Jon pushed a shock of blonde hair out of his eyes and hunched over the book he had lying on the table. Absently he noted he was overdue for a haircut. "Yeah," he mentally chided himself, "a haircut, a good meal, about 8 hours of sleep and at least a week of no schedules to keep." He yawned and stretched out a major kink in his back before returning to his reading. The words blurred together on the page as his eyes slowly closed on their own volition.
The doorbell woke him up. Daylight streamed through the balcony windows of his apartment. Quickly checking his watch, Jon left out a soft curse and vaulted off the chair only to regret the sudden movement a moment later when his stiff back muscles screamed in protest. Hunched against the pain, he opened the door to find Ponch standing there in full uniform wearing an amused expression.
Ponch stared at him for a moment before opening his mouth, but noticing Jon’s glare stopped the comment before it was voiced. Stepping inside the apartment, Ponch closed the door behind him and went to the refrigerator. He was busy making a cheese sandwich when the sounds of the shower running came to his ears. Taking a large bite of sandwich, he sauntered over to the table and flipped the book shut to look at the cover. "Plato’s Republic?" He shook his head. "Nothing like a little light reading."
The shower stopped and the door to the bedroom opened and closed. Ponch checked his watch and groaned. "Third time this week. Getraer is gonna spit soccer balls."
By the time the sandwich was finished, Jon was walking out of the bedroom resembling a CHP officer. Ponch eyed up his friend before picking his helmet up off the countertop. "You could use a haircut."
Jon rubbed his eyes and made a half hearted attempt at getting the thick hair to lie down. "I’ll keep my helmet on."
"I think Getraer might notice if you wear your helmet through briefing," Ponch observed.
"Yes, Mother." Jon wasn’t amused.
Knowing when to shut up, Ponch walked out the door and kept a good distance between himself and his surly partner until they reached the highway. There the roar of the motorcycles cut down on conversation naturally and the freedom of the open road worked its magic on both men until they rode side by side again.
Ponch kept glancing surrepticiously at this partner with some concern. If the truth be known, the lack of a haircut wasn’t the biggest problem he saw. The dark hollows under the eyes and the way the uniform was beginning to hang on the usually hearty body was disturbing. The trademark ramrod posture was curved and his riding wasn’t as aggressive as usual. Jon was content to saunter down the highway almost oblivious to the surroundings. "I don’t suppose that course you’re taking will be over soon." Ponch shouted to be heard above the roar of the motors.
Jon waved him off and pointed out a driver that was changing lanes every few minutes. The two officers went to work and the subject was effectively closed.
************
Joe Getraer stared at the duty report in front of him as though it was a snake ready to bite.
"You’re gonna do something or I will." Lieutenant Bates leaned against the wall holding a cup of coffee. "You know if it was anybody else, you’d have been all over them by now."
Joe leaned back in his chair. "He’s taking a college course. It’s only going to be a couple of weeks more."
"Other people take college courses, Joe. They aren’t late for work 3 to 4 times a week." Bates pushed off the wall and leaned over the sergeant’s desk. "This is more than this course and you know it."
Joe nodded in agreement. "I’ll talk to him."
Bates set the coffee cup down with precise even movements. "You’ll do more than talk to him."
Joe stood up as though to protest but ended up nodding in agreement. "Okay, he’s got some vacation time coming up. What if we have a talk and I get him to use it?"
Bates eyed him up. "Is that what you’d do if it were Barciza or Poncherello?"
"Yes." Joe met his gaze. "I’d do that for any officer under my command."
Bates relaxed back and clapped Getraer on the shoulder. "You’re a good man, Joe. I just needed to be sure there’s no special treatment going on. I know how you feel about Baker."
Joe stared back at him and nodded. He watched the Lieutenant leave his office before shoving the reports onto the floor. "Yes, sir," he mumbled to himself. "And I know how you feel about Baker."
The amiable and well liked Jon Baker had found a personal nemesis in Lieutenant Bates. The men were total opposites in disposition and philosophies and they quietly clashed on an almost daily basis. Bates was a by-the-book man who probably slept at attention and never had a day that his pants weren’t pressed into a sharp crease. In contrast, Jon was easy going and had a way with people that Bates could never hope to duplicate. His more open minded style of making decisions made him very popular both on and off the job while Bates was almost a paraiah. It was jealousy pure and simple on the part of Bates. A jealousy that could not only end the career of a fine young officer, but tear CHP Central down the middle.
Grossman slipped into the office and picked the reports up from the floor. "Everyone else who takes college courses gets their hours changed to accommodate the course. Did you tell him that?"
"You were listening." Joe rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. "You shouldn’t be listening at doors."
Grossman ignored the rebuke and kept going. "I know Jon put in for a change of shift so he wouldn’t have to go to class until late and then get up for work at 5:00 AM. I’ve taken a philosophy course before. It’s fascinating but grueling…"
Joe half listened to Grossman’s tangent on the merits of philosophy as he tried to think how he was going to talk to Jon about a situation that shouldn’t have become a situation to begin with.
**********
Ponch knocked on the door with a bag full of Chinese food. The odors of Egg Fu Yung mingled with Sweet and Sour Chicken and made his stomach growl. Shifting the bag to his other arm, he knocked again "Open up, Jon. I’m starving." He heard the doorknob turn and the door swung open.
"It wasn’t locked." Jon looked like he’d just gotten awake. His jeans were rumpled and the plaid shirt he was wearing was open down the front showing a light blue t-shirt underneath. His right cheek had red depressions on it from the piping on the couch cushions.
Ponch handed him the bag and pushed past him into the apartment. Books and papers littered the floor and an old typewriter sat on a card table near the open window. "Don’t bother cleaning up for me."
"Like you’d know a clean apartment if you fell over one." Jon pulled the small cardboard boxes out of the bag and reached up to get some plates in the cupboard. "I have a paper due by Friday."
Ponch took the offered plate and began to heap on the food. "This vacation thing could work out for you. You’ll get your paper done, you’ll get some sleep, some meat back on your bones…"
Jon poked at the chicken on his plate and then pushed it away. "It’s not the fact that I don’t need the time." He made a fist and watched as the knuckles turned white with the force. He released the hand and then made the fist again fascinated with the effect. "It’s going down in my file as a disciplinary action. The whole thing was written up at Bates’ insistence."
"Joe fought that." Ponch pushed Jon’s plate back in front of him. "He worded it so that anyone with half a brain can see the progression of events."
"Oh, it’s not even the action, Ponch. It’s the whole thing." Jon rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. "It’s the constant problems with Bates. The overtime when he knows I’m going to school. The mandatory participation in community service. He wants me to transfer out, and I’m considering it."
Ponch stopped chewing and stared at his friend. "No way, Jose."
Jon picked up a piece of chicken and placed it in his mouth. He chewed it unenthusiastically for a few minutes before swallowing. "What’s the use, Ponch? The guy has it in for me, and for the first time in my life, I can’t seem to get around it."
"You’re tired," Ponch observed. "You haven’t been eating well and you’ve got all this stress of doing the college thing. Incidentally, I still don’t know why you have to do that."
Jon flashed him his old smile and then blushed. "I promised my mother." He poked Ponch gently in the chest with his fork. "If you tell a single soul that my mom is making me do this…"
Ponch laughed at him. "They won’t hear it from me. So, why philosophy?"
The blush deepened. "Well, she was reading some magazine that says that you can meet nice girls if you go to a class. I take it that philosophy was one of the classes that they recommended for finding these girls. Personally, I haven’t seen one that I’d ask out and the workload is huge. You can’t tell that to Mom, though."
Ponch choked on some rice. "She must really want to get you married off."
"It’s her one interest in life," Jon agreed solemnly. "At this rate, I might have a PhD first."
**********
Lieutenant Bates slid behind the wheel of the cruiser and adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs. He detested going out into the field but felt that it was expected of him to be seen supervising his officers. If nothing else, Bates was always aware of how things looked to his superiors. Closing the door, he placed his hands at the 10 – 2 position recommended by the manual and pulled out into traffic.
He pulled a list from his pocket and read it with one eye on the road. It was always easiest to find the officers when they stopped for lunch and the list had most of the regular places listed on it. By 1:00, he had managed to speak with 75% of the officers on duty. If the brevity of these friendly interchanges bothered Bates, he never showed it. After all, he wasn’t there to be their buddy but their superior officer. Still, it would have been nice to be offered a cup of coffee. It was clear that these people felt he’d been too hard on Baker. Of course, it was always Baker. The man had none of the qualities of leadership that Bates recognized as essential in an officer, yet the loyalty he gendered was impressive. "Bleeding heart."
Bates pulled into the parking lot of the taco stand with a full head of steam. He scanned the patio for the familiar tan uniforms of the CHP. Not seeing any, he threw the cruiser into reverse and looked back when a gun appeared next to his left cheek.
"Take it real easy, Chippie." A ragged looking man with a two days growth of beard had appeared at his window. "You showed up right on time." A nasty grin spread across his face. "I was just wondering how I was going to get out of this burg."
Bates turned his head slowly to look up at the man. "What do you want? I don’t carry much money with me, and it would be useless to take the cruiser. It’s far too visible to do you any good." His heart was beating out of his chest but his training held.
The man smiled down at him. "Oh, I’m taking the cruiser, but I think I’m taking you too. Your buddies won’t want you to get hurt." He opened the door and pulled Bates out onto the pavement where he disarmed him. Holding the gun tightly to the Lieutenant’s head, he walked him to the passenger’s side of the car and forced him to get in again and slide across the seat. "That’s a good little, Chippie." He pressed the gun into the officer’s side. "Now drive. East on the boulevard."
Bates nodded slowly and put the cruiser into gear. He eyed up the man next to him gauging his size and strength. He’d have to wait for an opportunity. As far as his friends not wanting him hurt, Bates prayed that the man was right about that one.
Neither man saw the owner of the taco stand run outside as soon as the cruiser pulled out of the lot. If they had, Bates may have had more hope. As it was, he didn’t know that the call had been put into the police that he’d been kidnapped.
***********
Jon Baker sat in the traffic almost dozing off in the warm sun. Pulling himself awake with an effort, he turned on the radio. The strains of "Disco Duck" had him quickly pushing buttons until he flipped the radio off and turned his police radio on. He smiled as he heard the familiar banter coming over the airwaves. He knew each voice and each inflection so well that it caught at him. A transfer…he’d voiced the idea to Ponch, and it made sense, but he just couldn’t quite take the step to make it happen. It seemed such a final thing, an ending to his life as he knew it. He’d had so many beginnings and endings in his life that he didn’t want this one. It wasn’t time.
It took a few seconds for the 10-99 call to sink into his mind. "Officer in trouble"
"Who?" Baker yelled at the scanner. "Repeat who it is." The car horns behind him began to blare when the light changed color and he was still blocking the intersection. Annoyed, he pulled off the road and into a gas station where he waited for the message to repeat. No call letters were given but the 10-99 came through loud and clear. "East on the boulevard." The signal kept breaking up.
Throwing the truck into gear, Baker slipped into the flow of traffic to find the nearest entrance to the boulevard. "I don’t suppose you could give me an exit number to start at," he mumbled to the radio.
"Last seen exit 19".
"Thank you." Baker turned sharply onto the ramp of exit 24. Plato’s Republic slid off the seat and onto the floor of the truck unheeded.
Slowing to a crawl, he moved his truck into the right hand lane and put on the flashers. One by one the impatient motorists slid around him. He kept his eyes glued to the side mirror as each car passed. He looked for the familiar flashbar of a police cruiser. Baricza? Turner? Clark? The names ran through his mind as he tried to remember who was on duty for that section of highway.
A motor officer wove his way in and out of traffic on the opposite side of the highway. A closer look and he recognized Arthur Grossman. He relaxed slightly against the seat of the truck. Artie was experienced. He wouldn’t spook anybody.
Dozens of cars drove past the truck until Jon was convinced he’d missed the cruiser or it had taken an off ramp. Then, the lights showed in his rear view mirror. Jon sat up as soon as the cruiser pulled up beside him. He glanced left and kept pace with it edging up the speed of the truck as needed. Higher than the cruiser, he looked down into the passenger’s seat easily. The kidnapper held the gun low but it was clearly evident to Baker from his vantage point. It was harder for him to see who was driving the cruiser.
The traffic slowed in a traffic jam that Jon felt sure was the result of a CHP officer up the road purposefully slowing the traffic to a stand still. Reaching for his jacket, Jon transferred his service revolver to the back of his jeans. The traffic stopped moving entirely leaving Jon’s truck slightly behind and to the right of the cruiser.
Slipping to the floor of the truck, Jon went out the passenger’s door and crouched down to hide behind the bed. He worked his way to the back and crossed over so that he’d come up on the passenger’s side under the level of the sideview mirror. Inch by excruciating inch he placed each foot with care so that the sound of the dirt and gravel under his feet wouldn’t alert the kidnapper. He eased the gun out of his belt and ever so quietly placed it directly behind the head of the man in the passenger’s seat of the cruiser.
"Toss the gun out the window." His quiet voice held a ring of authority.
The man moved just far enough to realize that a gun was trained on him. Disgusted, he threw his own weapon out and onto the ground then held both hands out the window.
"Very good," Jon stood up and opened the car door pulling the man out towards him. "Looks like you’ve done this before. Kneel down, cross your legs and put your hands on your head."
The man complied listlessly. "You’re a cop I take it?"
"You take correctly." Jon knelt down to yell into the cruiser. "You okay?"
"I’m fine." Bates got out and walked around to stand in front of him. "You’re off duty, you didn’t radio in that you were joining pursuit, you didn’t identify yourself as a police officer and you didn’t frisk him down."
Jon stared at him in amazement. "I was going to ask for your handcuffs. I usually handcuff then frisk when I don’t have backup."
Bates tossed him the cuffs and then leaned against the cruiser. "Okay, so cuff him."
Jon seethed as he cuffed his prisoner, frisked him and read him his rights. It wasn’t until he had placed him solidly within the confines of the back seat of the cruiser that he turned on Bates. "What the hell do you want of me? If I had notified the others I was joining the pursuit, your radio would have picked it up too. I would have been worthless to you."
Bates eyed him up. "I don’t like the new and gentler police force, Baker. You’re a prime example of it, and I don’t like it. I like it when the officers do their jobs without fuss and bother, the superintendants are in charge, and the system works. I think you’re a threat to the system."
"A threat to whose system?" Baker exploded. "Your system? I do things by the book, Bates. I always have. If I didn’t, you would have a hook to hang me on. You don’t. You just keep pushing hoping to find something. It’s not my work that annoys you, it’s my attitude towards these people and this job. I’ve got news for you, it’s not going to change."
"Go home, Baker." Bates stood up and walked around to the driver’s side of the cruiser. "You’re on vacation. If I were you, I’d stop before it became permanent." He opened the car door. "Oh and by the way, if it gets out that I wasn’t in charge of this little operation, I’ll be very displeased. I flagged you down, right?"
Jon’s breathing was heavy and his fist was clenched by his side. "You flagged me down."
"Very smart, Baker. Now be smarter yet and become a team player. It’s not about me, it’s about the team. The team needs to know that their Lieutenant can handle any situation." Bates got back into the car and picked up the radio while Jon got back into his truck and hit the steering wheel until his hands hurt. The little interchange wasn’t missed by Arthur Grossman who had turned around to lend an assist when he’d recognized Jon’s truck.
*************
It was two days after the kidnapping that Arthur Grossman knocked on Lieutenant Bates’ door holding a file folder.
"Come in." Bates was seated at his desk working on paperwork and obviously less than enthused about it. Throwing down the pen in an impatient gesture, the man leaned back against his chair and drummed his fingers against the arm. "What can I do for you, Arthur?"
Grossman smiled at the use of his first name. "I usually get called Artie."
Bates nodded stiffly. "You had a reason for coming," he prompted.
"Yes, sir." Artie leaned over the desk. "As you might have heard, Lieutenant, I’m a bit of a writer."
"No, I hadn’t heard that," Bates picked up the pen and tapped it against his desk.
Grossman continued as though he hadn’t heard him. "I am always looking for a new article idea for the CHP Newsletter. I’m a regular contributor for them. Have been for the past year or so." He beamed with pride.
"Congratulations." Bates forced a smile. "The Newsletter is a valuable tool for the department."
Grossman stood up a bit straighter and adjusted his gunbelt. "Well, I found out about a story that I think should be told. It’s a great story. The guys will love it."
"So, write it." Bates stared at his paperwork. "I’m a bit busy, Officer Grossman."
Grossman beamed at him. "It’s a story about this officer who talked a guy into giving himself up after a car chase. The man was drunk and had a gun. He would have taken out a lot of innocent people if he’d started shooting. The Lieutenant gave the order to take him out. Then, this officer talked to the drunk quietly and personally. Really reached out to him and touched a nerve, ya know? The guy started crying and dropped the gun." Grossman’s voice softened. "It was kind of a changing of attitudes. The department began to move away from the use of force to alternatives. That officer paved the way for the softer and gentler CHP."
Bates waved him off. "Sounds good." He picked up the pen and once again hunched over his paperwork. "I’m sure Jon Baker will approve of your giving him the PR."
Grossman pulled a paper from the folder he carried and held it out to the Lieutenant. "It’s not Jon Baker, but it’s a guy just like him. A guy who thinks he can make a difference if given the chance. His Lieutenant didn’t appreciate his special abilities, so he transferred him into a desk job. Told him that he hadn’t followed orders or the manual. He took a disciplinary for what he did."
Bates froze over his desk and found himself having difficulty breathing. Slowly, he reached out to take the paper that Grossman held out to him. The paper shook with the trembling of his hand. "Where did you find this?"
Grossman smiled at him. "I asked around a bit. Talked to some people. Then, it was just a matter of hitting the newspaper archives in Sacramento." His smile broadened as he looked at the man behind the desk. "Harold Bates was one hell of a cop. He’d fit right in with this group. In fact, I think he’d like us."
Bates left the paper fall to his desk. "This is old news, Arthur. No one is interested in it."
"I bet Jon Baker would be." Grossman reached over to retrieve the photocopy.
"Baker doesn’t understand."
"He will. He wants to."
"I’ve forgotten how to do what he does."
"It’ll come back to you."
Bates gripped the pen in his hand until the knuckles turned white. "I’m a paper pusher. Everyone knows it."
Grossman sighed deeply and turned to leave the room.
"Arthur…" Bates stopped him. "Do you still need an article idea?"
"Yes, sir." Grossman nodded. "I do."
"Have a seat."
************
Jon Baker stood in the hallway and read the CHP Newsletter in amazement. Ponch came up behind him and clapped him on the back. "Good to have you back. It’s not like I missed you or anything, but I can’t get the alternator in my car to do its thing…"
"Have you read this?" Jon waved the newsletter at him.
Ponch saw the paper and scowled. "I try to avoid it. Why, does Grossie have another article in?"
"Yeah," Jon looked around the hallway. "Where is Grossie?"
The door to the men’s room opened and Arthur Grossman stepped out.
"Grossie!" Jon called him over.
Grossman smiled when he saw the newsletter. "Did you like my article?"
"Great." Jon looked up and down the hallway. "Artie, this wasn’t supposed to get out. You’re going to get both of us into trouble."
"How?" Artie’s big blue eyes couldn’t have been more innocent."
Jon wanted to shake him. "The Lieutenant said…"
"The Lieutenant gave me the story." Artie tapped the paper. "See, its an interview."
Jon stared at him. "He told you to do this?"
"Yeah." Artie smiled at him. "Course, it took me a bit to convince him that you wouldn’t get hurt if he told the truth."
"I wouldn’t get hurt?"
"Sure. It’s been awhile since Bates was in a position like this. He’s been doing PR and administrative work. I guess in his time, if you broke even one regulation, you got nailed."
Jon carefully folded the newsletter and returned it to his mailbox. "So, the report had to read like I was following orders."
Artie nodded. "I think he could use a little help integrating into the newer and gentler CHP." He hesitated and kicked the wall gently with his boot. "I don’t think he needs a friend, per se. More like a guide."
Jon sighed. "A guide that’s a bit less obvious?"
Artie nodded. "It would be nice."
Jon threw Ponch a long suffering look. "I’ll think about it."
Artie smiled as Ponch and Jon walked towards the briefing room. When they had turned the corner, he pulled a paper from his pocket and slipped it into Jon’s mailbox before sauntering after them with a satisfied grin.