Comments about this story can be sent to cruellaboris@yahoo.com

Threads: Research - Part 2

Sue David and Valerie Wells
© January 2002

   Just as Hutch thought, Starsky was not happy at the prospect of having to be watched and guarded. His recovery was going well, all things considered, and having this happen felt like a setback to him, in more ways than just physically. Having no choice but to agree, he remained in the hospital under observation and sent Hutch home to rest. Hutch decided to go to Venice Place. If nothing else, he could tend to his greenhouse and clear his mind. The doctor was right, he was starting to feel better, but he needed to lie down for a while.

   When his gardening duties were finished, Hutch stretched out on the sofa and called Matt Dixon. He wanted to tell him about what happened to Starsky and make sure he was all right. As far as he knew, no one but he, Matt, and Starsky were aware of the graduate student’s involvement, and Hutch intended to keep it that way.

   "Matt, I’m glad I caught you at home. Listen, you know how we told you we didn’t want to put you at risk? Well, they tried to get to Starsky again. I’m worried about your safety."

   "What happened? Is Dave all right?"

   "Someone set off a poisonous gas canister in his apartment and it was close. He’ll be okay, but the doc says it wasn’t good for his recovery."

   "Damn. I’m sorry, Hutch. Things have been real quiet around here, but I’ll keep my ears open just the same. I was just going to head down to the main library to do some more research for you. You almost missed me."

   "No, don’t do that." Hutch’s concern instantly increased. "If you’re going to look up those obits, do it on campus. That’ll be much less likely to draw attention."

   "Okay, if you say so. Sorry I couldn’t get to it earlier today. I had a bunch of papers to grade for the section I teach. Should I call you later? Maybe bring copies to you again?"

   "I don’t want you anywhere near us. Just call." Hutch made sure he had the phone numbers at both his and Starsky’s homes. When he hung up the phone, he had a keen sense of dread. No one should know about Matt, but Gunther had a way of finding out things. Hutch decided that this next bit of research would be the last they dared let Matt conduct… for his own safety.

   Hutch called the hospital to check on Starsky. His nurse told him his partner was resting comfortably and that his vital signs were good. He asked her to tell Starsky he’d be back at the hospital in a few hours, just as soon as he’d taken a nap.

   "By the way… Detective Starsky wants ice cream," she said unexpectedly before they ended their conversation. She had helped take care of Starsky when he was in the hospital after the shooting and she felt comfortable joking with him and teasing his ever-vigilant partner.

   Hutch laughed. "Oh, really. Did you give him some?"

   "He says he doesn’t want our ice cream. He wants spumoni, from La Valencia on Vine."

   "And just what makes you think I might smuggle him some ice cream?"

   "Hm," she replied. "Let me see. Contraband food? You? That must be your friend, Huggy Bear, I was thinking of, I’m sorry." She knew how much ice cream Hutch had smuggled in the last time – willing to try anything to get his partner to eat.

   "Thanks, Patty. I’ll take that under advisement," Hutch replied. He hung up the phone with a smile. Starsky must be feeling better if he was whining about eating anything.

   Knowing the crime lab team should have had enough time to check out Starsky’s apartment, Hutch called the captain.

   "Cap, Hutch. Did the crime lab find anything useful at Starsky’s?"

   "I was just going to call you," Dobey replied. "They said the place was clean. No fingerprints. No forced entry. Nothing."

   Hutch swore and slammed his hand against the arm of the couch. "How can there be nothing?"

   "I don't know," Dobey said. "Best I can figure, they had a key or made one. Which means Starsky's place isn't safe. And most likely, neither is yours."

   "How did they get the gas into the place?" Hutch demanded.

   "A canister under his sink," Dobey said. "Timed release. Sophisticated setup. Hard to say when they put it there, but it was set to go off after you left."

   They couldn't afford to trust anyone.

   If neither apartment was safe – and Hutch agreed with his captain that they weren't – then that meant they needed somewhere else, somewhere secret, to stay while they waited for the trial. But where? He still didn’t know how it would work with all of Starsky’s current medical needs, but they had to do something to keep him safe. If Gunther's operatives could get into Starsky's apartment without leaving any signs, they probably knew about Huggy's. They didn't dare stay there. He went through their other friends in his mind and couldn't think of anyone they wouldn't be able to trace – and he didn't want to put any of them in danger.

   This was a problem he had to share with his partner.

   Starsky was glumly pushing an unappetizing meal around on the tray when Hutch came in and he looked up with hope in his eyes.

   "Buddy! Tell me you brought me some real food," Starsky implored.

   Hutch grinned in spite of the circumstances and pulled a paper bag out from under his varsity jacket. "Have I ever let you down?"

   "Yeah, but I forgive you," Starsky said, diving into the bag and unloading the cheeseburgers and fries onto the tray, heartlessly shoving the hospital food aside. He dug into the food without another word, and Hutch settled back to wait. Clearly, Starsky's nausea had passed. That or his stomach really was made of cast iron, as Hutch had long suspected, and for some reason, his stomach had just remembered that. He ate more than Hutch had seen him eat in months.

   "Save some room for the spumoni, partner. Patty’s holding onto it for you."

   Starsky smiled at that. When he finished eating and crumpled up the paper – which Hutch disposed of so the nurses wouldn't immediately find out he'd had a smuggled supper – he leaned back and fixed Hutch with an expectant stare.

   "They didn't leave any clues behind," Hutch said. "Dobey said there was no sign of forced entry. The canister was under your kitchen sink, with a timer."

   Starsky's eyes widened, but he didn't comment. He knew there was more.

   Hutch sighed. "Your place isn't safe. Neither is mine. But we need someplace to go. Any ideas?"

   Starsky pursed his lips and closed his eyes. "Huggy's won't do this time."

   Hutch nodded, even though Starsky's eyes were still closed.

   After many moments of silence, Starsky pried one eye open. "Turk."

   "Turk?" For a moment, Hutch couldn't place the name. Then he snapped his fingers. "Turk! Of course. What are the chances they'd connect us with him?"

   Starsky shrugged. "Not good, I don't think. You didn't even know who I was talkin' about right away. Huggy's still in touch with him. Worth askin', anyway." He reached for the phone, but Hutch jumped up and put a hand over his to stop him. Starsky looked up, puzzled.

   "Not on the phone, partner. Just in case."

   Starsky looked stricken. "Yeah."

   Instead, Hutch drove over to Huggy's and got the address of Turk's office from him. Turk, an old friend of Huggy's, had talked Huggy into going into the private eye business with him a few years earlier, but it hadn't taken long for Huggy to realize he wasn't cut out for it, and he'd gone back to the restaurant/bar business. But Turk had stayed with private investigation, and had developed a knack for it. He'd moved his offices out of Bay City into the more affluent Santa Monica area. Starsky and Hutch hadn't seen him more than a couple of times since then, when they'd accidentally run into him at Huggy's, but he and Huggy had stayed in close touch.

   "You think he'll do it, Hug?" Hutch asked after explaining his errand.

   "I'm sure he will," Huggy said. "He took a shine to you two for some unfathomable reason." His eyes twinkled. He scribbled the address down and handed it over to Hutch and his expression turned serious. "You're bein' careful, right?"

   "Right," Hutch said. "That's the whole idea."

   Hutch took a circuitous route to Turk's office to make sure he wasn't being followed and when he got there, took a careful look around before climbing the stairs to the apartment above the office, where Turk lived. He'd been afraid to call to make sure he was home and he just now realized he might not be.

   But he was. "Hutch!" Turk grinned from ear to ear and pulled the door open wider. "Come on in. Ain't seen you for a coon's age. How's that partner o' yours? I was real sorry to hear what happened to him."

   "That's why I'm here," Hutch said, accepting the invitation to enter and sitting down in the chair Turk waved him to. Hutch explained his errand, including how dangerous it could be. "I will completely understand if you don't want to get involved," he finished.

   Turk leaned back and studied him. "Poor li'l Davy," he said, and though the words might've made Hutch smile on another occasion, the grave tone in which Turk said the words took any humor from them. "They ain't gonna give up till they get him or you get them, are they?"

   Hutch shook his head, unable to speak as that thought took root in his heart.

   "I can't let that happen, Hutch," Turk said. "You bring him here. Between the two of us, we'll keep him safe."

   Hutch blew out a sigh of relief. He hadn't known how much he wanted Turk to say yes until Turk said it. "Man, we owe you. Big."

   "Nah," Turk said, waving his hand. "Y'all saved me an' Huggy's backsides and we owe you. 'Sides, what're friends for? When's he gettin' sprung from the hospital?"

   "Tomorrow," Hutch said. "Doc said in the evening, but we’re going to sneak him out of there in the morning with as few people knowing as possible. That way, if anyone has been snooping around without us knowing, they won’t be expecting him to leave until later in the day."

   "I'll be here," Turk said.

********

   Hutch's heart was much lighter as he drove back to the hospital to tell Starsky the news. Still, he was extra glad for the guard sitting outside Starsky’s room. Even with that, he was not planning to leave his partner alone again. He’d stay until they could sneak Starsky out of the hospital in the morning. In his head, he knew they were not in any more danger than they had been. He also knew that neither they, nor Captain Dobey were aware of how much danger there really was, or how long it had been brewing.

   Starsky was relieved to hear they had a place to go and that Hutch would be staying. "Good. I don’t want you out there cruisin’ around with no backup."

   "I know, buddy. I really think they’re after you, though. I’m all right."

   Hutch called Dobey to ask him to stop by the hospital so he could explain about their plans. Dobey walked into Starsky’s room an hour later, looking decidedly unhappy. After asking Starsky how he was feeling, he got down to business.

   "Callahan is the officer on duty," he said as he pulled up a chair. "I sent Markowitz home. I think he’s a good officer, but I don’t know him well. He’s only been at Metro for a couple of weeks. From now on, I’m not assigning any officers guard duty that the two of you don’t know well. If you see a new one, you can be sure it means trouble."

   "Thanks, Cap," Hutch said. "I don’t want Starsky left alone for a minute and I’m going to be out a lot working some leads and giving depositions and such."

   That didn’t work for the captain any more than it did for his quickly objecting partner. Dobey put a hand up to squelch both of them and said, "Hutch, I don’t want you out there by yourself, either. I know you don’t want another partner, but I’m going to ask Sean and Jack to help on this. One of them can ride with you when you have to be on the outside while the other stays with Starsky. If you’re not with the D.A., I want you underground. Someone’s gonna be inside with you all the time, Starsky, in addition to the uniforms when they are necessary."

   Hutch wanted to fight it, but he knew he shouldn’t bother. He explained about their plans to move Starsky to Turk’s. The detectives had spoken with Starsky’s doctor while they were waiting for Dobey. They knew him well and were sure they could trust him. The doctor would call ahead and arrange for a physical therapist from a hospital in Santa Monica to take over Starsky’s care for a while. If they were careful, the necessary new health care personnel from the other city should be able to get to Turk’s without suspicion. The trial was due to start in two weeks and the jury selection process was already underway. They would arrange for both Starsky and Hutch to testify as soon in the trial as possible. They’d be safer once they testified. The only problem Hutch had with that theory was wrapped up in his belief that James Gunther wanted his partner dead because he could not accept failure. He was afraid they’d never rest easy as long as Gunther was alive – no matter how the trial went. Hutch kept these thoughts to himself and he hoped he was wrong.

   "Cap, we need to figure out how we’re going to get Starsk out of here without anyone following. We can’t just take him out the front door. Gunther’s people are probably watching for that."

   "Mm. I’ve been thinking about that. I have a couple of ideas, but you’re probably not going to like them," Dobey answered. "We can take him out of here disguised as a prisoner. They brought a man in from county lockup yesterday for a heart attack. We could rig up a fake transfer back to the infirmary at lockup. We’ll get you over to Turk's from there."

   Hutch said, "I don’t like it. Gunther may have people in lockup. Too risky. I already discarded the idea of sending him out with one of the service trucks. Starsky’s in no shape to be curled up inside of a shipping crate or a laundry trolley. What’s your Plan B?"

   The big man coughed and looked from one man to the other. He knew his suggestion would not set well with either of them – Starsky for superstitious reasons and Hutch because it would be a little too close to home. "There’s no delicate way to put this, gentlemen. I think it might be best if we send him out in a hearse."

   Dobey watched as Hutch’s face turned white. He was right, too close to home. Hutch stood up and started to pace around the room. "No," was all he said.

   "Hutch…." Dobey started.

   "I said no, Cap," Hutch replied, interrupting him.

   Before Dobey could bluster out that he was their superior officer and they’d do what he thought was best, Starsky intervened. "Wait," he said. "I’ll do it."

   Both of the other men stared at Starsky. His face was serious, and his voice was calm as he explained his thinking. "I know you think I’m superstitious, and you’re right. This ain’t about that – it can’t be. It’s not just me that’s gonna be in danger leaving here tomorrow, it’s Hutch, and any other cops assigned to this suicide detail of yours, Cap."

   "Now, wait a minute, Starsky!" Dobey bellowed.

   "Let me finish," Starsky said. "I’m sorry, Hutch, I know it’s creepy, but let’s just look at this logically, huh? There’s no disguise we can put me in that’s gonna hide who I am if I try and walk out of here. I couldn’t move fast before this happened and now, I’m sure I’ll be hacking inside of a minute if I try and make any kind of time walking." He paused a moment, giving his partner time to mull over what he’d just said. When he saw the resignation pass across Hutch’s face, he continued with a smile, "At least I’ll be lying down, Blintz."

   Hutch had to smile at that. "Idiot."

   "Glad you see it my way. We’ll have to rig you up with a disguise. Maybe you’d better shave off that caterpillar, buddy. Cap, can you get him a dark wig, some glasses, and a dark suit like they wear at funeral homes? If you can get a guy to ride in who sort of resembles Hutch in build, we can substitute him."

   "Good thinking. I’ll handle that part. When we get you to the funeral home, I’ll have a panel van waiting. Hutch, you help him into the van and we’ll have you driven to Turk’s."

   The plan seemed sound. Starsky wasn’t keen on the idea of climbing into a casket, but Hutch was still more disturbed about it than he was. Starsky looked reassuringly at him, planning to have a long talk with Hutch about the irony of the situation after Dobey left. He almost had left the hospital in a hearse four months ago. His superstitious side would probably not think it was such a good idea when they closed the lid on him tomorrow morning. He shivered a little, but put it out of his mind.

   Hutch asked the captain to telephone Matt and warn him again to stay away from them. While they appreciated his help, neither of the detectives wanted him in harm’s way. The captain said he would do that and he promised them there would be no radio traffic about the transfer, as an added precaution. They all agreed it was best to do nothing from the hospital room phone, or any other phone Gunther’s people could have tapped. He already had a lab team on his office, sweeping it for bugs. When they called with the cryptic message that his special project had been given the green light, Dobey asked the caller to have one of his detectives wait for him in his office, to see that it stayed clear long enough for him to get in and make the arrangements.

   After Dobey was gone, Starsky watched his unhappy partner as he paced around the room again. Hutch’s fists were balled up and his jaw was clenched. "You want to talk about it, buddy?" Starsky asked.

   "No."

   "Come on, I know how you feel."

   Hutch stopped his pacing and glared at Starsky. "No, you don’t," he said in a tense, but low voice. "You can’t know what it was like, being told your best friend is gonna die… watching it happening. God, I.…" Hutch stopped, realizing his words were probably hurtful. "I’m sorry, Starsk. I know you do understand. Shit, you were the one dying, not me. It’s just… when I got any sleep at all those first couple of days, I kept dreaming about them pushing you out of the ICU with a sheet over your head. Then, I’d see them loading you into a hearse, just like this is gonna go down."

   Starsky motioned for Hutch to come back over and sit next to him. "I know, really, I do. Over the years, I’ve had that kind of dream a few times about you, too. I get it. This is a smart plan, though. I don’t like the idea of having them shut me up in a casket any more than you do. I’m countin’ on you to get me outta there as fast as possible. Okay?"

   "Yeah, okay."

   "No cake, piece of sweat," Starsky quipped, trying to get a rise out of Hutch.

   Hutch obliged him. "Dirt ball."

   "Hey, you’ve called me both an idiot and a dirt ball in the past half hour. Glad to know this whole mess hasn’t made me lose my touch."

   Dobey worked fast, and by eight o'clock the next morning, it was all set up. Hutch had spent the night in Starsky's room on a cot an understanding nurse had found for him. He hadn't slept much. He was too worried about the trip in the morning.

   Dobey appeared in the doorway just as Starsky was finishing his breakfast – or pretending to. He looked solemn. "We're ready to roll," he said, walking over to Starsky's plate and peering down at the soggy oatmeal with a grimace. He handed Hutch a bundle of clothing. "Here's your getup for the limo."

   Hutch took the clothing and turned toward the bathroom.

   "Don't forget to ditch the woolly worm," Starsky reminded him.

   Hutch rolled his eyes. "Do you realize how long it takes me to grow a mustache? I wouldn't do this for anybody else."

   Starsky grinned wickedly. "I've missed your vulnerable upper lip anyway."

   Hutch flipped him off and went into the bathroom. When he emerged, wearing the suit, the wig, and minus the mustache, Starsky shook his head.

   "If I didn't know it was you under there, I'd be a little nervous about this charade," he said.

   "I'm nervous anyway," Hutch muttered, tugging at the too-tight wig. "And I feel like a fool."

   There was a knock at the door and Cavanaugh came in, pushing a casket on a large, covered rolling stand and dressed identically to Hutch. With a liveried cap on, if you didn't look too close, he could have passed for Hutch. Sean would stay behind with Captain Dobey as planned. He grinned jauntily and kicked the door shut behind him. "Your chariot, m'lord."

   Starsky chuckled. "You're all heart, Sean."

   "Hey, this is a nice one," Cavanaugh protested, pulling off the cover and opening the lid. "Look, it's all lined in satin and it even has a pillow. Why ya think a corpse needs a pillow, Cap'n?"

   "Want to find out, Cavanaugh?" Hutch growled.

   "Aw, Hutch, be nice to him," Starsky said. He was trying to tie his sneakers, but not having much luck, and Hutch knelt to help him. "You gotta excuse my partner, here," Starsky said to Cavanaugh. "He's a little wigged out."

   Hutch whacked him on the leg as Cavanaugh chuckled at the pun.

   "Does anyone mind if we get on with this?" Dobey demanded, frowning. To say that the hospital’s administrator was unhappy with this plan was an understatement. Starsky’s doctor had insisted the man could be trusted and that he needed be told. He’d explained to the captain that taking a casket through the hospital’s halls was bad for their image. He had the maintenance staff put something together so they could get the big coffin in without anyone knowing what was under the drapes. Now, Dobey just wanted to get it over with so they were out of the hospital and off to the funeral home. They had to put Starsky in it in his room to be cautious. Dobey wouldn’t feel comfortable until the detectives were safely at Turk’s.

   "All ready, Captain," Hutch said. He rose and helped Starsky stand up. Cavanaugh pushed the casket over to the bed and Starsky, with Hutch's steadying hand to assist, climbed in. He lay down. Up until he was actually in the casket, he'd been cheerful, but now he was too pale. He looked up at Hutch.

   "Don't leave me in here too long, huh, buddy?"

   "Not a chance," Hutch said grimly.

   Cavanaugh had taken his cap off and was holding it over his heart. "Ah, laddie," he said in a lilting Irish accent, "sure an' ye look nat'ral lyin' there."

   "Idiot," Starsky said, laughing in spite of himself. "Shut the damn top, will ya, and let's get outta this place."

   Cavanaugh reached for the lid, but Hutch put his hand out to stop him. "I'll do it."

   Cavanaugh backed off and Hutch looked down. Starsky looked up.

   "Don't know if I can do this, buddy," Hutch said quietly.

   "It ain't for real," Starsky reminded him. "Go on. We'll be there before you know it."

   Hutch nodded, reached in to briefly grasp Starsky's hand, and shut the lid.

   It was pitch dark with the lid closed and Starsky imagined he couldn't breathe. He knew that was crazy, though. Hutch hadn't sealed the lid and in fact, Starsky could see a little crack of light where the lid met the casket. He hadn't noticed that at first. He was glad they were going to drape the casket again in case it showed from the outside. That might make people wonder why the lid wasn't closed all the way. They couldn't afford a mistake....

   Then the casket began to move and Starsky closed his eyes. The motion, without being able to see where he was going, made him a little queasy. He heard the sound of the intercom outside, muffled by the casket, and there was a little bump. In a moment, he could tell he was in an elevator, going down. He didn't like elevators much anyway, and the movement was frightening. But it didn't last long, and there was another bump as the casket was rolled out of the elevator and down another hallway.

   He swallowed hard and bit his lower lip as the casket's stand was folded down, then when the casket was lifted into the hearse. He heard a couple of faraway clicking sounds before the door slammed and all was silent. The silence went on far too long.

   Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a couple of minutes, Starsky heard another car door slam and the engine started up. The car moved slowly, turned two or three times, then at last, Hutch said, "You okay, partner?"

   "Sure," Starsky said, lying through his teeth. "Fine."

   "Stay put until we get to the funeral home," Hutch said. "Then we'll get you out of there and switch cars."

   Terrific. Starsky hoped it wasn't far to the funeral home. His heart was pounding in his ears and it was hot and stuffy inside the casket.

   The car jolted, stopped and started, turned corners, and try as he might, Starsky's heart wouldn't stop thumping wildly. He still couldn't breathe. It was too stuffy in there. He was dizzy and a little sick to his stomach. He clenched his fists.

   Quit being a damn baby, he scolded himself, trying to make the voice inside his head sound like an impatient Hutch. It didn't work. Come on, David, be a man. Show some spine. It's just an undercover gig, just like playing Ramon or any other undercover role. Only today you're playing a corpse. Beats doing it for real....

   That was the problem. He wasn't that far from having almost done it for real. He didn't remember much about being in the hospital after Gunther. Impressions, sounds, a lot of pain. A lot of pain. The first really clear memory he had was Hutch hollering about a computer printout and the nurse trying to shush him up. Drifting in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of Hutch or Dobey or Huggy speaking to him or to each other.

   A trickle of sweat rolled out of his hair and down his temple, giving him a chill.

   Stop. Start. Roll a few feet. Stop again.

   Suddenly Starsky realized they were stuck in traffic. Morning rush hour. He felt like he'd been in that damn box for hours. Rush hour had to be long past. He tried to get his watch up to his eyes so he could look at the time, but there wasn't enough room.

   "Hu-Hutch? You still there?"

   In the front seat, surrounded by nose to tail traffic, Hutch missed the whispered plea.

   Starsky didn't realize how softly he'd spoken. In the casket, his voice had sounded loud to his own ears. He wet his lips and shut his eyes again. He wouldn't panic. He wouldn't panic. He was okay.

   The car turned left, went uphill briefly, stopped again, and finally he could hear by the sound of the motor's echo that they'd pulled into some kind of structure.

   "We're here, buddy," Hutch called back cheerfully.

   The car rocked a bit, a door slammed. Days later – at least it felt that way – the back door opened and the casket was pulled out and the stand unfolded. Finally, the top opened and Hutch peered down at him.

   "Get me outta this thing," Starsky said, his voice shaking.

   "Sure, buddy, sure. Hang on." Hutch helped him sit up and called to Babcock, who appeared next to Hutch and helped him lift Starsky out and set him on the floor. Starsky's legs were trembling so he could barely stand and Hutch hurriedly slid an arm around his waist. "Whoa, there, Starsk. You're all right. Aren't you?"

   Starsky nodded and tried to force himself to stop shaking. "Yeah, sure, never better."

   Hutch tightened his arm and nudged him gently toward a black panel truck next to the hearse in the garage. "Get in here, partner. There's a pallet on the floor for you to lay down on. I'll drive and we'll get over to Turk's. You sure you're okay?"

   "He doesn't look okay," Babcock observed.

   "I'm fine," Starsky snapped. "Let's go."

   Babcock raised his hands in a gesture of "don't shoot" and stepped out of the way. Starsky climbed into the van under his own power and in a few minutes, they were on their way.

   "That has to be the longest trip I ever took," Hutch said from the driver's seat. "And you look like hell."

   "The longest trip you ever took?" Starsky snorted. "Try doin' it inside a fuckin' casket, Hutchinson. Why didn't you answer me a few minutes ago? I was freakin' out in there and I called you and you didn't answer. That didn't help."

   Hutch swallowed. He heard the note of fear behind the anger in Starsky's tone. "I didn't hear you," he said. "I'm sorry. I know it had to be – "

   "You don't know," Starsky interrupted. "Aw, hell, Hutch, never mind. It ain't your fault. We didn't have much choice. Let's just get to Turk's, huh? Forget I said anything."

   Hutch sighed, wishing he dared to pull over and go back to sit with his partner. He had decided he would be the one to drive, not the man Dobey had sent to do it. Hutch didn’t want to trust another driver for this part of the trip. "I really am sorry, Starsk. I was freaking out, too. I was focused on the road and the mirrors, making sure no one was onto us. I...."

   "Hutch, just get us there. We’ll talk about it at Turk’s."

   Effectively shut down, Hutch did as he was asked. Starsky tried to get himself back under control, feeling more than a little embarrassed that he had panicked like that. Being in a small, dark, enclosed space wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with and he had no way of knowing he’d react that way. The fact that it was a coffin and he had just recently nearly wound up in one for his final ride did nothing to help the situation.

   Babcock looked at Hutch with compassion in his eyes. He knew how upset both of his friends were. "I’ve got the mirrors, Hutch. You watch the front and sides, I’ll keep an eye on the back."

   Hutch was grateful – knowing that his friend meant he was keeping an eye on the man in the back of the van, not just the road behind them. Jack Hill was waiting for them at Turk’s. He would take over from Babcock, freeing him up to join his partner in the search for more information on the cross-country deaths Matt had researched. Hutch wondered if Matt was all right. The phone at Turk’s should be secure, Captain Dobey was going to see to that. Hutch would call Matt to make sure he was safe, even though he knew the captain had already warned him.

   When they pulled up to Turk’s place, Babcock passed Hutch a garage door opener and pointed to the alleyway entrance. Turk’s office had a garage behind it and the apartment was above them. Dobey and Turk had already arranged for the van to be kept safely inside the garage.

   Hutch pulled in, shut off the engine and put down the door before any of them moved. He stepped between the front seats to the back as Babcock got out and greeted Jack Hill. They went behind the van and opened the doors for Starsky and Hutch. The opened doors revealed a shaky Starsky being mostly supported by Hutch. As much as he hated to accept the help, Starsky allowed the other men to help him exit the van.

   "Thanks, guys," Starsky said without looking either of them in the eye. Hill had no way of knowing what had happened, but he thought Starsky looked awful and Hutch looked worried. Not an unfamiliar condition for either of them lately.

   Babcock said, "I’m going to take off. Simmons and I are going to start looking into some of those other deaths. We can’t call you, so you call us."

   After Babcock changed back into his regular clothes and left, the other men helped Starsky up the stairs to Turk’s apartment. The climb was unpleasant on shaky legs and he was grateful when he was able to sit on the couch. Hill disappeared into the kitchen to get a cold drink for his friends with a quick, "Turk is out, but he’s going to check in later."

   Hutch sat next to Starsky, watching him sit with his eyes closed, rubbing his temple with one hand in a gesture more familiar to Hutch than to Starsky.

   "You want to talk about it, Gordo?" he asked, the worry in his voice unmistakable.

   Starsky shook his head. "No, it’s okay, Hutch. I just freaked. Guess I’m not big on small, closed-in places," he said with a chuckle.

   "I thought it was high places," Hutch teased.

   "Aw, shut up," Starsky answered, patting his friend on the knee and smiling to let him know everything was all right.

   "Yeah, sure, it is," Hutch said to the unspoken comment. "Guess maybe we never tested you out in a coffin. Maybe it was the venue, more than the closeness."

   Starsky smiled at him. "Didn’t I tell you to shut up?"

   Jack laughed. He’d returned from the kitchen with a glass of iced tea for each of them.

   "I don’t suppose you could make this a beer," Starsky said.

   "On your medication? Not a chance. Hutch’d kill me."

   Starsky muttered, "It’s a conspiracy."

   Hutch laughed at him, secure that he seemed to be recovering from the ride. He went to the phone and called Matt’s home. His wife answered.

   "Matt?" she said in greeting, her voice anxious.

   "No, this is Ken Hutchinson. Is this Mrs. Dixon?"

   She took a deep breath. "Yes, I’m sorry. This is Debbie. Can I help you?"

   "I’m a detective at Bay City Metro and a friend of Matt’s. Is he home?"

   "No," she sobbed into the phone. "I don’t know where he is!"

   "What do you mean you don’t know where he is?"

   "He called me late last night from the campus library. I was staying with my sister out of town. He, uh, said he was working late and he’d call me when he got home. He never did."

   Hutch was silent for a moment. "Did he say what he was working on?"

   "Not exactly. He said he was helping some friends in the police department. I guess he meant you. When he didn’t call, I drove home and...." she broke off crying again.

   "Calm down, it’s going to be okay, but you have to tell me so I can help," Hutch said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as possible. Starsky had started actively listening to his side of the conversation. He got to his feet and joined Hutch at the bar between the kitchen and the dining room where Hutch stood talking on the phone.

   "The place is trashed and there was a note on the phone. It says not to call the cops."

   "Give me your address," Hutch said, but Starsky put a hand on his arm to stop him.

   "No. This could be a setup. Ask her to meet you."

   Hutch nodded. " Scratch that. Meet me at the Coffee Hut on Alice and Washington. Can you be there in an hour?"

   "Yes, I’ll be there." She hung up the phone.

   Starsky said, "I’m going with you."

   "No, you’re not. You’re staying right here. "

   "Hutch...."

   "What’s the point of smuggling you underground if you go out and get popped first thing? No way," Hutch said.

   "Fair enough. What about you? You think you’re not a target, too?"

   They discussed the situation and Hutch agreed that Sean would go with him to meet Debbie. He had already promised Captain Dobey that he wouldn’t go out alone, but Starsky knew that promise had better be given to him or it might not hold. Hutch was second only to Starsky in his ability to rationalize when his actions went contrary to orders.

********

   Dale Hertig answered his ringing phone at ten in the morning. "Hello."

   "Son of a bitch, they’re gone! Both of them," came the voice on the other end of the line.

   "What the hell do you mean they’re gone? Aren’t you watching?"

   "Yes, but I’m telling you they’re gone."

   The hit man explained to Hertig that his informant said Starsky had just disappeared from his room sometime after his last vitals check at six in the morning. Starsky wasn’t due to be discharged until the evening. The hit man had checked that through his informant the previous day. He hadn’t been able to position himself on the floor without being spotted, so he waited outside. Hutch was in the hospital all night. When he didn’t come downstairs in the morning, the hit man had snuck up to see what was happening, disguised as an orderly. He immediately noticed that the guard was gone and Starsky’s room was empty. A phone call to the hospital gleaned him the information that they had no patient named Starsky in the house. They had no record of his being discharged – he just wasn’t a patient.

   "Dammit!" Hertig yelled as he slammed his fist on the desk in front of him. Then, he laughed a mirthless laugh.

   "What the hell’s so funny?"

   "Oh, let’s just say I have a little insurance policy. I know how to flush at least Hutchinson out. Once we do that, getting to Starsky will be easy."

   "How do you figure?"

   "You just leave that to me. Meet me at the old Staley Tuna plant two blocks up from Pier Nine. I’ll explain it all there."

********

   Matt Dixon woke up in the semidarkness of what looked like an abandoned factory. He could see the remains of heavy assembly line equipment through the glass in the wall in front of him. The smell of fish was strong in the air and he could hear the sounds of boat horns and seagulls from outside, telling him he was near the water. His head was pounding and he found that his hands were tied behind him, and his feet were strapped together with duct tape. He struggled to sit up, fighting the dizziness he felt. Looking around a bit, he saw that the room he was in was probably an old office and the outside windows had been blacked out, making it impossible to tell what time it was by the dim, filtered light from another area of the building.

   The previous evening he had called his wife to say hello and let her know he was working on something. She never liked it when he was out late at night; he promised her he’d call when he got home. He never had the chance. Before he had his coat off, someone hit him on the back of the head and the next thing he knew he woke up in his current condition.

   He heard the sound of footsteps growing nearer, and a few minutes later, two men with dark ski masks on their faces stepped into the room with him. The larger man crushed a cigarette out and started talking.

   "Good day, Mr. Dixon. How’s the head?"

   Matt was nervous, and his voice betrayed him. "It hurts. What’s going on here?"

   The shorter man stood to the side and leaned against the doorframe while his companion sat in a chair across from Matt. Neither of them looked like they planned to hurt him and Matt tried to relax.

   "Oh, I think you know what this is about. Want to tell us what you’re doing for the police detectives?"

   Matt’s mind spun with the thought that Hutch and Captain Dobey were right. He really should have dropped it. Why hadn’t he listened? How had they known? He had limited his research to the campus library, but he had also called for some information on the obituaries. He’d even contacted some of the victims’ places of employment.

   "I’m not working on anything for any detectives," he said, attempting to deny it. "I’m just a graduate student. You’ve got the wrong guy."

   Dale Hertig laughed at him. "Come, now, Mr. Dixon. We’ve had the detectives under surveillance for a long time. You’ve been seen with them. We also have other reasons to believe you are involved. Now, what are you working on?"

   Matt laughed nervously. "Oh, that! Well, that’s nothing. I’m an anthropology student. I’m writing my graduate thesis on police culture and I’m focusing on the behavior of partners. I have been talking to many of the officers at Metro. That’s all I know."

   "Uh-huh," Hertig said, nodding. The man behind him laughed softly, thinking that this young man really was an amateur. "No matter. You don’t really need to tell us right now. You’ll do nicely as bait to bring them out of hiding, though. Just sit tight and you won’t be hurt. My associate behind me will be watching you and I’ll see that you get something to eat soon. Relax." He stood to leave and turned around just before he and the other man shut the door behind them. "Of course, you know you’ll never leave here alive unless you tell me all you know. I may not be a graduate student, Mr. Dixon, but that doesn’t make me stupid. Think about that."

   The sound of the door locking behind his kidnappers made Matt’s heart sink. He’d never been in any trouble. He’d never even cut school when he was a teenager. Desperately figuring out how to get out of there without any harm coming to Starsky or Hutch would occupy his time until they returned. At the moment he had no idea what to do next.

   It was easy for Hutch to spot Debbie in the restaurant. She was sitting alone at a table, clutching a Kleenex, her eyes still red from crying. He slipped his badge out of his pocket, and showed it to her as he sat down. "I'm Hutch," he said softly, putting it away before anyone else had time to notice it. Sean had taken a seat at the counter, coming in a few paces behind Hutch and pretending he didn't know him, in order to provide protection and allow Hutch to concentrate on Debbie.

   She nodded and reached out with shaking hands to lift her coffee cup to her lips. "I don't know what to do," she said. "They said not to call the cops --"

   "I'm Matt's friend," Hutch said. "No one but you and me needs to know I'm a cop right now. Do you have any idea where he could be?"

   She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes as another tear escaped. "Not a clue. I'm so scared. What if --" She stopped herself.

   Hutch covered her hand with his. "Try not to worry," he said, forcing away the image in his mind of Lionel dead on the sidewalk outside the hotel. He'd called himself Lionel's "friend," too. That wasn't going to happen again if he could help it. "We'll find him. I have a hunch they only snatched him to draw me and Starsky out of hiding."

   "Why are you hiding?" she demanded, a little louder than Hutch expected.

   "Ssshh," he cautioned, leaning close. "Keep your voice down. Did Matt tell you anything about us?"

   "Just that he was interviewing officers for his paper and that he'd met a couple who would be the featured partners," she said. "That's about it. Between his work and school, we don't get a lot of time to talk. He keeps saying when he finishes school, we'll be able to catch up, but --" Her eyes filled again. "What if I never see him again?"

   Sean was looking their way with concern, and Hutch glanced at him. Sean looked away before someone noticed. "It'll be okay," Hutch said. "We'll find him. Here's a number where you can reach me," he scribbled Turk's number on a page of his notebook, tore it out and handed it to her, "if you hear anything at all. If you call, use a pay phone, in case they try to trace the call. We already took a big chance with this meeting. You should go home. I'll take it from here."

   "I can't just sit around doing nothing," she said, her voice almost a wail.

   "I know how you feel," Hutch said. "I really do. But this is our job, not yours. We'll be in touch."

   She finally nodded and rose to go. Hutch gave Sean the high sign and as she walked out, Sean followed her. He'd see to it she got home safely. Babcock was waiting outside to make sure Hutch made it back to Turk's safely, too.

   "Anything?" Starsky asked immediately when Hutch came back.

   "No." Hutch sank into a chair and wearily rubbed his eyes. "He's just gone."

   Starsky closed his eyes. "Dammit. We should've left him out of this fuckin' mess."

   "Starsk, we can't blame ourselves every time somebody we know gets in trouble --"

   "Really?" Starsky opened his eyes and fixed Hutch with a glare. "If it wasn't for us, they wouldn't BE in trouble. You know that was true for Lionel and it's true for Matt."

   Hutch sighed. In a very real way, Starsky was right.

********

   Matt was left alone for a long time before anyone came back. Finally, the man who had promised to provide him with food returned, carrying a paper sack. He set it in front of Matt with a paper cup full of soda. "I'm going to untie you," the man said. "But be aware that I have a gun and if you try anything, I won't hesitate to kill you."

   Matt swallowed and nodded. The man untied his hands and Matt ate the food, though he was so frightened he found it difficult to swallow. But it had been hours since he'd had anything to eat or drink.

   The man sat back, the gun dangling carelessly from one hand, and watched without speaking until Matt was finished. "Better?" he said in an almost friendly tone.

   "Yes," Matt said.

   The man tied Matt’s hands again. "Now, do you feel more like talking?"

   Matt's heart sank. He had hoped he had convinced this man that he didn't know anything.

   "Come, come, Mr. Dixon," Hertig said with a smile. "I know better. You know I know better. Why should you risk your safety for a couple of cops? To say nothing of your wife's."

   Matt's blood ran cold. His wife? How did they know about Debbie? "W-what have you done to her?"

   "Nothing, yet," Hertig said. "But we're keeping an eye on her, too. Would a lock of her hair, perhaps, convince you that we're serious? Starsky and Hutchinson can't possibly mean as much to you as she does. All we want to know is what you found out for them. That's all. Tell me, and you'll be home by breakfast."

   Matt was in an agony of indecision. He didn't really believe this man would let him leave even if he told him everything he ever knew. He'd seen the man's face. But what if they did do something to Debbie? What if they hurt her, or even killed her?

   Hertig watched with amusement as Matt struggled.

   Finally, Matt gave in. He told Hertig about the obituaries. He told him that Starsky and Hutch had connected the deaths with the day Starsky was shot.

   "And where are they now?"

   "I don't know. I really don't," Matt said desperately. "The last time I talked to them, Hutch was at home. I haven't talked to either of them since then."

   Hertig knew that quite well, but he kept his face impassive in the hopes that Matt would tell him something else. When Matt only sat there, pale and plainly terrified, Hertig gave a shrug. "Well, I had hoped you would be more helpful," he said, rising and leaving the room, ignoring Matt's panicked call after him. When the door was closed behind him, he nodded to his lackey. "Send the message."

********

   Starsky had dozed off in front of a ball game, worn out with all that had happened, and Hutch, trying not to disturb him, had found a book among Turk's seemingly endless collection that he thought might take his mind off their situation for a while. He hadn't been reading long when the phone rang, and he pounced on it, hoping it wouldn't wake Starsky.

   "Hello?" he said softly, glancing at his partner. Starsky muttered in his sleep and shifted restlessly, but didn't awaken.

   "It's Dobey," the captain said. "We just got a call for you."

   "And?"

   "Somebody who said he's got your friend, Matt," Dobey said. "He won't talk to anybody but you."

   "Shit."

   "Hutch," Dobey said warningly, "whatever the hell he wants, you are NOT going this alone, do you understand?"

   "Yeah, yeah," Hutch said. "How do I find him?"

   "Hutchinson --"

   "I'll take backup, Captain," Hutch said impatiently. "Now, how do I reach this guy?"

   "He said he'd call back in an hour and that we should give him a number where he could call you," Dobey said reluctantly. "He didn't stay on long enough for a trace."

   "Get somebody over here to put tracing equipment on this phone," Hutch said. "Now."

   There was a short silence, and finally Dobey said, "Cain's already on his way."

   Hutch gave an unwilling grin. He knew his previous tone of voice had sounded like an order to a rookie. Trust Dobey to be one step ahead of him. "Guess that's why you're the captain and I'm the detective, huh? Thanks."

   "You're taking backup," Dobey said gruffly. "Promise me, Hutch."

   "I promise."

   Cain, the department's wiretap expert, arrived a few minutes later and went to work. The commotion woke Starsky, who immediately demanded to know what was going on. Hutch had no choice but to tell him.

   "Where's Cavanaugh and Hill? Or Simmons and Babcock?" Starsky asked.

   "Sean's keeping an eye on Debbie," Hutch said. "Babcock went back to the station to get Simmons. Jack ought to be here in a minute. He went to get some Chinese."

   "Then where's Turk?"

   "He's following a cheating husband," Hutch said with a grin. "He said he might not get back tonight."

   "You ain't going anywhere alone," Starsky began, but Hutch waved his hand to stop him.

   "Dobey and I already had this conversation," Hutch said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then Hill came thundering up the stairs. He'd recognized Cain's van in the street.

   "What the hell's going on?" he called before he'd even made it through the door. He handed the sacks to Starsky and stopped in front of Hutch, hands on hips, his face set.

   Hutch told him.

   "Fine. I'll call Sean and get his ass back here." Hill ran back down the stairs to use the radio in his car.

   "Ain't none of us gonna let you leave here alone," Starsky observed.

   Hutch didn't answer.

   Cain worked fast and had the tracer in place in plenty of time. Hill came back from calling his partner and told Hutch Sean would be there as soon as another officer could relieve him at the Dixons'.

   "Eat," Hill insisted, pushing Hutch's chicken lo mein toward him. "You're gonna need your strength and you haven't eaten anything today."

   When Hutch started to argue, Starsky reached over and gently whacked him on the knee. "Shut up, Blintz," he advised. "Eat or we'll sit on your chest and force feed ya."

   Hutch had just finished eating when the phone rang. He reached for it, but Cain shook his head, fiddled with his equipment for a moment, and finally pointed at Hutch. Hutch lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

   "Hutchinson?"

   "Yeah. Who's this?"

   "Doesn't matter. I got Matt. Staley Tuna Plant. Come alone." The phone went dead.

   Hutch let go a string of curses that made Cain look at him with something akin to awe. "Not long enough, was it?"

   Cain shook his head. "Sorry, Hutch."

   With luck, the kidnapper was calling from the location where they were holding Matt and it really was the old tuna plant. Hutch knew it was probably an ambush, but he believed he had no choice but to go there. After what happened to Lionel, he wasn’t taking any chances with Matt’s life. He spared half a moment to think about how he was going to get out of Turk’s with a head start, so he could show up alone as the kidnapper ordered. Starsky interrupted his thoughts.

   "What'd he say?" Starsky asked.

   "He said he's got Matt."

   "And?" Starsky prompted, knowing there was more. "Where's he want you to come?"

   "He didn't say."

   "You're lying. Where?" Starsky glared at him until Hutch sighed.

   "Staley Tuna Plant."

   "Let's go," Starsky said, getting to his feet.

   "You aren't going anywhere," Hutch ordered angrily. "I'll go on and Jack, you two follow me as soon as Sean gets here."

   "No!" Jack rose, too. "You're waiting until Sean gets here and we'll all go together."

   "Be reasonable," Hutch pleaded. "We don't know what he might do to Matt or how long he'll wait for me to get there. We don't know how long it'll be before Sean gets here. I have to."

   "Then I'm coming with you," Starsky said.

   "No, you are NOT," Hutch said. "Sit your ass down." He grabbed his jacket. Starsky reached out to try to grab his arm, but Hutch dodged. "Follow me as soon as Sean gets here," he said to Jack. "Do not, under any circumstances, bring HIM," he jerked his head at Starsky, "with you." He left.

   This time it was Jack who spat a string of curses.

   Hutch drove like a madman across town to the waterfront district where the Staley Tuna Plant had been. The plant had closed a couple of years previously and had stood empty since then. Hutch passed the "for sale" sign at the entrance and wasn't surprised to find the gates, normally padlocked, wide open. There were no other vehicles in sight, and Hutch parked so that he could make a fast getaway if necessary. He checked his gun to make sure it was fully loaded and stuffed extra ammo into his pocket. Then he eased out of the car cautiously and stared at the plant, trying to decide the best way to go in.

   "What the fuck is taking him so long?" Starsky fumed, pacing back and forth across Turk's small living room. It was at least the fourth time he'd asked the question.

   "I'll try raising him on the radio," Hill said, but just then they both heard a siren and in a moment, the squealing of tires on the street below.

   "Come ON," Sean's voice bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. "I know that blond son-of-a-bitch has already taken off."

   Both Starsky and Hill grinned and Hill called back, "I'm coming."

   "We're coming," Starsky corrected, shrugging into his jacket and wincing a little.

   "Starsk, you heard Hutch --"

   Starsky ignored him and headed for the door.

   "Starsky --"

   "I'm going with you," Starsky said without turning around, "and that's all there is to it."

   Hill gave a loud sigh, but he stopped arguing. "Hutch is gonna kill us all," he muttered, loud enough for Starsky to hear.

   Sean rolled his eyes, but didn't comment, when he saw Starsky coming down the stairs. Even though this was Sean’s undercover car, Starsky checked to be certain there were door handles in the back seat. He wasn’t about to get stuck back there. Sean waited until they were rolling to say, "Your ass is stayin' in the car, Detective, when we get there, if I have to cuff you to the damn bumper."

   "I wouldn't be in the car if I was cuffed to the bumper," Starsky returned mildly, with a grin.

   "You know what I mean," Sean said. "You let us handle this and you wait in the fuckin' car or I'll hurt you worse than you are already."

   "What he said," Hill put in, glaring over his shoulder at Starsky, in the back seat.

   Starsky leaned against the back seat and kept his mouth shut. He wasn't staying in the car, and they all knew it.

   Hutch slithered around the outside of the building, listening with all his might for any sound from within. The area was deserted, and there was only the crying of seagulls and the sound of the water sloshing against the pier. He passed the main entrance to the building without even considering entering that way. Finally, he found a side door and tried it. Locked. But Hutch pulled a lock pick from his jacket pocket and was inside in a few moments, grinning a little to himself. Starsky had taught him that trick, only a couple of years before.

   It was dark inside the plant, the lower windows where blacked out and the high windows gave very little light to the floor below. Hutch stopped just inside the door to give his eyes time to adjust. Most of the plant was filled with conveyor belts and machinery, but a catwalk ran around the upper edge, leading to the office area. Grateful for the silence his sneakers afforded him, Hutch hurried to the metal stairs and eased up them quietly. The offices were dark and deserted, and Hutch's heart pounded in his chest with the adrenalin rush. He was certain they intended to ambush him. Matt probably wasn't even here –

   Sean pulled up behind Hutch's car quietly and shut the motor off. "Where to first?" he asked his partner.

   "Starsk? What would Hutch do?" Hill asked.

   "He'd pick a door out of sight and go in as unobtrusively as possible," Starsky said, pulling his gun out of the holster and checking it. He reached for the door handle. He was glad Hutch had wanted him to have his Beretta for protection. Hutch never planned for it to be used to protect him when Starsky was still in recovery.

   "No way, Jesse James," Sean barked at him, seeing what he was doing. "I told you – "

   Starsky glared at him and Sean trailed off. "Look," Starsky said in a level voice, "that's my partner in there, alone, trying to save a friend of ours from getting killed like Rigger did. He's gonna take chances and he's gonna be vulnerable because neither one of us could take losing another person like we lost Rigger. If you think I'm gonna sit out here on my ass while the two o' you back up MY partner, you're dumber than you look!"

   Sean and Jack exchanged a glance.

   "I know how he's feelin' and I know what he's thinkin' and I'm goin' in," Starsky said. Without another word, he opened the car door and climbed out.

   Sean let out a sigh and poked Jack in the shoulder. "Come on. He's got a point."

   "Hutch is gonna kill us," Jack muttered again.

   They used the same door Hutch had used, but couldn't spot Hutch or anyone else in the darkness. Starsky stood still inside the door, looking around, and followed his instinct to the bottom of the metal stairs, gesturing to the others to follow.

   Sean reached out and put a hand on Starsky's shoulder, shaking his head. He would go first. Realizing the wisdom of that, considering his healing condition, Starsky stepped back and let him. Jack brought up the rear.

   Hutch had checked all the offices and still had not found Matt or the men who were holding him. He stopped and looked down at the plant floor, attempting to decide where else to try. By now his eyes were well used to the dimness and he spotted another door, in the corner below, behind a stack of machinery. It took several minutes to make his way across the plant in the darkness.

   As he approached, he heard voices, low and whispering. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but there was no time to try. A shot whizzed past his head.

   "Shit!" Starsky spat, hearing the shot. He whirled and took off for the stairs, with Sean and Jack at his heels. Fear for his partner provided an adrenaline rush that overrode the pain he felt as he picked up speed. This was the fastest he’d moved in months and in the back of his mind, he knew he was going to pay for it later. He was already breathing hard and his gait was unsteady.

   Hutch had thrown himself behind a piece of machinery as he returned fire.

   "One more shot and we kill Dixon," a voice snarled from inside the room.

   "How do I know you haven't killed him already?" Hutch yelled back.

   A pause, and then Matt's voice, shaking, "I'm okay, Hutch."

   "And he'll stay okay," the first voice came again, "if you drop your gun and tell us where you've stashed Starsky."

   "Fuck you," Hutch growled. "You're surrounded. You're not calling the shots here."

   "Oh, really?" There was another shot and a cry of pain from Matt, then silence.

   In a blind rage, Hutch threw himself toward the door and rolled through, surprising the two men inside and getting off a shot at one of them before they could react. The second of the two men fired at Hutch and a searing pain tore through his leg, knocking him off his feet.

   But behind him, he heard the familiar, "Huuuuuuutch!" and another shot took the second man down a heartbeat before Starsky appeared in the doorway, with Sean and Jack behind him. The other detectives quickly subdued the two men, cuffing them and dragging them out of the room none too gently, while Starsky knelt next to Hutch. "How bad?" he asked urgently, peering at the blood soaking through Hutch's jeans.

   "Not too bad," Hutch said through clenched teeth. "Hurts like a mother, though."

   Starsky gave a slight grin and looked over at Matt, who was unharmed. "I thought they shot you."

   "I did, too," Matt answered, his face white and his eyes wide. "But the ugly one just hit me when the other one shot his gun."

   Sean came back into the room. "How many ambulances do we need this time?"

   "One," Starsky answered, briefly touching Hutch's shoulder before he rose to go to Matt and turn him loose. "Hutch took a slug in the leg." He was glad that Hutch’s eyes were closed when he stood, stiffly. Sean reached out to help him, but he waved him off, determined to appear unaffected by the events of the past few minutes. Hutch was in pain and he hadn’t noticed that Starsky’s breathing was still too fast, and his face was shiny with sweat.

   "Gotcha," Sean said, turning to go. Jack had already called an ambulance for the two perps Starsky and Hutch had winged with their gunfire. He chuckled at the thought that Starsky wouldn’t want his partner to ride in an ambulance with the two men who had just tried to kill him.

   As Starsky released Matt, the other man laughed nervously. "You guys get into this kind of trouble a lot?" he asked in a shaky voice.

   Starsky replied, "You have no idea." He shook his head to clear it a little. The room wasn’t spinning, but he was already feeling the effects of his fading adrenaline rush. If he had any idea how thin his voice sounded, he would have remained silent, but Starsky was concentrating on appearing as normal as possible. "You sure you’re okay?" he asked, staring through the fuzziness crowding in on his peripheral vision.

   Matt looked at him and cocked his head to one side as he rubbed his sore wrists. "I’m fine, but you don’t look so good, Dave."

   Hutch heard that and he struggled to sit up so he could get a good look at his partner. Starsky was shaking his head and holding his hands up in a "shush" gesture to Matt. "I’m okay," he said lamely.

   Even from where he was, Hutch could see Starsky wasn’t exactly fine. He heard the sound of sirens coming closer to them and he sighed with relief. "Does he need to be checked?" he asked Matt.

   The grad student climbed to his feet and helped Starsky up, looking closely at him. He steadied Starsky and looked into his eyes. He and Starsky both said, "No," at the same time. Starsky smiled as he returned to Hutch’s side and lowered himself back to the floor to sit with his injured partner. His breathing was slowing and his racing heartbeat felt less thunderous inside his chest. Starsky took another look at Hutch’s leg wound, using the distraction to keep from looking Hutch in the eyes. A strong hand cupped his chin and turned his face up to meet Hutch’s gaze.

   "I’m all right, buddy. Just relax. Are you okay?" Hutch asked. He sighed, dismayed at the pain in Starsky’s eyes, but content that he wasn’t in any danger. Starsky nodded that he was fine. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, but gently.

   "Saving your ass," Starsky quipped.

   Matt stood back and watched their interaction, making mental notes for his paper and kicking himself for turning this ridiculous situation to an advantage. He never hoped to get a chance to see the partners in action and he couldn’t help but be fascinated.

   "I had it under control."

   "Sure you did. That’s why you’ve been ventilated." He checked Hutch’s wound, looking underneath the blood soaked handkerchief Hutch was using to apply pressure.

   Sean and Jack came back into the room. Sean said, "The perps are off in their ambulance along with some uniforms. The other ambulance should be here in a few minutes. How you doing, Hutch?"

   "I’m okay. The bullet went all the way through."

   "What?" Starsky asked, leaning in to look closer. While he did that, Hutch began to discuss the current situation with his partner.

   He put his lecture finger in the air. "YOU," he said to Starsky, "are not supposed to be here."

   "Hutch...." Starsky attempted to interject.

   "Look at you," Hutch continued. "You’re out of breath, probably didn’t take any pain pills tonight either, did ya? Well?"

   Starsky hung his head a little. "You gave ‘em to me with dinner."

   "I didn’t see you take them. Did you?"

   Starsky shook his head and protested, "Dammit, Hutch! I wanted to stay as sharp as I could. Looks like you needed me, too."

   Hutch ignored him, glaring at Sean and Jack. "And YOU two! You were supposed to keep him out of this. What the hell is he doing here?"

   Sean and Jack looked at each other and tried to explain that they’d had about as much luck keeping Starsky away as they’d had keeping Hutch from going ahead of them without backup.

   "Speaking of which, Hutch," Sean said. "Dobey is hopping mad at all of us. I hear he’s set to meet us at the hospital."

   "Terrific," Starsky said.

   Matt laughed a little. Then, he hung his head when the four detectives turned on him. "Sorry, guys. I just... well... sorry."

   The closest door opened to admit the crime lab team and some uniforms. They could hear the approaching ambulance and all four men sighed, knowing they were all going to get a lecture from Dobey. The only thing that made them feel better was that somehow things had worked out for them. No one was killed and they had the perpetrators in custody to interview for possible leads about what was going on and to verify that the recent events were done at Gunther’s direction.

   "Um, thanks for rescuing me, guys," Matt said, hoping to break up the tension.

   "It’s our fault you're in this mess, Matt. We’re gonna get you and Debbie to a safe place until we get this resolved," Hutch said.

   In the next few minutes, the ambulance arrived; Hutch was assessed and bundled off, with Starsky trailing along behind the gurney. The paramedic made him take a few minutes' hit off an oxygen tank when he saw his color. Starsky protested, but a stony glare from his partner silenced him.

   Hutch’s injury wasn’t serious. The doctor said that, apart from the obvious pain, the only thing to worry about was the possibility of infection. When the doctor finished treating him, he was released to go home, pain pills and antibiotics in hand.

   Captain Dobey was waiting for him when he and Starsky emerged from the treatment area. Starsky was moving pretty slowly and Hutch was leaning heavily on a cane. Dobey sighed at the sight of them. Hill and Cavanaugh were sitting together looking like they were all about to face a firing squad. The two of them looked up at Starsky and Hutch as they hobbled toward them.

   "Where’s Matt?" Starsky asked.

   "I’ve had a black-and-white take him home. He and his wife will be moved to a safe place within the hour. Then, they’ll go underground until the trial is finished," Dobey answered.

   "Good," Hutch said.

   The look on Dobey’s face spoke volumes. All four officers knew they were about to get the dressing down of their lives. The captain had arranged to use a small conference room down the hall and he motioned for the four detectives to follow him.

   Starsky, Hutch, Hill, and Cavanaugh settled uneasily into chairs around a conference table. Their superior officer closed the door behind him and turned around, leaning back against it. Starsky could tell the captain’s blood pressure had gone up precipitously. This was going to be ugly.

   "Gentlemen," he started, his voice sounding both steady and furious at the same time, "I think the four of you have a lot of explaining to do."

   "Cap," Starsky started, but he immediately stopped when he caught the murderous look in Dobey’s eyes.

   "Starsky, if I were you, I’d clam up now," Dobey said. "I want all of you to listen carefully." That’s when the yelling started. "You first, Starsky. What the HELL do you think you are doing?" Dobey didn’t stop long enough for any of his questions to be answered. He rolled on like an out of control freight train. "YOU are supposed to be healing! You’re not on duty. Not even DESK duty. Do you have ANY idea how much paperwork you generated tonight? Not to even discuss the potential for injury to you, and to the men around you. Did it ever occur to you that these other officers might put themselves in unnecessary danger because you can’t understand when to stay down for a while? Dammit, Starsky, am I going to have to assign someone to baby-sit you? Maybe put you into lock down, only letting you out for court dates? Huh? What the HELL were you thinking?"

   "But, Cap, Hutch...."

   "But, Cap, NOTHING! Put a sock in it. From this moment on, I don’t want to hear of you doing anything more strenuous than HEALING! Do you understand me?"

   "Yes, sir."

   "I mean that. Don’t push me. Do I need to remind you how close you came to not being here to HAVE this discussion?"

   Hutch was having a hard time letting Starsky take all of the heat. He was planning on taking care of this incident himself. "Cap, Starsky isn’t the only one who...."

   Dobey spun his head around to look at his other wounded detective. "Hutchinson, you’ll get your turn. Just shut up and listen. Don’t try to defend him. I’m not buyin’ it." He turned back to Starsky. "What you did was DUMB! If you don’t stop putting yourself in these situations, I’m going to assign you to traffic detail for the rest of your miserable career. Assuming you don’t screw things up so badly you can’t ever come back to work. Am I clear?"

   "Yes, Cap."

   The captain turned to Hutch next. "You promised me, Hutchinson."

   "I took backup."

   "The idea of backup is that it goes WITH you when you go in, Hutchison. NOT that they follow along behind you when they get everything together. You PROMISED me you’d take backup. The next time I’ll have Cain TAP that phone so I can have someone listening in on all of your conversations, not just put on a trace. Dammit! You PROMISED!"

   "Did you want me to just let Matt die?" Hutch dared to ask.

   "Don’t you even start with me, Hutchinson. If you EVER pull anything like that again, so help me...."

   "I’m sorry, Cap," Hutch said, deciding that contrition was the better part of valor in this case. He couldn’t help thinking about how glad Simmons and Babcock were going to be that they missed the blame assignment on this incident.

   "Sorry isn’t enough, Hutch. You put yourself at risk, got injured, and your actions incited that one there," he said as he pointed a beefy finger at Starsky, "to put himself at risk, too. Did you think about what you would have done in his place? Did you think about the chance that he would come after you?"

   "He told me not to, Cap," Starsky offered.

   "No doubt. I hear Starsky was approximating RUNNING out there at that warehouse. I hear he had to take oxygen to recover from it. NO MORE chances. You got that?"

   "Yes, sir," Starsky and Hutch said together.

   Then, Captain Dobey turned toward Sean and Jack. They had never gotten in as much trouble as Starsky and Hutch, so they were less used to being on the captain’s hot seat. Both of them braced for the onslaught.

   "How many times have you two worked with these two renegades? Huh? You two are one of my best teams. I know you’re smart enough to know how they operate. Dammit! I was counting on you to keep them out of trouble. What the hell happened? Haven’t you learned by now that you have to stick to them like glue? Especially when one of them is hurt. He’s usually the worst of the two!" he exclaimed as he looked at both members of the dynamic duo.

   "Cap, everything happened so fast," Jack said. "We were really right behind Hutch."

   "Yeah, Cap," Sean added. "You know how they are. Hutch had to go. We didn’t know how long Matt had before they’d kill him."

   Dobey sighed. He was yelled out by the time he got this far – a thing for which both Hill and Cavanaugh were grateful. They all knew that sometimes circumstances took over a situation and this was one of those. All four detectives stared at him in silence and the big man scanned their faces. Starsky looked near collapse. Hutch was obviously in pain and sitting there wasn’t helping. Sean and Jack looked like two teenagers he’d caught smoking behind the gym.

   "All right. The two men in custody haven’t been allowed a phone call yet. You four get back over to Turk’s place before someone figures out that Starsky and Hutchinson are here. We didn’t go to all the trouble to put you to ground just to have you screw it up and get blasted on the way out of here."

   Starsky sighed heavily. "Cap, I don’t know if being under wraps is a good idea anymore. If we stay hidden, who’s gonna be next on Gunther’s list of people to get to us?"

   Dobey considered that for a moment. "Well, you’re not going back to either of your places. Go back to Turk’s at least for tonight. I’ll think about what to do next and we’ll meet tomorrow morning."

   All four men said, "Yes, sir."

   Jack had driven Hutch’s car over to the hospital. He drove it to Turk’s with Hutch sulking in the passenger seat, letting Starsky ride over with Cavanaugh. Both Starsky and Hutch apologized to their respective drivers. Both of them received assurances that everything was all right. They all knew how Dobey was. He blustered and bellowed, but they knew that it was because their group antics had scared him.

   When they were back at Turk’s and settled down to get some rest, Hutch had his discussion with Starsky. The ailing detective looked terrible. His color was better, but his body trembled with the left over weariness from what he had done.

   "Do I have to confiscate your gun?"

   "You think I’d let you?" Starsky asked. He was willing to accept his partner’s admonishments, but he wasn’t going to take them without comment.

   "Funny. Doesn’t matter what I think, anyway. We both know you need it to protect yourself in case... in case Gunther’s operatives get through the rest of us and reach you."

   Starsky didn’t like that thought. "That ain’t gonna happen."

   "Yeah. You all right? You don’t look it."

   "I’ll be okay. I’m just tired. How’s the leg?"

   "Not bad. Thanks."

   "Yeah." Starsky knew that Hutch’s gratitude was for saving his skin, in addition to asking him how he was feeling. He wanted to talk to Hutch about it, but he was fading fast. The pain pills Hutch had insisted he take when they got back to the loft were dragging him under and he decided to let them. The last thing he remembered as he drifted off to yet another drug-induced sleep was feeling Hutch pull an extra blanket over him to help chase away the shivers he was still experiencing.

   Amazingly, the next morning found Starsky awake first. He went to the kitchen to make coffee and then checked on Hutch. Even in his sleep, he looked uncomfortable. Starsky chuckled at the irony of both of them hurt at the same time. He also sent up a prayer of gratitude that it hadn’t been any worse. Hutch would be all right and Matt was only slightly dented.

   Sean had crashed there the previous evening and was just beginning to wake up to the sounds of Starsky slowly puttering in the kitchen. When the phone rang, Starsky was the first one to get to it.

   "Starsky?" Captain Dobey’s voice said.

   "Mornin’, Cap."

   "I’m afraid I have some bad news for you this morning."

   Starsky listened patiently, and the news was bad. The color drained from his face and he was unusually silent. He needed to sit down, but couldn’t climb up onto one of the bar stools, so he leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. By this point, Sean was awake enough to see what was happening and was instantly alarmed.

   "Starsky!" he exclaimed as he got up and walked toward his friend.

   "You all right, Starsky?" Captain Dobey’s anxious voice said on the other end of the line.

   Starsky nodded. Realizing the captain couldn’t see him, he said, "Yeah, I’m okay. I... I gotta tell Hutch." He held the phone up for Sean to take it and finish the call and then he leaned his head back against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady himself for what he had to tell his partner.

   Hutch had heard the phone ring, and was already getting up when he heard Sean shout Starsky’s name. He came into the room looking disheveled, but awake. Making the best speed he could in pain and using the cane, he glanced around for Starsky and the look on his partner's face drove everything else out of his mind.

   "What is it?" he asked, frightened without knowing why.

   Starsky swallowed and wet his lips. "I got some bad news, buddy."

   Hutch hurried across the room and put out a hand to help Starsky to his feet. Sean had hung up the phone and he watched as his friends made their way to the sofa. Once Starsky was settled there, Hutch sat on the edge of the coffee table, grabbing Starsky’s shaking hands with his own. "What? What's wrong with you?"

   "Me?" Starsky shook his head. "Nothin's wrong with me. Honest. It's – it's Cassie."

   "Cassie?" Hutch blinked. "What are you talking about?"

   "She's dead, Hutch," Starsky said gently. "Murdered. Dobey just called to tell me a few minutes ago."

   "Cass is dead?" Hutch let go and sat up straighter, stunned. "How? What happened?"

   "Just like the others," Starsky said. "Shot in the back of her head, in her car. No witnesses."

   Hutch couldn't speak for a moment. He didn't think he was exactly mourning her death, but the news was a shock. She had been his sister-in-law and he thought he should feel something for her loss. What he felt was sick to his stomach. He had believed that his ties to that part of his past were effectively severed with Vanessa’s death. When Cassandra had shown up in Bay City months ago, that had changed. Now, the woman had been murdered in the same fashion as victims who may have been linked in some way to Gunther Industries. His face went pale at the thought that Cassandra could have been connected to the black cloud of danger following him and Starsky. Then, a terrible thought occurred to him. That thought manifested itself by him speaking one word aloud, "Vanessa."

   "Hutch, do you hear me? Hutch!" Starsky called. He’d tried to get Hutch’s attention a few times and he was becoming alarmed.

   Hutch thought he heard Starsky calling to him above the ringing in his ears. He snapped back to attention and said, "Hey, take it easy. I’m all right."

   "Damn, Hutch," Starsky said. "You scared me."

   "Sorry, Gordo."

   "Why did you say Van’s name?"

   Hutch ran a hand through his hair and looked shaken. Starsky didn’t like what he was seeing pass through Hutch’s eyes – anger, fear, concern, and a dawning realization. Sean stood back and watched, knowing if he was patient, he’d find out what was happening between his companions soon enough.

   With a shock probably equal to Hutch’s, Starsky knew just what his partner was thinking.

   "No," he said.

   "Starsk, I-I don’t… I don’t know," Hutch replied, his stammer creeping into his voice to belie the professed lack of knowledge. He did know – and he wished to God he didn’t.

   "Oh, my God. Tell me it isn’t possible," Starsky muttered.

   "Starsk, you know Cassie was trying to get some information out of me months ago. Remember? She wanted to know what Van told me the night before she died."

   "That couldn’t have had anything to do with all of this. Van died a long time before we got involved with Lionel and Gunther. More than a year before then."

   Hutch shook his head, not wanting to believe it could have been relevant. He said, "I don’t know, but I don’t like any of it." He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but a lot of things seemed to be falling into place. If he was right, their world had gone on tilt even more than it had been. He and Starsky locked eyes as they both said, "Vanessa was tied to Gunther."

CONTINUED IN DENOUEMENT