This chapter has been edited and re-posted June 17, 2015.

Chapter 15

It was the orange glow of the cigarette tip that gave Starsky away. Otherwise Hutch might not have noticed him, half hidden as he was with his dark head and dark clothing blending into the gloomy half-light of nightfall. He was sitting on the ground, back against the balcony wall with his legs pulled up against his chest, his arms propped on his knees, cigarette held loosely in his hand.

Hutch made his way over to the figure in the dark and eased down to sit beside him. Before he had a chance to talk, Starsky leaned over to the side to flick the falling ash into the top of the cigarette lid. He took another drag on the smoke and put it out, resting his head back against the trellised wall. He didn't look at Hutch as he spoke.

"If you came out here to nag me about smoking again, you've got lousy timing. If ever I needed a cigarette, it's right now."

"No, I came out here looking for you," Hutch said truthfully. The cigarette and the fact that Starsky still needed the nicotine hit was neither surprising nor a priority.

"Didn't hear you get back," Starsky said, his voice a little dull. "Thought you'd be longer. Did you get it all organized?"

"Yeah. It's done," Hutch answered. "The meth is inside."

Starsky looked over toward the doorway into the apartment at the mention of the meth. Hutch could see the tension build in his shoulders as he did, before taking another quick desperate drag of his cigarette and then stubbing it out hard before turning to him. "Is Dobey okay with all this, do you think? With the way I want it played out?"

Hutch shrugged. "He's accepted it. How he feels, I don't really know. Probably just as worried as I feel about it…all that could go wrong, and what could happen to you as a result."

Starsky shook his head, a glimmer of a smile on his face. "No – nobody can be as worried as you, Hutch. You are my designated number-one worrier. Some days I wonder how you can carry so much worry about me around in that head of yours."

"Years of practice, I guess," Hutch said drily. "You give me plenty of opportunities to perfect it."

"Well, after tonight, I want you to take a holiday from it, okay? After tonight, I want you to promise me you'll take a full month's break from worryin' about me – about everything."

Hutch wanted to say he'd like nothing better than to be given the chance. But, after tonight, there were no guarantees how anything would be – for either of them. It was far easier to simply go along with Starsky's light humor. "A month of rest from my worry duties? So generous."

Starsky was watching him, clearly understanding what was really going through his mind. "You know?" Starsky moved his hand over to squeeze Hutch's thigh, "I got a gut feelin' this thing will go down alright for us."

"God, I hope you're gut is right on this one, Starsk…"

"You know my gut rarely lets me down."

Hutch chuckled, feeling better that Starsky had offered him a chance to lighten up even as the most dangerous part of their plan was close to beginning. "I could say many things about your gut, Starsky, but not one of them includes it being a reliable source of prediction. Still – I'll take it on good faith."

With that, Hutch snatched up Starsky's wrist and squinted in the dim light at his watch. "It's nearly seven. Time we made a move. You feeling ready?" Hutch stood up, holding out his hand to pull Starsky up to stand beside him. They faced each other.

"Ready? No," Starsky answered, and Hutch heard the depth of honesty in his voice. "But I want it over. That's all I know for certain."

Hutch nodded. "Then that's enough. Let's get this show on the road. We've got lives to get on with it."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

They drove to the meet in silence. Part of it felt familiar to Hutch, having Starsky in the driver's seat, his beloved Mustang finally back in his possession and out of impound. And partly it felt as if the whole experience was surreal. They might have been on their way to any of the many busts or call outs they had attended over the years, and yet, there was something different about this night. Hutch knew a cold calm was barely holding Starsky together while a gripping dread coursed through his own body – any number of things could happen to make this end badly. The success of this meet would determine Starsky's chance at being exonerated of a murder charge.

And what of Nick? Hutch was worried that Starsky had made little or no mention of him except in the negative… Starsky's reticence about his brother, and his bitter anger whenever his name was brought up, concerned Hutch no end. Sooner or later, the issue of Nick's betrayal would have to be faced – but that depended on Durniak keeping his end of the bargain and handing Nick over along with Samuels and Bendetti, the two mennamed by Jake Websterwho were actually responsible for Vanessa's death.

Starsky navigated through the wet slicked streets. It had begun to rain earlier and, although it was a light rain, it reduced visibility and added an ominous layer to the whole atmosphere. "There's the airfield gate up ahead. Maybe the rain will fuck up his plans to fly out after the meet," Starsky said suddenly, his first words since they'd hit the road.

It made Hutch jump. "Let's hope we'll have him before he tries to take off. Rain or no rain. The aim is to take the bastard before he climbs into that plane," Hutch said harshly.

Starsky didn't answer him, just drove on towards the airfield gates. Once inside the main gates, Starsky slowed the car, each of them looking for signs of the hangar where Starsky had been directed to meet Durniak.

"His men said it was the one at the end of the main road," Starsky said. "That's it ahead, with the blue doors."

Hutch peered through the rain and saw two sleek sedans parked alongside it. "He's inside and waiting for us."

Starsky pulled his Mustang to the side of the building. They both checked their guns and holsters. Starsky leaned behind him and picked up the oversized briefcase that held the parcel of drugs. "I've got the meth. The side door over there is the one he described to me. There'll be a man waiting to let us in; at least, that's the plan."

Hutch nodded, his adrenalin pumping. From the glow of the bright hangar spotlights, he saw Starsky watching him with the slightest hesitation before he moved to open his driver's door.

As he did, Hutch reached across and snared his arm. "We're going to do this, partner. Okay?" Hutch gripped his arm even harder. He wanted to hear the same conviction in Starsky's reply – he needed to hear it before they went in and faced whatever awaited them.

Starsky looked out through the wet windshield. "We've done this plenty of times – nothin' new for us," he said. "But this time, if the deal goes sour, it's me who goes to jail, not the bad guys. So yeah, I'm countin' on the both of us to do this."

"Good. Then let's get it over with." Hutch pushed opened his door.

They stepped out of the car and into the dismal drizzle before jogging across the concrete expanse toward the side door. Halting at the door, they turned in sync towards each other. Through the rainy gloom and the light bouncing off the wet concrete, the two of them faced each other. Starsky gave a little nod and swallowed. Hutch heard his own heavy intake of breath, something between a shudder of despair and resignation. The surge of blood pounded in them both as they gave a quick and last-minute look at each other as if to voice their silent message to take care and do their best to stay in one piece. But this time, there was something added to the risk. This one was personal on so many levels.

Hutch went to raise his hand to knock on the door. Before he could, Starsky grabbed his hand mid-air and held it tight, still aloft, suspended. Then in one quick move, he brought his head down close to Hutch's face. Taken off guard, Hutch turned his head, their faces only a breath apart.

Starsky leaned so close to his ear Hutch felt the movement of his lips as he spoke. "Can't do what I want to do, but I need to say it at least. You know that I love you, Hutch, don't you?"

Even as Hutch reveled in the deep sincerity of Starsky's words, he refused to allow himself any outward reciprocation. To do so would only leave them both too distracted to proceed.

"Talk is cheap, buddy." Hutch gave him his best fraternal clap on the shoulder in a forced effort to hold back his brimming emotions. "Show me what you mean when this is over. Now," he turned and faced the door, holding up his hand to rap against the metal, "better not keep this bastard waiting any longer."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Inside the hangar, Nicky was sweating buckets. He stood sandwiched between Rico, a thickly accented first-generation Italian, and Lou a big dark, smooth-skinned Nigerian – two of Durniak's longest standing soldiers from the East Coast. Nicky knew them from New York and had, at one point in his brief career in Durniak's employ, considered them to be, if not exactly friends, at least on friendly terms. Now they were his jailors.

He'd been put in a corner with these guards while Durniak stood about twenty feet away in front of him in the middle of the expansive hangar. Durniak was flanked by another two heavyweights. Those two were the same men who had nabbed him and Davey from Starbucks, both distinctly threatening because of their facial marks. One had a long puckered scar on his face and the other a mashed-up nose and distorted eye. Nicky recalled Davey referring to him as the "the Boxer" when they rode in the elevator to Durniak's office. Nicky thought it was a miracle the Boxer didn't put his own fist into Davey's face for saying it. But that was his brother. Always ready to say whatever he felt like, especially if it antagonized someone he didn't like.

Even thinking about Davey left Nicky feeling like a stone had been dropped into his gut. Davey left Durniak's thinking the worst of him. Thinking he was a sellout, a traitor to his own brother. It had never been so bad between them. Nicky hoped that in some way he could make his big brother feel differently about him.

He wasn't sure of their actual names but it was the two men with Durniak that Nicky feared the most. He'd figured out they were part of Durniak's LA organization and free with their fists as Nicky had learned in the past twelve hours. His body was sore and bruised. The Boxer had certainly lived up to the name that Davey had pinned on him. He took an almost professional interest in the art of using his fists.

The Boxer and his partner were holding the two men, Samuels and Bendetti, who had supposedly killed Hutchinson's ex. They both seemed resigned to their fate. Samuels, the taller of the two, was fair-haired, and his austere good looks reminded him of Hutchinson; maybe that was why Nicky had taken an instant dislike to him. Bendetti's dark hair fell low on his shoulders, straight and sleek. They certainly didn't look like criminals, let alone drug pushers or murderers. When Nicky heard them talk, he could tell they were educated. He remembered what Davey had told him about their connection to Vanessa's dead boyfriend, and how they'd all been involved in the financial industry. Now they were either looking at a long jail sentence or death at Durniak's hands.

Durniak's light airplane was parked behind them, near the back of the building, close to the wide hangar doors, ready to take Durniak away as soon as the exchange was completed. When they'd first come into the hangar, Durniak had spent some time quietly discussing something with a small, squat man who'd moved about the plane, checking out the engine and the wheels while Durniak talked to him. Nicky realized he must be the pilot. He'd never seen him before. It was a big space for only one plane, but Nicky assumed Durniak had kept the area clear for his own purposes. Every small sound echoed and bounced off the metal sides of the structure and the high roof above, the concrete floor making the cavernous atmosphere even more hollow and cold.

Nicky had been taking in the layout of the hangar for the past ten minutes, noting three rows of heavy steel shelving off to the side, along with work benches, storage cupboards, and hanging racks that housed small machinery, repair tools, and plane parts. There were more storage and large machinery pieces behind him as well. The smell of the hangar was thick with diesel fumes, which was making Nicky's head throb even worse than it had been. He was still dealing with the effects that Hutchinson's fist had left on his jaw when Durniak's men thought it would be fun to layer up the damage.

Although not privy to Durniak's plans, Nicky had figured out what might go down if Davey turned up and handed over the meth. The waiting seemed endless though they'd only arrived half an hour ago. Nicky considered the whole ordeal a hardship. The stress and fear was more than he could take and cold sweat pooled at the base of his spine. Would he and Davey get out of this? And if they did, would his brother ever want anything to do with him again? The worst of it was that his freedom all hinged on Davey.

No matter what his brother thought of him, or how Hutchinson could see only the worst in him, he really had been trying to look out for his big brother. He'd kept telling himself that over and over since Davey had turned a look of pure disgust on him during the meeting with Durniak. Davey just didn't get the full picture of his intentions and was still being influenced by Hutchinson's prejudiced view of him. Nicky knew that since the very beginning, Hutchinson had taken a dislike to him and now – well, now he knew that the blond hated and mistrusted him.

Davey needed to let him plead his case – without Hutchinson around. The fact that Davey was his brother really did matter to Nick. Sure, he wanted to get on Durniak's good side in the process, maybe score a lucrative job by helping him get his meth back. Hell, a man needed to secure a livelihood, didn't he? He stood little chance of making it in the world without using some shortcuts to earn quick money.

If he could've persuaded Davey to give him the meth, he'd felt confident he could get it back to Durniak, make himself a name-and some money-and save Davey from getting caught with it in his possession. When Nick came to LA, he was convinced his brother was holding the meth – no doubt seduced by Hutchinson's bitch of an ex-wife into helping her. If Hutch had kept his big mouth and fists out of it, Nick might have found a way to convince Davey to give him the drugs and then all would have been sweet.

Now, it was far from sweet. It was shit. His life was in danger and so was Davey's – well, if not his life, certainly his career. Once he handed over the drugs to Durniak, Davey would be toast. Durniak would get away with the meth and bring Davey down for his involvement in the dirty deal. Nicky was damn certain of that much.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"They're here, boss!" Franco, a heavyset Hispanic posted at the hangar door, alerted Durniak. "You want us to let them in now?"

Durniak raised his head at Franco's call. He'd assigned him to the door because he was neither smart nor fast, just big. Atsix foot four, the young Hispanic was the tallest of the crew he'd handpicked from his LA operation, and seemed the obvious one to plant at the doorway as the sentry.

"That's what I'm waiting for, you fool!" He turned quickly to Rico and Louwho were holding Nick Starsky. "Bring him up closer so his brother can see he's unharmed."

He then turned to address Bendetti and Samuels, fixing them with a contemptuous look. Idiots. Traitors. Stupid or audacious enough to think that they could steal from him and live to reap the benefits. Just because they had brains enough to earn college degrees seemed to make them think they could outsmart someone with his power. If he didn't need them to trade with Starsky, they wouldn't have lived more than five minutes after his men had dropped them at his feet. "You two say and do nothing unless I direct you to, understand? If you do – and this goes for you, too, Nick," he motioned toward the younger Starsky, "my men will stop you with a bullet."

Bendetti and Samuels looking uneasy and nodded their assent.

Nicky, however, the most stupid of the lot, braved a response. "I'll stay put as long as you don't hurt Davey."

Durniak smirked, amused by the tenacity of the man. "Courageous words from someone who hasn't shown an ounce of courage through all of this. Just keep your mouth shut, Nick – if you can."

Durniak watched as Franco led Starsky and his blond partner toward the center of the hangar. The detectives walked side-by-side, close and in synch. They walked slowly, purposefully, their eyes scoping out everything, and yet Durniak had the feeling that two sets of blue eyes never left his face as they made their way towards him. Durniak's jaw twitched under their intensive scrutiny.

Starsky's blond partner made no attempt to cover his holstered gun, pushing his jacket to the side, as if ready to use it. Hutchinson was already trying to break him down and he hadn't even said a word yet. Both of them wore serious expressions, but of the two, Hutchinson's look bordered on predatory. Durniak had no doubt the blond wanted to put a bullet in his head. The man was a study in suppressed violence. The tick in Durniak's jaw became an ache as tension built in his neck.

Despite his unease, Durniak felt drawn to study the blond detective. He couldn't help but be impressed. There was something regal about this man. Starsky wore his hostility differently, like a caged animal about to leap. Hutchinson, in contrast, reminded Durniak of a gentleman walking toward a duel at dawn, dispassionate and cold-eyed.

The detectives halted about twenty feet from him, both of them disregarding Franco's direction to stop earlier. Starsky darted around Franco before the big man could react, putting himself closer to Durniak. Clearly, Starsky wanted to be difficult, in contrast to Hutchinson's more subtle display of menace.

When Francoattempted to take action, Durniak waved him away. "Leave them, Franco. It's not important. Let Detective Starsky flex his muscles if he feels the need."

Durniak turned to Starsky's partner. "Detective Hutchinson, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. I've known your partner for many years – we – ah – share history." Durniak looked back briefly at Starsky who stared at him with unconcealed contempt. "Perhaps you should advise your hot-headed partner that his behavior could be construed as threatening. Franco, or any of my men, could take exception to it."

Hutchinson shrugged, unperturbed. "You hear that, Starsky? Franco found your behavior threatening."

"Then I suggest, Durniak, that you keep Franco and everyone else out my face," Starsky said, looking down at the bulky briefcase he'd carried in. "I came to do business, not bow and scrape."

"Yes – the business at hand then," Durniak said agreeably. "You have the meth, obviously. I trust it is the actual parcel stolen so stupidly, by –" Durniak glanced at Bendetti and Samuelsbehind him, "these treacherous employees. Let me see it."

Starsky lifted the briefcase, and Hutch held it level so Starsky could open it, displaying the contents.

Durniak turned briefly and motioned to the tall, dark-skinned man next to Nick. "Lou, you were the one to parcel this batch up – take a look."

Lou nodded and stepped up to where Hutch held the case. The tall Nigerian examined the packaging and contents, then nodded at his boss. "It's the same package, Mr Durniak. Doesn't look as though the seals have been tampered with."

Hutch shut the briefcase, and Starsky once again held it at his side.

Durniak noticed then how Starsky's gaze turned to Samuels and Bendetti and remained fixed on the two men, studying them, before glancing sideways and raising an eyebrow at his partner. Durniak could see Starsky was already forming questions. "Are these the two?" Starsky asked flatly.

"Yes, of course. My two very stupid and disloyal former employees," Durniak answered.

"How do I know these are the men who broke into my apartment and killed Vanessa? They both wore masks that night."

"Go ahead," Durniak said levelly. "Do whatever you need to confirm it. I didn't expect you to settle for my word."

"Step forward," Starsky directed them and waited as Durniak nodded his assent.

The two men came closer as did the guards flanking them. Starsky's gaze settled for a moment on his two LA guards. "Starsky, I trust you will remember my men from yesterday, Amadio and Costa," Durniak asked him.

"Who could forget faces like those?" Starsky said. "Pull them back so I can talk to these two. I don't want them breathing down their necks while I do."

"Amadio, Costa – step back for now. I don't think Detective Starsky is stupid enough to do anything rash with these two. Bendetti and Samuels are his ticket out of jail."

Starsky took his time looking at the two men in question. Samuels, the taller fair-haired one, surveyed Starsky with his own interest while Bendetti affected a casual indifference to the measuring up Starsky was giving him.

"Mark Samuels and Rick Bendetti – meet David Starsky," Durniak waved his hand toward Starsky and Hutchinson, "the cop who's been taking the heat for your untidy fuck-up. And this man," he indicated the stony-faced Hutchinson, "is Detective Hutchinson, the man whose ex-wife you managed to leave bleeding out on Starsky's apartment floor."

Durniak felt a rush of satisfaction when Hutchinson flinched and looked like he was struggling with himself not to move forward.

Starsky's mouth drew into an even tighter line as his hand brushed his partner's arm, obviously not missing Hutchinson's reaction. "Ignore it," Starsky said softly as he turned his attention back to Samuels and Bendetti. "Describe what happened that night," Starsky ordered.

Bendetti looked at Samuels quickly before hebegan outlining the events succinctly: how the two of them broke in, what they wore, and in what colors. Starsky nodded slowly as he listened to their recount, but said nothing that suggested he was convinced.

"Something else you can tell him? I'm afraid Detective Starsky looks a little doubtful," Durniak said to Samuels and Bendetti.

Then Samuels looked at Starsky pointedly, lifting his forefinger up as though to demonstrate the point. "Yeah. We thought you were Vanessa's husband–Marco told us about him. You played along and pretended to be him – but now we know it was this guy here." Samuels indicated Hutchinson, and Durniak saw Starsky give his partner a small nod, then relax a little. Obviously, this information was a key piece of proof for him.

Bendettispoke up again. "Vanessa panicked and tried to run. You told her to calm down; you knew she was starting to lose it. She should've just cooperated, but instead, she tried to wrestle my gun away... The gun went off while we struggled. Got her in the chest. I finished her off – she was three quarters gone anyway. Stupid woman – if - "

Hutchinson made an anguished sound and tensed, his right hand moving closer to his holster. Bendetti realized his mistake and took a step backwards, his eyes on Hutchinson's gun. Again, Durniak was surprised to see that one light touch from Starsky and nothing more than a soft "Hutch" had the blond settling immediately.

"Have they given you enough?" Durniak asked in a clipped tone.

Ignoring his question, Hutchinson gritted his teeth. He stared hard at Bendetti and Samuels. "You'll testify to all of this?"

Both men nodded. "Mr. Durniak explained the terms. We know what we have to do," Samuels said.

Durniak clicked his fingers at Costa and Amadio, and they pulled Bendetti and Samuels away from Starsky.

"So?" Starsky fixed Durniak with a direct stare. "How do you want to do this? I won't hand over the stuff till you give me the men, and Hutch can secure them."

Durniak nodded, considering the situation. "You haven't asked about your brother, Starsky. You still want him thrown in as a bonus?" He indicated Nicky behind him.

Hutchinson moved closer to Starsky. When Starsky said nothing, just looked coldly toward his brother, Hutchinson answered instead. "Nick comes with us – as agreed."

"Doesn't seem like Starsky cares either way," Durniak said with a smirk.

"Keep your opinion to yourself," Hutchinson barked.

Durniak smiled. He had hit a sore point obviously.

"Alright," he said, looking at the two witnesses. "You can cuff them, but they stay in the hangar until you hand over the meth. Once it's in my possession, I'll give you Nick."

Starsky and Hutchinson looked at each other again and nodded. "Send them over," ordered Starsky. "One at a time."

Samuels walked toward them, as Hutch stepped forward and snapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists, frisked him, and then attached manacles to his ankles, which also attached to the cuffs. Only then did Hutch nudge him towards Starsky. "Now Bendetti."

Hutch repeated the process. When he was finished, he looked towards Nick and the guards bracketing him. "Once Starsky has handed you the meth, let Nick come to us."

Durniak was surprised when Nick blurted out, "Don't hand it over, Davey. Don't do it!"

Starsky, after ensuring they'd secured the two men, moved towards Durniak as though he hadn't heard his brother.

Nick tried again as Starsky stood in front of Durniak, ready to pass the briefcase to him. "I wanted to help you, Davey, but you wouldn't believe me. I would've helped you if you'd just cooperated. Now look what you're doin'." Nick's voice was rising in desperation, as Starsky still showed no reaction – but Durniak could tell Hutchinson was.

He didn't like the electricity sparking off the blond detective who was closer to him. His guards also noticed, growing wary, their eyes flicking from Durniak to the two detectives and back. He glanced behind him quickly and saw Rico was keeping a grip on the squirming Nick.

Starsky held out the briefcase. "Here, take your damned drugs. I wished I'd never set eyes on them, let alone have to deliver them to you."

Durniak accepted the briefcase. He was surprised to feel so little of the excitement he had anticipated at finally getting the valuable stash back from Starsky's hands. He'd expected to enjoy much more this unexpected opportunity to force Starsky to compromise his values and his career. But his reaction was actually overshadowed by his relief at having the meth returned.

"This is my property, "Durniak said to Starsky. "I'm the rightful owner. Think of yourself as doing a good deed – returning a stolen item back to the person who lost it."

"Vanessa wouldn't have died, or her boyfriend, either, and I wouldn't be a murder suspect, if it wasn't for this stuff," Starsky argued. "These drugs will destroy countless lives once you put them on the street." His repressed emotion was clear in his voice.

"Stand on your moral high ground, Starsky, but people make their own choices. Eventually they pay the price for those choices," Durniak said, staring Starsky in the face. "Who are you to take such a principled stand? You're profiting by the same transaction, getting what you need by trading my property back to me. I'm making money; you're guaranteeing your freedom. Either way – you're doing it at a cost to others, just like you're accusing me of doing."

That gave him the first real buzz of triumph as he saw the effect his accusation had on Starsky, this man he'd resented ever since his youth. "What's wrong Starsky? You almost look ill," Durniak said, laughing.

Starsky took a step back; Durniak was almost certain that he heard Starsky choke on a sound of anguish before Hutchinson interrupted.

"Starsky! Don't listen to him." Hutchinson moved closer to his partner, dragging the two-manacled men with him. "Look – go secure these two in the car. I'll finish up here and get Nick."

Durniak could see indecision on Starsky's face. He obviously didn't want to leave his partner, but he could also see that what he'd said made sense.

Hutchinson gave Bendetti and Samuelsa push towards Starsky, nodding at the side door that the two of them had used to enter the hangar. Starsky said nothing but turned, herding their prisoners to the exit. Franco went with them and opened the door, allowing all three men to leave before shutting the door behind them.

Hutchinson watched until his partner was outside. As soon as Starsky left, Durniak was taken off guard at how suddenly and unexpectedly Hutchinson whipped around and jabbed his finger at him. "You've got what you wanted, so why waste time trying to fuck with my partner's mind? Now send Nick over and let's be done with this."

Durniak was quietly savoring Hutchinson's anger when he heard a cry from behind him.

"Wait! Wait one god damn minute. Hutch!"

Durniak turned to see Nick struggling with Rico and Lou. "You're gonna let my brother do this? I can't believe it!"

"Keep out of it, Nick," Hutchinson warned.

"You're s'posed to be his partner, and now you're helping Davey throw away everything?" Nick persisted despite the almost violent warning Hutchinson shot him visually. "Those guys- Samuels and Bendetti – don't you think they'll testify that Davey gave Durniak his meth back before they'll testify to killing Vanessa? You must be idiots if you think this is goin' to help him…"

"Nick – shut up!" Hutchinson hissed.

Nick strained against Rico's grip. "I won't let Davey do it."

Durniak faced Nick. "Hutchinson is right. Shut your mouth, Nick, or I'll have my men shut it for you. I can't stand the sound of your whining."

"Durniak," Hutchinson said quickly, "we're done here. Send Nick across to me like you agreed."

"Let the idiot go," Durniak ordered without making eye contact with Nick. He turned to Lou who was nearest him. "Open the main hangar doors and let the pilot know I'm ready to taxi the plane out." Lou nodded and moved away from Rico and Nick to do as he was ordered. He walked over to the electrical controls that housed the mechanism for the main hangar door.

Durniak moved aside to let Rico walk past with Nick towards Hutchinson.

Durniak couldn't resist a parting shot. "Here he is, Detective. The fool's your responsibility now, so –" he never finished as suddenly he was knocked violently to the side, almost losing his balance completely.

Nick had shaken off Rico's holdandcareened heavily into Durniak shouting, "Fucking asshole! You're not getting that shit back!" In the chaos, Durniak lost his hold on the briefcase, as Nick lunged and seized it roughly from his hands.

Hutchinson's booming voice rang out. "Nick! No!"

Nick, gripping the briefcase, pushed Durniak back harder, this time succeeding in knocking him to the ground. Putting his head down, Nick tucked the case under his arm as though it were a football and made a dash for the rising hangar door with all the zeal of a running back seeing a gap on the field.

In the mayhem, Durniak heard a couple of his men arming their guns. Still disoriented, he watched Hutchinson draw his own gun at the same time.

"Nick!" Hutchinson roared while watching all the guards.

Rico had run to assist Durniak but Amadio and Costa reacted quickly by pulling out their guns.

Hutchinson yelled at Durniak's men, "Wait – don't shoot! I'll get him to –"

Durniak scrambled to his feet, brushing off Rico's assistance. He shouted at the same time as Hutchinson, overriding him. "Don't shoot in here! Hold your fire! You could damage the plane, for Christ's sake! Just grab him!" Ashe got his footing under himself again, Durniak saw Nick running in panic.

Franco, closest to the side door, sprinted towards Nick, flanking him. Unable to reach the yawning exit, Nick was forced to change directions abruptly, and bolted for the back of the hanger.

Hutchinson ran after him, calling his name.

Durniak knew the exit door back there was locked, but the rear hangar was used for storage. Nick would be able to hide among shelves and equipment, delaying everything. Durniak wondered if he should send one of his men to fetch Starsky who might talk some sense into his idiot brother.

Nick weaved around a large bank of steel storage shelves, heavily stocked with engine and body parts, which provided a solid wall of cover. He disappeared from Durniak's sight as Franco continued to pursue him. Evading Franco, Nick emerged farther down the line of shelving, trying to get closer to the rear hangar door. He ignored Hutchinson's frantic calls completely.

This had gone on long enough. Deciding against bringing Starsky into it and slowing things down even more, Durniak made eye contact withLou, whostood nearest the plane. There was no sight of the pilot and Durniak cursed, wondering if the man had run when the action started heating up. He was a civilian and not connected to Durniak's mob directly.

"Where the hell has the fucking pilot gone?" Durniak called out to no one in particular, but needing to vent his frustration.

Nick had drawn the other men farther away from the plane. Durniak could see that Louhad the best and clearest line of sight on him. Lou lifted his gun, drawing a bead on the scrambling Nick, but his plan was foiled when Hutchinson leaped toward him from around the other side of the plane. The blond detective slammed into the big Nigerian with a full body tackle. Despite their comparative size difference, Hutchinson seemed to have little trouble in sending Lou down, knocking him heavily to the floor.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Hutch moved quickly after tackling the man who was about to shoot Nick. He wasted no time in pistol-whipping him once, knocking him unconscious, then darted back around the plane and headed for the shelving. "Nick, take cover!"

Nick slunk back behind his shield of shelves as Hutch put himself between Nick and Durniak's other armed men. Pulling at his collar urgently, Hutch hissed into the tiny microphone planted there like a button, knowing Starsky would hear the call, too. "EVERYONE IN! NOW, NOW, NOW!"

A commotion sounded outside, proving that Dobey and the SWAT team had heard Hutch's call.

Durniak and his men now turned their attention to the wall of police cars rapidly lining up outside the open hanger. Durniak cried out, "You bastard, Starsky! You set me up!" Hearing the shocked anger in Durniak's voice made Hutch realize how little this man from Starsky's past really knew about his partner.

Of course he set you up! You think for one moment that Starsky would allow you to walk away from all of this, even if it meant clearing his name of murder?

Dobey's voice boomed through a bullhorn over a background of squealing tires and sirens. "This is the police. You are surrounded. Give up your weapons and come out with your hands on your head."

Hutch could hear Nick close by, still hidden. He knew any sudden action could draw police fire, which could make the place erupt into a shooting gallery.

"Stay put, Nick," Hutch called. "I've called for backup, so don't make any stupid moves till we get the all clear."

As Durniak's men were diverted by the influx of police, Hutch heard Nick scrabbling to move. "Nick! Where the hell are you going?"

Suddenly, Nick darted out past the cover of the shelves and ran toward the rear of the hangar. Did he know there was a rear door? Was he trying to get to that?

"Nicky! Nicky! What are you doin'?" The sound of Starsky's voice around the open hangar door shook Hutch's concentration. He could see Starsky had drawn his gun, but he could only take cover around the doorframe, which was not much protection.

"I'm not letting you fuck up your life, Davey!" Nick screamed across the hangar. A wail of sirens drowned out Nick's voice; there was no way Starsky could have heard it. Hutch, however, could not only hear what Nick cried out but also the desperation in his voice and realized how fragile Nick's emotional state was.

"For Christ's sake, Nicky..." Starsky yelled, fighting to be heard, "if you want to help me, then drop the briefcase, and get down."

Hutch could see Durniak's men turning to him. His orders about not firing near the plane had left them confused. Costa seemed rattled and trigger-happy, and the one called Amadio looked desperately at Durniak.

"What do ya' want us to do, boss?" Amadio yelled, but even as he did, Costa opened fire on the SWAT team thundering through the entrance. Clattering gunfire was deafening in the vacuous space. The hollow airfield structure amplified the crack and spit of the semi-automatics and the shouts of men. Bullets pinged off the metal structures and the cartridges bouncing off the concrete floor reverberated in the large cavernous space.

Nick was now completely out of sight, somewhere in the back of the hangar behind the plane. Hutch crouched, making his way toward the rear as well, feeling safer now that the action was confined to the front of the hangar. Then, suddenly, to his left he caught a blur of movement. Durniak was making a break for it in the same direction as Nick, having left his men, who were held down by the cops.

"Shit! Durniak…" Hutch swore softly to himself at almost the same time that Starsky's voice rang out.

"Hutch! Watch out – Durniak - " Starsky sounded frantic, his voice coming from further inside the hangar.

Hutch whirled around, catching a glimpse of Starsky as he moved efficiently from cover to cover, trying to get over to the bank of shelving where Hutch was positioned.

Then Nick was suddenly running back toward Hutch and he forgot all about Starsky as he roared at him, "Nick! Nick!"

"Fucking door!" Nick cried. "They locked the fucking door." He continued running toward Hutch, the briefcase still in his arms.

Just then, Durniak sprang forward, his gun up, clearly surprising Nick. Nick back-pedalled as Hutch leaped toward Nick, sending them both sprawling onto the concrete floor and crashing into the steel racks. Hutch tried to shove both of them between a gap in the shelves for cover. But Nick, still gripping the briefcase, smashed his elbow into Hutch's face, stunning him. Hutch fell backward as Nick bolted away again.

Lurching unsteadily to his feet, Hutch was aware of Starsky yelling as he ran toward them. "HUTCH! NO! NO!"

Hutch didn't hear the shot that hit him. He felt its impact though, a white-hot burn on his right side,searing through muscle and flesh. He buckled under the assault and fell to the floor, dropping his gun.

"HUTCH!" Starsky screamed.

Nick stumbled, careening into the shelves when he must have realized Hutch was shot. "Hutch! Jesus, Hutch!"

Hutch looked in the direction Nick was staring, and saw Durniak with a smoking gun. Had Durniak shot him?

Durniak took aim and fired again. The bullet hit Nick squarely. He fell back against the steel racks with enough force to rock the structure. The briefcase fell, but didn't land far from Nick's body.

Stunned and wounded, Hutch couldn't move as Durniak rushed forward to grab the briefcase, while kicking Hutch's gun further away. Expecting Durniak to put another bullet in him, he was surprised when, instead, he fled toward the back of the hanger. Hutch could only lay motionless, staring at Nick as his blood pooled on the floor.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

TBC...