Work Text:
Blair finished writing his current thoughts in his notebook and sat back to observe the crowd again. He’d been coming to The Spot all semester. It was a great place to people watch and study the different behaviors of the crowd as it was influenced by various bands. The Spot liked to invite live bands from the area to play. It didn’t matter what kind of band either. Rock, punk, jazz, folk, pop, all the genres were welcome, and it was fascinating to see how the different types of music influenced the crowd and its behaviors.
Now that the semester was almost over, the grad student could easily recognize the regulars. There was the couple that came every week, got a couple of appetizers and drinks and just enjoyed whatever band was playing. There were a couple of talent scouts who would hand out business cards to the better bands. Several music teachers also showed up on a regular basis. They were easy to spot because they would unconsciously conduct along with the music and grimace when the band sped up or was off key.
There was another guy that was there like clockwork, but Blair hadn’t figured out anything about him yet. He came every week, but didn’t pay any attention to the bands. He always met with someone, would speak with them for a bit, and then leave. Sometimes it was someone Blair had seen him with before and other times someone new. Sometimes they exchanged things and other times not. He hadn’t been able to sort out any kind of pattern, but he hoped that if he made enough observations, he’d get it eventually.
This week, the business guy was meeting with someone new. They both were trying to act casual, but they both kept looking around. Business must not be going well because both men kept getting more and more tense.
The current band finished their song and the audience applauded, whistled, and cheered. Blair looked back at the crowd in general and wrote down specific actions that they used to show their approval of the song. This was good data.
Blair had just finished writing about how a group of males had engaged in a round of shoulder punches when he felt someone grab onto his upper arm and start pulling him upwards. He was just able to see the business guy’s latest partner out of the corner of his eye when the man leaned over and whispered into his ear, “You need to come with me, now.”
“What the hell?” he squawked as he tried to resist the pull while reaching with his free hand to grab his notebook and backpack.
The goon didn’t answer or even act like he was straining as he pulled the stunned grad student out of his chair and into the short hallway that led to the bathrooms and the back exit that led to the alley.
Blair had just managed to shove his notebook into his backpack and was preparing to hit the goon with it, when the business guy showed up.
“I changed my mind. I want to make sure this gets done,” the businessman said.
The muscle-bound new guy just glared and shoved Blair out the door.
“This isn’t the kind of thing that’s done with an audience. Go back inside.” the new guy growled once they were outside.
“It’s also not the kind of thing to stand around and argue about. Just kill him so we can get out of here,” the business guy argued back.
“Fine but go keep watch at the end of the alley. I don’t like being watched,” the new guy snarled and shoved Blair towards a dumpster.
Blair’s mind was racing. The business guy had said to kill him and this new guy didn’t want an audience. This couldn’t be good. He had to do something. He had to get away.
“I don’t have time to exp…”
The new guy’s words spurred the anthropologist into action. He raised up his knee in one of the few violent moves that his mother had taught him. As the bigger man bent over in response, Blair swung his backpack as hard as he could and started to run.
*********
Detective Jim Ellison walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. He took the barest of sips while making it look like he was taking a full drink. A low level street dealer had offered to give up his supplier in exchange for a plea deal and told them that The Spot was a favorite haunt of a man that went by the street name, Tank, and that Tank was trying to climb the ranks in the local drug scene. Jim was hoping that he could get Tank to think he was a legit buyer, get the names of several of his business associates and get one step closer to shutting down a big chunk of that operation.
He leaned his back against the bar and surveyed the crowd. He could easily see where his partner, Jack Pendergast, was sitting, pretending to enjoy the music while keeping an eye on what was going on. This was supposed to just be a meet and greet and not an actual buy. They weren’t going to get an arrest tonight, but if all went as planned they would be able to set up a place and time for the real thing.
Jim spotted Tank at the end of the bar and made his way down to meet the man. He made a show of taking another drink and said, “What do you think of the band?”
Tank shrugged his shoulders, “Meh, last week was better.”
“Yeah, well, Suckerpunch didn’t send me here for the music,” Jim responded casually.
Tank’s attitude changed slightly, and he took another look at the person standing next to him. “Suckerpunch said he knew a guy. You got a name?”
“Jim Lawson,” Jim answered, giving the man an alias that he’d used for other undercover operations.
Tank nodded his head in the direction of the tables off to the side. “Do you see the guy with the long hair sitting by himself?”
Jim used the action of taking another drink of his beer to look in the direction indicated. “The one writing in a notebook?”
“That’s him. That’s the guy I need you to get rid of for me. I can’t do any business until he’s gone.”
Jim had not expected to become part of a murder plot, but he couldn’t back out without ruining this chance and a lot of hard work. “Just out of curiosity, why?”
“He’s a cop. I can smell them a mile away and the way he’s had the place staked out for the last several weeks, he just has to be a cop,” Tank answered.
The detective quickly switched gears. If Tank was expecting a hitman, then he’d have to play the role of a hitman. He just hoped that Jack would be able to adjust as well.
“Are you sure? I didn’t think they’d let him have long hair like that and what kind of a cop carries a backpack?” Jim asked, stalling so he could think of a plan to salvage this meeting and keep the civilian safe.
“At this point, I don’t care. Better safe than sorry. I want him to not be an issue anymore.” Tank answered, getting more and more anxious.
Ellison briefly wondered if Tank was sampling his own wares before saying, “Ok, just stay here and I’ll take care of it. I’ll tell you my price when I get back.”
Without waiting for Tank to argue, Jim headed over to the guy in question. He briefly glanced over at Jack and wondered if he could give Jack a signal about what’s going on. He only had to get this guy out of the way for a while. Hopefully outside he could explain things to him and somehow get him to the police station.
Jim walked up to his target and without hesitation or greeting grabbed him by the upper arm and said, “You need to come with me, now.”
The guy with the curly hair tried to pull away and exclaimed, “What the hell?”
Thankfully the smaller man was too stunned to struggle much as Jim all but lifted him from his seat and led him towards the back exit. Unfortunately, he couldn’t explain what was going on, because he had to put on a good show for Tank.
Before the detective could get the civilian out of sight, Tank walked up to them, “I changed my mind. I want to make sure this gets done.”
Jim swore to himself as he pushed Curly out the door and turned to address Tank, “This isn’t the kind of thing that’s done with an audience. Go back inside.”
“It’s also not the kind of thing to stand around and argue about. Just kill him so we can get out of here,” Tank retorted as he pushed past both men.
“Fine but go keep watch at the end of the alley. I don’t like being watched,” Jim snarled and maneuvered his ‘victim’ behind a nearby dumpster.
Once Jim was certain that Tank was far enough away, he turned to address Curly. “I don’t have time to exp…”
Curly’s knee impacting between Jim’s legs interrupted whatever the detective was going to say, and it was all Jim could do to stay on his feet. Before he could deal with the pain enough to even take a breath, the civilian’s backpack hit Ellison in the side of the head and knocked him into the wall. The detective pulled on every scrap of training and reserve he had to regain his composure as he watched the young man run down the alley.
“Shit,” Jim squeaked at a higher pitch than he’d like as he saw Tank take off after the young man. He just bit his lip and took off after them.
Jim caught up with Tank at the end of the alleyway just in time to see the curly headed guy enter a vacant building down the block.
Tank yelled, “This way,” and started running.
So much for misdirection, Jim thought as he ran after the drug dealer.
They entered the building and paused just inside the door. Jim could hear heavy breathing and a rapid heartbeat above them. “You check down here, I’ll look upstairs,” Jim said as he headed for the stairs.
“Wait, I can’t see a thing in here,” Tank complained.
“Unless you have a flashlight shoved up your ass, I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Jim growled out. The other man just huffed and made a face before heading down the hall.
Once he was sure that Tank was doing as he was told, Jim bolted up the stairs and made his way down the hall. He didn’t bother checking if the doors were locked or not, he went straight to the apartment where he knew Curly was hiding.
Being cautious of another attack by the scared civilian, Jim made his way into the apartment. Curly was hiding just inside the door to one of the bedrooms, obviously ready to attack anyone that came through the door. Jim didn’t have time to try and sweet talk the guy, but he didn’t want either of them to get hurt either.
Seeing that the door wasn’t latched, the detective gave it just enough of a kick to push it open and then used a combat roll to enter the room while ducking under any attack that would be directed towards a standing man. Coming immediately to his feet, Jim rushed up and grabbed Curly from behind, clamping one hand over his mouth, before he could regain his balance after the failed attack.
“I’m a cop and I’m trying to keep you alive, so just calm down and listen for a minute, will ya?” Jim whispered into his captive’s ear.
Whether the man believed him or just realized that fighting back wasn’t going to help him, Jim didn’t know or care at this time, but Curly stopped resisting and held still.
Still holding the man and covering his mouth, Jim explained. “I’m Detective James Ellison and currently undercover. I need you to…” Jim paused and listened for a moment. “Shit! Tank came upstairs. Quick, out the window.”
Without argument the younger man sprinted to the window and tried to open it, “It’s stuck.”
The detective had anticipated this and grabbed a leg from the chair that the civilian had tried to brain him with. “Out of the way.” Swinging the leg like a police baton, he was able to efficiently smash through the window and clear away the glass.
Without prompting, Curly climbed through the window and headed down the fire escape. At least he would have if the ladder down had still been present, “Ah man.”
“Up, Curly, run” Jim shouted and waited for his charge to precede him up the fire escape. He could hear Tank getting closer.
The younger man had already been headed towards the stair and quickly sprinted up, headed for the roof. Ellison followed close behind.
Ellison was halfway to the roof when Tank stuck his head through the window and saw his prospective business associate and their prey running up the stairs. “Get him, Lawson!”
Jim wondered, again, if Tank was sampling his own wares.
*********
Blair reached the top of the fire escape and raced over to the roof access door. “Damn it, it’s locked” he mumbled to himself as he tried to turn the knob. This Jim guy may say that he’s a cop, but the grad student wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d been on expeditions to lots of dangerous places, but he never thought going to a club in Cascade would be what got him killed.
Before Blair could find another way down or even a place to hide, the goon calling himself a cop came over the edge and onto the roof.
“We’ll have to jump to the next building,” the self-professed cop said as he climbed onto the roof and headed towards the side facing the closest building.
Blair headed towards a different spot, where the gap between the two buildings was smaller.
“Not over there. There’s a bunch of wires.. You’ll clothesline yourself if you try and jump over there,” the larger man said when he saw where Blair was headed.
Blair looked again and could just barely see the wires that the other man had warned him about. How did this guy know that there were wires?
“I guess now is not a good time to mention my fear of heights?” Blair said as he moved closer to Jim.
Without warning, the detective’s head snapped around to look back at where the ladder for the fire escape rose over the edge of the roof. Before Blair could ask what was wrong, Ellison was dragging him towards a stack of palates and other debris. “Stay here. I’ll take care of Tank.”
As the grad student watched the officer move away, he saw the other man from the alley, most likely Tank, climb over the edge of the roof and off the ladder. How did he know Tank was that close?
For that matter, how did he know Tank had come upstairs while they were inside? How did he know that Blair was waiting inside the door to the bedroom? Surely this guy didn’t do dive rolls into every room he searched.
Blair’s mind raced with questions and possible answers as he looked around for the man that had claimed to be a cop.
“Lawson. Lawson!” Tank called out, trying to both whisper and yell at the same time. “Where are you? Did you get that cop yet?”
Blair held his breath as Ellison stepped out of the shadows causing Tank to yelp.
“Yeah, I got him. Snapped his neck, nice and clean,” Jim said as he tried to encourage Tank back towards the fire escape. “We need to get out of here though. The longer we hang around, the more likely his friends will show up.”
“Wait, I wanna see the body. Gotta make sure he’s really dead,” Tank said as he stepped away from Jim and continued to look around the roof.
Blair swallowed a chuckle when Jim grimaced and made a strangling motion behind Tank’s back. The detective’s frustration at the situation was beginning to show.
“Besides, I wanna see what he has written in that notebook,” Tank added, moving towards one of the few spots where a body could be hiding.
“Notebook? What’s the deal with his notebook?” Ellison asked insistently.
Tank finally stopped and turned around. “He’s been writing everything in it. I’ve seen that little snitch at the club for the last several weeks and he always has this notebook and he’s writing things in it. That’s how I know he’s a cop. For all we know he’s been taking notes on everyone I’ve been dealing drugs with, including you. If the cops get their hands on that notebook, well I can’t imagine it’d be good for us.”
“Well in that case,” Ellison said and gestured towards the little structure over the top of the roof access stairs. Once they got close enough, Jim pushed Tank up against the wall and pulled out a set of handcuffs.
“What the hell, Lawson?” Tank demanded as he realized he was being handcuffed.
“He’s not a cop, Tank,” Jim stated as he checked his suspect for weapons.
“Oh and how do you know?” Tank asked, still not fully grasping the situation.
“Because I’m a cop,” Jim finally said. “And you are under arrest.”
********
Blair tried to not let his excitement show as he watched the two detectives hand Tank over to some uniforms and head his way.
“It took you long enough to catch up. Maybe it’s time for a desk job, Old Man.”
“I wanted for YOU to be MY backup, but nooooo. You wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You know he never would have talked to you.”
“Yeah, well not everyone has your sixth sense for tracking people, Slick.”
“I don’t need a sixth sense to track you, Jack. Not as long as you smoke those cigarettes. I can smell those from blocks away.”
The grad student couldn’t restrain himself any longer and he raced up to the approaching men. “Oh my god, can you really smell his cigarettes from that far away? I know you saw those wires. How were you able to see those wires in the dark? And hearing. That’s how you knew I was hiding in that bedroom, wasn’t it? And how you knew Tank was about to climb onto the roof? How many other senses are heightened? What about taste and touch?”
Jim Ellison took a step back and put his hands up to ward off the barrage of questions.
Jack just burst out laughing, “HA! He’s got you pegged, Slick!”
“Whoa, hold on, Curly. How about we start with your name, and then I want to know about this notebook that Tank talked about.” Detective Ellison said. He had to place his hands on the younger man’s shoulders to keep him at arms reach and minimize the bouncing.
Curly froze briefly as his brain switched gears, then he launched back to full speed. “Oh yeah, I’m Blair Sandburg. I’m an anthropology grad student at Rainier.” His voice became muffled behind a curtain of hair as he dug into his backpack, “I’ve been observing the people at the club all semester. You know, do different people show up when different bands play? Are there regulars?”
Finding what he was looking for, Blair stood up and handed Jim a notebook, barely pausing to take a breath. “What’s the behavior of the audience like? Do they buy more food with different genres of music? That kind of stuff. But what I really want to study is Sentinels. Oh man, you’re the first person that I’ve met with three heightened senses. I’ve met lots of people with one or two, but…”
While Blair had been talking, Jim and Jack had flipped through the notebook. It didn’t have names, but it clearly showed that Tank was a regular at the club and gave general descriptions of the various people that he had met there.
Nodding at each other in agreement, the two police detectives moved to flank the grad student and started walking him towards Jack’s car.
“...not anyone with three heightened senses. If your sense of taste and touch are at the same level, then you could be the real deal man.”
“Come on, Curly, you can ask Slick all the questions you want on the way to the station,” Jack said as he opened the back door and ignored the glare from his partner.
“Oh, man, this is great,” Blair said as he practically bounced into the car. “Have you heard of Sir Richard Burton? The explorer, not the actor…”