Jim finished cuffing the suspect and pulled the man to his feet. "Do you understand your rights?"

"Screw you," the man answered between ragged gasps for air.

Rolling his eyes, Jim propelled him forward. It was after one in the morning. The breeze felt good, cooling Jim's flushed face. Who knew this creep could run so fast? Spotting a street sign, he sighed. They were blocks away from where he'd left Blair and the truck.

"Come on, pick up the pace," Jim ordered, suddenly anxious to get back.

He'd told Blair to call for backup and stay put. Jim had no doubt that his partner would call for that backup, it was the last part of the order that sometimes got ignored.

By the time he arrived back at his truck with his suspect, he could see the blue lights of the approaching squad car as it turned the corner of the old warehouse and screeched to a stop. Jim transferred the custody of his prisoner to the two uniforms and looked for his guide.

The truck was empty. The street was empty. Where the hell was Blair?

"Sandburg!" Jim called out in a loud, vexed tone.

"Something wrong, Detective?" the uniform asked.

"Yeah... my partner was supposed to be waiting here for me." Jim explained.

"Well, dispatch said the call came from the Last Mile Tavern," the uniform said, pointing down the street. "Maybe he's still inside."

"What!" Jim turned to study the bar in question. Dozens of motorcycles lined the trash-filled parking lot. The biker bar had a long history of brawls, assaults and other assorted felony actions. The city had tried numerous times to shut it down, but it always managed to open back up again.

"They'll eat him alive," Jim muttered as he started towards the tavern.

"You want me to come with you?" the uniform asked.

Jim shook his head. "I'm going to just see if he's there," he explained, then stopped. "But, if I don't come out in ten minutes..."

The cop nodded. "You got it."

Jim heard the loud roars of laughter and cheers before he reached the front door. A full scale party was in process. A feeling of dread washed over him as he pushed open the door. The smell of stale beer, unwashed bodies and leather met his nose. A dark hallway lined with posters of scantly clad women and beer advertisements led the way to the main part of the tavern.

"Come on, guys... you promised that was the last one!" Blair's voice complained hoarsely over the laughter.

Shit.

Jim reached for his gun.

"We lied! Huh, fella's? You ain't done yet!" a booming voice answered.

Jim's anger boiled. What were they doing to him?

He turned the corner, his arms straight, holding his gun as he'd been trained. "Freeze! Cascade Police!"

It was as if a switch had been thrown. The noised ended so abruptly that the sound of Blair's greeting made Jim flinch.

"Jim! You're okay!"

At least fifty men with a few women stood around a center table. Some one had set a chair on top of that table, in that chair sat one frantic looking police observer. He looked like a king before his loyal followers.

Jim lowered the gun, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. Blair seemed fine.

"Sandburg? What the hell is going on?"

"I'll be damn, the kid was telling the truth!" a heavy-set biker snorted with amusement. He reached up to steady Blair who was busy scrambling off the table. "You really are with the police?"

Blair jumped to the floor and immediately disappeared in the sea of black leather and chains. Jim frowned, taking a second to replace his gun before moving into the mass to meet his partner halfway.

Blair latched on to his arm anxiously. "You okay? Did you catch him? Man, I was really worried about you. This is not the kind of neighborhood to be running around in this time of night."

"You were worried about me?" Jim returned in disbelief. He took another look at the bar patrons before pulling his friend towards the door. Calls of `goodbyes' and `come back soon' followed them all the way out of the bar. "What possessed you to come in here?" he demanded, shaking Blair hard before turning him loose.

Blair's eyes widen in surprise. "Jim! Chill! I had to call for back up, didn't I?"

Raising his hand to signal all was well to the uniforms who looked on from down the street, Jim turned his attention back to his guide. "I didn't tell you to walk into the most dangerous bar in Cascade. Why didn't you just call from the truck?"

"Couldn't get a cell signal," Blair said with a shrug. "This was the closest phone I could find. What's the big deal?"

Another loud round of laughter erupted from within the bar. Suddenly Jim wanted as much distance between the occupants and themselves as possible. Snagging an arm, he towed Blair back towards his parked truck.

"The deal? I'm thinking you're being murdered or worse, Sandburg. They were obviously holding you against your will in there," Jim replied tersely.

"Oh, that," Blair shrugged. "That was probably my fault, I shouldn't of started telling them about the tongue cuttings." Jim staggered, his foot catching a stone in the street. Blair grabbed an arm. "Whoa, big guy."

"Did you say... tongue cuttings?" Jim squeaked, picturing Blair being laid into by bikers with knives.

Blair laughed. They'd reached the truck and Jim opened the passenger door, waiting patiently for his partner to climb in. He wasn't taking any more chances. They were going straight to the station to file the report, then head for the loft.

"Yeah, I was on the phone to the dispatcher, then one of the guys in the bar starts in on my earrings. He was just funning, Jim, no point in getting all upset... anyway, he wants to see if I pierced my tongue. I was done anyway with the call, so I didn't mind the fact he hung up the phone for me. Jim! Stop with the looks already! I said it was okay. So, then I tell him that reminds me of the practice among the Hindus, Buddhists, Jains and Muslims in India..."

Jim closed the door and headed around the front of the truck to climb in the driver's side. Blair continued to explain, knowing Jim would have no problem hearing.

"...now, the real motive for this practice is not clearly known, but here is no doubt that it was used as a form of punishment..."

Jim turned the key, the engine fired to life and they pulled away from the curb.

"... Insult to the King, betrayal of the King's council, making an evil attempt against the King or disregarding the sanctity of the kitchen of the king or the Brahmanas..."

The traffic was light. Jim rubbed his neck as he drove, wondering if other police detectives have partners who are able to unknowingly defuse a serious situation as easily as Blair could.

"... insulting one's father, mother, son, daughter, teacher or an ascetic invited this kind of a punishment... so anyway, I started to explain this and before you know it, I'm on top of that table. It was kind of cool, you know? Except, like, I'm worried about you and I tried to explain I had to split, but they wanted another story. So I told a few others, then you walked in." Blair paused to take a breath, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and looking at Jim with a puzzled expression. "By the way, Jim. What was with that `Freeze, Cascade Police' entrance anyway?"

The End

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