Disclaimer: I do not own the guys; I just tend to play with them a bit…

Dedication: To many of my friend's that inspire and sometimes push me to write…I really appreciate all of you …

Warnings: This one may be a bit dark at times and some scenes of torture lie ahead…The views of this story are in no way reflected by the author!

No Turning Back

Chapter Two

Both detectives sat inside the Torino, parked just down the street and around the corner from the bar that Hutch would need to enter, alone, just the thought of that in itself, made Starsky nervous. They went over last minute protocol and emergency procedure if Hutch found himself in trouble, before the two locked eyes giving a silent 'see ya later' in their gaze at each other. Both of them knew the increased dangers anytime either of them went in without the other, and it made the stress meter rise to an almost unbearable level.

As Hutch moved to get out of the car, Starsky leaned across the seat, looking up at the tall blond, who suddenly looked even taller as he rose out of the candy apple red car.

"Look, you watch your back in there, 'cause I won't be there to do it for ya'." Starsky implored his friend.

"Ah, isn't that sweet, you're worried." Hutch said smugly.

"This ain't no joke Hutch, I don't like sending you in alone an' you know that!"

"Well it's not like I can just walk in with my Jewish friend, yelling anti-Semitic slurs, with you by my side." Hutch explained to his worried partner.

"Yeah? Well if you ain't out in 2 hours, I'm comin' in loookin' for ya!" Starsky vowed as he started his car, allowing the monstrous engine roar at his command.

Starsky pulled away from the curb, his tires squealing as he sped down the street, Hutch watching him until he disappeared completely.

The tall blond shook his head as he watched the man that meant more to him than any other person, disappear down the road. He realized that what he was about to do, was to protect people like him, people that had certain beliefs or certain morals that not everyone agreed with, but everyone had the right to have. It suddenly struck him that this case was more than just one of finding missing person, or persons, but more about stopping people from spreading hatred that spawned like an infection in a dirty wound.

Slowly, Hutch made his way inside the smoke filled bar. He took immediate note to the cliental. The place was filled with middle class, fair skinned men gathered in small groups. Many heads looked up at the Nordic as he walked in. They exchanged glances and whispers, obviously discussing the stranger.

He made his way up to the bar, finding even the bartender himself saunter up to him speculatively.

"What can I get for you stranger?" He asked Hutch.

"Just a beer." Hutch answered short and sweet.

The man turned and drew a draft from the tap and placed it in front of the new man in his establishment.

"That'll be fifty cents." He requested payment in full, hoping that this new visitor wouldn't be sticking around for more than that one glass.

Hutch looked around and noticed that almost militant appearance by nearly everyone in the room. He dug deeply into his pocket and fished out several bills, laying them on the counter. "Just keep 'em coming." He requested.

Hutch downed his first beer, feeling the eyes of everyone on him. He had an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He watched two men playing pool, pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards them.

"Mind if I take next game?" Hutch asked, being ignored by both players, as the two exchanged glances amongst themselves.

Hutch spent the rest of the evening, being pretty much ignored, but noticed just the same. He made sure that he was out within the two hour time limit that Starsky had stipulated. He knew his friend and he knew that he meant it, if Hutch wasn't out in that time frame, the hot headed brunet would come flying through the front door for sure.

ooo

Jason Kiles was an average sized man, with a large ego and a large following to boot. He had many faithful men that hung on every word and belief that he laid down. He sat in his darkly paneled office, sitting in a high back leather chair as he looked at the check in his hands for $50,000.00. He was a business man, and he was good at what he did. The one thing he had never anticipated was the 13 year old boy that came in with is next acquisition. Jim Rigsby had screwed this one up, but it wasn't a complete loss, he would still get the monthly check for the father, and he would have to tend to and train his bastard child until he was fit for sale himself.

He looked at the photos on his desk, the pictures of broken, beaten men in the hands of their new 'owners' and the thought aroused him. He was making a good living by brokering out the newest wave of slaves. Jewish men and boys sold to the highest bidder for a life of hard labor and servitude that even the black man rarely saw. This was a new breed of horrific abuse that actually brought excitement to the man behind it all, the one that made the decisions and the money at the expense of others.

Jason Kiles managed his business with an iron fist. They would prey on those that were loners, drifters. Ones that had no family to speak of, no one to miss them, no one to wonder where they had disappeared to, no one that cared if they were alive or dead…He was brought out of his daydream by a loud knock on his door, three successive raps, jarring him back into reality.

"C'me in!" He shouted as he heard a slight struggle on the other side of the door. The wooden panel was thrown open quickly and roughly, the handle bouncing of the wall as it flew to the side.

Two very large men were grappling with a third, smaller and weaker man that was positioned in between them, his hands tied behind his back, his chin dropped to his chest. He was sobbing hysterically, barely making any sense at all, "Please, please, please…he's all I got…" The dirty dark haired man pled with his captors.

Jason's face lit up in pleasure as the man was brought closer to his desk and knelt before him.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Stern…" Jason begun tauntingly, "I see you are willing to accept your fate…"

The dirty man, lifted his head slowly, his eyes red and puffy from crying, his face stained heavily with the dirt from the work yard, "Please Sir…he's my boy…he's all I got…Ill do what ever you say…just don't hurt my boy…he's just a kid…" the sorrowful man pled with Jason.

"An' I just bet you'd do anything to protect your kid, now wouldn'tcha?" Jason asked, his eyes growing dark and intense with the power that filled him.

"Yes Sir…please…I'll do anything…" He gasped as his eyes locked with the man's behind the desk.

"You have no clue how right you are…you will do anything!" Jason hissed as he leaned forward slightly. "Believe me, I'd just as soon kill that bastard Jew boy of yours, to save me from looking at his sorry, pathetic ass. But I've decided to show you some mercy an' spare him to ensure your loyalty to the cause…"

"Thank you…." He said as he tried to control his breathing.

"If you behave yourself and do as you're told, now and after your sale…I will keep your son alive…" He stood up from his chair. "But if you so much as crap without being told to…I kill him!" He snapped his fingers, "just like that! You hear me?"

The man nodded obediently, inhaling quicky, "Y…y…yes Sir, whatever you say…p…please…just don't hurt 'im…"

"I think you may be ready for your new home Frank…"

"Can I see m…my boy one last time…please?" He implored his captor as Jason snorted in laughter at his question.

Jason looked at the two men holding Frank Stern by the arms. He smiled satisfactorily as he tipped his head at them and the one to the right sprang from the room. "Sure you can Frank, one last time, but that's it…" He said as he rounded the desk and approached the defeated man, "But let me make myself perfectly clear…your boy will stay here, in my care, until he himself is ready for sale. I will feed him, house him, and train him…he will be safe until the time comes for him to move on to his new owner like you're doing now. Keep in mind, if I hear anything about you misbehaving or not fulfilling your duties for your new master…I won't think twice about killing your boy." He leaned forward, whispering ominously in the man's ear, his breath hot on Frank's cheek, "An' I am going to make sure that your boy suffers a painful and long agonizing death…he will pay for your sins…" he hissed. "I'll make you wish you had killed him yourself…"

ooo

Hutch returned to the bar for the forth consecutive night, over the past several days he had been able to strike up conversations and even played a couple of rounds of pool with some of the patrons. He had heard several underlying comments that could be construed as a racial slur, but only if you were looking for it, so he decided to let them go rather then call too much attention to himself. He needed to be careful how he went about infiltrating this group, they needed to trust him, he needed them to believe his hatred which was going to be a difficult feat for Hutch to achieve. Every fiber of his being fought against racism and the evils that spawned from such hatred. How could he expect them to believe something he was so against.

He mingled with the crowd and exchanged greetings from many of the regulars as he wandered up to the tall bar counter. He lifted his finger to the bartender as the man had already begun pouring the blond a frosty beer. Grabbing his refreshment, he made his way to the opposite side of the smoke filled bar. He watched the two players presently occupying the pool table, recognizing them immediately as a couple of young men that he had spoken with over the past few days.

The shorter, darker man Hutch knew as Jim Rigsby walked toward, flipping his head in acknowledgment. Over the period of a few short days, Hutch had been come to be known to them as Kent Cummings, a salesman that had originated from Duluth, Minnesota and was transferred out here with a large pharmaceutical company, trying to climb the corporate ladder. He had also woven a complicated tale of his brother-in-law that had joined the company after he did, and was moving up the ranks faster…he contributed that to the fact that he was of a different ethnicity and that the company wanted to show its Equal Opportunity Employment for the world to see.

"So Kent how's things with your brother-in-law?" Rigsby asked as he walked up to the tall blond man offering his hand to shake, which Hutch took, still hold his pool cue in his left hand.

Hutch took a deep breath, he knew what he wanted to say, but he was also aware that it was going to hurt to say it, whether he believed his words or not, it was going to hurt, "Same as usual, kissing ass and making his Jewish way up the ladder!" Hutch snapped as he closed his eyes briefly trying to get rid of the nasty taste in his mouth.

Hutch's stomach knotted as they continued the conversation. "Yeah, well what'd you expect?" Jim responded as he moved back towards the pool table to take his shot.

"Well I sure didn't expect my own sister to marry on of him." Hutch retorted as he looked over his shoulder at the bar behind him, and then returned his gaze to the men before him.

"Maybe you should have taught her better…" Rigsby said out of the corner of his mouth as he bent in half at the table, concentrating on the white cue ball, closing one eye, taking aim, then coiling back his arm, and taking his shot. Hutch heard the clicking of the balls hitting each other, but noticed that he didn't hear that distinct sound of one of them being pocketed, as he rose and headed back for Hutch.

"Yeah, I know what you mean…if I had to do it all over again, that Jew would have never made it to the wedding." Hutch quipped, whispering slightly.

"I hear you buddy, I hear you…" Rigsby concurred as Hutch watched on. He really hated what this whole conversation consisted of, he never wanted this case, he hated everything it stood for, but more importantly he was worried about saying something that would hurt his friend.

"Do you, do you really hear what I'm saying…it just drives me nuts that the Jews, just like the blacks, think that they were served such an injustice that now humanity has to spend eternity making it up to them. It wasn't them that it hurt; it was their ancestors…why should they reap any benefits for being an inferior race?" Hutch spewed quickly having a difficult time getting that last sentence out.

"Yeah, you think so?" A voice boomed from the bar as the three men by the pool table turned to face the intruder, "You honestly think that being either black or Jewish makes someone inferior?" The dark, curly haired man spoke as he looked straight ahead, bringing his frosty glass to his lips and sipping on his beer.

Hutch's heart began to race, this was a critical moment in the case, a staged fight between he and his partner. He had to make sure the others in the bar didn't attack him first, and also make sure that he, himself would be able to take a swing at the man that was his closest friend, closer than his family…How was he going to be able to intentionally hurt the man he had been trained to protect?

To Be Continued…