Chapter 3 – November 1st

Starsky pulled into the cemetery at about 6:15. The sky was becoming lighter, the sun trying to force it's way above the horizon, but it was still gloomy enough that he'd needed the headlights and now he pulled off the road and drove through the enormous wrought iron gates as they stood guard at the entrance to the graveyard. It never failed to amuse the brunet that a cemetery, of all places would have gates. Was anyone really going to break out? He didn't think so.

The mist lay still across the pathways, lending an ethereal air to the open spaces of the graveyard. He looked this way and that, peering through the gloom hoping that he could see Mickey making his way through the maze of headstones. The one thing he really didn't want to do was to have to go to the very centre of this godforsaken place in the dark and with the fog still laying thick on the ground. Stone angels and statues loomed out of the mist, standing sentinel over their respective graves and the already spooked cop's imagination worked overtime, imagining that they could somehow come to life and follow him. Nervously he looked in the rear view mirror, half expecting to see some apparition on the back seat of the Torino. Too many black and white horror films he decided. That and too much time reading horror stories as a kid. He pushed the spooky thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated on his goal.

Starsky counted out the pathways off the main road through the graveyard, turning right at the third one, as Mickey had instructed. The road was rough and the big red car bounced along the roadway as the brunet peered though the windscreen trying to make out the figure of the little snitch between the grave markers. The land dipped downwards, towards a hollow filled with fog, the land seemingly stuffed with cotton candy and some irrational fear made Starsky not want to enter it. Not that he though there were monsters or ghosts. He just had a bad feeling, his cop senses tingling as he eased his foot down onto the break pedal, slowing the momentum of the big car.

At the bottom of the hill, he drew to a stop. The fog here was thicker and the beams of the headlights drilled two narrow illuminated golden passages through the mist, cutting his world down to binocular vision. He wound down his window to see if he could hear any sound from the outside, but the fog muffled sounds as well and he felt as though he was on a another planet, the only human being in the universe. "The only living boy in New York" the words of the Simon and Garfunkel song ran round his head.

The curly haired cop turned off the engine and sat in the big car for a few minutes, his hands playing with the steering wheel as he tried to see through the fog surrounding him. But no figure emerged. There was no sign of Mickey and Starsky cursed under his breath. He realised he'd been suckered and he started to think of all the unpleasant things he'd do to the little man when he got hold of him next. He was just about to switch the engine back on and get out of the white blanketed world when he heard a noise behind him. It was part way between a cough and a giggle, and just the sort of noise he'd expect the snitch to make. Hand on the door handle, he swiftly opened the door and stepped out into the cool, cloying mist, feeling the moisture begin to cling to his hair and his clothes.

'Mickey?' he said loudly. There was no answer.

'C'mon Mickey. It's too early for games. I'm tired. Quit fooling around huh?'

Still no response, but Starsky fancied he heard a footstep at the side of him and twirled around to try to see who was there. The fog covered up all signs of life and muffled further sounds. Now, his heart was beginning to hammer in his chest, and carefully and quietly he took the Smith and Wesson from its hiding place at his back, caressing the heavy, body-warmed metal in his left hand. With his right, he pulled back the chamber, cocking the weapon and instantly felt a little more secure. His eyes scanned the area.

'Mickey, I'm getting' tired of this. Hutch aint here. its just me. Tell me what ya have to an' then we can both get outa here' he shouted into the pale fog.

There it was again. A distinct footfall now, to his left. He turned, bringing the weapon up to waist height, a defensive posture, designed more for his own peace of mind than for firing.

'Over here' the thin voice called, shaking him to the core. He'd fully expected the little man to come limping out of the mist to meet him, but to have Mickey calling him over was unusual and his heightened senses braced.

'No. you come over here ya little weasel' he shouted, his right hand on his car, an anchor in the misty, monochrome world. His car was his security blanket, a haven of peace and normality and not much would drag him away from his baby.

'Can't……need to see ya' the voice sounded again, an edge to it this time, though whether it was fear, pain, or something else, Starsky wasn't sure. He only knew that, despite his better judgement, he needed to check it out. He took a step forward, letting go of the cold damp metal of his Torino, his head questing left and right. In this cotton candy world he felt off balance and unsure and he walked slowly and carefully toward where he thought Mickey's voice was.

'Hey Mickey. Where are ya?' Starsky called, trying to get a fix on the snitch's location.

'Over here' came the reply, but this time from the back of him. How could he have turned around in a circle? But he obviously had in the blinding fog. The brunet turned and walked back, following the voice.

'I can't see ya Mickey. Say again. Where are ya?' he shouted, his voice muffled. He tasted the metallic tang of the fog in his tongue and wanted to wash his mouth out, to rid himself of the dirty taste.

'Starsky'.

This time the voice was away off at his right hand side and again he seemed to be walking away from his target.

'That's it Mickey. Quit playin' games, I'm not in the mood. C'mon and show yourself huh? Or I'm just gonna get back in the car an' go'.

'No, don't go. I'm right here. Over here'.

Starsky darted sideways towards the voice, this time much faster and as he got to the spot he thought he'd fixed with his eyes, he thought he saw a figure moving in the fog, the thick mist swirling as though it had been disturbed by a passing body. The brunet's breath was coming in rasping breaths now. The cemetery was not his favourite place at the best of times. But to be in a fog laden, dark cemetery, on his own and playing hide and seek with an insignificant snitch was way down on his top ten list of "experiences to be enjoyed". He grabbed out blindly, hoping to snag the passing man, but his hands hit thin air and for an irrational second, Starsky thought he was chasing a ghost. He grabbed out again and this time, the very tips of his fingers brushed against something substantial. Something wearing a rough material, and to his knowledge, ghosts didn't wear denim. There again, he couldn't remember the last time Mickey had worn denim either!

'Mickey ya fuckin' creep! Stand still. Show yourself' Starsky shouted, and edge of desperation in his voice now.

He saw another flash of movement in a thinner patch of fog and dashed forwards again, this time managing to catch a fleeting hold of a man's arm, and his temper snapped.

'Ok enough. I'm goin' back to my car an' I'm goin'. Enough fun an' games. Ya had your chance. Don't come runnin' to me next time ya need money for a fix, coz I aint playin along' Starsky yelled, trying to decide which direction his car was. He turned around, but the fog had closed in again, although the sky was becoming lighter.

Suddenly the fog parted slightly and in front of him the small man stood, smiling innocently up at him. Mickey looked as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, his eyes giving nothing away as he gazed sweetly at the cop.

'I couldn't find you in the fog' he explained.

'Well I was bellowin' enough. Couldn't ya follow my voice?' Starsky asked impatiently.

'Sorry Starsky. But I'm here now' the snitch said, his eyes darting backwards and forwards, refusing to meet the brunet's indigo blues. Mickey was uncomfortable and Starsky knew it, but couldn't at the moment decide why.

'So, what did ya have to drag me out here for?'

'We needed to be alone'.

'Terrific. So we're alone. Tell me what ya got an' then we can both get outa here'.

'Well, it's not as simple as that'.

'What d'ya mean, not as simple as that?' the brunet's temper was beginning to fray again and he really wanted to wrap his hands around the little man's neck and ring the truth from him.

'Well, like I said, I wanted to be alone'.

The cop sighed. 'Ya wanna search the car? Ya think I have Hutch in the trunk or sumthin? I am alone'.

'No, you're not' Mickey said, his eyes flicking over the brunet's shoulder.

Starsky turned, his gun in his hand, ready to fire if need be, but as he turned, slightly off balance, a foot appeared from nowhere and kicked his weapon from his grasp. Starsky gasped in surprise as he heard his gun rattle on the ground, his eyes widening as another figure loomed out of the mist. He had time only to register shock, fear and recognition before the figure pounced on him, dragging him to the ground. Starsky fell backwards, the back of his head hitting the concrete path with a tooth shuddering blow and for a second he saw stars, the white foggy world spinning before him. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it down, it's bitterness burning at his sensitive tissues and his eyes teared involuntarily

His assailants hands were all over him now, punching and ripping at him and he used his hands to try to fend off the attack. The heavy body was knelt over him, straddling his own body so that he couldn't get enough purchase to rise or knock the other man off his legs. He stared up into the familiar face just as the man brought the cotton rag soaked in chloroform up and pushed it over the brunet's nose and mouth. Starsky's eyes flew wide in panic and he tried to hold his breath, but the shock of the attack had made his breathing more rapid and he couldn't hold out against the desperate need to take a breath. Sucking in air, he smelled the sickly sweet smell of the drug and felt its immediate effect. His mind blurred and his eyes fought to close as the blood thundered in his ears.

He couldn't pass out. Not now. Not with this madman bending over him. He forced his eyes open and looked imploringly at Mickey, but the small man merely looked back, not lifting a finger to help as eventually the drug took full effect and Starsky's hand, that had been reaching for his assailant's throat sagged back to flop lifelessly down onto the ground.

Slowly the other man got up, panting with exertion.

'Help me get him into the crypt' he said as Mickey bent down and took a hold of Starsky limp torso. The other man grasped the denim clad legs and together they carried the unconscious form into the stone fortress, pushing the door closed behind them. Quickly, the man took the keys from Starsky's pocket and threw them to Mickey.

'Take that big red machine and hide it. I don't care where, just so long as Hutch don't find it. And Gary, be careful'.

Mickey caught the keys and sighed. 'I aint Gary' he mumbled as he went out to drive the Torino away.