The Major Incident
Chapter 6
The plane flight was long, noisy and boring. The army aircraft was devoid of any comforts and was cold. Starsky spent the hours on a bench seat arranged against the side of the plane. He went over in his mind the last 72 hours, the initial meeting with Sharpe, the preparations and the final farewell with Hutch at the airfield. He just couldn't get out of his head the fact that something didn't seem right – not kosher – he smiled at the Yiddish that came unbidden into his head.
Finally the plane started its descent and Starsky looked out of the small window at the fast approaching ground. He could see the mountains in the background and, as the plane landed and the door opened, he felt the cold crisp air rush in.
There was an army car waiting for him and the three soldiers inside snapped salutes to him, as one of them retrieved his kit bag and stowed it in the back. He returned their salutes, slipping too easily into the army routine again, and then got into the back of the car and they drove away from the airfield.
The journey west from Guatemala City took a little over two hours, through streets that looked like every spaghetti western Starsky had ever seen. Small mud houses, really no more than cubes with cut outs for windows and doors flashed past as children and dogs played by the road side in the dust. Women in colourful skirts and blouses wearing tiny bowler hats sat at roadside stalls selling fruit and vegetables, and multi coloured weavings meant for the tourist trade.
The journey was undertaken in almost total silence, the three soldiers staring ahead with jaded eyes. They'd seen it all before. Eventually, Starsky saw a sign post to Lake Atitlan and the car pulled up at a small pier. The volcanoes around the azure blue lake rose tall and across the other side, Starsky could just make out the village of Panejachel, nestling between two of the peaks.
A small inflatable with an outboard motor was waiting and Starsky and his kit were guided to it, where a fourth soldier saluted and helped him on board. The engine roared into life and the short journey across the choppy water was once again done in complete silence.
Starsky was used to noise. He worked the city and he drove every day with a partner at his side. An equal, with whom he could talk, swap banter and jokes and generally make the tedium of the day a little more acceptable. The silence he was now encountering made him edgy and irritable, and there was still some nagging doubt at the back of his mind; something that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He had spent his life as a cop listening to his instincts. They had saved his and Hutch's lives on more than one occasion, and he wasn't about to shelve them now. Apart from that, his boots were new and rubbing, and he longed for the comforting softness of his jeans and tennis shoes. What are ya doin', Davey? If ya wanted to play at soldiers you'd have stayed in the sodding army. Do as Hutch says. Get in there, do the job and get out.
Starsky was woken from his dark thoughts by the inflatable hitting the shore. He realised he'd been daydreaming, and rapidly pulled himself together. Standing he made his way unsteadily off the small craft and crunched up the shingle beach to yet another waiting car. Sighing deeply, and wondering just how much further he was going to have to go, he got in, the engine roared to life and once again, he was speeding away, this time towards the peaks surrounding the lake.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Eventually, after another 45 minutes of bumping along a non existent road, Starsky saw in the distance a cluster of makeshift buildings – huts, a couple of tents and a large, prefabricated shed. The car finally came to a stop and Starsky eased his aching body from its interior.
The air here was cold and crisp, and the curly haired man could tell he was at altitude by his slight breathlessness and the pounding of the blood in his ears. The four soldiers had also got out of the car and were waiting for him to enter the nearest nissen hut – a building no bigger then any domestic house. He walked up to the door and opened it, to be met by a blast of warm air from the interior. Stepping inside, he found himself in a vestibule of sorts, another door facing him. Stepping from the plenum chamber into the main room, he did a double take as a familiar figure rose from behind a desk.
Starsky opened his mouth to make a comment, but instead found the words cut off by a hand over his mouth, and a needle being pushed none too gently into the vein at the side of his neck.
He had only time to wonder what the hell Sharpe was doing there, when Starsky was meant to be in command before the room swayed drunkenly and the floor came rushing up to hit him.