Chapter 6
Dobey had tried hard to keep to the speed limit on his way to San Elmis. Going on a prison visit didn't exactly rate the mars light and sirens, but that's how anxious he felt. When the receptionist had mentioned that Starsky was unavailable for visits, his heart had sunk into his boots. Just what had his curly haired detective gotten himself into this time? He sighed. Starsky in trouble was bad enough. Having Hutch in there too should have comforted him, but instead it seemed to heighten his anxiety. And as Dobey couldn't take a weapon into the prison, visitor or not, he felt naked and defenceless for himself and his two men.
As he drove he tried to give himself reasons why Starsky should be in the hospital wing. Maybe he'd gotten food poisoning, or the flu?
Yeah, about as likely as the Pope not being Catholic! C'mon Harold!.
Stories of how prisoners had been abused within the prison system came unbidden to his head. A story of a guy being found naked and dead outside his cell, almost a pint of semen still in his stomach. Another starved so badly that he couldn't take solid food for four months after his release. Tales of beatings and rape were commonplace and although the big black man knew Starsky could hold his own in a fight, prison wasn't the sort of place where friends would put themselves out to help. And the brunet had no flaxen haired partner to watch his back every second of the day. Because Hutch had his cover as a guard, he had to be seen to be doing a real job, and that did not entail hanging around Starsky's cell. And what if Hutch was found out? If there really was something dodgy going on in the jail, Hutch's life was as much on the line as Starsky's was
OK OK Harold. Enough with the scary stories. Just get in there and find out what's going on.
As he drove out through the open scrubland south of Carson City, the flat, treeless plain stretched before him - the perfect place for a prison. Anyone trying to escape would be seen for miles and any visitor to the facility could be observed on their approach. It sent a shiver down the big man's spine just thinking about it and as he drove up to the sentry box at the first layer of mesh and barbed netting, he drew his dark blue car to a halt. A fresh faced young man in a sand coloured uniform ducked out of the small booth and shouldered his rifle. He looked in through the open window and Dobey gave his name and who he was visiting. The boy asked him to wait and made a telephone call to the main block, coming out a moment later and lifting the barrier across the road. Dobey carried on through the second layer of fencing and found himself inside a barren and flat complex. He pulled his car up beside a set of other vehicles and got out, making his way to the entrance marked "Visitors".
The women who'd obviously answered the telephone to him that morning looked up as he entered.
'Harold Dobey' he announced. 'Here to see Nathaniel Sanna'.
The woman gave him an evil look, not happy that he'd gone over her head and organised a visit when she'd told him he couldn't.
'Wait here' she said sullenly and went into the back office. Dobey heard her talking to someone, then came back out. 'The guard will be with you shortly' she said, going back to filing her nails.
The big man paced the small reception room, looking out through the grimy dusty windows at the bright sunlight outside. It seemed wrong somehow. It should be dark and stormy, rain lashing down outside to match the all pervading air of gloom and doom inside the prison. He was shaken from his dark thoughts by a door opening and a uniformed guard entering.
'Mr Dobey? I'll take you through to the interview rooms. Do you mind if we search you?'
Dobey shook his head and submitted quietly as one of the guards patted him down thoroughly and then he followed the same man through to a long narrow room. It was split down the middle by a partition made half of glass with the lower half being masonry. Small walls projected out from the central partition making small booth-like areas with chairs and he pulled out one indicated by the guard.
'You have 15 minutes' he announced and left.
Dobey drummed his fingers on the flat, chipped formica top and waited, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked carefully around the desolate, uncompromising room, searching for any surveillance equipment. Seeing nothing he breathed a sigh of relief. They'd be able to talk openly. Suddenly the door on the opposite side of the glass opened and he got his first look at his detective.
Starsky shuffled into the room escorted by the two armed guards. The chains around his ankles stopped him from taking his usual strutting steps and as he got closer Dobey could see the damage done to the handsome face. He walked bent over slightly and the black man could see that it wasn't just the chains that kept him that way.
The whole left side of the face was bruised and swollen, the left eye swollen shut. The lips were smashed and split and a trickle of dried blood wound its way from his nose to the top of his lip, an older injury which hadn't been cleaned up properly. As the brunet sat down with a wince, the open neck of the coveralls parted and revealed the sight of other bruises extending down behind the thin material. But the thing that angered Dobey the most was that Starsky had obviously had his arm broken, but it was still trapped behind his back, strapped to his uninjured left wrist.
The guards pushed the curly haired cop towards the chair and heavy hands pushed him down onto it, connecting the chain from the belt to the back of the chair. Rattling the fastening to check, they left the two men alone without looking up at the blond.
Dobey waited until the door had closed fully then leaned forward to the bandit screen, his hand up at the glass as though he could reach through and somehow touch the smaller man.
'What the hell's happened to you?'
The indigo eyes, the windows to his man's soul refused to meet his stare, instead shielding themselves from the deep brown gaze behind the thick black lashes.
'M'fine' the brunet muttered, looking down at his feet. And he'd probably have pulled it off if it'd been anyone else at the other side of the screen but Dobey. But just the fact that he wouldn't meet the steely gaze told the big man all he needed to know.
'Yeah sure you are! The blue is supposed to remain in your eyes, not decorate the rest of your body. Don't give me that bullshit Starsky. What happened? When did it happen? Who did this to you?'
Starsky raised his head and grinned painfully.
'Hey, good to see you too Cap'n' he said tightly, trying to change the subject and stop the uncomfortable, piercing look.
'Answer the goddamned question Dave'.
'Which one? There were three?'
Dobey sighed and balled his hands into fists. 'Ya know if you weren't so beat up, I'd do it myself. Just tell me'.
The brunet had come to the end of his diversionary tactics. 'Needed to get the Warden's attention. I didn't like the accommodation and I wanted an upgrade' he said quietly.
'Needed to…..shit Starsky! You mean you made this happen so that you could…..What'm I gonna do with ya?'
'I kinda made it happen. I was gonna pick a fight, but then the guards decided to take the decision outa my hands' he mumbled almost shyly.
'When? When did this happen. You've been here less than 24 hours!'
'Not long ago. I went out for exercise this mornin'. An' then the guards got to me an' I woke up in the hospital a few hours ago' Starsky said simply.
'And you think you got what you wanted?' Dobey asked carefully. Starsky looked so alone and vulnerable all he really wanted to do was take hold of the injured man and soothe away the hurt.
'Well it's….erm….I haven't heard yet, but I guess I'm gonna be up for punishment as soon as'.
'Punishment huh? Well that's one way to get to see the boss' Dobey grunted.
'Ya think you could think of sumthin better at short notice? Besides there are plenty of nice blonds to keep me company. Ya know how I love a nice blond'.
Dobey snickered at Starsky's double edged comment. So Hutch knew about his partner's injures. That at least was something.
The guard came back though the door. 'Times up' he announced.
'You be more careful' Dobey fixed Starsky with a steely glare.'Don't do nothin' stupid huh?'
'Hey, where can I go? They got me on max security. I can't breathe without someone pointing a semi auto at me'. He grinned again, trying to reassure the grey haired man that he could care for himself. But deep down, Starsky was scared that this was going to be bigger than he could cope with. He'd been undercover enough times in the past to know that to do it well, he had to eat sleep and breathe the part. He'd pulled off being Snake with the bikers and had even gotten a perverse sort of pleasure out of riding his Harley along the coast road, the wind rushing through his curls. But the idea of playing a dealer! It didn't sit well with him at all. The very idea was so far outside every value that he held dear that he wondered when the façade would crumble.
The door at the back of the room opened and the two guards reappeared. Without any comment, they descended on the brunet, detaching the chain from the chair and shackling his arms behind him again. As Starsky stood, dwarfed between the two uniformed men, he managed to wink cockily at his Captain before being pushed out of the room and out of sight.
Dobey let out a shaky sigh and stood, marching swiftly to the door. He felt suffocated and needed to get out to pull fresh air into his lungs. He had no idea how Starsky could stand being locked up in the place and he yanked at the door handle slamming it closed behind him. The bored receptionist looked up as the black whirlwind passed her on his way outside and once his freedom had been gained he lent against the wall feeling sick to his stomach.
The big black man got back into his car and sighed. So, Hutch had met up with his partner and Starsky was making damned sure he got the attention of the Warden. But it was a helluva way to go about it! OK, well, now all he could do was brief Bear, Anise and Tony, sit back, and wait.
As he got back to the car he sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He started the engine and was about to pull away from the parking lot when something caught the corner of his eye. There was a movement at the corner of the low grey building and as Dobey looked closer he saw a man putting what looked like a chiller box into the back of a white van marked with a green cross. What would a Medicare van be doing here? It wasn't as though any of the prisoners would get private medical treatment. They seemed to get very little medical treatment at all if Starsky's treatment was anything to go by.
Curiouser and curiouser he thought as he slowly began his drive back to the airport and then to Bay City.