Chapter 26

Traff helped Hutch down to the car, supporting his friend as best he could. Opening the car door, he allowed the blond to slump into the front seat. Hutch looked small, wasted, the colour he'd regained after the shooting having been leeched once again from his face. He showed pain, sadness, anger and desperation on his face and in his body language and the soldier ached for his friend, his own mind racing, thinking about what was happening to his own buddy. Gently, Traff nudged Hutch to put his legs inside the car and trotted round to the driver's side. He got in and sat for a moment.

'Hutch. Buddy. I know you're hurting, but it aint no point going down to the beach. Fisher isn't lying, I know he isn't. If he can force Starsky to shoot you, his best friend, he can have enough control over Curly to make him swim out to sea to drown himself. Why the beach? Why torture yourself huh?'

'Coz I have to do something. I can't just sit here Traff. He's alive, I know he is.'

'Fine. In that case, we call in the experts.'

Hutch's head came up. 'I thought we were the experts. We're the cops aren't we?'

'Well unless you've grown fins and can suddenly breathe under water, I was thinkin' more along the lines of calling in the coastguard.'

The blond's face brightened at the suggestion and his hand reached for the mic. calling the shout into the local coastguard station. That done, he sat back in the seat. 'OK, they're sending out a chopper. I told 'em where to contact me. Now drive me down to the Metro.'

Traff shook his head. 'No. Hutch, no buddy. You've been through enough. You're not fully healed, I don't want you having to handle that shit. Fisher knows how to push your buttons, let Dobey and the others handle things for a while.'

'I can't. How the fuck can I sit at home when I know that Starsky is alone in the sea somewhere. What's he gonna be like? What's he gonna think huh?'

'And how is flyin off to the Metro gonna help huh?' Traff asked.

'Coz that flake Fisher might have some more information to help find my partner. I'm sorry Traff. I know it's irrational, but I can't just sit and do nothin'. I have to be there. I need to do somethin'. Please? Just drive.'

Reluctantly, Traff started the engine and put the car in gear, driving carefully downtown and pulling up in Starsky's customary spot outside the front of the police headquarters. The soldier got out and walked around to the passenger side of the car and winced as he heard the subdued groan as Hutch eased himself out of the car. The blond was holding himself stiffly, his left arm wrapped around his waist, giving some support after he refused to wear his sling any more. Traff tried again. 'You're tired buddy. Let me take you home. Dobey can handle this.'

Hutch straightened himself and squared his shoulders. 'I said I'm fine' he grunted and pushed past his friend into the building.

Once inside, he turned left down the corridor instead of right to go up to the squad room and at the foot of the steps leading down to the incident rooms, he saw the custody sergeant. Sgt. Barnes got up from his desk and stood by the side of his small table. 'Hutch? How're you?' he asked pleasantly.

'Been better Jake. I need to get down to the interview rooms. Have they brought Edgar Fisher in yet?'

The uniformed man's eyes narrowed. 'Um no...he's on his way. Um Hutch... I um... Dobey phoned ahead and told me not to let you down there.'

'What?'

'I'm sorry. But he gave very clear orders, I haven't to let you down to the interview rooms.'

'Fuck it! Jake, for God's sake. The flake had my partner. He made him...he knows what he did to Starsky. If not for me, let me down there so that I can find out what he did to Starsk huh?' Hutch's eyes bored into the officer's and for a moment it looked as though the man would waiver. At that second however, the three men hear footsteps and muted voices coming along the corridor. Hutch turned and his voice hardened as he saw Fisher cuffed between Markovitz and Fell with Dobey and Yamato bringing up the rear.

'Fisher!' At his side, Traff put a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder as he felt Hutch move forward. 'Blondie no' he warned softly.

'Let me at him. Fisher! You tell me an' you tell me now where Starsky is.' Shaking Traff's hand off, he lunged forward and Markovitz and Fell closed ranks in front of their prisoner. Fisher remained unfazed and stood quietly between his two guards, a small smile on his face as he watched the blond struggle. Barnes and Traff took a hold of Hutch's arms and held the angered flaxen haired cop back as his face reddened and he strove to land a punch on the sanctimonious prisoner.

'Tell me! Tell me now' he yelled as he continued to struggle. As Markovitz turned to take Fisher down the steps, Hutch caught a glimpse of the dark stain on Edgar's trousers. He redoubled his efforts and Barnes and Traff had their work cut out restraining him without hurting him too much.

'That's blood on your pants. Is it Starsky's blood? Did you hurt him? What the fuck did you do to him ya mad bastard?'

From behind his human shield Fisher grinned briefly at the angered blond. 'Calm yourself Detective. It's no use getting excited.'

'I'll do more than excited. I'll knock that fuckin' smile off your face.'

'That would be police brutality.'

'You don't know the half of it' Hutch growled. 'Tell me. What did you do to him?'

Edgar's face was an impassive mask as he glared at Hutch, his watery blue eyes boring into the blond's soul. 'I tenderised him! I had to make sure the sharks got their breakfast.'

'Nooo, you bastard, I'm gonna kill ya. I swear you're never gonna live past the trial' Hutch yelled, almost sobbing in his rage as Traff wrestled him away from the small posse. Markovitz and Fell escorted their prisoner down to the interview rooms while Dobey stayed back. Traff had Hutch up against the wall, leaning into the blond's body with his own in an attempt to restrain him without hurting him too much. A small bloom of blood started to appear on Hutch's left shoulder and he grimaced in pain and frustration.

'Let me at him. Let me at him, I'm gonna...'

'You're gonna do nothin' other than go back to the hospital and get that sorted out. Hutchinson, I know you're hurting. We all are, but you aren't doin' yourself or Starsky any favours behavin' like this. Cool it. Let us handle Fisher. Traff make sure he gets to Memorial huh?'

Hutch sagged against the soldier's body and cautiously Traff let up the pressure some, allowing Hutch to breathe a little easier. The blond's eyes closed, his anger making him shake and the pain and weakness that were the residual effects of his shooting finally breaking through the adrenaline fuelled anger.

Desperately and wearily he fixed his Captain with pain filled eyes. 'Just make him talk huh? Make him tell you what he did to Starsk. He aint dead Cap. I can feel it. I know he's still alive. We have time to find him still, we just need to know where to look.'

OOoOoOoOoOoOo

'Has he woken up yet?' Miguel looked over his sister's shoulder at the sleeping man.

'No. He has a fever. He was restless for a while but now he's very quiet and still. I'm worried Miguel. He has many injuries, but some of them look older, as though he's been in a fight a while ago. I wish we could get a doctor for him.'

'I wish we could afford a doctor for us, let alone him. You're doing all the right things. Just try to keep him cool and see if you can get him to drink something.'

Juanita nodded. 'I bandaged the cuts on his arm. They looked deep, as though someone had done them deliberately. I don't think they're infected though. The one on his neck had some stitches in there already. That's one good thing about the salt water, it has kept them clean.'

'Si. I wonder how long he was swimming for? He seemed as though he wanted to keep on going.'

'He wouldn't have been able to. He's exhausted' the young woman replied sadly. 'I wonder what your name is?' she muttered to herself as her brother went back out of the small lean-to at the back of his motor car garage and back to work. She brushed her hand through the man's curls and thought back to the previous night.

When they'd found the man out in the dark of the ocean, they immediately hauled him on board their small boat. Miguel went out fishing most nights to supplement the food bought by the money he earned from fixing the cars brought to his small one-man garage. It had been a miracle that they'd found the stranger at all. Only the moonlight reflecting from his pale face had alerted them to his presence and once on board, Juanita had panicked at finding that he wasn't breathing.

She'd once attended a talk on artificial respiration. A man had come to the small school she taught at and said it was important for the children who lived in San Carlos, their small village by the sea to learn how to perform the life saving task. Thankful that she'd paid attention, Juanita was delighted when the curly haired man had coughed, spluttered and then started to breathe on his own, but his eyes, when he'd opened them were wild, terrified and the few words he'd managed to speak in halting Spanish made little sense. Eventually, his exhaustion and his injuries had plunged him once more into unconsciousness and he'd remained insensate ever since.

Miguel and Juanita had rowed the boat back to the shore and had half carried, half dragged the man from the beach to the small garage. They had no room in their small house to accommodate him, but the lean to was dry and warm and had an old sofa in it. The woman had stripped off the man's sodden clothes, gasping at the cuts and bruises and swellings on his body. Miguel had held the stranger up while she'd toweled him dry and then the two of them had managed to lay him naked but warm beneath an old, soft blanket. While Miguel had gone to get some sleep, Juanita had stayed up with the man all night, soothing him when he cried out incoherently and bathing his forehead with cool cloths when his fever spiked. Towards morning, however, he had fallen silent, and had remained that way ever since.

Getting up from her chair stiffly, the young schoolteacher stretched her back, thankful it was Saturday and there was no school to teach that day. She stood at the door of the garage and looked out up the dust covered street. Children played football in the dirt, a dog sat scratching on the corner and Senior Ortega revved the engine of his truck before pulling away and heading out to Mesa Verde. Ordinary Saturday morning activities. Ordinary lives.

Turning back to her patient, she was amazed to see that his eyes were open and staring at her. She walked back to him and knelt by the side of the bed.

'Buenos dias senior. How do you feel today?'

The man regarded her for a moment. 'Tired' he rasped. 'Sore.'

'You have many injuries and you have a fever. But I think you may still get better. Are you thirsty?'

'Yeah.'

Gently, Juanita raised his head and held a cup of cool water to his lips. The man sipped appreciatively but the movement sapped his energy and within seconds he'd had enough. Resting back on the pillow he looked at the pretty woman.

'Where am I?' Starsky asked, his voice weak and rasping.

'San Carlos, on the border.'

'You found me?'

'Yes. My brother and I brought you back here.'

The brunet smiled gratefully, the aches in his body making him feel tired. He felt hot and he could feel the fever beginning to spike again in his body. His eyes burned and he felt nauseous.

'Thank you?' he managed to gasp leaving the question of her name hanging in the air.

'Juanita. Juanita Cortez. De nada. And what is your name senior?'

Starsky closed his eyes for a second, his lips beginning to form a word before a pain arced across his forehead causing him to cry out and grasp at his head. 'I'm… my name is…. is….shit. What is my name?' he asked in a panicky voice. 'I don't remember. I don't remember who I am.' Starsky grabbed a hold of Juanita's hand 'I don't remember anything….. help me.'