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Chapter 3

Bay City, Superior Courthouse

"That was amazing… truly amazing. I just can't get over how you did that… Simply amazing!" Federal agent Carl Toots slapped Bay City Detective David Starsky on the back. He looked at his watch. "You made record time and we got here in one piece" The young fed just couldn't get over their amazing escape from the hired assassins and the car chase that culminated with delivering Drake Mallard safely to the courthouse.

Starsky shrugged and smiled at the younger man. "S'all in the wrist, Cheeks, s'all in the wrist" He blew a breath onto his fingernails and stated in a haughty tone as he rubbed his curled fingers against his shirt to polish his fingernails on it "Piece of cake really… nothing to it!" he grinned at the agent.

The newly nicknamed Carl "Cheeks" Toots, grinned back "If I hadn't been along for the ride, I would have never believed it" The fed shook his head again. "Not in a million years. But you did it! That was an astonishing piece of driving, Mario Andretti would be proud" he gushed "Wait'll I tell the guys at the Bureau, they will just flip!" Agent Toots exited to spread the news of his adventure and to write his report.

Starsky peered out the window of one of the courthouse conference rooms and looked at the long line of police vehicles. Some Bay City and some were California Highway Patrol. He blew out a breath, curving his lower lip so the air he expelled ruffled his curly bangs. It was going to be one hell of a report to type up. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do as well. So much for keeping a low profile, he shrugged again; he hadn't had a whole lot of choices when it came down to it. Dobey would be furious.

Starsky took a deep breath. It had been one hell of an exciting drive, but he was not looking forward to seeing Dobey again. The man was going to be livid. But, at least the four bad guys had been apprehended.

Three of them were in the hospital for various injuries, two of them were in one of the pursuing cars when Starsky had executed a 'fishtail' maneuver on them when the driver had pulled in front of him to cut him off and stop him so that they could get to Drake, the bad guys' car had flipped over… He couldn't wait to tell Hutch all about it.

"Starsky?" Dobey's voice was quiet as he stood in the doorway of the conference room.

Starsky cringed a little, then turned and prepared himself for the dressing down he was about to receive from Dobey for his part in the car chase. "Look Cap'n, I can explain… It all started when we were bringing the witness in, when this green Dodge starts tailin' us… I see this truck convoy up ahead-" He began to pace the length of the room.

"Starsky-" Dobey stepped into the room and carefully closed the door behind him.

The curly haired detective rounded the end of the conference table "So I thread my way through the convoy, but the car they gave me to drive is a dog, a real heap of crap, Cap'n, it just didn't have the power of the Torino-" He paced back towards Dobey who had now entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"Starsky" Dobey watched his detective and wondered how Starsky was going to take bad news. He heaved a sigh and moved further into the room.

Starsky again walked down the length of the room "So they catch up to us again and they bring some friends along to join the party… then they started shooting at us-" Starsky began to pace faster as the excitement of the chase began to once again course through his veins. "So Agent Toots hollers 'Duck!' to Drake, who flops down in the backseat-"

"STARSKY" Dobey hollered, trying to gain his detective's full attention.

The curly headed detective shot a quick glance at his captain "Ya know, I wish they woulda told me that the windows in the car I was driving were bullet proof, that coulda saved me a lotta trouble, anyway-" he rapidly paced away again.

"David"

The softly spoken use of his given name brought Starsky to an immediate halt and he turned towards his boss "Cap?" his brows knitted in question.

"That report can wait son" Dobey made his way across the conference room and sat down in one of the chairs. "Have a seat" he gestured at the chair next to him.

Starsky felt apprehension slide its cold fingers down his spine. "What is it? Drake only fainted, right?" He could just imagine having the guy keel over dead after the excitement from the car chase and gun fight. He would never hear the end of it from anyone, not the Feds, not Dobey… Hutch however would be tickled about it, the blond's sense of humor could run on the dark side sometimes.

"Drake is fine or soon will be… Starsky, it's about Hutch" The big man cleared his throat and then mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

"What about him?" Starsky remained standing and leaned forward, placing his hands on the back of the chair, using the back of it to steady himself. His fingers dug into the leather chair covering.

Dobey again mopped his brow "The plane went off the radar hours ago. There was no mayday, the plane just… disappeared" The last few words were whispered.

"Disappeared? What do you mean by that?" Starsky's fingers whitened and quivered under the force of the grip he was unconsciously exerting on them. The leather squeaked under them.

"Just that. It disappeared… no sign of it anywhere" Dobey scratched the back of his head as he wondered how he was going to tell Starsky the next part.

"There's something you're not telling me Captain… what is it?" Starsky raised his eyes to meet Dobey's. He locked on them with laser intensity.

"The body of the pilot was found"

"Wait… so the plane DID crash… But you said that there was no sign of it-" Starsky straitened up, the tension of the moment was forcing every muscle in his body to knot up.

"No, the pilot's body was found in a dumpster at the airport" Dobey cast his eyes down to the table top and studied the wood grain for a long moment before reconnecting with his detective's.

Deep blue eyes searched dark brown ones for the answer "So someone else was flying the plane… a hit man…" Ice cold fear clenched at his stomach. "They could be anywhere" the last part was whispered.

"Yes, however an APB has been put out for the plane. But…" Dobey shrugged helplessly, "until someone calls it in… we don't really have anything to go on"

"What about the FBI agent that was with Hutch and the Mallard decoy? Now that I know I was transporting the Real Mallard… Wouldn't all three of them have been able to…? I don't know; team up and stop the pilot somehow?" Starsky released the back of the chair and began to pace once more.

"We just don't know what happened Starsky… there have been no reports, not on any crashes and no unplanned landings have been reported, not yet anyway. We're doing all we can right now" Dobey let out another heavy sigh as he leaned back in the chair, his eyes trained on the pacing man.

"It ain't enough!" Starsky headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dobey got to his feet to intercept his detective.

"Back to where this all started" Starsky dodged around the big man anddashed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Starsky headed out of the courthouse and got back in the car he had driven here. The Torino was at his apartment and he didn't want to go back there. His partner was missing. He couldn't wait for information. He would go back to the airport and begin his search there. If he had to charter a small plane and follow the route that Hutch's pilot had taken, so be it. It was his fault that Hutch was even on that flight to begin with. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his partner.

Nothing.

XXXX

Somewhere in the wilderness

Hutch again awoke to the sound of muffled voices. His head throbbed mercilessly and his stomach twisted with nausea. He should be feeling better then he was. But he wasn't. He felt a groan work its way up his throat. He clenched his teeth and prevented it from escaping. Something wasn't right. He couldn't put a finger on it, but his intuition was telling him to play possum. He listened to it and to the muffled voices.

"So, tell me why we haven't killed him yet?" it was the agent's voice.

"Two reasons, first, I wasn't paid to kill him and second, do you want to carry all of this stuff yourself? I know I sure as hell don't"

The pilot's voice was familiar. But Hutch couldn't quite place it. He kept his breathing slow and regular to hide the fact he was conscious. He listened intently to the conversation as it continued.

"How're we going to get him to carry the stuff?" It was the agent again.

"We ask. I'll hang back, lead the way… I'll do anything that I can do to hide from him who I am, at least for now"

"And if he finds out who you are, we kill him?"

"Not right away… I told you, I wasn't paid to kill him. I was paid to kill Drake. He's dead-"

"IF that was Drake" The agent broke in.

"You told me it was… you said that this Drake was most likely the real one. The other two had to be the decoys, that's what you told me. You said that it didn't make any sense for them to send the real one by car or train-" The pilot was cut off by the agent.

"I was counting on it. I don't know for sure. Why would they send him by car? Or train? Too many other people around, too many chances for him to be killed, this one HAD to be the right one. Besides, Manahan had other squads out to make sure of killing all of the decoys. Drake is dead; or soon will be" The agent sounded positive.

"Yes, but the one who kills the real Drake gets that big bonus. I need that money"

"What? And you think I don't? I have to leave the U.S. after we get out of these woods… which is your fault this happened by the way" The agent snapped "This is going to slow things down, a lot. We should have been at that landing strip an hour ago, now we have to hike out of here"

"It's not my fault that we got hit with a downdraft. I was trying to make it look like we were really going down; I had to make it look good." The pilot sounded a little defensive.

"Well, it worked! It looks like a real plane crash now. The smashed landing gear, damaged wing, yep… real convincing! You were just going to fake a problem, land, kill Drake and the cop… and fly back out of here. The bodies would never be found and no one would be the wiser. But, it didn't work out that way… did it?" The agent hissed "And to top this mess off, you let the cop live instead of killing him! I still don't understand why" The agent hissed.

"It couldn't be helped; the downdraft pushed us into the treetops, damaging the wing and the landing gear. We are stuck with hiking out of here. We'll use him as a pack mule."

'So, it was all a ruse, shit!' Hutch could hear the pilot walk closer to him. He maintained his even breaths. He had to fool them into believing he was still out. He had to hear the rest of their plans for him. He sensed the pilot walk right up to his side and stand there, the man was probably looking down at him, and he could almost feel the man's eyes scanning him.

'Keep your breaths even, Ken… just keep it even' Hutch coached himself; he knew his life depended on it. He could barely contain his sigh of relief when he heard the pilot walk away. He knew that voice. He knew that man… his foggy brain wasn't going to give him the answer just yet though, dammit!

"We are in a very remote area. It's gonna take us a few days to hike out of here and that's if all goes well. Do we even have any supplies?" The agent spoke again.

"I'm not stupid. I planned for the possibly of a real accident happening, I figured it into the equation. I knew it could happen, given the mountain winds and the small landing area. I'm always prepared" The pilot sounded smug.

The agent snorted "You're a regular boy scout, aren't you? Well, that's something anyway"

Hutch heard one of the men walk away and he was aware that he would have to pretend to wake up soon. He would play their game for a while and try to escape them at some point in time. He was very glad he knew how to survive in the forest. He was doubly glad it was summer. He was not dressed for an extended stay in the woods though.

"Hey, detective… wakey, wakey…" It was the agent's voice.

Hutch heard the man approach and heard the crackle of the grass as the man knelt down next to him. He felt the agent shake his arm. He waited until the man gave him a harder shake.

Hutch let out a grunt of pain. The grunt wasn't faked, it had been wanting out of him for several minutes now. "Owwwshhitt…" He slowly sat up, giving himself plenty of time to acclimate himself to his new upright position. He buried his face in his hands, palms pushing at his eyeballs in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Are you back among the living detective?" The agent said, not unkindly.

If the blond had not heard the conversation that had just taken place, he would have thought that the concern of the agent was real. But he knew better now. "I feel like something the cat drug in" he gave the man a weak smile.

"Huh, you look it too. You need a hand up?" the agent put a steadying hand on the blond's arm.

"No, I think I can make it on my own this time" Hutch eased to his feet, using a tree as support. His stomach clenched, but that was all. He took a few deep breaths to clear his head and cautiously opened his eyes. His eyeballs decided to stay in their sockets, though his head still felt like someone was using it as a drum.

When the pain eased off a little, Hutch carefully opened his eyes and looked about the area. He looked at the small plane that was about twenty feet away from him. It wouldn't be flying anytime soon. So, they hadn't been lying about that anyway. "Wow! The guy who landed that plane is one hell of a pilot"

The agent grunted "Yeah, sure is… then again any landing you can walk away from is a good one"

"Yeah, except one of us didn't walk away… I remember you saying something about Mallard breaking his neck… what a shame. God, I hope they find us soon… my head is killing me" Hutch pretended to be in a little more pain than he really was. He wanted to lull them into a false sense of security. If they thought he was weaker then he really was, it should make it a little easer to get away from these two. The operative word being 'should', he wasn't gonna count on that one hundred percent though.

"Umm, about the 'finding us' part… the pilot says that there is something wrong with the radio… he doesn't think that the mayday message got out. We're going to have to hike out of here; do you think you can make it?"

The agent sounded so concerned about him, it made Hutch want to wretch. "Yeah, if we take it kinda slow… I should be able to keep up with you" the longer it took for them to walk out of the woods, the more time he had to try to escape and it gave the searchers more time to find the plane. They would be looking for it.

The thing that troubled him was that he had fallen asleep during the flight. He had no clue where they were. They could have flown miles off of course, they probably had, it made sense. That realization sunk deep into his belly and stayed there like a burrito from one of Starsky's favorite (crummy) Mexican food stands. He was going to have to get away from these two all by himself.

Hutch carefully looked around "Hey, where's our pilot? I'd like to shake his hand, man, that was some flying to get us on the ground in one piece"

"He's around here somewhere… hey; do you think you can carry this?" The agent lifted up a large backpack.

Hutch eyeballed the over-stuffed pack. He didn't want to decline to carry it. They planned to keep him alive long enough to get them out of the woods. If he declined, they might just decide to kill him now. "Let me check it out" he took the pack from the agent and nearly dropped it "Whoa! That's heavy! Is everyone going to carry this much?"

The agent chuckled "Yeah, something like that. Stay right here, okay? I've gotta see where our pilot got off to… don't want a bear or something to get him"

"I hear ya pal, it's bad enough that Mallard died, can't have that happening to anyone else" Hutch sat back down as he watched agent Hank Ruth walk off. He had to know who the pilot was… he knew that voice. He wracked his brain for the answer.

He methodically forced his slightly scrambled brains to concentrate on the question. Who did he know that was a skilled pilot? Who only killed people that he was paid to kill? Who might be called 'Jack'?

"Oh shit" the answer dropped on him like a boulder from the blue, there was only one man who fit those entire criteria...

John Colby

TBC

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