Starsky peered across the paper-strewn desk at his blond-haired partner, absorbed in work. "Hey, I'm gettin kinda hungry. How about we finish this paperwork, then head out for a bite to eat?"

   "Do you ever think of anything besides food, Starsk?" Hutch asked curiously.

   "Well, maybe when there's a pretty girl involved." Starsky grinned.

   Hutch chuckled. "I'm getting hungry, too. Give me thirty minutes to finish up this report and I'll be ready."

   "Okay." Starsky eagerly agreed.

   They continued working for another half-hour, Starsky peeking over his friend's neatly stacked files every few minutes to see if he was finished yet. Their paperwork never seemed to end, especially lately, when their investigation of a grisly double homicide had caused countless hours of overtime and missed days off.

   "Well, I'm finished." Hutch looked up from his desk. "How about you?"

   "Anytime you are, partner." Starsky had been anxiously waiting.

   "Let's go. There's a new place that just opened up that I wanna try. Suppose to have the best burritos in town!" He didn't notice Captain Dobey approaching his desk.

   "Burritos again, Starsk?" Hutch said with disgust. "Don't you know what that junk does to your stomach, your arteries? That stuff is going to kill you one of these days."

   "Well, at least I'll die happy, not hungry." Starsky stood his ground. "I don't see how you live on all that so-called organic food. It's a wonder you don't sprout leaves."

   "There is nothing wrong with what I eat." Hutch snapped back, he too unaware of Dobey's presence.

   "Not if you like raw eggs and curdled milk, or whatever that stuff was that you were drinkin' this morning." Starsky made a face. "Yuk."

   "It was a protein shake, Starsk. It gives you energy, sharpens the mind." Hutch tapped his finger to his temple. "You should really try it sometime."

   Dobey stood watching his two detectives bicker back and forth, his head following the action like a Wimbledon tournament. Starsky was getting ready to come back with a witty remark, when Dobey stepped in. "Starsky, Hutchinson, I need to see you two in my office." As he turned and walked away, the duo looked up in surprise, wondering how long their Captain had been standing there.

   Starsky and Hutch stared at each other and sighed, stomachs growling, wondering what Dobey wanted. They entered their captain's office, and took a seat.

   "What's up, Cap'n?" Starsky inquired.

   "There's been another jewelry store heist," Dobey began. "That's the third one in less than two weeks."

   "Same three gunmen?" Hutch was familiar with the case.

   "The description fits," Dobey continued, while looking through the crime scene photos. "Three white males, same general height and weight, black knit ski masks. This time though, they killed the owner and his wife. Shot them both point-blank in the back of the head for no apparent reason. There were no signs of a struggle." He handed the pictures to Starsky.

   "Any leads yet?" Starsky was unsettled by the brutality of the crime.

   He passed the pictures to his partner.

   "Not anything concrete. We do know that they were last seen driving a dark green Chevrolet sedan with Nevada plates, probably stolen. It had a large dent on the driver's side door and was missing one hubcap. That's all we have so far. They only seem to hit the small, locally owned jewelry stores. Somewhere they won't meet with much resistance and not encounter any hi-tech security systems. I need you two to hit the streets, rattle some of the fences. If they've tried to ditch any of the stolen jewels, we might get a positive ID on at least one of them. Put the word out with your snitches, too. We need to nail these three. They've already killed two people in cold blood. I don't think they would hesitate to do it again." Dobey knew he could count on his two best detectives.

   "We'll grab a quick bite to eat and get right on it," Starsky said, hoping Dobey wouldn't object to them eating first.

   "All right, keep me posted."

   Starsky and Hutch got up and turned to leave.

   Dobey spoke up, "Oh, I appreciate all the extra hours that you two have been putting in the last couple of weeks on the Morton homicides. I know you haven't had much time off lately. After you make your contacts, why don't you two knock off a couple of hours early, maybe take tomorrow off. If something breaks in this case, you may not get another day off for a while."

   The two detectives looked at each other in astonishment wondering if they had heard correctly. Starsky turned to his captain. "Did you say take tomorrow off? Uh, Cap, you feelin okay?"

   "Well, hell yes, I'm feeling okay!" Dobey growled. "You act like I've never given you any time off before. I just want you two rested and ready to go. We need to bust this case! Now get out of here before I change my mind!"

   "Thanks, Cap," Hutch said graciously, trying to smooth Dobey's ruffled feathers. "We'll let you know if we find out anything today." He led his partner out of the office, giving him the 'Don't say another word' look.

   The two grabbed their jackets and headed for the Torino.

   Hutch stopped. "Oh, wait a minute, Starsk. I want to grab my gym bag out of the locker. If we don't come back here today, I want to have it so I can work out tomorrow."

   "Okay, I'll wait for you by the car." Starsky proceeded out to the striped tomato.

   Hutch appeared several minutes later. Starsky was leaning against his car looking at his watch. Hutch apologized. "Sorry, I went ahead and grabbed a few things that needed washing, too. Unlock the trunk, will you?"

   Starsky unlocked his trunk, taking the gym bag from his partner and tossing it in. "Can we go now, please? I'm starving here."

   "All right, all right." Hutch knew how impatient Starsky was when he was hungry.

   The two detectives loaded into the Torino and headed out.

   "So what's the name of this new restaurant you were talking about?" Hutch asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

   "You're gonna love it, Hutch. It's called Nanna And Poppy's Mexican Kitchen-just like grandma used to make. Sounds good, huh?" Starsky waited for his response.

   "No offense, but my grandmother was known more for her pot roast and apple pie," Hutch said with sarcasm. "I have a feeling you're going to owe me for this one."

   "Just give it a try. You might find something you really like." Starsky was optimistic.

   Fifteen minutes later they arrived at their destination. The lunch hour rush was in full swing at the newly opened diner. Starsky pulled in next to the only other car in the parking lot.

   They entered the diner, the smell of burnt food hung heavy in the air. Hutch looked around at the empty tables and then to his partner. A sign by the counter said 'please wait to be seated'.

   "Word hasn't got out that they're open yet." Starsky smiled reassuringly. A gray-haired lady in her mid-sixties approached the two. "Welcome to Nanna and Poppy's. We have a nice table right here by the window." She led them to a table at the front of the small diner. "Our special today is the 'Big Burrito Bonanza'. Please, look over the menu and I'll be right back to take your order."

   Starsky looked around, admiring the gaudy decor, while Hutch was busy wiping off the plastic coated menu.

   "Isn't this place great, Hutch?"

   The blonde just shook his head, amazed at his partner's enthusiasm. Milling over the menu of fajitas, enchiladas and guacamole-laden chimichangas, Hutch resigned to the fact that he would have to order something as the gray-haired lady returned to their table with two glasses of water.

   "So what'll it be?" She took the pen from behind her ear and looked to Starsky.

   "I'll have the 'Big Burrito Bonanza' and a root beer," Starsky said hungrily.

   "What about you, blondie?"

   "I'll have a tossed salad, no dressing, and a glass of milk, please." Hutch could sense that "Nanna" was insulted as she snatched the menu from his hands and abruptly walked away.

   "I can't believe you did that, Hutch. These people are working very hard to establish their business and all you order is a tossed salad?" Starsky was disappointed.

   "Starsk, give me a break. You knew I didn't eat that kind of food before you brought me in here," Hutch said in defense. The two sat in silence as they waited for their food.

   Just as "Nanna" was returning with their order, something caught Hutch's attention outside on the street.

   "Starsk, look. A dark green, four door Chevrolet, large dent on the driver's side."

   "Yeah, and it's missing a hubcap." Starsky smelled the aroma of the huge burrito, as it was set before him. "Uh, I'm sorry we have to go." He threw a twenty on the table as he and Hutch headed for the door.

   "Nanna" was indeed dumbfounded at the reaction from the two as she set the food before them. She watched the duo barrel out of the restaurant and then hollered at the cook behind the counter. "Poppy, this isn't a good sign."

********

   Starsky and Hutch hopped in the Torino and began their pursuit of the alleged getaway car. Hutch slapped the mars light on the top and called it in to dispatch.

   "Zebra 3 to dispatch." Hutch sounded.

   "Go ahead, Zebra 3."

   "We are in pursuit of possible 211 suspects, driving a 75 dark green Chevrolet sedan, Nevada license 78H483F.There are three suspects in vehicle. We are going south on Frederica Boulevard." Hutch stayed focused on the vehicle in front as the suspects became aware of their pursuers and floored it.

   "10-4, Zebra 3," dispatch responded.

   The chase continued for several miles, dodging in and out of the heavy afternoon traffic, Starsky's experience at high-speed pursuits evenly matched with the three suspects' dire need to get away.

   "Their headin for the outskirts of the city," Starsky observed.

   "Yeah, we need to stop them before they get out of our jurisdiction." Hutch knew that was only a few miles ahead.

   The driver of the sedan suddenly made a sharp right onto a gravel road. Starsky was right on his bumper.

   "We've got them now, Starsk." Hutch sounded confident. "This is a dead end road. All that is back here is an abandoned warehouse."

   Starsky followed the sedan in a cloud of dust. As the road ended, he saw the vehicle slam on its brakes, crashing into a rusted forklift, abandoned years before. The trio vacated the disabled Chevy and ran for the dilapidated warehouse, guns in hand.

   Starsky skidded to a halt behind the getaway car. Hutch already had his weapon drawn, expecting gunfire. Throwing the doors of the Torino open, the duo sprinted towards the warehouse as they saw the suspects dash through the front door. They came upon either side of the door, poised and ready to fire. Waiting a few seconds to get their motions in sync, Hutch kicked open the door. Starsky went low, Hutch high, weapons ready for combat. There was no one. Starsky motioned for Hutch to go to the left while he went to the right. Dry-rotted crates and wooden pallets, stacked high throughout the warehouse, hampered their assessment of the situation.

   The only light was the sun that crept through the crevices in the weatherworn ceiling. They both continued to silently advance further into the decrepit building.

   Hutch quietly crept around a tall crate. He suddenly heard Starsky fire off two rounds from his Beretta as opposing gunfire was returned. Glancing around the crate, he saw his partner's head rise above a stack of pallets on the other side of the warehouse. He was shooting at one of the suspects. From behind the dark-haired detective, Hutch saw another one of the suspects zeroing in, trying to get a clear shot at his partner.

   "Starsky, get down!" Hutch shouted.

   Starsky did so without hesitation, never questioning his partner, just as a bullet split the wood slat where his head had been. Hutch fired off a quick round hitting the would-be assassin squarely in the chest. The man fell to the ground.

   Hutch was so focused on saving his partner, he did not notice the figure creeping up behind him. Suddenly, Hutch felt the cold steel of a revolver pressed to his temple.

   "Don't even breathe, pig," a voice whispered.

   Hutch briefly closed his eyes, while clenching his jaw. 'Damn,' he thought.

   "Now, you slowly hand me that gun, nice and easy. You try anything and I'll blow your damn head off. Got that?" The voice was confident and unyielding.

   Hutch knew he spoke the truth. He reluctantly handed over his Magnum and held his hands out to his side.

   "Put your hands on the crate," the thug ordered, while giving Hutch a hard shove in that direction. He made sure the detective had no other weapons. Removing the handcuffs and keys from Hutch's back pocket, he pushed the gun barrel forcefully into Hutch's ribs. "Okay, hands behind you." Hutch slowly obeyed. With his free hand, Hutch's captor clamped the cuffs down as tightly as they would go on each of his wrists. Hutch grimaced as the metal dug into his skin.

   "How's it feel to have the tables turned, cop?" He laughed in the blonde's face. Roughly grabbing Hutch by the back of his shirt, he shoved him forward. "C'mon. We're going for a little walk."

   Hutch heard two more rounds fired between Starsky and the remaining suspect. He prayed that his partner would be the victor. Hutch was forced along the far side of the warehouse, his captor carefully avoiding the gunfire between his accomplice and the other detective. When they reached the front of the building, he pushed Hutch up against the wall.

   "What's your partner's name, pig?" he demanded.

   Hutch got his first good look at the man holding him. Piercing green eyes, full of rage, stared right through the blonde. Long, dark wisps of hair hung across an unshaven face, yellowed teeth casting an evil grin. Hutch recognized Carl Manning from the latest "most wanted" photos distributed in the department-- 280 pounds of cold-hearted terror. Convicted of two counts of first-degree murder during an armed robbery and attempted murder of a police officer, it was only the highlights of this man's career. He had escaped from a maximum-security prison only six weeks before.

   Hutch didn't answer Manning's question.

   "I said, what's his name?!"

   "Barnaby Jones," Hutch responded mockingly.

   "Don't get smart with me, man," Manning warned, a crazed look in his eyes. He backhanded Hutch across the face with the butt of his own Magnum. Blood immediately began trickling from the dazed blonde's mouth. "TELL ME!"

   "St…Starsky."

   Another exchange of gunfire was heard.

   "Detective Starsky," Manning shouted. "Listen up! I've got your partner. You throw down your gun and come out in the open where I can see you, or he's a dead man!"

   Starsky stopped firing at his target. He crouched down behind the pallets and listened intently, not knowing whether to believe him.

   "Hutch?" he called out. "You okay?"

   "Answer him!" Manning ordered pressing his gun to Hutch's temple.

   "Don't listen to him, Starsk!" Hutch called back, knowing that if both of them were taken prisoner, their odds of survival were greatly reduced.

   Hutch's remark angered Manning further. He grabbed his captive and brought him out into the open. "On your knees, pig," he commanded, pushing the detective down. Grabbing the blonde by the hair, he held the gun firmly to his head. Hutch swallowed hard, acutely aware he would not hesitate to pull the trigger. "Get out here NOW, Starsky, or I swear I'm gonna do him right here!"

   Starsky glanced around the pallets. He saw his partner on his knees, hands behind his back, with the gun to his head. Blood was streaming down the side of his mouth. He had no other choice.

********

   "All right, just take it easy." Starsky called out. "Here's my gun." He tossed the Beretta towards where Manning was standing. Hutch watched as his partner's gun skidded across the dusty floor, a feeling of helplessness creeping over him.

   Manning's partner in crime now appeared from his refuge among the crates and retrieved Starsky's weapon. Tall and muscular, he kept his long, sun-streaked hair carelessly pulled back in a ponytail, framing his cold, dark eyes and menacing grin. Hutch recognized this man, too --Tony Somers, a known felon also with a long wrap sheet, equally as brutal as Manning's. He had beaten the system more than once on technicalities. Their situation was not looking good.

   "Now come out with your hands where I can see them," Manning ordered, still grasping Hutch by the hair, prepared to pull the trigger.

   Starsky appeared from behind the pallets, arms held out to his side in surrender. Somers walked over to him and quickly searched for other weapons or ammo. Starsky intently watched the gun trained on his friend. Taking his handcuffs and keys, Somers shoved the dark-haired detective in the direction of his partner.

   "Lay down on your stomach," Somers demanded. "Hands behind you."

   Starsky, seeing the blood still streaming from Hutch's mouth, ignored Somers' demand. "Hutch, you okay?"

   Feeling the pressure of the gun barrel increase against his temple, Hutch barely nodded, afraid to speak.

   Infuriated that Starsky had not immediately complied with his demand, Somers punched him solidly in the stomach, doubling the detective over in pain. "We can do this the hard way if you want!" he warned, as he shoved Starsky to the ground. "Hands behind you, NOW!" Still trying to catch his breath, Starsky slowly put his arms behind him. Somers slapped the handcuffs on, then stepped back, proud of his accomplishment.

   "Hey, can you go check on Danny?" Manning asked. Glancing down at Hutch he continued, "When I sneaked up on this cop, he had just fired off a round. Last I saw he was over there." He pointed to the crates close to where Starsky had been standing.

   Somers looked around that area. It took only a moment to find their friend, lying in a pool of blood. He knelt down, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

   "He's dead, Carl. Damn, he killed him!" Somers called back.

   Manning jerked Hutch hard by the hair. "You lousy pig! You killed my best friend!" He now pushed the gun barrel deep into his neck. "You're gonna pay, oh, how you're gonna pay for that!" Hutch closed his eyes, ready for the inevitable.

   Starsky was helpless to do anything. "No! Please don't!" He watched in panic as Manning's finger tightened on the trigger.

   Somers came back over and took hold of Manning's wrist, bringing the gun away from Hutch's throat. "Wait, Carl. We may be able to use these two." Hutch reluctantly let out a deep breath, still unsure of Manning's intentions.

   "What for?" he snapped back. "I ain't never seen a cop good for anything except a 21 gun salute. I say we finish them both right here."

   "They might just be our ticket out of this lousy city. We're one man short now. Maybe they can serve as a bit of insurance until we finish our last two jobs. Once we're ready to cross the border, then we get rid of them." An evil grin spread across Somers' face.

   "Well, okay," Manning agreed, finally loosening his grip on Hutch's hair. Starsky closed his eyes in relief. "But on one condition, when the time comes, I get to do blondie, here." He laughed, waving the gun barrel menacingly in Hutch's face.

   "Hell, you can do both of them," Somers sneered. He reached down and grabbed Starsky by the arms, roughly pulling him to his feet. "Let's go, copper."

   Manning did the same with Hutch. The captives were shoved towards the door. Starsky looked at Hutch, making eye contact with his friend. Although they had bought some time, they knew this might be one time they didn't make it out alive.

********

   Starsky and Hutch were led outside to the Torino, the mars light still flashing brightly on top. They were forced down on the hood of the car.

   "What's the plan, Carl?" Somers asked, keeping a watchful eye on their hostages.

   "I'll show you." Manning roughly pulled Starsky from the hood of the Torino and turned him around, putting the gun to his chest. "Okay, first of all hero, you're gonna get on that police radio and say that you lost the car that you were in pursuit of. Then you're gonna let your captain know that blondie over there isn't feeling well, and you need to take him home, so you'll be out of commission for a while. You give any indication that something's wrong, and you two don't live to see another day. Understand?"

   Starsky nodded.

   Manning reached through the window of the Torino and grabbed the radio mike. He held it to Starsky's mouth. Keeping the gun pressed to his chest, he reminded Starsky, "No funny business."

   Hutch, still lying on the hood of the Torino, listened closely.

   "Zebra 3 to dispatch," Starsky began.

   "Go ahead Zebra 3," came the response.

   "We have lost sight of 211 suspects. Advise other units, suspects were last seen going north on Vistana." This was a street located several blocks over. Manning smiled with satisfaction.

   "10-4 Zebra 3. Will advise other units."

   Starsky continued, "Dispatch, could you patch me through to Dobey?"

   "Patching you through Zebra 3." There was a brief pause. "Dobey,"

   Captain Dobey answered. Manning pressed the gun further into Starsky's chest.

   "Yeah, Cap. It's Starsky."

   "Make it quick, Starsky. I'm late for a meeting," Dobey said hastily.

   "Uh, Cap, Hutch isn't feelin too well." Starsky looked to his partner, blood from his mouth now trickling onto the Torino's hood. He didn't have much trouble sounding convincing.

   "What's the matter with him?" Dobey growled. "He was fine this morning."

   "I don't know, Cap. It came on him kinda quick. Must have been those two burritos he had for lunch. He's really sick, though. I think I'd better take him home."

   "Okay," Dobey replied with hesitation. "I'll go ahead and log you two out for the day, but you be in here bright and early day after tomorrow ready to go. We've got to bust this jewelry heist case before those psychos kill again. Tell Hutchinson I hope he feels better." Dobey hung up his phone, feeling something wasn't quite right about the conversation he had just had with his detective. Shaking it off, he left his office in a hurry, late for his meeting.

   Manning took the mike away from the dark-haired detective's mouth. Starsky darted a glance to Hutch, who briefly smiled. He knew what Starsky had just tried to do. Now, if only Dobey realized it.

   "Very nice, Detective Starsky." Manning sneered. "Looks like no one's gonna miss you two for at least a couple of days. I hate it that your gonna miss out working on that "jewelry heist case". Sounds like a couple of real crazies are on the loose." He laughed as he stared deep into Starsky's blue eyes.

   "Okay, let's get out of here before someone comes," Somers interrupted. 

   "Yeah, all right," Manning agreed. 

   "How we gonna do this?" Somers asked. Manning looked at the steam escaping from the hood of the wrecked sedan.

   "Our car is history. Guess we'll have to take this beauty. Looks like she's got some speed. Talk about a fast getaway, hell, we can turn the siren on and people will just pull over out of the way. We'll have it made."

   "Yeah, that's classic, man." Somers chortled.

   "Let's let Detective Starsky drive. After all, it is his car," Manning jeered. He motioned towards Somers. "You ride up front with him. Blondie, here, can ride in back with me." He pulled Hutch from the hood of the Torino, taunting into his captive's ear, "Maybe we can get better acquainted."

   Hutch's jaw tightened as he tried to control his anger. Manning removed the mars light from the Torino and threw it onto the floorboard. Opening the passenger door, he pulled the front seat forward. "After you," he motioned with his gun to Hutch. The blonde hesitated, only to have Manning strike him hard on the shoulder, propelling him forward. "C'mon, I ain't got all day." Hutch reluctantly got in, Manning following closely behind.

   Somers took Starsky around to the driver's side. "Okay, I'm gonna take these cuffs off, now. Don't even think about trying anything."

   Manning called from the back seat as he put his gun barrel underneath Hutch's chin. "Yeah, or your friend here might become a bit of a scatterbrain."

   "Hey, that's funny, Manning." Somers commented, while removing the cuffs from the dark-haired detective. Starsky rubbed his wrists, wondering if there was a way to overtake his captor. Seeing the gun still held under his partner's chin, he knew it would be a fatal mistake. He got behind the wheel of the Torino and started the engine. Somers slid into the passenger's seat. He put the gun to Starsky's ribs. "Drive."

   "Where to?" Starsky asked.

   "Just drive, pig. I'll let you know," Somers answered sarcastically.

   Starsky headed the Torino back down the gravel road. Glancing into the rear view mirror, he kept a close eye on his partner. Hutch was looking out the window, trying his best to ignore the gun, now at his side.

   Somers busied himself rummaging through the glove box, making sure there were no other weapons or ammunition. He tossed several things out the window, including the owner's manual and registration papers to the Torino. Starsky gripped the steering wheel tighter, struggling to keep from giving the creep an earful.

   Manning popped Somers in the back of the head. "Don't throw all that stuff out the window, you idiot. You want us to get pulled over for littering?"

   "Chill out, man. There aren't any cops down this road." He rubbed the back of his head.

   "Well, just the same, don't take any chances." Manning reiterated.

   They approached the main road. "Now you just take it nice and easy," Somers warned Starsky. "Don't try and break any traffic laws or run into anything. You just get on Santa Fe Boulevard and take us on out of town. I'll tell you where to turn then."

   Starsky followed his directions, not wanting to risk harm to his partner. Forty-five minutes later, just outside of town, they pulled up to a run-down dwelling, secluded from the highway. A black Ford pick up was parked in the driveway. From the height of the grass and the peeling paint, it was obvious that the convicts were not neat housekeepers.

   "Home sweet home!" shouted Manning from the back seat.

   "You sit tight, blue eyes," Somers told Starsky. He got out and went around to the driver's side. "Okay, now you get out slowly and put your hands on the hood." He kept his gun aimed, ready to shoot. Starsky did as he was told. Somers frisked him one more time, making sure he hadn't retrieved anything from the car. He pulled Starsky's arms behind him and slapped the cuffs on once again.

   Manning climbed from the back seat of the Torino, grabbing Hutch and pulling him out with him. Both detectives were led up the steps of the aging house and through the front door. "You two, over there." He pointed to the wall in the sparsely furnished living room, giving Hutch a nudge in that direction. "And turn around where I can see you good."

   Starsky and Hutch darted a quick glance at one another and did what they were told. With guns on them at point blank range, they knew this was not the time to make their move to escape.

   "So what'll we do with them?" Somers asked curiously.

   "Oh, I've got a plan," Manning snickered. "You see, I don't think it would be a good idea to leave the two of them alone while we do our next heist. So, I was thinking that maybe Detective Starsky, here, could give you a hand. He seemed to be pretty good behind the wheel of that hotrod of his when he was chasing us. If the cops show up, he can provide the insurance you need for a clean getaway. I'll stay back here and keep an eye on his partner. He'll be my insurance should they discover our hideout. The way I look at it, it's a win-win situation for both of us."

   "I'm not doing your dirty work for you, Manning," Starsky said daringly. "Oh, I think you will." He looked to Somers with an evil grin. "I think Detective Starsky needs a bit of persuasion, don't you, Tony?"

   "Absolutely," Somers agreed, duplicating the grin.

   Without warning, Manning aimed his gun at Hutch's lower leg and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the blonde's right calf dropping him to the floor like a lead weight. Hutch was writhing in pain, blood quickly soaking his pants leg. "That's for Danny!" He reveled in seeing the wounded cop suffer.

********

   "What the hell did you do that for?!" Starsky screamed. He knelt beside his partner, unable to hold him because of the cuffs binding his wrists. Hutch was fiercely gritting his teeth, trying his best to recover from the initial shock of the gunshot wound. "Hutch! Hutch! Hang in there. I'm right here."

   Hutch nodded, trying to sit back up. "I'm okay, I'm okay." His words were not reassuring to Starsky.

   "Take these damn handcuffs off! I've got to stop the bleeding!" Starsky demanded, jerking on the cuffs.

   Manning grabbed Starsky by the hair and jerked him to his feet, pointing the gun at his chest. "Look, pig you don't give the orders anymore, I do! Now you're gonna do exactly what I say, when I say it, or next time blondie's gonna get it right between those pretty blue eyes of his. You've got no other choice. Understand?!"

   Starsky nodded, still focused on his partner who was now leaning against the wall.

   Manning motioned to Somers. "Tony, go ahead and take the cuffs off of him for a few minutes 'til he gets his "buddy" taken care of. I don't want him bleedin' to death all over the floor. Just keep your eye on both of them." He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, settling at the table.

   Somers unlocked one of the cuffs from the dark-haired detective's wrists. He then took a seat at the desk nearby, watching their every move closely. Starsky immediately went to his partner's side, taking a closer look at his leg.

   "How ya doin, partner?" he asked with concern.

   "Hanging in there." Hutch was breathing hard, trying to regain his composure. "I wasn't quite expecting that."

   "I know, buddy." He turned to Somers. "Look, I'm going to need some towels and hot water if I'm going to get this bleeding stopped. And something I can use for a bandage."

   Somers got up, irritated at the inconvenience, and went to retrieve the items from the bathroom. It was the first chance Starsky had by himself with his partner. Manning was out of earshot.

   "Hold on, partner." Starsky noticed the pained look in his friend's eyes, though Hutch was trying hard not to show it. "Let me take a closer look at your leg." He ripped Hutch's pant leg up the side, looking for the entrance wound. "Oh, it's not so bad, Hutch. Looks like it passed clean through. I should be able to stop the bleeding quickly. I don't think it hit anything major." Starsky removed his belt, making a makeshift tourniquet above the wound. Hutch grimaced, flinching slightly, as Starsky tightened the belt. "Sorry, babe, I know it hurts. How's your mouth?" he asked, trying to distract from the more obvious pain. "It's okay. Just remind me to get a gun with a little softer grip, huh?" Hutch tried to smile, then grew serious. Looking into his partner's eyes he said, "Got any ideas how to get out of this mess?"

   "Not at the moment, but I'll come up with something." Starsky saw Somers filling a bucket with water through the bathroom doorway. "We'll just go along with what they say for now 'til I come up with a plan."

   Hutch nodded. "Yeah, we'll have to come up with something soon, though. I don't think they plan on keeping us around for long."

   Somers returned, carrying a few scraggly towels, a dingy sheet and a bucket of water.

   "Here, that's all I've got." He threw the rags on the floor, setting the water next to them.

   Starsky, noticing Hutch's obvious discomfort of still being handcuffed, asked, "You think you could take these cuffs off of him? He's not going anywhere."

   "Not a chance." Somers replied coldly. "Hurry up and do what you need to do. I want to watch TV."

   Starsky dipped the towel in the warm water. The flow of blood from the wound had seemed to slow. Hutch tightened his jaw and looked to the ceiling as Starsky gently cleaned his injury. "Just about finished, partner." He tore the sheet into strips, making a makeshift bandage. Carefully wrapping the leg, Starsky gave Hutch a reassuring smile. "There. All done. Just call me Dr. Starsky."

   Hutch smiled, appreciating Starsky's attempt to humor him. "I think you better just stick to police work."

   Starsky finished up, wiping the now dried blood from Hutch's mouth. Somers grew impatient. "Okay, that's enough. This isn't a damn emergency room. Go sit down over there." He pointed to a chair on the far wall. Starsky hesitantly got up, eyes still locked on his partner. Not wanting to initiate another reaction from the gun-toting thug, Starsky kept his hands out to his side. He walked over and sat in the chair. Somers roughly pulled Starsky's arms behind him and replaced the cuff on his free wrist.

   Manning strolled back into the room, finishing off the last of his beer. "All better, boys?"

   "Could you put my partner somewhere he'd be a little more comfortable?" Starsky asked, trying to sound cordial. He knew Manning was the hothead and didn't want to provoke him.

   "Why sure, no problem," he replied sarcastically. Retrieving a straight-backed wooden chair from the bedroom, he sat it next to Hutch. He reached down, grabbed the blonde by the front of the shirt and roughly threw him in the chair. "There, comfy now?"

   Despite his pain, Hutch couldn't resist a snide remark. "Much better, thank you."

   Starsky admired his partner's spunk, given the present situation.

   Manning just smiled. He looked at Somers. "I don't think we know exactly who our new friends are. We should get to know them better." He pointed his gun at Starsky. "Now I know you're Detective Starsky, right?" No response. "And I believe you called your blonde friend here…Hutch was it?" Starsky still didn't respond. Manning shrugged and walked over to Hutch. He took the wallet from his back pocket and sat down at the small desk in the corner.

   Manning opened the wallet and read the driver's license. "Kenneth Hutchinson. Hutch for short, huh?" Rummaging through the contents, he pulled out pictures, receipts and other personal items. Studying the receipts, he snickered. "Sunsplash Health Foods? Mother Nature's Pantry?

   What are you, some kind of health nut? Who would eat this crap?" Hutch would not dignify the snide remark with an answer. Manning continued poking through the wallet, finding the detective's paycheck stub. Raising his eyebrows in surprise, he said, "So, this is what you get paid to chase us bad guys, huh? Not too bad. Maybe I should enroll in the police academy. What do you think, Hutchinson? Think they'd accept me?"

   Hutch, rolling his eyes, took a deep breath. He was undaunted by the intrusion into his personal effects.

   Then, Manning found a picture of Hutch and Gillian. "Hey, now she's a looker. This your girlfriend? What's her name?"

   Starsky watched his partner closely, knowing that Manning had struck a nerve. Hutch ignored the question, trying not to show any reaction.

   "I said, what's her name?" Manning repeated, this time pulling the hammer back on Hutch's Magnum.

   "Gillian," Hutch muttered.

   "What? I didn't hear you." Manning leaned forward.

   "GILLIAN!" Hutch repeated, his anger showing through.

   "Gillian. Pretty name for a pretty lady. Bet she's good for a romp in the sack, huh?" Manning taunted.

   Hutch lost it, eyes ablaze with anger. "Shut up! Just shut up! Will you?!"

   Starsky tried to calm his partner. "Let it go Hutch. It's not worth it." Manning laughed hard, enjoying the reaction he had been striving for. Hutch tried to calm back down, kicking himself for letting the comment get to him.

   Taking the money from Hutch's wallet, he threw it on the table towards Somers. "Here, go get us something to eat. It's on Hutchinson," he sneered. " And take the truck. If someone recognizes that Torino without Starsky driving it, they may become suspicious."

   "Should I get these two something?" Somers questioned.

   "Yeah, go ahead. I wouldn't want'em to starve to death before I have my chance at them." He smiled at his captives. It was going to be a long evening.

********

   Manning grabbed a six-pack from the fridge and made himself comfortable on the tattered couch. Guzzling a beer, he became engrossed in a football game on the small black and white TV. Both Starsky and Hutch were relieved to see his attention was no longer focused on them.

   Starsky kept a watchful eye on his partner from the other side of the room. Hutch shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could sense the pain that his partner was in. Hutch noticed the concerned look on his friend's face. He gave him a reassuring smile, trying to convince him that he was okay. Starsky knew his partner was putting up a good front. They sat in silence, each contemplating a means for escape.

   By the time Somers returned an hour later, Manning had accumulated several empty beer bottles on the floor. He was quite tipsy as he staggered over to the kitchen table where the grease-soaked sacks of food and truck keys lay. "It's about time. I'm starving." Sitting down at the table with a fresh beer, he began eating.

   Somers took the remaining three sacks of food into the living room and sat them on the desk. "Chow time, boys. Look, I'll take one of your cuffs off so you can eat, but you try anything and you can consider it your last meal." He patted the gun tucked into his waistline. Walking over to Hutch, he unlocked one of the cuffs on his wrists and re-locked it to the leg of the chair. Hutch, making a fist and releasing it, felt his hand tingle as the restricted circulation returned to his fingers. Somers did the same for Starsky, and then gave them each a sack of food, sitting it on the floor next to them. He returned to the desk and began eating his.

   Starsky leaned over and retrieved the sack of food from the floor. He couldn't ignore the hunger that growled in his stomach. Removing the contents, he stopped and looked to his partner with regret, as he saw what it was-burritos. Hutch rolled his eyes and shook his head. Starsky was sure he saw a genuine smile escape from Hutch's lips if only for a second. The dark-haired detective threw his free hand up, giving his friend an innocent look. Hutch did not pick up his food.

   "C'mon, Hutch you've got to eat." Starsky tried to coax his partner.

   "I don't think I can eat anything right now, Starsk, no matter what it was." Hutch rubbed his still tender jaw with his hand. "You go ahead, though. I'm really not hungry."

   Somers looked up, taco sauce running down his chin. "What's the matter with, blondie? Food not good enough for him? Oh, wait. I forgot. He's a health nut, isn't he? Sorry, Hutchinson, were fresh out of tofu," he sneered. "Well, if you're not gonna eat it, I will." He reached over and grabbed the food and continued eating.

   Starsky reluctantly bit into the burrito, knowing he would have to keep up his strength if he was going to get them both out of this.

   Manning strolled unsteadily into the room, finishing off yet another beer. He noticed Hutch wasn't eating and looked to the two sacks of food in front of Somers.

   "He said he wasn't hungry. Can't let it go to waste." Somers said in defense.

   "Well no sense in leaving the cuffs off then." Manning refastened the cuff onto Hutch's wrist, giving an extra squeeze to make sure they were good and tight.

   Somers finished eating, wadding up the sack and tossing it in the trash can. "Okay, Starsky," he said, as he walked over to the detective. "Tomorrow's the day. Time to play cops and robbers, only you're not the cop this time." He laughed at his own joke. Snapping the cuff back onto Starsky's free wrist, he pulled him from the chair and pushed him towards the kitchen. "C'mon, we'll go over the details." Manning followed them. They all three sat down at the table and began talking.

   Hutch watched closely, although he could not hear what was being said. Opening a notebook, Somers showed Starsky the layout of the jewelry store they were going to hit. "It should be a piece of cake," he said with confidence. "I cased the place a few days ago. Just one sales clerk, seemed kinda timid, working behind the counter. Had some beautiful pieces in the showcase. Don't mess with the small stuff. Grab what you can, but make it quick. They only have one surveillance camera, but I'll take that out first thing."

   "No one's going to get hurt, right?" Starsky wanted reassurance.

   "Hey, as long as he cooperates, I'll leave him in one piece. You're gonna have that Torino parked out front and we'll be ready to go. Things go right, we should be long gone before the cops ever get there. I even got you your own ski mask." Somers tossed a gray knit mask towards Starsky.

   Manning interrupted, "Don't forget to tell him the most important part." "Oh, yeah." Somers agreed with a smile. "My friend, Carl, is going to stay back here with your partner. We are going to have an agreed upon time for us to be back here after the heist. If you try anything, or just happen to let us get nabbed by the cops, and we don't get back here by that time, Manning is going to blow Hutchinson's freakin' brains all over that wall in there. He's the one with the itchy trigger finger, ya know, and he would just love to do the honors. Got that?"

   Starsky glanced into the other room at his partner. An uneasy feeling settled over Hutch as he watched his partner nod in agreement to what was being said.

   "Okay, I understand." Starsky tried to sound confident, but he was really overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty. He was going to have Hutch's life in his hands and if he didn't make it back in time...

********

   Starsky was brought back into the living room. His partner watched him with questioning eyes, wondering what had transpired in the kitchen. Starsky tried to give him a reassuring look as he sat back down in his chair. Hutch knew something was up.

   Manning looked to the blonde and bragged, "Well, your friend here has agreed to help us out. It should go like clockwork. Hell, he may even decide he likes this line of work better." Walking over to Hutch, he leaned down into his face, the smell of cheap beer heavy on his breath.

   "You get to stay here and keep me company." Hutch turned his head away, Manning's rancid breath further upsetting his already nauseated stomach. Manning grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back around, putting Hutch's Magnum underneath his chin. "You better hope and pray your partner gets back here in the agreed upon time. If he doesn't...BANG!" Letting go of Hutch's hair, he laughed and gave him two not so gentle pats on the face.

   Starsky felt a shiver run up his spine as he watched Manning terrorize his partner, knowing that he was going to be left alone with this madman. Hutch displayed no reaction, not giving the drunken convict any satisfaction.

********

   Manning and Somers spent the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking beer and watching TV, paying little attention to their hostages.

   "Well, I'm ready to hit it," Somers announced as he stretched lazily. "Gotta big day tomorrow." He glanced over at Starsky. "Don't we Detective Starsky?"

   Starsky just ignored him.

   "I'm beat, too." Manning rubbed his glassy eyes. "I'm gonna run out to the shed and grab some rope, secure our friends a little better. Wouldn't want them sleepwalking and hurting themselves or anything," he said snidely. He left out the back door.

   "You think I could change the bandage on my partner's leg?" Starsky asked.

   Somers looked to see that Manning was still gone. "Yeah, go ahead, but don't take all night." He took the cuffs off of one of Starsky's wrists.

   Starsky went to his friend. "Hey, how's the leg?"

   "I don't know. I really don't feel anything anymore." Hutch stretched his leg out in front of him. "It's just kind of numb, now."

   Starsky removed the bloodied bandage and replaced it with a clean piece of the torn sheet, as he continued talking to his partner. "Actually, it looks pretty good. At least the bleeding has stopped."

   Hutch looked into his partner's eyes, his worry was not for his leg. "You be careful tomorrow, okay?"

   "Don't worry about me, Hutch. I know how these things go down. I'll be fine." Starsky felt a heaviness in his heart, realizing Hutch's concern was for him even though his life was at stake. He rested his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "You know I'll be back here on time."

   Hutch was trying to avoid one of Starsky's feared soapy-scenes. "With the way you drive, partner? I'm not a bit worried." He flashed Starsky his pearly white smile.

   Starsky smiled, turning his head away, not wanting Hutch to see the tears welling in his eyes.

   Somers watched the two friends, almost feeling a tinge of sympathy for them. He abruptly shook it off. "All right, that enough. Go sit back down."

   Starsky returned to his chair just as Manning reentered the house. He gave Somers a questioning look just as the cuff was replaced on Starsky's wrist.

   Somers, seeing the look on Manning's face, said, "He was just changing his bandage."

   "You goin soft on me, Tony?" Manning asked with intimidation.

   "No, I just didn't think it would hurt for him to change the bandage, that's all." Somers looked to the floor.

   Manning shook his head with disgust and threw him two pieces of rope. "Here. Tie him to the chair and make it tight, if you think you can handle it. And tie his legs too."

   Somers was angry with Starsky for getting him in trouble. Darting him a hateful look, he tied the rope tightly around the detective's abdomen and shoulders. He then tied his feet.

   Manning did the same to Hutch, taking great pleasure in getting the ropes around his midsection as tight as possible. He brought the blonde's feet together roughly, securing them with the nylon rope. Hutch gritted his teeth in both anguish and anger, the pain in his leg reawakened as the bindings cut into his skin.

   "You take the bedroom tonight, Tony." Manning told his partner. "I'll stay out here where I can keep an eye out on our friends."

   Somers nodded in agreement and headed for the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

   Manning made himself comfortable on the couch. Before turning the lamp off, he looked to his captives. "Nighty, night boys! Sleep well!" A snicker was heard as the room went dark.

PART TWO