The major Incident
Chapter 11
Saturday 9.00am (4th day in).
He was dreaming and he knew it. He felt the darkness surrounding him and wanted to pull it up to his chin, to snuggle into the velvety blackness like he would snuggle into his favourite bedclothes at home. Home. That word brought him back closer to reality. He was far from home now and he hurt. Jeez, did he hurt. He bit back a whimper as he tried to roll onto his side, to try to recapture the measure of comfort he had had.
A face hovered into his mind. A glance of ice blue eyes set into an open, vulnerable face, surrounded by a halo of soft blond hair. Hutch? About to chant his mantra 'I need you Hutch buddy', a wave of pain took him and shook him like a dog with a rag. The face was laughing at him, ridiculing his pain and anguish. He tried to remember. Struggled to remember. Hutch. He loved him didn't he? He worked with him? No. Hutch caused him pain. Hutch was associated with the deaths of his Vietnam team. Hutch was evil.
Starsky closed his eyes, screwing them up to try to get rid of his thoughts. Tried to settle comfortably again on the narrow bed. The General had given him a drink. He'd stopped the pain and made the soldiers go away. Starsky was pitifully grateful to the tall man.
The door was flung open and the two soldiers bustled in. Grabbing the man on the bed by his arms, they hoisted Starsky to his feet, eliciting a scream of pain, and dragged him back to the first small cell he had been in. Once there, the blindfold was tied around his head, covering his eyes and wrapping him in terrifying blackness once more. He felt himself pushed forward and hands raised his arms up above his head, fingers outstretched to the wall. His legs, which felt like they would collapse at any moment, were kicked apart, and once again he was left to endure.
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Saturday 14.00
Hutch's plane had landed at Guatemala City airport on time and as he had no baggage to claim, he made his way hurriedly to the exit where he was met by a man waving a sign proclaiming 'Mr Hutchinson' in crude black letters. Huggy Bear had once more come through with the transport. Was there any country in the world where the black man didn't have some contacts?
The driver introduced himself as Pedro and showed Hutch to the car, which was, if anything, even more broken down than Hutch's own. Hutch explained where he wanted to go and Pedro told him that he had been briefed by his American friend and that he had arranged also the boat and connecting car.
Hutch settled back into the front seat of the car, and watched the scenery fly past. Pedro's driving was even more nerve racking than Starsky's, and they flew along barely missing stray dogs and dodging the multiple potholes in the road. Hutch smiled to himself as he recalled the line from the Beetles Song 'A day in the life' 'four thousand holes in Blackburn Lancashire' – John Lennon had obviously never been to – where was this? Ah Antigua Guatemala, a sign read.
After a couple of hours of bone jarring driving, they arrived at the same pier his partner had used four days ago. As they got out of the car, they were swamped by small, dirty faced children begging for sweets and dollars, hands outstretched, all competing to be the biggest and loudest. Negotiating the children, the next obstacle were the women selling weavings and wooden objects. Ordinarily, Hutch would have spent time here, playing with the children and examining the native crafts, but today, he just wanted to be across the lake. His feeling of dread now intensified hour by hour and he had convinced himself that something bad was going down. Hold on Buddy, I'm on my way.
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Saturday 14.30
The dark haired man's body finally gave up the fight against gravity and slumped to the floor insensible. He had been standing in the stress position against the wall for four and a half hours. Coupled with the previous five hour session and the night spent in the electric cinema room as he remembered it, he had had no more than six or seven hours sleep since his arrival at the camp 96 hours previously. His body now a mass of bruises and burns, he was filthy, weary and weak. He had no more fight left in him and wanted, no yearned, for all this to end, or at least be able to understand what it was all about.
The soldiers watched his body fall heavily to the floor, Starsky's head connecting with the ground with a heavy thud, but made no move to catch the ruined detective, or to cover him, or move him. The General had said to leave him till he dropped and that was just what they had done.
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Saturday 16.00
Hutch finally got out of the car just before the crest of the hill leading down to the camp. He had asked Pedro to stop there, so that he could go ahead on foot to assess the situation and hopefully go unnoticed.
He crept up to the trees at the top of the rise, and, leaning in to one of them, peered down at the camp below. There was no sign of movement around the small collection of buildings. Odd, he thought, that an army camp of this type should have no sentries. There was also no identifiable hospital tent. Starsky had told him all army hospital buildings had a clearly defined red cross on the roof. Again his suspicions were raised.
He backed away and went down the hill to the waiting driver. Knowing that the nearest civilisation was Panajachel Village, some hours drive away, Hutch gave Pedro a hastily scribbled number to Dobey's direct extension in Bay City. He asked the driver to come with him back up the hill and to wait there whilst Hutch went to investigate, If Hutch didn't come out into the open and wave within fifteen minutes of arriving at the camp, Pedro was to get back to the car as swiftly as he could and drive to Panajachel and place the call to Dobey. The Captain would then put their plans into motion as quickly as possible and hopefully extract both detectives.
Agreeing the plan, Hutch cautiously made his way down the hill, hugging the trees as much as possible to give him some cover. Gaining flatter ground on the outskirts of the camp, he ran to the closest building. It was no more than a prefabricated shed of a place, the door having a small window set into it. Hutch carefully peered inside, and, seeing no one there, pushed the door open and entered. He crept forward through another door, into the main body of the building. Gun drawn, he edged towards the door at the end of the short corridor.
He didn't hear the door to his left open, and didn't see the soldier emerge and creep up the corridor behind him. He didn't see the other man's hand raised and certainly never saw the butt of the gun that connected with the back of his head sending him into oblivion.