Chapter 3

Moving on sheer willpower, Starsky followed Linda Collasanto's commands and drove his Torino down a deserted road, instead of the more crowded highway. It was the middle of the night, and so far, the first part of his plan seemed to be working. He had deliberately left his seatbelt undone and, just as he'd hoped, Collasanto's wife hadn't thought to do hers up either.

The woman was in the passenger seat, aiming the barrel of her small silver gun at Starsky's ribcage. Hoping to attract as little attention as possible when they arrived at the safe house, she had ordered just one of her goons to accompany them. The man, equally well armed, was sitting in the back seat, watching Starsky closely.

Earlier, after Collasanto's goons had untied him, Starsky had been left alone in the room for what he thought had to be close to an hour. Then the door had been unlocked again and the woman had stepped inside carrying a change of clothes and a pair of dark sunglasses. The glasses were meant to hide his swollen eyes, and the bruises on his face, as much as possible.

"Get dressed, Detective. Your car is waiting outside," she announced curtly.

"My…my car?" Though at that point it did not really matter, Starsky didn't like the idea of driving his cherished Torino, with the plan he had in mind.

"That's what I said. We don't want to attract attention, so you'll drive your own car. That way everything will look normal," Linda Collasanto said. Turning on her heel, she disappeared once more.

Though he hated feeling as helpless as he did at that moment, Starsky had made up his mind. He knew just what he had to do. In a few minutes he'd be out of that room, driving his own car. And if he was lucky enough, he'd be able to protect Lennox and warn Hutch, saving both men's lives, all in one go. Not that his plan would help him very much. What he had in mind was barely shy of suicide.

As the miles passed, Starsky kept driving. His captors were unaware that the detective was taking them as far as possible from Lennox's safe house, while waiting for a chance to make his move.

Soon, that chance showed up.

"Now, careful, Detective… I don't want any nonsense. Do you hear me?" Linda Collasanto pushed the barrel of her gun deeper into Starsky's side. They had both seen the red lights of a patrol car parked on the side of the opposite lane. A police officer was standing on the driver's side of another car, some feet away.

"Sure, lady. I got it." Starsky answered, without taking his eyes off the road ahead of him.

Silently, he addressed his beloved Torino. Okay babe... I really hate to have to do this to you, but this time I'm afraid I haven't got another choice… it's Hutch's life we're talking about

He closed in on the parked cruiser. Suddenly, Starsky stomped down on the gas pedal, sharply pulling to the left. Both Linda Collasanto and the thug in the back seat lost their balance, slamming into the side of the car. The detective took advantage of that moment's distraction, and sped directly toward the patrol car.

"GET OUTTA THE WAY! GET OUTTA THE WAAAAAY!" Starsky yelled at the patrolman.

Linda Collasanto pulled the trigger of her gun. The bullet missed Starsky by mere inches. He swerved wildly, and the gun fell from her hand as she nearly landed in Starsky's lap, only to be thrown against the passenger door a second later as Starsky kept up his erratic driving. Meanwhile, in the back seat, Collasanto's goon kept tumbling from side to side, trying desperately to grab onto something and recover his own weapon, which had fallen under the seats.

Though the entire scenario played out in less than thirty seconds, it seemed to take forever. In a last minute, holding the wheel one handed, Starsky grabbed the seatbelt and pulled it across his chest, snapping it closed. He had almost no time to brace himself for the impact with the cruiser. His foot was locked on the brake as the Torino skidded out of control. He felt himself lurch forward violently as the momentum of the car came to a sudden halt. Then he was thrown back, his head snapping forcefully as the loud crash of metal on metal filled his ears.

That crash was the last thing Starsky heard. The last thing he saw was the body of Linda Collasanto going through the windshield to land face down on the Torino's mangled hood.

Then, silence and a blissful, pain-free darkness engulfed him.

xxxxxxx

As soon as he arrived home, Hutch ate an apple and a yogurt. Then he took a quick shower and went to bed. He was exhausted, but over an hour later he still hadn't managed to fall asleep yet. He tossed and turned, trying to put his thoughts into some semblance of order. An uncanny idea, one that was frankly absurd, kept bugging him.

It was impossible, but there was something about Starsky… something intangible and very subtle that was so unlike him, that Hutch couldn't help but be disturbed by it. His gut was telling him that the man he had left at Memorial Hospital was not Starsky...

Yeah sure… aliens have abducted Starsk, and they've replaced him with a clone…Hutch thought, sarcastically. Hutch, boy! You're losing it!

But despite how ridiculous it seemed, the blond detective kept trying to think of any way he could find to be sure that Starsky was really Starsky.

Scars… Starsky has a small scar on his upper back, near his shoulder since he got shot at Giovanni's, Hutch mused. I have to check if that scar is there…

The question was how to do that, without everyone thinking he'd gone insane.

Just then, for second night in a row, the phone rang.

"Hutchinson." he answered quickly.

"Hutch? Hutch, it's you?" It seemed to be Starsky. Actually, to Hutch the voice at the other end of the line sounded quite a lot like Starsky, but not totally like Starsky.

"Starsky?" Hutch asked. And it wasn't a rhetoric question. Actually Hutch doubted that the voice coming from the other end of the line was Starsky's "Are you okay, Starsk?"

"Listen Hutch. I need to talk to you. Right now. It's very important, and it can't wait until the morning."

"What's wrong, Starsky? "

"Not now, Hutch. Not by phone," Clayton answered. He hung up.

Hoping his partner would tell him that his memory had come back and that he had seen his attacker and, above all, trying to ignore his own illogical suspicions, Hutch dressed in a hurry. Then, just as he had the night before, he rushed to his car, and sped toward Memorial hospital.

In the room, he found a tired and unsettled-looking Clayton. The curly-haired man sat up in his bed, nervously twisting the edge of his bed sheet.

"Hey… Hey, buddy. What's wrong, huh? Is it your memory? It's back, isn't it?" Hutch asked in soothing voice, as he sat on the edge of Clayton's bed. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to hear.

"I… I thought I could do this, Detective Hutchinson... I really thought I'd be able to go on with this charade, but I just can't. No matter what happens, I just can't continue with this lie."

"Starsky… Hey, partner. What are you talking about? And why are you calling me Detective Hutchinson?" Hutch was becoming more scared with each passing moment. Now he was sure. Something very weird was happening there. And it had nothing to do with Starsky's amnesia.

"I… I'm not Starsky, Detective Hutchinson. I'm not your partner," Clayton said.

"Say… What?" Hutch's eyebrows shot upward. He wasn't sure if he had heard correctly.

"Listen, detective, this whole thing is very difficult to explain, and even harder to believe, I know… But I am not Detective Starsky, I don't have amnesia, and for that matter I'm not the victim of a hit and run either. My name is Clayton. Samuel Clayton. As most likely you remember, I work for the company in charge of doing the cleaning in the Ninth Precinct. What happened last night was no accident. It's all been part of a carefully planned conspiracy..."

Have confessed to Hutch, Clayton finally allowed himself to breathe, exhaling the air he had been inadvertently holding in his lungs.

"No… No, no, Starsky." Hutch got to his feet and began pacing the room. "Look, partner. You're not feeling well. You're confused, and you need help. Medical help. I'll get a doctor…"

"DAMN IT, DETECTIVE!!" Clayton shouted. "You have to listen! You've gotta believe me! It doesn't matter what I look like! I'm not Detective Starsky! And right now, he's in trouble... In big trouble!"

Hutch was shocked beyond words… there he was, standing in front of a man who looked, sounded and acted just like Starsky. A man who was telling him that his eeriest, most implausible intuition had been absolutely correct.

An exact double of Starsky who claimed not to be Starsky…

Then the blond one strode toward Clayton, taking him aback. He jerked the man's hospital gown open, looking for the small bullet scar in Starsky's back.

Of course, Clayton's shoulder was unmarked.

"WHERE'S STARSKY?... TELL ME, DAMN YOU! WHERE THE HELL IS MY PARTNER?" Hutch shouted. He grabbed Clayton's arms, rattling the man so hard that he could hear the clattering of his own teeth.

"I'm not sure…I just…" The brunet was trying to speak, when Captain Dobey rushed into the room, cutting his words short.

"Christ almighty!" Dobey exclaimed. He stopped in his tracks, staring at Clayton as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Cap!" Hutch said, startled by the unexpected appearance of his superior officer.

"I just saw him, Hutchinson. I just saw him a minute ago. He was being wheeled into the emergency room… He can't be here… He just can't…"

"Starsky?" Hutch asked, expectantly.

"Yeah, Starsky. A little while ago, I got a call from the Fourth Precinct. They told me that Starsky has been involved in a traffic accident and that he had been taken here. I told them that it had to be a mistake, because Starsky was already in the hospital. But they insisted, telling me that I should come. I did and… and… Oh, my God…" Dobey was unable to take his eyes off of Starsky's look-alike.

"Okay, Cap. I don't have time to figure out what's going on here. You just make sure that someone keeps this man under custody!" Hutch ordered a stunned-looking Dobey. He dashed out of the room.

Unwilling to wait for the elevator, Hutch rushed downstairs to the first floor where the emergency services were located. Hoping to find Starsky, he headed straight to the restricted section.

"Detective Hutchinson!" Spotting Hutch through one of the large panel windows, the head nurse called out to him. She left the treatment room, intercepting him.

"I know, nurse… I shouldn't be here," Hutch said, very aware of the ER rules. "But this time it's important. Very important. I need to see my partner. It'll be just a moment, nurse, honest!"

"It's okay, Detective," The woman said, to Hutch's surprise. "I was going to call you anyway. We really could use your help with Detective Starsky."

"My help? What do you mean? Is Starsky going to be okay?" Hutch asked anxiously. With the nurse by his side, he headed inside the treatment room. Fear, worry for Starsky and the feeling of being confused as ever battling in his mind.

"I'm sorry, detective. It's too early to make an accurate prognosis on his condition. However, he's being extremely uncooperative. Detective Starsky keeps saying that you're in some sort of danger and that he has to warn you."

"Hushhh? Hush… you 'kay?" Starsky asked anxiously, as soon as he saw his partner entering the room.

Hutch hurried to Starsky's side. The curly-haired detective was lying on the examination table, feebly trying to reach for his partner.

"Yeah buddy, I'm okay," the blond detective said softly. He took Starsky's hand in his, while with his other hand he stroked his friend's matted curls.

"I… thought… I thought that you…" Starsky began saying in a slurred voice. His body was starting to relax under Hutch's soothing touch.

"I'm fine, Starsk… And you'll be fine too," Hutch said reassuringly, trying to hide the concern he felt at the sight of Starsky's battered body and face. "Now you've got to let these doctors help you, partner. We'll talk later, okay?"

"'Kay…" Starsky said, finally closing his heavy eyelids.

EPILOGUE

Despite the violence of the car crash, Starsky's condition turned out to be much better than the medical team had initially feared. Between the beating he had endured at the hands of Collasanto's men and the subsequent impact against the patrol car, he had sustained two cracked ribs, whiplash, and many minor bruises and contusions on his face and body. However, with the proper treatment, a cervical collar, and rest, all of those injuries would heal nicely in a few weeks.

Linda Collasanto had not been so lucky. The woman had had been critically injured in the car crash, suffering a fatal cardiac arrest before the ambulance could take her to the hospital.

As for the third passenger in the Torino, Collasanto's goon had broken both his legs and two of his ribs. Though none of his wounds were life threatening, he was facing some weeks of recuperation in a penitentiary hospital. On the other hand, the rest of people involved in Collasanto's plan to get to Lennox, had been as well arrested.

A week after the crash, Starsky had recovered enough to leave the hospital, and Enricco Collasanto's trial had just started. With Lennox' testimony, it was looking likely that the mobster would be spending the rest of his life behind bars.

"And what's going to happen to that guy, Clayton?" Starsky asked as Hutch drove him home from Memorial.

"I'm not sure, Starsky. He's going to spend some time in prison. After all, the guy was an accessory in an attempted murder - Lennox's. And in your kidnapping too."

"Yep… But he changed his mind. And he also tried to help me..." Starsky pointed out with his usual compassion.

"I know, buddy. And we'll make sure that the district attorney is aware of that."

"Tell me something, Hutch…" Starsky began to ask.

"Yeah?"

"Was he really a lot like me? I mean like a twin brother, or something?"

"Yep. He sure was… Collasanto's plastic surgeons did a great work on that guy's face. Besides, he seemed to be very well trained to play his role. Anyway he didn't fool me. Not entirely anyway… Deep inside, I knew that something was wrong with him."

"Admit it, Blondie… That guy fooled you. Completely!" Starsky teased his partner.

"Oh no. Starsk. You're wrong about that one." Hutch defended himself. "I knew that something was off about Clayton. And I would've figured out what it was very soon, even if he hadn't spoken up. It was just a matter of time."

"Yeah… a matter of time." Starsky kept up the gentle teasing. "Some detective you are, buddy. You don't even know your own partner well enough to recognize when he's been replaced with a fake."

"Know something, Starsky?" Hutch asked, becoming serious. "I did know it. I couldn't believe it, but somehow I knew that guy wasn't you. I'm just sorry I didn't listen to my instincts."

"Well, never mind. The whole thing has ended happily anyway," Starsky reassured him. His tone was serious, however, as at that moment he was reminded once again of the loss of his Torino, his most cherished possession. It had been a price Starsky was glad to pay to save Hutch, but even so, its loss hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

"I don't get it… I mean, how can someone do something like what Clayton did, just for money?" Starsky asked, trying to take his mind off of his wrecked car.

"My point, exactly." Hutch answered, a mischievous smile curling his lips. The blond one didn't like the hint of sadness he could hear in Starsky's voice. It was time to try to lift his partner's spirits. "I just can't understand how a guy would be willing to go around wearing your ugly mug, no matter how much money he could get for it."

"Moron!" Starsky elbowed Hutch in the ribs. "For the record, three new nurses have given me their phone numbers."

"Oh well, no offence, Starsk, but what ladies find attractive can be very weird," the blond one countered. He was enjoying the feeling of normalcy that the friendly banter with Starsky gave him.

Then, both men fell into a comfortable silence, until Hutch got closer to Starsky's place.

"Now, I want you to close your eyes, Starsk. And don't open them until I tell you to. Got it?"

"You want me to close my eyes?" Starsky asked, taken aback. "What's this, Hutch? A surprise?"

"Sort of." The blond one didn't elaborate further. "Close your eyes, Starsky. No tricks."

"Oh, come on, Hutch!" Starsky complained, though he was actually enjoying the mystery.

"Close your eyes, buddy. Now."

"Okay… I've closed them," Starsky said between gritted teeth, almost not opening his lips to speak.

"I said close your eyes, not your mouth, Starsk… I wouldn't dare ask you to make such a sacrifice," Hutch joked, pulling the car to a halt.

"You're a real nice guy, Hutchinson, did ya know that?"

"Listen Starsky, I'm going to get out of the car and come around to get you. Don't move. And keep your eyes shut." Having said this, Hutch got out of the battered LTD. He trotted around the hood to the passenger side and helped Starsky out. Then, the blond one covered his friend's eyes with his hand and, surrounding Starsky's shoulders with his arm, led him a few feet down the road.

"What's the matter, Blondie? Have you got a welcome committee ready to sing me a welcome home hymn, which you composed yourself?"

"Well, about the only thing this won't do is sing…" Hutch removed his hand from Starsky's eyes.

"Open your eyes, Starsky."

Starsky did as Hutch asked, and found himself standing inches away from his beloved Torino. The same car which Merle had called to tell him had been too badly damaged to repair. And yet there it was, parked in its usual spot, repaired, clean, and recently waxed - looking better than new!

"My… my car! It's my car!" Starsky exclaimed, happily. He hurried to open the driver's door and sit behind the wheel. "I thought… I thought she was damaged beyond repair," he said, in a choked voice.

Hutch climbed into the passenger seat. "Well, actually she was in very bad shape. It was touch and go for awhile there. Merle had to replace the engine, the windshield and a few other pieces here and there. But with the help of a couple of Huggy's cousins, he was able to get your Tomato ready just in time."

"This must have cost you big bucks, Hutch." Starsky said, gently caressing the dashboard of his beloved car.

"Well, it wasn't so bad. Merle didn't want even a single dollar for his work. Huggy helped out. And the whole precinct chipped in to buy the replacement parts," Hutch explained proudly.

"They did?" Starsky's voice was hoarse with emotion.

"Oh, sure… It looks like they've gotten too used to seeing you driving around in this parade float of yours to give up on it now," Hutch mocked, fondly.

"Hutch?" Starsky said. He turned to look Hutch in the eye

"Yeah, Starsky?"

"Thanks, partner… Thank you so much." Starsky pulled his best friend into a strong hug. One of those love-filled hugs that spoke more than words could ever say.

THE END