What's in a Name? By Gabriele Mike hummed to himself as he arranged the donuts on a platter. He took a deep breath and savored the aroma of the brewing coffee. Being, as usual, the first one to arrive for shift, he started to get breakfast ready for his friends. He looked at the table and shook his head. Turning to the cabinets, he pulled out a small plate. Mike carefully selected two cream filled pastries and set them aside. Johnny was not going to get to the station early enough to find his favorites; Chet would beat him to it, even though the Irishman was not overly fond of them. The sound of the door opening claimed his attention. Carl Mercker, C-shift's engineer, shuffled into the room, looking very sleepy. Carl let out a big yawn and stretched mightily. When the enticing smell of fresh coffee hit his tired nostrils he perked up visibly. He looked around and noticed Mike, who was standing at the table, grinning. "Well well well, if it isn't A-shift's engineer, bearing gifts." Carl had spotted the donuts. "I see there's hope for you yet." Wearily sinking into a chair and raking his fingers through his short black hair, he yawned again, stretching his jaw to their limit. Mike took a closer look at his fellow engineer. Carl's chocolate brown features had a grayish tint, he looked exhausted. "Where's the rest of your shift?" Mike looked pointedly at the clock, raising one eyebrow. "Sam Lanier forget to wake you all up this morning?" It was almost seven o'clock, about an hour past reveille. Mike suspected that the night before had been long and hard. Carl snorted. "We all had about three hours of sleep last night, man. And that not even in a row." He yawned again and this time Mike was afraid he'd rip his face in half. He was relieved, when Carl survived his yawn undamaged. "Mike, I swear, the loonies were out in full force, not to mention the fire at Harwood Park." Carl gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Mike handed him. "Yeah, by the end of that one I was so tired I thought I had double vision." Rudy O'Conners, one half of C-shift's paramedic team entered the kitchen and made a beeline toward the coffeepot, stopping only briefly to snatch a donut of the plate. Rudy stuffed a large bite of the pastry into his mouth before reaching for a coffee mug. Mike watched, fascinated. 'Johnny can do way better than that,' he thought with a somewhat odd pride. "I don't keep up, what are they racing there now, greyhounds or horses?" "Horses." Alex Byrnes, one of the firefighters was leaning against the doorjamb seemingly to tired to move any further. "Hey amigo, you're blocking the exit. That's against the fire code you know." Marco arrived for shift and was standing behind Alex. Taking the man by the shoulders, Marco marched him to the table. Alex sank into a chair and put his head into his hands. "Man, I can't believe this shift. I'm gonna go home and lock my bedroom door. The only thing that'll get me outta bed is a major disaster." A sigh followed his proclamation.  "Maybe." He added. Marco nodded at his friend. "Morning Mike, I see you brought some donuts. I think that's just what these guys need, a major sugar jolt."  Grinning, he watched as the rest of C-shift crawled into the kitchen, followed by the just as tired Cap Phil Harold. Roy and Chet came in, quietly discussing the merits of life bait vs. fly bait. Suddenly both were jolted from behind. Johnny, as was his custom, had been running through the engine bay and flew through the door, running right into his crewmates, even though he wasn't even late yet. "Gage, do you do anything quietly?" Chet, one of the benefactors of Johnny's explosive entrance looked annoyed. Then he spotted the donuts and made a mad dash to the table. Mike grinned when he saw Chet grab both remaining cream pastries. 'Yep, I was right,' he thought. Johnny, who followed Chet, was dismayed. "CHET, did you have to grab both of them?" He shot his friend a disgusted look. When he opened his mouth again to voice his outrage at the injustice of it all, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned and looked at his engineer. Mike pointed to the plate on the counter and Johnny's face lit up. Grinning gratefully at the engineer, Johnny took hold of the plate. "Thanks Mike." "No problem." Mike grinned back. Their attention was drawn to the door by Hank Stanley's voice. "Okay men, since we're all here, how about we start a little early and let C-shift go home? I don't think they'll be much good in an emergency, they might get themselves hurt." Hank looked at his men; sure about the answers he would receive. He smiled when all of his men nodded in consent. 'Yeah, they're best there is, and they all work on my shift.' "Sure Cap." Mike looked at C-shifts engineer. "Carl is not getting behind the wheel of my engine in his condition, no way, only over my dead body." Mike's eyes where dancing with mirth. "You're all heart old friend." Carl smiled. "Yeah it's a handicap, but what can I do?" Mike clapped Carl on the shoulder. "Speaking of handicap." Marco turned a questioning eye toward Alex and Rudy. "What was all that yakking about greyhounds and horses?" Raphael Hernandez answered. "Our last call was to Harwood Park. A stable caught on fire, and a horse was trapped inside." He shook his head. "The poor creature was screaming in terror, I've never heard anything like it." The paramedic rubbed his eyes. The members of A-shift looked at their colleagues sympathetically. They remembered a call they went on, where more than half a dozen horses were trapped by a fire. Roy clapped his hand on Raphy's back. The blond paramedic remembered the screaming animals vividly. "Yeah, they're beautiful creatures, but boy, do they panic easily." Roy smiled at his fellow paramedic. "So how did it go?" "Yeah, did you get him out?" Johnny was talking around a mouthful of donut. His passion for his job was only surpassed by his passion for horses. He had an anxious look on his handsome face. "It was a her, and yes, we got her out." Raphy nodded, remembering the ordeal of trying to get the extremely frightened animal out of the fiery stable. "She got burned on her left flank and her hind legs, but the vet said she'll be fine in a couple of weeks." Roy nodded. "Who's the vet?" "Cap called Ed over. Their own vet was nowhere to be found." Rudy was gulping his coffee as if it was the elixir of life. Johnny was relieved. Ed and Angelina Moulliere were the most sought after veterinarians in the county. Together, they ran a very busy animal clinic, and where a highly successful team. "You can't go wrong with that; they're the best there is." Mike and Marco certainly agreed with that. Smiley, Mike's dog owed his life to Ed and Angelina. "By the end of that glorious night I started seeing double." Rudy shook his head. "That's when I knew how tired I really was." "I hope you guys don't have to go through, what we had to go through." Alex Byrnes stood up and put his mug into the sink. "Thanks fellas, now I'm gonna try to make it home in one piece." Cap Harold looked at his fire fighter. "Alex, if you are too tired to drive, I'll give you a lift." "Naah, just kidding Cap. Trust me, I'll make it home to my nice, warm, comfy bed." Alex waved his hand. "G'bye dudes, hope you have a better shift than we had." Phil Harold looked at A-shift. "Thanks guys, we owe you one." Six extremely tired men walked out of the kitchen and to their cars. None of them even bothered to change into their civvies. "All right men." Hank clapped his hands and rubbed his palms. "Let's get to roll call. It'll be nice to get it out of the way early for a change. He shot a pointed look at Johnny who returned the look with innocent eyes. Hank sighed, wishing he could stay angry with his paramedic. "Cap, can't we have breakfast first. I didn't even get any coffee, C-shift sucked it all up." Chet was dismayed. "We'll do roll call, I'll give you your assignments, and then you can go back to the kitchen to finish your breakfast." Hank glared at his men. "Any questions?" None of the men felt adventurous enough to challenge their captain. They lined up beside the engine without a peep. Hank nodded in satisfaction. "All right, let's get to it." ##### Al Mundle was squirming under the older man's icy stare. "Well Al, what do you have to say for yourself?" The sharpness of the voice could have cut through steel. "You incompetent idiot, your stupidity could've put the entire business into jeopardy." Richard Cleytor had not raised his voice one decibel, but Al Mundle cringed. Sweat was popping out of his back, trickling in icy rivulets down his spine. He shot a quick look at the angry man and immediately dropped his eyes again. "Mr…" he squawked. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Cleytor, it wasn't my fault!" Mundle willed himself to look up again. "Russ was supposed to…" "Enough!" Cleytor's voice cut him short. The angry man stood up and rounded his desk, moving toward the now extremely frightened man. Cleytor stopped and thrust his face into Mundle's. "I don't want to hear any explanations or excuses. I've put you in charge of keeping the merchandise intact and ready it for shipping. I don't care who did what, you are the supervisor and you are ultimately responsible." His eyes bore into the hapless man's. "We've escaped disaster by a hair's breadth this time." The cold voice took on a threatening note. "If anything else goes wrong, even the smallest little mishap, I'll relieve you of your duties. Do you understand?" Mundle moved timidly backward, until the chair behind him stopped his progress.  "Yes sir Mr. Cleytor, yes, of course sir." His head bobbled up and down, like that of a bobbing head doll. He put his hand behind him to steady himself on the back of the visitor's chair. Squeezing around it he walked backward to the office door, his head still in the up and down motion. Mundle looked at Cleytor and stretched his mouth into a pathetic grin. He gripped the doorknob and tried to twist it, but his sweaty palms slipped. "Goodbye Mr. Cleytor, I promise, nothing else will go wrong, I'll personally see to it." Turning around quickly he slipped out the door, bumping his forehead against its edge in his rush to escape. Cleytor's eyes followed Mundle until the door shut behind the frightened man. "You do that Mundle, you see that you do that," he hissed through his clenched teeth. ####    Mike was mopping the kitchen floor. He was thinking about all the different types of cars he looked at during the past weeks. Driving the old Pontiac, that Marco's cousin Rico fixed up was just a temporary solution. He was searching for the perfect car ever since his Bronco had been put permanently out of commission. Chuckling to himself, he remembered the last time he visited a car dealership. Johnny accompanied Marco and him. Mike shook his head. Johnny's exuberance was infectious. He bounced from car to truck to wagon, driving the dealer nuts. It was most probably the first time in history that a customer pushed a used car dealer to the brink of insanity. 'Johnny, you're one in a million,' Mike thought. Approaching footsteps interrupted his reverie. 'Oh no you don't.' Mike straightened up; ready to defend his freshly mopped floor to the death. Roy and Chet approached the kitchen. They stopped short, when they spotted their engineer standing in the doorway with a determined look on his face, holding the mop upright, like a soldier from the middle ages would hold his hellebarde. Marco came up behind Roy and Chet. Taking in the picture, a grin spread on his face. The handsome Latino knew exactly what was going to happen, he knew his friend Mike very well. Roy would see reason, but he knew Chet would try. Marco's grin grew wider. "The first one who steps in here is going to eat the mop." Mike's gaze went past Roy and focused on Chet, his blue eyes bearing down on the firefighter. Johnny appeared at Marco's side. Standing behind the squad, he overheard Mike's threat, and he couldn't wait to see what would happen. Mike, aside from Cap, was the only one Chet had a healthy respect for. The Phantom once tried to focus his pranks on the tall engineer, but Mike stayed a step ahead of him and outthought and outpranked him every inch of the way. It was one of the best days in Johnny's life, when he and the others witnessed the Phantom's defeat. Chet never again tried to play a trick on Mike. Johnny's trademark grin appeared in anticipation. "Come on Mike," Chet knew he sounded dangerously close to whining. "We all worked hard, we just want a cup of…" The klaxon shrilled through the station, claiming everybody's immediate attention. 'Station 51, truck 15, unknown rescue, 554 Cicero Avenue, cross street Victor Lane, repeat, 554 Cicero Avenue, cross street Victor Lane. Time out 11:15. "KMG 365." Hank handed Roy the copy of the address and ran to the engine, wondering fleetingly about the dark look Chet shot at his engineer. #### He was trying desperately to hold on to life. He was laying on the window washers' platform, three stories down from the roof. The bullet wound, the beating he received and the fall to the platform wreaked havoc on his body. 'Sweet Mary, Mother of God, help me.' His body was one great big wound, but his spirit was clinging to consciousness. 'Gotta hold on, gotta hold on, gotta make everything all right again.'  His brain reacted to a familiar screeching sound. Sirens. 'Help was coming, hold on, hold on'. "What the…" Marco jumped back when the droplet hit the pavement. All the men looked up. A gasp came from the assembled firemen when a hand appeared, hanging over the window washer platform. Blood droplets now splattered down in rapid succession. Roy and Johnny whirled around and opened the squad's compartments. Mike, Marco and Chet grabbed equipment, ropes and harnesses. They raced toward the structure. Dispatch informed them, that the elevator was reported not operational, hence the snorkel. They headed straight for the stairs.  Hank jumped into the engine. "LA dispatch this is engine 51, what is the ETA on the snorkel?" "Truck 15 to engine 51, our ETA is three minutes." "Truck 15, we have a wounded man trapped on the 7th floor of a ten story building, left end, waterfront. Raise up with stokes and be ready to receive a victim and a paramedic. Engine 51 over and out." "Engine 51." Hank was just about to run to the building's entrance, when he heard sirens. Two police cars rounded the corner and came to a bouncing halt by the engine. Vince Howard and three other policemen exited the patrol units. They made their way to Hank. "Mornin' Hank." Vince greeted his friend. "We got a report of a gunshot coming from the roof of one of the buildings. You bein' here is not just a coincidence, is it?" An icy fear gripped the captain. "Gunshots?" He turned and ran to the building. Vince sprinted after him and tackled the worried man by the shoulders. "Relax Hank." Vince spoke forcefully, looking into his friend's eyes. "We got the call about ten minutes ago. The caller reported that he heard what sounded like a gunshot. When the dispatcher asked him for further information, the caller admitted, that he heard the alleged shot about a half-hour ago. He claimed he couldn't make up his mind whether to call or not. He didn't want to get involved." The policeman glanced up the building. "The triggerman is long gone. Besides, if your guys had walked into an ambush, you would've heard something, okay?" Vince patted Hank on the shoulder. "You're right Vince." Hank breathed deeply. "I guess I got a little worried when I heard the word 'gunshot'." The lanky captain turned and resumed his rush into the building. "Gotta help my men, they've got a victim up there." He dashed into the building and up the stairs, followed by the four cops. Up on the roof, the men had their own worries. Johnny was crouching by the victim, trying to get the vitals and assess the damage done to the man's body. He lowered himself down to the small platform, secured in his safety harness. Marco and Chet held on to rope to keep their friend safe, while Mike sent down the supplies Johnny needed. Roy was manning the bio phone, already in contact with Rampart hospital. The platform was not very large and the paramedic had a difficult time moving around. He didn't want to jolt the wounded man any more that absolutely necessary. "Roy, respiration is 17 and labored, pulse is 120 and very weak, BP is 90/50. There are rales on both sides, blood coming out of the mouth. Also, the patient has numerous cuts and abrasions, looks like he took a hell of a beating. His right collarbone and humerus are broken. I can't turn him around without endangering him, but a large amount of blood is pooling under his chest area and running of the platform. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT SNORKEL?" Hank reached the edge of the roof. "Calm down Pal. 15s is gonna be here any second now." The captain knew that Johnny forgot everything around him when tending to a victim, he was solely focused on his patient. Hank heard the approaching sirens when he ran into the structure. Roy relayed the information from Johnny to Rampart. He heard the familiar sound of the snorkel being raised and released his breath. The hurt man needed immediate treatment, and he needed to be on safe surface, so the paramedics and the engine crew could work efficiently. He informed Dr. Brackett, that the victim would soon be accessible, broke the connection and watched the rescue, ready to help if he was needed. The basket arrived at the platform and the fireman manning it was busy helping Johnny secure the victim into the stokes. It was a precarious operation; the platform size allowed no room for error. They finally succeeded and Johnny shucked his safety harness to climb in with his patient. The basket started its descent. Roy grabbed the bio phone and rushed toward the roof door, as soon as he saw that the man was secured. Mike took hold of the medical supplies and followed Roy. He shook his head as he thought about the job the paramedics had to do day in and day out. Although he witnessed his paramedic teams intensity when working on critical patients numerous times, it never ceased to amaze him. 'Man,' he shook his head again 'how do they deal with all this misery? I couldn't do it. I'd be a basket case within a week.' Mike looked back when he heard footsteps behind him. Vince had followed him to call the detective unit and the crime scene investigators, while his colleagues secured the scene of the crime. "Hey fireman, can I help you carry some of that stuff?" Vince grinned at the engineer. "Sure cop, here take this box and these blankets." Mike grinned back, some of the tension draining out of him. They headed toward the stairs, the elevator, as reported, not in service. Johnny and the man from 15s moved the wounded man out of the basket and lowered him to the ground. Johnny, having seen the gunshot wound as soon as they turned the man around, was anxious for Roy to appear. He put pressure on the torn chest as soon as the victim's wound was accessible, but he needed bandages, IV's and the oxygen. The patient's breath was coming in ragged intervals; he needed O2 now. He cast an impatient look at the doors, just as Roy ran through, followed by Mike and a police officer. The trio ran to the waiting paramedic. Vince set the box and the blankets beside the victim and turned to his patrol car to make his calls. Roy put the medical supplies into Johnny's reach and activated the bio phone to resume the contact with Rampart. "Rampart base this squad 51." "Go ahead 51" Brackett had become more than a little antsy while waiting. "Stand by for vitals Rampart." "BP is now 70/50, pulse is 90 and weak, respiration is 12 and very labored, with rales on both sides" Johnny had been working feverishly. He applied a pressure bandage to the gunshot wound and, with Marco's assistance, splinted the broken bones. He was now putting sandbags on the man's side, where he suspected broken ribs. Mike was kneeling by the victim's side administering O2. Marco was standing by, ready to help if needed. "Roy, he is in really bad shape. He can't hold on very much longer." Johnny bit his lip and continued. "He's got a gunshot wound to the chest, upper left quadrant, no exit wound. The right shoulder and humerus are broken; he also has some broken ribs on the left side. Face and eyes are swelling and bruising, he has a two inch ragged wound on his scalp above the right ear and he is still loosing a lot of blood." The dark haired paramedic wiped his forehead with his sleeve. This was really bad; the man had almost no chance of even surviving the trip to the hospital. Johnny was getting angrier and angrier. This was no accident victim; someone did all that damage to the man's body on purpose. He gritted his teeth. Meanwhile Roy was relaying Johnny's assessment to Dr. Brackett. The wounds that were inflicted on the man lying in front of them, stunned the paramedic. "51 start bilateral IV's, one normal saline, one lactated ringers, both wide open, permission to intubate if necessary. Transport immediately." Kel sounded very worried. "Pull a redtop; we'll need blood to type and crossmatch." 'Blood? He can have blood, gallons of it.' Marco was still trying to come to grips with what he saw before him. A jerky movement by the wounded man claimed his attention. The man felt nothing but pain at first. When he heard voices, he thought his tormentors returned to finish him off and started to panic. He felt the pressure from the oxygen mask on his face and for a moment thought he was being smothered. The left hand flew up to knock the device aside. Someone caught his arm and a soothing voice started talking to him. "Lay still mister, we're here to help you. My name is Mike and we're all firemen. The other guys touching you are Marco and Johnny. Johnny is a paramedic, the best there is. The mask on your face is an oxygen mask, it's helping you breathe." The soft, calm voice relaxed the man. He couldn't see; his eyes would not open. He didn't know that they were swollen shut. He lifted his arm again searching. He felt cloth and his fingers curled around it. He shook his head trying to get the mask off. He needed to talk, he knew his time was running out. Mike was worried. He grabbed the hand that had a death grip on his turnout coat and tried to keep the mask steady. Marco and Johnny had their hands full keeping the man's splints bandages and IV's in place. He saw the man's mouth move and understood, that he wanted to talk. "Don't try to talk mister, you need to keep the oxygen on." Mike was getting frantic himself. The man paid no heed to the voice. He continued to flail, desperately trying to speak. The mask slipped and the man opened his mouth. "Fl… flow… flower…help… flower in the mist…. Save…. ss…save Posy….Victor He…"  The hand slipped, breathing stopped, darkness came. "Respiratory arrest." Johnny sprang into action. Mike changed his position and was bent over the victim's head, holding the mask in place and pumping oxygen into the unresponsive lungs. Johnny prepared for intubation. Roy informed Rampart about the changed situation and rushed to help his partner, while Marco took over the phone. Mike lifted the mask and tilted the man's head back. Johnny inserted the device and Mike replaced the mask. Johnny looked at the monitor. "Roy, Roy look, we're loosing him." He whirled to grab the pads and applied the cream. Roy watched the power meter. "one two three four NOW." "Clear." Johnny applied the charge, hoping they'd get the man back. He looked at the monitor. Flatline. Swearing under his breath he repositioned the pads. "Again Roy." "Two, three, four, NOW." Roy had a bad feeling about this. "Clear." The man was jolted again, but the line remained flat. Johnny's breath came in short, hard intervals now. "Again." Marco was on the bio phone, talking to Kel Brackett and keeping him updated on the situation. He saw the man's body jump for the third time, but the line on the monitor remained flat. "51 administer epinephrine 1 mg IV push repeat if nescssary, continue with CPR, keep sending strips." Kel's brow furrowed as he leaned over the speaker, looking as if he wanted to crawl through it and help the paramedics. "Ten-four Rampart." Marco relayed the instructions to Johnny and Roy. Both paramedics worked on the dying man with silent desperation. The line remained flat. Johnny bit his lip. The feeling of being powerless increased as the dying man slipped further and further away. Mike was working the oxygen; sweat started to roll down his forehead. The monitor showed the flatline, nothing more. "Atropine 20mg, continue CPR." Kel's voice had a sharp edge, projecting his state of mind. The monitor remained flat. "No pulse, no heartbeat, no respiration." Roy spoke in a dull flat voice. He took a deep breath. "Exitus." Marco crossed himself. "Rampart we have a Code F." He dropped the phone. Mike removed the mask and sank back, his head dropped, and his hands, resting on his thighs, shook. He had a hard time dealing with the fact, that they were working on a murder victim. It was unbelievable, but somebody purposely took the life of another human being. Not only that, the murderer inflicted as much pain as possible before doing the evil deed. Mike was in deep shock; he was trying to get his emotions in check. Hank walked over to his engineer and started talking to him in low voice. Johnny Gage swallowed hard. He raised a shaking hand and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He looked at the dead man's battered face and closed his eyes. It was incomprehensible, that someone could have done all this to one man. Not only had the young man lost his life, but to loose it in such a horrible way! Johnny rubbed his temple and shook his head in defeat. He often risked his own life to save another, the concept of purposely snuffing out a living breathing creature was completely alien to the dedicated rescue man. Rising, he said a silent prayer for the man. With one last sad look Johnny picked up his helmet and the oxygen, turned slowly and walked to the squad. Roy was watching his partner. He knew what Johnny was feeling, simply because it was something they both felt before, unfortunately all too often. His friend always had a hard time yielding to the grim reaper, but this was something different, something worse.  The fallen man had neither lost his life to an accident nor a disease. He'd been murdered. A movement made Roy look up. Cap and Marco where spreading a blanket over the dead man. Expelling his breath the paramedic turned to gather the medical supplies, but found Chet already bent to the task. The stocky fireman looked at Roy and nodded. Roy smiled sadly, picked up the bio phone and made his way to the rescue vehicle. #### Al Mundle was sitting in his office, smoking a cigar. The damage could not be undone, but the other merchandise was secured and ready. A relieved sigh escaped his mouth. He smirked. His subordinates would hopefully learn from the example he made of their co-worker. No more fouling up, he made that unmistakingly clear. A knock brought his eyes to the door. "Come in." A tall muscular man entered and strode to the desk, grinning. "Finished Al, he's not gonna mess up ever again." The man slid his hand over his bald pate. "Well done Hess. I'm going to keep your exceptional services in mind." Al opened his desk and pulled out an envelope. "Here are your wages, I always say, good work deserves good pay." "Good thinking Al, good thinking." With a smirk Hess turned and left. 'Don't get to cocky Hess, you could end up on the wrong end of the stick very quickly.' Al's countenance lightened. No need to get excited, he'd deal with things as they came up. 'There'll be a different tone around here from now on, the reigns will be tight, very tight indeed.' #### Lunch was a sad and silent affair; nobody had much of an appetite, the sandwiches seemed to taste like cardboard. None of them could shake off the picture of the fatally wounded man; it kept intruding into their thoughts. Hank rubbed his face and sighed. He was searching for words of comfort, he wanted to help his men, but the right words remained elusive.  On top of everything else, Vince told him that he should expect a visit from homicide division detectives. It wasn't over yet. "I know this was one of the toughest calls we ever got, but there was nothing we could do, the damage was too great." Hank looked at his men. "You guys, as usual, did an exceptional job, but you didn't have a fair chance. It was surprising, that the poor man held on as long as he did." Cap sighed, he knew his words didn't help much, but he had to reassure the firemen. Chet pushed his untouched food away. "What do you s'pose the guy meant?" Hank was puzzled. "What guy, where?" "The victim said something to Mike, and it made no sense to me at all." Chet looked at Mike quizzically. "Something about flowers and posies, wasn't it Mike?" "Yeah, something like that." Johnny and Marco both nodded in agreement. Before Mike could answer there was a knock and everybody looked to the kitchen door. Two men were standing in the doorframe. The older of the two had short salt and pepper hair and a graying mustache. He was over six feet tall and attired in a business suit. The man was broad shouldered, and aside from a slight paunch in good physical shape. The younger man was almost as tall, but skinnier. He his dark hair was combed straight back, and clad in slacks, turtleneck and blazer made a more casual appearance.  They smiled at the firemen as they advanced. "Afternoon gentlemen, we're detectives from county homicide." The older of the pair produced a gold shield and showed it to his audience. "I'm Bill Mulgard, this is my colleague Clark Hillmer. Mind if we join you?" Hank waved to the chairs. "Sit down. Vince Howard told me to expect you, but I didn't think you'd come so soon. I didn't tell my men about it yet; I wanted them to calm down a little first. We don't see too many homicide victims and we're all still pretty shaken up." He introduced his men to the detectives. Mulgard and Hillmer looked at the untouched food and nodded. "We understand perfectly Captain Stanley. We're veteran homicide detectives and even we still get queasy once in a while. Your guy was one of the worst victims of viciousness we've seen. I couldn't believe Hubman lived as long as he did with these wounds." Bill Mulgard looked at the fire fighters sympathetically. "Hubman? Was that the guy's name?" Roy looked at Mulgard questioningly. "Yes," Mulgard nodded in confirmation. "His name was Russell Hubman, and he lived two blocks down from where you guys found him. His last known workplace was Harwood Park. He worked as a hot walker for the track owner, but he quit three weeks ago to start working for a horse breeder who stables there." He looked at A-shift; they all looked a little startled. "What's the matter?" Chet drew in a sharp breath. "Nothing much, it's just that Harwood Park gets mentioned an awful lot around here lately."  "Really?" Hillmer leaned forward. "How so?" "Well," Hank put his palms on the table. "This morning C-shift told us that their last call was to Harwood Park. They had to work a stable fire with a trapped horse." Mulgard and Hillmer exchanged a look. "Captain Stanley, did they tell you whose stable caught on fire?" Now the firemen exchanged looks, and all shook their heads. "It's probably in the logbook." Hank stood. "I'll go get it, but it'll be a while, I've to clear it with headquarters." He shot the detectives an apologetic glance and walked out of the room. Detective Hillmer turned to the men. "Who is the primary paramedic that worked on Hubman?" Johnny spoke up. "I am." Hillmer opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Chet flew to Johnny's defense. Nevermind that nobody accused Johnny of anything yet. "Johnny did nothing wrong. He and Roy are the best paramedics in the county, nobody could've done anymore for Hubman than they did." Chet glared at Hillmer. "John didn't even have time to relax yet, leave him alone." Even though Johnny was Chet's favorite target for pranks and verbal sparring, he liked the paramedic very much. Pity the creature that tried to harm Johnny in any way, shape or form. Theirs was an odd relationship and nobody but the rest of A-shift understood it. "Relax, relax." The older policeman made a calming guesture toward the agitated Chet. "We're not accusing anybody here, we know you all tried your damnedest to keep Hubman alive." Mulgard smiled at the dark haired paramedic. "Son, we just wanted to ask if you noticed anything out of the ordinary around the victim. Did he say anything?" Chet relaxed and sat back. Johnny smiled at the detective. "Well, the wounds were certainly not ordinary, I've never seen anything like it, even with all the TA's we have worked in the past." He lowered his eyes at the memory. "As for him saying anything, he was unconscious while we were on the platform. He came to later, when we were on the ground. He started flailing and Marco and I had our hands full to keep the bandages, splints and IV's in place, so we didn't hear exactly what Hubman said." He waved toward the engineer. "Mike was closest; the guy grabbed his turnout coat." Everybody's attention focused on Mike. But like before, Mike was unable to speak, this time because of the arrival of his captain. Hank walked into the kitchen holding a piece of paper. His face was several shades paler than before. He sank into the chair and drew in a deep breath. "This is turning into a bigger and bigger mess by the minute." Shaking his head he dropped his gaze on the detectives. "I called headquarters to find out about the legality of revealing information from the logbook. It's confidential," he explained. "When I mentioned that it was regarding the early morning fire at Harwood Park, I was immediately transferred to Investigations." He nodded at the sharp intake of breath around the table. "They told me, that they suspected that the fire was deliberately set." Hank cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee. "26's was scheduled to make an inspection at the track day after tomorrow. Captain Hergefelt reported that he received a phone call from an unknown person. It sounded to him as if the caller was feeling out if Red Hergefelt could be bribed. Red called Investigations immediately and they red flagged the location. They are checking the stable as we speak." Hank took another sip of coffee and looked around the table. He had everybody's undivided attention. It was so quiet; one could hear the footsteps of a mouse, if one chose to appear. "According to the track owner, the stable was rented to a breeder named Richard Cleytor.  The stable manager is Al Mundle. Apparently, Cleytor is renting a total of three stables from the track owner. He stables horses there, races them and then sells them to other breeders." He looked at the detectives. "The horse that almost died was sold to a breeder in Great Britain for  $250,000. She is a very valuable mare; the list of names in her ancestry read like royalty and includes some Triple Crown winners from the East Coast. Her racing name is Flower in the Mist, but everybody calls her Posy." A cup clanked on a saucer, and all attention focused on Mike, whose eyes grew wide as saucers. "That's…"Mike swallowed and restarted. "That's what Hubman said." The older detective, who was sitting next to Mike, put his hand on the engineer's arm. "Son, relax and take a deep breath. I need you to concentrate and tell me exactly what you heard." Mulgard patted Mike's arm and smiled encouragingly. Mike did as he was bid. "Hubman had a very hard time talking. He started saying flower, but couldn't get it out. Then he said 'help' and then 'Flower in the Mist'." Mike concentrated. He knew, he needed to be as accurate as possible, he wanted the man or men caught who committed this terrible crime. "Next he said 'save' and then 'Posy'. His breathing was awful by then, but he tried to get a name out. It sounded like 'Victor He…'. He couldn't get the last name out, by then he was slipping away."  Mike looked at Mulgard and Hillmer. "That's exactly what the man said. I wish he had the time to get the last name out." Mike looked slightly dejected. Mulgard smiled at Mike reassuringly. "You did fine son, don't worry. We have a pretty good idea whom Hubman meant." He nodded at Hillmer. "Sounds like an old customer, doesn't it Clark?" "Oh yes." Hillmer looked at the men at the table. "What gets said here will not leave this room, do we have your words on that?" Everybody nodded yes and he continued. "Hubman was in all probability trying to say Victor Hess. He's a rent-a-thug who moved here from LA. It's been quiet around him the last couple of years, we've been wondering about that. Hess hasn't killed anybody in the past that we know of, although he came pretty close several times. None of his victims wanted to press charges, they were scared witless." Mulgard gazed at A-shift. "Well gentlemen, is there anything else you remember?" When he saw six shaking heads, he stood up. "Captain Stanley, here's my card. If any of you remember anything else, anything at all, call us. The card has my work and home phone number, don't hesitate to call, even if you think it's not important." The detective smiled at the firefighters. "This was a really fruitful visit.  You guys made our work a little easier. Before we came here all we had was the victim's name and two anonymous phone calls to 911 dispatch. Thanks." The men smiled back, all except Johnny, who only managed a weak grin. Mulgard walked over to the paramedic and put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Don't fret too much son, you did the best you could. Russell Hubman was beyond help. Even if he got to a hospital he wouldn't have survived; he was too severely hurt. He'd been lying there for a considerable time before the first call came in, which got you guys rolling; the call about the gunshot came even later. The coroner said that it was a miracle that he survived as long as he did. Who knows, maybe he clung on to make sure he would be heard. After all, he died right after he was finished talking." He patted Johnny's back and walked to the door, followed by Hillmer. "Wait." Hillmer turned to Hank. "We need the names, phone numbers and addresses of C-shift. We need to talk to them too. Were there any other fire stations at Harwood Park? Any other witnesses?" Hank stood up as he shook his head no. "The log book lists only C-shift. It wasn't a very large fire, even though the stable was a total loss." "Ed was there too." Marco spoke up. When the detectives looked at him, he explained further. "The horse was hurt. They couldn't find the stable vet, so Cap Harold called Ed Moulliere." Before Marco could inform the detectives how to get in touch with the veterinarian, they nodded in unison. "Yes, we know Ed Moulliere. He and Angelina take care of our K9 unit. That's certainly a lucky break for us." Mulgard waved, and he and Hillmer left, followed by Hank who needed to retrieve the information the detectives wanted out of the files in his office. The men from A-shift looked at one another. "Man, that is too weird." Chet shook his head and walked out of the kitchen. "Come on guys, who's got the guts to play hoops with me?" He yelled over his shoulder. Marco and Roy rose and started to follow their cap out the door. Hoops sounded good; maybe they could work out some frustration and nervous energy. They stopped, when they realized, that Johnny did not move. "Johnny." Roy approached his friend. "It's okay, Roy, I'll be there shortly. I just need to sit here for a while longer." Johnny looked at his partner. "I'm all right, really, just give me a moment." Roy looked over Johnny's head at Mike, who cleared the dishes and was filling the sink with hot water. Mike gave Roy a quick smile and nodded his understanding. He would not leave the kitchen without Johnny. Reluctantly Roy and Marco left. "Hey Johnny," Mike said over his shoulder. "If you were to offer your help with the dishes I'd give it some serious consideration." Mike grinned at the paramedic. Johnny gave Mike a startled look, as if the engineer just woke him up, then a grin formed at one corner of his mouth. "You are too kind Mike, much too kind." He got up and grabbed a dishtowel. Mike laughed, then shot a look at his crewmate. "You wanna talk about it Johnny?" "No, not really… Well, I just don't understand." Johnny took a deep breath. "If someone saw that the guy was hurt, why did that person wait so long to call us?" The paramedic looked at Mike with confused eyes. "And the guy who heard the gunshot called even later." Vigorously rubbing the dishes, he shook his head. "I keep thinking, that maybe, just maybe Russell Hubman might have had a chance if we got to him earlier. When we got there his hour was almost up." Johnny was finished stacking the dishes into the cabinet and turned to face Mike. "Why do people do that Mike, I don't get it." Mike knew there was no easy answer. He considered carefully. "There are many out there, who rather turn their back on people in trouble, they don't want to get involved. Maybe they got something to hide or are just afraid. Then there are those who couldn't care less about others." Mike wiped the sink and hung up the towels and rags. Turning around, he leaned against the counter putting his hands in his pockets. "Johnny, you and I think differently. We couldn't do our job if we didn't. When I was still running hose, my first instinct was always to help the victims, even if that meant I had to run into a fire." Mike grinned at his friend. "Hell, even now I have to restrain myself from running after you guys, when things get ugly."  Johnny was listening intently. "Nobody knows, if Russell Hubman would've survived his ordeal. From what I saw, he was in pretty bad shape. You and Roy did the best you could, I never saw better paramedics than you two. If I were hurt badly and I saw you two coming, I'd know that my luck just changed for the better." Mike straightened up and looked directly into Johnny's face. "We've run into apathetic or uncaring people before, and we will run into them many more times." Mike smiled. "Just keep remembering that there are also others out there, who do care and help The room was silent as Johnny absorbed his friend's words. He breathed deeply and looked at Mike. "I guess you're right, it just seems so senseless you know." Mike nodded in agreement. "I do know, I watched you work many times. I still don't know how you do it, I'd have a nervous breakdown within a few days." The engineer nudged Johnny with his elbow, a grin spreading over his face. "How about it buddy, do we have the guts to take on Chester B?" Johnny turned to Mike and slowly a crooked grin appeared. "Yeah buddy, we have that and more to spare. Let's go get him." Johnny looked at Mike "Thanks." "Anytime Johnny, anytime." #### Al Mundle walked through the stables like a reigning king, barking out curt orders to the stablehands. He felt safe and secure. The rotten part in the organization had been cut off and discarded, nothing else could possibly go wrong. 'If anyone else even thinks of stepping out of line I'll make short work of him' he thought viciously.  The cowering wimp existed only in Cleytor's presence; to his subordinates he was as mean and nasty as a cobra. He walked down the stable and came upon the stall that housed the injured horse. Seeing her made him angry again. He shook his fist at the innocent creature. "You stupid nag, you're causing more trouble than you're worth. It'll be my personal pleasure to let you have it!" He stormed out of the stable. The horse neighed softly; her ears were twitching. It was as if the animal could feel the danger coming from the man. When he walked up the path to the destroyed stable he thought his heart might stop. Several vehicles, some easily recognizable as the LA county Fire inspectors, were parked around the ruins. Fear sprang at him, his mouth went dry. He tried to get his breathing under control as he walked up to the burned rubble and toward the men standing beside one of the cars. "Gentlemen, can I help you with something?" He pasted a fake smile on his face. The two men turned around. "And who might you be?" The older of the men shot him a questioning look. Mundle swallowed and opened his mouth. "My name is Al Mundle, and I'm the manager of Mr. Cleytor's stables. This was one of them." He pointed to the burned timber. "Oh, just the man we're looking for. I'm detective Bill Mulgard; this is my partner Clark Hillmer. We're with LA county homicide." He looked Mundle in the face. "We have information, that a Russell Hubman was working for you?" He waited for the affirming nod and continued. "Well, I have some bad news Mr. Mundle, Russell Hubman was found murdered this morning." The detective indicated the ruins behind him. "Looks like you have some really bad luck here lately, first the stable, then your employee gets himself murdered." Mundle's blood was rushing through his veins. He summoned all the acting power he possessed and plastered a stunned look on his face. "Russ, murdered!" He glanced quickly at the detectives to see if his act impressed them, but their faces were unreadable. "Was he mugged? Who would so such a thing to Russ? He was just a stablehand, he never had any money." He stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets.  "We would like to find that out Mr. Mundle." The younger cop looked at the manager with cold eyes. "It doesn't look like a mugging gone wrong; you see, we had a hard time identifying your employee. His face was a mess, he had no ID. Lucky for us he managed to get picked up on a drunk and disorderly charge a while back, so we had his fingerprints on file." Hillmer formed an almost instant dislike for the man. "Oh, oh I see…" Mundle stuttered. "Why don't we go somewhere and talk about all of this." Mulgard indicated the stable. "The fire department investigators would like to talk to you too.  They suspect you were the victim of an arson fire. Their specialists are still hard at work in there." "Sure, sure, follow me, we can go to my office." Mundle led the way, thinking furiously. #### Mike was standing beside the engine keeping a close eye on the gages. A fire was racing through an apartment building and two alarms had been called out. All his crewmates were inside the structure, which was becoming more unstable by the minute. He sighed with relief when he saw Roy running out the door followed closely by Johnny. Both were carrying victims in the fireman's carry. They came up beside the squad and laid the victims down. "Anymore people inside?" Mike's eyes never left the instrument panel. Roy was ministering to his patient. "Nope, these two are the last." Mike looked at the incoming pressure gage and suddenly a cold hand grabbed his heart. The power to the two-inch Marco and Chet were working was dropping. 'Damn, damn, damn, what the hell was happening?'  Mike's thoughts were racing. He pulled the levers and the pressure rose, then dropped again. He grabbed the HT and ran to the back of the engine. "Engine 51 to HT 51." "Engine 51, were losing water pressure." "HT 51 I know, there's something wrong with the incoming supply. Get out now, I'm on my way to check it out." "Engine 51 we're…" a loud crash almost had Mike dropping the HT. "HT 51, come in, come in HT 51!"   The instrument remained silent. Cursing, Mike snatched a hoseline off the back and ran to the hydrant. Sure enough, the line attached to the hydrant had broken off the coupling and was hanging loose. Mike worked with lightning speed. He replaced the damaged hose and raced back to the engine, almost bowling over his paramedics who where waiting for him, their faces white as a sheet. Mike suspected that he himself didn't look any better. He adjusted the pressure on the two-inch and prayed. "HT 51 this is engine 51, come in." No answer. When he looked up he saw the battalion chief running up to him. "Stoker, we sent 10s and 45s into the building to the last known location of your crewmates." He indicated to Johnny and Roy. "They're on the second floor west side. Squad 10 will take over your victims" He'd barely finished when both paramedics started pulling their air tanks on and ran toward the burning structure. Mike looked after the disappearing men, and his heart ached. He wanted to go with them; he needed to go with them. His head started hurting from the pressure he had to apply to his mind to stay put. He gave the chief a beseeching look. McConnikee sighed. He knew the feeling; he had been there and done that. He looked at Mike. "Stoker, I can't give you permission to leave the engine, your men need you right here." The chief empathized, but could not grant Mike's wish. "Mike I can't get a man qualified enough to take over the engine, man power is scarce." He gave Mike a nod and hurried back to the command post. Mike turned back to the engine, watching the pressure gages. His stomach was in knots, making him nauseous. The overwhelming feeling of guilt made his hands shake. Mike wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving the instrument panel. Thoughts raced through his mind with dizzying speed. 'What have I done? I'm not fit to be an engineer. Please let them be all right, please.' The distraught man's eyes moved rapidly from the engine to the building. 'Where the hell are they?' His head knew that only a few minutes passed, but his heart would not listen to reason. The needle in the pressure gages shot up, throwing Mike into a momentary panic. No, it was okay, someone was working the two-inch. He adjusted the pressure and turned back to the building. Nobody appeared. Watching the instruments closely, Mike willed his hands to stop shaking. 'Oh God, what if they are seriously hurt, what if I killed my friends?' His knees weakened and he steadied himself against the engine. Time stretched interminably, minutes appeared like hours for the waiting man. After what seemed like an eternity for Mike he saw movement in the doorway. He took in a sharp breath, seeing Roy, Johnny and another fireman moving hastily out of the doorway each carrying an unconscious man in the fireman carry. The firemen reached the squad and deposited their cargo on the ground. When they removed their gear, Mike recognized the third man as a paramedic from 45s. The engineer already removed the engines oxygen supply and set them next to the squad, he stared as the paramedics removed air tanks and turnout coats. Tears made his eyes sting as he looked into the unmoving faces of his friends and crewmates. Johnny looked up and saw how upset the engineer was. "They're okay. Just out cold from smoke inhalation and falling debris. We got the fire out in time" Johnny could not conceal his joy. Mike just nodded, he did not trust his voice. He turned and stalked back to the engine, leaving a surprised Johnny in his wake. The paramedic looked questioningly at his partner. Roy was just as surprised. Then he shrugged. "Nerves." He turned his attention back to his friends. Johnny raised his eyebrows. 'Nerves? Mike?' The three men began to stir. The oxygen was doing its job. Hank groaned and tried to sit up. He felt a hand pushing him back down. His head hurt and his mouth was as dry as the desert. He slowly opened his eyes and looked directly into Johnny's. "Did you just push your captain to the ground?" Johnny laughed. "Yes, and if you try sitting up once more, I'll do it again." Hank put his hands to his aching head. Suddenly he jerked up, despite Johnny's protestations. "Marco, Chet…" Panic threatened to swallow him. "Cap, Cap." Johnny's calm voice reached Hanks ears. "Cap, they're right here, right beside you. Relax and take it easy, you're all fine. All you need is a trip to Rampart to get checked out. I bet they won't even keep you there." Hank turned and saw his firefighters, both slowly sitting up. McConnikee returned and walked over to the squad. "Well Hank, that was pretty lucky. You're stood down until Rampart checks you all out." He smiled. Burned hat notwithstanding he always liked Hank Stanley. The Chief addressed the paramedics. "If they're okay being transported sitting up they can all go in the last ambulance. One of you can accompany them and the other one follows in the squad. There are no more victims to tend to, other engines have arrived, we can spare you." McConnikee turned to Mike. After getting your equipment you can go to Rampart and pick your crew up." He nodded at the engineer. "Good job, Stoker, well done." Mike flinched as if the Chief had struck him. He nodded his thanks and walked woodenly back to the engine. McConnikee was puzzled at the engineer's reaction. "See you later men." He turned to leave. "Okay, thank you Chief." Hank smiled back, relieved that his men had made it out in one piece. He looked at his firemen. "You heard the Chief, lets get going." Marco and Chet nodded. With the aid of the paramedics and the ambulance attendants the injured men were deposited into the vehicle for the transport to Rampart. Mike didn't look up.  He appeared busy with equipment and hoses. Arriving at Rampart, Mike jumped off the engine and entered the ER. He spotted Johnny and Roy at the nurses' desk and walked down the corridor. "Hi Mike," Dixie watched Mikes approach and smiled at the tall man. She frowned when she observed Mike's facial expression. The two paramedics turned toward their friend. "Hey Mike, they're in with the docs but it's not gonna take much longer." Johnny grinned at the engineer. "Aside from some smoke inhalation, small cuts, scrapes and bruises and minor burns they're fine." 'Burns!' Mike's head was spinning. The fire must have been close, far too close. He was getting nauseous again. "I'll wait in the engine." His tone was flat. "What on earth…?" Johnny was slightly stunned. Dixie shook her head, still frowning. Roy's gaze followed Mike down the hallway, his eyes narrowed. "I don't know Junior, I don't know." Having been cleared by Brackett, Early and Morton the crew returned to the station. They were sitting around the kitchen table talking about their close call. Mike had not uttered a single word since driving his crew back to the station, and his friends were starting to worry. "…and then, when the water pressure dropped, I thought we were goners for sure." Chet was talking with mouth and hands. Everybody flinched, when the chair hit the floor. Mike jumped up. He couldn't take anymore of this. It was his fault; his friends could've died in there. "S'cuse me." He practically ran out of the kitchen. "What did I say?" Chet was shocked at Mike's behavior. "I don't know, but I'm sure it's all your fault." Johnny glared at his friend. Chet opened his mouth to protest. Hank held up his hands to stop any further comments. "Mike's been behaving oddly all evening. I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure as hell gonna find out." The Cap left the kitchen, hearing the footsteps of his men behind him. They found Mike in the dorm, sitting on his bunk, his eyes were closed. "Mike, what on earth is wrong with you?" Hank sat beside his second in command. "Nothing… you guys don't have to talk to me, I understand." Mike's tone was dull. "Understand what?" Marco sat down on Mike's other side, looking confused. Seeing all his friend's eyes on him Mike suddenly jumped up. "Why don't you say it and get it over with? I know very well that it was all my fault. I almost killed you." He turned to bolt, but hands restrained him. Hank and Marco pushed the engineer back down on his bunk. Mike buried his face in his hands. The other men looked at each other with a shocked expression on their faces. They had no idea that Mike had been tormenting himself all evening. Marco was the first to find his voice. "So Mike, you ripped the hose and then you blew up the wall, why did you do that friend?" Mike looked up. "Marco don't you understand. The engine is my responsibility. I should've inspected the hose. I would've seen it had a weak spot, you guys depend on me and I let you down." Swallowing hard the engineer looked at Marco. "I almost killed my best friend, I almost killed all of you." "Mike, Roy and I saw how fast you replaced the damaged hose. I've never seen anything like it. If it were an Olympic event you would've won the gold medal, hands down." Johnny was getting agitated. "Besides Pal, it was the wall that got us not the fire." Hank put his hand on Mike's shoulder. "Equipment failure is unfortunately par for the course, how can you blame yourself for that?" "Cap, I failed in my duties, I can't be depended upon…." Chet's voice cut him off. "You never cease to amaze me Mike. How can an intelligent man like you not realize, that there are some things that nobody can control?" Chet stared at Mike. "I've never worked with a better engineer, cut out the pity parade." "Mike, none of that was your fault. You did your best." Roy's quiet voice made Mike look up. "Besides, I was the one who attached the hose to the hydrant and I saw nothing wrong with it." Marco looked at his friend. "Are you calling me incompetent?" Mike was stunned. "Marco I would never even think that, and you know it." Looking up into the worried faces of his friends, Mike relaxed. "I don't know what to say." "Well, what I say is, that you have kitchen duty, and where the heck is dinner. Self pity is not an acceptable excuse." Hank stood up and pulled his engineer with him. "Let's go Pal." #### Al Mundle was pacing. This was turning into a major disaster. He clenched his fists. Nincompoops surrounded him; nothing had gone right since the fire. He thought of Richard Cleytor and fear wrenched his gut. How the hell was he gonna get out of this mess? His anger returned. Hess was supposed to make sure, that Russ was not found, ever. Now he had two homicide detectives on his back, and it didn't look as if they would let go until they were satisfied. He had no idea why the fire department was investigating the fire; it should never have raised any doubts as to its accidental origin. 'Those stupid firemen, why the hell would they run into a burning stable to save a dumb horse.' Mundle slammed his fist onto the desk. It was all the stupid horse's fault. He snatched up the phone and dialed a familiar number. #### Mike returned from his guilt trip and prepared a delicious rice dish for dinner. He opened the oven door to check on the casserole's progress; the enticing aroma of chicken, cheese and salsa wafted trough the room. Chet entered the kitchen from the dorm, where he finally located his badge. He breathed in deeply, savoring the mouthwatering aroma. "Hey Mike, if you still think of quitting you can always become a cook." Mike froze momentarily, but recovered quickly, while four pairs of eyes stared daggers at the Irishman. "Hey pal, how about activating your brain before running your mouth?" Hank's voice was dangerously low. Chet sank into a chair. He realized his faux pas and was contrite. He didn't want to hurt Mike, he thought he paid his friend a compliment. "Aw Mike, I didn't mean anything by that, I was trying to pay you a compliment. Your cooking isn't near as bad as it used to…" Chet groaned and put his head into his hands. The four men at the table exchanged looks. Some things never changed. Laughter made them look to the stove. Their engineer was laughing, his eyes sparkled with amusement. Mike sat beside Chet, clapping him on the back. "It's okay buddy, I know what you mean." He raised one eyebrow and looked at the fireman. "Hey Chet, you feeling bad enough to help me with the dishes?" Chet grinned, relief in his eyes. "Sure thing man, sure thing." After dinner they sat around and talked. That was one of the things that made A-shift so unique. They always talked everything out, that's why they didn't burn out or suffered from battle fatigue. Chet looked at his watch and jumped up. "Hey guys, sorry, but there's a movie coming on, that I just gotta see. It's called the 'Purple People Eaters' and I've got to watch it." Chet made a beeline to the TV. Hank laughed, stood and stretched. "If you all excuse me, I'll go do some paperwork and then head for bed, I'm beat." Roy followed his cap's example and rose from his chair. "Yeah, I need some shuteye myself. Who knows what's gonna happen tonight." He walked to the door, a chorus of 'ROY' following him. The paramedic grinned, he didn't believe in jinxes. "You know, I've been wondering what Rudy meant by seeing double." Mike looked at his friends. "What?" Johnny's face was a picture of confusion; Marco didn't look any more enlightened. "Rudy said twice this morning that he thought he was suffering from double vision at the stable fire. He's a very together man, even as tired as he was, he would not see double." Mike looked at Marco and Johnny. "Hmm, so what are you planning to do?" Marco looked at Mike. "I think, that I'm gonna go to sleep now, but tomorrow I'm gonna call Rudy and find out what he meant by that." Mike spread his hands. "And maybe I'll make a visit to the track on my day off." "Well you most certainly aren't gonna go there alone." Marco fixed his friend with a stern look. "Something sounds fishy about that stable; besides, my mother would never forgive me, if I let anything happen to her other 'son'. "Yeah, I'm coming too, you two have no horse sense at all, if something's wrong neither of you would spot it." Johnny had a determined look on his face. Mike hesitated briefly, but then he nodded. Johnny was right, what he knew about horses would fit on the back of a matchbook cover. Standing up, he wished the guys a good night and left the kitchen. Marco walked to the sink and washed out his coffee mug. When he looked up, he found Johnny standing beside him. "Marco, do you really think it could be dangerous?" Johnny leaned against the counter, waiting for an answer. "Yeah it could be." Marco answered in a low voice. "All these things that happened made that perfectly clear. Hubman's connection with that stable, the call to Cap Hergefelt, the arson fire, all of that can't be just a coincidence. He looked at Johnny. "Look man, if you rather not go, I'll certainly understand, and so will Mike." "No way!" the handsome paramedic shook his head. "You just tell me where to meet you, I'll be there." Marco grinned; he'd expected that answer. "No problem amigo." He turned to Chet. "Hey Chet, you sure you don't wanna catch some shuteye?" Chet didn't even turn around. "Shh, I don't wanna miss anything." The other men laughed and walked out of the kitchen, leaving their friend to his purple monsters. The night passed quietly much to everybody's surprise. The guys where in the locker room changing, they were on a 24 on and 24 off rotation, shift was over, B-shift was already at the station. When they were walking to their cars, Johnny joined Marco and Mike. "Okay, when and where?" "We're meeting at Ed's clinic, around 3 o'clock this afternoon." Mike tuned to Johnny. "You know where that is?" "I know where that is, but why are we meeting there?" "I called Rudy before we left the station." Mike grinned, Rudy was none too pleased to be woken up so early, but he wanted to make sure he'd get a hold of C-shift's paramedic. "Rudy said, that he saw the exact same horse at the same time. The one they just pulled out of the fire and another one being walked away by some men." Mike leaned against the borrowed Pontiac. "Rudy says, that he's sure his eyes were playing tricks on him, but I want to talk to Ed. He knows animals and I trust his judgment. After all he treated the injured horse." Johnny nodded, sounded like a plan to him. "All right see ya at three." #### The two detectives were sitting at their desk, going through lists. Mulgard had a listing of Richard Cleytor's customers; Hillmer was perusing the list of Cleytor's horses. "Clark, the guy has an awful lot of overseas customers, including Japan. It seems curious, that he ships so many horses out of the country, when we have more than enough breeders right here. Bill Mulgard took a sip of coffee. "The animals he ships are highly valuable, of excellent stock, the names attached to them make your head spin. There must be more than one breeder here in the US of A, who would love to get their hands on them, even at Cleytor's high prices." "That's not the only thing that's odd." Hillmer looked at his partner. "I called the various stables that house his horses. Harwood Park is just one of the tracks where he keeps his animals. I had the track owners make a headcount. The list that the slick Mundle guy gave us, and the numbers I got from the track owners don't match. Heck, Pimlico up in Baltimore and Belmont in New York alone reported six more horses than the list names." Mulgard stood up. "Time to get a search warrant for the stables and offices and to a make visit to Cleytor." The detectives went in search for their Captain. #### He gulped the brandy, hoping it would steady his nerves. Ever since the detectives and fire department investigators left, Mundle was one raw nerve. They did not tell him anything, just fired question after question. In a fit of rage he hurdled the glass against the wall. 'DAMNIT where were Hess and Marty?' The nag in the stable had to disappear, and fast or he was a dead man. #### Ed looked at his friends with a doubtful eye. "Mike, I don't know about that. It's not a good idea to go snooping around, leave it to the cops. With what you told me, these guys have no qualms about killing people. Please call those two detectives and tell them what you found out." There was still a trace of a Jamaican lilt in Ed's voice, even though he and his family had arrived in California over twenty years ago. Mike stretched his long legs out under the table, bumping against a resistance. "Sorry Johnny. Ed, that's just it. I haven't found out anything yet. It's just a feeling I have. Rudy himself thinks that it was just his tired eyes." Mike took a drink of his iced tea. "We just want to have a look around, it's the middle of the day at a crowded race track, what could happen there?" Johnny nodded, rubbing his shin. "We're gonna look at the horses and leave, we're not gonna stay long enough to get in trouble." Marco signaled his agreement. "Guys, I've a bad feeling about this, do an old friend a favor and call the detectives, okay?" Ed was getting worried. "That guy Hubman was worked over and killed in the middle of the morning in a crowded city, you're not exactly easing my mind here." "I've already tried calling the detectives." Mike gave Ed a reassuring smile. "They're out of the building, nobody knew when they'd be back." Digging into his wallet he produced a piece of paper. "Here's the number, if it makes you feel any better, call till you reach 'em and tell them what I told you." He handed his friend the paper. "So tell me Ed, you found anything strange about the horse you treated?" Ed thought. "No, not really. The burns were 1st and 2nd degree; they should heal completely if the treatment is followed. There was some bone deformity in the hind legs by the joints. I drew some blood and checked it out." Ed took a long swallow of his tea. "Not to put you to sleep with a lot of medical terms, simply put, the animals bones are deformed due to a genetic flaw. It's not gonna kill her though, she can enjoy a long and happy life." Frowning, he turned to Mike. "You said she was a race horse and breeding stock?" At the confirming nods from his friends Ed's frown deepened. "That's not possible. Posy can do all the normal things, like walk and run, but she could never race, she wouldn't stand a chance against even the slowest racer. As for breeding, she could produce foals, but the risk of passing on the genetic defect is very high, I don't think any breeder would take that chance. She's a sweetheart of a horse, but definitely not a moneymaker by any stretch of imagination. Any half decent vet could tell you that." "Wait a minute Ed." Marco was getting into the conversation. "Posy is supposed to come from excellent breeding stock." He rattled of the names he heard associated with the animal. "Are you saying, that even with this impressive ancestry, a breeder wouldn't take the chance of trying to get a good foal?" "No," Johnny shook his head. The risk of her passing on the flaw is too great. I know what Ed is talking about. The chance of her producing a racer is minuscule. That specific genetic defect is passed on almost without ever skipping a generation." The paramedic looked at Ed. "Somehow I doubt that the horse you treated is the one that has the impressive papers." Ed nodded. "Yes, that's impossible. Posy's ancestors almost certainly had the same genetic flaw. None of them could be race horses, the bone deformity would forbid that." His concern deepened. "Guys, this is getting worse all the time. There are some nasty things going on with that stable, call the cops and stay out of it." "Don't worry Ed, we're just goin' to look around for a few minutes." Marco looked at his friends. "Tell you what, we call you the minute we get out of there. If we leave now that would be in about an hour, okay? It was not okay with him, but short of locking his friends up there was nothing the vet could do. He heaved a defeated sigh. "Man, that's not what I wanted to hear. All right, but I'm also gonna call the detectives till I get a hold of 'em." The handsome Jamaican gave in reluctantly.  They all piled into Johnny's Land Rover and drove off. Ed was standing in the doorway trying to shake the bad feeling he had about his friends' plan. Sighing he turned and headed for the telephone. #### Victor Hess and Marty Finch were standing in Mundle's office listening to the portly man rage on and on. "I thought I made it clear, that Hubman was to disappear completely. I'm surrounded by idiots who don't know their ass from their elbow." Mundle wheeled around and stared at the two men. "What I wanna know is, how the fire department got wise. They lost no time in coming around snooping." I talked to Mr. Cleytor and he is outraged at the incompetence he had to hear about. He's going to come down hard on all of you nincompoops." That was a bold faced lie. Mundle had not yet worked up the nerve to inform his boss of the newest developments, and if he worked fast and carefully, he might not have to. He feared for his life, Cleytor was a ruthless man who never showed any mercy. "You have to get rid of the nag, the sooner the better. I'll think of something if somebody asks about her. She was hurt in he fire after all, that's something I can work with." He stopped his rant to draw a breath and Hess saw that as an opportunity to defend his actions. "Mundle, Hubman was expecting trouble, he ran like a rabbit when he spotted us. We're lucky we caught up with him at all. He knew we were wise to him and was on his way to the precinct to spill his guts. We got him just in time. We messed his face up and took his wallet, how were we supposed to know the bum got himself picked up by the fuzz and fingerprinted. After we were done with him he wasn't gonna talk no more." A self-satisfied grin spread over the thug's face. "ENOUGH" Mundle didn't want to hear anything from the two men in front of him. "You messed up twice, first with the fire, then with Hubman, and Mr. Cleytor doesn't like it." He marched around his desk and walked to the door. "What are you waiting for, you've work to do. This time I'm goin' with you, I obviously can't trust you." #### Bill Mulgard hung up the phone and turned to his partner. "That was Ed. Our hose jockeys are up to something.  They went to the stables. Ed's worried because they figured something criminal is going on with the horses and he doesn't want his friends to end up like Russell Hubman. Let's go partner.  We need to look after some firemen." The detectives left for their car, Bill filling his partner in about what he'd heard from Ed Moulliere. #### Having paid the admission, the three firemen walked the compound, searching for the stable area. The hustle and bustle of a busy racetrack was all around them. "How do you propose we get into the stables?" Marco questioned. "I mean, these horses are pretty valuable and a lot of money is riding on the animals." He grinned. "Pardon the pun." "I don't know, just keep your eyes peeled and be very careful." Mike suddenly wished he'd kept his mouth shut and gone to the track by himself. He turned when he felt a tuck on his sleeve. "Hey look," Johnny was pointing toward the south side of the track. "Those are stables, let's go." The firefighters approached the stables. Mike felt uneasy. The plan didn't sound so good anymore. "Which ones are Cleytor's?" Marco gazed around. He saw the burned stable immediately. "Do you s'pose they are around the burned out one?" "Yeah, his are in the general area. Freddie at investigations gave me the stable numbers." Mike pulled yet another piece of paper out of his wallet. "NR. 21, 25 and 28. 28 is the burned one, so we can skip that. Let's go to 21 and then to 25." His friends nodded in agreement. "Let's be real careful guys." Mike was growing apprehensive. "Stay out of sight, if you see or hear anything, give  a warning." The men exchanged looks and nodded to each other. They walked to stable 21, staying close to the wall. Suddenly Johnny shoved his friends into a cleaning cubicle. Without questioning Johnny's motives, Mike and Marco followed the paramedic's lead and dove behind an equipment table. They waited with baited breath. Two legs appeared in the doorway, stopped and moved on. Waiting for endless minutes to make sure the threat had evaporated, they crawled out behind the table. "Hey man, that is some keen hearing you have there Johnny." Marco's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I didn't hear anything at all." "I've always had good hearing." Johnny's voice was equally low. "Just don't go on about this being an Indian heritage, even you palefaces can be blessed with good ears." "You calling me a paleface." Marco's eyebrows rose. "Your ears might be good, but your eyes leave something to be desired." He grinned. "Can it." Mike whispered. "Let's get in there, look at the horses and beat it." He started walking out of the cubicle. He turned. "And for heaven's sake, keep to the walls and start thinking of a good story if we're caught." The last remark was aimed at Johnny. If anyone could talk them out of a sticky situation, Johnny was the man. They moved stealthily forward. Rounding the corner Mike spotted a door. He motioned to his friends and they moved toward it. He eased the door open and the men squeezed through. "You guys stay behind me, don't get to close to the stalls. We don't want to spook the animals." Johnny's voice was barely audible. Mike and Marco nodded. They trusted Johnny's horse sense implicitly. All three men froze when voices floated from a room at the other end. "Office," mouthed Johnny. The men hesitated and looked at each other. They understood one another without words, long years of working alongside making this possible. It was a necessity, their job simply didn't allow discussions, they had to depend on their crewmates knowing what needed to be done. Slowly and quietly Johnny moved along the stalls, looking at the horses housed there. He loved horses and everything associated with them. He looked around with an appreciative eye. The stable was clean; the horses well cared for. He turned when he felt an elbow in his side. Mike motioned to the door, and together they moved toward it and out of the building. "Johnny, did you see anything strange here?" Mike asked Johnny. The dark haired man shook his head. "No, not offhand." Johnny answered. "The animals look healthy and well treated." "Okay, lets get done and get goin'." Marco's voice had a little edge to it and his friends stared at him. "I guess Ed's got me a little spooked with his worries." Marco smiled "Yeah, you're right, lets get on with it and call Ed, I wouldn't put it past him to call out the 8th army if he doesn't hear from us." Grinning back at his friend Mike moved to the path that led to stable 25. Carefully they made their way to the next building. Approaching it was made easier by tall bushes flanking the sides of the path providing excellent cover in case it was needed. Coming upon the stable they stopped. It was eerily  quiet. The building seemed deserted, even in the middle of all the activity surrounding the track. The stable was identical to the first and they located the door immediately. Silently opening it, they entered the structure. Mike bit his lip and looked at his friends. He saw the same apprehension in their faces he knew was visible on his own. The horses were restless, shuffling in their stalls, snorting and neighing softly. The atmosphere in the stable was constricting. Mike motioned to the door, he wanted them to leave immediately. He had a very bad feeling about this. Johnny and Marco nodded their agreement when the loud frightened neighing of a horse stopped them short. A short fat man stepped out of a stall, shaking his fist at something or someone. "Get done you idiots, you wanna alert the whole neighborhood?" Something menacing emanated from the man. The three firemen instinctively flattened themselves against the wall. They were in a precarious situation. With no place to hide and the door seemingly miles away they were out of options, the door was the only way to escape the danger. They slowly moved toward the exit. Mundle sensed the movement, turned and spotted the three men. "Hess, Finch, get out here and get them, hurry." Mundle's voice was high pitched, he was stunned at this newest development. What the hell was going on, everything hit a snag.  His anger reached a boiling point Mike, Marco and Johnny raced to the doors, but the screeching  voice stopped their progress. "You better stop, I'll not hesitate go give the order to shoot." Slowly they turned around. What they saw made their stomachs cramp. Two very large, muscular men were standing beside the short fat one. Both were holding guns in their hands, pointed at them. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my stable?" Mundle looked at the firemen with hateful eyes. "Nothing mister. We just wanted to look at the horses. You know, check them out, see if we can pick a winner." Johnny looked straight at Mundle with an innocent expression. He wished he had his beltpack. What he wouldn't give to have his knife, or at least his scissors. They underestimated the danger they walked into. "Right." Mundle's voice dripped with sarcasm. He waved at Finch. "Frisk them, let's find out who they are." Finch moved toward the three friends. "Stop." Finch turned to Mundle with raised eyebrows. "You," the portly man pointed at Mike, "get over there. If you try anything while Finch checks you, my friend here will kill your friends. Understood?" The tall, well-built man didn't look as if he would give in easily, and Mundle didn't want any more complications. A grin nasty grin spread over his face when he saw Mike's short nod. "Go on Finch." The thug removed Mike's wallet and the leather case containing Mike's official ID and shield. He landed a blow on Mike's shoulder with the butt of his gun and stepped back, grinning. Pain shot through his shoulders and traveled down his left arm. Mike flexed his muscles to regain control over their movement.  He would not go quietly into the night, and he would fight for his friends to the end. "Now get back over there." Watching Mike making his way to his friends, Mundle waved at Johnny. "You're next." "Look man, we didn't mean to intrude on anything, we just wanted to see the horses. You don't have to get so mad." Johnny gave Mundle a sincere look. "If we're bothering you, we'll just leave. "Shut up redskin," the rotten breath that came from the thug's mouth made Johnny nauseous. He was roughly grabbed by the collar as the Finch removed his wallet and case. Johnny felt himself turned and he was roughly shoved back. Mike caught the paramedic by the shoulders; he winced at the pain shooting through his arm from the strain of his friend's weight. The hood motioned to Marco. "Now you wetback. One false move and your friends are dead meat." Mike gritted his teeth. The insults to his friends stung, and the irony was not lost on him. Johnny and Marco were the epitome of caring, thoughtful human beings. He trusted them with his life. Hurling the hurtful insults was a cold uncaring creature that didn't even know the first letter of the word compassion.  His anger rose. Having relieved all three men of their wallets and ID cases he trotted back to Mundle and Hess. Mundle opened Mike's case and blanched when he saw the shield. At first glance he thought it was a policeman's shield. Looking closer he realized it was a fireman's ID. All three were firemen. Anger rose higher and turned into rage, he remembered the fire department inspectors and their questions. "Fire department eh?" He practically spat out the word. Everything was going so well until the damn cops and firemen threw a wrench into the wheel. He wanted revenge. His rage clouded his judgement. "I've had enough of your kind. Hess, Finch take care of these guys, take 'em out with the nag." He turned and hissed at the bald man. "And this time, do it right!" An evil grin spread over his face as he turned and walked out the back door. Mike, Marco and Johnny exchanged glances. They knew their lives were at stake, under no circumstance could they allow Mundle's thugs to take them to a remote location. Their best chance lay here. They relaxed their stances as the two hoods advanced, keeping a careful eye on the guns. When Hess and Finch were close enough they lunged for the gunhands. Mike jumped at Hess, the force of the impact toppling both to the ground. The pain shooting through his arm almost made him scream. The struggle was silent and desperate. The gun connected with Johnny's head and threw him back. He fought against the fog that enveloped his brain. Marco needed him, he needed him now. He shook his head and rose to his knees. Marco was losing the battle against the much taller and heavier man; he lunged back into action, pinning the thug's legs to the ground. Mike had a hold of the man's right hand and forced the gun upward, away from him. It was a mighty struggle; neither man could afford to let go. Suddenly the gun went off. #### Mulgard and Hillmer were approaching stable 21 when the gun discharged. Recognizing the sound instantly they drew their own guns and raced toward stable 25. They exploded into the building and ran to the struggling firemen. "Drop your weapons." Hess and Finch looked up and saw the policemen with their weapons drawn. Finch opened his hand and let the gun fall out, but Hess did not want to give up yet and continued to struggle against Mike's desperate grip. No damn fireman would get the best of him. Hillmer stepped on the bald man's arm. "If you don't drop the weapon, I'll break your arm." He inclined his head toward Johnny. "That young man is a paramedic, he can set it afterward, but I don't think he thinks very kindly toward you after what you tried to do to him and his friends" Convinced, that the detective would be true to his word, Hess let go of the gun. When Hillmer had the two thugs handcuffed, he went to his car to radio for back up, prisoner transport and an ambulance. Mulgard remained in the stable, standing guard. He looked over at the firefighters. All three looked pale but relieved.  They sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. He shook his head, but could not supress a grin. "Well now, what's all this about?" He looked sternly at the three men. "You couldn't call us? Catching crooks is our job, not yours. You've never seen me running up and try to fight a fire did you, you nutty hose jockeys." "We weren't exactly sure ourselves," Mike tried to defend their actions. "We just wanted to look around, when we walked in on them doing something with that horse over there." Mike waved to one of the stalls. "Uhh hu, sure. You're lucky Ed called us, is all I'm gonna say." He pointed to the payphone on the far wall. "You better call him, he's probably chewing his nails right now." Hillmer came back and joined his partner. "You chew 'em out yet, or did you leave a little something for me?" "Sorry Clark, I couldn't resist. I let you have the next one." Mulberg grinned at his partner. Mike stood up and walked to the payphone with unsteady legs. He wanted to put Ed at ease. When he returned he saw that his two friends were on their feet, talking to the detectives. As he drew nearer he heard Mulgard tell his friends to go to Rampart and then go home, the police would get their statement later. He nodded and turned to the door, when Johnny's voice reached his ears. "Wait a minute, that's not fair. I want to see you slap the cuffs on the other guy!" Mike and Marco looked at each other and dissolved into helpless laughter. Marco winked at the engineer "What did you expect?" "What?" Johnny looked around him. Even the detectives were laughing "Tell you what son," Mulgard put his hand on the paramedic's shoulder. "We'll come over to your station tomorrow evening, get your statements and fill you in on the action, deal?" "Okay." Johnny nodded. He followed Mike and Marco outside; his friends were still chuckling. #### The next day was a long one for A-Shift. After a good chewing out from Hank about the idiocy of charging into dangerous situations, Mike, Johnny and Marco had to repeat their story numerous times and were becoming tired of it. The waiting for the detectives made them antsy, especially Johnny. At about 7 o'clock the doorbell rang. Everybody jumped up, but Hank just looked at them and went to the door himself. "Evening Captain Stanley." Det. Mulgard extended his hand followed by Det. Hillmer. "Johnny about ready to climb the walls?" Hank laughed. "Is he ever, come in, come in we can't wait to hear the rest of the story." Grinning, the detectives followed Hank into the kitchen where all the men eagerly awaited them. "Hello guys." Hillmer nodded at the three fire fighters. "You ready to give your statements?" "Aw, detective, can't we do that later?" Johnny shot Mulgard and Hillmer a pleading look. "C'mon, tell us how it went, what did you find out?" The detectives grinned at each other. "What do you say Clark? Should we give in?" Hillmer nodded "Why not." Laughing, the cops sat down with the men. "Gentlemen, it looks like you three had a hand in busting up one of the biggest crime rings involving horses we've seen in a long time. The ties of the organization reach all across the country." Mulgard accepted the coffee Hank handed to him. "We arrested Mundle and Cleytor. Al Mundle talked almost immediately. The MO of the organization is to sell look-a-likes to breeders Overseas and in Japan. The real thoroughbreds were inspected and certified by the International Breeder Association, but inferior horses were shipped. The genuine horses were brought to crooked breeders here, re-established as racehorses and later as stud material. It's a complicated process, but this is the gist of it." Mulgard stopped to take a sip of coffee and Hillmer took over. "There was a foul up at Mundle's end. The horse that was to take the place of the real Flower in the Mist was found to be unshippable. It seems that the animal has a genetic defect, that even the dumbest breeder could not possibly overlook. If they had send her to England the whole organization would've blown up. But since she was already sold, they had to cover up somehow. Cleytor was far too greedy so send the genuine horse." He looked at the men, who were listening with rapt attention. "They got the idea to burn the stable and the horse with it. Your investigators found that the fire started around the stall where the horse was housed. By the time others would realize that there was a fire, the horse would be long dead." He looked at A-shift who all had a stunned look on their faces, except Johnny, who looked like thunder. Mulgard folded his hands on the table. "That's were Russell Hubman comes in. He was supposed to lock the fake Posy into the stall and leave the grounds. But it seems that even though Hubman didn't mind working for a crook, he drew the line at killing a defenseless animal, especially in such a cruel way. He put the horse into the stable, but not the stall. Knowing when the fire was suppose to start, he called 911 early, in hopes the horse would be saved. From what we heard around the stables, Hubman liked the fake Posy, as did many others. Even though she would never bring in money she was a popular horse. We've met her; she has a real sweet disposition, a real nice animal. Anyway, when your C-shift pulled the horse out alive, with only minor injuries Cleytor's plan was shot. Some of Mundle's hired hands got nervous, when they saw that the animal was still alive. They pulled the real racehorse out of her stable and tried to hide her. That's what Rudy O'Conners saw.  Back to Hubman.  Mundle had overheard comments from bystanders, that the horse had been running loose in the stable at the time of the fire, and you-know-what hit the fan. When Mundle called Hubman and demanded an explanation, Hubman lost it. He told Mundle, that he would never kill the horse and that he would see to it that the animal was protected. Mundle threatened Hubman and Hubman got scared. He called the 10th precinct and was on his way there, when Hess and Finch intercepted him. You know the rest." Mulgard turned to Mike. "That was some fancy deducing you did there son, you ever think of joining the force?" That brought hoots of laughter from the assembled men. Mike a cop, yeah right, only if he could take the engine with him. Mike shot Mulgard a short grin and became serious. "No thank you, I had a hard enough time dealing with  poor Hubman, I don't think I could deal with things like that on a regular basis." The two detectives nodded their understanding. "All right, fellas, lets get your statements and we'll be out of here. We're still mopping up after Cleytor, and will be for some time to come." The firemen told their story and the policemen left. Chet let out his breath. "Wow." Roy blinked and cleared his throat. "At least Posy is safe. I'm glad Hubman's last wish came true." Mike shook his head in disbelief. "What some people won't do for money and power, I don't understand it, I really don't." "I'm happy to hear that Pal." Hank looked at his engineer. "Yeah, Russell Hubman couldn't have been all bad. After all he saved the horse." Johnny looked thoughtful. "And he died for it." Marco sighed. All six men sat in silence, thinking about the crook with the soft heart. EPILOGUE Most of the trials were over. Except for some minor offenders the participants in Richard Cleytor's scheme to achieve money and power had received stiff sentences. Interpol had uncovered more evidence of accomplices in Europe and the consequent arrests rounded out the picture of the criminal organization. The amount of money involved was mindboggling. Russell Hubman's murderers were locked away for life. His friends and the men of Station 51 and their families tended to his grave. Rudy O'Conners, paramedic of C-shift, was bragging for weeks, that his sharp eyes were instrumental in uncovering the crime ring. Johnny impressed the nurses with his tales of unmasking the criminals and overpowering their hired thugs and got quite a few dates out of it. Mike and Marco didn't say anything to anybody. Mama Carmelita, Marco's mother would box their ears if she found out what Marco and Mike, her other 'son', got themselves into. She found out in the end and both had to endure a seemingly endless lecture about staying out of dangerous situations. ******* It was the beginning of shift, and A-shift was almost fully assembled. C-shift was sharing a cup of coffee with their relief, when Johnny came bouncing into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. "Hi guys, beautiful morning isn't it?" He nodded to his friends and the two captains "Morning Sirs." Both captains' eyebrows rose in surprise at being addressed as 'sir'. "I need some overtime, I'm gonna have some added expenses soon." Johnny's grin never wavered. Roy took a deep breath. "All right, I'll bite." He looked at his friend. "Why are you going to have some added expenses?" Johnny whirled to his best friend. "Because I bought another horse." A chorus of voices saying "What?" floated through the kitchen. Mike frowned. Why would Johnny burden himself with another horse. 'Wait a minute…sudden understanding dawned and Mike looked up and directly into Johnny's smiling face. Johnny nodded at his engineer when he saw that Mike guessed the truth. Now both men were smiling from ear to ear. Roy was looking from one man to the other. 'Of course' He turned back to his partner. "Johnny I've got the feeling we all know the horse," he made a sweeping motion with his hand, that included both shifts. "Let me guess, it's a mare and her name is…" "Posy" came an assembly of voices. The end Authors note: I know Harwood Park is not the real name of the track in the area. I just didn't want to step on anybody toes. I also know that the characters of E! don't belong to me. I just like 'em a lot. On another note: Donna, Peggy and Susan, thanks for everything, especially for steering me to Janet, what a lucky day that was. return to main menu