Surprises

117

Caught up in a horrifying case, the guys get a bit careless with their personal life.

 

Warning: This episode contains graphic and disturbing content which may upset some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.

Artwork by Virginia Sky.

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Ken Hutchinson sat with his back to the closed door, feeling, not for the first time that morning, that he wasn’t going to like what was going on in there. He raised a hand to the back of his neck and pressed down the short hairs there that persisted in rising at regular intervals. He glanced up briefly as his partner re-entered the squadroom, carrying a cup of coffee and juggling two doughnuts on a napkin.

“You gotta try one. Gonzales’ wife brought ’em in. They’re homemade. Who do you know that makes their own doughnuts? Huh? These are great!”

Hutch reached up and chose the one with nuts on top and took a bite. “You’re right,” Hutch said, closing his eyes in appreciation. “These are great.”

Starsky set down his cup of coffee, snagged Hutch’s half-full one, and went to the coffeepot to warm it up. Before he made it all the way back to the table, the door to Captain Dobey’s office opened and Hutch felt the draft on his neck. Here comes the other shoe.

“Starsky, Hutchinson, come in here, please.” Dobey’s voice sounded almost strange at such a normal volume.

Hutch stood and took the few steps to his partner, trading coffee mugs with him. With a cursory wipe of the doughnut crumbs from his mouth, he stepped into the office ahead of his partner.

“What’s up, Cap’n?” Starsky asked, as he sprawled into the chair next to where Hutch sat, tensed and waiting. Starsky looked at their boss with expectation, then cut his eyes over to Hutch. The warning bells that were clanging in his head were painfully obvious.

“What’s the matter?” Starsky asked, his gaze resting fully on his partner.

Hutch answered with a raised eyebrow, followed by a shrug. I’d sound pretty stupid if I told you I’ve had the willies all morning, wouldn’t I?

I’ve had a request to temporarily assign you to a case being handled by the Riverside County Sheriff’s Office. They want you, Starsky–” Dobey held up one beefy hand to forestall any argument. “I told them you were a pair and that’s how you worked best. I might as well let both of you go. If I let one, I’d get damned little work out of the one left behind. They were only too happy to have both of you.”

“Why do they want Starsky?” Hutch asked, dreading the answer.

“Because they have a big lead on a large porn ring, operating from the wine country just above San Diego. They import talent, if you can call it that, from Mexico…then use them to make hard-core porn. Their stuff includes snuff films, and they distribute them from there all over the world.”

“You didn’t answer Hutch’s question,” Starsky said. “Why did they ask for me?”

“Because the crack in the case led them to a…contact in the distribution aspect of it. Starsky is a name they’d recognize.” Dobey looked down, no longer able to meet either officer’s eyes.

Starsky set his coffee down on the edge of the desk, the tremble in his hand causing the cup to clatter softly before it settled. “Nicky?”

“I’m really sorry, Dave. Your brother was arrested last night. He’s been very cooperative, and the Feds and the officers in Riverside that watched his interrogation via closed circuit TV believe that he didn’t know the content of what he was moving. Videotapes was all he knew. He said he thought they were just bootleg copies.”

“What were they, exactly?” Starsky’s voice sounded strained.

“They were porn videos, violently graphic. Hard to say for sure, but I don’t think anyone was checking IDs to be certain the participants were over eighteen. There were three masters that showed victims who were all killed on camera. A thousand copies of each master were crated up and ready to go out.” Dobey scratched his head, then looked up. He squared his shoulders and met Starsky’s gaze. “Your brother is cooperating. If you and Hutch can go into this and snap the case shut on this influx of filth, I can’t help but think things might go a little easier on Nick. There aren’t any guarantees of course–it’s up to the people in South Carolina where he was arrested. But it sure couldn’t hurt.”

“Why should Starsky put himself at risk to bail his brother out of a dumb shit mess he put himself in?” Hutch asked, his tongue finally moving again.

“Does my mother know?” Starsky asked quietly.

“I don’t think so. He gave your name as the relative of contact when he was arrested.”

“Terrific.” Starsky stood and paced a short distance away and stood at the window.

“When do they want us to start?”

“Wait a minute!” Hutch exploded, rising from his chair. “Are you ordering us to work this case, Captain?”

“No,” Dobey said, his voice rising. “No, I’m not ordering you, I thought–”

“Yeah, and that’s just the trump card Nick pulled to save his ass–”

“Hutch.” Starsky’s voice was quiet in contrast to the others in the room. “He’s my brother.”

“Can we take a minute to talk about this, please?” Hutch asked, as he walked to where Starsky stood at the window, his back rigid. Hutch touched his partner’s arm and tugged gently. “We’ll be back. Give us an hour.” Hutch pulled Starsky out of the office, and, without a word or a glance backward, he continued the traction until they were outside and in Hutch’s car.

Hutch started the car without a clue as to where he planned to go. He only knew he was fighting down a rapidly rising panic. His gut was churning as his mind raced, trying to find the words and an argument he could use that would make Starsky see the foolhardiness of going along with this. “I don’t want us to get involved, babe,” Hutch began. “I know you want to rush in and rescue Nick. I understand that…but he’s been bailed out time and time again. Maybe the only way to get him to clean up his act is for him to be the only one to pay the consequence.”

“I agree,” Starsky said calmly.

“I know you want to do it to protect your mom, and I can understand th–. What? What did you say?”

“I agree with you. The only way he’s ever going to learn is to pay the piper. I don’t want us working this case to make it easier on him. That will be one of the stipulations. I’d like my mom to be protected from as many of the sordid details as possible. Of course I want that. I don’t know if it’ll be possible, but I can ask for that, too. Nick isn’t the reason I wanna work the case…well, not exactly, or at least not for the reason you think.”

“Why then?” Hutch asked, slowing the car for a red light.

“He dirtied the name with what he’s involved in. My name! I just want to do something that neutralizes that. I want to make it right so I don’t feel dirty, too. Can you understand that, Hutch? I need to do this, and I need you with me on it. I know you’d be my back-up no matter what, rather than letting me go alone–”

“That’s not an option,” Hutch interrupted.

“But I need more than just your presence. I need you there in your heart. I need you to help me do this for the right reason.” Starsky turned to face him. Hutch felt a slight tremor in the hand that reached to squeeze his thigh. “You won’t be doing it for Nicky, Hutch. You’ll be doing it for me.”

Hutch felt his anger drain away like so much dirty bath water. Easing the car into a dead-end alley, he turned it off and faced his lover. “When you put it that way…how can I tell you, no?”

Starsky gave him a shaky smile, and Hutch leaned over to draw him into his arms. Starsky came willingly, his arms hugging Hutch like his sanity depended on it. “I’m with you, just like always. Me and Thee, babe. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

“When did you get to be such a pushover,” Starsky breathed against his neck.

Hutch tightened his grip and couldn’t answer. He closed his eyes tightly against the images of a few short weeks ago, when a train derailment made him doubt their happily-ever-after ever having a chance.

“I guess we better go back and hear what Dobey’s got for us, huh?” Starsky asked, pulling out of Hutch’s embrace.

“Right.” Hutch’s reply was clipped and tense. He idly scratched at the still dry skin on his left arm where the cast had recently been removed. Then, without further comment, he started the car and pulled out of the alley, back onto the street toward Metro.

Got to give you credit, Hutch thought, as he and Starsky walked slowly back through the open door of Dobey’s office. You’re acting like we didn’t all but run out of here an hour ago.

“Here’s a transcript of your brother’s interrogation. It just came over the wire,” Dobey said, indicating a stack of papers with his chin.

Starsky reached for the stack indicated, his expression grim. Hutch moved to stand next to him. The top left-hand corner of the page caught and held Hutch’s eyes–The State of South Carolina vs. Nicholas M. Starsky. With a soft touch to the small of Starsky’s back, Hutch took the few steps to the chair and sat down. Starsky stood reading, making no move toward the unoccupied chair. Hutch watched as Starsky turned the pages, the papers moving slightly as the hand that held them trembled. Hold it together, babe. Hutch sent the silent thought to his partner. Time for what you’re really feeling later.

“This isn’t one of the tapes Nick was hauling, but it’s got the same script writer. It’ll give you an idea,” Dobey said, as he slid in the tape and pushed play.

Starsky looked up when Hutch gently nudged the back of his leg with his boot and slid the chair over a little closer to himself, patting the seat for Starsky to take it.

The scene opened in a blandly furnished living room, and a woman lounging on one of the couches. A knock on the door caused her to rise and she slithered to open it. The black negligée she was wearing separated with every step, showing a long white leg. Hutch was transported to another film, equally sleazy. The blonde who had answered the door in that film was his lover. It had broken his heart to see those few seconds of footage. The memory of her body when his were the hands touching her was so sharp and clear…hearing the noise of her passion when he could replay it in his mind’s ear. Remembering how it felt to enter her beautiful, willing body had been torture and Grossman knew it. When a well-placed shot had taken out the camera, he’d never been so grateful for anything in his life. But he couldn’t shoot the memory away this time. This time he had to keep watching…keep reminding himself that no matter how much the resemblance, this wasn’t Gillian…wasn’t Gillian…wasn’t Gillian.

A hand on his arm grounded him, and he released a long-held breath. A weak smile and a nod to Starsky was the best Hutch could do to communicate he’d be okay. As okay as any man can be, knowing he had loved a woman who let strangers do what he did to her, while she acted as if she liked it.

The screen scene changed as the two walked into a new room. This one dark with flickering candles in sconces on the wall. Obviously a dungeon from the accoutrements. The woman let the robe slip slowly from her shoulders, revealing a black leather harness. With the grace of a panther she kissed the young man, while she backed him up physically against the wall. She ran her hands down his chest and arms, locking her fingers with his, then lifting one arm at a time to slip into the C-ring snap links attached to the wall. She backed away slowly, letting her red-tipped fingers trail lightly down his naked body. She turned away and stepped out of frame, returning with a riding crop. The dominatrix whispered, “Now let the fun begin.” The hair rose on Hutch’s neck once more.

The minutes ticked by while they watched as the woman on screen tortured and humiliated the captive man. His voice was muffled with a ball gag, but even in the dim light the glistening streaks of his tears could easily be seen. More people had joined in–another woman, similarly dressed, and a large, muscularly built black man, wearing a cock-ring and nothing else. The muscles in the victim’s neck stood out like cords, and he screamed while the black man brutally sodomized him. A steady trickle of blood ran down his inner thighs after the assault and it continued. The riding crop left streaks of welted skin, and now, each of the tormentors had new, sharper items. With a cat-o-nine-tails and a stiletto, there was, in a matter of moments, barely an inch on the young Hispanic that was not bleeding. The large black man approached the smaller man from behind. The flickering candles glinted ominously off a broad sword. The music changed as the screen slowly faded to black, the victim’s terrified death scream fading, too, amidst the reverb. Hutch felt sick and knew his partner also struggled by the number of times he saw Starsky lift his hand to wipe off the sweat on his forehead and upper lip.

“That’s it.” Dobey stood to turn off the TV and VCR. “That gives you an idea of the animals we’re after. I don’t need to tell you that the clock is ticking. Wherever this guy is producing these things, he’s not going to wait long before he has another victim lined up.”

“What about leads on the tapes themselves? Any tracking been done on who’s buying blanks in great quantities?” Hutch asked.

“In this town? Only hundreds. I think we can safely rule out major legitimate industry studios. I don’t think you’re going to uncover the CEO of NBC, but that’s where you can start. The Riverside County vice unit will meet with us tomorrow. We’ll find out what they already know and formulate a plan. Before I loan these cowboys two of my best, I’m going to know every detail or it’s a no-go.”

“I’d like to call my brother and see what inside information he’s got to set my cover. I want a secure line to do it. No taps,” Starsky said, speaking for the first time since they’d entered.

“I expected that. It’s already arranged,” Dobey affirmed. “There’s an open line in interrogation room three.”

Hutch watched the interchange, feeling somehow left out. He changed positions in the chair in deference to his still healing and sore side muscles, covering the groan that escaped him with a little cough. He looked at his partner, seeing the stress of the current circumstances mirrored there. When this is over, you’re going to need some down time. I’ll see that you get it, somehow. Silently, Hutch reached out his hand to give Starsky’s forearm a squeeze.

Starsky stood, taking in a deep, steadying breath before he walked toward the door to make the call. Hutch started to rise, also, but a soft hand on his shoulder stopped the motion. Starsky walked out of the office alone, while it took everything Hutch had not to argue about going, too. Hutch respected the unspoken plea and the slight shake of Starsky’s head as he passed him to walk out of the office.

 

 

Hutch reached for the pages of Nick’s statement and began reading. As he read, he could feel his anger rising. Nick, you stupid son-of-a-bitch. The big boys may kill you for being so cooperative to save your ass. I swear to God, if you were in this state, I’d kill you myself for what you’re doing to your brother.

In a little less than thirty minutes, Starsky opened the door and entered Dobey’s office. His hand was lowering from where he’d used his handkerchief to blow his nose. He shoved the handkerchief into his back pocket. Hutch searched his partner’s face for a clue to his mind-set, but Starsky avoided his eyes. He moved straight to the chair next to Hutch, sliding down to rest on his tailbone, his long legs a sprawl in front of him.

“How much front money is Riverside willing to come up with?” Starsky asked without preamble.

“I don’t know, we can ask them tomorrow. Why? Your brother fill you in on something that wasn’t in the transcript?” Dobey’s eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer.

“Not that so much as he talked about what would be a big enough carrot to dangle in front of them to make them get careless. You know, move up an operation ahead of schedule, so maybe all the usual security things don’t have time to get in place.”

“And you’re thinking to offer them a deal so sweet they won’t be willing to pass it up.” Hutch added.

“You could be my ‘connection’ from back east, willing to take their distribution to a new level.” Starsky offered tentatively, glancing at Hutch.

“I don’t know if having you both under is such a good idea,” Dobey warned.

“From what Nick said, these guys started this operation in New Jersey. Things got too hot there when one of their main financiers got busted by the IRS and offered up the porn ring to make his own trouble less intense. So they picked up everything and just recently moved to California to tap Mexico for their source, like they used the immigrants around New Jersey and New York.” Starsky offered the information with a calmness in his voice that was in stark contrast to the clenching of his hands where they rested in his lap. “I think given the idea that I’m coming in to clean up my brother’s mess, they aren’t going to care if I bring along an associate.”

“I’ll table that until we talk to the task force from Riverside. They may already have another officer established with these guys. I don’t want to rock the boat. I want us to get these monsters and put them where no one has to worry about them ever again,” Dobey said.

“Here are two other tapes. Check out the video equipment and take them home and look at them, see if there’s anything in the background–noises or anything in the sets that might be traceable. That is, if you can stomach watching them all the way through. I couldn’t.” Dobey mopped across the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. “Get the paperwork on whatever your present open cases are and hand them off to Thorpe and Flores. I’ll see you back here in the morning, eight-thirty. Dismissed.” Dobey said, this last order issued softly.

Hutch stood, a little stiff from sitting so long, his hand automatically going to his side briefly. He was hardly aware of doing it, the action so habitual from the slow healing process of the previous weeks, until he felt Starsky’s hand on his back. He turned slightly to see the questioning concern on his partner’s face. He let his own hand reach out to touch the arm so close to him in assurance. Their subtle ‘Yeah, I’m okay, thanks for asking. You?’ shorthand. Message delivered and received in the blink of an eye.

“Let’s go get something to eat before we go home. I have a feeling I won’t have much of an appetite after the feature,” Hutch stated.

“I’m not sure I have much of one now,” Starsky muttered, barely audible as he fell in step beside Hutch to leave the squadroom.

 

 

Later at The Pits, the two men sat in silence, the plates of food in front of them largely untouched.

“So, what did Nick say?” Hutch asked, unable to ignore the subject any longer.

“The usual, you know…thanks for helping me, be careful …and the ever popular–I’ll never do anything like this again, blah, blah, blah.” Starsky answered, looking down at his untouched, rapidly cooling food.

“What was he going to tell your mom?”

“I don’t know. I told him not to tell her anything for now, other than he’d be staying in South Carolina longer than he thought.”

“Has he gotten any idea of charges and what, if any, jail time he’s looking at?” God, this is like pulling teeth!

He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

“What kind of cover did he give you?”

“The truth.”

Hutch coughed, choking on his soda. “What?”

“That he got busted with that load and I’m his brother, stepping in to make a new deal for him. A load to replace the one that got confiscated and another for a bigger order back east.”

Starsky looked up, pain-filled eyes locked on Hutch’s. “I believe he didn’t know the content of the tapes.”

Hutch tossed his napkin on top of his plate. “The content doesn’t matter. Ignorance is no excuse. Isn’t that the quote? Those sickos murder people slowly and film it for fun, then sell it to other people just as sick. He’ll be lucky if he isn’t charged with accessory to murder.” And that, babe, you won’t be able to fix or hide from your mother.

Starsky seemed to physically flinch at the words, making Hutch sorry he’d said them. “Let’s go home, partner,” Hutch said.

Starsky pushed his plate away before reaching in his pocket to pull out a five and toss it on the table. Without a word, he stood and walked like a robot toward the car. Hutch added his own money to the table and followed.

The drive to Hutch’s was quick and quiet. Hutch handed Starsky the video equipment and reluctantly carried the tapes upstairs, knowing Starsky shared his dread at seeing their contents.

“Maybe we could blacken the screen and just listen for background noise,” Starsky offered, as he set everything on top of the TV before he slipped out of his jacket and shoulder holster.

Starsky connected the cables, then sat on the couch, holding his arm out for Hutch to sit next to him after he’d started the VCR. “This bringing back some old ghosts, babe?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I guess. That first one in Dobey’s office did for a second. It was as if we were right back in that old theater. I could even smell the musty seats. Funny, huh?” Hutch admitted, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. “After all these years.”

“I’m sorry,” was the simple, loving answer given, along with a hand to hold as they watched the tapes.

The second tape was the worst. The victim was a young and terrified black boy, who looked about eighteen. Hutch fought down his rising fury and knew his lover seated next to him was also fast approaching his limit. The death blow fell at last, putting the poor kid out of his misery. A large black man, a repeat performer from the earlier tapes, took the boy’s head and snapped his neck mid-scream. Starsky bolted from the couch, barely reaching the bathroom before the retching sounds drowned out the last of the music as the tape ended. Hutch killed the power to the VCR and TV and was trying to stretch the tension knots out of his neck, as Starsky came out of the bathroom wiping his mouth with a wet washcloth

“Sorry, that last one got me, I guess,” Starsky offered, sounding embarrassed.

Hutch stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his lover. “Nothing to apologize for; it got to me, too.”

“Seeing what they did to that boy…seeing those men take turns with him…what we do…

“Starsk, what we do is so far removed from that, it might as well be coming from another planet. That has nothing to do with love. It isn’t even about sex. It’s sick.”

Starsky melted against Hutch’s chest as Hutch tightened his grip. Hutch let his hands rub large circles over Starsky’s back, his fingers expertly finding the knots of tension and rubbing them out. “I’ve had enough for tonight, how about you?”

“We could’ve quit a half hour ago and I might still have my lunch,” Starsky answered grimly.

Hutch took his lover’s hand and gently led him to the sleeping alcove. “Come here, beautiful man. Let’s go where none of that can touch us.” Hutch spoke softly as he kissed Starsky’s neck, opening the shirt buttons and following down the exposed skin. Starsky was more than willing to escape the grim facts of the current case and the additional stress of the personal involvement. Hitching his hips up, he helped shimmy out of his tight jeans and reached to open the belt holding Hutch’s pants to hurry them away. Starsky leaned back on the bed, pulling Hutch’s body with him. Hutch stretched out on top of the lean hardness under him, loving how his body covered his partner and the strength he felt in those arms and legs as they held on. Hutch lined up their erections and began to move slowly; long moments passed in the silent closeness. Soft kisses and gentle touches reaffirming the love and erasing the horror of earlier. Hutch raised up, arching his back and taking much of his weight off Starsky with his arms. He could lower his head just a fraction and see their combined erections as their bodies met. Dark and light together, stretching and growing, the pre-come adding to the glide. Starsky was reaching up trying to get greater purchase, more contact, the muscles in his neck standing out.

“Hutch…let me…” Starsky’s brow furrowed and he looked almost in pain. “I need you, want you so bad.”

Hutch kissed Starsky, plundering his mouth, raking over his lower lip with his teeth and then pulling back to lick and nip across his chest. He sucked and worried nipples and neck before stretching his arm toward the nightstand and the lube kept there. Squirting some into his hand, he covered Starsky’s length. The heat of it burned his hand. “I’m coming, babe, you’re okay, I’ve got you. Give me a second.”

Hutch drew his knees up to position his center over Starsky’s hard shaft. He placed the head at his sphincter and eased down slowly. Unstretched as he was, it took a little longer than usual for the tight ring to relax and accept what was struggling to enter. Starsky held still, waiting, allowing Hutch to set the pace, but the effort cost him. Hutch could see as well as feel the perspiration. He felt the muscles in Starsky’s chest and legs tremble. Slowly, he eased down more and more until his cheeks rested against Starsky’s groin. Hutch steadied his body on his hands, which gripped Starsky’s shoulders, his knuckles white from the sharp burning in his ass. He took small, shallow breaths, willing himself to relax and stretch. Starsky’s body never moved, but Hutch could feel the periodic jerking of the cock inside him, knowing Starsky was desperate to move and begin thrusting. Hutch raised up slightly, then eased back down, then again, and yet again. The pain was receding, the burning less. The next push downward and the penetration was deep enough for the tip of Starsky’s penis to move against Hutch’s prostate. There was no power on Earth that could have prevented him from moving again, to cause that incredible sensation over and over. “Oh, God, Starsky, move, babe…move with me.”

That was all the encouragement Starsky needed. With his long-fingered hands gripping Hutch’s hips to hold him steady, Starsky began a rhythm as old as time. Hutch’s movement became almost as frantic as Starsky’s–each man rushing toward completion. Hutch reached his climax first, spilling his hot seed over Starsky’s chest and belly. He could feel his ass spasm, squeezing Starsky’s cock with each spurt. Starsky gripped him hard, grinding Hutch down against his groin as he pushed up as far as possible, shooting deeply inside Hutch’s body. With a groan interspersed with great gasps of air, Hutch let his hands slide off Starsky’s shoulders to again lie full length on his lover. Starsky’s arms came around him, holding him tightly.

“God, Hutch…just when I think it can never get any better. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Hutch answered between breaths, as he angled himself off to the side to allow his lover to breathe. “Go to sleep for a little while. We’ll deal with all this in an hour or so; it’ll be here waiting.” Starsky’s arms and legs wrapped around him as they both drifted off.

The happy sound of the ice cream truck awakened Hutch first, followed immediately by the intense need to pee. He shifted slightly, trying to get out from under the pressure of the muscular leg that rested heavily across his lower abdomen. It wasn’t helping, so he yielded to the situation and, with a kiss to the curly head resting on his shoulder, Hutch eased out of bed to relieve himself.

Padding softly from the bathroom, he stopped a few steps before the bed to look at and appreciate his lover. All that and it’s all mine, Hutch thought as his eyes drank in the beauty of the sleeping man. His gaze fell on a love bite peeking out of the curly chest hair, and the memory of the evidence tapes came crashing back, effectively ending his good mood. The niggling dread he’d felt all day came back full force. Don’t push too hard, babe. I don’t want them to be so pissed at Nick for losing their merchandise they shoot a rush job with you as the leading man. Suppressing a shudder, Hutch crawled in bed to wrap long arms and legs around his still sleeping lover.

Sleep warm lips sought the smooth skin on his chest as Hutch snuggled closer. “Where’d you go? I got cold here without ya.”

“Had to take a leak. My bladder couldn’t fight the weight of your big hairy leg on it.” Hutch kissed Starsky’s nearby cheek.

“Ummmm…sorry. I moved and you were gone. Don’t ever go for very long, ‘kay?”

“You must still be asleep to think that,” Hutch whispered with another kiss.

“I’m hungry.” Starsky leaned into the kiss.

“I’m not surprised. You’re always hungry after a workout like that. Let’s get showered and dressed and go see if Huggy’s got anything for us. Huh?”

“If that’s the only way I can get something to eat, up it is.” Starsky groaned as he sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “Some days I feel really old, Hutch.”

“Yeah, me, too.” And my body hasn’t been through nearly what yours has.

 

 

The early evening had cooled off nicely, and the fact that they were moving against traffic made the trip to Huggy’s a pleasant and short one. The club crowd hadn’t hit yet, allowing Huggy a rare chance to join the two men for a meal.

“After the way you left most, if not all, your lunch, I’m surprised you boys came back for more,” Huggy said around a mouthful.

“It wasn’t the food, Hug,” Starsky assured quickly.

“You know anybody turning out hard-core porn flicks halfway between here and San Diego?” Hutch asked.

“Bro’, there are a lot of less than four star productions there. Anything in particular you guys are looking for? A little menage-a-trois, maybe? No need to go that far…I can fix you up right here.”

“No, Huggy. Not us. Business. The flicks we’re asking about are the kind where one or more of the headliners are never seen alive again,” Hutch explained, his voice deadly serious.

“Ohhhh.” Huggy nodded, understanding at last. “I don’t know if I can be much help there. Definitely not my bag.”

“Ours either, but that’s the case we’ve been loaned out to work with the Riverside Sheriff’s Office. Ask around for us? See what you hear, and if you get anything give us a call.

“Will do. Are you in a big hurry for the info?” Huggy asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” Starsky answered. “We meet with the sheriff office guys tomorrow. I expect they’ll have a Fed or two in tow.” Starsky pushed his food around briefly. “It’s taken a kind of personal turn, you know? Anything you can get might help.”

“If we can get in with these scumbags before they finish their current production, it might mean somebody doesn’t have to die,” Hutch said.

“They don’t go easy, Hug,” Starsky added softly as he pushed his plate away, leaving a lot of food on it.

“I’ll make a couple of phone calls tonight before it gets crazy in here. I’ll get back to you.” Huggy finished the last bite of his sandwich and gathered the dirty plates to clear the table.

Hutch pulled out his wallet, and Starsky laid a restraining hand on his arm. “I got it.”

Hutch nodded with a wink, then his eye caught on a business card sticking out of the wallet. He pulled it free under Starsky’s curious gaze. “Remember Wally from INS?” Hutch asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “Let me give him a ring from here. I want to see if he’s heard anything. It’s worth a shot. If they use mostly illegals, maybe there’s a description of somebody offering money for a little skin.” Hutch stood, going to the payphone at the back of the bar while Starsky took care of the bill.

Hutch walked back to where Starsky waited at the bar, feeling the first lifting of the black cloud he’d felt since seeing the first tape. “Wally’s going to check out a rumor and give us a call before the meeting in the morning. He said to say hi.” Hutch left his hand in place until Starsky turned and slid off the barstool.

“What else did he say?” Starsky asked pointedly.

“To be careful.”

“He must know something then, if he knows enough to worry for us.”

“That was my thought.”

 

 

The drive back to Venice Place was spent brainstorming cover stories and strategies. “Starsk, ” Hutch started as he unlocked his apartment door, “there isn’t anyone else who knows you’re working this as a cop, right? Nobody Nick might have made a careless comment to, is there?”

“I told him to stick to my cover as a partner. The only ones on his end who know I’m a cop are his lawyer and the arresting office from ATF.”

“If there’s one thing Gunther taught me,” Hutch replied, his eyes and voice hardening as they always did at the mention of the name, “it’s never underestimate how far-reaching the involvement can get. This is no mom-and-pop operation. Not with that truckload of thousands of tapes just for the East Coast market.”

“Kinda boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“That there would be that kind of demand. You know there has to be or they’d never produce that amount.” Starsky shook his head, obviously remembering the gruesome footage.

Hutch drew his lover into his arms, kissing him with extra care and tenderness, as if he could make love so sweetly it would neutralize the effects of the other horror. Starsky returned the kiss with enthusiasm as if he had the same thought in mind. They slowly made their way to the bed, divesting their own and each other’s clothing.

Hungry mouths sought out each other as they wrestled for control. Hutch relaxed with the onslaught, letting Starsky’s mouth pleasure him. Wet kisses over his neck and chest brought a moan of pleasure. He lifted one hand to run his fingers through Starsky’s thick curls. A gentle pressure on his head was all the hint it took for Starsky to swing his legs around on the bed, as he continued kissing down Hutch’s smooth chest and stomach, to the cock that rose out of the nest of blond curls. Turning his body to face Starsky’s groin Hutch began to return the pleasure. Meeting the sucking warmth stroke for stroke. Hutch let one hand steady Starsky’s cock in his mouth, while the other rolled the tight balls, then slid past to draw small circles against the throbbing pucker until he eased one finger in. He drew it slowly in and out until the ring loosened slightly. He withdrew, drawing his fingers around the base of Starsky’s cock where Hutch’s saliva had pooled. Then, Hutch went back to sneak two wet fingers in and was rewarded by Starsky’s groan, sending interesting vibrations through Hutch’s cock while Starsky sucked harder. It was a gentle unhurried climax that carried them up and over, each thrusting in quick deeper rhythm until the shuddering finish.

 

 

The clock’s dial glowed 2:14. Hutch groaned but reached for his service revolver, just in case, and went to the front door to answer the knocking there. He shimmied into the first pair of jeans he came to on the floor, not knowing if they were even his own. Opening the door a crack, he glanced out, then lowered his gun and stepped back. The door swung open to reveal Huggy.

“What’s the matter, Hug?” Hutch asked, stifling a yawn.

“I’ve got something for you. Sorry, but you said it was important so I came right over after I talked to the guy.” Huggy stepped farther into the room and added indignantly, “I did try to call first, but the line was busy for over an hour.” He stopped where he was, waiting for Hutch to turn on the table lamp and illuminate the dark room. Once the room was brighter, the trail of clothing and the love marks on Hutch’s neck and chest were unignorably obvious. Huggy smiled knowingly and touched the largest of the marks where it showed on Hutch’s neck. “Kinda warm for that turtleneck you’re gonna have to wear tomorrow, wouldn’t you say?” Huggy teased, as he walked past Hutch heading for the refrigerator. .

Hutch rubbed his neck self-consciously, as he toed Starsky’s shirt farther under the edge of the couch. “Sorry you had to c-c-come all the way over here rather than just call. I…uh…j-j-just needed some down time. You know how that is?”

“Yep, I do.” Huggy’s smile faded and his jaw dropped open. Hutch followed the black man’s stare, although he knew full well who Huggy had just seen from his vantage point in the kitchen.

“Whatcha got, Hug?” Starsky asked, padding out wearing Hutch’s robe. He drew the tie around his waist and cinched it, but not before the love bites on his neck and chest passed in plain sight.

“What the–?” Huggy looked like he was about to bolt. His eyes were as wide as Hutch had ever seen them, and he looked helplessly from one man to the other. Huggy’s gaze went to the trail of clothing that Hutch had only partially dispatched. That seemed to be the last straw and the thin man’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing to a cold blaze. “You son-of-a-bitch,” he shouted at a very surprised-looking Starsky.

“Huggy,” Hutch started, taking a step forward with one hand held out.

“You, too!” Huggy yelled as he stepped back. “How long have we been tight?” he shouted. “How fucking long? But you still couldn’t be stand up enough with me to tell me? I had to see this to know?”

“Hug, listen–” Starsky said, trying to calm things down.

“How fucking stupid are you? If you’d be this careless with me–and me you could have told, damn it–how long before you let some tight-assed honkey cop brother know, and you guys are dead, man. Don’t you get it? Gay cops don’t make it. The back-up gets lost, or there’s a radio failure, or they arrive just a second too late. Gay cops get dead! Or if they’re lucky, they just get fired.” Huggy turned away, both hands going up to rub through his short kinky hair. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“We’re thinking it’s none of your business. Now what do you have for us that you needed to come here in the middle of the night? Let’s get back to business,” Hutch snapped.

“Here, check it out. A cameraman that quit a high-paying gig because he couldn’t take the subject matter. If it isn’t your boy he was working for, he might know something that will lead you there. Good luck, you dumb shits. I am outta here.”

“Huggy wait,” Starsky called as the black man headed sharply to the door.

“There ain’t nothing you can say to me, now. You should have said it before. Told me. Because we were friends, because we could respect each other. This tells me, as far as you’re concerned, we never were any of those things.”

“Huggy, that’s not true,” Starsky said, reaching out to stop the black man from going out the door.

“Don’t talk to me about truth. You couldn’t handle Johnny Blaine’s truth. You saw what hiding it got him.” Huggy shook free of Starsky’s arm and jerked open the door, storming through it without a glance back.

Starsky and Hutch stood in stunned silence after the slamming of the door. Hutch was the first to recover. “Well, that went well, don’t you think?”

“You’re wearing my jeans,” Starsky observed.

Hutch looked down at the jeans that were too short and too tight to button, and sighed with a wry smile. “I always love getting in your jeans.”

“You really need to work on your timing, Romeo.” Starsky sat down heavily on the couch, and Hutch followed.

“He’s right, you know,” Hutch ventured softly.

“I don’t care! I’m not going to go out with women to please narrow-minded people who don’t matter. I still want us to buy a house together. I love you…forever, babe. That’s all there is.”

“Even if it means our jobs?” Hutch asked.

“I can get another job, Hutch. There’s only one of us.” Starsky’s hand reached over to tangle his fingers between Hutch’s. “Huggy will cool off. If not, well…” Starsky’s voice trailed off with a shrug.

“Let’s go back to bed; it can all wait ’til morning.” Hutch pulled at the hand he still held and led his lover back to bed. He spooned behind Starsky, wiggling around a little until he found a place where his nose wasn’t tickled by Starsky’s hair. The red glow of the clock changed several numbers before he felt the body he held relax into sleep. His own mind played back Huggy’s angry tirade over and over. He didn’t have to stretch his imagination very far to picture exactly the scenario Huggy had painted. Doesn’t seem fair to think the thing that has made us the happiest, might be the very thing that gets us killed. Maybe we’re kidding ourselves about nobody having to know. We do need to be careful…pick and choose. Hutch closed his eyes against the thought of the forced intrigue, begrudgingly agreeing Huggy’s concerns were valid. He tightened his hold briefly before slipping into sleep himself.

 

 

The morning ritual of showering and shaving was carried out with mechanical alacrity, both men still processing the previous night’s events. It stayed much the same all the way to Metro.

“We’ll see what Riverside knows and get the skinny on their plan. By that time it’ll be lunch and we can check out Huggy’s lead,” Hutch said as they walked the hall to their squadroom. “We need to stay focused. This case is too dangerous not to have our shit together. We can’t afford to be distracted. We’ll talk to Huggy later when this case is over, okay? Can you let it go?” Hutch asked.

“You’re right, and I guess I’ll have to. That pretty speech goes for you, too, Blondie. Can you?”

Hutch chuckled and could feel his cheeks color in a blush. “Yeah. Yeah…I can.”

They stopped at the coffeepot to fill their cups and then knocked for entry at Dobey’s closed door.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice from inside.

Starsky and Hutch entered and took in the people waiting.

Two men in the brown khaki uniform typical of the sheriff’s departments stood to the side of two seated men wearing dark suits. Two chairs stood empty in their usual positions in front of Dobey’s desk.

“Starsky, Hutchinson, these are officers Harrison and Gray with the Riverside County SO, and Federal Agents Collier and Martinez from ATF.” Handshakes were exchanged all around before Starsky and Hutch took their seats.

Agent Martinez spoke first, as he opened his attaché case and passed folders of information to everyone. “The Riverside officers are fully apprised of this operation, and I trust you gentlemen have had the time to study the tapes we provided.”

“We watched them, yes.” Dobey’s answer was accompanied by a furrow of his brow that meant he felt generally irritated at what he perceived as patronization.

“Do you have any contacts on the inside of this operation, or will my partner and I be going in cold?” Hutch asked.

“The only break we’ve had in this case was stopping the truck that blew off one of the mandatory weighing stations,” Collier answered. “That’s when we discovered the contents and traced the truck back to Southern California.”

Starsky rolled his eyes at Hutch with a muttered, “My brother, the idiot,” under his breath. He took two of the extended folders, passing one to Hutch.

“These files represent about eight months of investigation. We have identified the victims killed in the making of the videos, but have only been able to notify next of kin in two out of the six murders. That information was based on missing person reports here and in Mexico. The others are still unidentified.”

“Disposable people,” Hutch muttered with disgust.

“How do you want to do this?” Starsky asked, getting right to it.

“Your brother gave us the contact on the East Coast. One of our agency offices has an undercover contact who has reached that person with the unfortunate news that the shipment failed to arrive. The East Coast contact will get that information to the mother ship, eventually. Along with that, will be the planted information that Mr. Starsky’s brother is coming to make restitution. You’ll be given a condo in Beverly Hills to operate out of and a quarter million dollars as a good faith gesture to cover the losses. The bonus is an international buyer willing to double their market and their volume. Whoever Mr. Big is on this end, he’ll find you.”

“Is the condo wired?” Hutch asked.

“Like Fort Knox. Surveillance cameras in the parking garage, hallways, and elevators. Audio only in the condo’s main rooms with every door and window separately alarmed, independent of the building’s system.”

“Any history set up for me?” Starsky asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“The condo shows you leased it over a year ago,” Collier answered, tossing Starsky a key ring. “These go to the security gate, the condo’s dead bolt, and the black XKE downstairs.”

“How long before you expect this dude to make a move?” Starsky asked, palming the keys.

“Yesterday,” Martinez answered. “He’s defaulted on a big shipment. He’s going to be antsy to make good on everything as quickly as possible to stay reputable, if you’ll forgive that term in this context. Add to that, the pressure of your partner as a carrot to double his already considerable circulation.

“And what’s my cover?” Hutch asked.

“Your name is Phillip Schoonmaker. You’re from Switzerland. The real Schoonmaker is 6’2″, 198 pounds, blond hair and blue eyes, thirty-six years old. Interpol picked him up over a week ago, literally by accident. He was struck by a car in France and sustained a head injury. They don’t expect him to ever regain consciousness. They’re willing to hold off contacting next of kin that might want to pull the plug until we are established here. I don’t expect that agreement to last indefinitely. But we’ve got a small operating window. Once family is notified, word will get out.”

“How did Starsky’s brother fit into all this, and what was his ticket inside?” Dobey asked, laying down the folder.

“Tony Deladotti,” Starsky answered. “We grew up together. Nicky fenced some stuff for him, ran some numbers–nickel and dime stuff, until now. I guess when Tony hit the big time, he took Nicky along for the ride.”

“Does Tony know where Nick is now?” Hutch asked, frowning.

“Yes,” Martinez answered. “He’s on ‘give out no information, no visitors other than counsel.’ According to Mr. Starsky, Deladotti didn’t know the content of the tapes, either. So as far as he knows, his boy was busted for illegal transport of contraband. That’s all that’s been officially entered. If Tony’s got friends in high places at home, that’s all they’ll be able to get.”

“I’d like a guard on my brother while this is going down. I don’t expect him to get special consideration, he’s broken the law and he has to be held accountable. But I don’t want him a sitting duck when the shit hits the fan, either. I need to know he’ll be kept safe.”

“I’ve already considered that. He’ll be removed to a secure location the same day you give us the word you’ve made contact.” Collier waited expectantly for the eventual nod from Starsky accepting those parameters.

“When do we move in?” Starsky asked.

“Can you get in there tonight?” Martinez asked.

Starsky looked briefly at Hutch, then turned back to the federal agent. “Yeah, we can go by our places and get what we need. Is everything else ready in that short a time?”

“The security’s been in place for a while now, the cash will be delivered to your captain here sometime this afternoon. Can you get it to them when they’re in place?” Collier asked, looking at Dobey.

“I’ll see they have it tonight. What about personal wires for each of them?”

“Not a chance; they’ll be searched too well for that. The car has one in it, so make sure you suggest you follow them rather than ride along.”

“I hope I can get them to give me that vote.” Starsky closed his folder and stood. “If there’s nothing else, Hutch and I have some loose ends to tie up before we pack and get set.”

Handshakes all around again, with slightly less than the stiff formality of earlier, and Starsky preceded Hutch out the door.

Hutch stopped at their desk, and, digging out the slip of paper Huggy had given him in the wee hours, he dialed the number. He drummed nervously on the back of the chair until he hung up in frustration and punched another number. “Minnie, this is Hutch. I need you to get me an address to go with this phone number, please. The number is: 555-6723. No, I don’t have a name. The number is all I’ve got. Sure, thanks.” Hutch pulled the chair away from the desk and sat doodling on the calendar page while he waited.

“I don’t like this, ” Hutch said, covering the mouthpiece.

“I’m okay with it,” Starsky answered.

“That’s because you get to drive a Jaguar,” Hutch fired back, and then sat up straight to begin writing down the address. “Thanks, Minnie. You’re beautiful. ‘Bye.”

“Okay, let’s check this out before we go pack up, huh?”

“You’re just jealous because they gave the car to me,” Starsky teased as they left the squadroom.

“No, I’m not. I’ve never believed the car or clothes made the man,” Hutch answered.

“I believe that!” Starsky shot back, and Hutch swatted his butt going through the outside door.

 

 

Ignoring the stares the car attracted as they grabbed lunch at a drive-through, they drove directly to the home of the cameraman Huggy had suggested they contact.

“You know, if he didn’t answer the phone he may be working on a shoot who knows where,” Starsky said around a mouthful.

“And maybe he just stepped out. It’s all we’ve got,” Hutch said.

They found the address easily and pulled in front of the small, single-story home. An unwrapped morning newspaper on the driveway of the house in question looked acutely out of place.

“Seems like he would have picked up the morning paper by now,” Hutch remarked, as he opened his jacket and unsnapped the leather strap holding his Magnum in its holster.

Starsky nodded in silence and opened his jacket, also. Taking their positions on either side of the door, Hutch reached to knock loudly against the outside screen.

Silence.

“Mr. Alejandro, this is the police, could you come to the door, please?” Hutch called.

Silence.

Starsky reached for the handle on the screen door and it opened easily, obviously unlocked. Trying the handle of the inside door, it also opened on the first twist of the knob, the door swinging easily inside. Starsky met Hutch’s gaze, and both men drew their weapons in tandem.

Hutch stepped inside first, weapon up and ready, but he was greeted with only more silence. Starsky followed closely.

The living room was beautifully furnished with Art Deco paintings on the walls. One wall was lined with bookcases filled with photo albums and all kinds of books. Hutch went down the hallway to the left toward the kitchen, while Starsky took the opposite direction. The kitchen table was set as if someone had recently eaten. Coffeepot on the counter half full, a magazine lay open on the table in front of a plate of half-eaten food. Hutch looked more closely at the dried up eggs and toast.

“Hutch,” Starsky called from the other part of the house, and Hutch turned to follow the sound. Starsky was standing outside of a doorway at the end of an L-shaped hall. When Hutch moved to stand alongside Starsky, he already knew what he’d find. The unmistakable smell of blood and death became stronger with each step he took toward Starsky’s position. They found the body in the bathroom. Water still running in the sink, his face partially covered with the remnants of dried shaving cream. His eyes stared blankly in death where he lay crumpled on the floor. His throat had been slit, the blood surrounding him made an enormous pool, the wound in his neck so deeply drawn that shiny cartilage of his windpipe was clearly evident.

“There are no defensive cuts on either hand, must have been a complete surprise,” Starsky noted.

“Must have been a hell of a big knife. Almost took his head off.” Hutch rose from where he had squatted down to get a better look. “I’ll call it in. Dobey’s going to have our asses for taking the car on a call here with no radio in it. You realize that, don’t you?” Hutch couldn’t help but smile at the chagrined look on Starsky’s face. “You check out any videos or camera stuff he’s got here. Maybe we’ll get lucky, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“Neither is he,” Starsky said, as he stepped clear of a rivulet of clotted blood extending into the hall to scope out the rest of the house.

Hutch carefully returned the phone’s receiver to its cradle and shoved his handkerchief into his back pocket. Glancing around the kitchen didn’t offer any clues to forced entry. He headed toward the rear of the house where Starsky was. The master bedroom seemed untouched. The bed was unmade and some clothing was tossed over a chair, but it by no means looked like anyone had searched it looking for something. He walked down the hall toward the other room at the back and saw an entirely different scene. Starsky stood amidst a room of total disarray. The drawers to file cabinets were open and the contents strewn around. The closet stood open and the shelves of books and videos were swept clean, their former contents on the floor. The mess included several cameras, smashed beyond repair, their film torn out and exposed.

“I don’t think there’s much they didn’t already get or destroy, do you?” Starsky nudged the remains of a Nikon at his feet. “Damn shame, that’s a nice camera.”

“Think he was killed because he quit, or because he tried to get paid for keeping quiet about the content of the films?”

“Hard to say, maybe both,” Hutch said. “If he quit because he didn’t buy into their idea of fun, regardless of how well paid he was, he’d represent a risk. I’ve got a feeling the man at the top doesn’t take any chances.”

“This guy had to know that, didn’t he? Could he really have been so stupid to think they’d let him know what he knew and just walk away?” Starsky scratched his head at the question.

“The front door was open. He didn’t look like he was packing to get out of town…I don’t know. Maybe he had something he considered good enough insurance that he’d stay alive.”

“Did you find a wallet? Maybe he has a union card in it or something that’ll give us the next of kin.”

“Somebody that he gave something to, to hold for him, you mean?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah, everything just looks like he felt safe here.”

“There’s a pair of pants in the bedroom, I’ll look in them. I didn’t see anything lying around on the dresser. If that’s where it was, it’s long gone.” Hutch turned and retraced his steps.

Hutch patted the pockets of the pants thrown over the chair, they were empty, as was the pocket of the pullover shirt. The dresser was clean. Stooping slightly to get a side glance of the dresser top, he saw there was a slight disturbance in the dust pattern, as if something had been dragged across it. Using a pen from his pocket, he slid it into the drawer handles and opened each dresser drawer to look inside. Nothing seemed out of place. Socks and handkerchiefs, boxer shorts and t-shirts, sweats and sweaters neatly stored in drawers. Using the pen to move things slightly, the corner of a piece of paper caught Hutch’s eye. Moving a sweater aside, he pushed the paper into view. It had a phone number written on it. Using his handkerchief to pick up the paper, he felt his pulse quicken. He drew in a deep breath to shout for his partner when he heard the footfall at the doorway. He turned quickly, relaxing when he saw the blue Adidas step into the room, followed by the rest of Starsky’s body.

“Find something?” Starsky asked.

“Yeah, look.” Hutch held out the piece of paper.

Starsky looked at it for a split second before the number registered and his face drained of color. “That’s Huggy’s home number. Aw, shit!”

“I guess we won’t be giving him much cool-off time after all.” Hutch carefully replaced the paper where he had found it, and both men walked to the front door to wait for the black-and-whites in the fresh air, as far away as possible from the smell of danger and death inside.

The black-and-white was accompanied by a coroner’s wagon. After producing their badges, Starsky and Hutch gave their statements and a card for later contact if necessary. Then, they went to Venice Place to leave the flashy car before driving to The Pits to talk to Huggy. Starsky paced in the main room, while Hutch packed things for their planned arrival at the condo later in the evening.

“Think Huggy would get out of town for a few days while this is goin’ down? If he put us onto this guy, maybe somebody else will make a similar connection,” Starsky said as he walked.

“Just because Huggy knew Alejandro doesn’t mean the guys who killed him would know Huggy,” Hutch replied.

“Not unless Alejandro spouted off about hiding information somewhere as his back-up,” Starsky argued.

“We won’t know until we talk to him. If Huggy thinks there might be a trail, we can ask Dobey to get him to a safe house.”

“I’m not looking forward to talking to him right now,” Starsky admitted. “And I feel lousy about that.”

“I know, babe. I do, too. Before, we could put it off because it didn’t matter. Now, it’s too important. I want to know Huggy’s safe, even if he is pissed at us.”

“You think it’ll ever be the same?”

“Yeah, babe.” Hutch tossed his suitcase on the couch and ran his fingers through Starsky’s curls. “He’ll get used to it. We may have to assure him we’re being careful and listen to him lecture us about it for a while, but he’s a good friend. He’s been there for us, and I can’t help believe that once he gets past the anger he feels about us not coming to him outright, he still will be.” Hutch leaned in and kissed the furrow between Starsky’s brows. “Okay, back to reality, hotshot. We’re taking my car.” Hutch grabbed his suitcase and headed out the door.

 

 

The cool darkness inside The Pits took a few minutes for them to get used to from the bright midday sun outside. When Hutch’s eyes accommodated, he saw Huggy watching them from the far end of the bar. Hutch raised his chin in greeting and ushered Starsky over with a hand placed briefly at the small of the other man’s back.

“What can I get for you?” Huggy asked with uncommon formality.

“Two beers,” Starsky answered.

Huggy nodded without comment and went to draw the drinks. He set them down on the bar and turned to leave again, when Hutch’s long arm snaked out to stop him.

“We need to talk to you, Hug. It won’t take long, but it’s important.” Hutch kept his hand where it was on the black man’s thin arm until Huggy acquiesced with a small shake of his head.

“Go to the booth in the back, I’ll be right there,” Huggy said as he slid his arm away.

Starsky and Hutch took their glasses and went where Huggy had directed and sat down. True to his word, in a few short minutes Huggy joined them, carrying a glass of his own.

“So talk,” Huggy said, as he slid into the booth opposite the two men.

“This isn’t about last night,” Hutch began. “We’ll talk about all that later. This is about the number you gave us. Alejandro’s dead, Hug. He didn’t answer the phone and we drove over. He had his throat cut by a pro. It looked like he never even saw it coming.”

Huggy sat up at that statement, the arrogant indifference of earlier gone. “What? Oh, man…I can’t believe that.”

“Believe it. We just left there. When did you talk to him last?”

“Yesterday…well, actually about nine o’clock last night.” Huggy shook his head slowly, as if the news was having trouble sinking in. “What about his daughter?” Huggy asked.

“What daughter?” Starsky’s head snapped up.

“Skip’s wife was killed by a drunk driver last spring. They had a little girl. She stays with Skip’s mom because his job takes him out of town so much. He was all jazzed that he was in town for a while and she was out of school. He was looking forward to a couple of weeks with her. Talked about all the things they were going to do.”

“There was no one else in the house, Hug,” Starsky said, then locked his gaze with Hutch. “I didn’t see anything there that looked like it belonged to a kid, did you?”

Hutch shook his head and knew his expression must be a match for his partner’s.

“Let me get a radio patch and see if the unit is still 10-97. Some cops we are, ” Starsky muttered, as he sprinted out to Hutch’s car to use the radio.

“She’s only thirteen, fourteen at the most,” Huggy whispered. “That’s just these creeps’ style, isn’t it?” Huggy’s face searched Hutch’s, the worry clearly evident.

“Maybe she woke up with a stomach ache and didn’t go. We don’t know for sure,” Hutch reasoned. “Do you have a number for Alejandro’s mom?”

“No, but her last name is Alejandro, too, and she lives on Hamilton Street in Bellflower. Her first name is Frances, I think. Hutch, you gotta find out if they took her.”

Starsky returned after making the call, his walk hurried and his expression grim. “The unit is still there. The coroner has taken the body away. The sergeant found some papers that listed Alejandro’s mother as his emergency contact. They sent out a unit to tell her in person. They’re going to call us here, land-line, if the kid isn’t there with her.”

Huggy listened to Starsky’s report with wide eyes, then moved away to refill his beer. When the slender man was out of earshot, Starsky whispered. “It doesn’t look good. They found a pink gym bag filled with girls’ clothes in the office when they set the couch upright.”

“Maybe that was the remains of her breakfast on the table, and we just assumed it was his. She’d be the only witness. They can’t let her live, so why not use her in a film before they kill her since they’re going to anyway?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Starsky rested the cool glass of beer against his forehead.

The phone rang at the bar next to the cash register, and Huggy stopped his return to the booth to answer it. Hutch saw Huggy turn after a few seconds and motion for them to take the call. Hutch laid a hand on Starsky’s arm to stay him and went to get what he feared would be bad news.

Huggy moved slowly over to the table and sat in his previous seat. “I gotta know something. I’m trusting you to be up front with me. Did me giving you his number have anything to do with this? If I hadn’t asked around would–?”

“Huggy, this was set in motion before you or we did anything. Trust me on that one. This was a hit nobody could’ve stopped. Once Skip walked away knowing what he knew, he was more of a liability than they could accept. It’s not your fault, Hug.” Starsky hesitated then continued. “There isn’t anything that you and Skip had going is there? I mean, nothing that would lead these guys to you?” Starsky asked. “We found your home phone number in his drawer. If we found it, they could have, too.”

Huggy shook his head. “No, I just asked around and heard about Alejandro’s old job. I gave him a call, told him to call me once in a while. He’s probably had my number a couple of years now. We weren’t tight or anything.”

Hutch returned to the booth, sliding in next to Starsky and giving his thigh a squeeze as he got close enough. With a glance at his partner, he sighed before meeting Huggy’s waiting gaze.

“They got in touch with Mrs. Alejandro. She confirmed that her granddaughter was staying with her father and would have been at the house this morning at the time of the murder. There’s an APB being put out now.” Hutch reached a hand over to rest it on Huggy’s arm before he continued. “Just because she was there, doesn’t mean they have her. She might have been smart and ran out the back door. She may have gone to a neighbor, or have just run and gotten lost. You said she stays with her grandmother. Maybe she isn’t as familiar with the old neighborhood as she used to be. The police and Child Protective Services are combing the area. If she’s lost and scared, they’ll find her,” Hutch finished.

“If not, we will,” Starsky amended.

Hutch gave the black man’s arm a squeeze and slid out of the booth to leave. Starsky followed. “We’ll keep you posted, Hug. As soon as we find out anything, and we can let you know, you’ll know it.”

“We won’t be around too much for a few days. We’re gonna be crawling under some rocks to find these guys, so don’t worry if we’re out of sight. It’s okay,” Starsky warned.

“You guys be careful. From what Skip said, this operation was backed by a lot of money and a real sick mind.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen some samples of his work,” Hutch answered, with a pat to Huggy’s shoulder as he turned to leave. Things aren’t normal, but they’re better, he thought, as he and Starsky left the bar.

They drove in silence to Starsky’s apartment so he could pack. Hutch made a call to Dobey to fill him in on the lead they had and how it had exploded in their faces. When Starsky was ready, they drove back to Hutch’s to get the undercover car.

“Do you think Viper Productions is going to get in touch as quickly as the Feds seem to think?” Starsky asked as he secured his bag in the Jaguar’s trunk.

Hutch stood massaging the tension out of his neck before folding his long legs into the small sports car. “I sure as hell hope so. The stakes just got a lot higher.”

“Something about the plan being so pat that all they had to do was insert us into it…it just doesn’t feel right.” Hutch looked to see if his partner felt his unease, too.

“I wish I could chalk it up to your suspicious nature, but I agree with you,” Starsky said, as he pulled the car away from the curb and headed toward the Beverly Hills address.

 

 

The condo wasn’t hard to find, and as soon as they drove up a valet appeared to park their car. Passing on the offer to carry their bags up, they let themselves in through the security door and rode the elevator up to the penthouse unit reserved for them. The elevator required a key to activate and again to open the door once the top floor had been reached. The condo’s front doors led into an open arboretum of steel and glass.

Starsky let out a slow whistle at the view of the city. “Looks like there are only two units on the entire top floor. We should probably check to see if the other one is occupied and by whom.”

“Want to lay any bets?”

“Never bet on a sure thing, Hutch.”

Hutch nodded understanding and pushed open the door as Starsky unlocked it. They walked into a spacious marble entry. Three steps led down to a sunken living room with a wet bar and a magnificent view. There was a large kitchen and bathroom to one side and an office to the left. The spiral staircase that opened one side of the entryway obviously led to the bedrooms upstairs

“So, this is how the other half lives,” Starsky muttered at the opulence.

“I was thinking more along the lines of how our tax dollars were being spent,” came Hutch’s caustic reply.

“Might as well check out upstairs.” Starsky took the thickly padded stairs two at a time and Hutch followed.

The upstairs was done in as much excess as the first level, boasting two master-sized suites with Jacuzzi tubs and full baths. The walk-in closets in each room were the size of most apartment bedrooms. There were clothes hanging in each of the closets, expensive silk suits and alligator shoes.

“Hey,” Starsky cried. “Do these fit us?”

“More or less,” Hutch answered, with a quick look at the closest label.

“Which room do you want?” Hutch asked.

“What do you mean? I mean, we’ll mess up both beds for appearance sake, but I expect your ass to be next to mine, no matter what bed we’re in.”

“And if there is surveillance stuff up here, too?” Hutch questioned.

“Shit, I hate it when you’re right,” Starsky grumbled before claiming the bedroom on the right.

“Is that why you’re whispering? They said just the main rooms,” Starsky offered as he returned.

“Let’s take a good look ourselves.”

Hutch set his things down on the stuffed bench at the bottom of the bed and went to painstakingly check for recording devices.

After checking out each master suite they met in the communal wet bar between the two. Starsky reached to the sink and turned the water on full blast.

“I saw this in a movie once,” Starsky said in deference to Hutch’s quizzical look. Pulling Hutch into his arms, he spoke into the ear peeking out from under the soft blond hair. “It’s clean as far as I can tell. What about your side?”

“Nothing I could find, anyway.” Hutch gave his partner a quick kiss. “But we aren’t taking any chances.

“Don’t you think we ought to call in?” Hutch asked.

“They know we’re here. Believe me. If that guy who parked the car is really working for this building, I’ll eat your Magnum, fully loaded.”

Hutch smiled. He reached past Starsky with a roll of his eyes and shut off the running water. “You’re probably right. I thought I saw a bulge under the armpit of his uniform.”

“I missed that, but I did see the bottom of what looked like an ankle holster when he stepped in the car. We don’t know how long before somebody makes a move. Let’s take advantage of the time we got.” Starsky said giving his eyebrows a lecherous wag.

“Starsky…” Hutch warned, his finger coming up to point at Starsky’s face.

“They said they stocked the kitchen, ” Starsky offered innocently. “Let’s go see.”

The kitchen on the first floor had been nicely stocked. Hutch helped himself to cold cuts and bread for sandwiches, fruit, and mineral water. Starsky opened a can of chili, heated it up, and dumped it over a plate of tortilla chips. The small TV on the counter was on for background noise, as they sat at the barstools in the kitchen to eat. When the ringing of the phone disturbed the comfortable silence, both men froze for a second before Starsky, wiping off his mouth, reached to the extension nearby and answered. “Starsky.”

“Mr. Starsky, I’m glad to find you at home. I trust your out of town trip was pleasant.”

“Who is this?” Starsky demanded, remembering that part of his cover was he’d been out of town at the time Nick had contracted to do the transport and he should sound ill prepared.

“My name is Wyland Tibbs. I’m the personal assistant to the executive producer of Viper Productions. My employer was very impressed with your apology and offer of restitution for the unfortunate circumstance that caused our merchandise to be confiscated. He was especially interested in your suggestion that you could make up for the distributor failure by doubling the volume of the next installment. Is that still an offer on the table?”

“I’ll make my offers to your employer myself and in person. That’s how I do business. I do regret the circumstances that occurred causing a loss to both of our businesses. But in light of that cluster-fuck, you can appreciate why I don’t intend there to be another.” Starsky’s voice hardened as he spoke.

“Yes, that is understandable. We can send a car for you tomorrow. Say about ten a.m.? Mr. Tillman would like to discuss a way to make the new arrangements mutually beneficial in as short a time as possible, for obvious reasons. So, over brunch then?”

“Why can’t you just give me the address? I’m a big boy, I can find it.”

“Because that’s not the way Mr. Tillman does business,” Wyland said.

“I’ll be bringing an associate with me. He represents the increase to the original order I mentioned.” Starsky looked at Hutch with a shake of his head, indicating the address request was refused.

“That’s fine, I’ll see that an additional guest is expected. Until tomorrow then?”

“Yes,” Starsky replied.

“Have a pleasant evening. Good night, Mr. Starsky.”

“Good night.” Starsky hung up with a shudder. “Why are the crooks that scare me the most the ones that act like you’re going to meet some head of state?”

Hutch reached for the tape recorder wired to the phone and hidden in the breadbox. He pushed a button and replayed the conversation.

The phone rang again and Starsky answered it. “Starsky.”

“Not long enough for a trace, but I trust you got the recording of it clearly?” Collier’s voice asked.

“Yep, we got it. They’re sending a car for us to meet at ten o’clock. You got someone here that can follow without a tip off? Maybe set up two cars to do a couple’a blocks at a time and leap frog in and out?” Starsky asked, crossing his fingers in Hutch’s sight indicating his hope that the Feds would take the suggestion.

“That was my plan; we’ll be ready. There will be a Cadillac and a Mercedes. Anything else in that neighborhood would stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Any word on Skip Alejandro’s little girl?” Starsky asked.

“No, no one in the neighborhood saw or heard anything. What’s left of any evidence there might have been at the house was too thoroughly trashed. It’s useless. Lab guys are still going over things, they may get lucky. In the meantime, you guys are her best chance if she isn’t dead already. Get some sleep, and for God’s sake draw the drapes. The guy watching from across the street can tell what you’re eating he’s got such a good view,” Collier said with a laugh. “Good luck tomorrow,” he said seriously, before the line went dead.

“Nice of him to tell us about the guy across the street,” Hutch said as he closed the drapes in the living room, muting the twinkling lights of the city.

Hutch was almost asleep, when he heard Starsky enter and felt the end of the bed dip as his partner sat down. “What kind of guy do you think Tillman is?” Starsky’s voice sounded sort of lost coming out of the darkness. “What makes a guy turn something that’s meant to be beautiful to something painful and violent?”

“I don’t know, babe. But he’s not going to keep doing it. It ends here. We’re going to end it.” Hutch sighed, sitting up to fumble in the darkness, needing to touch and knowing Starsky needed it more. “I just want to get to him in time to end it before Alejandro’s little girl is used in the latest production. We couldn’t do anything to save her father, but I want that little girl back with her grandmother so bad I can taste it.”

Hutch felt Starsky’s hands tighten over his own and lift one up in the darkness to press his lips tenderly against it in a kiss. “We will, babe. We will.”

The bed moved again as his partner left to pad silently back to his own bed. Hutch settled back down, the bed feeling cold and empty.

 

 

Starsky was on the phone the next morning, when Hutch came into the kitchen following the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

“You know how we feel about Feds, Captain. If any of our guys are in the neighborhood and could keep an eye out, we’d feel a lot safer.” Starsky sent Hutch a good morning wink. “Whatever you can do, Cap’n. We’ll get with you later. ‘Bye.”

If we can, Hutch thought, wishing he could shake the knot that stubbornly stayed in the pit of his stomach, even as he listened to Starsky’s side of the conversation.

Hutch was less than half finished with his cup of coffee, when the phone rang. Exchanging alert glances, Starsky moved to the phone, punching the speaker button. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Wyland Tibbs, here. I hope you were already up and I didn’t wake you. There has been a slight change of plans on Mr. Tillman’s part. He wanted me to send the car for you early, if that doesn’t represent too great an inconvenience. He’s had another pressing business matter arise and I’m afraid it can’t be helped. The car should be arriving any minute. The valet attendant should be calling to tell you it’s there. Please accept the gourmet coffee and croissants in the limo as a small token for your flexibility. Mr. Tillman is very appreciative and is looking forward to the meeting. He’ll be expecting you shortly.” The line went dead.

“It’s not even eight o’clock. Gee, that’s a surprise,” Hutch said with a grimace and a quick look at his watch.

Starsky picked up the phone to call in the change just as a knock sounded at the door. Hutch jerked off his shirt and went to open the door, just enough of a crack to show his bare chest. The valet stood there waiting. A quick look up and down Hutch’s much exposed skin caused him to take a step back. “There’s a car waiting for your party. I can see you’ll need a few minutes. Please don’t be long.”

“Mr. Starsky and I are almost ready. We’ll be down in–”

“The car’s driver said he was authorized to wait three minutes, no more.” The valet had the good manners to look embarrassed at the statement.

“We’ll be down in three. Thank you,” Hutch said and closed the door. He re-buttoned his shirt, threw on his holster, and settled the Magnum in place in it before donning the jacket to hide the weapon.

Starsky was coming out of the bedroom, with his gun in place, putting on his jacket. “I let Dobey know the fox sent for the chickens early and to do the best he could. That’s all we can do.”

“If the Feds are as on top of this as they should be, they would have anticipated this and had someone ready. We’ll see how sharp they are.”

“Well, you notice they didn’t call right back after Wyland did to tell us they were set.”

“Yeah, Starsk, believe me, I noticed.”

Starsky and Hutch walked quickly to the elevator and entered it, the valet standing there holding it on the top floor, ready to be boarded.

The elevator descended quickly, opening silently in the elaborate entrance. Through the glass doors, a limo could be seen waiting, its driver standing at the open back door.

Starsky exited the building first, looking quickly around the street and entering the rear of the limo with a curt nod at the driver. Hutch followed.

Hutch felt the slam of the limo door echo in his chest as he sat in the soft, plush white leather. The limo pulled smoothly away from the curb, and neither Starsky nor Hutch noticed the slim black man shining an expensively dressed Hispanic’s shoe in front of the French sidewalk café on the corner of the street. Nor did they see the beautiful blonde seated in the passenger side of a large white Cadillac, her painted fingernails drumming in boredom through the open window causing the early morning sunlight to glint off her expensive diamond bracelet.

As soon as the limo had passed into the next block, the Hispanic man jumped away from the shoe shine stand and sprinted to the white Caddy, the engine already running and the blonde snapping pictures of the retreating limo.

“Zebra Eleven, run a make on a white stretch limo, vanity tag ALPHA I,” Lizzie’s voice called in, all business.

“Roger, Zebra Eleven. Stand by.”

Flores put his hand out to Lizzie for her to pass him the mic. “Zebra Eleven, patch me to Captain Dobey’s office,” he said.

“Captain Dobey isn’t in yet, may I connect you with the watch commander to leave a message?”

“No, patch me to Captain Dobey’s home,” Flores demanded

“Yes, sir, one moment please.”

“You think he’s going to be pissed or grateful?” Lizzie asked, taking the mic back as they stealthily followed the limo from a distance.

“I think he’ll be grateful. It’s the Feds who are going to be royally pissed off.”

“Zebra Eleven, come in please.”

“Zebra Eleven, go ahead,” Lizzie answered.

“White limo ALPHA I, belongs to a rental agency. Celebrity Services, owned by Tillman Enterprises, Santa Monica.”

“Any offences?”

“Nothing. Hold for Captain Dobey, please.”

“Flores, what the hell is it that can’t wait twenty minutes until I get to my office?”

Flores took the mic again. “Starsky and Hutch were picked up a few minutes ago instead of at the arranged time. There were no Feds here in place for back-up beyond the planted doorman and the ones doing stationary surveillance. I’m sure they’ve alerted their people by now, but in the meantime, we’re following in an unmarked car. They’re about three blocks ahead of us.”

“Three blocks?”

“Kinda hard to lose a stretch limo, sir,” Flores offered. “But maybe an assist soon would be good. We’re heading into strictly residential stuff. Eye in the sky, security patrol, anything before we’re spotted.”

“I’ll get on it. Out. Why weren’t the Feds better prepared for that?” Dobey growled in frustration as the radio transmission ended.

“Get a map out so if they slow down we can guess a surface street that will run parallel?” Flores told Lizzie.

She understood the plan and began rifling through pages to pick a route. Before they had time to put a detour in place, the limo pulled into a tree-lined street of pristinely manicured yards. Several houses later, the limo stopped and turned into a driveway blocked by a huge gate. A security shack stood at the entry, and the guard waved the limo forward as the white Caddy passed without apparent notice.

“Zebra Eleven to control,” Lizzie called.

“This is control, go ahead, Zebra Eleven,”

“The limo pulled into 41433 Century Drive, run the owner please.”

“Stand by.”

Flores continued driving slowly down the block. Making a right turn, he followed the avenue out to a commercial street and pulled into a restaurant parking lot.

“Zebra Eleven, come in.”

“Zebra Eleven, go ahead.”

“Same ID as the limo. Tillman Enterprises, no priors to that address.”

“Thanks. Apprise Dobey we are waiting in the general vicinity for further instructions, Zebra Eleven, out.”

“Ten-four, control, out.”

Lizzie sat, still looking at the map. “We could go around to Tallisman Street and see what kind of fence they have at the back of the property.” She leaned over to show the map to her partner, just as she felt the pressure of something at the back of her neck. Her head snapped up to see someone in a similar position holding a gun against Arturo’s temple.

“Get out of the car, please. Slowly and quietly. Leave the weapons you are carrying on the floor and get out with both hands visible.”

 

 

Starsky and Hutch were ushered into a large study. Cherry bookshelves filled the side walls, floor to ceiling. A large bay window facing a garden took up the far wall. The richly upholstered window seat following the window’s angles was impressive. A corner fireplace filled the entry wall on one side, a wet bar the other. A large mahogany desk stood in the center of the room, two leather wingback chairs facing it.

Hutch walked slowly along the bookshelves on the left side of the room as if casually reading book titles, when he was in fact looking for hidden cameras or recording devices.

“Business must be good,” Starsky said, sotto voce, as he, too, looked around.

“Indeed it is, gentlemen. Forgive me for keeping you waiting, especially since I so rudely changed the appointed time.” A tall, silver-haired man stepped forward, his hand extended. “Ivan Tillman,” he said, as Starsky stepped forward to shake the extended hand.

“David Starsky. This is the business associate I mentioned, Phillip Schoonmaker.”

“Mr. Schoonmaker, a pleasure. Have you had an opportunity to view any of our productions here? I’m curious about your interest in so large an order if it’s sight unseen.” Tillman’s voice was so smooth it was almost as if he were purring. It gave Hutch the creeps.

“I was made aware of your productions through Mr. Starsky and his distribution connections on the eastern seaboard. I thought it was something that might prove to be profitable for both of us in areas where I have specific influence overseas,” Hutch answered.

“What markets exactly?” Tillman asked, as he assumed his seat behind the large desk.

“My associates would be handling the UK, Spain, and Portugal. I would personally be handling France, West Germany, and the Scandinavian block,” Hutch answered with equal smoothness. “I am aware of the three videos that are in current circulation. Is that all?” he asked.

“I have one other that is almost finished and ready to go to post production edit, and another one that I expect to begin shooting quite soon. Perhaps you and Mr. Starsky would like to see some of the footage as shooting progresses?”

“I don’t know how much time we’ll have,” Starsky interjected. “I still have some rather pressing business to take care of in South Carolina.”

“Ah, yes. Your brother. Unfortunate turn of events. Quite costly. I expect even more so for you by the time things are quieted down on that front.” Tillman took a cigar out of the humidor on the desk, cut off the tip, and lit it.

“I doubt that there will be any way the confiscated shipment can be retrieved,” Starsky said, getting down to business. “How long before you can mass produce more tapes to fill existing orders?”

“Did you bring the money?” Tillman asked, as he blew out a stream of Havana-fragrant smoke.

“Yes, $250,000. That should cover the expenses of replacing the shipment,” Starsky said.

“That was what I agreed on, yes. I have to check with my technician, but I would think he could have that ready by day after tomorrow. He’s been working on the replacement process since I got the phone call about the problem.” Tillman leaned forward on his elbows. “And the additional amount that you need for Mr. Schoonmaker? How soon will you be expecting that?”

“As soon as possible,” Hutch answered. “They will, of course, need two sets of covers. One to ship overseas that will pass customs, and one to be changed for the actual purchase when distributed. I’d like to see that be fully representative of the tapes’ contents.” As he said the words Hutch felt his stomach churn, remembering the contents all too clearly.

“That is our standard practice. One cover jacket in the tape case that is printed on one side for transport, and printed on the other with the actual title and screen grab logo, once delivery is taken and finite distribution is set in place.” Tillman sat back again, drawing deeply on the cigar. “You mentioned upcoming productions you’d be interested in. I can give you a sample of the one most nearly finished. I have here a tape of the portion that was shot yesterday. It’s a rough cut, of course, not sound edited, but it will give you an idea.” Tillman reached in the desk drawer and took out a tape. “Here, take this with you. I can have that project ready in…oh…say, ten days.”

Hutch took the tape and smiled graciously, when in his heart he wanted to leap over the desk and snap Tillman’s neck.

“Why don’t we plan to meet back here for drinks after dinner? I’ll send my car. Perhaps I’ll have a preview of the newest production ready by then, also. Sometimes, these things can move very quickly.” Tillman stood, knocking the ash out of his cigar, indicating the meeting was over.

“What time will you send the car?” Starsky asked. “I have some other business to attend to while I’m in LA. I want to be sure to get it finished in time to be home,” Starsky said as he also stood.

“Oh…eight o’clock, give or take,” Tillman replied, with a smile that made him look distinctly dangerous.

“We’ll make ourselves available,” Hutch said as he stood and extended his hand. “I look forward to working out the details for our business arrangements.”

“We’ll do our best,” Tillman answered as he walked toward the door. Opening it was the same servant who had shown them in, waiting to escort both men out and to the limo in the driveway.

Starsky and Hutch made idle talk in the back of the limo on the ride to the condo. Hutch could sense the tension all but vibrating off his partner in his need to express what he was really feeling about the meeting and the man at the top of this multimillion-dollar enterprise of filth.

With a glare at the federally placed “doorman,” they entered the condo and went to the penthouse suite. As they opened the door, they could see Collier and Martinez seated in the living room with Captain Dobey.

“Thank God,” Dobey breathed at seeing them.

Collier and Martinez both asked at once, “What went on at the meeting?”

Hutch jerked down his tie and went to the refrigerator to get a beer, bringing one to Starsky. “He alluded to a new production. I had the feeling that he wouldn’t be above giving us a sneak preview when we go back tonight. Hutch opened his own bottle and juggled the unopened beer to Starsky. “If anyone wants anything to drink, help yourself,” Hutch said as he dropped into the side chair, rolling the cold can across his forehead.

Collier stood and turned toward the kitchen then stopped. Hutch noticed. “What’s the matter? What else is going on?”

“You shouldn’t have gone without back-up,” Martinez said.

“The limo driver was instructed to wait three minutes. What were we supposed to do? You couldn’t’ve gotten anyone here by then. That’s your guy on the door, isn’t it?” Starsky snapped. “He let you know what went down. You can’t wait ’til you hear the phone call saying they’re here to do something. If you were too stupid to anticipate something like this, we want to set up our own coverage. It’s our asses on the line here.”

“Starsky,” Dobey warned, then stood up to pace, wiping his handkerchief over his face. “We do have…I mean, did have cover on you. I didn’t arrange it, damn it, but Flores did. He and Thorpe were outside and followed the limo when you guys got into it. They radioed it in and we’ve got the address. Then–” Dobey stopped

“Then, what?” Hutch asked, not liking the feeling that was churning in his stomach.

“Then we lost contact with them. The white Caddy they were in was found in a parking lot. Abandoned. Both of their service revolvers were found on the floorboard of the front seat.

“Shit!” Starsky stood now to pace, too.

“What the hell is the matter with you people?” Hutch exploded at Collier and Martinez. “This isn’t a case of tax fraud we’re dealing with here. This is an organization that kills people, films it, and sells it to people who get off on that sort of thing! You seem to be taking a pretty cavalier approach to us dealing with this man. It could have easily been my partner and me who disappeared into a black hole this morning. What kind of protection are you offering? So far, Mister, we’re not impressed.”

“Don’t tell us how to do our job,” Martinez fired back.

“There are two good cops missing, maybe already dead and tossed somewhere, somebody needs to,” Starsky growled.

“Starsky, Hutchinson, this isn’t going to get us anywhere. Knock it off, all of you. The time for ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ is long past. We need a tighter plan for now.” Dobey turned from his path by the window to stand in the center of the group. “Your doorman stays where he is. He’s already window dressing that’s established. I want someone else on the front of this building. I don’t care if it’s a window washer, or someone painting new ‘no parking’ signs on the curb–somebody–starting right now. If you can’t provide it, Collier, my department will. Understood?”

“Yes, I’ve already put in a call for someone else outside, as well as a female agent that will be absorbed into the housekeeping staff. Two other agents will be posing as PacBell telephone lineman working on the payphone at the end of the block. They should be in place already.” Collier sighed and met Hutch’s angry glare. “I’m sorry about your team, I accept the responsibility for the oversight. In every profile we have of this guy, meticulous attention to detail and structure to the extreme were the constants. I thought if he said he was sending for you at ten o’clock, it would be exactly that to the second. I wasn’t prepared for a two hour, too early pick-up and that’s my fault. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You missed the team I had in route by twenty minutes max.”

“Apologize to Arturo and Lizzie, if you get the chance,” Starsky mumbled.

“When do you meet with Tillman again?”

“Tonight at eight, give or take,” Hutch said sarcastically.

“I’ll have multiple surveillance teams in the area of Tillman’s estate,” Martinez offered.

“He’s sending a car. What if we don’t go back to the estate? Are we left hanging on our own again?” Starsky asked.

“There will be a unit set up here to follow you with pick ups in the area to switch off to avoid a spot,” Dobey assured, with command in his voice that left no doubt about who would be arranging that part of the surveillance.

“What did you get at the meet this morning?” Collier asked.

“The appointment for tonight. Lots of gab about when the new shipment would be ready that replaced the one grabbed by these yahoo’s, and dangling two new production videos to come,” Starsky answered.

“Did he act suspicious at all about Detective Hutchinson’s identity?” Collier asked.

“No, why?” Starsky’s eyes were as hard as blue flint.

“We got word from Interpol that there had been an attempt to get to Schoonmaker, after normal attempts from a supposed associate wanting to visit had failed.”

“Are you telling me you think they know Schoonmaker is in a hospital overseas and Hutch is a plant? How long have you held on to that little tidbit?” Starsky raged, pacing again.

“We just got that information this morning. You were already at Tillman’s when it came in.”

Hutch felt the fury coming off his partner in angry waves. “We’ll need to think of some way to cover that if we have to, before we get picked up again.” Hutch hoped his voice sounded calmer than he felt at the revelation.

“If it weren’t for Lizzie and Arturo, I’d bag this whole thing and let the Feds send in their own suicide squad,” Starsky spat in disgust. “Why don’t you gentlemen go and set in motion what you need to, and let our captain and us talk about saving our asses here. We’ll keep you informed,” he added with a sneer that earned him a frown from Dobey.

Collier stood and motioned for Martinez to follow. “We’ll see that the housekeeping staff and the phone guys are apprised about your approximate leave time and get some air coverage about that time as well. When the fingerprint team gets finished with the your team’s Caddy, I’ll call the results.”

“Please do,” Dobey’s answer was coldly polite as he walked the two federal agents to the door. He shut it behind them with a resounding slam.

“Why is it, every time we work anything that has a federal ticket attached to it, it turns in to a major cluster-fuck?” Starsky asked.

“You know the definition of a camel, don’t you, Starsky?” Hutch asked. “It’s a race horse designed by a federal agency.”

Dobey sunk deeply into the plush couch. “What the hell were Flores and Thorpe doing following you guys without authorization? I appreciate the back-up they were trying to provide, but they got snagged. Now we have to worry that Tillman’s people are going to wonder if they’re watching Tillman, or you? And if it’s you, why are they watching?”

“We’ll have to convince them that they’re watching us, trying to extend the sting that arrested my brother,” Starsky said.

Hutch looked at his partner as Starsky stumbled over the words. I got so tied up in all this, I forgot all about Nick, but you can’t, can you, babe? It’s weighing on you every second.

“Let’s put the tape on and see if Alejandro’s little girl is on it,” Hutch said, dreading the answer.

The sound was distorted, comments from cameramen and director easily picked up by the sound boom. It was a rough-cut piece of film, but there was no mistaking the content. Hutch couldn’t stand it any longer and jumped to the TV to turn it off. “When I find that muscle-bound son-of-a-bitch, I want five minutes. That’s all, just five minutes alone before he gets turned over to anyone else. Then I just want to know what incarcerating institution he gets sent to. One little word to the jungle grapevine and he’ll know what hell is.”

“I didn’t hear that Hutchinson, but by God, I understand where you’re coming from. If that were Rosie….”

“I’m going to file an APB on Flores and Thorpe and line up some back-up for your back-up, if I have to do it myself. It’ll be in place within the hour. I think you boys should reconsider the idea of going in wired. There is a lot more risk now with the Schoonmaker thing and Arturo and Lizzie.”

“They patted us down pretty good. With the fancy alarm system they had, I’d be surprised if something like that wouldn’t trigger it. Then we’d all be dead. Let’s leave it as is,” Hutch said. “Just make sure the back-up you set up doesn’t wait to see what the Feds are going to do before they move.”

“I’ve got another idea then.” Dobey reached in his jacket pocket. “Here, take this pager. I’ll give you an hour at Tillman’s starting from the time you leave here. Then I’ll page you. Tell them you’re waiting for a call, think of something and get an excuse to get to a phone. Call this number and, if you’ve got enough for us to ram in there, say…uh–”

“How about Schoonmaker is expecting a call from his bank in Switzerland? He’ll call and thank you for the wire transfer of the money. That money is something Tillman is drooling to get his hands on,” Starsky offered.

“And if we haven’t seen enough to take him down yet, I’ll gripe to you about what’s with the delay. Then you can page me again in, say, thirty minutes. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds like a better plan than Collier or Martinez had,” Starsky answered sincerely.

“I’ll go with that. Call if there are any more curves thrown at you,” Dobey said as he rose to leave. “And, Starsky, any time you say, we can bag this whole thing, storm Tillman’s, and get Thorpe and Flores back. If the evidence on all the rest is inadmissible, well…it isn’t worth any of my officers’ lives.”

“Yes, Captain,” Starsky said, then added, “I wonder if the next person to star in a Tillman production will agree?”

The door closed quietly behind Dobey, and Hutch moved to sit on the couch next to his partner. He reached a hand out to rest it on the back of Starsky’s neck. He let his fingers press firmly against the knots of tension there. “Relax, we’re going to need to be together when we get back there. We can’t concentrate on the ‘what if’s’ and be so stressed we can’t think. Lizzie and Arturo were trying to help, and I’m going to thank them for the gesture, right before I kick Arturo’s ass for doing it deaf, dumb, and blind. But the mess he and Lizzie are in right now, is not your fault. They made the decision on their own.”

“I feel like I’m trying to hold up a house of cards. The wind’s too strong and it’s falling all around me. I don’t suppose you’d let me go to Tillman’s alone and–”

“Not a chance!” Hutch interrupted quickly. “We’re in this together, in more ways than just this case, you got me? I’m not letting you go in there alone, so I can come to the rescue and take the chance on misjudging and riding in with the cavalry a second too late. We’ve got house shopping to do when this is finished. Remember?” Hutch pulled his lover into his arms, resting the curly head against his chest. “I know this feels really big right now. I know in the back of your mind you feel that every leaf we turn over makes things look worse for Nick. But we’ll face that together, too. You’re not alone, babe. Not now, not ever,” Hutch whispered in deference to the surveillance equipment.

“Hutch, I’m scared. Scared for us, for that little girl, for Lizzie and Flores. This is a really evil man. There’s something almost unreal about him. He scares me.”

“I know, me, too. But we’ll use that to stay sharp and tight. It’ll give us the edge we need against him. He won’t paralyze us with it.” Hutch ruffled the curly hair. “He can’t win.” He said it with such confidence he even surprised himself.

“Why not?” Starsky asked leaning back with a half grin.

“‘Cause we’re the good guys. Go dust off your white hat, partner, so when the stage gets here we’ll be ready to ride.”

Starsky did laugh then–a quick burst that took years off his face–and Hutch’s heart soared with the accomplishment. Starsky brought the laugh down to a soft smile, “I love you so much,” he whispered almost silently.

 

 

They ate sandwiches from the cold cuts in the fridge, and waited. They’d barely cleared away the dishes when the phone rang. Hutch glanced at the clock on the wall. “If this is it, he’s three hours early,” Hutch muttered, as Starsky went to answer the phone.

“Hello,” Starsky answered, then nodded to Hutch. “Okay, we’ll be right down.”

Hutch put on his holster and jacket, running his fingers through his hair while Starsky did the same. Giving Starsky a quick kiss before they opened the door, Hutch gave an exaggerated swagger and twanged, “Here comes McCoy, now.” It earned him a snicker and pat on the butt, as Hutch opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He glanced down the hall and saw the discrete nod from the housekeeper dusting the windowsill that indicated the Feds monitoring the phone call had not been caught off-guard this time.

The same stretch limo was waiting, attended by the same driver. They settled in the comfortable seats to take the ride to what was waiting for them.

They were again searched and ushered into the study, both men frankly surprised that Hutch’s pager was allowed to stay. That fact did not negate, however, how naked they felt once their handguns were again taken from them.

“Good afternoon,” Tillman said brightly, as he entered wearing tennis shorts. “I hope you don’t mind that I again called for you early. But I got to thinking what an incredibly poor host I would be not to have you come early enough to eat. I really do have an excellent chef. I’ll just go and take a shower after my lesson and, we’ll have appetizers and drinks while we wait for dinner. I’ve finished one of the productions I had in process, Mr. Schoonmaker. I think it turned out rather well. After dinner, if you like, we can watch some actual footage of another new one that is just beginning production, actually being shot.” Tillman placed his tennis racket in the study closet and walked toward the door. Just before crossing the threshold he turned back. “Please, make yourselves at home. If you need anything at all, just press the intercom button on the phone. Someone will come right away.”

Hutch sat down in the leather chair, resting his head in his hands. “God, he’s finished with another one already?” he whispered. “Then we’re too late; that little girl is dead.”

“Maybe not. We need to wait until we can look around, or can force him to show us something specific and get the whole set-up busted.”

“I really want that guy in the film, the one who wields the whip and the knife.” Hutch’s voice was husky.

“Let’s hope he takes a quick shower so we can call for the troops on the first pass,” Starsky said, indicating the beeper on Hutch’s belt with a raise of his chin.

“Yeah.”

Tillman was actually back in less time than either man expected. He seemed in especially good spirits.

“Let’s take this into the projection room, shall we? I think I’ve got something that will interest you. Especially you, Mr. Schoonmaker. I think this is a product that would sell very well in the sophisticated European market.”

Starsky and Hutch followed Tillman, as he wound around the spacious entryway to the formal living room and down a spiral staircase to a large room underneath. There was a wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling projection screen and clusters of couches and chairs scattered tastefully around in front of it with small cocktail tables at each grouping. “Please sit down. What would you like to drink?” Tillman asked.

“I’ll have a beer,” Starsky answered.

“I’ll have the same–dark beer if you have it,” Hutch answered.

Tillman picked up the phone and spoke to someone on the other end with his order. In a matter of minutes, a member of the house staff brought in a tray of drinks.

“They are currently getting the lighting ready to start some shooting, we can watch from here.” With a press of a button the projection screen came to life, flickering for a moment before settling into a somewhat grainy image of a bedroom. The lighting and camera equipment were indeed still being set in place. “I think you’ll enjoy this one. The script was written especially for these two. It’s the story of a husband and wife who are the unfortunate captives of an armed intruder. The intruder orchestrates a night of sex between the two. A voyeur’s dream, is it not?” Tillman asked.

Hutch felt the swallow of beer he had just taken threaten an instant return, and he locked his throat against it. The quick glance Starsky threw his way left little doubt that he also knew just who the stars of this feature would be. Come on, Captain, page me on this thing, and let us put an end to this before it gets any worse.

The door on the bedroom set opened, and Lizzie and Arturo were shoved roughly inside. Both were wearing handcuffs. Lizzie was dressed in a thin negligee, Arturo in silk boxers. As he got closer to the camera, it was obvious that he’d resisted–his face bore the marks of a fight, as did his body. Hutch’s eyes picked up the muscled man who entered the room next, and he fought hard not to react to the sight of him. The big black man entered, wearing his customary skin-tight black t-shirt and jeans. A heavy metal chain hung from his belt, and he wore brass knuckles on his right hand. Hutch looked once again, a little more closely, at the marks on Arturo’s back. The pattern of bruises from the large links on the chain was clearly evident.

The sound in the room was off, but it was obvious what they were being ordered to do. Go with it, compadre, so they don’t kill you in front of my eyes, Hutch prayed.

The drama began to play out, Lizzie and Arturo being forced at knifepoint to begin sexual foreplay. Lizzie’s nightgown was cut off of her with a vicious slash of the knife. Arturo was trying vainly to cover her naked body with his own, but he was backhanded to the side of the bed, the heavy chain coming down across his lower back. Hutch felt the scream that tore from Arturo, even if there was no sound. Hutch’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth. The pager beeped loudly in the quiet of the room and Hutch jumped, spilling a little of the beer in his glass. He stood, “Excuse me, this is a call I’ve been waiting for. It’s my bank in Geneva. I need to return the call to the local broker to give him instructions. If you can direct me to a phone, please?”

“Certainly. Here, use the one on the wall by the door.” Tillman ushered Hutch to the phone and punched in a series of numbers. “Now, you may dial,” Tillman said, taking Hutch’s beer and setting it down on the table in front of the couch where he had been seated. “All conversations are recorded. Of course, you would know that.”

“Yes, of course,” Hutch answered. He dialed the number and waited for the ring. Dobey’s voice answered almost immediately.

“Yes,” Dobey answered, not giving anything away.

“I trust the wire transfer has taken place, finally?” Hutch asked, his voice sounding shaky in spite of his efforts to calm it. His mind was whirling, What am I supposed to say, again? Oh, Fuck, what was it exactly? The wall-sized screen showed the muscular man slamming Arturo over onto his back. A back that was bleeding from the strikes from the chain. He then grabbed Lizzie and pushed her to straddle him. He raised his knife, holding it dangerously close to her breast when she didn’t move into position fast enough. Arturo shook his head no and was saying something, as Arturo’s hands gripped Lizzie’s waist and moved her on top of him. The big man grabbed a handful of Lizzie’s hair and stretched her neck back, yelling something in her face. Arturo sat up slightly, pushing away his hand and nodding in agreement to whatever it was that he demanded. Lizzie was crying, Arturo softly touching the side of her face and shoulders in an effort to offer comfort in the midst of a nightmare.

“I’ll see that it is taken care of,” Dobey answered.

“I’ll expect confirmation of the transfer immediately. There has been too much wasted time already. Take care of it, now!” Hutch yelled into the phone, praying that Dobey understood the urgency, regardless of the dialogue return not being exactly what had been rehearsed.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Schoonmaker. Right away.” Dobey spoke clearly and firmly, and Hutch relaxed a bit as he hung up the phone.

The screen was filled with close-ups of what should have been a beautiful act. Not this atrocity, tainted and dirtied by the jeering of the muscled man, who, if things weren’t according to his direction, punished the participants with a slap, or threat with the knife, or the lighted cigar he perpetually bit on.

Hutch came back to sit on the couch next to Starsky, noticing the sheen of sweat on his lover’s face. Tillman sat watching as calmly as if it were Romeo and Juliet being played across the screen.

“I believe the sound is connected now, and we can hear some of it. I have actors that dub over the dialogue I want, but occasionally the sounds as they happen are usable…sometimes not.”

The room filled with the sound of flesh on flesh undermined with soft sobbing from Lizzie. The guttural obscene direction from the muscular man could be heard clearly, and Hutch felt Starsky shudder at the degrading litany. Flores was being ordered to ejaculate on command, when he refused or was unable, the muscular man hovered his cigar over Lizzie’s face and threatened to burn one of her eyes out. Flores looked at Lizzie’s face, and everything he felt for her was clearly there. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was said softly and meant only for her, but the powerful sound equipment broadcast it clearly, and Hutch blinked against the stinging in his eyes.

He lifted his glass with a shaking hand and used it to avert his eyes, when the sound emanating from Flores left little doubt as to what he had done to save Lizzie from further injury. She knew it, too, and cried harder.

In the next second, the room sounded like they were experiencing a terrible earthquake. There was yelling in the hall outside the room and the sound of many feet running. Tillman stood up suddenly, and his hand slipped into the pocket of his dinner jacket and came out with a gun. Starsky took advantage of his attention being drawn to the door and landed a well-placed kick that sent Tillman and the gun flying. The door to the projection room burst open, and a mass of federal agents swarmed in. Hutch ran up to Collier, “Do you have another gun?” he asked desperately. Collier handed him a handgun from a holster at his belt without hesitation, and Hutch ran out of the room.

Starsky grabbed the gun that had skidded across the floor when he took down Tillman, and followed his partner.

Tillman’s screaming voice echoed out into the hall. “Cops, I should have known and killed you myself!”

The outer hallway was a maze of rooms. Hutch was like a wild man, opening door after door.

“Hutch, stop, wait a minute,” Starsky said, skidding next to where Hutch stood. “I want to get to them, too, but listen, we’ve got to go in quietly or they’ll kill them both. We don’t know how many others there are off camera.” Starsky was breathing hard. “Listen…what do you hear?”

Besides his and Starsky’s huffing, Hutch could hear a muffle of sounds coming from the direction of the projection room. He watched as Starsky took in a breath and held it, and he did the same. “This way, ” Starsky said, letting his breath out in a whoosh as he sprinted silently to a hallway junction on the left.

There were wires running across the floor just up ahead, as well as a bright light shining underneath a closed door. Starsky and Hutch assumed their normal positions on either side, took a few steadying breaths, and then Hutch leaned back and kicked the door with such force it splintered off its hinges and felled a surprised lighting technician holding a small spot on the other side. “Police, Freeze!” Hutch screamed as he entered with Starsky right behind him, weapon drawn. He pushed at the lighting tech, smashing the spot he held, and used the electric cord that dangled from it to wrap tightly around his hands as he jerked them behind his back.

“Watch it, that thing’s still plugged in, man, you could electrocute me!” the technician cried.

“Tough shit!” Starsky growled and shoved the man to the floor.

Hutch entered the main bedroom set, as Arturo was reaching for the edge of the sheet to provide Lizzie with cover.

“Drop the knife, you’re under arrest,” Hutch ordered.

“Fuck you! You want me, come get me! You good guys don’t shoot in cold–”

Hutch cocked his gun and leveled it at the muscular man’s head. “Give me a reason, not even a big one, a twitch will do, you sick son-of-a-bitch!” Hutch screamed.

Starsky slid past Hutch to level his gun on the man. “You can throw that knife, but you’ll only get one of us, and the other will drop you like a stone. What’s it going to be?” Starsky asked calmly.

The man moved with much more speed than expected for a man so large. Like a striking snake, he dove at the bed to grab Lizzie and hold the knife at her throat. Before the blade touched her skin, Arturo had reached his hands out and the room was filled with the sickening crack of the big man’s neck breaking. He twitched grotesquely as he slid to the floor when Arturo let him go.

The sound of feet coming into the room broke the frozen shock of the officers present. Hutch jerked the body farther away from the bed and grabbed the sheet up from under the mattress so Lizzie could wrap it fully around herself. With another strong snap, Hutch and Starsky freed the bottom sheet for Arturo to do the same. Looking like they were coming from a wild toga party, the two injured officers accepted Starsky and Hutch’s help as they left the room, while the federal agents swarmed past them.

Lizzie stopped in front of a closed door down the outside hall. “This is where they had me before. I think my clothes are in there.” Flores opened the door, and he and Hutch scanned the room to be sure it was empty.

“Lizzie…” Arturo started, but his voice broke and he started to turn away. Lizzie’s hand reached out to touch his bare arm and stopped him. “There’s a shower here, I’ll just be a few minutes. Wait for me, please, huh? Partner?” Lizzie’s own voice shook as she asked.

“We’re going to find Arturo’s stuff and see if the paramedics have arrived yet. He needs to go to the hospital; you both do,” Starsky said.

“I’m fine, just a little bruised. I’ll go with my partner to get him checked out. Make them wait for me. He’s hurt worse than he looks. He took the brunt of it from the beginning…damn fool,” she muttered, as she walked like a robot toward the bathroom.

Flores took a few steps down the hall to another door. “They had me in here,” he said flatly. “I could hear them telling her what they were going to make us do…telling her what would happen to her if she didn’t cooperate.” Flores opened the door and Hutch’s hand kept him from entering until Starsky had stepped in to see that this room was also empty and safe. Arturo staggered slightly as he stepped in, Hutch reached out to steady him.

“Let me take a look at you, ” Hutch said as he eased the sheet down, wincing as it stuck to the bloody welts on Arturo’s back.

“Starsky, go get the paramedics to come down here, and bring a gurney,” Hutch asked, seeing the increasing pallor of the younger man.

“You got it, I’ll be right back,” Starsky said as he left at a run.

“Arturo, sit down. No, better yet, lie down.” Hutch steered the shocky man to the small bed against the wall.

“They made us…” Flores started but couldn’t continue.

“I know, buddy. We saw most of it. Tillman made us watch, ” Hutch whispered past the lump in his throat.

“I tried to protect her; I tried not to let them hurt her. God, I didn’t want them to hurt her.” Flores let himself be eased down on the bed, but resisted Hutch’s attempt to lay him back. Instead, he grabbed handfuls of Hutch’s coat and held on as he broke down and cried. Hutch held him, taking care to try not to put any pressure on the bleeding areas. He could hear the wheezing when Flores breathed, and he worried that there were broken ribs and perhaps lung damage.

“You did a good job, compadre…you protected her just great. She’s okay and you’re going to be okay, too. It’s over, buddy. It’s all over,” Hutch soothed.

“I’d be a liar if I said I never thought of making love to Lizzie. I know you know how I feel about her. She knows, too, sort of. We both know it can’t go anywhere. I don’t even know when it happened, it just–” Arturo coughed and groaned, grabbing his middle.

“Yeah, I know,” Hutch said.

“I’d want to make love to her like she deserves to be treated, not fucked at knifepoint. I might as well have raped her.” Arturo’s eyes again filled with tears.

“You didn’t rape her, buddy. You did an incredibly difficult thing under terrible circumstances for both of you, not just her. You probably saved her life, and I’d be willing to bet that’s just what she’d say.” Hutch tightened his hold around the younger man once more and was still holding his friend when he looked up and saw Lizzie standing in the doorway.

“That’s exactly what I’d say, partner. You saved both of our lives with what you did. You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. I’ll take over, now,” she said to Hutch, as she sat on the bed on the other side of Arturo and eased him back against her body. “Want to look around and see if you can find his clothes, please?”

Hutch nodded and went into the adjoining bathroom and returned with pants and a shirt.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. We’re okay,” Lizzie crooned softly, stroking Arturo’s face, wiping the tears away.

The paramedics appeared with Starsky leading the way. The next few minutes were spent watching as they assisted Arturo’s respiration with oxygen and started an IV. It was obvious he was in a lot of pain.

When the paramedic crew leader was satisfied that his patient was stable for transport, he stood and they rolled the stretcher out of the room into the hallway, preparing to leave the building.

“Is he going to be okay?” Hutch asked of the older man he recognized.

“I want to get him to the nearest hospital. You saw how he was breathing, I think he’s got some rib fractures, but I don’t know if that’s all. His belly is hard as a rock. It could be something inside has been punctured by a broken rib, it could be that just the beating he took has damaged something and he’s bleeding inside. If you know the next of kin, you’d better tell them we’re headed for Queen of Angels–that’s the closest trauma center. He’s going to need it.”

“I’ll call our captain and Arturo’s wife,” Hutch answered.

Starsky stood outside the door waiting when Hutch approached. They stood together as Lizzie insisted on getting in the back of the ambulance with her partner and the big doors closed. The red lights flashed ominously in the darkness, as the siren wailed and the medical unit pulled quickly away.

“I think things just got a lot more complicated for those two,” Starsky said, as he let his hand rest on Hutch’s shoulder then fall slowly to caress down his lover’s back.

“I think he did what he had to do to keep them safe. What any partner would have done,” Hutch argued without much enthusiasm. “God forgive me, I’m glad it wasn’t us.”

Starsky looked at Hutch, then nodded his understanding. “Let’s go see if there’s anything left to do.” Starsky moved slowly back to where the federal agents and Dobey stood. The coroner’s wagon stood open and one large body bag rested on the stretcher inside. A second, much smaller bag lay on the bench seat next to it. Hutch started toward the open door, his hand reaching out toward the zipper of the small body bag. Starsky stepped in his path. “Don’t, babe. Don’t have that one more lousy mental picture to live with. We couldn’t save her. That’s a fact, but there won’t be any other little girls like her, or any of the others. Tillman won’t ever do that to anyone else again. Let’s take whatever comfort we can from that and move on.” Starsky looked at Hutch with pleading raised eyebrows, and Hutch let his hand fall away.

“I wish…” Hutch started and couldn’t finish so he let the thought hang. “I want to go home,” he said instead.

“I know,” Starsky finished the thought, although Hutch was too tired to guess which one, maybe it didn’t matter. “As soon as we know Lizzie and Arturo are okay, we’ll call it a night, babe.”

Starsky walked over to the group of men, and Captain Dobey eased out of the group to meet him. “How are they? ” he asked.

“Lizzie seems to be okay, just a little bruised. Arturo looks to be worse off. They were taking him to Queen’s from what I heard the guy tell Hutch.” Starsky paused, shaking his head. What we had to watch…” Starsky shook his head and Dobey nodded.

“Go on, get out of here; we’ll do the paperwork later. Take care of your partner.” Dobey gave them his blessing to leave. “I’ll call Mrs. Flores and meet you at the hospital.”

“Thanks,” Starsky answered wearily.

Starsky walked back to where Hutch stood, looking a little shell-shocked. “Let’s ask one of the black-and-whites to give us a lift back to your place so we can get some wheels, huh?” Starsky asked quietly.

“Sure,” Hutch answered, his voice flat with fatigue.

Once they were situated in the back of a squad car, Hutch asked, “Do you need to talk to the Feds, or do anything to let the people in South Caroline know we got Tillman in custody?”

“The Feds will take care of that, and Dobey said we can give our statements tomorrow.”

Hutch nodded and leaned back against the back seat, closing his eyes, but the pictures that played behind his lids wouldn’t go away.

“We need to get going,” Hutch said grimly.

 

 

When they arrived at the Queen of Angels emergency room, Dobey was easily spotted sitting in a chair next to Carolyn Flores. Both stood as Starsky and Hutch came closer.

“How is he?” Starsky asked.

“They’ve x-rayed everything. He’s got broken ribs and bruised lungs and kidneys,” Dobey started.

“The trauma surgeon came out a while ago,” Carolyn interrupted. “He said they did a peritoneal tap of Arturo’s stomach. He said it came back bloody, but it looked like old blood. He seemed to think that the internal bleeding had stopped, so they aren’t going to take him to surgery, at least not now. He’ll be going to Intensive Care as soon as they have a bed ready for him.”

“Has anybody seen him?” Hutch asked.

“They let me in for a few minutes,” Carolyn said, her eyes filling. “He was in a lot of pain and they had medicated him, so he was in and out, you know?” She looked from one man to the other then continued, “He kept asking if Lizzie was all right whenever he was awake. That seemed to be his biggest concern. I guess it must have been pretty awful.” Carolyn fixed Hutch with an intense stare, as if asking for more details than she’d been given.

“Yes, Carolyn, it was. Where is Lizzie?”

“She’s back there, too. They were checking her over. They said she wouldn’t need to be admitted, wasn’t that what they said, Captain?” Carolyn turned to Dobey. “I don’t think they are finished treating her, though.”

“Let us see if we can find out anything,” Starsky said as he moved to the reception desk. Hutch followed closely.

After showing their badges, they were allowed into the trauma room, with the admonition to stay only a few minutes. Hutch watched as Starsky repeatedly wrinkled his nose in reaction to the typical antiseptic and alcohol smell of an emergency room. Hutch reached out to rub across Starsky’s shoulder. “Relax, it isn’t one of us this time,” Hutch whispered.

“No, I know that, and don’t think I’m not grateful, but it’s one of ours,” Starsky whispered.

They walked into the trauma room where Arturo lay on the gurney, Lizzie sitting on a stool next to him. She turned at hearing the footsteps, taking her hand away from where it had been resting on Arturo’s. When she saw who it was, she slowly put her hand back to cover his, and Arturo squeezed her fingers in welcome.

“How are you two doing?” Hutch asked, looking from one officer to the other.

“We’ll make it,” Lizzie answered.

“Take Lizzie home, will you guys? She needs to rest and make sure she eats something,” Arturo said, a slight slur to his speech from the medication.

“Listen to him, like he’s in any condition to be giving orders, here,” Lizzie joked.

“We’ll take her home. They’re going to be moving you to a room, pretty soon, okay?” Hutch said, stepping closer and leaning toward Arturo’s head. “Escucheme amigo. No te preocupes. Duermete,” he said close to Arturo’s ear. Arturo gave a weak smile at Hutch’s admonition to rest and not worry about anything, and with a nod, he closed his eyes.

“We’ll give you a few minutes. Come on out and we’ll take you home, ” Starsky told Lizzie, with a gentle pat to her back as he and Hutch quietly left the room.

They had been standing in the waiting room with Dobey and Carolyn only a few minutes when Lizzie appeared. Her eyes were red like she’d begun crying again, and she blew her nose before getting any closer. “I’m ready if you are, guys,” she said with an obviously forced brightness.

“I’m glad you’re all right, Lizzie,” Carolyn said tentatively.

“Thank you. I’m glad Arturo has stabilized and they didn’t have to take him to surgery. I’m sure he’ll do even better through the night. They’ll watch him real closely here,” Lizzie said to Carolyn, but she was unable to meet her eyes. “I’ll give my report in the morning, if that’s all right, Captain. It’ll give me a little time to sort it all out in my head.” Lizzie took a step or two away, then turned. “Call me if you need anything, Carolyn. My daughter is with her dad, if you need someone to stay with Alicia.”

“Thanks, my mom has her. We’ll be okay, but thanks.”

“The paperwork can wait until the morning, that’s fine, Lizzie. Call if you need anything.” Dobey’s big hand reached out to pat her arm.

“I will, thank you, sir.” Lizzie nodded that she was more than ready to get out of there. “Where’s the car?”

Hutch steered her by one arm out of the waiting area to where Starsky had parked the car.

Nestled between the two men in the front seat, Hutch broke the silence. “Are you really okay, Lizzie? Do you need to talk to anybody?”

“I’m okay, and, no, I don’t need to talk to anybody, at least not right now, maybe later. I know I can always bend you guys’ ears,” Lizzie answered with a small smile. “Actually, I have already talked to who I needed to–my partner. He did an incredibly difficult and unselfish thing to keep us safe tonight. I owe him my life. What happened was probably a lot harder for him than it was for me. I can only hope if it had been the other way around, I would have been as brave.”

“To save your partner?” Starsky asked. “I’m sure of it.”

“So am I,” Hutch joined in.

They parked the car and walked Lizzie into her apartment, hamming it up a little as they exaggeratedly checked it first to be sure it was secure.

“You guys just want to see if I’m a slob in the closets where it doesn’t show,” Lizzie remarked, as she nudged Starsky away from her clothes closet. “I’m fine, really,” she said, sobering. “Thanks, for everything. See you guys under the same mountain of paperwork tomorrow,” she said with a more genuine smile than she’d managed all night.

Starsky leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and both men left, waiting at the closed door until they heard the snick of the deadbolt.

Walking back to the Torino, Hutch reached for Starsky’s hand. “Why do I feel so guilty about being so damned glad it wasn’t us this time?”

“It’s that hair shirt I keep trying to get you out of. The damned thing’s grown under your skin,” Starsky replied. “But it’s coming off, boy, when we get home, everything’s coming off!” Starsky said with a lecherous grin, as he got in the driver’s side of the car.

Hutch slid in with a laugh, noting as he let out a deep breath that the tight fist in his stomach that felt as if it had been there for days was finally almost gone. Maybe when we get home and everything comes off, that will go, too. Hutch looked at his lover and rested his hand against the warmth of Starsky’s thigh as they drove home. Both men sharing the determination to put the night behind them.

 

 

The two trudged slowly into Starsky’s apartment, it being the closer of the two. Once inside the door each took off their jackets and guns.

“I don’t know about you, but I want a shower.” Hutch tugged his shirt out of his pants and moved toward the bathroom without waiting for an answer. Once naked, he stepped gratefully under the hot spray and willed his mind to blank out all of the day’s images. Gritting his teeth against the stubborn return of more than one ugly image, he jumped when the curtain parted and his lover stepped in. Hutch relaxed against the familiar frame and welcomed Starsky into the steamy space.

“Let it go, babe,” Starsky whispered. “Let it all go, I’ve got ya.”

Starsky’s lips were moving down from his ear to his neck, and the wonderful shivers he was causing went straight to his dick. They washed each other slowly, the soapy circles unhurried and reverent. When the water began to cool Hutch shut it off and stepped free of the curtain, tugging Starsky with him. Without bothering to dry off, Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch kissing him demandingly before he walked them both into the bedroom. Hutch felt his legs touch the edge of the king-sized bed. Starsky pulled back, his eyes half closed and lips swollen from the kisses. He danced Hutch around and sat on the bed, leaving Hutch to stand in front of him. With exquisite slowness, Starsky ran his fingers down Hutch’s body, tracing the droplets of water as they flowed downward. Starsky’s hands slid down to mid-thigh, stopping there to squeeze the muscles and allowing Hutch’s cock to bob free, hard and needy in front of Starsky’s face. Hutch groaned as the coolness of each of Starsky’s exhalations caused it to quiver. Starsky let go to hold it still with one hand, as he ran his tongue slowly up and down the hard length. Hutch groaned deep in his throat at the pleasure. Starsky swirled his tongue around the crown, then dipped his tongue to tickle at the small slit on the end. Hutch’s legs shook slightly, and he rested his hands on Starsky’s shoulders to steady himself.

“So good….” The words came out as a sigh. Anything else he might have said went out of his head like a shot when Starsky engulfed most of Hutch’s length in his mouth, sucking hard as he deep throated him. He felt Starsky’s fingers rolling his balls, as they began to draw up in preparation for ejaculation. His lover gently drew them down, humming against the length of Hutch’s cock in his mouth. Hutch trembled in his need to finish. Starsky’s hand left his nuts to probe between his ass cheeks, finding what he sought and circling the puckered muscle. Light touches that drove Hutch closer. Hutch moved his hips, stroking forward into that wonderful wet heat, pulling back against the suction that was driving him crazy.

“I can’t…wait…I’m… Oh, God, I’m c-cominggggg.” His voice ended in a graveled scream as he shot down Starsky’s willing throat. Hutch’s fingers tightened on the thick, wet curls as he climaxed.

Starsky eased off Hutch’s softening shaft, leaning to place a wet kiss on his belly before pulling him down next to him on the bed.

“As soon as I can move, I’ll return the favor,” Hutch spoke around gasping efforts to breathe.

“Oh, yes, I know you will.” Starsky grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. “We’ve got plenty of time. I get a kick out of knowing I can still blow you away.”

“No pun intended,” Hutch wheezed.

“Of course not.” Starsky laughed easily and kissed his limp lover.

 

 

 

Hutch looked toward his partner as the phone on his desk began to ring. Dobey’s bulk leaned past his open office door to point in the same direction.

“It’s the call you’ve been waiting for Starsky. Answer it,” Dobey said.

Starsky reached for the receiver with all the enthusiasm he’d have if it had been a snake. Drawing in a breath and closing his eyes, he answered, “Starsky.”

Hutch brought the mugs of coffee he’d been pouring back to the desk with him, scraping Starsky’s across the desk in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. No, I don’t want any favors. Let him stew in the mess he made, as long as he’s safe where he’s stewing. By the time Tony’s locked up on his own charges, that should be time enough for Nicky to make bail. I’ll call a family friend that can arrange it without involving our mother. I’d like to keep her protected if possible, you know? She doesn’t need to have it upset her. Yeah, I know. Thanks, I appreciate everything you did. No…I don’t need to talk to him right now. I think we both could use a little more cool-off time before that brotherly chat. Okay…thanks for everything.” Starsky closed his eyes as he slowly lowered the handset.

“Eighteen months to serve and two years’ probation.” Starsky sighed with a resigned shake of his head.

“It could have been a lot worse,” Hutch offered.

“Yeah, it all could’ve been a whole lot worse,” Starsky added with a small shudder.

 

 

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