Dream Cast: Steve McQueen, Dennis Hopper
COVER!
Michael Cornell
The police cars, teal blue and black, red lights circling,
sirens blasting, were gone. There had been kudos all
around, for me, Donny Harper, six-year vet, first-year
undercover, and for the legend himself, Frank McQuinn.
Prince Rat was ferreted out of his hole, an abandoned
filling station and garage. McQuinn had settled a score
as long as his wiry right arm and as infected as an
abscessed tooth. I was standing by the plain gun-metal
Plymouth when he walked over.
Geez, I couldn't believe I was there with McQuinn basking
in the three o'clock blackness-- when he slammed me
against the Plymouth. I thought my arm was broken
and I wondered why he'd broken it.
"Geez, sir, why did you do that?"
He grabbed the lapels of my sport-jacket and stared me
down with those steely blue eyes from inches away.
"Didn't I tell you to cover me?!" McQuinn was smoking
and it was a searing heat I hadn't personally known or
thought I had coming.
"Geez, sir, I did cover you," I somehow gasped.
"Oh, you covered me all right, in plain view, wrapped up
in tissue paper so that rotten son-of-a-vermin knew I was
coming around back," he growled. "You might as well
have been behind the wheel of his Hawk brushing your
teeth under the damn dome-light."
"Geez, sir, I stayed low behind the front fender--"
"Yeah, so when he sees one of us there, he knows the
other guy's going around the back way and that's where
he's waiting for me, you young jackass."
"Geez, sir, but he was too strung out to even know how
use that thing, sir--"
McQuinn tightened the grasp on my lapels and his
deadly blues got even closer. "And you knew that,
did you?" He took a breath. "I'm going to tell you
something, you stupid, ass-backward kid: I warned
Shapiro not to promote you. I told him you weren't
ready."
"Geez, sir, I didn't know that."
"Well, you freaking know it now."
Then a funny thing happened. And so suddenly.
He let go of my jacket.
Breath seemed to seep out of his tightly coiled frame.
He turned his steely gaze away.
McQuinn looked like a guy who was about to go to
confession but had been away so long he had forgotten
how to make the Sign of the Cross.
He carefully lifted me off the side of the Plymouth,
rubbed my sore arm and said in almost a whisper:
"A long time ago-- " he started, then changed course:
"You know why a great cop like Shapiro is on the desk
heading up hacks like me and the rest of us? Do you
know why he has that gimpy limp-- "
"Geez, sir, I don't."
"Then I'll tell you why: Because a long, long time ago
a dumb rookie undercover man did the same damn thing
you did tonight. It was a boarded-up house with one of
those wrap-around porches..." he trailed off.
"Geez, sir, I didn't know."
He seemed about to continue, but he stopped and looked
at me and flashed that smile all the diner girls love.
"Come on. kid, I'll buy you a bagel," he said.
He massaged my arm a little more, said, "You drive."
"Geez."
Michael Cornell
The police cars, teal blue and black, red lights circling,
sirens blasting, were gone. There had been kudos all
around, for me, Donny Harper, six-year vet, first-year
undercover, and for the legend himself, Frank McQuinn.
Prince Rat was ferreted out of his hole, an abandoned
filling station and garage. McQuinn had settled a score
as long as his wiry right arm and as infected as an
abscessed tooth. I was standing by the plain gun-metal
Plymouth when he walked over.
Geez, I couldn't believe I was there with McQuinn basking
in the three o'clock blackness-- when he slammed me
against the Plymouth. I thought my arm was broken
and I wondered why he'd broken it.
"Geez, sir, why did you do that?"
He grabbed the lapels of my sport-jacket and stared me
down with those steely blue eyes from inches away.
"Didn't I tell you to cover me?!" McQuinn was smoking
and it was a searing heat I hadn't personally known or
thought I had coming.
"Geez, sir, I did cover you," I somehow gasped.
"Oh, you covered me all right, in plain view, wrapped up
in tissue paper so that rotten son-of-a-vermin knew I was
coming around back," he growled. "You might as well
have been behind the wheel of his Hawk brushing your
teeth under the damn dome-light."
"Geez, sir, I stayed low behind the front fender--"
"Yeah, so when he sees one of us there, he knows the
other guy's going around the back way and that's where
he's waiting for me, you young jackass."
"Geez, sir, but he was too strung out to even know how
use that thing, sir--"
McQuinn tightened the grasp on my lapels and his
deadly blues got even closer. "And you knew that,
did you?" He took a breath. "I'm going to tell you
something, you stupid, ass-backward kid: I warned
Shapiro not to promote you. I told him you weren't
ready."
"Geez, sir, I didn't know that."
"Well, you freaking know it now."
Then a funny thing happened. And so suddenly.
He let go of my jacket.
Breath seemed to seep out of his tightly coiled frame.
He turned his steely gaze away.
McQuinn looked like a guy who was about to go to
confession but had been away so long he had forgotten
how to make the Sign of the Cross.
He carefully lifted me off the side of the Plymouth,
rubbed my sore arm and said in almost a whisper:
"A long time ago-- " he started, then changed course:
"You know why a great cop like Shapiro is on the desk
heading up hacks like me and the rest of us? Do you
know why he has that gimpy limp-- "
"Geez, sir, I don't."
"Then I'll tell you why: Because a long, long time ago
a dumb rookie undercover man did the same damn thing
you did tonight. It was a boarded-up house with one of
those wrap-around porches..." he trailed off.
"Geez, sir, I didn't know."
He seemed about to continue, but he stopped and looked
at me and flashed that smile all the diner girls love.
"Come on. kid, I'll buy you a bagel," he said.
He massaged my arm a little more, said, "You drive."
"Geez."
