We had entered the grounds of the old wood processing company with the hopes of meeting with Huggy's "friend", an acquaintance that had told Hug that he could provide proof of who was responsible for a series of drug-related killings that had taken place in the last month. He would not give the information to Huggy; apparently even the informant felt the information too hot and way too dangerous to know. He wanted to keep Huggy clear of any possible retribution.
The informant, who we currently knew only as Tommy, agreed to meet us, but only here at this virtually abandoned plant. And only us. He said if he saw any signs of other cops, he would lose himself in the maze of buildings and we would never find him. From what we had seen so far, I believed that. So we went in with no backup.
The facility used to be a large operation for the processing of wood products like moldings, windowsills and the like. It had recently closed its doors, having been unable to withstand the economic pressures placed on it by a much larger rival up north, and by cheaper wood being brought in from off shore.
It was a massive complex of buildings, the structures all fairly far apart. We entered the property slowly in the Torino, driving through until we saw the big number four on the side of a building. This is the building that Tommy had agreed to meet us in.
"This is it. No sign of anything around here. At least he agreed to meet us in daylight. Can ya imagine comin' here in the dark?" Starsky was right. It was eerie, kind of like an abandoned old west town.
We walked up to the entrance. There was a wide opening to the building, enough space to allow three or four truckloads of logs to fit easily. As we walked in, we found the building to be cavernous, and loaded with rows and rows of unprocessed logs. There were several aisles of what appeared to be logs in various stages of processing. It was a place to easily hide out if you truly did not want to be seen.
We walked around a bit more, waiting for Tommy to make his appearance. It was becoming increasingly clear that Tommy was not going to show. We heard what sounded like a large piece of metal slam heavily into the concrete floor of the warehouse. Starsky and I pulled out our weapons.
"Somethin' ain't right, Hutch."
"Yeah." We eased our way slowly in the direction of the noise. Whatever was going on, it was feeling more and more like a set-up.
"I think we ought to get outta here. If this guy was serious about meetin' us, he'd have been here by now."
"If he could." I stopped walking and Starsky knocked into me slightly.
"What?" Starsky asked, and then saw what made me stop. A body was laying down one of the aisles. A body that suspiciously matched the description Huggy had given us of Tommy. Starsky leaned down next to it and felt for a pulse.
"Dead. Shit."
"Well, we found what we came for. I'll go call it in."
"We'll go call it in. It feels, I dunno know, weird in here. I'm not stayin' here alone with the dead guy." I couldn't blame him for that. It was feeling a little creepy to me, too.
"All right, we'll go call it in." That satisfied my partner, and we headed back to the car to call for some backup and the coroner and a crime lab team. I didn't think they would find anything out here of interest. It actually looked like Tommy had been dead for a while, certainly for longer than we had been there.
As we turned the corner back into the main aisle, Starsky yelled, "Move!" We both learned a lot from that day when Gunther's men tried to kill my partner, and whenever we said anything with that urgency, we reacted. We both started to run full out as we heard the deafening sound of logs hurtling from high up on the racks and crashing to the hard floor.
I turned back when I thought I was out of danger. I was concerned that Starsky made it out okay and I couldn't wait any longer to look for him. I was still running as I was turning, but I quickly slowed as I watched a log heading straight for Starsky's back. He was not that much farther behind me, just far enough back to get clipped in the leg by the large piece of wood. It tripped him up, and he headed at full force, head first, toward one of the racks on the opposite side of the aisle. He reached back toward his leg, which had gotten hit hard, and that was the only thing that saved him from slamming his head into the hard metal structure.
He still slammed pretty hard into the rack when he fell, and there was a sickening crunching sound at impact. The logs continued falling, but we were out of any imminent danger from the persistent shower of wood. I went to check on my partner.
"Ah. Hutch." Starsky was in pain, not moving. He was actually lying frighteningly still and the panic I was feeling was rising in my throat as I contemplated the potential severity of a back injury. He might have hurt his vertebrae, although I didn't think that's where he was hit.
"Starsk, don't move. You could have a back, or neck injury. You don't want to move around and cause a more serious injury. Just take it easy."
"I, I don't think so. I think it's my shoulder, and my leg is killin' me." He started to move to look at his leg.
"Starsk, damn it, lay back. I don't want you moving yet. Let me check you over first, and then I'm going to go to the car and call for an ambulance and backup. Just lay still." I know it's hard for my partner to do that, even when injured. He is constantly in motion. He is definitely a man of action. About the only times you see him still are when he's asleep, unconscious, or in restraints.
"Okay. I'll try." He was breathing heavy through the pain. "Ah, Hutch, my leg." Although his arm and possible neck or back injuries were probably more serious, the leg was clearly causing my partner the most pain. I figured I would take a quick look at the leg and could at least put Starsky's mind at ease that although it might hurt, it would be okay.
I ripped his jeans open further. The impact of the log had caused a tear in the denim, so I ripped the bloody material farther apart. There was a deep gash in his calf, and it was oozing blood pretty steadily. But it did not appear too bad, no broken bones, but the deep, wide gash had probably cut through some muscle and tendons and that was what was causing most of the pain.
"Starsky, stay put for a minute. I'm going to check around for some supplies to help stop the bleeding in your leg. Don't move."
"I ain't goin' nowhere." He seemed a little groggy. Probably shock. I don't think it was from any head injury, although I hadn't had a chance to check.
I walked around quickly, looking for some cloths to use. I found a rest room, and although the paper towels had probably been sitting in their holder for some time, it was my only option.
I returned to my partner, who was looking increasingly tired. I quickly took the section of jeans that had been torn and ripped the piece completely from the rest of the pant leg. I ripped that a couple of times, then tied them together to tighten the towels over the wound. Getting the bleeding to stop was important, but it wasn't going to make the wound feel any better. Actually, putting the makeshift bandage over the wound was probably going to make it feel worse.
"Starsk, I'm gonna wrap your leg. You're gonna feel some added pain as I tighten it. You ready?"
"Yeah. Go ahead." His voice shook with the pain he was feeling. I placed the towels on the wound, then started to tighten the denim strip around it. Starsky gritted his teeth, grimacing with pain as I tightened further.
I put my hand on his uninjured left shoulder. "How ya doin'?" I asked quietly.
"M'okay." He grunted in reply.
"Look, I'm gonna go call this in. Stay here and don't move, okay? You shouldn't be moved until we're sure about whether you have a neck or back injury. Do you understand?" He seemed to be drifting a little. I wasn't sure if he heard anything I just said. "Starsky. Are you with me?"
"Yeah, don't move. Got it." Good boy.
I quickly made my way to the car and called in and made my requests, which I'm sure sounded more like demands. I wanted to get this over with so I could get back to my partner. I headed back toward where I'd left Starsky and I stopped cold at what I heard. Someone was speaking with Starsky. I pulled my weapon and walked into view.
"Ah, Sergeant Hutchinson. I'm glad you could join us." I looked at Starsky to make sure he was okay. "Put your gun on the floor and kick it my way." I did as I was told.
"Hutch, you remember Delano, don't ya?" I looked from my partner to Delano. "Yeah, I remember him." Delano had helped Johnny Bagley trick us into a trap, and it was Delano's bullet that hit Starsky during our initial escape attempt.
I saw that Delano had Starsky's gun stashed in the waistband of his pants. He had probably snuck up on Starsky while he was resting his eyes. I looked back to my partner.
"How're you doing?" He looked pretty calm, considering our current predicament.
"Okay." He seemed a little tired, but considering his injuries, not any worse than when I had left him. It was amazing how things could change in just a few minutes.
"All right, let's get a move on. Hutchinson, I know ya just called for reinforcements. Let's get goin', now!" Delano demanded urgently, feverishly chewing his gum while speaking.
"Hold on a second. What do you want? And I'm not moving my partner. You can see he's hurt." I hoped to get some idea of what we were dealing with here.
"Look, Hutchinson, I got the gun and I say what goes on." He blew a bubble as he continued. "Now, you can accept a bullet now, which I'd gladly give ya, or you can get your pal there on his feet and get movin'." Delano aimed his gun firmly at my head.
I stayed put, then heard Starsky's quiet entreaty, "Hutch, come on. I can walk, with your help."
"Yeah, Hutch, listen to your partner." Delano was starting to piss me off.
Starsky started to move, groaning at the pain every movement caused, and all of the motion was for naught, since he couldn't get any purchase with his bad arm and leg. He wasn't going to be able to get up on his own.
"Starsky, here, I'll get ya." I leaned down, being sure to keep my knees bent, in preparation for lifting my partner. Starsky was smaller than me, but he was solid and definitely not a lightweight. I needed to make sure that I didn't pull anything while lifting him. He was going to need me to get him through this.
I placed my arms around his waist and had Starsky put his left arm around my neck. "Starsk, put your right leg firmly on the floor while I lift, it'll help steady us both." He had been hit in the left leg, so he was going to have a hard go of it if we had to do any walking.
I lifted him and Starsky was helping more than he should, pushing his body up with his good leg. In his attempt to help, the muscles in his upper body strained and sharp pains from his right shoulder made him catch his breath. He was up, feeling decidedly worse for the effort. His hand clenched tightly around my neck, and he was breathing heavily from the exertion, boring his head into my chest as he tried to steady himself.
I spoke into the curls, "Just take it easy. We'll rest just a second."
"No we won't. Move. Now!" The bastard had the upper hand for now, but I would get my chance at this scum.
I headed back in the direction from which we had entered, but Delano, still blowing those damned bubbles, said, "No, this way gentlemen." He pointed the gun down the aisle toward the back of the building. I positioned my arm around Starsky's waist and he kept his arm across my back, grabbing a hold of my jacket. It was too difficult for him to keep his arm around my neck. I'm a couple of inches taller than my partner and the strain of reaching up that high was too much for his already strained body.
We made very slow progress down the aisle, with Delano constantly hounding us to move faster. It was a very long building, and we had made a number of turns. Starsky was tiring. He was only able to keep the slightest weight on his leg, and I think he was making an extra effort to keep the leg from moving too much. It was awkward trying to carry him, as my own leg threatened to knock into his occasionally when he was unable to keep total control of it. And his right arm, although tucked in his jacket, was pulling him down, forcing him to lose his grip on my jacket frequently.
We came to a door. Delano had moved ahead of us, walking backwards to the door. He opened it and said, "We got another warehouse we're gonna walk through and then we're takin' off." He propped the door open with a piece of wood and directed us through it. He blew a bubble just as I walked by. I'm pretty sure I flinched when he popped the bubble. I really hated this guy.
We made it through the next warehouse and found ourselves in front of a van. "Hutchinson, you're drivin', but first I want ya to put your partner in the back and cuff him."
"Forget it, Delano. I'm not cuffing my partner. He's no danger to you right now. Can't you see that?" The thought of putting handcuffs on Starsky at this point made me sick to my stomach. Starsky had suffered at the hands of this piece of shit once before. There was no way I was going to follow his direction now.
"Look, I am not kidding here, cop. I've already gone too far with this plan, and there's no goin' back for me. I got nothin' to lose by shootin' ya both dead right now. What's it gonna be?"
"I'm not cuffing my partner. If you want us both in your sights, then I'll put Starsky in the front seat and you can keep your gun on one of us while I drive. And that's the only option you got. Take it or leave it!" I know it was risky; this guy was already breaking parole and kidnapping two law enforcement officers. There was little doubt that he killed Tommy. The charges to be levied against him were severe, and he most certainly, at this point, did not have anything to lose.
Starsky was beginning to lose his grip on my jacket. I grabbed him tighter; I didn't want him to fall and knock his injured arm and leg and hurt any more than he already did.
He looked up at me at that moment and his eyes were saying, "Now or never." I quickly looked around at my surroundings to see our options. Starsky had rallied enough to give me a sign, and I was damned well going to find a way for us to get out of this. Starsky tapped lightly three times on my back. Maybe I wouldn't have to think of something – I think Starsky had a plan.
Delano said, "Fine, put him in the front seat. Slow. If I see anything I don't like, I am ready to shoot both of you."
We started for the passenger door when Starsky tapped my back. One, I thought to myself. We slowly made our way closer to the van. I didn't know what Starsky had in mind, but I knew I would need to be prepared to react on three. Two, the second tap on my back, and I was picturing in my head exactly where Delano would be on the count of three. I had to be in position to handle whatever fallout resulted from what Starsky had planned. We were one step from the door when I felt the third tap.
Starsky moved quickly, pushing hard off my back with his left hand and spinning around my right side, taking his bad leg and slamming it hard into Delano's groin. It had the desired effect, forcing Delano to his knees. I grabbed for the gun, wrestling it from his hand, and pistol-whipped him hard enough to send the gum flying from his mouth and to send him flying backwards a good ten feet.
Starsky had crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony over the newly bleeding wound.
"Starsk, that's some plan you had there." I think his arm was numb by this point. He hadn't shown any signs of feeling it for quite some time. I couldn't tell if there was a break along with the obvious dislocated shoulder. I had not paid much attention to the specifics of Starsky's injuries for the duration of our time being held by Delano. I was more concerned about holding him close and getting us out of this mess.
"I didn't see ya comin' up with anything." He said through clenched teeth. The pain in his leg was really bad. "I thought you might need my help."
"Well, you came through, buddy. Thanks." Starsky's left hand was resting on his chest. I clasped his hand in mine, holding tight. We both needed the touch, the reassurance that we had made it though another close one. I released his hand, the urgency of getting him to a hospital taking precedence in that moment.
I threw the cuffs on Delano and roughly tossed him in the back of the van. I quickly but gently eased Starsky off the ground and helped him into the passenger seat. It was too far to ask him to walk back, and it would be easier for us to find the ambulance than for it to find us. I didn't want to jostle Starsky too much, so we drove slowly through the complex of buildings. I could hear the sirens approaching as we turned the corner. The ambulance and some black and whites were speeding up to the Torino as I parked the van.
Starsky's eyes were shut as the EMTs started checking him out. They started to move him from the van. He looked around, a little disoriented, and called for me. I couldn't get close enough with both technicians working his wounds and setting up the IV.
"Starsk, I'm here. What do you need?"
"Mm. Just wanted to know you were okay." He closed his eyes again, and this time they stayed that way as they drove him away. I followed just behind in the Torino.
"Hey, Starsky my man, I am so sorry about this. I had no idea that Tommy was settin' ya up." Huggy had brought my partner a bagful of goodies to help Starsky through this hospital stay.
It turned out that Delano had set Tommy up, too. He actually had convinced Tommy that he was a dealer who had some important information about the killings. But Delano's plans were strictly to grab Starsky and me and hold us in hopes of getting some ransom money. We were just fortunate that Delano wasn't too bright and that Starsky had a thing about gum.
"Hey, Hug, don't worry about it. I know you wouldn't have set up the meet if you thought there was somethin' up." Starsky was recuperating nicely. He was set to be released tomorrow, having spent a few days in the hospital. The doctors had re-set his dislocated shoulder. The arm had been badly bruised as well, but nothing was broken. They had to perform surgery to repair the torn up leg. He was going to be spending a couple of weeks at home because he wasn't allowed to put any pressure on the leg, but because of his arm he couldn't use crutches, either.
"I feel bad that it happened. It wouldn't have if I hadn't called ya."
"Hug, stop, will ya. It's okay." Starsky was chewing bubble gum. He'd said that constantly smelling the gum on Delano made him think back to when he was a kid. He hadn't chewed bubble gum in a while and that was one of the things he asked Huggy to pick up for him.
"Starsk, why'd you think that your plan was going to work?" I felt that we had gotten lucky this time, but Starsky proceeded to provide what he felt was a logical explanation for his plan's success.
"Well, ya know, I know I was actin' like I was out of it, and since there wasn't much I could do in my condition anyway, I was just listenin' and watchin' to see if there was any opportunity to jump him. I began to recognize a pattern to that irritatin' bubble popping. So, I figured that he might be a little distracted when he blew his bubbles, and that would be our opening."
I looked at him, dumbfounded. "And you thought that was a sure thing?"
"Of course." He said, followed by a loud pop. I jumped. "See? Surprised you, didn't I?"
"Starsk, can ya stop with the bubbles?" I pleaded with my partner.
"What's the matter, Hutch? Don't it remind ya of when you were a kid?" Starsky was a perpetual kid.
"No, not really Starsk. I didn't chew bubble gum when I was a kid."
"Whaddya mean? Everybody chewed bubble gum when they were a kid. You had a weird childhood, Hutch."
"Starsk, I chewed gum, I just didn't chew bubble gum." I realized too late that admitting that was a mistake.
"Huh? Why?" Starsky was on the scent. There was no getting out of it now.
"Forget it. It's not important."
"Ha! I know why. You can't blow bubbles!" Starsky grinned widely at this. Huggy chuckled, knowing that my partner had hit on my long hidden secret.
"All right Starsk. You found out my embarrassing secret. I can't blow bubbles. I hope you don't think less of me now." I laughed, enjoying watching Starsky have fun with this.
"Hutch, everyone can blow bubbles. Here, chew this up good and I'll show ya how. You just were never shown the right way how." He was serious about giving me a lesson from his hospital bed.
"Starsk, it's not going to work. I assure you I cannot do this."
"No, no. I can help you. It's all in the technique, Hutch." He was insane.
"Okay, okay. I'm chewing." Starsky and Huggy watched me as I chewed the gum to the right consistency.
"All right, ya ready, Hutch. It's all about coordination." He proceeded to describe where your tongue and your teeth should be in relation to the gum. How you couldn't allow the gum to be stretched too thin or you would get a real weak pop. It was hard to keep a straight face as he described the steps. Huggy wasn't even trying not to laugh.
"Okay, everything set in there?" He stared intently at my mouth.
"Ya, 'm ready." I said, through the hopefully correctly positioned gum.
"Good. Then blow." I blew. The gum shot out of my mouth and landed on Starsky's forehead. I cracked up. Huggy had totally lost it at this point.
And Starsky? Well, he sat there a moment, looking a little confused, then said, "I think I forgot a step."
The End