Author's notes:
Story disclaimer: Although the story's inspiration is based loosely around a true life event... names have been changed and the story itself does not depict any actual facts. This story is purely fictional and was written solely for the purpose of entertainment. No profit is made and no rights to Starsky and Hutch are claimed.
A/N: Aloha Everyone! Okay made it! Whew! It is still Monday here in Hawaii, (the 5th day from the last posting) and I have somehow managed to keep my word! (Big Grin!) Mahalo Karen for being on top of the beta work. You are the bomb girl! We now bring you the fourth chapter of our story. I hope you enjoy the ride!
-oo0oo- No Escape-oo0oo-
Chapter Four
Starsky and Hutch approached The Old Stone Church on foot, having parked Hutch's car a block away. If McVee was there, they didn't want to alert him of their presence.
The church had been abandoned in recent years and now stood an empty hollow near hidden behind a jungle of heavy vegetation that clung all around the building. Once a majestic cathedral, the church looked more like a creepy haunted house than a place where people once flocked to praise God or speak to the Holy Virgin.
Starsky poked his head out from behind a large tree shining his flashlight about. The lower level windows of the church had been securely boarded up. Several yards away, a set of stone steps led up to a large intricately carved wooden door.
"What do you think?"
"I think Dobey's not going to like this," Hutch said uncomfortably, shining his flashlight's beam at a broken window one story up.
"Dobey doesn't even know we're here, Hutch." Starsky winced as he slid his gun from his holster.
"That's the part he's not going to like." Hutch frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "How's the hand?"
"Next time I'll punch a pillow," Starsky drawled. "Look, we gotta check this out before we call in the troops," he reasoned.
"Starsk." Hutch inched closer to his friend. "I don't want your anger clouding your judgment here." Even in the darkness Hutch's pale blue eyes were piercing. "If we find McVee --" Hutch let the unspoken words hang freely between them.
"I know." Starsky's gaze trailed off to look down at the ground. "It ain't like --" Starsky stopped.
There was something rustling in the bushes to their left. Both detectives drew their guns instinctively going into a shooting stance.
"Police! Come out!" Starsky snapped.
"Don't shoot we have a mutual friend, Huggy Bear. I'm Reliable," a nasally voice rattled off in one breath.
Stepping out of the bushes with shaky hands raised high in the air was a small red haired man with a round beer belly. The corner of Starks's mouth curled into a small smile. Years of being on the force had schooled him in the art of knowing what felt right and what felt wrong. This guy was telling the truth. Besides that, the stout man reminded him of a plastic gnome his Aunt Rosy always kept in her garden. She had always told him that a gnome in your garden would bring good luck. Starsky only hoped the flesh and blood type would be equally as lucky.
"Don't shoot. " The small man's voice shook as he waddled toward Hutch. "You Startchy and Hudson?" he asked nervously.
Hutch cocked a brow at the odd usage of their names as he pulled his badge. "This is my partner, Sergeant Starsky." Hutch pointed a finger at his darker counterpart. "I'm Sergeant Hutchinson. "Let's see your ID."
The smaller man slowly pulled his wallet out, and handed Hutch his driver's license.
Hutch shined his flashlight at the man's ID and studied it a few seconds. "It's good," Hutch told Starsky flatly, handing the license back to Reliable, and lowering his weapon.
"You two alone?" Reliable's head swiveled left then right. "Where's the rest of the cops?"
"Still in Oz," Starsky deadpanned.
"He's not very original -- is he?" Reliable directed at Hutch, hitching a stubby thumb Starsky's way.
"Too much television," Hutch said dryly, then quickly getting to the point. "If I understood Huggy right, you know something about McVee hotwiring this church?"
"Yes." Reliable straightened his shoulders, making him seem a few inches taller. "I recognized McVee right away from all the press the bombings are getting. He was at the racetrack last night, doused in whiskey, and shooting his mouth off to me. I don't trot around this city claiming to be a Saint…" Reliable's eyes slid toward the cross at the top of the steeple, then back. "But I owe Huggy in a big way!" The short man's voice grew louder. "Besides, I don't go for killing no kids -- special kids at that!
"Keep it quiet." Hutch placed a finger to the smaller man's lips to hush him.
Reliable took a stumbling step backward, and lowered his voice. "I don't think McVee is around. Maybe he was just flapping his gums, drunk and all. I haven't seen anyone and I've been here for two and a half hours waiting. You suppose he realized his mistake of telling me what his next move was?"
"I don't know, but we have to check it out," Starksy sighed in exasperation. "It's all we got. Let's go," he said moving out from the shadows, carefully watching his surroundings.
All three men quickly took the ten concrete steps and stood in front of the large intricately carved door of the church. Hutch reached out and tested the handle, the door opened fractionally, and the men looked to one another in surprise.
"Guess it's true. God's door is always open," Reliable said nervously pulling his own flashlight from his pocket. "I haven't stepped inside a church since I was twelve. Sister Sarah would have my hide if she knew that."
"You don't have to go in," Hutch said. It might be risky."
"I don't, but I am. Just tell that one…" Reliable glared at Starsky. "Anymore Oz talk and I'll call in my flying monkeys."
"Terrific," Starsky mumbled.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two steps inside, the men stopped, their flashlight beams jumping about and adding to the mix of shadows on the walls. It was unnaturally quiet. The inside of the church held a medieval quality, steely gray, cold, and dusty.
"Be ready for anything." Hutch's voice bouncing off the walls made the place feel like a cave rather than a church.
The men stepped further in. Although it was known that the church was not abandoned that long ago, most of the pews on either side of the long aisle had been broken. Several pedestals that lined the walls were obviously missing the precious icons that once sat reverently upon them. Behind the crumbled alter; high up on the wall was a large round stained glass window. The glass appeared to be one of the only things in the church left unbroken. Once a motif of color, the glass although well crafted, was now coated with a layer of dirty film. However, one could still make out the depiction of a man with bleeding wounds in his hands, feet and side -- lying lifeless in his mother's arms.
Hutch automatically moved along the left wall. Starsky slowly slid along the right, Reliable behind him. The sound of their feet echoed between the stone walls; as they circled the perimeter and met in front of the crumbled alter.
"Nothing so far." Starsky cringed, the emptiness filling his throat like an air bubble. He swallowed the nothingness down to the pit of his stomach, and it sat there heavily.
"You sure about this tip of yours, Oz?" Starsky turned to face the little man with a glint of venomous suspicion in his eyes.
"You think I'd be taking any unnecessary risks if I thought I wasn't?" Reliable rolled his eyes. "And further more, I wouldn't play my man The Bear like -- "
"Bang!" The loud noise echoed through the church.
Starsky's heart slammed into his chest, his thumb slid over the hammer of his gun, and he whirled to point the barrel at--
"Damn you, Hutch," Starsky cursed under his breath, berating himself for his jittery nerves. "Don't do that!" He lowered his piece.
"What! What happen?" Reliable glanced around wide-eyed.
"Sorry." Hutch waved a hand toward a thick leather bound bible on the floor near the crumbled alter. "Dropped it."
"Somebody should keep a closer eye on that clumsy partner of yours," Reliable said, trying to stop his legs from shaking.
"Somebody should," Starsky agreed, as he let his eyes alone rove the area. "You two look around down here." Starsky nodded toward the staircase he'd just took note of. "I'm going to check upstairs."
"What are we looking for?" Reliable asked.
"Anything that looks out of place or ticks," Starsky said sharply.
"Starsk --" Hutch stiffened, and took a step toward him.
"It's okay." Starsky slipped past Hutch, his hand brushing against the blond's arm for reassurance. "I'll just be a few minutes. I don't think anything is going on here. You've made enough noise to wake the dead. 'Sides --" Starsky glanced at Reliable. "Someone has to make sure a house doesn't fall on --" Starsky cut himself off with a snicker when he met Reliable's angry gaze.
"You leave that witch out of this." Reliable sarcastically played the curly haired one's game.
Starsky stood at the bottom of the staircase shining his light upward and listened. Nothing, but the sound of his own breathing. The staircase was dark, his flashlight barely helping him to see. With his gun in his left hand, he braced his right shoulder against the wall and took the stairs slowly -- one at a time. He wasn't even halfway up when Hutch called to him.
"Five minutes, Starsk. Hutch instructed sternly. "Then we go talk to Dobey."
Starsky peered over the railing and smiled. "Scouts honor." He gave Hutch a two-fingered salute.
That'd be three fingers, buddy boy," Hutch drawled as he watched his partner disappear up the staircase.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The silence was unnerving -- the shadows scary. As Starsky climbed the stairs, he started to think of Sally. How she must have felt in the final few seconds of her life before the building collapsed around her. He swallowed his guilt and regret. He had a job to do; this was not the time to let emotions take over. Hutch was right about that.
It didn't take Starsky long to reach the top floor. The room was spacious and obviously used for storage. All along the walls were stacked cardboard boxes. They looked to be full of papers, sheet music, and hymnals. A billowing white gown with long sleeves hung on a hook to his right. Even under its protective clear plastic garment bag the sequence sparkled in the beam of his flashlight. The ghostly dress made him think of Terry. He sadly wondered how she would have looked in such a gown. He took a deep breath pushing the thought out of his head.
Something suddenly burst out from behind a box and scampered across the floor. Starsky jumped back a step and nearly fired off a round, before he focused in on his target -- a small gray mouse. He chuckled at his own edginess, and watched the tiny creature run a zigzag pattern across the floor until it disappeared behind the foot peddles of an antique pump organ.
Starsky moved closer to the organ. Although dusty, its ornate wood looked to be in mint condition. He pressed on a few keys. A- a flat. B- b flat. With a little work, Hutch might like --
Starsky's heart lurched just as he saw a small black box sitting on top the instrument, as he recognized the steady sound of ticking. He slowly reached up toward the box when the unmistakable feel of a gun pressed into his back stopped him cold.
"Could it be that yer playin' some sort of love song, Starsky?" The familiar Irish accent filled the dark room. Starsky stiffened and started to turn, but froze when he heard the click of the hammer. "Don't move lad! Or I'll shoot you right now! Hand over yer gun," McVee ordered.
Starsky hesitated.
"Just pretend yer a puppet on a string, Starsky. I control yer every move. Do it -- do it now."
Starsky had no choice. He let his gun slip around his finger and dangle there a moment before handing the gun back.
"And the flashlight. I'll be takin' that too."
Starsky bit his lower lip as he started to hand the flashlight over, but thought better of it. Instead he let his Baretta fall to the floor with a thud, hoping to give his partner downstairs some sort of warning.
"Bad puppet." McVee shoved his gun hard into Starsky's ribs.
"Hmph," Starsky grunted. "Okay. Okay. Where to?"
"That's better. Downstairs. To hell with harassment charges. I got a "charge" of me own." Starsky half-turned to see a small detonator device in McVee's hand.
"What's that?" Stasrky asked.
"Yer executioner." McVee kept his voice low. "Gonna tie you and yer partner up and watch every stone come down around yer ears. Gonna have t'blow this place a little early though. It's a cryin' shame that it won't have the same effect since the little kiddies aren't havin' milk and cookies this time o' night. Too bad. Spoils of war and all that y'know."
"You twisted bastard," Starsky growled.
"Just move!" McVee shoved the gun harder into Starsky's back. "And don't be sayin' another word."
With McVee close behind him, Starsky moved to the top of the stairs again he hesitated, but the shove of the gun propelled him downward.
Halfway down, Starsky could see the broken pews and crumbled alter over the rail of the staircase, but he saw no sign of Hutch or Oz.
"Call to yer partner," McVee whispered in Starsky's ear. "Go on . . . call t'him."
Starsky shook his head in a 'no' fashion. Maybe Hutch and Oz were outside waiting for him. If that really was a bomb, and McVee was determined to set it off with them inside -- he didn't want Hutch getting blown to bits along side him.
Bad news hit hard, as Starsky saw Oz poke his head out from behind a broken pew. If Oz was alert to McVee, Hutch was too. Starsky readied himself to make a move, but said nothing.
"What string do I have to pull, puppet?" McVee gave Starsky a small shove. "I said, call your --"
"McVee!" Hutch's voice crackled with anger as he stepped out of the shadows and stood at the bottom of the staircase, his .357 hot in his hand, his finger steady on the trigger.
Starsky felt the muzzle of the gun at his back falter; at the same time he saw Hutch's eyes cut to the right. Starsky's eyebrows flew upward seeing the broken rail and knowing what Hutch wanted him to do. Crash -- dive -- or move out of the blond's line of fire. Let Hutch take out this mad man, go for the wing shot. But Starsky couldn't do that. What Hutch didn't know was that in McVee's other hand was the trigger to the bomb. If Hutch took the shot, the bomb could go off with all of them still inside.
Instead, Starsky shoved backward into the barrel of the gun, knocking McVee off balance and fighting for possession of the detonator. He whirled and grabbed for a hold of the McVee's wrist, trying to pull the device from his hand.
McVee's gun accidentally fired, the bullet plowing into the wall. The recoil sent the detonator device flying through the air. For a split second Starsky's gaze met with Hutch's. Starsky ducked low and Hutch aimed his weapon at McVee's right shoulder. Just as Hutch squeezed the trigger, McVee had managed to get hold of Starsky and jerk him back up using him as a shield and sending Hutch's bullet ripping into Starsky's right shoulder.
Starsky's startled gaze met with Hutch's, then his eyes rolled and he went down.
"Starsky!" Hutch yelled just before there was a large white flash, a loud roar, and everything went ebony black.
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Hutch woke and realized quickly what had happened, as he shoved several pieces of wood off his right leg. When the bomb went off he'd managed to hit the ground and belly crawl under one of the few unbroken pews, before the entire church came down around him. Hutch was shocked to see his flashlight was still in his hand and working. His gun lay only inches from him. He dragged himself out from under the pew, grunting when he felt a sting of pain in his right calf. Using the beam he shined the light down the length of his leg. The hems on both pant legs were shredded, and he could see through the fabric that his right leg was badly bruised and swollen. Luckily, there were only a few minor cuts, and the bleeding was minimal. Hutch took in a few small breaths orienting himself. Everything was quiet, and murky, and it took him a minute to get his bearings. Shining the beam of light about he stared in amazement. The church was a pile of stone, metal, dirt, and dust.
"Oh my, God," Hutch muttered, as his fingers spider-crawled the few inches to where his gun lay in the swirling dust. He checked the clip, and holstered it. "Unggg," Hutch groaned, as he pushed himself to his feet.
Squeezing his eyes shut a moment he shook his head, clearing the fog from his brain. He looked left then right. Everything had changed in just a few split seconds. The scene before him was dizzying, but he set his jaw and moved to his left. It was hard to maneuver about in the rubble, but Hutch immediately began searching for his partner.
"Stars," he weakly coughed on the gray dust that still swirled around in the air. "Starsky," Hutch choked, as he lifted a few pieces of debris and tossed the rubble aside determined to find his partner alive. "Alive?" He berated himself aloud. "Son of a bitch, Hutchinson, you sh-shot him. Starsky, answer m-me!" Hutch yelled as loud as he could, completely distressed by the thought of his partner bleeding by his own hand.
Sweat dripped off the tips of Hutch's dampened hair, the dirt plastering the wispy strands to the sides of his face. His hands shook hard, as he continued to search through the ruins. It was hard to imagine that only a short time ago this was a building with walls. Now it was nothing more than a pile of junk. Looking up, Hutch judged that he had fallen through the floor to the basement. The twirling dust let him know he couldn't have been out for too long. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes maybe?
Hutch could only search and pray that his partner and Reliable were there …somewhere… alive. He rubbed at his eyes, clearing his vision of the dust that still flew around. He felt the bile creep up into his throat, as he thought about the day care center. If he and Starsky hadn't gotten the tip from Reliable, this could have been so much worse. Hutch took comfort in knowing the center below the church, although probably destroyed, was void of its children and teachers at this hour of the ni--
"Ahhhh." Came a miserable groan.
"Hold on! I'm here!" Hutch frantically called, as he ignored his injured leg and scrabbled over a particularly large mound of misshapen metal.
"Buddy? Starsky, it's me." Hutch's eyes went wide when he saw a bloodied hand reaching up from out of the wreckage accompanied by another loud groan. "Partner, don't try to move." Hutch shoved several chunks of wood aside quickly shining his beam down on the face of--"Re-Re-Reliable," Hutch stuttered in utter despair.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Reliable said, slowly sitting up.
"Are you hurt?" Hutch shook off his unhappiness; at least he wasn't alone now.
"Think my left arm is broken, but everything else seems in working order." Reliable held his arm protectively to his chest, and glanced around. "That sick bastard really did it," he said almost in awe.
"Can I help you up?" Hutch held out a hand.
"No, think I'll just sit here and have tea with the Queen," Reliable snapped. "Of course, help me up!"
Hutch got Reliable to his feet. "Oh my God. Are we the only two still breathing?"
"No!" Hutch fumed. "Starsky's alive, I just can't find him in all this mess -- yet! He's alive!" The blond softened. "You still got your flashlight?"
Reliable fumbled with his good hand and pulled the metal tube from his back pocket. "You can always rely on Reliable. That's me." He smiled flicking the light on and off to prove his point.
"Good. We stick together. Move slow and quiet. This place is unstable. If…you… see something…" Hutch annunciated each word slowly. "Anything, we both stop and check it out. Don't forget." Hutch raised a stern finger. "McVee is still in here too," he warned.
Shoulder to shoulder Reliable and Hutch moved through the demolished church stepping carefully as they went. Hutch was extremely quiet, the veins in his neck throbbing with worry.
"Don't worry so much, Hutchinson. That partner of yours seems too smart-aleck to let a little thing like this take him down." Reliable tried to comfort the obviously distressed blond.
"I-I-Jesus. McVee pulled him right into the path of my bullet. I shot--shot my partner in the shoulder." Hutch nearly gagged on the words.
"Don't worry, Gene Autry gets it there all the time." Reliable tried to lighten.
Hutch stopped and stared blankly at the short man next to him. "That's what Starsky always says."
"He's not going to die!" Reliable smiled.
"Says you." Came an Irish accent from just up head.
Hutch and Reliable's flashlight beams came together to spotlight on the face of one William McVee. The Irish man was sitting with his back against a wall, a large cut across his forehead dripping blood down the side of his dirty face.
Hutch took a threatening step forward. "You're under arrest, McVee."
"Look who's still here," McVee chuckled and glanced down to talk to the ground, and for a moment Hutch thought the man was delusional. "I was just telling yer partner, Hutchinson, that we were on our own. Guess I was wrong, huh, Starsky?"
Hutch's heart stopped and his flashlight beam snapped downward to light up the ground near McVee's right leg. Starsky lay stretched out, face up and unmoving. Was he breathing? Hutch was unable to determine, as his gaze, like a magnet, steeled to the bloodstain on Starsky's shoulder.
"Christ," the blond muttered in a breathy whisper.
"Now, now Hutchinson, let us not take the Lord's name in vain."
Hutch caught sight of Starsky's pistol, which McVee pressed hard against his partner's temple.
"Drop the gun!" Hutch gathered his wits, lifted his weapon, and pointed it at McVee's chest."
"Hutchinson." Reliable stepped closer to the distraught blond and placed a steady hand to his shoulder for comfort. "I don't think--"
"That's right Hutchinson, like the wee man said, you don't think!" McVee growled. "Me bullet is much closer to its intended target than yers. Do the math laddie."
Unsettled pale blue eyes scanned his injured partner more closely. Starsky's face was dusted in whitish gray; even his curls and eyelashes were sprinkled with the powdery remains of the church. Hutch couldn't stop looking at Starsky's shoulder wound, making his legs wobble like jelly. He felt like he was in a trance-like state of being. The gunshot wound he had inflicted on his partner looked like it had bled a lot, but now it appeared to have stopped, as the blood crusted his shirt to his skin. Hutch couldn't see any further injury from where he stood, but it looked like quite a lot of rubble covered his partner from the waist down, only his blue Adidas shoes poked out from under the wreckage.
"Starsk." Another breathy whisper, as he took a small step forward.
"Hold it!" McVee pressed the barrel of the pistol hard enough to put an indentation into Starsky's temple, still the injured man didn't move.
"Okay," Hutch muttered, and lowered his weapon, as he now was close enough to see his partner was still breathing. He looked up to McVee and asked, "What now?"
"Me time is short. But before I go, I think you'll watch me have some fun with curly here." McVee moved his free hand down. "Hutchinson, you toss that gun over here to me now!" The Irishman ordered as he gripped a one-inch thick metal rod and gave it a small twist. The action did what Hutch's voice or the gun to his temple couldn't -- it brought the seemingly lifeless curly haired man to pain filled consciousness.
"Ahhh." Starsky barely moved his head. "Pl--lease."
"Aye, 'tis too good to be true . . . this time he begs me instead of telling me to "fuck off". I like that," McVee said with a smile.
"Buddy. It's Hutch. Easy, I'm here." Hutch started to rush forward.
"Stop!" McVee ordered and gave another twist of the metal rod, bringing Hutch to a standstill.
"Grrrrrr," Starsky made a gurgling sound, as his eyes fluttered open and his face twisted in pain.
Something wasn't right. Hutch shined his light on the rod and craned his neck. His gaze trailed down the metal, through the rubble. He gasped, as he could just barely make out his partner's bleeding torso. Hutch's horrified gaze snapped up to meet McVee's. Pale blue eyes seemed to spit fiery sparks, as Hutch made the awful discovery. The metal piece McVee held in his hand was embedded in his partner's right side.
"For God's sakes! Have you lost your mind? You're not going to get away with this!" Hutch bellowed and raised his gun. "Back away from him now!" he yelled, his voice full of fire and fury. "Now!" Hutch cocked his gun, his finger itching to pull the trigger, and kill this mad man.
"Hu-Hu-Hutch," Starsky called, barely able to push out the word. "D-don't"
"Drop the gun!" McVee calmly stated.
Starsky lifted his head slightly and locked eyes with Hutch, his usually bright blue gaze was dull and unfocused, "H-Hutsh," he called out weakly, his left hand lifted slightly as it searched for his partner. "Hut-ch." Starsky muttered once again before his head fell limply back.
"Buddy." Hutch's voice quivered, completely undone at the weakness in his partner's voice, his eyes locking upon the wavering hand of his friend as it fell limply back into the rubble. The tall blond shivered imperceptibly, the cold finger of fear ran up his spine, images of Starsky's still and bloody form lying on the hot tarmac of the police garage filled his mind's eye.
McVee tapped incessantly on the rod with his index finger, the action caused Starsky to squeeze his face up and turn away with a low guttural whimper.
"I'm waiting, Hutchinson. Or better yet, I could just shoot him instead. Maybe ye'd rather I did that." McVee bellowed with laughter.
"You lousy, punk." Hutch lowered his gun.
"Ye be such a poor sport lad! The way I see it, only thing lousy is your sense of humor, " McVee gave an evil grin.
Reliable took three steps backwards, hoping to make a get away and find help. "No!" McVee gave a hard twist on the rod, this time sending Starsky's body into a quivering convulsion. "Nobody leaves here. Tell them, puppet." McVee directed to his captive.
McVee's throaty laughter continued until it was interrupted by a loud rumbling sound and the dust grew thicker. Hutch and Reliable exchanged a horrid look. Maybe no one would come out of this alive.
To Be Continued . . .