Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…
Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.)
Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)
Head Games
Chapter Seven
"Where's Hutch?" Dobey asked immediately.
"I don't see him right now, but he's gotta be around somewhere. You know those two clowns are always joined at the hip." Novak said, sarcasm dripping from his words.
"You watch your tone when you speak about them, Novak," Dobey warned, "There is still a chain of command here, and those are still your senior officers. Understood?"
"Yes sir." Novak said grudgingly. It grated on his nerves to be taking orders from someone whose descendents were probably slaves. Novak watched Starsky, as he helped to unload the cargo and his eyes squinted in disdain. He could feel the tingle of excitement throughout his whole body, wanting to run up and make the bust by himself, but he knew that would be foolish.
"A team has been already sent out and I'm on my way down there too." Dobey said quietly, "Wait for us Novak, we don't want to blow this one."
"Yes sir," Novak said. He returned the mic to the cradle and sneered, "Fuck you sir," he mumbled, "Don't you tell me what to do nigger!" he growled childishly to the mic, feeling better already. He grinned, "I'll show you Dopey," he mocked, "Your Jew ain't nothing but a two bit hustler."
Starsky raised his arms up to help bring down some of the cargo. He was impatient with the slow, unhurried pace of Sander's men. The dark haired detective looked over his shoulder, and though the waterfront looked quiet and still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. It unnerved him. "Hey . . .hurry it up will ya?" he said to the men on the boat.
One of Sander's men looked over the side, "What's the hurry? You got rid of the cops didn't ya?" he sneered, turning back to wrap more of the armaments with tarp to keep them dry from the slight drizzle that started.
Starsky said nothing, but he looked around again. Aside from the huge stack of crates that lined the docks, everything was clear. It amazed Starsky how easy it had been to get rid of the second surveillance team and he realized how much trust and respect his men had in him. He felt so guilty, playing on their loyalty that way, but they had Hutch, and getting Hutch back alive was more important than anything else. He'd deal with repercussions later.
A large truck approached the docks and pulled to a stop in front of the roped barge. Sanders' men started loading the wrapped arms into the back of the truck. A short time later, Starsky picked up the last of the cargo and walked out to the truck. He was about to hand it to the one of the men standing at the back of the truck when all of a sudden pandemonium hit.
Police cars suddenly swarmed in, surrounding the truck, high beamed lights were flashed upon both the truck and the boat, as men scrambled around to grab their weapons. "Fuck, it's the pigs . . .we've been set up!" one of Sander's men shouted. Starsky grabbed his gun and crouched next to the large tire of the truck, his eyes wild, his heart filled with despair.
"Police . . .freeze and drop your weapons this instant!" Starsky recognized the booming voice of his captain and he groaned silently, "Shit!" he whispered, "Not Dobey." It sickened him that his own captain and friend would see him like this, a cop turned bad guy. A part of him wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere and hide, but he needed to make sure that shipment got to Sanders. Hutch's life depended on it and damn, if he was going to let his partner down.
Men on the boat were scrambling about as they tried to untie the barge and head out to sea. Police boats entered the harbor, blue and red lights lit up the night, "Freeze . .. we have you surrounded," the voice echoed out over the water.
"What the fuck's going on?" Jericho said, as he got out of the truck and crouched next to dark haired cop. "Your partner is so dead when Sander's hears about this," the crook snarled, "You set us up!"
Starsky recognized the man as the one who got away the other day. "I didn't set up nuthin'. Look, get back in the truck and I'll get ya out of this mess. We'll create a diversion. Tell your men to start shooting, but no cop gets hit, ya hear me? Shoot above their heads. When the shooting starts, drive your truck through the line and don't stop. They'll move. You drive outta here like a bat from hell and you get this shipment to Sanders and tell him I'll be there to pick up my partner," Starsky snapped back, checking to see that his gun was loaded, he looked up, noticing that Jericho was just staring at him with his mouth hanging open, "What?" Starsky snapped.
"You're one crazy cop," Jericho said, "You taking all of them out alone?"
"I repeat . . .this is the police! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands in the air." Dobey's voice shouted over the speaker.
Starsky sighed. "You got any guns I can borrow?" Starsky asked.
"You bet!" Jericho said, admiration creeping in his voice, "Man pig, I like your style . . . you fought in 'Nam?"
Starsky didn't even bother to answer, but just grabbed the semi-automatic when Jericho handed it to him. "'What's your name?" Starsky asked, peeking around the tire to count the number of black and whites.
"Jericho, man," Sander's hood said, handing Starsky more bullets. "Maybe I should stay and help you man, we'll be like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."
Starsky looked at Jericho, his statement making him think of Hutch. They always talked about going out like Butch and Sundance in a blaze of gunfire. Hutch. "Just get in the truck Jericho, and start drivin' when you hear me shootin'. Tell the guys in the back of the truck to shoot too, but remember, no cops get hurt. Ya got that?" Starsky said, seeing Jericho silently agreeing with him. "Remember that . . . and tell Hutch . . . tell Hutch I'm comin'"
Jericho nodded and climbed into the cab of the truck, revving the truck's engine up.
"You in the truck, stay down and surrender," Dobey said calmly, "We have you outnumbered and surrounded. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands raised in the air."
Starsky took a deep breath in, then open fired, making sure his shots went just above the head of the cops, who ducked under the barrage of bullets. Starsky ran to stay behind the big wheel of the truck as it took off toward the line of black and white patrol cars. The men in the truck started shooting also, keeping the officers at bay. Starsky used the tire as a shield until he came parallel to the Torino, making a bee-line for his familiar red car.
"What the hell?" Dobey muttered, shocked beyond belief to see his own detective firing at them.
"Hold your fire," Dobey shouted, "It's Starsky!"
The truck came at a break neck speed towards the parked police patrol cars, which opened their line at the last minute to allow the rampaging truck through. Several officers got into their cars and immediately began to give chase, as the truck raced off down the road.
Novak never took his eyes off of the curly haired detective he so despised. Amid the chaos, he watched as Starsky used the semi automatic like a pro, noticing that the brunet's aim was slightly high. Everyone at the station knew that the dark haired detective was a sharp shooter, and so far none of the patrol officers or any of the surveillance team that had doubled back to help had been hit.
In the mayhem following the truck's attempt to run the police cars over, Novak noticed Starsky making his way back to the Torino. "Stinking Jew, " Novak grinned, "Time someone taught you a little lesson in humility," Novak said softly to himself, deliberately aiming his gun at the brunet. At the last moment, as Novak pulled the trigger, Lyons disrupted his aim, pulling his arm down, but the bullet still found its mark in the brunet's side.
Starsky ran swiftly, intending to jump into his car and lead the cops off and away from the truck, when something hot and hard hit him, spinning him with its forceful, jarring impact as he grunted in pain and slammed to the ground. For a second, he stared at the night's sky, disoriented and dazed, until he felt it, the red-hot pain that flared in his lower left side. He gasped, his hand reaching for the wound, feeling the warmth of his own blood as it flowed over his fingers.
"What the fuck are you doing Novak" Lyons said, glaring at his partner. "I saw you try to kill Starsky, you were aiming at his head."
"Shut up Lyons, it's just your word against mine. I was trying to stop him from getting away . . . that' all," Novak said smugly, walking towards the fallen man. Police were all over the place, bringing some of Sanders men who were still on the boat down to the cars, but all Novak saw was the hurt man on the ground, struggling to get up. Novak smiled, "Time to finish what you started, Jew . . ." he whispered under his breath.
Starsky bit back a groan, wanting to curl into the pain that enflamed his side. He gritted his teeth, holding his side, forcing himself to sit up. Hutch. He had to get to Hutch. He gasped as the punishing pain took his breath away and his hand clutched at the bleeding wound, pressing his shirt against the ragged opening to stem the flow of blood. His closed his eyes for a moment, enduring the painful pressure, trying to breathe as he rode out the pain, when he suddenly felt someone dragging him to his feet by the collar of his jacket. He groaned, his legs wanting to buckle as he was roughly pulled to his feet and slammed against the side of the Torino.
"I knew you were on the take, you dirty Jews do anything for money," Novak snarled, raising his fist to pound the brunet's face, when his hand was suddenly held in a firm grasp.
"That's enough Novak," Dobey growled, turning angry eyes towards his dark haired detective, who held onto his bleeding side, his body slumped against the red vehicle, chest heaving with each ragged breath drawn. Dobey let go of Novak's hand and turned to Starsky, "What the hell did you do?"
The accusing voice and angry glare from his captain nearly shattered the wounded man, but he valiantly stood straighter, clutching his side, and faced Dobey, "Cap, I know what this looks like," he gasped painfully, his blue eyes beseeching his captain to understand, "But, they got Hutch . . . they're gonna kill him if I didn . . ."
Novak backhanded the curly haired detective, cutting his explanation off with the force of a blow that whipped the brunet's head back, "Shut up you lying son of a bitch!" Novak said, rubbing the back of his hand, "We witnessed your part in all of this . . . you helped them get away with the shipment, you got rid of the surveillance team using your seniority and position, you shot at us using an automatic weapon and we're throwing the book at you for this. You're going down Starsky!"
"Yeah?" Starsky snarled, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his wrist, "And you do that again Novak and you ain't gonna live to see another sunrise . . ."
"Enough," Dobey snapped, his brown eyes flashed with suppressed rage at both of his men. He turned to look at Starsky, his expression softening when he noticed the brunet wincing in pain as another spasm of pain flared in his side, "You need to see a doctor," the captain said to his dark haired detective, concern and worry evident in his voice and eyes.
"Cap, they got Hutch . . . he's hurt . . . I gotta go get . . ." Starsky tried to explain again, but Novak interjected.
"That's bullshit Captain, let me read him his rights and cuff him. He can do his explaining down at the station." Novak argued. "Look Captain, if you don't let me do my job, you're saying that he's above the law!"
Dobey had to look away from the earnest look in Starsky's pain filled blue eyes. He knew in his heart that Starsky was telling the truth; and the fact that Sanders had Hutch as a hostage ate away at the rotund captain. If no one was here, perhaps he would have listened to what Starsky had to say and toss around some ideas on how to get Hutch out of Sanders' grasp unharmed, but the fact of the matter was that he had a lot of his men listening to Novak spewing his mouth off and Novak was right . . . no one was above the law . . .
The dark man sighed, refusing to make eye contact with his curly haired detective. There were days that Dobey just hated this job, and today was one of them. "Read him his rights," he told Lyons, "And take him in."
"With pleasure!" Novak said, as Lyons began the memorandum. Novak yanked Starsky's hands behind his back, slamming the brunet's front against the hood of the Torino. Novak smiled as he heard the soft groan that came from the brunet. He roughly slapped his hands against Starsky's body on the pretense of searching for more weapons, chuckling as he heard the brunet gasp sharply and jolt when he slammed his hand against the detective's wound.
Starsky silently rode out the pain that engulfed his side, breathing heavily through the worst of it, refusing to make any comment when Novak said, "Suck it up asshole, you're lucky my bullet didn't find that thick skull of yours!"
Novak brutally twisted the brunet's hands behind his back, lifting it high up towards his shoulder blades, knowing he was intentionally inflicting more pain on already suffering Jew. That thought made him laugh out loud, as he snapped the cuffs tightly into place, loving every minute of it, wishing he could take Starsky someplace where he could beat the crap out of him, especially now that he was cuffed and hurting.
"Knock it off Novak" Lyons said, "You don't gotta be so rough, Starsky's already wounded." Lyons listened to the ragged breathing of the brunet, knowing he was in excruciating pain, his wound stretched wide as his hands were cuffed high behind his back. Lyons wasn't a fool, he knew what kind of an asshole he was partnered with and it tore him up to see Starsky, a detective he'd always admired, being treated like a criminal.
"Shut up Lyons . . . anyone ever tell you what a sap you are?" Novak growled, pulling Starsky away from the car by the back of his arms, "Shit, I'm sick of your whining. Why don't you take a lesson from this Jew here and shut your fuckin' trap." Novak pushed Starsky ahead of him towards his car, remembering how Starsky and Hutch had laughed at him during the briefing in Dobey's office. Novak grinned smugly; finally he would be the last one laughing!
To Be Continued…
