Chapter 23

Hutch raced from the ward and back down the steps to the parking lot of the hospital. As he got to his car, a knife like pain lanced through his chest and he bent double grasping with his right hand at the dressing still covering the bullet wounds on the left hand side of his chest. Not now Hutchy, you don't have time for this now he told himself as he managed to wrench the car door open and get back inside. He paused for a few seconds, getting his breath, using his yoga practice to slow his heartbeat down until the pains abated slightly. Concentrating on his breathing also gave his mind time to clear and Hutch rested back against the seat wondering what he was going to do now. Where had Edgar taken Starsky and what was the evil hypnotist's plan for his partner?

In desperation, he reached for the mic. on his dashboard and thumbed the switch.

'This is zebra three to central. Zebra three to central, come in please.'

A woman's voice sounded over the airwaves, a hint of surprise and concern in her voice. 'Hutch? Is that you honey? You're meant to be at home workin' on getting better.'

'I know Mildred, but I need to speak to Dobey. Can you patch me through?'

'He's gone home for the night Hon. I can try him at home for you?'

'Wherever. I just need to speak to him quick. Starsky's in big trouble.'

That was all that was needed and the blond heard the mysterious whirs and clicks on the line bearing evidence to the fact that Mildred was working her magic on the switchboard. A moment later, the line cleared and Edith's voice sounded down the phone.

'Hutch dear? How are you? Harold said you were out of the hospital. How are you?'

I've been better. Edith, is the Captain there? It's urgent.'

'I'm sorry honey. It's his night at the Buffalo's meeting tonight. He won't be back till later. Can I get him to call you?'

Hutch closed his eyes in desperation. 'Yeah, yeah do that will you. If I'm not at home, I'll be in my car. Thanks.'

As Hutch replaced the mic. onto its cradle he stared out of the windshield at the rapidly darkening sky.

What now Gordo? Where are ya? What's that flake Fisher doing now huh?

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Starsky followed behind the tall thin man obediently as he was led down to the car. Nurses called goodbye to him and he knew that he was answering them, but it seemed to him that he was participating in a waking dream. He opened his mouth and the appropriate words came out and yet he had no idea what he was saying, or why he was saying it.

Edgar had appeared at his room door half an hour ago and had closed it quietly behind him. The brunet had looked up, expecting to see his partner with a suitcase packed with his going home clothes. Instead fear pierced his heart as the familiar voice greeted him.

'Hello David. I'm glad we finally get to meet face to face. It's so much easier this way.'

Starsky was about to press the button for the nurse call, although he had no idea why he should feel like this. The only thinking he knew was that he really didn't want to be in the room with this man he knew as Edgar. Fisher saw the move and crossed the room in three swift strides, placing one hand on the brunet's shoulder while the other he held in front of Starsky's face, palm out and fingers splayed.

'Sleep' he commanded and immediately, the light went out behind the brunet's eyes and his chin fell to his chest.

'David we're going to go now. I want you to follow me. When you wake up, you'll follow me outside and to the car. Is that clear? Three, two, one and wake.'

Slowly Starsky's head raised and he blinked as though coming out of a long sleep. He gazed at the man with little recognition in his eyes and automatically held out his hand to accept the jeans and tee shirt that Edgar handed him. 'I wasn't sure of your size, but these should be ok. Put them on quickly.'

Like an automaton, the brunet removed his pyjamas and stepped into the jeans, pulling them up his legs. They fit well enough, but were not as tight as those he usually wore. Shouldering into the plain white tee shirt, he stood with his arms at his sides, waiting for his next set of instructions. On the outside, he was a marionette waiting for his strings to be pulled. On the inside, his mind was blank. Subconsciously, the cop part of David Starsky was screaming at him to move; to break free and run, while the rest of his mind told him to stand still and wait for Edgar to tell him what to do next.

Packing away all his belongings into the holdall, Edgar took a final look round the room. 'Follow me. Say goodbye to the nurses and follow me quietly outside.'

'Follow you, yeah.' Starsky managed to murmur, falling into line behind Edgar's figure as the tall man pushed out of the room. The nurses lined up to say goodbye to the man who they'd come to like and Starsky smiled at them, allowed them to kiss him on the cheek and waved goodbye. He heard it all, felt it all, but didn't "participate". David Starsky was most definitely not rowing with both oars.

Getting into the car in the parking lot, the brunet buckled his seat belt once Edgar had told him what to do and together they drove in silence out of the city and out along the coast road, south. It was twilight now and the sunset leant flashes of red, amber, pink and crimson to the rapidly darkening sky. It was peaceful inside the car and Edgar hummed a tune to himself as he drove. Beside him, Starsky was preternaturally quiet. Once away from the lights of the city, Fisher floored the gas and sped along the unlit road, nursing his car round the bends as Starsky sat by his side, his eyes seeing the road, but not registering that he was being driven away from Hutch and Traff, the two men who could save him.

Finally, half an hour later and under the cover of moonlight, Edgar drew the car into a dirt filled lay-by and switched off the engine. He ordered Starsky to get out of the car and together, they crossed the road and climbed over the shallow dunes to the beach. The tang of the salt air assailed Starsky's nostrils and the cool evening wind ruffled his curls and raised goose bumps on his chilled arms. He shivered, but obediently followed Edgar across the sands to the waters edge. There he stood with his hands held loosely at his sides as he watched the man circle him slowly. Edgar walked around his subject, trailing his hands softly over Starsky's bruised flesh. The cuts and contusions stood out darkly in the moonlight and Fisher touched each visible wound. 'Such a shame what they did to you in prison David. Such a shame to mar such a lovely body. It's almost criminal to damage you like that. So inelegant. It's much more fun to control you like I control you. I can bend you to my will and make you do anything I want. Can't I David? Remember our little sessions on the telephone huh? You sounded so… ecstatic you were almost in pain. I taped those calls you know, and played them back over and again just to hear your cries and moans. Did you like performing for me David? You can tell the truth you know.'

The brunet turned empty eyes to his master and blinked. 'No, I didn't like it' he said in a toneless voice.

'That's such a shame. You did so well at following my instructions then. But then you didn't keep our promise, did you?' Fisher asked, his voice that of a disappointed father or schoolteacher.

'Dunno….I tried' Starsky's voice had a far off, spaced out quality reflecting the fact that he was zoned and completely under the master hypnotist's control.

'Not hard enough. I'm disappointed in you. You disobeyed me when I asked you not to tell them my name, and you know what happens to people who don't follow the rules?'

'Punishment?'

'Yes, that's right, punishment. You disobeyed me and now you're going to pay.'

'I don't want to do that again' Starsky said, struggling against the power of the man's voice. His left hand twitched at the memory and the core of his body spasmed reflexively.

'You don't want? I'm amazed at the strength of your mind David. I'm truly awed that you can still fight me. Listen carefully David and look into my eyes.' Edgar put a finger under his subject's chin and raised it so that he could see into Starsky's face. The brunet fought with every ounce of will to not look into those hooded, pale, watery eyes, but try as he might, he was unable to resist and slowly, his eyes locked with Edgar's.

The beginning of the end.

'David. You will remember nothing of your life. You'll remember nothing of me, or of Hutchinson or Trafford. You won't remember that you were a cop or that you were investigating a murder. Your past has been totally erased. You don't know your name. You don't have a name. Any attempt to try to remember will be intensely painful, so painful that you won't want to try to remember. Do you understand?'

Slowly Starsky nodded. 'Don't remember' he mumbled indistinctly. He felt sick to his stomach. A part of him knew this was wrong and that he should fight, but the mastery of Edgar's hypnotism was too strong and he could do nothing but succumb.

'Good. You remember nothing. You are no-one. Don't move.' Edgar said, reinforcing his suggestions.

Deftly, he reached up and ripped the white dressing away from the brunet's neck, exposing the deep slash that the prisoners had made those few days ago. Carefully, Fisher took out a pocket knife and exposed one of the sharp blades and almost lovingly, he snicked at a couple of the stitches holding the lips of the wound together. Starsky hissed at the pain, but remained still as Edgar pushed the tip of the knife into the part healed wound, re-opening and watching as the blood started to trickle down the brunet's neck to soak darkly into the white cotton of his tee shirt. Next he took a hold of Starsky's right wrist and slashed across the veins there. Blood sprayed out and Edgar cursed as a spurt caught him on the trouser leg. He stepped back and flicked at the gore, but the red fluid stained his trousers and he left the bloom to be dealt with later.

'You're going to go for a swim David. You're going to walk into the ocean and set off swimming out to sea and you're not going to stop until you can't swim any more. You won't stop; you won't shout for help, you will simply swim. Do you have that?' Edgar said, his voice low and intense. As though to reinforce his lethal command, he held his hand up once again in front of the brunet's face.

Slowly, Starsky put his hand up to his bleeding neck and brought his fingers away coated in his own blood. He looked down dispassionately at his bleeding wrist and then back at Edgar. There was a moment's indecision in his eyes and Edgar told him again.

'Swim until you can't swim any more. No turning back, no shouting for help. Repeat it back to me David.'

'Swim. Don't stop. Don't turn back' the brunet's voice was a monotone.

'Good. Now go and carry out my commands, and don't forget, you are no-one and you have no past.'

Starsky turned to face the waves licking the shore. He felt empty – a nobody. A man with no history. A man with no friends. A man with no name. Fatalistically and without stopping, he walked into the water feeling the waves lap at his legs. Deeper he waded until he was forced to start swimming straight out to sea, the sea water biting savagely at the wounds in his neck and wrist. Whichever sharks may be in the area would be alerted by the smell of blood in the water and as Edgar watched the rapidly retreating curly head bobbing between the waves, he hoped that the big fish would finish off the job he'd just started.

While the brunet with no name swam with quiet, deliberate strokes out into the ocean, Edgar Fisher smiled, walked back to his car, put the radio on, and drove away.

End of part one.

Part two starts tomorrow