Chapter 29
The wee small hours of the morning are times when reactions are slow. A man sleeps approximately 8 hours and is awake 16. During the wakeful hours, mental and physical functions are most active and tissue cell growth increases. During sleep, voluntary muscle activities nearly disappear and there is a decrease in metabolic rate, respiration, heart rate, body temperature, and blood pressure. The activity of the digestive system increases during the resting period, but that of the urinary system decreases. Hormones secreted by the body, such as the stimulant epinephrine (adrenaline), are released in maximal amounts about two hours before awakening so that the body is prepared for activity. Before that time, the body is at its deepest part of its sleep cycle. Wakefulness from this time of night is usually slow. Co-ordination is compromised, thought processes protracted.
The telephone rang at least a half a dozen times before Ken Hutchinson recognised the sound and forced his eyes to open at the same time as reaching out his right hand for the telephone. He missed, sending the instrument to the floor and Hutch slurred a curse as he coaxed his stiff and sore body into life. He grabbed for the receiver.
'Lo.'
There was a moment's silence at the other end of the telephone – a silence just long enough for Hutch to get his thoughts together and begin to feel the chill of anxiety creep up his spine.
'Hullo. Starsk? Is that you?'
'Nice try Hutchinson. Starsky is close by but he isn't able to come to the phone right now.'
Hutch sat more upright on the edge of the bed. The voice sounded familiar somehow although in his sleep fuddled state Hutch couldn't place it right then. 'Who is this?' he asked sharply.
'I'm saddened that you don't remember me.'
'Too bad. Gimme a name or I hang up.'
The voice sighed down the line. 'Would you really do that? Would Ray Hunt really pass up the opportunity to get to Ethan Quade?'
'You got the wrong guy' Hutch growled, although the tone of the voice left the blond man on edge.
'I don't think so Ray…..or do I call you Ken? Or maybe Hutch?'
Hutch clutched the telephone harder. 'Ok, you have my attention.'
'I thought that might get to you. That's why I want you to put down the phone, go to the door and get into the car that's waiting for you. No phone calls en route, understood?'
'No, explain it to me.'
'You still don't recognise my voice? Even after all those late night talks we had, especially when your fever was up.'
Something clicked. 'Isaac' Hutch snapped. 'What the hell do you want?'
'You. I want you. I already have Starsky and I need a matching set.'
'You're lying. Starsky's right here with me' Hutch lied, trying to gain some time.
'Oh come on! Even you can do better than that Ken. Starsky stayed at his place – 2000 Ridgeway -for about three hours after you left him. Seemed he couldn't sleep so he took himself off to a bar. It's amazing what a little GHB mixed in with his drink will do. He seemed almost pleased to be back here. He was definitely glad to see me again – for a while at least.'
'What does that mean?' Hutch snarled.
'It means he's gonna bleed some more unless you do exactly as I say.'
'If you've hurt him…..'
'Oh for fuck's sake save me the bleeding heart routine. I know you're both close. Or you were. If you get here quickly, maybe you'll be able to save his memories, before I erase them once and for all. After that, he'll do whatever I tell him.'
'He's too important to you. You've spent too much time on him. You wouldn't hurt him' Hutch tried desperately.
At the other end of the phone Isaac snorted. 'Are you willing to bet on that? Would you really play so fast and loose with his life?'
A cold chill worked its way up Hutch's spine. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked quietly.
'I want you to get into the car that's waiting outside. No pauses to make phone calls, no leaving any notes. There's a timer on this Hutch. Waste too much time and Starsky dies, it's as simple as that.' The telephone went dead leaving the blond stunned. It took a moment to shake the cop from his horror but eventually Hutch regained the use of his legs and he got shakily to his feet and stood by the window. Standing to one side of the glass, carefully he moved his drapes to one side so that he could see down into the street below. Drawn up just behind his old brown LTD and the car he'd borrowed from the BCPD to get home, a shiny black Caddy was waiting, headlights illuminating the street and engine running.
'Fuck!' Hutch whispered the curse into the dark. Quickly he looked around. He'd been ordered to make no phone calls or leave notes and he was sure that Isaac would have some way to check up on him. He could delay a little, but not enough to do anything useful save get dressed. Hutch threw on a crumpled pair of jeans and a sweater. He opened the cupboard behind his front door to get his gun. His holster came up empty and belatedly he remembered that he had been carrying the gun on his way to Durniak's funeral. It had not been replaced and he had no time to try to find an alternative, especially as Starsky's life was at stake. With a fatalistic grunt, the blond closed his front door behind him, walked down the steps to the street and got into the back of the car to sit between two large and very evidently armed men. The driver said nothing but moved the car off and out into the night.
The drive out to the suburbs was accomplished in silence. Hutch didn't want to talk and the two heavies didn't look the chatty types. The blond's head was in a whirl. Isaac had Starsky once more in his clutches. Ordinarily Hutch knew his partner would be able to look after himself for a while at least, but this was not ordinarily. Since meeting up with Starsky again on that island, the brunet had been nothing but antagonistic towards Hutch. It was only the previous evening that things looked to be changing. On his journey home from Ridgeway Hutch had felt that progress had been made and that Starsky was, if not remembering, then at least open to the possibility that Hutch was telling him the truth and that they were friends and partners. Now, god only knew what lies Isaac was feeding the brunet once more and the thought sickened Hutch to his stomach – that, and the knowledge that with the lies would probably come more attempts to end his, and Starsky's lives. Without his gun Hutch felt vulnerable, incomplete and yet he knew that even if he'd had the weapon with him it would have been taken from him as soon as he got near to the car. Calming himself by breathing deep and regular, Hutch sat between the two huge bodies and waited, mentally preparing himself for that lay ahead.
The blond didn't need to wait too much longer. After maybe 20 minutes of driving the car finally drew up outside a brand new office block, the tall concrete and glass structure still resplendent with its "office space for sale" sign outside. On the fourth floor of the building lights shone through one or two of the windows and as Hutch was shepherded out of the car, he looked up.
'Inside' one of the heavies grunted, waving a deadly black pistol in Hutch's direction. Hutch nodded and walked slowly into the building with the two men at his back. He walked quietly, conserving his energy for the time when he might have a chance to use it, but as the trio walked through the deserted foyer and towards the elevator cars, there seemed little hope. The elevator doors opened with a quiet hiss of air and the high speed car carried them up to the fifth floor. By now the two men accompanying Hutch were beginning to treat the whole thing casually. Their charge seemed docile in the extreme and Dr Isaac's words of caution seemed almost redundant. Man#1 leaned idly against the wall of the elevator car holding his gun loosely in his hand while Man#2 picked at a small piece of skin by his thumb. They had been employed as orderlies in the "hospital" only days ago. Their change of role was unwelcome to say the least.
Hutch watched them both from the corner of his eye, playing the defeated cop to the hilt. He stood with his eyes downcast, his shoulders rounded. He even managed to shake a little as the car came to a halt and the doors opened again onto a bare concrete floored corridor. Man#1 pushed Hutch's shoulder and the blond stumbled out into the hallway. He was getting the measure of the two heavies now. Neither seemed professional. A competent hit man would never take his eyes off of his target, no matter how docile he seemed. A true professional would remain vigilant at all times and yet these two seemed more bored than alert. Maybe it was a front, but it was all the blond had to work with. Hutch kept up his pretence as he was herded down the narrow hallway towards a room at the end. Very slowly, he slowed his pace again until he could almost feel Man#1's breath on the back of his neck. Biding his time, Hutch allowed Man#2 to walk in front of him to open the door to the room and as he stepped through it, suddenly the blond exploded into action.
With Man#1 still close behind him, Hutch put all his weight on his front leg, kicking out as hard as he could with his back leg in a passable roundhouse kick so that it caught his follower high up on his groin. The man had little chance to escape the kick as his carelessness had given him no room for manoeuvre. Hutch's foot sank into the soft vulnerable flesh and there was a satisfying grunt of pain as the man went to the ground clutching at the centre of his body. As Man#2 whirled around to see what had cause the noise, Hutch came catapulting through the door, slamming it in Man #1's face and catching Man#2 unawares.
The big man was muscle bound and strong but his reactions were slow. There was a look of surprise on his face as the blond grappled with the flake, reaching for the gun in his right hand. A shout of shock sounded in the background but Hutch was too intent on fighting with his captor to take much notice of the voice. For an age he seemed to be face to face with the other man, their noses almost touching as the silent battle of strength raged over possession of the gun. Sweat broke out on Hutch's face and his arm started to shake and yet he would not give up. A grin of premature triumph broke out on Man#2's face as he felt himself gaining the upper hand but it was short lived.
A grunt of pain came from the centre of the room and Hutch had a passing impression of a chair and a familiar figure tied to it. He recognised Starsky's curly head and the sight filled the blond with renewed vigour. Slowly he looked his assailant in the eyes as his hand clutched harder at the gun between them. There was a questioning look on Man#2's face now as he felt the weapon start to move against his body. Both hands shook on the gun but its muzzle was moving, repositioning. Hutch and the heavy locked eyes for one last instant before the sound of the gun firing deafened everyone in the room. There was a blast of heat down the front of Hutch's body and a burning sensation across his chest and then the man in front of him seemed to melt towards the floor, collapsing dead at Hutch's feet.
The blond whirled back towards the chair, the hard fought over gun now levelled at Dr Isaac who stood behind the chair, his hand around Starsky's throat. The brunet's eyes were open and focussed on Hutch in an unwavering gaze.
'Starsk?' Hutch asked breathlessly.
'Maybe you should call him Quade. You'd get more of a response' Isaac snapped.
'What've you done to him?' Hutch asked quietly.
'He's had some more treatment and now he feels like a new man. Put the gun down Hunt. Put it down and we can talk.'
'I don't think so' Hutch grunted.
'I could force you to change your mind.' Isaac reached into his pocket with his free hand and brought out a syringe. With his teeth he took off the plastic cap and held the needle to Starsky's throat above the pulsing jugular. 'Drop the gun' the doctor repeated.
Hutch ignored the doctor and looked at Starsky, his eyes seeking out his partners. There was no arguing the fact that the brunet looked dazed and yet there was something there, in those indigo blue eyes that had been absent for such a long time.
'Starsk?'
The brunet swallowed and the tip of the needle punctured the olive toned skin so that a ruby red pearl of blood blossomed and started to wend its way down Starsky's neck.
'Starsky, are you ok?' Hutch asked again.
'Terrific' Starsky mumbled although his voice was thin and rasping.
The gun in Hutch's hand was getting heavier. A man can only hold a firing stance for so long before his aim starts to waver. Whatever was going to happen had to happen fast. Isaac stood behind and slightly to one side of Starsky, the thin back of the chair rising in a line up between Starsky's shoulders to where his head was bound by the single black leather strap. There was no clear shot for Hutch to take and yet he needed to do something and fast.
'Starsk, I need to know. Do we still trust me and you?'
Slowly Starsky blinked and a small smile played over his lips. 'Me 'n' thee' he rasped as Hutch took his aim and fired at Isaac, through his partner's shoulder.
The doctor let out a scream of pain and the shot spun him away from Starsky's bound body. Immediately Hutch moved forwards, covering the doctor with his gun whilst checking on the brunet. Starsky remained upright in the chair, held immobile by the bindings but his eyes were closed and his breath was shallow and fast.
As Hutch came to kneel by the side of the injured brunet, Isaac let out a howl of rage and flung himself bodily at the blond. Hutch balanced on one knee, brought the gun up again and fired in one single fluid motion. This time Isaac's body spun away to fall against the chair. He sagged back onto the floor, let out one deep sigh and the final breath left his body as Hutch turned back to his partner. Gingerly he placed his fingers against the Carotid artery on Starsky's neck feeling for the pulse. It was there, strong and regular and as he watched, the brunet's eyes fluttered open.
'Starsk, speak to me. Are you ok?'
Starsky looked down into Hutch's eyes. ''M t'riffic. You shot me!' he muttered huskily before unconsciousness took him.
