Chapter 1

Hutch raced along the corridor, not able to get to Captain Dobey's office fast enough. His long legs just wouldn't work properly, the adrenalin flowing through his veins sending urgent messages to his muscles, powering him along as if he was back on the Duluth High track team again. His breath whistled through his teeth as his lungs fought to pull in sufficient oxygen, the fair bangs of hair flying in the wind. Those who got in his way were pushed unceremoniously aside as he battled his way up to the first floor and through the squad room, batting the swing door angrily out of the way. Thoughts flew through his mind – visions both good and bad troubling him as he went.

He'd had a call on the car radio to get back to the Metro as quickly as possible. There was news of his partner and Hutch needed to be there to see it. Getting the message, the blond had put the mars light on top of the brown LTD, switched on the sirens and floored the gas pedal, his usually careful style of driving giving way now to a mode more akin with his dark haired partner. Taking the final corner almost on two wheels, in a manner Starsky would have been proud of, Hutch side slipped the big car into the parking lot outside the large stone building, and was running up the steps before the engine had died.

Starsky had been missing now for two days. On the previous Monday morning at about 8.00 am, Hutch had driven round to the brunette's apartment, as he had done almost every day for the past seven years. Pulling up in his customary place beneath the tree, in an attempt to keep the car cool for the day, he tooted the horn. He was irritated that his partner had once again overslept, knowing it was usually a bad start to the day when he had to make up yet another excuse to tell their captain. Getting no response to the horn, Hutch sighed and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He walked heavily up the steps, ready to unleash all his venom on his curly haired partner, expecting to see tousled hair and a sleep creased face. Starsky had an annoying habit of looking bedwarm and comfortable even with Hutch's icy stare on him, raising his eyebrows and smiling that sly half smile, knowing the blond wouldn't be mad for long. Hutch banged on the door, then, as was his custom he opened it and went in.

For a moment he didn't take in the sight before him, eyes only looking for the tall muscular frame of his partner, thinking he'd probably still be in bed. It wasn't till he was half way across the main living room that he realised that some of the furniture was overturned, papers strewn across the usually tidy floor, and a bottle of beer spilling it's contents onto the rug. Heart beating a little faster now, and his mouth drying, he pushed his way into the brunette's bedroom, ready for anything he saw. The bedclothes were ruffled, as if a struggle had taken place, pillow on the floor and there was a smear of blood on the sheets. Becoming frantic now, he searched the room quickly, shouting Starsky's name, and pulling closet doors open so violently their hinges were in peril. Running from the bedroom back into the main living area again, he checked there was no body on the floor behind the settee or kitchen bar, the bathroom also coming up empty.

Hutch checked outside again and established that the Torino was parked in its usual place, so his partner hadn't managed to get away in that, but there were more blood spots on the steps now he noticed and what looked like drag marks in the dirt at the roadside.

The blond went back into the apartment and using a handkerchief in case there were fingerprints to be taken, picked up the telephone and dialled the Metro. Speaking to Captain Dobey, he swiftly told him of the state of the apartment, the blood and the worry he had for his partner, asking for an APB on Detective Sergeant David Starsky. Dobey agreed and putting the phone down on the big blond, he ordered the All Points Bulletin.

That was two days ago, and since then, Hutch had cruised the streets, using his partners striped tomato, as was his habit when the brunette wasn't there with him. It somehow made up for the absence of the smaller man, a little bit of Starsky there surrounding him. It gave him a measure of comfort. He had tried their usual snitches, using bribes, threats, but no-one seemed to know anything about the disappearance of the curly haired detective. Some seemed almost upset at his disappearance. The two detectives were first and foremost policemen, but they had a reputation on the streets for being fair-minded. And as much as their clientele could, they respected the two men. There was a code of conduct out on the streets, and as much as possible, Starsky and Hutch respected and complied with it.

Hutch's mind kept going back to that time a couple of years ago at the City Courthouse, when Simon Marcus' followers had kidnapped his partner in a bid to lighten Marcus' sentence. He shuddered at the memory of what the brunette had had to endure. Beatings, burns and poisoned water took their toll on his body. Not to mention the bear! The relief Hutch felt when he'd seen Starsky again, after that girl, Gail, had cut him down was short lived when he saw the state of the brunette's hands and wrists. Having been left hanging for however long, they were swollen, raw, purple and bleeding. He shuddered at the memory, shaking his head to clear it of the images.

And now he'd had the message, and he arrived sweating and panting at his superior's office. Flinging the door open he burst in, noting immediately that Dobey was not alone. Two patrolmen were standing uncomfortably at the side of the room, obviously having had a meeting with the big black man. Hutch searched their faces, questioning without words.

Dobey took in the sight of the flaxen haired cop. He was wearing the same rumpled shirt and pants he'd had on the day before, his face lined with worry, making him appear 20 years older than his 35 years. It was obvious he hadn't slept much in the last two days, his face grey with exhaustion.

'Hutchinson, sit down' the Captain growled, making it a command rather than a request. Hutch complied, collapsing into the easy chair in the corner of the office, running his hands over his face as his breathing slowed.

'Tucker and Almond here were coming into the building to start their shift this morning when some flake in a mask jumped 'em an' gave 'em this' Dobey held up a video cassette in his big podgy hand. 'Didn't hurt 'em at all, but there was a note with it. Sergeant Grantly recognised the name it used an' asked these two to bring it up here. You're gonna want to see this'.

He handed Hutch a crumpled sheet of paper. On it in letters cut and pasted from a newspaper were the words. FOR BLINTZ, COME PICK UP THE PACKAGE. YOU'LL BE AN EXPLOSIVE COMBINATION.

He stared at it, like it was going to bite his hand, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as they stood on end. Licking dry lips he carefully put the note down, it doing nothing to ease the worry he'd felt for the past two days. Only Starsky called him that name. Although a constant source of irritation to the blond, it connected him with his partner

'What's that supposed to mean, huh?. The "package" is my partner?' he asked quietly. 'Ya dusted this? Any prints?'

Dobey shook his head. 'Must be someone who knows Starsky, or has him. How would he know about the nickname? As for the explosive combination – who knows what's goin' on in their sick minds? Ya need to see the video'.

Hutch realised for the first time that there was a television and video player against the wall of the office. As he turned to it, Dobey came round the front of his desk, and as he flicked the "play" button, he put a restraining hand on the blonde's arm and sat down on the arm of the chair. Hutch hardly noticed, his attention now fully focussed on the screen.

The television flared to life, the black and white picture at first fuzzy and unrecognisable, wavering about as if the person taking the shot was getting used to the controls. The picture quieted and came into focus. It showed a darkish area in what looked like a far larger room – maybe a warehouse? The floor was strewn with rubbish and the walls appeared quite damp. Boxes and crates were lined against the far wall and Hutch could almost smell the mustiness of the place. It was the subject of the middle of the shot, however, which caught Hutch's attention.

Kneeling barechested on the floor was the bruised and battered body of his partner. Starsky was blindfolded, his arms apparently secured, pulled tight behind his back. Bruises stood out as dark splodges on his chest and the side that was towards the camera, and there seemed to be blood on the lower part of the face – the part that wasn't covered by the cloth tied round those indigo eyes.

Starsky was not taking his captivity quietly, his excitable nature now unleashed full force on his captors. The brunette was ranting at someone off camera that he couldn't see. Hutch could hear some of the words.

'I'm gonna fuckin' kill the lot of ya. D'ya hear? Let me loose and' I'll kill ya', the brave, angry man was shouting, his blind head questing left and right to try to get some direction from the people around him.

Calmly a foot came into camera shot and kicked at the bound man, a vicious blow connecting heavily with his side. Blindfolded as he was, it took the dark haired detective unawares and as the blow lifted him slightly from the ground, Hutch could hear a muffled scream coming from behind clenched teeth. As another blow was delivered in roughly the same spot, Hutch tried to get up, trying, illogically to comfort his partner, knowing that his partner would not readily have given his captors the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Those kicks must really have hurt him. Dobey had seen the video through once already and knew what was coming. The calming hand he held on the blonde's arm now clamped down like a vice, keeping the big man in his seat, to hear and see the rest of the show.

As Starsky gasped on the ground, strings of saliva beading in a silver line from his open mouth, he bent over until his forehead touched the floor in front of him trying to ease the pain he was so obviously feeling. A disembodied voice started talking off camera.

'This message is for Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson of the Bay City Police Department. If you value the life of this piece of shit, no good cop, you'll collect him from the warehouse we've directed you to and do the little job we want you both to help us with. There's a blue sign outside advertising Aramis Car Rental. Come alone and follow the directions on the back of the note. If you deviate from the directions, or you call for back up, or come with friends, he'll get more of this'.

The camera panned out as another kick landed with a sickening thud against Starsky's prone body. Another scream echoed around the empty building followed by sounds of retching, then the screen went dead.

Hutch felt sick, knowing his partner was there alone, a prisoner to the whims of whatever these sadistic bastards wanted to do. He stood, grabbing for the original note again, turning it over and reading the typed directions quickly. He headed for the door.

'Hutchinson, you need backup' Dobey gruffed, knowing he was probably going to be ignored.

The blond turned back. 'You heard the man Cap. Come alone, no deviation from the directions. I'm not goin' to give 'em an excuse to do that to him any more. I'll call when I find him, OK?' and with that, he was gone.

He looked at his watch. Wednesday 8.00am