Chapter 3
From the squad room, Starsky and Hutch had quietly given directions to the Pits to Miller and Samuels and had phoned Huggy to let them know they were on their way. Then, with admonishments to be careful all round, they had gone down to the cells in the basement of the Metro. There the blond had changed into the uniform of a prison guard, whilst Starsky stripped off to his boxers and donned the pale blue short sleeved all-in-one overalls that every fashionable criminal was wearing that season. The brunette carefully folded his jeans and tee shirt up and stowed them in his locker, before turning to his partner. He held out his pen.
'Can ya look after this for me? Don't want to loose it in there. Cost me $135'.
Hutch reached over and took the pen looking at it, expecting solid gold, at least. It was light enough to be plastic. On the side was the inscription BIC. 'How much?' he asked in disbelief. 'It's a BIC. You can get 'em for a dollar at any corner shop. You've been done again, ya moron'.
'No, no, it's my new pen. The one that writes under water. It's worth every cent. I'm not that stupid! Now, will ya look after it for me?'
Hutch swallowed hard. It was a simple question, but one that held every dark meaning he could think of beneath the surface.
Will you look after it for me coz I might not come back?
He shook his head and pasted a smile onto his face. 'Sure I will, but you've got to collect it yourself, OK?'
The phrase's meaning was not lost on the brunette, and he nodded his agreement and gave his partner one last hug as both men set off to the waiting prison van.
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Once towards the door out of the basement, the custody sergeant of the cells handed Hutch the cuffs to place on his partner. Loathing the thought, he silently fastened the leather belt round the brunette's waist, then capturing each wrist in turn, he snapped on the cuffs that dangled at the ends of the chains attached to the belt. Squatting down, he took the remaining chains and attached the last two cuffs round Starsky's ankles, making sure they weren't too tight. He stood up.
'Ready to face the press then, partner?' he asked to hide the discomfort he felt at once again immobilising the smaller man.
Starsky blew his breath out between his lips. 'Ready as I'll ever be. Let's do it'. He shuffled forward, unable to take long steps because of the restraining chains between his feet.
The custody sergeant opened the door and both men went out to a barrage of flashes from cameras surrounding the exit. Hutch pushed them all back as he pushed the brunette towards the waiting van, up the steps and into the darkened interior. Closing the doors behind him, they both sat down heavily as Hutch attached the belt at his partner's waist to a chain in the side of the vehicle, before the unsuspecting driver started the engine and carefully threaded his way through the crowd of journalists and cameramen.
The drive to the jail took no more than 20 minutes and, because the driver was unaware of the switch, was conducted in silence, both men trying to get into their roles. As the vehicle drew to a stop, the doors were opened from outside and a team of two prison guards stood by. They were enormous men with unsmiling faces. Dobey had told the two detectives that only the jail administrator knew about what was going down. The fewer who knew, the less chance there would be for a breach of the security they had carefully erected around the job.
Hutch rose and undid the connecting chain, pulling Starsky roughly to his feet and propelling him towards the steps.
'So, this is the movie star we've been expecting' the guard on the right said sarcastically. Hutch peered at his name badge, which read Mike Richardson. He smiled.
'Yeah, real pain in the ass, this one. Never seen so much security for one guy. Don't know what he did, but he sure as hell is going to have to pay for it' Hutch spat, as he pushed his partner sharply forward, causing the brunette to fall heavily against Richardson.
'Ah look, he likes me already!' the guard smirked, pushing Starsky back. He looked the brunette up and down. 'Well, aren't you a pretty one. Bet you're a wow with the ladies'.
Oh crap, it is the Shawshank Redemption all over again. That's all I need – a gay guard who fancies me! Thought Starsky ruefully.
The other guard – Hutch saw his name was Simpson – said nothing, but laughed at his fellow officer's comments before pushing the brunette inside. Hutch followed. They walked slowly up a small grim corridor and entered the reception area, where a female guard filled in several forms with Starsky/Ramsey's particulars before they were off once again.
A door opened into a small white room, Richardson licking his lips now as he undid the chains from the brunette's waist. 'OK, Mr Ramsey' he said with mock courtesy. 'Strip, and bend over the table'. He walked over to a shelf and snapped on rubber gloves.
Starsky raised pleading eyes to his partner. The look Hutch read on his face was either stop them doing this, or at least stick with me.
Seeing the look, Hutch stepped forward, as Starsky started to get undressed. 'Is that necessary? He's been searched down at the police station. I did it myself'.
'I always like to be thorough. You never know what you might find with these drugs types' the big man answered back with a smile on his face, as Starsky reluctantly took up the requested position.
'Well, then, you don't mind if I stay and learn from the master then' rounded the blond, as he leaned casually back against the wall, arms folded. He feigned indifference, but as he watched Richardson advance on his naked and defenceless partner, and saw Starsky close his eyes to shut out the indignity and pain, Hutch's heart gave a lurch. S'OK buddy. I'm here. Just get through this an everything else will be easy. Not goin' anywhere.
Richardson was none too gentle in his full body cavity search and on occasions Starsky couldn't help giving a yelp of pain when he delved a little too far. At the end of the little show, Richardson's hand came away with blood on it, a little trickle escaping to run slowly down Starsky's leg, and the brunette's breath was a little ragged, sweat beading on his face. The big man looked disappointed as the brunette stood shakily, hands braced on the table in front of him to steady himself.
'Well, nothing there. You can take him for his shower now, then he'll be in cell C25, blue wing. Can you find it OK er………' he tried to see the name badge Hutch wore.
'Hartley' Hutch responded. 'Yeah, thanks for the demonstration. I'll find it fine' as he propelled his still naked partner to the shower stalls in the next room.
Once there, he shoved Starsky towards the showers, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary on the smaller mans skin, giving just that extra touch saying Sorry, buddy, I'm still here.
Starsky walked shakily into the water and stood as it coursed over his body, washing away the memory of Richardson's hands invading him and the blood on his body.
Finally he emerged, uncaring of his nakedness around Hutch and reached for a towel. Quickly he towelled himself dry, shaking the droplets of water off his hair and finger combing it into some semblance of order. Dressing once again in his boxers and boiler suit, he held out his hands as Hutch cuffed them, then walked a little ahead of the blond as they made their way to his cell and home for the next week. As they reached the door, Hutch undid it and they both stepped inside.
It was perhaps 12 feet square with a single metal bed, a small table with chair and in the corner a toilet. Speaking in low tones, the brunette looked up as his partner undid the metal cuffs on his wrists.
'Well, it ain't exactly the Waldorf, but it'll do' he rubbed absently at his wrists, as Hutch stowed the keys back into his pocket.
'You gonna be OK buddy? You were bleeding'. The blond asked, concerned.
'I'm good. That ape just got a little too enthusiastic, but I'll survive. Just don't go too far away OK?'
Hutch smiled a little as he went towards the door, taking one last look as Starsky sat down carefully on the hard bed, wincing at the position.
'Can I get you anything?' he asked, quietly.
The smaller man looked over to him a grin on his face.' Well a cake with a file in it might be good!'
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On the other side of town four men were meeting together in a dilapidated house, at the side of a quiet back road. They were an odd bunch, one tall and lanky with black hair swept back from his forehead. The next was small and rotund with a bald head, the third small too, but with white blond hair and a reddish complexion, like he'd spent too long in the sun without using sun cream. The fourth member of the team sat a little way away from the other three. He too was tall, with a face a cartoonist would be proud of. The nose was slightly too pointed, the chin echoing the nose's lines. His eyelids drooped over pale blue eyes and his hair was a mousy colour, thin and straggly. He tried to make sense of what was going on, but life came as a permanent surprise to Bernie and it took him all his time to remember his own name and whether he had eaten his lunch on time.
The three other men sat around a grimy table that was littered with beer bottles and the remnants of a pizza.
The short bald one, and obviously the brains of the operation – Dennis – was talking as the others dutifully listened.
'Mr Ramirez says he doesn't want Ramsey anywhere near the courtroom. Says he owes him five mil an' he wants it back. Apparently Ramsey has the money stashed somewhere, we just gotta find out where and get it back. Mr Ramirez says he'll be very pleased with us if do. VERY pleased'.
The others nodded, smiling at the thought of just how much Mr Ramirez would thank them. Then they set to making their plans.