Sinjin

   Starsky and Hutch headed out to the Torino in the afternoon to cruise the streets. The weather had cooled markedly, but the temperature still hovered around ninety degrees.

   "So, did you get a chance to talk to Perelli?" asked Hutch.

   "Sure did. And he had quite a tale to tell."

   When Starsky failed to continue, Hutch looked over to his partner questioningly.

   "It seems Nick is keeping company with the little cigar lady."

   "Keeping company?" asked Hutch, definitely surprised.

   "Hey, I didn't ask about the nature of the attraction or the length of the commitment. He gave me a line about alimony payments and left the rest up to my imagination. He admitted to cutting Liv slack."

   "You buy it?"

   "I don't know. I guess. The way Perelli told the story, it was almost, ya know, poignant."

   "Poignant?"

   "Yeah, and you can spare me the crack about the Reader's Digest in the john."

   Hutch just laughed. The two then continued idly scanning the streets in silence. Hutch was first to speak. "You know Perelli better than I do. What do you make of him?"

   "I know he cuts his share of corners, but he commands a good deal of respect in the Department and on the streets. Maybe he's gotten a little harder since Deitz's death. But who wouldn't have? I've always admired the fact that he stayed on the force. I don't think I would have."

   "I'm that irreplaceable, huh?" said Hutch with a grin.

   Starsky turned his gaze from the road momentarily to face his partner. "Yeah," he said simply. His tone was deadly serious.

   Hutch took some time to let the gravity of the statement fully register.

   "Do you think he's just gotten harder, or is it something more?"

   "I think he just got detached," said Starsky. I didn't know Deitz well, and he was definitely the quiet member of the duo, but they clicked somehow. Complemented each other. In this mentorship program, Perelli keeps himself at somewhat of a distance. But then I ain't heard any complaints from Quintero... I guess there is one thing."

   "Yeah, what's that?" asked the blond.

   "The way he tells a joke."

   "Huh?"

   "I know it sounds kinda weird, but you can tell a lot about a person by the way he tells a joke."

   "I hate to think what those goofy one-liners say about your character."

   "No, that's not what I mean." Starsky idled at a light and tried to clearly form his explanation. "It's not about the cleverness of the joke or even the delivery. It's the purpose in telling it. With Perelli, it's like he's trying to remind people he's got a sense of humor. Almost as if he's trying to distract them from something else... I don't know if that makes any sense."

   Hutch observed his partner's profile for a few moments. "In an odd way it does make sense. I don't know that I would have noticed it. What do you make of Liv's visit to the cigar shop?"

   "I've been thinking lately about Mickey's insistence that we see it. God only knows how and if the Streeter character figures in."

   "I've got no answers there. You think Mickey really split town?" Hutch posed the question gingerly. He didn't want Starsky to think he was questioning his judgment.

   "I ain't seen him lately. But I haven't exactly been looking," was all Starsky offered in response.

   "Well, apparently the heat's too much for the criminals. I can't remember a time it's been so quiet," said Hutch, gently changing the subject.

   "Yeah, that, or it's the calm before the storm."

   "How 'bout we drop by the Pits?"

   "Sound like a plan," replied Starsky and spun the Torino around, causing a few other motorists to lean on their horns.

   "God, Starsk, I wish you wouldn't do that."

   "Do what?"

********

   Huggy's was just as busy as the last time the detectives were in, but luckily there were enough waitresses to handle the crowd. Huggy approached them both immediately. "Well, if it ain't two of the worst dressed dudes in town. Good thing I'm a bit lax on the fashion code in my establishment."

   "Come on, Hug. That's a low blow," said Hutch snickering.

   "Glad to see you're in a better mood, Blondie."

   "Yeah, well, I apologize if I was abrupt the other day."

   "All is forgiven," said Huggy.

   "You haven't happened to see Mickey hanging around, have you?" said Starsky.

   "No way, man. Last time I saw that cat he was looking to get far away from this town. I ain't seen him since. Why d'ya ask?"

   "No reason," said Starsky. "Look, you think you could give two thirsty bastards on the worst dressed list a couple of sodas?"

   "I'll do better than that. How about a couple of my tropical specials?"

   "Just make sure they're not lethal," said Hutch, checking his watch. "We have another hour on duty."

   "Don't worry, gentlemen. These magical concoctions are meant to energize, not immobilize."

   Huggy returned with two frosty drinks. Hutch eagerly drained his, noting that oranges and pineapples were part of the line-up and perhaps a hint of vanilla.

   Starsky was a bit less enthusiastic, suspecting that Huggy was trying to slip him a nauseatingly healthy concoction. He did manage to finish it though, and the detectives soon returned to the Torino.

   After some last rudimentary paperwork back at the station, it was time to call it a day.

   "Listen Starsk, I've made arrangements to leave my car at Merle's, much against my better judgment."

   "He's still the best mechanic in the city, Hutch."

   "Yeah, that's what I figured. I just don't need the upholstery giving me hives."

   Starsky laughed heartily at that.

   "Anyway, I was hoping you could give me a ride tomorrow."

   "Sure thing, Blondie."

********

   About nine o'clock that night Hutch decided to give the blues club another try. He dressed a little less casually than usual. And it was a fact that Huggy's unflattering comment was still on his mind.

   When he arrived at the club, the elderly gentleman from the other night was just finishing up a set. Hutch ordered a Tangeray and tonic from the bar. Hell, he thought, it was time to start exercising more refined tastes. He was happy to see that the corner table was still available and was soon seated at it. His trip to the bar had confirmed that the lady from the other night would be singing. He also found out that her name was Dakota. He found that rather intriguing. When she came on she started with a lighthearted oldie from another era: "1927 Kansas City":

   Bath-tub gin and movie stars
   Two more payments and the baby's ours.
   It's the little things that make life so sweet.

   Hutch found her rendition bewitching. In spite of himself, he began rehearsing what he would say to her at the first break. He decided to take a chance and sent a club soda up to the piano with a request for something from "the quintessential Billie Holiday." The drink and note arrived at the close of a song. He watch Dakota read it and was sure he saw a smile escape her lips.

   "I usually don't take requests, but it's hard to turn down a fan of Miss Billie's and so this one's for you, whoever you are." And with that she launched into a striking rendition of "I Can't Give You Anything But Love."

   I can't give you anything but love, baby.
   That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby.
   Scheme awhile; dream awhile;
   You're sure to find
   Happiness, and I guess, all those things you've always pined for.

   Hutch tried to catch her at the break, but she was busy talking to the other patrons of the club. He stayed until midnight and then reluctantly decided to head back home to get enough sleep for the following day's shift. Next time, he promised himself. Next time, they would have a meaningful conversation.

********

   Perelli returned home around 11 P.M.; Liv was waiting for him. She was sitting on the couch in her robe, drinking a beer. When Perelli walked in she jumped up so quickly she nearly upset the bottle.

   "What's going on? I've been worried sick!"

   "Take it easy, Liv."

   "Take it easy? Jesus Christ, Nick. I don't know what plans you have for the Mahoney brothers, but I'll tell you what. I want nothing more to do with it. Nothing good can come from messing with the likes of those two crazy bastards."

   "It's already been taken care of."

   "My God, Nick, what have you done?"

   "I don't want to talk about it now, Liv. I'm tired. Let's just go to bed."

   Liv was tempted to leave. No, to storm out. In some display of righteous indignation. But as quickly as the idea surfaced, it receded. Who was she kidding? She had cast her lot with Nick. There wasn't anywhere else to go. She couldn't return to the streets; she couldn't take up residence in suburbia. Liv decided then and there to ride this one out to the end.

********

   Still feeling the effects of the Eastwood marathon, Starsky decided to make an early night of it. As a result he was in bed by 10:30 and soundly asleep a few minutes later. Unfortunately, it was not to be a restful night.

   A few minutes before 1 A.M. Starsky was awakened violently when a pillowcase was thrown over his head. As he struggled to make sense of what was happening, a rope was roughly tied around his neck to secure the pillowcase. Another pair of gloved hands grabbed his wrists and jerked them behind his back. Starsky felt the ropes cut into his wrists as they were bound. He desperately tried to free himself from the grasp of his two assailants, but the surprise of the attack left him no room to maneuver. Starsky attempted to communicate with his attackers, but they said nothing. He figured he'd be led off somewhere, hence the makeshift blindfold. But he was unprepared for the viciousness of the assault that followed. Without warning, Starsky began to be beaten mercilessly. With his face covered and his arms bound, he was unable to dodge the blows or defend himself. As he tried to call out he felt a hand covering his mouth over the pillowcase, muffling his yell. At one point Starsky was shoved hard against the bedside table and crashed into a lamp. He felt shards of something sharp ripping through his t-shirt and slicing his back. He was then thrown back on the bed for more pummeling. The detective could only hope that he would pass out soon; he remained conscious far longer than he would have liked.

********

   Just after 2 A.M. Nick rose from his bed and slipped on a pair of pants. Liv had been aware of him tossing for the past hour but said nothing, sensing that Nick was in no mood to talk. Now he was at the door and heading downstairs to the livingroom. She followed to the landing and heard him pick up the phone and begin to dial. Liv closed the door and returned to bed. Any further business he had with the Mahoney brothers would only cause her more worry.

   But Nick wasn't calling the Mahoneys. Even if he had wanted to it would have been too late for that. Nick had a difficult time getting through to a much more powerful contact, realizing with a sinking feeling that it was four in the morning in New Orleans. But he could wait no longer. After going through three middle men he was finally connected to the boss.

   "Mr. Russo, this is Nick Perelli. I'm sorry about the hour."

   "Well, I must admit there are things I'd rather be doing, like catching up on my sleep. I take it this is a matter of some importance."

   "Mr. Russo, there have been... some complications with Mr. Broussard."

   "Complications with Streeter? How so?"

   "I was expecting someone I could work with, Mr. Russo."

   "Pulling the Cajun shit, is he?"

   "Mr. Russo," Nick said hurriedly, "Streeter is no longer with the organization."

   There was a slight pause. "I see. I hope you gave him a healthy severance package."

   "I don't think you understand --"

   "I understand perfectly, Perelli. But I'd rather not discuss it further on the phone."

   "I had no choice, Mr. Russo. He was compromising my position."

   "Enough, Perelli. I wouldn't lose any sleep over the personnel decision. If anything, you saved me the trouble. And it shows me that you are a good judge of character. Now that the driftwood is gone, I'd like to send you two of my finer associates to help with operations. I take it you can put them to good use."

   Nick was slow to answer. He didn't know whether to be relieved that Russo wasn't sending out a hit on him or angered that Streeter had been sent as some sort of test. And what kind of test? To prove he could remove a liability or that he could murder in cold blood?

   "Perelli, you there?"

   "Yes, Mr. Russo."

   "My associates --"

   "I assume they are quality people," interjected the detective, hoping he carried a measure of calm resolve in his voice. "I have a particular project that requires skilled professionals."

   "Of course. And just to show my good faith, I plan to accompany them myself. I'll be in touch." With that the phone went dead.

   Nick remained in the livingroom mulling over the phone call. He was grateful for the extra manpower but not about Russo's plans to come to L.A. The man never left the Big Easy without good reason. Nick was sure that he would want more than a piece of the deal with Cooper. But the question was: How much more?

********

   Starsky and Hutch were due at the precinct at 8 A.M. Hutch woke in time to take his customary run. Once back at Venice Place he showered and drank some strong black coffee. He expected Starsky at 7:45, but he didn't show. At five to eight Hutch called his apartment but got no answer. At ten after eight he called the Department to see if his partner had forgotten him, but Starsky had not checked in. Fully expecting to find his partner having slept through the alarm and subsequent phone call, Hutch got a cab and headed impatiently to Starsky's apartment. The Torino was parked in front. Boy, was he going to get on Starsky's case.

   The first alarm was raised when Hutch reached the door. It was splintered as if it had been forced open, and none too subtly. Hutch drew his magnum and entered the apartment cautiously. The livingroom appeared undisturbed. Hutch moved on to the bedroom and froze at what he saw. The furnishings were relatively intact, save for a broken lamp, but the bed was splattered with blood. He lurched for the phone and was quickly connected with Dobey. When the Captain heard Hutch's voice he began to launch into a reprimand for being late. The detective cut him off.

   "You need to issue an APB on Starsky," he said, his voice shaking.

   "What are you talking about?"

   "I'm talking about a missing partner."

   "Are you sure?"

   "Dammit, Captain, what kind of question is that? I'm standing in his empty apartment, looking at a blood splattered bed!"

   "All right. Take it easy. I'll send some squads over immediately."

********

   When Starsky came to, he began to shiver uncontrollably. His arms were still bound behind his back and his feet were tied together. His entire body screamed with pain from the innumerable blows he had endured during the attack in his apartment and he was chilled to the bone. The detective tried to make out his surroundings from where he lay on the cold cement floor. At least they had removed the pillowcase. The light from a single bulb in the ceiling was dim, but it revealed a small, barren room without windows. Starsky's eyes soon found a wooden door. He could hear voices coming from the other side but could not discern the words.

   Tim and Dylan Mahoney were on the other side of that door, growing restless.

********

   The officers Dobey sent to Starsky's apartment had turned up nothing of any value during the search and two days had passed. Back at the station, Hutch was becoming so frantic he could not contain himself.

   "Listen, Hutch, I've got all the men I can spare looking for your partner. What else do you want me to do?"

   "I don't know, Captain!"

   "You don't need to raise your voice to me, son. I'm trying to help."

   "I know that, Captain. I'm sorry. I just didn't see this one coming."

   "Well, who'd have the best reason to want to kidnap Starsky?"

   "Hell, it could be any number of people holding a grudge. I'm just hoping that whoever's got him wants to make some sort of a deal."

   "You expecting them to contact you."

   "God, that's what I'm hoping for."

   "I hope you are not planning on handling this yourself."

   Hutch didn't answer but simply headed for the door.

   "Hutchinson, where are you going?" bellowed Dobey.

   "I don't think anyone is going to make contact while I'm standing in the middle of a police station."

   "If you are contacted, the first thing you are going to do is call for back-up."

   Hutch turned at the door to the Captain's office. "That's not the way this game is played and you know it," he said, pointing his finger at his superior. "If I call in the cavalry, Starsky's a dead man. If I'm lucky enough to get a lead, I'm damn well going in alone." Hutch left, slamming the door behind him.

   "Dammit," said Dobey under his breath.

********

   Dylan Mahoney sat in a chair tipping it back as far as it would go without toppling. Grabbing some sucker in the middle of the night and beating him within an inch of his life was exciting. Having to babysit a cop for three days was downright boring. He hoped Perelli hadn't lost his nerve on this one. His brother, Tim, rather admired this Starsky character. He was a tough bastard and managed to make a smart remark whenever either one of the boys entered the room. Tim had no patience for lily-livered targets that begged for their lives. Guys with an attitude kept things lively.

********

   Detective Perelli was feeling like a puppet on a string. He sat opposite the three men from New Orleans in a seedy little Italian restaurant that Russo had suggested. Half the patrons looked like underworld heavy-hitters, so at least the meeting did not seem out of place. Over a meal of pasta and red wine, Nick spelled out the details of Dr. Cooper's plan to collect Diana Harmon's inheritance. He informed the three that Detective Starsky had been kidnapped as bait to lure his partner, Hutchinson, the object of Diana's obsession. Cooper had been instructed to allow his patient "to escape" from Cabrillo State Hospital the following day. Nick was hoping that Russo's two associates could transport Diana. He explained that the good doctor might be needed at a later time to make sure the patient stayed "focused."

   Russo listened with an air of annoyance. "Why didn't you just grab this Hutchinson if he's the one Ms. Harmon is so crazy over?"

   "You don't understand how these two cops work, Mr. Russo. I want to be able to keep an eye on both of them before anything goes down."

   "Seems to me quite a lot has already gone down. I thought you wanted to keep the partner alive to see Hutchinson."

   "I do. But I was short-handed. I had to bring in a couple of guys that not only inflict pain but enjoy the show."

   Russo took a long drink of wine. "It sounds like a damn amateur hour. You're lucky I'm a man who tends to look towards the prospects of the future."

   Here it comes, thought Nick.

   "I'll have my associates help you out on this one," continued Russo. "In return, I'd like you to allow me room to operate in your fair city."

   And there it was. Nick wanted to protest that he did not wield that kind of power, but he knew he was in too deep to start backing out.

   "You can even call Joe here Streeter. It'll be like nothing ever happened to the punk."

   "Mr. Russo, I told you that was unavoidable."

   "I know. Damned shame he was my sister's kid."

   Nick nearly choked on his wine. "My God, I didn't know Streeter was your nephew!"

   "Family obligations. They're like a rope around the neck. Why else do you think I had that little swamp rat hanging around?"

   Nick was completely speechless.

   "Just think how ruthless I can be to people who aren't kin."

********

   Starsky wondered when the two thugs that were guarding him would let him in on the reason for his capture. If they had wanted him dead he would be already. But they were sure making his stay as miserable as possible. Tim was clearly in charge, but he was not a talker. As the younger of the two, Dylan followed his brother's lead. He was just as mean, but he looked for direction before taking any action. Starsky figured that if he were going to get any information it would probably be from Dylan.

   It was during the cop's second day of captivity that Dylan came into the room alone to feed him some soup. He removed the restraints on Starsky's ankles, and was about to remove the restraints on his wrists, but figured it wasn't a good idea. He cursed that he'd been reduced to spoon-feeding a pig. Starsky bit back a smooth reply and accepted the spoonfuls of soup in silence. After a few minutes he ventured some conversation.

   "When are you and your brother going to fill me in on this little plan of yours?"

   "Shut the hell up!"

   "It just seems that he's making all the decisions here. Don't you get a say?"

   Dylan glared at Starsky and threw the bowl of soup across the room. The detective realized he had miscalculated on this maneuver, but it was too late to rectify the situation. What followed was a vicious beating. Starsky tried to roll out of the way of Dylan's punches, but the man soon had him pinned and began to slug him with fury. Tim was suddenly at the door. He grabbed his brother and tore him away from the detective.

   "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

   "He was giving me grief," said Dylan simply.

   "Jesus, Dylan. I don't mind you getting your kicks, but you can't kill the dude. Perelli was damned clear about that."

   Starsky was vaguely aware of the brothers arguing, but he could not seem to put the words together. Tim walked over to the detective and eyed his limp body worriedly.

   "He'll be okay," said Dylan, more concerned with his brother's wrath than the officer's health.

   "He'd better be. We don't need a corpse on our hands."

   Starsky heard the door slam. He fought to sit up and managed to crawl to the wall and lean against it. Then he passed out cold.

********

   At the appointed time, Russo's two associates arrived at the hospital. Dr. Cooper had been informed of their coming and though cooperative he was clearly nervous about the whole situation. He took some comfort in the fact that Diana had made such striking progress, if one could call it that. Dr. Cooper couldn't help but take a fair amount of pride in the fact that he had been able to orchestrate such a transformation. The raw materials were there, naturally. Diana Harmon had suffered a series of traumas in her childhood and certainly had enough repressed anger to spare, but he believed it was his skillful counsel (and masterful blend of chemistry) that had made it possible to suppress the young woman's budding guilt and return her to a state of unbridled, vengeful rage.

   Dr. Cooper brought the two men to Diana's room and gently woke her up. "Diana, the gentlemen that I told you about are here. They want to help you right the wrongs of the past."

   Diana was only too eager to follow the men to a waiting van that was parked behind the hospital. Dr. Cooper even started to relax, believing for the first time that his plan might actually work. His calm was shattered by the men's insistence that he also get in the van.

   "You don't understand. I have to stay here and report Ms. Harmon's disappearance," he whispered to them.

   "There's been a slight change of plans. It has been determined that your expertise will be required immediately."

   "But Perelli told me specifically that I was to call in a missing person's report to Detective Quintero."

   "This operation is in bigger hands now," said one of the men. "I'm sure the doctor is a quick study. If all goes well, you'll be back in the morning to make that call."

********

   Hutch had been cruising the streets all day and half the night in the Torino hoping for some answers and growing increasingly agitated. If anyone knew anything, they sure weren't talking. He stopped by The Pits one last time, but Huggy had heard nothing. "Listen, Hutch, something'll give. That partner of yours is too damn stubborn to give up."

   "Who said anything about giving up?" snapped Hutch.

   "Man, I love Starsky too, but you gotta calm down."

   "I didn't mean to jump on you, Hug. But I'm running out of options." He slammed his fist down on the bar.

   "I hear you, man. Just take it easy. You can't help Starsky if you're ready to explode."

   "I know," said Hutch rubbing his eyes. "I'm heading home. You call me the minute you hear anything."

   "You got it, Hutch."

********

   Hutch took the stairs at Venice Place two at a time, hearing the phone ringing inside of his apartment. "Talk to me," he said into the receiver.

   A woman's voice came over the line. "Well, that's a fine way to answer the phone."

   "Lady, what do you want?"

   "I can't say this is how I imagined the conversation would be, Hutch."

   "Who is this?"

   There was a long silence. "Ken, this is Diana. Diana Harmon."

   Hutch took a long breath. The images of their last encounter played through his mind. Once she had been arrested he had tried to put the woman out of his memory. He had purposely not followed her case after giving his statement at Headquarters. Was she out of prison, he wondered. Had she received counseling? Diana's voice interrupted his thoughts.

   "Hey Hutch," she cooed into the phone. "I'd really like to see you again. I know that we got off to a bad start, but I've had some time to think about the mistakes we made. I'm sure we've both grown up a lot in our time apart."

   "Diana, what is this all about?" Hutch said, with an unmistakable sharpness in his voice.

   "Hutch, I just want to see you again."

   "I don't have time to play games with you, Diana."

   Diana's voice turned icy. "Don't take that tone with me, Hutch. You are going to be truly sorry if you keep taking that tone with me."

   Hutch's head snapped up as a new idea suddenly dawned on him. "Diana, what are you talking about?" There was fear in his voice and he knew it.

   "I'm talking about that meddlesome partner of yours. Seems I had to get to him to get your attention. The two of you -- both of you always laughing at me like I was the butt of some great big joke!"

   "Diana, listen to me," Hutch said, softening his voice. "Let's talk."

   "Oh, so now you want to talk. I loved you, Hutch. I would have given my life for you. But you just wouldn't let me in. I loved you, you bastard," she sobbed.

   "Please, Diana, let me talk to Starsky."

   "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? The two of you would have a fine old time laughing at me. But that's not the way it's going to be this time. I'm in control here and I'm the one making the rules! There's a driver waiting downstairs. You've got one minute to get in that car or he's leaving without you." The connection was severed.

   Hutch had no time to think. When he got downstairs there was a dark blue Mustang with the passenger door open at the curb. He approached it slowly. There was a driver and two men in the back. "Get in," said one in the rear. Hutch did so and closed the door. The first thing he noticed was that Mickey was behind the wheel. "And I'll take da cannon I know you got," continued the man.

   "All right," said Hutch. "I've got to take off my jacket first, so just be cool." He removed his jacket and then his holster with the magnum and handed it to the man as the car sped away from the curb. "You must be the one they call Streeter."

   There was just the briefest of hesitations and a slight reaction from Mickey. "Mais, yeah. How did you guess?"

   "I heard something about a Cajun running around these parts lately."

   "Cajun, shit. You doan gotta be so formal. I'm a regular coonass from down the bayou, me."

   "Diana must have promised you a lot of money to kidnap one cop and bring in anther. I don't know how she got out of prison, but I can guarantee you, you aren't going to get paid."

   "Paid by dat crazy broad? Are you kidding? Dat one doan know whether she's comin' or goin'."

   "And what a surprise it is to see you again, scum," Hutch said, turning to the driver.

   Mickey said nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

   "Dat's enough chitchat."

   "What is this all about?"

   "You'll find out soon enough. Just sit back and enjoy da ride."

********

   The drive ended at an abandoned warehouse. Hutch was led inside by the two heavily armed men. "I want to see my partner right now," he said.

   "Sure. Only make it a brief reunion; we've got other business for you."

   Hutch was taken to a room where he got his first glimpse of Tim and Dylan. He didn't recognize them, but they appeared to take their jobs as watchdogs very seriously. They shoved Hutch into another smaller room and the door was slammed behind him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the near darkness, but then he spotted a form slumped against the wall. "Starsky!" he yelled and sprang forward to reach his partner. He pulled his friend from the wall and was unnerved by his condition. Starsky's body was covered with welts and bruises. The back of his t-shirt was covered with dried blood. With shaking hands he undid the restraints on his partner's wrists. Then Hutch gently reached around Starsky's back with one arm and pulled him close. He held his partner's chin with his other hand and gently shook it. Starsky moaned slightly but did not appear to be conscious.

   "Starsky, can you hear me? It's me, Hutch." There was still no response. "Starsky, I'm right here. Open your eyes, babe."

   Slowly Starsky began to rouse. At first he was completely disoriented. He attempted to pull away from Hutch and yelped at the pain. Hutch realized his partner thought he was again in the grips of the goons who had nabbed and beat him. He drew his partner back to him and peered worriedly into his face. "Relax, Starsky, it's me. It's Hutch." Finally, Starsky seemed to recognize his partner.

   "God, Hutch. Am I happy to see you."

   "Same here, pal."

   Starsky began to shake uncontrollably as the chills returned.

   "It's all right, buddy. Just take it easy." Hutch removed his jacket and drew it around his partner and then pulled him close again.

   "I can't seem to stop shaking, Hutch."

   "Don't worry. I'm here now. Everything's gonna be okay." Hutch wanted to rub his friend's arms and legs to warm them, but he knew with all the injuries that would only cause more pain. He could hardly bear to look at Starsky's bloody wrists. All he could do was rock his partner gently and hope that his own body heat would have some effect.

   "Just where is here? And why are we here?"

   "I'm not sure what this is all about, but it has something to do with Diana Harmon."

   "What?"

   "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. She's the one who invited me to this little party. The infamous Mr. Streeter was one of my escorts."

   "Streeter?" said Starsky, trying to make sense of all the information. "What the hell does he have to do with all this?"

   "Damned if I know. You'll never guess who was the chauffeur -- Mickey."

   Starsky suddenly caught his breath as the throbbing pain returned to his chest. "Take it easy, Starsky," said Hutch pulling his partner closer. "I'm gonna get us out of this."

   "I'd love to believe that, but now we're both stuck... I can't believe Mickey is mixed up in this."

   "I hate to admit it, but I was beginning to have faith in the guy."

   "I bet you're just saying that to make me feel better," said Starsky, attempting a grin.

   "They used you to get to me. Now that they've got me, I can get to the bottom of all this."

   "Yeah, but who's they? And what does Diana have to do with Streeter or the two goons that have been keeping me holed up here?" asked Starsky wincing.

   "I don't know, but I have a feeling we're going to find out real soon."

   "Hutch?"

   "Yeah, buddy?"

   "I don't know if this makes any sense, but I could have sworn I heard the two goons talking about Perelli."

   "Nick Perelli?"

   "Yeah, but I couldn't swear to it. Everything was pretty hazy at the time."

   Hutch remembered that Perelli also owned a Mustang, but before he could think about the possible connection, Tim and Dylan entered the room, followed by the two men from the back of the car.

   "Get up," ordered Tim.

   "This man needs medical attention," said Hutch.

   Tim and Dylan moved as one, grabbing Hutch by the shoulders and tearing him away from Starsky, who fell back on the concrete floor. Hutch released his fury on the two brothers and was doing an impressive job of subduing them both when the men from New Orleans joined the fray, drawing their guns on the blond detective.

   "What is it you want from me?" yelled Hutch in desperation.

   "Dat's what we come to get you for," said the man named Joe who had assumed Streeter's identity for reasons that were not quite clear to him.

   "If you want me then why are you taking it out on my partner?" Hutch got no reply to his question but was forced out of the room by the four men. "Answer me, Goddammit!" He turned to catch another glimpse of Starsky before the door was again slammed shut. Hutch was taken to another part of the warehouse and tied to a chair. A second chair was put in front of him a few feet away. Tim and Dylan played guard while the other men left the room.

   "I hear you're about to be reunited with a long lost love," said Tim grinning.

********

   The two men from New Orleans made their way to a group of offices in the back of the warehouse. They entered a room where Russo and Perelli were seated. Joe turned to his boss and directed his remarks only to him.

   "The one called Hutchinson is secured. How do you want to handle this?"

   Russo began to answer but was quickly interrupted by the detective.

   "Slow down a minute! The whole plan was to have cops arrive on the scene when the broad is threatening deadly violence so they have an excuse to blow her away."

   "Perelli, I think you'd best leave the rest of this operation up to me."

   "Cooper hasn't even had time to contact my partner to file a missing person's report. Then we've got to give Mickey a chance to act like he's making contact with me so I can use the information to bring some squads in here."

   "Change of plans, Perelli."

   "What the hell are you talking about? The plans are perfect the way they are. I'll be the first one on the scene to make sure everything goes down properly. There will be time for the Mahoney boys and your guys to clear out. I'll make sure of it."

   Russo rose suddenly from his seat. "I kind of like this town. First impressions are very important. I'd like to establish my credibility with the powers that be."

   "What the hell does that mean?"

   "It means that I've got a chance to take out two cops -- two detectives, no less. Nothing sets the tone like blowing away two of L.A.'s finest."

   "Russo, you can't be serious! I've got you figured in for a healthy cut of Cooper's payoff. Everyone walks away clean. I won't be party to the killing of fellow detectives."

   "You sure have a selective code of morality, Perelli. You're goddamn lucky to be alive after your handling of Streeter. Moron or not, he was still family."

   "I'm not blowing away two cops."

   "We'll let Diana do that, seeing as she's so eager. Only the big players in this town need to know what really went down."

   Nick began to protest, but Russo shot a look at his associates who quickly took his meaning and drew their weapons on the detective. "Perelli, either you go along or I boost the cop death toll to three. Now what's it gonna be?"

   Nick nodded his head slowly and then looked away.

   Russo looked back to Joe. "What's the word from the good doctor?"

   "Miss Diana is chomping at the bit. I tell you, she's one frightening little lady. Wouldn't want her on my bad side."

   Russo addressed his two associates, but he was watching Nick as he did so. "Then I say no time like the present to bring the bitch out and let the chips fall where they may."

   "Mr. Russo, there's one other matter," said Joe. "Tim and Dylan have specific plans for the one called Starsky. Seems like the two of them are into mind games, but I don't see the harm in it if both of these guys are going to wind up dead regardless."

   "No indeed. You let them have their fun."

   "Jesus Christ," Nick cried out.

   "Boys, make sure Detective Perelli is detained here while we carry on. I don't want any unnecessary distractions."

   "Yes, sir, Mr. Russo." answered both men in unison.

********

   As Tim and Dylan caught sight of the three men from New Orleans approaching them, they moved behind the chair where Hutch was bound to make sure that he was unable to move. The men were accompanied by Diana Harmon. She appeared to be quite composed, except for an evil grin that seemed plastered on her face. When she first caught sight of Hutch, her face softened ever so slightly, but she quickly corrected herself and assumed a glib expression, taking a seat in the chair opposite Hutch. She claimed center stage of a performance which presumably was in her honor.

   "My dear Hutch," she proclaimed. "Finally, we have a chance to talk face to face."

   "Diana, what is this all about?" asked the exasperated blond.

   "What is this all about, my sweet? I'll tell you. This is all about retribution. About making sure certain people get what is coming to them."

   "Diana, you need help. It's not too late to turn this around."

   "How long has it been, Hutch? Nearly two years. And now you're concerned about my welfare? Do you know where I've been for the past two years? DO YOU?"

   "No, Diana."

   "Well, of course you don't. That's because you used me and threw me away. And they hauled me away for being crazy! Do you have any idea what it's like to be in a mental institution, Hutch?"

   "Diana, please..."

   "All those doctors messing with my mind. Trying to confuse me..." For a moment Diana seemed lost in thought. Hutch seized the opportunity to speak.

   "But you and I know the truth, Diana. You know we can work this out. I'm here. Talk to me."

   Diana looked at him in earnest but seemed to physically shake herself out of the hold Hutch's words were beginning to take. "Oh yeah, you're willing to talk now. That's because of that damn meddlesome partner of yours. Where is Starsky anyway? I knew something was missing from this picture."

   At the mention of Starsky's name, Hutch stiffened. "Diana, if you've got a problem with me, then let me handle it. This is not Starsky's battle and he's suffered enough."

   "Oh, not half as much as he's gonna suffer, baby."

   With that, Tim and Dylan left to retrieve Starsky from his holding cell. Hutch strained against the ropes in a vain attempt to get closer to Diana. "Diana, for God's sake. What is it that you want?"

   Diana took a long time before answering. She had expected the three men behind her to interrupt at some point. She figured they were going to stop her from getting all the satisfaction she wanted. But they said not a word, and she imagined that she was calling all the shots. It gave Diana a heady feeling of power and she wanted to savor every moment.

   "What I want is to see you suffer. I want you to feel what it's like to have everything you love taken away from you. That's what I want."

********

   Nick flinched as he heard the door to the office opening. He braced himself, not knowing what to expect. A slightly inebriated Mickey entered. Nick sighed with momentary relief.

   "There's some bad shit about to go down, Perelli."

   "Where the hell did you come from?"

   "I bet you thought your big contacts from New Orleans would have put me away by now, huh?" He paused to raise a beer to his lips with a slightly shaky hand and took a long gulp.

   Nick just looked in astonishment. The man probably should be dead. He couldn't believe he was getting drunk in the middle of this whole mess or that Russo hadn't seen fit to dispose of him. God, who would miss one lousy snitch?

   "But I've got an ace up my sleeve," Mickey continued. "I've got the world convinced I'll sell my services to the highest bidder. I'll tell you, it's kept me alive all these years."

   "I don't believe you're getting liquored up! Do you have any idea what's about to happen to those two detectives out there? My God, you've been Starsky's snitch for years."

   "My taste for booze makes me human. People trust a guy who's human."

   "Did you hear what I said?"

   "Sure I heard what you said. You need my help. And I'm willing to help you. How about we start negotiating?"

********

   Starsky was dragged out of the small room where he had been held for three days and thrown to the floor near Diana. He was no longer restrained in any way. The Mahoney brothers had determined he was far too weak to require it. Starsky hit the floor with a groan. He tried to sit up but was unable to manage it. He squinted against the bright lights.

   Hutch was beside himself watching his partner in so much pain. "Take it easy, Starsk. It's gonna be okay I promise."

   "Oh yeah. We're all together again. Everything's going to be fine and dandy." Diana looked around at the men from New Orleans. They remained silent. Diana was in her glory. "I got an idea." She winked at the Mahoney brothers as if to confirm some prearranged plan. "I'm going to ask you do a few things for me, Hutch. Things to prove that you are truly sorry for the way you treated me. And I'm going to make sure you have the proper incentive." With that she grinned evilly at Starsky who still lay on the floor, struggling to catch his breath.

   "For the love of God, Diana. You have the power to stop this. You must stop this!"

   "Stop? Honey, I'm just getting started. Now, let me see. Let's start simple. Hutch, darling, tell me how beautiful I am looking today."

   "Diana, I'm not into playing games."

   "Oh no?" She turned her head just slightly toward the brothers and nodded. At the sign, Tim kicked Starsky in the stomach.

   "GOD, NO!" screamed Hutch.

   Starsky began to writhe in pain, but he used all his strength to focus on his partner. "It's okay, Hutch," he croaked.

   Diana was visibly shaken by the viciousness of the blow. Her reaction was not lost on Russo who whispered to Joe to fetch Dr. Cooper.

   Diana looked around and took a deep breath as if to convince those around her of her composure. "Glad you liked it, sugar," she said looking at the gasping Starsky. "'Cause there's plenty more where that came from."

PART FOUR