Red and White Knights

To those of you who might be following this: This used to be chapter 2, so you’ve probably already read it. There’s a new chapter 2, so you might want to go there. Sorry, I’m learning.

Chapter 3

Hutch:

It looks black as pitch beyond the street lights. I don’t see the guy right away, but Starsky does.

“That’s him, Hutch. That’s the turkey that ambushed us.”

I sit forward in my seat and try to see what he sees. “Where?”

He points off to the left and steers the Torino in that direction. “Just up there, see? He’s headed for the trees. And he’s got a rifle.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“You kidding? I’d know that son of a bitch if he was dressed in a bath robe and bunny slippers!”

I see the guy now, in the headlights, but he’s only a few yards from the woods. I’m afraid we’ll lose him if he gets there. We need to catch him. My hand instinctively presses to my chest as remembered pain suddenly burns through me. We need to make him pay. “Punch it, Starsk.” My voice is hoarse. “Don’t let him get away.”

He looks at me, and even in the dark, I can see the determination, the reassurance, in his eyes. “You know I ain’t gonna let that happen.”

Of course I know. I mentally kick myself for even seeming to suggest otherwise. Who do I trust? “Me and thee, partner.” I clear my throat. “Let’s nail this mother.”

Starsky drives the Torino up over the curb and across the grass, cutting the guy off before he can make it to the tree line. He skids to a stop and tries to change course, but I’m out of the car before it stops rolling, tackling him hard, hoping that at least one side of this face finds a patch of gravel. I unholster my gun as Starsky vaults over the hood of the Torino and reaches for the rifle. But the guy is still holding onto it, and he suddenly flips onto his back and tries to swing it up to take a shot at my partner. At least until he feels the muzzle of my Python against his temple.

“Try it, fucker,” I say very calmly, knowing that I want him to. “Make this easy for me.” Oh, how I want him to. “Please.” But the rifle falls onto the grass, and I grab it and push it out of his reach. “How in the hell did this shit-for-brains get his hands on an M16?!”

I expect my insult to make the guy at least red-in-the-face angry, but instead he’s gone pale. He’s looking at the car, then he looks back at us, and his eyes are wide and he’s staring at us like there’s something really scary standing behind us.

Starksy and I look at each other.

“Is my fly unzipped?” Starsky asks, eyebrows raised.

I roll my eyes. “No, I think he’s figured out who we are.”

Our captive tries to push himself backward away from us, but Starsky stops him with a firmly planted foot on the chest. “Is that it, jag-off? Recognize us?”

“You can’t be here!” the guy finally gasps, barely able to talk. “ It’s impossible! I don’t believe it!”

Starsky rolls him over onto his stomach and ‘cuffs him. “And yet here we are, Ripley, believe it or not.” He stands, but makes no effort to get the guy on his feet.

“But, you’re dead! I . . .I. . . “

“You what? Filled us full of holes?” Starsky draws his gun as I holster mine and drop to one knee, dragging the guy up by his shirt front so that we can get a good look at each other. “I know you. Richardson’s snitch. Dugenski.” He smells like beer and booze and cigarettes. I let go of his shirt, and he smacks the back of his head when he falls back. “Been drinking a little too much, have you, Carl? Guess you’re kind of scared sober now, huh?”

Starsky’s eyes narrow. “We got nothing on you. Why’d you do it? Did somebody pay you to hit us?”

“No. . .nobody! Honest! I just wanted to kill cops, that’s all!” He realizes what he’s said and cowers back against the grass.

“‘That’s all’?” I mimic, shaking my head in disbelief. “You just wanted to kill cops. What’s the matter, Carl, got a beef with law enforcement? Richardson not treating you right?”

“So, just shoot whoever gets there first, right?” Starsky’s voice has gone dangerous. “Motherfucker . . .!” He starts forward, his thumb pulling back the Luger’s hammer.

Dugenski brings an arm up over his face. As if that could protect him from my partner.

I don’t have to say anything; I just reach up and put a hand on Starksy’s arm.

He doesn’t look at me, but he stops, takes a breath, and eases the hammer back down. He settles for a kick to the guy’s leg. “That was your big plan, genius? Take out the first car on the scene, then split?”

“Yeah. The other sirens . . . I didn’t check . . .” Dugenski starts to shake as he looks from Starsky to me, then back to Starsky. “I thought I heard you two were. . .”

“Nobody gives a shit about what you ‘heard’. I’m calling for back-up, Hutch.” Starsky walks quickly to the Torino and grabs the mic through the open passenger door. “Central, this is Zebra 3 . . .”

I draw my gun with my right hand and put my left hand on Dugenski’s shoulder and smile at him benignly. “And you, Carl, you’re going to sit right here. And when the other nice officers get here, you’re going to tell them exactly what you just told us, got it?”

He stares at me like he’s actually going to think about it; like he’s actually got a choice.

I move my hand from his shoulder to his neck, and I squeeze as hard as I can as I bring the Python up and point its barrel at his heart. “Got it, scum?”

He manages to nod a little despite my grip on his neck. I smile again, release his neck and pat his shoulder. “Good boy.” I look around. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it, Carl, us busting you not far from where you ambushed us?”

He babbles something unintelligible, and I sigh and shake my head. “That was rhetorical, idiot.”

I hear Starsky come up behind me as sirens wail to life not too far in the distance. “Told you he wouldn’t get away,” he says quietly.

I smile at him. “Me and thee, partner.” I stand and look for flashing red lights and headlights. “Think I’ll walk this piece of shit down to the curb while you move the Tomato.”

He retrieves the M16 and hands it to me, then pulls Dugenski up by the arm and shoves him forward. “Enjoy your last few minutes of fresh air, asshole.”

I inhale deeply. “It is kind of a nice night for the park, isn’t it?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, t’rrific.”