Sherry McCormick

by Jasmine2009

A tough female detective recruits Starsky and Hutch to go undercover to expose a crime family dealing in human trafficking. Hutch focus. Complete!

Title: Sherry McCormick

Universe: S&H

Author: Jasmine

Date: June 2009

Rated: R

Contact:

Submitted to on 7/15/09

Summary: A tough female detective recruits Starsky and Hutch to go undercover to expose a crime family dealing in human trafficking. Hutch focus. Complete.

Chapter 1

"Starsky, give me that napkin."

Starsky looked around his desk and shrugged, "What napkin?"

"The one with our expenses on it," Hutch mumbled as he leaned over his typewriter punching the keys.

Starsky looked around again and found it, only he had mistakenly used it to clean up the mess he made from lunch. In a furtive attempt to avoid being caught, he began to rewrite the numbers on a piece of paper.

"Starsk! I need those figures!"

"Okay, okay…," he said while grudgingly passing the mustard crumpled napkin across the desk.

Hutch took it without looking up, but as his fingers landed on a cold wet spot, he slowly raised his eyes, annoyed with his partner as he spied the yellow stains. All he got for his glare was an apologetic shrug and a pathetic, "Sorry."

Irritated by the noise in the hallway, Hutch turned his attention from the ink smudged napkin to the door and asked, "What the hell's going on out there?" Starsky's attention was turned too and it was obvious that the crowd gathering was excited about something.

Wheeler, the detective who sat near the doors, replied, "Some celebrity's in the building."

Hutch and Starsky smiled at one another, "A celebrity?" Starsky smugly commented. "I wonder what he did and who he's gonna try and bribe to get out of it?"

"Not a he," Wheeler corrected as he made his way to the interior windows to catch a glimpse, "Babcock says it's Cheryl Teasdale."

Walking over to the windows, Starsky was sufficiently intrigued, "Really?"

"Didn't you guys work a case for her?"

"Yeah, a couple months back, but it wasn't exactly for her, more like for her security force which consisted of 300 pound body guards who didn't let anyone near her. Hey Hutch? He says it's Cheryl Teasdale."

Ignoring the commotion, Hutch had continued to punch out figures.

Starsky looked at his partner and commented, "Maybe we'll get a chance to meet her this time."

Ignoring him, Hutch continued to hunt and peck.

Insistent, Starsky tried again, "Don't you want to at least see her? After all, she's only the hottest chick to come out of Hollywood in years… not to mention one of the richest."

"Nope. I want to get this report done so I can get home tonight in time for dinner."

Straining to look over Wheeler's shoulder but replying to his partner's comment, he asked, "Who's cooking?"

"Jennifer."

Starsky remembered Jennifer. She was a girl his partner had picked up several weeks ago at a bar. A little on the dumb side, but Starsky decided that he could put up with a little stupidity if it came wrapped in a package like hers. He could, but his blonde partner couldn't, so it was just a matter of time before Hutch ended it.

Dobey burst through his office door and grunted, "Starsky? Hutchinson? Where are those reports?" After a beat, he snarled towards the hallway, "And what the hell's going on out there?"

The commotion had picked up considerably and law enforcement officers appeared to be tripping over each other vying for a suitable position in the hallway to catch a glimpse of the fashion model.

Pressed against the glass, Wheeler exclaimed, "Here she comes!"

Through the row of spectators, a young woman, clad in a pair of tight blue jeans, brown boots and a white sweater, stopped in front of the door and peered through the glass. Her Farrah Fawcett style blonde hair wisped over her shoulders and her green eyes glided across the room. She was unlike any girl Wheeler had ever seen up close and he expressed his satisfaction with a low whistle, to which Starsky then echoed an equally low whistle.

Opening the door, the lady allowed a lopsided smile to cross her face when she spied the familiar face. "There you are!"

Hutch looked up from his typewriter and unsure how to greet her, he simply graced her with an uncomfortable smile and awkwardly said, "Hi."

Placing her hands seductively on her hips, she quipped, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me?"

Embarrassed, Hutch shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to avoid her large green eyes. "Cheryl, it's nice to see you," he offered a pleasant yet somewhat staccato greeting.

"'Nice to see you'," she repeated teasingly to the two men off to her right and gaping at her. Turning back towards her quarry, she good naturedly asked, "Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Not waiting for a reply, she met him halfway across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss. She pulled back and asked, "You wouldn't return my calls and I'm not accustomed to that. So, here I am… at your place of employment." She looked again at the two men staring at her and recognized the dark haired one, "Nice to see you again Detective Starsky." She was obviously accustomed to no response because she turned her attention to the man next to Starsky and waited for an introduction.

Hutch offered, "Ah, Cheryl… this is Detective Wheeler."

"Pleased to meet you." But he was too star struck to respond. Smiling, she turned and looked at the large black man standing in a connecting doorway. "You must be Captain Dobey," she said and offered her hand. Dobey took it politely and smiled, "Nice to meet you, Miss Teasdale."

Talking directly to the Captain, she asked, "Can you do anything with him?" she ticked her head at the blonde detective. "I don't suppose you would order him to call me?" Defending herself to the blue eyed detective, she teased, "I'm in fairly high demand, buster. If you don't take advantage of this when it's available, it just may go away."

Hutch smiled and replied awkwardly, "I'm sorry, Cheryl. I've been busy."

She shook her head in disbelief while maintaining her seductive smile. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out two tickets, "I have something for you. I have a fashion shoot in Hawaii and I want you to come with me. I think my photographer wants to shoot us together! Wouldn't that make headlines?"

Hutch agreed, that would make headlines. "Cheryl, I can't. I just can't pack up and leave…" he apologetically explained. "I have to work for a living."

"If you'd let me photograph you, and plaster your face in a couple magazines, we could change all that."

Hutch shrugged, uncomfortable with the compliment.

His reluctance only seemed to further heighten her determination. She looked into the hallway at the workers gaping through the windows and standing in the doorway and the three men looking dumbfounded in the room. She slowly wrapped her arms back around the blonde's neck and, coming to a realization, she asked, "They have no idea about us, do they?"

Hutch rested his hands awkwardly on her hips and shook his head, "Nope."

Chuckling, she added, "That would explain their surprise." She released her arms from around his neck and turned to face the crowd as she tucked the tickets back into her purse. Suddenly changing her mind, she whirled around, grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him in for another nice kiss. "You're not getting away from me," she cajoled. Enjoying the challenge, she turned her attention to the crowd that had been growing. Addressing them, she said, "I have a girlfriend who would love to go out with someone here. The man who convinces Ken Hutchinson to call me, gets that date. And, by the way, if you want to see what she looks like, pick up the next issue of Glamour magazine, she's on the cover." She blew a kiss to the blonde, and finger waved goodbye. The people again fell over themselves to get out of her way.

Hutch scratched his head, took a deep breath and went back to his typewriter, trying to act like nothing had happened. But it became difficult to ignore the small crowd gathering around his desk. In disbelief, Starsky was the first to speak, "You're dating Cheryl Teasdale?"

Concentrating on his reports, he replied, "Nope." But the silence begged for more of an explanation, and a quick glance up at his partner demanded it, so Hutch offered, "It's not what you think."

Starsky laid it out for all to hear, "Cheryl Teasdale, the highest paid fashion model in the world, waltzes in here, plants a kiss on you, offers to take you away to Hawaii, professes she wants to date you, and you say it's not what WE think?"

Hutch exhaled slowly and stared at his typewriter. "That's right." Trying to concentrate on his secretarial skills, he ignored their expressions. Captain Dobey grinned and said, "Maybe this type of work has finally gotten to you, Hutchinson, and your judgment is completely screwed up."

Starsky held his hands out, palms up like a scale and said, "Jennifer, Cheryl, Jennifer, Cheryl…"

"All right!" Hutch said putting an end to Starsky's animation, "It's just that it's hard to explain."

Wheeler goaded, "Try us. We're all ears."

Hutch nervously tapped his typewriter but concentration was elusive and mistakes were abundant. Giving in to their expectant stares, he reluctantly began, "Several months ago, when Starsky and I were working her case, she and I accidently met one night. I was out walking my rounds, and she was out because she couldn't sleep. But I swear, our meeting was totally a coincidence! We talked. And it went from there. We kept it quiet for obvious reasons. When the case was over, we saw each other— but it's impossible! We can never be together because of the way she lives and the way I live. It was a nightmare, sneaking around, getting shot at, being manhandled by her bodyguards! I'm telling you, it's not all that it seems!"

His complaints seemed trivial and that was obvious by their expressions. Just an opportunity to look at this woman across the dinner table was worth the small hassle he described… anything more and they were quite flabbergasted at his unwillingness to be subjected to a few minor inconveniences.

Reading their minds, he yanked the paper out of the typewriter and shoved it into a file. Pushing it towards Dobey, he grunted, "Here're those reports!" Unfortunately, his dramatic departure fell flat because of the crowd of people blocking his exit.

Chapter 2

Captain Dobey sat in the chalk room and listened. This case was particularly heinous: kidnapping of girls and selling them on the sex slave market. He couldn't think of anything more ruthless. On top of that, every snitch and undercover cop assigned to the case had turned up dead, and if that wasn't reason enough to become involved, they were learning that the crime syndicate responsible for this was expanding their operation. If they didn't cut off the head of this monster, and soon… well, he shuttered to think of the number of people who would fall victim to these animals.

A much more pleasant thought was Cheryl Teasdale. He regarded her a moment. For a white woman, she was damn easy on the eyes. She could cause him to make an exception to his mama's rule. Cheryl Teasdale and Kenneth Hutchinson: that was one smart couple. But who would have thought it? And to keep it from Starsky was something too. He chuckled at the argument that would no doubt come of it. He'd love to be a fly on the wall listening to that conversation unravel.

"Captain Dobey?" the lead detective asked.

He shook his head awake and realized they had been calling his name.

"Captain Dobey, would you give us some information about this crime family," the lead detective asked.

Dobey hated meetings. He hated giving reports and getting reports, but that was his job and he did his job well. Within eight minutes, he had briefed the people in the room on the particulars of the crime family and how it was that he came to know of it. They had tried to set up shop on his turf, but through the coordinated efforts of several departments, they were warded off, and ultimately set up in an adjacent city.

The lead detective on this case was one Ms. Sherry McCormick, too petite for his liking but she always managed to attract the attention of the other detectives, at least until they had a chance to work with her and discovered her keen brain was only out matched by her sharp tongue and penchant for rules. McCormick didn't report to Dobey. In fact, she was a fifteen year veteran and had passed up several promotions to stay in the field. Because of her status on the force, she didn't really report to anybody, but her direct boss was two levels above Dobey and when he had called and told Dobey to report to this meeting, that's exactly what he did. Even though this case was being run by a specialized unit from a specialized department, he still somehow managed to get involved; like he didn't have enough on his plate.

Ms. McCormick continued, "The bad guys are taking on a new course. They don't seem content with kidnapping girls anymore, they're expanding their product line." She spoke business like and factually. She abruptly stopped talking and stared through the glass window of the chalk room into the hallway. Two men seemed to be arguing about something. She jerked the door open and called, "Excuse me? Can you come in here?"

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other, confused. They recognized the woman and they had no desire to work with her, for her, or against her. And they didn't much care for getting stuck in a conference room with her either. But before one of them could formulate a reasonable excuse, she ordered, "Now, gentlemen!"

Starsky whispered to Hutch, "This 'discussion' is far from over!" as they moved towards her. They sat down next to their Captain, shooting him questioning looks and wondering why he wasn't trying to protect them from the claws of this lioness, but Dobey remained silent.

"What are your names?" McCormick asked.

"I'm David Starsky and he's Ken Hutchinson."

"I've heard of you. You're detectives from Homicide, right? Working for Captain Dobey here?"

Both nodded. She opened a file and thumbed through it, allowing the other people in the room to wonder what she was doing. Closing the folder, she quietly declared, "You're perfect!"

Hutch asked, "Perfect for what?"

"Detective McCormick," Dobey interrupted, "I hope you're not going to suggest that you recruit these men for your case? They're already assigned, and they're booked solid." Dobey couldn't help but remember how every cop and snitch who worked on this case ended up dead.

McCormick glared at Dobey and it was the first time that Starsky and Hutch actually felt sorry for their captain. There was no tangling with this woman, especially if you wanted to collect a pension. She ignored his comment and addressed the others, "As I was saying, the syndicate is venturing into new territory. They are now kidnapping men… and trafficking them on the sex-slave circuit."

John Venning, a long time detective and the closest thing to McCormick's partner, questioned, "Sherry, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

She smiled and nodded, "You bet I am." She looked at both men and smiled. It was a pleasing smile and she knew how to use it to her advantage. Starsky and Hutch looked from her to Dobey, back at each other, and then to her again.

Uncomfortable, Starsky pointed out, "Uh, Ma'am, do you know you're staring at us?"

The brunette nodded her head, but spoke to Venning, "What do you think? You think they can do it?"

Venning answered, "I've heard of these two. They have a reputation for being able to take care of themselves, plus, they don't exactly look like cops. If you ask me, they're probably the best shot we've got."

Dobey tried to intervene, "Now wait a minute!"

Ignoring him, McCormick continued, "Gentlemen, let me lay out my plan. I propose that we send you two in undercover in the hopes of catching their eye."

"Whose eye?" Starsky asked.

"The Spinoza crime family."

Hutch started to stand up, "Thanks, but no thanks."

He didn't get very far before she put a hand on his shoulder and applied pressure; unenthusiastically, he lowered himself back down in his chair. McCormick patted his shoulder and said, "That's better."

Hutch lied, "Detective McCormick, we're in the middle of a case right now." Starsky continued the lie, "If you pull us at this time, thousands of dollars and many many hours will be wasted."

She didn't bite, or at the very least, she didn't seem to care. In fact, she seemed to be deep in thought. Starsky took the opportunity to nudge his captain along and cue him in on the argument. "That's right, Detective," Dobey stuttered, "these boys have been working steady on a case and the department doesn't want to see all that work wasted."

Venning leaned back, smiling, because he knew exactly what was forthcoming. He enjoyed watching his partner work. She picked up the phone and dialed the operator, "Get me Chief of Police Kerry, please."

A minute later, she hung up the phone and said, "There, you boys are mine now." She picked up her folders and told the group, "We'll reconvene in thirty. I have to get some one over here."

Chapter 3

"Captain, you gotta get us outta this!" Starsky pleaded. He paced the floor in front of Dobey's desk, wishing he had something to bargain with.

"More to the point, you can't assign us to McCormick," Hutch implored. "It's not 'healthy' to work with that woman. The last two detectives that she employed ended up in the hospital."

Dobey countered, "She gets results! And this is a high profile case right now getting lots of media attention. And you know as well as I do what that means!"

"But Capt'n, working with her is like working for the enemy. She doesn't exactly cover your back," Starsky pointed out.

"And she cares more about catching the criminal than protecting her undercover agents! Just ask Leon Fine and Tremaine Lane!"

"What do you expect me to do?! In case you didn't notice, SHE'Sthe one with the direct line to Chief of Police Kerry's office!" But Dobey felt their pain. He had on more than a few occasions been subjected to McCormick, and he never won. "Let's just see what she wants. Sometimes these things have a way of working themselves out."

Confused, annoyed, and betrayed, the two detectives wilted in their chairs, totally unconvinced.

Chapter 4

As ordered, they were back in the chalk room waiting on McCormick. Dobey was quietly yelling, "It'll do you no good to argue with me! You heard the lady; you're re-assigned to her case whether you like it or not!"

Venning enjoyed the show. One of the perks of being McCormick's partner was that she always got her way, and he had grown accustomed to that. The men became sullen when she walked through the door followed by three new faces. The small conference room was now filled and there wasn't so much as an empty chair available. Reluctantly, Hutch stood up and motioned with his hand to his chair. McCormick graced him with a genuine smile of gratitude, but it was lost as he had already turned away and was now leaning against the wall.

"Gentlemen, let me get started." Fifteen minutes later, her plan had been laid out. Starsky and Hutch were to go undercover and if they caught the attention of the Spinoza Family, they'd be the inside man. The objective was simple: recover the girls who'd been kidnapped.

Starsky seemed to be feeling better about the plan, "So, just so I have this straight… all's you want us to do is walk around some nightclub for the next week. And if nothing comes of it, you'll let us get back to our own beat?"

Venning nodded, "If nobody notices you, you're free to go back doing whatever it is you do."

Hutch was more skeptical, "What if someone does notice us? What kind of protection will we have?"

McCormick smiled knowingly, almost waiting for the question. "You'll be fixed with a homing device."

"A what?" Hutch asked.

"A small bug," Venning answered this time.

Dobey noted that McCormick and Venning seemed to have a similar relationship to that of Starksy and Hutch. They somehow intuitively knew which one was going to answer the questions; they played off each other and complimented one another.

"You mean like a wire?" Starsky asked.

"Nope," Venning replied but didn't feel the need to elaborate.

"Well, what is this bug?"

A very small chip was laid on a cloth by a technician. Starsky asked, "Where in the hell do you expect us to put that?"

Venning pointed to the back of his neck.

Hutch seemed to know immediately what was in store and he looked at McCormick incredulously. Starsky was less informed, "You mean our collars?" he asked hopefully.

Venning shook his head.

"Now wait a minute Detective McCormick," Dobey cut in. "Those things are experimental!"

"What things," Starsky quietly interjected.

"I hope you're not suggesting that my men get bug-plants!"

"Bug-plants?" Starsky was beginning to catch on.

She stood up and even though she wasn't 5'5" tall, she appeared so much larger. "I'm not suggesting it, I'm ordering it." She nodded to a rotund black woman, who opened up a black bag and pulled out vials, syringes, antiseptics, and swabs. The technician seated next to her pulled out a black zippered kit and opened it. He used tweezers to remove two small dots and set them on a sterilized gauze patch. Hutch just shook his head and stared out the glass window and down the hallway. "Gentlemen, please take off your shirts." They didn't move. She observed them as did Venning. She was just about ready to bark another order when Venning shook his head at her. The good thing about partners is that they can communicate with one another without ever speaking a word, and McCormick sometimes needed a reminder that she dealt with human beings who deserved more respect than the thugs she hunted down and put behind bars.

Understanding all too well the concept of separate and divide, she slowly approached the one called Hutchinson. "Detective, I'm asking you to consider my request." He looked down at her, noticing her large brown eyes staring right through him. "Please, sit down and I'll explain my idea and what we'll expect from you and your partner." She nodded her head, saying, 'it's okay', without saying a word. Gently she touched his arm but she didn't apply any pressure. All the pressure came from her now very feminine mannerisms.

She was a conundrum and Hutch enjoyed a puzzle, but he wasn't sure if this assignment was going to fall under the category of fun or big mistake. One minute, she's a sharp tongued dictator; the next, a cunning woman not above using feminine wiles to get her way. But it was her eyes that unnerved him; they never faltered. Almost trancelike, he moved to the chair and sat down. She gently touched his neck under his collar and explained, "We've discovered that this is the best place to insert a small homing device. And it's the best way we have to keep you safe."

Hutch looked at Starsky whose expression was only missing an open mouth. McCormick and Venning were pros, and they knew how to work an awkward moment to their advantage. They too waited in silence until Starsky's brain caught up. "You okay with this?" he asked his partner.

Hutch shrugged, "Not really. But it is protection… and the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get back to our own beat."

Taking his lead from his partner, Starsky sat down. Both men followed orders and removed their shirts so the medical nurse could begin.

"Why aren't you doing this in a hospital?" Dobey grunted.

"Not necessary. I want them going in tonight," McCormick replied, returning to her original coarse demeanor as she watched the procedure.

Both men felt the prick of a needle, then pressure as the incision was made, the bug implanted, and the incision fused together with surgical glue. Antiseptic carried the blood away. The nurse handed each a glass of water and several pills. To take their minds off the procedure, McCormick briefed them on the details. "The Spinoza family owns two different nightclubs in the city. I think you're familiar with them, one's called The Library and the other's called The Place Where Louis Dwells. You'll split up, each taking a different bar. If you get noticed, which means if you get snatched, we'll be able to track you through the bug." Turning to the technician named Bailey, she asked, "Are you picking up both signals?"

Bailey sat at a table pushed up against the wall with several large pieces of electronic equipment in front of him. He wore thick glasses, a wrinkled white shirt and a pair of plain black trousers. His eyes were bloodshot and his graying hair disheveled. He turned on a monitor and registered some blips and bleeps. After some fine tuning, he nodded, "Got 'em both. If they move, I'll be able to keep track of them."

Hutch asked, "Shouldn't we wait until this incision heals before we prance around looking for trouble?"

Venning answered, "They won't pick you up the first night, and probably not even the second night. By the third night, it'll be healed enough so as not to draw attention to it. That is assuming one of you catches their eye."

"What is it we should do if one of us catches their eye?" Starsky asked.

"Find out where the girls are, and…" she hesitated only slightly before adding, "try to keep your honor in tack."

"Terrific," Hutch harrumphed.

Chapter 5

The Torino sped down the street drowning out the continuing argument inside.

"I'm just asking why I didn't know about you and Cheryl Teasdale?"

"There's nothing to know, that's why!" Hutch repeated for the umpteenth time.

"But I'm your partner… and partners know what their partners are doing."

"I'm not doing anything. It's just like I said. I met her one night while walking my rounds around her complex. She didn't want to be alone so we talked. Actually, she did most of the talking. She's a very interesting individual, not just a pretty face, you know."

"And you want me to believe that it ended there?"

Hutch hedged some, "Well, not exactly. She seemed to know my schedule and she met me each night thereafter. We just talked." In response to Starsky's obvious distrustful smirk, he quickly added, "Honest, we just talked!" But when his partner's smirk continued, he further defended himself, "Starsk, I was on duty!"

Starsky relinquished enough so that his passenger would continue.

"Anyway, our assignment ended and I thought that was it. I figured that she'd never see me again, but I got a call a few days later and we met at some dive. Her taste in food isn't much better than yours, I'm afraid. We did that a few times until we were almost caught by the paparazzi. She came up with a plan that was lame from the beginning but I didn't realize how lame until the bullets started flying and I was face to face with one of her 300 pound gorillas."

Starsky smiled at the memory of her body guards. "Yeah, they were big ones. So what happened?"

"Remember when I had to take a few days off work?"

Starsky nodded, "Yeah, you said you had the flu and couldn't get out of bed."

"Not exactly. I couldn't get out of bed because the damn gorilla practically broke my back and I couldn't move for two days. After that, I decided it wasn't going to work."

"You expect me to believe that a few bruises turned you away from the glamorous Ms. Teasdale?"

"A few bruises? I damn near got killed! Anyway, our lives are light years apart."

"So what? She is Cheryl Teasdale!" But Hutch ignored his comment as they had arrived at the bar named The Library, and Starsky pulled the Torino to the curb and watched his partner exit. Hutch gently touched his incision and asked, "How's your neck?"

"Sore."

They shared a moment of understanding before Hutch slammed the car door and watched his partner drive off. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the bar's entrance, which happened to be appropriately named due to its proximity to the city's real public library, right next door. He descended the flight of cement steps to the entrance and pushed through. It was already crowded and cigarette smoke filled the air. Finding an empty seat at the bar, he made himself comfortable and watched the scantily clad women and disco dressed men tackle the dance floor and drink themselves into a stupor. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary and he began to wonder if this wasn't going to be one big waste of time. On second thought, he mused, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. He wondered if Starsky was experiencing the same kind of evening.

Chapter 6

Across town, Starsky was seated at the bar, drinking a beer and watching scantily clad women brush off the advances of the polyester clad disco dancing kings. If his neck wasn't so sore, he'd be inclined to approach several of the ladies and take them for a spin around the floor. He checked his watch and it was only 11:45pm. He had to kill another couple hours, until closing time at two, so he ordered another beer and watched the flurry of activity.

When the lights came up at 1:45am, he took a final sip of beer and headed out to pick up his partner.

Hutch was waiting at the exact same spot where he'd left him. "Any luck?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Starsky had to agree with that logic. "How's your neck?"

"Hurts like hell. You got any aspirin?"

Starsky had anticipated the question and tossed the bottle to his partner. Hutch took two pills and dry swallowed them. They rode the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence.

Chapter 7

"You're late," Detective McCormick toned when the undercover cops entered the chalk room.

"Sorry," Starsky replied disingenuously.

She ignored his tone and drilled them with questions. If she was happy, she didn't show it; conversely, if she was unhappy, she didn't show that either.

"You want us to switch bars tonight?" Starsky asked.

"No, we're dealing with intelligent people. They would know. Just keep going back to the same bar this week. If you're lucky, you'll go home each night." Stolidly, she added, "But if I'm lucky, you won't."

Chapter 8

Hutch punched on his typewriter while Starsky read the paper. "Do you believe her?" Starsky mumbled. "You know, she never did ask how we were feeling."

Hutch looked up and smiled at his partner's hurt feelings. "Don't let it get to you, buddy. I bet she genuinely doesn't give a damn."

"That's what I mean! Here we're risking our necks for her operation, and she doesn't even have the decency to ask about us."

Hutch chuckled again; just thankful that his neck was feeling much better. "What are you complaining about? We get to hang out at a bar, drink all the free beer we can handle, look at pretty ladies, massage some potential contacts, and then go home. All of which is on the clock. Aren't we getting paid extra for this?"

Starsky lowered his paper and shook his head, "No."

"What?"

"We'll get a bonus only if we make contact. And considering what they have in mind, I for one ain't anxious to make contact with these people."

Hutch agreed, "Yeah, neither am I."

Starsky continued to stare at his partner, then he slowly folded his paper and asked, "Speaking of beautiful ladies, how are you and Miss Teasdale doing?"

From across the room, a smarmy voice sneered, "What's it like doing a fashion model, blondie?"

Hutch's demeanor changed at the sound of Rigby's voice. He was a low life detective who was never very high on anyone's buddy list. Even his own partner didn't want to ride with him. He was an old school cop with old school ways, and he made it known that he vehemently disapproved of the new tactics of the young officers. "Shutup, Rigby," Starsky toned, knowing the man's word choice would set his partner off.

Feigning disinterest, Rigby continued, "I bet you haven't called her."

Hutch ignored him, but the tightening jaw muscles gave away his true feelings.

"What's the matter, Hutchinson, she too much woman for you?"

Starsky had had enough and toned, "Rigby, why don't you park yourself in the gutter on your beat somewhere and talk to the sewer rats you call informants?"

Rigby smiled arrogantly, and addressing Hutch, he sneered, "You haven't answered your partner's question… how are you and the beautiful Miss Teasdale doing?"

Hutch's jaw tightened as he looked right at Starsky, but Starsky shrugged in annoyance. They both knew the detective had a reputation of needling, so with a nod from Starsky, Hutch ignored Rigby and answered his partner's question, "I haven't called her, if that's what you want to know."

"You're an idiot, Hutchinson," Rigby returned. "But then again, I've heard you just might swing both ways."

Hutch stood up so fast his chair went down. Starsky jumped around his desk and grabbed his taller partner at the same time Wheeler shoved the weasely Rigby out the door, "Get the hell outa here, would ya Rigby?" Wheeler gave him a final shove knowing full well if his big mouth didn't go, there'd be a brawl right here in the office.

Wheeler looked back at the seething blonde detective and assuaged his anger, "Hutch, you know how Rigby is… he shoots off his mouth before thinking. Let it go."

Hutch threw his pencil down, ripped the sheet out of his typewriter and left the office. Starsky smiled at Wheeler, one of the good guys with a friendly disposition, an unusual trait in their line of work. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, but in case you're feeling obliged towards me, get your partner to call Cheryl Teasdale and tell her it was me who got him to do it". And without saying a word, he held up the copy of Glamour magazine.

After seeing the cover girl, Starsky replied, "Not a chance, Wheeler."

Chapter 9

That night, the routine was repeated again. Starsky dropped his partner off at the nightclub, and he drove across town to his bar. Once again, the evening passed uneventfully, as did the next morning's briefing, and once again Starsky commented at the cool nature of their boss, "I'd rather have Dobey yelling at us than McCormick smiling at us."

"She does have a snake like quality about her, doesn't she? At least with Dobey, we know where we stand."

"Four more nights and we're home free. You know, I think I've made a contact in the bartender."

Hutch smiled, "Yeah? I think I made a contact in the waitress."

Chapter 10

"So far, so good," Hutch surmised, as they left the briefing room for the fifth time that week.

"Yeah, it's been almost a week and nobody has so much as winked at me. I could get a complex if this continues," Starsky complained.

Hutch snickered, but as he approached his desk, something was on it that caught his eye. There, lying square in the middle of his work area was an 8 x 10 glossy of a beautiful blonde lady standing near a Hawaiian waterfall and wearing nothing but a small black string bikini and four inch black stiletto heels. The beautiful model was Cheryl Teadale. Hutch stared at it, unaware of the other men in the room who were anxiously awaiting his reaction.

"Whoa!" Starsky panned, unable to take his eyes off the photo.

Hutch cleared his throat and asked, "Did you put this here?"

Starsky objected, "I've been with you!"

Hutch looked around and saw Wheeler, Rigby, Dobey and a few other men smiling. "Did one of you put this here?"

Wheeler grinned, "Nope! But I could describe the guy who did."

Hutch expectantly waited.

"He was about 6'6" and 350 pounds of pure muscle. He wore a small subcompact handgun on his belt and if I had to guess, I'd say his hands were registered."

Hutch thought, 'her bodyguard.' "Did he say anything?"

"Only that there's a message for you on the back of the picture."

Hutch turned the photo over and read, "My dearest Ken. I miss you and wish you were here in Hawaii with me. I hope you like the photograph. –Cheryl"

They looked from the photo to each other. All Starsky could think to say is, "What is your problem?"

Hutch slumped slightly and put the photo down. "I explained that already—"

Rigby cut across his words and stated, "I think it's because your pretty partner prefers guys?"

Hutch took two long strides and reached for Rigby's collar but instead ran straight into Dobey and Wheeler, two forces difficult to move since together they outweighed Hutch by a hundred pounds. But even though they were able to prevent Hutch from laying out Rigby, they weren't able to stop Starsky, who landed a left hook on Rigby's jaw, "You'd better watch what comes out of that mouth, Rigby!" Starsky toned. "Or be prepared for the possibility of it being wired shut!"

The man rubbed his jaw and felt the blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. Without saying anything, he picked himself off the floor and left.

Dobey and Wheeler released Hutchinson but not before Dobey grunted, "You two better leave each other alone. If I catch you two at it again, I just might assign you to work a shift together! You got it!"

Hutch glared, almost daring Dobey to do it; but he knew better and he knew Dobey would pair them together in a heartbeat if he was so inclined. Allowing the moment to pass, Hutch walked back to his desk and picked up the photograph. He felt the eyes on him and he felt a little trapped; he couldn't articulate his feelings and even he was having second thoughts. He looked at the picture again and remembered their strolls together and her eclectic views of life, not too distant from his own. And he wondered the same thing they wondered… What was his problem?

Chapter 11

On the last night of their commitment to the case, Starsky drove the Torino to Hutch's nightclub and asked, "How's the waitress?"

"She's going to work out real well. She's in the know about several dealers and pimps and doesn't seem too intimidated by them. How 'bout your bartender?"

"Same deal. He doesn't use, just listens. I think he'll be a big help." The Torino slowed at the curb and Starsky said, "See ya around quitting time."

Hutch watched his partner drive off and walked down the alley to the entrance. He took up his usual spot at the bar and watched as the club filled up. It was a Friday night and within a couple of hours, the nightclub was going to be packed, loud, smoky, and alive. He had a few hours of solitude before he hit the dance floor and he used that time to think about Cheryl. What was his problem? What was the harm in dating her? Starsky was right; it didn't have to become more than two people enjoying each other. He took out his wallet and caressed her picture. He flipped it over and looked at her private phone number; the one that she answered. A minute later he was plopping dimes in the phone and dialing.

Chapter 12

Starsky sauntered up to the bar stool and nodded towards Ernie, the bartender. They exchanged greetings and he took a sip of the beer that Ernie had set in front of him, then turned on his stool to admire the scenery. He had to admit that the nightclub scene was nice. This club seemed to have a penchant for drawing the most attractive women in the city and he very much enjoyed admiring them. Tonight, he'd dance. He even had a routine worked out with a young lady named Evelyn. They had hooked up several nights earlier and they both knew some moves on the floor and they managed to put something together that looked nice and felt good. It was still early for Evelyn. She usually didn't arrive until after eleven. He took a long swig from his brew and engaged Ernie in some light conversation. To Ernie, it was light; to the cop, it was valuable trust being built.

Chapter 13

The waitress was easy to talk to and was good at her job; she kept Hutch in an endless supply of draft beer. At one point, she could sense something was wrong and asked, "What's on your mind tonight, handsome?"

He smiled, debating whether or not to share his thoughts. He hedged, "A beautiful lady."

"I should have known a good looking guy like you would be taken. What happened?"

He shrugged, "Too long and too boring a tale for a busy working girl like yourself to listen to." She couldn't argue with that seeing as she had a half dozen tables waiting for drinks. Gathering up his empty mugs, she said, "I'm the queen of relationship problems, honey. But I also happen to be a good listener if you're so inclined and want to hang around til closing." She offered a pleasant smile and disappeared into the crowd.

Another half hour went by and, as the saying goes, you never buy beer, you just rent it, he visited the men's room. While washing his hands, he was suddenly struck with an eerie sensation; like someone was watching him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the mirror. He swung around, but he was out maneuvered, and the sweet smell of chloroform filled his nostrils. He struggled, in vain, as his head filled up too fast with fuzziness and his strength peeled away like papers caught in a strong wind. He only had time to make out two men in suits before darkness crept into his vision and total blackness enveloped his world.

Chapter 14

Starsky tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the last dance that he and Evelyn had done. They commanded the floor and she was as light on her feet as any partner he'd ever danced with. He was almost sad when the lights went up and the bar closed for the evening. He hadn't had that much fun in a long time.

As he drove up the street, humming the tune, a strange feeling came over him, and he was suddenly hit with the possibility that Hutch may not be waiting for him outside the bar. He turned the corner and approached the curb. His stomach sank as his partner was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 15

Starsky burst into the chalk room. "Where is he?"

McCormick looked up from the monitor and replied, "Near as we can tell, they've taken him to the warehouse district."

Starsky looked at Dobey and said, "What now?"

"Why're you asking me! It's her show, not mine!"

McCormick wore a satisfied grin when Starsky looked at her. Incredulously, he sneered, "Are you enjoying this?"

She dropped the smile and toned, "Detective Starsky, I'm enjoying the fact that we have a real shot at rescuing some young girls. And I'm enjoying the fact that we have a plan to shut down the Spinoza crime family. Your partner understands this, so have some faith in him."

"I have all the faith in the world in Hutch; it's you that I have a problem with."

She turned back to the monitor letting Venning step in to soothe things over. His bedside manner was much more conducive for this sort of thing. "Detective Starsky, we feel that your partner is fine for the time being. We've got him on the monitor and we know exactly where he is."

Not totally convinced, he asked, "So, what do we do?"

"We wait," McCormick supplied. "We let Hutchinson do his job. And that is to locate the girls and then contact us."

Chapter 16

Hutch woke up with a massive headache and a 60 watt bulb shining in his eyes. He rolled off the cot and tried to stand, but his head was pounding making his legs weak. Stumbling to the door, he checked the handle, locked. The room was small, maybe 8x8, no windows, one cot, and a sink. If the walls were bars, he'd be in a jail. It was then that he noticed his clothing. He was no longer wearing what he wore into the bar; now he was wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms and a long sleeve black jacket, like those worn by karate students, except his needed a belt and he had none. His shoes and socks were gone too. He padded softly back to the cot and sat down, running a hand through his hair. Reflexively he touched his neck and immediately felt reassured by the small device lodged just under his skin.

Confident in his situation, he leaned back against the wall, letting the waiting game begin.

Chapter 17

The next day, Starsky couldn't sit around and do nothing. He had missed the morning meeting due to the fact that he didn't leave the chalk room until close to 4am, and that was only because he was ordered to go home. Wheeler reported that the meeting was less than informative with no new developments. By early evening, as he sat at his desk, looking across at his partner's empty chair, he realized that without Hutch around, the office seemed downright empty. Even Dobey was different. Instead of demanding his reports, he asked for them. He couldn't even concentrate on the case they'd been working before they'd been shanghaied into McCormick's caper. He yanked his jacket off the back of his chair and drove to the nightclub, The Library, and slid onto a barstool. The bartender came over and asked him what he wanted.

"Information."

Skeptical, he pulled a glass off the drainer and began polishing it with a soft while cloth.

"I'm looking for a guy. He's been coming in here the last couple of nights… tall, blonde, good looking fellow."

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about. What do you want with him?"

"I want to find him. Do you know if he was talking to anyone last night?"

"You'll have to ask Daisy. She's the waitress."

"Where can I find her?"

"Don't know. She's not working tonight. But she's on the schedule for tomorrow."

Annoyed at the dead end, Starsky replied, "Thanks."

It was after 9:00pm when he returned to the chalk room. Unlike the previous night, it was now alive with people. People bringing in equipment, people on the floor running cables, people pushing tables together to make more room for god only knows what. He recognized Bailey humped over a computer screen like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse, oblivious to the activity, and Dobey, McCormick and Venning studying printouts. But before he had a chance to ask what was going on, McCormick toned, "I don't want you going back to that bar asking questions. We don't know how large their operation is and questions to the wrong person could jeopardize this case. Do we have an understanding?"

Starsky furrowed his brow, in annoyance, not liking someone other than Dobey giving orders. Venning didn't give him more time to rethink his position before he soothingly commented, "We have it under control, Detective Starsky. You just need to trust us."

Starsky acquiesced reluctantly, then took notice of the unfamiliar faces and asked, "What's going on?"

By their expressions, something wasn't going as planned. Venning answered, "They're not exactly following the pattern we thought."

"What pattern was that?"

"We thought that after they kidnapped someone, they put that person through some sort of indoctrination. But the information we're getting doesn't support that."

"How are you getting information?" Starsky asked, confused. He looked at Dobey for some support, but he got nothing.

Venning pointed at a device. "Through that."

Starsky studied it a beat, then asked, "What is it?"

"It's a high frequency audio transmitter we had installed in the warehouse last night. We're able to catch bits of their conversation."

"What about their phones?" Starsky asked.

"They don't use any. All communication is done through couriers and it's almost impossible to tell which cars they use."

"So why's the pattern different?"

Venning was reluctant to say and it was obvious. Starsky looked at Dobey and asked again, "Why's the pattern different?"

Venning answered, "We think they're going to move Hutchinson to a different location."

"Maybe they're taking him to where the girls are being held?"

"Maybe."

Starsky felt there was something more to the story but before he could ask, the blip on the screen started to move.

Chapter 18

Using coarse thin twine, Hutch's hands were tied behind his back so tight that he kept having to flex his fingers and wrists to avoid his circulation from being cut off. He was blindfolded and whoever tied his hands must have tied the blindfold because they made it so tight he felt like his head was going to explode from the pressure. Afterwards, he was roughly thrown into the back of a vehicle and held down by an oppressive hand. He laid there trying to listen to noises that might give him a clue as to where he was, but the noise in the van sufficiently drowned out any outside sounds he might have heard. They didn't drive far before he was forcefully snatched from the back and made to walk a short distance. Suddenly, as brutally as earlier, he was shoved forward and without any hands to help break his fall, he fell hard to the ground. He heard the door slam behind him and then silence. But it wasn't exactly silence as much as it was quiet. "Who's there?" he asked hesitantly.

Some shuffling sounds came closer and the blindfold covering his eyes was pulled down to reveal a frightened young lady who looked about twenty years old. Looking past her, he found the source of the quiet. Huddled together were four young females, approximately eighteen years old.

"Can you untie me?" Hutch softly asked.

The girl untied him and then slunk back to her place with the others. Hutch surveyed his surroundings. The room was dimly lit with no windows and one cement door. Not much of an escape route available. Concluding the room was a pretty good cell, he turned his attention to the girls. Several things struck him immediately: they were all blondes, and they all wore the same outfit that he wore, black pajamas, only theirs had belts. He approached the girl who helped him earlier and asked, "What's your name?"

"Andrea."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty One."

"How long have you been here?"

"I've been here the longest… I think three weeks."

Hutch looked at the others and asked, "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. Imperceptibly, so did the other girls.

Hutch sat down across the room from the ladies and pulled his knees up to rest his arms on. They may not be in any physical pain, but the emotional pain was front and center on their porcelain features. It was time for some thinking.

Chapter 19

Eddie Spinoza was very proud of himself. He wasn't a particularly large man, but he carried himself with an air of confidence that was so indicative of his Latin ancestry. He had finally filled the order: five females, one male, and all very attractive blondes. He just now had to deliver them. The due date on the merchandize wasn't for another three days, and he found himself thinking about one of them in particular. Interrupting his pleasurable thoughts came a familiar voice, "Get that look off your face!"

Eddie feigned ignorance as he looked at his younger brother; the man had no stomach for what they did for a living. "Tony, why don't you go on ahead and clear the way for our merchandise to leave the country?"

"That's all been taken care of," Tony Spinoza replied. "Papa took care of that and I don't have to remind you what he said!"

Eddie remembered the lecture they'd received from dear old dad, and a frown furrowed his brow. Papa Spinoza just didn't understand the new way of doing business. But his father would come around once he realized the profit margin on this new business venture. Right now, he had his brother to deal with, and being the consummate thinker, his face lightened as an idea came to him. This idea was contingent upon his younger brother having the same carnal needs as any other young man in his mid forties. It was really just a matter of a few well spoken and enticing suggestions, "Didn't you say you liked the girl we picked up three weeks ago? You said you thought she was pretty… I think her name was Andrea? Wouldn't you like to try her out before we have to ship her off?"

Tony looked at his brother disgustedly, "No. I don't like this new business you've found. Why don't we stick to gambling, drugs and prostitution? Why'd you have to go get involved in human trafficking?"

"Money! That's why! There's a hell of a lot more money in this than anything else we've got going! Look at this bid!" He shoved a file towards his brother and insisted he take it. "Go ahead, open it and read it!"

Tony opened the file and looked at the first 8 x 10 photograph. It was of their latest victim, the man they'd just picked up. The next photo was a head shot of him smiling, the next one of him drinking a beer, the next, talking to a lady, and so on. Ten photos in all and all had been snapped by a hidden camera in the bar. The last sheet of paper was labeled Bid Sheet.

"Do you see how much people are bidding for him?!" Eddie asked excitedly. "The bids started at fifty thousand dollars! That's twice the amount for any of the girls!"

Tony scanned the sheet and found the figure that was obviously elating his brother. He stared at it for a long minute.

In a low persuasive whisper, Eddie continued, "Do you see what I mean? That last bid is for three million dollars! In one month, you and I can single handedly bring into the family what it takes Papa a year to make!"

Tony allowed his brother's infectious enthusiasm to seep into his brain and he began to see things differently. He knew how proud this would make Papa Spinoza. A slow smile slithered onto his lips; maybe his brother was onto something after all.

Eddie gently took the folder from his brother's hand and patted him on the back in mutual understanding. "Now you see why I was so interested in this line of work." He put the folder back into his desk and allowed his mind to drift to the tall blonde man who had unknowingly become the backbone of his operation. The identification in his pocket indicated his name was Ken. Putting his hand around his brother's shoulder, he walked him across his office and said, "Now, why don't you select one of the girls and try her out. I believe in quality control," he added. "In the meantime, I'm gonna do some of my own quality control."

Chapter 20

"Do you have a fix on them?" Starsky asked. The chalk room had turned into a command center and as news of the operation travelled, people were coming and going throughout the day.

Wheeler had stopped by to check on Hutch, but there was no news. Baxter and Babcock also stopped by. By the looks on their faces, they new the undercover assignment was human trafficking and every one on the force new what that meant. Even Rigby strolled through and checked on Hutch's status under the guise of seeing the latest in surveillance equipment. The men sat down and drank their coffee, fascinated by all the readouts and blips on the screens.

Wheeler asked, "How do you know where Hutch is?"

Venning pulled the black kit from his pocket and opened it to display a series of small buttons. "This is similar to the bug we implanted into Hutchinson's neck."

Wheeler looked at Starsky and noticed the small bandage peeking out from under his collar. "Did you have one?"

"Yeah, but they removed it yesterday," and he rubbed his neck where the incision was healing. Starsky looked out the glass window into the hallway and watched Dobey huff towards them. Pushing through the door, he demanded, "What's the status of Hutchinson?"

"They moved him but not too far. We think he's still okay."

"You think?!" Dobey replied, anger engraved across his features. And when he was angry he took it out on everyone. "What the hell are you men doing here!" he barked at the four men drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups. "Don't you have a job to do?"

The concern in the department was heavy as it was whenever one of the detectives was on a particular difficult case. Wheeler offered, "We're just checking on the progress of the operation, Captain."

Starsky turned back around to Venning and asked, "Why don't you guys install another one of those audio devices that you had at the last warehouse?"

"For starters, we can't get near the place, and it won't do us any good fifty feet away."

Ms. McCormick walked through the windowed door and was amazed at the room full of people. She raised her eyes and shot Venning a questioning look, but he shrugged her off and went back to monitoring the equipment over Bailey's shoulder.

She put her briefcase on the table and pulled out some printouts. "We have reason to believe that some cargo is going to be shipped out soon."

Starsky mimicked, "Some cargo?"

"By cargo, I mean people."

Starsky gave that a moment's thought, then added, "Shipped where?"

"Out of the country."

Starsky's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "You knew about this?"

"I know about a lot of things, Detective Starsky," McCormick shot back. "And before you decide to lecture me, let me say that you and Detective Hutchinson, as well as everybody else here, is on a need to know basis. If you need to know it, you will."

"We put our butts on the line for your operation, and you don't think it's important to fill us in on all the details!" Starsky retorted.

Wheeler stood up, recognizing the possible repercussions of a sergeant going up against McCormick, "Take it easy, Starsky. Sit down and let's hear what she has to say." Wheeler tugged gently on Starsky's leather jacket until the dark eyed detective lowered himself into a chair.

McCormick continued, "Obviously, once the victims are out of our country, we have real concerns about getting them back. Hopefully Hutchinson is working on locating those girls. When they take him to the airport, we'll make our move."

Rigby interjected, "If they take Hutch to the airport, can't we assume they're taking the rest of the victims?"

"No, unfortunately; that would be too easy. If the Spinoza family traffics people like they traffic drugs, they'll do it one at a time. In case they're caught, they might lose part of their shipment, but not the whole thing. Plus, we can't be sure that there's just one shipment. They may be trafficking to five different locations." She tapped the pencil on the table, frustrated by all the variables that could unfold. More to herself than any one else, she said, "We're relying on Hutchinson to do his job."

Venning added, "In the meantime, we wait for them to move him, or we wait for a phone call from him."

Wheeler restated, "A phone call? Where's he gonna get a phone?"

Venning replied, "He's just gonna have to find one."

Chapter 21

Andrea crawled over to the newest prisoner and sat down beside him. "I'm a little surprised to see you. I knew they were waiting on one more person, but I didn't expect it to be a man."

Hutch listened, then asked, "You said you were the first one here, right?"

She nodded.

"And you've been here three weeks?"

She nodded again.

"Do you know where we are?"

This time she shook her head, "No idea."

"How did you know that they were waiting for one more person?"

"Sandra was the last girl they brought in, and that was a little over a week ago. When they pushed her inside, one of the men said, 'five down, one to go'."

Hutch realized something, "Then there's nothing stopping them now. We could be shipped out at any time. Listen, I don't know how much time we have so can you think of anything else that might help."

She looked at him quizzically.

He answered, "I'm a cop. I was sent in here to get you ladies out. But I don't think my people knew that I was going to be the final victim. So we have to work fast."

The lock on the cement door clicked and Hutch whispered quickly to the girls, "No matter what, stay together."

The door opened and a stream of light flooded the small room. A casually dressed 230 pound man with no neck and touting a semi automatic machine gun entered the room and said, "Okay, pretty boy, come with me." He then addressed Andrea and toned, "You too."

When neither Hutch nor Andrea moved, he reached down and jerked the girl to her feet. Hutch stood up in protest, "Hey!" But all he got for his efforts was a swift gun butt to his kidneys, and he was pulled out the door. The walk was substantial, but they never left the warehouse.

Back at police headquarters, the blip made the tiniest of moves. Venning furrowed his brow and looked at Bailey for confirmation, and he got it. The problem was, what did it mean? Such a small movement was nothing more than a relocation within the same place, but movement was movement and it meant something, he just didn't know what.

Flanked by two well armed goons, Hutch and Andrea were escorted to a large room on the upper level of the warehouse. One of the men felt inclined to shove Hutch further inside, which is when he noticed the décor. Expensive imported oriental rugs covered the cement floor, and the furniture was nothing but the finest mahogany and hard woods covered lavishly with plush fabrics. Gold plated mirrors hung from walls which were papered with fine textured tapestries. Chandeliers hung from a faux ceiling that hid the beams, wires, and the myriad of other asbestos laden material. Instead of being in a warehouse, it felt like they were plopped down in the middle of a mansion in Beverly Hills.

"What do you want with us?" Hutch asked anyone who would listen. But none of the goons answered his question. Instead, they pointed their guns at them and instructed them further into the room. One of them opened a double door which led to a bedroom, decorated in an equally opulent manner.

The 230 pound no-neck gorilla explained to the others, "He goes here; she goes to the other room." Hutch shot Andrea a glance and she was petrified. He knew he couldn't throw a punch because he was outmanned, outgunned and out weighed. But he could ask questions. "You boys don't hear too well, do ya? I asked what you wanted with us." Unfortunately, all he got for his troubles were more than few well placed punches. He heard Andrea scream, "Leave him alone!" But the punches rained down on him until he was having trouble breathing. After the beating, they dragged him over to the bed.

"What are you doing to him!" Andrea screamed as she witnessed the men strip him of his clothes and handcuff him to the bed.

No-neck leered and rubbed his crotch. "Well, I know what I'd like to do to him. But Mr. Spinoza would have me killed if I touched him. Let's just say he's trying out the merchandize for himself!" The laugh was sickening and Andrea struggled, and Hutch watched as she was dragged away, no doubt going to be used for the same purposes as him.

Chapter 22

McCormick hadn't moved since she sat down. Her brain was calculating and figuring and refiguring. Her reputation was surpassed by no one and anybody who'd had any dealings with her harbored a secret admiration for her ability to piece together a puzzle. And right now, she was taking all the pieces of knowledge that she had on the case and she was fitting them into a scenario. She reached out and pulled the only phone in the room closer to her. She fondled the handset as if willing it to ring. The room was very quiet and it looked as though every scenario she ran through her head had a bad ending. Not one single man had bothered to leave and a handful of people joined them. Suddenly she announced, "Captain Dobey, I want every man available to roll when I give the order."

Dobey left the room and returned ten minutes later. The room was as quiet as he'd left it. Quitting time had long since gone, but not a detective in the place had gone home. "I have all units on standby, and I have another thirty men on call. It'll be a big take down."

Starsky quietly said, "You're worried about something. What is it?"

McCormick hesitated because what she had only dismissed as a remote possibility seemed to be materializing into a stark reality. "I'm worried about the girls, and your partner."

Starsky's non verbal communication commanded her on.

"Spinoza has a reputation for trying out the merchandise."

Chapter 23

Hutch had to find a phone; he also had to get out of the handcuffs. Then he had to locate Andrea, get back to the other girls, and get everyone the hell out of Dodge. And it all had to be done soon, yet none of it seemed like a possibility. He wasn't sure how long he laid there, but he surveyed the bedpost to see if he could break it, or perhaps dismantle it. Turning his attention to the room, he looked for a phone, but there was none. He looked for phone outlets, but there weren't any of them either. There was one door against the far wall. It could lead to a closet, or to another room; Hutch bet that it lead to another room. And he bet too that a phone was there. Just as he was contemplating the odds of gaining access, in walked Eddie Spinoza. He was your basic Italian, complete with dark skin, dark hair, and dark lascivious eyes.

"I don't know why my men insist on beating my guests? You'll have to accept my apologies, I specifically ordered that you not be harmed. Would you care for a drink?" Spinoza asked as he walked towards a small wet bar and pulled out a few bottles.

Having already pulled a sheet over him, Hutch replied, "I'd like to be uncuffed."

"That's probably not going to happen, Ken."

"Where did you take Andrea?"

"Why do you care? It's not like you're going to be able to do anything about it." He poured a straight shot of bourbon into a tumbler and tipped it up. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

"I'd like to know what you plan on doing with me."

"Well," Spinoza began, walking towards his prisoner, "I plan on satisfying a curiosity of mine. Call it a fantasy, call it sick, call it whatever you like. But ever since I saw you walk into my bar, I knew I had to have you."

"I don't exactly swing that way," Hutch replied.

"The name's Eddie, Eddie Spinoza. And I don't really care what your preferences are." He opened a draw in the bureau and pulled out a leather strap.

"What are you planning on doing with that?"

"Oh, I don't know yet. That depends on you." He meandered over to his prisoner and ran a hand down the handsome face. Hutch turned his head, but it was in vain and Spinoza forced a kiss.

Hutch pulled back, but, again, his efforts proved fruitless.

Spinoza grabbed a handful of hair and forced his prisoner backwards on the bed. He was easy to restrain with one hand being inoperable and the other easily held down by a knee. Another stolen kiss produced more struggling and the strap came down hard across the prisoner's cheek. Two more quick blows landed across his chest.

Spinoza pushed himself off his prisoner and straightened his hair and clothes. "I wish you wouldn't make me do that," he chastised. "I don't want to hurt you! I just want to satisfy some needs."

The door opened and another man walked in. Hutch's breathing, already fast and labored, quickened. He studied the stranger. The lascivious look in his eyes was even more dangerous than Spinoza's.

Chapter 24

Across town at the police station, Bailey nudged Venning and pointed to a number on the monitor. The number had always been there, fluctuating up and down, but until now Venning had ignored it, "What is it?"

In the quiet room, the conversation was easy to hear. "I built in a small heat sensor in these bugs, totally experimental and I'm not even sure if it's working properly. But the number just jumped."

"What's that mean?"

"Assuming it's working, it means that Hutchinson's body temperature, heart rate, and sweat glands just skyrocketed."

Venning looked quizzically at Bailey and shrugged, non-verbally asking for more.

"It means that Hutchinson is under a great deal of stress right now."

To Starsky, the solution was a no-brainer, "Then let's go get him."

McCormick commanded, "Not yet! Give him more time."

"Give him more time! For what! So Spinoza and God knows who else can do with him as they please?!"

"Detective! I said not yet!"

Chapter 25

Hutch wiped the blood from his face and chest with the sheet and looked intently at the stranger who, based on his resemblance to Eddie Spinoza, was probably related.

"What the hell are you doing, Eddie?"

"Get out of here Tony. I thought you'd be happy with that girl!"

He surveyed the prisoner and disgustedly announced, "You put too many marks on him and ain't nobody's gonna want him!" Walking towards the rear door, he added, "I came in here to get some papers." He opened the far door and entered. And that's when Hutch saw it! He had to get to that phone. And he had an idea.

"I said get out of here!" Eddie toned. His younger brother quickly found what he was after and shaking his head, he left. Now was Hutch's chance.

"Hey, Eddie," Hutch forced his voice to be friendly.

Suspiciously, Eddie downed his drink and turned to face his prisoner.

"Eddie, I've been thinking. This would be my first time with a guy and I sure as hell don't want it to be like this." He jingled his cuffed wrist. "I'm not sure how many men you've been with, but you might be able to teach me something to make the experience more pleasurable for both of us."

Eddie smirked, "You can't be serious. You think I'm gonna uncuff you?"

"Why not? Where am I gonna go? I've got no clothes and there are guards everywhere around here."

Eddie downed another shot and blinked several times at his prisoner.

Hutch continued, "If it makes you feel better, you can cuff my hands in front of me."

Eddie was showing the initial signs of agreement. One more well voiced plea might just do it. Hutch turned his appeal up a notch. "Please, I promise… you'll have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

And Eddie was suckered into believing the game. He fumbled in the desk until he found the key and pulled out his gun. He tossed the key to his prisoner and told him to do it. A minute later, Hutch's hands were cuffed together and Spinoza grabbed the key back. Pleased with himself and what the future was sure to hold for him, Spinoza began to undress. When he got down to his pants, Hutch made his move.

Like a rattle snake lunging for the bite, he bolted forward and knocked Spinoza against the bureau. A double fisted back hand punch laid the man out. Hutch raced to the rear door and flung it open. He lunged at the phone and dialed.

Chapter 26

McCormick jumped when the phone rang. She punched the speaker and said, "Talk!"

"Get us out of here, NOW!" But before any more was said, a distant voice was heard, "He's in there, get him!"

Hutch dropped the phone on the desk and avoided the blow coming his way. Starsky leaned forward on the table, listening intently. The struggle was evident over the phone, then the line went dead.

McCormick ordered, "Let's move out!" But the room was almost vacant before she ended her sentence.

Chapter 27

Hutch was roughly thrown on the bed and Spinoza went after him with a vengeance. Every blow seemed harder than the preceding one. Hutch just concentrated on containing the abuse, but with three men in the room, he didn't have much of a chance to escape. Spinoza was seething, "Who the hell did you call?"

"The cops! I called the cops, Spinoza, and they're on their way here right now!"

"You lousy son of a bitch! You're gonna regret doing that!" And the blows reigned down. Suddenly they stopped and Hutch's recognized the lascivious look again. "Hold him down!"

The two guards did as ordered, and Hutch felt the blows across his back and legs. But the worse was yet to come. In a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable, Hutch screamed, "I'm a cop! You do this to me and you're a dead man!"

But Spinoza wasn't going to be dissuaded. Hutch closed his eyes and steeled himself for the assault.

Chapter 28

Starsky and Dobey sped down the street in the Torino. The screaming caravan of red lights was eight cars in length, and they picked up another six cars on the way. It seemed like they were hours getting to the warehouse district, but they were only ten minutes away. Ten minutes might as well be ten hours if his partner was being beaten, or worse. Starsky drove fast and furious and Dobey, unaccustomed to the ride, hung on. Venning and McCormick kept up as did Wheeler and Babcock and the others. Starsky paid little attention to who was following him.

Chapter 29

"C'mon!" Spinoza's 230 pound hired gorilla yelled. "Let's get outa here!"

Spinoza was throwing on clothes while his guards were pulling him out of the room. "Wait!" he ordered. "I want to waste him myself!"

"Forget it! The cops are here and we there's no time for that!" They didn't give their boss an opportunity to protest and pulled him out of the room and down the back stairwell.

Hutch rolled over, his eyes blurry and his body sore. Suddenly, his stomach lurched and he vomited over the side of the bed. "Get it together, Hutchinson," he whispered as he used shaking hands to wipe his mouth. "Just hold on…" Suddenly he remembered the girls. If the warehouse was surrounded by cops, they could be saved. Concentrating on his situation, he forced himself to think about his next move and not about what just happened to him. His thoughts went to Andrea and suddenly he had to find her. He searched around on the floor until he located the black jams that were torn off of him earlier. Tugging them on hastily, he further ripped one of the side seams. Forgetting his condition, he made his way to the door. He needed a gun. He was going to kill someone. Which would he do first, find Andrea or kill Spinoza? He shook his head, trying to rid it of the last ten minutes. "Focus!" he commanded himself.

Peeking out the door, he discovered the hallway empty and he hurried down it, straight for the front stairs and hopefully the cops. As he reached the lower level, the lights had been switched on and the once dimly lit warehouse was now illuminated by bright fluorescent lights. The bullets whizzed by his head as he came running across the floor. He dove behind some boxes and called out, "Hey! Don't shoot!"

Starsky listened through the blasts and recognized the voice, "Hold your fire," he ordered. "Hold your fire now!" McCormick, Venning, Dobey and Wheeler all pulled up. The other detectives were further away, but they too pulled up.

The place suddenly silenced and Hutch yelled, "Starsky?"

"Hutch?" he eagerly shouted back.

Hutch saw Spinoza and his goons take off running. He lost them behind empty palettes. When they disappeared from sight, he ran into the open and yelled, "Throw me a gun!"

Starsky hesitated a beat, taking in his partner's appearance, but then he tossed his partner his gun. Hutch grabbed it out of the air and shouted, "Follow me!"

McCormick, Venning and several of the other detectives followed the bloodied and welted man down the hall, down some stairs and back the length of the warehouse. Hutch stopped in front of a cement door and fumbled with the lock. His hands were shaking and his fingers weren't working and it didn't help that his wrists were still handcuffed together. Starsky was beside him, "Here, I'll do it."

Starsky pulled the lever back and popped the lock with ease. The door swung open and inside huddled together were the girls. McCormick stepped forward and relief swept across her features. But Hutch asked, "Where's Andrea?" When he got no answer he forcefully yelled, "Where the hell's Andrea?"

One of the girls replied, "She never came back."

Hutch hit the wall, "Damnit! C'mon!"

Hutch took off again. He raced up the flight of steps and found his way back to the room where he'd been assaulted. He deliberately skipped it and began pushing open doors and performing a cursory search; the others followed his lead and spread out.

Hutch looked up and down the corridor and, as if he suddenly knew where she was, he sprinted down the hall and up the next flight of steps. Starsky, Wheeler and Rigby followed close behind. There at the end of the hall was a closed door. Hutch couldn't open it and he didn't have the strength to kick it down. Out of breadth, he stepped aside while Rigby kicked it in. With gun ready, he pushed through first. It was empty except for one naked girl, huddled in the corner, crying. Hutch caught his breath, relieved that she was alive but repulsed by her obvious condition. He yanked the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders and helped her to her feet. When she realized who it was, she leaned into him and began sobbing. "He wouldn't stop… he wouldn't stop…" she cried.

"It's okay. He's gone and we'll get you to a hospital. C'mon… Let's get out of here."

Starsky stared at the two. Both had been beaten and Hutch looked like he'd been slashed from head to toe the way the welts formed across his torso. It was difficult not to stare as they made their way back. But they hadn't made it very far when everyone was acutely aware of the gunfire erupting in the front of the warehouse. Wheeler shouted into his walkie talkie, "What the hell's going on down there?"

"We've pinned Spinoza down!" came the response.

Hutch stopped and Starsky recognized the desire.

"Here," Hutch said, pushing Andrea over to Wheeler, "take her."

"Hutchinson," Wheeler warned.

"No way, Hutch!" Starsky toned.

"Get the hell out of my way, Starsky!"

Starsky pushed his partner back against the wall and toned, "No way! Let them handle it!"

Hutch shoved his partner aside and toned, "That fucking bastard's mine!"

Starsky grabbed his arms. But that's when Hutch let the gun slip from his hand, and, clasping his cuffed hands together, he threw a two handed punch at his partner, but it was Rigby who caught his fists before impact and jerked Hutch back against the wall. Pressed against the cool cement, Hutch couldn't fight off both Starsky and Rigby and they were intent on keeping him away from the fire fight. Starsky coaxed, "Take it easy, partner. They have it covered… let them handle it. Let's get you to a hospital, okay?"

Hutch couldn't stop the involuntary shaking that his body was doing, but he did allow his taut muscles to relax and he dropped his head slightly, in submission. Inches away, Rigby stared at the welts across the detective's face and chest, knowing there was more to his injuries than just what was visible and Starsky stared straight into his eyes, eyes that were deep blue with vengeance.

A slight nod from Hutch convinced Starsky to relax his tight grip and Rigby to push his weight off his side. Hutch rested a bit before bending down and picking up the gun that had slipped from his hand. Taking a minute to gather himself, he whispered, "Okay, we'll let them take care of him." He didn't wait for a reply but instead turned to follow Wheeler and Andrea down the corridor.

Starsky new better than to trust his partner, but Rigby didn't have a clue, and Hutch knew this. He waited until Rigby walked between him and his partner to make his move. Starsky realized the plan a second too late and found himself falling backwards with the weight of Rigby landing squarely on top of him and his partner darting away.

"Hutchinson!" Wheeler yelled after him.

"Hutch!" Rigby shouted while struggling to get off Starsky.

"Save your breath Rigby!" Starsky shouted as he shoved the large man aside. "Let's go!" and they bolted down the corridor after him.

Hutch ran towards the gunfire, knowing instinctively which guns were official weapons of the police department and which belonged to the Spinoza family. He ducked from shadow to shadow until he caught a glimpse of Eddie Spinoza. At the sight of the man, a fire burned in the pit of his belly and it took all his strength to maintain composure. He was going to kill the man, and he was looking forward to it. That's one mob boss who was never going to do to anyone else what he'd done to him. He heard his partner call his name, but that was over. He ignored it. Instead, he counted the gunfire from the Beretta 51 pistol. It held eight rounds and he counted off eight, then there was silence while Spinoza reloaded. Looking up at the stacked crates, he had an idea. It would be difficult, but it would be worth seeing the expression on his rapist's face as he pulled the trigger. Gunfire erupted again, and it was now or never. Hutch made his move.

Ignoring his painful body, he climbed to the top of the crates and inched his way closer and closer towards his enemy. Tony Spinoza lay at his brother's feet, moaning in pain and nearly unconscious as a bullet had found its way into his side. Eddie Spinoza blasted out another round, and Hutch watched as he dry fired until he realized his Beretta was empty again. Hutch waited until he saw him fumbling around, trying to reload. Then, in one smooth move, he jumped down and aimed his gun at Spinoza's head.

Spinoza was caught completely off guard and when he looked up and saw the murderous glint in the man's eyes, he froze.

"Go for it," Hutch taunted.

The gunfire ceased from all directions. The cops, unsure how to proceed, watched the scene unfold.

"I said go for it, Spinoza!" Hutch yelled.

But Spinoza didn't move.

Starsky pulled up at the scene and witnessed his partner, standing poised and relaxed, with both hands wrapped around his gun, aiming it directly at Spinoza's head. He whispered, "Ah, Hutch… noooo."

McCormick shouted, "Detective Hutchinson! Stand down!"

But if Hutch heard her, he didn't react.

McCormick shouted again, "Detective, I'm ordering you to put the gun down! We're going to get him, but not this way!"

Still no response.

McCormick shouted, "Captain Dobey! You get your man under control, or you know what I'll do! We didn't get this far to have a murder rap brought against the police department."

Dobey didn't have a prayer of reeling in Hutchinson. On the best of days, he had little control over the duo. And right now Hutchinson was a man out for revenge; and based on his appearance, God only knows what he's lived through.

Starsky interjected, "Captain! I got him! Just keep her off him!" He walked out into the open and slowly, very slowly inched his way towards his partner. "Hutch," he said softly. "Hutch, it's me. You don't want to do this, partner."

Hutch heard his best friend's voice and something seemed to reach him and his gun slightly dropped. But then he saw Spinoza again and he remembered what he'd done and he raised his gun aiming it directly at his tormentor's head.

"Hutch!" Starsky desperately called out while inching his way towards the half naked man. "Hutch! We got him! He ain't getting away! You gotta let us do our job!"

Staring down the barrel of a gun, Spinoza came to a stark realization. He knew his fate in jail, with his father, and with the syndicate: he was a disgrace. Getting caught and jeopardizing the entire family business was unforgiveable and inexcusable to the Spinoza crime family. He knew what lay ahead for him and right now the best option for him, and for his family, would be to die at the hands of a cop. He'd die a martyr. In some small way, it'd make him a hero. He gave his wounded brother one final look, then he slowly stood up and leered, "Don't listen to him, Ken." He added soothingly. "Nobody's going to make anything stick, and you know it. My brother will get the finest medical attention in Los Angeles, and then we'll split. Like we weren't ever here."

"Shutup, Spinoza!" Starsky demanded. "Hutch! Don't listen to him. We have him surrounded and he's knows it… he's got nowhere to run… he ain't going anywhere."

Hutch glared at Spinoza, suppressing the memory of the attack that wanted so much to overtake his mind and ultimately fill his tormentor with lead.

"Ken," Spinoza cooed, oozing condescension. "Even if they get me, you know I'll be out of jail before you see the first doctor. So, go ahead, pull the trigger. Think about how good that will feel, just squeezing gently on the trigger…" he let his voice trail off.

McCormick wasn't going to take any chances. She'd read Ken Hutchinson's file and he was a crack shot, not one for missing a target. But so was Venning. She looked across the room to her partner and gave him the go-ahead. In the silence of the warehouse, she didn't need to speak much above normal when she simply said to Venning, "Only the gun."

Starsky caught the movement and the order and moved forward with an urgency that would save his partner's life. "Hutch!" he toned, "He's lying. He knows he's not going to live a day in jail! He screwed up and you know these families, you know what they do to people who fuck up the way he did! They're dead, Hutch! And he knows that!"

Spinoza pursed his lips, angered that the detective called him out on his own bluff. He was so close. But, he knew what would do it though. Smugly, he oozed, "Hey, Ken. I just want to thank you. For the time you gave me. You were very good. I think I told you that from the first time I saw you, I wanted to fuck you. And you were so damn good! Do you remember what I did?"

"Shutup, Spinoza!" Starsky yelled again.

Hutch's breathing increased and his hands shook while holding the revolver.

"C'mon, Hutch! He wants you to kill him. That's the only way he can save face with his father." Starsky caught the subtle aiming of Venning's gun. In desperation, he pleaded, "For me, buddy, put the gun down for me. If you shoot him, I can't help you anymore. If you don't want to do it for yourself, please, please, do it for me."

Hutch heard the voice that he only ever heard when Starsky was in pain. He never wanted to put Starsky in pain. There was too much pain right now, he didn't want any more.

Starsky saw the weakness and prodded, "That's right Hutch. Let his family take care of him. Don't you do it for them and turn him into a martyr."

Hutch's eyes dropped slightly, but the shaking continued. His partner was right, as usual, and he slowly lowered his gun.

Spinoza's lip twitched in anger and he quickly dropped a mag in his gun and pulled it up to fire. One shot got off, but it wasn't Spinoza's. The gun he had been holding was gone and his hand was bloody from where Venning shot it.

Starsky reached over and slowly took the gun from Hutch's hands and whispered, "Good job, partner."

**********

It took a long time before Hutch moved, and Dobey and Starsky waited patiently. Starsky tried to unlock the cuffs, but his key didn't work.

Uncomfortable looking at Hutch's injured torso, Dobey finally offered, "Here," and he drapped his suit jacket over the detective's bare shoulders. They weren't sure what the blonde detective needed, but he stood watching the medic tend to Eddie Spinoza, and he watched the cops initiate their investigation. A few guys came by but they gave him a wide berth, understanding the ordeal he'd just been through was something none of them ever wanted to experience. Starsky suggested that he go to the hospital, but he acted as if he'd not heard anything. Eventually, McCormick and Venning walked up to them.

"Good job, Detective," Venning said, offering Hutch a sympathetic smile.

Hutch didn't respond.

McCormick's surprisingly compassionate voice said, "Detective Hutchinson. I know you've been through hell and back, but you saved those girls from certain death. You also saved many more people from falling victim to their trafficking. I know this isn't much consolation, but, you did your job tonight, and you did it well."

Hutch looked at her, forlornly, and his only response was a slow nodding of his head.

She continued in a soothing voice, "You have to go to the hospital. We'll need the medical exam as evidence." She waited a beat, then she and Venning walked away.

Dobey looked at his two best detectives, doubtful that they would pay much attention to McCormick's orders. "I'll go with you to the hospital."

"I don't think that's necessary, Captain." Starsky countered.

"Maybe not, but this is important, and I want to make sure he makes it there."

For the first time, Hutch spoke. "Can I get some clothes first?"

Chapter 30

It was eight in the morning when Starsky arrived in the office. He stopped and looked at the stacked boxes and the people filling the small office space. Wheeler and Rigby were effectively sharing a desk and Babcock was leaning up against the wall while Venning and McCormick took over his space, combing through the contents of one of the boxes. There were boxes stacked on the floor, and on the desks. Some were open and some files were strewn across the table.

"Why'd you move in here?" Starsky asked.

Venning answered, "We had to vacate the chalk room because we no longer needed all the surveillance equipment."

McCormick was less tactful and obviously annoyed at being displaced, "They kicked us out. So we're here for a day or two until we're sure we've wrapped this thing up air tight for the D.A."

Looking at the boxes, Starsky asked, "Is this all the evidence?"

"All that we could gather last night," Venning answered, "we're still gathering today. How's your partner?"

Starsky shrugged, "He'll live."

"When's he due in today?" she asked.

The other detectives in the room openly displayed annoyance with her question and Venning soothed things over by clarifying, "Gentlemen, what we mean to ask is do you know when he'll be returning to work?"

Wheeler offered, "After that assignment, he should have at least a couple weeks off."

Still rifling through files, McCormick toned, "We don't work that way. I need to talk to him about his testimony—"

Starsky cut across her words, "Can't you give him a break! You owe him for what he did for your case, Detective McCormick! It ain't gonna be a walk in the park for him to testify in case you haven't given that much thought."

She closed the file and looked up, ready for a reply, but she was interrupted when the door opened and in walked the subject of conversation. Hutch looked around at the room full of people and they stared back at him. He looked tired. The welts across his face were deep purple and blue and he felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny. "Do I look that bad?"

Wheeler stood up and offered him his hand, "Good job, Hutchinson." Each man in turn shook his hand, even Rigby set aside his feelings and nodded to a job well done. And McCormick smiled at him and reiterated, "Nice job, Detective." He nodded and walked to his desk, which had a box stacked on it.

Absently, he picked up one of the folders and opened it. McCormick hurriedly scurried around the desk and went to reach for the folder, but Hutch pulled it away and stared at its contents. McCormick insisted, "Detective Hutchinson, that's evidence that you shouldn't be seeing. Please put it away."

But Hutch didn't put it away. Instead, he laid each of the photos out on his desk. Starsky, Wheeler and Rigby walked over to take a look. The photos were 8 x 10 pictures of all the victims: Andrea, Hutch and the other four girls. He pulled out the white sheet with the bids for all the victims and set it on his desk next to the pictures. The figures averaged around seventy five thousand dollars save for one. The final bid for Merchandize #BC9260 was three million dollars.

Starsky whistled at the number and asked, "Who's BC9260?"

Venning cleared his throat and replied, "Hutchinson."

"I had no idea. How did they get these bids so fast?" Hutch asked.

Venning answered, "We found the requisition sheet in another file. They fill the orders by taking pictures of potential victims who visit their bars. When they get someone who they think fits the description, they take his or her picture and fax it off. Then the bids start coming in."

"Do you know who's bidding?" Wheeler asked.

Venning nodded, "Middle Easterners, mostly wealthy sheiks and oil tycoons. Hutch, you were probably on your way to Saudi Arabia."

Changing the subject, McCormick picked up the phone, punched a button and said, "He's here."

Hutch looked up quizzically, then his eyes were diverted to the door where he recognized the black nurse and the technician entering. McCormick reminded him, "In case you've forgotten, you're still walking around with a small electronic device in you." As they entered, she quickly gathered the papers and shoved them back inside the folder.

Hutch nodded and rubbed his neck. The nurse matter of factly stated, "Take off your shirt."

Hutch looked at her, making no effort to remove it.

"Didn't you hear me, Detective? I asked you to take off your shirt." Ticking her head towards the technician, she continued, "He needs that little electronic gizmo back or you owe the department $1,500.00. So take it off or pay up."

Reluctantly Hutch took off his jacket and pulled his t-shirt over his head. The nurse took one look at the marks and cried, "Damn, boy! What happened to you?" Suddenly flipping her hand up, she declared, "Nevermind! I don't wanna know! Marks like that come with a story that I don't wanna hear. Save it for the judge." She swabbed his neck and made a tiny incision and fished around for the small black button like device.

Hutch squirmed upon the invasion and Nurse Ratchett scolded, "Sit still, boy."

Blinking away the spots of pain, Hutch chastised, "Jesus! Could you be a little gentler!"

Starsky smiled at the outburst, a small sign that Hutch was Hutch.

Dobey walked out of his office and watched with interest the procedure. The nurse found what she was looking for, pulled it out and put a single stitch to hold the incision explaining something about the stitch being better than the glue in her opinion. When she was finished placing a bandage on him, he leaned back in his chair gently touching his neck, glaring at the large intimidating woman.

Looking at the bruises and welts across his back and torso, the nurse proclaimed, "Compared to what happened to you, that wasn't too bad now was it?"

Hutch glared at the woman until Dobey interrupted the session, "Hutchinson, you have a visitor," and he stepped aside to allow Andrea to slowly walk forward. Surprised, Hutch stood up and went to her but when she saw the marks across his chest and face, her expression changed into wide eyed shock and she whispered, "Oh my God!"

"Forget it. How are you?"

She found it difficult to answer. She attempted a smile but after looking at this man's chest, and knowing full well what happened to him at the hands of Spinoza, she turned away in shame.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She couldn't face him, and Dobey offered an explanation, "She says she's not going to testify against Tony Spinoza."

McCormick and Venning both stood up with a jolt, and it was McCormick who exclaimed, "What!"

Hutchinson shot her a look of annoyance before he gently placed his hands on Andrea's shoulders and turned her around. "Is that true? You're not going to testify?"

Hanging her head in humiliation, she nodded. "I can't. I can't live through that again."

McCormick argued, "You have to—"

"Detective McCormick!" Hutch cut across her words, silencing her.

She looked at the blonde man. His glare coupled with a soft touch from Venning convinced her to step back and let someone else handle it.

Hutch urged her over to a chair and sat her down and he leaned on the desk. Tenderly, he asked, "What are you afraid of?"

She swallowed and took a deep breath, "I think he's going to come after me again. What's to stop him? Or stop his family?"

"We are. You and me. Without our testimony, they'll walk free. If that happens, you can bet they'll try it again to someone else. And I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else."

She nodded her head in agreement. "How can you testify about what he did to you? He really hurt you and, and, he—"

Hutch put his hand up to her mouth, "Don't say it. I know what he did to me, but I'm willing to testify against him. I can only do that knowing that he'll be convicted with my testimony. But I can't do it alone. You have to testify with me. Otherwise, he may walk away from this. And then…" he paused thinking about the repercussions, "I will be in trouble."

She was not convinced, and with a tear in her eye, she forcefully cried, "Detective Hutchinson, Tony Spinoza raped me! Those other men raped you! How can you go on the stand and talk about it?"

The words were in the air before he could stop it. Hutch shook his head, like he wanted to deny what had just been said. The pain in his neck and in his head and on his torso felt like a vise clamping around him. Just as forcefully, he replied, "Because that's the only way I know to get these guys! The only other way will land me in prison for a very long time!" Hutch rubbed his neck lightly, getting a hold of his emotions. After reigning in his outburst he softly said, "I went in undercover to catch these guys. I knew the risks going in, and I knew what might happen. And I did it with one thing in mind, and that was to nail those bastards. And that's exactly what I plan to do when I testify."

For the first time, she saw the hurt and pain in his eyes. Thinking about him and the other girls, she bit her lip. Hutch just waited her out. With admiration in her voice, she said, "I want to have your strength, but I don't think I can."

"I'll let you in on a secret that I'm holding onto. I don't think either Eddie or Tony Spinoza is going to make it to trial. Italian crime families have a way of taking care of their own problems, in their own way."

Reluctantly, she slowly gave in and smiled, "All right. I'll do it. But I'm doing it for you because I don't want Spinoza to come after you again."

Hutch smiled, "That a girl." Andrea returned the smile. She wished him well and he watched her leave and stared after her a moment.

"Thank you," McCormick said. "If she didn't testify, we'd have a lot more work to do."

Andrea had barely cleared the doorway when the hall began to fill up with people. They crowded the door and windows, and Dobey barked, "What are all those people doing out there!"

Babcock strained to look through the blinds and, with a smile, he turned and said, "I think we're going to be graced with a beautiful visitor." When it registered to Hutch who it might be, he looked quickly at his partner and whispered, "Starsky!"

As if reading his mind, Starsky picked up his t-shirt and tossed it across the room to his partner. Hutch dropped the shirt over his head just in time for the fashion model to open the door and peer inside.

She looked around the room full of people, recognizing some, before laying her eyes on the tall blonde, "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Cheryl," Hutch said, smiling. "No, come on in."

She was a real pleasure to look at. Today she wore white tennis shorts, a pink tank top and tennis shoes. She wore a white headband around her hair. She was just one hell of a beautiful lady.

She glided up to the object of her affection but stopped short when she saw his face. "Ken, what happened to you?"

"Nothing. Undercover stuff… tangled with the wrong fella." He gave her a boyish smile and she returned the favor.

"I supposed you're wondering why I'm here? Well, I'll tell you. After you called me, you never returned my calls again. I told you I'm not used to that, so I decided to visit you at your work again. I figure I've been successful so far coming here to visit you." She smiled coyly and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He returned the affection but gently unwrapped her arms because his neck was smarting from the incision.

"Hello, boys," Cheryl acknowledged. "Are you making sure my guy stays out of trouble?"

Starsky laughed and replied, "We do the best we can."

"Which one of you convinced him to call me? Was it you Detective Starsky?"

Before Starsky could answer, Venning cleared his throat and got Hutch's attention, "Sorry, let me introduce you." After introductions, Cheryl pleasantly greeted all the unfamiliar faces.

She turned to Captain Dobey and asked, "I was wondering if you'd let him have a few days off. I finished my fashion shoot in Hawaii and was hoping we could get away together," she threw a smile Hutch's way. "You want to go back to Hawaii? My photographer would love to shoot us together. Maybe you'd prefer Fiji? Or the Canary Islands? You name it, and we're there."

Hutch looked at McCormick and Venning and Dobey, and slowly replied, "You see, there's this case we've been working on and—"

"And the trial ain't gonna be for another month," Dobey interjected. "So Miss Teasdale, if you want him, he's yours."

She smiled exuberantly but her excitement wasn't exactly being shared, "What's wrong, Ken. You don't want to go with me?"

Hutch rubbed his chest, thinking about trying to explain the welts and bruises, "No, that's not it at all. I, just, don't want to go to an island."

"Where do you want to go?"

His brain swirled places around in his head until he landed on a place that was conducive to his current condition, "Switzerland. Skiing the Swiss Alps."

She smiled at the idea. "I love it! I've never been there!"

"But I don't want to leave just yet, maybe in three or four days, after I wrap up what I have to do here." After the bruising has subsided some, is what he thought.

She walked up to him and gently grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him down to her, "You're not going to play hard to get, are you? I've been chasing you for six months and I'm ready to see what you've got."

"And I'm ready to see what you've got," he teased back.

She pulled him down for a sexual kiss and he was glad to return it. The men in the room wanted to look away but like the affects of an accident, they couldn't, and their eyes invaded their private moment. She pulled away and asked, "Have you ever skied the Alps before?"

"Nope. But I saw someone jump out of a helicopter and go down. That's what I want to do."

Dolby and McCormick shuttered; the rest of the men grinned.

She smiled and giggled, "Damn this is gonna be fun… hell on my body guards, but fun!"

She glided towards the door, aware of the people staring. She gave the blonde one last look and said, "I'll send over the itinerary. You'd just better be there." She blew him a kiss and was gone.

"Damn Hutchinson!" Venning admired. "You didn't tell us you were dating Cheryl Teasdale."

McCormick chimed in, "And please tell me that you were joking about the helicopter jump?"

Wheeler wanted to know, "So, who gets the date with the cover girl?"

~Fini