Blood Brothers
Chapter One
"You do understand what I want, do you not?" the man behind the glass said to his visitor.
"Yeah. You want them two cops taken out of the picture."
"That's not exactly what I said, Jim. I said I wanted them out of the way for the trial. So they can't testify. It's not worth spending the rest of my life in this place to have them killed. I just want them detained. The judge will eventually have to go on without them, I'll be acquitted, and they'll return to town unable to prove we were involved. Now are you set to take care of it?" He looked at his friend eagerly.
"I've got just the two ladies in mind. They'll be perfect, and they know what they're doing too."
"Can they be trusted?" Green eyes bored into the visitor, reading his face as much as listening to his words.
"I'm sure they can; they're very reliable. If they question them later on, they'll just tell them that it was a practical joke. The cops will never be able to prove otherwise."
"Very good, Jim. Very good!"
"Thanks," Jim said, relieved that the steps he'd taken met with his boss's approval. "I'd better go, Ron. I've got to be sure the rental agency's got it straight what we need."
"Very efficient of you. Thank you."
"Any time for you, Ron. You know that." The scraping sound of the chair legs echoed in the visiting area, unheard by the inmate behind the glass, as Jim rose to leave.
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"Hey, partner! C'mon, will ya?" Starsky's enthusiasm for their afternoon excursion was making him impatient, as his partner finished dressing behind the room divider.
"They're not going anywhere without us, Starsk," Hutch hollered out. "That was the whole point, or hadn't you noticed?"
"All I know is that Donna is gorgeous, and I don't wanna upset her." Picturing the tall blond with the long legs, he felt his heart - and other parts of his body as well - stir. There was no denying that she was beautiful, seemingly inside and out, from what he'd seen of her so far.
"And just think, Starsk," Hutch said, finally emerging. "If we hadn't stopped at the health food store on the way home the other day, we never would've met them. So, what do you think?" He motioned at himself, inciting Starsky to examine him closely.
"Heather is definitely going to love you in that," Starsky admitting. The pristine white slacks and the red and white striped polo shirt gave him a decidedly nautical look, especially when compared to Starsky's outfit. "Uhhh . . . . maybe I should change," he said, thinking twice.
"What you've got on is fine, and we really don't have time to go back to your place." The blond noticed that at least the cutoffs he'd chosen weren't worn down to almost nothing. "I just hope you don't get too cold out there. The wind can really whip up out at sea."
"Oh, yeah, Mr. 'I was a Sea Scout from Duluth'? How would you know?" Starsky smiled devilishly as Hutch blushed.
"I read it in the manual when I was a kid," he admitted, turning even deeper crimson.
"Well, just so ya know, it'll be fine. I'm takin' along a pair of jeans and a jacket. Bein' in California's spoiled me so much, I don't like the cold any more. Are you ready to go, or d'you wanta grab a jacket too?"
"Nah. It won't bother me, plus I'd hate to have to carry it. You got the directions on where we're goin'?" Hutch asked, smirking.
"Sure! An antique-style sailboat with modern controls sitting in a slip in Los Angeles harbor? How could we miss it! Anyway, I've got the slip number committed solely to memory." There was a soft, choking sound from Hutch as Starsky preceded him out the door. "Hey!" Starsky responded, pretending to be hurt. "That sounded like you have doubts about my memory, partner!"
Hutch spoke louder to cover the volume of the wind. "I have no doubts whatsoever about your memory, buddy! I know what I can expect!" A hand slapped him on the back of the head before Starsky raced around the Torino's hood to climb behind the wheel.
*************************
Although the wind was brisk, the sun shone brightly off the crystalline water as the boat slid from the dock. Starsky and Hutch admired the lithe forms of their dates as they manipulated the sales, guiding the boat out toward open sea.
"Boy, this is the life!" Starsky grinned, sipping his beer directly from the can.
"You bet it is!" Hutch agreed, just as Heather, having finished her work, slid up next to him on the seat. She snuggled in closer, and he put his arm around her thin waist.
"You mean to tell me that you guys aren't hungry yet?" Donna laughed, hugging Starsky close from the back. "There's lots of food below deck - enough to last a few days even!"
"Why, Miss McCormick!" Hutch responded, watching Starsky and Donna together. "You sound as if you mean to kidnap us!" He emitted a laugh, which turned into a giggle when Heather began kissing him on the neck.
"We are, didn't you know that?" She said between kisses. "We mean to make you our love slaves."
"I can think of worse fates," Hutch agreed, pulling her into a full-mouthed kiss while simultaneously noticing that Starsky and Donna had already gone below. He wondered momentarily whether they were eating, then decided he really didn't care, as long as he was alone on deck with Heather. "Where are we going?" he whispered in her ear between nuzzles, a small fraction of his mind on the fact that nobody was paying attention to where the wind was taking them.
"To heaven, baby," she responded. The question was pushed from his mind, replaced with more pleasant thoughts as her hands moved over his body, working the button and zipper on his pants as he reached under the back of her shirt, unhooking her bra. The gentleness of his technique distracted her from what she was actually there to do, both of their minds consumed by the pleasures their bodies were bringing them as their now-bare flesh came together time after time. Heather and Donna were surprisingly silent lovers, while Hutch's groans intermingled on the night air with those of his partner down below.
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Heather noted with satisfaction that they had drifted far beyond the point they'd hoped. She glanced back at the slumbering blond on the deck, reassuring herself that he was still unconscious, as she put away the small bottle of chloroform and threw the rag overboard. She whistled once, softly, and Donna joined her up on deck.
"Thank God!" Donna exclaimed, smoothing her disheveled hair. "I thought he'd never go to sleep!"
"Well, it's a good thing he finally did, 'cause Jimmy should be here any time now, and we've got a lot to take care of. You did use enough, didn't you?" Heather looked her friend in the eye until she nodded.
"Don't worry, he won't wake up. Although after last night, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have even without it! He sure is energetic!" Donna laughed as she straightened her shirt.
"I think you like your work too much," Heather smiled, shaking her head as she walked away.
Making their way in the dark, they effectively sabotaged the craft. Radio, compass, and flares were all removed or taken apart, those parts that could be were thrown overboard. Donna emptied the fuel tanks to the emergency engines as Heather jettisoned the anchor.
Finally, secure in their belief that they'd done a thorough job, Heather resumed looking out into the darkness, searching as carefully as she could for the vague outline of the boat.
"There it is," Donna said, motioning to one side, where a man in a row boat slowly and silently approached the ship.
"You girls ready?" he asked in a stage whisper when he saw them at the rail. Rather than respond, Heather began to climb over the edge, lowering herself gently into the dingy. When the tiny craft finally stopped rocking, Donna followed.
"Where did you come from?" Heather asked once her friend was settled.
"The yacht coasted in about a mile and a half east. Are you sure those guys are gonna be okay? The boss said he didn't want them hurt."
"They'll be fine," Donna said, exasperated. "There's lots of food below deck to keep them until the coast guard shows up in a couple of days. They'll feel like they're on vacation!" She smiled charmingly, motioning him to pick up the oars; it was the same smile she'd used on Starsky two nights ago on their first date at Huggy's. It had promised him much; promises that had been fulfilled later that evening in Starsky's apartment.
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Why does the sun havta be so bright while I'm trying to sleep? Hutch wondered groggily as he flung an arm over his eyes, doing his best to block out the light. A moment later, it registered that his movements had probably awoken Heather, so he cracked open an eye to look at the woman who'd fallen asleep in his arms. "Sweetheart?" he slurred, trying to get his mouth working again, but there was nobody there.
"Heather?" he repeated, calling louder as he came fully awake, but there was still no response, and the shouting made him blatantly aware of the pounding in his head. Maybe she'd gone below to make breakfast, he thought for a moment, staring at the steps leading down.
His first inclination was to rush down, but he hesitated, not wanting to risk intruding on a private moment between Starsky and Donna. He'd had that happen before, and knew he didn't want a repeat serving of his partner's ire. Everything was silent down below, but that could be misleading. Finally, he covered his eyes with his left hand as he felt his way down the stairs with his right.
"Sorry, folks," he said quietly in deference to his headache. "I'm just heading for the kitchen to find Heather. Don't let me interrupt you." He rushed to the left, toward the galley area, before the couple could lynch him. It was just occurring to him that his date wasn't in the kitchen when he heard a voice from the dimness.
"Donna? Donna, honey, where'd you go?" Hutch found the switch on the battery-operated lantern and switched it on, bathing the room in a soft white glow. Starsky rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on his partner. "Hutch! What happened to Donna?"
"Search me, buddy. I came down looking for Heather."
"Maybe they're both up on deck. You know, doin' sailin' things!"
"I didn't seem them, Starsk, but I guess we could look again." The blond shrugged, heading for the stairs as Starsky slid his cutoffs over his bare skin.
"They gotta be up there, partner. Two full grown women don't just disappear off a boat this far out!" Starsky stood, and swayed a moment as his head protested the sudden movement. "Oh, God. My head's killin' me!"
At that thought, a horror-stricken expression appeared on Hutch's features. "My God, Starsk! What if they went overboard?!"
"I'd say that was a possibility for one of them, but pretty unlikely for both. Or have you forgotten that Donna and I were down below? You go that way, I'll go around the other and meet you on the other side. Their probably just playin' a joke, y'know? Hiding somewhere on board to get our juices goin'!"
"Okay, partner, but I much preferred the method she used last night!" Hutch agreed, heading off in the other direction, but neither man found any sign of life other than their own. "I feel awful, Starsk," he finally admitted. "I think we may have been drugged."
"My head sure agrees with you. Well, now what?" Starsky asked plaintively. "How can we go back to the dock with two people on board when we left with four?"
"More to the point, how can we get back to the dock? Neither of us knows a thing about sailing, and I'm afraid I wasn't paying particular attention to what they were doing when I was watching the girls last night." He grinned wickedly, trying to distract Starsky from the deep trouble he knew they were in.
"Yeah, me too." Starsky paused a moment, trying to think through the fog in his brain. "Hey, don't boats like this have radios or backup engines or somethin'?"
Hutch looked surprised that he hadn't thought of it himself. "Starsk, you're a genius! At the very least, there ought to be flares." They immediately began to search the craft, with Hutch locating the controls for the engine about the same time as Starsky located the radio.
"I sure hope you have better luck than I did, partner," he said over his shoulder to the blond. The radio's all taken apart. Someone must've been fixin' it."
"Damn! That sure would've made it a lot easier. Why don't you try to find some flares while I try the engine." As he searched, Starsky listened as the blond tried to ignite the engine time and again with no luck. "So much for that," Hutch muttered, discouraged and still groggy.
"Y'know, Hutch, I'll bet I know what happened. I'll bet this was one of those practical jokes Simmons and Babcock are always trying to lay on us. They never did get over our beating them in the precinct two-man basketball championships."
"I don't think so, Starsk." Hutch told his partner as they returned to where they'd started and sat down. "Think about it. We go to bed and everything's fine. We wake up the next morning with the boat sabotaged, the girls missing, and both suffering from what seems like the afteraffects of being drugged. I don't think this is a joke, and I hope to hell that the girls are okay."
"So what do we do?" Starsky's voice held a faint note of fear, looking for a suggestion from the blond.
"We sit tight until the coast guard patrol shows up. We can't be that far out." Hutch was resigned to waiting, but it was obvious that Starsky wasn't crazy about his partner's plan.
"You're kidding! You want to sit out here doin' nothin' until they come by? It could be hours! Maybe even tomorrow!"
"I supposed you can come up with something better?" Hutch questioned as his subconscious screamed at him not to ask.
"Yeah. We head in!" Starsky said it as if it were the most simple thing in the world.
"Wait, Starsk!" Hutch said, strong fingers wrapping around the hand that was reaching for the boom. "You don't know what you're doing!"
"How tough can it be?" he winked at his partner. "If two women can do it, we sure should be able to!"
"They were trained to do it! Untrained passengers have been badly hurt, even killed, trying to take on what they weren't ready for. I don't know about you, partner, but I'm not exactly in the best shape either; I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep any minute. Have you ever been out on a sailboat before?" Hutch rose his eyebrows, questioning.
"No, but nobody taught me how to please a lady before I did it for the first time!" He chuckled wickedly, causing the concerned look on Hutch's face to ease slightly.
"Okay, how about a compromise. It's 7:30 right now. If nobody shows up to help by 7:30 tonight, we'll try it. Agreed?"
Starsky's expression looked like a kid who'd just had his favorite toy confiscated. "Agreed. But what're we gonna do for twelve whole hours?!"
"I don't know about you, buddy, but I plan to listen to the radio, relax, and try to get rid of this headache! What else can we do? And relaxing is something we don't get to do at home; something's always coming up."
"Y'know, you're right," Starsky smiled. "Howsabout I go fix us some breakfast? I happen to have had a very active night, and I'm starvin'! Besides, maybe eatin' will help get rid of the pounding in my head."
"To tell you the truth, I could use a bite to eat myself." Starsky headed down the steps as Hutch yelled behind him, "But whatever you make better not have peppers in it!!"
Starsky waved a hand over his shoulder, but Hutch noticed that he hadn't agreed.
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"I'm bored!" Starsky ranted, pacing the deck around 3:30 that afternoon.
"That's the whole idea, Starsk. To relax and do nothing!"
Starsky stopped in front of where the blond lay with his eyes closed and face relaxed. "How can you just lay there?"
"It's called 'gettin' some sun'."
"Hutch, the sun isn't even out anymore, and if you'd open your eyes for a minute, you'd see that it looks like rain!"
"Rain?" Hutch questioned, cracking open one eye. When he realized that Starsky was right, he sat bolt upright. Sure enough, there were dark clouds in the northern sky. "Oh, boy! Why didn't you say something sooner, Starsk?? We're gonna get soaked!"
"We'll have to go below deck. Honestly, Hutch, I've never been able to figure out this phobia you have about the rain. Any possibility at all and you don't wanna go out."
"It's not a phobia!! When I get wet, I get cold; and I hate being cold! Why d'you think I left Minnesota?" Hutch flushed despite his denial. He levered himself off the bench where he'd been lying and looked again as the rapidly moving clouds came closer. "From the looks of those," he said, motioning, "it'll be raining in the next fifteen minutes. C'mon, let's go."
"'kay," Starsky agreed, as they both headed into the cabin. "I just hope that there are lots of spare batteries for the lantern."
"If there aren't, we're gonna be spending a lot of time in the dark, partner." Hutch ducked as he went down the stairs to keep from knocking his head on the overhang.
They heard the first drops of rain on the deck about twenty minutes later, but they didn't start gradually as Starsky had expected. It was quiet one moment, then suddenly it was a torrent, a downpour that sounded like they were under attack by the weather itself.
"You were five minutes off, blintz," Starsky kidded his partner, noticing the concern on the blond's face. Hutch didn't respond as they sat listening to the pummeling that was going on above them.
Suddenly, the entire boat rocked, sending Starsky, who had been standing, careening into the sitting Hutch. He tried to regain his feet when it tilted again. "That's a hell of a wind the rain brought with it," Starsky muttered.
"Damn!! Get offa me! Starsky, if that wind keeps up, we're gonna capsize!"
"Capsize?? You mean the boat's gonna flip over??" Now it was Starsky's turn to look terrified. "What do we do?!!"
"I think we gotta get the sails down. The wind is pushing against the sails and making us tip." He pushed Starsky away and headed toward the steps that led to the deck. "C'mon!"
Starsky followed slowly, numbed, and by the time he was at the bottom step, Hutch had disappeared onto the deck. The sight, when he got there, was like a scene from a disaster movie. The boat rocked, being battered by rain and wind, as Hutch, drenched from the moment he'd come out into the open, fought the ropes, trying to lower the sails. "Hutch!" Starsky muttered, watching as his friend unwrapped the rope that went up to the main sail and the white cloth started to lower. His "thank God" was premature, though, as Hutch lost his grip on the soaking line and the huge sail came down abruptly, billowing on its way to the deck. The brunet tried to incite himself to move, to help Hutch gather the canvas, but his body didn't want to obey.
Starsky stood staring, horrified, as the scene switched to slow motion. The wind whipped up, forcing him to blink, and as the boat tilted, the gale-force wind grabbed the boom, swinging it forcefully in a sideways arc. He finally found himself able to move as he watched the arm impact with the side of Hutch's head. He could barely see the blond go down, and Starsky gasped each breath through the rain as he tried to make his way to where his friend was unconscious on the deck. As the ship swayed again, he realized there was a large risk of them both being washed overboard.
Gritting his teeth against the wind and rain, Starsky managed to get to the main sail. Every nerve and sinew in his body screamed as he threw all his strength into fighting with the apparatus, finally gathering the white canvas and, wrapping his arms around both parts, securing it to the boom. He tried to keep his mind on what he was doing, but it kept straying to Hutch, his prone form unreachable on the deck a few feet away. This had to come first, and he knew it. The rocking settled some, but not enough that Starsky felt secure that they wouldn't capsize unless he did something about the smaller sail at the front of the boat.
Walking unsteadily toward the front, Starsky set his mind to getting the jib down. It took several tries before he managed to even get into position, finally ending up sitting instead of standing, using leg muscles to push himself along the deck as he brought the canvas down to the deck and managed to get it secure, feeling muscles pulling in his arms and legs as he fought the elements.
He couldn't believe he was actually managing to manipulate the boat, but he knew that people were capable of some incredible feats in an emergency. And, crawling with his last bit of energy to where Hutch was still lying on the deck, he knew this was an emergency as big as any he'd ever faced. He noted the blood on the deck near his partner's head; there was a soaking piece of cloth nearby, which he sandwiched between the wound on Hutch's head and the deck just before the exhaustion claimed him. He'd pushed himself as far as his body would take him, the afteraffects of the chloraform suddenly returning in his weakness. He wanted to take Hutch below deck, but he didn't have the strength and, secure in the knowledge that he'd done everything he could do for him, sank down, unconscious, on top of his partner.
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The first thing Starsky felt when he finally awoke was a tingling sensation on his exposed cheek. As he opened one unwilling eye, he realized that it was the sunlight, shining brightly on the now-calm waters. The boat underneath his body swayed, but stayed upright and seemed to be intact. He wasn't sure how much time had passed or how far away from their original point the storm had pushed them. The one thing he was instantly sure of was Hutch's condition, which he feared was precarious. Pushing himself to his knees to examine the blond, he realized that there was still no sign of consciousness. The head injury had finally stopped bleeding - when, he didn't know - but there was evidence on the deck that he'd lost a lot before it finally abated.
Standing up slowly, he rubbed his eyes, looking around. Starsky wondered whether he should move Hutch below or leave him where he was. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he was cold - much colder than the typical Los Angeles temperature, even many miles out at sea where they could have drifted. He wanted to change into his jeans, knew it would have to wait for now. Right now, Hutch was first priority.
"Hutch!" he prompted, gently massaging a soaking wet shoulder. "Hutch, wake up! Can ya hear me, pal? C'mon! Open your eyes and look at me!" He knew his partner wasn't dead, or even close to it. His pulse, heartbeat, and breathing were strong and regular. But head wounds could be tricky; Hutch could even slip into a coma.
Finally, Starsky was rewarded with a slight motion - the faintest of twitches in the facial muscles. "Keep on comin', boy. You can do it," he encouraged. "C'mon back."
Slowly, the eyelids cracked as glazed eyes peered up into the sunlight, watering as they tried to make out the dark form above them. "Uhhhhmmmmmmmm..." Hutch tried for words, but wasn't able to manage more than vague sounds right away. Starsky felt a surge of protectiveness as he looked down at the man struggling to clear away the cobwebs; Hutch looked so young lying there.
"Take it easy, Hutch. Let it come on its own; don't push too hard." Starsky looked around again; was that a ship in the distance? His wondering was ended abruptly.
"Starsk," Hutch whispered, his body beginning to shiver from the cold damp. At least, that's what Starsky hoped it was when he turned his attention back to his partner.
"Hey! Welcome back, buddy," he said, smiling down at Hutch. "Ya had me scared t'death, y'know that?"
"No," Hutch muttered through clenched teeth. "Didn't know. Sorry, Starsk."
"Well, it's okay. You're awake now, that's what counts. All we gotta do is make sure you stay awake until help comes."
"Could be a long time," Hutch said, closing his eyes and seeming to deflate until Starsky drew his attention again.
Damn! Why couldn't the coast guard show up in the nick of time for once. We're not the only good guys who do that, are we? He looked around for help once again, and this time noticed that the ship was closer this time. And it was definitely a ship, not an illusion. A very, very ancient ship, but a ship all the same. "Hutch, look! There's a ship headed this way! Hold on! I'll get'em over here."
Picking up a large white sheet that Hutch and Heather had used the night before, he waved it frantically, trying to draw the crew's attention. Starsky breathed a sigh of relief when somebody on the other boat responded by waving a flag back at him. But when he turned back to tell Hutch the good news, the blond had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Starsky prayed he'd just fallen asleep and was not in a coma.
Starsky watched as a large dinghy was lowered from the side of the much-larger ship, three men clearly visible as they rowed toward him. The two who handled the oars wore navy stocking-caps and heavy woolen jackets similar to their captain, who wore a mariner's hat in place of the knit ones. Looking at the coats, Starsky suddenly realized that he had goosebumps on the bare skin of his legs. Shouldn't be this cold in California, he thought peripherally.
"Ahoy there!" the voice boomed over the water as they drew near. "You havin' some problems out here?"
Starsky looked down over the edge of the antique-style sailboat as the smaller craft gently slid against the larger. "You don't know the half of it. My partner and I don't know anythin' about boats, and now he's hurt."
"How the devil did you get out here if ya don't know nothin' 'bout sailin'?" The man with the sea-worn face asked.
"It's a long story. Look, my buddy here really needs some help."
"What happened to him?" That came again from the old man. Starsky was impressed that his men were able to silently allow him to ask all the questions. As he asked, the pair pulled themselves into the larger craft.
"The wind grabbed that swingy part and it hit him in the head." Starsky's distress managed to overpower the ignorant sound of his words.
"I didn't think the wind was that strong. By the way, my name's Captain Clancey." He found he'd lost Starsky's attention as his crewmen stood on the deck.
"Hutch!" Starsky urged, addressing the crumpled form. During his brief flirtation with wakefulness, Hutch had rolled onto his side, attempting to get up. Now, as one of the men told him how they were going to move both Starsky and Hutch to the Shamus O'Flynn, Starsky's gentle hand turned the blond back over again. "It's okay, buddy," he said to the slack face of his partner. "These guys are gonna help us."
He was so intent on caring for the unresponsive Hutch, he didn't hear the sudden gasp from the crewmen waiting behind him. By the time Starsky turned to indicate that Hutch was ready to be moved, what he saw was the two strangers looking at each other agape.
"C'mon!" he said, spurring them into action. "We've got to get him to a doctor!"
The brunet watched as the two gently, almost familiarly, lifted the blond into their arms. "Okay. Good. Now, I'll get in the boat and you can hand him down to me and the captain. You'll just have to let the boat drift - it doesn't have an anchor. Maybe we can come back for it later." They nodded to him, then he scrambled over the edge of the boat.
"Whoa!" he muttered as the small craft rocked under his sudden and uneven weight. It settled quickly, though, allowing him to regain his balance. His arms reached up for Hutch's limp form as he was lowered. Starsky's attention was drawn to the redness in the back of the fair hair, the blood still blatantly evident.
"Thanks a million for all the help," Starsky said as he eagerly accepted his burden. He lowered Hutch to a sitting position, seating himself as well before taking his best friend's head into his lap. Clancey kneeled next to the pair as his men returned to the boat.
"Is your friend all...." The question died as he watched Starsky brushing the hair out of Hutch's eyes. "Good Lord! Joshua Bolt!" The captain looked closely at Starsky, assuring himself that this man, at least, was a stranger. "I dinna realize that your friend was Josh! His brothers are goin' ta be frantic when they hear about this!" He drew his face closer to Hutch's, speaking a little louder. "Josh, wake up!"
"Josh?" Starsky asked as he checked the injury. "His name isn't Josh. It's Ken Hutchinson." Clancey took a closer look over the brunet's shoulder, realizing that, although the resemblance was striking, this man was definitely older than Josh. The slight worry lines grew even deeper as Hutch fought his way to consciousness again, blue eyes peering through fair lashes.
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