Chapter 10

Traff walked up the corridor towards the office occupied by the psychiatrist. Neither he nor Hutch had had chance to meet the Doctor, they'd merely relied on the Warden to brief the shrink on what was needed. The soldier braced himself for the meeting expecting the usual white coated and bespectacled medic usually associated with jails. As the guard showed him into the small and tidy office, his breath was taken away by the sight of Beth Knot. Her slim figure was dressed in a baby blue close fitting blouse and pencil skirt in dark charcoal, her long legs naked and tanned and her feet enclosed in plain black court shoes with killer heels. She was the furthest away from his idea of a shrink as he thought he could get. As Beth motioned for him to sit down, Traff grinned at her.

'What does a guy have to do to get some time alone with you?' he asked smoothly.

The woman smiled back fascinated by this man who looked so much like her patient. 'Probably a stage three schizo episode with some auditory hallucinations.'

'Hmm. Would a chilled Chablis and caviar cut it instead?'

Beth sat down opposite, immediately liking the soldier's easy manner. 'You're David Starsky's friend.'

'I thought he was 02698 Starsky in here' Traff said, the smile fading from his face.

'I don't go by numbers. Any patient past my door is treated in exactly the same manner.'

'Now that I like Doc. How is he?'

'Patient confidentiality dictates….'

'To hell with patient confidentiality. I've known that man for an eternity. We served together in the war and we've been close ever since. I don't know how to tell you this Doc, but there's something not right with him. And before you agree blindly, I mean wrong in that he'd even contemplate killing his partner, let alone try to carry it out. Starsky is one of the most loyal, caring, gentle, best men I know. If I had a brother I'd want him to be just like Curly. I don't, so I'm honored to call him my best friend. I'd give my right arm for him and he'd lay down his life for me. Just like he'd lay it down for every other flake and turkey in this mean old city. So don't give me the patient confidentiality crap. I need to know from a professional just how he is, one way or the other.'

For a moment, Beth looked at the man in front of her. He looked a lot like David. He had the same handsome face, the same olive skin and curly hair and the same way of looking quizzically at her, intelligence and calmness shining from eyes that were emerald green rather than sapphire blue. Although the soldier in front of her seemed to have something of a rough around the edges quality to him, he also exuded warmth and care and she was touched by the obvious bond he had with Starsky. She coughed self consciously and shuffled the papers on her desk.

'You're right to be concerned. I do think there's something else at work here, but as yet I don't know what. I do know though that David wasn't acting of his own volition.'

'You mean someone made him do it'?' Traff asked, sitting forward in his seat.

'Maybe, yes.'

'Well tell the Warden. Tell his lawyer. For God's sake tell someone. He's adamant he's gonna plead guilty next week. You need to stop this charade.'

'What am I supposed to tell them Mr Trafford? That I have a feeling? That I have a twinge in my corn? I need evidence. That's what a doctor does, much like a cop. I get evidence together to prove a theory. When I have that evidence, then I can go to the warden and I can tell him, but until then…… I'm sorry. I feel bad too. I want to help your friend.'

Traff tried to compose himself, his temper under tight wraps. 'Tell me your thoughts Doc. What do you think is happening here? Help me understand this' He said, his voice low and intense.

'I think someone hypnotised him. I think he may still under that hypnotic suggestion' Beth blurted out against her better judgment.

'Well you tried hypnosis on him. Snap him out of it!'

'It isn't that simple. I think what happened to David needed a trigger word and only the person who put him under will have it. Likewise only the person who put him under will be able to bring him out.'

Traff rubbed his finger along his temple. 'And how do we find out who he is?' he asked as though of himself.

'I have no idea. That's where you cops come in' Beth said gently. 'I only came up with the idea.

'Um….I aint a cop lady. Just a jobbing soldier. Colonel Tom Trafford at your service, Traff to my friends' he threw her a swift salute.

'Jobbing huh? Nothing "jobbing" about making Colonel. My father was military. Made General before he retired. I take my hat off to you.'

'Well take it off to Starsky too. He made Major before he was retired.'

Beth made an impressed face and nodded. 'You get the leads together and I'll work on the hypnosis thing. I don't even know if all this is possible. Let me do some research. Maybe call a few experts huh? I believe you're going to visit with David?'

Traff nodded.

'Be careful Traff, he's hurting and he's confused. That's a deadly combination in the wrong hands.'

The soldier stood and straightened his tee shirt. 'I'll be cool. Thanks Doc. I'll be seein' ya.'

Beth nodded as she watched the retreating back 'Hope so' she muttered as she went back to her work.

Traff walked back down to the visiting hall with the silent guard. Nicky was waiting outside, his visit having finished and the younger Starsky looked positively rattled.

'How'd it go?' the soldier asked. Nicky plastered a smile on his face. 'Piece of cake. He's fine. Typical David huh? Shall I wait outside for ya, or shall I get a cab back to the airport?'

Traff scowled. 'The air….you're not stayin'? I thought you were….'

'I said I'd come and visit him. Whatever's goin down, it's nuthin to do with me. I can't do nuthin while he's in here, an' according to the great David Starsky, this is exactly where he's gonna stay. Typical David, even when he's in the wrong he's in the right. Even in jail he's a sanctimonious bastard. i've had enough of his "I did it I deserve to suffer" routine. I'd be wastin' my time to stay, an' he told me to go back home. Who am I to argue with my big bro? He tells me to go home an' I go, like a good little boy. So what's it to be?'

The curly haired soldier was lost for words. The few conversations he's had with Starsky about his brother had painted a bad picture of his friend's younger sibling, but Traff had been willing to make his own decisions. When Nicky had come willingly down to Bay City, he's had new hope that Starsky might at least have some family support, but now, he saw Nick's visit had been for curiosity only.

'Fine. Fuck off back home Nick. You can find your own way out, right?' he snapped as he turned his back on the smaller man and knocked on the door to the visiting hall. He was allowed in and walked over to the table indicated by the guard. After submitting to a final search, Traff sat down on the plastic chair bolted to the floor and put his hands flat on the table, waiting for his friend.

His first sight of the cop took his breath away. Starsky had been taken outside the hall until everything was in place for the visit, and he'd not been told who he would be seeing. It seemed crazy to think he'd have another legal so soon after the last and so as he shuffled through the door, he gasped as he saw Traff waiting for him and almost turned round there and then. Traff came to his feet as Starsky walked in, but was reminded to remain seated by a restraining hand from one of the guards on his shoulder. He sat, grimacing as he watched his friend shuffle awkwardly towards him, belt, anklets and manacles still in place. But it wasn't just the restraints that made Traff gasp. There was something else about that walk. The soldier knew his friend well enough to see immediately that Starsky was hurting, or had been hurt and the soldier's blood boiled.

He breathed deep, knowing now was not the right time or place to make a scene and ask Starsky came to a ragged halt next to the table he looked up and smiled.

'Hey there Curly' he said softly.

The guards by the brunet's side pushed him down into the chair and took a few paces backwards, giving the two men a modicum of space and privacy. As they stood back, bored looks on their faces, Traff got his first really good look at his friend. Starsky sported a fading black eye and one or two larger bruises over his forearms, but he also had a fresh wound on the side of his neck and it was that which took the soldier's attention.

Starsky refused to meet his friend's eyes. He'd rather have not had this meeting at all. Touched as he was at the support of his friends, the visit opened up the wounds he'd so carefully numbed. When he didn't see Hutch or anyone from his life "outside", he could almost forget and find life in the Pen bearable. When his normal life intruded, however, the ripples caused by seeing his buddies were almost too much for him to handle. It was simpler just to let go and cut himself off completely. And yet….

'Curly? How're ya doin' buddy?' Traff tried again.

'M'fine' the mumbled reply was hardly audible with the brunet's chin lodged as it was on his chest.

'Ya don't look fine to me. Who's been beatin' up on ya?'

Starsky's head came up suddenly and angry indigo eyes regarded his friend.

'Don't' he said.

'Don't? Don't what? Don't ask? Don't care? Don't make assumptions about what I know is goin' on? Tell me. I know what goes on in these places. I grew up in a home for Gods sake an' I'm not gonna go away till you tell me. Tell me how you are and what they've done to ya.'

The care and concern held in his old army buddy's voice was too much. After weeks of cold, hard commands and solitary confinement, Starsky's carefully built and preserved wall of indifference started to crack. Had this been Hutch, he would never have allowed himself the luxury of relaxing and just being "Starsky". With his partner, the brunet would have striven to make sure that nothing hurt Hutch; that nothing made the situation more uncomfortable than it already was for the blond. He would never consciously hurt Hutch. Starsky snickered to himself. Well other than filling him full of lead, he'd never hurt Hutch! But with Traff, things were different. He was no better friend than the blond, just different. They'd shared different experiences together and their friendship was built on a bedrock of adversity. Traff was probably the only man in the world with whom Starsky could come clean and tell it like it was. He had no need to protect the soldier because Traff had had enough life experiences of his own to be able to handle this, and suddenly the dam of the brunet's emotions broke.

Starsky leaned forward, placing his manacled hands on the table and his carefully arranged veneer of self reliance finally fell away. 'I'm scared Traff. I'm scared every fuckin hour of every day. I've nowhere to go, no one to talk to. They come for me almost every day. There's this one fuckin' guy, a big guy, broad Irish accent, he's a guard. He comes for me an'.' Starsky touched the side of his neck, wincing at the contact with the fresh wound. He withdrew his fingers and wiped the still oozing blood on the sleeve of his shirt. 'And the worst thing of all is that I deserve it. Every fuckin' minute that he's doin' that to me, I deserve it. Every second his hands are on me, I tell myself not to fight it, coz I should be punished for what I did to Hutch. I can't hurt enough to make up for what I did to him. My partner' he said bitterly. 'The man I swore to protect above all others an' I try to kill him!'

A single tear rolled down the side of Starsky's nose and he wiped at it angrily. 'Look at me! I don't even know if I'm cryin' for me or for him'. I'm fucked Traff. I'm fucked. You shouldn't have come buddy. Just leave me alone huh?'

'Do you mean that? You really want me to go?' Traff asked, his heart bleeding for his friend who was so obviously hurting. Beth was right. This wasn't the Dave Starsky he knew. Something was most definitely wrong. The soldier's blood boiled to think that the guards had touched his friend, and moreover that the brunet had not fought back. 'Curly no-one deserves what they're doin' to ya. You should report it. Lemme tell the Warden, he'd never want that to happen. Let me do somethin' buddy. They beat ya I can see, but they um….. how many times?'

Starsky's eyes slid away from the piercing gaze again and stared at the floor. 'Dunno…. How many days have I been in here?'

'They've done this every….oh shit buddy! Tell someone. Why didn't ya ask for me to visit? Why wouldn't ya see Hutch?'

A look of terror came over the brunet's face. 'No! Not Hutch. I can't face him. I can't ever face him again. This is tough enough Traff, don't make it any harder. I told ya, but I don't want ya to do nuthin. Got that? Nuthin. Now just go. Leave me alone, there's nuthin you can do, nuthin anyone can do. I did it. I'm guilty an' I'm gonna pay. Guard!'

Starsky stood up from the table as the guards came to collect him.

'I'm comin' back Curly. I'll be back to see ya' Traff called.

The brunet looked over his shoulder. 'Don't do nuthin Traff, don't!'

But as Starsky was led away, the curly haired soldier got up to leave, casting a final look at his friend. There, on the inside of the leg of Starsky's pants was a smear of dried blood and Traff's temper finally snapped.