Title: Fate's Happenstance
Author: Minnie K.
Type: Gen
Summary: In May of 1966 the world was changing, and so were two young men. One in college and one just out of the military, both find their lives taking some strange turns. Can Ken Hutchinson and Dave Starsky learn to work together to save one of them from charges that may send him to jail?
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement intended.
Notes: This story was previously published in "Venice Place Times IV".
I also want to thank both of my editors, Keri T and Barb D. They both put in a lot of time and effort to help me make my stories the best they can be, and I really appreciate it. I value their input tremendously, and always look forward to working with them.
Format: Story
Categories: Hutch Angst, Starsky Angst, Violence, Zine Story
Rating: R
Size: 148K
Date Added: 2005-11-30

Fate's Happenstance
by Minnie K.

May, 1966

Ken Hutchinson leaned against the back seat of the car, hoping to disappear into the night shadows. He felt claustrophobic, anxious, and disappointed, wishing he could roll down the windows for a lung-full of night air. But there were no handles to open the windows, just as there were none on the inside of the doors. The two uniformed officers had laughed at his surprise when he'd noticed them missing after they shut him inside the black-and-white. Now, nearly at the end of a whole eight-hour shift as a ride-along, he just wanted it to end.

This has gone nowhere, he thought tiredly. I realize I'm a civilian, but I'm twenty-two years old, for heaven's sake. I'm not a child to be baby-sat. Huntley arranged this so I could get an idea of what being a cop is like, yet these guys don't seem to be interested in doing anything. This whole thing has been a waste of time.

He had been excited about the opportunity. For the last few months Detective Luke Huntley had tried his best to introduce him to the idea of becoming a police officer. Hutch had found the idea was growing on him, calling to a part of him that wanted to get out in the world after his degree and do something important. But changing the plans for his future was a huge step. He had looked forward to this close-up view of the job, but now felt as if Luke's effort had been wasted.

"Did you see that?" Officer Doug Trent said with disgust from the passenger seat. Hutch had heard that tone many times during the evening, mostly aimed in his direction. The younger of the two officers, Trent, had made it pretty clear that he didn't think much of a wet-behind-the-ears civilian and resented his presence. He clearly didn't like Hutch, and the feeling grew to be mutual.

"That looked like a drug exchange to me." Trent turned to look at Carter, his partner. Hutch noted the evil grin on Trent's profile. "Those niggers are getting pretty brave to do that with a black-'n-white driving by. Think we ought to go back and give 'em a hassle?"

Hutch winced at Trent's choice of words.

"We only got an hour left," Officer Carter said, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to wave away the notion. "With our luck, we'd end up having to stick around after shift to file reports. Why bother?"

"Right! Why waste time on them when we can go give some of the street whores some attention?" Trent said with a laugh. "Did you see those dogs at the last corner? Hell, no way they could sell it. Maybe we can persuade a few of them to give it away."

Carter snickered evilly, and Trent turned around to look at Hutch in the back seat, his eyes hard. "Whaddya think, kid? You in the mood to do a bit of pokin'?"

Hutch clenched his jaw, fighting to control his anger. A darker blond than Hutch, Trent was bigger boned and more muscular as well. Hutch guessed that Trent was four to six years older than him, but he talked like a foul-mouthed thirteen-year-old.

"I'll pass," Hutch said tightly. He hoped the darkness hid some of the flush of anger he could feel on his face and neck. He hated the fact that he blushed easily, and it gave people like Trent a clue to his true feelings.

"Why, Carter," Trent said with mock surprise, "I think the kid's afraid he couldn't get it up!"

Both officers laughed, and Hutch saw the hard glint in Trent's eyes as he glanced back. He was just daring Hutch to get angry, or say anything that would give them an excuse to drop him off at the station and gripe to Huntley about his choice of possible Academy candidates. Carter, an older man, hadn't seemed to care if Hutch was in the car or not, but Trent reacted as if his presence were a personal insult.

"Guess I'm just lucky. I don't have to go to whores to get any," Hutch said, allowing just the hint of a sneer to show on his face. He enjoyed the sharp flash of anger that took over Trent's features.

"Whoo-hoo! Oh, he got you with that one, Trent!" Carter whooped in laughter. "The kid must have a good eye for character."

It was hard to tell in the dark, but Hutch thought that Trent flushed a little himself. Before he turned away, Trent gave Hutch a look that told him it wasn't over between them.

Hutch crossed his arms, holding on tight to his disgust. He turned his eyes to the sidewalks that were becoming less and less populated as the night wore on.

"Hey, kid," Carter said. "You should've seen this area when I first put on a uniform. When I was a rookie...."

Hutch tuned Carter out, already having heard more stories about Carter's rookie days than he'd wanted. So far, none of them related to the world Hutch was seeing outside the patrol car, or told him what kind of difference he could make if he did decide to become a cop. I can't believe Luke would have sent me out with these two clowns if he'd known what they were like. All we've done is cruise the streets, harass some homeless people, and scare some working girls into moving on to the next street.

The look in some of their eyes, the way they all looked tired, sick, and strung out. That one girl, she couldn't have been more than sixteen, if that. Why did Carter and Trent leave her out there? And those old guys who were just trying to sleep, why did they have to roust them like that? Where else do they have to go?

There's no respect, no treating them like real people. How can any of them ask for help when the cops are just another set of bullies out to push them around? Who protects them, if the police won't?

Hutch took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, giving in to the urge he'd been fighting all night. He'd been trying to quit for weeks now, and had promised himself this pack would be his last. He took one out and lit it, then took in a deep drag.

It didn't help with his frustration, but at this point he didn't know what would.

~*~*~

Dave Starsky sat slumped in the driver's seat, his cap pulled down to hide his eyes. He had the "in service" light of the cab turned on, so he wouldn't miss a fare if one showed up. So far he hadn't had much luck. He yawned, wishing he could drop off for a nap even though his shift would be over in less than an hour. He didn't dare. He'd done his share of running the streets when younger and knew too well that cabbies and their cash boxes could be all too easily parted. He wasn't about to let anyone sneak up on him.

Maybe I should knock off early for once. Wouldn't hurt to get a few extra Z's in before the landlord starts banging on the door for the rent. Between him, and the neighbors beating each other up all the time, it's a wonder I get any sleep at all, he thought sourly. Man, I've gotta get out of that place! I'm twenty-three years old, for heaven's sake. I need to get my act together.

Living off a cabbie's wages in a rent-by-the-week room that couldn't be scrubbed clean, wasn't the way he'd expected to live after leaving the Army. The decision to come back to Bay City, where he had spent all his teenage years, had been a hard one to make. He knew his mother didn't understand why he needed to return here and make a life for himself instead of starting over in New York. He wasn't sure he understood it himself, but he was determined to do it on his own. Which made it all the more important that he not bother his aunt and uncle with any of his current financial problems.

There has to be something else I can do. Something more than being bossed around like a slave, treated like shit, and then get shafted on tips. I want a job that'll make me feel like I'm alive! My whole enlistment was spent driving anything with wheels, and that's all I can find to do with myself now that I'm a civilian again? Doesn't say much about me, does it?

Starsky sighed and looked at his watch. It was 2:13 a.m. already, and he was due to clock out at 3:00. He'd barely collected enough fares to cover gas, let alone make his quota. He picked up the mic and clicked it twice to signal Dispatch.

"Hey, Sam, this is Dave. You got anything for me?"

"Not a thing, buddy. How's the streets look?"

"Around here?" Starsky glanced around at the closed bars, empty sidewalks, and non-existent traffic. "You think anyone hangs out around here after the bars close? Man, anyone still left probably drank up all the money they had, and don't have anywhere to go."

"How're you doin' there?" Sam asked sympathetically.

Starsky appreciated the interest. Sam was an older man, a Navy veteran who had a soft spot for anyone with military service under their belts. He worked even odder hours than Starsky did, and sometimes it seemed he never left the office. A widower with no family, Starsky figured he probably had more company over the mic than he did at home.

"You've got the call sheet, Sam," Starsky said with resignation. "You know I'm under quota. Unless I stop and mug someone on the way back, Newman is gonna rip me a new one."

"Well, think of it this way, kid. He enjoys picking on you so much, he can't afford to let you go. You give him a reason for living."

Despite himself, Starsky chuckled. Why the owner of the cab company had hired him, when it seemed he had taken an instant dislike to Starsky, was beyond him. Starsky hoped his uncle hadn't called in a favor and gotten him the job. He didn't want to think that was the only reason he'd been hired.

Movement caught Starsky's eye as two men came around the corner of the building. Walking loose and easy as if they'd already had a long night bar hopping, they stopped and looked up and down the street. One was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, who was dressed in the current style for hip partying. The other was short and thick, with dark hair. They talked a bit, and Starsky saw them glancing in his direction.

"Hold it, Sam. I might be able to scrape up a fare." He smiled to himself as they started walking his way.

As they approached, Starsky sat up and waited for one of the men to come up to the passenger window. The older man, who seemed to be in charge because of the way the younger man followed him, leaned in the open window and grinned at him. He had hard brown eyes, but a nice smile. "My friend and I need to go to James Avenue and 104th Street. You know where that is?"

"Sure!" Starsky said excitedly. James Avenue was on the other side of the city, and the drive would put quite a few miles on his meter. "Hop on in."

"Groovy!" The stranger opened the passenger door on the driver's side and slid in, while signaling the other man to get in the back.

Starsky started to protest, as he didn't feel comfortable with anyone in the front seat with him. He froze when he saw a gun appear in the man's hand.

"Looks like you've got his attention now, Bill," the younger man said from the back seat, laughter in his voice. "This is gonna be fun."

Bill slid close, holding the gun low. Starsky's heart jumped and he felt breathless. He tried to calm himself by taking a deep breath and relaxing the grip he had on the steering wheel.

Treat it just like another military assign0ment, Starsky, take it easy. You've been under a gun before.

"Call in the James Avenue address, and don't say anything else. Then get moving," Bill snapped. "And don't try to take the scenic route. I know exactly where you'll be going, and I don't want you trying anything funny."

"No problem," Starsky said, his eyes checking out the streets and sidewalks for any sign of help. "But you're gonna be disappointed, 'cause I've had a slow night. Bet you've got more cash in your pocket than I do in the till."

"You've got bigger worries than the cash box." The younger man in the back laughed, sounding giddy from the excitement. "Bill never misses!"

"Shut it, Matt!" Bill ordered angrily. The barrel of the gun was pressed into Starsky's side. "You just do what you're told, Cabbie, and keep your mind on your driving or I'll just end this right here. Now, call in to your dispatcher and act like everything is all right."

Damn! That guy's on a hair trigger. This is gonna get ugly. I wonder if they're strung out and desperate?

Starsky did as he was told, calling Sam on the mic and giving the address he was told to give. He wished there was some way he could alert Sam without getting a hole blown out of him, but he didn't dare take the chance. There'll be an opening, Starsky told himself as he pulled the cab away from the curb. I've just got to wait for it!

~*~*~

Starsky had been driving for about twenty minutes when he felt the tension in the man next to him grow worse. His abductor had started to check his watch every few minutes, which meant time must be important.

They were now in a more upscale part of town, with stores that catered to those with a heavy wallet. The area was well lit, but there was almost no traffic and the sidewalks were empty. They were nowhere near the address he'd given Sam.

I've seen their faces and I've heard their names. What are the odds that they're gonna let me go after this is over? I get the feeling I don't really wanna know what my chances are, right now.

"It's the cops!" Matt hissed from the back of the cab. Starsky glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a patrol car pull into the street, several car lengths behind them.

"Sit back and relax." Bill threw the order at Matt, then slid away from Starsky, moving to the far corner of the seat. He, and the gun, almost disappearing into the shadows.

The light ahead of them turned yellow then red, and Starsky eased on the brake. The patrol car changed lanes, pulling up on his left, leaving them sitting parallel at the light. They were close enough that Starsky could almost have touched the other car. Help was only a few feet away.

If I make a sound, this guy's gonna put a hole in me, even with the cops sitting right there. Starsky thought furiously. Maybe if I move slowly I can get their attention.

He didn't have much time to make a decision.

~*~*~

Hutch had finished the cigarette before he realized there was no place to put it out. He pinched out the end, flicking it out Trent's window. Neither of the two officers said anything about it, being more interested in Carter's story than in what Hutch was doing.

As far as Hutch could tell, they were just killing time until the end of the shift. Carter's eyes never left the road as he talked, as if he were afraid to see something on the sidewalks that would require his attention. Trent kept checking his watch, shifting as if he were impatient for the shift to end.

As they slowed for a stoplight, a flicker caught Hutch's eye and he turned to look at the cab next to them. The driver was moving the side mirror, but instead of aligning it correctly, he was moving it as far out as it would go. Then the driver let his arm hang on the outside of the car, his fist clenched as if he were angry or in pain.

That's odd. He can't use the mirror like that.

Curious, Hutch moved closer to the window, at the same time trying to keep back in the shadows. He saw part of the cabbie's face. The driver looked to be about Hutch's age, clean-shaven, with a close haircut that left only a hint of curls under the bill of his cap. His jaw was clenched, and he looked pale and slightly sweaty.

What's up with him? He almost looks sick or...

The hackles went up on the back of Hutch's neck as the driver's eyes met his in the mirror. There was something very wrong in that car, and Hutch could almost feel the other's fear and concern as the intense blue eyes seemed to burn into his own. Hutch's heart started pounding like crazy. He held his breath as the driver's hand moved into the shape of a gun.

A robbery?

Hutch glanced at the passengers, looking for signs of trouble. There was someone setting next to the driver and one person in the back. They were in the shadows and he couldn't get a good look at their faces. He was struck by the way they were sitting, stiffly, as if they were mannequins. Neither one of the three seemed to move or even glance at the patrol car.

Luke had once told him guilty people try hard not to look at a patrol car, which tends to make them stand out. These guys are acting like we're not even here. My gut is telling me the driver is in trouble!

Hutch started to lean toward Carter and Trent, then realized anything he said could easily filter through the early morning air to the cab next to them. It was a cinch they could hear Carter's loud rendition of his current story.

Hutch settled back again, making eye contact with the cabbie. He only had time to nod once before the light changed and both cars were in motion. The cab dropped back, moving slower than the police car, giving Hutch a chance to turn around and quickly memorize the license plate.

"And then," Carter said with a laugh, "that rookie decides he's gonna just jump in the middle of the two ladies, so I..."

"There's trouble with that cab," Hutch whispered impatiently, cutting into Carter's story. "The driver is in trouble!"

"What? That's ridiculous!" Trenton snapped. He turned to look at Hutch, anger and annoyance on his face. "You're seeing things."

"I am not!" Hutch caught himself and took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to get into a pissing contest with Trent. "It's the one that was stopped with us just a minute ago. He gave me a signal that he's in trouble, that there's a gun in the car."

Hutch caught the look Carter flashed to Trent. Carter didn't seem to believe him any more than Trent did.

"Look, I know it sounds strange, but I could tell he's in trouble. We need to do something, call for some back-up or something!"

"Oh, you have really lost it," Trent said, scorn filling his voice. "Carter, I told you this whole ride-along was going to be a huge mistake. Dragging around a snot-nosed, pretty-boy just 'cause some detective asked nice..."

"That's enough!" Carter snapped. He pulled into an empty parking lot and parked, turning to look at Hutch. "Just tell us exactly what you saw, kid. And don't make a novel out of it."

Hutch kept it short. Trent's anger was coming off him in waves, but Carter only frowned as he listened.

"Okay." Carter sighed the word as if he were used to being put upon. "We'll see if we can catch up and tell if anything is wrong. But only because we don't have a call at the moment."

"Fine! Thanks," Hutch said quickly, before Carter could change his mind.

Let's just hope we're not too late. Who knows what could have happened by now?

~*~*~

"Damn, that was close," Matt swore as it became clear the police car wasn't going to follow them. "Guess we were lucky those cops didn't notice nothin'."

"You wanna worry about being lucky? You start getting your mind back on the job," Bill hissed. Starsky could feel those hard eyes turn toward him. The man slid closer to Starsky, and the gun was once again pushing into his ribs. "Cabbie, you're lucky I didn't shoot you right in front of the cops! Nobody moves without my permission! Screw up again and you'll get blown in half. You get it?"

"Got it," Starsky said crisply.

Keep it cool. The guy with the gun isn't in a good mood. Let him think he's in charge. You've followed the orders of dangerous assholes before and lived through it. You'll get through this as well.

"We're gettin' close, right?" Matt asked worriedly.

Bill glanced at the buildings around them. "We're just about there."

As they neared a corner, Bill leaned closer to Starsky, putting an arm around the back of his shoulders while making sure the gun was still jammed against his ribs. "Ahead, the second street. Turn right, then pull up against the curb as soon as we're out of the streetlight. Make it smooth!"

Starsky glanced down the first street and saw it was full of expensive-looking stores. There were only a few parked cars and no traffic. The whole area was deserted. Where did those cops go? I thought that guy in the back seat got my message.

He made the turn and pulled up to the curb as soon as they were out of the direct light. A man moved through the shadows and came up to the passenger window. He leaned into the window, and Starsky saw he had on a sweatshirt with a hood that hid all of his face in dark shadows, except for a glint of blond hair.

"It's clear. I got the code." The man's voice was so low Starsky could barely hear it. He then backed away and disappeared back into the shadows.

"That's it then," Matt said excitedly. "Let's get started!"

Ignoring him, Bill turned to Starsky. "Go down the street until you get to the first parking lot on the right. Park at the back of the lot."

As Starsky did as he was told, Matt started to shift restlessly in the back seat. "I don't see why we need this guy. Can't we just waste him here and...?"

"Quit thinking about it. Just do as you're told!" Bill snapped. He slid back into the corner of the passenger seat, keeping his gun trained at Starsky's middle. He glanced at his watch and smiled. "What's your name, cabbie?"

Starsky swallowed. He hadn't realized how dry his mouth had become. "Whatever you're planning, you're not gonna get away with it," he said calmly. "Pretty soon, the dispatcher is gonna realize I'm not where I'm supposed to be. There'll be people out looking for me."

"Not for a while yet." Bill's cold eyes glinted in the dim light. He waved the gun back and forth. "But I asked you your name. I don't like to be ignored."

"It's Dave."

"Just Dave? I doubt that."

Starsky didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't want to give his full name in case they used it in some way to trick Sam. He was unprepared for the blow Matt gave him from the back seat.

"What's your name?" Matt demanded angrily as Starsky's ears rang.

"Starsky," he said reluctantly. He kept his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it hard to keep himself from responding to the attack.

"Well, you're a slow learner, Starsky." Bill glanced at his watch. "It's time to get things going. Drive back to that corner where we stopped before."

Once there, he was told to drive into a narrow parking lot that spanned the back of a huge building. There were many doors along the long brick wall. It was the employee parking and delivery area for the various stores that occupied the building.

"Stop at the fourth door," Bill ordered. "Then cut the motor."

Starsky pulled up next to the door and turned off the engine.

Well, that explains that, Starsky thought, as he read the name of the store on the door: Fenton's Fine Jewelry. They're gonna rob the place, and I get to be the get-away car. If they let me live that long. That guy from the shadows must be their inside man.

"Let's go," Matt said. Starsky turned his head a little and saw Matt taking off his brightly colored shirt. Under it was a black long-sleeved t-shirt, and from a pocket somewhere he pulled out a black stocking cap. In a moment, Matt was out of the car and at the passenger door.

"Watch him," Bill ordered as he handed the gun to Matt through the window. He then took off his own shirt, leaving him dressed in black as well.

Starsky sat unmoving, hands on the steering wheel as the leader slid out. Starsky kept an eye on the end of the gun, and almost wished Bill would take it again, for Matt was so excited he seemed to tremble.

As soon as Bill got out of the car, he ran up to the service door and rapped on it four times. The door opened, showing a dark interior. Starsky saw the vague outline of someone in the doorway.

Bill returned to the car and retrieved the gun from Matt, then leaned in the window. "Okay, slide out this side and don't make any funny moves."

Starsky moved slowly, afraid to make any sudden moves. As he got to the door, the gun barrel was placed against his head.

"Now, you're going to be a good boy and do as you're told," Bill said softly, his eyes hard and cold. "I'd hate to have to use this on you, so don't test me."

Something tells me you'll use it no matter how "good" I am, Starsky thought with a sinking heart. Nervous sweat ran down his back, and he fought to look calm. There's no way this guy is gonna leave me around to identify him.

Man, I hope I can figure a way out of this, because it looks like it's just me against some awful bad odds.

~*~*~

"That cab could be anywhere," Carter said with frustration. "What do you expect us to do?"

"It's a waste of time." Trenton's voice was full of disgust. "I think Hutchinson's so eager to play 'cop' he's seeing things."

Hutch felt a flush of anger, but kept his voice low and his eyes on the streets. "I know what I saw. Maybe the driver was having fun at my expense, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be checked out. Why not just call for some back-up?"

"Because we don't want to look like stupid-assed rookies!" Trent snapped.

A hint of yellow seemed to jump out at Hutch from the behind a building. "There's one! It's the same cab company." The small parking lot behind the building wasn't well lit. The cab wasn't in a regular space, but was parked parallel to the building, centered on a service door.

"Okay, so you found one," Trent said sarcastically. He shifted restlessly in his seat. "Fine, let's call the papers. C'mon, Carter. Our shift's almost over and I got plans for tonight. We're wasting time here."

Glancing at Carter, Hutch saw he was frowning.

"Why don't you go and check it out?" Hutch asked, hating the fact that he was close to begging. "Then we'd know if it was the same driver or not."

Carter shook his head, then turned the next corner. "Look, kid, even if it was the same cab you saw, he could have just been taking a regular fare to that address. If there is a real problem, then having us drive right up behind him may not be the best thing to do. Tell you what. We'll make a pass by the front of the building and then decide if it's worth looking into."

Hutch tried not to groan with frustration. If something was wrong...and his gut was telling him there was...time was precious.

"You're both crazy!" Trent threw up his hands in exasperation. "Carter, you're letting this asshole pull your chain. I didn't realize you were so anxious to kiss Huntley's ass."

Carter looked at Trent with astonishment, surprised at his partner's outburst.

"What about calling the cab company and seeing if that's where he's supposed to be?" Hutch suggested calmly, before Carter could respond to the remark. He needed to keep a fight from breaking out between the partners, which would only waste more time. "I've got the license number."

"Listen, Hutchinson..."

"It was a Newman Cab," Carter interrupted Trent, giving him a cold glare. "We're going to check this out."

Carter picked up the mic and signaled the police dispatcher, putting in the request for a call to be made to the cab company. He continued driving as they waited for an answer, and Trent sat in frozen fury. There was very little traffic this early in the morning, and, as they passed the front of the building from the opposite side of the street, they had a good view of the well-lit interior of the stores.

The cab was parked in front of the fourth door, so that would be behind the jewelry store. Hutch slipped back in the seat to stay out of sight as much as he could while studying the store. It was fairly wide and well lit behind the metal security gate. They passed too quickly to get a good look, but Hutch got a glimpse of glass counters lining the walls and several islands in the center of the store. I don't see anything. Maybe this isn't the right store. Unless...

There was a flash of movement at the back...a dark shape, low and behind the counter.

"There! I saw something!" Hutch exclaimed.

"I didn't see anything," Trent said quickly. "We need to get back to the station."

"Tell me what you saw," Carter ordered Hutch.

Finally. Maybe now we can do something.

~*~*~

Starsky was sitting on his rear, his feet bound and his hands taped behind his back. He tried to scoot to the right, angling his bound wrists around the bottom of the metal shelving they had left him leaning against. The tape on his wrists had loosened some, and if he could catch it on one of the bolts that held the shelving together, he might be able to rip it apart.

He could tell the thieves were on a tight schedule so he didn't have much time. They had taken his cap and jacket, bound him, and tossed him into the storage room, with the new guy almost frantic to keep the other two moving. Whoever he was, he looked on the edge of panic, which didn't make Starsky feel any more confident about his future.

The door to the storage room had been left open, and, for the last few minutes, Starsky had gotten glimpses of Matt opening drawers and dumping various items into a black bag. Whatever they were doing up front was being done quietly. Too quietly.

No inside alarms going off, and they're acting like they're not afraid of silent ones. It's obviously an inside job. With one of them wearing my hat and jacket, the cab would make the perfect get-away car. Who expects thieves to escape in a cab? They'd just look like regular passengers, and since they know my name, they can probably fool Sam for a while. There's no way they're gonna let me get through this alive.

Starsky winced when he moved in the wrong direction and the edge of a bolt dug into his wrist instead of the tape. He remembered an old trick and flexed his muscles when they had bound him, so he had a bit of room when he relaxed.

He caught the tape on the edge of the bolt and pulled, stretching it some more. He almost moaned with relief as he worked one hand out, while keeping an eye on the door. He pulled the tape completely off his wrists, then carefully started to scoot sideways, hoping to hide his actions behind a couple of boxes on the floor beside him.

Matt, still busy in the room across the hall, never even looked in his direction. Starsky unwrapped his ankles and removed his gag. He slowly moved to the side of the door, trying to keep out of Matt's sight.

I can't get out of here by tiptoeing past Mr. Brilliant, and this room isn't big enough to hide in. Especially if they decide to put that gun to use. I need to get the police here, fast!

He moved to the edge of the door and peered around the corner. The hallway was empty, but he noticed a fire alarm mounted to the wall. It was between him and the front of the shop, which meant he could run head-on into the other two before he could pull it.

Making a split-second decision, he took a deep breath, took one last glance at Matt, and moved.

~*~*~

The call back from the dispatcher made Carter sit up and pay attention. The cab company had reported to dispatch that their driver was supposed to be on the way to James Avenue, which was miles away. The dispatcher had tried to contact the driver, but he wasn't answering.

"Well, that's not a good sign," Carter said, turning the patrol car around. He'd driven them a few blocks away from the cab while they had waited for a response. "I want to get a look at that cab once again, before I call it in. Make sure he's just not taking a leak back there or something."

Hutch's stomach unknotted a little.

"Probably just decided to catch a nap," Trent mumbled angrily. "We're gonna look like fools over this."

Suddenly, a loud sound knifed through the air, filling the streets with noise and making the hair stand up on the back of Hutch's neck. "It's a fire alarm!" he shouted in surprise.

"And it's coming from that building," Carter replied. "Trent, call it in and tell them we may have a situation here."

Trent did as he was told. Without turning on his lights or siren, Carter pulled the car up half a block from the building and threw it into park. "You, stay here!" Carter ordered Hutch, who had reached for his door latch before remembering he had none.

"But I can help!"

"You're not a cop," Trent said with a sneer before slamming the door and taking off after his partner.

Hutch could only watch through the windshield as Carter went to the front of the building and Trent headed down an alley to the back. Carter sidled up to the edge of the display window, leaned over carefully, and looked through the jewelry store window. He then jumped back and removed his gun. Before he even thought about it, Hutch found himself crawling over the seat of the patrol car and out the passenger door.

The fire alarm was loud, but from behind him, Hutch could hear the sirens of the approaching fire engines. Carter, both hands on the butt of his gun, was still looking around the corner of the display window. His body language told Hutch that something serious was going on inside, and he was afraid to show himself fully.

Hutch heard a sound echoing down the alley, back where Trent had gone. It was clear that whatever it was, Carter hadn't heard it.

I should stay here, but what if Trent needs help? Can I get Carter's attention without alerting someone inside?

Hutch couldn't just stand still. He headed down the alley, but before he got to the end he heard three shots and an angry yell. Catching his breath as he reached the corner, he went low before looking around it.

In the faint light he saw that the cab was still parked by the door, but all hell was breaking loose around it. People were fighting, and Hutch could barely hear the sound of scuffling and shouts under the sounds of the sirens. He barely recognized Trent, who was struggling with two men, while a third was running around the back of the cab.

Hutch moved, running as fast as he could down the back of the long building. He kept his eye on the struggle, hitting one of Trent's attackers mid-body, grunting as both he and his target hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The man under Hutch turned as soon as he hit the ground. His fist lashed out, and a solid punch to Hutch's jaw made his head ring and pain bloom in his mouth.

Another shot rang out. Hutch realized that Trent and his attacker were fighting for control of Trent's gun. Trent was yelling something Hutch couldn't understand.

If he loses control of that gun....

Hutch had his own worries. The man he was fighting was strong and had landed several blows to Hutch's ribs that threatened to take his breath away. At that moment, the cab motor started, and Hutch realized he and his opponent were going to be run over.

Hutch dived to the side, and he and his attacker rolled out of the way just as the cab lurched forward with a screech of tires.

Hutch almost lost it then, as his opponent tried to pin him down. Hutch landed a hard blow to his stomach. A door slammed and a dark shape rushed past him, slamming into Trent and the man he was fighting with.

Time...to take...this guy...out!

Hutch fought wildly, punching and elbowing when he could. He tried his best to get a grip on the other man, trying to put his wrestling training into play. In the dark, with both of them sweating and frantic, it was harder than Hutch thought it would be. He had just managed to get the man in a head-hold when the area seemed to flood with people who were yelling and shouting over the din of the building alarm.

"Police! Break it up! Get down on the ground!"

Hutch didn't have to see a gun to realize that some were being aimed at him. He immediately stopped fighting and rolled away from the man he had been skirmishing with. His collar was grabbed, and he was jerked back roughly away from the others before being shoved to his stomach on the parking lot asphalt.

He lay still as his hands were pulled together behind him, and he felt the sharp bite of handcuffs on his wrists. He tried to relax so he could show he wasn't a threat. Parts of his body were starting to complain, and he wondered what kind of bruises he was going to have when dawn came. The asphalt was hard under his head, and he carefully touched the split in his lip with the tip of his tongue.

Well, guess I got my excitement, after all. Luke's gonna kill me.

~*~*~

"I'm the cab driver!" Starsky yelled, grateful someone had finally turned off the building alarm and he could think again. He tried not to curse as he was shoved down to the ground in the parking lot and his arms were wrenched roughly behind his back. "I'm the hostage!"

At first, he'd been afraid the police were going to shoot him, since they had no way of knowing who the bad guys were or what was going on. He was careful not to move while his hands were being cuffed, but they were snapped tight enough to sting. The rest of his body was starting to ache in places he didn't want to think about.

"What cab?" All Starsky could see from his angle were cop shoes. He'd forgotten the cab had taken off.

"Piece of shit!" a voice above Starsky rang out. "I'll teach you to attack an officer!"

Pain flared through Starsky's ribs as someone kicked him hard.

There was sudden scuffling around him. "Hey, knock it off!" Someone grabbed his attacker and dragged him away.

"I was...trying to help!" Starsky yelled brokenly, gasping to catch his breath.

He could hear scuffling and scolding voices. "Knock it off, Trent!"

"This is one of the guys that attacked me! He went after my gun!"

"This isn't helping. We've got a wagon coming, and we'll sort this out at the station."

"He is the cab driver!" a different voice called out from behind Starsky. The person sounded as angry as Starsky felt. "I can identify him."

"You shut up!" Trent snarled. "You're in enough trouble, you..."

"Trent! Go sit in the car and calm down!" someone ordered.

There was no answer, but mixed in the noisy confusion Starsky heard someone stomp off, cursing a blue streak. He turned his head to the other side, trying to make out who had come to his defense.

The area grew lighter as cars were driven in to the crime scene and the headlights were used to illuminate the area. From where he was, everything started to look like props on some sort of theater stage. Only a few yards away, a blond man was sitting on the asphalt, his arms cuffed behind him. With surprise, Starsky recognized the passenger in the patrol car he had tried to signal.

It actually worked? He must've told them I was in trouble. But it looks like they're just now arresting him; how did he get involved in this mess?

He looked young, maybe in his early twenties. His headlight-lit hair was white and longish, curling wildly over his ears and collar in a messy tangle. Light blue eyes studied Starsky from a face with even features that could have graced the cover of Gentlemen's Quarterly if it weren't for the disheveled state of his hair and clothing and the smear of blood around a swollen lip.

"I should leave you locked up, Hutchinson," an officer yelled, as he leaned over and started unlocking the blond's handcuffs. "You were supposed to stay in the car, not go roaming around and getting in the way."

Starsky watched Hutchinson's face and could tell he didn't seem too repentant.

"C'mon, Carter. I thought Trent needed help," Hutchinson explained, rubbing his wrists. "And he had two guys all over him when I looked around the corner. But this guy wasn't one of them. He's the cab driver who was being kidnapped."

Carter grabbed Hutch's arm and yanked him up roughly, and at the same time, Starsky felt hands on his collar. He was pulled up to his feet as well.

"Hutchinson comes with me!" Carter bellowed. "Separate the rest of these guys and bring them in. We'll let the detectives sort it out at the station."

~*~*~

Where the hell is everyone, and what time is it? What kind of dump is this, anyway? I'm the victim here, but I've got to wait in a cell?

Starsky was on the floor, arms around his knees and his eyes closed. He was tired, sore, angry, and the day didn't look like it was going to get any better. The cell they had stuck him in after he gave his statement was full of muttering, moving, and complaining men he tried to ignore. He'd been in worse, dirtier places while overseas, but the injustice of the situation kept his stomach in angry knots.

At least they didn't throw me in with the guys that kidnapped me. As many times as they made me go over the whole story, you'd think they'd either let me go or charge me with something. What can they be waiting for?

Once at the station, Starsky had been fingerprinted, searched, and handcuffed to a chair in a ratty squadroom. A dull-eyed detective had listened to his story, asked dumb questions, and acted as if he were hard of hearing, making Starsky repeat his account of the evening over and over before he even started to type it up. By the time it was typed, in triplicate, Starsky was angry enough to read the report very carefully, not wanting to sign anything that could be taken the wrong way by anyone who read it. Then he was taken to the cells and left to wait for who knows what.

Maybe if I start shouting for a lawyer they'll have to do something. But what if they call my bluff and charge me? I can't afford anything but a public defender. I can't make any kind of bail, and I can't call Uncle Ben and Aunt Rose. This would give them a heart attack. They'd want to help, and I've been too big a drain on them already. And I'm not calling Ma. She's got enough on her hands with Nicky.

If I could've called John....

But Starsky knew he wouldn't have called his old mentor, John Blaine, even if he could find him. Starsky and Blaine had parted on tense terms right before Starsky had been drafted, and they hadn't talked since. Starsky's aunt and uncle had lost touch with the Blaines when they'd had to move, and Starsky didn't think the older man would want to hear from him. Not after all these years, and not to ask him to bail him out of another mess.

"That's him! That's the lazy, no-account troublemaker!"

The harsh voice stunned Starsky. He tried not to wince as he looked up through the cell bars. A huge man, Newman looked as if he'd dressed in the dark. His round face was now as red as the sparse hair that crawled over his head. There was another man with him who was dressed like a detective. By the look on Newman's face, Starsky was almost glad there was a solid set of bars between them.

"Mr. Newman, can you identify that man as being one of your employees?" the detective asked.

"I just knew this one was trouble!" Newman got right up to the bars and jabbed a finger in Starsky's direction. "I shoulda known he was up to something. I never shoulda let Benjamin talk me into hiring him. Good for nothing..."

"Hey! I didn't do nothin'!" Starsky rose, anger flowing through him at the mention of his uncle's name. "It's not my fault!"

"All right. All right," the man in the suit said loudly, putting his hands up in a command for silence. He turned back to Newman. "So, this is your cab driver? He works for you?"

Newman crossed his arms and glared at Starsky, who had had enough and glared back. "Oh, he worked for me last night, but as of now, he's not only out of a job but out of a paycheck as well."

"What?" Starsky yelped. He could barely believe his ears. "You can't keep my paycheck! This wasn't my fault! They kidnapped me!"

"My cab is ruined, and the cash box is gone!" Newman yelled. "They were your responsibilities. The night's receipts and the repairs for the bullet holes alone..."

"Knock it off!" The man in the suit grabbed Newman's arm and pulled him back. "That'll have to be settled between you two at a later time. Mr. Newman, just come with me, and we can finish with you. Mr. Starsky," the detective continued, turning to look at him, "I'll be with you in a few minutes."

Starsky could only grind his teeth in frustration and sit down, carefully. He had forgotten for a moment that some parts of him were very sore.

That son of a bitch! He can't hold me responsible for what happened. I didn't do anything but pick up the wrong people, and they almost killed me! What kind of justice is this? Man, I was safer in the Army.

~*~*~

Andy Robins sat in the dim light of the apartment, wishing the thin cheap curtains could keep more of the sun out. He had a headache that would kill an elephant, and taking aspirin hadn't helped. He needed some sleep but was too wired to get any. Every time a car passed outside the small house, he listened for it to stop, and for the cops to storm up the lawn.

A car did stop, and he bolted to the curtains to take a careful peek through the sides rather than the middle. It was his cousin, Douglas Trent.

Andy walked back to the recliner as Doug came in the door and slammed it behind him.

"What the fuck happened?" Doug shouted as soon as he saw Andy.

Andy came up out of his chair, anger and frustration making him want to attack. He clenched his fists to keep himself in control. "What the fuck happened? It went to hell, that's what happened! You were supposed to keep Carter busy and out of the way. How did you get there so fast?"

"We had a ride-along," Doug spat. He turned his back and stormed toward the bedroom so Andy had to follow him. "Damned pansy-assed college pretty-boy who's got some detective interested in him. We would've been on our way back to the station if he hadn't seen something wrong with the cab."

"What? How did he see the cab? How come you couldn't stop him? Distract him or something?"

"We were parked at the same stop light. What the hell was I gonna do? I didn't know the kid in the back had seen anything until he started whining to Carter. Man, if I coulda slugged Hutchinson to shut him up, I'd've done it then."

Andy took a deep breath and sat on the bed as Doug went into the adjacent bathroom. He ran a hand towel under the faucet, sat on the edge of the tub, and buried his face in it.

"It was supposed to be a piece'a cake," Andy said softly, suddenly feeling drained of energy. "Axe's guys get the cab and take care of the driver. I get them in the store, then dress like the cabbie and drive us all out of there. Who's gonna remember a cab leaving the scene? Ah, shit, Doug. I should've never let them talk me into helping grab any of the goods. Now they've got Axe's goons in custody. What if they talk?"

"They won't!" Doug snapped, looking up with a glare. "They can't afford to bring Axe, or us, into this. Those two'll get their throats slit right in their cells if they say a word. They won't talk."

"But I don't understand what happened out there. What went wrong?"

"I don't know. Bill panicked, I guess." Doug sighed and wiped his face with the cloth again. "They came running outside and didn't recognize me in the dark. Bill went after my gun. I could have helped you all get away if he hadn't jumped me like that. What was I supposed to do, let them get my gun and plug me by mistake? Then that college boy joined the party."

"What about the cabbie?" Andy was starting to feel sick. "He saw my face! He was supposed to be taken care of, so he couldn't ID us. Now..."

"Now we've got a problem," Doug said disgustedly.

"It may get worse," Andy said, bracing himself for the coming explosion. "After we got done grabbing things off the shelves, we were on our way to the back and...."

Doug looked up to glare at him, making Andy's heart lurch. "And?"

"When the fire alarm went off, and the cabbie jumped us, I'd already taken my gloves off." Andy swallowed as he saw Doug's face go pale. "He was a fighter, Doug! I was pushed backwards, onto one of the glass cases. When we were going at it...I...I think I touched a lot of places. And I...forgot to wipe down the steering wheel of the cab before I ditched it."

"Your prints," Doug said, going pale. "You left your goddamned prints everywhere, didn't you? If the lab matches those prints with the ones the alarm company took when they hired you, they'll be after you in a second."

And if they pull me in, they'll start looking at you, Andy thought. You don't trust me to keep quiet if push comes to shove. And maybe you're right.

He didn't say anything, and for a second he wondered if Doug was going to pull his gun and shoot him.

"You got any of the stuff?" Doug asked after a few minutes of tight-lipped silence.

"Most of it got left behind, when we made a break for it, but I grabbed one of the sacks as I ran to the cab. Gotta be thousands of dollars worth of jewelry in the bag."

"Get it; I've got an idea."

"We can't touch it!" Andy said, his fear growing to panic. "Axe is going to be looking for us. He'll know one of us got away with some of it. He's gonna be mad enough because his guys got nabbed. If he thinks we're holding out on him...."

Andy let the thought drift away. This was going to be a huge score for Axe, and the only way Andy and Doug could figure out to pay off all the gambling debts they owed him. Their contribution had been the idea, the location, the alarm disabled, and a promise that the local patrol car would be out of the way. If Axe wasn't happy with what he and Doug gave him, Andy didn't know where they were going to run to. If they were left alive to run.

"Axe is just gonna have to take what we give him," Doug snapped. "His guys were the ones that botched the job. I've got an idea how to slow things down and muddy the water a bit, but I need to go back to the station. I also need to find where that cabbie is. I've got some stuff from the station stashed away in case I ever needed it for anything, and now it's going to pay off. Maybe we can still get you out of this."

Andy felt his throat tighten. "And what if you can't?"

Doug came up to him, eyes glaring. "Then we get out of town. You just remember one thing, Andy. I'm not going down with you. So no matter what happens, you'd better keep your mouth shut, or I'll make you wish you had. Now, go get the goods. I don't have much time."

~*~*~

Outside the station, Starsky took a moment to take a breath of fresh air. It was still early, and the sun had just come up. The cool air felt nippy, but the sky held all the promise of a clear, bright day. He didn't feel in the mood to enjoy it.

It had taken almost an hour before they called his name and told him he was free to go. The detective who had brought Newman in to identify him, Luke Huntley, had apologized for the way he'd been treated, explaining there had been some confusion regarding the part he had played in the jewelry heist. When Starsky had pressed for details, Huntley had been polite but unhelpful. They had, at least, found his wallet and car keys inside the abandoned cab and were able to return them to him. His jacket was gone and his wallet had been emptied, leaving him with only pocket change.

He had been offered the use of their phones to call someone to come and get him, but there wasn't anyone he'd wanted to call. The taxi office was close enough that he could walk there to pick up his car. By that time, maybe he could figure out what he was going to do next. He started down the steps, his mind churning.

My rent's due, and I don't remember how much gas I've got in the car. I can't ask Ma to wire me any money, because she'd scrape it up and send it, even if it drained her dry. Starsky started down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets to ward off the chill. I don't seem to have many choices. I guess I'll have to see if I can stay with Uncle Ben and Aunt Rosie. I hate to, but...

A horn sounded behind him. As he turned to look up, a beat-up, green Volkswagen pulled up to the sidewalk beside him.

"Hey! You need a lift?"

Starsky was surprised to see the blond-haired guy who had stuck up for him. He walked over to the passenger window. "You're Hutchinson, right?" Starsky had to dig into his memory for the name.

"Yeah. Saw they finally let you out. You need a lift?"

Starsky eyed him suspiciously. He figured they were about the same age, but Hutchinson seemed to have one of those faces that made him look years younger. His hair was just as blond in the daylight as it had been at night and was almost down to his collar, cut in the current style that reminded Starsky how short his still was.

Hutchinson's eyes were a soft blue, and his features would probably have been described as the even, white bread, "all American boy" type if part of his nose hadn't been swollen, his eyes a bit bloodshot, and his bottom lip split. His black turtleneck looked a little dirty and pulled out of shape, and his slacks looked like they'd been left wadded up somewhere before he'd put them on.

"You some kinda cop?" Starsky asked, unsure if he wanted to take a chance on any more trouble. "Or were they haulin' you in last night?"

"Neither one," Hutchinson said with a slight smile. "I was just there for a ride-along. Wanted to see if I was interested in being a cop."

Starsky was unsure whether to believe him or not. "And you just happened to drive by at this time, and you just happened to know that I needed a ride?" He leaned against the passenger door, letting his face show his disbelief.

"Okay, I waited for you," Hutchinson admitted with a shrug. "I wanted to talk to you, and heard that your car is still at the cab company. Figured we could talk while I drove you there."

"We got somethin' to talk about?"

"We were both there last night, and I'd like to know what happened inside. Thought you'd like to know why the police kept you so long."

He's right, I would like to know. And he did help me out last night, even if the cops didn't believe him at first. And it's not like a con man would be interested in my pocket change.

"Might as well," Starsky said with a shrug. He opened the car door and realized that while Hutchinson's seat was pushed back as far as it would go, the passenger seat had been set far forward to accommodate a messy mixture of clothing, books, and what looked like assorted bicycle parts that filled the back seat. It took him a minute to get inside, and Starsky wondered if he was going to have an attack of claustrophobia before they got to the end of the block. "What's your first name, anyway?" Starsky asked.

Hutchinson pulled out into traffic. "It's Ken. I'm a student at Sheldon University."

"I'm..."

"You're David Michael Starsky, and you've worked for the Newman Cab Company for the last six weeks. Just out of the Army on an honorable discharge."

Starsky was surprised. "How'd you know all that?"

"When no one was watching, I took a quick look at the file they were putting together on you."

"How'd you get close to my file?"

"Detective Luke Huntley signed you out, right?" Hutchinson asked.

"Yeah. How'd...?"

"He's a friend of mine," Hutchinson admitted quickly. "I met him at the University about six months ago, when he gave a lecture on criminal science. He's been trying to help me decide what I want to do after I graduate. They called him in as soon as we got to the station."

"Why?"

Hutchinson winced. "Because they wanted him there when they nailed my hide to the wall. Ride-alongs aren't supposed to get involved with anything that goes down in a shift. The uniformed officers had at me first, then let him finish off the job. But once I told him what had happened and he saw that my story wasn't matching Trent's story..."

"Whose story? And what exactly did you tell them?"

"The uniformed officer that kicked you is Doug Trent. He's their main witness to what happened out back, except for you and me. And his version isn't exactly matching up with ours."

Starsky remembered the kick very well, and it still made him angry. He wasn't about to forget a cop who kicks a guy when he's down. "What's he sayin'?"

Hutchinson pulled into the parking lot of a small diner. He smiled at Starsky's surprised look. "Let's get something to eat. We can talk over breakfast. My turn to buy."

"Well...sure. I guess," Starsky said, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. Somehow, Hutchinson must have heard about them finding his wallet empty, and was trying to save him some embarrassment. He opened the door and started to unfold himself from the cramped seat. "Just remember, I'm keeping track."

~*~*~

Hutch sipped his coffee, trying to enjoy the warmth of the watered-down brew.

I should've known this place wasn't going to have anything good. Any diner that lets guys looking like us inside, without batting an eye, is probably more concerned about the quantity of the food than the quality.

They both looked like they'd been brawling. Hutch had noticed when they walked in that Starsky was moving a bit stiffly.

Wonder if he's just sore, or if that cop bruised his ribs? I'll bet anything Trent doesn't even get reprimanded for it.

Hutch took out his pack of cigarettes. Six were left. He took one out and lit it, folding the package carefully and putting it back in his pocket. Hutch had eaten very little of the salty over-cooked food. He hadn't been very hungry, anyway, but had ordered a full meal so Starsky would feel comfortable ordering anything he wanted.

And he had wanted it. Hutch could tell the man was half-starved by the way he'd become restless at the smell of food once they'd entered the diner. There weren't many people in for breakfast, so they had been served quickly, which was fine with Hutch. It gave him a chance to study Starsky a little more before he decided how much to tell him.

A couple of inches shorter than him, Starsky was wider across the shoulders and more muscular. He had dark blue eyes, and short dark hair. If his eyebrows and lashes were anything to go by, it would probably be pretty curly if left to grow. He had a strong chin and nose, and a smile that seemed to take over the right half of his face when it was real. And his voice had a New York background to it that seemed to be hidden under something more Californian.

"You gonna eat that?" Starsky asked, pointing his fork at the barely touched pancakes and eggs on Hutch's plate. His eyes were hopeful.

"Go ahead."

Starsky looked at him with speculation, then pushed his plate aside as he pulled Hutch's closer to him. He didn't hesitate to dig in.

"Listen, Hutchinson..."

"Hutch. My friends call me Hutch."

"Hutch," Starsky repeated, then nodded as if it sounded right to him. "Okay, Hutch. You can call me what you want, except 'Davey.' Only my ma calls me that. Now, what exactly did this Trent guy put in his reports?"

Hutch leaned forward, both elbows on the table, and lowered his voice. "I only know what Luke told me, and what I could pick up from some of the other officers while they were making phone calls to your boss. Trent's report seems to tie you into the robbery in some way. I think he told them you came out the back with the others and that you attacked him."

Starsky stopped eating and placed his fork down with exaggerated care, his face flushed and angry. He kept his voice low as well. "Then he's a damned liar. I had nothing to do with any of it, and I sure as hell didn't attack him."

"I know," Hutch said. "I was there, and I know full well that you didn't. But that's why they held you for a while. They wanted to check you out, make sure you were who you said you were. It didn't help that you didn't have any ID when they took you in."

Starsky sighed and rubbed at his face. He looked ready to crash. "Well, at least they finally believed us and let me out."

"It's not a closed case," Hutch said reluctantly. "Not with that third guy who took off in the cab still on the loose. They're still at the crime scene. It's a mess, and they're still taking inventory, collecting photos and prints. They decided to let you go because there were witnesses to Trent kicking you, and they were afraid you'd call in a lawyer and make a stink about the assault. They know where to find you if they find something they don't like, and they figured the odds are you won't file a report against Trent if they let you think you're totally in the clear."

"Well, that's just great." Starsky sighed. "The joke's on them, 'cause I won't be at that address after noon if I can't come up with my next week's rent. Unless I can get my paycheck back, it looks like I'm gonna have to move in with my aunt and uncle, or live in my car."

"What happened to your paycheck?"

Starsky snorted in disgust. "My boss came to the station to ID me and told me he's keeping my pay. I guess they found the cab abandoned; it's got bullet holes in it from the struggle, and the cash box is gone. They cleaned it out when they cleaned out my wallet. At least I got that back."

"He can't do that!" Hutch said angrily. "That's not your responsibility. He's supposed to have insurance for that."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Sue Newman and wait a month or more for it to go to court? I don't have the money for that. I'm sure he'd like me to storm in and take a swing at him, 'cause he'd love to have a reason to stick me back in the slammer. He's never liked me, and he'd file charges in a minute. But I'm too tired for that, anyway. It's been a hell of a long day."

The waitress came up, offering to top off their coffee. Both refused and Hutch asked for the check.

"Have you got other family around, besides your aunt and uncle?" Hutch asked, wondering how much Starsky was willing to reveal of himself. "I'm actually from Minnesota, so it's just me out here on the coast."

Starsky shrugged. "Just them. They've been here for years. But..." Starsky's voice trailed off, and he looked a bit uncomfortable.

"You're not close?" Hutch asked softly. He had heard the reluctance in Starsky's voice when talking about moving in with them.

Starsky was silent while the waitress came up and placed the check on the table. After she left he smiled slightly. "They'd do anything for me. It's just that they're not doing too well. My aunt is really sick, and my uncle has all he can do to take care of her. Uncle Benjamin's businesses are going under fast. They've even had to sell their house and can now barely make it in a one-bedroom apartment. They took me in years ago. I know it was hard on them, since my mother couldn't send much to support me. Me movin' back in would be hard on all of us, and I don't want to burden them any more than I already have."

I wonder why they had to take him in. Hutch thought before asking his next question. "No one else?"

"Not here. My mother's in New York, and I've got a fifteen-year-old brother. Ma's got her hands full, raisin' him. I'm not gonna add to that kind of stress." Starsky shrugged, as if it were of no importance. "I got some old high school friends I could look up, see if they're still around. Not all of 'em got drafted."

"You can bunk with me," Hutch said, surprising himself with how easy it was to make the offer. He liked his privacy and rarely brought people to his place. "It's not much, but you're welcome to camp out on the floor for a few days."

Starsky looked him over speculatively, as if seeing him for the first time. "Why?"

The question sounded like simple curiosity, but Hutch felt there was a question of pride underneath it.

"You said you might look up some old friends and see if you could stay with them. Why not stay with me?"

The look in Starsky's eyes was serious, while the tone of his voice stayed casual. "You're not an old friend, and I don't know you from Adam or Eve. I already owe you a breakfast and a ride. Maybe I don't want to be in debt to a stranger any more than I already am."

"I could be a friend." Hutch smiled, then nodded that he understood what Starsky was saying. "You can also earn your keep. I've got an arrangement with the landlady and pay part of my rent in yard work for her. I also run errands. You help me out with that, and we'll be square on the room. When you get paid, you chip in for food and we'll have that taken care of."

He could almost see Starsky's mind working through the offer. They were both tired, and Hutch knew that camping out in his car wasn't something Starsky was looking forward to.

"Your landlady won't mind you having company?"

Hutch smiled, knowing the decision had been made. "Not unless you happen to be a girl under all those clothes. Miss James is a little old fashioned and frowns on female guests. I think she's worried about my virtue."

They laughed, and Hutch felt a strange relief that he wasn't going to lose track of Starsky. He picked up the bill and ground out his cigarette. "Come on. We'll get your car and pack up your stuff before they throw it out on the street. I've got an afternoon class, and I need to squeeze in few hours' sleep."

"Sounds good to me. I know I need some shut-eye myself," Starsky said. His smile was shy and crooked. He dug into his pockets and took out what Hutch assumed was his last bit of change. "Least I can do is leave the tip."

~*~*~

Hutch sat on an old stump in the corner of the yard, trying not to yawn for the hundredth time. It was just after 8:00 a.m., and this morning the quiet tree-lined street, only a few miles from the edge of the university campus, was so quiet and peaceful it threatened to put Hutch to sleep.

If he doesn't get here soon, I'm gonna doze off. Wonder how much stuff he had to pack? Hope he remembered how to get here. Don't know how much of the city he knows, and he's not been a cabbie long enough to have hit the outskirts of town that often.

He had left Starsky at the cab company parking lot so he could pick up his car. He'd given him this address and specific directions. The plan was that Starsky would check out of his rented room, throw his stuff in the back of his car, and meet Hutch here. That had left enough time for Hutch to grab a quick shower, straighten up some, make a grocery list, and worry about Starsky finding him.

Hutch heard Starsky's car before he saw it. The loud rumble of the fifteen-year-old Dodge Meadowlark made it hard to miss, even if you could ignore the mismatched yellow paint job webbed with rust spots. When Starsky had pointed it out to him in the lot, he had sounded proud of it, although Hutch didn't see why. That car was even older than his.

Starsky pulled up into the driveway, behind Hutch's VW. Hutch noticed the back was filled with a few boxes, a knapsack, and an old scratched-up suitcase held shut with some kind of electrical wire.

Getting out, Starsky leaned on the top of the car to study the area. Hutch opened the back door to help unpack, and Starsky jogged around the front of the car to join him.

"All I need is the knapsack," Starsky said. "The rest will be okay locked in the car."

Hutch reached in and grabbed the knapsack, slamming the door shut. "Doesn't look like you have to bother locking it. They could just reach in through the rust spots and grab what they want anyway." Grinning, he tossed the knapsack to Starsky and turned to walk around the side of the garage.

"Look who's talking!" Starsky said incredulously as he followed Hutch. "At least mine's a real American car, not a puke green Volkswagen that makes me ride with my knees in my face."

Hutch smiled at the return jab. "I've got a room over the garage. The stairs are at the back. Be careful because they're kinda steep."

"For a college boy, I figured you'd be in a fraternity or something," Starsky said, looking over the house and yard to the left of the garage. The house was older and small with a tiny yard in front, but a very large space in the back. The garage was set apart from the house, almost hidden from the street by the large trees. "This doesn't exactly look like a party place."

Hutch laughed. "That's because it isn't. Miss James is an elderly lady who only rents out to people she feels she can trust. She doesn't ask for much in cash, as she needs help with the yard. I spent a couple of years in the dorm, but found I wasn't concentrating enough on my classes when there were a lot of people around."

"She doesn't have any family? You know, to help her out?"

Hutch started up the stairs, digging his key out of his pocket. "Oh, she has lots of family. In fact, one of her nephews introduced me to her when I was looking for a place to stay. She just likes the extra money and the help around the house and yard, so she feels like she's independent from them."

Hutch opened the door and walked inside. Starsky walked in and took a look around.

"Just throw your stuff on the bed. The bathroom is the door at the end, and I just set out clean towels. Help yourself. I'll just check on Miss James, and see if she's up yet. I need to let her know I'm back so she won't worry about the extra car in the drive. Won't take but a minute."

~*~*~

As the door closed behind Hutch, Starsky looked around. Hutch's place was nothing like the room Starsky had been renting. The room was painted white, which made it looked bigger than expected from the outside. Several large windows on the left looked out on the house and garden next door. A brightly colored, circular rug covered most of the wood floor. A twin bed, covered in a clean but worn green coverlet, was pushed against the wall right under the windows. At the head of the bed was a nightstand with a small lamp, a paperback book titled "Crime Prevention and the Common Man," and an alarm clock. The windows had been cracked open, and the room smelled like spring.

At the other end of the building, was a door that led to the bathroom. It was flanked by an armoire on one side and a bookshelf full of books and a stack of clean towels on the other. On the wall opposite the bed were a couple of small cabinets with a kitchen sink, small counter and hot place, and some overhead cupboards. There was just enough room left along the wall for the cluttered desk that held a lamp and telephone amongst various books and papers.

Next to the door was a deep, built-in bookshelf that held not only books, but a radio, a record player, and a large stack of records lying flat on a shelf. Starsky noticed the turntable and speakers made a top-of-the-line stereo system. He looked through the records, finding Bob Dylan's "Highway 61 Revisited" and a Beatles album, but most were either classical, blues, or jazz. All were carefully handled and some Starsky recognized as pretty expensive.

Wandering over to the desk, he noticed notes, catalogs, mail, and books piled up, in no real order. There were a few letters, one addressed to "T. Kenneth Hutchinson," and an art supply catalog.

Starsky picked up a heavy textbook that looked brand new. It was titled "Professional Accounting II," and flipping through, Starsky thought it looked just as dry and dull as it sounded. He noticed the other books were all either business or accounting. All looked new and very expensive.

Hutch must have some money. He's got quite a record collection, and neither the records nor the books were bought used. His stereo system took a chunk of change, and he never mentioned a job outside of helping his landlady. He must get a good allowance from his parents, or had a great summer job.

Pop always said he'd move Heaven and Earth to see me go to college. He'd've done it, too, if he hadn't been killed. Wonder what I would have majored in?

The "what ifs" of his own past tried to slip to the front of Starsky's mind, but he pushed them away. His father's death, the ill health of his aunt, and his being drafted was just the way his life had unfolded. After four years in the Army, he'd learned that nothing good came of dwelling on the "what ifs" in life. It only made you regret what couldn't be changed.

Suddenly, the night seemed to catch up to Starsky, and he felt his strength start to ebb away. He turned back to the bed and opened his knapsack to pull out some clean clothes for his shower. The bathroom was spotlessly clean and had enough hot water to sooth the bruises and sore spots he'd collected during the night. It felt like Heaven.

Starsky was drying his hair with a towel when he heard movement in the other room. He slipped into boxers and an undershirt, then opened the door slightly to make sure it was Hutch.

"There you are! Feel better?" Hutch asked with a smile. He was spreading a sleeping bag out on the floor and covering it with an armful of quilts. An extra pillow was waiting on the bed. "Miss James and I had a visit about last night, and I filled her in. She's fine with you staying and wants to meet you later, after we get some sleep."

"Yeah." Starsky yawned heavily. "I'd like to meet her, too. You need the bathroom?"

"Nope, I'm fine." Hutch stood up and tossed the pillow down on the bedding. His yawn matched Starsky's. "I'll set the alarm, since I've got a class at three that I shouldn't miss. Once I pull the blinds, we'll be all set."

Neither of them said a word as they settled in. The room was dark and quiet, with only a few outside noises to bother them. Yet, as tired as he was, sleep didn't come to Starsky right away. His mind kept going over and over the kidnapping and everything that had happened afterward.

There must have been a way for me to tell they were bad guys. Something they did or didn't do that I could have picked up on. Maybe if I hadn't been so eager to make my quota. Maybe...

"Starsky?"

Starsky opened his eyes and saw Hutch peering at him over the edge of the bed.

"I don't want to keep you awake, but I was wondering what happened inside the jewelry store. If you want to wait..." Hutch suggested softly.

"They didn't tell you?" Starsky asked with mild surprise. "I must've given my statement a hundred times. I figured even the meter maids knew about it."

"Me?" Hutch sighed. "Hey, I was lucky Luke told me anything at all, and that was all mixed in with his chewing my butt off. He just gave me the bare highlights."

"Oh, well...the guy in the front of the cab, Bill, was the only one I saw with a gun. Couldn't miss it, since he pretty much kept it in my ribs. There was a second guy, in the back. That was Matt. Then there was a third guy, who met us on a street corner and he let us all in. He's the one that got away. Never did hear a name for him. I think he must've been an employee of the jewelry store or something."

"An inside job?"

"Had to be," Starsky agreed. "Even if he broke in first, no alarms went off. Someone had to turn them off, 'cause I don't think a place with a fire alarm as loud as that one had, is going to go without a regular alarm."

"Yeah, you're right. You get a good look at him?"

"Good enough that I'd know him if I ever see him again."

"Then what happened?"

"They dragged me inside and used duct tape to tie up my hands and feet. I worked the tape loose by tearing and stretching it on a bolt in some metal shelves they propped me up against. I was gonna make a break for it, but...."

"But?"

Starsky hesitated, since this was the part the detective who took his statement seemed to disbelieve. "I couldn't just let them get away with it, you know? I didn't know if I could make it to the door, 'cause I wasn't real sure where the guy with the gun was. I just felt if I didn't catch someone's attention pretty quickly, they could get away, and they weren't gonna leave a witness behind."

"You think they were going to kill you?"

"I just had a feeling I would've been the last thing they'd take care of before they left."

"So, you got loose inside the store."

"I ran toward the front of the building and pulled the fire alarm."

"We heard it go off," Hutch said around a yawn. "I don't think either Trent or Carter really thought anything was wrong until they heard it. It really got their attention."

"I had just barely pulled it before Matt jumped me from behind, and the other two came around the corner. I kept running forward, right into the guy who let us in. All four of us landed in a heap, just inside the showroom. Bill and Matt were too surprised to react right away, and the gun went sailing. It landed in the open part of the store and broke a lot of glass. More glass broke in some of the cases while we were fighting, and we all made a mess trying to get to the gun. The cops said we were lucky none of us got seriously cut. I know I got enough bruises, though."

Funny how things slow down at those moments. The most important thing in the world was that gun and who would control it. No way could I let them get the draw on me again.

"That's what Carter must have seen in the front window," Hutch murmured. "He couldn't do anything from there, because of the security gate over the doors and windows. Must've been a free-for-all inside, and he saw part of it."

Starsky closed his tired eyes and shrugged. "They couldn't take much time to fight with me. We all made a scramble for the gun, but it had slid under one of those cases out in the middle of the room. They couldn't get to it without exposing themselves, and the fire trucks were on their way. So they gave up on it. One of them got a good hit in, and for a minute I didn't know up from down. By the time my eyes uncrossed, I realized they'd made their escape out the back. I followed them out, forgetting the gun, 'cause by then I was more mad than scared. I didn't want them to get away."

"Then when you came out behind them, you saw me fighting with one guy and a cop fighting with another."

"And some guy taking off with my cab," Starsky continued drowsily. "I was worried about the cop. He and Bill were in a tangle over the cop's gun, but I wasn't going to let Bill get it. He'd use it for sure, so I tackled him before he could get it."

"You come to Trent's rescue, then he treats you like shit," Hutch said. Opening his eyes for a peek at Hutch, Starsky saw anger in his eyes. "I can't believe he thought you were attacking him, then he kicked you when you were down and cuffed. I knew he was an asshole; I just didn't realize how low he could go until then."

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Starsky closed his eyes. Sleep was starting to fuzz the edges of his brain, and he welcomed it.

"Almost wished I'd been there to see it. Sounds like you put up a hell of a fight."

"Right now, all my bruises agree with you." Starsky chuckled softy. "But it woulda been a lot worse if you hadn't been outside to help. Always nice to have as many people as possible on your side."

"I didn't do all that..." Hutch yawned. "...much."

He did a lot more than he'll admit to, apparently. I could've been shot, or still be in a cell, if he hadn't stuck up for me. Yet, how much does he really know about me? Hardly anything now, and nothing at the time. And what I know about him is next to nothing, except that I like him.

"Hey, Hutch?" Starsky whispered, feeling sleep dull the edges of the world. "Where'd you say you were from?"

"Minnesota. Grew up in Duluth."

"Yeah? So what're you doing out here, besides going to school?" Starsky asked. He peeked again and saw Hutch's eyes were closed. "You said you didn't have any family out here."

"Came out here because there wasn't any family." He made a snorting sound. "Wanted the sun, the beach, the natives...and to be out on my own for a while. Don't get me wrong, though. My parents are great people and I've got a wonderful sister, but I just needed my own space, you know?"

"You like it out here? Gonna stay?"

"I'd like to," Hutch said wistfully. "My parents expect me to come back."

Doesn't sound like you wanna go. I know the feeling.

A stray thought flashed through his mind as he started to drift off. "Hutch?"

"Mmmm?"

"Whasss your first name?"

That seemed to wake Hutch up a bit. He looked blearily over the side of the bed. "Wha...uh...what do you mean?"

"On an envelope...T. Kenneth...."

Hutch blinked once, slowly, then turned away from him. "I need some sleep. Got a class...."

Starsky let it go, as it was too hard to think anymore. But one thought did wiggle its way out, and it made him smile.

Well, that's interesting. I've always loved a mystery!

~*~*~

The five-hour nap had done Hutch a world of good, giving him the energy, if not the interest, to get ready for his afternoon class. Starsky had decided to get up when he heard the alarm as well, saying he might as well go job hunting. They dressed quickly, sharing a quick snack of crackers and peanut butter to tide them over until dinnertime. As they left, Hutch showed Starsky where the spare key was hidden. It was almost 2:00 p.m. before Hutch was ready to knock on Miss James' door, with Starsky at his side.

The meeting went well, and Miss James seemed to approve of Starsky. Hutch didn't know how old she was, but he guessed she was in her late eighties. Small, just over five feet tall, the dignified black lady could seem larger than life when she got her dander up. Hutch had seen her chase more than one set of trespassers off her property with nothing more than a broom and a righteous attitude.

Since Hutch had a class to attend, they turned down her offer of pie and conversation. She agreed with the idea of Starsky helping Hutch with the yard in exchange for being allowed to stay, and told Starsky he was welcome to store his personal things in the garage, if he could find room for them.

After excusing themselves, they decided it would only take a few minutes to unload Starsky's car.

"Just the stuff in the back seat," Starsky said, as Hutch started to help him unpack. "I've got some stuff in the trunk, but I have other plans for those things."

"Hey, you got any plans?" Hutch asked, as he looked for a place to put the box in an already packed garage. He found a spot and went back for another box, passing Starsky coming in with a box of his own.

"Thought I might drop back by the cab company and have a talk with Newman. I don't think he can legally withhold my pay, so maybe if I let him know I'd be willing to sue him for it he'll hand it over."

"Just don't let him push you into doing something stupid. From what you told me, he'd love that."

"Nah, I won't." Starsky smiled, placing the last box in the garage and helping Hutch pull down the door to lock it. "This morning I might've, 'cause I was too tired to be nice."

"Look, there's a place downtown I know of, a friend of mine works there," Hutch said. "Food's not bad, and if my friend's working, he'll know what kind of jobs are open. He's got family all over the city. We can meet there later this evening, and if things don't pan out for you today, we can see if he's got some ideas."

"Where and when?"

As Hutch walked around the front of his car, his eye was drawn to the left front tire. It was as flat as a pancake.

"Aw, damn!" Hutch slapped the hood in anger. "That's the second time this month! And I don't know if the spare's any good."

Starsky walked over to take a look. "Looks like a cheap retread. You never can tell how many miles you'll get out of those. You want a ride to your class?"

"It's out of your way."

"Yeah, like I got a timetable," Starsky said with a shrug and a smile. He turned toward his car. "Let's get goin'."

Starsky started the engine and Hutch slid in, putting his books between them as Starsky pulled into the street.

"Where exactly am I taking you?" Starsky asked.

"Just drop me off in front of the library. I can hike it from there. You know where that is?"

"Sure. I've taken a few fares to the campus."

While the outside of Starsky's car had seen better days, the inside was clean and well taken care of. Hutch had to admit to himself that the inside of his own vehicle did look pretty bad in comparison.

"So, you takin' business classes?" Starsky asked, sounding genuinely interested.

As they turned a corner, Hutch's books started to slide and he reached for them, missing one. It fell onto the floorboard and he bent down to retrieve it. "Yeah, I'm working on a degree in Accounting. I guess."

"You guess?"

Lifting the large book, he felt a piece of cloth trapped between his fingers and the book cover. Before he knew it, he'd pulled a small black bag out from under the seat

"It's a long, boring story. Maybe I'll tell it to you sometime, if you're unlucky." Setting the book on top of the others, he leaned down to stuff the bag back under the seat. A golden, glittering object fell out of the bag and landed next to Hutch's foot.

"Oh, sure," Starsky said with a laugh. "I can hardly wait for a long, boring story. Maybe..."

"Starsky?" Surprised, Hutch picked up the ring. "What's this?"

"What's what?"

Hutch held up the ring. It glittered a brilliant white and green.

Starsky's eyes grew wide and startled. "Damn!" Forcing his eyes back to the road, he slowed the car and pulled over. "That's not mine."

As soon as the car stopped, Starsky grabbed the ring. Hutch opened the top of the dark-colored bag and looked in side. There were more rings inside, mixed in with twists of gold chains.

"This is from the robbery," Starsky said softly. Glancing at him, Hutch realized his friend was as stunned as he sounded.

"So are these." Hutch handed over the bag, giving Starsky a moment to look inside.

Starsky looked up at him, his eyes wide with astonishment and growing anger. "Someone's trying to set me up."

Hutch reached over and grabbed the ring from Starsky's hand. He threw it back into the sack to hide it from sight, his mind racing. "I think we'd better get off the street. The cops catch you with this..."

"And I betcha they're on their way, right now," Starsky said. He slammed the steering wheel in anger. "Man, I can't believe this!"

"So, beat them to it. I can call Luke Huntley and tell him what we've found."

Starsky looked at Hutch worriedly. His voice was almost a whisper. "And he's gonna believe I'm not mixed up in this? He didn't know me before this morning, Hutch, and I'm not sure he believed me."

"I can..."

"What? Vouch for me?" Starsky sighed and shook his head. "I could be a serial killer, just on the edge of getting caught. How're you gonna swear I'm not?"

Hutch realized Starsky was right. They didn't know each other very well.

Do I really want to get involved in all this? I've got my classes to consider. Last night was just supposed to be a look into police work, and I've not only offered my room to someone I just met, but I'm putting myself in the middle of a bad situation. Why?

He didn't know why. All he knew was that he couldn't imagine walking away from it...from him.

What happened last night wasn't, right and neither is this. I can't just let it play itself out without trying to make it right. Whatever that means. He's being set up for a big fall, and I can't just leave him to face this alone.

"Start the car," Hutch said firmly, looking up and down the street to make sure there weren't any patrol cars headed their way. "I know just where we can get to a pay phone. I'll call Luke from there and see what's up. Then we'll decide what to do."

"We, huh?" Starsky asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. We. Let's just say I'd like to see something turn out right today."

~*~*~

Starsky looked out through the dirty blinds of the record store, watching the street for any sign of the police. Hutch might be optimistic about the way this would turn out, but Starsky wasn't. Even good cops, like John Blaine, made mistakes, and Starsky wasn't eager to sit behind bars while it got sorted out.

He's been hanging on that phone for an awfully long time. That can't be good. Even if they put him on hold, he should know something by now. Glancing back through the crowd, Starsky saw Hutch leaning against the inside of the phone booth, his head turned away. Can't tell if he's talking or listening. If he's listening, I sure hope it's good news.

He patted his front jacket pocket, feeling better when he felt the bulk of the jewelry bag. Starsky had already made use of the pawnshop next door, selling a few souvenirs from his stint in Thailand for cash. For once, having everything he owned in the back of his car had been a good thing. He'd hate to be broke and on the run. At least he had someone on his side. Someone with connections that might help him out of this mess.

He actually trusts me. Starsky kept his eyes on the passing traffic. Here I am, with a bunch of stolen jewelry in one pocket, heading for a pawnshop, and he never bats an eye. I could have been in the car and headed for the border by now, my wallet full of cash. I'd say he's either the most naive guy I've ever met, or he's one hell of a judge of character. I'll take the latter when it comes to him and his detective friend. If Hutch trusts Luke Huntley, he must be an okay guy.

Hutch was just hanging up the phone when he glanced back. Starsky started toward him when Hutch, stone faced, shook his head.

Doesn't look like it's good news.

Hutch headed straight for the door, and Starsky followed him outside. Halfway down the block, Hutch turned into an alley and walked past a dumpster, then checked around them before leaning back against the wall. They were alone and out of sight from the street.

Starsky leaned a shoulder against the wall and watched as Hutch took out a cigarette and lit it. He took a drag and offered it to Starsky.

Starsky waved it off. He knew the walk and cigarette were a stall.

Hutch took another drag, then nodded, his eyes on Starsky. "Okay, here's what's up. They're looking for you, as an accessory to the robbery."

Starsky felt the news settle like a rock in his stomach. He sighed. "I figured whoever planted that stuff on me was gonna give the police a tip about it."

"Worse than that."

"Worse? How?" Starsky asked, surprised.

"They found your prints inside the store."

"Well, yeah, I was in that storeroom, and..."

"No," Hutch interrupted impatiently. "They found your prints on some of the glass cases that had been opened. Up near the front of the store, away from where the guys jumped on you."

Starsky felt as if he'd been mentally slapped. "But I wasn't near any of those places!"

"So you say," Hutch said, watching him carefully. "But the other two suspects have clammed up, and a car's been sent out to bring you in. When they don't find you at your old address...."

Starsky felt sick. They'll find the first thing I did was and go pack my things. They'll think I'm already on my way outta town. It won't take them long to find Uncle Ben and Aunt Rose and start asking them questions.

Starsky rubbed at his face, feeling as if the world had just collapsed on him. "I gotta turn myself in. Now."

"Starsky, you can't! Don't you see...?"

"I see that it looks like I'm on the run!" Starsky exploded, pushing away from the wall because he suddenly couldn't keep still. "I know that the cops are lookin' for me. If I dump the jewelry it'll look like I'm trying to get rid of evidence. At least, if I turn myself in with the jewelry, they'll have to take that into consideration."

"And let them keep planting evidence against you?" Hutch threw his cigarette butt down and ground it out with his heel. His eyes flickered angrily. "Someone is setting you up, and the only people I can think of who would profit from doing that would be those in on the heist. The cops already have two of the three guys at the scene. So..."

"So it must be the third guy, the one who got away in my cab," Starsky finished angrily. "I didn't get that good a look at him, and he could be a hundred miles away by now."

"Then why isn't he?" Hutch asked excitedly. "Why waste some of the stuff he did get, on you? He'd just pocket it or fence it, and take off. But he didn't." Hutch raised a finger as he made his point. "He's afraid that you, or the cops, can identify him!"

"Or...he can't just disappear. It would look too suspicious." Starsky crossed his arms as he started to walk back and forth to help him think. "We know damn well they must have help from the inside. That third guy just opened the door for them and the alarm didn't go off."

"And how did your fingerprints show up on cases you were nowhere near?" Hutch asked, his eyes daring Starsky to answer him. "They could have had you followed for a while to get copies of them, but why do that? They could have picked any cabbie for a get-away car. I still think you were just a random kidnapping. So where did your prints come from?"

Starsky thought about it, then shrugged. "I don't know. They couldn't have been found where they said they were. So, either they were planted there, or...someone lied about finding them there. Someone in the Department."

"Someone in the Department," Hutch repeated with conviction.

Starsky took a moment to digest the thought. It was the only answer that fit. Then another thought came to him. "Huntley told you all this?"

Hutch shook his head. "I talked to his partner, Joe Turner. I know Luke's not happy with me right now and doesn't want me involved in this any more than I am. He'd just yell at me some more and tell me to read about it in the paper. So, I asked to talk to Joe instead. Joe's a nice guy, but if you let him talk about a case, he'll end up telling you everything in the reports. He knows I was there, so he thought I'd be interested."

"Turner didn't ask you where I was?"

"No." Hutch shrugged. "Why would he think I knew where you were? We met outside the station, remember?"

"Someone must have seen us together, or saw me get into your car. How else did they know where my car was parked?"

"They could have planted it in the car when you were at the station."

"Or they could have planted it while we were asleep," Starsky suggested. "Someone could've slit your tire, wanting to make sure we could only use my car. Maybe they even wanted to make sure you were in it, so we'd both be arrested."

"Yeah, could be."

"I've dragged you into this far enough," Starsky said.

Starsky turned and started toward the front of the alley. "You can catch a cab. I'm going to the station."

"Wait a minute!" Hutch grabbed his shoulder from behind, and Starsky shrugged it off. A second later, his arm was grabbed and Starsky was pulled to a stop. "We've still got Luke. I told you, he'll listen. We give him all the details and..."

"And what, Hutch?" Starsky asked quietly. He could see in Hutch's face how much he wanted to help. "He'll still have to take me in, right? He doesn't know me. I just got out of the Army, barely able to make it on my own, and no one's going to blink an eye if I get tied up in this mess but my relatives, and they're not in a position to help me. Look..." Starsky looked Hutch in the eye and touched his shoulder. "You're a good guy, and I appreciate your help more than I can say, but there's no reason your name needs to get dragged into this. You're already in trouble with Huntley, you missed your class, and now that I've got some money, I can put a down payment on a lawyer I pick out myself. As long as I can keep my aunt and uncle out of it, that's all I can hope for."

"We can get you off," Hutch insisted. "I know we can. I'm willing to see this though. What have you got to lose?"

What have you got to lose? Starsky thought. I'm in over my head here, and if Huntley takes me in, I'll end up in jail anyway, just later rather than sooner. But I don't think Hutch's gonna let me say no.

"It's your dime," Starsky said with resignation. "Give him a call. At least we'll get it over with."

~*~*~

Hutch found himself picking idly at a paper napkin, tearing tiny ragged edges off of it. The sandwich Starsky had bought him remained mostly untouched, but the coffee was good. Starsky, on the other hand, had ordered a full meal and had eaten it like a condemned man, quickly and seriously. Hutch didn't blame him for not wanting to chat. Finally giving in to his craving, he took out his pack and lit a cigarette.

Three left. Wonder if I'm going to make it through the weekend without buying a new pack.

"You didn't eat much," Starsky said as he laid down his fork. "You'll make yourself sick that way. And those cigarettes might last longer if you filled up."

Hutch smiled and shrugged. "I get enough. And right now, it's better on the plate than sitting like a rock in my stomach."

"You're nervous?" Starsky laughed, then picked up his coffee cup for a sip. "Why? You're not the one they're out looking for."

"Well, Luke wasn't exactly thrilled with me. Who the hell do I think I am, insisting that he play this our way? I think he's starting to regret knowing me."

"But he listened," Starsky said quietly. "To tell you the truth, I've been half expecting a bunch of patrol cars to pull up any minute. He could've had this place covered before we got here, and I'd already be in cuffs if he didn't trust you in some way. He's gotta have some respect for you to have agreed to talk to us first."

"We'll see how much of that respect is left when all this is over." Hutch shrugged, trying to pretend it didn't matter.

"You said before that you guessed you were getting a degree in Accounting. That sounds a little strange. Don't you graduate this year?"

"I should, unless I flunk these classes," Hutch admitted. Part of him was thankful for the change in subject, the other part wished Starsky had chosen something else to talk about. "It's just...well... You ever come to a point in your life when you realized you don't know who you are? And that maybe you were actually doing things for other people, to meet their expectations, instead of creating your own?"

Starsky pushed his plate aside and leaned on his elbows. His eyes were serious, but his smile understanding. "Yeah, I think so. I take it you don't think you're born to be an accountant?"

"I am, if you listen to my parents," Hutch said, and he could hear the harsh tone in his voice. He rolled the cigarette tip in the ashtray, knocking off a little ash. "I'm supposed to come back with this degree and blend right in. The family businesses always need accountants they can depend on, and who else can be trusted with the books, except family?"

"You've had second thoughts."

"Every day for the last two years," Hutch admitted. "I just don't think that's what I want to do with my life. Not right now, anyway."

"And the ride-along was to get a glimpse into being a cop."

"Yeah. I thought about switching to pre-Med a couple years ago. I've taken some First Aid classes, because I feel like I want to help people." Hutch shrugged and took a sip of his coffee before checking his watch. "But it didn't really feel right for some reason. When I heard Luke talk at the college about crime and crime prevention, and how important it is to be out there, protecting the public...well, it just sounded like it was important."

"To serve and protect. To keep the wolves from the door and the bad guys from taking over." Starsky nodded as he spoke. "I know the feeling. John Blaine used to make me feel the same way. He kept telling me I'd make a great cop. But...."

"Who?"

Starsky smiled sadly. "A detective I spent a lotta time hanging out with, when I was in high school."

Hutch saw a hint of regret flicker in Starsky's eyes. "And he told you you'd be a great cop. But...."

"I didn't like to be told what to do, so I had a hard time seeing myself with enough discipline to make a good cop. I'd probably spend all my career on suspension or something."

"How'd you two meet?"

"John was a neighbor." Starsky leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the table, as if his memories were being replayed on the white cloth. "My family is in New York. Things started to unravel when I was eleven and my pop got killed. He owned a jewelry store, designed his own stuff. He was great with his hands. Some thugs killed him when he refused to pay protection money. They made an example of him."

Hutch shook his head at the mental image. "That's tough on a kid. Must have messed you up for a while."

"I hit puberty like a car hitting a wall at a hundred miles an hour, hating everyone and everything. I was a mess of hormones lookin' for a fight. When I was thirteen, it came to a head when I got in an argument with my ma...and..." Starsky sighed. "I hit her. I was already bigger than her by then, and I knew she couldn't hit me back and do any damage."

Starsky looked down at his hands, frowning. "I threatened to do it again, and to hurt Nicky, my little brother. She didn't have many choices at the time, so she sent me out here to live with my aunt and uncle. I guess she thought Uncle Benjamin would straighten me out. I love Uncle Ben, but I've always confused him, and he never knew how to discipline me. I was never violent with them, I was too ashamed of what I'd done to my ma, but I ran them ragged."

"I can imagine," Hutch said with an understanding smile. "Bet you were hell on wheels."

"With a chip on my shoulder I was proud of." Starsky crossed his arms. "I was just aching to be a big shot, someone people would be afraid of. When I was sixteen, I'd been grounded by my aunt and uncle, and to teach them a lesson I was gonna sneak out and find something exciting to do. That same night John came home with the patrol car he'd been assigned to, and while he was eating dinner I tried to hot-wire it."

Hutch grinned at the image, then shook his head in disbelief. "Hot-wire a patrol car?! Man, you had a huge set of balls for sixteen."

"But no brains," Starsky admitted with an embarrassed smile. "He caught me and took me to the station in handcuffs. But instead of booking me, he gave me a grand tour of the facilities. Made me realize, somewhere deep inside, that I didn't want to end up there or make my aunt and uncle sorry they took me in. He set the real rules I had as a teenager, taught me to respect people and how to channel my anger into other things. It was John who kept me in high school, even if he couldn't keep me completely off the streets."

Starsky leaned back and sighed. "After graduation, I felt like I wanted to be out in the world, not in another classroom. There was no money for college, anyway. My uncle needed help with his used car business, so I went to work with him right after graduation. John kept pushing me to go to college, or become a cop. We had an argument about me wasting my time as a salesman, and I got defensive of my uncle. John just pushed at the wrong time. I'd just found out my aunt was ill, and my uncle's businesses were failing. John didn't know that. Hell, I wasn't supposed to know that. He didn't know there wasn't any money for college, either. I was too proud to hear any more about what was best for me, and by the time I got my draft notice, I hadn't talked to John in months. I didn't even say goodbye."

And probably never made any attempt to reconnect, Hutch thought. But you'd like to, wouldn't you? You miss him, just like you miss your mother and brother.

"Maybe when this is all over, we can find him again," Hutch suggested. "Luke could look into it from his end, maybe tell you where Blaine went. Then you could..."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Starsky said with a shrug, as if it didn't matter. Despite the reply, Hutch saw some hope grow in Starsky's eyes at the idea. "Unless I end up in San Quentin, that is."

"You won't. I promise." The waitress brought the check to the table, and Hutch glanced at his watch again, suddenly remembering this was more than a meal with a friend. Luke was due to arrive at any moment.

"I've got to make a trip," Hutch said as he rose from the table and headed toward the men's room.

The restrooms were at the front of the building, and Hutch couldn't help take a peek at the parking lot to see if Luke was on his way in. He didn't see any sign of Luke and was relieved that they had a few more moments of peace before things hit the fan.

He found the men's room and made quick use of the urinal. As he was washing his hands, two men came in, one bumping him as he passed behind him on the way to a stall.

"Sorry, man."

"No problem," Hutch replied automatically. He froze as he looked into the mirror and saw Douglas Trent behind him. Trent had his hand in the pocket of his jacket, and Hutch could see the outline of a gun through the thin material.

Another man Hutch thought looked familiar came out of one of the stalls. He opened the others and checked inside. "They're clear. Let's go!"

"Hey, wait a minute," Hutch said calmly, holding up his hands. "I..."

Trent grabbed Hutch's shoulder, moving close behind him. There was no mistaking the barrel of the gun Trent pushed into his back. "Shut up and put your hands down. You're coming with us, so don't do something stupid, or someone innocent may get hurt."

Obeying, Hutch tried to think of what to do, but as Trent shoved him toward the door, he could only hope to figure out something by the time they got him alone.

~*~*~

Starsky grinned at the waitress as she poured more coffee. She was pretty and had a nice smile. He suspected his own smile was a little on the weak side, like someone who could be looking at the front end of a long prison sentence.

I guess only time will tell. If Huntley believes in me half as much as Hutch does, I've got a fighting chance.

Reminded of Hutch, Starsky turned to look toward the restrooms. For some reason he just felt restless.

Maybe I'd better make a trip myself before Luke gets here.

He got up from the table and headed toward the front of the building. Before he'd gotten halfway across the dining room, he saw Hutch come out and turn toward the entrance, two men following him close behind.

Starsky froze in surprise as he recognized the two men with Hutch. It's Trent and the guy who got away in my cab!

Without thinking about it, he took several side steps, blending in behind a family making their way to the register. He watched the three men as they left the building.

Hutch wouldn't leave with them voluntarily, and they must know I'm with him. They've gotta be pretty desperate to try to take him out of a public place like this. Are they after the jewelry?

Starsky dug a ten out of his billfold, pushed through the family he had been hiding behind, then threw the money at the cashier. Ignoring the exclamations of protest, he sidled to the glass doors, hoping he wouldn't be seen. Hutch and the two men walked across the parking lot toward a white Chevy at the far end.

I gotta get to my car before they take off.

Starsky had parked close to the entrance, and his car was only a few feet away. Even so, he was afraid to move as he watched Hutch get into the back seat of the Chevy, Trent sliding in behind him.

As soon as the car started to pull out, Starsky burst through the glass doors, his keys ready in his hand. He started the car in record time and pulled out into traffic only a block behind them. There were several cars between them, but he felt naked.

They're gonna know it's me in this car, especially if they're the ones who planted the jewelry, he thought with frustration. They see me behind them, and then what'll happen to Hutch?

His eye was caught by the familiar yellow and blue pattern of a Newman cab. It was parked and occupied only by the driver. Starsky thought he recognized the cabbie sitting in the front.

Pulling headfirst into the next open parking space, Starsky was out of his car in an instant. He ran up to the cab, his heart beating like crazy as he realized he'd been right about the cabbie's identity.

Bo Lee startled as Starsky threw open the cab door. A big heavy-set man, Bo wasn't the most enterprising cabbie Starsky had ever met, but he was a nice guy and amiable to just about anything anyone had in mind. Half the time, he could be found napping behind the wheel, and Starsky had apparently caught him in the middle of one.

"Bo! Get out! I need the car!" Starsky grabbed Bo's arm and started to pull him out of the cab, taking the baseball cap off his head at the same time.

"What? Uh...Starsky?" Bo stepped out of the cab, obviously sleepy and confused.

Starsky slapped the baseball cap on his own head and gave Bo a shove toward the Meadowlark before starting to slide behind the wheel of the cab. "Take mine and go back to the office. I'll see you there. Newman said so."

"Uh, sure...."

Starsky pulled away, his heart thumping in his chest as he strained to spot the Chevy. Someone honked at him as he swerved into the inside lane, but he ignored it as he caught a glimpse of his prey.

Starsky clicked on the mic. "Hey, Sam. You on duty?"

"Starsky? Is that you, kid?" Starsky could hear the astonishment in Sam's voice. "Where the hell are you? Newman's going to..."

"Forget Newman, Sam. I need your help. I'm trailing some kidnappers, and I need you to call the cops."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"It's life or death, Sam. I swear!"

Starsky hit the brakes as the light in front of him turned red. He winced at the squealing of brakes and the sounds of horns followed him through the intersection. He couldn't afford to get stuck behind a light, but didn't want to draw the kidnapper's attention. He wasn't sure he could do both.

Keep them busy, Hutch. I need to catch up.

~*~*~

The evening traffic was heavy, but not slow, and Hutch found they were moving away from the restaurant at a good clip. He'd been walked out to a car he'd never seen before, the gun aimed on him every second of the way. Once Trent had pushed him into the back seat, he had cuffed Hutch's hands behind his back.

How long will it take Starsky to realize I'm gone? I'll just have to hope he's able to give Luke some idea of what happened, or they may never find me. All I can do is hope he's behind me and can think fast.

Trent, who was holding the gun at Hutch's middle, turned to look out the back window. As he did so, Hutch shifted slightly, pulling Trent's eyes to him.

"I told you not to move!" Trent snapped. "I'll blow you away as soon as look at you."

"You set up that mess last night, Trent?" Hutch asked, hoping to keep Trent's attention away from the traffic behind them. If he caught sight of Starsky's car, there's no telling what he would do. "Looks like you two fucked up again. You think people aren't figuring out what went on last night?"

"You don't know shit!" the driver exploded, sounding scared. Hutch got the feeling he'd seen the guy before. "No one knows anything."

"Mellow out, Andy," Trent scolded the driver. "He doesn't know anything."

"You're screwed, Andy." Hutch studied the driver's profile, then realized why he looked familiar. It suddenly came to him. "You're the guy who got away in the cab with some of the jewelry last night. The one the cops are looking for."

The driver swore, and the car swerved slightly, distracted enough to almost sideswipe a parked car.

That was him! And the guy's almost too nervous to drive.

"You've got a big mouth, Hutchinson." Trent pushed the gun harder into Hutch's side. "Which is why you're going on this trip. All you had to do was keep your spoiled rich-ass mouth shut and things would've gone off without a hitch. Now, we have to make sure you're out of our way. Too bad we couldn't get both of you, but our time's running out, and you'll do."

"You think that's right, Andy?" Hutch asked loudly, trying to look confident. He saw the driver eyeing him nervously in the rearview mirror. "You think things were going real well when that cabbie got loose and almost nailed your ass?"

"It wasn't my fault," Andy yelled, his knuckles growing white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Axe's men were supposed to watch the cabbie. We just told Axe we could get his men in..."

"Don't let him get to you," Trent growled at Andy. "He's just trying to scare his way out of this. Just get us to the meeting, and don't let him mess with your head. We hand Hutchinson over to Axe, and it'll take the heat off us."

Hutch didn't know who Axe was, but he could see the fear the name created in both of them. The gun was digging into his side, and Hutch felt he'd pushed Trent as far as he could. Trent was sweating now, eyes darting to the traffic behind them and the cars alongside.

They traveled for several miles, and Hutch felt his heart sink when the traffic thinned out and Trent seemed to relax. They pulled into the entrance of a junkyard, and Andy drove around and past the office, to a larger building deep in the middle of the vast area. Once past the front gate, it seemed as if the outside world had disappeared behind the tall mounds of scrap metal and junked cars, and Hutch felt his heart racing even faster. Who was going to find him out here?

Andy stopped in front of one of the many large doors and honked. Hutch and Trent jumped as two men came from behind the car and walked past their window. There was no mistaking the guns the men had in holsters on their belts. One leaned in the open driver's window, sunglasses hiding his eyes as he surveyed those inside. Hutch figured they must be the sentries for Axe and his hideout.

"He's gonna love this," the man said to Trent gruffly. "Saves us from hunting you two down and bringing you in. He's not happy at all with the way that job went down."

"We want to fix it." Trent removed the gun from Hutch's side and held it up enough so the guard could see it. "We've got someone for him. Tell him we need to talk about last night and how to make it right with him."

The sentry pushed away from the car and walked through a small door and into the large building, leaving the other man standing with his arms crossed. They were going to be watched for any wrong moves. A moment later, one of the large garage doors rolled up, and the sentry waved them inside.

Hutch looked around quickly, his mind racing as Andy drove the car inside. The space was large enough for theirs and several other cars, some motorcycles, and a boat. All were expensive models, and Hutch wondered if they'd been stolen or if Axe actually owned them.

The Chevy was quickly surrounded by seven armed men. The back door was opened, and one man grabbed Hutch's arm and dragged him out of the car. They were ushered silently through a thick door into another large room filled with a vast variety of items Hutch estimated would take days to inventory.

Toward the back were boxes, barrels, and crates everywhere. Some took up floor room, and others were stored on what looked to be rows and rows of industrial shelving. There were dozens of televisions, some in consoles and some on shelves, as well as home and car stereos. Nearer to them, against a side wall, a doublewide trailer had been set up. In front of it were various couches, chairs, and tables, along with a large television set.

The trailer must be where Axe lives, and his men hang out around here. They can come and go through the junkyard, have plenty of places outside to sit and keep watch, and live in comfort at the same time. He must be the biggest fence in the city. I wonder what Trent and Andy did to have to pay him back by setting up a robbery?

The three of them were stopped several steps in front of the trailer door. As if on cue, the door to the trailer was flung open. A tall burly man stood in the doorway, a look of anger across his face as he caught sight of Trent and Andy. The man moved like a professional wrestler stalking his next opponent.

"A-Axe, I'm here to talk business," Trent stammered, his voice shaky. "I know things got screwed up last night, but..."

Axe moved quickly, grabbing Trent's neck in both hands, his thumbs crossing Trent's windpipe. Trent gasped and grabbed Axe's wrists, a look of panic in his eyes.

"Things got screwed up?" Axe said, his voice low and thick and his eyes burning. Trent was starting to wheeze. "You told me you'd have it all under control, that we'd get the score of a lifetime. Now, two of my men are in jail, and you two are out and running around. That don't sound like a screw-up to me. It sounds like my men were set up!"

"No! No!" Andy said frantically, when it was clear that Trent was not going to be able to answer. He looked like he was about to faint, his eyes watching Trent's face as he started to turn red. "It wasn't our fault! That cab driver got loose and interrupted us, then the other cops got there too soon. Doug and I were just lucky to get away when we did. I was able to get away with a lot of the haul, and we brought it back to you, to pay off our debt."

Axe let up a little. Trent gulped in air. "Where?" Axe demanded.

"In...the car...trunk," Trent said roughly. He had a hard grip on Axe's wrists to keep him from squeezing his neck again, and the large man didn't even seem to notice.

Axe nodded toward two of his men and they turned and left. Hutch guessed they were going to get what was left of the haul. Axe turned his attention back to Trent. "It'd better be worth it, or you two won't make it out of here. I don't like my men having to stay in jail, especially if they can be traced back to me."

"We're working on getting them out," Trent said. "We've got some other guy framed for the job, and as soon as they pick him up, your guys can say he planned it."

Axe shoved, sending Trent sailing back until he landed on his ass. "And how the hell did you manage that? The cops aren't all as stupid and incompetent as you are."

Trent looked relieved to be out of Axe's grip, and pushed himself up to a sitting position as he rubbed his neck. "They fingerprinted the cabbie, Starsky, so when no one was looking I switched a copy of Andy's prints with Starsky's. Whenever they find a print of Andy's, it'll be on a card with Starsky's name on it. They've gotta think he was helping out on the break in, and it won't dawn on them to re-take his prints. Just tell your guys to say he was the guy who planned it, and they won't trace any of it back to you."

Axe growled, looking over at Andy, who was almost shaking in his shoes. "That sounds like it gets this guy off the hook and covers your own asses, not mine. Why would the cops believe my men if they said this cabbie was the mastermind?"

"We planted some of the jewels in Starsky's car, to make it look like someone paid him off with part of what was stolen. Then we made an anonymous call to the station and told them Starsky was carrying some of the stash with him. When they pick him up, he can claim innocence all he wants, but they'll never believe him. Everything will point to him as being part of it."

Axe seemed to consider that for a moment, and Hutch couldn't tell what he was thinking. Suddenly, Axe turned hard eyes on Hutch, and he could almost feel the power behind them. Hutch held himself still, putting on his best poker face.

"Who's this guy, and why is he here?" Axe asked, walking up to him. Hutch returned Axe's glare, hoping he wouldn't notice the sweat rolling down his temple.

Don't blink, Hutchinson! Don't show any fear.

Hutch bit his tongue in order not to speak. Axe didn't seem like a guy who wanted an opinion on things unless he asked a question. Hutch didn't think this was a man he could talk out of anything.

Trent pushed himself to his feet, looking a lot more self-confident than he had only moments before. "He's the only other person who got a glimpse of Andy, and he's a friend of the cabbie. You take him out and there's no one but Starsky to contradict any statement your men give the detectives. I was trying to make sure you were kept out of it, Axe. It was the best we could do on such short notice."

The two men who'd gone to the car, returned with a pillowcase-sized sack. Hutch could hear the rattle of jewelry as Axe opened it and peered inside. For a half-second, Axe almost seemed to smile, but then regained control and wiped the look off his face. Axe handed it to another man. "Check it all out. I want to know how much it's worth," he said, and the man turned for the trailer.

Axe turned his attention back to Trent, anger still in his eyes. "You think taking this guy out is gonna put us all in the clear? Sounds like a personal problem to me, and I don't like people who want to use me to solve their problems. While we're waiting to see how much this haul is worth to me, you take care of him."

At a nod, Hutch and Trent were grabbed and dragged to a door, and Hutch found himself outside.

Better think of something. I'm running out of time!

~*~*~

Starsky stood by the cab, his fists clenched in frustration. He watched from a distance as Luke Huntley talked to some uniformed officers and a couple of plain-clothes detectives. Since he wasn't a cop, Luke had ordered him to stay by the cab, out of the way.

Out of the way and out of the plans. There's got to be something I can do. There's not enough cops here, and it'll take too long to get more back-up. They could be anywhere in that junkyard by now.

It had taken all his skill as a driver to keep up with the white Chevy and not draw their attention. He thought he'd been spotted a couple of times when the driver had jerked at the wheel, or barely kept from sideswiping a parked car.

His biggest piece of luck had been the fact that Huntley had believed him. Sam had come through for Starsky, getting the police dispatch on the line and then relaying the news to Huntley, who had been only minutes away from the restaurant. Huntley had caught up to Starsky and passed him, so he could drop the cab back before it was spotted.

By the time the Chevy had disappeared through the entrance to the junkyard, Huntley had pulled in as many local officers as he could. They were sitting in a parking lot at one end of the junkyard, planning strategy. More were on the way, but how long did Hutch have in there?

Why would they take him, anyway? Are they gonna hold him for ransom? Do they think he's got the jewels? What if we're already too late?

He couldn't just stand there, useless. Someone needed to get inside. Turning around, he followed the chain-link fence until he came to a corner. Glancing at the group of police officers, he realized no one was paying any attention to him.

Around the corner, were some dilapidated cracker-box houses, their back yards set square up against the tall wooden fence that kept the large lot apart from those around it. Starsky jumped and grabbed the top of the nearest fence. Pulling himself up, he was six feet closer to the top of the junkyard fence. The last time he'd done this, he was a teenager.

It took some balance on the top rail, but with one good jump he was able to catch the top of the taller fence. He pulled himself up a second time, peeking over the edge before throwing a leg over it. All he could see was a stack of broken down cars and trucks and twisted metal.

He took the jump down in short steps, from the top of a car down to its hood, then the top of another. When he hit dirt, he crouched, listening for any reaction. When there was none, he moved through the piles and tangles toward the center of the yard. If there wasn't a way around, he'd find his way through.

~*~*~

Hutch and Trent had been led by three men farther into the junkyard, following the rutted dirt paths made by countless tow trucks, cranes, and other large machines. It was like a maze, and Hutch did his best to memorize the way. He had considered trying to escape, but the guard at his side had a good grip on his arm and a gun in his back.

I wouldn't get far without a gun, not with four of them after me. If I could get hold of a gun, I could make them back off. But that doesn't look like it's going to happen.

The cuffs at Hutch's wrists had grown even tighter as he'd tried to work at them, and he knew he was going to lose the feeling in his fingers soon.

I just have to keep my eyes open. If I get one chance, I'd better be ready or I may never get another.

Suddenly, the men escorting them pushed them single file behind the twisted wreckage of a burned out semi-truck. There was a narrow path between the wreck and the tall wall of junk metal next to it. Soon they came upon a narrow, almost triangular opening in the wall, and before he realized it, Hutch was pushed through it and into a circular dead end. He felt a flash of panic as he realized they'd reached the end of their journey.

It's a maze, and this must be where they do their dirty work. Shift any of this stuff and it'll come crashing down, hiding this spot from the outside. The police would have to empty out this whole place to find anyone under that kind of avalanche.

Hutch was pushed to the opposite end of the circle, away from the opening. He looked around, trying to find some escape route, or a way to distract the others.

"Okay, let's get this over with," one of the guards said, handing a surprised looking Trent a gun.

"You're not going to get away with this," Hutch said, facing the four against him with his chin up. He hoped his voice didn't reveal his growing fear. "There are too many people looking for me. They won't give up. And Trent is going to be their first suspect." He glared at the three guards, who exchanged glances. "You think Trent won't turn on you, or Axe, the first time they realize he's a bad cop?"

"Shut up!" Trent yelled angrily, pointing the gun at Hutch. "You're the reason things didn't work out! You and your damned interference."

One of the guards laughed. "Why do you think Axe wants him to do the job? Not many are stupid enough to kill in front of witnesses, then turn on them. And odds are Axe won't let him and his cousin out of here anyway."

The same second a shocked Trent turned to look at the guard, a loud clatter sounded behind them. The three guards turned toward the sound, and Trent froze.

"There's someone out there," one of them hissed as he took a defensive stance.

"You stay here," another ordered Trent. "Keep him covered, and don't do anything until we get back."

Hutch felt as if he must be vibrating with the need to move, made worse when the three guards squeezed through the narrow opening and took off, guns drawn.

"You can't do this," Hutch said as soon as the others were out of earshot, pushing because he saw the uncertainty and hesitation on Trent's face. "You think no one at the station will figure out that you and your cousin were the ones who planned that heist? How much were you into Axe for? Was it drugs? Gambling? You think you haven't left a trail they can follow for miles?"

"As soon as they get back, I'm gonna shoot you," Trent said through clenched teeth, the muzzle of the gun starting to wobble with tension. "I'm gonna enjoy it, and no one will ever find you. If I were you, I'd start counting my last minutes."

Out of the corner of his eye Hutch caught some movement. In less than a heartbeat, what had seemed like a small motion turned into a huge landslide of auto parts and sharp twisted metal that seemed to lurch toward them both.

Trent turned in surprise and stepped back, and in an instant Hutch moved.

He head butted Trent square in the back, sending them both flying toward the avalanche. As the junk came crashing around them both, Hutch felt a sudden jerk around his collar, and as he fell forward his body was twisted and pulled to the side. He gasped as he hit the ground, metal raining on and around him, cutting and bruising as it hit.

He tried to curl up to protect himself, then felt hands grab at his arms. He was dragged back, and as the dust and debris settled, he saw Starsky's scratched and bleeding face, his eyes and hands examining him with concern.

"Shit! You okay?" Starsky asked, pulling him carefully to his feet. Hutch felt Starsky hold him up as the world swayed for a moment. "I didn't expect you to make a move. I just wanted to close the exit and scare Trent."

Hutch looked toward the entrance, which had collapsed completely, leaving the two of them in a small open space that looked like it could disappear under scrap at any second. Trent was nowhere in sight.

"He's under it," Starsky said tersely, pulling Hutch's arm. "They'll have to dig him out. C'mon, we've gotta get you outta here. I'm not the only one who can climb around this crap. Those guys with the guns will be on their way back."

Hutch took a deep breath and nodded. "Get me out of here."

There wasn't anything he could do about the cuffs, so Hutch leaned against Starsky and tried to place his feet carefully. He could feel things shift underneath them and wondered how they were going to get very far climbing such a dangerous slope. They'd only gotten part of the way up when Starsky pushed him toward a small opening.

"It's an old Buick, built like a tank and mostly hidden," Starsky said, starting to crawl inside. "I'll pull you through. If this hill starts to slide, we're better off in there than on top of it."

As Starsky's feet disappeared, Hutch bent down, almost falling headfirst into the opening. It was indeed the inside of a car, stripped of seats and paneling, red with rust. Starsky grabbed him under his arms and pulled him in. Hutch grimaced as his head scraped the ceiling. There wasn't much room, but while the side he had come in on was almost completely blocked from sight, the other side of the car was opened to the outside.

No wonder this stuff is so unstable. It's like Swiss cheese! How many tons of metal are on top of us now?

Once he was inside, Starsky reached for a large thin plate of metal and covered the opening behind them. Then he rolled on his side.

"There. They won't be able to see us from there. We'll just look like part of the heap. I think we oughtta stay put for a few minutes. It's too dangerous to go climbing around here with your hands cuffed. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Hutch said quickly. "You were watching from here?"

"Saw you guys from here and decided it was the best way to get you out, once I created a diversion. Then I went around and threw some junk in the distance to get the gunmen to leave." Starsky shrugged, looking sheepish. "Took a chance they wouldn't shoot you before checking it out."

"It worked. I was beginning to think no one was looking for me."

Starsky smiled crookedly. "Huntley's outside, organizing the whole police force to rescue you."

"And he sent you in?" Hutch asked with surprise.

Starsky moved to sit up. "Decided I didn't wanna wait."

Hutch sighed and closed his eyes, feeling sick and shaky. "You took a big chance putting yourself in harm's way. We're not out of this yet."

"Couldn't leave my best friend in a jam."

Hutch found himself smiling. He opened his eyes and saw Starsky watching him. "You're pretty handy to have around. Any chance you can get these cuffs off?"

Starsky shook his head. "Sorry. That's not the kind of training you get in the Army."

The loud pop of distant gunfire echoed inside the wreck. They both froze, and Hutch knew Starsky was counting the shots just as he was. He could hear yelling in the distance and the sounds of vehicles moving.

The police are making their move. Huntley's going to be looking for me.

Hutch tugged at the cuffs, frustrated by the feeling of helplessness. He hated having to hide away when he could be doing something to help.

Some of the shots sounded like they were coming closer, then suddenly, everything was totally silent. After a minute or so, Hutch could hear sirens in the distance.

"You think the good guys won?" Hutch asked, glancing at Starsky. Starsky looked uncertain. "Only one way to tell. Wanna chance it?"

"I don't want this place to come down on us. It's making me nervous," Hutch admitted. "We need to let them know where I am and what happened to Trent. He might still be alive."

"Let me take a look first." Starsky scooted around to look out the open side of their hiding spot. "There's a road down there, so once we get down, you shouldn't have any trouble walking. I don't see anyone."

Hutch struggled to get to his knees, with Starsky's help. It took some maneuvering to get Hutch out of the other side of the car. Once outside, Starsky kept a tight grip on Hutch's arm as they stepped carefully on top of various objects and made their way down the steep slope.

Once on the narrow dirt track, they stopped and looked around.

"This way," Starsky said, turning to his left. "I think this'll lead to a center road that should lead to the front. We'll have to be careful when we get close. If any of those goons got away, they'll be trying to get out the back way, which is how I got in."

They walked quietly for a few minutes, ears alert for any sounds of police or pursuit. The sirens had disappeared, and the whole place gave Hutch an eerie feeling of being in another world. They came upon an intersection, and Starsky carefully leaned around the corner.

He turned back to Hutch with a smile. "I can see a cop car, and it doesn't look all shot up. Guess the good guys won."

The main building was a couple of blocks away, and, as they were walking to the police unit, a uniformed officer spotted them and alerted others. Before he knew it, guns were pointed in their direction. They both stopped, and Starsky put his hands up in the air at the command.

"I'm Hutchinson, and I'm handcuffed!" Hutch yelled, hoping they knew they were supposed to be looking for him. "Don't shoot! We're the good guys."

Immediately, the uniformed men lowered their weapons and came to their aid.

Maybe I'd be better off being a cop, Hutch thought tiredly. Because if something like this ever happens again, I'd rather be on the other side of a gun. At least then I'd get paid for it.

~*~*~

For the second time in twenty-four hours Starsky sat in a police station, only this time he was sitting next to Luke Huntley's desk, waiting for Hutch to come back from wherever Huntley had taken him.

Joe Turner, Huntley's partner, was sitting at the opposite desk. He shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the report in his hand. "You two were sure lucky the Department had some undercover cops watching that place, getting ready for a raid. No one on our side got hurt, although some of the perps didn't make it. Hutchinson was damned lucky you showed up." Joe glanced up at Starsky from under his lashes. "And you're lucky Luke isn't chewing your ass off for getting into that junkyard. If you hadn't come out with Hutchinson, your best bet would've been to stay hidden in there."

Starsky smiled slightly, leaning casually back in the chair. "Yeah, I got that feeling. At least I was cleared of any suspicion in the robbery once they re-took my fingerprints."

Turner's look turned grave. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but with the information we had, the fingerprints in the store sure looked like yours. It was our job to find you and bring you back in. I guess I should be shocked that Trent was a dirty cop, but to tell you the truth, I didn't know him at all."

"I wouldn't have done anything different, but I'm sorry he didn't make it."

"Yeah, I understand." Turner sighed. "Shame it happened that way, but you did the best you could. Dirty cops aren't something we like the public to know about, but they happen. Don't go believing that most cops are bad, kid. I swear we're not."

"I don't," Starsky said quietly, flashes of John Blaine walking him through Central running through his mind. "There was a cop that practically kicked my ass through high school. He was a good guy."

Turner looked interested. "Yeah? Anyone I know?"

"He used to work at Central," Starsky said, feeling a little wistful at the memory. "You ever hear of John Blaine?"

"Blaine?" Turner looked at Starsky with surprise. "Sure, I know him. He works up at Parker Center. Nice guy."

"He's still in town?" Starsky said, feeling somewhat shocked at the news. "I guess I just assumed he moved away."

Turner shrugged. "Don't know where he lives, but I worked with him on a case last year that crossed our districts. He's still there, as far as I know." The phone rang and Turner picked it up.

Starsky recalled the last time he'd seen Blaine.

I assumed he moved out of town. Would he still want to see me after all this time? Maybe I should give him a call...maybe relive some old memories. I have a lot to thank him for, and it's time I actually told him that.

Turner hung up the phone and pushed away from his desk. "I've gotta run, but you have to sign this first. It's the one on top."

Starsky flipped through the documents and saw Hutch's name typed out. "T. Kenneth Hutchinson," he read out loud. As he signed his name on the appropriate line, he asked casually, "What's the 'T' stand for in Hutch's name?"

"Don't ask me. He's Huntley's recruit, not mine," Turner said with a shrug as he turned to leave with the paperwork. "We'll give you a call when we need you for court, so once you get settled again, let us know where you are."

Turner left the squadroom and Starsky turned to look around.

Let them know when I get settled? Looks like it's time I start making some decisions. With no job and no apartment, I've got a lotta things to settle.

He sighed. He knew he could stay with Hutch for a few days, but he didn't like feeling like a sponge.

I don't want my job back. I need something different. Something that's important and will make a difference. What do I want to do now?

A uniformed officer who was talking animatedly to a detective caught Starsky's eye. It was clear that whatever the officer was talking about, he felt very passionate about it. When was the last time he'd been that worked up over his own job?

John thought I'd be a good cop. Maybe he was right. I could do a lot of good things with a badge in my pocket. It's a whole different world from being a trucker or cab driver.

I know I don't wanna live my life sitting on my ass, fading away, when things need to be done. I know a lot about these streets because I ran them as a kid. I can learn how to fit back in if I need to. I know how hard it is for a lot of people to trust the police, and with cops like Trent, who can blame them? I can make a difference out there. I can help.

He thought about the way Hutch had looked when he had talked about being a cop, as if it were something he felt he wanted to do, but couldn't quite give himself permission.

Am I doing the same thing, waiting until I give myself permission? Meeting Hutch, who's feeling the same pull I am...was that happenstance...or fate? Maybe life is trying to tell us both something. Maybe it's time for us to listen.

The doors to the squadroom flew open and Starsky looked up to see Hutch coming toward him, looking like he'd been crawling through an alley on his elbows. He had a few small bruises on his face, a few scrapes here and there, and his clothing was filthy, yet he looked like he was almost bouncing with happiness. His whole body was one large smile.

Starsky smiled back. Sure doesn't look like a stuffy, accounting major. He's smiling like a cop after a good bust.

"We can go!" Hutch said happily, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. "It's all done except for whatever court testimony we'll need to give against Andy, Axe, and his men."

His smile turned to a frown when he saw his crushed pack. He jiggled it, looking into the small opening. "Oh, man, these are falling apart. I'll have to get some more."

"More?" Starsky stood up, took the pack from Hutch's hand, and tossed it into the trash. "You're quitting."

"I had three left," Hutch said with frustration. "I was going to quit when that pack was empty. Now I'll have to..."

"Fine." Starsky reached down to grab the pack, turned it, and shook it so the mashed cigarette paper and loose tobacco poured into the garbage can. "There, it's empty. You've quit."

Hutch, hands on hips, gave Starsky a mock glare. "Are you always such a pain in the ass, Dave Starsky?"

Starsky put on his best smile. "Yup. Any other questions, T. Hutchinson? By the way, what's the 'T' stand for?"

Hutch winced, and Starsky noticed just the hint of a flush. "What brought that up again?"

"I saw it on a form Turner had me sign." Starsky laughed, growing more and more interested by the second. He followed when Hutch just rolled his eyes and turned toward the squadroom doors. "Why? How bad is it?"

"I'm having it changed," Hutch said as he continued walking. "So you don't need to worry about it. I never use it anyway, so it's no big deal."

As they entered the busy hallway, Starsky grabbed Hutch's arm to turn him around. "Hey! Partners should never have any secrets from each other. You know that, right? Common sense."

"Partners? Partners in what?"

"Sure, partners. Now that we're gonna be cops and all. Might as well pair off now, so we'll end up together, once we get the Police Academy out of the way."

"Wait, just wait," Hutch said, raising his hands in confusion. "You've decided to become a cop? And when did I decide to become a cop?"

"When you came barreling from behind that building to save me from the bad guys. You're just slow to admit it."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Hutch shook his head in disbelief and turned to continue down the hall. "I'm taking classes, Starsky. I'm going to get my degree in..."

"So, a cop can't have a degree?" Starsky asked, using his best New York accent. "Get the degree. I'm sure it'll be a few months before we can get all the paperwork taken care of, anyway. If there are any openings at the Academy. You can get Huntley to push the paperwork through for you, and I think I can..."

Hutch stopped and turned toward Starsky, a look of exasperation on his face. "Look, I don't know if that's what I want to do with my life."

"Sure, you do." Starsky gave him a crooked smile. "I know it now, too. We both go to the Academy, become cops, and save the world from the bad guys. Who wouldn't wanna do that?"

Hutch gave him a skeptical look. "Even if I went along with the idea and we went to the Academy together, we're not likely to be paired up. They usually assign rookies with seasoned officers, you know."

"Sure. But once we're trained, we can request to work together. What, six or seven months of training, if we keep our noses clean? Then we can flood them with paperwork until they get tired of trying to keep us apart."

"And if they assign us to different stations?"

Starsky shrugged. "No problem. We just get one of us transferred."

Starsky watched the expressions flow across Hutch's face, feeling as if he could read Hutch's thoughts like he could read a newspaper.

He's wondering who the hell I am, and why this conversation feels so important. Just like I'm wondering why I feel so certain about this, when I've never felt certain of anything in my life. A couple'a days ago, I wouldn't have known him from Adam, and couldn't have cared less. Now I feel like we're supposed to be here.

But will he wanna go where I wanna go? Whatever he chooses, I feel like this is the best decision for me. But it'd be nice to know there's another cop out there I can count on to watch my back. I'd like it to be him.

Come on, Hutch. Take a chance.

Hutch shook his head and sighed as his cheeks grew red, then looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Torgeir."

"Tor...what?"

"Torgeir," Hutch said once again, looking embarrassed. "My first name."

"Torgeir?" Starsky said uncertainly. Starsky felt the niggling of laughter in his gut. He'd tried to school his face, but he knew Hutch saw his amusement.

Hutch rolled his eyes. "It's an old Norse name that means 'Thor's spear.' It's a long story about very rich great-grandparents who insisted. I've never used it, my parents have never used it, and it just shows up on legal forms, school records, and my driver's license because I couldn't keep it off. I'm having it surgically removed as soon as the legal papers come through. And you're the last person I'm going to tell that story to. I swear."

"Yeah, well, I guess that isn't such a hot name for a cop," Starsky said with a laugh. "So, are you gonna pick another one? I can help you with that. I know a lotta..."

"No! Ken Hutchinson is fine with me. It's all I've ever used anyway. You know, I'll have to kill you if you ever tell anyone. It's something only a partner would know."

Smiling enough to crack his face, Starsky walked toward the exit sign. "I can dig it. Let's get something to eat 'cause I'm starving. We can take the cab back to the office and get my car. There's this great place for barbecue and beer down there. It's real spicy; you'll love it! Then you can tell me that long story, and I'll tell you a few of mine."

"You pay."

"Hey, I paid last time!" Starsky protested.

"Not that I saw," Hutch said with a wicked smile. "How do I know you didn't stiff that restaurant where I was kidnapped? You might still owe me a meal."

"Don't you know me better than that?" Starsky asked with mock indignation.

Hutch stopped suddenly and looked at Starsky, all teasing gone from his face. "No, not yet, but I'm getting there." Then Hutch winked at him, a slight smile touching the corner of his mouth, and they left the station...together.

The End

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