As he headed towards wakefulness, Starsky became aware his head was pounding and his throat felt dry and scratchy. He tried to remember if he'd been drinking enough to cause a hangover of this proportion but, as he opened his eyes, he realised that he was lying on the floor in the back of a van and his hands were bound in front of him. Suddenly, it all came flooding back to him and he remembered peering into the cellar of the property he and Hutch had been investigating and then receiving a severe blow to the head.

Hutch. What about Hutch?

He looked around the van anxiously and saw his partner was lying unconscious behind him. He wriggled to try to get himself round so he could face the blond. Then he heard van doors slamming and the engine start up. He couldn't see the drivers as there was an opaque panel between the back and front of the van. The vehicle began to rock and shake as if it was being driven at some speed. Starsky got thrown to the side and his shoulder bounced painfully off the interior of the van. Once he'd managed to brace his legs to stop himself being thrown around like a rag doll, he wriggled round further and called his partner's name. While he was relieved not to be alone in this situation, he was very sorry that Hutch had been caught too. He nudged the blond's shoulder with his hands.

"Hutch, buddy. You gonna wake up for me?"

There was a groan and gradually blue eyes came into focus. Hutch tried to sit up.

"What happened?"

"Think you got slugged with the same sledge hammer as me," Starsky said. "How's your head feeling?"

"Terrible. Yours?"

"Pretty bad."

Hutch suddenly remembered seeing Starsky lying on the cellar floor. "Hey, did you get hit and shoved into that cellar or did you fall in? I saw you lying there before someone put my lights out."

"No, I didn't fall in," Starsky said indignantly, "That's more your style. I got hit from behind. If I ended up on the cellar floor, I either fell in 'cos I was unconscious or someone dragged me down there."

"You feeling okay? You got any bumps other than your head?"

"Nah, the rest of me feels okay…I think." Starsky looked down at his hands and said crossly, "Ya know, that really burns me up!"

"What does?"

"Being cuffed in my own cuffs! It's the ultimate whatchamacallit."

Hutch smiled at his outraged partner. "Yep, it certainly is! You realise we'll get ribbed about that tonight…"

The two of them looked at each other, both silently adding: "…if we make it back."

"At least they've made the mistake of cuffing us in front or we'd be really screwed," Starsky said, trying to look on the bright side.

Hutch wasn't feeling much like his glass was half full. "Yeah, great. I'm sure it'll be easy to get out of this mess."

"Hey, come on, partner, we've been in worse situations."

"Name one."

Starsky ignored his morose friend and started patting at his jacket, trying to feel through to the inner pocket with his hands. "Dammit, my key's definitely gone. Hey, Hutch, do you think they found your key to your cuffs? Where'd you hide it today?"

Hutch's doleful expression lifted a bit as he looked down at his feet. "I put it in my boot today."

Starsky was just about to suggest pulling off Hutch's boot to take a look when the van came to an abrupt halt causing both of them to crunch against the side of the vehicle.

"Hold that thought, buddy, hopefully we'll get a chance to find out if it's still there in a while."

The van doors were flung open and the bearded man they'd seen earlier was standing there holding a gun on them. His companion was a thick set, well-muscled man with a shaved head. He wasn't holding a weapon but that didn't make him any less intimidating. He reminded Starsky of a wrestler he'd watched on the tube last Saturday.

The bearded man spoke: "Get up. Follow me and don't try anything or I'll shoot you right now."

Hutch used his legs to wriggle to the edge of the van and then lowered his legs down to get himself into a standing position. Starsky followed him, doing the same thing. Once they were both standing, the bearded man indicated they should walk in front of him towards a doorway ahead. Starsky and Hutch took the chance to make an assessment of where they were. The building they were about to enter was one of a set of run-down old warehouses that looked as if they'd been unoccupied for some time.

Once inside, the 'wrestler' took up the lead and the bearded man followed on behind, keeping his gun trained on their backs and making sure that he was too far away for the two detectives to try anything. Plastic sheeting was stretched across the middle of the warehouse and, when the wrestler pushed his way through, they saw rows of tables covered with scales, plastic bags and what was probably heroin. Starsky counted eight men and women in their twenties who were wearing white masks and weighing out the white powder and putting it into smaller bags.

Starsky turned to Hutch and observed: "Drat! You were right. That means dinner's on me."

"Great, there's a lovely little Armenian restaurant I've discovered. You can buy me dinner there this weekend."

"Armenian, huh? What do they eat? Hope it's not rabbit food."

"Shut up both of you," the bearded man ordered. "You're in a heap of trouble. 'Cos of you, we got to move out tonight and set up in a new location. For some reason, the boss wants you alive…for now…but if you annoy me too much, I'll kill you anyway." He turned to the wrestler, saying, "Max, let's throw 'em in the basement."

Beardy, as Starsky had decided mentally to call him, waved his gun towards both of them to get them moving in the general direction of the back of the warehouse. The wrestler unlocked a padlocked door and turned on a light inside, revealing a rickety looking wooden staircase that led down to a small storage area in the basement of the building. The floor was piled with defunct equipment, broken chairs, old wooden doors and metal frames that looked like they'd come off some tables. There was so much clutter, broken planks and rubbish Hutch wondered why anyone had bothered to store it. Why hadn't they just chucked it away?

"You. Down there," Max said to Hutch and gave him a shove.

Hutch fell against the top of the staircase banister, which creaked ominously but fortunately didn't give way. He started walking down the staircase slowly and carefully. As he put his weight on each step, the whole frame felt as if it was gradually moving away from the wall. He struggled to keep upright with his hands bound and had to pause a few times to let the wobbly staircase settle back against the wall before he moved on.

"Now you," Max grunted at Starsky when Hutch was about two-thirds of the way down.

The brunet took a step forward gingerly. Without warning, Beardy suddenly lifted his leg and kicked Starsky hard in his back. Starsky went flying forward, down three steps and landing heavily against the banister. His extra weight made some of the rusted braces holding the whole frame against the wall snap and the staircase began to disintegrate. Hutch was thrown sideways, the banister gave way and he landed a few feet down with his breath momentarily knocked out of him.

Starsky tried to grab at anything to stop his fall but the steps gave way underneath him and he fell a good ten feet onto the splintered staircase and rusted metal supports. He gave a yell of agony as one of the slices of metal waiting below was jammed into his right thigh by the weight of his landing.

Max looked at the bearded man next to him and growled: "What you do that for? Thought the boss wanted them alive?"

Beardy shrugged. "He said alive. He didn't say what condition they had to be in."

"But how are we supposed to get 'em back up here if he wants to see them."

"I'll persuade him, it's better if we just get rid of them."

Max shook his head as the two of them retreated from the doorway and shut the door behind them. Hutch managed to drag a lungful of air into his chest and got himself moving. Tripping over broken wood and rubbish, he made his way to his injured partner. He did a quick assessment of his pale friend and swore when he saw the state of his leg.

"What happened to being very, very careful today?" Hutch asked.

Starsky looked at him and said, "Not my fault, buddy. Beardy pushed me, I swear!"

"Beardy huh?" Hutch laughed. "I think you're just trying to get out of buying me dinner."

"Yeah, that was my plan…How bad does it look, Hutch?"

"I've seen worse," Hutch said as he wriggled himself into a sitting position by Starsky's side. "I'll get my boot off then I can get us both un-cuffed and start doing something about your leg."

"Sure, good plan."

Hutch struggled for a few moments but eventually managed to get his boot off and the key fell out, slipping between shards of metal and wood onto the concrete floor hidden below. Fortunately, he could still just see it and managed to squeeze his fingers through a small gap to retrieve it. Quickly, he undid his and Starsky's cuffs and shoved both pairs and the key safely away in his jacket pocket. As soon as his hands were free, Starsky automatically reached for the piece of metal sticking out of his leg and looked as if he was about to pull it out.

"Starsky! Don't do that!" Hutch yelled at him.

Starsky jumped and let go of his hold as if the metal was red-hot. "What's the matter with ya? Ya nearly gave me a heart attack."

Hutch placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "Sorry, pal, but that's gotta stay in. You pull that out and it could do all sorts of damage. At the moment, it's not bleeding too badly but move it and…"

"Oh."

"Stay still and I'll see what I can do about stabilising your leg."

Hutch took his jacket off and his shirt. Then he dragged his under shirt over his head and started ripping it into strips. He looked at the material he'd got and decided it wasn't enough for his purposes so started ripping the arms off his plaid shirt. When he was satisfied with the amount of cloth, he placed a wodge of material either side of the offending metal shard and then used the longer strips he had to tie around Starsky's upper leg in order to hold the donut shape in place. Starsky watched, amazed once again at the way his partner had gone into doctor mode and knew exactly what to do. The two years' medical training Hutch had done had saved more than one life on the job in the last three years.

"You don't ever regret it, do you, Hutch?" he asked, his thoughts spilling out of his head.

"What buddy?" Hutch was still running strips around Starsky's leg and tying them with tight knots.

"The time you spent doing medical training."

"I don't know. Sometimes," Hutch admitted as he tied the last makeshift bandage. "Sometimes, I'm glad I did the two years."

Hutch slipped his torn shirt back over his head to keep out the chill of the basement. Now that Starsky's leg was stabilised, Hutch thought it was okay to move the brunet into a more comfortable position. Gently, he helped him sit up and pulled him to lean against him. He could feel Starsky's skin was a little clammy and a fine sheen of perspiration covered his face. He grabbed his jacket and laid it over his friend's chest, trying to warm him up. He was worried that Starsky might be going into shock.

Starsky puffed out a breath with the effort of moving and the pain it had caused him then continued his earlier line of thought: "Like now, Hutch, you're glad now, right? 'Cos you knew what to do with my leg."

"Yeah, buddy. Right now I'm really glad."

Hutch pulled Starsky closer, trying to share his body heat with his partner. Keeping as still as he could, he tried to survey the space they were in and whether there was any chance of making their way out. On the opposite wall just above head height, he could see two small windows that let in a little light. He wasn't sure that they were big enough for a man to crawl though. Now the staircase was gone there didn't seem to be any way to get up to the next floor. Hutch glanced at Starsky, listening to his breathing, checking his skin colour. He really needed to get his partner out of the damp, cold cellar and treated before he started to go into shock. He thought about getting up and looking around to see what he could do to improve their situation but he could feel that Starsky was at last warming up and knew it was important to give him a few more minutes to stabilise before he started asking his partner to move again.

Continuing to assess the situation they were in, Hutch could hear occasional footsteps on the ceiling above their heads. He reckoned it would take the grunts another couple of hours to package up the heroin. Then presumably, they would start packing up everything in the warehouse and at that point 'Beardy' would probably come back and shoot them. It wasn't a very happy outlook, knowing that time was running out in more ways than one.

Starsky sat quietly for a few minutes, conserving his energy. Then he said, "I've been thinking."

"What about?"

Starsky spoke softly: "Everything we done in the past, even the things we done wrong, they become part of us…Ya know what I mean?"

Hutch nodded: "Yeah, I think so."

"And you never know when those things are gonna make the difference when we need them to. Like your medical training…you shouldn't ever think it was a waste of time, Hutch."

Hutch nodded again. "I think you're right, buddy. When d'you get so smart?"

"Told ya often enough, I'm the brains in this outfit."

Hutch laughed. "Oh yeah, I forgot. So 'Brains', what's our plan to get out of here?"

Starsky was silent.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking. Give me a minute."

"Sure…Maybe I'll think too, if it won't cramp your style…Not sure how long we'll have before those turkeys come back," Hutch observed.

"Okay, how about we both think for a minute and then we'll share our ideas."

"Sounds good to me, buddy."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The officer on dispatch looked at her record sheet and realised that Zebra Three hadn't logged their meal break. Maybe they hadn't taken it yet but it was getting towards eight o'clock in the evening and Starsky's need for regular meal breaks was legendary. Officer Holly Spokes checked the afternoon log thoroughly and realised that no-one had had contact with Detectives Starsky or Hutchinson since three o'clock that afternoon, which was unusual even on a day with little or nothing to report. She reached for the mike and pressed the call button.

"Zebra Three, Zebra Three, this is dispatch, come in, please."

Holly waited thirty seconds then tried again. Still no answer. After six failed attempts over the next ten minutes, she called up to the homicide squad room and spoke to Detective Johnson who was in catching up on some overdue paperwork. He hadn't heard from the pair or seen them at all that day. Although he did mention that he thought they ought to have been in that evening as there was a pile of canvass reports waiting for them from the homicide they'd been assigned that afternoon.

Unable to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Holly called in a relief dispatcher and headed up to the homicide squad to talk to Johnson face to face. When she walked through the squad room door, he looked up at her enquiringly.

"Hi Bill. I think we ought to notify Captain Dobey that Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson have been out of touch for five hours."

"Is it really that long? They were at a crime scene this afternoon. Uniforms will have seen them there."

"That's true. How do we track their movements down from there?"

Johnson said, "I'll call down to the front desk and see if the Sarge knows who was on this afternoon."

Holly waited anxiously while Johnson made his call and ascertained that Lutz and Dinkman had been on duty when the two detectives had arrived at the scene. They were just about to head off duty but Johnson asked if they could call into homicide before they went.

When the two uniformed cops came in, Johnson said, "Thanks for coming. We're just trying to work out the last time someone saw Detectives Starsky and Hutch. They haven't spoken to dispatch for several hours."

Lutz exchanged looks with his partner. "Well, they were still at the crime scene when we were relieved around 1600 hours."

His partner nodded in agreement and added, "They said something about following the deceased's blood trail up the road...and didn't they say something about a house?"

Lutz remembered: "Yeah, there was this elderly neighbour of the victim. She'd mentioned something about a house nearby and Starsky seemed interested in checking it out."

Johnson and Holly looked worried at that and Lutz said, "The neighbour was Mrs Brown. She'll be mentioned in the initial canvass report but Starsky and Hutch had a longer conversation with her which won't be recorded anywhere yet. Want me to ask the Sarge to get an officer to go over to Mrs Brown's and ask her what she told them?"

Johnson nodded. "Yes, do that and I'll give Captain Dobey a call. Poor Cap only left an hour ago but he'll be home by now and he'll want to know what's going on."

The two uniformed cops headed out to speak to their superior officer while Johnson picked up the phone and placed the call to his Captain. Holly could hear his side of the conversation.

"Sir, sorry to disturb you but we may have a problem. No-one's heard from Starsky or Hutchinson for several hours…Officer Spokes brought it to my attention…Apparently they haven't called dispatch in five hours…Yes, sir, I know Starsky won't have missed a meal break unless he had to…Well, they were last seen at the Grant crime scene. I've got uniforms going to double-check with a neighbour on some information she gave them about a local house…Yes, sir…Yes, sir…Okay, see you in a few minutes."

Johnson put the phone down and turned to Holly. "He's on his way and he wants an APB out on them straight away."

"I'll tell dispatch," she said, "I'll be down there if you need me."

Johnson nodded as she left and strode over to Hutch's desk to grab the pile of reports that uniformed cops had left there earlier. He looked through each canvass report including Mrs Brown's but couldn't find anything helpful in them. He was just finishing scanning the last one when Dobey came through the door.

Johnson could plainly see the worry on the big man's face. He knew the Captain, for all his bluster and gruffness, always worried about all his officers but he particularly worried about these two detectives, who seemed to get into more than their fair share of trouble.

Dobey was out of breath from the dash he'd made from the parking garage to the squad room. He wiped a handkerchief over his sweaty face and snapped: "Get me caught up."

Johnson didn't waste any time. "Yes, sir."

TBC