Story #3: The Edge of Danger
It was dark and wet, and the blowing wind reigned over the night.
Starsky kept close to Hutch as they stalked through the deep gray fog along dock twenty-four. Long since abandoned there was nothing much there. Not a soul was to be seen. Only the scurrying shadows of tiny bodies with long thin tails freely racing about near their feet. The soft murmur of the sea restlessly lapped against the broken hull of a rusted ship. The sharp clang of its tarnished bell rang out eerily; as the waves rocked the forgotten vessel, like a cradle, against the boulders it had beached on long ago.
There was a row of tall lamplights along the pier, but none were lit, obviously vandalized. Every globe was smashed, and its wires exposed to the corrosion of saltwater. They couldn't even depend on the light of the moon which was hidden behind the clouds.
Hutch gave a half sigh shining his flashlight back and forth cutting through the fog. "You're quiet, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking we ought to have more backup. I'm thinking its going to take those units too long to get through this fog from where they're positioned on First Street. I'm thinking that fake beard and mustache you're sporting wouldn't fool a blind man and I'm thinking this whole thing smells fishy."
"Starsk, 'course it smells fishy, the ocean is right over there," Hutch chuckled. "Don't worry, partner, we're early, and everyone will be in position before the bad guys get here." Hutch stopped walking when he felt something rub up against his leg, and he casually dropped his beam down to see.
"What?" Starsky asked in a jumpy voice, stopping right beside him.
"Relax, it's just a cat." Hutch answered back when he saw the orange striped tabby twisting in and out between his legs.
Starsky looked down, then bent over and picked the mouse hunter up rubbing it behind its ears. "You think this is how Huggy gets all his racers for Rodent Downs?" He asked lifting the cat up toward Hutch's face.
"More than likely." Disinterested in the feline, Hutch sent his light searching back out through the murkiness of the mist. "There." He gave a toss of his head gesturing toward the right. "That's the meeting place, twelfth lamppost from the old ship, loading dock 57." He turned to Starsky shining the light in his partner's face and looking him in the eye. "Starsky, will you put that damn cat down?"
"What? You don't like cats?"
Hutch wiggled his nose, "They make my eyes swell and tear, and my throat feel itchy."
"Cat scratch fever, huh?" Starsky laughed, giving the animal a little nudge, it leapt from his arms and landed back on the ground, immediately darting after something lurking behind a pile of coiled rope.
Hearing the sound of tires squealing, Hutch snatched a glance over his shoulder. "Headlights. You better get out of sight."
Starsky looked to the distant car moving in their direction, and weighed the moment briefly before taking a firm grip of Hutch's elbow. "Okay, buddy, just remember I'll be within hearing distance." He pulled a two-way radio from his inside coat pocket for Hutch to see. "You make the buy. I call in the cavalry, and you get the hell out of there." Starsky's protectiveness of his partner was working on overtime. "These guys play to win. I don't need to find you at the bottom of the harbor nibbling on seaweed; you got it, Blue Eyes?"
"Point well taken," Hutch said, tension creeping into his voice. "Don't worry so much." He gave a quick slap of his hand against Starsky's shoulder.
They stared at one another intensely for a split second. Starsky let loose his hold of Hutch's elbow and then, simultaneously, they turned on the balls of their feet going off in separate directions.
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Hutch leaned his body against a rail on loading dock 57, steadfast and ever watchful as the black sedan rolled up just a few feet away from him. He scrutinized each of the three men as they exited the vehicle. The bulges under their jackets were a constant reminder of how exposed he really was, with no gun, no wire tap, or even his badge for protection.
Hutch pulled away from the rail, and flashed a nervous look toward the southwest corner of an old fishing shack. "Back me up, Starsk," he uttered under his breath, uncomfortable with where he was.
Starsky was crouched down in a squat just along side the old fishing shack. A small breeze whisked old newspapers, cups, and other moss tipped debris around his feet. Tiny squeaks came from under the debris and Starsky watched a shadow move past his left shoe.
"Damn mice," he searched around picking up a small pebble and tossed it out into the night.
The sound of car doors slamming captured Starsky's never-ceasing concern for his partner's well being, and he half turned back toward Hutch's direction forgetting his target practice.
It was times like these his adrenaline ran high and his mind became completely focused. It was times like these when his partner was placed on the edge of danger; that he knew himself personally responsible for seeing to it that his partner didn't fall from that edge. He watched Hutch's feet shuffle in place, his shoulders slightly hunched. Even in the weak light source Starsky could see or maybe it was more like he could sense his partner's nervousness behind those baby blue eyes that seemed even more striking through the darkness.
"Steady, steady, partner," his whisper wasn't heard, but his hard-eyed stare seemed to telepathically get across loud and clear.
Hutch gave a quick shrug then pulled back his shoulders standing tall, letting his fear be eclipsed quickly by the presence of his partner's shadow. "There you are, buddy." Hutch could feel Starsky's stare burning like a beacon never leaving his side. "Here we go," he said, falling into his roll as drug dealer, letting ice fill his voice. Hutch took comfort in the knowledge his partner had his back, and turned his attention toward the three men approaching him in quick, no nonsense strides.
"You got the stuff?" Hutch asked studying each man as he waited for a response. One suspect wore a grizzly beard and had the muscles of a grizzly bear to match. The smaller guy to his left sported two black eyes and was missing a front tooth. The third just looked plain ugly and mean.
"Yeah, we got the stuff. And we kicked in a little added bonus," the bearded man, known only as Boss, laughed. He held out an open brief case. Inside was so much white stuff, Hutch thought he should have brought along a pair of poles and skies. Sticking a pinky finger into a slit in one of the bags, he bought it up to the tip of his tongue to taste it.
"Good? Mean and ugly asked with a voice that sounded like metal scratching on metal. Hutch nodded his approval. "Then show us the money."
Hutch handed over a brown envelope with confidence. It was quickly taken by the man who looked like he'd been in hand to hand combat with a gorilla and had won. He ruffled through the bills. "I believe you're short."
"I believe your wrong," Hutch said keeping his eyes trained on the third man whose right hand was stuffed deep in his pocket obviously holding something. Hutch was certain by the size of the lump that it wasn't a pack of bubblegum.
"I believe you're short ten Gs. Told you we kicked in a little added bonus." The man looked at his companions. "Never said the bonus was for you." All three men laughed maniacally.
"I can tell you that's not going to happen." Hutch kept his words quiet taking a step back, angling his body toward the fishing shack he knew his watchdog partner was behind.
"Oh, I think it will happen or you'll be playing limbo with a meat hook."
Hutch dropped his eyes downward, nervously running his fingers through his hair pulling the damp blond strands back off his face. "That's gonna be a tight order," he clasped his hands tight, and wrung his fingers together looking back up at the men. "Okay." His agreement was slow, but it seemed to take some of the uneasiness out of the men before him.
"Can I get a cigarette first?" Hutch asked in a clear voice giving a friendly smile. The man with the missing tooth reached into his upper shirt pocket pulling out a square pack and smacked it against his palm dropping a white stick out of the red and white box.
Starsky fidgeted nervously in the wings; watching Hutch's every move. His partner's four minute spot was up. Hutch's fingers running through his blond hair, his wringing hands, and the code word 'cigarette' sent Starsky into action. "Move in, move in now." He ordered the backup team using his two-way, as he skittered out from his hiding place.
With the cigarette in hand Hutch lifted it to his mouth, "Got a light?" He mumbled around the filter stalling as he saw his partner cautiously working his way over to him out of the corner of his eye. A flick, a flame, and one drag where as far as Hutch got.
"Meow, meow....meow...." The musical sound came from his right. That orange tabby was back. Walking up and down the rail rubbing up against Hutch's arm. His earlier contact with the feline coupled with its attempt at gaining his affections now made Hutch's eyes begin to water. An itch and a tickle came to the back of his throat. He took a couple deep breaths, but it didn't help.
"A-a-a-choo! An involuntary burst of air forced its way out of Hutch's nose. The cat had triggered his allergies; worse, Hutch could feel his mustache shift off his upper lip from the sneeze. He felt like a songbird trapped in a cage, unable to avoid the claws of the neighbor's cat which had jumped in through an open window.
The three men noticed the misaligned mustache immediately. They knew there was only one reason someone would be wearing a disguise. "He's a cop!" They began to close in on him, like sharks circling a wounded surfer. "You're dead, cop!"
Hutch reacted without thinking. He swept low to the ground as a slew of silver flashes lit the dark; all three drug dealers trying to force feed him bullets for dinner. In the gloom of the night Hutch was able to choreograph his moves, hip hopping back up and over the rail into the water, taking the damn cat with him.
"Huuuuuuutch!" Starsky's charged out from the cover of darkness, screaming like thunder.
At the same time, scores of uniformed officers spilled onto the scene. The conflict didn't last long.
Starsky had gracelessly launched himself through the air catching the last of the suspects in the chest and knocking him backward to the ground. In an instant he had his handcuffs out and locked around the man's wrists.
"Some days you're the dog. Some days you're the hydrant." Starsky said in a shallow growl without even a hint of a smile, as he pulled the man up and shoved him toward a uniformed officer. "Handle this, Nolans." Starsky's look then went hard as it fell to where he had last seen his partner.
"Hutch, Hutch?" Starsky called out, looking around the dock his gaze going to the water. "Damn it!" He yelled, seeing ripples working there way outward.
He lifted one foot to pull off a shoe, but stopped reflexively looking up. A sagging figure stumbled out of the flickering shadows headed his way. He knew that tall lanky outline anywhere.
Starsky surveyed his partner as he neared. His eyes working up and down. Hutch's clothes clung to his body like a wetsuit, steam rose up off him, and he was covered in mud, his blond hair wild and dripping wet. He swallowed at the air and breathed in and out, his shoulders and chest moving up and down in fast short actions. Under his right arm he held an equally wet and muddied orange tabby. "Wh....what are you doing?" Hutch chattered out of breath with a pained look on his face.
"About to rescue you," Starsky snapped, retying his shoelace, wincing when he saw Hutch's bruised right cheek and swollen eye. "What happened to you?"
"Hit the water sideways, think I landed on a piece of driftwood." Hutch sneezed letting the cat drop down from his arms, the tabby landed on all fours and darted off into the night. "Cat, a--a---a-choo." Hutch brushed his sleeve in quick motion across his upper lip. "Damn cat."
"Let's get you to the hospital." Starsky gripped an arm directing Hutch toward the car, passing the uniformed officers now on the scene. "These guys can wrap it up here."
Hutch seemed to have a little trouble walking, the left side of his brain not cooperating with the right. "Starsky I've waltzed this waltz with you before," he stopped to point an index finger at Starsky's chest. "I don't need a doctor. Just my allergies and a little bruise." Hutch stood stiff and shivering, his face pale and glistening with droplets of seawater.
"Hutch this isn't a dance club. You were this close--" Starsky raised his hand toward Hutch's face pinching his index finger and thumb tight together. "to having your heart pumping blood out onto the pavement, your dead body surrounded by a chalk outline."
"Do you have to be so graphic, Stars----a---choooo!"
Starsky ogled his partner once more. It was close and his partner looked like something the cat drug in. He chuckled to himself at his own pun, but Hutch didn't look any worse for the experience. "Okay." Starsky relented. "You gonna behave, partner? Go back to my place, get out of those wet clothes and get into my bed?"
"Always knew you wanted to get me into your bed, buddy." Hutch gave a smart aleck snort followed up with a snuffle wiping the back of his hand under his nose. "But taking advantage of an injured body, Starsky, I'm ash...sham...sh....sh....chooooo!."
The sneeze rocked Hutch's whole body instantly taking away his steadiness, taking away his strength. He battled with his wiry legs trying to keep them under him, but lost the battle as he ventured toward the ground.
Starsky seized Hutch by an arm grabbing his jacket firm in his fist and drawing him up to lean against his side. "Hey, hey partner, where'd you learn that move, huh?" Starsky gave a small laugh.
Hutch offered Starsky a long side look, eyes narrowing as he tried to concentrate, "learned it from yo--....chooo." Hutch sneezed again, lights played in his head and he felt his body sway once more. He thrust his hand out instinctively trying to keep his balance, but his feet tangled and he pitched forward.
Starsky's strong arm caught his partner settling him heavier against his side. "Maybe I should--"
"I can walk Star....a--a--choooo."
"Who knew," Starsky drawled out. They stood still a moment, till Hutch's twitching body seemed to relax, then Starsky began to move him toward the car.
"Okay, just take it slow and easy, partner. We got nowhere to go and all night to get there."
"A-a-a-hhh......a-a-a-hhhh..." Starsky placed a finger under Hutch's nose, "hold that sneeze, buddy."
Hutch snuffled, the trick seemed to work a moment. "Choo!" 'Till another bout of sneezing took over, it was enough to make a semi truck take flight, slowing Hutch down to a snail's pace.
"And at this rate it's gonna take all night. Bless you, partner."
The end