Chapter 11

Traff watched his friend shuffle out of the room, the chains on his manacles clanking dismally in his wake, and his temper rose. He'd heard of what went on in jails. He knew what went on in most institutions having spent his formative years in children's homes after his father was killed while in the Army. In the dim and distant past, he'd suffered the same sort of abuse, but while he'd had the opportunity to fight back, his blood boiled that Starsky had neither the ability nor the inclination to want to put a stop to the rapes and the beatings. The soldier rose slowly from the table and stretched wearily. It had been a long and difficult day and his eyes felt as though they were lined with sandpaper. First of all there had been Hutch's collapse the previous day, then his phone call with Nicky and his meeting with the younger Starsky and then after that had been his visit with his old army buddy. Now all he wanted to do was to go back to Hutch's place, have a shower and get rid of the stink of the jail. It permeated his very pores and he felt dirty from merely sitting down on the visitor's chair.

Traff walked to the door and knocked to be let out. The corridor outside was empty and he assumed that Nicky had gone to find his own way back to the airport. He wasn't fond of the younger Starsky and could understand why his buddy didn't talk about his younger brother too much. If Nicky had been his own younger brother, he'd have tried to hide the fact too. That was another reason for Traff's blood pressure to rise. While the younger sibling had managed to get on a plane with alacrity, Traff couldn't help but have the impression that Nicky had come to gloat, or if not to gloat, then at least help wasn't at the forefront of his mind.

With a sigh, Traff walked down the long corridor and back to the reception hall. He looked at his watch. 6:00pm and there was obviously a change over in shifts as the reception hall was full of uniformed officers, all looking at their watches and talking about home, what was on TV that night and what their wives would have made for their dinners. The voices were loud in the confined space, mid western accents mixing with Mexican mixing with Southern Californian and above them all, one loud and very broad Irish accent.

The soldier homed in on the voice and found that it was coming from a very tall and powerfully built guard who stood almost head and shoulders above the others. The man had a shock of black hair and as he turned to say something to one of his friends, Traff saw he had twinkling green eyes and a florid complexion. Immediately, Traff targeted the guy. This must be the man who'd beaten up and assaulted his friend. How many other big Irish guards were there likely to be in Bay City Penitentiary?

Thomas Trafford was not known for his tolerance of bullies. The men under his command always found him to be fair, courageous, inspirational even and wouldn't have a bad word said against him. He gave them 110 percent and expected the same back. He would fight for his men tooth and nail but the only thing he couldn't and wouldn't tolerate was bullying. He'd often said it was the mark of a true coward and had made it his sole responsibility in the 8th battalion to eradicate it, and as in his work, he hated to see big men prey on the more vulnerable. Right now that equated to the big guard in front of him and how he'd treated Starsky.

As the crowd started to thin in the reception hall, Traff hung back. There were other people coming in now, ready to visit inmates before the night's lockdown and it was easy for the soldier to mark the guard and follow him outside. There, Traff blended in with the rapidly lengthening shadows as Rafferty made his way around to the staff parking lot. It was quieter here and the soldier watched carefully which car the guard got into, then raced around to his own car, got in and made it to the gate just as Rafferty was pulling away onto the main highway. Following at a reasonable distance, Traff started to plan what he would do when he actually managed to get the guy on his own. He smiled wolfishly. The guard might be big, but Traff had surprise, agility and speed on his side.

Rafferty pulled up along the roadside further down the highway by the side of a Dunkin Donut. As he got out of his Oldsmobile and wandered into the small diner, Traff pulled his T-bird into the lot a little way away and sat watching. The place was deserted, Rafferty being their only customer in the growing twilight. The soldier smiled to himself. Great. The Irishman must be a divorcee. Only an single man would call at a place like that for dinner on the way home. Most self respecting married guys would have the little woman waiting with a plate of stew and a cool beer.

Half an hour went by and still Rafferty didn't reappear. Traff got to thinking that either the guard was having a quickie with the waitress out back, or he was lonelier than the soldier originally thought. Whatever the reason, it was another twenty minutes before the door swung open and Rafferty walked back out onto the car park, scratching thoughtfully at his belly with one hand while he picked his teeth with his other finger. Quietly, the curly headed soldier got out of his car and stood with his back to the door, arms crossed, relaxed and ready. Rafferty didn't even look up as he passed the other man. Traff watched him meander past and as the guard's hand reached for his car door handle he called over to him.

'Like curls do ya?'

Rafferty turned and looked at the stranger. 'Huh?'

Traff pushed himself away from his car and stood with his arms by his sides. 'Do you prefer blonds or brunets?'

'What's your problem mister? You a pervert or somethin'?'

'Well it'd take one to know one' Traff goaded.

'What? You talkin' 'bout me?'

'Yeah, I'm talkin' about you. I just wondered if you preferred your brunets bound hand and foot, or do ya wanna try your luck with one who can fight back.'

The guard snickered. 'Who the hell are you?'

'That don't matter. I'm someone who wants to get even.'

'Even for what? I never saw ya before in my life.'

Traff snorted. 'Yeah, I know. But you've been makin' yourself acquainted with a friend of mine, an' I'm here to tell ya to back off.'

Rafferty backed up a step. Traff was cool, calm, collected. He had a steely look in his eyes and a blazing anger shining across his handsome face. He looked quietly dangerous.

'Which friend. I don't now what you're talkin' about.'

'What about a number? 02698 mean anythin' to ya? Or maybe two words Dave Starsky.' Traff took a few steps closer, watching as the huge bully backed up until his car stopped him backing any further.

The guard's face split into a sardonic grin. 'You his boyfriend? I thought he was too pretty to be straight. Funny, he never said a word when I slid into that tight little ass.' Rafferty saw the slight narrowing of Traff's eyes and knew he'd touched a nerve. He tried to press home his advantage. 'Aww, what's up pretty boy? Aint ya had any of it yet? Thought not. That was a nice tight virgin ass if ever I saw one. All neat an puckered, or at least it was to begin with. It's kinda getting' used to me now. Shame you couldn't have had any. Want me to stretch it some more for ya?'

Traff listened to the hard Irish voice with loathing. He balled his hands into fists, knowing now was not the time to lose control. If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it right, and he needed to be careful.

Rafferty was obviously pleased with himself and his witty repartees and he turned to put the keys in the door lock of his car. Traff took his chance and swift as a rattler, he struck, swinging his arm round to wrap around Rafferty's throat. The big guy had nowhere to go. Standing 6" taller than Traff, if he stood up with the arm round his windpipe, he would have throttled himself and so he remained bent over the car as Traff took a better hold.

'Ya gonna be quiet big guy?' Traff hissed into his ear.

'Um…..do I have a choice? Yeah, I'll be quiet.'

'Fine' Traff started to loosen his grip slightly, meaning to alter his hold on Rafferty. The guard felt the movement and turned, struggling to grab at Traff's face. He managed to drag his finger nails down the soldier's cheek, drawing four dark furrows of blood from eye to mouth. Traff snapped.

'Is that it? That's your style? Jeez, ya fight like a girl! Maybe that's why ya like the boys huh?'

With a grunt, Traff renewed his grip on Rafferty's neck and with all his strength pulled the guard's head down, slamming it into the roof of the car. He felt, rather than saw the big man's nose crack and allowed the guard to straighten slightly before he spun the dazed man around so that his back was leaning against the car.

'My friend knew better than to fight back, but I guess it's tough to do that with those chains on. Ya like 'em when they're powerless, don't ya, you pervert. Well you won't be using these again any time soon.' Traff pushed his knee in between Rafferty's legs, widening the space and then brought his knee up full force into the guard's balls.

Rafferty let out a strangled mewling noise and doubled over, his hands going instinctively to the centre of his body. He gasped, whimpering quietly as Traff took a handful of hair and pulled the big man's head back so that he could look into the man's tearing eyes.

'You leave my friend alone. You touch him again, and you'll have no balls left, ya hear. Touch Dave Starsky…..look at him in the wrong way an' I'm gonna find ya, and take ya. I'm gonna cut your balls off an' ram them so far down your throat you're gonna choke on 'em. Is that clear?'

'I'll fuckin' kill him if you touch me again' Rafferty grunted.

With infinite care, Traff reached down and took a handful of trouser along with contents. As he gazed into Rafferty's eyes, he started to squeeze and turn the cock and balls as though he were going to rip them off and as Rafferty squealed again, he grinned.

'Let that be a warning. Touch Starsky again, an' you'll be singing falsetto for the rest of your life. Now fuck off and be sure I'm gonna be watching ya. Remember that. You aren't gonna be able to scratch your ass without I know about it.'

Traff let go of the man and he sank to his knees on the ground as very calmly, the soldier walked over to his car, got in and drove away without a backwards glance.