2:30 A.M. rolled around like every other minute in the dead of night, 
with me waiting for the perp to make his move.  The name's Jack, Jack Speed, 
and I'm a cop.  
        My partner and I had been on the case for weeks with no leads, but to-
night we'd gotten lucky, we had composites of the perp up all over town and 
somebody had seen him.  When the call came my partner and I were playing donut
race at the local bakery, we had moved as fast as we could without the light on 
and got to the location at about one.  We'd been waiting an hour and a half for 
him to make his move but finally he did.  The shotgun mike picked up the sound 
of the pick hitting the lock and we were on the ground in minutes.
        At this point I feel it necessary to explain that for burglers, I 
usually don't carry around a riot gun.  So I was walking into the situation
with only my Berreta, and a .380 strapped to my ankle.  My partner had to 
circle in order for us to pin him down, so he was traveling faster than me.  
Too fast I found out as the perp's silenced forty-five spun my partner around 
with a viciousness that left him a full yard from where he died. 
        I crouched down behind a dumpster and checked both clips as I consid-
ered the facts, the perp was carrying a silenced forty-five, a killers weapon, 
not likely to exit the body, powerful enough to put someone down, and easily 
acquired rounds.  Yet the fact that he was carrying it was itself and enigma, 
cat burglers usually do not expect company.
        I reasoned that none of my questions were being answered by sitting on
my ass, so I clicked off the safety on the Berreta.  And ran crouched over until
I was parralell with him.
        "Freeze Police," I yelled with my badge in one hand and my gun in the
other.
        But all of the sudden I was caught in a kalidescope of light and sound 
as a band of white light lanced out and trained itself on the perp.  His head 
exploded in a fine red mist that sprayed all over.  I ran for the corner of 
the building and safety, praying with each step that the shooter hadn't seen 
me.  I rounded the corner and sunk to a sitting position in relief, the 
shooter hadn't seen me.  I shifted in position and felt a pain in my thigh.  
        The next thing I remember was my captain lifting me of the ground.
        "Found this in your leg," he said holding up a dart, "any idea how it
got there?"
        "Uggh," was as expressive as I could get, I had a headache that could
have been used in demolition.  The captain told me to go to the hospital.  I
laughed and he laughed and had a black and white take me all the way there.  
        I stumbled into the emergency room with the patrolman and let him 
deal with admitting, I started to sit down when a doctor offered me a wheel-
chair.  
        "Thanks," I mumbled as he wheeled me into an observation room.  He
took several samples of blood and left me to sleep on a bed.
        In a few hours I woke up in a dark room, to the sound of someone 
breathing.  Now intellectualy I reasoned that it was merely another patient,
but my gut told me it wasn't.
        Always trust your gut.
        The sound of steel on leather was unmistakble as the guy drew a knife.
I felt for any thing that could be used as a weapon on the table.  My fingers
closed around it as I prepared for the attack.  I heard the whistle of steel
through air as I rolled out of bed.  The attacker did not expect a sleeping 
target to move, and I used the second of surprise I had to lunge forward and 
bury the knife between his first and second ribs.  He gasped once and fell to
the ground dead.  
        I hit the nurse assistance button and waited.

        Stayed Tuned For Part 2,  Murd2.txt