Scavenger
by TLR
Plot: An old enemy sends Starsky on a life-and-death scavenger hunt.
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7 a.m.
"Detective, I have your partner. You have twelve hours to follow my clues and find him. No other cops. Fail, and he pays the price."
The voice on the other end of the telephone line was distorted, possibly through a cloth of some kind, but the words came through loud and clear.
David Michael Starsky was not a man who easily succumbed to panic, but his heart was now a live wire of adrenaline. Why hadn't he defied his tipsy partner the night before and insisted he spend the night on his couch instead of giving in to him and sending him home in a taxi?
He growled into the phone, "Who is this? What do you want?", but was met only with a chilling chuckle. This laugh was an eerie reminder of Vic Bellamy's three years ago when he'd been given 24 hours to live. But that was a closed book. Over and out.
The thought of someone getting into Hutch's apartment and overpowering him with a needle while he was too intoxicated to realize or fight back made him nauseous-No. Dear God. We can't do heroin again-then enraged.
The silence on the other end of the phone left him shaken. So shaken he was on the verge of pleading with whoever.
But pleading won't help. If it would, I'd beg for his life.
Focus. Hutch needs me.
"You have twelve hours, Starsky. I hope you remember your old beat."
And then, there was a click as the caller hung up.
Hutch had been abducted. No ransom demand, just a sick game of following clues.
Starsky's first instinct was to call Captain Dobey, but he squelched that idea.
Striking a perfect balance between haste and precision, Starsky raced to the Torino. He knew he had to solve this alone, at least for now.
I hope you remember your old beat.
As he roared onto the streets of Bay City, his mind was already working overtime, piecing together fragments of clues.
The first stop was their old beat on the rough edges of the city, where they'd walked as uniformed cops before they were promoted to plainclothes. He scanned the familiar and somewhat rundown environs, his eyes landing on a graffiti-covered wall. One particular image caught his attention—a black pawn chess piece, distinctively different from the other street art. It clicked. Hutch was a proficient chess player, often teaching Starsky the nuances of the game during their downtimes.
He touched the graffiti, finding a small metal piece embedded within it. He pulled it free—a miniature pawn chess piece with a coded message etched at the bottom, "Checkmate at the queen's court."
From that point, Starsky was led on a nerve-racking scavenger hunt around Bay City. From Logan's Gym where Hutch first worked out in the mornings, to a diner called Delia's where they shared countless meals and conversations, getting to know each other better and forming a stronger friendship. Each clue was linked to a shared past and an item significant to their friendship.
At each location, he found pieces of chess, each with another riddle to solve. As he collected the pieces, he found himself drawn deeper into their shared past, each memory a bittersweet reminder of the relentless ticking clock.
At lunchtime, Starsky stopped by Huggy's, but eating was the last thing on his mind. As he sat on the stool and looked at Huggy, no words would come out. Huggy said, "What's up, Starsk? Where's your blond half?"
Starsky could only swallow a lump in his throat and stumble out the door. When Huggy went after him, Starsky merely jerked his arm away and sped off in the Torino.
As late afternoon approached, Starsky had accumulated a ragtag army of chess pieces—a knight from Logan's Gym, a bishop from Delia's, a rook from a children's hospital they once saved from a homegrown terrorist. Each piece formed a map of their shared journey, leading him to the final clue.
"Checkmate at the queen's court."
He drove to a park near Hutch's place and got out of the car, Starsky's eyes darting across the city's layout map sprawled on the hood, connecting the dots the clues had led him to. They formed a rough pattern akin to chess moves, leading to the center of the city—the Queen's Court, an old theatre they had once saved from a drug ring when they were just starting out.
"Come on," Starsky whispered under his breath as he slid into the driver's seat again. "Come on."
As he drove, he couldn't help but think of the real-life hide and seek game he and Hutch had played with each other last year around Bay City, which ended up being a nightmare for both of them because Starsky had to find Hutch before he succumbed to botulism.
::
6:50 pm
Starsky's heart pounded as he stormed into the dimly lit theatre known as Queen's Court, gun drawn. He moved cautiously through the aging lobby, eyes scanning for the slightest movement, ears attuned to the slightest sound.
Suddenly, a spotlight flickered on, illuminating the stage where Hutch was tied to a chair, bruised but alive and looking a bit disoriented. The final chess piece—a queen—lay at his feet.
Their eyes met, Starsky's conveying care and distress. Hutch's conveying hope and trust.
A distorted voice echoed through the theatre, "Well done, Starsky. But here comes the final move."
A dark figure emerged from behind the backstage curtain, gun pointed at Hutch. It was Vincent, a cop-turned-drug smuggler they had put behind bars in their early days—someone they'd once called friend and was now on a suicide-by-cop mission.
"Vince, no!"
Starsky instinctively aimed and fired. Vincent collapsed, dropping his weapon as he fell dead.
Starsky ran to Hutch and untied him, clasping his friend's shoulder, "Hey, you okay?"
Hands now free, Hutch tried to raise them while Starsky examined his bruised face.
"I've been better," Hutch said as he slumped forward.
Starsky caught him in a hug, swallowing tears. "Next time take the couch when you're smashed, huh?"
Hutch gave a weak laugh into Starsky's shoulder and patted him back. "Think I'll take you up on that, Starsk."
::
Huggy smiled as he watched Starsky and Hutch playing a game of chess in a back booth of his restaurant.
"Good to see my two bookends back together again," he said as he raised a glass of beer in toast to his friends.
The End