Chapter 1

Metal on metal, or maybe drinks glasses clinking together. No, that was altogether too merry a sort of sound to describe that which David Starsky strained his ears to hear. No chinking of champagne glasses; no raucous laughter at a bar. This was more of a muted, harder sound.

Definitely metal being dropped onto other metal.

Cold.

Hard.

Terrifying.

In his darkness, the curly haired cop struggled to sit up for the fourth or fifth time and again encountered the bindings anchoring his wrists, ankles and chest to the table or bed that he was lying upon. Whatever it was, it wasn't soft and it wasn't particularly warm.

Was it hours or days ago when he'd first woken up? The passage of time escaped him. Only his breathing and the rapid staccato beats of his heart gave him any inkling as to the time that flowed past him like a river in full flood. That and the cool breeze that sometimes drifted across his body.

He was naked.

Make that cold, hard, terrifying and vulnerable.

There was something about being divested of his clothes without his prior knowledge that Starsky found the most frightening of all. Even tied down to a table and blindfolded, he would have felt a small measure of safety if he'd had his worn, comfortable jeans on and maybe his trademark Adidas. Of course he wouldn't have objected if Sofia, his latest girl had done this to him. Then it would have been erotic, sexy and very special. But this was no pillow game and he didn't feel in the least bit like making out. To have been taken by an unknown and to have been drugged to wake with nothing to cover his body, with his arms pulled out to the sides and his legs wedged apart left him feeling as though his very skin had been peeled from his body leaving him wide open for anyone or anything to take advantage of him.

Starsky tried to clear his drug befuddled mind to remember exactly what had happened to him to get him into this mess. His head felt as though it were filled with cotton wool. His eyes quested blindly through the blindfold to try and focus on the thin sliver of light between the bottom of the cloth and his skin but still the drug he'd been given dulled his senses and slowed his wits.

Remember.

What?

Ok, think Davey, think!

He'd had a day running the streets with Hutch. It was much like any other sort of day, much like all the others in the seven years he'd been partnered with the tall handsome blond. He drove while Hutch sat at his side, one elbow resting on the sill of the open window as the hot Californian breeze ruffled chocolate curls and flaxen bangs.

It had been a hot one, the fiery blasts from the Santa Annas inflaming tempers and leaving sweat patches below armpits and in a long line down backs. By 5:00, they'd had enough. All that was required now was a cold beer at Huggy's, a swim down at the beach and a cold shower before bed.

He'd driven Hutch over to the Pits and they'd enjoyed the drink, but Hutch's girl had telephoned and the big blond had smiled apologetically, shrugged his shoulders and said the swim was off.

'You mean you prefer pretty blonds with nice assets in your hot, airless apartment to a swim in the cool ocean with your best buddy?' Starsky had asked with a wink.

Hutch had sighed. 'When you put it like that….. but I really don't mind taking one for the team. See ya in the morning, bright and early.'

The brunet had watched his partner hurry off to the latest love of his life had finished his drink and had stayed talking to Huggy for a while. The bar was almost deserted. Inner city bars did not do well in the hot, airless summers. Most drinkers wanted either the breeze of the ocean or the romance of drinks by the soft sand beneath a full moon. Whatever the reason, by midnight, the lanky black bartender had had enough and decided to close up.

After a final goodnight drink, Starsky had made his way back to his apartment on Ridgeway. He'd pulled the car to a halt under the shelter of the big tree, had walked slowly up the steps to his front door, opened it and……nothing. He knew little more other than a hand with a rag smelling of chloroform being pushed roughly over his mouth and nose. He'd struggled but of course the struggles increased his breathing and the drug took almost immediate effect. Starsky remembered falling heavily to the floor, taking a deep breath of pure, sweet warm air and then he had felt a bee sting of a needle in the crook of his elbow and a voice above him hissed

'You're no stranger to this, are you? Sleep well…..while you can.'

After that, the brunet's next recollection was of semi waking in the room he now occupied. He had felt, rather than seen someone moving around and then his blindfold was lifted and a bright light pierced his eyes. The cloth was replaced and the body moved away.

'Heeyyyyyy' Starsky had mumbled drunkenly. 'Heyy, hellpppppp me.' There was another bee sting and once again, he was plunged into darkness and the deep pit of a drugged sleep.

He'd woken once or twice since then. Each time, he felt the effects of the drug on his system and each time he tried to fight it with every ounce of his being. But each time he heard the person (persons?) moving in the room he was once again injected with the sedative.

This time, he feigned sleep, trying to keep his body still and his breathing deep and even. This time he was going to find out what was going on.

There was the sound of small wheels on a hard floor and the sounds echoed from the walls making Starsky feel that this wasn't a living room or a bedroom. The wheels stopped and there was a small metallic clatter close to his left hand side. Despite his best endeavours, the cop shivered in the cool air and jumped slightly at the noise.

'I knew you weren't asleep' the man's voice said close to his left ear. The voice was no more than a whisper, hissing against his cheek and Starsky had no chance to decipher whether he knew it or not. Instead he turned his head sideways towards the hot breath.

'Let me up' he rasped. 'I'm a cop. Kidnapping a cop is a federal offence. Let me go now and we can talk.'

'I don't want to talk Davey. I don't want you to talk either.'

'Not gonna stop me. You need to tell me what's goin' on' the brunet said, pulling at his wrist bindings again. 'Let me up……c'mon man. We can work this out huh?'

The blindfold was suddenly ripped from Starsky's eyes, causing a yelp of surprise from the brunet. He clamped his mouth shut, blinked, tried to shake his head and then squinted up at the bright light shining down from above him. He'd seen lights like that before – blinding white lights that illuminated his body perfectly. C'mon brain, think. He'd seen lights like that in…..in…..shit…..an operating room!

The realisation made the cop start to struggle again. The cold hard surface on which he lay now made sense and cause ripples of fear to course through his body. He ripped at the restraints around his wrists and ankles and flung himself against the chest strap. 'What the fuck are ya doin'?' he yelled, trying to keep the edge of panic from his voice. 'You're crazy……lemme up……lemme go……'

The man at the head of the table tutted. He was swathed in OR greens and had his hair covered by a green hat. The lower half of his face was similarly covered by a mask, leaving only glinting steel grey eyes showing above. There was no humour in the eyes, just cold intent and the absence of any other discernable feature made Starsky feel like he was in some kind of horror movie. The green swathed figure advanced on him.

'I told you I needed you to shut up. Now I'm going to have to take action' the rasping hissing voice said. The trolley, also swathed in green was pulled closer and Starsky had a glimpse of bright steel instruments on it. His panic rose like a tide in his chest.

'No, no don't do that. We can talk….I mean, I won't talk if ya don't want. I…I…..what the…..fuck, no!'

'Don't struggle Davey, it'll be more uncomfortable if you fight it.' The man in the green clothes grasped Starsky's head in two strong hands and forced it down onto the cold operating table, adjusting a strap to go across the brunet's forehead so that his neck was stretched back, taut, vulnerable and immobile.

Starsky licked lips gone dry. This was too much! He was transfixed, every part of him held down, pressed against the cool metal of the operating table like a butterfly pinned on an exhibition card. He'd had enough injuries in the past to recognise it now – the cold hard operating table and the smell of antiseptic and the fear that had bubbled under the surface burst from him in a huge tide of emotion. Starsky was no longer a brave, streetwise cop. He felt like a piece of meat on a butcher's slab, or a beast waiting patiently for its own slaughter.

'What're ya gonna do?' he asked a little too loudly, unable to completely hide the fear in his voice.

'Keep you quiet and docile for a change. Relax, think of it as an enforced rest. Any last words Davey?'

'You gonna kill me? Why?'

The man's forehead wrinkled in consternation. 'Of course I'm not going to kill you, silly boy. You were always the slow one, weren't you? Always the one leaping to the wrong conclusions. You never did know when to keep your mouth shut. I'm gonna teach you a lesson. I'm going to keep you quiet for a while.'

For an instant, Starsky wondered – "always the slow one?". Did he know this man? Which of the many flakes he and Hutch had pissed off over the years was this? Which one would have the access to an OR? Matwick? Didn't look like Matwick and in any event, the mad doctor was still in Folsom serving his time.

Anger began to overwrite the fear.

'Fuck you' the brunet snarled. 'Whatever happens, my partner will find me.'

The man above him rumpled the creases of his mask with a smile. 'I don't think so. Ken will have no idea where you are. As Dorothy would say, "this isn't Kansas Toto". Now be a good boy and open your mouth for me hmm?'

Starsky clammed his mouth closed, his eyes catching sight of a bright silvery instrument in the man's hand. It was curved like a blade, but round and blunt and the man held it on one hand while he used his other to apply pressure to a point just behind the brunet's jaw. The pain was immediate and despite his best attempts, Starsky's jaw relaxed, allowing the man to insert the laryngoscope between his teeth and aim it at the back of the brunet's taut, stretched neck.

'Relax, or it will be even more unpleasant' the man hissed as the instrument touched the back of the cop's throat. It was only then that Starsky realised the man's intentions. He struggled all the more, his mind screaming silently. NOOOOO. Don't stick that hose down my throat. I'm awake for Gods sake!

That was exactly what the man was going to do, however and despite his eyes tearing and his gagging mercilessly, Starsky felt the smooth metal slide over the back of his throat to be joined by a hose that bruised his throat and invaded his trachea. Starsky wanted so badly to cough it out, but while his eyes stared pleadingly at his antagonist, the man took a length of bandage and tied the tube in place. The cop's throat tried to close around the invading tube and the saliva seemed to pool in his mouth with nowhere to go. He felt as though he were choking and his hands clawed into fists against the cold metal table as he fought the sensation, sucking air in through the tube and out through flared nostrils.

'Don't fight it Davey. In a day or so, your body will become used to it. Besides, after I've prepared you, you're gonna need some help with the breathing…..and feeding……and just about everything else come to think of it. Now, lie still while I make the next adjustment.'

Starsky hardly heard the words. The terrible feeling of the tube in his throat occupied all his thoughts, but he watched in growing horror as the man came at him again, this time with a smaller, more flexible tube. Once again, the bound cop felt a tube invade his body, this time snaking up his nose and down the back of his throat to rub against the other hose. Too much - this was far too much, so much more than he thought his body should be able to bear and yet the tube continued to invade him. It continued its way down into his stomach as the brunet fought to breath around it. The breath whistled through the hose in his lungs and the man above him sighed. Starsky tried in vain to cry out, or to make any sort of sound, but the tube in his throat effectively silenced him and only a fierce exhalation through the tube in his larynx marked his efforts.

'See? It's so much better when you're quiet. I can see we're going to get on so much better now. Only a few more adjustments to make now and then you'll be ready.'

'Ready? Ready for what?' Starsky's mind screamed at him. 'Don't panic Starsk, don't panic. Hutch will find ya. Hutch will….Oh dear God what's he doin' now?'

The man's hands were now at the centre of Starsky's body. Rubber gloved hands took a hold of his penis but this was no sexual assault. Instead, a third intruder touched the head of his manhood and pressed it's way inside, the sensation burning as the catheter pushed it's way deep inside the brunet's body to seat at the entrance to his bladder. A moment later, he felt the hands leave him and move away. He felt a weight pulling his cock to one side as a bag was attached and fixed to the side of the table.

Don't panic Davey…don't panic….don't….

The man returned for a final time. 'You're all ready now Davey. Now I can look after you properly. What does it feel like to be completely reliant on me for everything?' A swab wiped away the beads of perspiration from his forehead for a moment and the man bent down. 'You're gonna take a little trip inside your own mind now. I'm going to give you a shot. It will paralyse your voluntary muscles, so I need to hook you up to a breathing machine. I'll take care of feeding you and making sure you're ok, but don't worry, you'll know that. You won't be able to move, but you'll be awake. Trapped in your own mind, alone with your thoughts – I hope they're good ones. Say goodnight Davey. The lights are about to go out.'

Starsky made one final attempt to lever himself from the table as the man hooked up the hose in his throat to a machine. A moment later he felt air being pumped into his lungs against his will. He choked, his body stiffening against the force, but then a needle found its way into his arm, attached to a bag of some pink fluid hung above him and a moment later, the brunet felt his body become heavy, his lungs stopped working and his limbs felt detached but his eyes remained open and try as he might, he had no power in his muscles to close them. Starsky panicked, his sight fixed on the bright light above him. He couldn't even close his own damned eyes! A moment later, the man closed the lids for him and the brunet felt something cold being placed over then and taped down.

Darkness. His eyes relaxed and yet the darkness scared him. His senses were being taken from him one at a time and still the hose felt as though it would choke him at any moment, his lungs inflating and deflating with maddening slowness. Starsky felt as though his body were starved of oxygen, as though he had run a marathon and couldn't get his breath, and yet he was at the mercy of the machine and its slow, steady rhythm.

The man bent down close to his head. He could feel the breath on the side of his face.

'Alone with your memories now Davey. I want you to remember. Think of Hutch. Ken can't save you now. He doesn't know you're missing and he has no idea where to find you. Think of that. Think of Hutch while you remain awake.'

Starsky longed to issue a retort. His defence in life had been his wisecracks. They cushioned his true feelings and bolstered his confidence, but the power of speech had been taken from him.

His sight had been robbed too.

Something was stuffed into his ears deafening him and now, for the first time in his life, David Starsky had no senses left under his own control. He was completely isolated from the outside world and alone, to contemplate his fate, his only escape being his dreams and his memories.