[Detective Thursdays] A Skeptic's Chance
#2 of Detective Thursdays
It was the dark time of just after midnight on the morning of April Ninth and I was on my way to a sting. I'd been tipped off that the Russian mob was bringing in something big by ship down on the east side. There was a nagging in the back of my mind that insisted there was something more at play; its argument not unlike the commissioner's earlier one.
"An anonymous tip and an attack don't make for a legit reason for action Tanu! I'm not going to risk officers on your hunches!"
"Aren't my hunches right though? Have I ever been wrong?"
The scene had been playing in my head since I stormed out of HQ earlier. He had a point, I did usually leap without looking but, I always came out okay in the end; It had been a joke earlier in my career my mother was a Siamese. I had to agree, I did always land feet first.
I turned the car off at the top of the hill where 10th and Stillman crossed and got out, leaving my distracting doubts in the car. The wind was crisp and the full moon hanging over the bay reflected off of heavy clouds looming off to the east. I clicked my tongue as a bolt of lightning jumped to the water's surface. The clouds were dumping sheets by the looks of things. I hate the rain; it makes my fur stick out at all kinds of crazy angles.
I turned my collar up and pulled my hat down as a gust swept up the hill from the approaching spring storm. Starting down the hill into the east side I tucked my hands into the breast pockets of my coat, trying to look casual. The shipping district was still moving, even at this time. Trucks loaded with containers rumbled past me every few minutes, carrying cheep shit proudly bearing 'Made in China' on them to the rest of the country. I wondered how it was that a country like this could say one thing and do another. How it could proudly declare one nation an enemy with its voice while, with its hands, buy from another nation that was allies with their enemy?
I again put the distracting thoughts from my mind as I rounded the corner of 13th and Stillman. No trucks passed by me on the narrow one way road and the sounds of diesel engines faded into murmurs as I walked closer to the coast. At the edge of the next block, the last before the gate to pier 23, I hunched behind an old 'Baker that had seen better days; days with tires for one.
I peeked over the hood to get a feel for the scene. A ferret that was missing a left ear and a fox with an obviously fake skull for an eye patch were standing guard; they were both holding AK's. Beyond, a mass of similar looking crates were stacked just wide enough for two trailers to pass through. I could see others of the same cloth occasionally when they moved through a pool of moonlight. I guessed there were about twenty armed men all told.
I hunched back down, the metal of the scrapped 'Baker cool against my back, even through the coat.
"So what's the plan?"
I let out a yelp so loud it made my throat hurt and I swear that I must be my mother's most fortunate son, because at the same time I yelped a foghorn sounded. After recovering from my near heat attack I turned to the speaker who shared my hiding place. My partner's bright blue eyes meeting my own dark green ones.
"Uki. I said to stay out of this on-"
"I can't let you just run in and get killed-!"
"I am more likely to end up dead now, with you here, than before!"
"I don't believe that for a second and neither do you! I saw your expression when you realized what you were up against. You're good Tanu, maybe the best even, but twenty men, armed to the nines, are more than you could take alone."
I had to admit, although I hated to, that she was right.
"All right Uki, you win. Here's the plan."
April 15th response to poetigress' Thursday Prompt. The theme was skeptic.
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