Partners Parted

127

The partners have been parted. How and by whom? Alternating POV.

 

Title art by Lapfordlass.

The story is complete but there is room for a sequel sometime!

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This felt wrong, dangerously so. He wasn’t supposed to enter a building, gun drawn, without any backup, particularly not without backup in the form of his partner. But his partner was what this was all about. If he wanted to see Starsky again, alive and well, he had to press forward to the target. He took a deep breath, eased the door open and slipped inside, disappearing into the dark interior like a city fox keeping to the shadows where it wouldn’t be seen.

 

This felt alien to him, treacherously so. He hardly ever entered a building, gun drawn, without his partner backing him up. They always went in side by side. But his partner was why he was acting so unusually. If he wanted to see Hutch again, alive and well, he would have to keep going and accomplish the task he’d been set. He took a deep breath, eased the door open and slipped inside, allowing the dark to swallow him whole.

Part One

Twenty four hours previously…

Hutch stepped through the door of his apartment and gratefully closed it behind him. What a long week! It took a second for him to register the cloying smell in the air. A second too late to be able to reverse his course. As he reached for the door handle behind him, he felt his legs begin to give way. He cursed the weariness that had dulled his senses, even as his body crumpled beneath him. He slid down the length of his front door in an ungainly manner, ending up in a heap on the floor. Fighting hard against the stupor trying to drag him into unconsciousness, he tried to keep his eyes open. He saw a figure walking towards him, its face obscured by a breathing mask. What the…? His thought died along with his ability to stay awake and darkness enveloped him.

The figure stood over him silently observing. He checked his watch in a clinical manner and, when he was satisfied, he reached down and removed the gun from the unconscious man’s shoulder holster and laid it to one side. He reached under Hutch’s armpits and lifted him away from the door. He waited a further three minutes before removing his mask and opening the door to let his accomplice in. He handed him Hutch’s gun and his mask, which the second man thrust into a green bag with a medical symbol on it. Then the two of them picked up Hutch between them and manhandled him down the stairs and out into the back of the waiting ambulance.

 

Starsky was tired but too tired to go straight to sleep. It had been a long week and one particularly tough case was niggling at him. He drove to the beach and went for a long walk. An hour later, successfully exhausted and yet also relaxed, he returned to his home. It was just getting dark and the street lights were winking into existence. Muted shadows filled the spaces in between. He was aware of a car pulling up behind his and assumed it was his immediate neighbour. Turning to greet him, he was startled to find himself looking into the barrel of an automatic pistol. His hand twitched as he thought about going for his own gun, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to draw quickly enough, given the distance between them.

As he thought about what to do, a second man exited from the dark green vehicle and walked around the back towards him. He was also carrying a gun. He waved the barrel at Starsky indicating that he should get into the back of the car. Starsky deliberated.

Get shot now? Or get shot later?

At least, if he went with them, he might get a chance to escape and, failing that, Hutch would come looking for him as soon as he didn’t turn up for brunch tomorrow. “If my partner can work out where to look for me, that is.”

The gun waved again, this time impatiently.

“Okay, okay.”

Starsky opened the door and climbed in, under the watchful eye of the first man. He felt the second man follow him into the car, forcing him to slide along. Before he was settled in place, he felt a sharp stabbing pain at the side of his neck.

“What the h-?”

Dizziness was swiftly followed by fatigue and within seconds he was out cold. The silent men disarmed him and settled his form against the back of the seat. Then the driver started the engine and headed away.

Part Two

Hutch came awake with a start. His mouth felt dried out and his head was pounding. Whatever had been used to knock him out had a similar effect to chloroform. Next, he realised that his hands were bound behind him and he was tied to a chair. He wondered how long he’d been out. He glanced around at his surroundings, trying to find any clue as to where he was. There was nothing of any note. The room was sterile. Two chairs, one of which he was sat on, a small square table and a bed, with one flat mattress and a thin blanket. There were two doors; one to his right and one straight ahead. His eyes scanned the room again and then he saw it; the smallest of devices attached to the corner of the room and pointed at him.

Someone was watching him and would know he was awake. Presumably, they would give him answers shortly as to why he’d been taken like this. He waited a few moments and then impatience got the better of him. He decided they might as well get on with whatever this was.

“Hello? I know you can see me. Why don’t come in here and tell me what this is about?”

As he waited for a response, he wondered what time it was. If there had been a window, he would have been able to tell if it was still dark or whether morning had arrived. He just hoped that, when his partner turned up for brunch and found Hutch wasn’t home, alarm bells would go off and Starsky would come looking for him. Although, where he would start the search was anybody’s guess. Hutch tried to crush the unsettling feeling that Starsky couldn’t look for him if there was no trail to follow. Instead, he held on to the knowledge that if there was a way, Starsky would find it.

Hutch’s thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door straight ahead of him. He sat up more alertly, ready to face whatever might come through the door.

 

Starsky came to and realised he was lying down, face first into a pillow, still dressed in his clothes.

“Must’ve fallen asleep as soon as I got home,” he mumbled to himself.

He eased himself into a sitting position. His head was pounding and it took him a moment to open his eyes. Shock hit him as he realised that he wasn’t in his own bedroom and instantly memories of the events of the night before came back to him. At least, he assumed it was the night before from the tiny sliver of light creeping in through the small window high above the bed. He had no way of telling the time; someone had removed his watch.

Irritated beyond measure, he could only hope vainly he might get it back at some point. Otherwise he would have to begin the search for yet another timepiece and Hutch would bust his chops, saying he should just give up wearing a watch as they seemed to bring bad luck or come to horrible ends.

Hutch. He thought of how worried his partner would be when he realised that Starsky had disappeared.

He glanced round at his surroundings and took in the details: one door, likely to be locked; two wooden chairs; one small round table; one open doorway to his left. Curiosity got the better of him and cautiously he got up and headed towards the open door to find it led to a washroom. Figuring he might as well use it before he had any visitors, he relieved himself and then went back to checking out his surroundings. He tried the door: locked, as he had surmised. He pounded on it and then listened. Nothing.

He walked around slowly, checking for anything out of the usual but the room was devoid of anything that would give away his location or the identity of the person who had brought him here. How Hutch would find him was anybody’s guess, but somehow he would. That thought calmed Starsky’s growing nerves.

Then he saw it. A small object attached to the wall. It had to be a camera. He stared at it, made a rude gesture and then went and grabbed a chair. He planted it down facing the locked door and straddled it.

“And so we wait,” he said loudly, trying to exhibit a calmness he didn’t really feel. Whatever came through the door, he would be ready.

Part Three

The man who came into the room was not someone Hutch recognised. He was of medium build, just short of Starsky’s height and had dark brown hair, eyebrows and beard, all of which Hutch was sure was dyed. He stood in front of Hutch, with a stillness that gave the impression of being totally in command of himself and the situation.

Hutch waited a moment but, when the man didn’t speak, he asked, “Who are you and what’s this about?”

The man’s impassive look didn’t change as he answered coldly with: “Who I am is irrelevant. All you need to know is that I have an assignment for you, a very special assignment.”

“And what makes you think I would do anything for you?”

“Because I have your partner and if you don’t comply, I will kill him.”

Hutch felt as if he had been punched in the chest. It took him a moment to find his voice. When he did, it came out quietly. Quietly, but filled with suppressed rage and hate.

“And if he dies, I will track you to the ends of the earth and make you wish you’d never been born.”

The man half-shrugged. “No doubt, but he will still be dead.”

Hutch bit back his response and regarded the man, looking for any sign of weakness. There were none.

With a hint of a sigh, he asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“I will give you the details tomorrow morning. All you need to know for now is that I need you to extract somebody for me and neutralise anyone who gets in your way.”

“Sounds dangerous and difficult. What makes you think I can do it?”

“Because you have to…or lose your partner.” The man walked behind Hutch and untied his hands then he went back to the door, where he paused to say, “I’m sure you can make quick work of the ropes that hold you. You are free to use the washroom through there.” He indicated the second door. “Meals will be brought to you. Do not attempt to escape. Do not attempt to harm or coerce my men or your partner will suffer the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Hutch said through gritted teeth.

“Good. Then I will see you again tomorrow morning.”

“Can’t wait.”

Hutch didn’t even wait for the door to close before he began working at the ropes tied around him. Within seconds he was free and standing up, rubbing the circulation back into his wrists. He quickly walked around the room and checked out the washroom for any sign that there was a means of escape. It looked hopeless. If he couldn’t get out, how could he save his partner?

He hoped that Starsky would have a better chance of escaping than he had. If he was still alive. There was no way to tell if the man had been telling him the truth about everything. Did he even have his partner? That was a good question to ask and, if he didn’t, that still gave Hutch some small hope of being rescued. Of course, the worse question (and the one he didn’t want to ask in case the answer was in the affirmative) was: “Is my partner already dead?”

 

The door opened slowly and a hand holding a gun came into view. It was one of the henchmen from last night – at least he assumed it was last night from his now grumbling stomach.

“Finally. What’s this all about? And what do I have to do to get some food from ya?”

“I’ve been ordered to tell you three things: tomorrow, you will be sent on a mission to extract someone; you will be given more details in the morning; and we have your partner. If you have any thoughts about escaping or refusing, think again. Your partner will pay the consequences.”

Starsky felt as if he’d been gut-punched. Didn’t these morons know not to pick on a man’s partner? Didn’t they know what wrath they were stirring up against themselves?

“You do anything to my partner, you will be sorry you were ever born!” he growled.

“We’ll take our chances and it won’t change the fact that your partner will be dead.” Starsky glared at the man, who ignored the threatening look and simply added, “A meal will be brought in a few minutes. Do anything stupid and your partner will suffer the consequences.”

As he left the room, Starsky muttered, “I think I just lost my appetite.”

He hoped the man was lying and Hutch was safely at home, where he’d dropped him. That would mean that there was a chance Starsky could be rescued before tomorrow. If Hutch was in their clutches, how was Starsky to escape and get to him before the goons carried out their threats? He wondered who was running the show. The henchman had used the word ‘ordered’, indicating that someone else was in control of this whole thing. But who and why? What on earth was this all about?

Part Four

Hutch paced for some time, up and down, up and down: like a tiger in a cage that was much too small for its boundless energy. He wanted to get out so he could find out what had happened to his partner. Finally, pacing gave way to a motionless calm. Hutch knew he had to put his worry for Starsky to one side and concentrate on what he knew. He sat with his elbows resting on the table, and his chin leaning on his hands. He exhibited the type of stillness that would have told Starsky that his partner was thrashing out a problem mentally.

He stared into the middle distance, eyes unfocussed, trying to look back through what he had seen and heard, even if unconsciously. There were words the man had used that bothered him: extract, neutralise. Like some spy in a terribly scripted thriller. The way he had stood reminded Hutch of someone. He just couldn’t remember who it was…yet. He wished Starsky was here for him to bounce his ideas off. Starsky would let him know if he was headed in the wrong direction and would most definitely aid in coming up with a plan. He missed his partner’s steadying presence.

 

Starsky paced up and down for a few minutes then decided to do some push-ups to stop the rising panic at being contained for an unknown amount of time. He’d never been good at coping in small confined spaces: elevators, basements, Vietnamese prison cells. He shuddered and pulled back from thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. He tried to remind himself that he would only be stuck here for a day at most. At some unspecified time tomorrow, he would be let out – and when that happened, he had to be ready; ready to fight, ready to make a break for it, ready to go find his partner.

The release of exercise quietened his nerves and eventually he calmed enough to eat the meal that had been left for him. At last, he just sat calmly, thinking through all of his old cases and trying to pinpoint which low life might have decided to disrupt his and Hutch’s life with this bizarre kidnapping. It had been planned well so not your average dumb whippo. He couldn’t for the life of him think who would go to all this trouble…and who was it he was supposed to extract? He wished Hutch was with him to talk things through. Between them, they would have come up with some answers and a clear plan of action. He missed his partner’s reliable presence.

Part Five

The morning came; both too soon and too slowly. It had been a long night, mostly spent tossing and turning. When breakfast arrived, it came along accompanied by a long, manila envelope. Hutch opened it with a small flicker of hesitation. It contained a blueprint of a building, two keys, a picture of a middle-aged man and instructions that simply said:

You will be dropped at the north side of this building.

You will find your weapon and a watch in the front compartment of a blue Chrysler.

Make your way into the building, avoiding the guards. Change of shift happens at 10 am so there will be a window of opportunity.

Find Max and bring him out with you and drive him to 1198 Sycamore Street on the north side of the city, near the Kincaid Bridge.

Hutch only just resisted the temptation to crumple the paper in his frustration.

“What about my partner? When do I get him back?” he demanded of whoever was watching through the camera. For the moment, there was just an ominous silence.

 

The early morning light finally peered in at the small window. Starsky had been awake for some time, anticipating what was to come. When breakfast arrived, it came along accompanied by a long, manila envelope. He grabbed it and found that it contained a blueprint of a building, two keys, a picture of a middle-aged man and instructions that simply said:

You will be dropped at the south side of the building.

You will find your weapon and your watch in the front compartment of a white Chevrolet.

Make your way into the building, avoiding the guards. Change of shift happens at 10 am so there will be a window of opportunity.

Find Max and bring him out with you and drive him to 1198 Sycamore Street on the south side of the city, near the Blue Mountain Timber Yard.

“What about my partner?” Starsky mumbled. Even the news that he would get his watch back couldn’t mollify him even the smallest amount. He was mad; mad as hell. He vowed he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he knew when he was getting Hutch back.

Part Six

Hutch had been driven to the unnamed location by his captor. He’d been made to put on a blindfold before they left the place where he’d been held. He’d thought about refusing but, after being shown a photograph of his friend knocked out cold, the threat of further or worse injury to Starsky forced him to comply. He had the answer to one of his questions: they had Starsky and he had been alive when the photo was taken. He prayed that was still the case.

Like a lamb going to slaughter he’d climbed into the grey van without a fight, whilst inwardly seething with frustration and worry. However, rather than panic at what might lie ahead, he used the travel time to listen, trying to focus on sounds that might give him a clue as to where he had been and where he was going.

Easing his window open ever so slightly, he heard the sounds of seabirds, machinery and vehicles moving, indicating that he had been held somewhere near the busy port area. He heard the rattle as they drove over a metal framework, making him think he might be around the northern docks. There were two metal bridges in and out of that particular area. He tried to commit to memory any turns they took or places they stopped that might mean they were waiting for traffic lights. After about fifteen or twenty minutes judging by his internal clock, the van stopped and the engine was turned off.

“You can remove your blindfold.”

Hutch did as he was told and blinked against the suddenly too bright light. When his eyes adjusted he saw that they were parked next to some tumble down warehouses and factory buildings surrounded by high metal fencing. A blue Chrysler was parked close by.

“Get out.”

Hutch turned towards the dark haired man, staring into his cold eyes, as he demanded to know: “When do I get to see my partner?”

“If you complete your mission, you’ll see him.”

Hutch saw the slightest flicker in the man’s eyes as he spoke. He was hiding something. Was it that Starsky was dead? His breath caught in his throat for a moment, but for some reason Hutch felt certain that he would be able to read that fact in this man’s eyes. No, his partner was still alive but there was some added layer to this whole thing, something he didn’t know that was very important. Suddenly, there was something else glittering in the eyes: a flicker of madness. Hutch swallowed.

“Get out. It’s nearly ten.”

Hutch reached for the door handle and pushed it downwards. He climbed out of the van and closed the door behind him. The engine came to life immediately and his captor drove away. Hutch grimaced. He wasn’t going to be watched as he made the attempt then. It seemed his captor wanted to be long gone in case something went wrong. Hutch didn’t blame him. In the distance he could see what looked like a security guard with a dog walking along the perimeter fence. What on earth was this place?

He moved towards the Chrysler, finding it opened to the first key he had been given. He sat inside and opened the front compartment, finding a watch and his own gun as he’d been told he would. He checked his gun was still loaded and then slipped it back into his holster, feeling a little relief that he at least had the means to defend himself.

He paused. Should he follow the instructions or try to retrace his steps to the dock area and hope that was where Starsky was being held? He frowned. But what if Starsky was at Sycamore Street? He would blow his mission and put his partner in danger. He had to go through with the attempt to find Max, whoever he was.

Hutch climbed out of the car. Leaving it unlocked, he made his way along the perimeter fence, looking for a way in and keeping an eye out for the guards. There was a lot of mid-level vegetation which was useful as cover. A few hundred yards along, he found a place where the land rose up enough for him to attempt to scale the fence. He checked the watch: one minute to ten. He looked around. No guards in sight. Now was the time. He started to climb.

 

Starsky refused to move.

“I ain’t going anywhere until I know my partner is still alive.”

His response had clearly been anticipated because a photograph was quickly thrust into his hands; of Hutch tied to a chair and clearly unconscious. He swallowed down a brief sense of hopelessness. They did have Hutch. He took a steadying breath and shored up his resolve to succeed in this ‘mission’ and rescue his partner. And then he would round up these morons and deal with them.

He was forced to put on a blindfold and then led out to a waiting car, into which he was shoved none too gently. As they travelled he tried to work out where they were from the sounds around him but all he could hear were busy city sounds. They could be anywhere.

After a few minutes, the car slowed and then stopped.

“You can remove the blindfold.”

Starsky did as he was told and blinked against the sudden light. They were parked at the back of a non-descript building surrounded by a high, chain-link fence.

“Get out.”

Reluctantly, Starsky started to climb out, pausing to ask, “When do I get my partner back?”

“If you’re successful, you’ll see him again.”

Starsky shook his head. “What is with all the cloak and dagger stuff? This whole situation is totally crazy!” he thought.

 Almost before he closed the door, the car started moving away and was quickly out of sight. Starsky spotted the white Chevrolet he had been told to look for and quickly headed over to it. He was pleased to see his gun and his watch. He hurriedly replaced his gun in his shoulder holster (first checking it was loaded) and then tied the watch back onto his wrist.

Should he take the car and head in the direction the men had gone, hoping he could catch up to them and they would leave him to his partner? Or continue with his task and hope his captors were true to their word. He checked his watch. Five minutes to ten. He’d better get a move on.

He scurried along the edge of the perimeter fence, looking for a way in. He found a slight gap where two adjoining sections were slightly warped. He managed to force them apart enough to wriggle through the gap. Breathing hard, he listened out for the sound of guards patrolling….or even dogs. Fortunately, all seemed quiet. He paused, crouched down behind some scrubby bushes that had sprung up in the corner of the complex. Slightly diagonally to his left, he could see a door with a padlock. He assumed that the key in his pocket was for this very door.

Deciding to run for it while it seemed safe, he broke cover and ran as fast as he could to the side of the building and quickly along to the door. The key slipped in easily to the padlock and he undid it, taking it off quietly. He debated whether to put it on the ground but was worried someone might spot it.

He drew his gun.

Carefully, cautiously, he eased open the door with his right hand and listened. Nothing. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him and placed the padlock on the floor. His eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior. He could see a corridor stretching away, lined with doors. What was this place?

Part Seven

Hutch could see rooms leading from other rooms in an endless line. The place was a labyrinth. What was this building? With every nerve ending jangling, he crept through room after room, heading towards the centre of the complex where ‘Max’ was supposed to be found. Thoughts swirled around his mind. Starsky and how to find him; who Max might be (Was he a prisoner here?); the odd looking man who had held him captive; his strange choice of words – assignment, neutralise; and how odd it felt to be doing something this crazy without his partner backing him up.

Neutralise. Assignment. Special assignment.“…he carried out highly specialized assignments.”

The words sprang unbidden from the depth of his mind and stopped him in his tracks. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday; not four years. That creep Cole had been talking about Alex Drew, who had it in for him and his partner, mistakenly believing that they had killed his wife as part of an assassination attempt.

Alex Drew. The man that had held him couldn’t be Drew, could he? There was something about the eyes, the way he stood. Alex Drew.

“Why didn’t he just kill me? Why kidnap me and send me here?” Hutch asked himself. A moment later, the answer came back clearly. “Because he’s insane. He’s playing cat and mouse and we are the mice…Or…Could it be?…Are we both cats?”

Hutch considered the thought and nodded. In some warped way it made sense to him. Two cats looking for a mouse, probably a non-existent mouse and attacking each other in their desperation to complete their assignment. It was just mad enough to be possible.

He started moving again, but with even more caution now. If as he thought, Starsky had also been sent on an assignment but didn’t realise it, he might just shoot Hutch by accident. It was easy to jump at shadows in this place and when you’d been told to neutralise any threat, you would be expecting just that – a threat.

“Starsky. Hope you’ll hesitate just this once, partner. If you shoot me, I know you’ll be eaten up with guilt…and I won’t be too happy about it either!”

Hutch kept his gun up, just in case his apparent revelation was a load of nonsense and there was still a threat ahead. Now his senses were even more heightened, reaching out to find evidence that his partner was nearby. Several times in the past, they had both experienced moments when they just knew the other was on hand. He hoped today would be one of those days.

 

Starsky was getting fed up of creeping through shadowy rooms and hallways, jumping at small noises and expecting at every turning to come across someone who would shoot first and ask questions later. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. It felt like fifteen hours. He knew he was near the middle of the building from the plan he had memorised.

He wanted this to be over so he could go find his partner.

He heard a noise and froze. A footstep. Someone was close by. He waited, checking his location. He was well hidden in the shadows. He’d let the person come to him.

The slightly ajar door creaked open and he could make out the figure of a man against the slightly lighter gloom behind him. Only half of the man was exposed but Starsky could see he was holding a gun. Starsky waited. He didn’t want to shoot someone who could be just an innocent guard going about his business, although why would a guard be creeping through dark rooms? This whole thing was crazy.

The man was listening. Starsky was surprised he couldn’t hear his breathing; his heart was pounding with adrenalin. The man started to step forward. Starsky waited, hoping he would pass him and then he get the advantage of him and disarm him.

Part Eight

Hutch listened. Some sixth sense told him someone was there. He reached out with his heart.

“Starsky? You there?”

Silence. He’d been so sure.

“Starsky?” he said, a little bit louder.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me.”

His partner stepped out of the shadows and moved close. In the gloom, Hutch could just see his relieved smile, white teeth glinting slightly.

“You okay? You hurt?” Worry was clear in Starsky’s voice.

Hutch reached out and patted his arm.

“I’m okay, pal. You?”

“Fine…Was worried about you. Thought you might be…”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What’s this all about, Hutch? You got any idea? How d’ya know I was here?”

“I think the guy that took me was Alex Drew.”

“What?!” Starsky’s voice rose above a whisper.

“Ssh. I know it sounds crazy but the man who kidnapped me had an air about him, something I felt I recognised. The way he stood, the eyes, the words he used.”

Starsky considered this. “All right, say you’re right. Why?”

Hutch tried to explain his gut feeling. “I think he’s gone over the edge completely. I think this whole elaborate set-up was so we would end up shooting each other. Maybe he thinks that’s poetic justice…What do you think? Do you think it’s too far-fetched?”

“I dunno, partner. This whole thing is crazy but your instincts are usually good about people and their motivations.” Starsky hesitated, before adding, “I think you might be right. I also think we need to get out of here and find him. Where do we look?”

“He told me to meet him near Kincaid Bridge at 1198 Sycamore Street.”

“I was given the same address but I was told it was near the Blue Mountain Timber Yard. More games. Street name is probably a fake.”

“I think one of them might be real. He’ll want to check whether one or both of us made it out alive, don’t you think?”

Both of them stiffened as they heard the noise of a door slamming at one end of the building.

“Which way we headed? North or south?” Starsky asked.

“North,” Hutch said, firmly.

“Why?”

“Because he dealt with me himself and he headed north when he left me. I think we go north.”

“North it is.”

They heard sounds of movement.

“Time to go, partner.”

This time, side by side, they worked their way back through the building until they came in through the door Hutch had come in by. Carefully, they made their way back towards the fence, fortunately without seeing any guards.

Hutch cupped his hands and hoisted Starsky upward over the fence and onto the mound on the other side. Starsky reached down and helped pull his partner up and over the fence. They had reached the ground and were headed towards the Chrysler when they saw a guard appear on the corner of the building. They quickened their pace.

“Mine was a white Chevvy,” Starsky observed, as he headed automatically for the driver’s seat.

“Hey, this is my car, Gordo, I should drive!” Hutch pretended to protest.

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Hand over the key, Blintz.”

Hutch reached into his pocket and then handed the key to Starsky. He was just about to put it in the ignition when Hutch said, with alarm, “Stop!”

“What?! What’s the matter?”

“Mac. Officer McDermont. Remember: he was killed when his car exploded.”

Starsky pulled his hand back. He and Hutch looked at each other and got out of the car. Hutch dropped to the ground and started checking underneath. Starsky very carefully opened the hood.

Once he was sure the engine was clear, Starsky called to his partner, “Anything?”

Hutch scrabbled to his feet, a little shakily, Starsky noted.

“Yeah, there’s something all right.”

They exchanged wide-eyed looks at the realisation of how close they had come to death.

“So he bought himself some insurance,” Starsky stated.

“Looks that way.”

“This means he’s probably long gone,” Starsky observed.

“Yeah,” Hutch agreed, unhappily drawing the same conclusion.

“I think we go back to that place,” Starsky indicated over his shoulder towards the building they had just come from, “and ask whoever is in there to phone Dobey and the bomb squad and get this car and the other one dealt with before we do anything else.”

Hutch frowned. “What if in ‘there’ is some weird government agency that doesn’t want to co-operate?”

“Oh, they’ll co-operate otherwise they will have us breaking down their doors. ‘Sides it looked like the building was totally disused. The guards are probably just ordinary security guards doing their job and very happy to co-operate with the police.”

Hutch nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” As they hurried back towards the building but this time towards the front entrance, Hutch said, “I know one thing…we’d better watch our backs more than usual until Alex Drew is found.”

“Yeah. You got any clues as to where you were held? I got nutthin’. Although I would recognise the morons that took me if I saw them in a mug book. I’ll check out our rogues’ gallery when we get to the precinct.”

“I don’t know where I was held but I might be able to retrace my journey from what I heard. I’m sure I was somewhere near the docks.”

“It’s a place to start but let’s deal with these cars first then mug books and then…brunch. You promised me brunch. I’m holding you to it.”

Hutch rolled his eyes but smiled at his ridiculous partner.

“Tomorrow. We’ll have our postponed brunch. I promise.”

They reached the entrance way and attracted the attention of the guard on duty, quickly explaining the situation and sending him off to phone the police department.

“Should one of us go find your car and stand guard over it?” Hutch asked.

Starsky shook his head. “Nope. We’re sticking together. I’m not letting you out of my sight until Drew is found.”

Hutch nodded. He knew Starsky meant what he said and felt the same way. They shared a look that said, “Together. Together we will track down Alex Drew before he has the chance to get anywhere near either one of us again.”

Vow made; they waited side by for the cavalry to arrive in the form of the bomb squad, their department colleagues and their captain.

 

The End…