Sergeant Stan Morgan took the call from the dispatcher requesting a response to a disturbance at the Round-Up on East Lake Street. He and his partner were just a few blocks away on patrol at Powderhorn Park; the storm had made for a slow night and he was tired of driving in circles around the perimeter. So, when the call from Lieutenant Standish came over the radio, Stan was eager to take it.
Seargent morgan and Lieutenant Standish had grown up together and Stan knew the “bad lieutenant” well. Stan and Standish people called them when they were both rookies, “green-rangers” as they were referred to in the Park Police.
They were both hard men and prone to violence, but unlike Stan, Standish was born bad and had no friends.
The things Standish got up to didn’t bother the sergeant so long as he kept his dirty business to himself and didn’t ask Stan to do any cover-ups. Not that Stan would refuse a direct order, but there was nothing he hated more than cleaning up after a brute like him, and it bothered him when he had to.
Even though Sergeant Morgan was eager for a break in the action, after he took the call he had a moment of doubt and was hoping this would not be one of those occasions.
They took a left turn onto Lake Street from Chicago Avenue, heading west with the cherry-bowl spinning. They were on the lookout for Karl Thorrson, who shouldn’t be hard to spot on account of his gigantic frame, and sure enough they saw him running toward them on the North side of the street after just a couple of blocks, moving like a locomotive through the rain.
Sergeant Morgan and his partner were about a half block in front of him when he turned suddenly into a narrow alley.
They were going a little too fast themselves to make the sharp turn themselves, so the sergeant directed his wheel-man to go around the block and enter the alley from the north side.
By the time they turned the corner they passed another man running hard through the rain, with two city police following him. Stan figured it was all apart of the same set and he told his partner to prepare for trouble.
Three right turns later, they had made it to the other end of the block and were coming down the alley, then the biggest bolt of thunder Stan had ever felt came down on the city, shaking the streets for blocks, thundering through his chest, and knocking out the lights all around them.
As they were coming down to the corridor they were facing the lights of another park Police squad car, it was his back-up coming to meet them. Both squads came to a stop in front of a loading dock. One of the rangers in the other car got out and approached a cream-colored coupe that was idling on the ramp next to them.
Stan couldn’t see inside the vehicle through the heavy rain, but he joked with his partner about the man they were looking for as he pointed at the car:
“The fat man was probably running late for his date,” he said and his partner let out a hollow-little chuckle.
Stan called in their location then stepped out of his car into the heavy rain; the back door to the warehouse they had parked in front of was swinging on its hinges.
He heard gunshots coming from inside, and the sound of a woman screaming, the other ranger, turned and ran into the building as the coupe backed off the ramp and pulled away.
Things were happening quickly, stan thought he saw a tall shadowy figure dash across the alley and go into the building through the open door.
He decided to let the coupe go, his focus was on Karl Thorrson. He signaled to his partner to get out of the car, and together with the fourth ranger from the other squad they drew their pistols and approached the building, not knowing what to expect or what they would encounter inside.
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