Chapter 29
Hutch sat in the small, white, utilitarian interview room, his head resting in his hands and his elbows propping him up on the Formica topped table. He'd been here now for around about 12 hours, so far as he could make out and during that time, Markham and Chun had been in and out of the room three or four times. They'd left him cups of coffee which he'd drunk and a dried out cheese sandwich, the crusts curling away from the meagre filling, which he'd taken one bite of and then pushed away in disgust. He wasn't hungry anyway, just deathly tired, confused and, if he was completely honest with himself, hurting.
The blond recognised the two men's strategy. To begin with, they sat him down without a word, left the room without a backwards glance and locked the door behind them. Stage 1, Hutch thought to himself – give the interviewee time to reflect on his actions. Not that Hutch really wanted to reflect. His mind was too crowded with other dark thoughts and he needed peace and quiet to deal with his issues, not a meagre hour or so before the two suits came back to drill him. Hutch wanted to retreat away from the world somewhere, where he could finally steel himself to face the thoughts that were causing him so much pain – that he'd hurt Starsky, that he'd tried to kill the brunet and that he'd said such poisonous things to the man who'd been his partner. It wasn't that Hutch still wanted Starsky's friendship, things were too raw for that, but Hutch remembered every action, every blade-like word he'd uttered to Starsky and every look of hurt and compassion in those deep indigo bue eyes. No, it wasn't so much that he'd done those things – at the time he'd been convinced they were the right moves, but it was more the fact that he remembered every single one of his actions and the look of hurt on his former friends face.
If he'd been drugged into attacking Starsky, things might have been different. If Hutch had been coerced into doing them things might have left him feeling less of a bastard. If he'd been drugged and forced, then once they were done he'd have had no memory of them that would have been so much easier.
This however, was far more cruel. Hutch remembered absolutely everything. The words, the actions, the blows, the feel of the needle in his hand and the fact that he'd wanted to cause Starsky pain and anguish before he finally finished the brunet off. That's what hurt most – that the Cougars had broken him so completely in so short a time and that he could still feel that same rush of indignation when he saw the brunet.
Hutch scrubbed his hands through his hair as though he could somehow scratch out the memories and sighed. Time. He needed time to deal with this and to finally decide which were his own true feelings, and which were the ones that had been fed to him so convincingly.
Stage 2 of the interrogation came soon enough. The door opened suddenly making the blond cop jump slightly and Chun and his partner burst into the room. For a brief moment, Hutch tried to decide which of the men would play good cop and which bad. The answer came soon enough when Markham drew up a blue plastic chair, sat down by his side and offered him a cigarette while Chun leaned over the table, his face inches from Hutch's. The blond waved the cigarette away and glared into Chun's eyes, facing the Fed off.
'Who is the mole?' Chun spat into Hutch's face, the Chinese man's eyes angry.
'Dunno. I never got to find out.'
'Who are you protecting?'
The blond's eyebrows rose. 'Protecting? No-one.'
'Why did you let Milano go?' Chun snapped.
'Because thanks to your inaptitude, I didn't have no backup' Hutch yelled back at him.
'But you had him right there – him and his main men. You could have shot him, you could have arrested him. Why let him go if you aren't working with him?'
'I told you before. I was und..undercover f for you.' Hutch's nervous stammer returned and he bit his lip hard, trying to get it under control.
'And what a great way to work for him undetected! Do you think I came off the last banana boat?'
'Don't tempt me to answer that' the blond snickered.
'Then tell me who the mole is. Who are you protecting? You can't expect us to believe you worked with them for two months and never found out a name!'
Hutch shook his head. His thoughts were unclear, his brain sluggish with exhaustion, but he still couldn't make sense of what Chun was saying. It was so much garbage. 'Fuck you!' he grunted.
'How'd you get the weapons out?'
'How'd you get to be so goddamned stupid?' Hutch shot back.
'I'll ask again. What was your cut? How did the weapons end up back out on the street? How much did you make on the scam?'
The blond sighed deeply. 'Listen up coz I'm only gonna say this once. You employed me to go undercover, which I did. I sacrificed two months of my life to do your job for ya. I lived with the Cougars, I got their colours sliced into my arm, I ate with 'em and I slept with 'em. I put my life on hold and I was pretty convincing, but not convincing enough. Salvador Milano is tight. He says nothin' and he shares nothin' with his men. He meets with someone, a man, an IA cop. I don't know his name, I don't know how they get the fuckin' guns out and I don't enjoy being used as a pawn in your mindless games.'
Chun grabbed a hold of Hutch's tee shirt collar and pulled the blond towards him. For a moment it looked as if the Fed was going to strike him, but at the last moment, Markham stepped in, separated the two men and pulled his partner away.
'You should keep your pet hound on a leash' Hutch snapped as the two Feds headed for the door. It closed behind them and once again, Hutch was alone with the silence and his thoughts.
Stage 3 came after maybe 19 hours of almost constant interrogation. Markham came back into the interview room alone, cigarette in mouth and eyes narrowed against the smoke pluming from the red tip. He walked purposefully to the table, hooked a chair with the toe of his boot and sat down astride the chair so that his elbows rested on its back. For a moment, Hutch was reminded of Starsky, who used to employ much the same method. The blond shook his head mentally. Not now. No memories now. Too soon, too painful. Concentrate. One thing at a time. Concentrate on…..what? God. Tired…..bloody tired. Think Hutchinson. Try to concentrate
'You're going down for a long time buddy. Why don't you make it easier on yourself? Maybe I could have a word with the Judge. You know how it goes – helping us with our enquiries……informing. I could get the sentence cut by maybe half. I'm telling you this as a friend. I hate to see cops on the wrong side of the law, and you know I like you Ken. Why not just tell me now and we can get this all sorted out huh?'
Hutch dragged his mind back to what Markham was saying and knew things were coming to a close. This was a last ditch attempt to get him to incriminate himself and he and Starsky had used the technique themselves. He stared at Markham and grinned. 'You got nothing on me punk. Now back off and let me get out of here. I told you all I know.'
Markham got up without a word and walked out of the room, leaving Hutch alone and in silence again. The days and weeks of non stop questioning though, finally took their toll on the blond. First there had been the brainwashing with Sal and the Cougars. Hours and hours of beatings, drugs and the same questions over and over again. Then there has been the release, this time to go with Starsky and finally to the Army base. There, he'd endured much the same treatment as he had done at the hands of the gang, but with no violence, lights or noise and some food thrown in for good measure. But it was still questioning – the same things over and over until the words themselves lost all meaning, and still Bob Tyler had continued, battering away at his consciousness. Now this. The Feds. Same questions, same manner. Always the same. So many questions, so much time spent staring back at the faces until they blurred into each other, and all the time, Hutch's mind was retreating into itself.
The blond giggled briefly. It was a manic sound and brought him up short. My God he was losing it big time. Pull yourself together Hutchinson. Hold it together huh?'
A moment later, Markham and Chun reappeared at the door of the interview room. In his hand Markham had a small paper sack containing Hutch's few possessions that had been taken from him after his "arrest".
'You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch' Chun snapped. 'Whatever you know, you hide it well, I gotta give you credit for that.'
Hutch glared at him but refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he stood slowly, staggered a little, righted himself and walked over to the two Feds.
'I take it you didn't find nothin' and I'm free to go.'
'For the minute. Don't think this saves you from a long spell in Folsom, it doesn't. We just haven't caught you yet.'
The blond snatched the bag from Markham, brushed past the two men and made his bid for freedom.
Walking like a man in a dream, Hutch made his way down to the parking lot on the off chance that the Corvette was parked there. It was, and praise be, the keys were still inside. The blond got into the car and switched on the engine automatically. Putting the selector into drive, he pulled out of the parking space, drove out of the garage and into the afternoon sunshine.
Hutch didn't notice the sun. He didn't really comprehend where he was driving to. He pressed the gas and the brake automatically. He steered around corners safely, stopped at red lights and even allowed women with prams to cross in front of him, but he wasn't truly there. He saw the road, he acknowledged the traffic and the pedestrians, but Hutch's mind had closed down. It needed rest and it needed to reset itself and all Hutch knew for sure was that he needed somewhere safe, quiet and friendly in which to hide.
For over an hour, the blond drove aimlessly around the city. His mind held three places of safety – Ridgeway, Venice Place and the Pits. There were too many memories at both Ridgeway and Venice Place, too many things to remind him of Starsky, their partnership and how things used to be. Hutch didn't really want anyone around him either, but the only place he could think of going to was Huggy Bear's and without really making a conscious decision, he found himself driving over to the far side of town, his hands turning the wheel without his brain telling them what to do.
Hutch was on autopilot. He felt as though he had let everyone down. He couldn't get the job done for the Feds, he had almost killed Starsky, he felt responsible in some way for Dobey being in the hospital and he was alone. He wanted people around him for the comfort of being amongst friends, but he didn't want to talk or have to explain himself to anyone. There had been too many questions thrown at him – too many accusations directed his way and he could neither think straight, or indeed process any more of what was going on around him.
By the time Hutch got to the Pits bar and parked up out back, it was six thirty and the sun was beginning to go down. The bar was deserted at this time of the day. Those who called in for a drink after work had gone home to their partners and wives and those who were wanted a night out had yet to arrive. As Hutch pushed the back door to the bar open, Huggy looked up from counting the float into the till and smiled.
'Hey Blondie! What gives my man?'
In answer, Hutch staggered to the bar, leaned heavily against the hard wooden top and breathed 'I need help' into the air in front of him.
The black barkeep took a better look at his blond friend. Hutch was thinner for sure than he had been. His clothes were dirty and unkempt and rumpled as though he'd slept in them although the state of his eyes left Huggy wondering exactly when Hutch had slept last.
Those usually crystal clear blue eyes now held a haunted, hunted look. Red rimmed with exhaustion, they stared wildly from a face that still held fading bruises and a mostly healed cut above his eye, but it was the shake in Hutch's hand that really shook Huggy. Hutch's hands, and in fact the whole of his body was shaking as though it were freezing cold and yet there was a sheen of perspiration on the blond's brow.
'Sure thing Hutch. Are ya sick?'
The blond stared blankly back. Now that he'd finally made it to safety and to the care of someone he knew and who he could trust, the last vestiges of the man known as Ken Hutchinson finally melted away to a place where n-one could fid them. In their stead was a walking, breathing blond body which was empty of a soul. The eys now looking at Huggy were as devoid of life as the moon. It was s though someone had thrown a toggle and switched Hutch off and all that remained was some residual energy allowing him to stand, walk and breathe.
Without questioning further, Huggy came around the bar and took a gentle hold of the blond's arm.
'C'mon Pal, lets get you upstairs and comfortable huh?' he said as he tugged Hutch towards the stairs up to the room on the first floor. Hutch allowed himself to be led away from the bar. He had no thoughts, no reactions left. Instead, he obediently followed Huggy into the room and stood just inside the doorway. He waited patiently as Huggy took off his shirt, making no comment at the scars decorating his back and chest. After unbuckling Hutch's belt and taking off pants, shoes and socks, Huggy manoeuvred the blond onto the bed, settled him down, covered him up and sat quietly back as the blond's eyes closed and his breathed evened out until he was asleep.
Quietly, Huggy walked to the door, locked it behind him and headed to the bar. 'Hey honey' he shouted to the barmaid who'd just put her purse behind the bar. 'I'm gonna be busy tonight. Gloria will be in at 8. Can you hold the fort till then?' The black man acknowledged the nod with a wave of his hand, went into the back and picked up the phone. He dialled for the operator and asked for the number of the 8th Battalion Army base.
