MIND CONTROL
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Starsky slowly opened his eyes, immediately recognizing the lethargic, confused sensation that washed over him. He had been heavily drugged again, probably in his food
the night before. He took several deep, cleansing breathes to calm the nausea that threatened. He frowned, sensing that there was something different about his environment. The color was all wrong. The walls of his room were a stark, plain white. These walls were a soft, pastel blue. He leaned up on one arm and looked around, startled to find that he had been moved while he was sleeping.
His new accommodations more closely resembled a cheap motel room than a cell. There was a single bed with a wooden headboard, a tiny nightstand, and even a small window that let in the sunlight. Starsky scrambled to his feet and explored his new surroundings. The window was too small to squeeze through and had thicker glass than usual, probably bulletproof and unbreakable. But at least he could see outside again, even if the only view he had was of the roof of the building. There was a small closet with two extra sets of sweatpants and sweatshirts hanging inside. The adjoining bathroom was larger with a walk-in shower and a sink with a mirror. In the medicine cabinet, he found shaving cream, one safety razor in a plastic wrapper, two bars of soap and a cheap bottle of shampoo. Fresh towels hung over a rod inside the shower stall. He wasn't surprised to find the door to the room securely locked and unable to be opened from the inside. He wondered why the sudden change in his room but he didn't spend a lot of time worrying about it. It was definitely a step up from his previous accommodations.
Exploring further, he was delighted to find several tattered paperbacks in the nightstand. At least now he could pass the time by reading instead of staring at four bare walls for hours at a time. They all appeared to be sleazy romance novels, soft porn for bored housewives, but after being held so long without any outside stimulation, he wasn't picky about his choice of reading material.
He glanced towards the door when he heard a soft scraping sound. For the first time, he noticed the hinged slot at the bottom as his breakfast tray was slid into the room. He smiled as he smelled the aroma of pancakes. Even the quality and quantity of his food seemed to have improved. The tray held a stack of pancakes dripping with butter and maple syrup, several strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, hash browns, a cup of coffee and a large glass of orange juice. Carrying the tray over to the bed, he began to eat with relish and a renewed appetite.
He had just finished his food when the door opened and Colby came into the room. Starsky ignored his former friend, his mild rebellion the only defense available to him at the moment. In spite of the improved conditions of his captivity, he was still very much a prisoner and still wore the stun belt fastened snugly around his waist.
"How do you like your new digs?" Colby asked with a grin. "You should be getting down on your knees and thanking me for getting you out of that other room."
"Don't hold your breath." Starsky said with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "I wouldn't thank you for anything."
"David…David…" Colby chided him "Still have that mouth on you, don't you?" he sighed dramatically "Oh well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Just remember one thing, you can always wake back up in the other room anytime you make me unhappy."
"You and your friends are gonna do what you want no matter what I do." Starsky growled. "Seems like a lot of trouble to go too just to try and recruit me to help you on your little mission."
"We wouldn't have to go to so much trouble if you would just cooperate a little." Colby pointed out patiently. "Personally, I like it this way better myself. I told them you'd never voluntarily help them."
"So this gives you the chance to get your kicks at my expense."
"Something like that. Now you've got a little taste of what I went through for two years thanks to you and Hutch." Colby said bitterly.
"Hutch and me were just doing our job. You're the one who used us, used our friendship, to try and track down your target."
"I was just doing what I was paid to do too. It almost worked too. You led me right to his old lady."
"Tell me something, John…were you ever in 'Nam or was that a lie too?"
"Oh, I was there all right…I was just never a P.O.W. The military trained me how to kill and I found out that I was good at it."
"If you were so valuable to them, then why did it take two years for them to get you out of prison?" Starsky said letting the sarcasm creep into his voice. He knew he was taking a chance by baiting Colby with leading questions but, frankly, Starsky was tired of playing the game by their rules.
"An unfortunate casualty of war…just like you spending six month in a fucking P.O.W. camp before you were finally rescued." He smiled smugly. "Do you have any idea how long it took to plan this little scenario with you? Over two fucking years and more money than you can possibly imagine."
"Why me?"
"Because you're expendable. And because you're the best at what you do. You're military record speaks for itself. You were trained as a sharpshooter. You killed people just like I did."
"I would hardly call what I did the same thing as you. I wasn't somebody's hired assassin." Starsky said with a disgruntled grunt. "I was just following orders."
"So was I. I just got paid a hell of a lot better for it than you did."
"So what are you going to do now?" Starsky asked "Because you know I'm never going to cooperate with you. No matter what you do to me."
"Yes, you will. Or you'll die. Simple as that. The choice is up to you."
"I'd rather be dead than help you or your friends."
"You'll change your mind soon enough. My friends will make sure of that." Colby said with a confident smirk. "Now, as much as I've enjoyed our little chat…I have to go. But I'll be back later. It's time you met some more of my friends."
Starsky watched with guarded eyes as Colby left the room. His parting remark sent a chill down Starsky's spine. If he thought that things were bad before, he had the distinct feeling that they were about to get a lot worse. The stakes had just been raised and he knew that he would be the one to ultimately pay the price with more blood, sweat and pain. He closed his eyes and silently prayed for the strength to go on fighting them.
He found himself wondering if Missy had managed to get his message to Hutch. That was his only hope now. Even if Hutch was shot and in critical condition, hopefully Captain Dobey or someone else on the force would intercept the letter and send out a rescue party to find him. It was his only chance. He couldn't escape on his own.
He tried to read to pass time but found he couldn't concentrate on the sugary sweet romance novel. Sleep also eluded him, no longer offering the quick escape as before. Finally, he settled for staring out of the window. Even through the view wasn't much, the warmth of the sunshine on his skin and the glare of the light reflecting off the roof was a welcome diversion.
It was shortly after lunch that Colby returned to his room. And he wasn't alone. This time he was accompanied by three young men, all in their early twenties and all dressed in regulation military attire. They also each held a regulation firearm in their hands and had their weapons pointed directly at Starsky. Unwanted memories of the months of painful recovery from his previous shooting flashed through Starsky's mind. The pain was still fresh in his mind. It was not an experience he cared to repeat.
"Put your hands behind your back." Colby ordered "And don't try anything unless you want to end up with a few holes in your body where you shouldn't have any."
Reluctantly, Starsky complied. Colby stepped around behind him and snapped on a pair of handcuffs, securing his wrists behind his back. Starsky winced slightly as the metal cut into his skin, tightened a bit more than was necessary to restrain him. Satisfied that Starsky was going to cooperate, Colby took him by the right arm and pulled him towards the door. For the first time since his confinement, Starsky was led into another part of the building.
He was led to a large open room similar to a gymnasium. But his trained eye knew that the equipment in this room wasn't used for exercise. It was used for torture. Some of the more primitive devices he recognized from his time in Viet Nam. There were chains hanging from the ceiling and shackles built into the wall. Instinctively, Starsky tensed up, bracing himself for whatever was to come. He knew it wasn't going to be pleasant or good for his health.