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Starsky vs Hutch

Chapter 1

3 months earlier

Detective Sergeants Kenneth 'Hutch' Hutchinson and David Starsky were shooting pool at the bar owned by their friend Huggy Bear, unaware that they were under observation and had been for a couple of weeks.

Hutch was slightly the taller of the two with clean-cut, blond, poster-boy looks. His partner was darker and curly-haired with his own brand of good looks. Both were casually dressed in blue jeans and tee-shirt, and a leather jacket concealing their weapons...Starsky's black and Hutch's tan. Many a crook had been deceived by their casual appearance, bemoaning the fact that they 'didn't look like cops'. But they were possibly the best team of detectives in Bay City. The two detectives were like chalk and cheese in many aspects but they complemented each other perfectly.

Two pairs of eyes watched the detectives from a booth towards the rear of the bar. Bill Jackson and Jon Whitman had been specially chosen for being nondescript in appearance. Anyone who saw them would be hard pressed to give a description...average height, average build, short brown hair, hard to estimate their age. Could be any of a hundred, a thousand men in the city.

Neither man was very intelligent but they had not been hired for their brains. What they had been hired for was their brawn. Both had spent most of their lives on the streets and this had given them skills that were invaluable to their boss, to whom they were absolutely loyal. They could follow simple instructions without question and so were perfect for that evening's task.

"Why him?" Jackson whispered. "He's a cop."

"We just follow orders and he's the chosen one."

"It's asking for trouble if you ask me,"

"No one's asking you," Whitman hissed. "Now let's go through it again."

They talked quietly, finalising their plans as Starsky sank the final ball.

"That's my choice for lunch tomorrow," Starsky said triumphantly. "And you're paying, buddy." He clapped Hutch on the back, smiling widely as they returned to their booth.

Hutch rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance as they slid into their seats side by side, shoulders and thighs touching.

"Looks like I'm gonna be hungry then," he grumbled good-naturedly.

Starsky slung an arm around Hutch's shoulders. "Nah, I'll take ya somewhere nice, Blintz. Somewhere that serves that rabbit food ya like so much." He scrubbed a hand through his friend's hair before reaching for his glass. Hutch ducked his head and smiled, almost shyly.

Both men drank their beers and Hutch signalled to Huggy for two more. A few minutes later the barmaid, Diane, sashayed over to their booth with a tray of drinks and placed two of the glasses on their table.

"Thanks, Diane. Put them on our tab, schweetheart," said Starsky, trying out his Humphrey Bogart impression.

Diane smiled and bobbed a small curtsey. "Your wish is my command," she said, before turning to glide to another booth, balancing the tray of drinks with practised ease.

Starsky leaned forward, looking around Hutch to watch her.

Hutch observed him, shaking his head and smiling indulgently. "Leave it, Starsk. She's outa your league. Hey, how about a rematch?"

Starsky looked across to the pool table which was now occupied by a large black man who was attempting to instruct his girlfriend in the finer arts of the game.

"I think I'll take a rain-check," he said. "In fact let's go home after this one...it's getting late."

"Scared I might beat you this time, buddy?"

"In your dreams, Hutchinson," Starsky shot back, then sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm just ready for an early night, even if you're not."

Hutch thought back over the previous week. Their case load had included two dead prostitutes in apparently unconnected incidents, busting a drug deal and the resultant chase and fight which had left both of them bruised and battered, a fruitless all-night stakeout (which would no doubt have to be repeated in the not too distant future) and the disappearance of a six-year old boy, which had thankfully had a happy ending after several hours searching. This on top of their regular, routine patrols trying to maintain some semblance of order in their patch.

"Yeah okay, Starsk. This week has been tough."

Twenty minutes later they left the bar, waving farewell to Huggy. A light rain was falling as they walked briskly to Starsky's red and white Ford Gran Torino which was parked in its customary spot to the rear of the bar. They drove to Hutch's apartment in companionable silence.

"I'll pick you up at eight," Starsky said as Hutch got out and shut the door.

Hutch leaned in the window, brandishing a finger in Starsky's face. "And don't be late. I'm tired of Dobey yelling at us."

Starsky grinned and flicked him a wave as he drove off.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Meanwhile, Jackson and Whitman had left the bar a couple of minutes after Starsky and Hutch, and had headed straight for Starsky's house. Having followed both detectives before, they knew they could beat Starsky home and be waiting for him when he arrived. They parked up and concealed themselves in the bushes they had already scoped out, Jackson cursing the weather under his breath as the now heavy rainfall soaked through his thin shirt.

Soon they heard the growl of the Torino's engine as Starsky pulled up.

Starsky got out, stretched and yawned. He turned back to the car, keys in hand. Before he had a chance to react Jackson and Whitman were upon him and although he attempted to fight back, he was quickly overpowered and knocked out.

They bundled his limp body into the trunk of their car, then jumped in and drove away carefully to avoid arousing suspicion.

By the time Hutch realised his partner was missing he would already have been in the hands of his abductors for nine long hours.

TBC