Boom!

21

Following up on an unlikely lead, spells trouble.

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The city had been on high alert for days; all because some maniac had decided to set off incendiary devices in public areas. There had been four incidents in the last eight days. The choice of venue seemed random: a downtown post office; an army recruiting office; a grocery store and a car hire place, out near the airport. The damage to each had been quickly contained in three of the incidents, but the car hire place had consisted of one mobile wooden office, which had been rapidly consumed by the fire. Thankfully, only two people had been hurt; a grandmother and her grandson. They had been hit by shattered glass bursting out of a door at the post office.

Everyone across the city was worried and certain that it wouldn’t be long before there was a major incident and a severe injury or even a death. The emergency services were being vigilant and within the city’s police force all units were watching out for anything suspicious in public areas. The City Council had issued warnings and the public had been asked to call in with sightings of any suspicious activity, no matter how small.

Starsky and Hutch were just heading back into the precinct to write up the witness statements for a homicide they had attended that morning when a call came through from the Dispatch Officer.

“Zebra Three. Come in, please.”

Hutch lifted the mic. “Zebra Three responding, over.”

“Zebra Three. Reports of a man in a truck acting suspiciously near Broad Street Loan Company. Please investigate. The manager, a Mr Batang, called it in. Blue truck.”

“Understood. We’ll be there in…” he looked at Starsky.

“Ten.”

“In ten minutes, Dispatch. Over and out.”

Hutch placed the Mars light on the roof of the Torino and flipped the switch for the siren as Starsky made a right across traffic to head towards Broad Street. When they were one block away, Hutch silenced the siren and removed the light so that they wouldn’t spook the man in the truck if he was still around. They drove steadily up Broad Street, watching both sides of the road for vehicles that matched the scant description they’d been given. They saw nothing even close.

Starsky turned the car around and headed back towards the Loan Company. They parked up and headed inside. The secretary at the front desk placed a call through to the office and Mr Batang appeared immediately.

“Good day, officers. The truck left just a few minutes ago. I hope I haven’t wasted your time.”

Hutch pulled out his notebook and said, “Not at all. Is there anything you can add to the description of the truck and can you tell us what made it seem suspicious to you?”

“I’d come out to speak to Bianca here and I saw the truck go past. Didn’t really notice it until it came back past a moment later. This was about two hours ago. Again, I didn’t really think much of it. I assumed it was just someone looking for a parking place, maybe for the bank or the store along the street. Then about an hour ago, I went out to get some coffee from the café that way,” Batang indicated right, “and I saw the same truck parked on the corner. The man inside seemed to be sitting there watching the street. When I came back with the coffee, he was still sitting there and I got an uneasy feeling…And with what’s been on the news, I thought I’d report it.”

Hutch nodded. “You couldn’t see the plate?”

“No, sorry. He was too far away.”

“What did he look like?” Starsky asked.

“White. Dark hair, I think. He was wearing a blue denim shirt and aviator sunglasses.”

Hutch closed his notebook. “Well, thank you. I don’t suppose you have any security cameras?”

“No, we don’t…but I think the bank does.”

Starsky and Hutch nodded and headed out.

“Visit to the bank?” Starsky asked.

Hutch nodded.

An hour later, they came out of the bank with the details of the registration plate of the truck. They contacted Detective Services and got a name and address for the owner; one Frank Mason, Apartment 3F, Golding Street. No convictions on record, not even a parking ticket.

“Probably nothing,” Hutch said, “but I guess we’d better pay him a visit.”

Starsky nodded and they set off towards Golding Street.

*****

On the way towards the apartment, they both kept a close eye on the vehicles they were passing but didn’t spot the blue truck they were looking for. Starsky found a parking place and they both climbed out then headed into the small, neatly decorated apartment block. There was a man on duty at the desk and he looked up as they came in. Unlike some of the apartment building they visited, this manager seemed interested in doing his job.

As they showed their badges, Starsky asked, “We’d like to speak to Frank Mason. Is he in?”

The man shook his head. “No, he went out this morning. Not seen him since.”

“Okay. What time might he back?”

The man shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Since he lost his job, he’s been coming and going at all sorts of times. I guess try back around five?”

“Okay, we’ll come back, Mr…?”

“Jenkins.”

“Thanks for your help, Mr Jenkins.”

The two of them looked at each other, nodded and then turned to leave but the man on the desk called after them.

“Has someone complained about Frank?”

“What makes you ask?” Hutch wanted to know.

“Well, a few of his neighbours have complained over the last few weeks about strange smells coming from the apartment. They say it’s like he’s burning something in there. I was going to talk to him about it, but he’s been a little grumpy lately and I didn’t want to get into a shouting match with him…even though I’d be within my rights to inspect his apartment. We do have rules about no cooking in the apartments.”

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other, acknowledging that this might be a way in without a search warrant.

“If you’d like to inspect his room now, we could take a quick look and see if Mr Mason needs to be questioned regarding illegal behaviour?”

The manager hesitated and then nodded. “Okay.”

He grabbed a set of keys and then led them up the flight of stairs to the third floor. When they reached 3F, the manager knocked on the door. As expected, there was no answer. He went to slip the key in the lock, but Hutch stopped him.

“Mr Jenkins, why don’t you step back and let us take a look just in case.”

Hutch turned the key and then opened the door cautiously. His eyes widened and, beside him, Starsky let out a low whistle. The manager peered over their shoulders and gasped. All three of them looked around the room in consternation.

“Mr Jenkins. Go back downstairs, but please don’t say anything to anyone yet. We don’t want people to panic or tip Mr Mason off. We’ll get the right people in to deal with this and organise a safe evacuation of the building.”

Jenkins just stood there, frozen to the spot.

“Mr Jenkins? Go downstairs. Do you think you can act like everything’s normal for a few minutes? It won’t be for long. We’ll get help on the way as quick as we can.”

Jenkins hesitated then nodded and hurried away.

“Can’t blame him for being shocked,” Starsky commented. “There’s enough explosive material here to start world war three!”

Hutch looked at him grimly. “We’d better get the bomb squad here as fast as possible. You want to go call it in while I guard the room?”

“Sure. Do you think we should start evacuating people once I’ve called it in?” Starsky asked, as he headed towards the door.

As Hutch followed his partner, he said, “Yeah. We could evacuate this floor at least and leave the rest of the building to the uniforms.”

Starsky nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He looked back at his partner. “Don’t touch anything!”

Hutch snorted. “I feel like I could set something off just by breathing! I’ll wait outside in the corridor.”

Hutch followed his partner out of the apartment and closed the door very gently behind him. He watched as Starsky strode down the corridor and then disappeared down the staircase leading to the lobby. Hutch looked at his watch, trying to calculate how long it would take for the Bomb Squad to arrive. He also wondered where Frank Mason was. Had he seen them arrive at the building and hightailed it out of the area? Or was he oblivious to their arrival and that his bomb making lab had been discovered? Hutch hoped so.

*****

Outside, Starsky placed his call through to Dispatch, told them in as much detail as he could what kind of chemicals and equipment he had seen and then he turned to head back into the building. He didn’t spot the man, watching him from inside a phone booth at the corner of the street. Nor did he see him pull something from his pocket and hit a button on it.

BOOM!

Starsky froze as the building in front of him trembled, but when he heard masonry start falling from the side of the building into the alleyway, he cried out, “Hutch!”

Fighting every instinct to go straight back into the building to look for his partner, he first called Dispatch again.

“Zebra Three here. There’s been an explosion at this location. Send ambulances, send back-up, send everyone! My partner was inside and he may be hurt. I’m going to look for him.”

Before the Dispatch Officer could respond, Starsky dropped the mic and headed into the building. People were starting to emerge from their apartments on the ground floor and being directed by Jenkins to head outside.

Starsky stopped to speak to him. “If you’ve got a list of tenants, take it outside for the fire department. You go outside now and take a record of who is already out.”

Jenkins nodded and grabbed the registration book from the front desk. As another man appeared from a ground floor apartment, Jenkins herded him outside. Starsky ignored the wailing smoke detectors and the acrid wisps of smoke floating down the stairs and headed up, taking the steps two at a time.

On the first floor, he paused long enough to shout, “Everybody out!”

A few tenants were already making their way to the stairs and started heading down. Starsky headed up the next flight. The smoke was thickening so he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, tied it around his lower face so that it covered his nose and his mouth. Half way up the flight, three very scared people stumbled down, coughing as they came.

“Did you see anyone else up there?” Starsky asked desperately.

They shook their heads.

“Keep heading down. Help is on the way,” he said, as calmly as he could, although inside his heart was racing and his gut was twisting with worry.

The smoke was so thick on the third floor that he couldn’t see through it. In his head he knew he really shouldn’t be travelling towards what could be a very perilous situation but his heart didn’t care. He dropped to his knees, where the smoke was thinner, and crawled his way along the worn, tiled floor towards apartment 3F.

“Hutch! Hutch! Can you hear me?”

There was no answer.

Even with his eyes watering, he could see light ahead from the daylight that was pouring into the building from where apartment 3F used to be and the glimmer of flames as a fire started to take hold. He noticed that the door from the apartment had blown outwards and was lying across the corridor, partially covered in the remains of brickwork and wood. Metal fragments had also pierced the surface of the door. Realising that Hutch must be underneath the door, Starsky prayed that the shrapnel hadn’t gone clean through the flimsy wooden door. He crawled towards it, trying to breathe shallowly but even so he coughed as he moved closer.

Then he saw Hutch’s leg (from his boot to his calf) sticking out from under the door. Blood was seeping from a wound where a metal fragment had embedded itself.

Time stood still.

But only for a moment.

He scrambled towards the door, calling Hutch’s name. Before he attempted to move the wood covering his partner, Starsky tried to peer underneath to see how badly injured he was. It was hard to tell. He crawled along the length of the door towards Hutch’s head. His partner’s pale face was turned towards him. Blood trickled from a head wound, but his partner appeared to be breathing okay. Starsky checked his vitals; they were steady, but he knew they wouldn’t remain that way for long. He slipped his hand between the door and Hutch’s shoulders and felt his way along Hutch’s body, trying to feel for any other damage. He couldn’t feel any obvious lumps so hoped that nothing was broken.

Starsky heard a multitude of sirens approaching and identified ambulances and a fire engine in the mix. At the same time, he started to feel the heat from the fire in the apartment as it intensified. He knew it wasn’t safe to linger, but there was no way he could leave his partner where he was. By the time the fire crew arrived on the floor, it could be too late for Hutch.

He placed his hands along the side of the door then closed his eyes as he rose to his feet, lifting the door and the bricks covering it and pushing it forcibly away from his friend’s frame. Just in those few seconds, his eyes began to sting from the assault of foul smelling smoke and he could feel the heat intensifying. They had to get out of there. He dropped to his knees again and tried to rouse Hutch.

“C’mon, buddy. Wake up!”

Hutch groaned but didn’t regain consciousness.

Starsky was coughing frequently now and his chest was beginning to feel tight. He knew they both needed to get out of there. Trying to keep Hutch’s head as still as he could, he rolled Hutch onto his back so that he could grab him beneath his shoulders and start dragging him towards the stairwell.

“Remind me to tell you to go on a diet,” he muttered to his partner, between coughs.

He was almost at the stairwell when he heard the sound of rapidly approaching, booted feet and two fire men wearing breathing apparatus appeared at his side.

He wanted to say, “Boy! Am I glad to see you guys!” but he was coughing too fiercely now.

“Detective Starsky, I’ve got him. Follow Officer Moore.”

Starsky nodded but hovered in case the fireman needed help to lift Hutch over his shoulder.

Officer Moore grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the stairs as the other officer picked Hutch up as if he was a sack of potatoes and threw him over his shoulder. There was a roaring sound behind them.

“Move!” Moore yelled.

Starsky didn’t need telling twice. He hurried as fast as he could, glad of Moore’s supporting hand on his elbow. Once outside, Starsky saw that uniformed officers were taking charge of the scene, the bomb squad had arrived and were talking to the Fire Chief. He knew that the Dispatch Officer would have passed on his message so he left them to it and followed the fireman as he carried his partner to the waiting ambulance and paramedics.

“Thanks for the assist,” Starsky tried to say, but it came out raspy and barely recognisable.

The officer nodded. “Rest easy, Detective. Your Dispatch Officer passed on your initial report and the manager, Jenkins, filled us in on what he’d seen. You concentrate on yourself and your partner.”

A second paramedic pushed Starsky to sit down in the back of the ambulance and tried to put an oxygen mask over his face, but he resisted, peering to look at Hutch.

“Let me help you so I can then go assist with your partner, okay?” the paramedic said.

Starsky nodded and allowed the paramedic to slip the oxygen mask over his face. The second paramedic hurried to Hutch’s side and began dealing with his leg. Within minutes, Hutch was wearing an oxygen mask, his head wound had been cleaned and covered and a stabilising bandage had been wrapped around the penetrating injury on his leg.

Satisfied that Hutch was stable, the paramedics got ready to lift Hutch into the back of the ambulance. Starsky scooted backwards so that he was out of the way as they slid the wheeled stretcher in and secured it in place. One paramedic climbed in and the other closed the doors. Starsky placed a hand on Hutch’s shoulder and left it there as the engine started and the ambulance headed towards Memorial Hospital.

*****

Grumbling, Starsky was taken into a bay to be treated for smoke inhalation. Mentally, he knew that he needed treatment as the symptoms and consequences of smoke inhalation were no laughing matter, but he was desperate to know how his partner was doing and frustrated that no-one could tell him anything.  He was therefore very relieved when his captain appeared.

He slipped the oxygen mask from his face and in between coughs, asked fretfully, “Cap!..How’s…Hutch…doing?”

“He’s alive, thanks to you,” Dobey said. “Although you shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that.”

Starsky waved away the comments. “And? Has…he…woken…up yet?”

“Put your oxygen mask back on and I’ll tell you what the doctor told me,” Dobey said firmly.

Starsky grimaced but did as he was told.

“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. His skull is fine but he does have a bad concussion and he’ll have a heck of a headache when he does wake up. He’s under observation but the doctor said he can be moved later today and they will try to put you in the same room.”

Starsky nodded and raised an eyebrow enquiring for more information.

“Hutch had to have minor surgery on his calf to remove the metal fragment but there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

Starsky sagged back, feeling relieved. He lifted his mask to ask, “Mason?”

“Officers picked him up two hours ago, trying to board a train out of the city.”

Starsky lifted the mask again. “Why?”

“We don’t know why yet but we will.”

Starsky nodded and sagged a little more.

“Get some rest, son. I’ll get an update on Hutch in a while and, when you wake up, hopefully he’ll be here.”

Starsky nodded and closed his eyes, intending just to rest for a moment, but the day’s events had finally caught up with him and he drifted off to sleep.

*****

Starsky came to when a nurse came to check his oxygen levels. He went to move his mask but the nurse scolded him.

“Uh-huh, Detective. Keep that on, please. It’s a necessity not a fashion item.”

Starsky rolled his eyes and the nurse chuckled.

She wrote on the chart and then asked, “Are you in any pain, Detective?”

Starsky went to shake his head and then realised that his stomach was very uncomfortable. He shrugged a little, indicating he was in discomfort.

“Where? Stomach?”

Starsky nodded.

“I’ll ask the doctor for some pain relief for you.”

Only a few moments later, a Doctor Phillips walked through the door.

“Detective Starsky, I understand you have stomach ache?”

Starsky nodded.

“That’s to be expected. One of the symptoms that smoke inhalation causes is an irritated stomach lining. I’ll order you some pain relief. It may continue to be sore for a day or two. Eat lightly. Give your stomach time to recover.”

Starsky nodded his understanding and his thanks. He lifted his mask and asked, “Partner?” before slipping the mask quickly back into place.

“Detective Hutchinson is doing well. He regained consciousness a couple of hours ago but he is still a little woozy. Depending on how he responds in the next hour or so, we should be able to move him down here.”

Starsky nodded gratefully.

*****

The next hour passed slowly, only relieved by another visit from Dobey before he went home and the arrival of Huggy with a smuggled in bag of food items. Recalling what the doctor had said, Starsky slowly ate his way through a burger but refused the fries loaded with chilli. Huggy was just telling Starsky about his newest kitchen staff member when the door opened and a bed was wheeled in backwards. As the bed drew level with Starsky’s own bed, he was relieved to see Hutch, looking pale but awake.

The porters quickly helped Hutch move over to the other bed in the room and the nurse, who had followed them, covered her new patient with a sheet and blanket and made sure he was comfortable. Then she left the room, saying she would be back in a little while to check on both of her patients.

Hutch turned to look at his partner and they locked gazes for a moment as they each assessed the other for damage. Hutch looked worried at the sight of the oxygen mask. Starsky went to take it off but Huggy stopped him.

“Nope. Keep it on. The less you take it off now the quicker you’ll be out of here!”

Starsky grimaced as Huggy stood and went over to Hutch’s bed.

“Glad you’re okay, Hutch. Sounds like you had a narrow escape.”

Hutch nodded. “Yeah. Good job I was outside the room when it blew.”

“Yeah! And a good job you have one stubborn, crazy partner!”

Hutch looked enquiringly between Huggy and Starsky. Starsky reddened but shrugged off the question.

“What our curly-haired friend is trying to not say is that he got smoke inhalation because he went into the building to get you out.”

Starsky reddened further.

“Thanks, Starsk,” Hutch said with feeling. Then he added softly, but with the hint of a smile, “How about next time, you guard the room full of explosives and I’ll rescue you?”

Huggy chuckled as Starsky rolled his eyes then mimed writing on his hand.

“You want me to get you something to write with?” Huggy asked.

Starsky nodded. Huggy slipped out of the room and came back a moment later with a pad and pencil. He handed it to Starsky, who scribbled a quick note.

Grinning, Huggy read it out loud. “Blondie, you really need to lose some weight!”

Hutch shook his head at his partner but his eyes said he understood all the things Starsky couldn’t say because of the mask…and all the things he wouldn’t say because he didn’t like soapy scenes.

Still chuckling Huggy sat back down and picked up a magazine to read. The room was filled with a grateful silence as both men contemplated their narrow escape and the bond that helped them through every situation, no matter how dangerous.