Milwaukee Deep

Jensen looked up as Michael finally woke from his sleep.

“Good morning,” he said with all the cheeriness he could muster as his patient scanned the room.

“What time is it?” Michael asked - his voice croaky, his throat dry.

“Actually I lied, it’s good afternoon – I didn’t notice, but it’s just after four.”

“How long have I been sleeping?” Michael asked as he tried to stretch his neck – he felt terrible, his body sore – stiff from the lack of movement over that last twenty four hours.

“A while,” Jensen replied

Michael turned on his side and sat himself up.

“Are you hungry?” Jensen asked

“No, I still have no appetite,” Michael looked over at his doctor who sat behind his laptop computer, “What about you, how are you feeling?”

“Good,” Jensen replied quickly, trying not to show any sign of emotion, any sign of the anxiety he was feeling - his eyes fixated on the laptop screen in front of him.

“So what are you doing over there?” Michael asked

“Me? Nothing too exciting, just punching in some scenarios into the computer.”

“Scenarios?”

Jensen closed the laptop and stood up.

“Oh just a patient of mine – a blood issue – like I said, nothing exciting.”

Jensen made his way over to where Michael lay on his bed.

“Okay, let’s see how that wound is healing,” he said as he started to undo the bandages that covered Michael’s shoulder, keeping things between the two professional, knowing that was the best way to hide how he was feeling.

“Where’s Sam?” Michael asked grimacing as Jensen pulled off the dressing that covered the wound.

“Oh, he’s gone to see a work colleague – shouldn’t be long.”

“And Dr Durham?”

Jensen stopped then continued working on the bandages to give himself more thinking time.

“Um, she had to go – there was an emergency she had to attend to – she did say she would be back as soon as she could.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, can you just sit up a little higher…good,” Jensen changed the topic.

“How does that feel?” he asked as he moved Michael’s arm slightly.

“Not too bad – it doesn’t feel as stiff as it used to.”

“Good. Well the wound’s healing – how’s the leg? Is it giving you any trouble?”

“No – I’ve almost forgotten that the cut was there.”

“Good – because I think it’s time those stiches came out.”

Jensen walked over to the bench in the far corner of the room. He squatted down in front of it and opened the cupboard door looking for some antiseptic cream and scissors.

“Hey, doc,” Michael called out “I’ve been meaning to ask this for some time, how do you and Sam know each other?”

Jensen stopped searching through the cupboard and looked up.

“Sam hasn’t told you?”

“No. I haven’t asked.”

Jensen grabbed the scissors and cream and walked back over to where Michael sat.

“Roll over onto your stomach,” he instructed, “It will be easier if the leg is straight.”

Michael slowly turned over.

“Careful…good.”

“So you were saying about Sam,” Michael continued.

Jensen began the tedious task of removing all forty-three stiches.

“I met Sam on one of his cases.”

“His cases?”

“Yes. Eight years ago I was married,” Jensen stopped what he was doing - he stared down at the wound.

The silence was long enough for Michael to ask…

“Doc, you okay?”

“My wife went missing one night – she used to go running at dusk – she always said she liked running in the dark.”

Michael shut his eyes…at that point he realised he should have kept his mouth shut.

“Listen, doc, I’m sorry – if you don’t want to talk about this I understand.”

“No it’s okay – it’s been a long time and I’ve taught myself to live with this.”

Jensen again began to remove Michael’s stiches.

“Sam was assigned to the case,” Jensen continued, “I met him the day after I made the call to the police. They thought it was a kidnapping, which was why the FBI got involved.”

“What happened?” Michael spoke softly.

“Well she wasn’t kidnapped,” Jensen took a deep breath, “she was murdered.”

Michael didn’t respond but waited for Jensen to continue.

“They found her body three weeks after she went missing.”

“I’m so sorry, doc – I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Its okay, you weren’t to know.”

Jensen kept cutting into Michael’s stiches, ever so delicately removing them, trying not to hurt his patient.

“You know Sam helped me a lot during that time. He was there for me – he didn’t have to be, but he was.”

“I guess you never forget when someone helps you like that, do you?”

“No, Michael, you don’t. Sam and I have been friends ever since.”

Michael turned his head slightly. He had to ask.

“Doc, did they ever find the bastard who did it?”

Jensen again stopped what he was doing.

“No. Not yet.”

“I see him – we’re moving in,” came the response through Harding’s ear piece as he and Agent Perks sat together in the back of the police helicopter that skimmed the New York skyline.

“Okay, but don’t fuck this one up – make sure every unit is out and closing in – I don’t want him slipping through the crack this time,” said Harding over the radio.

Harding looked over to Perks, the noise from the spinning rotors drowning out any chance of general conversation.

“Are you sure you don’t want him to lead us to Burton?” Perks yelled out through the aircraft’s headset, “We might have only one shot at this.”

Harding ignored the question for a moment as he turned to the pilot.

“Head towards Manhattan – that’s where they have him cornered,” he commanded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harding turned back to Perks.

“He knows we’re on his tail, Perks – he won’t go back. He knows that if he leads us to Burton now, he’s fucked”

“So you think he’s leading us on a wild goose chase?”

“I do,” Harding yelled into the microphone, “Look if we detain him now we might have a chance of talking him into telling us where Burton is.”

“Is that all we’re going to do, talk him into telling us?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know he’s one of mine, Harding; I don’t want another Robert Myles.”

“Sir, we’re only seconds away,” Agent Washington’s voice came in over the radio.

Harding raised his finger to Perks.

“Copy that – we’re ten minutes from where you are now – keep me informed of all activity,” he replied.

Harding turned back to Perks.

“Don’t worry, if there’s one thing I promise you it is this – no one under my watch is going to hurt your guy – Crease will not be harmed.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Harding.”

The helicopter banked right towards lower Manhattan.

“Sir, the taxi that Crease is in has stopped. Reports are coming in that there is an accident just off the Van Wick – traffic is at a stand still – now is the time to act.”

“Copy that – Washington, Sully, do you both have a visual?” Harding asked

“Affirmative, Sir – subject is in taxi and the vehicle has stopped.”

“Copy that, Sir – I’m four car lengths in front and the vehicle has now stopped.”

“Good. Gentlemen you have a green light – repeat a green light,” Harding yelled into his microphone.

“Roger that, we’re taking the subject down.”