Hutch drove back from the mental hospital just as the first light of dawn was beginning to light up the horizon. He'd had a long night with Doctor Connor as they both tried to figure out what Prudholm's next moves would be. But whatever scenario they ran, it always came back to one thing. Prudholm hated both Starsky and Hutch and blamed them for his son's death. And he'd do anything in his power to get back at them. The fact that he was a sick man only added fuel to his flames, and now the doctor and the detective were left wondering just what sick ideas Prudholm might have.
The flaxen haired cop drove back to the Metro with the dark thoughts running through his mind. Someone must have seen Prudholm. The madman must have contacted someone. But who? Hutch started compiling a mental list of all the people that both he and his partner knew, who might have sufficient dealings with the shadier side of Bay City to be able to help him. By the time he'd pulled up in the police garage, he'd come up with a short list.
'Prudholm's got to have had help' he told Dobey as he sat nursing a pot of black coffee, back in the Captain's office.
'Are we absolutely one hundred percent sure it is Prudholm?' Dobey asked.
Hutch blew out his cheeks. 'As certain as anyone can be. We're dealing with a psychopath, so his actions are always unpredictable. But Doctor Connor said he had this fixation with his son. As though he thought Gary was still living. And he imprinted Gary's face onto any male who had dark hair and was vaguely Gary's height. It fits'.
'So what now?'
'Gonna start hunting down all our leads. Snitches Starsk and I commonly use. Places we've seen 'em. Someone's got to have seen Prudholm. Someone's got to know something about him. One man can't just wander around the city without someone recognising him'.
'Do you want help? More folks out there is gonna mean a quicker search'.
'Yeah, but more folks out there askin' questions is gonna put Prudholm on the alert if he hears about it. No. It may be a bit slower, but I need to keep this as quiet and subtle as I can. Until its time not to be subtle. And then I'm gonna need all the help I can get'. Hutch said thoughtfully.
'Where are ya gonna start?' Dobey asked.
'Sweet Alice is always good for information. The clients she gets aren't, shall we say, at the top end of the market. After that I'll try Huggy's. Then there's 5th Avenue, Uncle Joey and Mickey. They all pretty much know what's happening in the town'.
Dobey sighed. 'Sounds like a plan. D'ya want anyone to ride with you?'
Hutch shook his head. 'Not for a while Cap'n. But I'll keep it under review' he got up, stretching the kinks out of his back.
'You look all in. You need your sleep' the black man said, noticing the dark circles under Hutch's eyes and the pinched look in his paler than normal face.
'I have the feelin' Starsk won't be getting much sleep. An' if I went home I couldn't rest. I'll be fine'.
'OK, keep me posted' Dobey said as the blond went out of the door.
oOo
Across town, George Prudholm was anxiously pacing outside the crypt. Gary was hurting. Gary needed help. Gary was…no! Starsky. It was Starsky he had inside the small stone room. Why couldn't he remember that? It was Starsky who was going to pay for Gary's death. It was him and that son of a bitch blond who'd put Gary in jail. And that's where he'd died. Starsky needed to pay, and pay big time. Prudholm would see to that. He'd make the man suffer, for a long time in that room. On that bed…….Gary. Poor Gary. He was suffering in that room, on that bed.
Prudholm put his hands up to his head. He hadn't brought his medication with him from the crashed hospital van. Hadn't thought he'd need it. It made him dull and tired, as though he was swimming through molasses all the time, and he hated the feeling. He knew he wanted to be clear headed, but now it hurt to think and he couldn't keep his thoughts pinned down. He rubbed at his aching temples. His head didn't ache when he took his medication. When he had the brown and green pills he could cope. When he had the pills he still thought of Gary and sometimes he thought he saw him, but nothing like this.
Everything would be ok. He'd seen Gary. Gary was back with him in the room. He didn't need the pills after all. The pills stopped him seeing his son and that was wrong. The doctors didn't want him to see his son and that was wrong too. He commenced his pacing again, the walking easing his jumbled thoughts. Walking was good. He could think when he walked. He could think how to help Gary.
There was the sound of a footfall and Prudholm froze in his tracks, his ears straining to hear any other noises. At that time of early morning no-one should be around he was sure of that. He looked up and a smile broke across his face as he saw Mickey striding towards him through the early morning mist.
The little snitch walked quickly with small narrow strides, his head constantly looking left and right to check he wasn't being followed. He knew he wasn't, but the gait went with his trade. He could never be too careful in his line of business. Never be too careful when he was selling information to the highest bidder. Scruples went out of the window when there were dollars to be taken, and now, Prudholm was on the verge of making him rich.
'Did ya get it?' Prudholm hissed as the man got close enough.
'Uh huh' the little man nodded, looking over his shoulder one last time. 'But it wasn't easy an' I had to pay top price'.
'How much?'
'I got enough for four doses. Should see him through a couple'a days, but after that, I need more money'.
George furrowed his brows. 'Four's not enough. He'll hurt again, and I can't let him hurt. How much d'ya need?'
'As much as ya can get me'.
'Ok I got savings. I got the remains of the money I got when my Mom's house was sold….and some other stuff. $80,000. Is that enough? How much will that buy me?'
Mickey's eyes widened. 'Should get him enough. But it won't last for ever'.
'I know, I know. Just gimme the stuff an' I can stop him hurting'.
oOo
Inside the room, Starsky slept fitfully. There was nothing else for him to do to while away the time. Pains, which had once assailed his back, hips and shoulders, redoubled whenever he woke and he slept to escape them too. But mostly he slept to take away the terror of the dark and the horror of not knowing whether Prudholm would ever come back to him, or if anyone else would find him.
His wrists hurt too now and although he couldn't see them, he knew that they'd bled. He could feel the raw abraded skin beneath the harsh ropes holding him immobile. It was his own fault. Even though he'd tried them so many times before, he had to struggle just once more to see if he could get free. That was the Starsky spirit fighting through regardless. The spirit that had kept him going through all the trials and tribulations in his life. And the spirit that had brought him back from death at the hands of Gunther.
He sighed into the darkness and the sound seemed extraordinarily loud in the confined space. During the intervening hours, he'd once again lost the unequal fight for control of his bladder and now he felt dirty and almost inhuman as he lay on the sodden mattress encased in the wet denim fabric of his jeans. He'd held out as long as he could, in the vain hope that Prudholm might come back and help him, but as the time went on, he realised he couldn't hold on any longer. As he felt the burning liquid soak his jeans again, he'd sobbed just once, into the darkness, a forlorn and empty sound which scared away the rats pattering around the dirt floor. The fever which continued to rage through his body made him feel weak and he knew if he didn't get help soon he'd become too sick to be able to reason with Prudholm any more.
Since the one, heart rending sob, he'd tried to remain quiet, hating his confinement not only because of the forced immobility which caused him to feel almost limbless, but also because being tied to the bed like this was taking away his humanity, a piece at a time. He muttered to himself
'Dave Starsky. I'm Dave Starsky…..Dave…..Dave.
But then he stopped himself.
You're goin' mad Davey boy. Talkin' to yourself. Shit….see. you're doin' it again!
He stiffened as he heard a noise again and watched as the door to the crypt was pushed open, George's figure walking into the room. Once again the brighter light stabbed at Starsky's eyes, and once again, he turned his head away from the painful stimulus.
'Gary?' Prudholm said gently.
'Starsky' the brunet corrected.
'Hmm. It's me Papa. I'm gonna stop you hurting son. I said I would'.
Starsky's heart leapt. 'Are ya gonna untie me? Are ya gonna let me up?'
'No son. I told ya. You need to rest. But I got your medicine. I'm gonna give ya your medicine and then everything will be fine' Prudholm said soothingly.
'Medicine? What're ya talkin' about? I don't need no medicine. I just need to be able to get up' Starsky said, wary now at the turn of events. He had no idea what Prudholm was going to do, but he didn't like the thought of "medicine".
'But you always want your medicine. It makes you feel so much better' George continued as he lit a candle and placed it on one of the stone shelves. Starsky turned his head to watch, the flickering light casting ghostly shadows around the room. Now that he saw the articles Prudholm unloaded from his pockets, he started to struggle frantically against his bonds.
'NO. ya lousy son of a bitch. I don't need no medicine. That aint medicine an' I'm no junkie. Don't gimme that. Just let me up huh? Just lemme go'.
Blood began to run in ticklish dark trickles down his forearms and the white rope stained red, Starsky's life blood looking black in the dim light. Prudholm emptied the powder onto a small spoon and held it over the flame until it turned from white powder to brown liquid. He affixed the needle to the syringe and pulled up the dose into the barrel, turning to look at the frantic cop.
'Ssh. Hold still an' it'll be over. Then ya won't hurt any more Gary'. He walked towards Starsky who tried to shuffle away as far as his bonds would allow.
'Fuck! Get away from me ya creep. Prudholm it's me, Starsky. I'm not Gary. I'm not your son. He's dead. Remember? Please. Don't give me that' he stared in horror at the needle.
The last time he'd seen anything like this at close quarters was when his blond partner had been found in a dirty alleyway, collapsed and dirty with a flushed face and wild staring eyes. Hutch had been strung out on the horse for two days. Two long days that took his body another two months to recover from and another two years before the cravings finally abated completely. The memory of his partner hitting the door at the side of his head as he pleaded for more of his "medicine" would remain forever ingrained in Starsky's memory. And that's what Prudholm was going to give him now. "Medicine".
He tried a different tack. 'Before ya do. Can I have a drink? Thirsty. Can I have some water?' the brunet asked, pleading in his eyes. He was thirsty for sure, but the drink also put off the evil moment and gave him a few more seconds when maybe someone would find him. Someone. Anyone. Oh God please let someone find him.
Prudholm smiled down at the man he thought was his son. 'Course ya can Gary. Anything for my boy, you know that'. He reached into his back and took a bottle out. Unscrewing the top, he held the neck to Starsky's lips as the parched man drew the cool fluid down his throat.
Starsky tried to make the drink last as long as he could. Anything to put off the evil moment. But finally George pulled the bottle away and took up the syringe again. He held it up and checked the contents. No air. Good. Quickly he tied a rubber tube around Starsky's arm and hovered over the vein.
The brunet was beside himself now. No longer afraid or careful to show his fear as he trembled beneath Prudholm's grip.
'Prudholm, don't…George, please don't do this. Please don't give me that. I don't want it. I'm not your son. I'm not Gary. I'm Starsky. Dave Starsky, remember? Remember Starsky…..and Hutch…the blond one, remember?' he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear.
But Prudholm either chose to ignore, or was lost in his own world where Gary needed his medicine. Whatever was going through the madman's head, he was deaf to the bound cop's pleas and with a final flourish, he pushed the needle into the turgid vein and loosened the tourniquet.
'Nooo, oh God no, please, no…..don't gimme….don't…..George don't give me the drugs, I don't…..don…..do……ungh'.
Starsky's eyes, which moments before had held such fear and agony closed briefly as his body gave itself over to the rush of the drug. His tethered body relaxed, as he sagged back onto the filthy mattress feeling a surge of euphoria. Nothing mattered. So he was tied to a bed in a crypt. It was quite funny really, when he thought about it. Not that he really wanted to think about it. Now, all he wanted to do was love everyone. To hug the world and tell his fellow human beings just how wonderful life was. The pains in his body seemed to flow away. He felt a warm flushing of his skin, his mouth dry as sandpaper, and his arms and legs feeling heavy, as though they didn't belong to him.
Prudholm put down the syringe and watched, a happy smile on his face as he saw Gary relax and close his eyes. Gary was happy. Gary wasn't hurting. Gary would be happy till the next dose.
And Starsky watched dreamily as Prudholm walked out of the crypt and closed the door behind him after snuffing out the candle. The darkness didn't bother him any more. The darkness was like a blanket that he wanted to pull around him, but his hands were tied above his head. And even that was ok.
