compassion in his tone.
Roland shook off Johnny's hand and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine."
Johnny nodded and led Roland back to the table. He sat while Roland stood behind him with his back to the wall.
"I was a gunsmith," Roland said. "Had a shop a few blocks from here. My family lived in a small apartment over the store."
"Lived?" Talia asked.
Roland grunted. "About a year ago, some of Kosta's men came into the shop. They wanted me to make a special muzzle suppressor for them. I knew who they were and why they wanted it, and I told them no."
"I take it they didn't like that answer," Talia said.
"No." Roland shifted against the wall and studied his feet. "At first, it was just pushing. They kept coming back, and I kept telling them I wouldn't do what they wanted. Then the other stuff started."
"Other stuff?" Rodney prompted.
"Rocks through the shop windows. Then the shop was broken into a few times. A few smaller guns were stolen, and they destroyed some of the display cases. I was told the harassment would stop if I just played ball."
"You didn't report this?" Rodney asked.
Talia rolled her eyes, and Roland glanced at Johnny. "No point," he said. "Mellie and I cleaned up the mess, had bars installed on the windows, and told ourselves that would be enough."
"Mellie?" Talia asked.
"My wife." Roland glared at Rodney. "Kosta killed her. And my daughter."
Rodney hissed in a breath.
"How?" Talia whispered.
Roland shifted his glare to her. "I was out one night. Picking up an order of gun parts. While I was gone, three of Kosta's men broke into the shop and set it on fire. The fire department said the apartment door was barricaded from the outside. Mellie and our daughter were trapped inside." Roland ducked his head. "They are dead because of me."
Carlton stood, walked over to Roland, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry for your loss."
Roland grunted and wiped his eyes.
"Since two people were dead, I was sent to investigate the fire," Johnny said. "Roland told me about the harassment. I found out who the men were and who they worked for, but I couldn't get the higher-ups to approve the warrants I needed to make the arrests. I'd kept in touch as the investigation stalled, and once I left the police force, Roland agreed to help me deal with Kosta once and for all."
"What happened to the men who burned down the shop?" Talia asked.
Roland pushed off the wall and sat at the table. "We found them and dealt with them."
Rodney looked across the table at Roland. "And by 'dealt with them', you mean?"
"They're dead," Roland told him.
Rodney swallowed but said nothing.
They finished the rest of the meal in uncomfortable silence.
"What happens now?" Carlton asked once they finished eating and Johnny had cleared away the take-out containers and their dishes.
"We still need to get you to the state police," Rodney replied. "The sooner they hear what you have to say, the sooner they can arrest Kosta."
Johnny pursed his lips into a thin line.
"What?" Rodney demanded.
"It won't be enough," Johnny replied.
Rodney gaped. "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed. "Carlton here witnessed a murder! How is that not enough?"
Johnny sighed. "He didn't see Kosta shoot anyone."
"So? This Ladis Reznik person is working for him, isn't he?"
"He is," Johnny replied. "But any halfway decent lawyer will just say Ladis did it alone. Kosta's lawyers are some of the best. There's no way we'd get a murder charge to stick with just Carlton's testimony."
"Then why is he trying to kill me?" Carlton exclaimed.
Johnny sighed. "Because you are still a problem. Not only because Kosta can't be seen ignoring what you saw, but if the state police were to, say, have evidence that Kosta planned the hit you witnessed, then they would have him dead to rights."
Talia winced.
"So to speak," Johnny added.
"Great," Rodney grumbled. "So we're still screwed."
Johnny smiled. "Maybe not."
"Oh?" Carlton said.
"Mmm," Johnny replied. "Remember I said I knew someone inside The Pegasus Club. She told me Kosta keeps a ledger with a record of his payments and what they are for. If Kosta paid Ladis to make that hit, then we can use the evidence in the ledger to get both of them for murder."
"So why doesn't your source walk this ledger out to you?" Rodney asked.
"Because it's too dangerous," Johnny retorted. "She's just a kid. I'm not going to put Ruthie in that kind of danger."
"Ruthie?" Talia said, and Rodney thought she looked ill.
"Yeah, Ruthie McCallister," Johnny said.
Talia hissed in a breath and ducked her head.
"What?" Roland growled. "What's wrong?"
Talia sighed and stood. "You haven't seen the late edition." She walked over to her coat draped over one of the sofas and pulled a newspaper from the pocket.
"The police identified the girl they pulled out of the water near the docks this morning," she said, handing the paper to Johnny. "Ruth McCallister. Aged twenty. The police think she was strangled and her body dumped in the harbor."
Johnny took the paper, scanned the article, then crumpled it and threw it into the far corner of the room.
"We're ending this," he growled to Roland. "Now."
Roland nodded. "Good. It's about time."
"How do you think you're going to do that?" Rodney asked.
"We know there's a safe in Kosta's office," Johnny replied.
"We do?"
"Ruthie," Johnny clenched his hands into fists. "Ruthie told me about it. We need to get into the office and find that ledger. With the ledger and Carlton's testimony, that should be enough for the state police to arrest Kosta and put him in jail for a long time."
"You're going to need help," Talia said.
"Wait? What?" Rodney asked. "It sounds like they," he waved at Johnny and Roland, "have everything under control."
Talia frowned. "Kosta runs his empire out of The Pegasus Club. It will take more than two people to get in, find the ledger, and safely get out."
"And how exactly do you think we can help?" Rodney demanded.
Johnny smiled. "Funny you should ask. I think I have an idea."
"Of course you do," Rodney muttered.
