Divide and Conquer

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The guys are in England following a lead on an old adversary. Their target knows that if he is to succeed, he needs to divide and conquer.

 

It has been a long time since I’ve written a story, although the guys are never far from my thoughts. I wrote this story just for Brook, my dearest friend, but as always she asked me to post. I hope you like the little offering (and I hope I’m not too out of practice!)

Disclaimer – as usual, don’t own ’em, don’t make money from ’em, but damn it’s good to play with ’em a little!

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Chapter 1

Auburn hair and deep green eyes regarded Jess Donnelly seriously as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was 25 and a newly qualified specialised support nurse getting ready for her first ever paid job. For the third time in as many minutes she smoothed out the minute creases in her skirt and checked her white blouse again in the mirror. Critically, she held up her long hair and scrunched it into a knot at the nape of her neck, twisting her head so that she could see the effect. Up or down? Which looked most business-like? There again which looked less threatening? Deciding against the updo, she brushed the curtain of hair back into place, sighed at her reflection and turned away from the mirror. Her make-up was simple and understated, just a smattering of pale green eyeshadow, a little mascara and some barley there lipstick. The shades complimented her olive toned skin, enhancing her large eyes with their long, luxuriant lashes.

Breakfast was a no-go today, the butterflies in her stomach churning her insides, and despite her best efforts to tame them, Jess couldn’t face the customary coffee and oatmeal she usually ate first thing in the morning.

‘You’re gonna be late,’ Marie, her room mate yelled from the bathroom.

‘I know, I know. I’m leaving now.’ Jess picked up her purse from the table by the door and unhooked her car keys from the tiny hook. She took the steps down to the ground floor quickly, opened the door to her old VW Beetle and got inside.

‘OK Hubert. It’s just me and you’ she muttered to the car as she turned the key in the ignition. The engine fired, coughed and then took hold as Jess pulled away from the curb and out onto the quiet residential road.

Autumn was setting in fast now. The tree lined road was littered with fallen leaves and the trees themselves seemed to shiver in the cool morning air as though missing their summer clothing. A weak sun pushed its way through the clouds and glistened off the pebbles of dew on the windshield as Jess turned left and out onto the main road through Clitheroe and out into the Ribble Valley to the private clinic she’d been employed at.

It had all happened so fast. One minute she was answered job adverts in the local and national newspapers, the next, she’d been asked for interview at the exclusive facility set out in a large country house within its own grounds. Driving down the tree lined drive to her interview with the medical panel, Jess had had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. The job seemed perfect, her qualifications in both psychiatry and specialised trauma nursing fitting in like magic against the criteria the employers were looking for and despite the fact that she was fresh out of university, the interview went well and she was told there and then that she had the job if she wished to take it.

Was the Pope a Catholic? Could a duck swim? Of course she wanted the job and she told them there and then that she accepted. The doctor in charge — Purnell was his name — didn’t tell her much about her role other than the fact that she would be looking after patients on a one-to-one basis, giving them both physical and mental support during their rehabilitation. Purnell went on to say that he had one patient in mind for Jess but that he needed to complete her background checks before he could tell her more.

The very next day, Jess had been surprised, not to mention more than a little scared when three large and intimidating guys knocked on her front door and asked if they could interview her. She’d established that they were employed by the clinic and answered their questions as best she could, although the men seemed more like hired thugs than the security outfit they claimed to be. It was at that stage that Jess wondered what she’d let herself in for and had had some thoughts about ringing Purnell to decline the job invitation. What kind of facility was he running if he needed heavies to “check her out”?’ It was only after they had gone that Jess had sat herself down, made a fresh cup of tea and thought about it.

Sure, Purnell would have to be careful — Jess was, after all, going to be looking after vulnerable individuals. He would have to check her credentials. Coupled with the fantastic salary Purnell was offering her, the young woman managed to put her concerns to one side. She had nothing to hide and although the security guys had been intimidating, she’s been able to answer all their questions.

The road wound out through the valley, the sun shining through the few remaining leaves and dappling the road surface with shadow. The Autumn day held promise and Jess’ mood lightened as she pulled into the staff parking area at the back of the large house. Guild Lodge, the name on the gate proclaimed and Jess took a deep breath, walked up the steps to the front door and buzzed through to reception. There was a mechanical click and then a disembodied voice sounded over the intercom.

‘Name please?’

‘Jess Donnelly, it’s my first day?’

The door opened and she pushed inside. The woman on reception smiled at her. ‘Welcome to Guild Lodge. I’ll take your photo later so that you can have your own security card. Right now, Mr Purnell would like to see you in his office. Take the stairs down to the basement and follow the corridor along. Third door on the right. He’s waiting.’

Jess followed the instructions and walked down the long flight of steps. The bright and calming blues of the reception hall gave way down here to bare stone steps and cream painted walls, the lights above her head caged in metal bars, rather than the opulent chandeliers of the upstairs. The young woman gave a small shiver and she took a deep breath as she stopped outside Purnell’s office. She knocked on the door and the man’s voice invited her in.

Purnell stood up as Jess walked into the room and held out a hand, indicating she should take a seat. Jess sat, smoothing her skirt self consciously. She waited for her boss to speak whilst Purnell read some more of a file in front of him. With a snap, he closed the large document and smiled at her.

‘Nervous about your first day?’ he asked.

‘A bit,’ she confessed. ‘Not sure what to expect.’

Purnell sat back in his chair. ‘Jess I selected you because you have all the qualities I need in one of my support staff. I have a patient in mind for you and I want you to take time to review his file. It’s a sad sort of case — young man, not much older than you are now. He came to us from another hospital where he’d been admitted after a road traffic accident. You’ll see the healing scars on his chest and back. He’s had multiple surgeries but the trauma has um…. well it’s messed with his head somewhat.’

‘Messed with it in what way, Sir.’

‘Harold. Call me Harold. We’re all on first name terms here’ the older man smiled. ‘He has some pathological delusions and I’m telling you now that he will try his utmost to draw you into them. Here, let me give you his file whilst I go and find my secretary to make us a cup of tea.’ Purnell handed the file over to Jess and walked out of the room, leaving the young woman alone. She opened the large buff coloured file and started to read.

Name: Ethan. No last name given.

Age: Approx 29

Address: Unknown. No fixed abode

Religion: Unknown

History: Patient presented 3 months ago with multiple healing injuries from RTA. Patient shows no signs of cranial trauma, however he continues to deny that he is Ethan.

Diagnosis: Persecutory delusions

Persecutory delusions – the most common type of delusions and involve the theme of being followed, harassed, cheated, poisoned or drugged, conspired against, spied on, attacked, or obstructed in the pursuit of goals. Persecutory delusions are a condition in which the affected person believes – wrongly — they are being persecuted. Specifically, they have been defined as containing two central elements:

1. The individual thinks that harm is occurring, or is going to occur.

2. The individual thinks that the persecutor has the intention to cause harm.

This is the most common form of delusions in schizophrenia, where the person believes “he or she is being tormented, followed, tricked, spied on, or ridiculed.

Medication and treatment:

Recommended: Thorazine BD, Halperidol TDS and course of electrotherapy.

Jess looked up from the file as Purnell returned bearing two mugs of tea.

‘The care plan seems a little aggressive given the history of the case,’ she said quietly.

Purnell smiled and nodded. ‘Remember, I told you he is a difficult case. His delusions are highly complex and coherent and despite four sessions of ECT so far we’ve been unable to shake them.’

‘Which are?’ Jess asked. ‘It doesn’t say in the file.’

The older man nodded. ‘It’s a complicated matter — one of the most difficult I’ve come across in all my years of practice. I think rather than try to describe the symptoms to you, the best thing to do is to observe Ethan. I’ll have him taken to an observation room and then we can go and see him.’

Jess repressed a shiver. ‘It doesn’t give any indication in the notes about his interactions with other patients, or his day to day activities,’ she muttered.

Purnell’s face fell. ‘For his own safety and the safety of other patients, Ethan has been held in a solitary room since his admission to Guild Lodge. We find it seems to keep him calmer.’

‘Calmer? He’s seems to be on so much heavy medication…’ Jess blurted out and then cut herself off. She could be outspoken when she was upset, and the treatment this patient was getting upset her a lot. But it wouldn’t do to upset the apple cart on her first day. She rose and followed Purnell out of the room and down the corridor, descending yet another flight of steps down to a subterranean level. Bare lights left a cold, heavily shadowed atmosphere to the place and again, the young woman repressed a shiver.

Punell walked along the bare corridor and stopped outside a door guarded by one of the security guards who had come to visit Jess a couple of days ago. Purnell muttered something and the guard swung the door open to reveal a small ante chamber with a large glass panel set into one wall. Jess recognised it as a two way mirror. The person within the room couldn’t see out, but Jess and Purnell could observe from the safety of the anteroom.

The room holding the patient was in darkness and Jess looked at Purnell questioningly.

‘We keep Ethan’s light levels low. That seems to calm him too.’ Purnell hit a dial on the wall and the inner room was immediately illuminated by a harsh white light.

Jess recoiled as the man on the narrow bed within gave an audible hiss as the lights pierced the gloom. Ethan turned over on his side and tried to cover his eyes with his hands. It was only them that Jess saw that Ethan’s hands were bandaged in such a way that the fingers were folded over the palms, giving him the look of a boxer wearing gloves. Purnell saw the look on her face.

‘As I told you, he’s a most difficult patient. We’ve had to take some quite extreme measures in order to keep him from self harm.’

‘Can I see him?’ Jess asked, her eyes never leaving the shaking body on the bunk.

Drowsiness; dizziness when changing positions; blurred vision; rapid heartbeat. The side effects of the medication pumping around the patient’s body echoed in her head as she watched Ethan slowly try to sit up.

Purnell nodded. ‘For a moment or two, but remember what I said. His delusions are so deep that he will draw you in if you’re not careful.’

‘I understand, but I’ll need to get to know him if I’m to help him.’

Purnell shook his head. ‘I employed you for your skills Jess, but there’s no helping his one. I need you to be his one-to-one carer, but as to help, or cure? He’s a hopeless case.’ Purnell turned to the guard. ‘Give her five minutes and then ask the nurse to give Ethan his next shot.’

The guard opened the door to the room as Jess walked past and into the small room. As she did, the man on the bed raised his head and regarded her with the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

 

Chapter 2

Jess took a deep breath, steadied her nerves and took a step into the bare white room. It resembled more of a prison cell than a therapeutic hospital room, with a bunk bed screwed down to the floor against one wall and a small corner, partly walled off to provide the minimum of privacy, behind which was a metal toilet and wash hand basin. The room had a bare linoleum floor and one small slit window, perhaps six inches wide at the top of one wall. There was no other decoration to relieve the white walls or the cracked cream floor.

As the door snicked closed behind her, making her jump involuntarily, the man on the bed sat a little straighter and regarded her closely.

Jess shook herself and took another step forwards. ‘Ethan, I’m Jess. Can I call you Ethan?’

The man’s eyes bored into her for a second and then looked away, down to the floor. What she saw in the indigo blue depths in that moment was confusion, loss and something else; maybe almost defiance shining through. The combination of emotions took Jess’ breath away and stirred something deep inside her, sending a shiver down her spine. The brief moment of eye contact passed in silence and then nothing. She tried again.

‘Ethan, may I talk to you for a while?’

Again there was a moment’s silence as though the man was considering whether this was some sort of trick. Without looking up, he replied. ‘He doesn’t allow me visitors.’

The voice sounded raspy and cracked, almost as though it hadn’t been used in months. Stupid, Jess. Stupid. He’s been in solitary for 12 weeks. How’s he supposed to sound? The young woman reprimanded herself sharply and screwed her professional head firmly in place.

Her patient looked to be between 28 and 30. Ethan’s appearance was slightly wild. His hair was curly and a chocolate brown colour, although it seemed matted and in need of a good cut. The eyes — what she had seen of them — were deep, indigo blue and looked out of an olive toned face that was handsome, if a little rugged. Mediterranean origin? Maybe.

The guards….nurses…..whoever had cared for the patient hadn’t gone a bundle on too many home comforts. Ethan wore navy blue scrub pants with a drawstring waist and a thin denim blue tee shirt with a deep V neck. No shoes. From the opening of the tee shirt’s neck, Jess could discern a forest of dark brown curls at Ethan’s chest and the tips of what looked like pale pinkish silver surgical scarring. The body was thin. There was no way to deny that he was too thin, although Jess felt that in full health, Ethan would have been muscular although not overtly so. She estimated that he was maybe 6′ tall.

Ethan’s body shook with slight tremors as he sat still, his eyes remaining focussed on the floor in front of him, his bandaged fists laying on the bed by his side. Jess sighed — the tremors were obviously the side effects of the haloperidol or thorazine. This man seemed to pose no threat. Sure, she felt that in full health Ethan would be different of course, but there was something about him — something almost feral — that excited her and stirred at her belly — something primal, something….

Jess pulled herself together with an embarrassed breath. He’s your patient dammit! Pay attention girl.

‘Dr Purnell has asked me to help you with your rehabilitation. My name is Jess. Can we talk for a while?’

Ethan’s head came up slightly and he looked at the woman briefly before dropping his gaze again. ‘Why?’

‘Because I want to get to know you so that I can help.’

‘What’s he told ya about me?’ Ethan looked up again, his drug clouded eyes fixing on Jess finally.

The girl staggered back at the look. There was so much pain in those eyes, so much….. Jess couldn’t express what she saw from that indigo gaze, but it was more than loss, more than longing. There was anger there; carefully subdued anger, as well as hurt.

‘Dr Purnell hasn’t told me very much. That’s the way I like to work. I want to find out about you for myself Ethan.’

‘Dave.’

‘Huh?’

‘My name. Dave. Dave Starsky.’

Jess nodded. ‘Ok, Dave Starsky.’ She discerned the accent in the voice. ‘Not from around here, are you? That’s not a local accent.’

‘I’m from the States. From….from…..’ Dave put his bandaged hands up to his head as though he was in pain. ‘I’m from….. Jesus!’

‘It’s ok. Sometimes the drugs can make you a little sluggish. It’s fine’ Jess soothed.

‘No, not fine. Can’t remember where…… Brooklyn. I’m from Brooklyn’ he finally gasped.

‘New York? Wow. The Big Apple eh? So what brings you over here to England?’

‘Me and my partner were….’ The man looked up at the large mirror and closed his mouth. ‘Nuthin.’

Jess saw the tremble in the man’s body increase and knew she was pushing too hard. She changed tack.

‘Why do they call you Ethan?’

‘They’ve been told to.’

‘Told to?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘By who?’

‘Him. Matwick.’

Mat….. Who’s Matwick?’ Jess asked.

‘The guy you know as Purnell. It’s not his real name.’

Jess sighed inwardly. Here we go. Classic schizo. He pulls me into his apparently sane world and then just slips into his delusions. And he had you so fooled. Dammit girl, forget his good looks and get on with your job!

‘Why would he want to call himself something else Ethan?’ she asked.

‘Dave. Starsky. My friends call me Starsky’ the man rasped.

‘Ok Starsky, why would Dr Purnell change his name?’

Starsky lifted his eyes and fixed Jess with a stare. ‘Because he’s called Matwick and he’s a psych doc gone bad. He experimented on patients — killed some of ’em and…..’ Starsky’s voice trailed off and he snickered. ‘This sounds insane, huh?’

‘You have me wondering’ Jess replied honestly.

‘Yeah. Give the nutter time to talk and then….’ his words were cut off by two guards coming into the room followed by a male nurse carrying a syringe. Starsky looked wildly at Jess. The orderlies pushed passed.

‘Time for your medicine Ethan’ one said forcefully. Starsky’s eyes went wild and he glared passed the men at Jess.

‘Don’t let ’em gimme that. I don’t need no fuckin’….’

Jess stood back as the two guards pushed Starsky forcibly back onto the bed whilst the nurse wiped an area of upper arm and drove the needle home, injecting the Thorazine into Starsky’s body through bruised flesh. She’d not seen such force in a hospital before and wondered why the orderlies thought it necessary. Roughly the men let Starsky fall back onto his single pillow as his eyes dulled and he sought out the girl.

‘I ain’t mad’ he mumbled thickly. ‘Help me?’

Jess ran for the door as the guards started to fix a broad leather belt around Starsky’s middle to anchor him to the bunk. She stood in the corridor getting her breath under control as Purnell returned to her. ‘I said he was difficult, and very compelling in his delusions. Come on. Let’s go back up to my office and talk some more.’

The doctor walked off leaving Jess to follow. She took one final look through the large window at the now sleeping man on the bunk and shuddered. He’d almost drawn her into his imaginary world. She was going to have to watch herself with this one.

Back in the office with Dr Purnell, Jess hugged a cup of tea and re-read the notes on Ethan…David….whoever the hell he wanted to call himself. The notes were sketchy about his previous surgeries and oddly were all written in the same hand, as though the same person had written them all the way through. The patient had been treated at a private hospital and transferred to Guild Lodge after his recovery. His psychosis had deepened after his admission to the extent that Ethan had tried several times to escape claiming that he was a policeman from America and that he needed to get back there in order to find his partner — a man referred to only as Hutch. The doctor’s notes indicated that the connection between Ethan and the imaginary Hutch was so strong that despite four previous treatments of Electro therapy, Ethan still refused to admit that Hutch did not exist.

Jess shook her head and closed the file, placing it on the table between her and Purnell. The older man regarded her solemnly.

So? What were your first impressions?’ he asked.

Jess took a deep breath and considered. ‘He seems very erm….together. Absolutely believable in what he says. And the police thing — that fits in well with his American accent. Has anyone explored his background? It says in the file that when he was admitted to the private clinic after the RTA, he was admitted as a John Doe.’

Purnell shook his head. ‘No-one could find any trace of him in Brooklyn where he claims to hail from. Just because someone has an accent doesn’t mean that it’s going to solve all their riddles. You might have noticed that my accent isn’t exactly local.’

Jess nodded. ‘American?’

‘You might think so, but in fact I’ve never set foot outside England. My parents were from California, hence the accent. See? It’s easy to jump to conclusions.’

‘But maybe if we could find out about his…’

‘NO!’ Purnell almost jumped down her throat. ‘Your job is to look after Ethan here, now. He doesn’t need anyone adding fuel to his already overheated imagination. You need to be careful with him, my dear. He’s young. Some might call him attractive. And most of all, his psychosis is of the worst kind. It’s almost so believable that it makes you begin to wonder. Don’t. Don’t be drawn in. Let this first meeting be a warning to you. He’ll suck you into his world if you aren’t on your guard.’

Jess felt like a schoolgirl on her first day at school, being lectured by the headmaster. Purnell was right. She had been suckered by the handsome patient. Something about those eyes had sucked her right in and blown her carefully arranged professionalism clean out of the water.

‘He said his name was Dave. Dave Starsky. Do I continue to call him Ethan, or Starsky?’ she asked.

Purnell shrugged his shoulders. ‘Whichever quietens him down the most. You’ll find that he can be quite violent. He’s broken one guards nose and given another one a severe concussion. If he insists on being called Strasky….Starsky…whatever, go with it and don’t put yourself in any danger. Although you are his main carer, there will be a guard close by at all times. Now, are you happy to take the job on, knowing the background to the sorry case? Speak now. A change in carer once you’ve established a rapport would be devastating to the patient’s recovery — if indeed he ever recovers.’

Jess considered for a moment. Could she handle this? Could she handle the patient with the deep blue eyes without being sucked into his world? The girl nodded. ‘Of course. Yes.’

‘Good. You start tomorrow.’

‘Does he have a rehabilitation plan?’ Jess asked, going back to the notes.

Purnell frowned. ‘At the moment he’s far too unstable and dangerous to be allowed out of his room.’

‘But surely interaction with others might ease his psychosis. Being alone for the best part of the day is going to allow him to sink deeper into his fantasies. Maybe….’

‘Maybe you should spend more than just a couple of minutes with him before you make grand plans young lady’ Purnell snapped. ‘Just how many weeks have you been qualified?’

Jess looked crestfallen. ‘I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. I apologise.’ Way to go hotshot! ~Why not tell the man how to arrange the whole clinic while you’re here!

‘Forget it. Just remember that this is a real individual you’re dealing with and not some project from university. I may look old enough to be your father, but I do have a little experience in these matters. Now, I suggest you take the rest of the day to familiarise yourself with the set up here. Walk around, find out where things are then have an early night and come back tomorrow refreshed and ready to start, hmm?’

The girl recognised the signs of a brush off — she didn’t need a degree is psychoanalysis to figure that one out. Jess stood and placed her empty mug on the desk. ‘Yes. Thank you sir. I’ll be back at 9.00 tomorrow.’

Purnell watched the young woman leave and pulled the file towards him. He sighed heavily and reached for the telephone, dialling a long number and waiting for it to connect. Eventually there was a reply and he spoke quietly.

‘I’ve finally found someone to look after him. She’s young and inexperienced, but she’ll be just fine — easy to mould into our ways.’ The man replaced the receiver and looked at the file for a long time, before pushing it away from him and leaning back to put his feet up on the desk. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to deal with someone like Ethan.

 

Chapter 3

Jess knocked on the outer door to the small subterranean room and waited for the guard to let her in to see her patient.

The previous night she had found things to distract her. She’d been quiet at home and despite her room-mate asking her all sorts of questions about her first day at her new job, the young woman remained tight lipped. At 7.00 she went to a talk at the village hall by a local professor. Jess loved village life and she also loved the countryside she lived in. Botany had become something of a hobby for her and whenever she could, she would go out looking for flowers, plants, anything to take her mind off of her studies. Tonight she listened intently as Professor Petersen talked about the Ladies Slipper Orchid, a native to the area and very rare. It grew in only one small copse of trees within the Tosside Forrest and had been the subject of much study. The lecture over, Jess had made her way back home.

She’d thought about the curly haired man a lot — more than she felt she ought to considering he was a patient and she was supposed to be his carer. This disturbed Jess a great deal. Could she maintain her distance from him? Could she truly pick what was fact from what was a highly ordered psychosis? And how far was she supposed to go down Starsky’s path before she pulled away? Just how far was she to go in order to gain his trust?

For most of that previous evening she’d worked through some of her text books, reading and re-reading some of the passages until her eyes were so tired that he words blended into one. At 3.00am her room-mate shook her awake gently and ordered her to bed so that by the time her alarm clock rang at 7.00 the next morning, she was bleary eyed and in need of coffee rather than her usual tea.

The door to the small room opened and Jess walked in to see Starsky sitting up, his back leant against the wall and his chin on his chest. His arms hung loosely at his sides, the hands still bandaged into fists. The bandages were grubby and looked as though they hadn’t been changed in a long time. As the door clanged shut, the man on the bed jumped slightly and his eyes opened.

‘Good morning’ Jess said quietly, mindful that Starsky had been without human contact for some time.

‘Mornin’ he replied, his voice still rasping and hoarse.

‘Do you mind if I come in to talk?’

Starsky shrugged his shoulders non-commitally. ‘Why?’

‘Dr Purnell thought it would aid your recovery.’

‘I ain’t sick.’

‘No? I believe you were in an accident? Your medical records say you were seriously hurt.’

‘Not from an accident I wasn’t’

Jess frowned. ‘But the scars…..?’

Starsky looked down and self consciously tried to pull his tee shirt further up, hiding the tips of the scars on his chest. ‘From sumthin that happened a while ago’ he muttered.

Jess made a mental note to talk about that later. She took another few steps into the room. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

Again the shrug of the shoulders and again Jess’ spine tingled.

‘Who are you?’ Starsky asked, his eyes finally fixing on hers.

She smiled. ‘Shouldn’t it be me asking you that question?’

‘You read the file, so you think you know who I am.’

‘Now that bothers me’ Jess said quietly. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘That you think you know who I am? Coz I ain’t the only one in here who’s bein’ brainwashed.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Starsky snickered. ‘You an’ me both honey.’

Jess found herself staring into the deep, deep indigo blue eyes, seeing the sorrow and the frustration in them. She turned away, silently berating herself for having once again fallen under his man’s spell.

‘Let’s start at the beginning shall we? I’m Jess. Jess Donnelly. I’ve been asked by Dr Purnell to be your carer whilst you’re here. To be honest you’re my first full time patient so um….. maybe we should just take it nice and gently hmm?’

Starsky saw the tension in the woman’s shoulders and the compassion in her eyes. He pulled himself up straighter and started to hold out a hand to shake hers. He withdrew it with a snicker when he remembered the bandages. How long had they been there? How long had he been there? ‘Sorry, I…..’

‘Here, let me see if I can deal with those for you.’ Jess leaned forwards and started to unfasten and unwrap the dirty linen from his hands. Eventually she had the right hand unwrapped and started on the left as Starsky gingerly flexed his fingers, hissing as movement returned to the cramped digits. His skin tingled with the return of the fresh air and his skin was dimpled with the impression of the tight bandages that had been bound around them. When Jess had freed the left hand too, he flexed both sets of fingers and gingerly rubbed at his tender skin.

‘Thanks’ he muttered, self consciously.

‘Don’t mention it. The notes said they had to take certain measures to stop you hurting yourself…. or the guards. You won’t erm….’

‘Do anythin’ stupid? No ma’am.’ The shadow of a lop sided grin flashed across the rugged face and then passed as quickly as it had come. Jess settled herself onto the bed and tried to relax.

‘So you aren’t from around here?’ she asked.

‘Nope. Originally from Brooklyn but then I settled in….in…. I went to live in….’ The dark haired man put his head in his hands and scrubbed his fingers through his matted curls. ‘I’m a cop. I work with Hutch in…. Jesus! Fuckin’ drugs. Can’t…’

Jess put a hand out and rested it on Starsky’s knee, feeling the tremors running through the man’s body.

‘It’s ok. It’s a natural side effect of the ECT. Dr Purnell is trying to rid you of the shadows in your mind so that you can focus on reality.’

Starsky snorted. ‘Is that what the bastard told ya?’

‘It’s standard procedure for delus… your type of illness, yes.’

‘My type of delusions huh? Is that what he told ya? Don’t trust a word he says coz he’s crazy?’

‘You hate him, don’t you?’ Jess asked.

‘Hate him? Why the hell shouldn’t I?’

‘He saved your life from the crash.’

Starsky shook his head. ‘No crash. Well, there was a crash but apart from a couple’a broken bones I was ok. I need to find Hutch. He was with me when… the bastard has him. I need to know. I need to get outa here to find him.’

Jess watched her patient become steadily more agitated. His breath rate increased and a fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. His hands balled into fists and for a moment the woman feared that Starsky might start to become violent. Instead, the brunet closed his eyes fighting for control as Jess inched off to the edge of the mattress.

Starsky’s eyes opened and he stared at the ground. ‘M’sorry’ he muttered. ‘I just need to…..’

The mention of the fictitious Hutch allowed an opening for Jess to explore. She relaxed a little — if Starsky was indeed as violent as Purnell said, then surely he would have shown it right now. Instead though, Jess felt only loneliness and a great longing from her patient.

‘Who’s Hutch?’ she asked.

Starsky froze. Should he trust her? Should he talk to this young woman about his partner? Matwick had convinced everyone else that Hutch was a figment of Starsky’s imagination. Why should she be any different? He paused, considering for a moment, and glanced at the girl. Starsky liked what he saw. She seemed open and trusting and her hands, unwrapping his own from their confining bandages had been the first kind touch he’d felt in as long as he could remember. The cop made his decision.

‘He’s the man that your boss says is a figment of my imagination’ Starsky rasped softly.

‘And you disagree?’

Starsky sighed and looked away. ‘Lady you don’t forget your partner of 9 years. Ya don’t forget the times we’ve watched each other’s backs or the good and bad times we’ve shared. Hutch is real.’ The brunet snickered. ‘You couldn’t make someone like Hutch up if ya tried.’

‘But if you’re feeling lonely, or scared maybe Hutch is the sort of person who, in your own mind, would give you some sort of escape?’

‘Hutch is as real as you are. I swear it’ Starsky said softly ‘an’ yeah, his memory makes me feel safe.’

‘Where is he?’

‘I don’t know. My memory is patchy. I remember some things an’ not others. But what I do remember is the gods honest truth ma’am.’

‘Tell me what you remember and maybe we can take it from there.’

Starsky sighed. ‘We were in England workin’ a case — his case as it turned out. We’d got a great lead and we were followin’ up on it when we saw a tail. Hutch was driving. The car we were in hit sumthin on the road or maybe we just couldn’t make the turn. We spun out of control and ended up to our buts in freezin’ water in the river. It’s fuzzy from then on. I think I must’ve blacked out an’ when I came around there were a bunch of flakes haulin’ Hutch’s ass outa the car. I tried to stop ’em but I was pinned. One of ’em hit me an’ I blacked out again. When I came to I was here, with Ma…. with your boss.’

Jess listened to Starsky’s voice and watched her patient’s body language. What he told her he obviously believed. There was none of the telltale signs of excess sweating or agitation and Starsky’s eyes met Jess’ without flickering or turning away. Whoever Hutch was — whoever Starsky believed him to be, to the brunet he was very real.

‘You don’t like Dr Purnell, do you?’ Jess asked.

‘Well that’s an understatement.’

‘It’s not unusual for patients like yourself to become angry at their doctor.’

The brunet snickered. ‘Patients like myself? You mean guys who’re locked away in psychiatric hellholes? Head cases? Like me? Why not say it huh? You think I’m a fruitcake don’t ya?’

‘No…I….’ Jess looked away, for some reason both confused and embarrassed. Starsky leaned forward and put out his left hand, gently raising Jess’ chin until he could see her eyes. ‘I ain’t crazy.’

‘I never said….’ Jess lost herself in the earnest indigo gaze before finally tearing her eyes away from Starsky’s. She mentally shook herself. ‘I never said you were’ she said quietly. ‘But you seem to hate Dr Purnell with a passion.’

‘Hate him? For what he’s done? Yeah, I hate the bastard.’

‘Why? He’s trying to make you well again.’

‘He’s tryin’ to blank my memory coz he knows I could bring him down.’

Jess shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘I know him and he…’ Starsky’s words were cut off by the door to his room being pushed open. Two guards and a nurse came in and Starsky flashed Jess a look of panic.

‘Don’t let ’em give me that’ he snapped, seeing the syringe in the nurse’s hand. ‘Jess, please don’t…’

The guards elbowed their way past Jess and pushed Starsky back onto the bunk. He fought with them, struggling to get away until one of them punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of the brunet’s body. Jess jumped and looked away, sickened at the violence.

‘Be careful. You don’t need to do that’ she shouted as the other guard used his knee in Starsky’s stomach to keep the curly haired man down. The nurse plunged the needle of the syringe into Starsky’s arm and the three men stood back as Starsky’s eyes started to roll up. With an effort, the brunet focussed on Jess one last time.

‘Help me’ he managed to force out as the guards started to fasten his wrists to the edge of the bunk with leather restraints.

Jess felt the bile rising in her stomach and ran from the room leaving her patient to his dreams. She was sickened and felt powerless. Restraints were quite frequently used in mental facilities, but this degree of all out violence? As she ducked into the nearest restroom and fell to her knees in the nearest cubicle, Jess wondered whether she could do this job or whether she should tell Dr Purnell to get someone else better qualified to deal with the handsome man in room 320.

 

Chapter 4

The wind whistled through the trees, the branches whipping at face and hands and threatening to trip the man up in his headlong flight through the woodland. The moon was full, but the night sky was full of cloud, making the light from the moon and stars useful for only short periods of time.

The lie of the land took a sudden downward turn and the blond man with the deep golden tan tripped and fell feet first down the hillside, clutching madly at the bracken and tree roots in an attempt to slow his descent. Finally, with a teeth chattering crash, Ken Hutchinson stopped, his fall broken by the bole of a large oak tree. For a full minute he lay stunned, his lower leg at an unusual angle, his face staring up at the milky, cloudy sky. Sense came back to him slowly and with it the pain of a hundred cuts and scratches and the sprained ankle he knew he’d just added to his collection of hurts.

With a barely suppressed yelp of pain, Hutch pulled himself up until his back was against the tree trunk and he could gather his breath. A gentle rain started to fall and he looked up at the sky. Godforsaken pits of a country, he mumbled to himself. Who in their right mind would want to actually live in a place that was colder then hell and perpetually wet?

‘Hey, they got tiny little towns an’ cute houses.’ The soft New York accent came back to haunt Hutch, reminding him of the day that he and Starsky landed at Manchester airport and made their way north through green valleys and wild open moorland towards their destination. Starsky had spent his time revelling in the new sights that England had to offer whilst Hutch tried to get to grips with driving on the wrong side of the road with a stick shift car where all the controls were reversed. It had been a good first day and the omen had been favourable that they’d complete their task and be back in California within the week.

How long ago had it been since that fateful day? Eight, nine, maybe ten weeks ago, maybe longer and for the first couple of days their job had gone well. Until that fateful afternoon with the sun dipping down below the hills on the chilly late September evening. It had been unseasonably warm and sunny and Starsky and Hutch were driving back from Lancaster where they’d spent the day with the local police going over the same ground hour after hour. The small city, with its ancient castle overlooking the river had seemed tiny compared to LA, but the sweat was still the same. By 6.00pm Hutch’s shirt had been sticking to his back and his head ached. Starsky’s mind was wandering too and he was starting to flirt with the woman assigned to help them find their way through the oceans of paperwork.

Hutch had slammed down his pen and declared that he needed a beer and food and at the suggestion Starsky, the ever hungry cop, stopped his flirting and followed his partner down to the parking lot. The two guys had wound their way through the narrow streets of Lancaster and were soon on the motorway south, pulling off the fast road onto the smaller country roads closer to their hotel. As the car started to wind its way towards Barrow, the road following the route of the River Ribble as it meandered through the fields, Starsky’s cop senses had started to tingle and he’d turned to look out through the back window.

‘Red Ford about 50 yards back’ he’d said casually.

Hutch had looked into the rear view mirror. ‘Got ’em. How long’ve they been there?’

‘Since we left Lancaster.’

‘Tail?’

The curly haired man had nodded. ‘Think so. Can you handle some speed?’

‘In the dark, on the wrong side of the freakin’ road and with the road barely wide enough for one? Sure. Piece of cake.’

Hutch had floored the gas pedal, trying to pull away from the Ford in their hired Jag, nursing the rental car through the corners of the unfamiliar road but try as he might, the Ford kept up with them. He flew through small villages, screeching around corners. At Mitton he saw the glint of the river in the moonlight and then the outline of the tiny one lane bridge. At the last second he stood on the brakes to make the turn but it wasn’t enough and Hutch swerved, wrestling with the car as the tyres fought to grip the road. There was a moment of sickening clarity as Hutch saw the river bank coming towards them and then a cacophony as the car flipped over and the engine roared into the night.

The impact of the car on the water shook the vehicle and Hutch remembered hitting his head on the steering wheel, knocking himself out. The next thing he remembered was being waist deep in freezing cold water with a torch shining in his eyes as unseen hands hauled him from the car. He remembered looking around desperately for Starsky and seeing the brunet unconscious and with blood streaming from a cut above his left eye. Hutch had called out to his partner but there had been no response and he’d tried to get his rescuers to tell him where he was and how Starsky was. He feared his friend was dead and needed reassurance that they would be ok, but when he started to talk and struggle to get back to the brunet, the hands on his shoulders became more forceful and finally a fist connected with his jaw and sent him back into a world of darkness.

Hutch had woken up in a tiny room with no window and a locked door and there he had remained except for when they came for him for the next round of interrogation.

During the first week he had constantly asked his captors about Starsky. They had been uninterested and unsurprisingly they had refused to answer his questions, wanting only to know the formula of the drug that Hutch and Starsky had taken and hidden.

And then, just a few short hours ago, Hutch had seen his chance and had taken it. The two heavies who had been around him constantly had come to take him once again from his cell to the interrogation room. Whether they were getting lazy, or whether they were under the impression that their captive would be getting weaker and more dispirited, Hutch didn’t know but on this occasion they hadn’t bound his hands behind his back and they had been careless.

Hutch had managed to kick out at one of the men who cannoned into the other, giving the blond cop just enough time to high tail it out of the building into the night and freedom. Within seconds the tiny cottage had disappeared and the blond was surrounded by trees. Instinctively Hutch had run towards the open countryside and the shadows and he hadn’t stopped running for as long as his legs would carry him.

Admittedly he wasn’t in the best of health. The repeated periods of interrogation had taken their toll. His captors may have been from another country but they used the same force as the flakes back home. First had been the beatings. They had been bad enough and Hutch knew that at least one broken rib had resulted from an overzealous blow. His face and body were bruised and on the second occasion a cut had opened up on his cheek below his right eye. The cut had become a kind of target for the interrogators and had refused to heal.

When the beatings didn’t have the desired effect, his captors became more sophisticated, using electricity to try to get the information they needed. Hutch had lost count of the times the jolts of power had sent him convulsing to the ground where he’d blacked out only to wake back in his cell. And still he hadn’t given them the information they wanted.

Only when he was hit by the fevers and was sleep deprived did they add a little psychological torture to the mix. One day, they came for him and bound him to a chair in front of a blank wall. A moment later a video flickered into life, the shaky camera image projected onto the whitewash, steadying until Hutch could see his partner, lying seemingly lifeless on some sort of hospital cot.

At that Hutch had become almost insane, fighting against his bonds as the video showed Starsky being slapped across the face until his drugged eyes opened. And then a big man stood in front of the camera with his back to it. He’d taken a hold of a handful of chocolate coloured curls and had hauled Starsky to his knees, where he seemed to be forcing himself onto the drugged brunet. Hutch had watched with a mixture of emotions. Up until the video, he’d not known whether Starsky was alive or dead. To see his partner still in the land of the living was an enormous rush of relief. To see him obviously drugged and powerless to resist the treatment the men were handing out left Hutch’s blood running cold.

It was only then that Hutch started to have doubts about keeping silent, and several more videos followed at regular intervals, wearing away at the blond’s resolve.

Hutch opened his eyes and stared once more at the cloudy sky. He hurt. He hurt so damned much and yet he needed to put distance between him and the men who were undoubtedly following him. With a stifled groan he levered himself to his feet and tested his weight on his ankle. It held, but sent shooting pains up his leg and into his belly. Painfully he forced himself on through the rain, slipping on the undergrowth as he continued down the hill towards the glint of the river through the trees.

As he reached flatter ground however, the blond heard a twig snap behind him. Daring to look over his shoulder he saw the lancing beam of a flashlight through the tree trunks and a shot rang out into the night, ricocheting off a trunk close by his and kicking up splinters.

Hutch dived for the ground and crawled on his belly towards the riverbank, his heart hammering in his chest. Behind him he heard a car engine revving and up ahead another flash light appeared. The blond man got to his feet and threw himself headlong along the riverside path, hugging the shadows to him wherever possible. The footfalls behind him seemed to be getting closer and despite the burning pain in his ankle Hutch redoubled his efforts, the rain dripping from his flaxen bangs and blinding his eyes.

Again he fell, this time hitting his head against the stump of a tree and as he tried to rise, another shot rang out. For an instant it seemed the bullet had missed him and then the fiery burn of the hot lead spread across his upper arm. Hutch clutched at his shoulder, his hand coming away slick with blood that showed up black in the moonlight. Seeing it brought more pain and a tightness in his chest that threatened to take away his breath. Ahead a man appeared, blocking his path and desperately Hutch turned back the way he’d come. Another flashlight blinded him from up ahead and the realisation hit that he was trapped. Another shot rang out, spitting up mud next to his right foot and Hutch sank to the ground, bleeding, breathless and defeated. He held his left hand over his right shoulder, his chin on his chest as he tried to keep his pain under control, sucking in his breaths through clenched teeth.

A pair of booted feet appeared in front of him and slowly Hutch looked up into the face he’d come to hate more than any other.

‘You were never the brightest button in the box, were you Hanson. Or is it Hutchinson? Did you really think you were going to be able to escape so easily?’ Matwick looked down at the injured man at his feet and sneered.

‘Where’s my partner?’ Hutch ground out, his voice rusty with pain.

‘You mean Starsky? The man who isn’t even sure who he is any more? He’s forgotten all about you, Hutchinson.’

‘Never’ Hutch snapped.

‘With the treatment he’s getting from my nurses? You’ve seen just how much they love him. Soon he won’t know his ass from his elbow. And it’s all your fault, of course.’

Hutch shook his head slowly from side to side like a wounded animal. ‘No’ he muttered. ‘No, he…’

Matwick nodded to the figure at Hutch’s back. Unseen, rough hands took a hold of the blond man and hauled his to his feet, pulling his arms sharply behind him to surround each wrist with metal handcuffs. The pull on the bullet wound, added to all the other hurts and sent Hutch’s over sensitised nerves into overload. Pain radiated out from his shoulder across his chest and Hutch stumbled forwards, putting more weight than he could bear on his injured ankle.

The world exploded in a red blaze of pain, the bile rising in his throat as Hutch’s last thoughts were of Starsky and how the hell he was going to get his partner and himself out of this mess now. In slow motion the blond cop sagged against his captors hold and as they dragged him away, the toes of his boots ploughed two narrow furrows in his wake.

 

Chapter 5

When Jess arrived at room 320 the next day, she found the bunk empty. An inexplicable feeling of panic ran up her spine and she raced into the dark corridor outside and yelled for one of the orderlies. A tall man looked out of the staff room door.

‘Where’s Sta….where’s Ethan?’ Jess asked, trying to keep the edge of panic out of her voice.

‘Room 320? Purnell took him for his next treatment. He should be back in an hour or so, not that he’s gonna be needin’ your help today’ the orderly grinned and winked at he scratched his belly through his shirt.

‘Treatment? As in?’

‘The old juice box. Purnell’s been hittin’ him with a few thousand volts for weeks now. Seems like the doctor’s on a mission.’

‘Where’s the treatment room? Jess asked quickly.

‘Upstairs, corridor on the left, third room’ the man replied and went back to watching his TV. ‘You want the grandstand view?’

Jess walked quickly back up the stairs and followed the orderly’s directions, ignoring the comment. Why hadn’t Purnell told her that he was going to be giving Starsky another round of ECT? Jess was convinced that part of Starsky’s psychotic reaction to the doctor stemmed from the frightening and often painful treatment. Many patients feared the two electrodes placed on either temple and the complete loss of movement that the tranquiliser drugs gave, before the ECT began.

The girl moved quicker, looking in through open doors until she came to one marked “theatre — no admittance”. Looking in through the small circular window of the operating room she saw Purnell dressed in operating greens leaning over a gurney. His back was to Jess but as Purnell turned, she could see Starsky strapped to the trolley, struggling against the straps holding him down. The curly haired man had a strap of thick leather between his teeth and a wild look in his eyes. There was no evidence of the usual anesthetic used in ECT.

Without thinking, Jess pushed her way into the room just in time to see Purnell throw the switch on the automated ECT machine and stand back.

The effect was both dramatic and unbearable to watch. Starsky’s body arched off the gurney, fighting against the leather bindings as his lips drew back from the leather strap between his teeth in a grim parody of a smile. His body was rigid, all semblance of control gone. Both voluntary and involuntary muscles froze against the flow of current as Starsky jangled on the bed and a dark patch at his groin showed the temporary loss of control of his bladder.

Jess froze, sickened for the 10 seconds it took for the jolt of electricity to pass through the patient’s body. The 10 seconds may just as well have been 10 years because Jess felt every measure of time slow down to an eternity. Starsky’s eyes were wide open, staring panic stricken at the ceiling until the charge stopped and his body sank back onto the bed. Muscles continued to fire randomly through his body however and he jerked painfully against his bonds.

Starsky inhaled a deep audible breath. Lungs too had been paralysed by the electric shock and now he spat out the leather from between his teeth and weakly glared at Purnell.

‘Ffffuck you’ he managed to whisper as Purnell’s finger went back to the button for another jolt. It was only at that point that the doctor saw Jess standing with her hands up to her mouth in horror, her eyes questioning and accusing all in one.

Purnell stood back from the control panel and slapped a smile onto his face. ‘I thought you’d be waiting for your patient in his room’ he muttered.

‘I um…. I wondered where…. You didn’t use a sedative’ Jess blurted out, her eyes unable to leave the sight of the man on the gurney as his body twisted and jerked weakly against the leather straps still holding him in place.

‘He refused to sign consent’ Purnell said smoothly. ‘He said he wanted the treatment but he wouldn’t sign for the anesthetic. What can I do? He needs help and yet I have to be constrained by what the patient allows, even when they erm…. well, even when they aren’t in their right mind.’

‘There must be another way’ he girl said angrily. She’d seen ECT performed many times, but always with the patient unconscious. This treatment seemed barbaric, even if Starsky had agreed to it. A look of anger also passed Purnell’s face.

‘May I see you outside?’ he snapped, heading for the door. Jess followed him out.

‘Whilst it’s admirable that you are so concerned for your patient, Miss Donnelly, I am a doctor and I don’t appreciate having my treatments questioned in front of the patient. Any further outbursts like that and I will terminate your employment. Is that clear?’

Jess swallowed hard. Way to go girl. Piss off the boss on your third day at work. But he was in the wrong and what if Starsky is telling the truth? What if…. Don’t be so gullible. He’s a patient and his psychosis runs so deep you can’t even tell what’s truth and what isn’t. Jess looked at the ground. ‘I’m sorry doctor. It’s just I’ve never seen ECT done that way before and it was….’

‘Shocking? I know, but as I said, it’s for the patient’s own good and I’m merely following his wishes. Now, why not go and tend to him, but remember, the first few hours after a treatment can increase the psychosis, until the brain chemicals kick in. Don’t be drawn into his world, however plausible it might seem. He’s still a patient in a mental facility.’

Purnell walked back into the operating room and over to Starsky who was laying with his eyes closed on the trolley. The doctor measured pulse, blood pressure and respiration rates and recorded them and then put a smile on his face.

‘Well then Ethan. Look who’s here to look after you. Your pretty little carer is back. Remember her? Isn’t she so much better than your imaginary Hutch? Don’t think about Hutch. In your mind try to picture him fading away — dying if you will — maybe from a gunshot wound?’

Starsky’s eyes flew open. ‘Bastard’ he rasped. ‘You lay one finger on him and….’

Purnell turned away and raised his eyebrows at Jess. ‘See? Be gentle with him him? Tell him I’ll be along to see him tonight.’

Jess wheeled the trolley back along the corridor and into the elevator to the basement. As the doors to the elevator car swished closed Starsky tried to raise his head. ‘Help me’ he whispered. ‘He’s got Hutch.’

Jess’ insides turned to jelly. ‘Sssh. Try not to talk. Let’s get you back to your room and get you comfortable, then we can talk.’

‘But you don’t understand. He’s…’

Jess looked around her as Starsky’s voice rose. She didn’t want to attract too much attention and she certainly didn’t want the orderlies to “help”.

‘Please…. just shut up till we get back to your room’ she said desperately. The girl wheeled the trolley back into room 320, closed the door and locked it behind her. She took a clean sheet and draped it casually over the two way mirror on the wall. For some reason she couldn’t yet fathom, she didn’t want the orderlies anywhere near Starsky today. The man had gone through enough.

Once she was happy the room was as private as she could make it, Jess unfastened the straps surrounding Starsky’s wrists and ankles and across his chest, letting the heavy leather fall to the floor.

Starsky lay quietly. The after effects of the ECT left him feeling sick to his stomach, dizzy, and as weak as a kitten. He had a thundering headache and his muscles ached beyond belief. The feelings took him back to his time in ‘Nam when he’d been tortured by the Viet Cong and the memory sent a shiver through his body. He felt a cool hand soothing his forehead and forced his eyes open to look up into Jess’ concerned face.

‘M’sorry. Thanks’ he said quietly.

‘Do you think you can make it to the bed?’ she asked.

Starsky levered himself into a sitting position and half rolled, half fell off the trolley, landing on his knees on the floor. Jess caught him and put her arms around his waist, helping him to stand so that he could shuffle over to the bed where he collapsed onto the thin mattress.

‘How do you feel?’ Jess asked.

‘Like roadkill’ Starsky snickered. ‘Just need t’lie down for a while an’….’ the brunet tried to hide the soiled area on his pants, looking away, embarrassed. Jess saw the look and became business like.

‘Here, let me’ she said. She drew a bowl of water from the sink in the corner of the room, ducked outside and came back a moment later with clean pants, a clean sheet and a blanket. As she knelt beside the bed and started to pull at the drawstring of the pants, Starsky put his hand over hers and tried to pull her away.

‘I can do it’ he mumbled, his hand trembling with exhaustion.

‘Uh huh. And so can I. Please. Let me help’ the girl said softly. ‘Just rest while I take care of things.’

A shy smile played over Starsky’s face. ‘Used to be me saying that to girls’ he muttered.

Jess giggled and managed to pull the tee shirt over Starsky’s head. For a moment she was startled at the road map of surgical tracks and divots across chest and back and she paused. Slowly Starsky opened his eyes, a defensive look in them, as though he was challenging her to walk out of the room.

Jess ran her finger gently down the deepest of the scars, just below Starsky’s heart. ‘From the accident?’ she asked.

‘I got shot. Back home’ Starsky said simply.

‘Shot? How? I mean…. sorry. I shouldn’t be so nosey’ Jess looked away, embarrassed.

‘I was in the parking lot at…. at….. damn, why can’t I remember the name?’ Starsky rolled his head on the pillow and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jess pulled his hands away and held them.

‘It’s ok. It’s the after effects of the treatment. Go on. Tell me.’

‘I was with Hutch. He yelled at me to get down. I heard him fire but sumthin knocked me over. They shot me. I caught five slugs and Hutch caught the bad guy.’ Starsky told the story in such a matter of fact way that Jess was taken aback. This seemed way more than a standard psychosis, even if Starsky was talking about Hutch again.

‘Five? How did you survive? I mean, you obviously did, but…’

‘Took six months, but I eventually got back to normal, whatever normal is. And then I got back to work and Dobey sent us here.’

‘Who’s Dobey?’ Jess asked.

‘Dobey? He’s… he’s…. Hell who the fuck is he? His name is so familiar and yet… Jesus!’ Starsky closed his eyes again and Jess knew she’d pushed too far.

‘It’s ok. You can tell me later’ she said, letting go of Starsky’s hands. Gently she began to wash her patient’s chest and back. Starsky’s body started to relax into the ministrations as his mind tried to recall Dobey. His name was so real and Starsky felt that he’d been an important part of Starsky’s life and yet, try as he might he couldn’t remember the person who belonged to the name, or where he came from. Only Hutch. Hutch, his partner and his one clear memory from before.

The soft hands on his body lulled Starsky towards sleep. Matwick had been banging away at his head for weeks with the so called “treatment”. Toady he’d been cut short of asking his usual questions by Jess’ appearance. Today he hadn’t demanded to know where the formula was and hadn’t shocked Starsky multiple times. Today the brunet had got off lightly.

Jess towelled Starsky’s chest dry and draped a clean sheet over his middle. Without exposing her patient too much, Jess untied the drawstring of the scrubs and pulled them off, tossing the soiled linen into the corner. Starsky seemed to be almost asleep and she shyly started to wash further down his body. Starsky’s eyes flashed open as she touched his groin and his body reacted to the attractive woman as any red blooded man would do, and yet Starsky was exhausted from the treatment he’d endured that morning and he lay still as Jess cleaned him, redressed him and made the bed around him.

Finally, the girl retrieved some ointment and gingerly smoothed it into the fresh burns on Starsky’s temples where Purnell had placed the electrodes. The sudden pain awakened the man and Starsky hissed, fighting to get away from her hands.

‘Ssh. It’s ok. It’s me, Jess’ she whispered. ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

‘You promise?’ Starsky mumbled.

‘I promise’ Jess said quietly.

Starsky forced his eyes open. ‘You have to get me out of here’ he rasped, his voice hoarse with pain and need. ‘Please? Help me get out?’

Jess soothed his forehead. Starsky’s eyes started to close again and his body started to relax. Jess wondered to herself. He didn’t seem mad. He didn’t seem the sort of guy who could make up all of this. The wounds on his chest and back were certainly real and did indeed look like gunshot wounds, although she was no expert on the matter. And why was Purnell so interested in this one case?

‘We’ll talk some more when you wake’ she said softly as Starsky’s eyes closed, fluttered, and remained closed as sleep overtook him.

 

Chapter 6

A slap across the face is guaranteed to wake anyone up, even from the deepest of sleeps. The bright white blaze of pain brought Hutch out of his stupor so that his eyes met cool grey ones directly above him. The blond cop tried to shield his eyes but found that his wrists were immobile, anchored to the side of what felt like a small bed. Hutch screwed his eyes up tight and then opened them again, assimilating the pains his body was offering.

The scratches and bruises of his headlong flight through the forest were now hot and red and along with the bruises from the fall, they provided a background echo of dull pain. More immediate was the pain in his right ankle, which throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Right now the pain was almost continuous as his heart hammered against his ribs. Top of the pain league was the blaze of red hot, knife edged pain in his right shoulder where the bullet had hit him and brought him down. Each time Hutch flexed his arm, twitched a finger or even breathed flashes of agony rode across his chest and down into his belly. He felt hot and sick to his stomach and the little medical training he had told him he was beginning to run a fever and that the bullet was very likely still inside his shoulder.

As his eyes opened, an unseen hand grasped a handful of matted flaxen hair and pushed a pillow beneath his head so that he could see the blank white wall in front of him. Across the small room a projector whirred into life and once again Hutch was looking at some kind of operating room with a narrow gurney at its centre. Attached to the gurney by wrists, ankles and chest was the familiar figure of his partner and Hutch hitched a breath as he saw Matwick come into view. Sound accompanied the flickering video tape.

‘Do you still want to remain silent?’ Matwick was asking. ‘All I’m asking for is the formula you stole from me. It’s simple. Just tell me where it is and this will all stop.’

Starsky, looking tired, thin and weary stared defiantly up at the doctor. ‘Fuck you. D’ya really think even if I had the formula that I’d be any part in developin’ a synthetic heroin? Huh? I’m a cop for fuck’s sake. There’s enough flakes out there hooked on the real thing to keep me busy from now to eternity.’

‘And a lot more who can’t afford their next hit. Think of yourself as doing some good. You’d cut down the crime rate. How many crimes are committed by addicts looking for money for their next score? This way, the masses can afford what I want to offer them. Once I have the formula back.’

‘You’re crazy’ Starsky snapped.

‘Oh? You’re the one in the mental ward. You’re the one who a moment ago was pleading to know where his partner was. He isn’t well, you know. Bullets make a mess of human flesh, I’m sure you’re aware of that.’

Hutch closed his eyes in sympathy for his partner as Starsky started to thrash against his bonds. The blond man tried to turn away but rough hands held his head in place so that he was forced to watch.

‘Bastard!’ Starsky spat out. ‘I don’t know where the formula is an’ even if I did, d’ya really think I’d tell?’

Matwick sighed impatiently. ‘Just how many treatments do you think you can take before that pathetic little brain of yours turns to so much grey mush? How many is this? Four? Five? What are you starting to forget David? Can you still remember your Mother? Your Father? It won’t be long before all memory goes and along with it the memory of that partner you seem to be so fond of. And all because you won’t give me just one piece of information. Another few bashes at your brain with my little black box of tricks and then you’ll no longer be David Starsky. You’ll be one more shambling wreck, stumbling about the grounds like an animal. C’mon! See the sense in this. Give me the location of the formula’ Matwick ground out.

Starsky closed his eyes. ‘Tell me one thing. You say you shot Hutch. Is he still alive?’

‘For now, but without treatment I would say his days are numbered. Unless you want to co-operate…’

Hutch watched the pictures on the wall. Don’t tell him Starsk. Don’t tell him.

The brunet closed his eyes. ‘Go to hell Matwick. I’ll join ya later’ he muttered. Matwick’s body tensed and his hand balled into a fist as though he was going to hit Starsky. Instead, the doctor reached for his equipment. ‘Remember, you made me do this’ Matwick said as he stuck the two electrodes to the sides of Starsky’s head. Hutch watched in horror, knowing what was to come next. Each “treatment” had been carefully filmed and played back to him and each time he’d died a little inside watching his partner’s body jangle like a marionette on the gurney. And all for that one piece of paper that he and Starsky had managed to take from Matwick’s lab all those weeks ago.

The tape played out to its conclusion but instead of filming a close up of Starsky’s jerking body, as they had done so many times before, the video shut down suddenly as the blond man though he heard a woman’s voice interrupt.

‘You’re killing him’ Hutch muttered as Matwick bent over him. The doctor said nothing. Instead he unbuttoned Hutch’s grimy shirt and pulled the material back from the wound on Hutch’s shoulder. Without too much care, he probed the depths of the wound whilst Hutch sweated and tried to remain still.

‘The bullet’s still in there Hutchinson. You know what that means don’t you?’

Hutch closed his eyes. ‘I’m sure you’re gonna explain it to me.’

Matwick smiled grimly. ‘It’s gonna get hotter as your body tries to ward off the infection. It’s gonna get red and swollen as the dirt and bits of material the bullet took in with it create infection. Your temperature will rise and with the fever will come delirium. Not even the strongest minded man can help what he says when the fever hits. Not even you Hutchinson. So it seems to me that we have two choices. You can either tell me where the formula is now and I clean your wound, dress it and we talk about release, or you continue to lie there in your own filth whilst the infection grows and I come back and question you when it gets real bad. Sooner or later, you will tell me, or face losing your arm, or even your life.’

The heat and pain throbbed in Hutch’s shoulder. The thought of losing a limb scared him to hell and yet Dobey had sent him and Starsky to do a job and to stop Matwick and his company from producing synthetic heroin on an industrial scale. Memories of what he mad doctor had done to the poor unfortunates in Cabrillo State further fuelled his stubbornness. Hutch and Starsky had found the factory (more like a large country house) and had indeed taken the formula for the drug and hidden it. What Hutch didn’t know was where it was hidden as Starsky had been the one to take the paper from him. He was between a rock and a hard place. ‘Then it’s gonna be a long few days’ the blond whispered.

Matwick cursed. ‘So be it’ the doctor grunted. ‘Let his pain argue with him for a while’ Matwick snarled to the large man at his back. ‘Maybe tomorrow, with no food or water our friend will be in more of a mood to share.’

The door to the small room clanged closed and Hutch heard the key turn in the lock leaving him alone with his thoughts which inevitably turned to Starsky. ‘What the fuck have we got ourselves into’ he mumbled as he closed his eyes and prepared to battle the pain.

 

Jess looked in through the window of the tiny room to see Starsky still soundly asleep. After she’d bathed him and changed him, she’d sat for a long time simply watching the brunet as sleep overtook him. It wasn’t a restful sleep. Starsky moaned and tossed his head against the pillow and on one occasion his deep blue eyes fluttered open and he whispered a name. Hutch.

Now there are delusions and then there are delusions and to Jess’ knowledge not many invaded a man’s dreams. Throughout the previous few days, the young woman had see-sawed between believing her patient’s stories and yelling at herself for becoming sucked into his fantasies. There was something in what Starsky had told her — the accent, the fact that he could remember some things and not others. All the facts added up to the after effects of the ECT treatments. Either that or Starsky’s delusions were so highly organised that she’d be able to write a paper on him if and when she left this job.

And the mention of Dobey — whoever or whatever Dobey was. The name seemed important to Starsky; so important that it came unbidden to the brunet’s lips although he knew not who he was talking about. A name from Starsky’s past? A link to finding out who Jess’ mystery patient was? And why was it that Purnell hadn’t made any attempt to trace Starsky’s past? As Starsky fought the sedative’s effects, Jess let herself out of the room and made her way back upstairs, her mind made up. She walked to the reception desk and smiled at the clerk.

‘Is Dr Purnell in?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry. The doctor is out on business all afternoon. He has some time free tomorrow?’

Jess returned the smile. ‘It’s fine. It can wait’ she said. ‘Is there an office free? I need to erm…. I need to write up some notes.’

The clerk nodded. ‘Paperwork never goes away, does it? You can take room 6, down the hall.’

Jess nodded her thanks and made her way to the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She’d had too much time with too few answers and the niggling feeling at the back of her mind was beginning to eat away at her. On impulse, she grabbed the phone and dialled 100, waiting for the operator. The line connected.

‘Hi. I’m trying to get a number for the police station in erm…. Brooklyn, New York.’ Even to Jess, the request sounded stupid and she fully expected the operator to hang up on her. Instead she was transferred to International Directory Inquiries and a fresh voice asked some more questions. Jess answered as best she could.

‘There are over seventy such stations in the Brooklyn area’ the woman’s voice said. ‘Would you like me to connect you to any of them now?’

This was the moment of truth and Jess’ heart pounded in her chest as she licked dry lips. ‘Yes. Yes, please, um…. the biggest?’ she said. There were whirs and crackles on the phone and then finally the operator connected her and the line rang. Jess’ heartbeat picked up pace as she waited and finally a broad American accent answered. Jess’ mind went blank. What was she doing? Why was she doing it? The voice on the other end of the line spoke again.

‘Do you have anyone who works there called Dobey?’ she blurted out. ‘Or maybe Starsky?’

The voice on the other end of the line answered her as though she was a lunatic. No there was no-one there by either of those names. She asked for the number of another station and then asked the operator to connect her again. By the third call Jess was beginning to lose hope, thinking again that she’d suckered herself into believing Starsky’s story. She was about to put the phone down when another voice answered.

‘Sergeant Polaski. Can I help you?’

The operator’s voice came on the line. ‘Brooklyn I have a long distance call from England. Go ahead caller. The line is yours.’

Jess took a deep breath. ‘Hi. My name is Jess Donnelly and I wonder if you have someone who works there called Dobey? Maybe a policeman?’

Polaski paused a moment. ‘I’m sorry ma’am, there’s no-one of that name here.’

Jess closed her eyes in defeat and then tried once more. ‘Maybe someone called Starsky? Erm, David Starsky?’

There was another pause and then Polaski’s voice sounded over the line. ‘I haven’t heard that name in a long time. You say David Starsky? I knew a Marvin Starsky, but he was killed years ago. Seem to remember he had a couple of sons though. One was Nicky and, lemme think…’

Jess heard a rustle on the line and Polaski shouting to someone . ‘Hey Hank. Remember Marv Starsky? He had two sons didn’t he? Yeah, thought so.’

Polaski picked up the phone again. ‘You’re lucky lady. Me an’ Hank have been here twenty five years. Remembered Marv when he started. Yeah, he had a son called David. Little Dave Starsky. Why?’

Jess’ heart leapt. Could this be it, or was his just a coincidence?

‘Can I ask how old he might be now — David that is?’

Again Polaski consulted with Hank. ‘Maybe 30ish. Ma’am are you in trouble? Is her a problem?’

Jess held he phone tighter. So Starsky’s story wasn’t just a fantasy! ‘I erm… you don’t happen to know what happened to him do you — I mean to David?’

‘Happened? Yeah. Kinda sad really. Marv was killed in the line of duty and Davey went off the rails. His Mom couldn’t handle both him and Nicky so she sent Davey to California. Last I heard he’d followed in the old man’s shoes. Did a spell in the Army and then joined the force. Do you know him? Is he ok?’

Jess reminded herself to be careful. She’d got such a lot from that one brief phone call and she didn’t want to push it. Grasping the phone harder, she willed her breathing to calm a little and then made her excuses to the old cop on the phone.

‘No, well, yeah, he and I met. Erm…. thanks so much for your help Sergeant.’

Jess put down the phone. So Dave Starsky was an ex soldier turned cop and he genuinely was from New York. That much of his story was true but it threw up a whole new set of questions. Who was Hutch? Where was he? Why was Starsky in England and why did Purnell want to keep the curly haired man in solitary confinement? A tibgle of fear crept up Jess’ spine. Just what had she got herself into?

Cautiously Jess let herself out of the office feeling as though she was being watched and followed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. She repressed a shudder and made her way back downstairs to room 320.

 

Chapter 7

Jess made her way quietly down to the basement again, checking in on the orderlies room en route. The two men who patrolled that corridor were watching TV, their backs to the monitors showing the residents of rooms 320, 321 and 322. Hopefully, they would continue to watch the BBC News at 6 rather than their patients. The woman needed time. Softly Jess let herself into room 320 and casually hung her jacket over the two way mirror. She turned on the tap on the wash basin to mask the noise as she’d seen them do in all the good James Bond films and turned to Starsky.

The brunet had woken at the noises in his room and was now watching Jess as she made her preparations. The young woman unbuckled the straps around Starsky’s wrists and ankles and he sat up stiffly slowly rotating his shoulders to bring life back to cramped muscles. Jess put her fingers to her lips and pointed at the microphone on the wall. Starsky nodded his understanding and leaned forwards.

‘What was your father’s name?’ Jess asked.

‘Huh? Marvin. Why?’

‘And you lived in…?’

‘Brooklyn. I already told ya’ Starsky said, seeing excitement in Jess’ eyes.

‘And you moved to California when you were a teenager.’

For a moment Starsky’s eyes blanked and then the spark of a memory started in his head, quickly spreading to a wildfire of newly recalled information.

‘Mom sent me to live with my Aunt Rosey. I never really went back to New York. Spent a couple of years in the Army. Got discharged on medical grounds and joined BCPD.’

‘BCPD?’ Jess asked.

‘Bay City Police Department. Just outside LA. Me and Hutch were partnered about ten years ago.’

Jess saw the re-awakened look in Starsky’s eyes. ‘And why are you here?’ she asked quietly.

‘How did you know? About my Pop?’ Starsky asked.

‘You aren’t the only one who can investigate. You’d mentioned Brooklyn and being a policeman and for some reason I believed you.’

Starsky grinned. It was a lop sided grin that lit up his face and made his eyes twinkle. It was the first time Jess had seen her patient smile and something low down in her belly flipped. My god the guy was handsome! ‘It’s my innate charm’ he said. ‘But how did you find out really?’

‘You’d said Brooklyn and you’d mentioned a name — Dobey.’

‘My Captain. Shit! How could I have forgotten him?’

‘Well anyway. I put two and two together, got on the phone and made some calls.’

‘To? There must be seventy or eighty stations in Brooklyn alone.’

Jess shrugged. ‘I got lucky with call number three and spoke to a Sergeant Polaski who knew a Marvin Starsky who had two sons.’

‘Nick and me’ Starsky said quietly.

‘Right. So. He gave me the low down and from there I realised that you weren’t who Purnell said you were.’

‘Matwick.’

Jess looked up sharply. ‘Matwick, yes.’

‘His name is Harold Matwick and we kinda have a history.’

‘Is he a criminal?’

Starsky smiled. ‘Yeah, and then some. We investigated him a while back. He worked at a facility just outside Bay City. Cabrillo State. Me and Hutch were undercover.’

Jess’ eyes widened. This was almost better than those cheesy cop series on TV. Although this, apparently, was real. ‘Undercover?’ she asked.

Starsky leaned his back against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his face. The drugs in his system still made him feel fuzzy and numb and the headache from the ECT was almost as bad as it had been hours ago. The brunet snickered at his memories. ‘Hutch did a spell as a Med student years ago, before the Academy. It was logical that he went in first as a nurse and me? I got to play mad Rudy Skyler. Guess I got to play him again for real, huh? Anyhow, Matwick had been testing new drugs on inmates and managed to kill a couple of ’em.’

‘And you caught him?’ Jess asked.

‘We caught him, but not before he’d caught us. If it hadn’t been for a nurse, I wouldn’t be here today.’

‘He hurt you?’ the question came a little too quickly to Jess’ lips and once again Starsky smiled.

‘He tried to, but no. We were in a bad place for a while. Matwick had drugged Hutch and he had me trussed up like a turkey waitin’ for Thanksgivin’. Seems he wanted to test his next batch of stuff on me. If it hadn’t been for the nurse…..’

‘Was she as cute as me?’ Jess asked, flapping her eyelashes as Starsky like all the best film stars.

Gently Starsky raised his hand and stroked the girl’s cheek. The touch felt like fire and again something stirred low in her belly. Jess looked away as Starsky dropped his hand. ‘Not as cute and not as smart’ he said softly.

‘Well now we’ve established that you’re not crazy, what do we do next? I mean, how do I get you out of here? Do I call the police? Do I call your Captain Dobey? What?’

Starsky put his head in his hands. Thinking was tough. The drugs in his system clouded his judgement and the pain in his head made it difficult to make plans. He groaned, more in frustration than pain and then felt a tentative arm circle his shoulders, rubbing gently at his back and neck. ‘Feels good’ he mumbled, leaning into the woman. The hand on his neck continued to work its magic, but just a little too well. Starsky felt a familiar pull in his groin, his growing erection tenting the material of his scrubs and self consciously he moved his hand to cover his lap. Jess stopped her ministrations.

‘Sorry’ she said, looking embarrassed.

‘Don’t be’ Starsky smiled. ‘It was great but I need to think and it was kinda distracting.’

The young woman giggled and blushed but removed her arm, instead resting her hand on Starsky’s knee.

‘Matwick knows where Hutch is’ Starsky said quietly. ‘His goons took Hutch from the car before I woke up. He must have him somewhere nearby.’

‘Did you see them take him?’ Jess asked.

Starsky shrugged. ‘I was out cold. When I came to I was in this hell hole with Matwick grinnin’ at me and brandishin’ the ECT stuff at me. Said he’d keep me here from now to eternity if he had to.’

‘But why were you here? What was the job?’

Again the brunet paused. How much should he tell her? The more she knew, the more danger she’d be in. Deciding on caution Starsky shook his head. ‘It’s not important. You’re better off not knowin’. We have sumthin Matwick wants… needs and he’ll go to any lengths to get it back. I just hope Hutch is in better shape than me.’

‘How will we know?’ Jess asked, getting caught up in the drama of it all.

‘We?’ Starsky asked. ‘There aint no “we” honey. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.’

‘But how will you find Hutch? I know the area around here and you don’t. And…’

The conversation was halted by the rattle of keys outside the door. A raised voice, sounding irritated sounded outside.

‘Ethan turn off the water. What the hell are you doing? You want to flood the place? ‘ the orderly shouted as he put the keys into the lock.

Quickly Starsky took a hold of Jess’ hand. ‘See if you can find anythin’ on Hutch huh? Try Matwick’s office…..anywhere. Don’t call Dobey…. not yet.’

The conversation was stopped by the orderly bursting into the room. Angrily he took the jacket from the mirror and flung it at Jess. The man turned off the water, gave the woman a look and then rounded on Starsky who had come to his feet.

Another orderly came into the room and the two of them grabbed the brunet by his arms, trying to force him to the bed. Starsky fought them, struggling against the force.

‘Don’t hurt him’ Jess yelled from the back of the room. ‘Star….Ethan don’t struggle. Don’t fight them. Noo!’

The two men had obviously decided that enough was enough. As one held Starsky’s arms behind his back the other sunk a fist into the cop’s midriff, doubling Starsky over as the wind whistled out of his body. A third orderly came in to join the fray and bundled Jess outside, locking the door so that she couldn’t get back in. From the two way mirror she watched in horror as the three men systematically beat Starsky into unconsciousness before throwing him onto the bed and once more strapping him down.

Jess ran for the nearest bathroom, shaking and crying as the bile rose in her throat. Now she knew for absolute sure that Starsky was no ordinary mental patient and she resolved to get him out of there as soon as possible.

 

Jess staggered up the stairs and back into the reception hall of Guild Lodge. She’d spent 15 minutes in the washrooms getting her stomach back under control and washing her face to clear up the telltale signs of her tears. What she wanted to do most in the world was to get back into Starsky’s room and care for the handsome cop. What she knew she had to do was act carefully. If Purnell/Matwick was as dangerous as he now seemed to be, then not only were Starsky and his partner in danger, Jess herself would need to watch her steps carefully.

As she walked across the reception hall back towards the staff room, Matwick pushed his was in through the door looking windswept and in a hurry.

Jess jumped, startled at his appearance and then overcorrected herself, cursing herself under her breath.

‘Jess? Are you alright dear?’ he doctor asked, giving her a quizzical look.

‘I’m erm…. I’m fine’ she lied. ‘Is it cold out? You look windswept.’

‘Yes, it’s starting to snow out there. I was making a house call when I realised the time.’

‘Somewhere local?’ Jess asked as casually as she could.

‘Oh, just over on the new estate by Clitheroe. You know the rich — they expect gold star service.’

The doctor pushed passed and headed to his office as Jess picked up her coat from the staff room and made her way outside. As Matwick had said, the weather had turned bitterly cold and a few stray flakes of snow had started to fall. Winter was definitely early this year and Jess pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck. She walked quickly to her car, passing Matwick’s Range Rover along the way. On impulse, and making sure that she wasn’t being watched, Jess peered in through the windows at the inside of the car.

Matwick was nothing if not untidy. Old newspapers and empty coffee cartons littered the seats and fell onto the floor. Pale creamy mud lay splattered on the mats in the well of the car, showing that Matwick had been somewhere out towards the Yorkshire border where the limestone jutted out of the ground. Other than a forgotten crisp packet and a tube of Polo mints Jess saw nothing else of interest.

With a feeling of being way out of her depth, the young woman sighed and started to walk back towards her car. As she passed the front bumper of Matwicks Rover however, she saw something green smattered against the silverwork. Bending, she picked at the leaf and stood for a moment looking at it in disbelief. Carefully she pocketed it, hurried over to her car and drove away, not to her own house, but to the home of a friend who may just be able to give her the answer to a question that burned in her mind.

 

Chapter 8

Matwick closed the door to his office and took off his heavy overcoat. He sat down behind his large oak desk and picked up the phone dialling an internal number. The line rang a couple of times before being picked up.

‘How is he? Any progress?’ he asked.

A male voice sounded down the line. ‘There’s something strange going on. The girl was here with him a while ago. She seems to be getting too close to him and they had their heads together. I don’t like it boss. Looks to me like something’s going on. He’s getting to her.’

‘Then we need to silence him. Increase the Thorazine and Temazepam to three doses a day, IV. Even he won’t be able to function on that level of medication’ Matwick snapped.

‘It’ll kill him!’ the voice said.

‘Not immediately and not if we’re careful. He’ll need to be monitored.’

‘And the other one?’

Matwick sighed. ‘He’s as tough as Starsky. Hutchinson won’t crack even though he’s getting weaker by the day. He’s got a huge infection in the wound and he’s in and out of consciousness but he still refuses to talk, damn him.’

‘So what? We kill the both of them and set up again, maybe in Europe?’

‘You’re such a defeatist! No. We keep the both of them until we don’t need them any more. Do you have another video ready?’

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. ‘Oh yes. The best yet. You want it now?’

Matwick sighed like someone who’d done the grocery shopping for the week, got home and suddenly realised they’d forgotten the milk. ‘I’ve just come from the other house. Dammit, I was hoping for an early night. Yeah, gimme the video and I’ll head back there now.’

 

The small room in the house set within the clearing of the forest stank of sweat, and fever. On the small narrow bunk, Hutch lay on his back, his grimy shirt clinging to his chest as moisture pooled in the hollow beneath his throat. His eyes were closed and sunken into his head, his skin sallow and dry looking despite the sweat. His once silky flaxen hair was wet and matted and clung to his forehead and the wound on his shoulder gave off a nauseating smell. It had not been dressed or cleaned since the blond man had been shot three days ago and the skin around the bullet’s entry wound was angry red at the centre with a yellowish green rim, swollen and puffy to the touch. Not that anyone had touched it. The men who looked in on Hutch occasionally did so only to check he was still alive.

Up until now.

In his feverish dreams Hutch had thought he’d heard Matwick’s voice in another room but all his dreams eventually turned to fever driven nightmares and he no longer had a full grasp of what was fantasy and what was reality. In his deepest nightmares he called out for his partner, screaming Starsky’s name into the night. For some reason he couldn’t quite remember he lived his dreams back in Cabrillo State, wheeling his buddy around the grounds in a wheelchair or staggering up an endless flight of stairs past doors through which he could see Starsky strapped on his belly on a narrow operating table whilst a mad doctor stuck the brunet with hundreds of needles.

On this, the evening of the third day, however, the door to Hutch’s room was once more flung open but this time the men came into the room instead of glancing at Hutch from the doorway. Behind them, Hutch could see Matwick and for a moment he thought he was living another nightmare. It wasn’t until he felt the guards hands on him, raising his head and stuffing a pillow under it again that the blond cop realised that he was still living reality.

‘Give him a drink. We need to keep his tongue well lubricated’ Matwick snapped.

A moment later Hutch felt a cup being pressed to his lips. It had been a long 24 hours since he’d last had the chance of a sip of water, the guards having left him thirsty as well as in pain. Now, he eagerly drank the cold water being offered him but his body rejected it and he instantly threw it back up over the guards shoes. The man yelped and jerked backwards before slapping Hutch across the face. The blow set off sparkles behind the cop’s eyes and he groaned softly.

Another set of hands clamped around his head once more and he was forced to watch as the video flickered to life against the blank white wall. The flickering pictures once more focussed on Starsky in a small room. This time, the brunet was surrounded by three guards who took a hold of him and drove him to his knees. A foot connected with Starsky’s chest, another fist catching him across the cheek. The blows sounded loud in the small room and yet only towards the end of the vicious beating did Starsky make any sound.

Hutch tried to close his eyes. ‘Motherfuckers’ he mumbled. ‘Leave him be.’

‘This is all your fault’ Matwick’s voice sounded across the room. ‘You can stop this right now Hutchinson. All I need is for you to tell me what you did with the formula.

Another shot on the wall — this one of Starsky’s unconscious body being hooked up to a couple of IVs, the needles puncturing ulcerated and bruised flesh. Hutch heaved a sob, his resistance finally shattered. The pains of his own injuries he could deal with and he was fully prepared to die. In fact he felt so bad, his body wracked with so much pain that he felt he would welcome death rather than live with the agony a moment longer. Only the thoughts of Starsky kept him going. But to see his partner treated like a human punchbag; to imagine what they were pumping into his veins….

Hutch’s resolve cracked as his fevered mind told him that enough was enough and that some way, even if Matwick did get the formula back, Hutch would have a chance to get help for Starsky.

‘The hotel. It’s at the hotel’ he mumbled softly. ‘God help me Starsky I can’t let ’em do that to ya any more.’

 

Jess knocked on the dark green front door of the small house on the outskirts of Chatburn. She knew of the address but she’d never visited the place before and she tapped her toe nervously as she waited for some kind of response.

A moment later, the lights in the hallway blazed into life and an oldish man with greying hair opened the front door.

‘Professor Petersen? You don’t know me but I attended your lecture on Monday.’

The man looked at her through narrow, steel rimmed glasses. ‘Good evening’ he said, very formally.

‘I need to ask you something. Something very important about the Ladies Slipper Orchid. It may help a friend of mine. May I come in?’

Professor Petersen cast a look up and down the quiet street as though expecting a hoard of botanists to appear. When none did, he opened the door wider and smiled. ‘Please do. Can I get you a cup of tea…. or maybe coffee?’

Jess stepped into the small cottage and the Professor closed the door behind her. The house was warm and cosy without being pretentious. Rag rugs covered an almost threadbare carpet and as Petersen led her through to the kitchen, Jess noticed the flagstone floor and the Aga in the corner, making the room at once warm and inviting. The Professor indicated a comfortable chair in the corner and Jess perched on its edge as the man himself pulled up a dining chair and sat down.

‘Now. What can I do for you? It isn’t often I have the company of such a pretty young woman… or any young woman come to think of it. You mentioned the Orchid?’

From the depths of her pocket, Jess pulled out the leaf she’d taken from The fender of Matwick’s car and handed it to the man. The Professor took it, reached for a magnifying glass and looked through it at the leaf for several minutes. A beatific smile spread over his face as he looked lovingly at the shred of green.

‘Ahh, Cypripedioideae. The rarest flower in Britain.’ Petersen peered over the top of his spectacles at Jess. ‘Where did you find this? It’s illegal to pick them, you know.’

‘Yes, I know. And I didn’t. Pick it, I mean. I was hoping you could tell me where it was found. I found this on the bumper of someone’s car.’

Petersen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Just happened to see it there did you? Young lady I could have you arrested for just having this leaf. This plant has got better protection than the Queen! And you tell me you just happened to pluck it from the bumper of a passing car? I may be on the older side of 60 but I’m not that gullible. Why are you really here?’

Jess took a deep breath. The man was obviously angry with her and also passionate about his plant. How much should she tell him and how much would he think was fantasy? How much truth? When Jess allowed herself to think about things in the cold light of day, even she had difficulty believing the story she was now living. This sort of thing just didn’t happen in this forgotten backwater of Lancashire. And yet, Jess needed the information and she needed to tell someone — someone on the outside about what was happening. Someone who didn’t know her and wouldn’t immediately ring for the nearest shrink to have her taken away. Petersen looked trustworthy. And he must be able to keep secrets — he’d protected the Lady’s Slipper all these years.

Jess took a deep breath.

‘I’m not a criminal Professor and I’m not crazy, but I do need to know where this flower grows. Lives may depend on it.’ Jess paused as the Professor’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he started o look away. She tried again.

‘I’m sorry. This all sounds so melodramatic, but please, hear me out. I need your help. Will you at least hear me out?’

Petersen nodded slowly. Whatever he thought about this young woman and her motives for coming to see him, there was something about her…. something about her demeanor and the complete lack of artifice on her face that compelled the older man to listen and maybe to believe. ‘Go ahead’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll hear what you have to say.’

Jess composed herself and over the next ten minutes she told the man everything. About her job (although she didn’t mention the name of Guild Lodge), about her boss, her patient and above all about his story and how she’d collaborated at least part of it with her telephone calls. At the end, she was sick with worry and stared down, her fingers knotting in her lap as she waited for Petersen to ask her to leave. Instead the older man cleared his throat.

‘So you think that this psychiatrist has been visiting the other partner — the one you haven’t yet met and that the Lady’s Slipper may lead you to him? Hutch? Is that his name?’

Jess nodded. ‘Matwick…. whoever he is, said he’d been to a house call in Clitheroe. There’s no pale, creamy coloured mud around there. The only place I’ve seen mud like that on tires is around Tosside, but it’s a big area and then I saw the leaf, and I’d been to your lecture and….’

‘And you came to me for help. You know, if I was ever in trouble, I’d like to have a friend as resourceful as you.’

‘You mean you believe me? You’ll help?’ Jess asked.

Petersen nodded. ‘Against my better judgement yes. My instincts tell me you should call the police, but from what you say, the local inspector seems to be a friend of this Dr Matwick, so I will go along with your suggestion and not pursue that route. I will tell you the location of the flower, and I will tell you that there is a small, almost derelict house nearby. You, young lady, in return must promise me that you’ll keep yourself safe and will call me if you need anything further.’

 

Chapter 9

Jess slept fitfully that night, her dreams loaded with imagery of flowers, cars and a certain curly haired man with smouldering blue eyes being held down and punched. She tossed and turned and woke with the sheets wrapped around her legs, clutching at her pillow. She looked at her bedside clock constantly and, unlike any other morning, Jess was up, washed and dressed by 5.30, to the amazement of her roommate.

‘Did you wet the bed?’ Marie asked incredulously, buttoning herself into her white nurse’s uniform. ‘Who are you and what have you done with Jess?’

Jess gave her a withering look. ‘Funny. Very funny. I have some things to do at work and I needed to be in early.’

‘There’s early, and there’s the middle of the night sweetie. It’s not like you. I’m worried. You’ve been far too quiet all week and you’ve hardly eaten or slept. And who’s Starsky?’

Jess’ head shot up at the sound of her patient’s name. ‘What?’

‘Starsky. You shouted it out in the middle of the night. Who is he? Have you got a fella and you’ve been holding out on me?’

‘He’s…. No-one. Just no-one’ Jess muttered.

Marie shook her head. ‘Don’t give me that, I’m not buying. My best friend goes all broody on me, stops eating and sleeping and then tells me she doesn’t have a man stashed somewhere. C’mon. Give me the details. What’s he like and when can I meet him?’

Jess picked up her bag and headed for the door. ‘I told you. He’s no-one. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got too much imagination, that’s your problem. I should be home around five. See ya.’ The young woman closed the door behind her and hurried out into the crisp early morning air.

It had snowed overnight. Not a heavy snowfall, but enough to make the countryside look like some mad giant baker had sprinkled icing sugar on every surface. In the light of the street lamps, the frost glistened and sparkled and Jess’ shoes made soft crackling sounds as she walked to her car and set about de-frosting it.

Getting in, she blew on her hands to warm them up, turned the heater up to full and swung carefully out onto the road, making her way through the darkness towards Guild Lodge. Something inside her told her that she needed to speak to Starsky urgently and during the hours of darkness, she knew that most of the orderlies were off duty.

The small country roads at that time of day were quiet and it wasn’t until she was drawing into the gates of Guild Lodge that Jess saw another set of tire tracks imprinted in the snow. She followed them up to the big house and took her customary parking space around the back, hurrying around to the back door to let herself in with her pass.

The house too was quiet so early in the morning. There was not even the familiar clash and clatter of pots and pans from the huge kitchens. Residents ate at around 8.00 o’clock and so the cooks wouldn’t come on duty for another hour at least.

Feeling like a burglar, Jess crept out through the reception area and took the steps down to the basement, hugging the shadows and listening for any sudden sounds. Quiet as a mouse, she peeped into the orderly’s office. As she’s suspected, the only man on duty had his feet up on the table, his head resting on the back of his chair as he let out long and loud snores. At this time of the morning, even the most restless of patients was usually sound asleep.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, Jess took her security pass from her pocket and inserted it into the reader on the door to room 320. Softly she closed the door behind her and allowed her eyes to become accustomed to the dim light. None of the residents were permitted to sleep in total darkness and right now the caged light bulb in the centre of the ceiling let out enough light for Jess to be able to see Starsky reasonably clearly.

What she did see was enough to take her breath away.

Starsky lay on his side as though he was a doll thrown on the bed by a recalcitrant child. His left arm was bent to support his head whilst the right arm was wrapped around his chest. A large cut across the cop’s right cheek continued to ooze blood, as did the split in his lower lip. Starsky’s right eye was bruised and swollen shut.

Jess crossed the room and knelt by the side of the bed. Without thinking, she reached up and gently smoothed the dark curls away from Starsky’s forehead, seeing other smaller cuts and bruises elsewhere on his handsome face. Now that she was closer, Jess could also see a swelling across the man’s right ribs with a matching bruise. Even to her relatively untrained eye, she could see that some damage had been done and that Starsky probably had a broken rib or two. Visions of the previous evening and the orderlies coming to give the cop his “medication” hovered around her subconscious.

‘My god, what did they do to you?’ Jess whispered, her hand combing through Starsky’s hair. The touch brought the cop to wakefulness and with a start he opened his eyes, flinching at the touch for a second.

‘Ssh. It’s me. Jess. It’s ok’ she managed to tell him, although she knew it was far from ok.

Blurred indigo eyes blinked and then settled on the woman’s face and carefully, with a hiss of pain, Starsky levered himself up until he could sit and swing his legs over the side of the cot. He held his chest tightly as he felt the need to cough, the exercise taking his breath away for a moment.

‘I should never have left you’ Jess mumbled. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Starsky looked away, somehow embarrassed by the girl’s concern. ‘You didn’t have a choice. An’ anyhow, what could you have done?’

‘I could have… I don’t know, but.’ Jess looked at the fiery defiance in Starsky’s eyes and took in a breath. ‘This isn’t the first time, is it?’ she asked.

Starsky turned away, dismissing the question. Other needs were pressing right now and he squirmed uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. ‘I need to um….’ the cop glanced at the toilet in the corner and back at Jess, apologetically.

‘Oh, yes, sorry’ he woman said, colour flushing her face. ‘I um…’

Starsky got to his feet stiffly, staggered for a moment, righted himself and shuffled over to the corner. ‘Don’t go. Just….dunno….close your eyes or sumthin’ he mumbled.

Jess nodded and was about to do as she was told when she noticed something else. Blood on the seat of Starsky’s trousers showed darkly in the dim light. Sickened, the girl let out a moan, her hands going up to her face in shock. The beating, the bruises and cuts — they were something that she could maybe come to terms with, but the acts perpetrated on Starsky to cause that sort of bleeding?

Starsky did what he had to in the corner, turned and saw Jess’ teary eyes and look of shock. He cursed under his breath and limped back to the bed, putting his arm around Jess’ shoulders despite the pain lancing through his chest.

‘Hey, I need you to be strong for me. Don’t fall to pieces on me now, huh?’ he whispered.

‘But they…they…those men….’ Jess couldn’t bring herself to say the word and she looked at Starsky in mute appeal, her eyes begging him to tell her that the guards had not sodomised him. Starsky met her gaze without blinking.

‘I can handle what goes on in here’ he said quietly. ‘I can handle anything if you’re around.’

‘But your face…. the cuts…. your ribs. I need to get you out of here.’

‘You need to help me find Hutch’ Starsky interrupted.

Jess looked up though her tears. ‘That’s why I’m here. I think I know where he is. I just need to decide how to get you out.’

‘Don’t worry about me. Find Hutch. Tell him Gordo sent you, he’ll know you are who you say you are then. Find Hutch and he’ll know what to do.’

Jess was about to argue when she heard a noise from down the hallway. Obviously the orderly had finished his nap and was now doing his early morning rounds. Jess heard him open the door to room 321, next door and after giving Starsky a quick peck on the cheek, she let herself out of his room and walked quickly back into the orderly’s room while he wasn’t there. She looked at the display showing Starsky’s cell and on impulse took the tape from the machine beneath the monitor, replacing it with a blank one. She stashed the recorded tape showing her in conversation with Starsky in her bag and as the orderly came out of 321 and headed for 320 she made her way back upstairs and out to her car.

Jess made a dash for the stairs as the orderly was joined by another man wheeling an IV stand and carrying a stainless steel tray containing needles, syringes and vials of liquid. They pushed open the door to Starsky’s room and walked in.

‘New medication Ethan’ she heard them say. ‘You’re gonna take a little trip to lala land.’

Starsky eyed the tray and stand and backed up against the corner of the cot. Silently he sent out a prayer to Jess that she’d find his partner and come get him the hell out of there.

 

Jess drove back to her house quickly, thousands of thoughts running through her head as she did so. The sight of her patient…. her friend….. badly beaten and obviously sexually abused sent waves of nausea through the pit of her stomach. Jess had never experienced anything like that before and her usually ordered mind was a well of confusion. What could she do? How could she do it? One thing the young woman knew for certain was that she needed help and she needed it quickly, although who would help her was another matter completely. The police were the obvious choice and yet Matwick went out socially with the local Inspector and Jess was in no doubt that the doctor would have that part of his operation sewn up tight.

It left few options but by the time the VW had drawn up outside Jess’ house again, the woman had made her choice and she was relieved to see that Marie had not, as yet, gone to work. Composing herself, Jess let herself into the kitchen where her room mate was eating toast. Marie looked up in surprise.

‘What are you doing back?’ she asked.

Jess pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Marie, I need to tell you something and I need you to not freak out on me, ok?’

The other girl put down her toast and wiped her fingers. ‘Well saying that is bound to make me freak a little’ she said. ‘Are you ok? Are you in trouble? Oh, god, you aren’t pregnant are you?’

‘No, I’m fine’ Jess cut Marie off in full flow. ‘Just shut up and listen. This new job — it isn’t what it seems. The doctor — Purnell — wanted me to look after a patient of his. He said his name was Ethan, but it isn’t. He’s called Dave Starsky and he’s….’

‘Ah Ha! I knew it. It’s guy trouble.’

‘No, will you shut up? It’s not guy trouble, or rather it is, but not in the way you mean. Starsky is from California and he’s a policeman. He has a partner who’s over here with him. He’s called Hutch. They’ve been on the tail of this doctor, Purnell. But he isn’t called Purnell, he’s called Matwick and….’

Marie held up her hand. ‘Hold on. Ethan isn’t Ethan, he’s Dave. Purnell isn’t Purnell, he’s Matwick and Dave is from America and he’s a policeman? Jess, what have you been on girl? This sounds like a TV show.’

Jess ran her hand through her hair. ‘Yes, I know, and I need you to rust me on this. Please Marie? Just hear me out. It’s important. I think it could be life or death. Starsky has been telling me about Matwick and how he’s been experimenting on patients. He says he did it before in California.’

‘Jess, he’s a patient in a psychiatric hospital. He’s…’

‘He’s not like the others Marie. He isn’t crazy, I know for sure he isn’t. They… the guards — they beat him so badly last night, and they have Hutch somewhere. I think I know where and…’ Jess looked pleadingly at her friend. Even as she was telling the story it seemed so hard to believe. She didn’t blame Marie for being skeptical.

Marie sighed. ‘If anyone else was telling me this I’d think they’d gone crazy and I have my doubts about you sweetie. I know I’m going to regret this but you have my attention. So, tell me what you want me to do.’

 

Chapter 10

It was 8 o’clock that night when Jess’ VW car drew up at the back of Guild Lodge. That morning she had telephoned the receptionist telling the woman that she had developed a sore throat and she didn’t feel well enough to come into work. It went against all her ethics to tell the lie, but as she and Marie had discussed, the more she was around Matwick, the more she left herself open to the doctor asking questions.

For the rest of that day, the two girls made their plans. Jess spoke to an Aunt who had gone to work out of town for a while. She owned a cottage at the foot of Pendle Hill. The small house nestled into the side of the hill and was surrounded by trees so that from the road passers-by would hardly know that it was there. Without telling her Aunt exactly why she needed the place, Jess asked if she could stay for a few days and the Aunt agreed, telling her where to find the keys to the front door and how to switch on the power. Marie went in to work briefly but she too declared she was sick. Once free of the ward, she had slipped into one of the store rooms and had selected some basic materials she felt might be needed to tend to Starsky’s wounds. Feeling like a first class thief, Marie had smuggled the stuff out and hot footed it back to her home.

The stage was set and now Jess and Marie needed the main player, or players if they could find Hutch too. As darkness fell, the two girls dressed and prepared themselves.

Marie got out of the car and pulled ineffectually at the tiny mini skirt that she had decided to wear. With the skimpy halter neck top which left little to the imagination and was decidedly wrong for the wintery weather, Marie was happy to follow Jess quickly into the warmth of the Lodge. Both girls pushed open the back door and quickly walked down the corridor, hugging the wall and keeping an eye out for orderlies, nurses or, god forbid, Matwick himself.

The Lodge was quiet fortunately. Visitors were discouraged in the evenings and most residents were medicated and sedated by 7.30 leaving the staff to eat, relax and go off duty. With change over at 8, the two girls had timed their entry perfectly.

Jess hurried down the stairs to the basement with Marie hot on her heels. At the foot of the steps the girls stopped and regrouped.

‘Are you ready?’ Jess asked.

Marie pulled a lipstick out of her bag, applied the scarlet to her lips and fluffed her waist length black hair. ‘How do I look?’

Jess grinned nervously. ‘So long as Jim isn’t gay, you’ll be fine. Are you absolutely sure you’re ok with this?’

Marie took a deep breath and adjusted her halter neck. ‘As sure as I can be. But promise me this honey. Next time you fall for one of your patients, make sure I’m out of town before trying to break him out.’

Jess nodded, peeped around the corner to check the coast was clear and then nodded.

‘Show time.’

Marie turned the corner and shimmied down the hallway on her stiletto heels towards the orderly’s station, her mini skirt barely covering the essentials. Jess watched her knock on the orderly’s door and a moment later walk into the room before Jess turned her own attention to room 320.

Marie pushed into the orderly’s room to see Jim getting himself comfortable in front of the monitors and laying out a vast array of food to see him through the night. He turned as Marie entered, obviously expecting someone else but at the sight of Marie in her mini skirt and top, his eyes popped out of his head.

Marie smiled in what she hoped was a seductive manner. ‘Hi. I was looking for the way out, but I seem to have lost my way’ she said, swinging her hips as she walked over to the open mouthed man.

‘I can um…. I can show you the way’ Jim stammered.

Over the man’s shoulder, Marie could see Jess on the monitor as she got to Starsky’s door. She came closer to Jim and pushed her hand against his shoulder, smiling down at him. ‘I just bet you can’ she smirked as she straddled his legs and sat down on his lap, running her fingers through his hair. ‘Maybe you could explain it to me?’

Jim smiled and licked his lips. All his birthdays had come at once.

Jess inserted her pass into the electronic lock on the door and let herself into the dim interior of room 320. The lights never went off completely in this part of the building and as her eyes adjusted, Jess saw Starsky sitting in a wheelchair. Softly she crossed the small place towards him and as she got to the chair she gasped in horror, her hands automatically going to her mouth.

Starsky sat impassively, a drip running into his right arm and his chin touching his chest. His eyes were closed and had it not been for the broad leather strap around his chest, anchoring his body to the chair, he would have fallen to the floor.

‘Starsky?’ Jess whispered, her hand reaching instinctively to card through his matted curls. There was no reply and she tried again, this time shaking the cop gently as she spoke his name.

‘Starsky it’s me, Jess.’

Very slowly, Starsky opened his eyes a crack and raised his head a little. ‘Huh?’

‘Starsky, open your eyes for me. It’s me, Jess. We have to get you out of here. Please. Dave. Davey open your eyes.’

With difficulty Starsky did as he was told. The potent drugs running through his system made his body feel heavy as lead, his mind clouded and foggy. She called him Davey. Only his Mom and one other woman called him Davey. Could it be? Was he really back with her?

‘Terry?’ he slurred. ‘Honey….’

Jess tried again, critically aware that Marie was distracting the orderly as best she could in the next room. In desperation she slapped Starsky across the face, the blow designed to sting rather than hurt. ‘Starsky it’s me Jess.’ The girl looked at the typing on the dip bags above the chair and cursed. There was enough sedative to knock out an elephant! ‘I’m here to get you out. Work with me huh? Come on Starsky. Wake up!’

The urgency in the woman’s voice finally penetrated the fog in Starsky’s mind and he raised his head and squinted at the wavering face in front of him. ‘Jess?’ he whispered.

‘Yes! Yes it’s me, Jess. I need to get you out of here. Can you walk? Here. Let me undo the strap.’

Quickly, with shaking fingers Jess worked at the buckle of the strap around her patient’s chest whilst Starsky tried to orientate himself. That morning, just after Jess had gone, three goons had come into his room and had kinda sat on him whilst they fed the needle into his arm. He’d fought them but he was not in the best shape and they were stronger. Another few bruises were added to his catalogue of injuries. After that he felt warmth running into his veins and then a big black hole of nothing in particular. He dimly remembered one of the orderlies coming in to see him. The big man had slapped him around a little and had licked a long wet streak up his face before turning him over and…. his mind tried hard to blot out the memory of the violation. After that he found himself strapped into the chair as the drugs ran into his veins keeping him in a twilight world. Now he struggled to keep his mind focussed on the woman at his side.

Eventually Jess had the chest strap unbuckled. Starsky started to fall but corrected himself, the room spinning madly around him as he grabbed for the arms of the chair. His mind was foggy, clouded so that he hardly knew whether this was reality or a dream. The drugs in the drip made him feel sick to his stomach and each time he moved his eyes the room spun around him. Jess’ voice seemed to fade in and out and each time he stopped making himself move, he felt such heavy tiredness take him over that he permanently hovered between sleep and wakefulness.

‘Starsky please, try to stay with me huh? Here, lean on me. We don’t have much time here.’ Jess pulled Starsky’s left arm until it was around her shoulder, levering the brunet from the wheelchair. In passing she wondered whether she should take the chair as well, but the elevator was at the far end of the hallway, past Jim’s room and Jess couldn’t risk having the orderly spot her. She heaved once more and Starsky got shakily to his feet.

Jess looked at the drip bag hanging from the stand. She had no time to disconnect it and in any event a sudden withdrawal of the drug could certainly kill Starsky. And so she grabbed it, held it between her teeth and set off for the door, almost dragging Starsky with her.

The journey up the stairs and towards the back door was one of the worst journeys of Jess’ life. Starsky was almost a dead weight against her body. So sedated was he that he found difficulty in just lifting his feet to walk alongside her, but finally, sweating and panting with exertion, the couple made it to the car where Jess opened the door and Starsky gratefully climbed inside and immediately lay down on the back seat. In a moment, and despite the bitter cold he was asleep. Jess hung the drip from the passenger grab above the back door of the car and got into the driver’s seat. A moment later, having seen that Jess was clear from the monitor in Jim’s room, Marie made her excuses and left the orderly with a grin on his face and a stain on the front of his trousers.

As Marie got into the car she looked over the top of her seat at the man in the back. Silently she appraised him.

‘He was worth it’ she said finally. ‘But he looks really ill. We need to get him somewhere warm where I can have a closer look, but remember sweetie, I’m only a nurse. He may need more help than I can give him.’

‘You’ve already done more than most friends would ever do. We’ll be fine.’ Jess let the brakes off and allowed the car to coast down the slight incline towards the Lodge gates. No use in alerting anyone to their presence by starting the engine. As soon as she was clear of Guild Lodge, Jess gunned the engine and made her way quickly back to her Aunt’s cottage.

The house wasn’t large but it was cozy. The Aga was still lit and the house exuded warmth. With the lamps lit and the curtains pulled against the dark, Marie and Jess manage to guide Starsky into the sitting room and onto the sofa. Marie took a critical first look at the man.

‘These drips says thorazine and temazepam. My God, did they want to overdose him? What do they usually use at the Lodge?

Jess pursed her lips. ‘Olanzapine, Temazepan. Maybe Thorazine. I told you Matwick gave him special treatment.’

‘Well he isn’t going to need this any more, but he’s going to have one helluva come down from them’ Marie said. Carefully she disconnected the drip and put the bag to one side. Gently she took the needle from the vein in Starsky’s arm and winced at the ulcerated flesh. Meanwhile Jess was at Starsky’s head, once more trying to revive him.

Gently she ran her fingers through his curls, sidling onto the sofa so that his head was in her lap. At her touch, indigo eye blinked open for a moment.

‘Hey, there you are’ Jess smiled at him.

Starsky looked up into the girls face. He knew her, he knew he did but his mind was clouded by the drugs and he struggled to comprehend what was going on.

‘Hey’ he whispered although just forming the words was exhausting.

‘You’re safe Dave. You’re out of the Lodge. Away from Matwick. We’re going to look after you now.’

Starsky rolled his head. ‘Not me. Hutch…. need to find Hutch.’

‘I know. I know you do, but right now we need to make sure you’re ok.’ Jess held on to Starsky’s shoulder as Marie’s probing fingers hit the broken rib. He writhed and hitched a breath through clenched teeth.

‘Sorry. I’m sorry’ Marie said softly. ‘It’s ok. Try to sleep. The effects of the drug will wear off and you’ll feel better once you’ve slept some.’

Starsky closed his eyes. Whilst it felt so good to have someone look after him, and even better to be out of Matwick’s clutches, even his drug addled brain held so many questions. How had they got him out? Where was he? Could they be trusted? Was this another of Matwick’s sick games? And where was Hutch? So many questions and so hard to think. The girls hands on his body felt good and for the first time in weeks he felt safe. Slowly the questions receded as sleep overtook him and his body relaxed against Jess’ lap.

‘Is he going to be ok do you think?’ Jess asked Marie quietly.

The other girl sighed. She had waited for Starsky to relax before she started to ease away his tee shirt and bathe his wounds of which there were many. ‘Like I said, I’m only a nurse but so far as I can tell he has at least one broken rib and another fracture that’s almost healed. There’s more cuts and bruises than I’ve seen on a car crash victim. He’s gong to hurt for a while yet, but yes, I think he should be ok. You did good, girl, getting him out of there.’

Jess nodded pensively. ‘Now we just need to find the other one.’

 

Chapter 11

Marie worked over Starsky well into the night with Jess’ help. The first thing the young nurse did was to remove the drip from the crook of Starsky’s right arm so that the effects of whatever was contained in it would slowly subside. The canulla had butchered the vein and the arm was hot and red. Bruises spread across the brunet’s body like a Mondrian picture and were especially bad over his chest and back. Even sedated as he was Starsky flinched and moaned as Marie pressed gently at the area over his left rib.

‘I think it’s broken’ Marie said. ‘But I can’t be sure without an x-ray. We really should get him to a hospital.’

‘And what are we going to say?’ Jess asked bitterly. ‘Oh, this is a patient I broke out of a psychiatric hospital today? We can’t do that, every copper in the area would be down on us like a ton of bricks. I know Purne….Matwick has the Inspector in his pocket. Do you really think they’d believe us over a doctor? We’ll just have to manage as best we can.’

‘But I’m not a doctor.’

Jess snickered. ‘No, you’re an emergency room nurse, so do your stuff. Marie I trust you. You can do this. Please? If not for me then for him?’

Marie snorted, but bent once more to her work.

By 1.00am, the girls had stripped Starsky of his dirty hospital clothes and had cleaned his wounds and washed him. A couple of the wounds — especially the cut over his left eye had needed a couple of stitches which Marie accomplished with shaking hands. In a hospital setting she was cool and competent but here, in the soft glow of Jess’ Aunt’s house she felt like a first year student all over again. Maybe it was the adrenalin of the escape, maybe it was the handsome man she was working on — something made her legs feel like jelly and her hands feel like hams. But Marie worked hard and as the girls sat back and surveyed their work, they saw an olive toned body covered in a patchwork of bandages and bruises. Marie had looped a wide bandage around Starsky’s chest to support his broken rib. It covered the pattern of older surgical scars and the five divots left by the bullets from the police garage just over a year ago. The bandage stood out stark white against his naturally darker skin.

‘He’s been in the wars’ Marie observed as she straightened the sheet and blanket over the cop’s body. ‘I’ve done everything I can think of. His pulse is slow, but that’s probably the sedatives. All we can do now is wait. He may spike a fever, or he may come through this with nothing more than aches, who knows? I’ve never nursed anyone who’s had so many tranquilisers pumped into them in such a short length of time.’

Jess sighed and settled herself on the floor by Starsky, looking at the man as though for the first time. He had been quiet, sleeping almost peacefully throughout their ministrations but now Starsky was becoming restless, his head rolling on the pillow as his eyes worked beneath his closed eyelids. He moaned softly, cracks of indigo blue showing beneath smoky eyelashes.

‘Hutch? Gotta…. we’ve….. Matwick, it’s Matwick…… bastard….Hutch? Huuuutch…’

Starsky tried to sit up, his eyes suddenly open and staring as he fought against the blankets. ‘Hutch..’ he shouted into the night, staring around him wildly. Jess came to her knees.

‘Starsky? Dave it’s me, Jess. Sssh. It’s a dream, just a dream. You’re safe now. Not in the hospital. We have you. You’re safe with us. Here, lie back huh? Come on, lie back down’ she said softly, holding the cop’s shaking body as she gently pushed him back onto the sofa.

Starsky lay down but his eyes were open, looking around him now that he no longer had the powerful narcotic flooding his body. He felt cold, sore and heavy, his head stuffed with cotton wool and for a moment he panicked. The room he was in was strange and although he recognised Jess, the other girl was a stranger to him.

‘Where am I?’ he asked, his voice a raw croak.

‘You’re safe. We managed to get you out of the hospital. I promised I would.’ Jess replied quietly. ‘We just need you to rest and get your strength back. We think a couple of your ribs may be broken and you’ll be sore….. elsewhere.’ The young woman’s voice tailed off as she thought about the dried blood they’d cleaned away from Starsky, the terrible blood stains from the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the guards.

Starsky closed his eyes, embarrassment and relief flooding his senses. In truth he’d felt worse, but not a lot worse. No stranger to injury, he knew the signs. His head ached and he felt the familiar heat of fever making him at once cold whilst his skin was hot and dry.

‘Drink?’ he whispered. A moment later the other woman held a glass to his lips and he sipped the cool water. ‘I’m Marie. Jess’ friend.’

‘Hey Marie’ Starsky rasped, not knowing what else to say. ‘Thanks.’

The brunet lay back on the pillow and allowed his mind to come to terms with his change in circumstances. Glad as he was that he was out of Matwick’s grip he knew that it wouldn’t be long before the good doctor started to look for him, which put the girls in danger too. Maybe he could protect the three of them after some more sleep, but his overriding fear was for Hutch. With a groan, the cop pushed the blankets back and swung his legs down over the side of the settee.

‘You should rest’ Marie said quickly. ‘You need to sleep and get the drugs out of your system. They may be easing your pain now, but when they wear off….’

‘I need to get to Hutch’ Starsky interrupted.

Mare looked questioningly at Jess. ‘He shouldn’t move. Not yet.’

Jess turned her attention back to Starsky. ‘You aren’t fit to go anywhere Dave. Please, just rest for tonight. Maybe tomorrow…’

‘You don’t understand’ Starsky said. ‘If Matwick finds me gone, he’s gonna go right back to Hutch. He’ll kill him. We need to…. I need to find him. Do you have a car I could use?’

Jess shook her head. ‘Now hold on a minute. You’ve been dead to the world for most of the last 24 hours and before that….well they didn’t exactly treat you well. You’re hurt, disorientated and have no idea where Hutch is. We need to wait, at least till morning.’

Starsky sat forwards, feeling the room spin around him and his wounds start to hurt for real. He hissed at the pains in his chest but managed to get to the edge of the settee. ‘By morning my partner could be dead. Please. Just gimme some car keys….’ the brunet stopped himself, feeling the blanket touching bare flesh where bare flesh shouldn’t have touched. ‘….and maybe some clothes?’

‘And what are you going to do? You don’t know the area, you don’t have a clue where Hutch is, but maybe I do.’ Jess said quickly

Starsky looked at her. ‘Then help me. Tell me and I can go get him.’

Jess shook her head. ‘No way. No can do. I can’t let you go driving around the country on your own. Not in your condition. I’ll come with you.’

‘And me too’ Marie chipped in.

Starsky sighed. He knew defeat when he looked it in the face and he didn’t have time to argue the point. Every second he talked was time wasted getting to Hutch. ‘Fine’ he said quietly. ‘But when the fun starts, you stay in the car.’

 

Matwick roused himself from his sleep as the telephone on the bedside table rang out into the night. His sleep had been short, but not as short as his temper now that he’d been woken. Damned patients…. damned hospital. Couldn’t a doctor get a good nights sleep once in a while?

He grabbed the handset. ‘This had better be life or death’ he snapped.

‘Um, boss. We erm…. It’s Starsky.’

‘Did you idiots overdose him? Is he dead?’ Matwick asked, a little concern disappearing from his voice.

‘Not dead boss. At least I don’t think so.’ The voice on the other end of the telephone sounded anxious….. frightened.

‘Even a dimwit like you can tell a corpse from a troublesome cop. Explain.’

‘He’s gone.’

The two words echoed around in Matwick’s head. The impossible had happened. Matwick had been so careful with his captive. English psychiatric hospitals had the power to detain certain types and Matwick had made a good job of convincing the local police that Starsky was not only crazy but a danger to himself, and more importantly others. It had taken a lot of effort to get the local police inspector on side – lots of drinks at the local pub, wining and dining the fat man and his equally fat wife. Matwick had made sure that Starsky had been kept away from the public in solitary confinement “for his own safety”. The doctor had medicated the cop so that Starsky himself was unsure who he was and Matwick had hand picked the staff who would nurse or guard him. His sessions of ECT — given without the benefit of the usual anaesthetic — had been well documented, with certain admissions. After all he didn’t want the authorities to discover that the treatment was torture rather than therapeutic. And Matwick had been prepared to wait it out, safe in the knowledge that he was just his side of the law and that Starsky was going nowhere.

Until now.

That little vixen Jess. She must have had something to do with it! Matwick realised his fatal mistake. He should have employed a male nurse to look after his prisoner. Once again that damned Starsky charm had driven an arrow right into the stupid little girl’s heart.

Matwick heaved a sigh, trying to quell his anger hard enough to think straight.

‘How long ago since someone checked on him?’ he snapped.

There was a long silence. ‘Jim came on duty at 8. He erm…. there was a small distraction and then he did his usual rounds at about 3.00am.’

‘And where is Jim now?’ Matwick’s voice dripped venom.

The man at the other end of the phone snorted. ‘He paid the price boss.’

‘Well at least something went to plan. Have you searched the grounds?’

‘Sure. We searched everywhere. The whole Lodge, everyone’s rooms, the common areas, the grounds. And then we reviewed the tapes. She took him.’

‘Jess?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Find her.’

‘We already went to her home. She isn’t there. No-one is.’

Matwick looked at his watch. 4.30a.m. ‘Fuck! They’ll try to find the blond one. Give me half an hour. I’ll meet you at the house. Oh, and Painter?’

‘Yes boss.’

Matwick sighed dramatically. ‘Bring 10 units of insulin will you?’

‘Insulin?’

The doctor’s patience snapped. ‘I don’t need to explain everything to you, do I? Insulin. Injected in sufficient quantities it’ll kill an elephant and leave no trace — at least not enough to alert the coroner. Just do it Painter. And this time, for fuck’s sake don’t mess up.’

 

Chapter 12

The small VW tore through the night with Jess at the wheel.

Half an hour earlier, Starsky had staggered to his feet from Jess’ sofa and stood swaying, feeling the pull of the injuries he’d sustained at the hands of Dr Matwick. The drugs that had swamped his system were beginning to dissipate but with a clearer head also came more pain and he gritted his teeth as he climbed once more into the soiled pants and tee shirt he’d worn at Guild Lodge, his skin cringing as it came into contact with the blood stains. There was no time for embarrassment and in any event, the two girls were busy with preparations of their own. Marie was once more gathering together bandages and tape and Jess was on a mission of her own.

From a cupboard beneath the stairs of her Aunt’s house, Jess had retrieved an old double barrelled shotgun. Knowing the English laws on forearms Starsky had cocked a questioning eyebrow at the young girl as she expertly fed two cartridges into the breach and cocked the weapon. She grinned sheepishly.

‘We had trouble with foxes a while ago. Aunt Lydia got the gun but refused to shoot it. I had to learn to keep the chickens safe.’

The American cop snickered. ‘So it’s fine to shoot dumb animals but you can’t use a gun in self defence?’

Jess winked. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

Starsky took the gun from Jess and uncocked it. He held it up to his eye and sighted down the long barrel, getting the feel for the weapon. He’d fired similar before, not only in the line of duty on the streets of Bay City, but also in the Army. Suddenly the shotgun felt like an old friend and for the first time in a long time, Starsky felt the hopelessness leave him.

With Jess on one side and Marie on the other, the cop managed to get himself to Jess’ car and ensconce himself in the passenger seat. Jess turned the car back the way they’d come and the little car roared off into the night.

At Slaidburn they took the bend into the village so fast that Jess almost lost control of the tail end of the car. She was forced to slow down some as she approached the narrow bridge over the river and then she dropped to a low gear to make the steep ascent out of the valley and onto higher ground.

Starsky glanced at his watch. Almost 5.00am and in the distance they could see the dark bulk of Tosside Forest squatting against the hills. It looked dark and forbidding and as Jess took a left and shot off down a small narrow forestry track, Starsky wedged his knees against the dashboard and hung on.

‘You sure you never met Hutch?’ he said through gritted teeth as another rut in the road shot pain through his ribs.

‘No, of course not. Why?’ Jess asked.

‘Coz your driving is as crap as his.’

‘And if you drove in your condition, we’d end up in the middle of a field or wrapped around a tree. Don’t you just hate back seat drivers?’ The banter helped Jess’ nerves which had threatened to overwhelm her the closer she drove to their destination. As the steering wheel danced through her fingers, the girl kept her foot to the floor and raced on through the night.

In another car, just leaving the gates of Guild Lodge, Doctor Harold Matwick sat and cursed in the back seat. The man driving the large Mercedes kept his eyes on the road whilst his friend in the passenger seat checked the Colt Python in his hand. He stowed it beneath his jacket as Matwick checked his watch for the hundredth time.

‘It’s almost 5.00. Why didn’t you idiots tell me the minute you found Starsky missing?’

‘We wanted to check the grounds boss. We reckoned he couldn’t have gone far. He was so looped on the Temazepam and stuff he couldn’t even keep his eyes open when we left him.’

‘And what the fuck was Jim doing letting a girl…. Never mind. His brain was always in his balls. Did you dispose of the body?’

‘George took it down to the incinerator an hour ago.’

Matwick snorted. ‘Can I trust him to do even that right?’

The two men in the front seats didn’t answer. They knew their fate may well be similar should they not find Starsky within the next few hours.

 

Hutch knew he was alone. He’d felt the small room close in around him when the guards had gone and he knew also that that was not a good sign. The fevers had taken him and shaken him for three days now and he could feel himself slipping away as the pain in his shoulder and ankle started to diminish.

At first, the men who guarded him and been almost constant companions. They had stationed themselves either in his small room or just outside. Several times a day they would come in to check on him — or at least make sure he was still alive. Nursing care was not high on their agenda and both food and water had been denied the blond cop. Whilst Hutch knew his stomach would never tolerate anything to eat, the thirst ate at him, his mouth as dry as a bone so that his lips cracked and his tongue stuck to his teeth. His raging thirst added to his pains, but it was nothing compared to what his treatment had been when Matwick put in an appearance.

After he’d been shot, Hutch had been dragged back to this same small room. Yes, they had played their psychological games with him and had played the videos of Starsky undergoing yet more “treatment”. Weakened as he was, Hutch had been unable to bear watching and in a desperate attempt to get his partner some relief, he’d given Matwick a false location for the formula to the drug. The doctor had gone away, leaving the blond cop for a few hours to rest but of course, when the location was found to be a red herring, the doctor had been angry to say the least.

Matwick had come back into the room accompanied by two of his goons. The two guards had held Hutch down whilst Matwick had tenderly peeled back the bloody material of Hutch’s shirt and looked at the swollen and purple bullet wound.

‘You told me a lie Hutchinson’ Matwick had said and without warning had dug his thumb into the centre of the wound.

Hutch had screamed, his body jangling on the bed, bucking against the hands that held him down. The pain had been indescribable and each time Matwick had asked him a question after that it had been accompanied by the same treatment. The whole world had centred around the scarlet blaze of agony in Hutch’s shoulder and side and when Matwick changed the flavour of his treatment and twisted Hutch’s broken ankle it had sent the cop’s pain sensors into overload.

The treatment had lasted for at least two days, each assault on the blond’s body accompanied by a private viewing of the videos showing Starsky, buckled down to the bed and tortured. Finally Matwick had had to resort to injecting Hutch with a stimulant just to keep the blond man awake long enough to question him. At that point Hutch was only dimly aware of where he was and it was then that Matwick played his ace card and told Hutch that Starsky was about to die — only Hutch could save him by giving the true location of the formula.

Hutch broke and told the doctor everything and now, almost three days later, the blond cop had been left alone. In the dim recesses of Hutch’s mind, where he still had some coherent thought, he hated himself for his weakness. He was dying and his captors knew it. Now, they would turn all their attention onto making their getaway.

Hutch closed his eyes against the inevitable. He was prepared to die. It was part of a cop’s job. What saddened the blond most was that he wouldn’t see his partner again and Starsky would never know where to look for him if indeed the curly haired cop survived.

Hutch could feel life ebbing away. What had been intense throbbing pain in his shoulder and ankle had dimmed somewhat and the maddening thirst didn’t seem quite so bad either. His body was shutting down and there was nothing Hutch could do about it. Never a defeatist, the cop knew when it was time to bow to the inevitable and this was it. His body had put up a good fight but now, with the infection and pain wracking his system, he had nothing more to give. His reserves had run out and he was running on empty. With a sigh, Hutch closed his eyes and thought of his partner.

 

‘Can’t this heap go any faster?’ Starsky snapped as he rode the pain around another corner.

‘Without coming off the road, no’ Jess said testily. ‘We’re almost there, I just hope to God that Professor Petersen was right. Keep your fingers crossed.’

Starsky stared grimly ahead. ‘Honey I got everythin’ humanly possible crossed.’

The dark forest seemed to close in around them. The trees pressed into the narrow dirt track on either side, their lower branches scraping at the sides of the car as Jess drove wildly on through the dark. Up ahead here was a paler shape amongst the dark shapes of the trees and the young woman slowed.

‘There. In that clearing. That’s the place that Petersen told me about. It’s not so much as a cottage. More of a two roomed shelter for hikers.’

Starsky tried to slow his racing heart. ‘Ok. Turn off the lights and engine. Let’s be dark and quiet. We don’t want to alert anyone to us bein’ here’ he said.

Jess did as she was told and the car coasted down the slight dip in the road, coming to a halt about 25 yards from the front door of the tiny building. Opening he car door, Starsky heard only the wind whistling through the trees, the light of the moon highlighting the hard frost and making the place look more like a Christmas card than a torture chamber.

Jess opened the car door once Starsky had given the all clear and Marie joined her, shivering in the chill of the pre-dawn. Around them the dirt had been churned by car tyres, leaving deep divots in the forest floor, but there were no vehicles about now and the house had a dark, neglected air about it. With the shotgun held loosely in his left hand, Starsky ran for the front door and stood with his back to the wall just by he side of the opening. He signalled for Marie and Jess to join him and very carefully he reached around and pushed at the door. Surprisingly it opened with a soft groan of hinges and with a speed born of practice Starsky held the shotgun in both hands and whipped around so that he was facing the opening, crouched and ready.

For a second memories crowded his head. Hutch always went high. Hutch covered the top end of a room whilst Starsky aimed low. Hutch, with his long barrelled Colt; Hutch with….. Can it Starsk. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be fine. Concentrate on the here and now and stop bein’ so fuckin’ sentimental.

The door bounced back on its hinges revealing a dark, cold interior room. The place was empty, so far as Starsky could tell and slowly he stood upright, the shotgun still held in both hands, ready for any surprises. Carefully, the curly haired cop walked into the shelter and looked around. In the corner was a plain wooden table on which were three empty coffee mugs and a plate with the remains of bacon and eggs. There was a small fireplace which had cinders still in the hearth. It was obvious that some time recently a fire had been lit there, but now the room was devoid of the human touch. Starsky’s heart continued to hammer against his ribs. Looking around him, he saw the second door, leading through to another small room and quietly he walked over to it, putting his finger to his lips to silence Jess and Marie one more time. The girls froze as Starsky readied himself once more with the shotgun in front of him. He rested his back once more against the wall, knees bent and then with explosive speed he whirled around and kicked the door to the second room open, crouching in the doorway.

 

Chapter 13

In the cold of his tiny room Hutch drifted in and out of consciousness. His dreams were mostly frightening and all were pain filled and yet somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, the blond cop held out a hope that Starsky would survive their encounter with Matwick. At least one of them would make it back to Bay City.

For a while, Hutch was back in the asylum in Bay City, wheeling his straight-jacketed partner around the well manicured grounds. Starsky hadn’t brushed his hair in days and had had no opportunity to change his clothes. The dirty blue shirt and cut off pants were only highlighted by the stupidly bright red neckerchief that Rudy Skyler had taken to wearing. Matwick had had it in for Skyler from the beginning and when he found out that Starsky was in fact a cop, he’d taken great pleasure in strapping his “patient” down for a treatment. Then, Starsky had managed to come find Hutch. Now, however, undercover had become reality and Starsky had truly gone through the horror of ECT at the hands of the evil doctor.

Vividly Hutch remembered unlocking the cuffs from around Starsky’s wrists as his partner lay on the bed that first day. The brunet had fought against the drugs for so long but even Starsky’s iron will couldn’t stop the powerful sedative and as Hutch dropped the cuffs onto the bedside table, Starsky had finally succumbed to sleep. Hutch had hated to leave Starsky like that. There was no way Starsky could have defended himself inside Cabrillo State and no way Hutch could be with him 24/7. The feeling of utter dread as he’d closed the door on his drugged partner and walked away would haunt Hutch’s dreams for months afterwards.

Seeing the videos that Matwick had taken of Starsky had brought that feeling back and despite the pain and infection coursing through Hutch’s body; despite the knowledge that he would die out in these godforsaken woods, Hutch knew he had to finish Matwick once and for all.

The blond’s musings were interrupted by a noise. Hutch had been so long without human company that he held his breath in anticipation. This was it! A car had drawn up outside — he could hear the tyres crunching against the frosted ground and the soft clunk as doors opened and closed.

With a titanic effort Hutch rolled off the bed and knelt on the floor as pain and nausea threatened to overwhelm him. If he was going to die, he’d die his way — fighting and not on his back on a deathbed. Slowly Hutch shook his head from side to side like a wounded animal, his last human reserves almost gone so that he was left only with the primal urge to stay alive.

A noise from the other room made him flinch and he dragged himself to his feet. The room spun around him but Hutch gritted his teeth against the pain and threw the thin mattress off the bed and onto the floor. With no real idea of what he was doing, Hutch grabbed the corner of the metal bunk with both hands.

The knob on the door turned and the catch snicked back so that the door swung open an inch. Hutch gathered himself, the sweat trickling into his eyes and stinging them. He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. The door started to move. It swung gently open and Hutch could visualise Matwick’s face… could see that evil intent in the man’s eyes.

Hutch’s body was trembling, shaking with fever and weakness and yet he focussed his attention on what had been done to him and what had been done to Starsky. Matwick had brutalised both of them in different ways and all for the chance to get back his precious formula for synthetic heroin. The mad doctor deserved to die and there was only Hutch available to kill him.

The door swung fully open and a figure stepped through toting a shotgun which pointed right at the blond.

Without waiting another second Hutch took the bed frame and hurled it across the room with the remains of his strength. Pain ripped through his chest and shoulder. His ankle burst into a blossom of agony and Hutch fell to the floor utterly spent.

Starsky pushed open the door to the small room carefully and swung himself into position with the shotgun cocked and ready. He’d prepared himself for either another armed man pointing his firearm back at him or for the room to be empty. A metal bed frame hurtling across the room was not what he was expecting and as the metal connected with his gun hand, Starsky let out an involuntary yip and put the weapon up. His partner stumbled, fell and lay still on the hard wooden floor — too still — blood seeping from wounds across his body.

For a long second there was utter silence in the room and then with a loud clatter Starsky dropped the shotgun and threw himself down next to Hutch’s body, kneeling close to the blond’s head. Behind him, Jess and Marie stood in the doorway.

Gently Starsky put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder immediately feeling the heat of the infection from the bullet wound.

‘Hutch? Buddy?’

There was no response and very carefully Starsky took his partner’s body and rolled it over so that he had Hutch’s head in his lap. The skin was clammy and had a grey tinge to the normally tanned skin. The eyes were closed and Hutch’s breath was rapid and shallow. Starsky tried again.

‘Hey Blintz. No time to sleep. Lemme see those baby blues huh? Hutch, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, huh?’

From a great distance Hutch thought he heard Starsky’s voice calling his name. This must be it, he thought. Matwick’s killed Starsky already and now Starsky’s waiting for me. Wonder if he has the Torino in heaven….. wonder if there’s a speed limit…

With an effort Hutch opened his eyes expecting to see St Peter, or at the very least the Pearly Gates. After all, he’d failed. He hadn’t killed Matwick. Who the hell would die of being hit by a bed frame anyhow? Stupid Hutch! He concentrated on raising his eyelids and focussing his eyes and looked straight up…. into the deep indigo blues he knew so well.

The flood of warmth that hit him took Hutch over the edge. Starsky was here, wherever here was. He was back with his partner — with the only person in the world with whom he could truly relax. With Starsky watching his back, Hutch finally let himself slip back down into unconsciousness.

‘Sssstarsk’ he managed to whisper before blackness took him and his body went limp in Starsky’s arms.

‘Hutch! Nooo. C’mon buddy, hold on there. Just hold on. I’ve got ya, you big lummox.’ Starsky’s normally sure voce held a hint of panic. It couldn’t end here. Not like this: not now. The brunet looked around at the two girls behind him. ‘Help me help him’ he almost shouted and Marie sprung into action.

The young woman gathered up the items she’d brought with her and knelt by the side of the two men. Starsky held tightly to Hutch’s body as her fingers started to explore the bloody areas. In the distance a car engine sounded, getting louder by the moment.

‘No fuckin’ time’ Starsky muttered ‘We gotta get outta here now’. He stood quickly, almost knocking Marie out of the way. As gently as he could, he stooped and grabbed Hutch’s inert body, flipping it over his shoulder in a passable imitation of a fireman’s lift. Starsky staggered a moment, readjusted the weight and then made for the door with Jess and Marie in tow. A moment later, he was laying Hutch down on the back seat of the small car, across Jess and Marie’s knees. Hurriedly, with the sound of the other car getting louder, the curly haired cop gunned the engine and drove away from the killing house in a hail of grit and mud. There was time for most of the debris to settle before Starsky took a final look in his rear view mirror and saw twin lances of white light from the headlights of another car as it came to a halt outside the small cottage. Without another backwards glance, Starsky floored the gas pedal and pushed the little VW onwards through the milky white dawn.

 

‘How’s he doin’?’ Starsky looked down at all the gauze pads, tape, water and blood soaked cotton two hours after they’d finally made it back to Jess’ Aunt’s house. The drive had been fast but uneventful and now the two girls had had time to check Hutch over and clean and dress his wounds. Marie had even managed to set up a drip, feeding fluid directly into Hutch’s veins. She hated to think of the trouble she would be in for taking the stuff from work.

‘He hasn’t woken yet. Dave, he needs proper medical attention. The wound on his shoulder’s infected and he has a high fever. We really should get him to the hospital.’

Starsky chewed on his bottom lip. Shook his head. ‘No. No hospital. Matwick has too many connections.’

Jess sighed. ‘Then it’s down to Daisy then.’

Starsky looked startled. ‘Who the hell is Daisy? I told ya. The less people that know we’re here….’

Jess held up a hand with the shadow of a grin on her face. ‘Relax. Daisy won’t tell a word, and her medicine may just help Hutch.’

‘She a doctor or sumthin?’

‘Um…. not quite. She’s a cow.’

The look on the brunet cop’s face would have been comedic in any other circumstance. ‘A cow? He needs antibiotics not a fuckin’ milkshake!’

‘And he’s going to get them. My Aunt had the vet over a while ago. Daisy got mastitis and the vet gave her a course of antibiotics. She’s a dear old thing and she’s prone to the infection, so to cut down on costs, the vet gave Aunty a second course, just in case the infection came back.’

‘And you’re gonna give the cow’s meds to my partner?’ Starsky’s voice held uncertainty and some indignation.

Jess’ eyes glinted with anger. ‘Well do you have any better suggestions? This isn’t exactly an emergency ward, now is it? Give me another option and I’ll take it.’

Starsky’s shoulders slumped. He knew there were no other options, but the thought of a cow’s meds being given to Hutch left him cold.

‘Fine. But if he starts mooin’ when he wakes up….’

Jess grinned and went in search of the medicine whilst Starsky knelt next to the bed and put his head in his hands. The last of the drugs Matwick had ordered to be flooded into his veins had finally gone, helped on its way by the adrenaline of the past hours but now Starsky had the mother of all headaches and was exhausted. Slowly he closed his eyes and allowed his weary mind to wander. What now? They would surely come after him and Hutch. And what of the girls? It was too much to allow them to be placed into any more danger. And yet they were in this deep already. No matter what happened to Hutch and him, the girls wouldn’t be allowed to escape unscathed. What a mess. What a hell of a mess!

‘Fuck, shit, fuck, shit’ the words poured from Starsky’s lips quietly, each cuss easing the frustration he felt just a little bit more. He closed his fingers around a handful of curls and tightened, the small pain helping his mind to clear as he continued using every swear word he could think of and a few others he’d never realised he’d known. It was only when he felt the smallest of pressure on his forearm that Starsky stopped cursing and raised his head.

Hutch’s eyes were open and his hand was resting on Starsky’s. There was the ghost of a smile on his pale face as his red rimmed eyes fixed his partner with a look. ‘Glad ya got that off your chest?’ the blond whispered weakly.

‘Almost as glad as I am in seein’ those baby blues, partner. Now close ’em and get some rest, huh?’

‘Starsk…..need ‘tell ya….’

Starsky layed his hand over Hutch’s. ‘Not yet. There’s nuthin hat can’t wait. We’ll need to talk when you’re stronger.’

Hutch closed his eyes and nestled his head back against the soft pillow. His body was on fire, consumed by flames from the inside out. His shoulder and ankle throbbed in competition with each other and he felt as though he’d done 10 rounds with Mohammed Ali. And yet…. Words couldn’t describe how he felt at being back with his partner again, safe with the brunet watching his back. And yet Starsky’s voice held a hint of….. Hutch couldn’t place the exact emotion but the smaller man was not a happy camper. Questions flooded Hutch’s mind but his tortured body rebelled and closed down his brain once more. Tomorrow was another day and then, maybe, he could get some answers.

When Jess came into the small bedroom minutes later she found Starsky sleeping on the floor by the side of Hutch’s bed and Hutch on his side as though he was looking down at his partner. The girl stopped and smiled. Gently she took a blanket and laid it over Starsky, easing his head up to put a pillow beneath it. After that, she administered Daisy’s medicine to Hutch and sat back. Kill or cure. The next few hours would tell.

 

Chapter 14

A weak but bright sun streamed through the window glinting off the fresh fall of snow that had landed overnight. A small fire burned bright in the hearth in the small room and the welcome warmth made the surroundings inviting and comfortable.

Hutch’s eyes opened slowly and for the briefest moment, he braced himself for more pain and abuse from the men who’d kept him prisoner. Instead of cold and grey walls, however, his eyes settled on gentle floral wallpaper, an old and comfortable looking armchair and an old black and white picture of a young couple holding hands at the seaside. For a few moments Hutch was at a loss as to where he was. The room was warm and cozy and the bed he was in was soft and hugged him like a lover. Although his shoulder still hurt, Hutch could feel that it had been cleaned and bandaged. His memory kicked in and the blond cop remembered the door to his cell bursting open and his partner coming through, shotgun at the ready. After that, things took a turn for the fuzzy. Snippets of memory came back to him – riding in a small car…… two girls….. pain as Starsky helped him into a house…. and then nothing.

A movement from the far side of the room caught his attention.

‘Well good morning sleepy head.’ The woman’s voice was unfamiliar and Hutch flinched. Was this all some elaborate trick by Matwick? Was it all going to start over again? Sweat started to prickle across his forehead and he tensed.

‘Where am I?’ he asked, his voice raw and weak.

The woman came closer and he seemed to recall her from his car journey. The feelings of fear melted away and he marvelled at her glossy long hair and her emerald eyes. He relaxed back against the soft mattress, his eyes following her as she came to the side of the bed. This was not one of Matwick’s goons. This was a vision of loveliness, and kindness, and……

‘You’re safe. I’m glad to see you awake. We were beginning to get worried.’

‘We?’

The woman smiled and something low down in Hutch’s belly flipped. ‘I’m Marie. Your friend Dave and my friend Jess are downstairs. You’ve been out cold for almost two days. I’ll go and tell him you’re awake.’

Hutch couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was everything he’d dreamed of and although the sane part of his mind told the blond that this was just relief at being safe and well, the unconscious part of Hutch reacted to his “angel” in a very predictable way. Hutch shuffled up a little in the bed, grimacing at the residual pain in his shoulder. He sighed and smiled at the girl. ‘You um… could tell him in an hour….’

Marie giggled and bent over to the bed, her fingers resting briefly on Hutch’s brow. ‘My word, you must be feeling better! You’ve been unconscious for 2 days. Do you really think you’d have the…. Forget that. Dave said to tell him when you woke up.’

‘Is he ok? Starsky?’

Marie paused by the door. ‘He’s fine. He’s been out of his head with worry over you. I’ll go get him.’

Hutch was left alone in the small bedroom. He lay with his eyes closed revelling in the comfort of the bed and the safety he felt after the weeks of sickness and ill treatment. Gently he explored his shoulder with the fingers of his right hand. The wound had been heavily bandaged and although there was some heat around the site of the bullet wound, he could tell that the infection was subsiding. His hand dropped to his chest and Hutch was shocked that he could feel his ribs clearly through his skin. Idly he ran his hand over the bones and the hollow where the flat plain of his belly used to be. After Starsky had been shot in the police garage, the blond had let himself go, sick with worry for his partner. It had taken months of serious exercise to shift the excess pounds and restore muscle and he’d been proud of the results. Now he was going to have to work on his body from a different angle, building himself back up to full fitness.

Hutch’s musings were brought to an end as the latch on the door rattled and Starsky’s dark curly head poked around the edge of the door.

‘You finally decided to wake up huh? Some of us have been left doin’ the work ya know.’ Starsky’s soft voice belied the anxiety he’d experienced over the past couple of days whilst Hutch’s body had fought the infection. He walked over to the bed, pulled up the comfortable chair and sat down, appraising Hutch critically. ‘How’re ya feelin?’

‘Like roadkill, but glad to be out of there’ Hutch rasped. ‘Where are we? And who’s the girl?’

‘Girls. There’s two of ’em. Jess and Marie. Jess was supposed to be my nurse when Matwick had me at the hospital.’ Starsky saw the narrowing in Hutch’s eyes as he mentioned the doctors name, but carried on anyhow. ‘I must have blown her over with my animal magnetism cos she helped me escape. She also tracked down just exactly where they were holdin’ you. Her friend, Marie is a nurse too. She put your shoulder back together.’

Hutch winced as he moved the offending shoulder and wriggled himself more upright in the bed. ‘She did a good job.’

‘Uh huh. Her an’ Daisy did ya proud.’

‘There’s a third?’

Starsky’s mouth twisted into a grin. ‘Daisy? Yeah, kinda. She’s the one who gave ya the meds to kill the infection. I’ll introduce ya one day.’

‘Is she as pretty as Marie?’

Starsky swallowed down a giggle thinking of the gentle beast in the field next to the cottage. ‘Big brown eyes to die for. You’ll love her.’

‘Are you ok? What Matwick did to you. I saw…. the bastard showed me videos.’ Hutch’s eyes swept over the cuts and bruises on his partner’s face and noticed the slight hitch when Starsky breathed. After years of “reading” his partner’s body, Hutch knew the brunet was hurt.

Starsky looked down at the floor. ‘I’m fine. Hey, we lived through the sixties! What’s a few more drugs in the system huh?’

Hutch could see the pain behind his friend’s eyes. ‘Seriously Starsk. Are you ok?’

The brunet sighed. ‘I’m fine. Like you, I’m glad to be outa there but….’

Hutch cut him short. ‘There’s something I need to say. Something I need to tell you’ he started, unsure how to go on.

‘Uh huh?’

‘Hell Starsk, we’ve both been in bad places before but this….. I saw what they did to you and…..’

‘And what?’ Starsky could see the pain in his partner’s eyes and it wasn’t just physical. Something was eating away at Hutch.

The blond man looked away and gnawed at his bottom lip. Never before had be felt so weak. Never before had he felt like a traitor. At that moment Hutch despised himself more than he ever thought possible. ‘They forced me to watch over and over. I was feverish, the pain was….. I told him Starsk. I told him where the formula was.’ Hutch turned away and covered his eyes with his arm.

‘And?’

Angrily the man in the bed turned back. ‘And nothing. I told the fucker. It’s over. Months of work, all the pain he put you through an’ I told him.’ Hutch’s voice broke with emotion and he closed his eyes. Defeated.

For a moment Starsky was at a loss. Gently he put out a hand and rested it on Hutch’s shoulder. ‘You were dyin’. To hell with the formula. I got ya back, ya big lug. D’ya think it matters to me what Matwick does with his drug?’

‘It should.’

‘I couldn’t give a shit. You are not weak. Hutch you’re the strongest man I know but everyone has a breakin’ point. You survived. That’s what counts.’

‘Yeah. I survived. Now I just need to live with my conscience huh?’ Hutch said bitterly.

‘Your conscience should be clear buddy. God knows what I would have told him in the same circumstances. So he has the formula back. He knows we know about it now. But…’ Starsky shook his head.

‘But what? Hutch pulled himself up a little more in the bed. ‘Starsk, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinkin’ are you?’

‘That that prick is still out there? That he’s not gonna rest till he finds us? Hutch we’ve never been the kind of guys who’ve shied away from a job.’

‘He had you as long as he had me Gordo. You don’t exactly look in the peak of physical fitness yourself. You….’ Hutch’s voice trailed away. He was tired and although he fought it with all his strength, his body was telling him that enough was enough for the time being and he needed sleep.

Starsky saw the sweat start to bead on his friend’s forehead and watched as Hutch’s ice blue eyes clouded over again. ‘You need your rest. Sleep now huh? We can talk again in a little while huh?’

Hutch raised heavy eyelids. ‘You’ll wait? Here?’

Starsky forced a grin onto his face. ‘Where else would I go? There ain’t nothin’ but sheep and grass out there. Go to sleep. Rest and get well buddy.’

The man in the bed closed his eyes as he felt a familiar pressure on his hand. Starsky rested his hand on Hutch’s until the blond’s breathing assumed the quiet regularity of sleep. Very quietly he stood and took a last look at his partner. Starsky’s own body was healing well although he too could find no rest. Dreams of Matwick….. nightmares of his time at the hospital….. every time he closed his eyes to sleep his mind started to work overtime. Jess had said it was the results of coming off the powerful drugs so quickly but Starsky knew his own body and mind. Withdrawal was a bitch, but that wasn’t the only thing stopping him from resting. Matwick was out there and wouldn’t stop until Starsky and Hutch were dead. And now there were the two girls to consider.

Making his decision, Starsky quietly closed the bedroom door behind him and padded down the narrow stairs. Jess looked up as he came into the small living room. He paused, picked up a jacket Jess had borrowed from the same place she’d got jeans and tee shirts and slung it over his shoulders. He took up the shotgun and a handful of rounds from the cupboard by the door. Jess stopped him.

‘Where the hell are you going?’ she demanded.

Starsky looked at her, fighting the impulse to take her in his arms and make love to her right then and there. ‘When he wakes up, tell him I went for a walk, huh?’

‘Dave….’ Jess grabbed his arm. ‘You’re going after him, aren’t you? You can’t. You aren’t strong enough yet.’

‘I can’t rest till this thing is over. If I don’t find Matwick, he’ll find us. I like to be in control. Just….’ He leaned down and kissed Jess hard on the lips. ‘I’ll be right back’ he said and then was gone.

 

Chapter 15

Harold Matwick sat in the back of the car and drummed his fingers on the back of the front seat. His breath clouded in the cold air of the car and his eyes turned expectantly to the door of the tiny cottage as he waited for his men to come back. His drive over to the forest had been short, but had seemed like an eternity. Starsky was gone and now he had only one hostage to get rid of now that the formula was back in his hands.

All his life he’d been a yes man, secretly working to line his own pockets with madcap ideas and illegal research. When he’d hit on the formula for synthetic heroin it had been by pure chance and in his haste to cover up his tracks, he’d deleted every last bit of information from his computer, destroyed all his files and carried the formula written on a piece of paper, fearful that someone else would get to reap the benefits of his “research”. When Starsky and Hutch, his arch nemeses had arrived on the scene, he’d tried to bluff his way out of the situation. When they wouldn’t stop prying, he’d realised they knew he had something. When the formula went missing, he knew without a doubt who was responsible.

Using Guild Lodge as a cover, he’d hired a gang of thugs to take the two cops and to separate them. Matwick had seen their bond first hand and had taken to heart the maxim “divide and conquer”. With Starsky at the clinic and Hutch out of the way, Matwick had started to work on each man individually. And he had enjoyed the process.

And he knew he needed that piece of paper back….. at any cost. Hutchinson had finally broken — what man wouldn’t under the circumstances? With the formula back in his possession Matwick now needed to eradicate the two cops

Now, with Starsky loose, Harold knew the curly haired cop’s first instinct would be to find his partner and he relished the prospect of finding and killing the curly haired cop, but first he wanted a little enjoyment. Maybe a picture of Hutchinson’s blood soaked corps would be just the thing to break Starsky’s spirit before he put a bullet in his head when they recaptured the brunet.

Matwick was lost in his thoughts when his men emerged from the cottage. The doctor jumped at the sudden noise and looked quizzically as the men got back into the car, minus Hutch.

‘Well?’ he asked, although he knew the answer deep down.

‘He isn’t there boss. The place is turned over, but Hutchinson’s gone.’

Matwick put his head in his hands. ‘No, no, no….’ he moaned, his mind refusing to accept the inevitable. Starsky must have found his partner…. and that little vixen Jess must have helped in some way.

Pulling himself together Matwick took a deep breath. Now in a way things might be easier. Find one cop and he was sure to find both. In a way, this might just be the opportunity he was looking for, but here was no time to lose ‘Quick. Back to the clinic. We have work to do’ Matwick spat as he sat back and made his plans.

 

Starsky turned on the engine of the little VW and turned the wheel in the direction of Guild Lodge. Hutch’s confession that Matwick knew where the formula was clarified the situation for the brunet. He didn’t blame Hutch. No man could have withstood more than the blond had and it was a miracle — a testament to Hutch’s spirit that he’d survived at all. For a brief moment Starsky contemplated a life without his partner. It would be like having his left arm removed. Hutch was his partner, best friend, confessor, conscience, confident…. soulmate, if you believed in that stuff. Life without Hutch would be a half life at best.

Starsky shuddered and floored the gas pedal, cursing when the engine answered only sluggishly. What he wouldn’t give for the raw power of his old Torino, although that had died in the police garage 12 months ago. Ok, what he wouldn’t give for any car that had an engine rather than a rubber band to power the damned thing!

The brunet drove through the early morning light without seeing the beauty of the countryside around him. Pendle stood like a massive comforter at his back, high and wild and in the distance the three peaks of Ingleborough, Whernside and Phen-y-ghent stood out against the early sunshine, their crests dusted with a fresh fall of snow.

Starsky had one destination in mind — the only destination he could think of where he might find Matwick — Guild Lodge. As he drove, Starsky mulled over the ramifications of what he was about to do. The English Police knew he and Hutch were here, but the agreement between the Chief Constable and Harold Dobey had been clear. The use of guns was forbidden in accordance with the civil policy of the country. What Dobey hadn’t known was that Matwick had made sure the local Inspector was comfortable, so no help for the two American cops there. Starsky knew Matwick would have no such concerns about guns — knew the doctor knew a million and one ways of killing without using a bullet. And Starsky knew without a doubt that now Matwick had his formula back, he would have no reason to allow Starsky and Hutch to live. Now it was a race as to who found who first. Starsky’s only worry was that when he found Matwick and killed him, he may find himself in an English prison for a very long time afterwards. Was it worth it for what he doctor had done to him? Maybe. Was it worth Matwick’s death for what he’d done to Hutch? There was no question in Starsky’s mind and the brunet patted the shotgun nestling next to his leg. No-one had the right to hurt his partner and Matwick would pay the price today.

 

‘What do you mean you can’t find any trace?’ Matwick stormed around his table and grabbed the man by his collar, staring into the terrified man’s face.

‘We’ve tried the girl’s house again, The neighbour says she hasn’t seen either girl for at least two days. The other one, Marie, didn’t turn up for work for the past three days. I don’t know what else to do boss.’

Matwick turned away, a deep sick feeling starting in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t afford to let the two cops escape or everything he’d ever worked for would go up in so much smoke. He balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes. ‘Try harder. Someone must know something. And don’t come back without those two dead in your trunk huh?’

The man nodded quickly and got out of the office as fast as he could. He’d seen just how ruthless Matwick was with his other men and didn’t want the same fate.

For a moment Harold Matwick stood at his desk and cursed. It was the waiting that got to him. Never a patient man, he hated relying on the idiots around him and the feelings of inadequacy rose up into his chest and threatened to choke him. He glared once again at Jess’ application for the job. She’d seemed such a sweet young thing then: easily moulded into Matwick’s ways. And she repaid his generosity how?

The doctor stared at the piece of paper and suddenly his eyes caught once shred of information he’d overlooked. It was a standard job application form and he’d reckoned to go over it with a fine toothed comb. But he’d overlooked one item

Next of Kin: Marjorie Sweeney. The Rise, Pendleton, Lancs

In a sudden moment of decision, Matwick grabbed his car keys, took a small, lightweight Derringer pistol from a locked drawer and put it in his pocket. Squaring his shoulders, he walked purposefully to the door and paused.

‘I’m going out Clarissa’ he said to his secretary. ‘Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day…. and take the day off.’

The girl smiled at him. ‘Thank you Sir. Of course’ she dimpled as Matwick strode out of the lodge and got into his car.

It was the only lead Matwick had. A single address that he’d overlooked. How stupid could he be? With only that one piece of information to go on, Matwick got into the big four by four and turned back down the drive from the Lodge. If this didn’t work…

 

Starsky meanwhile was driving in the opposite direction, back towards the Lodge. The country roads were narrow and quiet and under any other circumstance he might have enjoyed the ride. The weather was perfect — a fall of snow backlit by a weak late Autumn sun so that the ice sparkled like a million diamonds and each tree and bush was clothed in a shimmering jacket of jewels. But Starsky’s mind was on other things and the beauty of the morning passed him by.

The road sped by and the brunet passed only a school bus and a post van as he drove back towards the clinic. His mind was somewhere back home when around the corner came a large Land Rover, driving like the devil was at it’s back. Starsky pulled a hard left into the side of the road to avoid a collision just as the driver of the big car looked at him.

Eyes locked through the windows and the Land Rover screeched to a halt. Starsky recognised Matwick just as the doctor recognised Starsky and there was a moment of confusion before the hunter became the hunted.

Matwick thrust the big car into gear and the engine roared as he floored the pedal and came after Starsky in the tiny VW. For one insane moment Starsky contemplated holding his ground and allowing the other car to total itself in an almost head on collision. But then sanity took over and Starsky rammed his own car into gear and set off down the road with Matwick in hot pursuit.

The road took a tight turn to the right and Starsky flung the Beetle around the corner, pushing the pedal to the metal once more as Matwick started to gain on him. The cop chanced a glance in his rear view mirror just in time to see Matwick’s arm outside the car window, brandishing a hand gun. Starsky swerved but a bullet pinged off the glass of the VW, shattering the back window.

Starsky cursed and hunkered down in the seat, keeping his head low as he nursed the borrowed car through the narrow lanes. He had no idea where he was going or indeed where he was. With the high stone walls and hedges the brunet had lost his bearings and was now driving blind….. with a madman on his tail.

Another shot rang out and this time Starsky felt the burning “thump” as another bullet found its mark and winged his left arm. Instinctively he put his right hand up, the fingers coming away sticky with blood. And now Matwick was no more than ten yards behind, closing the gap in his more powerful car.

Starsky saw the bridge coming up — another one of those stupid narrow stone bridges over the river, the entrance to it set at an acute angle to the road. He had to brake. There was no other way to make the turn and as he did so, he heard the squeal of Matwick’s tyres behind him.

Starsky’s VW shot over the tiny hump backed bridge, waiting for the inevitable shot to ring out and finish him, and yet it never came.

Instead there was a roar of engine, another intense squeal of brakes and then silence for a moment before a horn blared out into the silence of the morning.

 

Chapter 16

Starsky stopped his car and got out. He ran back over the bridge to see Matwick’s car on its roof, its wheels pawing at the sky like some huge metal beast in its death throes. Matwick was held, suspended upside down by the seat belt and the doctor’s eyes were wild as he frantically tried to unclip the harness. Around the vehicle was the all pervading smell of gasoline.

Starsky stood back from the car, his head in a turmoil. The shotgun in his hand was forgotten for a moment as his cop brain kicked into gear. All his life he’d been trained to save and protect. As a cop, it was his duty to get people out of trouble and he’d attended enough car crashes to be aware of the dangers. And yet something stopped him diving in to wrench open the door and help Matwick out.

In his head, Starsky replayed the last couple of months; the loneliness of his cell; the periods of blankness when the drugs had over written his system; the pain of the ECT; the knowledge that Matwick was torturing his partner and there was nothing that he, Starsky, could do about it.

Starsky had withstood torture before. He knew the score, but this had been different. There was a pointlessness, a futility to it. He genuinely didn’t know the whereabouts of the formula — Hutch had been the one to hide it – and so he couldn’t have told Matwick even if he’d wanted to. And Matwick seemed to know that on some sub conscious level. Matwick’s treatment of Starsky was barbaric, but not that of someone merely looking for an answer — he had the cop like an animal in a pen — his to use or abuse as he wished and for no other reason that he could do, and would do anything for his own enjoyment.

Starsky’s finger twitched on the trigger of the shotgun and suddenly he remembered holding it again.

To hell with the law and to hell with being a cop. Starsky was sick of the flakes who constantly came after them — of the Marcus’, the Prudholms and god knew who elses. He was sick of being a walking target and he hated that the whole of the year seemed to be open season on Starsky and Hutch. Enough was enough and if he had to rot in some English jail for murder then so be it because the joy had finally gone out of being a cop.

With a cold grin, Starsky lifted the shotgun to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel. Inside the big car Matwick looked back at him, all pretence of being the cold hard torturer gone as the doctor hung upside down, clawing at his seat belt. Through the smashed window Starsky heard the man moaning and pleading with him to help and yet Starsky’s heart had turned to stone and the pleas fell on deaf ears.

Slowly his finger started to squeeze the trigger and in his own head Starsky heard himself yell triumphantly. ‘Here’s to you, motherfucker.’

The shock of the explosion threw Starsky backwards and knocked the cop off his feet, but it was not the report of the gun that shook the early morning silence. The Land Rover exploded and burst into flames, the shock wave throwing Starsky completely off balance. For one insane moment the cop yelled at the sky, cursing whatever god had taken away his satisfaction of putting a bullet through Matwick’s head. Now he would have no revenge. Now he would never have the satisfaction of evening the score….. now he wouldn’t face a murder wrap.

Slowly Starsky sat up and surveyed the wreckage. Flames leapt skywards, consuming the Land Rover in fire. The cop had one brief sight of Matwick’s hand clawing at the door to the car. The doctor’s eyes were wide with fear but then a second explosion rocked the car and it was all over for the doctor.

Starsky sat and stared at the wreckage. Could he have helped? Could he have risked the flames to try to save the doctor? Maybe he could, although the chances of success were slim. Would he have taken that chance, if circumstances had allowed? Starsky shook his head. There was no way he would have lifted a finger to help the man who had brought such misery to himself, Hutch and the vulnerable people he’d “treated” over the years. Did that reduce Starsky to Matwick’s level? The brunet’s mind refused to contemplate that question. Over the years Starsky had stopped trying to psychoanalyse himself or others. The world could be a dirty place and sometimes even the very best human being had to set aside his principles in order to survive.

From nowhere a woman came running and screamed at the sight of the car in flames. She took a look at Starsky, sitting on the frozen grass and knelt by his side.

‘Are you ok? You’re bleeding. Wait here and I’ll call for an ambulance.’

Starsky heard the words but nothing seemed to penetrate the fog clouding his mind. It was over. It was finally all over. The cop started to shake uncontrollably, unable to comprehend that three months of hell were at an end. Dimly he was aware of the woman draping her jacket over his shoulders — of her telling him she would be back in a moment. How long later he didn’t know, but he found himself in the accident department of the local hospital talking to a cop in dark blue uniform.

Starsky’s mind was closing down. Since his breakout from Guild Lodge he’d more or less lived on adrenaline and now his body’s reserves had run low. He answered questions from the local flatfoot only briefly and gave Jess’ address as someone to contact before the doctor shooed everyone away. Starsky saw a flash of steel as a needle was pushed once more into his arm and then he felt warm blankets a soft pillow and nothing more for twelve hours.

 

Waking up in a hospital was something that regrettably Starsky was used to. This time, however he felt warm and safe and luxuriated in the comfort of the bed for a moment before a familiar voice called his name.

‘Starsk? You awake?’

The brunet turned his head on the pillow to see that he was in a twin bedded room and his partner was occupying bed two. Hutch was sat up on the edge of the mattress and looking almost as good as new, if a little thin, a drip feed leading from a small bag to the back of his left hand.

‘Am now’ Starsky said, amazed that his voice sounded strong and firm.

‘You took him out – Matwick?’

Starsky closed his eyes. ‘He kinda took himself out. Turns out his drivin’ was as bad as yours. He lost control and totalled the car. Right now he’s probably toastin’ his nuts with the devil.’

There was silence in the small room for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. ‘How come you’re here?’

Hutch smiled. ‘A cop came to the door of the cottage. When you weren’t around I knew what you were gonna do so I was gettin’ ready to come help. The cop said you’d been in an accident an’ when I got here, um, the doc wouldn’t let me leave.’

‘You feelin’ better?’ Starsky asked.

‘Uh huh. You?’

Starsky rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes. ‘I’m tired.’

‘No wonder. We’ve….’

The brunet shook his head. ‘Not tired….. tired. Tired of all this. Of wakin’ up in a hospital bed. Of feelin’ like we can’t walk down a street without some flake takin’ a pot shot. Of battlin’ all the time. I’m sick of it Hutch. I…. ‘ Starsky stopped and closed his eyes, not wanting to say the words but at the same time wanting to make his partner understand. ‘Remember that time on the beach? You came to find me. Things looked bad for a while and we both threw our badges into the ocean.’

Hutch nodded. ‘I remember.’

‘I wanna do that again. For real. I wanna give it all up an’ sail round the world or sumthin.’

‘You get seasick on Dobey’s fishing pond. Starsk, we’ve both been in a bad place…’

‘And we’ll get over it, yeah, I know. But maybe this time I don’t wanna get over it. I don’t want the worry.’

‘Of staying alive?’

Starsky snickered. ‘Of makin’ sure you stay alive dummy. I want a normal life where I can have a party without someone shootin’ at us. Where I can sleep in my own bed without some flake with a needle tryin’ to poison me. Where there’s no-one around the corner tryin’ to turn my partner into a junkie. Hutch, I want to quit.’

There, he’d said it. The words hung on the air between them and although Starsky had expected a huge debate, he got none. Hutch pursed his lips and let out a breath. ‘And what do we do after? This is all we know.’

‘That’s it? No argument?’

‘Do you want an argument?’ Hutch asked.

‘No, but….’

‘Ha! Not so certain now, are ya?’

Starsky rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Yeah. I am Hutch. When we get back Stateside I’m gonna walk into Dobey’s office and tell him I’m through. This time it’s for real Hutch. This time I mean it.’

The blond man shrugged his shoulders. Maybe now was the right time to move. Maybe get married, settle down and have kids…

A nurse came into the room pushing a trolley with a phone on it. ‘You have a call long distance from California’ she said, handing the phone to Hutch. The blond took it.

‘Hutchinson here. Uh huh? When? Fax the details through, we’ll start readin’. Ok, we’ll be on the next flight back.’ The blond put down the phone and looked at his partner. Starsky v’d his eyebrows, waiting.

‘You know that retirement you wanted?’ Hutch asked. ‘It may need to go on hold. That was the Metro. Dobey is missing.’