Chapter 7

The fists continued to fall for some time after the woman had departed. Her heavies seemed to enjoy their job and between the blows and the kicks, Starsky felt as though he were some kind of punchbag down at Mo's Gym. He tried to curl himself round so that they wouldn't be able to do too much damage to the soft, sensitive parts of his anatomy, and his hands flew instinctively to his head. Or at least the right hand did. Any movement he tried to make with his left arm brought on knife edged scarlet pains from his broken collar bone. He held on for a few minutes more, but the two men seemed to have boundless energy and as he felt another bone on his left forearm crack his body gave up its unequal struggle and allowed him to slip down into blessed oblivion.

The men immediately stopped their fun and stood panting above the injured brunet. Bruising and swellings marred the olive toned, tanned skin of Starsky's chest, sides and back and there was a wet patch on the front of his jeans where a particularly savage kick had caught him between the legs. The pain had been so intense on his already over sensitive core that he screamed, convulsing on the ground and had lost control of his bladder. The stream was tainted with blood and even the two men winced as Starsky shuddered on the ground between the, panting and moaning to himself.

'So, what now? Ya wanna tie him again?' the first voice asked.

'Does he look like he needs restrainin'? Jeez, he looks like he'll never move again! Boss lady sure knows how to draw out the pain some.'

'That she does' the first man said with a grin. 'Hey, we got cold beer in the fridge, and I think the Sox are playin' the Cubs tonight. We can just about catch the start on the TV.'

Without a backwards glance at the broken body of the cop, the two men left the room, fiddled with something on the door handle on the other side and calmly walked back to their small room to start their evening's enjoyment.

However long it was later he didn't know but the pains brought Starsky slowly back to the land of the living. His body hadn't moved since Mutt and Jeff - the names he'd given the two heavies – had left him alone. As he moved his head from the sanctuary he'd tried to create between his upstretched arms and his chest, he groaned pitifully, his eyes blinking open as he looked around. The room was deserted and amazingly he wasn't tied or blindfolded. Thankful for small mercies, he tried to get himself into a sitting position. His left arm was useless and instinctively he held it wrapped around the front of his body as his collar bone and radius vied with each other for which could cause him the most pain.

A wave of agony washed over him and Starskys stomach flipped over, threatening to deposit its contents right there on the floor. Panting heavily, the brunet swallowed down and managed to raise his head. A little way away from him he saw a tall metal container in the shape of a glass. His throat was parched and raw from screaming and the thought of cool, refreshing water trickling down his neck spurred the brunet on to make even greater efforts to get to the drinking container. Painfully, he managed to get himself to his knees, balancing on his good right arm. Shuffling forwards a few feet, he flopped down next to the container and reached for it. Condensation pebbled the sides of the metal and as he reached for it, small trickles ran down the sides. Starsky picked it up and sniffed at the contents. It looked and smelled like water and as he took a cautious sip, it tasted like water too. Greedily he drank it down, aware that he hadn't been given anything to eat or drink since he'd been captured and he had no idea when he'd get chance to slake his thirst again.

Starsky wiped a shaking hand over his mouth as he swallowed down the last of the fluid. It had felt good on his dry mouth and throat and seemed like liquid velvet as it trickled down into his guts.

Feeling a little more alive now that he'd managed to drink, Starsky forced himself to his feet and stood swaying in the middle of the room. Straightening up was impossible because of the pains in his stomach and back and from the swelling over the right hand side of his abdomen, the brunet wondered if maybe he was bleeding internally. Ignoring the fearsome thought, Starsky looked around him. The room was bare. No furniture of any kind and just one window set high up on the wall and a door to interrupt the tedium of the four plain, grey undecorated walls. The room was like any newly built apartment block he'd ever been in. A shoebox waiting for a tenant to make it a home.

Starsky breathed out deeply through his nose, the sound harsh and loud in the confines of the room. Ok, so, no restraints, no Mutt and Jeff to beat up on him again and no blindfold. Standing rock still for a moment he listened carefully. Far off, and muffled as though through many walls, he could hear a television and what sounded like a match commentary, the commentator's voice sounding loud and excited. If his guards were maybe enjoying the game, this might be his chance at escape. Would they be foolhardy enough to leave his door unlocked, he wondered.

Starsky sucked in a lungful of air, straightened as much as he could and limped over to the door. It seemed all too simple and an irrational fear clawed at his chest. No ties, no chains….. What the hell?...

Cautiously, the brunet reached for the fancy metal door handle. It gleamed yellow and shiny in the dim light of the room and as his hands closed around the cold metal……

Starsky screamed as the electric shock from the wired handle blew him across the room. He landed in a heap on the floor at the opposite side, thrown against the wall by the force of the charge. For a moment, he lay stunned…..too stunned to feel the pain until he looked down at his hand. The right hand was blackened and across the palm the bright scarlet smear of an open burn in the shape of the door handle gleamed wetly.

The brunet let out a sob of frustration which turned into a hiss of pain as he tried to sit up straighter. The short sharp journey across the room had done nothing to improve his shoulder or broken arm and indeed seemed to have added even more injuries to the mental list that Starsky was making. His head swam and he could feel wet stickiness on the back of it, seeping through the chocolate coloured curls. His spine felt as though it was protruding through the top of his skull and several teeth seemed to have shaken loose. All in all, he thought grimly, on the scale of failed escape attempts, he seemed to have scored pretty highly.

The blast must also have alerted Mutt and Jeff to his attempt, mostly because the electrical shock had shorted out the power to their room. Deprived now of their game on the TV, the two men were not in the best of moods and as Starsky looked up, the door burst open and they stood together in the doorway, surveying the injured brunet.

'Not the cleverest move ya made, was it pig?' Mutt asked as the two men advanced on the curly haired cop.

'Heard the game……wanted t'watch' Starsky grunted through gritted teeth.

'Aww , aint that just somethin'? He wanted to watch' Jeff crowed. 'Well now you've gone an' shorted the TV an me an' my friend here, we aint pleased. Not pleased at all.'

'Sorry to stop your fun' the brunet gasped quietly.

'Oh, ya haven't stopped it. Now we get a different sort of fun. Boss lady's comin' back. She said to get you ready.'

The cop screamed once again as Mutt and Jeff took a hold of him and hauled him to his feet. The pain from the grip they had on him and the movement of the ends of the bones in his shoulder rubbing together set off fireworks inside Starsky's skull and finally he lost all control of his stomach. At the same time as he vomited onto Mutt's shoes, his stomach started to cramp violently, and Starsky brought his knee up to try to ease the tension in his guts. He groaned, trying to breathe past the tongues of fire licking at his stomach, but the two guards held on and once again he felt his arms being pulled behind his back.

The broken bones in his left arm yelled at him, his whole left side a blaze of pain and fire as his arms were tied behind him. Starsky tried to lean forwards to ease the pressure on his broken collar bone and also on his stomach but Jeff held him upright as Mutt took a hold of his hair, pulling his head back until he could hold another glass of water to the brunet's lips.

'Lady says you should drink the water. She says she wants to see how it makes ya sing.'

It was only at that point that the brunet realised that it was tainted with some kind of poison. He recognised the signs and for a moment was back in a different sort of jail, tall stone walls incarcerating him and a man in a black robe holding him prisoner. He clamped his lips shut as the glass was wedged against his mouth and Mutt dug his fingers into his shoulder to make him open his mouth.

Starsky gasped and the heavies took the opportunity to pour more of the water down his throat. Gasping, he managed to spit out most of it, but some trickled down his throat and he coughed, setting off more pains.

As he panted on the ground, the woman appeared at the door and the men desisted for a moment.

The hands holding Starsky down disappeared from his body and he managed to raise his head as the woman came to kneel down in front of him.

Recognition bloomed in the indigo eyes. 'Sue……why?' Starsky whispered.

Hutch's girlfriend grinned at him. 'You ruined my life. Both of you. Now I'm going to ruin yours. An eye for an eye and all that hogwash.'

'Don't…..understand……don't even know ya.'

'Well why would you? You're just two ignorant cops who carry out other men's orders. You haven't an original thought between you. Want to know how Hutch is today?'

'Leave him 'lone……ya got me.'

'It's so cute – how he calls for you in his sleep. He's feverish you know. Weak. The doctor gave him a few Vallium pills so I kinda changed the script. He's overdosing on them as we speak. Coupled with the poison I'm feeding him, he'll be sick for some time before he dies. I want him to suffer you see? He knows you're dead, but there's a lot of mileage in milking that.'

Starsky tried to get up. He so wanted to wipe that complacent smile right off of her face, but the bonds and his pain were too much for him and instead he snarled at her. 'You evil little bitch!'

Sue drew back her hand and slapped Starsky across his face. He grunted, licking at the trickle of blood that started to run down the corner of his lip. Rapidly, his right eye started to swell closed.

'That's no way to speak to a lady' Sue said quietly. 'And I was just about to read this to you.' She took a small piece of paper from out of her pocket and started to read.

'1970 Ford Gran Torino. Viper red with a white stripe over roof and along both sides. Full service history. One careful owner.'

Sue folded the paper carefully. 'Hutch smiled when I added "one careful owner" to the advert. He's forgetting you, you know. He told me he couldn't handle having all your things around him. He's selling everything. He wants to erase your memory. It's too painful for him. He's really hurting you know.'

Starsky shook his head slowly. 'You're lying. Hutch'd never forget. He knows I'm not dead' Starsky hissed.

'You're wrong. He telephoned your Mom. She was so sad. First her cop husband and then her cop son. Even Nicky will be at your funeral, you know. It's all being arranged. Hutch should survive you by a couple of months before the poison finishes him. Just enough time for him to really suffer. It'll be so tragic. Two of Bay City's finest, one dead in a fire, the other dead because he pined for his best friend. Kinda cute, don't you think?'

Starsky glared at her. 'Ma? He phoned Ma? Why? For fuck's sake why?' he asked.

The woman didn't answer. Instead she reached out and took a hold of the coin on the leather thong round the brunet's neck and yanked it, breaking the cord and jerking Starsky's head forward. He cried out, despite himself and panted heavily.

'Something I didn't take into consideration. They have to hold an autopsy on the body we planted in your bed. They need to find your jewellery, don't they?'

'Hutch'll work this out. He'll find out what's happenin' Starsky tried to reason with her. He could feel Sue trying to get the pinkie rings off his finger but without success. His arm and hand had swelled so much that she couldn't remove them, they were so deeply embedded in the flesh of his digit.

She sighed in frustration. 'By the time he works it out, it'll be too late' Sue said as she stowed the coin away in her purse. 'You'll be dead and your body won't be found for weeks. By that time, he'll be dead too and I'll have gone away.'

Starsky tried one last time, although with so many pains coursing through his body he was rapidly losing his hold on consciousness.

'Just 'xplain t'me…..why?'

The woman glared into his eyes, her gaze as intense as Starsky's own. She traced her finger down the long surgical scar on his chest and grinned into his face.

'Revenge' she snapped.