16

Traff stood in Dobey's room surrounded by gun toting, anxious detectives. Dobey had hand picked four men to go to the club that night and had also designated a new, blond woman from narcotics to be Traff's "girlfriend". Carole Marsh was a diminutive individual. She stood no taller than Traff's shoulders and gazed at the world through smoky blue eyes. She had an easy laugh and an endearing habit of flinging her long golden blond hair over her shoulders as she spoke. And she spoke with a soft Carolina drawl which left most men weak at the knees and working on their next chat up line.

As the four other officers, Campbell, Chang, Fernandez and Amsden checked their weapons and hid them away discretely, Marsh linked arms with Traff and smiled up at him.

'When Dobey said undercover, I didn't realise my "beau" would be quite so cute and um…..' she squeezed the muscular arm 'well built. If it wasn't for the occasion, I think I might just like this assignment'.

Traff enveloped her in deep green eyes. 'Don't let this stern exterior fool ya honey. The feeling's mutual. I am pleased to see you and that aint no gun!' he wiggled his eyebrows and his hip provocatively and she giggled.

'Why kind Sir, you'll have a lady blushin' where she stands!' and there was just the hint of more colour in the pretty face as she looked away.

'OK Listen up everyone' Dobey's voice rose above the low murmur in the room. 'You've all met Traff and you all know what you're doing tonight. If the information we have is right, Starsky and Hutchinson may well have been drugged, but we don't know what with. They're apparently due to fight tonight. We have no idea what mental state they'll be in. But you know them. You know what they're capable of when they're on the street, so be careful. Watch your backs. Watch your partner's back, and get them out'.

'Any questions?' his big brown gaze took in each member of the team in turn, searching their faces. He wanted this done and he wanted it done right. No mistakes and there was no margin for error.

'Depending on their condition, where do we take them when we get them out?' Chang asked, the others nodding behind him.

'Once I get a message from one of you to say that you've got your opportunity, I'll have the black and whites move in. If they're too injured, you take 'em to County General, that's the closest. If they're walkin' and talkin' and lucid, you bring 'em back here for debriefing'.

'Have you all got your receivers?' Dobey checked that each man and Marsh had a two way transmitter hidden on them so that they could stay in touch with each other and with Dobey. 'Anything else?'

There was a round of shaking heads and a general checking of transmitters and a last minute pat at guns hidden beneath jackets or strapped around legs. There was a palpable tension in the room and Dobey knew when enough pep talk was enough,

'OK. Go people, and be careful' Dobey said, watching as the crowd departed. He sighed heavily and sat down in the small easy chair in his office, head in his hands. All he could do now was to pray that his two officers and the rescue party would be successful and no-one would be hurt. Getting to his feet, he walked slowly down to the parking lot and got into his car. With the master receiver on the seat next to him, he set off to the club on the outskirts of town.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Blue sat quietly in his cell. He couldn't process properly what had happened to him today. From what he could remember of the past weeks, he knew there had been a recurrence of pain, although the details were very fuzzy. At every opportunity someone, either in a white coat or dressed as an orderly had hurt him. And when they weren't hurting him, they weren't tending to his hurts, leaving him to suffer in the quiet of his cell.

But today, he'd looked up in surprise and fear as the two guards had once again come for him. He'd been given a shower and had time to enjoy the hot water and then afterwards, he'd been taken for a full body massage. Although he'd have preferred a cute little Japanese girl with long black bangs and a petite figure to have done the rubbing and stretching, even the big man's hands pummelling and kneading his tired and sore muscles had felt good and he could almost forget the ever present collar around his neck, chaining him to the massage table. He'd submitted quietly to the ministrations pathetically grateful that someone was treating him humanely, even though the guards were ever present and no-one spoke to him. At the end of the 90 minute treatment, he felt relaxed and boneless and he had walked docilely behind the guards back to his cell, the fear of the past hours having been massaged from his body. He'd been allowed to sleep for a while, because he still had the bone crushing weariness, but then he'd been given a steak and vegetables for a meal and a large cup of water. The protein rich food felt good and he'd savoured each mouthful as though it had been his last, so that eventually feeling clean, relaxed and satiated he'd dropped off into the first deep and peaceful sleep he could remember having for weeks.

Now he still felt the tiredness that overtook his body when he wasn't feeling the effects of Matwick's needle, but his body felt relaxed, toned and cosseted. He was reminded of dogs in pens waiting for the show ring as though he was a prize animal about to enter an important competition. A cosseted and valuable commodity, but still a captive. It was just that today, the tide had turned and his prison was feeling as though it was mink lined. He sighed. Thinking hurt more and more these days and he'd learned to switch off his mind. But occasionally thoughts would take him unawares and now he thought of the voice he'd heard while he'd been under the masseur's hands in that cubicle. Someone was in the next curtained area and he'd heard voices low and indistinct. But the timbre of one of them sent tingles known his spine. What was the saying? 'Blast from the past?' This felt like a blast from his past, although he was unwilling to jeopardise the feeling of wellbeing by trying to remember and having that red and gold pain envelop him again. Instead, he pushed the thought away. Maybe tomorrow he'd try to remember. But now, he felt too good to want to do anything but savour the comfortable moment and concentrated on feeling warm and …..if not "loved" then at least cared for…… for the first time in however long.

The door to his cell opened, making him jump nervously and his two, familiar guards came in. One held the ubiquitous collar and chain, the other a piece of material. He threw it at Blue.

'Tie that round your waist then stand and face the wall. You know the score'.

To do anything else was painful and so the captive complied slowly, the fear retuning now as he contemplated the two men. Wrapping the broad strip of blue material around his hips above the waistband of his white pants, he tied it securely and then, with one more look of defiance and hate, turned to face the wall, clasping his hands in the small of his back. Blue felt the stiff leather cuffs being buckled around his wrist and then the claustrophobic leather collar being fastened tightly around his neck, the chain connecting hands to collar. Thus immobilised, the guards spun him around.

'Feeling good are ya?'

Blue ignored him and tensed his flat abdominals for the blow he anticipated. This was how most meetings with these goons started, so far as he could remember. But none came and his eyes flew open in surprise. That was new! Usually they took any chance to beat the crap out of him, especially was he was so tightly bound that he couldn't retaliate. He wondered what was going on, but followed obediently as they guards took him to the by now familiar medical room. He was pushed towards the centre of the room and was held forcibly by his two companions as Matwick picked up the syringe gun, filling the chamber with a large dose of the blue fluid. His anxiety levels hit maximum and his breath whistled through his teeth as he watched the approach. He wanted to run, or to back himself int a corner to hide, but the ingrained Starsky persona wouldn't let him take a cowards was out and the defiance shone through, especially when he saw the cattle prod dangling from the belt of Matwick's trousers.

Fear entered the indigo eyes, and despite himself, Blue flinched as the doctor pushed the needle against an arm bearing small puncture wounds and tiny bruises up its muscular length. As the plunger depressed, Blue closed his eyes feeling the fiery trail through his blood as the drug coursed through his body, igniting his emotions and turning him from a docile captive into a mean and bloody fighting machine. Matwick stood back. This part of the process always impressed him, knowing he had this ultimate control over a man who'd ruined his cosy and comfortable life back at the mental hospital. The doctor had waited a long time for his revenge, but to be able to take his revenge so completely and be paid big bucks to do it, was beyond his wildest dreams.

Blue trembled, shock waves coursing through his body, feeling the incredible rush as the adrenaline derivative suffused his blood. This felt different somehow to the other tmes that he could vaguely remember. The ferocity of the drug had never burned away at him like this before and as the sweat started to bead on his brow, the guards took an even firmer hold and dragged him towards the door.

He struggled with them, making their job difficult. They'd had instructions that this was to be an important fight and that they were not to injure the two fighters in any way. Matwick had added with a grin that Blue and Green would hurt themselves enough in any event. But despite his struggles, he was outnumbered and they were strong. Blue felt his legs shake as he walked, his mind focussed on just one thing – fighting -and as he started to stumble down the corridor, he saw two more guards were propelling a blond man towards Matwick's needle.

In his blaze of drug induced paranoia, Blue struggled to get at the other blond man as he passed, no thought in his head but that he wanted to sink his fists into another body, neither rhyme nor reason to his need. It was brutal, fundamental and raw emotion. He needed to fight and he didn't care who was on the receiving end. But he knew that the harder they fought back, the better he'd like it.

As they reached the door through to the arena, he felt the men at his back push him firmly, almost brutally against the wall while they unfastened his cuffs and collar. He stood panting, hearing the muffled roar of the crowd.

'Let me at 'em' he growled at the two guards, trying to wrench his arms free of their hold. They held on more firmly, adding finger shaped bruises to the puncture wounds on Blue's arm.

The fighter continued to struggle, his heart hammering in his chest as his head became filled with blood lust and thoughts of battle. He wanted to hit, the punch, to kick out at another hard body and to be rid of the army of fire ants marching through his veins, making him itchy and irritable. His breath was ragged as though he'd already run a race and sweat trickled down the sides of his face, making the brown curls there cling to his damp features.

As the feelings continued to swamp him he felt a movement at his side and looked around, seeing a big blond man. Green too was sweating, a flush on his lightly tanned skin and as Blue tried to take a good look at his adversary, the door into the arena opened and both men were thrust into the noise and lights of the fighting pit.