Here's the next chapter, sorry it's late (a wee thing called Christmas got in the way!)
Thanks for the reviews of chapter 6 (especially Brook5 as I can't send you a personal thanks).
Apologies as usual for any "Britisms" (is that actually a word?) that slip through and any typos, grammatical errors etc, etc are all mine (hangs head in shame if there are).
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FOR GEORGIE
Chapter 7
The first thing he noticed, as focus returned, was the small crowd that had gathered around him. The second thing was Hutch; his friend loomed above him, his face a mixture of concern and confusion.
"Oh man … my head!" Huggy groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Feels like I've been hit by a truck!"
"What happened Hug?" Hutch asked as he placed a supportive arm around his friend.
"Let's just say," Huggy replied, rubbing his bruised chin, "your partner's got one helluva left hook!"
"Starsk did this?" Hutch questioned, incredulous. "He hit you … why?"
"He got a call from that nut job … I heard him arrange a meet … tried to stop him taking off … guess he didn't wanna be stopped."
"Did you hear the place and time?" Hutch asked hopefully as he helped Huggy to his feet.
"No … sorry man … guy on the end of the line gave all the instructions … Starsky's just following orders ... this feel like déjà vu to you Hutch?"
"Yeah … all the way … which also means he's walking into a trap this time too."
Huggy nodded in agreement. "That's what I was thinking … so … what's the plan blondie?"
"Somehow we've got to figure out where Starsk went … how did you guys get here? He drive?"
"No … I picked him up … we came here in my car." Huggy felt in his pocket for his keys. "And looks like he left that way too."
"That's great Hug," Hutch grinned. "At least we got a way of tracing him now," he continued as he picked up the receptionists phone. "I'll get an APB put out on your car … maybe we'll get lucky."
Five minutes later with the call complete Hutch stood contemplating the next move.
Huggy broke the silence. "So where do we go from here?"
Hutch looked quizzically at his friend. "We?" he asked.
"Yeah … ain't no way you can drive with that arm in a sling … so your best bet would be for me to take the wheel ... besides I wanna help … Starsky's my friend too and I'm thinking he needs all the help he can get right now!"
Hutch placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Thanks Hug," he said. "All we need now is a car … any thoughts?"
"No problem my man … just leave that to yours truly … all you gotta do is give me directions … like what's our first port of call?"
"Think our best move would be to go back to the shrink … ask him a few more questions about his so called reformed patient … I'm pretty certain he knows more about Langdon than he's letting on."
"Sounds like a plan … go get your "happy pills" … I'll organize our ride." Huggy said as he picked up the phone.
"Just make sure it's not a hot one Hug," Hutch warned as he hurried off to collect his things.
z3z3z3z3z3z3
From the moment Langdon had mentioned the old zoo Starsky had been replaying his last meeting with George Prudholm over and over in his head.
He'd made a huge mistake that last time, one that, if it hadn't have been for Hutch, could so easily have been fatal. He'd let himself be carried away by his emotions, ignored all of his instincts (the ones that made him such a good cop) and let Prudholm have the upper hand.
This time, however, things would be different. This time, despite the similarities, he planned to stay focussed and keep his emotions in check.
At least that's what he told himself as he drove through the open wrought iron gates and into the abandoned Bay City Zoo.
Parking the car he opened the door slowly and eased himself out, gun in hand. Apart from the occasional sounds of bird song all was quiet as he moved cautiously through the dilapidated compound.
Walking past row upon row of empty cages he carefully checked each one, before moving to the next. But he knew the biggest danger was open ground and that's exactly what he faced next as he approached an intersection between the cages.
As he reached the end he raised his gun and peered cautiously around the corner, assessing the terrain. To his right the path veered up a steep hill, ideal geography for a sniper (Prudholm had proven that) whilst the path to his left led to an old children's play area; the equipment that still remained was rusty and broken.
He checked his watch – it was now the designated meet-time.
"LANGDON" he shouted, the word echoed through the enclosures, silencing the birds.
Nothing! All was quiet … too quiet Starsky thought.
Decision made he moved slowly to his left towards the broken playground, which would at least provide some cover. Or so he thought. The sound of gunfire echoed in the air as he felt a searing pain in his left arm, forcing him to drop his gun. Seconds later Langdon appeared from nowhere, his shotgun pointed directly at Starsky's head.
"What ya waiting for?" Starsky asked quietly, seeming to be in complete acceptance of his fate. "Why don't ya get it over with?"
In an instant Langdon had reversed his gun and had slammed it butt first into Starsky's head, knocking him to the ground.
Langdon looked down at the unconscious detective. "Oh I'm not going to kill you Starsky," he snarled. "Not yet anyway … first you and I are going to have some fun … Georgie's told me exactly what to do!"
z3z3z3z3z3z3
They'd made the journey back to The Rivermead Institute in record time. Huggy had broken every speed limit enroute in a car that Hutch had made a point not to ask about.
As a matter of protocol Huggy stayed in the car whilst Hutch went in to meet with Grimes. As he stood waiting he thought fleetingly about the Doctor's pretty secretary Carol Taylor. At any other time he would have been grateful to meet with her again; the chance to fix a date. But this was not the right time. This time all he could afford to think about was getting his partner back – alive!
When Hutch entered Grimes' office he found the psychiatrist busy writing journal notes.
"What can I do for you this time Detective?" Grimes asked, without even looking up from his desk.
Hutch, in no mood for niceties, leaned over to close the Doctor's journal, thereby forcing absolute attention.
"The last time I saw you Doctor Grimes you told me about Peter Langdon … assured me he was in no way connected to George Prudholm."
"That is correct," Grimes answered, irritated by the blond detective's rude attitude. "As I told you then Peter is a fine example of how this Institute can provide a complete cure for any mental illness."
"So you said … and how do you know he's cured? … what do you base that assessment on?" Hutch asked politely, careful to remain calm; he still needed this man's help.
"We carried out all the required evaluation tests … Peter achieved a 100 percent score rating at every level … truly remarkable given his severely damaged psyche when he first arrived."
"And what procedures do you have in place to ensure there isn't a relapse?" Hutch queried. "Are there prescription drugs that he has to take?"
"Let me see," Grimes answered as he opened an adjacent filing cabinet and began examining one of the manila folders. After several moments he looked up at Hutch. "Yes … several as a matter of fact … and as long as he continues to take them as prescribed he won't pose a threat to anybody."
"What happens if he stops taking the drugs?" Hutch asked quickly.
"I'm sure there's little chance of that Detective … his mother is very strict with Peter."
"Dr Grimes, Cheryl Langdon is dead."
"What? … Dead?" Grimes said, incredulous. "How?"
"She was murdered … by her own son … your star patient … so tell me Doctor," Hutch continued. "What happens if Peter Langdon stops taking his the drugs?"
The psychiatrist, visibly shocked, reviewed his notes. "Umm … well let's see … failure to take his medication in the correct dosage, at the correct time would be a problem."
"Doctor … when we found his mother's body forensics went over the house with a fine toothcomb … they found his medication bottles … unopened … he's not been taking his drugs at all ... so how big a problem do we have here?"
Grimes re-examined the notes and then seemed reluctant to answer.
Hutch leant forward over the desk, inches from the psychiatrists face. "Peter Langdon is out there somewhere … and my partner's gone to meet him … so tell me," Hutch growled dangerously, "how big a problem would it be?"
"Um … well … he would most probably revert back to the time before he came here … go back to what he did before."
"What he did before? You mean kill again … he's already done that doctor."
Grimes looked down sheepishly at his desk.
"What else?" Hutch grimaced.
"What you have to understand is that Peter Langdon suffered years of child abuse … he needed an outlet for all of his pain … all of his frustration."
All patience lost Hutch grabbed the psychiatrist by his jacket lapels with his good hand, pulled him from his chair and thrust him up against the nearest wall. "WHAT ELSE?" he shouted.
"He ... he ... he," Grimes stammered, "liked … to … torture things … animals … insects… any thing. He liked to … torture them … to death."
Hutch released the doctor and stepped away. "So what you're telling me," he said quietly, dejectedly. "Is that right now my partner … my best friend … is probably walking into the hands of a complete mad man!"
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Happy New Year everybody – sorry to end on a cliff hanger (grins)
