Part 3 – Chapter 34

Hutch, Traff and Dobey sat in the adjoining room to the interview room where Todd Rigger and Mark Barrie were playing good cop/bad cop with Edgar Fisher. While Barry sat passively at the side of the room, calmly rolling a cigarette and picking thoughtfully at his nails, Rigger was in danger of bursting a blood vessel in his attempt to get Fisher riled up enough to slip up and give them some information. While Rigger was going an attractive shade of puce however, Edgar Fisher sat bolt upright in his chair, his hands folded neatly on his lap and a small steady smile on his face.

'Rigger aint gettin' anywhere' Hutch observed bitterly. 'God I've seen some cold fish in my time, but usually by now they've broken. Todd's been at it for three hours straight and there's not so much as a chink in Fisher's armour.'

'Give him time' Dobey grunted. 'Everyone has their breaking point.'

'Uh huh. Everyone who's human. That guy has ice water running through his veins, not blood. He wouldn't know an emotion if it jumped up and bit him on the ass.'

Hutch stood up and started the pace the small interconnecting room just as Rigger worked himself into such a fury that he grabbed a hold of his prisoner by the collar and picked him up bodily, slamming him back against the interview room wall. Mark Barrie shot across the room and pulled his partner away from Fisher who had hardly blinked at the assault and put his own body between the two men. Rigger stared wild eyed at Fisher for a moment and then turned his back and stalked from the room. The three spectators watched Barrie give Fisher a cigarette and then follow Rigger outside.

Hutch ran for the door and joined Rigger and Barrie in the corridor. Barrie was getting Rigger a coffee from the machine and Todd Rigger was shaking and white with barely controlled fury.

'You're doin' your best Rigger' Hutch said. 'I've been there, I know what it's like with these flakes.'

'Fuck Hutch, I've seen enough of 'em in my time to know how to get under their skin, but this guy is somethin' else. It's like his body is sat there in the room, but his mind is somewhere else completely. I've never met a guy like him. I'm sorry buddy. I'm tryin' my best. I want to help put this flake away as much as you do.'

The blond patted the irate cop on his shoulder. 'I know you do, an' I'm grateful, I am really.' Wearily Hutch went back to join Dobey and Traff while Rigger and went back into the small room accompanied by Barrie. The three men watched again as Rigger slammed his hands down on the table and stared at Fisher. 'Now punk, take it from the top again. You picked David Starsky up at the hospital at what time?'

Traff sighed. 'He's not gonna talk is he?'

'It doesn't look that way, no' Dobey agreed.

'Jeez, is there a law that says I can't just go in there and wring his neck?' the soldier asked angrily. 'We're getting' nowhere, fast.'

Dobey snorted. 'Believe me, if I had my way I'd turn a blind eye while you pasted seven shades of shit out of him, but it aint my call. We just have to sit tight and let Barrie and Rigger do their thing.'

The three men sighed, and sat back to watch and wait.

Outside the Metro, a large black pick up truck pulled into the parking lot. The flames painted down the sides of the truck were partly hidden by the dust and grime of it's journey up from the border and the man cuffed in the large wire cage on the back of the truck was also grimy, his hair clogged with dust and his face dirty and streaked with sweat. The bounty hunter switched off the engine, got out of the truck and walked round to the rear of the vehicle. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the large padlock closing the caged area, drew his gun and signalled for his prisoner to get down from the truck.

Stiffly, Starsky stood, and bent double to stop his head from banging on the wire ceiling of his prison. He shuffled to the tailgate of the truck and with difficulty because his hands were cuffed behind his back, he got down and looked around him. His journey up from San Carlos had been relatively short, but uncomfortable. The truck was open to the elements at the back in the tough wire cage. It had hard wooden bench type seats along the sides of the vehicle, but there was no shelter from the sun, the grime or the wind whipping through when the truck drove at speed.

The physical discomfort though was nothing compared to the mental anguish of leaving Juanita and Miguel back in San Carlos. They were the only friends or family that the brunet knew or remembered and he was sickened at the fact that they now knew of his past. Hell, he was sickened now that he knew something of his past – that he was wanted for attempted murder and that he was a criminal on the run. The thought made him nauseous and he'd desperately tried to remember back to what he'd done and the circumstances around it, but each time he forced his mind to try to think, he'd got that same agonising pain in his head and he'd bent double, his head almost touching his knees as he fought with the pain and the nausea.

As the scrublands of the border country gave way to better quality metalled roads and small towns, the roads took on a familiar quality to them, although Starsky didn't know why. His mind, erased of all memory by Edgar Fisher's programming battled with itself as landmarks came and went. Even his surname had come as a surprise to him. Starsky…. The name meant something to him on a subliminal level, but he couldn't remember it and would never have known it unless the bounty hunter hadn't formally used it to arrest him. Starsky felt sick to his stomach, flashes of memory coming and going. All were disjointed and all were mere flashes with nothing that he could hold on to or concentrate on. There was nothing definite, just a gut feeling that he'd been here before and that somehow he was going back to a place he'd known well.

'Don't try nothin' punk' the bounty hunter grunted as he swung Starsky round and pushed him towards the custody entrance to the Metro.

'What'm I s'posed to do, trussed up like a turkey?' the brunet snapped, his fear and his anger wrestling with each other. He still couldn't come to terms with the thought that he was under arrest for attempted murder. Him? Who had he tried to murder? How? Swallowing down his emotions, the curly haired man walked slowly in front of his captor into the building.

The custody sergeant looked up, his eyes first falling on the huge bulk of the hunter. God he hated these guys. Most of them were inhumane and in it purely for the money. 'Yeah?' he asked.

'I'm here to hand this punk in and claim the reward' the bounty hunter grunted and pushed his captive forward. Starsky stood impassively, his hands locked behind his back, staring at his feet.

'Detective Starsky! Oh my God!' the young custody sergeant exclaimed, his pen dropping from his hand to clatter on the counter top. 'What the….'

'Yeah, one dirty cop, signed, sealed an' delivered. Sign the chitty an' I can take it down to county hall for the bail money' the huge man growled.

'You know me?' Starsky asked the uniformed man behind the desk softly. The bounty hunter cuffed him round the head none too gently.

'Shuddup. Aint no one talkin' to you.'

Swiftly the custody sergeant signed the big man's paper, anxious to get the hunter out of his hair. He examined the chit, amazed that it was for real and that the cop was indeed on the run and had been captured legitimately. As he took delivery of his prisoner, Minnie Caplan swung through the door with a sheaf of papers in her hand, took one look at the grimy curly haired cop, put her hand up to her mouth and bolted.

Starsky looked from the woman to the uniformed man, trying to make sense of what was going on. Detective? They'd called him detective! What the fuck?

The hunter took his paper and departed without a backwards glance and for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Finally Starsky, who had been standing warily in the corner broke it. 'You knew my name. How?'

Andy, the custody sergeant looked at him unbelievingly. 'Aww, nice one Starsk! What d'ya mean, how do I know your name?'

'What I said' the brunet said carefully. 'How do you know me? How come this place looks so familiar?'

The young man heard the peculiar intensity in the curly haired cop's voice and realised that this was no wind up. Starsky looked genuinely ill at ease and there was a misty far off look in his eyes. Something was definitely not right and Andy was downright uncomfortable with the situation. With this sort of thing being so far outside his experience and with the arrest warrant still in his hand, he did the only thing he could think to do.

'Um, I'm sorry Pal. I need to um… well you need to go into the cells. After that, I'll um….. I'll go and tell Dobey you're here. He'll be stoked.'

'Dobey? Dobey who?' the brunet asked, his heart hammering in his chest. This man knew him – knew who he was and yet he had no idea of how, or why. Too much of what was going on was outside his control and understanding and Starsky swallowed hard.

Andy too was having his own issues and chose to ignore the question, preferring to leave it to someone more senior to deal with. Starsky looked sick, like he needed a doctor, but rules were rules and he'd been legitimately arrested, and as much as it pained the young man to do, he knew his job. Andy pushed the door to the cell area open and stood back as the cuffed cop walked slowly and carefully in front of him and down to the end of the corridor. Pushing the door to the end cell open, he unlocked the cuffs binding the brunet's wrists and Starsky walked obediently into the cell, rubbing at the red welts on his wrists. He turned as he heard the gate clang shut and wrapped his hands around the bars.

'Do I know this place? You called me Detective. Why?'

Andy smiled shakily. This was too much and he patted one of Starsky's hands gently. 'I don't know what's the matter with you Starsk, but you work here. You're a cop.'

Upstairs, Minnie ran headlong down the corridor and knocked on the room next to Fisher's interview room. Dobey came to the door and she motioned him outside and before he had chance to say anything she blurted out. 'Starsky's alive. He's downstairs in the cells. I've just seen him.'

Dobey's face paled. 'He's…. you sure it's him?' he asked uncertainly.

Minnie gave him a pitying look. Everyone knew that she and the brunet made an art form out of flirting with each other. 'Would I mistake Dave Starsky for anyone else? It's him. He's alive.'

Dobey walked back into the room just as Rigger was winding up for another go at Fisher. He patted Hutch on the shoulder. The blond brushed him off. 'Not now Cap'n, Todd's goin' in for the kill.'

'Hutch, son….um. I think you should come down to the cells with me.'

'What? Right now? Can't it wait?' Hutch asked.

'No, I don't think so' Dobey said shakily. 'You too Traff. You um…. You need to see this.'

Both men looked at each other and followed the black man out of the room and down the corridor. They paused outside the cell area and as Andy unlocked the door, Dobey took a hold of Hutch's arm.

'Hutch, I think there's someone you need to see' he said quietly.

The look on Dobey's face was enough to alert Hutch to something going on. 'Who? What?' he asked.

'Just go down there an' see.'

'Cap'n I'm not in the mood for games. Who is it?' the blond snapped.

'Just do it Hutch. Go' Dobey pushed the big blond gently.

In a daze, Hutch and Traff walked down to the end of the line of cells and as they reached the end one, Hutch looked in through the bars and took an involuntary step back, his face paling significantly.

'Starsk? Oh my God buddy, is that you?' he asked softly, as though not believing his eyes.

The man in the cell had been sitting with his back to the door and now he turned at the voice and looked directly at the flaxen haired cop and his soldier buddy. For a split second there was recognition in those indigo eyes, but it was quickly extinguished and Hutch's desire for a fond reunion was dashed.

Starsky took a faltering step to the front of the cell, but stood one pace away from the bars, his hands by his side and his head cocked in that oh so familiar way of his.

'You know me too?' he asked huskily.

'Know you? Oh Jeez buddy, what did he do to ya?'

The brunet took the final step t the bars and stared out from the cell. 'You really know me?'

'Only for the past 10 years buddy' Hutch said gently. At his side Traff smiled encouragingly.

'You're amongst friends now Curly. Rest easy huh while we figure out how to get you out of here.'

'But the warrant said I was accused of attempted murder. What did I do? Who did I try to kill?' Starsky's throat had gone dry. He thought he should remember these two men, but instead there was still the huge black wall in his mind, robbing him of his past.

'It doesn't matter Starsk. You're home now and we're gonna watch your back. It's still gonna be Me and..'

'Thee' the word was almost a whisper and Hutch grabbed for the brunet's hand wrapped around the bars.

'What did you say?' the blond asked softly.

Indigo eyes met his crystalline blues and bored into his soul. 'Hutch?' Starsky asked hesitantly. He had chance for one final look before a blinding pain ripped through his head and he fell to his knees on the ground his hands up to his temples, moaning at the agony.