Author's Note: Please see re-edited Chapter 15 before reading on...

Chapter 16

The front of the hangar was thick with sound, yelling and gunshots, but through it all Hutch could hear Nick's moans as he tried to move his hand.

"Nick – Nick – hold on," Hutch called. Turning his head, Hutch tried to keep his eyes on Starsky in spite of the pain.

Starsky darted around the SWAT team as they swarmed into the hangar. As he ran, Starsky swivelled to the side and put a bullet in Costa as the guard was taking aim at him. Starsky ran past the rest of the men, heading for the rear.

Starsky skidded to halt, dropping to the floor next to Hutch and Nick just as the gunfire abruptly stopped. He looked panicked as he leaned over Hutch, frantically trying to assess the damage. "Jesus, Hutch…how bad is it?" He didn't wait for an answer, his head craning back to call out, "Get those paramedics in here NOW!" A paramedic unit had been part of the team; they'd be in the hanger in seconds now that the shooting had abated.

Hutch gripped Starsky's leg. "I'm okay," he gasped. "Nick—" he motioned as best as he could to where Nick lay on the concrete, "grabbed the briefcase from Durniak. He didn't know we were wired. He thought he was saving you – your career - by stopping Durniak from taking the drugs. Starsk...he risked everything for you..."

Starsky rocked back on his heels, turning to look at his brother who lay a few feet away. "Nicky?"

Hutch could see Nick's shallow breaths and heard his whimpers of pain. The pool of blood beneath him was widening. "Starsk, go to him…. I'm okay. "

Starsky seemed unable to move, his one hand still on Hutch, his other gripping his gun, his eyes flickering between Hutch and his brother.

"Nick," Hutch gasped, "needs you."

As Starsky crawled toward his brother, Hutch heard Nick mutter Starsky's name as blood bubbled around his mouth. "Starsk... I got the meth away from Durniak. You'll be okay now." He forced out the words as his bloody hand tried to grip Starsky's sleeve.

Starsky nodded and looked back at Hutch, stricken. "You did good, little brother. Hutch told me what you did for me."

"Hutch? Hutch did?" Nick mumbled.

"Yes. He told me how brave you were. You got the meth off Durniak." Starsky leaned in close to his brother. "You...you saved me, Nicky."

Hutch could only hope that Nick heard Starsky. Hutch realized by Starsky's expression that those were his last words to his brother.

"Oh, Nicky," Starsky moaned, as he lifted his brother's lifeless hand. But Starsky's grief could only last a moment before he had to scan the area around him. Pulling himself away from Nicky, he returned to Hutch's side.

"Durniak?" he asked, as he touched Hutch's face.

"He went out the back – there's a door, I think…. Nick tried to get through it, but it was locked."

Starsky looked toward it, and then back down at Hutch. "I don't want to leave you like this –" He was interrupted as the paramedic team arrived wheeling two gurneys.

"I'm fine – see – " the unmistakable sound of a team of paramedics rolling in a gurney and equipment echoed from the front of the hangar, "help is here. Durniak - he's got the meth. Go, Starsk. Don't let the bastard get away." Hutch put all his force into the order.

Starsky pushed the damp hair away from Hutch's forehead, then jumped to his feet and headed toward the side entrance, running parallel to the mayhem going on in the front of the hangar as cops arrested the living and covered the dead.

As the paramedic's hands replaced those of Starsky's, Hutch let his body sag, praying his partner wouldn't do anything stupid if he managed to corner Durniak.

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Durniak scowled. Nick, the idiot, had the right idea about escaping out the rear of the hangar. But he was wrong in thinking Durniak would be stupid enough to leave it unlocked. He was also wrong in believing that if, by chance, he made it through the door he could get very far on foot with the briefcase.

Durniak, on the other hand, had the keys to the door. Now that he'd put a bullet in Hutchinson and more than likely killed Nick Starsky, he had incentive to get the hell out of there. Not that he had any regrets. Nick had it coming, and putting one in Hutchinson was less than Starsky deserved for fucking him over on the trade.

He fumbled with the keys to get the rear door open. He'd be damned if he'd give up without a fight. The car he'd ordered be left behind the hangar near the equipment sheds would have to fill in as his exit strategy.

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Being crouched behind a patrol car at the rear of the hangar was not Carlson's preferred position. An aching stiffness was creeping into his bent legs, and the damp drizzle slid under his collar and inside his shirt. He tried to flex his quads to free the ache in his muscles and pulled his rain jacket up higher.

Carlson looked sideways at his partner, Simonetti. So far, the two IA men had said little to each other, as Carlson tried to stay attentive to what was happening. "Either I'm getting too old for this shit, or I'm still too young to be missing all the action, being stuck out here in the rear," Carlson said as he angled one leg out and shook it while keeping his eyes on the hangar's rear door.

Simonetti made a grunting sound back at him. "You should be satisfied that Dobey had the courtesy to allow IA here in the first place - especially since you're officially barred from this case," Simonetti said, crouched at the other end of the car. "Someone has to cover the exits, and that car parked over there," he glanced at a car parked near some big sheds close by, "might be a get-away vehicle in case something goes wrong with the plane. With this rain – perhaps they're not too keen to fly out."

The light downfall reduced visibility despite the glaring spotlights suspended above the hangar.

"I wonder what the hell is happening in there…" Carlson popped his head up a little higher to look over the car's trunk, his gaze directed toward the side of the hangar. "They went through the front door a good ten minutes ago, didn't they?" He didn't really expect Simonetti to answer. His eyes roamed the misty airfield, his mind still working through his new perspective on David Starsky. Just as well, he supposed, that he was out here as back-up and not on the front-line because he really was distracted.

His deliberations were cut short by a sudden explosion of gunfire coming from the front of the hangar and shots fired inside the structure. Dobey's voice boomed out over the speaker, and Carlson heard the SWAT team fighting their way inside. Radio reports were brief and sporadic but things were obviously falling apart inside the hangar.

"That doesn't sound good," Simonetti said.

"Too much gunfire," Carlson agreed. "Durniak's men are fighting back." Carlson looked longingly toward the front of the building and the action he couldn't see.

"We have to maintain our position," Simonetti said, crouching behind his vehicle.

Carlson, beside him, held his gun ready and pulled his attention back to the rear door. "Damn it! I hate sitting here while there's a firefight raging out in front. And -"

He broke off mid-sentence as the back door suddenly began to rattle. Both men glanced at each other and the uniformed officers crouched behind the car next to theirs. The uniforms had seen it also.

The doorknob rattled some more, they heard two or three hard thumps from inside, and then nothing.

"Whoever it was can't get the door unlocked," Carlson said, keeping his voice down as the scrabbling at the door stopped.

Simonetti nodded and then tried to get some information over the radio, but no one was able to respond.

As they waited, focused on the back door, nothing happened for several moments, and then the door knob began to move again. This time, however, there was no frantic thumping, just the clearly defined sound of a lock tumbling. Whoever was behind the door this time was managing to unlock the door.

The two cops looked at each other as the door opened outward, the metallic grate of the hinges screeching. Tony Durniak was backlit as he emerged from the hangar. He was carrying the briefcase Starsky had brought to the meet. And a gun.

Durniak seemed to be adjusting to the dark and getting his bearings before deciding which way to move. He was looking away from the police vehicles. Then he focused on some nearby equipment sheds.

Before he could take a step, Simonetti called out from behind the cover of their car. "FREEZE! This is the police. Drop your gun and the briefcase, and get on your knees with your hands on your head."

Durniak swung around, dropping to the ground and firing off two rapid shots in the direction of the IA officers. Then he was up, moving fast sideways to take cover behind a steel dumpster aligned next to the rear wall of the hangar and at the corner of the building away from the open door. He darted behind the end of the dumpster and sandwiched himself half behind the back corner of it.

Simonetti and Carlson fired back as their car absorbed Durniak's the bullets. Carlson took aim but missed Durniak, the bullets smashing into the concrete and throwing up chips as Durniak retracted his body again behind the dumpster.

"You've got nowhere to go, Durniak! Put down your weapon now!" Carlson warned him.

Durniak fired again at Simonetti who had popped up to get a better bead. Simonetti jumped, barked a cough, and fell backward, clutching his shoulder, sinking behind the car.

Carlson shifted to catch his partner and ease him down behind the car as the two uniforms continued to fire.

Blood seeped through Simonetti's fingers. "That was my fault," he gasped. "Been out of the field too long."

Carlson helped Simonetti into a sitting position, propping him against the car. As soon as he did, he fired two more rounds toward Durniak who had taken refuge behind the dumpster. He was well protected behind the cover, but pinned down. He wouldn't be able to move easily to anywhere else without getting out in the open. As Carlson radioed their situation, Carlson knew they needed to keep Durniak in place until help arrived.

"Give yourself up, Durniak. You can't walk away from this," Carlson shouted toward the dumpster that was aligned against the back wall of the hangar.

Durniak laughed. "I've already taken down Hutchinson tonight and Starsky's brother. A few more cops will be a good night's work!"

As Durniak mentioned Hutchinson's name, Starsky suddenly emerged, coming around the side nearest the cops, but furthest from the dumpster. He moved decisively, almost brazen about his exposure, his gun in a two-handed grip. Without hesitating, Starsky approached the metal door that was swaying in the breeze.

One of the uniforms called out, "Sergeant Starsky! Wait! The suspect is armed!"

Distracted, Carlson watched Starsky crouch low and start moving toward the hangar's open back door, his gun steady and unwavering. What the-?

Carlson kept talking, trying to draw Durniak's attention. "Throw down your weapon, Durniak."

"Durniak!" Starsky shouted at the outwardly opened back door, drawing a bead on it.

He thinks Durniak's behind the open door, Carlson realized. He didn't see him run out and take cover behind the dumpster. Starsky's out in the open!

"Durniak! My partner's not going to die. But maybe you are, you sonofabitch," Starsky shouted.

He sounded nothing like himself, Carlson thought. Starsky was primed to attack. Durniak had shot Hutchinson, so Starsky was - Not thinking clearly!

Starsky fired then, the flare of his shots sparking in the darkness as it hit the semi-opened back door again and again.

It was too tempting for Durniak, who crept out behind the dumpster to get a clear shot at Starsky.

"Starsky! Get down!" Carlson jumped up, abandoning his cover behind the police car. He ran full tilt at Starsky, hearing gunfire erupt from the uniformed cops to cover him. The bullets hit the dumpster hard, distracting Starsky as Carlson threw himself on top of the detective.

"What the-?" Starsky, flattened to the concrete, struggled under Carlson's full body tackle. "Get the fuck off me-!"

"He's behind the dumpster, Starsky!" Carlson yelled in his ear. "Not in doorway of the hangar!"

Starsky stilled instantly as he must've realized he was directly in Durniak's line of fire.

The uniforms continued to lay down a heavy barrage of gunfire, as other cops, no longer needed around the front, joined them.

Carlson grabbed Starsky by the shirt and hauled him back none too gracefully towards the police car.

Once they were secured behind the heavy-bodied police car, Starsky turned to Carlson. He still looked half-crazed. "Where is he?"

Carlson hesitated, unsure how Starsky might react when so out of control. Clare had told him enough about Starsky's tempter to give him pause. "He's surrounded, Starsky. Your job here is done. SWAT's lining up now to-"

"That dumpster? Is that where he is?" Starsky didn't seem to register Carlson's warnings, barely sparing him a glance. He pulled back to stare at the dumpster and the empty space between the police barricade and Durniak's hiding place.

This time Carlson reached out and pulled Starsky's arm. "You're not listening to me-"

Starsky stared back, nearly snarling. "Get out of my fucking way, Carlson. That motherfucker killed my brother… he killed Nicky!"

"Starsky- I... I'm sorry... I didn't know..." Carlson stuttered.

"He shot him dead. And Hutch…" Starsky sucked in a jagged breath, shaking his head as though trying to work something out.

"Hutch - Hutch is going to be okay, isn't he?" Carlson asked carefully, acutely aware that Starsky's control was still tenuous.

"I don't know. Hutch is-" Starsky wavered, turning his focus back on the dumpster.

In an attempt to distract Starsky from focusing on the dumpster, Carlson said sharply, "Did Durniak give up the guys who can exonerate you? Do you have them?"

Starsky blinked as if he had to think about it. "Uh... yeah. We've got 'em. I secured 'em in the car before everything fell apart."

"Okay," Carlson said. "So it's official. You had nothing to do with Vanessa's murder. We know that now. We have proof."

"But Durniak still has the meth," Starsky said, suddenly focused again.

"He's not going anywhere, Starsky! He's pinned down, while you're free. Don't do this – your brother –"

"I told you, Nicky's dead," Starsky said dully.

"-wouldn't have wanted you to endanger yourself by going after Durniak. And what about Hutch?"

Starsky looked sideways at Carlson for the first time. Carlson saw confusion in his eyes.

"Hutch has been shot. He's –"

"He'll need you. He'll need his partner – the two of you, as a team. Two good solid cops." Carlson was surprised by the depth of sincerity in his own voice when he used the term that had been echoing in his head since Simonetti had said it earlier. "He wouldn't want you to needlessly endanger yourself."

Starsky looked startled by Carlson's statement, but he recovered quickly. He looked around at the scene. Then he turned to Carlson and seemed to come to a decision. "You're right. He'd want me to use my head. Durniak's pinned down. But he could make a break for it behind that building and we could lose him. And the meth. The cops are keeping him occupied. We could sneak behind the barricade of cars and get behind that building. He wouldn't hear us. And we could take him down and end this."

It was Carlson's turn to look startled. "Are you kidding? With all this gunfire?"

"Hutch would do it," Starsky said, and, crouching low, gun drawn, began moving quickly behind the line of police cars towards the equipment sheds that flanked the dumpster.

Carlson had a choice: let him go alone, or back him up. Weren't you just complaining about missing the action?

The two of them moved swiftly behind the police car barricade toward the equipment sheds, motioning to the other cops to watch out for them. They finally took cover behind one of the sheds and used it to come up behind the building flanking Durniak's dumpster.

Carlson could see Durniak taking cover behind the dumpster, his back to them, occasionally firing out at the cops who were shooting at him.

Then he realized Starsky was taking a bead on Durniak's back. In shock, he grabbed Starsky's shirt and pulled him back behind the building. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

Starsky jerked away from Carlson's grip. "He killed my brother. He shot Hutch. He's firing on a whole troop of cops. What do you think I'm gonna do? It's justified!"

"How would your partner feel about you shooting a man, even this man, in the back?" Carlson asked. "If Hutch were here, what would he say if he found out you were thinking of doing this?"

It was the slap Starsky needed. He let out a ragged breath. "He would… he would –" His gun hand dropped lower, his intent to kill drained.

"We can do this the right way," Carlson said.

He took a position on the edge of the building, aiming his gun at Durniak. He nodded at Starsky, who moved around him to take a flanking position on the side of the dumpster. They both drew a bead on Durniak, who had just fired off another shot at the police out front.

"DURNIAK!" Starsky shouted over the din. "DROP THAT WEAPON!"

Reacting in surprise to the voices behind him, Durniak spun, looking shocked. As if he'd contained himself as long as he could, Starsky leapt across the few feet and slammed his full body weight into him, knocking Durniak back against the dumpster.

As Carlson signaled to the squad of police to stop firing, Starsky punched Durniak hard in the face. The blow snapped Durniak's head back and his gun clattered to the ground. Starsky repeated the blow while gripping Durniak's shirt. His nose took the full brunt of Starsky's fist. Durniak groaned and slumped heavily in Starsky's grip.

Starsky was pulling back his fist for another shot when Carlson intervened, grabbing his arm. "Enough, Starsky! He's out for the count."

Starsky shoved Carlson back, but the roughhousing seemed to snap him out of his uncontrollable rage.

Carlson pulled out his cuffs and leaned over Durniak's prone form to secure his wrists. "Holster your gun, Starsky. You took him down. It's your collar."

Footsteps and voices drew nearer. It was over. What had felt like an hour to Carlson, but was probably only minutes, seemed so long he didn't know how to let the tension go.

Starsky was looking down at the dazed and bleeding Durniak who dimly regarded him through swelling eyes. "Is this," Durniak said to Starsky, as a pair of uniformed cops pulled him to his feet, "your payback for killing your brother and shooting Hutchinson?"

Carlson sucked in a breath, keeping a grip on Starsky. He started worrying all over again whether he should have demanded Starsky's gun.

But Starsky seemed to have regained his composure. "No," Starsky sneered, "consider that payback for all the times you got your thugs to rough me up as a kid. Your payback for Nicky and Hutch is coming – for years and years in federal prison."

Starsky holstered his gun as the uniformed officers led Durniak to a police vehicle and loaded him inside.

Carlson released his hold on Starsky as they watched Durniak being driven away. Starsky looked back at Carlson, his face grim. "Go on," Carlson said, "go check on Hutch. He'll be waiting."

Starsky started to leave, then paused. "Carlson," Starsky looked back at the dumpster where Durniak had taken refuge and he had come so close to losing all control. "Thanks for backing me up. And...and –" He struggled to speak.

"Forget it, Starsky. I know what you wanted to do to that bastard, but - this way we get the chance to put him away," he said. Then he added, "A bullet was too easy for him."

"Maybe –" Starsky sounded as though his nerves were stripped raw, "but you have no idea how much I wanted to do it, and will continue to want to do it for a long time to come."

Before Carlson could even react, Starsky turned and ran toward the paramedic wagon and his partner.

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TBC...