Chapter 9

True to his word, an hour later, Traff sent two of the men, Eddie and Mick to take down the exhausted cop. As they walked into the room, Starsky regarded them with distrust, recognising the predatory look in their eyes.

They walked into the room and took up a position, one either side of the hanging brunet and looked up at the sweat slick body and the grey mask of exhaustion over the cop's face.

'Well, don't you just look a picture?' Eddie leered, sticking his finger out and pushing at the suspended body, making it rock precariously. Starsky tried to stifle the groan as the pains redoubled their efforts to cloud his mind and instead directed the pain into two words.

'Fuck you'. His voice was weak and husky, but the sentiment was there all the same.

Eddie didn't take kindly to the reply and reached round to dig his fingers into the purple bruise decorating the muscled back. He ground his hand into the swollen muscle and the brunet screamed raggedly, just once before hitching a sobbing breath and ducking his chin down to his chest. No way would he allow these suckers to see the fear in his eyes.

With a grin, Mick reached up with his knife and sawed through the twine holding Starsky up. As the last thread broke, he felt his body plummet to the ground where he stayed in a heap, trying to ride the red crest of shock waves that poured through his body. He curled into a ball despite the pull on the massive bruise on his back, and cradled his damaged right hand to his chest.

Eddie drew back his booted foot and kicked at the cop on the ground, the toe of the boot catching Starsky just below the ribs and his body stiffened as he rolled onto his back, and then onto his other side, the wind whistling through his teeth.

'Hey, Kemp said we should be careful with him. He wants him conscious for his little session down in the pit' Mick said, holding Eddie back as he prepared to deliver another booted foot into his target.

'Well what's one more bruise between friends?' Eddie asked, looking up in surprise.

'The way you're going he's not gonna be awake to experience the full delights of what Kemp has in store for him. D'you wanna get on the bosses bad side, huh?'

Reluctantly Eddie's foot returned to the ground and he regarded the suffering heap on the floor. He reached down and took hold of Starsky's right hand, the thumb purple and swollen and pulled the brunet to his feet.

The curly haired cop yelped at the pressure on his damaged thumb, then screamed once more as his left foot made contact with the ground. Having had a goodly amount of the brunet's 165lbs pressed down on it for 11 hours, there was a purpled bruise and a swollen area across the middle of his sole, and the pains darting out towards his toes and heel were indescribable. His knees caved and he would have fallen back to the ground if it hadn't been for Eddie and Mick's grasp on his arms. The two men laughed at the scream and quickly propelled Starsky out of the room and down some stairs at the end of the corridor.

Starsky tried to keep his left foot off the ground, or at least not let the full sole come into contact with the floor but it was difficult due to the speed the others were walking and eventually he found it simpler and less painful to allow himself to sag between them and be dragged along. He had very little strength left in his body to fight or struggle and knew that if he was to remain of any help at all to the soldier, he had to try to conserve what energy he had left. His legs and feet dragged along the ground, skinning his toes and the tops of his feet and leaving a trail of blood in his wake, but at least the infernal bruise beneath his left foot was more comfortable.

Within minutes, they'd stopped outside a grey painted, reinforced door and Eddie pushed it open with his foot, pushing the brunet violently inside where he fell to the floor, skinning his knees and adding more blood to the ground as he slid along it. He rested where he stopped for a moment getting his breath and his bearings before he pushed himself up until he could see the rest of his surroundings and he shivered.

The room was only small, no more than 15' x 15' and the walls were bare plaster with dints and crevasses in them. It had certainly seen better days and looked inhospitable and cold. Starsky saw that it contained only a couple of ropes dangling from the ceiling, a small portable generator with various leads, a pail of water and a hard wooden chair. Eddie and Mick grinned as Traff walked into the room. The soldier saw the fresh bruises on Starsky's side.

'What happened to him? Didn't I tell you it was my job to do the hurting?'

Eddie ducked his head down in deference to his boss. 'He was struggling too much. We had to get rough with him' he whined.

Traff looked at the bruised man and the ground. There was no way that Starsky could have knocked the skin off of a tapioca pudding at that moment and Eddie knew it. He crossed to the big man and swung his fist, connecting with Eddie's jaw and snapping the big man's head sideways.

'Don't get careless again. You saw the treatment he got. How d'ya fancy 48 hours like that?' he growled as Eddie slunk back like a kicked dog. 'Now get out both of you. And don't come back here. I want a little fun of my own!'

'We could help' Mick grinned coldly, trying to ingratiate himself into his leader's good books.

'Do I look like I need any help? Sit him in that chair then go'. Traff winced as the two men picked Starsky up roughly and parked him on the chair. The brunet groaned softly, his head sinking down until his chin touched his chest and his right hand curled protectively into his chest. Traff saw the exhaustion written on the cop's body and hated himself even more.

Reluctantly the two men departed leaving Traff and Starsky alone in the room. Once the door was closed, Traff locked it from the inside and rushed over to the chair. He put his hand out to the curly head to raise the chin up and look into his friend's eyes and Starsky pulled away, flinching and yelping at the same time before his eyes came back into focus and he remembered where he was.

'Sorry' he whispered.

'Oh man. Look what I've done at you!' Traff muttered. He magicked a cup from somewhere and held it to the brunet's dry lips as Starsky took a sip of the sweet water. 'Better? I need to tie your hands, make it look good. Just go with me on this huh?' He pulled Starsky's arms round behind his back trying his best to ignore the soft gasp and the purple bloom over the right hand. He took a piece of rope and wrapped it around the brunet's wrists but instead of tying it, he handed the ends to the surprised cop.

'Here, hang on to those and make like you're tied. And for Gods sake don't drop 'em. How're ya doin'?'

'Oh…..t'riffic'. Starsky raised his head. 'Can we talk?'

Traff grimaced. 'There's no radio bugs in here, but there's CCTV. They can see everything that goes on. There isn't a room in the place that doesn't have some sort of surveillance equipment in it. Paranoid is an understatement. I haven't got long and then they're gonna want to see some action, otherwise they'll suspect. I'll make it quick, I promise, but it's gonna hurt, chief'.

Starsky managed a shadow of a grin. 'Jeez, ya say the nicest things buddy'.

'Yeah, I got a real way with the words huh? Listen. This is the only chance I'm gonna have of getting you out of here. And when you do, I need you to telephone that big blond partner of yours. Tell him to come collect you' he gave Starsky the co-ordinates. 'And then tell him to phone Ed at the NCS office in Sacramento and tell him to get the troops in here and bust me out. Ya got that?'

'What're you gonna do in the meantime?' Starsky asked, struggling with his pain fogged brain to remember all the details.

'I dunno. Delay 'em. I'll think of sumthin. Just get yourself out of here Curly and, as they say in the cowboy movies, head for the hills. One deaths enough on my conscience' he added sadly.

Starsky caught the hitch in the voice and the sad expression on the handsome face. 'I'm sorry about your girl Traff. She was beautiful. And brave. I never even got to now her name!'

'Bria. Her name was Bria, and yeah, she was something!

'I had no idea what they'd done to her. If I could have I would'a stopped 'em' the brunet wanted so much to take the pain from his friend's eyes. He knew the feeling of loosing his girl to some lousy, low life punks. Terry had been so special to him before she was blown away by a single bullet to the head. She had died because someone wanted to hurt him, just like Bria had died because of something she had known.

'I know you would chief. I know' Traff said. He stood, delaying the evil moment when he had to hurt his friend again.

'Curly, remember the films and the stunt guys? Well if I stand in the way of the camera and aim to hit out at ya, just act like the blow connected huh? That way, I'll only have to punch ya once for real. They'll want to see bruises and there's no way I'm gonna hit you more 'n' once. Then I'm gonna leave. Make as if I'm waiting for ya to come round again for some more huh? That's your hint to move. Gimme five minutes, I'll get over to the CCTV room and distract 'em. Your jeans are in the corner there. Make the phone call, then get out as fast as you can'.

'Don't wanna leave you here' Starsky said stubbornly.

'Aww, Curly boy! Don't huh? I'll be fine, ya ready?'

In the control, room along the corridor, Eddie, Mick, Miguel and Horse had gathered around the monitor as they watched their leader beat the crap out of the curly haired prisoner. Even with no sound, the blows looked painful in the extreme and Starsky's body rolled violently from side to side.

'My God, he's gonna kill him!' Horse remarked, rubbing his hands together.

'Yeah, he's giving him a real good beltin' Miguel agreed, getting closer to the monitor for a better view. The prisoner looked semi conscious now as his body sagged in the chair

Back in the small room, Traff poised for one more blow. 'This is it Curly. Can't fake it any longer' Traff said with regret in his voice.

Starsky snook a look up at him and winked. 'S'ok. Better make it look good huh? M'ready'.

Traff brought his fist down onto the side of his friend's head, snapping it sideways with such violence that the chair was knocked sideways and the brunet sprawled, semiconscious on the floor.

Steeling himself to not just pick his friend up and check on him, Traff walked calmly to the door and out into the corridor, leaving the curly haired cop to lie on the floor, gasping and trying to see past the explosions of stars firing off behind his eyes.