Chapter 21

When Starsky had looked into the room and seen the Dominatrix sat composedly behind her desk, hands folded neatly on the blotter and eyes looking smugly at the open window, he knew he'd just lost his last chance at life. His heart at that moment plummeted into his blue Adidas and he felt physically sick to his stomach. So much had ridden on that one telephone message they'd received from Tamara saying that DeMaine was back at Bound to Please. He had ridden with his blond partner over to the club with hope once again igniting only to find that the bastard had gone, and with it his last hope of salvation. As he stared into that empty room it was like he was staring at his own funeral.

He'd had those last conversations with Hutch and it had cost him a great deal to tell the blond his plans. He re-played them over in his head on a loop as if they were on an audio tape, willing the blond to understand his intentions and to keep the hell away.

'Just one thing Starsk. For Gods sake don't shoot 'em like ya did Bellamy. We….you really need these guys alive buddy. Ya listening?'……..

'I need ya to promise, Starsk'………

'OK, I promise on my poor Momma's grave. That enough for ya Blondie? Just let's get goin'. Times a pressin' as they say'……..

'I'm not goin' to be around at the end'……….

Not gonna be here if time looks like its runnin' out. It's bad enough I have to go, but I'm not takin' a whole fuckin' city block with me. There's just one thing I need you to do'………..

'Just don't try to find me, huh? I need to do the last bit on my own OK?'………..

That had been almost two and a half hours ago. He'd seen his blond partner stoop to handcuff the two flakes who'd protected that bastard DeMaine and knew that he had to go whilst Hutch was busy. There was no way on earth the blond would have allowed him to walk out if he'd known what was happening. So he'd taken a final look at the man who'd been is partner, best friend and confidant for the past seven years. He tried to burn every line of that fair skinned handsome Viking face into his memory to take with him and he turned on his heel and left. Ben, one of the patrolmen saw him go and had stopped him to ask if he needed anything. Starsky had mumbled something about getting something from his car and had shouldered past the uniformed officer, needing to be outside before Hutch realised he was missing.

Once outside he ran over to his beloved Torino and got in, the harness digging into his injured side as if emphasising the futility of it all, reminding him of his own mortality, as if that wasn't the thing foremost in his head! The comforting familiar space of his car settled his head and he quietly turned on the engine and slid off the lot and out onto the open road. Once there he floored the gas pedal, ignoring the speed restrictions. If he was going to die he may as well enjoy one last fling on the open road – he wasn't going to be around to pay for a speeding ticket anyway.

The road in front of him and the steady thrum of the big engine calmed his thoughts and he settled himself into the black leather upholstery and concentrated on the pleasure of the drive, able for a moment to shut out all other thoughts, his limbs moving automatically over the controls as he pushed the speedo up past 90. As he touched 100 mph he entered the coast road and nursed the big car northwards to his final destination, finally slowing and pulling in to a deserted parking lot a little way from the beach. He had no doubts the blond would try to follow him and he wanted to leave as few clues of his whereabouts as possible. They'd see the explosion from a mile away anyway, he thought grimly.

Getting out of his car for the last time and locking it, he lovingly trailed his fingers over the sleek tomato red paintwork, feeling the light ripple as the red gave way to the white stripe travelling up one side of the car, across the roof and down the other. He'd loved the car from the day he'd got it. He'd blown his whole savings on it and it was his pride and joy. It had seen him through thick and thin and had taken almost as many bullets as he had. But Merle had always worked wonders on it and he hoped the Blintz would take as much care of it as he had. He put the keys in an envelope he'd brought with him, addressed to Mr K Hutchinson, with the address clearly marked. The envelope also contained a brief letter giving the deeds of his apartment to his partner too, whilst the meagre savings in his bank would go to Ma. He sealed the flap down and walked over to the mail box across the way. Running his hands over the lumpy package one last time, he pushed the envelope inside the box and walked swiftly away.

With one final backward look at the car, he turned and walked up the road a ways before turning off and into the dunes. He'd chosen this area because few people came this way so early in the morning. There were no condos here and no other signs of habitation this far north of the city.

He took his shoes off and enjoyed the sensation of the sand on his feet as he trudged up the side of the small dune. It was cold and slightly damp between his toes, the sun not yet up to warm it and dry it. Starsky's eyes had gotten used to the dark now and he picked his way slowly up and over the sand hills using the light from the almost full moon and the stars. Finding his way down onto the beach, he searched around trying to find a quiet and secluded spot and picked one between two dunes slightly away from the others. He'd made his way slowly over to the little sand valley and had sat down to wait.

He'd glanced at his watch and noted with a calm that surprised him that he had just over an hour left. The air around him felt cool and he was hot from the exertion of the trek over the loose sand. He unbuttoned his shirt and sat with it open, exposing the harness in all its deadly glory, feeling the early morning breeze cool his skin.

He sat with his knees pulled up, elbows resting on them and hands hanging relaxed in front. The early morning breeze ruffled his mahogany curls and he enjoyed the sensation of the air against his scalp as he looked out towards the horizon. He dug his toes into the loose cool sand, worming them down until his feet were covered in the pale golden grains and analysed his feelings.

During the early part of the day, after Hutch had found him at the warehouse, he'd felt positive they'd be able to find the Grice girl. Get the combination and get this shit awful contraption off him. As the day progressed and the leads turned up empty, he'd tried to remain positive, not only for himself, but more for the sake of Hutch. He didn't want the big blond hurting more than he had to, but as the evening and early part of the night wore on, his optimism faded. It was replaced by a fluttery feeling of panic that swelled in his stomach like a wave, then diminished for a while, to reappear stronger and more invasive a moment later.

But now, there was nothing. The panic had been replaced by an icy calm the minute he'd turned his back on his partner that final time at Bound to Please. It was as though a switch had been thrown in his head and his emotions had been turned off. It made him feel almost light headed with relief, and he wondered now at the feeling. He'd expected to feel anxious, terrified, and panicky. But instead there was a void and he found he could concentrate on the stuff around him instead.

He looked up at the sky, now turned from velvet black to deep navy above with a line of the deepest orange on the horizon as dawn broke. He stared at the large moon overhead, seeing the markings on its surface as though for the first time, studying their outlines intently. From them, he moved onto the stars and realised for the first time that he'd never really looked at them, sorry now that he hadn't taken the time to learn at least a few of their names. He realised he was sorry about a lot of things. That he hadn't married, that he hadn't gone from the army back to college and got a decent education behind him. Sorry too that he hadn't made more of a mark on this world, but too late for grand plans now.

His thought turned instead to the people he'd leave behind. He was glad he'd had that last phone call with his Mom. Although it had torn at the detective's heart not to tell her everything, he took a measure of comfort from the fact he'd been able to tell her one last time that he loved her. And Hutch. The thought of leaving the Blintz behind was almost too much to bear, but even more difficult would have been the sight of the big blond at his side waiting for oblivion. No, it was easier this way, although he knew Hutch would hurt for a long time afterwards. There was just nothing he could do about that. Time would heal, but just how much time was anyone's guess. He chuckled to himself. Maybe he could be a ghost and come back and haunt the big blond. Hover around and make a nuisance of himself at inopportune moments. He laughed out loud at the thought of floating out of a bedroom wall just as Hutch was reaching the grand finale of a night with a special woman!

And then there was Terry. If there were ghosts, or something after this world, would he meet her again? He shrugged his shoulders and looked once more at his watch. In 12 minutes, he'd know one way or the other.

He gazed around him, looking up the beach as the first of the shore birds started their quest for breakfast at the shoreline in the rapidly brightening light. The horizon had gone from deep orange to yellow and magenta and the promise of another gorgeous day. A fine day to die. The Starsky humour took over again as he realised he wouldn't have wanted his final morning on earth to be rainy. Looking down the beach back towards the city he took in the skyline of the office blocks and thought about his buddies getting ready for another session of grinding the streets in their hot and airless cars. He sent them a silent blessing. His eyes fell from the skyline to the golden sand again, and suddenly his heart stopped.

Who was that walking up the beach towards him? Shit, it couldn't be. But no, he'd recognise that outline anywhere. The tall muscular frame dressed in combat fatigues, the curly unruly hair. Crap, why did Traff have to find him now and how did he know where to look? Hutch. Hutch must have told him.

He pushed himself further back into the sand, hoping against hope that Traff hadn't seen him and that he'd walk by and put enough space between them before the explosion occurred. The emotions were back in full force now sending rivers of sweat stinging into the cuts on his face and chest and Starsky's heart hammered in that chest as he realised that Traff had seen him and was running towards him up the beach at an impressive speed.

There was only one thing he could do. He levered his stiff sore body up and turning, he started to run.