The Price of a Life

Chapter Six

 

 

“What was that all about?  You didn’t shoot the kid, did you?” Andrews barked as O’Neill entered the cabin.

 

“Cop.”  O’Neill laid Starsky’s gun on the counter next to Curtis’ bomb. 

 

“What?  What are you talking about?”

 

“The blond cop’s partner—the kike.  He must’ve stowed aboard somehow and was gearing up the kid to go overboard.”

 

“Starsky!” Andrews spat.  “And?”

 

“And he ain’t gonna bother us anymore.  And don’t worry about the kid, she ain’t going nowhere.”

 

Andrews growled and snatched up the microphone.  It was payback time.

 

˜  ™

 

Lieutenant Vestman opened the throttle of the trawler Sea Star One and set out due west in the wake of the Stingray.  As the Coast Guard’s forty-four-foot boat rolled into the Pacific, channel four was opened, waiting for Andrews’ directions. 

 

Within the hour, Andrews had radioed his coordinates, giving them forty minutes to rendezvous.  Dobey was suspicious as to why there were no further demands, but knew this was about revenge, not money.  Reason told him it was a set-up, pure and simple.  But reason flew out the window in the face of further endangering, or possibly even losing Rosie.  The captain and Edith sat close together within the small cabin, the large man cradling his arm, Edith rubbing his back gently in an unconscious gesture of comfort.

 

Hutch followed Cal onto the deck.

 

“We gotta get her back, Hutch.  If anything happens to her...” Cal’s voice choked off.

 

Hutch reached out and grasped Cal’s shoulder, offering what little hope and comfort he could.

 

˜  ™

 

Rosie continued to hold onto Starsky, even after her tears silenced.  She was conscious of his blood soaking into her dress and hair as she lay across his chest, but she didn’t care.  She felt very tired and very, very small.

 

She almost didn’t feel his hand on her arm until Starsky emitted a soft moan. 

 

“Uncle Dave?  Uncle Dave?  Are you all right?  Please be all right, please.  I can’t do this by myself, please be all right.”

 

“Shh, Rosie.  Give me a minute.”  Starsky forced his eyes open and took as deep a breath as he dared against the excruciating pain in his shoulder and chest.  “I’m okay, honey.  Can you...can you help me sit up?  Just take my hand.”  Starsky extended his right hand to her.  Rosie immediately grasped his wrist in both of her own and leaned backwards, trying to draw him up.  The familiarity of the gesture surprised him and gave him an unexpected idea.  Sitting up, however, brought on waves of dizziness and nausea. 

 

“Uncle Dave?”

 

“Just a second, sweetheart.”

 

Rosie’s voice rose in pitch as she touched the gash on his forehead caused by the fall.  Awkwardly, she wiped at the blood now streaming into his eyes.  “Uncle Dave, there’s so much blood!  I¾”

 

Starsky pulled her into a one-armed embrace.  “It’s okay, Rosie!  It’s okay.  I’m gonna be fine.  I just need a minute to think, that’s all.  Just a minute to think.”

 

Rosie’s breathing began to normalize against his chest.  An idea came to fruition. 

 

“Honey, where are the life jackets?  Did he take them?”

 

Rosie nodded.  “He threw them into the water.”

 

Starsky swore under his breath.  “Okay...that’s okay.  Here’s the plan.  Back around those crates, there’s a seat along the rail that has cushions on it.  The cushions flip up and that’s where I found the life jackets stashed.  I need you to go back there and look for a couple more jackets.  Can you do that?”

 

Rosie pulled back a bit from him and nodded.  “But, Uncle Dave, they have a bomb, too!  They want to kill Daddy!”  Her voice rose again as new tears threatened to spill over.

 

“I know, Rosie, I know.  But we’re not gonna let them, okay?  Did you see where they put the bomb?”

 

“No, I just saw one of them bring it into where they’re driving the boat.  It was in a big box.”

 

“What kind of box?  How big was it?”

 

Rosie thought for a second before responding.  “A wood one.  Like the kind bananas come in at the store.”

 

“That’s good, Rosie, that’s real good.  Now, I need you to be brave for just a little while longer, then we’ll be safe and won’t have to worry about the bad guys.  Can you do that?  Can you be brave just a little while longer?”

 

One small hand wiped at her eyes.  “Yes.” 

 

“Good girl.  I’ll wait right here for you.  Try and be as quiet as you can.  Make sure there’s nobody back there first.  They can’t see us here, but we don’t want to be too noisy, all right?”

 

Rosie nodded again and slipped in the direction he had indicated.  Starsky grimaced as he fought to remove his shoulder holster.  This’d better work...because we don’t have any other options.

 

˜  ™

 

Vestman stroked his graying moustache as he scanned the horizon for signs of the Stingray.  Roving the binoculars to the north, it didn’t take long for him to spot its silhouette against the skyline. 

 

“ETA twenty minutes and closing!” he shouted to the Dobeys.  Picking up the microphone, Vestman spun the dial to a secured frequency.  “Sea Star One to Air Alliance Twelve, we have visual.  Stand by on alert.”

 

The FBI helicopter’s radio crackled back.  “Air Alliance Twelve, confirming stand-by alert status, Sea Star One.  Will hold for further instructions on frequency eight.”

 

“Roger frequency eight, Air Alliance.  Sea Star One out.”

 

A flash of color in the water caught Vestman’s gaze, and he brought the binoculars into focus.  Two life jackets floated in the water.  He immediately dropped the throttle and the schooner gradually slowed.  Edith and the captain stood and crossed to the lieutenant. 

 

Dobey peered through the window.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“Maybe nothing,” Vestman responded, leaving the small room and heading to the bow of the craft.  Hutch and Cal were already at the rail. 

 

The two life vests bucked in the waves caused by the Sea Star’s wake.  Hutch’s voice was tight.  “Do you think...?  The vests weren’t tied.”

 

Vestman cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Hello!” 

 

Even as Edith and the captain joined them at the rail, the small group stood stock-still, straining to hear any response.  The only sounds that greeted them were the cries of gulls and the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat.  Vestman called out twice more, with the same results.  Finally, he looked at the group, offering no hope or denial that Starsky and Rosie hadn’t perished there.  “I’d say we should continue on.  It’s possible that those vests have been there for a while and weren’t even from the Stingray.  All right?”

 

At Hutch’s nod, Vestman charged back into the control room and pressed the throttle forward. 

 

Vestman shook his head and scanned the horizon in either direction. 

 

“Now what?” Edith whispered to her husband.

 

Dobey grimily looked to the horizon, willing the boat to fly.  “We wait.  We wait, and we pray.”

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky leaned his head back against the hatch, fighting down waves of nausea.  His shoulder throbbed mercilessly as blood continued to seep across his t-shirt.  Hearing Rosie’s sandals return across the deck, he schooled his face into a mask of confidence.

 

“There was only one left, Uncle Dave.  I tried to pull the cushions off the bench because maybe they’d float, but they wouldn’t come off.”

 

“You did great.”  Examining the last life jacket lowered his hopes even further—much of the cork stuffing in the left front panel had leaked out.  Even if he thought he could wear the jacket and hold on to Rosie, the dilapidated preserver could never withstand his weight.  Still, Starsky felt a grim determination in what he had to do; the little life in front of him was the only thing that mattered. 

 

“Okay, here we go, schweetheart.”  Starsky knew they were running out of time.  He helped Rosie get the life vest on and awkwardly tried to tighten the restraints solely with his right hand.  Even at the best of times, Starsky wasn’t ambidextrous.  “Now, I’m gonna need your help getting out of my shirt.”  Starsky began to pull the bloodied t-shirt off by grasping it behind his head and pulling.  Rosie reached up to help him slip it away from his injured shoulder.  Starsky couldn’t help gasping as the cloth and congealed blood pulled away from wound.  Rosie’s eyes grew wide with fright at the sight of the damage. 

 

It took him a moment to roll onto his knees, then grimly stand.  Starsky swayed unsteadily, waiting for the black dots to clear from his vision.  Rosie quietly waited for him to indicate their next step.  Placing a hand on her shoulder for both comfort and steadiness, Starsky led her to the guardrail.

 

“I figure Hutch and your dad are only ten or fifteen minutes behind us.  What we’re gonna do is bail outta here.”  Starsky looped his t-shirt through the armholes at the front of her life jacket.  “Can you tie this in a knot for me?  I’m gonna have to help you over the side, because we need to get you as far away from the boat as we can.”

 

Rosie was panic-stricken.  “But, Uncle Dave!  I can’t even swim, not really!”

 

“I know, that’s why you’re wearing the life vest.  It’ll keep you above water, and I know you can dog-paddle.  Once you’re out there, you just have to wait until this boat is far away from you.  Then I want you to untie my t-shirt and use it like a flag.  You can wave it at your dad when the Coast Guard boat gets here, so they’ll know where to find you.”  Even as he said it, Starsky knew it was a lame idea.  Unfortunately, it was the only chance they had left and he was losing ground fast.  The weight of risking Rosie’s life this way tightened his chest, but staying aboard the ship meant certain death.

 

“What about you, Uncle Dave?  What are you gonna do?”

 

Starsky’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “After we get you off this tub, I’ll be right behind you.  Then we just need to wait until your dad and the good guys come along and scoop us out of the water like a couple of big fish.”

 

“But why can’t you wear the vest, and I can just hang on to you?  I know you’re hurt bad.  What if you...?”

 

“Aw, Rosie, I’ll be fine.”  Starsky reached down and tried to secure the ripped portion of the jacket.  “Even if we could hang on to each other, the jacket wouldn’t hold me up.  You’ll be fine, and I’ll be right behind you.  Okay?”

 

Tears threatened to spill over from her soft brown eyes, but she nodded nonetheless.

 

Starsky knelt down beside her.  “Rosie, I want you to know how proud I am of you.  You’re very, very brave—just like your daddy.”

 

Rosie didn’t wait for Starsky to pull her to him.  He relished the feel of the tiny arms around his neck for a moment, then drew away.  He knew his strength was leaving him as swiftly as the blood flowing down to his abdomen.  If he didn’t act fast, he’d never have the reserves to do what he had to.

 

“Remember a couple weeks ago when Hutch and I were over, and we were playing in your pool?  We’re gonna do another big cannonball and get you out there.” 

 

“Why?  Can’t we just jump together?”

 

“I’m afraid not.  You need to get away from the side of the boat, so I’m gonna help you fly out as far as you can.  I’ll jump right after.”

 

“Then I wave your shirt?”

 

“Give the boat a few minutes to get ahead so the bad guys won’t see you, then wave it away from the sun.  Then you’ll be facing the direction your dad and Hutch’ll be coming from.”  Starsky closed his eyes as a wave of pain and nausea lanced through him, his knees threatening to buckle.

 

“Uncle Dave?”

 

Starsky swallowed and forced his eyes open with a thin smile.  “You ready, kiddo?  Good.  Rosie, promise me one thing.  Whatever happens...if we get separated or something, you keep on waving that shirt until your dad or someone finds you, okay?  Don’t wait for me, whatever happens, all right?  Do you understand?”

 

“I understand.”  Her small voice was barely a whisper.  She understood more than he realized.

 

“And Rosie...”  Starsky took a moment to swallow back his feelings of finality.  “If I...when this is all over...I need for you to tell your dad something for me, okay?  Tell your dad...”  Starsky had to pause again and look away, burning with the thought of too many things left unsaid. 

 

Starsky pulled himself together, then quickly passed on to the little girl what he knew could well be his final connection to those he loved.  Rosie watched him with wide eyes and dutifully repeated back the message.

 

“Good girl.  Okay, let’s get you in for a swim.”  Starsky gave Rosie a reedy smile and reached out with his right hand to grasp one of her thin arms.  Both of her hands tightened around his wrist.  Taking a few steps away from the rail, Starsky turned his back on the water.  He knew he would have to swing Rosie high enough to clear the three-foot barrier before releasing her into the ocean. 

 

“Ready?  I’m gonna spin us around once, then you’re gonna be airborne, kiddo.  Make sure you tuck into a cannonball before you hit the water, okay?”

 

Rosie didn’t respond and kept her eyes downcast. 

 

“Hey, come on, Rosie.  We’ve done this a hundred times.  You’re gonna be fine.”

 

Rosie looked up, her soft brown eyes full of fear.  “Promise?”

 

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I promise.”

 

Rosie nodded and drew a deep breath.  “Okay.”

 

“Okay then, let’s fly.  On three.  One...two...three!”  Starsky leaned back against the light pull of Rosie’s weight, pivoting them in a circle.  Her feet left the ground as she gained significant height.  But even the small burden of her additional weight tore at Starsky’s chest.  With a gasp, he fell to his knees and, in the process, slammed Rosie against the guardrail.

 

“Rosie, I’m sorry.  Are you hurt?” Starsky grated out.  He clenched his left shoulder as best he could to staunch the now-coursing blood.

 

Rosie was only shook up and bruised.  Tears welled up in her eyes again, but more from fear than pain.  “Uncle Dave, are you all right?  What are we gonna do?”

 

There was nothing else he could do.  Starsky mentally shook himself and drew on the last of his reserves.  Using the guardrail for leverage, he hauled himself back up.  He took a moment to wipe the wet blood off his hand and onto his jeans, then offered it again to Rosie.  The noise had probably alerted Andrews’ crew—this was their final chance, and they knew it.

 

“We do it again.” 

 

Without waiting for Rosie to prepare herself, Starsky grabbed her tiny wrist.  Sensing his urgency, she took hold of his arm.  Starsky grit his teeth and swung Rosie in a complete circle, then lunged with the arc of her flight over the guardrail.  Searing pain ripped across his tortured shoulder, all but blinding him.  As Rosie cleared the barrier, they released their hold on each other and she soared away from the boat.  The force of the throw propelled Starsky against the guardrail, where he clung to remain upright.  He held his breath as he watched Rosie fall away, tucking into a tight ball at the last moment before hitting the water.  It wasn’t as far as he had wanted her to go, but it was enough to keep her from being dragged under by the wake.  Anxious seconds passed as Starsky searched for Rosie to surface.  No cry of alarm sounded from the bridge as the rest of the ship quickly passed where she’d submerged.  Starsky was beginning to fear the worst, but as the swells began to die down, a small pigtailed head broke the surface.  Rosie looked back to see him follow suit.

 

Come on, just one more blow for the good guys, then it’s all over.  Feeling more tired and weaker than he’d ever felt, Starsky struggled up the deck until the control room was in sight, but he was still protected from the occupants’ line of vision.  It was a huge effort to pull himself up to sit on the top guardrail.  The bullet had not exited out his back and was in fact lodged somewhere in nerves and muscles, grating with every move.  He knew there was no way he could swim or even tread water until Hutch and Dobey caught up with them.  But he also knew that what happened to him no longer mattered, only the safety of the ones he loved.

 

The sound of running footsteps confirmed the discovery that they were missing.  It was time to act quickly, even if it meant his life.  Otherwise, they’d spot Rosie floating in the water and go back for her—then the price of his life would be for nothing. 

 

˜  ™

 

Hutch anxiously accepted a second set of field glasses from Vestman.  Brushing his windswept bangs out of his eyes, he raised the glasses and focused.  Through the magnified lenses, he could make out the Stingray’s name plated on the stern.  ETA ten minutes.  Hang in there, Starsk.  Just hang on.

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky could see Andrews’ men looking off the aft deck through their field glasses.  Maybe help would arrive sooner than he’d hoped.  Leaning over to his left ankle was murderous to the point of him having to climb back off the rail and lift his leg in order to reach it.  Finally, Starsky was able to lift his pant leg high enough to remove the small pistol still strapped there.  Unsteadily, he climbed back onto the guardrail and took a moment to shake free the sweat that stung his eyes, blurring his vision.  A quick glance to the water showed that Rosie had untied his blue t-shirt from her life vest and was preparing to wave it.  Good girl!  No matter what happens, keep going; they’ll find you.  Starsky palmed the tiny pistol in his right hand.  Why couldn’t they have hit the right shoulder instead?  He remembered the conversation with Hutch about the miniscule weapon.  What were the odds that it would have enough range to take out his target, even if he were able to shoot accurately right-handed?  Hutch had bet the little gun wouldn’t have any more fire power than a Daisy BB rifle, anyway.  It was stupid for Starsky to ever think he could rely on it.  Wanna take odds on that bet?  Starsky looked down at his tremorous right hand.  Heck, I wish I wasn’t even in the game! 

 

The sound of running feet moving in his direction from the bow spurned Starsky on.  A lone man exited the cabin and stared at him, open-mouthed.

 

It didn’t take more than a few seconds, but for Starsky, it seemed that time stood still¾running assailants to his right, with semi-automatic weapons drawn; Andrews emerging and aiming the detective’s own gun at him. 

 

Starsky didn’t draw a bead on any of them, but instead at the crated bomb Curtis had set to detonate once the Dobeys were onboard.  Extending his right arm, Starsky ignored the screaming pain in his chest and squeezed the trigger.  The tiny revolver barely bucked in his callused palm. 

 

The first explosion flung him over the side of the boat, debris stinging the side of his face and back as he fell away.  Just before he hit the water, Starsky almost smiled.  For the first time in his life, he was glad his partner was wrong.

 

˜  ™